#tiny wump

[little-annie228]

[nishasjackass]

I need some wump of Jack and Nisha. Like, Nisha stumbling across the warrior's battleground or some shit to find Jack half-dead and maskless

Anon, I have no background for you, but I do enjoy your vision. So have a little treat :]

Jack looks hottest with blood on him (Nisha said so) so have a tiny bonus:

[ahungeringknife]

There are some very teeny tiny minor spoilers in here. It will not ruin the ending. But it does confirm who is alive at the end of the campaign if that is something you care about.

I just wanted some Wolf wump because I NEVER GET TO WRITE WOLF WUMP

----

The last thing she remembered was a Taken Captain about to shove its swords in her gut, the sound of Mara's voice in her helmet over comms. She was coming. Good. Someone was. Someone was because it felt like she was dying. Like when Gaul caged the Traveler and she fell from his ship. She could barely walk, she could barely breathe. It was like the world was reminding her she was a dead thing, her organs failing, her body collapsing.

When she opened her eyes it was under the cool synthetic light of the H.E.L.M. Her helmet was off and she was splayed-eagle on the ground. But what was in her vision wasn't the H.E.L.M. "Scared me," Shin said, holding her face in one hand. He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Hurts," she hissed out like all her ribs were broken. Maybe they were. "Ghost? Where-

"I'm here," Ghost appeared next to Shin's face. He was more damaged than before, his shell twitching, his Light leaking out of him. Like it was leaking out of her. "Faded," he said like he was tired. He perked up when Magpie came over, wearing a new shell she'd never seen. He pulsed with Light and Ghost shined back. She felt Ghost mending all the cracks and fissures in her. When she breathed it wasn't labored.

"Is she alive?" Mara's voice yelled, almost frantic, from the front of the H.E.L.M.

"We have her," Shin called over his shoulder. Wolf just laid there. "Let's get you up," he said gently and picked her up with a slight groan. She didn't argue with him, if anything she turned and grabbed at the vest of his suit.

Read More

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Hear me out:

Fairy Wump (or any tiny one tbh)

Put them in a jar and then shake it. Watch them be tossed around in it, getting hurt, hitting their head and breaking bones, whatever.

Or maybe dont shake it?

Just put them in a jar and leave them there. Watching as they slowly but surely run out of oxygen. As they begin to suffocate.

Or kinda combine the two, a funny little remix of some sort:

Fill the jar with water. Not fully but enough so that they'll have to swim.

Then shake it.

Thus you can watch them while they are fighting for their life, stuggeling to get to the surface to catch gasp of air just for them to accidentally inhale water over and over again-

And just as their strenght fades away, they give up and stop fighting their inevitable death, you open the jar and spill it over.

Maybe you injured the creature even more by tossing them out of the glas? Who knows.

They cough up water and perhaps even blood. (Maybe the insertion of secondary drowning afterwards)

They cower in pain or even loose their consciousness.

I could go on...

My mind is kinda fucked to be honest. My apologies

FILLING THE JAR WITH WATER---

ooh that is genius. So mean (I love it)

could also tie in with this prompt 👀

[ao3feed-tf2ships]

No Sick Days (And other reasons why the mercs should unionize)

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54927100

by ShinFay

There was no such thing as sick days for the mercs. They had Sunday off to pray in the tiny chapel on base, which only Engineer attended, but for the most part the mercs worked six to eight hour days, six days a week. When you got a cold you went into battle sniffling and coughing- if you got killed due to somebody hearing you wheeze then you got killed. If you were desperate you could sleep underneath the mounted minigun in the lab to help get the virus out of your system, but nobody was desperate enough to fall asleep around Mr.Is anybody going to take these hearts (plural) and not wait for an answer.

So, no one really batted an eye when Medic showed up to battle with a runny nose.

Words: 3244, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen

Characters: RED Demoman (Team Fortress 2), RED Engineer (Team Fortress 2), RED Heavy (Team Fortress 2), RED Medic (Team Fortress 2), RED Pyro (Team Fortress 2), RED Scout (Team Fortress 2), RED Sniper (Team Fortress 2), RED Soldier (Team Fortress 2), RED Spy (Team Fortress 2), Demoman (Team Fortress 2), Engineer (Team Fortress 2), Heavy (Team Fortress 2), Medic (Team Fortress 2), Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Scout (Team Fortress 2), Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Soldier (Team Fortress 2), Spy (Team Fortress 2)

Relationships: Demoman & Engineer & Heavy & Medic & Pyro & Scout & Sniper & Soldier & Spy (Team Fortress 2), Heavy & Medic (Team Fortress 2), Engineer & Heavy & Medic (Team Fortress 2), Medic & Pyro (Team Fortress 2)

Additional Tags: Sick Character, Minor Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Medic Being Medic (Team Fortress 2), wump, Insomniac Medic, Pyro and Medic are friends, BLU | Builder's League United (Team Fortress 2), Respawn Mechanics (Team Fortress 2), Nonbinary Pyro (Team Fortress 2), everyone has different pronouns for pyro, Heavy centric, medic centric, runny nose, Coughing, Sickfic, Battle Scenes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RED | Reliable Excavation Demolition (Team Fortress 2), it's kept vague on the relationship between the RED and BLU mercs though that may change, feauturing google translated german glanced over by my german roommate, Please Forgive me, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54927100

[chumbietumbies]

hello!! welcome to my blog💕

I’m Summer! I’m 18+ but will not be disclosing my age specifically for privacy reasons! My asks are always open✨

I dabble in a little bit of everything, I’ve been consuming tummy content since I was in primary school, like a lot of us haha. At the time I had no idea there was a community or even words for the stuff I was absolutely fascinated with. Sometimes I wish I was older back then because I would’ve been able to enjoy some of the legends of this community haha

I won’t be writing everything unless specifically requested, everything on this blog will be tagged accordingly with content and trigger warnings:

(ranked from highest to lowest interest)

tummies

stuffing

bloating

burps

natural wg, maybe as a story progresses a character can gradually gain, but I don’t enjoy sudden or quick wg

tummy noises

wump?? sick fics??

indigestion

eructo

bubbly tummies

cramps

tummy aches

giants and tinies

size difference

size shifting

fantasy creatures and beasts

stuckage

I might not even write that on this blog but it can be a cute trope when written properly!

I don’t like:

epructo

scat

overly detailed descriptions of bodily functions

struggling prey

visible prey bellies

demon v0re

magical wg

immobilization

I’ve never been good at DNI, but obviously don’t be a horrible person, fatphobes begone. I don’t mind if you’re nsfw and you enjoy my content, but please don’t bring it where I can see it. Feel free to interact with the #tumbieverse!

also, even though my username is chumbietumbie, this is not a wg blog(I just like soft tummies)!

thank you for reading this far!! enjoy💕

[nicad13]

Crossroads: Chapter 12

The Theft

Summary: An old enemy shows up earlier than expected, with dire consequences for Rayne and Yadier.

Din goes to war.

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Excellent sketches by @catstanbulite

Tags/Warnings: torture, kidnapping, sexual situations, messy execution, wump, hurt/comfort, negotiating sex after trauma

Rating: Mature

We are ready for the siege We are armed up to the teeth… How many times do you want to die? How many ways do you want to die?

Silversun Pickups, The Royal We

---

They took another day on Takodana to plan their next course of action, re-supply, and, truth be told, enjoy the scenery.

They had found a small open meadow in the forest, filled with wildflowers and warm sunlight. Rayne and Din discussed strategy as they watched Yadier waddle around in the grass, bending over each flower he came to, bringing his nose to it, and breathing in with a deep inhale to give it a good whiff. Every now and then he got a nose full of pollen and let loose with a tiny but powerful sneeze which managed to unlock a chuckle from Din.

For his part, the Mandalorian was still unused to natural environments with such beauty. Sorgan had seemed unreal in its green tranquility. Alas, that peace had been transient, made impossible by the price on their heads. Methuselah had stunned him, with its forests and fireflies and lake and meteor showers. It left him feeling like all the splendor of the galaxy had been spent on that one planet, that there couldn’t possibly be any beauty left outside of it. But now they were here, on Takodana, watching their son sneeze his way through the wildflowers.

It was enough to make Din realize, with sudden understanding, that the galaxy wasn’t completely full of shitholes. He wondered, for a brief, idle moment, if the coordinates that Maz would give to them would lead to a place even half as nice.

He gave his head a short shake, as if to clear it. They had to deal with Gideon first. They had to eliminate him. They could only hope that Gideon was the end of the line, that it went no deeper than him, that no one was pulling his strings in the way he was pulling the Client’s on Nevarro.

“Baiting him is easy enough,” Rayne said. “We just find a strategic location and disable your fob scramblers. I can turn them off without destroying them in case we need to turn them back on again. Once they’re off, he’ll come running.”

“I’d like to have more muscle on our side,” Din said. “I’m pretty sure I can get Cara on-board. I’ll send her a message when we get back.”

Rayne nodded, recalling Cara from Din’s descriptions of his time on Sorgan and their previous battle against Gideon. “Is there anyone else? Any favors you can call in?”

Din considered. Karga still owed him, but he didn’t trust him. Not on this. He’d heard no news about the covert, though he was unsure if he could trust anyone who might remain, given… Paz. Given Death Watch. His connections to past coverts were so tenuous that they were near-useless. The nomadic clan-less foundling life of “no attachments” had served him well inasmuch as it protected him from loss, but it failed in spectacular fashion when it came to social capital. He had none. Aside from Rayne and Cara, he was on his own. In answer to Rayne’s question, he shook his head. “No. Are Reesha and Zavin in the position to help?”

Rayne shrugged, having already considered this option. “Reesha couldn’t find much intel on Gideon, which is… concerning. New Republic is stretched too thin to make any moves on an Outer-Rim remnant without more information. Unless we come forward with Yadier, but we don’t want to do that.”

Din gave his head a firm shake.

“They could probably make an X-wing disappear for us, but we’d have to go back to Coruscant to pick it up and there’s no good way to dock one of those to the Razor Crest, so the logistics on that might not be worth it.”

“Agreed.” Another pause for consideration. “Can you fly a TIE?”

“Yeah. We captured one during the war and it was twitchy as hell, but I can manage it. Got a plan?”

“Not yet. Just gathering options.”

“Hm. What should I know about Gideon?” Rayne asked.

Din took a deep breath. “He’ll make it personal. If he finds out who you are and gets away from us…” He paused, gut tightening. “Your niece… he could go after Hayes’s family…”

Rayne shook her head. “We were married on a star cruiser in the middle of a war. Those kinds of things weren’t legally binding until people could get planet-side at the end of it.” She took a breath, and Din understood the implication immediately. Hayes hadn’t made it that far. “There’s no record that leads from me to them. Or anyone else.”

The tightness in his gut loosened. “Good. His interest in Yadier likely has to do with his abilities. Might be best for you to not play the Force-sensitive card too obviously, if you can help it.”

“What do we do with Yadier?”

Din was silent for a few moments. When he finally answered, his voice was tinged with anxiety. “You want to use him against Gideon.”

“No, I don’t want to. But we might want to add him to the options. He’s more powerful than the rest of us combined. And I have a hunch that he wants to help.”

“What makes you think that?”

Rayne lowered her gaze. “I’ve been getting more… snippets from him lately. Flashes of understanding. He gets that you’ve protected him. He understands that on a very profound level. He also watched you almost die. He’d rather not see that again. He’s… eager to reciprocate the protection you’ve given him.”

“He’s a child,” Din growled. “He’s not obligated to do anything for me.”

“He’s a fifty-year-old child with enormous power who is beginning to understand the responsibilities that come with that power. It’s not a matter of obligation. It’s a matter of following the example you’ve set.”

Din sighed. How many people did his son watch him kill? He’d destroyed a droid within moments of finding the child. From that point forward it had been a never-ending stream of threats that died by his hand. Not that he’d had much of a choice in the matter. They lived in an unkind world. His son had already killed on his behalf, the memory of the Incinerator Trooper not forgotten. The idea that Yadier, his sweet little boy, wanted to continue in such participation was, on the one hand, horrifying. On the other, the darker, Death Watch Mandalorian hand that still had a firm grip on the workings of his mind, he felt proud. The possibility that his son wanted to be a warrior was assuring. Warriors survived. His son would survive.

“Okay,” Din said. “We’ll add him to the list of options.”

---

Cara – 

Got a good lead on where to take the kid. Need help with Gideon first.

Found someone who does the Baby Thing. And the Kick Ass And Take Names Thing. Turns out they’re not mutually exclusive.

You in?

- Mando

---

Rayne tossed and turned that night. Din slipped the helmet back on so she could roll all the way over in the not-exactly-dark room if she wanted to. It set the alarm bells off in his head. Nightmares were common enough for her, but they were brief; a few moments of twitching and whimpers, and then she’d be done, with no apparent pattern of occurrence. She otherwise slept like a rock. The only other restless night she’d had was just before their escape from her planet, when he’d woken up to find her guarding the hatch of the Razor Crest with his rifle across her knees.

Things hadn’t gone so well the next day.

Trusting her instincts, he pulled her to him, and she tucked her head under his chin, once again avoiding the helmet as much as possible. “What’s up?” he asked, little more than a whisper through the modulator.

She took a deep breath. “Dunno.”

“What do you need?”

“Half a bottle of Spotchka.”

That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but he rolled with it. “We left it on the ship.”

She pressed her lips to the top of his sternum. “We need to revise our packing list.”

“Mm. Anything else?”

She brought an arm up around him, fingertips light along his spine, but made no further moves. “Just you.”

He tightened his hold on her. Eventually, she turned over and spooned back into him, remaining still for the rest of the night.

---

Mando,

Sure. I’m in.

Welcome back,

Cara

---

They loaded up the Razor Crest the next morning. Maz gave them coordinates on an unassuming scrap of paper. Rayne scrounged a small box to lock it into, then removed one of the panels in the hull of the cargo hold to hide it behind until they were ready for use.

Before Din could turn to board his ship, Maz stayed him for a moment with a hand to his wrist. “You have a long journey ahead of you, Mandalorian.”

He wasn’t much for vague platitudes, but he responded all the same. “Yes. Thank you for your guidance.”

“Expect to be challenged by those you seek. They will not be inflexible, but they may not be as forgiving of your ways as your Jedi.” She winked.

“I understand.” He gave her a final nod, boarded the Crest, flipped through the ignition sequence, and laid in a course for Nevarro as the engines fired up. Rayne and Yadier settled into the starboard jump-seat as he eased the ship off and into a forward vector, taking their time to break atmosphere to save fuel. Yadier gazed out the windscreen with rapt attention, always enjoying the view as it transitioned from blue sky to black space.

Din took a moment to lock in the coordinates for their first jump when an Imperial Vibre-class assault cruiser dropped out of hyperspace in front of them.

A small ship in the grand Imperial scale of things, but an Imperial ship none the less.

“Oh, shit.” Rayne’s voice betrayed a mix of horror and surprise.

“Dammit,” Din whispered to himself. He slammed the stick to port and pushed the thruster wide-open, but the ship did little more than shudder in response. Not yet. We’re not ready yet…

“Get us out of here,” Rayne urged.

“Can’t. Tractor beam’s got us already.”

“Ffffuuuuck,” Rayne gritted the word out between her teeth, forgetting that she was holding a baby. “They’re going to board us,” she realized.

“Yeah. If they were gonna vaporize us they’d have done it already.”

“Rayne Rollins,” Gideon’s voice hailed them over the com. “You thought your absence at your hangar would be overlooked. You were incorrect. You thought your overwhelming defeat of my troopers would be disregarded. You were incorrect. You thought the record of your success at Methuselah would escape notice. You were incorrect. You thought the deaths of Mayfeld and Xi’an would be ignored. You were incorrect. You think you can keep Din Djarin and the child safe. You are incorrect in that, as well.”

“Shit.” She pushed her hands through her hair, but at least the words were down to a whisper. “Shit shit shit…”

“As for you, Din Djarin, you left me for dead in my ship. I will return the sentiment. With interest. I will leave you to die on your ship. I will leave you to die alone. In the cold dark of space. You will choke your last breaths out knowing that I took everything from you. And when you are dead, I will return for your beskar. I will collect it from your body. I will remove your helmet, and I will see the dead face of Din Djarin before I leave him to rot.”

“We’re fucked. We’re completely fucked. Goddammit Din, I fucked this all up.”

It occurred to Din that Rayne hadn’t seen much in the way of actual first-hand combat with Imperial troops.

Rayne was panicking.

Even-keeled Rayne was panicking.

“Calm down. We have one card to play.”

“What’s that?”

“Gideon still might not know you’re Force-sensitive. He definitely doesn’t know you have any Jedi training.”

“How do you know?”

“He would’ve used your real name. If he knew you were raised at the Temple, he would have used the name you had there.”

“How does that help us?”

“Not sure yet.”

They looked up through the windscreen as the Imperial ship grew larger, dragging the Razor Crest towards an airlock. “Here,” Rayne handed Yadier to Din, then moved to the center of the console. “Can I…”

“Sure…” Din moved out of the way and watched as Rayne began entering commands into the comm unit, her hands a blur of motion, her initial panic replaced by sudden purpose. “What are-”

“Hang on.” She entered a few more lines of code, turned, then was off the flight deck, down the ladder, and into the hold, pulling one of her bots from its crate in the back.

Gamma. The one who had aided their prior escape.

Din was at Rayne’s side by the time she had the bot out and started booting it up.

“They’ll override the Crest’s ramp once they get a seal on the airlock,” she said, tapping at a datapad that was linked to Gamma’s processor. “Gideon wants me and Yadier. You’re more trouble than you’re worth. He’s gonna knock us out with gas grenades, take me and Yadi, leave you here, and disable the Crest’s life support.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Oh…” Rayne’s voice betrayed a tremor. “Let’s just say I have a horrible feeling about this.” She handed the datapad to Din. “I’ve set the Crest’s life support to purge the gas and restart two minutes after Gideon cuts it. You should wake up a minute or so after that. I tapped the Imp’s comms and set up a blind spot around the airlock. You’ll be able to get through it and come for us. Gamma has shields, weapons, and can bypass locks, so bring it with you.”

“Wait… since when does that thing have weapons?”

“Since three weeks ago.” We do not have time for you to be angry about this. She looked up into his visor, brought a hand to his chestplate, and curled her fingers around the top edge of it. “I won’t be able to get Yadi out. If you have to choose between him or me, you choose him. Do you understand?”

He wrapped his hand around hers. “It won’t come to that.”

She tugged on his armor. He wasn’t expecting it, and he came forward a step. “Do you. Understand.”

“Yeah.”

One last thought occurred to her. “Bring my lightsaber.”

“I will.”

A series of hollow clangs rang through the hull as the Imperial cruiser locked on.

Din slid the datapad into a slot on the shelf, then held his Jedi and his son to his chest, his back to the hatch, and in true Mandalorian fashion, shielded his family with his armor and his own body as the seal was breached and the grenades were forced through.

---

Moff Gideon was no fool.

He had seen the destruction Djarin left behind on the New Republic prison ship. He had seen the footage of Djarin managing to break out of his cell and round up the mercenaries who had betrayed him.

He remembered Djarin sending him to the ground in his own TIE fighter after he’d had the Mandalorian dead to rights.

The Mandalorian was far too resourceful for his tastes. Gideon would not risk having him aboard his own ship. As much as he wished a closer interrogation, as much as he wished to unhelm him while he was alive, to watch those large brown eyes from the childhood records grow round with terror as he brought the Darksaber to the Mandalorian’s throat, he knew better. He would not risk giving Djarin any opportunities. Better to keep him locked on his own turf and kill him from a distance. The pleasure of watching him die slowly would be retribution enough.

The child was his goal. He would not deviate from it.

The woman… Gideon had his suspicions. She was risky in her own right, but he surmised he had much to gain from her, as well.

* * *

Din woke up on the floor of the Razor Crest, on his back, alone, head pounding.

His hands yielded to reflex as they flew to his face. Finding the helmet in place, he took a breath, then pushed himself up to a sitting position.

His family.

The Imps had stolen his family.

Rage welled up from his chest and bloomed red in his mind.

Gideon wanted revenge? Too fucking bad.

Din was going to bring a war.

Pulling himself to his feet, he found the datapad tucked into the shelf along the hull. A series of windows displayed points within the cruiser showing movement of the troopers within, and a single window at the bottom, displaying a stationary image of his own body sprawled on the floor. His head snapped up, seeing the camera that had been installed above the hatch, a red light below the lens flashing.

Gideon wanted to watch him die. Rayne had anticipated this, and he realized she’d managed to hack the comms equipment before it had even been put in place.

Good god, this woman.

He scanned through the pad again, searching. Vibres were small, only a hundred meters long and carried a max of sixty troopers, no hangar for a complement of TIE fighters, but it had a boatload of guns. They would have to disable those and the tractor beam to escape. Flipping through the screens, he finally found where Rayne and Yadier were being held. He let out a frustrated sigh – they were on opposite ends of the ship. Rayne was in what looked to be an interrogation cell and Yadier was in a lab.

Din ran the video footage back so he could track their progression through the ship and get the lay of the land. He got to the point where they were separated, and watched as Rayne had lunged against the troopers dragging her down the corridor when parting ways from their son. Three times she had thrown herself against her captors, still incapacitated. The trooper in the lead had turned, and three times, pistol-whipped her in the face with his blaster.

The footage was grainy, but still clear enough to show the splash of her blood on the white armor.

Din committed the splash pattern to memory. The trooper who bore it would receive a particularly creative death.

A loose plan formed in his mind. Despite Rayne’s demand to prioritize Yadier’s rescue, he would go for her first. Their son was under heavier guard and he would need her help to break him free. He would play this very differently from the prison ship. That had been minimally guarded, and he had deliberately prefaced his attack with the red flashing of the emergency lights to instill terror in his foes. He would require more stealth with a ship full of troopers, would need to keep them in the dark as to his escape for as long as possible.

In the dark… now there was an idea.

He keyed his vambrace to Rayne’s comm hack and made a few adjustments.

Time to gear up. He checked his sidearm blaster – good to go. He wouldn’t take his rifle; it would only get in the way for close-quarters fighting. Knife – good to go as well, nestled in its place in his boot. He went to the weapons locker, loaded his belt with charges, and switched out the flamethrower fuel cells for fresh ones.

He had not thought to re-stock on whistling birds when he last saw the Armorer, and the oversight pained him. His eye caught his jetpack, stowed at the bottom of the locker.

Mmmmaybe not this time.

He closed the locker and went to Rayne’s drawer, also keyed to both of their bio-signatures. He pulled it open, reached for her lightsaber, and stopped cold.

Xi’an’s knives.

For a brief instant, his mind fell back, back to his years on Ran’s crew, watching Xi’an sharpen her blades at the same table where he cleaned his rifle. Her offer to sharpen his knife. The memory of pulling it from his boot and sliding it across the table…

What the hell were Xi’an’s knives doing in there?

It took him a moment to recall, to recover from the stutter in his memory, to bring up the image of the way Rayne had plucked the first thrown blade out of the air without even realizing she was doing it. The interrogation that followed. The execution following that.

He wrapped his hand around the lightsaber and closed the drawer. They could talk about the knives later. Clipping the weapon to his belt, he grabbed the birikad, Yadier’s harness, off of a shelf and stuffed it between the small of his back and his belt, then went to the hatch.

Time to go to war.

---

Her face ached.

For what felt like a long time, that’s all Rayne was aware of.

Like someone had taken a pipe to her face and used it for batting practice.

After what felt like a long time, she became aware of why she felt like that.

Yadier…

She reached out with her mind, reached out for her son, and for the first time since Din had brought him into her life, she couldn’t reach him. She reached out for Din. His general state would be nearly impossible to gauge with the helmet on, but she could usually sense something of him even at a fair distance, but for now, there was nothing.

They were either both dead, or she was in a shielded room.

Overwhelming pain.

Sharp. Pointed. Electrical. Pulsing.

Every fiber of muscle in her body contracted and she froze in agony, too locked up to scream, too locked up to open her eyes, too locked up to conjure a conscious thought.

After what felt like a long time, the current running through her body finally ceased and she fell limp against the restraint across her chest.

“Good morning, Rayne Rollins.”

Gideon’s voice. The same voice from the news clips. The same voice from the hail.

“What brings you to my ship, today?”

“Your… fucking… tractor beam…” Rayne opened her eyes as much as she could, finding herself in an Imperial interrogation chair. It wasn’t so much a “chair” as it was an upright slab with restraints and stabby electrodes. She’d learned a little about them as a kid, been hooked up to one and received a mild shock, along with the rest of her classmates, the beginning of what would have been many lessons on how to resist the kind of thing she was apparently experiencing right now.

Yeah, that would’ve been handy.

“I will instruct you once on how this works,” Gideon said, somewhere out of her admittedly limited field of vision. “I will ask a question and you will answer it. If you do not provide a valid answer within five seconds, you will receive the punishment that I have just acquainted you with. Do you understand?”

She said nothing and closed her eyes.

The agony returned.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream.

Her world went black.

---

The knife was a quiet way to kill. Stealthy.

The misconception that slicing the throat was the best way to kill someone with a short blade was a common one. In reality, that was quite noisy. Too much screaming and gurgling and thrashing until the blood finally ran out.

The best way, to kill a human anyway, was to stab them down through a kidney. The pain was paralyzing. Silencing. They just locked right up and down they went. The trick was to get the angle just right. Getting over the back of the pelvis and down through as much of the organ as you could. Stormtrooper armor did a little in terms of getting in the way, but it still left a seam in the back.

You just had to get them to bend over a little, and in you went.

The fifth body went stiff in Din’s grasp, and he lowered it to the deck. Nice and quiet.

It had been a while since he’d killed so many in one day.

But he hadn’t forgotten how.

Oh, no. Not at all.

This body at his feet. This blood on his gloves. This death he brought about. This was his life. What he had trained for. What he had dedicated his existence to.

In this moment, Din was nothing more than a machine of murder.

All else had dropped away.

He moved on to the next target, a trail of blood in his wake.

Unbeknownst to him, Rayn’s bot, Gamma, followed behind at a discrete distance, ready for when it would be needed.

---

“Let’s try this again. What were you doing on Djarin’s ship?”

Rayne opened her eyes just enough to see Gideon standing before her, just to her left. Four other troopers stood guard inside of the room. She thought maybe there were one or two others just outside the door, but wasn’t sure. The fuzziness of it gave her hope that this was just a shielded room and would explain her inability to reach her family. Gideon wasn’t taking any chances with her. “He needed an engineer.”

“You abandoned a successful business to become an engineer for a bounty hunter.”

“I was bored.” Her face still ached and talking hurt. She’d never been pistol-whipped before. She hoped never to experience it again.

“Tell me about the child.”

“Little. Green. Burps a lot.” Everything hurt. Except for the parts she couldn’t feel. Things from the knees down felt a little numb.

“Tell me about the child’s abilities.”

“Little. Green. Burps a lot.” Even listening to Gideon’s voice hurt.

The agony returned.

Rayne’s world went black again.

---

Oh. Oh, here we go.

The trooper who had struck Rayne in the face with his blaster now stood guard at a door around the corner, her blood still spattered on his armor.

This might be worth making some noise for.

Din strode around the corner, making no effort to mask his presence.

He wanted the trooper to see him coming.

“Hey! What the- You’re not supposed to be here!”

“Nope. I’m not.” Before the trooper could level his blaster, Din flicked his wrist and the whipcord shot out, wrapping itself around the trooper’s throat as Din snapped him back along the corridor. The trooper’s screams were choked off by the cord, but there was still a fair amount of clattering as Din threw him to the floor face-first and pinned him down. He jammed the fist-end of his vambrace up into the front of the trooper’s helmet. With no further prelude, he activated the flamethrower directly up through the seal, breaching it, keeping the writhing body pinned to the floor as the trooper’s initial bucks and twists faded, ignoring the smell of burnt flesh and hair and plastoid armor, ignoring the heat that crept along his knuckles as he kept his wrist wedged into the helmet.

The body stilled at about the same time Din’s flamethrower ran out of fuel. Good enough. He got up, turned the trooper over with his toe, pulled his knife from his boot, crouched back down, and parted the helmet from the body with the head still in it. When turning the bucket over didn’t release the contents, he slammed it to the floor, felt the thud of a skull freeing up from the flesh seared to the inside, then dumped it out onto the trooper’s chest, what was left of the charred face pointing up to the ceiling.

The message was clear.

Anyone who messed with the clan of Rollins-Djarin would burn.

---

“I’m curious, Rollins. How do you keep getting through the asteroid belt at Methuselah?” Gideon’s voice was all cool, calculated ice. He certainly endeavored to present an unflappable front, though Rayne sensed an underlying impatience.

She shrugged once more at his questions. “I’m a decent pilot.”

“Ah, yes. You are, after all, a Rebel veteran. All those sorties you flew.”

Rayne didn’t respond.

“All two of them.”

So the fuck what?

“How does someone who only flew two sorties over the course of a decades-long war get to be the kind of pilot who gets through that belt? With a ship the size of the Razor Crest?”

“Skill and luck.”

Pain, again. Dialed back now, dialed back so that she could not escape through unconsciousness, helpless but to endure it for its full length. Even when it was done, her head was still cloudy, her mind was still off-kilter, still unable to put everything together and figure out how to extricate herself from this.

Gideon let out a long breath that wasn’t quite a sigh. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small vid projector, turning it on to bring a two-dimensional image flickering up before her.

The image of Din lying motionless on the floor of the Razor Crest.

“Your captain is dead, now, Rollins.”

She betrayed nothing, meeting his gaze. “So… what, exactly? You win?” The words were slurring out of her now. Her face didn’t seem to work quite right.

Gideon’s brow furrowed just the smallest bit before smoothing back out again. “Think of it as more of a demonstration. I desire certain things. When I do not get them in a timely manner, the people who are the cause of that delay die. Din Djarin caused a delay in my acquisition of the child. He is now dead. I now desire to know where you intended to take the child. If you cause a delay in the acquisition of that knowledge, you will join Djarin in death on his ship.”

“Something tells me I’m going to wind up there anyway.”

“Do you also require a demonstration of my willingness to torture a baby?”

Okay, yeah, fuck that. Time to put the cards down on the table and play the one called Jedi. “Yeah, I’m not worth anything to you. You want to let me go.”

She pushed. Hard. As hard as she could manage with her brain half-scrambled and her body half-fried.

Gideon twitched an eyebrow. “And there we have it.”

Oh, shit.

“An amusing little trick, Rollins, but not one that will work on me. I may have only scratched the surface on who you are, but you just revealed what you are.” He reached out and traced his finger along the leather cord from around her neck to the casing it held. He wrapped his fingers around it and yanked it free to examine more closely, turning it over in his hands. “The Jedi and the Mandalorians were at each other’s throats for millennia. And here we have a Jedi wearing beskar at her throat.” He met Rayne’s eyes. “Only the engineer?”

She locked her eyes on his but remained silent.

He opened the casing and poured the lock of hair out into his palm. “Curious.” He met Rayne’s gaze once again, his expression concealed behind a mask of calm. “I wonder where else we will find Djarin’s DNA on you.” 

Rayne’s jaw tightened, but she gave no further show of emotion.

Gideon replaced the lock of Din’s hair and closed the casing, then placed it on a nearby tray. “But first,” he said, picking up a syringe from the same tray, “we will collect your DNA and see what it has to tell us.”

That’s what he wants Yadier for. They’re pulling it from him right now if they haven’t gotten it already.

Physically helpless, she struck out against him with her mind, and he fumbled the syringe, dropping it to the floor. Inhibiting action in another was easier than initiating it, and she intended to inhibit as much as she possibly could.

She thought she saw rage flicker over Gideon’s face, just for a moment. “You cannot stall me forever. The inevitable will happen.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

He raised a fist to strike, but it paused in mid-air, hovering, refusing the commands of his brain to swing it forward.

Unable to strike her with his fist, he drilled into her with his eyes, a silent promise that he would get what he wanted, eventually, and the longer he had to wait, the worse it was going to be for her.

She stared back, trembling with the effort, breath coming in long draws, daring him to try it.

The lights went red.

The alarms sounded.

Gideon’s face twisted with rage.

Then the lights and alarms went out all together, and the room was black. Silent.

She couldn’t help herself. “Or maybe we won’t see, after all.”

Rayne!

She heard… felt Din’s voice in her head. He must be just outside the door and projecting with everything he had to get through whatever had blocked her before.

The door blasted open, sending shrapnel and fire through the cell. The troopers returned fire through the new opening, firing blindly in the dark, Rayne able to sense their panic at the realization that their HUDs and coms were no longer working. Din had apparently embellished her hacks into the system.

Good god, this man.

A single shot from the other side of the door struck the control panel for the interrogation chair and Rayne was released from the bindings. With nothing holding her up, she suddenly found herself unable to stand, clamoring for the edge of the chair to keep from hitting the floor. She sensed Din tossing her lightsaber in a moment later. Reaching with both her free hand and the Force, she caught and activated it, the yellow blade emitting just enough illumination to show Gideon escaping through another door.

Seeing something they could actually shoot at, the troopers focused their fire on the lightsaber, only for Rayne to deflect the shots right back at them. It gave Din the opening he needed and he stepped through, ending the troopers with a single shot to each of their heads.

Silence and darkness once again.

Rayne’s saber deactivated as it fell from her hand and she lost her grip on the chair. Din caught her before she could hit the floor. “Hey,” he managed between breaths. “Hey, I got you…”

“I… I can’t…”

“I know.” He got her arm over his shoulders, picked her saber up off the floor, and clipped it back to her belt where it belonged. “How bad?”

“Can’t feel my feet. Brain’s fuzzy. A little cooked from the chair.”

“Want a bacta-phrine shot?”

She swallowed, understanding the implications of his question. They had a lot of work ahead of them, and he needed her whole and present for it to all work. The bacta/epinephrine infusion would get her through it, but it came at a price. She swallowed again. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He lowered her to the floor. She pulled her shirt up while he pulled the small canister off of his belt, shook it up, and moved to straddle her at the hips, pinning her down. She lay as still as she could while he felt for the right spot on her sternum with one hand and popped the cap off of the canister with the other thumb. “Ready?”

He watched her close her eyes from the infrared of his HUD. “Yeah.”

Din slammed the canister to her chest, sending the needle through her sternum, pumping the infusion directly to her heart.

She convulsed against him, once again in far too much pain to scream, and he held her down, keeping his butt planted at her hips, his left hand pressing down at the top of her chest, right hand keeping the canister in place as her fingers raked down his helmet with involuntary twitches.

She bucked into him for a few more moments until it finally abated and she fell back, relaxing, breaths evening out into long, even draws. Her eyes drew shut once more as she felt the pins-and-needles of feeling returning to her feet, her mind cleared, and her strength returned, the cooked-through feeling dissipating.

“You good?” he asked.

She took one more moment to consider. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

He pulled the canister free, making sure the needle came all the way with it, and moved off of her, allowing her to pull herself up and test all of her limbs. She walked back to the center of the room and retrieved the beskar casing, holding it up to draw his attention to it before putting it in her pocket. “Gideon figured out the family situation.”

Din blew out a sharp exhale of anger. The last thing he wanted was to hand the Imp even more information. He turned back toward the doorway, taking a quick peek out before stepping into the corridor. He was mildly surprised to see Gamma there waiting for them, but didn’t acknowledge it, going back the way he came. “What did he try to get from you?”

“Yadier’s abilities. Where we were headed with him. A blood sample.” She sensed him turn his head in her direction as she walked next to him. “I fucked up and played the Jedi card.”

Another angry exhale.

“The lightsaber would’ve tipped him off anyway.”

Din gave a conciliatory tip of his head.

“He stopped asking questions after that, said something about DNA, and picked up a syringe. That’s what he wants with Yadier. Force-sensitive DNA.”

“What does he want with that?”

“I think he wants Force-sensitivity for himself. Maybe for a higher-up too, but he radiated a certain… greed is the best thing I can call it. He’s already had some Force resistance training. I tried to Force him to let me go and he barely twitched. Guy’s a brick wall.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. They must have a blood sample from Yadi by now. We can’t let them keep it.”

“We don’t have time for espionage.”

“We have time to set charges. Please tell me you brought more charges.”

Of course. “I only brought enough to disable the guns and the tractor beam. We can’t blow this thing up with the Crest locked to it.”

“Gamma can take care of the guns and tractor beam.” Rayne stopped at a junction in the corridor. “We set the charges in the lab and on the reactor.”

“I didn’t bring enough to bring this thing down.”

“We blow the lab before we leave so they lose any material they’ve gained today and can’t transmit any analyses. We blow the reactor later, when we’re ready to take Gideon. It’ll disable the ship enough to get it within range.”

“Within range of what?”

Din saw Rayne smile in the infrared. “Me and Yadier.”

---

Hiding the charges on the reactor turned out to be easy enough – most of the troopers were guarding the lab. While Rayne and Din were busy with that, Gamma plugged into a port and disabled the guns and tractor beam behind a covert firewall. The crew would have no idea anything was wrong until it was too late.

They re-grouped and continued to the lab, passing bodies of fallen troopers along the way. The fact that they were met with no resistance worried them both. It could only mean that all of the forces were pulled back to resist the efforts of the parents to rescue their son. Rayne took note of one particular body strewn on the floor. While she couldn’t see all of the details, she could certainly smell many of them; burnt flesh, burnt hair, burnt plastoid. She sensed the shape of the helmet on the floor and the head… not where it should have been, but placed face-up instead, on the torso of the body.

She cast a mental glance at Din as he stepped over it like it was no different from his other victims scattered through the corridors. The ritualistic display was striking and disturbing at the same time, one more echo of the dark violence that resided in her Mandalorian. She decided to address it directly. “So what’s with that guy?”

“He put his blaster grip through your face three times.”

“Mm.” Fair enough.

They arrived at another junction a couple minutes later when Din held up a hand. “Lab’s around the corner.”

She pressed her back to the wall as he took a quick look around, confident that the troopers’ HUDs remained blind in the dark. Still, she closed her eyes to reach out. “I’m guessing ten troopers in front of the door. Another ten on either side in the adjoining hall down there.”

“I think you’re right. Any feel on Yadier?”

She took a breath. All she could get from their son was an empty blankness. No pain, but a dearth of consciousness far below that even of a deep sleep. “I think he’s sedated. He’s not in any pain, but he won’t be responsive when we get to him.”

Din nodded, familiar with that situation. “Hard to see through all the troopers, but I think there are two others in there with him.”

“Gideon. One other.”

Din had a pretty good guess as to who that was, as well.

“I have a plan.”

He looked down to his left at her, pressed back against the wall next to him, lightsaber in hand, deactivated but ready. All of the panic from earlier cleared away, breath steady, posture tense but prepared. All warrior. “Let’s hear it.”

She gave him the outline, based on old Jedi-Clone teamwork tactics.

“You full up?”

“Yeah,” she rolled her shoulders. “Little high, maybe. Ready to take advantage of it.”

“Okay.” He pushed off of the wall, fished the birikad out from the back of his belt, and strapped it on. He turned to face Rayne, taking a moment to look at her once more. Her gaze met his in the darkness, waiting. Ready. He nodded. “Go.”

Rayne stepped into the corridor and ignited her saber. The troopers responded with blaster fire and Din watched as she swung into action, the yellow blade nothing but a blur as she deflected all of the shots. He turned back to the bot behind him. “Ready?”

It chirped an affirmative.

“Let’s go.”

He drew his blaster, stepped in behind her, got the sense of her swinging pattern, and began to fire past her. She led with her hips and her shoulders, telegraphing her movements so he wouldn’t blast her arms off, and they’d managed to bring down all ten troopers by the time they got to the junction in front of the door. When they reached it, Din fired into the corridor to the left, Rayne deflected the shots from the corridor on the right, and Gamma scuttled up to the door, plugged into the port, and cranked away at the lock.

Din pumped round after round into the corridor as he listened to the heavy clanks of the lock as it gave way at a pace far too slow for his liking. “What’s taking so long?” His voice grated through the modulator.

“Class Seven lock,” Rayne shouted back as she deflected the bolts coming from the other end. “Those take a while.”

“Define a while.”

“Five more seconds. Get ready.”

True to her word, the door slid open five seconds later. Din ducked back for just long enough so Rayne could take a half turn and lift a hand to Force the troopers in Din’s hall to the floor. He charged the gap and into the lab, following his HUD to where his son was held.

The red emergency lights in the lab were operational and holding steady in their dim glow. Cabinets formed corridors that twisted left and right at irregular intervals. He stalked by tables lined with jars containing embryonic monsters suspended in formaldehyde, racks of sharply-pointed tools, shelves displaying skulls of humans, twi’leks, and wookies. Finally, he turned the last corner.

“You again.”

“Please don’t!” The same scientist from before, at Nevarro, the guy with the glasses, cowered away from him, huddling in the dim red light. Din turned to see his son, confined to a table once more, eyes closed and unresponsive, as Rayne said he would be.

He holstered his blaster. Once again, he disengaged the panel pinning his son’s body to the table, lifted him up, slid him into the birikad, and tightened the straps around him, keeping him snug to his chest. He turned to the scientist and, hands free, pulled his blaster. “Let me guess. Protecting him again?”

“Yes! He’s more valuable alive than dead!”

“To who?”

A blaster shot flashed from Din’s right and struck the scientist in the head, killing him.

Din spun and snapped off a shot of his own, angry for letting himself get distracted and flanked. He spotted the swirl of a black cloak and armor as it disappeared back around the corner. Pausing to set a charge to the underside of the table, he headed back the way he came.

Oh, he wanted Gideon. Wanted him badly. But Rayne and Gamma were covering him outside, and he wouldn’t let Gideon bait him away. Wouldn’t keep them waiting.

I have him. We’re coming out. He pushed his thoughts to her as hard as he could.

Ready.

He picked up speed as he neared the exit, and shouted when he reached it. “Go! Now!”

Rayne left her position and led the retreat, Din following, with Gamma covering their six. Din hit the button on his vambrace and the deck bucked under their feet as the lab exploded behind them. Back down the darkened corridors. As expected, the remaining troopers had flanked to block their retreat. Rayne cut through the blaster bolts, saber deflecting all of the shots. Some of them deflecting back into the troopers themselves, most heading into the bulkheads. But nothing got through her. Nothing so much as zinged past Din’s shoulders. Nothing got past Gamma, either, its shields holding up against the pursuing troopers.

Din and Yadier were safe in the bubble created by Rayne and her bot.

Finally, they rounded the last corner to the airlock. Rayne sprinted up the ramp, tilting her head as she did so, as if she was listening for something. “Ship’s clean!” she shouted. Din followed her up and she hit the button to close the hatch. He turned to see Gamma plant itself in the center of the corridor, shield spread wide, guns blazing into the troopers on the other side. “Go!” Rayne slapped him in the shoulder, pushing him toward the flight deck. “Gamma’s staying back to cover.”

“Right.” Din bolted up to the flight deck and fired up the engines as Rayne stayed at the hatch, just to make sure. Catching sight of the camera along the top edge, she jumped to grab it, smashed it on the floor, and stomped on it for good measure. By the time she made it up to Din’s side, they’d pushed clear of the airlock and were gaining speed away from the cruiser. “No tractor beam or canon fire yet…” Din said as he locked in their course. He took one last look behind him, at the Imperial cruiser, not quite believing that they’d escaped it on one piece. Then he pushed the Razor Crest to hyperspeed and they jumped away.

Once more, the stars streaked to white and the ripple of hyperspace enveloped them in safety.

He let out a breath, one hand around the tiny body of his son, feeling his heartbeat slow and steady.

Then he heard the thud of a body dropping to the floor behind him.

He turned to see Rayne out cold, the bacta-phrine infusion having run its course.

---

Her face ached.

But not as badly as it had before.

She felt something cool and wet against her skin on her face, dulling the pain. She felt the same cool wetness stuck against her ribs. She smelled something sharp and bitter in the air.

Bacta. She was covered in bacta patches.

She opened her eyes and was unsurprised to see the black T of a helmet visor staring back at her.

“Hey,” Din’s voice was soft as he brought an ungloved hand to the undamaged side of her face. “Welcome back.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face into his hand. “Yadier ok?”

“Yeah. He’s still sleeping it off. I found where they did a blood draw on him, but there’s nothing else.”

She nodded. “You ok?”

“Not a scratch.”

“Am I ok?”

He huffed out a laugh. “You had a pretty good black eye going by the time I got the patch on it. Didn’t look bad enough for your cheekbone to be broken. Some burns on your ribs from the interrogation chair. You’ve been out for three hours. Any chest pains at all?”

“No.”

“Good. Then I didn’t manage to give you a heart attack with the infusion.”

“Hooray…” she deadpanned. She opened her eyes and looked around, finding they were in their new accommodations up behind the galley. Din was stripped down to his helmet, T-shirt, and shorts, sitting cross-legged next to her on the mattress, the hand that wasn’t touching her face covered in a bandage. “Hey,” she said, reaching out to it. “You said not a scratch.”

“That’s a burn. Not a scratch.”

“Semantics.”

He shrugged.

“What happened?”

“Got carried away roasting the Stormtrooper.”

She did her best to keep her expression neutral, but was unsure of her success when he shrugged again.

“It’s fine.” He shifted position to stretch his legs out. “We’ll hit Nevarro in eighteen hours. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

He pushed himself to his feet. “Stay put. What can I get you?”

“One of those chocolate nut-bar things would hit the spot.”

He returned in short order with two bars in one hand and a water bottle in the other. She sat up with a confused look as he handed a bar to her, then made a twirling motion with his finger. “Turn around. Face the bulkhead.” She did as he instructed, heard him grunt as he returned to the mattress, felt the pressure of his back against hers, and then heard the seal disengage as he took the helmet off. She froze, sitting with her shock as Din sat behind her, unhelmed with the lights on, crunching his way through a ration bar.

He was a fast eater, getting it all down before she brought herself to even open hers, finally spurred to motion when he opened the water bottle and downed half of it. She took a bite, chewing slowly, surprised that her face didn’t hurt, and accepted the water bottle when he passed it back to her. He continued to sit there, his back to hers, seemingly content to sit and breathe without the helmet while she ate. She got a few more bites down before she found she could stand it no longer. “What does this mean?”

“It means I’m too tired to get up and eat on the flight deck and I trust you to not take advantage of the situation.” His tone was neutral. Not irritated, but not indulgent.

“That’s fair.” She put a few more bites down. Washed it down with some water. Maybe taking a little longer with it than she normally would have.

“I’m… also tired of eating by myself. Yadier’s a handful at mealtimes, but since he’s out of it at the moment…”

“Yeah. I understand.” She finished the bar, finished the water, then tilted her head back against his, listening to him breathe with the lights on.

“You did well today,” he said.

It was strange, hearing his unmodulated voice in the light. It nearly distracted her from answering him entirely. “Thanks. Sorry it took a while for me to pull it together.”

“First time that lightsaber see real action?”

“Yep.”

He took a deep breath, then let it all out. “Imagine what you could do with real training.”

She noticed the subtle change in the tone of his voice. “That a turn-on for you?”

“… Maybe.”

“I’ll get this bacta showered off and see what I can do about that.”

He slipped the helmet back on and helped her up.

---

They held each other in the dark.

They went through their most common motions, avoiding anything unexpected, hoping she would find comfort in the familiar, even if they took it a little slower than usual. Gave her a little more time to ease into it. As usual, desires were unspoken, but easily deciphered through the guidance of a hand, the shift of a hip, an approving sigh. When he thought she was ready, when her breath and trembling matched up with previous experience, he moved into position above her. Just when he was about to break with tradition and ask if she was ready, he noticed the change in her breaths from long and deep to short and shallow, noticed the pressure of her thighs against his, the barest hint of pushing away instead of the usual pulling in.

For all the dishonors Death Watch had committed against him and other foundlings, they had, at the very least, done an excellent job of training with regard to consent and physical intimacy.

Mandalorian bodies were living weapons in all situations except for one. Mandalorians. Did. Not. Rape. They did not assume what was wanted. They proceeded only when they knew for certain that they were welcome. Of all the horrifying things he had done, for all of the pain and suffering he knew he had caused, Din, like all Mandalorians, had sworn never to weaponize the one part of his anatomy that was regularly used as a weapon by pretty much every other kind of people outside of the creed.

Mandalorians were bounty hunters. Mercenaries. Soldiers. Often, they were murderers. But they were not rapists. The few Mandalorians who forgot that were summarily unhelmed, stripped of their armor, and executed.

And so, when Rayne pushed back, Din stopped. Immediately.

The only sound in the dark was their breath.

He brought his forehead to hers with a light touch, his weight planted on his elbows. “What do you need?” His voice was a whisper, tone soft.

He heard the sound of her swallow, then the parting of her lips as she sorted through her thoughts. “I need to hear you,” she whispered back. “I need to hear your voice. I need to know it’s you in the dark.”

He pressed his lips to the corner of her eye, then traced down to her jaw line. “It’s just me,” he murmured. Her response was immediate, relaxing into him, her breath evening back out. “It’s just me…” He continued, repeating the words when his mouth was not otherwise occupied, and soon enough, she pulled him in.

Unused to speaking so much, to say nothing of speaking at all while in the one situation where he was not a weapon, he soon lost control of the tone of his voice, embarrassed by the broken sound of it, but encouraged by Rayne’s response at the same time. He slipped further, “Shi ni…” a repetition of the same, followed by more wrecked Mando’a that she did not understand, words likely deemed by the Clones as inappropriate for Younglings to hear.

The sound of his voice in her ears, the feel of his flesh in hers, the motion of him all around her, was finally enough to let her forget, enough to lose herself in him, enough to pull him with her when she came undone all around him.

[alanaldassidepart]

[debiteful]

After a rough day out, it only takes a little something to make it melt away.

Content: insults/harassment due to relationship, pred n prey relationship, soft n safe vore references, comfort

"Get out of here!" They bellowed.

Shale flinched away as their words were accompanied with a half full cup of soda. The fizzy drink splattered across the giant's shoulder, splashing his face too. He frowned and stumbled away, a handful of minigiants whooping and spitting after him. Soon he broke into a run, hurrying away from the park.

He didn't bother wiping the pop off his face, letting hot tears streak his cheeks as well. He wrapped his thick arms around himself and ran as fast as he could. All sorts of people were passed without a thought: tinies darted out of the way of giant feet that pounded the pavement, minigiants dodging out of the way, and other giants giving confused looks as he bumped their shoulders. None of the other pedestrians mattered right now, Shale just wanted to get home.

He finally reached his home, fumbling with the knob before finally being allowed into his sanctuary. Shoes were kicked off haphazardly, coat shrugged onto the floor; he could deal with those later. Right now, he made a beeline for his room. 

He slammed the door shut, flinching at the noise, but not stopping his path to the bed. There was no time wasted even to turn on the lights. He flopped onto the bed face first, halfheartedly wriggling onto it further until his face could nestle in a pillow.

Safe at last, he was free to cry to his hearts content. Each sob was fueled by their words echoing in his head. Disgusting. Monster. Pervert. At least cannibal hadn't been used this time, he mused. Still, the words cut deep.

Between gasping breaths, he heard a door creak. He knew the sound so well; it was enough to make his tears pause. He sniffled and turned his head to the side, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Little footsteps pitter-pattered across the floor, and he heard the little ladder creak from the small weight climbing it. Shale turned his head away before Taup could get up all the way. Moments later, small hands slipped into his hair. They rubbed his head, and slowly the tiny body pressed against his head. Taup murmured, "What happened?"

"Don't- not wanna," Shale mumbled, turning his face into the pillow.

The tiny hung on to his hair, now laying atop the back of the giant's head. Once he stopped moving, he resumed stroking his hair. There was a small sigh, "Whatever you want big guy, I'm here."

Shale bit his lip before mumbling, "They called me names."

"Names? Well they had to call you something," the little fellow chuckled. He quickly got more serious, "What sort?"

"The usual. They all assume the worst y'know. They just don't get it. How tender, how loving, how soft and alright this all is."

Taup nodded and slid off of Shale's head, "Look at me."

The giant sniffled before turning his face towards the stern smol. Big black eyes studied little brown ones in the dim light. More tears welled up and the tiny ran forward, hugging a broad nose covered in fluids. He reached up, rubbing at his cheek. He pulled back after a moment and looked at his hand. He closed his fist and made a twisted frown as he opened it slowly, "So sticky."

"Oh yeah," Shale mumbled, "Sorry."

Taup put his clean hand to those giant lips, "Hush. You didn't do this. They did. Now let me get you cleaned up; you'll be ok on your own for a few right?"

The giant head nodded, sniffling again. A tiny kiss landed on the tip of his nose, tempting out a little smile on that big mouth. He closed his eyes as Taup hurried off to get cleaning supplies.

He came back, armed with a cloth and bucket of warm water. It was small, so it was perfect for him to use. He clambered all over the giant's head as he wiped and dried his face, making it good as new. All the while he lay there with eyes closed, nearly unmoving.

When his work was done, the small guy patted the giant's cheek, asking, "Can you get up and get some fresh clothes on?"

Shale nodded. After a moment he forced himself to his feet, swaying a little. It had taken a lot out of him to run home. With heavy feet he shuffled around the dark room, changing out of pop soaked clothes and into soft fresh pajamas. He stumbled back to bed and flopped down, making Taup bounce up on the mattress; he giggled as he landed. The tiny scrambled over to his giant and kissed his soft, dry nose before climbing up on top of his head and stroking his hair.

Shale started to speak softly, "They saw me walking in the park with our groceries. I guess they thought maybe I had something worth taking? Anyway," he sighed. "We got to talking and I mentioned having a smol at home. Everything about them shifted. They said," he trailed off. He tried to find the words, but didn't really want to remember that clearly, "The usual stuff. Didn't get how we worked or how it could be alright. I guess maybe they were scared of me, or their own power."

Taup tutted and was braiding a small tuft of hair. He leaned over to give the top of Shale's ear a kiss. "You should know not to mind them. I know you're kind and loving."

"People don't eat what they love; at least not when that's a person!"

"But I love it too! I love being close to you, hearing your heart boom around me. Even you tasting me is a treat."

"Really?" Shale tried to look up without turning his head, failing.

Taup nodded and slid down his face. Shale grabbed him in a big, soft hand, his fist enclosing his little friend completely. He tucked him against his chest and murmured, "Thank you." He felt a little flutter of movement he knew to be a return of the sentiment.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Rescue

A sequel to Harpooned, in which my merman Blue gets, well...harpooned. Very badly. Several times. Anyway, because I am Soft I couldn’t just leave him where it left off, so. Here you go!

Tagging @midwinter-wump​ and @briars7​ who asked to be tagged if I wrote more. No one has ever asked me this before and it makes my heart very happy. ;_;

CW: impalememt, blood, broken bones, capture, slight gore/graphic descriptions of injury but not too bad, non-human whumpee, also a tiny bit at the end with implied needle/injection of medication (to help, not hurt)

His mind floats between consciousness and darkness, catching blurry snippets of sights and sounds and feelings, accented by ripples of pain echoing through his entire body.

Out of water everything is too much; the sounds too loud, the sky too bright, the air too dry and cold, the rocking of the boat nauseating. When he wakes his senses are bombarded with it, and so he drifts, in and out, in and out.

In...

A pale gray sky. Walls. A deck. Blurs of movement. Human hands and faces.

Out...

In...

Cold, hard metal through his skin and muscle. Three pulsing points of agony. His head pounding in time with the throbbing of his wounds. Gills dry. Tail heavy. Trembling. Quaking.

Out...

In...

The stomping of boots. Loud voices, human language. Bits of conversation, words like sell and scales and damaged. His own soft moans and keens, ignored. His wheezing breaths with lungs he seldom uses. Chest heaving and deflating with each labored breath. In, out, in, out, in...

Out...

In his brief moments of awareness, his muddled mind is able to piece together small details of his situation.

The ropes are gone, but the harpoons are still in him. He can feel his body shift around them with every breath he takes.

He is on the deck of the humans’ ship. In the open air, not a drop of water in sight. He can hear it sloshing against the hull, he can smell the salt in the air, but he is allowed none of it.

They have not even given him the mercy of being able to lie down properly. He would have taken anything: a tank, a cage, a tub. Anything but this.

No, instead the humans dragged out a large board, wood or something like it, and set it down on the deck. To keep the blood off the floor he overhears.

It took nearly the entire crew to lift him and lower him onto it. They drove the harpoons into it, wedging them in tight, cut the ropes, and left him there. His body held aloft by the harpoons at his shoulder, hip and mid-tail, the rest of his weight trying to sag but unable to.

Blue’s head lolls back, the position straining his neck and pulling at his damaged gills. His dry and tangled hair spills onto the board beneath him. His limp arms and the bottom half of his tail are the only parts of him fortunate enough to touch the ground. This is more curse than blessing. It only magnifies the torment of being unable to rest his weary body. And his tail is so long, his fragile tailfin lying well beyond the end of the board. The humans step on it as they move about. They kick it out of their way.

None of this comes to him at once, as one clear picture. He’s too disoriented, heavy and weak from blood loss, pain, and the struggle to breathe. But it’s enough for despair to creep in any chance it gets.

He wakes. He moans. He takes ragged breaths. He hurts. He sighs. He sleeps.

He wakes.

----

Blue doesn’t know how long it lasts. It could be hours, or mere minutes that feel like hours.

At one point they dump some water on him. It’s only a brief respite, drying too quickly. His gills flare in search of more, but they get nothing.

And then, there are new sounds. New voices. New boots. Shouting and questions and arguing. Again, he catches only parts of it...

“...our ship...you have no right...”

“...this is illegal and you know it...”

“...an accident...let it slide...”

“...three harpoons...an accident my ass...”

“...take them down....help him...”

The voices come closer. One, a woman’s, is right over him. His eyes open and close blearily, head swaying to the side. She speaks quietly and it’s gentle enough on his ears that he hears most of it.

“...help me get these out of him...water, a lot of it...towels...whatever cloth you can find.”

Hands. Human hands, on his skin and scales, lifting his head. He’s too far gone to fight it like he wants to. The moment he’s moved even the slightest bit, he whines from deep in his parched throat.

“Careful, careful...”

It doesn’t matter how careful. No amount of careful can spare him this.

They start at his tail, cutting off the barbed end so they can slip the metal pole out through the wound.

Before it can bleed too badly, something is pressed to either end, and something else wrapped around to hold it in place. They carefully settle his tail on the ground. Blue doesn’t see it, only feels it, his eyes fluttering weakly.

Next is his hip. This one is perhaps the worst. It certainly feels that way when they slowly pull the harpoon free. His body twitches up, as though expecting to be pulled along with it. Again, there is pressure on the wound. Again, something wrapped around it. Again he is gently lowered to the ground, now only his chest and shoulders arched upward.

“Last one...hang in there...”

The final blade falls free and the board is pulled away. Arms prop him up while hands pull out the metal bar, press something to the hole, wrap something around it.

Finally, finally, his weary body is settled fully onto the ground. It’s far from comfortable, but so much better than before. Even with his mind foggy he can feel a wave of relief rush over him. Blue sighs.

With the pain at least muted, now his focus is pulled to breathing, or, trying to breathe. His gills are useless, his lungs pushed far beyond what they are capable of. He wheezes, chest rising and falling shakily. The effort keeps him from slipping back into unconsciousness. If he does, he may not wake again.

The first touch of cool water to his gills is an unexpected blessing. It draws a low moan of relief from the merman. His gills kick in, drinking in all they can, taking some of the burden from his lungs. The gills torn by the harpoon ache, but they work, and that’s what matters.

The other humans gave him water too, but it was gone as fast as it was given. This water stays. It’s trickled over his neck like a gift from the heavens, a constant stream of relief. It isn’t at all like being in water, but he’s grateful for every drop he gets.

And then, miraculously, he is given more. Rather than hands, soft cloth touches him all over. He squirms under it, but relaxes when cool liquid coats his dry skin and scales. Blood is wiped away and still the water keeps coming. Not nearly what he needs but just enough that his skin no longer feels like it’s shattering.

Able to rest, able to breathe, there is nothing keeping Blue from sleep except his own hazy mind, still fearful that this is too good to be true. That it will be taken away.

The new humans give him one final gift. Someone takes his arm and says something that he doesn’t catch. There’s a tiny pinch.

A moment later, warm numbness courses through him. He sighs again as the pain eases, his strained body relaxing, his eyes drifting shut and staying shut. For the first time since being pulled from the ocean, he doesn’t just black out.

He sleeps.

----

Author’s note: Once again, this was supposed to be short. I always say that’s going to happen. It never happens. :’)

I have a part 3 in mind for this sort of. Might write it, depending on interest. :))

Thanks as always for your support, it really means a lot. <3

[broken-typewriters]

Isa series

Part 1- Captivity

Isa series master list

TW- wump, lady wump, intimate wumper, hand cuffs, language (let me know if I need more, but this part is mostly build up)

Crumpled in a heap of despair, Isa breathed shallowly, her ragged breaths making her panic clear. Her limbs were so heavy and her mind craved sleep but she couldn't rest. Her head filled with thoughts of her friends.

She had failed them.

She was sent to gather information and return to base, yet here she was, in the General's house, confined to his cell. She had no idea how she got from the mansion to this prison or who brought her here, only that he would be with her soon, and he wouldn't be happy. Besides her panic, Isa was in pretty good shape. Her hands and ankles were cuffed together, with a chain on an anchor keeping her to one spot. She probably had enough room to stand, if little else. It could have been worse. She was exhausted, but she wasn't in pain.

She would be soon.

Desperately, Isa fought to contain the unhelpful thoughts, cling to her sanity. She was strong. She could fight him. She could kill him, she just needed to wait for him to visit her, stand up and grab him.

Anxiously she fumbled to her feet, struggling with the restraints of her cuffs.

The cuffs....

Heavy, metallic, tinged with rust

Fuck...

He'd put her in iron cuffs, she had no magic, she couldn't fight him, he would kill her. The waves of panic took over again, leaving her heaving into the concrete and losing all control. Sweat pooled over her body and she pulled at her restraints, rubbing her skin raw where the metal touched her. She rode the wave of panic until she collapsed into the concrete below her.

As she lay like that, helpless and afraid, she heard the turn of a key in a lock. Immediately she staggered to her feet and bit her tongue to control her panic in a final attempt to maintain her dignity.

She was strong.

She could handle him.

She would not break.

She braced herself as the door swung open.

"Hello beautiful," The General's eyes met Isa's and she quickly shifted my focus to the ground, "Did your little organisation send you to do their dirty work again? I'm not surprised, they're all cowards."

"No!" She surprised herself with her boldness, "They're not cowards, they're amazing and they're coming to get me and-" She was cut off,

"Nobody's coming my dear, they wouldn't even know where to look. Don't you remember driving here? I guess the drugs work better than I thought."

"N-No You're wrong"

"You could be very useful for me, my dear. Do what I need and we could be very happy together,"

"Go fuck-"

"Oh no Isabella, you will be polite. I have a big job for you."

"How did you know my-"

"Your name?" He chuckled, "I know everything about you. Your name, where you grew up, when you committed your first murder. I've been waiting for you Isabella. Your friends' little resistance won't stand a chance when you give in."

"I'll never-"

"Oh you will."

Silence echoed through the tiny chamber as the man reached into his pocket. Pulling out a cloth gag, he strode towards Isa as she squirmed as far back as her manacles would allow. As the man stood over her, Isa's feelings of fear intensified. She was so tiny compared to him. She couldn't fight with these cuffs holding her back, she could simply hold still as the gag was forced into her mouth.

"I'm done talking," He said, wiping the tears from Isa's delicate face with an unexpected gentleness, "It's time for the real work to begin."

Next part

[20xbetterthanu]

live blogging Friends in Low Places by @esperantoauthor because that’s what i said i’d do

CHAPTER UN

THWACK. 

hell of an intro. i love it.

stop hurting kurt. i’ll beat your ass.

WUMP

is that—is that blaine?

yes it is. why are they in a dumpster?

bully bastards i will—i will hurt a mofo over klaine.

tiny blaine cant get out of the dumpster lmao

who is marlene…i can’t spell her last name

blaine and headphones with blue jeans and graphic t shirts is he me?

NO HAIR GEL??

esp who is this human

why do i like it so much?

b l a i n e y d a y s p l e a s e t a l k t o s o m e o n e

libraries are amazing. before COVID the library was the spot to be before school began, at least for my friends. relationships were born at those tables we’d pushed together. friendships. food was shared. christmas parties. secret santas. people made out and cuddled behind the stacks. couples chose books for one another. beef was started and ended in there. *sigh* those were the days. (i just got real reminiscent oops)

he threw his notebook against the wall and you want him to be QUIET??how about ‘what’s wrong?’ smh

oh my. oh blaine. i am so ready for this fic!!!

[sideblogformindtrash]

1, 14 and 27! For Orfeu and Haru - whumpzone 💕

❤ ❤

1. Did you have a theme in mind when you designed them? What was it?

…This is hard to answer cause I’ve had them for… so long and they have changed so much. It’s absolutely a coping mechanism and they had to adapt to what I needed, and only now I’m really allowing them to be characters on their own accord. I have some embarrassingly old art of them around here somewhere, stuff from when I was in fundamental school even. And honestly I think they are somewhat reminiscent of the obsession I had with an anime called No.6. The early versions of Haru are basically a carbon-copy of Sion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This here is not as old as the other ones I have, but it’s from 2017 when I first got into digital art.

14. How do they see themself?  

Well… Haru thinks really low of himself. He thought his only qualities were being pretty, well behaved and knowing how to entertain with music/voice. He was supposed to be a ~~high status~~ type of pet, because he looked naturally androgynous and had a rare hair color, which increased his value for sale. On top of that he has always been quite a passive person, and he got stuck in this situation far too young, so ‘training’ him wasn’t exactly challenging. He didn’t really knew any other life. He tended to even be used as advertisement for the company, appear in photo shoots and sometimes be taken around by the heads of the company. He didn’t really knew how bad it could get until he was officially sold and then nothing he ever did was enough, he was always bad, ugly and worthless. It didn’t take long for him to begin believing that he was ugly and so scarred it was disgusting, that he was too stupid to do anything right and after he got too traumatized to even speak he pretty much lost the only good thing he thought he had.

Orfeu tends to act as if he doesn’t give a damn on what others think, and he will defend himself, always. In the end, he kind of feels like no matter what he does, he will be hated and deep down he still has it nailed onto him that he is somehow evil and cursed, and that everyone around him will have bad luck and he knows how awkward he is. He feels like he isn’t good enough to be around people, and as much as he dreads his loneliness, he thinks that’s for the best.

 27. Do they have any scars?

This is always fun to talk about isn’t it

Cw for self harm, implied nocon, branding, whipping, teeth whump, fingernail wump, just about everything I’ve ever caused them.

Orfeu has scars on his arms and legs from self-harm. He has whipping scars on his back, a somewhat faint scar on the corner of his mouth from a tooth-extraction gone wrong, some scars on his legs and knees for kneeling too long over sharp/hot objects, misc scars from fights and scars he got from getting himself on trouble (falling, crashing at houses, running away) and he has scars from just being absolutely clumsy at times. Because sometimes he sees the world as an LSD trip (and I’ll have to elaborate on this someday) he might sometimes get caught up into watching something weird and basically just walk head first into a wall/table/whatever is in front of him.

Haru has more scars than I think would be medically possible, honestly, and mostly everywhere, except his face and neck. His chest has some but less than his arms/back/legs. He has scars from beatings, whippings, cuts, cigar burns and a bunch from being bitten on his inner thigh and chest. His fingers are slightly crooked from being broken and left to heal on their own. His fingernails can fall quite easily because the roots have been damaged, and they can grow very mangled too, but he doesn’t let them grow at all. Since the first time they were ripped off he got the nervous tick of chewing them as much as he could to avoid them getting big enough to be plucked again, so he bites them until it’s bleeding and sometimes further. He has restraints marks on his wrists and ankles and both of his feet have burn scars on the soles. He also has a tiny symbol branded that all pet/slaves have to identify them.

[comic-brew]

pt 2 I guess

A good 'major angst/wump with a happy ending' fic

Walking in a forest, by a lake/river/waterfall

Waking up to nothing but the sound of birds and soft golden light seeping in through the curtains

Staying up late with the lights off, listening and singing to music on my own

Being a part of the batfamdom and having people like my stuff😁

Last ten reblogs: @niazix @rnanlync @insanelysweet21 @regina-trying-their-best @moredifferentthanusual @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @azularen @for-every1 @thats-everything @freshandsweetlemonade

List 5 things that make you happy, then ask the same thing of the last 10 people to reblog something of yours. Be happy!

Oof how long has this been here skskskks ok.

5 things:

1. My friends

2. Blades of Light and shadow 😊

3. Music

4. My pets

5. The Sea/Ocean

Thanks for the asks!

Tagging: @astridvolari @silverlitskies @what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil @princessstellaris @blightarts @brightpinkpeppercorn @simp-for-villains @fluffykitten246 @robo-angst @ntoraplayschoices and anyone else 😁

[houseofbarklay]

Later that evening...

...The sun was finally setting, throwing a golden reflection onto the pond behind the small cabin house of the Barklay family; a horse coming up the road told the inhabitants that Louisa and Oswald finally had returned from their trip into Ebonhawke. Astrid was walking around the property when she spotted the horse coming down the road. She came to a stop and watched it come closer into view, her brow furrowing slightly as she anxiously waited for them to arrive.

As the horse and carriage drew nearer, one could see Oswald sitting in the driver's position, urging the large black horses on with his son, James by his side, though it was not immediately apparent that Calvin or Louisa was with them. Oswald slowed them to a halt as he came upon his home, stopping just short of the garden as he was greeted by the stable-master, Mister Heilfreich. He offered Astrid a wide smile, his bearded face wrinkling when he did. James, who looked more like his mother than his father bobbed his gingery haired head at her, "Lady Glass, I'm glad to see you out. How is your brother?" He inquired.

Astrid offered James a small smile  and inclined her head to him. "Argus is fine..he's around here somewhere," she answered before pausing, "How's...Calvin? Were you able to get him released?"

Oswald hopped down from the driver's side, offering the leads to Mr. Heilfreich, before turning to Astrid. Though, her questions was answered soon after by Louisa and Calvin exiting the carriage. Calvin looked worse for wear, appearing to be quite unkempt in his week locked up and he had a black eye and his nose was a little crooked, but he smiled at Astrid either way. James seemed satisfied with Astrid's answer, wandering into the cabin afterward for one reason or another.

Astrid's eyes landed on Calvin and rested there for a moment before she suddenly walked over and enveloped him in a hug. She didn't speak, yet.

Having heard the approach of the carriage and the distinctive whinny of the large carriage horse, Alivia poked her head out of the stables, green eyes wide and hopeful and when Calvin had exited the cab alongside his mother, she scurried out and ran over, "Cal!" Astrid would be lucky to just escape the flying tackle like hug Ally proceeded to smother her beloved cousin with, colliding into the solid man's side with her arms tightly curled about his middle, "I'm so glad you're back- I was so worried!"

Calvin sputtered softly as he was, his arms wrapping around Astrid's shoulder as suddenly he felt a soft wump against his back that was Alivia. He chuckled at them both, "...I'm fine... it's nothing to worry about..." 

Alivia squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she hugged her cousin, relief flooding her at his return. When she released him at last, she patted him down, brows furrowed in concern,"Are you alright? Are you in one piece?" she inquired in muted panic, green eyes wide and searching as her hands made it up to his face, cupping his cheeks gently to get a better look at him and frowning in dismay at his injuries, "Oh Calvin! Look at your face, I'll get you some ice for your eye- i-is your nose broken!?" she babbled, wanting to help and not knowing where to start. 

Astrid opened her mouth to speak and then promptly shut it, slowly withdrawing from Calvin and just sort of standing there. A slow sigh escaped her. 

Calvin nodded at his fretting cousin in answer to her questions, simply smirking at her and shaking his head, "Don't worry about it," he repeated to her, his wide emerald eyes fixing on Astrid, "...are you okay?" He asked.

He was nudged out of the way by his tiny red-haired mother and said, "Why don't we get inside so Mister Heilfreich can take care of the horses, hmm?"

She smiled faintly at Calvin and nodded her head a little. "I'm fine," she said simply, likely not telling the truth.

Alivia was reluctant to part from her cousin's side but she soon picked up on the fact Astrid had something on her mind and suddenly felt in the way. So with one last worrisome glance Calvin's way, she shuffled off dejectedly, "I'll... go help Mister Heilfreich...." she mumbled and proceeded to follow the tall man back into the stables. She figured she could at least do that since she was still learning about horses and their care requirements anyways.

Mister Heilfreich smiled at Ally, nodding for her to follow him as he figured that she might wish to know how to saddle carriage horses. He offered the lead down to her from his spot in front and waited patiently for her to climb up into the bench on the front of the carriage with him.

Calvin kissed her head just before he left before turning to Astrid, "...Auric came to visit me," he said, beginning to walk towards the house. His mother and father had gone ahead of them.

Astrid slowly fell into step with him and glanced up briefly at his eyes. "I'm sorry I didnt come....I..people were worried it might not be safe for me," she said quietly. "I didn't really get to thank you for...helping with my rescue."

Alivia hitched her skirt and climbed up onto the bench seat, accepting the reigns from Mister Heilfreich, her focus shifting from her cousins as she watched them walk away and back onto the task at hand, looking to the man beside her for instruction. He nudged Ally with his elbow, "Don't worry yourself," he told her, he smiled his usual kindly grin and nodded for her to lead the horses back towards the stables. She nodded and gave the reigns a small, timid flick to encourage the horse forward, her green eyes fixed ahead and her brow creased with concentration. The last thing she wanted was to crash them into something.

Calvin's eyes crinkled slightly in the way his father's did when he smiled, patting her shoulder as he said, "It's nothing, I saw what he did to Heth... what he was going to do with Ally... I'm just sorry I didn't know sooner."

Mister Heilfreich leaned back as the eased for the stables away from the scene. He glanced at her, going on about why a team of horses was different than a single and other things that seemed obvious but necessary as they moved. Finally, he signaled for her to halt once they were in the barn. "Do you need assistance down, dear?"

Astrid lightly bit her lip. "It isn't your fault," she said quietly, eyeing the ground. "I was worried about you....I...wanted to go back and make sure you got out....I didn't know what he'd do to you.."

Calvin nodded, "I know. I told Auric to go," he assured her with a small smile. "Luckily, I only ended up in being held by the Ebonguard." 

She took in a slow breath and released it. "I'm glad it was only that," she replied. 

Ahead of them, there was a sudden scream. Louisa had let out a noise that almost sounded like terror as she stood in the door way. They could not quite see where Oswald was. 

Astrid paled and looked at Calvin wide eyed. "What was that?" she said, grabbing his hand to run towards the door. 

Alivia had nodded at Mister Heilfreich and was standing, waiting for his aid down from the driver's bench. Then the scream rent the air and she jumped, startled, green eyes wide as they snapped up to look towards the house, "Auntie? Auntie!" she called out in alarm, and no sooner was she helped down in haste then she bolted for the house, her heart hammering in her chest. 

Mister Heilfreich was right on her heels, following her towards the back door as Calvin all but dragged poor Astrid by the hand to the front where his mother stood. As all barged in, Oswald came into view and he was laughing so boisterously of to the side that he literally was rolling on the ground and Louisa had turned to shout at him, "Oz! This is not funny! This is where we eat!" Inside the kitchen, visible from both doors was James Barklay, wrapped around Argus apparently having been caught in a furious kiss on the dining room table. Heth was standing on the upper landing, looking down at the scene with huge eyes.

Astrid blinked, taking a moment to realize what was going on. She released Calvin's hand and took a deep breath, obviously relieved that Louisa's screaming wasn't for anything tragic. 

Alivia skidded to a halt by the door, grasping the door frame and her green eyes wide, "A-auntie! Are you alright?! W-what's the matter?" she babbled anxiously. Her gaze shifted from where she could see Louisa at the opposite door to where she suddenly could pick up her uncle's boisterous chortle, blinking in confusion. 

Argus and James sat, frozen, on the table, staring between each door with wide eyes. Calvin burst into laughter at the sight of it, and his father, using Astrid to hold himself up from falling over as well. 

Astrid let out a quiet chuckle, leaning lightly against Calvin as she watched her brother and James on the table. She glanced at Calvin. "Well, that happened..." she murmured.

Alivia suddenly realized what was happening and squeaked in embarrassed dismay, hands shooting up to cover her eyes and hastily turning around, "O-Oh my goodness!!!". Her actions only made Calvin laugh harder and Louisa scowled as the two canoodlers suddenly scuffled off the table and separated, looking around the room in shame.

Louisa let out a loud noise of disgust and went to find the cleaning products while her husband still lay in the dirt laughing, "...this is fantastic..." he finally said, pushing himself up, rubbing at an eye. "This is exactly what we need in the time like this ... love."

Alivia's face was certainly red as she looked back at Mister Heilfreich, "H-horses!" she blurted and scampered off back towards the stables to finish their previously started task. 

Astrid chuckled quietly again and looked up at Calvin. "Well, who would've thought. Your brother and my brother," she said with a small shake of her head.

Mister Heilfreich chuckled, turning to follow Alivia back to the barn so they could perform their duties. Calvin snorted faintly, dabbing his eyes, "...how long have you two been at this?" He asked, smirking to Astrid first before he entered the house. James glared at his elder brother, "...we knew each other before but... this week was a reunion." 

Astrid shot Argus a playfully scolding look. "Why didn't you tell me. You're supposed to tell me things!" she exclaimed with a chuckle.

Argus stammered, "I-I... well, it was... nothing serious b-before." He said, Louisa returned spraying the table with bleach. "Next time, can you two please... do that in your room, James!" 

James seemed to regain his usual demeanor, "Mother... Astrid... if it's okay, I'd like to ask Argus to marry me," he said, looking at her. The whole room seemed to go silent. 

Astrid's golden eyes blinked. "Wait, what?" she replied, glancing between James and Argus again. "I mean, yes, of course. If that's what you want, Gus...." 

Argus looked at James for a long moment in disbelief, "But... you said..."

James shook his head, "I was wrong."

Louisa squealed in delight, waving at Heth, "Go get your cousin from the stables! We'll celebrate!"

The girl nodded and ran out the back door to the other two, gesturing, "...M-ma wants us... b-back... in the house..." She stammered. Alivia turned from the stall she stood outside of, Mister Heilfreich inside settling the horse. Curious, Ally nodded, "O-oh- okay!" She looked back at the man before accompanying Heth back to the house, walking beside her.

Mister Heilfreich nodded for her to go on and went back to tending the horses himself.

Moments after, Heth had returned to Alivia to the cabin and nodded to Louisa who waved her hand, "Ally, dear, your cousin... well cousins... have decided to get married!" She beamed in delight. Alivia looked baffled, glancing from one cousin to the other, the gears clearly turning in her head, "O-oh...? Um... C-congratulations!"

Astrid chuckled softly, looking at James and Argus and then settling her gaze on Argus. "If this is what you want, you know I'll support you," she said and walked over to hug him.

Argus wrapped his arms around Astrid, kissing her forehead, "...it- it is.. you've no idea," he chuckled at his little sister. "I'll tell you the story later."

"You better! I want all the details," Astrid said with a chuckle before releasing him from the hug. 

Oswald, whom had vanished to his study, came out holding a bottle of something that looked quite old and expensive. "Heth, will you grab glasses?" He ordered. She nodded, speeding to the kitchen to collect one for everyone.

James had smiled at Alivia, turning to wrap her up in a hug and smooch her forehead, "Thank you, Ally," he said to her. Argus simply winked at his sister, moving to settle down into a chair beside Calvin and patting the seat beside him for her to sit. When James finally released Ally, he moved to the table to sit across from him.

Astrid went to sit down beside her brother. "I'm so happy for you, Gus," she said quietly. "I hope someday I can be as happy as you." 

Argus frowned at her, muttering to her that he would make sure she was and kissing her hair. He wrapped an arm around her as Heth returned with glasses, Oswald poured one for everyone. "Ally, sugar, come," he encouraged her to join them. Astrid offered Argus a warm smile and gave his arm a brief squeeze, resting her head on his shoulder briefly.

Ally nodded and sat beside Heth at the table, trying hard not to think too much on the fact her cousin would be marrying her cousin. She just plastered on her typical air-headed smile and nodded, letting things take their course.

James caught the look on Alivia's face, his brows furrowing, "What's wrong?" he asked, laughing as the family sat together.

She blinked, seeming to snap out of it. "Nothing." She smiled, "Im happy things are finally taking a turn for the better!"

James chuckled at her faintly, giving her a squeeze and then taking his own glass in his hand as Oswald offered her one and said, "To James and Argus!"

"To James and Argus," Astrid echoed and lifted her glass as well. 

Ally lifted her glass but was reluctant to drink. However, to be polite, she dared a tiny sip that made her eye twitch and a shiver shoot up her back. She pulled a face and slid the glass over to Mister Heilfreich, not wanting to waste but knowing there was no way she would be able to drink the stuff. "To Jimmy and Gussy."

Calvin did the same as Astrid, glancing sidelong at her briefly before downing the amber liquid in his glass; same as his mother and Heth (who shuddered) and James and Argus who took theirs and smooched afterwards.

@rynbadger @jmariegw2ooc

[crashynews]

Dive Deeper into the World of the Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy!

Your favorite marsupial Crash Bandicoot® is back! He’s enhanced, entranced and ready-to-dance in the Crash Bandicoot® N. Sane Trilogy. The Crash Bandicoot® N. Sane Trilogy lets players spin, jump, wump and repeat as they take on the epic challenges and adventures from the three games that started it all: Crash Bandicoot®, Crash Bandicoot® 2: Cortex Strikes Back and Crash Bandicoot®: Warped. Now fans can experience the beloved ‘90s video game icon like never before in this remastered game collection. In this new trilogy, Crash fanatics can relive all their favorite moments in fully-remastered HD graphical glory and put some UMPH in their WUMP!

The Bandicoot is Back – The marsupial that defined a generation is better than ever in a first-ever remaster of the original trilogy: Crash Bandicoot, Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back and Crash Bandicoot: Warped.

Now in Face-Melting PS4 Pro HD – Crash Bandicoot® N. Sane Trilogy has brand-new lighting, animations, and recreated cinematics in stunning “N. Hanced Fur-K” and PS4 Pro HD. New animations, visual effects and environmental details let players spin, jump and jet pack their way through the lush—and furriest—Wumpa Island yet!

Bringing Back the Beat – The new collection features a fully-remastered game soundtrack, packed with all the didgeridoos, xylophones and thumpin’ bass lines fans can handle!

Original Story, New Tech – Full analog stick support, a unified save system and unified checkpoint system make it easier than ever to enjoy the classic adventure. Plus, improved bonus levels and time trials everywhere will make this an epic trilogy for the hardest of the ‘Coot core!

New Cinematics – All the beloved cinematics in this trilogy are being lovingly re-crafted. In the intro cinematic, Crash Bandicoot’s origin story shows our villains, Dr. Neo Cortex and Dr. Nitrus Brio, try to evolve Crash into an evil mutant general, but it doesn’t go quite as planned!

Say What? – Fans of the Crash Bandicoot games may recognize some familiar voice actors who appear in Crash Bandicoot® N. Sane Trilogy, such as Jess Harnell and Lex Lang.

The Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy includes:

Crash Bandicoot – Neo Cortex has a plan to take over the world, and he wants to create genetically engineered animals to do his bidding. To create his minions, Cortex kidnaps as many animals as he can; Crash Bandicoot’s girlfriend just happens to be one of his victims. Take control of Crash as he runs, jumps, and spins through 30 levels of intense action on three different Australian islands. Only you can help Crash save the animals, save his girlfriend and foil Dr. Cortex’s plot.

Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back – The evil Dr. Neo Cortex is back…out this time to save the world? And he’s asking for help from his arch nemesis, Crash Bandicoot? Is this just a conniving plan to lure Crash into Cortex’s next dastardly experiment? Can Crash win again or will he join Cortex’s mindless zoo? Bigger free-roaming 3-D environments, all-new animations and a whole host of colorful characters – watch as our hero Crash, ice-skates, rodeo-rides a polar bear and jet-packs through zero-gravity in the continuing adventures of Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back – This time he ain’t joking!

Crash Bandicoot Warped – Oh yeah…he’s back…AND he’s ready! It’s a Whole New Time-Traveling Adventure! All new-style gameplay action – scuba dive, ride a motorcycle or a baby T-Rex and go free-roaming airborne in a plane! Play as Coco! Gallop along the Great Wall of China on a tiger, go extreme on a jet-ski and other high-flying surprises! Prove your skills with the new Super-charge Body Slam, Super Slide, Double Jump, Death-Tornado Spin and a Laser-Guided Bazooka. All new enemies include a new Big Boss, Uka Uka, N. Tropy, a menacing Dingodile and of course, the return of some favorites like N. Gin and Tiny. More Action. More Fun. More Puzzles and Secret Levels. And you didn’t think it could get any better!

Join us on June 30 as Crash gets unleashed on the world all over again!

Activision Blog: Dive Deeper into the World of the Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy! Dive Deeper into the World of the Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy! Your favorite marsupial Crash Bandicoot® is back!