#twilight's book nook

[willoillo]

More finished up EFNW doodles!!  For those of you who don't know, this year at the vendor hall they had Twilight's Book Nook, which was a very wonderful collection of published fanfics. I bought three of them myself!! While I was doodling I thought the idea of Twilight reacting to learning just what books were in her book nook was hilarious. Soooo here we are!! Also first time drawing Spike like... ever iirc??? From memory too.

Posted using PostyBirb

[melynafoxclaw]

(RP) Michelles Endless & Eternal Song by Melyna Foxclaw Via Flickr: Love Music? Here are a few statues to put that love on display! These are great for your garden or inside your home! From Roped Passions, these Michelles Song Sculptures will make a beautifully bold statement wherever you decide to place them! Aren't they lovely? ================================================ 

The (RP) Ace of Vases are also found in the Roped Passions store along with the Book Nook partially shown in the pictures. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Find them at Roped Passions today!

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[kikifulton]

I am the author of three novels. Clandestine, The Tragic Life of Cecilia Jackson (Souls of Mortals series), and Young Love (Ghostly Shadow series).

You can purchase my books on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Google books, and Audible.

[celestemona]

no because imagine their reactions when genshin dads felt their baby kick for the first time, i'd be crying imagine the 'i made this' or 'omgomgomgomg' reactions

no because i had to write it. thanks anon ♡♡

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and they feel their babies kicks for the first time.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley + heizou x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader. use of endearment names; arabic, japanese, farsi & french terms. approximately 4.1k words. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Alhaitham

The first time you and your husband felt your baby moving was in the comfort of your home. The soft glow radiating from the fireplace cast swirling shadows on the walls, highlighting the warm and inviting space. You and Alhaitham were snuggled comfortably in your favorite reading nook—an old leather armchair adorned with pillows and a thick-knitted blanket. You made yourself comfortable in his lap, with your back resting against his chest, while one of your husband's muscular arms cradled you tenderly. 

As reading was a crucial part in your married life, every night you and Alhaitham found yourselves sharing stories. This time, you narrated aloud an ancient legend to Alhaitham and the baby in your womb. The tale’s language, despite being dead and little known, was not foreign to him. In fact, the scribe delighted in the tales whispered in your serene and melodic voice. 

“According to the desert dwellers, the world was once ruled by a king named Al-Ahmar,” you began, your tone carrying a sense of mystery, “a king of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. He controlled the winds that whistled through the desert, the dunes turned bright silver by the moonlight, and the thousand and one Jinn that hid in the night and the calls of owls.”

Although he already knew the story very well, Alhaitham listened to you attentively—the subtle glow of affection in his eyes watching you lovingly as his thumb traced circles on your waist in a comforting gesture.

As your voice continued to flow, a subtle yet distinct vibration occurred within your being, making you pause reading for a moment. Your eyes widened in surprise as the realization hit you, drawing a loud sigh from you. 

“‘Haitham,” you said, voice shaking slightly with emotion, “I think… I think the baby just moved.”

Your husband's eyes widened briefly before a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He placed a hand on your belly and his baby's little feet stretching your skin were felt under his palm. It was a feeling that filled him with warmth, love, and joy.

“It's the first time?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and his warm hand still under your belly. 

You nodded, your eyes shining in pure happiness. “Yes, it is.”

Alhaitham's smile widened, and he gently stroked your belly with a reverent touch. “It’s extraordinary,” he said softly. “Our little one is already making his presence known.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, and together, you savored the intimate moment. The book remained forgotten for now, overshadowed by the miraculous reality you were experiencing. 

In the peaceful comfort of your home, surrounded by the warmth of love and the promise of the future, you shared a precious moment of connection that would be treasured forever.

Cyno 

The soft, golden light of twilight filtered through the trees of the Avidya Forest as Cyno and you walked back home after a visit to Tighnari. 

Although the forest guard was against the idea of ​​seeing his very pregnant friend moving excessively and unnecessarily across the Sumerian plains, Tighnari knew that going against your stubbornness was a losing battle. Therefore, he ended up welcoming both you and your husband warmly into his dwelling. 

When you finally said goodbye after a day full of conversations and delicacies cooked by Collei, the birds were already back in their nests, and the serene environment of the forest was a welcome backdrop—although Cyno could see the exhaustion etched into your face. The weight of your growing babies seemed to be taking an increasing toll.

Cyno supported you as you walked, his arm around your waist. “You look tired. Let’s take it slow,” he said gently.

You nodded, your hand resting on your stomach. “It's just... The twins' weight is a little overwhelming today. I’m more fatigued than I expected.”

You walked slowly for a few more minutes until you arrived at an abandoned cabin nestled in the heart of the forest. Cyno helped you inside, guiding you to a comfortable seat by the window, where the soft light of the setting sun bathed the empty room in a warm glow.

As you settled into the chair, you shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more relaxing position, although all you got in response was a dull pain shooting down your spine. A resigned sigh left your lips as you just accepted the situation you were in and waited for the discomfort to pass.

It was when your husband left the room to get something that could help with your relief that you felt a strange, soft vibration in your belly. It was as if butterflies were swirling inside you, bringing you a feeling of strangeness but delight. When you realized what it was really about, your eyes widened in surprise.

“What's the matter? Something wrong?” Cyno asks with concern visible in his expression. 

“I think the babies are moving.”

Cyno’s face immediately lit up in excitement, and he approached you, kneeling in your front. His hands were hesitant to touch your stomach and he looked at you. “Can I...?” he asked softly.

You smiled widely and nodded, placing his hand on the spot where you felt the movement. “Of course you can, hayati. You should be able to feel them now.”

Cyno closed his eyes briefly as he felt the small kicks and rhythmic changes beneath his palm. His expression softened into one of admiration and tenderness. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “They are already so active.”

“Tell me about it,” you say with a slight chuckle, “Now it is explained why I’ve been going to the toilet so much the last few days. These little jackals have been squeezing my poor bladder.” 

Cyno laughs along with you. However, his eyes were still mesmerized by your belly, his hands lovingly following his children's movements. 

At that moment, the world around Cyno didn't seem to exist. It was just him, you, and your babies. You shared a quiet, intimate moment, your connection with your unborn children deepening. The forest outside was peaceful, but inside the cabin, the air was filled with a palpable sense of joy and anticipation.

Kaedehara Kazuha

The sun shone high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the peaceful meadow where Kazuha and his family were enjoying the day. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, their whispers blending harmoniously with the gentle melody of nature. Kazuha sat against a large oak tree with you resting your head in his lap, eyes closed in contentment.

Kazuha's fingers skillfully traced patterns on a windblown leaf, his serene expression a testament to his deep connection to the natural world. Your three-year-old son, Kazumi, ran around the field happily, his laughter mixing with the rustling of the grass as he played with a small wooden toy.

You, with your belly softly rounded with your second child, sighed softly—contentment evident in your relaxed posture. You placed your hands gently on your stomach, stroking it absently.

“I think she’s finally awake,” you murmured.

Kazuha's eyes softened as he looked at you. Until that day Kazuha had never witnessed his unborn daughter moving in your womb. The baby always seemed to be too sleepy to recognize her father's constant presence. “Is that so?”

Before you could nod, a precise kick hit the area above your navel. Your eyes widened at the force of the action, but an ironic laugh soon followed. “Absolutely. Looks like someone woke up to say hi to Papa.”

Kazuha's heart filled with an abundance of emotions. He carefully moved his hand to your belly feeling his little girl's rhythmic kicks. To him, the sensation was delicate, like the wings of a butterfly brushing his palm.

Kazumi, noticing that his parents seemed to be engrossed in something else, staggered towards you with wide curious eyes. He climbed into your thighs and his small hands also rested on your rounded belly. “What is it, ‘Kaa-chan?”

You smile gently, extending your hand to guide the boy's little ones to where the baby is moving. “It’s your little sister, Zumi. She’s saying hello.”

Kazumi's face lit up with wonder as he laid his head on his mother's belly, his little ears pressed against the gentle movements inside. His eyes widened in fascination as he felt the gentle, rhythmic kicks. “I can feel it! Kiki is saying hi!”

Kazuha watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, his heart full at seeing the pure excitement on Kazumi's face and the deep love in his wife's eyes. The night air was filled with peaceful harmony, his family united in this simple yet profound moment of connection and anticipation.

The sun continued to rise, bathing them in a warm, golden light that seemed to celebrate the new life they were eagerly awaiting. As Kazumi continued to listen to his sister's small movements, Kazuha gently brushed away his wife's hair, his pale fingers lingering on your cheek with a tender caress.

“I love you more than anything in this world. Thank you for making me the happiest and most complete man, my love.”

Kaveh

Kaveh stood in the middle of the room that would soon belong to his daughter, his eyes scanning every corner with a mix of determination and excitement. Samples of wallpaper, fabrics, and paint were scattered around him, along with sketches of various design ideas.

“I was thinking about using pastel colors,” he began, turning to you who was sitting in the only armchair in the empty room. “Soft tones of pink, yellow, and green. They are calming and will create a serene and peaceful environment for her. And look at this,” he took out a sample of fabric, holding it up for you to see and touch. It felt smooth against your fingers. “This is perfect for the curtains. It’s light and airy, and will let in just the right amount of sunlight.”

You watched him with a warm smile, allowing your husband to express his desires and thoughts openly, feeling your heart swell with love. “That sounds wonderful, azizam,” you add softly.

Kaveh continued, now walking a little and gesturing as he spoke. “I also want to incorporate some interactive elements. Maybe a mobile above her crib with small animals that move gently. Ah! And we could have a wall with different textures for her to explore as she grows. It’s important to stimulate her senses from an early age.”

As he spoke, you couldn't help but be amused by his reactions, also enjoying seeing this more relaxed yet excited side coming from him. Even though Kaveh considered your opinion as important as his ideas, you loved seeing the dedication the architect put into his designs—and when it came to something as intimate as creating his daughter's nursery, it was to be expected that his passion displayed twice as much. 

As he spoke happily, you listened to him in tender silence, but there was a strange feeling bubbling up inside you that left you momentarily intrigued. You attributed it to tiredness, or even hunger, but you ignored it, not wanting to worry Kaveh for nothing, much less interrupting his monologue. 

However, the vibration continued as constant, gentle but persistent movements below your navel, bringing you a slight feeling of alarm and surprise. When realization finally hit you, your breathing stopped and your hands immediately rested above your belly, feeling the movements more precisely.

“Kaveh,” you called him, your voice full of wonder.

He stopped mid-sentence and ran to your side seeing your static expression. “What? What’s happening? Are you feeling unwell?”

You shake your head, biting your lip in a futile attempt to contain your laughter. “I think she's moving. Our baby girl is moving!”

Kaveh's look went from worried to shocked in an instant, a wide smile opening soon after. He knelt down in front of you and gently placed his hands on your stomach. A light kick hit the area where his warm palm rested. 

“Hello, little one,” he whispered. “Guess you’re as excited about your room as I am, huh?”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “She can already feel how much love you’re putting into this.”

Kaveh looked at you, his expression full of love and devotion. “I want her to know how much she means to us, from this moment until the very second she enters this world. Every detail in this room will be a reminder of that.”

You looked him in the eyes and smiled warmly. With some difficulty, you lean over and press a kiss to his lips to which he happily returns. “She's lucky to have a dad like you, Kaveh. And I am so grateful to have you by my side.”

He stood up and helped you do the same, quickly wrapping his arms around you right after. His head leaned against yours and you found yourself cradled in a hug filled with affection. 

“We will be the best parents we can be, azizam. I promise.”

Lyney

The soft glow of the night lanterns filled the room with a warm, golden light. The living room was filled with a pleasant mix of the smell of burning incense and the faint scent of fresh wool. Lyney was sitting at a small, ornate table, focused intently on a new magic trick involving his pyro vision. Flames danced gracefully around his hands as he wove them into intricate shapes, their flickering light casting playful shadows on the walls.

Opposite him, you made yourself comfortable on the couch, your pregnant belly prominent under your loose robe. You were diligently knitting a pair of socks, each stitch coming together with the precision of a well-trained hand. The rhythmic clicking of your needles provided a calming counterpoint to Lyney's fiery display.

Lyney's latest trick involved sending a small burst of flame through a series of arches suspended in the air. He was so absorbed in perfecting his performance that he barely noticed the absence of the knitting needles and the change in your expression.

Suddenly, you let out a loud sigh—a sigh filled with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the intricate strands of wool quickly forgotten.

Lyney's concentration broke and he turned towards you with a start, dropping all his tools and heading towards your way. “Everything is fine, sweetheart? Did you get hurt? I knew I shouldn’t train at home!” he blurted out the words in a frenzy, his voice tinged with worry.

You looked at him with your eyes shining with emotion. Your husband became more and more exasperated. 

“No no. That's not it. Quite the opposite actually,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I can feel them moving!”

Lyney's eyes widened, a huge smile spreading across his face as he realized what you meant. His expression was excited, and he sit next to you. “For real? This is incredible, chérie!”

You nodded, your hand gently stroking your belly and Lyney's just above yours. “It’s such a strange and wonderful feeling. It's so subtle that it almost doesn't seem to be there. I never imagined it would be like this.”

As if they knew they now had the full attention of both parents, the babies lightly kicked the area above your navel, eliciting another excited smile from you and a look of admiration from your husband for being able to be part of such a beautiful and intimate moment for the first time. He would never admit it, but his purple irises sparkled with happy tears for a few seconds. 

With a tender smile, you shared this serene feeling in silence. The room seemed to glow a little brighter as you sat together, your bond deepened by this new shared experience. Lyney leaned over, resting his head on yours, hands still resting on your belly feeling the slight vibrations there. 

“How about we take a break from magic and knitting? Let’s just enjoy this moment together.”

You giggled softly, your heart warmed by his loving gesture. “That sounds perfect.”

Neuvillette 

In the calmness of Neuvillette's office, the dusk in the sky cast a warm light over all of Fontaine. Its golden and orange rays crossed through the windows of the room, creating a serene atmosphere. 

Neuvillette sat behind his desk, his usual composed expression softening into one of gentle contentment as he leaned back in his chair. Opposite him, you sat comfortably in the armchair, one delicate hand resting on your growing belly and a cup of tea in the other.

The afternoon was calm, with only the faint hum of the city beyond the window in the background. Neuvillette looked at you with a warm smile touching his lips as he observed your relaxed posture. You were talking about your day, your voice carrying a gentle melody. Neuvillette listened intently, his eyes never straying too far from your face, enjoying the simple joy of your shared moments.

As you spoke, a subtle change occurred in your expression that didn’t go unnoticed by his sharp eyes. Your eyes widened slightly, and you placed a hand on your stomach, your fingers gently tracing its curve. Neuvillette immediately noticed the action and looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Is everything alright, mon amour?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight hint of alarm.

Your eyes glowed with a mixture of surprise and joy. “I think… I think Éveline just moved,” you respond, your voice shaking with emotion. 

Neuvillette's eyes widened as well, and he quickly moved to your side, his hesitant but gentle hand covering yours on your belly. “May I?” he asked softly, his usual formality melting in the heat of the moment.

You nodded, your smile growing as you guided his hand to the right place. For a few seconds, you both just sat, your breaths mingling in the silent space. Then, Neuvillette felt it—a gentle vibration beneath his palm, a small movement that was both fleeting and profound. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

“She’s already so active.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Apparently yes. She’s letting us know she’ll be here as soon as we expect.”

Neuvillette took a deep breath, trying to savor the moment as his hand intertwined with yours. “I suppose this is one of those rare moments when words fail to capture the full depth of our feelings.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darling.”

Wriothesley

Wriothesley stood at the bedroom window, admiring the marine life outside, which was enjoying the sunlight reflected in the crystal-clear waters of the Fontaine's sea. He was already dressed in his usual attire, mentally preparing himself for another day of responsibilities at the Fortress or Meropide. Despite the weight of his duties, a small smile played on his lips as he listened to the sound of water running from the shower in the adjacent bathroom.

“Are you done, love?” he shouted, looking at the clock on the wall. “We have a council meeting in half an hour.”

Your voice floated back, warm and cheerful. “Give me two minutes, Wrio. I'm almost finishing.”

He shook his head, amused by your nonchalance. Even pregnant with your first child, you continued to be a pillar of strength and efficiency, working alongside him to keep the prison running smoothly. The thought of his unborn child brought a gentle warmth to his heart, a feeling he was still getting used to.

He began to organize some papers on his desk, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming meeting, when an abrupt, piercing scream crossed the air. Wriothesley's heart leaped into his throat, and he ran toward the door.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Did you get hurt?” his voice was full of panic as he walked in, expecting the worst.

Standing there in the shower, allowing the water to cascade over your naked body, your hands cradled your belly. Though your eyes were wide, there was no fear in them—just astonished joy.

“Everything is fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him, your voice shaking with emotion. “He kicked. The baby kicked for the first time.”

Relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a wave of wonder and joy. He helped you out of the shower and then pulled you into his embrace, not caring that he was getting wet due to your body that just came out of the shower. Gently, he placed his hand on your belly and waited a few seconds before he too could feel the slight movement under the curving skin.

“There he is,” he whispered, his expression melting in pure devotion. “Our son.”

You nodded, happy tears blurring your eyes. “Sigewinne said it was normal for some babies not to move in their mothers’ wombs, but I think he’s finally trying to say that he’s as eager to meet us as we are to meet him.”

Wriothesley leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to meet him too,” he said softly. “This is the best way to start a day.” 

Your husband held you for a while longer, just reveling in your presence and the magical feeling of your unborn baby being present under the palm of his hand before he reluctantly pulled away. 

“Although I'd like nothing else than stay here forever, we must dry and dress you. We have a meeting to attend and I want our little one to see how his mom looks like when she's doing what she does best.”

You waved in contagious joy. “Of course, Duke. As you wish.”

After a few more exchanges of caresses, you prepared for the day, your hearts excited for the new life growing. Fortitude may take a lot out of you, but moments like these remind you of the joy and love that made each challenge worth it.

BONUS

Heizou

Moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting a soft, silvery glow over it. Heizou was lying comfortably behind his pregnant wife, his hand resting gently on your rounded belly. The room was quiet except for your steady breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

Suddenly, the detective felt a slight movement under his hand. It was no wonder he was such a light sleeper given his job and all. And then, because he thought it was you constantly moving in your sleep, he chuckled softly, bringing you closer to his embrace. “Can't stay still, huh?”, he murmured playfully.

Feeling the same movement, you opened your eyes slightly and lightly pinched his thigh. “Stop poking my belly,” you mumble, still sleepy, “You know it tickles.”

Heizou smiled in the dim light. “I’m not poking you,” he replied, gently patting your belly. “Maybe you’re just dreaming.”

You sighed, momentarily awake, and turned to face him, narrowing your eyes in mock severity. “Oh, of course. Blame my dreams when you're always the one causing trouble.”

Heizou raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Causing problems? I would never do that.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, taking care that the loud sound of your voices didn't disturb anyone else's sleep. 

When you were coming back to him with another bicker comment, another subtle movement appeared and interrupted your joking time. You caught your breath in surprise and placed your hand over your husband's, which was already resting on your belly. 

“Did you feel that?”

Heizou's playful smile disappeared and was replaced by an expression of delight. “I did,” he replied, his voice now a mere whisper. “You think...?”

“It’s the baby,” you nodded, your eyes shining with joy. “Our little Ren is moving.”

Heizou's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. “Well, it looks like our baby takes after me,” he said, his teasing tone returning. “It’s already causing a bit of confusion.”

You rolled your eyes but giggled, “Great, just what I needed—two troublemakers.”

Heizou leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You love it,” he whispered, his eyes shining.

You rested a hand on his cheek, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth and love. "I do. I love you both."

You stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the shared joy of feeling the baby's first movements. “You know,” Heizou said thoughtfully, “if this is how our little one is right now, we might be in for some sleepless nights.”

You laughed a little louder this time.

“Well, I was already prepared for that. Besides, I have you by my side. So I think we will do very well.”

Heizou kissed you gently. “We will be the best team, my dear,” he promised.

[moro-moro-moro]

yan mage! x lady⠀

~ the library ~

yan mage! looked up at the sound of tinkling bells. his eyes followed the figure that hesitantly walked into the mage tower library early in the afternoon.

he looked curiously at the dolled-up little lady as she nervously edged along the towering shelves, as if waiting for someone to stop her. anxious brown doe eyes peeked up at the ceiling that stretched several stories high.

he stepped soundlessly into the shadows when her eyes skimmed the area he stood at.

hmm.

he went back to work, occasionally glancing down at the flurry of golden silk and tinkling bells.

she settled quietly in a tiny spot of sunlight that leaked between the bookshelves. the dusty pages chaffed against her fingers as she pored over the tomes, heart racing with delight. her father never let her leave the estate for unladylike things like huddling in dusty, old libraries.

but he is not here to breath down my back.

she whispered incantations under her breath as she read, magic stirring around her curiously.

at times, she looked up feeling eyes on her, but there were just some over-caffeinated mages around, none looking at her tiny, hidden corner.

hours ticked past, and it was already evening. she sadly flipped the last page of the tome.

there was still another hour till her guards would check in.

maybe she could find another book by then?

yan mage! doesn't understand why his eyes keep lingering on the long-haired little lady (she was by no means little, except maybe in comparison to him).

his eyes surreptitiously followed her shadow weaving gracefully among the bookshelves. the affectionate brush of her fingertips against the tomes as she passed. (he frowned, surely that was unnecessary).

he finally gave up any pretense of working (he was already done with work by afternoon when the intruder had interrupted him from dozing off peacefully), abandoning his desk to lounge lazily on the fifth floor railing, from where he could see her more easily.

he chuckled under his breath when she looked around quickly, before burying her face in the old tome she had plucked from high up the shelf. he bit down a smile, when he saw her bounce excitedly and clutch the book to her chest preciously.

the soundless giggle was cut off by sheer terror when the tall ladder she was standing on keeled, and her foot slipped off the rung.

her heart seemed to slow down as she fell down, the deafening silence of pure terror.

but the floor didn't meet her. she peeled her eyes open slowly. her body hovered a bare inch above the floor, before slowly falling down– gentle as a cloud.

her heart hammered wildly as she looked around. there was no one among the shelves. her eyes roamed the floors above. but there was no one there either.

huh, maybe the library is magical.

the thought cheered her up and she made her way back to the nook she had claimed.

yan mage! flicked his finger and the magic peeled off, revealing him. the tiny burst of his magic that had caught her floated back to him. his senses hummed as the strange feeling enveloped it.

like starfire to his blood. a memory that was enmeshed to the very core of his being.

he brushed off the strange feeling.

no one can be sane after staying in this place the whole day, he rolled his eyes.

he pushed off the rail, but his eyes strayed once more to the little nook she hid in.

an image brushed his mind unbidden.

the sunlight filtered through her long dark locks, her face quiet and eyes warm, burning like honey when she glanced up at the light.

yan mage! ended up staying there, wandering among the shelves, eyes occasionally slipping off to find the silent figure reading among the deep purple twilight shadows.

when tiny, golden globes dance above her, lighting her pages, she smiled gratefully at the library. when one of the little globes floated near her hand, she brushed it gently with a fingertip before going back to reading.

yan mage! stood unmoving as warmth brushed gently against his heart.

later, after she left, he stared down at her empty spot.

perhaps...perhaps she would come again tomorrow.

⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒✿ ⭒ ⋆･ . ⋆✿ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ✿ ⭒ ⋆･.

a/n: they are sylvi and yakovi, my ocs. this is some daydreaming i did for them, not actual canon. i hope y'all like it. it is not edited. i just put everything down as it came. (:

kovi is slightly tsundere in the beginning. but he turns into this pretty unhinged, over-protective puppy as the story progresses. in canon, their first meeting is very different uwu. but i liked this idea sm, so here it is.

⠀.   ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒✿ ⭒ ⋆･ . ⋆✿ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ✿ ⭒ ⋆･.

if you wanna be pinged for more updates on this fic, just add a comment :)

[rebrandedbard]

I bought one of those book nook kits at the craft store and customized it to look more like Sunset Station in Kingdom Hearts 2!

I painted the train a bit and threw some Struggle posters on the walls, alongside the Help Wanted board. I even added a little hidden Mickey in the weird arch! I always felt so calm in Twilight Town. I would turn on the game just to hang out there and ride the skateboard.

[the-fiction-witch]

Miss Y/L/N P2

Media - The Artful Dodger Character - Jack Dawkins Couple - Jack X Reader Reader - Miss Y/n Y/l/n Rating - flirty AF Word Count - 4650

Jack headed through the dusty streets of Port Victory walking with a mission passing the tavern drunks and dock girls without a second thought until he reached the small thatched cottage on the edge of town with a sweet garden, small fence and freshly painted purple door the sunset behind it and the flickering of firelight beyond the windows. Jack's footsteps faltered for a moment as he looked up at the cottage... his heart was hammering in his chest and he felt a little out of breath. He had never been to her home before... it was... beautiful. The cottage, the garden... Y/n. Then he pulled himself together and approached the door... and knocked lightly.

The door opened to Y/n now with a sweet green apron embroidered with flowers and small bumble bees her hair was slightly askew and she seemed somewhat puzzled, "Doctor Dawkins? Ohh hello, to what do I owe the pleasure of a twilight visit?"

The sight of her, even with messy hair and an apron on, made Jack's chest feel tight. She looked breathtaking even when slightly disheveled. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Miss Y/L/N," He managed to squeak out, clearing his throat for a moment and trying again. "May... may I come in to talk with you?"

"of course," she smiled happily letting him inside to see her small cottage. The cottage had a sweet round fireplace flickering away, a mantle full of trinkets small framed windows and hand woven rugs on the wooden floor, two chairs and a sofa by the fire, a large and cute wooden kitchen with an aged dinning table, pots hung from about. A reading nook overlooking the garden filled with books on shelves, a door leading to the bedroom where a canopy bed can be seen. The whole place lit by candle light and smelt of lavender, "Would you like a cup of tea? Or given it's so late I could perhaps make you up a glass of wine?" When smiled going to the kitchen picking up a plate and drying the dishes

Jack glanced around the cottage as he stepped inside as a warm smile rose to his face. It was... cozy. The small rooms, the fireplace and the trinkets... everything was cute and just screamed Y/n... he felt a pang in his chest as he realized that it was just how he imagined her home, "I'd like a glass of wine if you don't mind, thank you." Jack went to sit down in one of the chairs while he waited patiently for her,

she finished with her dishes and poured two glasses of wine, "It might be a bit strong" she smiled as she handed him he small goblet style glass of wine sitting her own on a small side table and sitting in her chair across from him putting her feet up on a little stool by the fire clearly by the way things sat she always sat in that chair

Jack took the goblet from her, the tips of his fingers brushing hers and he felt a tingle course through him at the contact. She sat down across from him and sat with her legs up and he smiled slightly. "You really like that spot in front of the fire don't you?", He said with a small chuckle.

"it's warm and cosy," she smiled "it's a good spot when it's cold or dark, I prefer the little reading nook when the sun's out" she chuckled

Jack smiled softly at her before he took a small sip of his drink, the bitterness of the wine tingling his tastebuds... it did happen to be sweetly fruity and smooth as well and he hummed in contentment. "Why am I not suprised that you love to read...," He chuckled lightly, knowing her love for books was very well known to everybody.

"of course, I love to read." She giggled "but you haven't answered me, is there a reason for your visit?"

Jack froze for a moment before he remembered the reason he had come here to begin with. He had forgotten about that completely as he had just enjoyed talking to her and watching how she lit up as she spoke. "Oh, right.... I... had something important to ask you....," His voice trailed off as he suddenly felt nervous. The courage he had summoned to get here and knock on the door seemed to have all just suddenly fled from him now that he had to actually ask her his question.

"oh? Go on me then" she giggled sipping her wine

Jack took a large gulp of his wine, feeling the warm burn as the alcohol made it's way down his throat in an attempt to drown his nerves. He had to say it, there was no turning back… "Y/n...," He began to say, his words slightly slurring slightly as a result of the wine. He had to admit it was rather strong. "There's something I want to ask you... something important." Jack took one last large sip of the wine in an attempt to gather up his courage from bottom of the glass as he placed it down. "I've... I've known you most of my life. And our... friendship has been the most important thing to me. And I've watched you grow into the most kind, caring, beautiful, and talented young lady I have ever known." He paused for a moment, closing his eyes. "And... and during that time, it's come to my attention... that my feelings towards you... are no longer those of friendship...,"

"aren't they?" She asked sitting her glass down her face read of confusion "whatever did I do to offend you so? That you don't think of me as a friend... Whatever I did jack I'm sorry" she said immediately assuming she had done wrong

Jack's eyes widened slightly. He wasn't expecting that response from her. "No... oh no no no no... you misunderstand...," Jack quickly corrected her. God she was so sweet and innocent... she always thought she had done something wrong when there was never anything wrong to begin with. "I never said that I didn't think of you as a friend, Y/n. I said that my feelings for you are no longer just... friendship...,"

"Oh ... Then what are they?"

Jack swallowed hard. This was it. No backing down now... His heart was racing faster than it every had in his life and his throat felt dry and tight... but he had to say it. "I've fallen in love with you.... and it's been killing me."

she gasped, her hands began to nervously fiddle with her fingers "I see ... Why does this hurt you? To feel that you love me? Do you not wish to love me?"

Jack quickly shook his head immediately. His brain was fuzzy from the wine... but he needed to say this right. "Of course I wish to love you. That's what is killing me... knowing that I love you... and I have no idea how you feel about me...,"

"oh you sweet thing" she cooed stroking his cheek and pulling his chin to look at her emerald eyes before her hands met his own "jack I adore you, I worship you, I have loved you for as long as I dare remember"

Jack's breath caught in his throat as he felt her gentle touch. Her hand on his cheek was soft and he felt chills down his spine as she held his chin up to look into her emerald eyes, which shined with love. As her words registered, his heart skipped a beat… "You... you love me?," He managed to choke out, his brain racing and struggling to completely process what she just said.

"of course I do" she giggled "you think I'd walk half way across town every other day to bring you cookies if I didn't?"

Jack chuckled at that. Her reasoning was rather simple... but it made complete and utter sense at the same time. He took her hand in his own and laced their fingers together. Her fingers were so small compared to his... and as he held her hand, he realized that he never wanted to let go of her again. "Why... why didn't you ever say anything?," He asked quietly.

"not really proper for a young lady to go around shouting at doctors how much she loves them" she giggled "but... I did deny all those suitors who has ever come asking to court me, sort of ... Hoping you'd figure out I was waiting for you"

Jack's heart melted at those words... he had absolutely no idea she felt that way. He felt a pang of guilt realizing she must have been feeling that way for a long time... and he was completely oblivious. The thought that all those men came courting her, and yet she denied every single one of them... he swallowed hard and took a shaky breath, his hand clutching hers tighter. "I'm... I'm an idiot," He said quietly. "You... you denied every single one of them... because of me...,"

"you very much are an idiot, but your my idiot" she smiled rubber nose on his

Jack smiled widely as he felt her nose against his. Her words were so gentle and sweet as she called him "her" idiot... the feeling of her body pressing against his even if it was just her nose against his had his body tingling... and he suddenly realized that he wanted more than just her nose to be against him. He ached to hold her in his arms and never let her go… "Please say that again," He murmured.

"humm... My big idiot" she giggled "that I waited years for to finally figure out that I loved him"

Another pang of guilt hit Jack as he was reminded that Y/n had waited years for him to figure out her feelings for him. Years of wishing and praying that he loved her like she loved him... but... he was so focused on being a successful surgeon that he never paid much attention to his own feelings. His other hand slowly reached up to gently tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear before his fingers gently traced along her jawline and came to rest on her neck. He gently pulled her closer and smiled. "Can I... try something?,"

"you may jack" she nodded

Jack nodded, his heart beating wildly in his chest as his hand slid from her neck to the back of her head, letting her warm hair slide through his fingers as he drew her even closer. He gently but firmly put his other hand on her hip, guiding her into his lap so she was completely pressed up against him. As she sat on his lap, he wrapped his arms loosely around her and gently rested his forehead against hers.

she giggled as he pulled her into his lap her hands settled on his waistcoat as she slightly squirmed not in protest more just settling herself

The feeling of her soft body in his lap had Jack's head spinning to the point where he could barely think straight. Her giggling sent pleasant shivers through his body, and he had to restrain himself from just grabbing her and pulling her even closer... to feel every inch of her body against his. He let her squirm for a moment as he chuckled quietly. "Settle down now...," He murmured against her neck, letting his breath tickle her skin.

"I can't help it, something's pressing into me" she giggled as she shifted and squirmed her hips some more

Jack let out a low moan as he felt her shifting her hips in his lap... she had no idea what she was doing to him. Jack's eyes fluttered for a moment as a wave of desire shot straight through him... he wanted nothing more than to just pick her and carry her into the bedroom and keep her in there for a week... but he had to control himself. "Stop squirming and you'll feel it less...," He said through gritted teeth.

"sorry I'm just trying to get comfy" she giggled sitting still "humm... I want to say it's your belt pressing into me but you have suspenders on" she said giving the suspender on his shoulder a small playfull snap

Jack let out another moan when she snapped his suspender strap. Her hands and her movements were having a very noticeable effect on him... but he managed to keep himself under control. He gave her a little tap on her bottom in a playful "punishment." "You behave... or I'll give you a spanking over my knee," He warned, before he realized what he said and his eyes widened as the words left his mouth.

"Jack!" She protests

Jack froze for a moment. Why did he say that? He didn't know what possessed him to threaten her with a spanking! And yet... part of him liked how her little gasp and the way she said his name. He swallowed down a groan at the thought of her sitting on his knee like a naughty little girl, her skirts bunched up around her hips as his hand gently came down against her bare skin... He couldn't keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth again. "Oh don't act so virtuous," He murmured against her neck as he gently nipped at her skin with his teeth, leaving a faint mark as he whispered in her ear. "You know you deserve a spanking for all that squirming in my lap, don't you?"

"Jack. As much as I admire your enthusiasm, I think you've had a little too much wine" she said slowly moving his hands from her hips to her waist "I know you love me and I love you too and yes it does feel as if we have waited forever and now that we know I'm overjoyed and overwhelmed with possibilities. However" she explained "we have only admitted our love, we are not counting, not engaged, and as much as I am excited to finally be able to express my love... You speak of things that we would do only in marriage and that's a good while off don't you think?"

Jack was quite literally speechless. Everything she was saying was absolutely right... he was speaking and acting like as if they were married when they weren't even engaged and they had only barely confessed their love. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he realized how he was behaving, like a man who was absolutely out of control. His heart sank as he realized how foolish and impatient he was acting... he had clearly had a bit too much to drink and his emotions were running absolutely wild. Jack closed his eyes as he silently berated himself. What was wrong with him? He sighed deeply, feeling absolutely wretched. He wanted to be with her so badly, in every way possible... but he knew she was right. She was absolutely right, and he felt like a complete fool. He gently rested his forehead on her shoulder in shame, his words low and quiet. "You're... you're right. I'm... I'm sorry, you're absolutely right... I'm behaving like an absolute madman... I've clearly had too much to drink. I feel like an idiot...,"

"it's alright, over excitement gets the best of us all. It likely comes from waiting so long I think" she chuckled "but... We must wait a little longer save such things for the right times"

Jack chuckled weakly, his head still resting on her shoulder. The guilt of how he was acting and his excitement were still warring inside his mind, but she was absolutely right. He had to wait for "the right time". He raised his head to look into her eyes, a small, lopsided smile on his face. "And when would that be?," He asked with a slight smirk.

"... Well we need to court don't we? And then an engagement, then I suppose after a decent period of engagement we could get married. And then you can do whatever you want" she smiled

Jack chuckled softly and smiled widely. God she was so innocent and yet so mischievous. She was giving him absolutely everything he wanted but she wouldn't let him take it quite yet... and part of his mind was absolutely feral with desire at the thought of doing anything he wanted. Part of his mind wanted to take her right then and there... but he didn't want to scare her. "Anything I want?," He murmured with a smirk.

"once we are married, our marriage bed will be open for anything my husband desires. After he deals with my Maidenhead of course"

Jack was not expecting her answer, and his brain short-circuited for a moment upon hearing her words. His face suddenly felt absolutely hot. The thought of her, completely nude in the bed of their shared house... completely opening herself up to him as he explored every inch of her body... god his heart was practically racing in his chest. And then he suddenly realized what she meant by "her Maidenhead"... He closed his eyes to try and control himself. "M-Maidenhead?," He echoed her words. Her choice of words had him completely flustered. The thought of taking her for the first time, her body completely soft and untouched as he carefully took her... it made his body ache like never before. It was taking every single ounce of his self-control to keep himself from throwing her down on the couch and taking her right then and there... but he had to restrain himself. He forced himself to open his eyes and lock them with her gaze. "You're still... you're still a... a virgin?," He whispered.

"I am a proper young lady jack, and I've turned down ever suitors who's ever asked of course I am"

Jack was absolutely floored once again by her response. His guilt for acting so utterly foolish and feral melted away and he was completely filled with love and admiration for her. Once again he was in awe of just how much she had waited for the possibility of being with him... how she denied every single suitor simply because she wanted only him. He smiled softly at her before nodding. "You are... without a doubt... the most proper and patient person... that I have ever met," He murmured quietly.

"well, I had a very good thing I was waiting for" she smiled nuzzling her nose into his neck

Jack let out a soft sigh at her nuzzling her nose into his neck. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close to him as he savored the feel of her body against his. As her words echoed in his mind, he smiled. She stayed pure and patient simply because she had been waiting for him... he felt another pang of guilt as he remembered how he had been behaving like an animal just a few moments ago. "Promise me one thing?," He murmured, his hands idly stroking her waist.

"yes jack?"

Jack was quiet for a moment as he gathered his words. He tilted his head slightly so his breath was against her ear and then quietly spoke. "Promise me that... even when I'm behaving like... like a madman... the way I was just a few moments ago... you'll keep me in check... keep me from acting like an absolutely mindless madman who will do anything to have you...," He whispered before gently nipping her earlobe.

"I promise, I shall do my best to." She nodded "the best things are worth waiting for wouldn't you agree? Would you rather toss me down on the sofa and make a mess of me just because of your urges or... To wait until our wedding night where you can carry me to our bed and ravish me to your hearts content"

As she spoke, Jack's brain was filled with the image of her spread out on the sofa beneath him, her skirt hitched up over her hips. His mind then flashed forward to the image of her in their shared bed, completely nude as he worshipped every inch of her body… Jack almost moaned but he stopped himself. He took a shaky breath before speaking, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "You... you're absolutely right...," He whispered. "Waiting is absolutely worth it...,"

"I'm glad you agree" she nodded "but maybe soon a gentleman might come and ask to court me?" She cooed

The thought of a "gentleman" asking to court Y/n literally made Jack's blood boil. The thought of some "gentleman" coming in and asking to court his Y/n... the thought of her spending time with another man that wasn't him... He immediately shook his head and wrapped his arms tighter around her. "I'm not letting any other blokes try to court you... you're mine... mine...," He practically growled.

"I meant you! You idiot!" She chuckled

Jack immediately froze and realization settled over him like a heavy storm cloud. Of course... of course she meant him. She didn't want to be courted by some other bloke... she wanted to be courted by him. He suddenly felt completely foolish and an idiot and he was absolutely blushing. Jack buried his face in her shoulder, his face red hot with embarrassment. "Oh good lord, I'm a bloody idiot....," He mumbled against her shoulder.

"aww my sweet idiot" she cooed storking his hair

Jack smiled faintly against her shoulder at her words and her actions. Her words, as always, melted his heart and her hand stroking through his hair always made him shiver. As he spoke against her, his voice was quiet and low. "You can... you can call me an idiot all you want as long as you keep stroking my hair like that,"

"I know what will cheer you up, she giggled "would you like a little present? That you have to keep a secret?" She whispered

Jack lifted his head up off her shoulder, a curious look on his face. A present? He raised his eyebrow at her question. A secret present? What on earth would she give him that required a secret? "A secret present?," He echoed her words. He was suddenly very curious. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I'd love a secret present...," she smiled and shut her eyes giving his cheek a tiny peck before she pulled back and looked up at him with her big emerald eyes

Jack chuckled quietly as she gave his cheek a soft little kiss. Looking down at her, he suddenly felt that wave of guilt wash over him again as he remembered how he practically lunged at her and threatened to give her a spanking... He suddenly felt very grateful that she had been so patient with him. Instead and gently caressing her waist,

"did you like your present?"

Jack was about to respond when he suddenly realized that the soft little kiss on the cheek was the present. He was actually touched beyond words that such a small little kiss was her "present" to him. He smiled softly before nodding. "I loved it...," He murmured before leaning down to press a gentle kiss against her forehead. He couldn’t help himself and he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close to him and holding her against him.

she blushed hard at the kiss nuzzling onto his waistcoat "did I do okay? I've never kissed anyone before"

Jack chuckled as she blushed and nuzzled his waistcoat. She did "okay"? She did absolutely fantastic. And the fact that she'd never kissed anyone before made it even better. He felt a little guilty that he had plenty of experience and she had none... he suddenly decided to tease her a little bit. "Oh yes, sweetheart," He teased her slightly, "You more than did okay..."

"I did?"

Jack nodded as he smiled even wider at the surprised look on her face. It was adorable how shocked she was simply because he told her she did a good job at kissing him... which only made him tease her even more. "Oh yes, you did absolutely fantastic... you didn't even stick your tongue in my mouth or anything," He teased her as he chuckled quietly.

"... Oh... Was I suppose to?" She asked

Jack chuckled even harder. She was absolutely clueless and absolutely adorable. He would have to teach her all manner of things, and his heart swelled at the thought... but that could wait. "No, no... you weren't supposed to, sweetheart. It was a tease," He said with a quiet chuckle. He leaned his forehead against hers, gently and playfully bumping her forehead with his. "A tease. I wanted to get you all riled up,"

"oh. Sorry" she giggled

Jack chuckled again at her response. God she was cute to tease. She was so damn innocent... a complete contrast to his own behavior from a few minutes ago. He was suddenly hit with yet another pang of guilt as he remembered the absolutely feral way he had spoken and the way he had practically threatened her… He pushed the guilt aside as he pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. He smiled and spoke quietly, hoping to get her to relax more. "You don't have to apologize, sweetheart,"

"ummm" she nodded shifting a bit rubbing her cheek slowly against his waistcoat her eyes fluttering closed as she clearly got so cosy in his arms she began to get sleepy confirmed as her jaw falls and she lets out a long yawn

Jack smiled and chuckled quietly as she started rubbing her cheek against his waistcoat, her eyes closing slowly as her jaw fell open with a yawn. She was like a sleepy kitten... she was sleepy and comfy and absolutely adorable in his arms. Her sleepy actions and the way she was rubbing her cheek against his waistcoat stirred his heart and he instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her against his chest as he chuckled quietly again. "You're a sleepy little thing, aren't you?,"

"mhm" she nodded

Jack chuckled again. Her sleepy nodding only made the realization that she was sleepy and absolutely adorable even more prominent. As she nodded, he smiled and nuzzled his head against hers, his hands gently caressing her waist. She was so damn cute when she was sleepy... he wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her up to his bedroom and tuck her into his bed so she could fall asleep in his arms… "A little sleepy kitten...,"

she smiled widely at the name "ummm your kitten" she cooed

Jack smiled widely at how she immediately agreed to the name. She was his. She was his Kitten. He chuckled quietly before gently lifting one of his hands to gently pat her head like he would do to an actual kitten. "Yes, you are. My little Kitten," He cooed back at her. He smiled even wider at the thought of her belonging to him... belonging in his arms...

she smiled happily moving herself slightly so she sat on his left thigh, her head still on his chest and her feet coming up to lay against his right knee bundling herself completely up in his arms like she was reading for a nap right there on his lap

Jack chuckled quietly as she moved and got comfortable in his arms. She was so small and slender that she barely took up any room on his lap. As she sat, she nuzzled her head into his chest and bundled herself up all small like a little kitten, obviously getting herself comfy and ready for a nap. It was absolutely adorable... and once again it stirred his heart. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, one around her waist and the other around her shoulders, holding her snugly against his chest and effectively wrapping her up in his arms completely.

[rarilight]

Sitting at the book nook at EFNW, these three teens looking looking at the catalogue, one of them saying “there’s so much Rarity and Twilight? Why?”

LOL

[heart-songs]

You ask me what I fantasize about after Eo Sivia

and I tell you… sleep. uninterrupted. restful. deep. moments of soft light. twilight. golden hour. dusk. a chance to breathe in the aurora borealis or melt into snow on the beach. a tiny cottage by the sea with greying shutters and a cozy nook where I can paint. days overrun with wild flowers and clumsy dogs and contagious laughter. awakening to sunsets. an endless supply of books, back rubs, hugs, coffee, tea. stained-glass summers and juicy peach pie. crumbling into the crunch of October leaves. sprawling Sundays. morning sex. blueberry pancakes for breakfast. lunch. dinner. a trip to Ireland that lasts forever. sun showers. climbing roses. curtains blowing out windows. hand holding. entire days stripped of clothing. rolling out the red carpet for my want. to be kissed. often. and by an honest mouth. to be touched by the rhythm of a good heart. to be held to be held. to. be. held. so tenderly it aches. to be looked at as whole. bodymindsoul.

You ask me what I fantasize about, and I say, me. unbound by the ache of depression, anxiety, and pain. I say, healing. I say, years of tears swept away with the rain. sweet simplicity. blissful silence. silence that softens into three a.m. conversations. three a.m. conversations that unfold naturally as sleep… uninterrupted. restful. deep.

- Cora Finch

[trumpkinhotboy]

'Coming out'

Pairing: Isaac x aroace!fem!reader, reader x the gang

Type: Request (thank you so much!!)

Warnings: none?

Word count: 2k

Requests: Open for twilight wolfpack, heartstopper and narnia

A/n: loved loved loved writing this little thing <3 it’s a good reminder to be kind and respect people’s journey xxx

Summary: The reader meets Isaac and finds in him an amazing friend. They will accompany each other through their self-discovery journeys. Although Isaac might need some help explaining it all to the rest of his friends…

You first met Isaac at one of your favorite corner bookshops. It was an old vintagey building loaded with books. It was a labyrinth of nooks and crannies filled with beautiful stories and cozy reading spots scattered around the shop. You were both so caught up in the book you were reading you failed to notice the other walking straight in your direction.

As you'd imagine, you kinda knocked each other out and almost destroyed the precious piles of books stacked in a nearby corner. You looked up to the soft traits of the person before you and felt something click. When we talk about love at first sight, we usually refer to romantic love, but people often forget about platonic love. Or as you liked to call it, the discovery of a soulfriend. The rest became history.

You realized Isaac went to Truham, not so far from your school, Higgs. Instantly, your love for books brought you together, as well as all the other things you had in common, such as your sarcastic humor, your unending curiosity for learning new things, and your journeys of self-discovery. You were proudly a part of the LGBTQ+ community after you figured out you didn't feel attraction the same way other people did. You will always remember the first time you stumbled across the words "aromantic" and "asexual". It felt incredible to find yourself in those descriptions. It felt like finally coming home.

Isaac asked you many questions and always showed a lot of interest in it. You had a feeling these queries had a deeper purpose than only getting to know you better. It turns out you were right when one day, as you were out to get some ice cream, he expressed his struggle with his sexual identity. He blurted it out and didn't add a thing, so you only said: "Cool, if you ever want to talk about it more, you know I'm here," and hugged him.

It wasn't until later that night that he told you everything about how conflicted he felt sometimes with his friends. Seeing them all so in love, and how in every book he ever read, that same love was everywhere. You talked until early morning, and it is still, to this day, one of your favorite moments you spent with Isaac.

You realized you were in the same class as three of his friends, Tara, Darcy, and Elle. You already were quite friends with Darcy, but through her, you got to know the rest of the girls better. That's how you started hanging with the rest of the gang. It was easy to understand why Isaac spoke so much about them and so highly. They were an amazing bunch, and each moment you spent with them made you even more aware of it. Still, that's also how you understood why Isaac sometimes felt irritated and confused about his sexual identity. They were all coupled up, and they all made adorable pairs. You were also painfully made aware of that fact when they started making jokes about Isaac and you being a couple.

They never said anything to your face, but you sometimes heard it before you joined them or simply because Isaac told you about it. At first, it felt funny since you and Isaac knew the truth behind those allegations. You were confident with your sexual identity, and you didn't feel the urge to correct them every time. Mainly since you knew it would maybe create some questions for Isaac. So you kept your mouth shut and respected when he asked you not to say anything.

As time went on, you noticed the change in Isaac's attitude toward them. You were walking home together from a movie night with the gang. Not so subtly, they encouraged Isaac and you to sit by each other and kept giving you 'privacy'. You ended up leaving early because he was mad and irritated, even if his friends didn't quite catch that and only thought their antics had created something between the two of you.

"Listen, I know you don't want to tell them anything, but…" "I told you it's fine." "Yeah, but the thing is that it isn't. Isaac, you're starting to get irritated and annoyed around your friends for any little thing. I know it can be daunting, but I think they would be super comprehensive and supportive if you told them you were still figuring yourself out. They're not acting like that to hurt you. They just don't know anything about it, and you haven't given them the chance to react or educate themselves."

You walked silently for a while. You could see through his demeanor that he was slowly processing everything you said. You stopped in front of your house and looked at him. "Listen, I'm sorry if what I said hurt you I-" "No, you're right. I think it's time I told them. I've just been so scared. I don't know how to do this." You felt your heart well up with compassion for what your friend was going through. After all, it wasn't that long ago you were entrapped with the same insecurities. "You don't have to do this alone. I can help you if you want, and you know I'll always be there to support you."

A few days later, Isaac suggested you all have another movie night. You spent the previous day talking and deciding on a very tight schedule and plan for him to do his coming out. Everything would have to be perfect.

Everybody showed up, and the night went as planned. Except when the time came for Isaac to tell them, he flaked and proposed a game of truth or dare. You stared at him curiously, knowing he absolutely hated that game, but his panicky stare was enough to tell you, 'Go with it. I'm not ready yet.' So you put a bright smile on your face and showed the best enthusiasm you could muster.

The game was going smoothly. The dares and questions were actually fun. It was nice to get to know everyone better through this game. That is until the dares and questions seemed to be heading in a certain direction. It started with Tara asking you if you were into someone. Then, with Charlie daring you to kiss someone on the cheek. Not thinking about it, you kissed Isaac familiarly. You knew it was the wrong thing to do as soon as they all cooed and started to exchange knowing looks. You could feel Isaac tense up, so you quickly moved on to the next person. That's when the damned bottle landed on him.

"Uh, truth, I guess." Second mistake. Darcy jumped on the occasion without wasting a second. "Do you like someone in this room?" He stared at her. Without saying a word, he debated whether this was the time. "You have to answer! It's the rules." she giggled, painfully unaware of how much discomfort she was putting her friend in. Isaac's continued silence started to unnerve the rest of the gang. Finally, they were catching up to the underlying tension in the room. Darcy wanted to add something when Tara quickly shut her up with a killing look.

"Maybe we can choose another question? Or switch to a dare?" you started, trying anything to diffuse the pressure. Despite Darcy's protests, the rest of the group agreed with quick nods when suddenly Isaac exploded. "No! I'm tired of this." "It's okay. We can change the game if you're over it," suggested Elle, her gaze darting nervously to her boyfriend. "No! That's not it, it's not the game. I'm tired of lying." "I knew it! Y/n and you already are a couple," exclaimed Darcy.

You honestly loved the girl, but she could be so oblivious sometimes. Luckily, with the look Isaac leveled at her, she seemed to understand she couldn't be more wrong.

"Y/n and I are not a couple. We couldn't be anything farther from that. She doesn't view people like that." Six pairs of eyes turned in your direction. You gave them an uncomfortable smile with your thumbs up, unsure how to react to what was happening. "And- and I don't know if I do either. First, you guys kept pushing for me to be with James. Then, when I exploded about that, you stopped. Only to start doing it again when I introduced you to Y/n. I'm so tired of you thinking that when I talk to someone, it must mean I'm interested in them romantically. Aren't I allowed to have other friends? Aren't I allowed to not like people romantically?" He took a steadying breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, he seemed more grounded. His friends kept staring in silence, knowing this was important. "I'm not sure what my sexuality is, but I would like to have the space to explore it without always feeling pressured to be in love. But that's hard to do when all you're talking about is matching me with someone. These thoughts have been even more confusing lately, especially with what happened with James." He paused and looked at you, this time with a warmth in his gaze. "Then I met Y/n, and it felt so amazing to be able to talk with someone about being aromantic and asexual. I never met anyone like her, and it felt so good to be given the space to question myself freely." His eyes went back to each of his friends' faces. "To get all worked up and annoyed without even telling you what I was feeling wasn't fair to you guys, but I'm trying to figure myself out. I know I'm not attracted to people the way you all are, and it just really sucks that you've been all pestering me about it. Fine. You couldn't know, but we act like we are all so open-minded and considerate of LGBTQ+ folks, but haven't we learned anything? We should not make guesses about people's sexual identities. We should leave them alone to figure it out. All I need from you guys is support in that."

His cheeks and ears had turned red from his passionate monologue, and it was when he finished that he took a final breath, finally letting go of everything bottled up inside his mind for so long. Everyone sat there, shocked. Tao, Elle, and Darcy with their mouths slightly opened. Not because of what Isaac had told them but because of how he did. He usually was passive and avoided any form of confrontation. They all realized guiltily it must have been heavy on him to create this outburst. The silence stretched for a few seconds as if time had stopped. You gave your friend a proud smile before you concluded with a: "Yeah, basically what he said."

The sound of your voice seemed to awaken them from their trance. "So Y/n," picked up Nick, "you're aromantic and asexual?" You nodded with a smile, "You can also say aroace. Sounds cooler, in my opinion." You winked at him, happy to see the relief etched on his freckled face as he realized you weren't mad in any way at them.

"Isaac, I'm so sorry. I have been downright horrible to you. I assure you it was never in any way meant to hurt you. I should have been better. I will be better," spoke up Darcy. For once, the mischievous light in her eyes disappeared, replaced with seriousness. "I know what it feels like to be confused and feel pressured. I'm so sorry I didn't realize that's what I've been doing to you." She reached for his hand, which he gladly took, a smile slowly growing on his lips.

"I know you didn't mean it Dar, but I appreciate your apologies. As I said, I also wasn't the best communicator. I could have told you guys earlier and avoided all of this."

"Hey, you should never have to say anything if you're not ready to. We understand that, and we will all do better," added Nick with a quick look around the gang. Everybody nodded and smiled reassuringly at Isaac.

"And thank you, Y/n, for supporting Isaac and being there while we were being complete duds." Charlie stretched his hand to you, a timid invitation to be an official part of the group. "You're awesome. We're glad Isaac met you and introduced you to us."

You felt emotion flare inside your chest as Isaac wrapped his free arm around your shoulders. "You guys can be pestering and oblivious little pricks, but I love you all to death." Everyone linked up like a little human chain, either holding hands, touching, or wrapping one another in a hug.

Tao grabbed a handful of candy and passed it around so everyone had a piece. "Well, I suggest we end this with a toast. To Isaac, to Y/n, to self-discovery, and to holding each other accountable!"

You all repeated his toast with bright smiles and cheered before gobbling down your candies in a comical promise to do better for each other.

[marvelandponder]

Something devilish this way comes...

I'm headed to Everfree Northwest next week! Print copies of Empathy for the Devil and/or Empathy for the Devil: Behind the Zines will be available at Twilight's Book Nook (booth 9 in the Vendor Hall).

I'll be at the booth to sign books and hangout Friday 3:30 - 4:00 PM, and Saturday 4:00 - 4:30 PM.

Plus, I'm on a panel! Meet the Authors of Twilight's Book Nook Saturday 2:00 - 3:15 PM

See you there!

[wildmousesword]

What I think the LU boys Pinterest feed would look like:

Sky:

•Birds

•Cute things to buy for a loved one

• Bracelets (idk why I feel like he’s a bracelet guy)

Four:

•DIY things (all of them include moss and he’s never made any of them just wished)

•Books u should read (obv Vio needs his books)

•Anger Management exercises (we all know who this is for)

•Cute things to make for ur friends (Reds love language is gifts all the way)

Time:

• The boys had to make an account for him has never used it since

Twilight:

•Cats

•dogs

•horses

•that’s it just those three

Wind:

•cool ships (be didn’t get what he was searching for)

•memes (obv the most 2 year old ass memes like skibidi toilet or whatever)

Legend:

•gay memes

•how to dress queer

•homosexual jokes

•I’m gay

Hyrule:

•”why doesn’t this din darn cave have wifi”

• If he did have wifi his feed would be little nooks and cranny decorated for fairy’s and little guys like making small rooms and decorating them like a tree house

Warriors:

•how to flirt 101

•pick up lines

•how to have rizz

•cool hair

•cool scarfs

Wild:

•cooking recipes

•flowers

•surprisingly peaceful until u scroll down for like a minute and u start seeing things u wish u could un see

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) and Demise react to their SO being really into romance novels? Dark romance novels? Smutty Romance novels?

Here's how each Ganondorf and Demise might react to their SO's interest in various types of romance novels:

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Romance Novels:

Reaction: Wind Waker Ganondorf would find it charming and endearing. He might be intrigued by the romantic stories and enjoy hearing his SO’s excited descriptions of their favorite plots and characters.

Scene: He might surprise his SO with a cozy reading nook on the ship, complete with soft pillows and a view of the sea, so they can read together and discuss their favorite parts.

Dark Romance Novels:

Reaction: He'd be intrigued but somewhat perplexed by the darker themes. His curiosity might lead him to ask questions about the plot and characters, perhaps with a mix of amusement and genuine interest.

Scene: Ganondorf might express his curiosity by playfully mimicking dramatic lines or scenes from the books, adding his own dark humor to the mix.

Smutty Romance Novels:

Reaction: Wind Waker Ganondorf would be amused and perhaps slightly embarrassed. He might tease his SO about their reading choices but would appreciate their openness and confidence.

Scene: He might jokingly ask to be the "inspiration" for some of the more passionate scenes, laughing and enjoying the playful banter.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Romance Novels:

Reaction: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would view it with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He might be intrigued by the idealized portrayals of romance but would likely remain skeptical of the idealism.

Scene: He might engage in thoughtful discussions about the portrayals of relationships in the novels, contrasting them with his own experiences and views.

Dark Romance Novels:

Reaction: He would be fascinated by the darker, more complex aspects of the stories. He might see parallels between the novels and his own experiences or goals, leading to deep and possibly intense conversations.

Scene: Ganondorf might find himself drawn into discussions about the nature of darkness and redemption, finding common ground with the novels' themes.

Smutty Romance Novels:

Reaction: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf might be initially surprised but would take a more analytical approach. He could find the novels’ explicit content intriguing and might engage in thoughtful discussions about the nature of passion and desire.

Scene: He might tease his SO with philosophical musings about the nature of human desires and emotions, showing a mix of curiosity and detachment.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Romance Novels:

Reaction: Twilight Princess Ganondorf would find it heartwarming and be genuinely interested in the emotional aspects of the novels. He’d likely enjoy hearing about the romantic escapades and would be supportive.

Scene: He might create a special, serene reading space for his SO, complete with soft lighting and a comfortable setting, enjoying the chance to share in their literary passion.

Dark Romance Novels:

Reaction: He’d be captivated by the intense emotions and complex characters. His empathetic nature would allow him to connect deeply with the novels' darker themes, leading to rich discussions.

Scene: Ganondorf might relate the novels' themes to his own experiences, sharing his perspectives and offering comfort and understanding regarding the more intense aspects of the stories.

Smutty Romance Novels:

Reaction: Twilight Princess Ganondorf would likely be intrigued and amused. He’d appreciate his SO’s openness and might indulge in playful, yet respectful conversations about the content.

Scene: He could surprise his SO with a romantic gesture inspired by their reading material, blending romance and affection with a touch of humor.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Romance Novels:

Reaction: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would be amused and slightly bemused. He might find the idealistic portrayals of romance entertaining and a welcome distraction from his more serious concerns.

Scene: He might playfully mock the over-the-top romantic tropes but would genuinely enjoy spending time discussing the novels with his SO.

Dark Romance Novels:

Reaction: He’d be both intrigued and amused by the darker elements. His warrior's mindset would lead him to view the novels through a lens of strategy and conflict, finding the complexity interesting.

Scene: Ganondorf might engage in dramatic reenactments of the darker scenes or offer his own “strategic” insights into the conflicts depicted in the novels.

Smutty Romance Novels:

Reaction: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would be openly amused and perhaps a bit shocked. He’d appreciate the candid nature of the novels and might enjoy teasing his SO about their reading preferences.

Scene: He might playfully challenge his SO to a “battle” of wits about the novels’ more explicit scenes, combining humor with a hint of flirtation.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Romance Novels:

Reaction: Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would be contemplative and respectful of his SO’s interest in romance novels. He might appreciate the escapism and emotional depth they offer.

Scene: He could engage in thoughtful discussions about the themes of love and relationships depicted in the novels, valuing his SO’s insights and perspectives.

Dark Romance Novels:

Reaction: He’d be deeply intrigued by the complex and intense themes. His reflective nature would allow him to connect with the novels' darker aspects on a profound level.

Scene: Ganondorf might relate the novels' themes to his own experiences and struggles, offering thoughtful and empathetic responses to his SO’s interpretations.

Smutty Romance Novels:

Reaction: He might be initially surprised but would approach the topic with curiosity and a touch of introspection. He’d respect his SO’s openness and view the content through a philosophical lens.

Scene: Ganondorf might engage in a respectful and reflective discussion about desire and intimacy, blending his deep thinking with an appreciation for his SO’s interests.

Demise

Romance Novels:

Reaction: Demise would be dismissive or mock the idealized portrayals of romance. He might view them as unrealistic or irrelevant to his own experiences, showing little interest.

Scene: He might scoff at the novels, making cynical remarks about the nature of love and relationships, though he might still listen to his SO’s enthusiasm.

Dark Romance Novels:

Reaction: He’d find the darker themes more intriguing, possibly relating to the novels' intensity and complexity. His reaction would be more thoughtful and less dismissive.

Scene: Demise might engage in deep, sometimes dark discussions about the themes, seeing parallels with his own struggles and experiences.

Smutty Romance Novels:

Reaction: Demise would likely be contemptuous or mocking of the explicit content. He might view it as trivial or beneath him, though he might still engage in conversations about it out of curiosity.

Scene: He could make biting comments about the content, challenging his SO to justify their interest, while still showing a grudging respect for their openness.

In summary, each Ganondorf and Demise would react to their SO’s interest in romance novels in ways that reflect their personalities, from playful and supportive to contemplative or dismissive.

[cookies-over-yonder]

a thousand words left unsaid

dedicated to @iersei

Taylor and Link explore the undiscovered depths of the Swift household basement. ✧*.♡.*✧ DnDads Halloween Week Day 3: Things Left Abandoned

ao3

The Swift household is pitch black on the inside from the looks of it, and Link isn't quite sure why. He had planned to hang out with Taylor tonight, but wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary.

"Come inside," Taylor says with a mischievous lilt to his voice.

"Um, why are all the lights off?"

"It's spooky ," Taylor hands him a flashlight, and holds his hand, guiding him into the depths of the darkness.

Link chuckles a little. "Okay, but what are we doing?"

"We're exploring, obviously."

"But this is your house."

"True, true, but this is also a haunted mansion, and there are nooks and crannies unfamiliar to even me ," Taylor says, putting on this spooky narration voice that has Link cracking up again.

"Whatever you say, Taylor."

They head down to the basement, and Taylor opens a closet full of boxes.

"These boxes have been unopened since time immemorial…" he says.

"Whatever you say."

"And we are going to discover what's inside!" he shouts, picking up the first box and dropping it on the ground with a loud thump .

Taylor pulls out a switchblade and slices the tape on the top of it, and Link kneels down with him to lift up the flaps of cardboard.

"What do we have here?" Taylor asks, as they open the box to reveal a stack of dusty old novels.

"Books?"

"Ancient texts!" Taylor corrects, lifting one up and dusting it off. The cover reads Twilight . "These will be useful for our future journeys."

"Should we look through the rest of the books?" Link asks, playing into Taylor's adventure. He's so cute when he gets all roleplay-ey.

"No time! We must search through the other boxes," Taylor answers, bringing a couple more down from the closet. They all seem to be stacked haphazardly on top of each other.

Taylor passes Link his switchblade and resolves to use his sharp nails to slice the tape.

"Ah, more ancient texts!"

"Same here."

The two continue looking through the boxes and finding books neither recognize, save for some old editions of manga that Taylor keeps aside rather than putting them back in the boxes, and…

"At last! The final two."

One is bigger, and stacked atop the other. Link grabs it and starts to open it, while Taylor grabs the other one, dusting it off to do the same.

This box has a pair of shoes in it. They're big sneakers that were probably once white but now rock a slightly icky shade of yellow. There's a soccer ball next to it, also slightly yellow, and there's a little heart drawn on it in what appears to be black sharpie.

Nothing else is in the box.

"There's shoes and a soccer ball in mine, what about yours?" Link asks.

And from Taylor, there is nothing but a small gasp.

Link looks over, and he's got his flashlight pointed toward what looks like a picture frame.

Link scoots over and up close beside him to get a better view of what he's looking at, and oh .

It's a picture of Nicky, smiling and holding a baby in his arms, in a white frame with hearts drawn all over it, and at the bottom, in neat printing, it says, My Boys .

Taylor is quiet, except for increasingly shaky breaths.

"Taylor, I…"

What could Link even say?

And then it's too late, because Taylor puts the photo down on the floor and digs through the box with far too much aggression for a silly haunted mansion adventure.

There's a jersey, and some sweatshirts, and a beanie, and Link thinks he hears paper rustling, and Taylor pulls out what appears to be a letter in a tri-fold from the bottom of the box.

He unfolds it with shaky hands, and clears his throat.

Link doesn't think it a good idea, but he's not going to stop him.

And Taylor begins to read.

"Dear Cass, I'm so sorry I had to tell you this way, but I did it to keep you two safe," Taylor sucks in a breath, his voice shakier by the second, "I have to leave, I'm in trouble, and I can't let anything happen to you because they're after me. I've put money in the envelope, and I'll keep sending it for as long as I can."

Taylor stops for a second, and with what little light there is, Link can see tears start to slide down his face.

Just as Link opens his mouth, Taylor continues:

"I know Taylor won't remember me, but please give him a hug and a kiss on my behalf. I love you both, and… and…"

Taylor sucks in a shuddering breath, and breaks down in sobs.

Link is quick to envelop him in a hug, not caring that the paper crumples between them.

"Taylor, hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he soothes, carding his fingers through Taylor's hair.

Trembling violently in Link's grip, Taylor only whines and sobs harder, sucking in breath after breath as if he can't quite fill his lungs.

"It's okay, it's okay."

"It's not! " he shouts into Link's chest, shaking his head vigourously before whining again.

"Okay, maybe it's not, but I'm here okay? I'm here with you, and it's going to be okay."

" Link , I—"

Another sob rips through him, followed by the sound of Taylor nearing hyperventilation.

"Taylor, Taylor, breathe. Breathe with me okay? Deep breaths."

Taylor nods, and follows Link's lead in breathing deeply. It takes a while, and each little squeak and pained noise from Taylor struggling so much breaks Link's heart more and more, but eventually, he calms down, back to little whimpers and sniffles.

"That's better," Link hums, holding him close. "See? You're okay."

"Uh-huh…" Taylor mumbles, tear-laced and wobbly, before pulling away.

"This is my fault," he says, before putting the letter back in the box, on top of the clothes.

"Hey, no it's not."

Taylor whines again, swiping at his tears.

"Why don't we go upstairs and watch a movie?" Link asks, running his hand up and down Taylor's arm.

"Okay…" Taylor mumbles, moving to close the boxes full of books and collect the manga he found.

Link grabs the picture frame and moves to put it on top of the letter, but not before reading the last line Taylor couldn't get through:

I love you both, and maybe in another timeline, things could have been different.

- Nicky

[numerousbees1106]

Ecesis

Ecesis - The process of establishing and growing base/pioneer species during ecological primary succession

Read on Ao3:

The twilight sky above shone a velvety cobalt-violet, textured by wispy clouds so high up in the atmosphere that they still shone hypnotic shades of pale blue and silver, gleaming in an elusive sunlight that no longer graced the small cafe Piett currently sat at. All around him, the bustling yet quiet din of conversation murmured like a stream, a burbling brook of words he, admittedly, would eagerly eavesdrop on had he not been in such a foul mood.

Indeed, Piett grumbled to himself, he was positively gloomy that evening. 

By all accounts, he should have been enjoying himself - he was in a fancy cafe-bar-hybrid decorated with one of his favored aesthetics. The moderately sized area was bedecked with elegantly carved wooden tables and chairs near the front, and gorgeous bookshelves stocked with real books all along the sides, books that he was free to simply pick up and read to his heart’s content. Live plants tucked in every nook and cranny gave the impression of the area being full, but not crowded, a splash of unassuming, subtle wilderness that Piett found oddly comforting. Lights hung on rose-gold wires, twisting around vintage wood beams running along the ceiling that Piett suspected were more for decoration than for structural support, casting the room in a warm glow that added to the cozy atmosphere. Near the back, where he was, a bar with fern-like ivy tenderly cascading down from above served simple yet deluxe drinks, one of which he was currently nursing.

Despite being in the midst of a bustling city, the cafe honestly felt more like a garden, an oasis of life reserved for those of higher class - which, Rilla had pointed out with a grin as she had shoved him out the door earlier that night, pressing a card with the directions to the cafe into his hand, he now counted as. 

He scowled as he recalled the subject of his ire and the reason for his current bad mood. 

‘Go out and have fun,’ she said. ‘You can’t just sulk around the house until your boyfriend gets back,’ she said. 

Piett scoffed to himself.

Well, now I’m just sulking around here instead!

Begrudgingly, he would admit that the soothing atmosphere did make him feel slightly better, but true to the infamous Piett stubbornness, he would literally rather get shot than tell her that. 

A wave of concern that wasn’t his washed over him. 

Love-shot-hurt? The faint impression came across their bond. This far away from each other, it was all his lover could manage, but it still had Piett startling slightly where he sat slumped over the countertop, a stray leaf tickling his arm as he did so.

Clearing his throat awkwardly as the person behind the counter gave him an odd look, he straightened in his seat and allowed his lover to feel the sense of security and safety and calm that his surroundings inspired in him. After a moment or two, during which Piett gently batted the plant away absent-mindedly, his lover completed whatever inspection he had set his mind to, and purred out a soft noise of satisfaction. 

Love-dramatic-stubborn, he noted with amusement, and Piett sent back a wave of embarrassment and what he hoped translated to a mental apology. Although, really, Piett thought, that was rather rich coming from him. Another purr-like sensation, along with a sense of mock-offense came from his lover to show that he had overheard that last thought, and Piett was alone once more.

For about five seconds. 

Once again Piett found himself startling in his seat as his peripheral vision was suddenly overwhelmed by the visage of all six-foot three-inches worth of army general. 

“Ah, Prince Consort Piett! A pleasure as always, Your Grace,” Veers exclaimed as he sat down unreasonably close to him. 

“Stop calling me that,” Piett said, glaring at the man who, in Piett’s experience, was like most of the army-folk in that he lacked any and all sense of personal space. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” Veers clucked, raising his hand to catch the attention of the bartender. “It really should be Your Majesty, shouldn’t it?” 

Piett simply gave a long-suffering sigh, ignoring Veers as he chuckled to himself as he ordered his drink. 

“Did Rilla put you up to this?” Piett asked as soon as Veers was finished. 

The man shot him an over-the-top injured look, putting on his best wounded expression. 

“Is a man not allowed to simply visit his best friend?” Veers asked, voice full of faux hurt. “You wound me, Firmus, truly.”

Piett simply stared at his friend for a few long moments in silence.

“…But yes, your sister did send me,” Veers relented. 

“Hm. Thought so,” Piett said, raising the drink he’d ordered what felt like hours earlier to his lips to take a pointed sip. 

Veers huffed, taking a sip of his own drink, before rolling his eyes fondly. 

“Firmus, you’ve been moping for, like, a week now! Of course she’s gonna call me to come make you stop sulking!”

“I have not been sulking,” Piett huffed with a scowl. “And it’s been two days, Max. Hardly a week.”

“And besides!” Max continued, ignoring Piett completely. “You have a week to plan your guys’ celebration! You should be taking this opportunity and running with it, not- not slugging about your sister’s apartment!”

“Slugging about-” Piett spluttered in mock outrage, before the rest of that sentence registered. “Wait. Celebration?”

Veers looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Firmus,” he said, aghast. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Piett squawked, desperately running through all the important dates he had memorized. 

Veers gaped at him, his joking demeanor replaced by one of horror.

“Firmus. Fir. Your anniversary.” 

Piett blinked at him once, twice. 

“…Shit.”

Veers barked out a laugh at his expense, though tension lingered in his shoulders before the man shook himself, seemingly deciding on something as he did so. 

“Yeah, I’d say so, buddy,” the man said with a grin. “Not to worry, though - you’ve got me to help!”

“Joy,” Piett muttered joylessly, then shook his head. “Has it really been a year? Already?”

“It has! In fact, I think today marks the day of the Bridge Incident!”

Piett shot Veers a glare. 

“Veers, I swear to fuck, if you bring up the Bridge Incident one more time-”

“You’ll what?” Veers interrupted. “Smack your head against the counter, throw up, and proclaim your undying love for Darth Vader?” 

Blushing a scarlet red and acutely aware of the way the bartender froze and nearly dropped the glass they were holding upon hearing his lover’s name, Piett hastily slapped down what he sincerely hoped were enough credits, grabbed Max’s arm in an iron grip, and stormed out of the cafe. 

“Ack! Firmus, my drink- Firmus!”

Ignoring Veers’ protests, Piett continued down the street towards the city’s market center. 

“What should I get him?” He asked Veers, who was still loudly complaining.

“What- how should I know? You’re the one dating him!” Max retorted, which, yes, Piett would admit, that was fair. 

“You’ve had anniversaries before! What did you do then?” Piett questioned as he released his grip on Veers.

“Uh, mostly just got them a heartfelt gift, took them on a special date, and followed that up with some mind blowing sex?” Veers replied, rubbing his arm tenderly. “Kriff, Firmus, how are you so strong? You’re like, half my size!”

The rest of Veers’ complaints faded away as Piett’s brain stuttered and shut down at the idea of him and his lover doing… that.

“-Uh, you alright there, Fir?” 

Piett attempted to answer but instead of words, all he managed was a very undignified squeak. 

“Firmus, are you seriously blushing bright red at the mere mention of sex? You are two grown men who are also dating, no one is surprised that you two do that! It’s nothing to get all bent up over,” Veers huffed.

Piett shook his head, his cheeks feeling as though they were on fire.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just- uh, I- I hadn’treallythoughtofhimlikethatbefore…?”

Veers stopped walking and blinked at him.

“You… haven’t thought of him like that before,” Veers repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes in contemplation at Piett. “Are you… oh, what’s the term… er, ace-sexual?” 

“Um, not as far as I’m aware,” Piett squeaked, still blushing, trying his best not to fidget where he stood. “I mean, my exes and I were… active. It’s just that… I don’t know! It’s just different, with him, but as soon as you said it, the thought entered my mind, and…”

“And now you want it?” Veers finished for him, managing to sound only mildly disgusted.

Piett shrugged.

“I’ve been happy just, doing my own thing, you know? I guess I just figured that he’d show interest when he’s ready.”

“Well, I mean, he might be waiting for you to come onto him,” Veers suggested. “With the power imbalance between you two, it might just be that he didn’t want to pressure you.” 

“Maybe,” Piett mused, mulling it over in his head. It certainly seemed like something his conundrum of a lover would do, being as oddly sweet and considerate as he was.

“Well, if I’m right, then I think you know your anniversary gift already,” Max said with a sly, mischievous grin. 

“Oh, stop it,” Piett grumbled, smacking the other man’s arm, then paused.

“I still want to get another gift. Just in case, you know?”

Veers nodded. 

“Makes sense. What were you thinking?”

“That’s the issue,” Piett said with a sigh, continuing his trek towards the markets, the noctilucent clouds fading as the last vestiges of sunlight fled from even the upper atmosphere. “He loves speeders and ships, but…” 

“But that’s kinda a huge gift, even for an anniversary?” Veers supplied, nodding in understanding.

“Exactly. Plus, it’s a bit out of my budget.” 

Veers winced in sympathy, then elbowed him playfully.

“What, being third in line for the throne doesn’t pay well?” The menace of a man teased.

Piett simply shot him a caustic glare, earning a self-satisfied chuckle before the general shook himself.

“Well, what else does he enjoy? Mechanics, right?” He inquired, to which Piett nodded, mentally mulling over any potential mechanical gifts he could give.

“The issue with that is that he has essentially everything he could ever want, what with his position, and all,” he eventually sighed. 

“I agree, but also, I think it would be less of what the gift is and more the idea that it’s a gift from you,” Veers replied, tilting his head slightly as he spoke. 

“Do you really think so?” Piett questioned with a frown, a warm and pleasant feeling fizzing in his chest at the thought. 

“Firmus, I practically know so,” Veers crowed.

“I suppose I could get him some new tools,” he decided after a moment’s contemplation, brightening. Veers, however, didn’t seem to be listening.

“I wonder…” the man murmured quietly, his demeanor suddenly somber. “Do- Do you think I should get Zev something? I know he’s older now, but…”

Piett winced. Veers and his son had been getting into more and more spats in the recent years, and though Piett tried his best to help, it was honestly all out of his experience. 

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Piett said softly, hoping desperately that that was true - he’d be devastated if he accidentally made the riff between his best friend and the boy he practically considered a nephew deeper. “What’s he into, these days?”

“Literature, mostly,” Veers replied. “Especially this series about talking dragons - Fiery Wings, I think?”

Piett frowned, tilting his head before he realized what Max was talking about.

“Ah, I think you mean Winged Fire,” Piett corrected, recalling briefly delving into the series during one of his late-night searches for something to read in his youth. “That series is still going?” 

Veers shrugged. 

“No idea. Zevulon absolutely adores it, though. I wonder if the stores will have anything…?”

Now it was Piett’s turn to shrug. 

“Perhaps one of the arts & crafts stalls will have something, or maybe even be willing to custom-make something for you,” he suggested.

Veers froze mid-step, face scrunching up in confusion.

“Stalls?” He questioned, sounding bewildered. 

“Well, yes?” Piett gave him an odd look. “Max, we’re on Axilla. While we can certainly go to a store, you’ll likely find better wares in the marketplaces. Plus, in the market you can barter.” 

He paused. 

“Well, I can barter,” he amended. 

Veers gave him a glare of mock-offense, but his shoulders slumped in relief at the words. 

“Right,” the general said with a sniff. “Lead on, then.”

“It’s quite literally right around this corner,” Piett told him, amusement only increasing at the incredulous look his best friend gave him. “Can’t you smell the food?”

“Is that what that is?” Veers asked, seeming both curious and cautious.

“For me, it is,” Piett replied, taking the last few steps needed to round the corner. “For you, I think it’d probably give you some serious food poisoning, at least until you’ve built up a tolerance.”

“I’m 90% sure that is not how food poisoning works,” Veers said, doubtfully. 

“Are you willing to risk that?” Piett questioned, pointedly raising a brow. 

“No,” Veers said, then blinked as they passed by an admittedly delicious smelling pastry stall. “Maybe.”

Piett simply snorted, tucking his belongings closer to his person and motioning for Veers to do the same. This was the nicer part of Axilla, sure, but it was still Axilla. 

The two walked in comfortable silence for a while, quietly browsing the stalls as they went and basking in each other’s company - it had been far too long since the two of them had simply hung out. In fact, Piett mused, he’d reckon the last time had to have been during the Imperial introduction ceremony of Jelucan, back when Piett had been a junior officer under Grand Moff Tarkin and Veers had been a lieutenant. 

They’d been in close contact since, of course, either keeping up a long-distance friendship or, in more recent years, serving side-by-side with each other aboard the Lady. 

Piett was snapped out of his quiet contemplations as he realized Veers had wandered a bit farther away, the man speaking to a younger artist who seemed quite enthused. As Piett subtly moved closer to the two, not trusting his friend to see past the youthful, innocent face of the artist to any potential scams, he listened as a rather confused-sounding Veers was trying to describe something. 

“Er, and then I think he said the- what did you call it? A Bug Dragon?” 

“A Hive Dragon!” The teen chirped excitedly.

“Yes, that,” Veers said with a nod. “He said his favorite scene was when the Hive Dragon first met the butterfly guy, the one who was being chased, or something.”

Ah. Veers was seeking a commission for his son.

“He said he really loved how she had gone against all she had known to help a stranger in need? I’m not quite sure, he was rambling at that point.” The general shrugged, his demeanor almost awkward in the face of the young artist who was so excited they were practically vibrating with energy. 

“That’s an excellent scene!” They exclaimed, grinning widely, eyes shining.

Piett tuned them out as the teen began explaining the intricacies of the scene to a bemused Veers, rolling his eyes with amusement at his friend’s predicament. There was nothing but genuine artistic passion in the teen’s demeanor - he felt secure leaving Veers to his own devices.

Turning away, Piett began browsing the stalls once more, humming softly to himself as a street musician played a familiar tune a few stalls down, making a note to give whoever it was a tip when he passed them - they were quite talented. 

“Lookin’ for something special?” A raspy voice called. 

Head snapping up, Piett met the gaze of an old woman, her gray hair appearing almost tawny in the warm lighting of the market, her pale eyes staring intently into his own. In her hands, clasped between fingers gnarled by age and palms calloused by a life of labor, was a block of wood she was slowly but surely chipping away at, a carving knife held with a smooth sort of steadiness that belied great skill and experience. Piett hummed in agreement as he watched tiny slivers of bark - she was carving from raw wood, interesting - fall to the ground, the woman calmly crafting to a blueprint only she could see.

“Well, young man? See anything that catches your eye?” She asked with a wink. 

Piett blinked at her, confused, before her meaning caught up to him and he flushed a deep red and shook his head.

“Oh! Oh, no, I do apologize-”  he began, but she only cackled, her eyes glinting with mischief as she grinned at him. 

“Relax, young man. I tease, I tease,” she reassured him, before motioning to her wares with a sweeping gesture. “Please, have a look around!”

Wetting his lips, embarrassment still heating his cheeks - and really, what would his mother say, if she caught him staring like that? - he turned to gaze at little rows of beautiful wooden figures. 

Some appeared to have been sanded, while others still had bark on strategic places to act as texture or shading, such as a bantha with bark highlighting its horns and hooves. Some had some sort of finish applied, but most were raw, natural wood, occasionally bedecked with other materials as well. A small flower-shaped wooden plate had streaks of paint for color, and along the bottom waxy leaves had been attached to give the impression of it blooming. A little humanoid figure had clothes made out of wool of some sort covering it, and a gorgeous band could be worn as an adjustable bracelet by tying small loops of twine around one’s wrist. 

But what really grabbed his attention was a smaller figure near the back, hidden by the larger, flashier, more complex pieces it was surrounded by. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for the light reflecting off the tiny little gemstone embedded in the figure to act as an eye, he likely wouldn’t have seen it at all. 

Reaching out to tenderly pick it up, he was surprised by the heft of it, as well as the rough sturdiness of the wood. It was a little bird, obviously painstakingly crafted to achieve all the intricate little details that decorated it. Thick, deep lines clearly defined the head, the wings, and the rectrices, while shallower lines carved out the bird’s markings and beak. Looking closer, Piett could see lines so small and thin they were almost invisible in the dim lighting outline all the other little details, from feathers to nostrils to - he noted with delight - tiny little feet on the underside of the figure.

Its eyes were small jewels that Piett didn’t recognize - one was a brilliant sky blue, and one was a bright amber-yellow. 

“Topaz and cobalt,” the woman rasped. 

Piett’s head snapped up to look at her, having forgotten she was there. 

“The eyes,” she said, noting his confused expression. “The left one’s processed cobalt and the other’s honey topaz.” 

“Ah,” Piett murmured, turning the small figure over in his hands. “It’s beautiful.”

“Mmm. Indeed,” the woman replied, though with a distinctly pleased air about her. “That little thing took months to make.”

Piett blinked at her in shock.

“Yes, yes, it’s true! Genuine japor wood, that one. Real pain in the ass to carve. Very sturdy, though!” The woman chuckled. “Step on it, run it over, hell, blow it up! It’ll probably be fine.”

She paused.

“Within reason, of course.”

“Of course,” Piett agreed with a small grin and a shake of his head. “How much for it?” 

“Is it a gift for yourself or someone else?” The woman asked instead of answering.

“Oh, it’s an anniversary gift,” Piett replied. He didn’t know when, exactly, he had decided he would give it to his lover, but it felt right.

“Oh, how exciting!” She crooned as she gently took the bird from his hands and began wrapping it in a little bundle. “How long?”

“One year,” Piett told her, unable and unwilling to hide the smile that rose to his lips. “Since we started dating, that is.”

Technically, they had begun dating a few months after their agreed upon anniversary date, but they had both decided that the whole incident with the rebels counted as a first date.

“Ah, I take it you both like birds?” The woman tied the bundle with a little ribbon. 

Piett flushed. 

“Er, I do, yes,” he explained. “But on our first date, he discovered a new bird species, and it’s become our symbol, in a way.”

“Oh, to be young and spry, birdwatching as a first date,” she sighed dreamily, ringing up his total. 

Piett snorted out a soft laugh at the idea of his lover sitting in a park with a pair of binoculars. 

“Alright, dearie, here you are,” the woman said with a smile, and Piett blinked down at the total in surprise - it was far less than he had expected a piece of this quality to be.

“Ah, who am I to get in the way of young love?” She asked with a shrug and a smile. “Consider your heartwarming tale of romance as part of the payment. Just tell me something.”

Piett nodded, she leaned forwards. 

“What did he name the bird?”

“Oh, ah, he- he named it after me,” Piett admitted sheepishly.

The elderly woman let out a barking laugh, eyes shining with delight, and Piett found himself laughing along too. 

“Yeah, it is rather corny,” Piett said, smiling.

“He’s a keeper!” The woodcarver insisted, nodding in thanks as he passed over the credits, plus a few extra. 

“A tip,” he explained as he gently tucked the bundle against his chest as if it were fragile, despite having been reassured that it could survive a small explosion.

The elderly woman nodded sagely, smiling at him one last time, and with a respectful nod Piett turned and scanned the crowd. 

Max was still talking to the young artist, it seemed, though it rather appeared that the poor man was being talked to, judging by the rather haggard expression he was wearing. 

With a snort of laughter at his best friend’s expense, Piett sauntered over to him with a cheery grin.

“-And that’s why the paint is so important, because it symbolizes how they both wish to be someone they’re not, but by the end of the arc they both grow but also realize that in a sense, they were already who they wanted to be!” The youngster was explaining, pausing only to take a breath. 

Max looked up and, upon catching sight of Piett, practically slumped in relief. 

“Ah, Firmus!” He called, and Piett was tempted to pretend not to know him, if only to get back at him for mentioning the Bridge Incident earlier. Alas, Piett was too good a man for his own good, and he took pity on the poor sod that was the esteemed General Veers confronted with an overeager teenager.

“Max,” he greeted, coming to stand by Veers’ side. “Any luck?”

“Ah, yes!” The teen squeaked, turning back to their stall to quickly fish out a form of some sort - who still uses physical forms, Piett wondered.

“If you could just fill this out, I’ll complete the piece within a few days depending on the size and detail and send it to wherever you want!”

Looking immensely relieved, Veers took the offered form and stylus and began to fill it out. 

“For the piece description, just put ‘Cobalt and Beetle meeting scene’; I’ll know what that means,” the teen chirped. 

“Should I send this directly to Zev, do you think?” Veers turned to ask him. “Or should I just give it to him?”

Piett frowned. 

“Is he on planet?” He asked.

Veers gave him an odd look.

“Did your sister not tell you? He’s staying with her to help babysit Sarkli for the week, for some extra credits. Not much!” Veers was quick to add. “Just enough to get himself a book and some snacks at the end of it.”

Piett sighed. 

“I’m beginning to think she doesn’t tell me anything at all,” he grumbled, then nodded. “Give it to him in person - I think it’d mean a lot to him.”

With a nod, Veers finished filling out the form and returned it to the still-eager teen, who quickly stored the flimsi safely in a folder of what Piett assumed were similar commission forms. 

“Pleasure doing business with you!” The kid squeaked, grinning at them as Veers handed over his credit chip. “Half upfront, half once it’s delivered! Have a great night!”

With a smile and a nod, Veers turned so fast that Piett briefly worried for the man’s neck before power walking away. Piett tried not to laugh at his six-foot-three hardened army general of a friend blatantly running away from a scrappy, lanky 15-or-so-year-old.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Veers asked once they were some distance away. 

“I haven’t gotten any tools, no,” Piett replied. “I’d probably be better off getting those from an actual distributor. But,” he held up the bundle, “I did get something I think he’ll like.”

“Speaking of something I think he’ll like,” Veers said with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows, nodding his head to where the stalls became farther and farther apart, eventually marking the end of the market altogether, with-

With a sex shop squarely at the end of the street.

“Absolutely not!” Piett squeaked, flushing. 

“Firmus, we literally share a mindlink,” Veers huffed. “And besides, you once had me pick up your lingerie for you that one time!” 

“That was different!” Piett squawked, his face feeling as though it were on fire. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll stay outside if it bothers you so much! But, Firmus,” Veers continued, suddenly serious. “I’m your best friend, your wingman, remember? I’m trying to get you laid, and I don’t know how that might work with your, er, partner of choice.”

“Since when have you been my wingman?” Piett demanded to know, still-burning brow scrunching up in confusion.

Veers rubbed his hand down his face.

“You,” he accused, pointing at Piett in a manner that was oddly similar to what Piett’s lover frequently did, “-are missing the point.”

Piett sighed. “You’re right,” he begrudgingly admitted. “I’ll probably need some specialty bacta lube, or something.” 

Veers made a face at that, but really, it was on him for insisting he be Piett’s wingman. 

Setting his face, expression as blank and stoic as if he were on shift aboard the Executor before he and his lover met, Piett handed Veers the little bundle and strode into the shop. 

A cheery little ding! rang out as he entered, eyes subtly darting around as he stiffly returned the nod the tired-looking togruta working the counter gave him. 

Ducking into the closest aisle, his gaze quickly scanned over the shelves lined with what appeared to be boxes containing strap-ons for virtually any species Piett could think of. There were a couple different human, twi'lek, and togruta models of various lengths, girths, and styles, but surprisingly there were also models for wookies, besalisks, and even one for chiss. 

Piett tilted his head. He had never really considered it, but it suddenly occurred to Piett that his lover may be lacking the, er… equipment usually possessed by biological human males, which Piett presumed his lover to be. Although, now that he thought about it, he realized he didn’t actually know his lover’s species and birth-sex for absolute certainty. 

Deciding that it didn’t much matter, and that Piett would deal with that issue if and when it arose, he quickly strode past the various displays, still keeping that stone-faced expression he had long-since mastered. 

Turning into the next aisle, he saw rows upon rows of various dildos, vibrators, and stimulators, along with a myriad of fleshlights and cockrings and other such toys. Very quickly deciding that he didn’t need anything of the sort, Piett skipped the aisle entirely, and the one after that too.

Who still buys porn? Piett thought as he moved onto the final aisle which, thankfully, seemed much more promising. That shit’s been available on the holonet for literal centuries now. 

Breathing out a little huff of relief, Piett eyed the various tubes and bottles of lube available for sale. Most of it was the typical type one would find in pretty much any couple’s bedside drawer, though there were quite a few that were admittedly of greater quality than that commonly sold in convenience stores and pharmacies. 

Ah, here we are, Piett inwardly sighed with relief.

“Medicated Lube” the package read. “Bacta-infused lubrication for human and human-adjacent use.” 

Piett scanned the back of the box.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10% bacta lubrication for any and all penetrative purposes. Perfect for those with sensitivities, autoimmune disorders, bacta-treatable STDs, and for post-birth intercourse or masterbation.*

*The Health Overview and Treatment Committee Of Collective Knowledge (HOTCOCK) recommends abstaining from any sort of sexual activity for at least 1 to 3 months post-birth. Please consult with a doctor or healthcare official before use if you or your partner have recently given birth. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Perfect,” Piett muttered, tucking the small box under his arm and wincing only a little at the price. 

Avoiding the cashier’s eyes and instead focusing on fishing out his credit chip, Piett placed the box on the counter and tried to ignore the slight awkwardness that clung to him like strangler vines. 

With an impassive nod, the bored-looking cashier handed him back the credit chip and went back to scrolling the holonet, Piett quickly scuttling out of the store with his - thankfully, very discreetly packaged - purchase in hand. 

Veers looked up as he approached, an odd, almost bittersweet smile on the man’s face.

“Your sister just sent me a photo,” he said, seeming almost sorrowful.

Piett realized why his friend sounded so morose as soon as Veers showed him the image - it was a slightly-blurry, very candid photo of Zevulon sitting at the table, Sarkli in his high chair next to him, the two of them finger painting. Sarkli’s picture was a mess of random colors and shapes, nonsensical streaks and smears decorating both the paper and seemingly everything else, too, up to and including Sarkli himself. Zev had one hand on his own painting, which seemed to be of a coppery red dragon with blue eyes, and the other hand gently grasping Sarkli’s tiny, furled fist as the baby tried to shove his own paint-covered fingers into his mouth. Zev wore an exasperated yet amused expression, grinning even as he tried to look annoyed. 

“How did he grow up so fast?” Max asked, sighing softly, startling Piett out of his examination of the image. 

“He’s thirteen, Max, not thirty,” Piett reminded his friend playfully, smiling as his friend gave him an faux-annoyed expression shockingly similar to the one Zev wore in the image.

“I should probably get back to the hotel,” Veers sighed as he tucked his com away. 

“Hotel?” Piett questioned with a frown.

“Yeah, the Empire partners with it to house army officials during leave for a reduced price,” Veers explained with a shrug. 

“Max, you’re on my home world, literally just a shuttle ride away from my sister’s house. Why not stay with us? Hells, Zev already is!” Piett playfully berated, crossing his arms. 

“That defeats the whole purpose of having Zev babysit, if I’m hovering around him all the time!” Veers protested. 

“Don’t hover, then! Just hang out, relax, spend some quality time with your son when he’s not busy,” Piett huffed. “And you could help out with the finer parts of babysitting. Show him how to parent, and all that.” 

Max’s eyes went wide.

“Wouldn't that be, I don’t know, stepping on Rilla’s toes? I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said. 

Core-Worlders, Piett internally scoffed. Always so prickly about the oddest things.

“Veers, she’s known you for the better half of a decade now. She helped with Zev, for stars’ sake! I can assure you, you would not be intruding,” Piett assured him, then smirked teasingly at his best friend. “Besides, you’re practically an uncle to Sarkli, and unlike Sarkli’s other uncle, you actually know how to deal with babies.” 

“I sure hope I do, considering I work with them all day,” Veers deflected, though his eyes were wide and misty with wonder, appearing for all the world to be deeply touched even as he joked around.

“I’m telling You-Know-Who you said that about him,” Piett teased, watching in delight as Veers’ eyes widened with horror and mild panic before turning and beginning to walk.

“Oh, don’t you dare!” Veers squawked, stumbling into motion until they were side-by-side once more. “I’ve only just now convinced myself he won’t kill me! Don’t you dare tempt him!” 

Snorting, Piett let his shoulders shake with silent laughter, a laughter which only deepened as Veers’ composure began to break, the man’s face splitting with a wide smile as he chuckled along. 

“Here’s your gift back, by the way,” he said as he handed Piett the small bundle containing the figurine, to which Piett nodded in thanks.

“Home, then?” Piett questioned lightly, tilting his head slightly in silent question. 

Veers only gave him another smile, this one far softer and brimming with genuine happiness. 

“Home,” he agreed. 

And with that, they began walking towards the shuttle station to take them back to Rilla’s house, a small bundle in Piett’s hands and a large bundle of contentment in their hearts.

It would seem, much to his visceral dread, that his Master’s morbid intrigue in Vader’s newfound abilities was not, in fact, a passing interest. To be fair, he never truly believed that it was. 

He knew better than to do anything but what his Master demanded. Resistance was pointless, and persuasion was fruitless. Sidious would do what Sidious wished, and Vader could only play along to minimize the damage. 

The droids buzzed around him like blowflies to a carcass, removing his sepulchral armor with harsh efficiency and liquid-smooth cruelty. The foul stench of blood, both fresh and stale, mixed with that of skin that was either rotted or rotting, the sickly-sweet odor of infection strong enough that even he could smell it with his fire-damaged, limited olfactory capabilities. Lights, so uncomfortably bright they made his head pulse with dull agony, shone down upon him, almost making the pale, discolored flesh that now lay exposed to the cold, sterile, stinging air seem to glow. Trilling machines and beeping droids buzzed around him, a cacophony of noise in the enclosed room, thrumming in time with his rising panic. 

One of the droids injected him with something that made his veins burn, and Vader felt himself begin to retreat back into the Mindscape - no. He could not, not with his Master so close - the man would surely discover it if he did so, and Vader’s only safespace, the only place he felt like himself, felt comfortable, would no longer be so. 

And, Vader thought with a sickening lurch, who knew what his Master would do if he found Piett, Veers, and the little Jedi Padawan lurking within his manifested realm? 

And maybe it was odd, that Vader had grown a strange sense of- of- of something he didn’t quite know the word for, for the young rebel. But he could not help it. Perhaps it was because the child had infiltrated his psyche, loitering around the vestiges of Vader’s mind, slowly becoming a part of it. Maybe it was that, despite being his enemy, the rebel had shown him nothing but amicable respect, and to the other two something Vader could almost call friendliness. And Vader saw the way Piett and Bridger interacted - less like soldiers on opposite sides of a war and more like a mentor advising and looking after an apprentice, Piett imposing life lessons and morals onto the young Jedi any chance he got. Veers, too, had taken to teaching the Padawan various combat moves and styles, which Vader had initially opposed, but… But, he supposed he, too, had developed a soft spot for the teen. 

Vader’s musings were cut short by the screen next to the operating table he was strapped to blinking to life, Sidious’ sharp yellow gaze suddenly on him. It made his skin crawl, the way those putrid, sulfurous eyes raked over him like a butcher assessing a peculiar cut of meat, vivisecting him where he lay, giving no mind to Vader’s still-racing heart.

“Ah, Lord Vader,” the Sith Master began, voice deceptively friendly.

It was for him, he could almost convince himself. He still cares.

“I hear your abilities have only gotten stronger, though your control still seems to be an issue, if this latest… incident is indicative of anything.”

Vader flinched, slightly. He knew exactly which ‘incident’ his Master was referring to - memories that weren’t his, experiences that he had stolen, still flashed through his head.

And yet, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to feel remorse. They had been rebels, enemies of the Empire, enemies of his Master, and as such Vader had been ordered to destroy them. And when Vader had come across them, a small battalion eating at their temporary camp in the woods, a hunger and a jealousy so intense and mind-consuming he had no name for it took him over. 

He didn’t remember reaching out in the Force, didn’t remember how he did what he did. All he remembered was the way a hundred thousand forgotten sensations had flooded through him the moment he connected with the first mind, the agonizing yet addicting influx of tastes and smells and textures and sights that he had been starved of for so long, stirring something deep within him, an awakening, a revolution, an internal apocalypse-

He didn’t remember how it had happened. Only that, at the end of it all, every single rebel and a couple of his own men lay unresponsive, their minds completely robbed of every memory, thought, and idea, everything, anything they had ever had. All of it was his, now, and for the first time, the very first time in all the time he could remember, he felt alive. 

The rebels were not dead, but they were hardly alive, either. Not only had Vader scraped out every aspect of what made them, them - but even as they lay there, he was still leeching off of them, parasitizing every new sensation and thought as they formed, and he knew that even if he left, he had done far too much damage.

The men would lie there until they died. Until they starved, or were overcome by the elements, or were dragged off by wildlife. 

He had killed them without thought, on impulse and instinct that felt far too ancient and impossible and ethereal to be his own, all without conscious decision on his part, and he could not bring himself to regret it.

Even as the rest of his troops doubled over, some with searing pain as they were caught in the fringes of his feeding frenzy, and others with horror and shock at the sight of a hundred men all silently and suddenly doubling over at the exact same moment, without any warning, laying catatonic where they fell, never to move again - even as he regained his senses, he had felt nothing but that still-raging emptiness deep within him. In mere moments he had lived a hundred lives that weren’t his own, loving and hating strangers with all his heart, singing, laughing, crying, cursing, fighting, dancing, grieving, breathing, being, and all the tyrannies and treasures of being alive-

But it had not been his. A hundred lifetimes in a hundred heartbeats. None of it was his. He had been alive only as long as they had been. 

He had never truly realized how hollow he was until he had gotten a taste of what they had. 

He wanted more.

No. He needed more.

He needed it with every fiber of his being, every cell in his body screaming out for it, every neuron and molecule and atom all crying out in unison, demanding to have that addictive sensation back, even if just for a moment-

His Master pulled back in the Force, and Vader recognized that the Sith Lord had been watching, peering through Vader’s eyes as the memory unfolded, observing.

“Fascinating,” the Sith Master breathed, eyes alight with interest and gleaming with that horrid look Vader had learned to associate with the painful, torturous experiments his Master was fond of. 

If Sidious saw the way his apprentice shrank in on himself, he didn’t comment, and instead the Emperor turned to the droids hovering around the room.

“Status report?” He prompted.

“Patient is functional,” the lead droid beeped. “Multiple skin lesions have become infected, but are responding well to antibiotics. No injuries were obtained during the latest mission.” The droid’s processors blinked for a moment.

“Debridement is necessary,” it said, sending Vader’s heart plummeting to his stomach as it skipped a beat, then began racing. His blood turned to ice in his veins as, unbidden, a whimper of fear escaped him. 

“Very well,” his Master said with a wave of his hand. “Perform the procedure.”

Then turning to Vader, Sidious tilted his head slightly, that ominous gleam still in his eyes.

“I will call you again once I have need of you,” he said, before the call cut out, leaving Vader alone with the droids as they began to prep the area for the procedure.

Breath coming in fast, shallow pants, his rapidly beating heart hammering in his chest, Vader began to struggle against the restraints. It was futile, he knew - he had struggled against these same binds countless times before. They partially cut off his access to the Force, and even if he could destroy the droids like his instincts screamed at him to do, he knew his Master would punish him and then supervise the procedure himself. 

He knew the old, fetid, putrid, necrose skin had to be removed - already, it had caused several infections, and every movement tugged at the sloughing skin which, while it itself could no longer feel pain, it tore at the still-living skin and flesh underneath. And yet, the way the droids did it was agonizing, and it always left him feeling tender and sore for days after. 

So, as the whirring of vibroscalpels reached its crescendo, Vader began to retreat. He called upon that Lonely Ghost, reaching deep within his psyche, and silently slipped into the Mindscape, ignoring the tortured screams that were no longer his own. 

Blinking open his draconic eyes, he was immediately greeted by the sight of a mop of grayish fur sprawled across the tip of his snout. 

With a low rumble of greeting, Vader eyed the disheveled feline figure, noting the ash and soot that coated the poor teen. Carefully reaching out with the Force, a surprisingly difficult feat in the Mindscape that he was gradually getting better at, he gently combed through the matted fur, removing all the soot and dust from every hair and inch of skin until the small form was back to the fluffy, pristine white it was supposed to be. 

“Thanks,” Bridger muttered sleepily, yawning as he blinked up at the slowly-rotating cloud of ash above his head, the ash that Vader had removed from his fur and now softly spun with the Force, a miniature nebulae that the tooka gazed up at in wonder, as of he really were staring at the birthplace of stars and not merely the debris Vader had removed from him.

“What have you done to get so filthy?” He chided, dispersing the cloud with a flick of his tail-tip, turning his attention back to the tooka still perched precariously on his snout, who seemed almost disappointed at the cloud’s absence, though the expression didn't linger for long.

“It’s not my fault!” Bridger protested as he rose to his feet, stretching in the way that cats did. “This is literally a volcanic hellscape, it’s impossible not to get dirty!” 

Vader exhaled through his nose, rousing puffs of cinders and soot that hovered in the air before finally settling once more.

Bridger turned to stare at the cloud of particles, then turned back to him as if to say see?

Perhaps the young rebel had a point, Vader could concede.

“Why are you on my nose?” He asked instead.

Ducking his head in a manner that Vader could only describe as embarrassment, the cat sniffed and began scratching at his ear. 

“Felt like it,” he muttered crossly. “It’s the least dusty area here.” 

The lie rang out like a bell, but Vader decided not to mention it. Ultimately, Bridger’s eccentricities mattered not, and Vader had more important things to do.

Like find Piett.

“Where-”

“Is Firmus? Dunno,” the tooka said with a yawn.

Vader narrowed his eyes at him.

“Since when are you on a first-name basis with Piett?” He growled. 

“Why do you call your boyfriend by his last name?” The cat retorted, avoiding the question. 

“It is the name he prefers,” Vader retorted. “Therefore, it is the name I call him. It is the same with Veers, though he does not mind his first name nearly as much as Piett.”

“You never asked me which name I prefer,” Bridger said sullenly, hunched over in unhappiness.

Vader paused, ears flicking up in thought. 

“No, I suppose I haven’t,” he said slowly, contemplating and resisting the urge to tilt his head as he did so, lest he dislodge the sulking rebel who had chosen Vader’s snout as a bed.

He ignored the small flash of something that the notion inspired in him. He refused to show affection for a rebel, least of all a Jedi padawan rebel. 

“And what would your preferred name be?” He asked, merely out of curiosity, and nothing else. 

Absolutely nothing else.

The cat’s eyes brightened as their ears perked up, gazing at him with a surprised, yet pleased expression, and Vader once more resolutely ignored how he had to resist the urge to chitter encouragingly at the sight. 

“It’s Ezra,” the rebel, Ezra, said. “I prefer Ezra.”

“Very well,” Vader acquiesced, promising himself that it was a one-time thing, and that it was only because the rebel made Piett happy, and for no other reason did he agree. And, even if there were, hypothetically, another reason, it was most certainly not because the unhappy slump of the tooka’s shoulders twisted a part of Vader’s soul in a way he hadn’t thought possible. 

Absolutely not.

Vader let out a long sigh, closing his eyes, ignoring Ezra as he purred happily, turning in a tight circle before plopping back down on Vader’s snout with a contented mrrp!

He didn’t know how long the two of them simply lay there, listening to the sound of the wind blow through the rocky canyons and hills, and to the waves crash like thunder off in the distance. He wasn’t quite sure why the inky black ocean was there - there certainly weren’t any oceans on Mustafar, as far as he was aware - but the sound of the hissing, spitting tides as they raged against the stony shore was soothing nonetheless. 

The sound of pebbles skittering across rock had him peeling open his eyes to see Piett approaching, the ground-mouse exuding an air of joy and excitement. As if the eager anticipation were infectious, Vader found himself lifting his head and sitting up slightly, ears pricked, tucking his forelegs closer to his body. 

“Firmus!” Ezra meowed happily, raising his tail in greeting as he scrambled up Vader’s head, across his neck, down his shoulders, and then leaping off of his back onto the ground, another cloud of soot rising and enveloping the rebel. 

Vader huffed in annoyance as he saw that the tooka was, once again, more gray than white.

“Ezra,” Piett greeted, though he sounded less formal than usual - he seemed, in fact, to be in quite the good mood, as he even stopped to playfully bat at the tooka, to which Ezra excitedly began to play back. The two of them roughhoused in the ash, and Vader sighed once more as Ezra’s fur became dirtier and more tangled as they tussled. Not that he would do anything to stop them - they were having far too much fun for him to do that.

Eventually, the two broke off from each other, both of their pelts ruffled and coated in soot, but an air of exuberance around them.

“Piett,” Vader rumbled fondly, laying his head down to get closer to the small ground-mouse. As his powers grew, it seemed that his dragon form grew, too. Already, he was a good bit larger than he had been a year ago - where Piett had been the size of his eye, now he was the size of his nostril, and Vader was growing larger still.

“Love,” Piett greeted warmly, pressing himself against the soft scales of Vader’s snout. 

They basked in the contact for a long moment, Ezra wandering off to give them some privacy. 

“Where are you, right now?” Piett eventually asked. 

Frowning, Vader sunk into the Force, reaching back into the real world hesitantly. The Lonely Ghost was no longer screaming, but was that due to exhaustion, he wondered, or had the debridement finished?

Reaching farther, the sensation of warm bacta encompassed him - the procedure had finished, then, and he had been placed in his bacta tank to soak. 

“I am in my chambers, soaking,” he told his lover as he retreated back into the Mindscape, the phantom sensation of stinging pain lingering. “Death Squadron is on its way back to Axilla as we speak.”

Piett perked up at that. 

“You'll be here soon?” He breathed, his earlier excitement returning. 

“Within a few days,” Vader replied. “And, barring any sudden emergencies, I have reason to believe we shall have some downtime for the days after.”

The excitement Piett was radiating suddenly crescendoed, along with something that Vader couldn't quite place, but felt similar to exuberance nonetheless. 

“You seem rather excited about something,” Vader noted when his lover didn't respond.

“Ah, yes!” Piett squeaked, snapping out of whatever daze or daydream he had been in. “Love, it has come to my attention that a very important date is approaching.”

Vader froze, his mind racing as he frantically tried to figure out what Piett was talking about. 

Empire Day? No, that was in a few months. 

Piett’s birthday? No, that had been half a year ago.

Veers’ birthday? He didn’t even know when that was, so maybe-

Piett slumped, and Vader nearly flinched as guilt flooded him, but Piett only sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank the stars, I wasn't the only one who had forgotten,” Piett breathed out a laugh, and Vader relaxed at the realization that Piett was relieved rather than enraged.

“I'm afraid you will have to remind me,” Vader rumbled, wanting nothing more than to hear his lover’s voice.

“Our one-year anniversary,” Piett told him, his voice breathless with awe. 

His eyes widened.

“Has it truly been a year already?” Vader remarked, surprise coloring his tone.

“That's what I said, too, when Veers reminded me,” Piett chortled, wiping at his face with his paws. “And, I have something very special for you.”

A sudden jolt of panic electrified his veins with adrenaline and his head shot up, eyes widening.

“A gift- I did not get you anything,” he worried, tail beginning to lash, leaving deep scores in the blanket of ash where it dragged across the ground. 

“That's alright, love, truly - just being able to spend time with you is gift enough,” Piett tried to reassure, but Vader shook his head. 

“Unacceptable,” he growled. “You have deemed me worthy of a gift of some sort - therefore, I shall give you one as well. It is only fair.”

Piett seemed to sigh, though only an exasperated sort of fondness emanated from his presence. 

“I suppose you'll be busy with that, for a bit,” Piett said mildly, and Vader blinked down at him apologetically.

“We will see each other again soon,” he replies but it was a cold comfort - even as his mind raced with gift ideas, his heart ached at having to separate once more. But this was important. This was their anniversary, and while Vader couldn't quite remember all the nuance as to why that was important, he could recall that it was.

“I would gift you any star in the sky, should you ask,” Vader breathed, suddenly overcome by a rush of love for the figure gazing up at him with that same sense of longing and affection, an oasis of good in the desert of pain that was Vader’s life. 

Piett’s eyes widened comically and he let out a squeak. 

“Oh, please don't!” He cried. “Organizing my visit to my sister’s has been difficult enough, I can't imagine trying to manage an entire solar system!”

His sister's, Vader thought with a hum. That was yet another factor of a relationship that they had been robbed of - meeting each other’s families. Vader, unable to meet Piett’s side, because of who Vader was, and Piett, unable to meet Vader’s, due to his inability to remember who they were in the first place.

Oh, he knew they existed to some extent - on good days, when he felt more like himself, like a person, he could recall distant memories and sensations, words so faint they were unintelligible, garbled fragments of nonsensical conversations with people he did not know but who still haunted him. He'd catch glimpses, sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, glimpses of figures blurred so heavily that he could not make them out, but who carried with them a lingering sense of familiarity that, ironically, made them seem all the stranger.

He had known those people. They had known him. And yet they were no longer with him. Where were they, he wondered? What had happened to them? What had happened to him to make him forget? Were they ever real at all, or were they just fragments of his imagination taking liberties in filling in blanks with gibberish and nonsense? 

“I apologize, love,” Piett murmured softly, sorrowful, snapping Vader out of his ruminations. “I should not have mentioned my family. I know it upsets you.”

Vader shook his head. 

“It matters not,” he said, forcing all thoughts of the phantoms that haunted him out of his mind, focusing on the only thing that truly mattered to him. “The droids shall pull me from the bacta soon. I will heed your advice and attempt to rest.”

“I appreciate that,” Piett told him. “It means a lot to me.” 

Vader let out a low rumble of affection, lowering his head to delicately press his snout against Piett’s small body. 

“I… love you,” he said, warmth blooming in his chest as he felt Piett press against him to the best of his ability.

“I love you, too,” Piett breathed back. 

Reluctantly, Vader pulled away. 

“I shall go now. But, rest assured, next time I see you, I will have the greatest gift to give you,” Vader promised, and already he had an idea in mind - it wasn't the most grandiose, and indeed it was quite humble, but he knew that that was exactly how Piett preferred his things. Vader admired that in him - it was a trait they both shared.

“I know it will be,” Piett said with a smile. “If only because it is you giving me the gift.”

Vader crooned, touched, and with one last loving look at his partner, he pulled out of the Mindlink, already ruminating on the details of his planned gift even as he drifted into unconsciousness.

The days passed by both agonizingly slowly and far too quickly, as the time period Vader had to prepare his gift became ever shorter, yet despite his stress he still found himself wishing the time would pass faster if only so he could see Piett all the sooner. 

Eventually, however, the day arrived when Piett, Veers, and the rest of the personnel aboard the Lady returned from their leave. Vader was already waiting for them there in the hangar when the first shuttle landed and the people on board began to disembark. Most startled when they saw him, rapidly snapping into salutes or scuttling off if they thought he hadn’t noticed them, but he paid them no mind - he was here for one person, and one person only.

Finally, that one person emerged from the shuttle, uniform as pristine as always, posture straight but not rigid, expression stoic and professional. 

Vader tilted his head ever-so-slightly down at the man as he approached, but took care to not react in the way he truly wanted to - they had a façade to uphold, after all, and his Master’s spies were all over the ship. Already, he was risking quite a bit by coming to meet Piett, but it could be dismissed as Vader having an important matter to talk to his assistant about.

Upon seeing him, Piett’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and a faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth - it was so subtle that Vader doubted anyone who didn’t know the man well would be able to see it. 

“My Lord,” he said politely as he stopped a safe distance away from him, head bowing in greeting - all proper etiquette for a favored officer to greet their superior with, but it still tormented him greatly. He wanted nothing more than to pull Piett into his arms right there and kill everyone who saw.

Alas, not only would such a thing undoubtedly alert his Master that perhaps something was amiss, but it would also likely upset Piett, and Vader despised causing his lover distress.

Vader turned and began walking, not a word uttered through the Mindlink as he moved towards the hangar exit, Piett dutifully falling in step just behind and to the left of him. 

Professional. Distant.

Safe.

He hated it.

The walk to his quarters was painfully slow, made even more so by the fact that he was forced to slow his pace so that Piett could keep up. Finally, after an eternity and a half, they made it, slipping inside with practiced ease, the door closing behind them.

Immediately, Piett relaxed, a wide, warm smile gracing his features, his eyes softening with affection. 

“Love,” he breathed. “I missed you.”

He reached out, a silent request to touch, and Vader moved forwards, allowing the man to lean against his chest. That was something they had been working on - learning that not all touch was meant to hurt him. 

“Is this alright?” Piett asked, his breath fogging up the armor of Vader’s chest. That was another thing they had been working on - consent, and more specifically, Vader learning he could refuse. 

Vader sent a wave of love and adoration over the Mindlink in response, leaning into the touch and radiating contentment in the Force. 

“How was your break?” Vader questioned, to which Piett hummed, eyes half-lidded.

“It was good,” he said. “I stayed with my sister and her nephew, and also spent some time with Veers and his son. Mostly, though, I just relaxed and read.” 

He smiled.

“Finally finished that story I’ve been telling you about,” he added.

Vader cocked his head.

“Whale Heart?” He guessed after a moment’s thought, and was rewarded when Piett’s smile widened as he nodded.

“Yes, it’s an excellent read,” Piett gushed. “The non-traditional layout of the story really made it stand out, and there were some parts that felt more like poetry than a chapter in a book, but that worked really well for it. It made me tear up a few times, too - it’s a very touching story.”

Vader nodded along, listening intently as Piett continued on, describing his favorite parts and aspects of the book, gesturing as he described the scenes he loved the most and his eyes lighting up when Vader asked a question regarding the characters or the plot. 

“-And the transformation is literal, in the story, but of course it’s an allegory for real-world diseases, more specifically cancer,” Piett finished, breathless. “I could go on for hours about this book. Em’ily H. Abeck is truly one of the greatest authors of our time.”

“Perhaps I should look into obtaining a signed copy, for you,” Vader offered. “A late anniversary gift, if you will.”

Piett’s eyes widened, then grew misty.

“You’d do that for me?” He whispered in a choked voice, sounding deeply touched.

“Of course,” Vader rumbled, raising his fist in promise. “I promised you the stars and planets. If you want the book, nothing shall get in my way.” 

He lowered his fist, leaning down slightly to press his forehead against Piett’s.

 “Anything for you,” he promised. 

Piett gave a wet-sounding chuckle, wiping away the tears of gratitude that glistened his eyes. 

“Just please try not to give my favorite author a heart attack,” he said. “I quite like her works and it’d be a shame if you sent her to an early grave.”

Vader nodded, and they simply held each other for a long moment.

“Oh!” Piett said suddenly. “I almost forgot! I have something for you, too.”

He pulled out a small bundle from his pocket, tenderly pressing it into Vader’s large hands. It was wrapped in a cloth bundle, tied with a small ribbon that Vader’s sensors told him was blue. 

With the Force, he gingerly untied the ribbon, undoing the bundle to reveal a small wooden bird figurine with glinting gems for eyes. It was beautiful, and heartfelt, and perfect in every way - Vader would treasure it eternally, if only because Piett deemed him worthy of a gift. He would have felt the same had Piett given him a literal blank scrap of flimsy, but it was obvious that a lot of thought had been put into the gift. 

“It’s japor wood,” Piett explained, shuffling almost nervously, and Vader realized he had simply been staring at the small figure in his hands. “I was told that it should survive a small explosion. I figured that it seemed like something you- you would like.”

Vader exhaled softly, running his thumb across its head and down its back reverently, awe and gratitude swelling within his chest and pricking his eyes with unshed tears.

“It is perfect,” Vader told him, pushing every emotion he felt through the Mindlink along with the words. “Especially because it seems we were of the same thought.”

Without looking away from Piett, Vader used the Force to open one of the drawers of his desk, floating the small metal statue he had crafted in the days prior over to Piett’s hands. 

Letting out a wet laugh, Piett cradled the second, larger bird figurine close to his chest, rubbing his hands across the metal body and wire frame. It had taken Vader many failed attempts to get it right, especially considering his hands no longer had the fine motor control necessary to actually craft the gift, and as such he had relied on the Force. Still, seeing Piett beam at the gift made all the time and effort worth it, as did the careful yet joyous hug Piett gave him after. 

“It’s- It’s wonderful,” Piett breathed, eyes shining. 

“I am… pleased you think so,” was all Vader could think to say. 

Piett remained quiet for a moment, smiling softly down at the gift before he seemed to remember something, his gaze snapping to Vader’s as a wave of something Vader couldn’t quite name flooded the Force.

“Oh, there’s one more thing,” he said, gingerly setting the metal bird on Vader’s desk, giving it one last gentle pat on the head before turning towards Vader’s meditation pod. Placing his own gifted bird figurine right next to the other, Vader followed, and blinked in surprise as he saw that the usual seat he used while in the chamber had been replaced with an odd sort of table, though it didn’t resemble any sort of table Vader was familiar with. It appeared cushioned, for one, and it had a dip in the center as well as a dip in the middle of the head cushion. 

“I had Medic Kix help me set this up,” Piett began to explain, shuffling nervously as Vader approached the table. “It’s just temporary - your seat will be put back after we’re done.”

Vader turned to Piett, tilting his head in silent question. Piett only coughed, seeming embarrassed. 

“There’s a special mixture of oxygen in the air right now,” he continued. “Enough so that you can breath with only a supplemental mask, but not too much so that it’d make me sick. We can- We can spend time here, together. With you not in the suit.”

Vader’s heart did an odd flip at the thought, and he found that he liked that idea very much.

“So…” Piett continued, grinning slyly, though Vader could still sense the faint embarrassment his lover was trying to mask. “Would you like a massage?”

He gestured to a large container labeled ‘bacta lotion’, still grinning. 

A nervous sort of anticipation thrummed through Vader’s veins. He had never done such a thing before, at least, not that he could remember. He wasn’t too certain as to what a massage entailed, but he trusted Piett, and he could sense how much Piett wanted to do it. And so, he smiled back, ignoring both the painful tug it caused at the corners of his mouth and the fact that Piett could not see it through the mask. 

“I would love nothing more,” he said.