#used as a lullaby or something for Hunter when he was young

[memoiandy]

@not-so-lost-after-all Thanks for tagging me and being interested in my Tav. She is my baby and I thought a lot about her backstory so I am glad I got the chance to finally put a part of it into words. So:

Your Tav or Durge´s name and their partner:

Her full name is Elianna Lumin but friends call her Lany. Her one and only (dare I say thiramin even!) is s sassy gremlin called Astarion. ;-)

Tell us yout your character – anything at all!

She´s a Sun Elf wild magic sorceress and grew up with her papa in a small-ish community that focused on science, history and healing. Her magic was strong but never stable and since there were some „accidents“ when she was little, she focused on science – notably history, artifacts and a bit of healing. She acts like a bookworm and a practical freak but she actually feels so much. And since feeling too much makes her magic unstable, she tends to avoid it.

She always dreamed about adventures but never found the courage to leave her home. But she was forced to when her community was attacked and people got tortured and killed. It was bad… stuff from slasher horror movies. She lost control of her magic and accidentaly killed many of the attackers but some innocents also. The thugs put a blame on her and she had to run away. (They might not be just simple thugs but I am leaving this open if I ever wanted to think about a deeper revenge story for her.)

She run to a nearest big city - Baldur´s Gate - to get a on ship so she could leave the area. But being a young elven lass (barely 100 years old!) and inexperienced, she got in trouble (again!) and ended up in prison. And surprise, surprise, there was a smooth talking, handsome and suspicious white-haired Elf in a cell next to her. Yeah… that´s how she met Astarion for the first time, long before the events of the game. He got in prison for being too touchy with a young noble. He helped her escape and even though he originaly planed to bring her to Cazador (of course he was), they ended up having a little funny adventure together and shortly before sunrise, he helped her find her ship securely. Before leaving, she kissed his cheek and healed his arm that got flayed by Cazador the night before.

Astarion was shocked. He dared to have a few hours that felt different from his torturous life. He let her go knowing he will be punished for it. She was kind to him. She called him „sir“ and told him to stay out of trouble. In the end, he was tourtured again when he got back to the mansion because he didn´t bring anyone back. Both his legs got broken by Godey. But they healed in a couple of days. It took longer to forget that young elven girl with sad eyes and gentle healing hands. She got pushed back in his mind as another failed hope, another „mistake“ that got punished. Until they met decades later. The girl that got away came back into his life and this time she stayed and helped him get his life back.

Lany did not forget him. You don´t forget Astarion. She even came back to Baldur´s Gate a few years later in hopes she could help that charming rouge who was obviously in big trouble. She stayed for weeks but never found him. For almost thirty more years she was on a run, living as a magical artifacts hunter (think female Faerun version of Indiana Jones). It was a lonely life but she learned a lot about the way of the world.

There was always something missing in her life (beside a stable home). Until she got abducted by a mindflyer ship and eventualy found someone who'd become her home.

What do they enjoy doing together?

They learn from each other. He teaches her to lockpick and how to fight with a bow and arrow. She shows him how to make new poisons. He tells her funny stories and reads adventure books. She sings him elvish lullabies when he has nightmares. They have a funny banter so they just love talking with each other. Joking, gossiping, coming up with a plan, explaining stuff. And they love being physically close to each other. It doesn´t have to be love making or kissing. Just holding each other is a bliss. Sorry if it´s too sweet but I see his romance as something darkly super romantic, so yeah, the sex is great but there´s soooo much more to their partnership.

What´s something your character´s partner loves about them?

She sees the good in him. Not just that he´s not as wicked as he seems to be. She saw through his mask even that night that started in the prison. She wouldn´t come back to search for him if she didn´t think there´s more to him. She sees him as a person with good and bad sides but chooses to focus on the good ones because she loves him. But honestly, she adores his cheeky, sassy, murderous persona. She doesn´t want a sweet guy. She wants him. That makes Astarion feel safe.

She is gentle with him, which annoyed him at first... but came to love her little affections later.

Lany is also smart and brave and has a dark sense of humour so she keeps him on his toes. He´s never bored with her.

Their life after Baldur´s Gate?

Treasure hunting probably for some time. Astarion deserves some adventures. And Lany loves that she has a partner know, someone who can share this with her. They´ll settle down a bit in the future and will have at least one child (I love the idea of papa Astarion). I know people love the idea of him having a daugher but in my HC his firstborn is a boy.

Something your Tav/Durge loves about their partner:

His humour, his endurance, his will to live. The way he is brave in face of his abuser. She has trauma of her own and wasn´t able to deal with it properly. Astarion listens to her story without any judgement and helps her find confidence to use her magic in battle again.

Their story is not that sweet though, she was very hurt when she found out he manipulated her during the party night and after. She knew he was not in love with her, of course she knew, but she never thought he´d be so… cruel. Logically, she understood why he did it. That he fell for her quickly. That he's telling her the truth now to get things right. But still... she was not used to be close to someone and that night was precious to her. It took some time after the confession for them to fully understand each other. But they made the effort because they chose it's worth fighting for and love is not always sweet and easy.

Something that your character and their partner both hate (about anything):

Cazador, of course. 😆

Astarion hates when people get too charmed by her because he wants her for himself. Lany hates when he is apart from her for too long. She worries a lot. She knows of she ever lost him, it'll be like someone ripped a part of her soul from her. Astarion feels the same but plays it cool. I am a sucker for soulmates and both Lany and Astarion are elves so in my HC they are each other's thiramin.

Tagging @madforhoran - I haven't heard about your Tav for a while!

Oooopf... this got super long somehow. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. 😅

[supernovastudiosstuff]

“Things I Used to Remember…”

Watched the Anastasia musical over the weekend, 10/10 play would highly recommend.

Philip is very Gleb-coded and he deserves to wear a silly little hat sometimes.

(If you want an entire long-winded explanation of the AU of an AU that’ll be under the cut because I have many much thoughts about these two goobers)

(TL;DR at the bottom)

Basically Hunter takes Anya’s place, with amnesia forgetting his life as Prince Jasper Bloodwilliams. Darius is the Dowager Empress, Willow and Gus as Dimitry and Amity as Vlad (they interchange lines depending on what works). Most of the adults kind of don’t exist in this AU, or they’re only sort of there, because there are only like six characters with actual lines in the musical so y'know. Luz… also exists somewhere. Maybe as Lily. Where things differ is Philip as Gleb because conflicted sort of evil man trying to balance morality with following orders is a key characteristic for both of them.

Long story short Philip used to be Prince and Heir of Russia (or whatever all those titles are). His name was different but I didn’t think of one because I’m just thinking off the top of my head here. Anyway, he also ends up with a case of plot-convenient amnesia, but rather than running away and becoming a street sweep he ends up right in the middle of the rebellion and gets so turned around he gets a gun shoved in his hand and told to shoot the very servants he’d grown up with. So. :)

This isn’t an angsty AFLMAU AU without Philip being coerced/threatened/abused by Belos (aren’t I just so nice to my blorbo), so guess who the new commanding officer under the communist regime is? If you guessed our favorite slime man, you’d be correct.

Belos was, of course, the brother of the Tsar. You’d think he’d be executed too, wouldn’t you? Nope! He orchestrated the whole coup against his brother and instituted the new government (next to the actual dictator but I’m not getting into literally rewriting history for the sake of a silly AU), and conveniently he controls enough of the media that people have forgotten his previous connections to Caleb. And look at how nice this is! Philip has forgotten everything about his old life, look how easy it is to slip into that role of caretaker, it’s not like the young man knows enough about his old life to disagree with anything told to him. What a good, useful little soldier Philip is now, after ten years of training the young man…

Now, to the actual plot. Things start off the same as the musical, up until the point Hunter is arrested on suspicion of the crime of pretending to be Prince Jasper (who’s rumored to still be alive). He and Philip are both confused, because something about them feels so familiar…

It’s obviously a coincidence. They met once during “Rumor in St. Petersburg”, but that’s it. Philip, confused and with a strange sense of deja vu, lets Hunter off with a warning. Before he can close that case file for good, though, Belos (who recognizes his nephew and very much wants this kid who looks so much like Caleb dead) tells him to arrest the criminal under charges of treason.

Philip is concerned by such a harsh sentence for a first offender- let alone a young man who’s only barely 18- but he’s been (tortured) trained to follow orders without question. He follows Hunter back to the old palace, struck by an even stronger sense of deja vu at the strangely familiar corridors…

Most of the plot stays pretty similar to the original, except Philip is kind of just hovering in the background through “Once Upon a December” and very, very confused why the music box lullaby sounds so, so familiar. When Hunter and the others cross the border, Philip is ordered to bring him back under pain of death/torture. Hence conflicted solo song “Still” (now with 69% more deja vu and actual character conflict!).

Commence the other songs/plot, all very similar to the musical up until Hunter’s whole remembering who he is sequence, in which he also recognizes Philip and realizes why the man- his brother- is so familiar to him. His concern and confusion is made greater as he talks to Darius and convinces the man he is the Prince, because even as he’s talking he starts to remember Philip more and more and what happened and how they were separated during the coup.

Guess how they were separated and how Philip got the big scar on his face. Did you guess Belos? Yep. The bastard can’t leave anything alone, he has to scar Philip for life and be the reason they both had head trauma induced amnesia.

Hunter tells Darius he needs to go- both to find Willow and talk to his brother (the whole Dimitry/Anya plot happens but this AU focuses more on the familial connections than romance). Darius takes it upon himself to inform the press Prince Jasper never actually came back and it was another imposter.

“The Neva Flows (Reprise)” is a fun one. Philip has figured out by now what he’s forgotten and is about twenty panic attacks in a trench coat because fuck the man he’s been living with is the same guy who murdered his parents and wants to murder his brother on faux treason charges and also that really puts into perspective the “punishments” and “discipline” he still has trauma from. And the realization that he’s only still alive because he’s been groomed into being a perfect soldier and that he will be killed the moment he refuses to read those lines for his uncle is… not a fun one. He’s doing so good right now.

The whole song is Philip’s trauma and conditioning warring against his morality and connection to Hunter because dammit he doesn’t want to murder his brother but if he returns empty handed there’s no telling what will happen to him-

It’s Hunter who tells him he… doesn’t have to? Go back at all? He’s already in France, might as well stick around. The thought is startling- it didn't occur to him he could have a choice in the matter.

There’s a lot to emotionally unpack and only about a finale’s length to do it but eventually things get better. Philip does decide to stay in France, processing his trauma because dammit the boy needs a decent support system. He refuses to be known as the Prince he used to be but is willing to chill with Darius- whom he remembers and has some conflicting memories about but that’s something he can work through in therapy. Hunter goes off into the sunset with Willow but spoiler alert comes back every weekend to visit because the whole “we’ll never see each other again” speech was over dramatic and they can certainly see each other again.

As for Belos, the man gets executed in the next violent transition of power and when word reaches France they have a party to celebrate it.

TL;DR: Anastasia Musical AU with Philip as Gleb and Hunter as Anya, focused mostly on their familial ties and relationship. Both of the boys have plot-convenient amnesia and were separated ten years ago.

[ghostkingart]

Veles:

What’s his favorite spell? Which one did he learn first? Which ones were the hardest to master/does he still struggle with?

Obviously, his upbringing in the Underdark wasn’t ideal, but were there any parts of his childhood that were normal or even pleasant? How old was he when he began training as an Acolyte?

How did he get his facial scars/markings?

From what you’ve played so far, what was his favorite quest?

Valeriy:

Does he tell others who his mother is? Is it something people notice about him? How do they generally react to finding out?

Why did he become a bounty hunter? Does he have any bounties that he regrets letting get away, or even that he regrets taking on in the first place?

Does he himself have “tells” for when he’s lying? How well to you have to know him to notice?

How did he feel about Astarion being a vampire? Did he trust him completely? Does Valeriy let Astarion feed off him (how long did it take him to allow him)?

Both:

What are/would be their highest and lowest stats?

Aside from Astarion, which character are they closest to? (Or, if you had to ship them with someone else, who would it be?)

What do they smell like?

HI WHAT AN AMAZING THING TO WAKE UP TO! very slay of you to send me this ask thank you so much!

I'll put my response under the cut cus it got very long.

okay let's see.

Veles!!

1. I'm not very well versed in the dnd magic system actually 😭 so I'll speak broadly about the types of spells that exist in BG3 per class. I think Veles's favorite spell would be some form of light casting. He's afraid of the dark and likes to sleep in a room illuminated with a soft glow. A form of casting light was also probably the first thing he learned, he would've had to start with simple things. I think what Veles would struggle with most would be self protection spells. Even though they're very useful, he's usually on the offense in combat and doesn't really have regard for his own wellbeing oops, so he'd focus more on attack spells rather than protection spells.

2. Being taught reverie and having lullabies sung to him was the most normal and pleasant experience for him. Even though he never quite mastered choosing which memories to relive in trance, he still looks back at learning about it with fondness. He also had the luck of running into a fellow acolyte, slightly older than him, who allowed him to express emotions. He made Veles swear that he wouldn't do so in front of anyone else, but with him, he was safe. I'm pretty sure there's some canon explanation of when acolytes start their training, but in my head he was pretty young, up to 20.

3. Never really thought about this because, as I think I've mentioned before, a lot of character design choices were just what seemed coolest while I was making the character with my friend 😭 the scar across his nose is an homage to an OC of mine, also an original novel character, who has the same scar. But in universe, I imagine that the scar comes from a particularly gnarly sparring session, like many others. As for his tattoos I imagine it was some sort of a brand before he had it covered up and redone upon escaping.

4. Hmm... I really liked the Loviatar's blessing quest (obviously). I also liked the goblin camp and how everyone respects him there, it's actually kinda funny. In universe (beyond the gameplay but like my headcanons), Veles used to be a masked vigilante and he was only masked because he's a drow and he didn't want to scare away people he was helping. He lost his mask during the nautiloid abduction, so throughout the game he walks around in full drow glory with people being scared of or straight up mean to him. When he reaches the goblin camp I can imagine he's very confused but maybe a bit relieved too, like fucking finally, even though it isn't an ideal setting where he'd like to be respected.

Valeriy!!

1. He doesn't. This has a different canon explanation in my novel, but I'm yet to work it out in the BG3 universe. I think... Hm. It's because of his father and how he used to exploit Valeriy's powers for his own personal gain. So when he started a new life for himself in Baldur's Gate, he wanted nothing to do with that part of himself. He wanted to rely on his skill instead. Idk how canon this is for either dnd or BG3 because I know there are demigods but I'm yet to encounter one in my gameplay, but in my design Valeriy appears very human-like. There's hardly anything odd about him, he's albino but you can't really say that's too strange, it's just what he looks like. So, unless he outright uses his powers in front of you or comes clean about his parentage, you wouldn't be able to tell that he isn't even human. People tend to be scared of him in general, moreso when they find out about his true lineage. Morana in Slavic folklore is one of the only two gods who are considered "evil" so that's why. They think he must be like that, and while he does have an odd moral compass, that's more down to his upbringing than his nature, and he certainly isn't full on evil.

2. In my novel's canon there were multiple wars he fought as a mercenary and because he has a long lifespan, he even found himself in multiple wars on opposing sides at different points in history. Not sure how that applies to dnd/BG3 lore but basically after the wars' end, he realizes he only sees himself as a weapon, but wants to do something that's at least perceived as good (since people who have bounties on them aren't always the bad guys yk) and he figures he'll just do that to utilize his skill and get some money for drinking lol

3. He doesn't let his bounties get away, he's very efficient. Even if he has to use his powers, he will get them in the end. Whether he regrets his bounties is an interesting question because he's rather impersonal in his job. He sometimes feels bad... Because he knows when people are lying, if someone starts pleading with him not to kill/capture them, he can tell if they're genuinely guilty or not. He drinks to forget these moral dilemmas though, he's in it for the money.

4. Valeriy rarely lies because he's actually, ironically pretty bad at it. To be clear, he wasn't born blind, he was blinded, but he was very young when that happened, and compared to his long lifespan, let's just say it's been a while since he could last see. Because of this he isn't very good with social cues and tells of people lying so he doesn't know how to act in order to lie for himself. Sometimes it works because his eyes are pretty expressionless, but usually he won't even dare try. In any case, he doesn't really have anything to hide other than his mother's identity, with which he deals by saying half-truths and white lies, something he can handle better than outright lying.

This also begs the question, if he's bad at lying, how can he tell where someone else is? For this I've decided to go the Daredevil/Toph Beifong route of things and say that he doesn't in fact read social cues, but people's physical reaction to lying. This implies that people who can control themselves well enough can actually lie to him (like Azula in ATLA) but people rarely can. Also he sometimes bluffs tbh, he tells people he knows they're lying and they just cave.

Anyway none of that really answers your question, I'm just a big lore yapper. Basically his tells are that he gets nervous and fumbles with words a lot. If he can stay calm then he's in the clear, but this is rare for him. He's only used to "lying" about his mother, he's well practiced in it, but anything else? You wouldn't have to know him very well to be able to tell he's being insincere.

5. He did not care about Astarion being a vampire. He didn't trust him, not because of him being a vampire, but because Astarion approached him with very obvious ulterior motives. They build trust over time as Astarion realizes he'll have to tell half-truths of his own if he ever wants to win Valeriy over, and ends up opening up more than he initially intended. Astarion never tells Valeriy he's a vampire, he figures this out on his own, and in a pretty dramatic scene involving a knife to Astairon's throat while they're in bed, just when Astarion thinks he has Valeriy in his grasp, he confronts Astarion. It all comes out and Valeriy genuinely doesn't care about him being a vampire, he just wants answers as to what his true motives are. When he finds out about Cazador, he pretty much immediately says they should kill him together. Thing is Valeriy is developing feelings and hey, killing an evil vampire overlord must earn him some money so it's a win win.

6. So due to the course of the story being completely different to canon, Valeriy and Astarion never have the same pre-ascension interactions as Astarion and Tav do. Pre-ascension Astarion is just hiding everything the entire time so he doesn't even try to feed on Valeriy, Cazador forbids it and that's it. But post-ascension, when Valeriy is properly whipped and in love (I mean they both are but you get Astarion to admit it), he sure as hell lets himself he Astarion's juice box pretty easily.

Both:

1. Based on my opinion and not on the playable character, Veles's highest stat would be intelligence and his lowest stat would be charisma. Valeriy's highest stat would be charisma and lowest would be dexterity.

2. Veles is very close to Wyll and Karlach. Wyll because they have this shared experience of being "heroes" even if they do take a different approach to heroism, and well, Veles has something to learn from both Wyll and Karlach about how a lack of emotions and suppressing them don't equate to strength. They help him open up and be vulnerable, sometimes even more than Astarion who, as we all know, has his own damn issues.

In the Astarion x Valeriy AU the other characters don't appear as they would in the game, Valeriy has a few close friends who are all OCs. But if the other characters did/do appear, he'd really like Karlach and Shadowheart.

Who I'd ship them with other than Astarion can be greatly impacted by my second and third favorite characters being Karlach and Wyll and how, if I get a chance for a second and third playthrough, I'll definitely romance them. Buuut I'll try to be more objective. So, if it wasn't Astarion I truly think Veles would work well with Wyll and Valeriy with Shadowheart, or maybe Karlach. Oops, the answer was still predictable 😭😭😭

3. Interesting question!! I imagine Veles would really like flowery and sweet smelling perfumes. Not sure such nice things are something they have in the Underdark at all, so once he discovers them he'd be all over that. He likes to take care of his hair too, so lots of scented oils and whatnots would be what he smells like most often.

Valeriy... Unfortunately I do think he wouldn't take as much care of himself 😭😭 He probably smells like alcohol and tobacco most often. I don't think he'd be too sweaty unless he's fresh from a fight because he actually prefers not to wear armor, he thinks it's useless and just slows him down. But yeah, definitely alcohol and tobacco most often.

Thanks again for giving me this wonderful yapping opportunity!! This turned out very long, but I enjoyed every second of answering this ask 🫶🫶🫶

[nuntia]

Nihil My Dear

Year Zero Ghouls & young Papa Nihil

Preface: Nights following the Hunter's Moon are always quieter. Everyone gets a short break from their tasks to dedicate themselves to leisure. Including the Ghouls, who gather in the practice room to sing. And Nihil joined them!

warnings: a angst mention of rituals of return in the final notes

[SECRETS FROM THE CLERGY]

After the mental confusion and sensorial and existential small adaptation, Ghouls are involuntarily curious when they are summoned to Earth. They are almost like children fascinated with the world around them.

Ghouls summoned to serve Project Ghost especially are drawn to the musical instruments and harmonies they hear, whatever it may be: the singing of birds, the whistling of a Sibling of Sin busy with tasks, the melodies of lullabies sung to the children of the ministry. Everything magically attracts them.

Over time, they acquire more and more skills in music. Some of them even bet on creating something original, just theirs; others have fun only by singing the hits of the moment.

Papa Nihil's Ghouls never hid the fun they felt when enveloped in music. They let everyone know.

----

The waning moon was already high - not so high that you had to bend your neck backwards to see it, but high enough to know it was very close to the mandatory curfew - and the ghouls were still enjoying the record marathon on the vinyl player that had started shortly after lunch.

The practice room was flooded with various types of music, some more stirring and lively for frantic dance steps, others quiet being a reflection of the calmness of enjoying the snack ordered from the kitchen and the din of conversations about trivialities.

At that moment, however, what could be heard most was a voice much clearer than the one coming from the vinyl. A soft, low voice that sang most of the verses amusingly, being accompanied at times by three more singular ones on a few others and frantic thumps on the wooden floor.

Papa Nihil, who was finally sneaking, with tired features, out of the office and all the paper work assigned to him to take a stroll around the Abbey, could not help but feel curious about the situation.

It was always fun to be in the company of his Ghouls.

He walked up to the double wooden door with a smile on his face, enjoying Agarat's familiar voice and harmonies of Citrus and Icarus a little more before showing himself.

He recognised immediately that what he was playing was from the album of "The Beatles", by the British band with the same name which was making immense success worldwide.

He opened the door slowly.

"Take a cha-cha-chance! I would like you to dance~" sang Agarat, with his back to the door, as he danced in the company of all the others, in a set of small jumps, hip and shoulder movements (and the long tails) to the rhythm of the music similar to those people in the rock bars where they played on tours.

The energy was contagious. Seeing those creatures in their natural form (without giving up the use of the mask, as the law said) so much fun, so abstracted in the vibe that they did not even notice their entrance, made a huge amount of adrenaline rush through Nihil's veins and he closed the door behind him to join them.

The excitement, however, made the movement he made to close the door too loud. Soon wide, glowing eyes focused very intently and seriously in his direction. For a brief second.

"What a fright, Boss!" said Icarus with his right hand on his chest, in place of his heart. "For a moment I thought it was Sister Imperator..."

The others said nothing, but from the sighs of relief, he realised they all shared the same idea.

"Sorry, my Ghouls." apologised Nihil, walking over to them. "I didn't mean to startle you. Y'all seemed so entertained that I wanted to join you, but without disturbing you. It turned out to be a total failure, I see."

Citrus was the first to soften his gaze entirely, narrowing them in a smiling curve.

"That being the case, Papa, show us what a dance machine you are!" said the Air Ghoul as the next song began.

Nihil joined them in the centre of the room, smiling as he began to follow the first steps, taken by Icarus.

Agarat's voice was heard again with more energy than before as he pulled Rime closer to them. The Earth Ghoul looked tense, and Nihil could not help but notice the way Agarat's quiet, almost fatherly attention, holding his hand and exchanging glances with him, made that tension (or part of it) disperse.

The Ghoul began to dance timidly minutes later, until he began to get more involved and, on the last verse, joined his voice to that of Agarat, Nihil and the others.

"Hey, Rime, you should let me hear your beautiful voice more often, my dear Ghoul." said Nihil between heavy breathing, holding out a hand to the Ghoul, who timidly and reluctantly took it.

"Nihil, my love~ Don't forget me" sang the Ghoul, looking away from the human's immediately after.

There was silence that followed from the side of the record being over and the lack of reaction from all of them, taken aback by the speech of Rime, the shy and rigid rule-abiding Ghoul.

Agarat's eyes lit up a little as he slowly and quietly approached the two, the tension suddenly felt in the air. But how quickly it appeared, how quickly it was gone.

Nihil's laugh broke the silence of the room. He squeezed the Ghoul's hand, pulled it to himself and kissed the back of the grey hand.

"Never! From all of you, I will never forget!"

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

It was the summer of 1970, times when Sister Imperator was almost back from a trip to Italy, we know now from official documents.

As a young man, His Majesty Papa Emeritus had more freedom from the rules (got into trouble for that too) and spent a lot of time in the presence of hellish creatures, just because he enjoyed their company. Today we know him as a grumpy old man ghost, but I suppose this is due to age.

He spent a lot of time with his ghouls, considering them even friends. The return process and rituals were difficult for him, there are even reports that he killed one of them unintentionally for the feeling of pain and guilt, which only increased after that.

It is forbidden to listen to The Beatles in the Abbey since then. (Fundamental Rights and Duties, Article 23, 5th, 16th November 1976)

Of course, earphones came to save many people years later.

I will bring you more information soon.

May the Lord Below guide you into the night,

Nuntia

[at-lilbot]

Frogtails

AO3

Title: Frogtails

Rating: Gen (G)

Luz and Camila centric.

Words: 2085

Summary: 

Camila tries to relearn her daughter after she comes back from the Demon Realm, but it is difficult to see someone as a stranger when you knew them like the back of your hand.

But the thing is with frogs and their tails, is that they grow out of them when they’re no longer young.

Or

Luz has trauma from the petrification and Camila tries to help her out.

Based on @ amitylovemail / Luzbian ‘s headcanon

Read below OR Read on AO3:

“Hey Mom. I’m back.”

Camila doesn’t know how to feel when she sees her daughter on her doorstep drenched by the rain after months of not seeing her.

Luz is shivering, both by the cold and something else she can’t quite decipher, but she doesn’t look like her strong, bright girl that she was the beginning of summer.

It’s like time stops in that moment when she sees her, all the raindrops in the sky seem to fall in slow motion, and Camila can trace every line and curve of her face with her mind. But she is here. Luz is here. Her sweet baby girl is here, in front of her. Sure she has a few scratches, blood still oozing from an open cut on her eyebrow, but she is alive.

It doesn’t take long for Camila to wrap her arms around Luz, inhaling with relief as they sob into one another’s arms.

She clutches her tight, afraid that she’ll disappear if she doesn’t.

♡︎

The next few weeks go by in a blur and throughout those weeks, Camila plays the role of detective, somewhat investigating her new guests. She picks up on their personalities quite quickly. Amity is shy and reserved, she likes to help around the house, and she keeps to herself mostly, but she always seems to be stuck to Luz’s side like cleavers on clothing. Gus is extroverted, always full of wonder and energy, curious about all the new things Earth has to offer (Camila admittedly finds charmed amusement whenever he uses an item wrong). Willow is self-assured, the voice of reason within the group, the others rely on her but she never lets herself relax – Camila can relate to that, but she knows that if she continues like this, she will crack. Hunter is mainly a mystery, he is rigid in his movements and eager to please, but he is also cautious, Camila doesn’t want to push any boundaries so she lets him be.

In this time, she finds that she also has to relearn her daughter, Luz has changed, in ways that she isn’t one hundred percent certain how to handle. Her affection is fleeting now, what was once something she gave in abundance, is now something Camila has to actively seek and encourage. Gone are the days where Luz would come into the kitchen and hug her from behind as she washed dishes, or the days she would cuddle up next to her on the sofa, instead Luz would only briefly allow that love before turning her face away, eyebrows riddled with guilt.

Camila doesn’t know why, why exactly Luz is filled with such guilt, but it pains her to see how hurt she is, it tears Camila apart how she cannot help her, mainly because Luz won’t let her.

It’s unfamiliar. The ghost of her daughter walks along the wooden floors of the home she has always known, she is cold and distant, something intangible Camila cannot comprehend.

♡︎

It’s one of those rare days that the house is quiet. It is mainly empty bar herself and Luz who is peacefully sleeping in the living room after a long day at school. The others have decided to explore the neighbourhood, Amity and Vee helping Willow discover the local flora while Gus and Hunter explore the local fauna, leaving Camila with her daughter, alone.

She doesn’t know why but she is somewhat nervous, she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, she wants to show Luz her love but she doesn’t know how. It used to be easy, when Luz was just a baby, Camila would hold her in her arms, she was so tiny that she could fit in the palm of her hands. She would sing her a lullaby and her big brown eyes would flutter close as she lets out a yawn.

But Camila can longer do that, Luz is too big, and her hands are too small.

Relearning to love someone who you used to know so naturally that it was like second breathing, is a difficult concept to grasp.

Camila sighs as she slips another clean plate on the drying rack, warm water droplets trailing down her arms from her yellow rubber gloves. The sun settles on the horizon, stray beams stream through the window, warming her skin. There’s nothing but the sound of the water running from the tap and the incessant tick of the clock that hangs on the wall. She mindlessly washes the dishes, scraping off the food from their lunch, each movement repeated and robotic. It’s an atmosphere of calm, calm to the point that it is almost oppressive. There is no comfort of life besides the sound of her breath on her own lips.

In hindsight she wishes she could relish in that calm a little longer, because no mother should ever hear what she hears only moments later.

“MAMA!”

Camila instantly drops the plate she was holding, the ceramic fragments lying haphazardly on the floor. Her heartbeat rings in her ears, and her feet move without thinking. She is already halfway out the kitchen when she hears it again.

“MAMA!”

It is a tortured wail, her vocal chords are strained agonisingly so, grating against Camila’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. Camila’s heart clenches unbearably in her chest, her tongue heavy in her mouth. Luz is calling for her, she sounds horrified and desperate, and it scares Camila to the core. Her mind goes to the worst possible outcomes, she tries to push it down and ignore them but it is only natural for her to worry.

When she opens the door to the living room, her heart drops.

The image in front of her is seared into her brain, and she cannot forget the way Luz’s face contorts as tears uncontrollably stream down her face.

Luz is sat on the sofa where she had fallen asleep on earlier, her body unmoving on the plush cushioning. Her hands are gripping the armrest, her knuckles completely white from how hard she’s clutching on. Hot tears pour down her redden cheeks as she hyperventilates. She covered by a light blanket, her body obscured beneath the fabric.  All the warmth that has previously resided in her eyes have disappeared, instead, her eyes held such terror, one that Camila can’t fully comprehend.

“My legs,” Luz cries out, “I can’t feel my legs.”

Camila races to Luz’s side, prying her weakened fingers off the sofa and interlacing them with her own. She gently hushes her laboured breaths to no avail; more tears begin to frantically stream out.

“Mama, I can’t feel my legs.” She repeats, each word trembling.

“Que paso?” Camila asks, her eyes wavering with anxiety.

Luz’s lips purse but it is fruitless as she chokes on another sob.

“Que paso mi amor, digame.” Camila says, firmer this time.

Luz looks up at the ceiling. She’s doing that thing where she avoids eye contact to change the subject, and usually it would work, but Camila has grown tired of being helpless to her daughter’s suffering. Luz is the most important thing in her life, and she can’t risk losing her again. Even though she is there next to her, she is a phantom, a fragment of her former self, and Camila wants to bring her back. She wants her sweet loving girl back.

Camila places her hand on Luz’s cheek and gently guides her back to face her. “Luz, por favor. Que paso?”

Luz sniffs, her sobs simmering down to hiccups. “Mami no puedo.”

She rubs her thumb reassuringly on her skin, soothing away all the worry lines. “Luz, estrellita, si puedes, just take your time.”

Luz inhales and her grip tightens around Camila’s fingers, “When I was in the demon realm,” she starts shakily, “there was this spell. This really, really, bad spell. It-it turns people to stone and I-“

She breaks into full sobs, uncontrollable weeps, rattling through her ribs. Camila holds her close, clutching onto her desperately, feeling as if the moment she lets go she will slip through her fingers.

“Shhh, querida, I am here, I am here. Slowly.”

“Mami, that guy that I was telling you about, Belos, he placed that spell on me. It started in my legs, but it reached all the way to my mouth… It felt so numb, I couldn’t feel a thing.”

Camila’s heart drums in her chest, “Luz, estrella.” She doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m afraid Mama. I can’t feel my legs. Mami, it feels the same, I can’t feel my legs.” She chokes out.

“Que estas tratando dicir?”

“I can’t – I don’t want to check Mami. Mami please, check for me. Please Mama, check.”

Camila swallows that peach pit down her throat, it sit there heavy at the bottom of her stomach, weighing her down. Sudden realisation dawns upon her on what Luz is requesting of her and fear begins to fill her fingertips. She slowly nods before clasping the edge of the blanket, tentatively removing it bit by bit.

Anxiety bites at her skin, so half way through, she rips the blanket off like a Band-Aid.

A quick exhale escapes her lips, relief beginning to bubble in her chest. There she sees flesh, beautiful brown skin, not the cold grey of stone.

“Luz, mira mamita, they’re okay, they probably just fell asleep when you were sleeping.”

Luz’s tears mellow out, her eyes widen when she looks at her legs.

“Mira Luz, mira. Estas bien estrellita. They just fell asleep.”

Luz lets out a little whimper, still not being able to find the words to say.

Camila repositions herself by her legs and places her hands on top.

“I’ll help you estrella.” Camila begins massaging Luz’s legs, trying to get the blood to circulate through them again. In the process, she finds herself humming mindlessly, “Sana sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.”

Luz sighs, relief flowing out, all tension rising from her shoulders. Camila continues to hum the little song, remembering all the times she would sing it to her when she was younger, placing Band-Aids on newly scratched knees. These small hands can no longer lift her, but they can soothe and they can heal. It is enough.

Camila keeps asking Luz along the way if she can start to feel her legs, giving her words of assurance every time she says no.

“Sana sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.” Camila repeats, singing softly.

She stops singing when she feels Luz’s hands on her shoulder. When she looks up, Luz’s worried eyes bore into hers. “Mami, what if I don’t heal?”

“Que?”

“The song. Que pasa si no sano?”

“Ay mamita es una cancion, pero si vas a sanar. You will heal.”

“But what if I don’t?” Luz springs up, her legs revolving around. At least they were working again. “What if I don’t heal? What if this doesn’t go away? Ever.”

“Mamita, what are you talking about? Look, your legs are fine now, mira!”

“It’s not just my legs!” Luz snaps, her words becoming frantic. “I’m talking about me. What if I don’t heal. That song, it’s so stupid! ‘Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana’, what if I don’t heal tomorrow? What if I’m meant to be broken, because- because I deserve this?”

“Luz you’re not broken,” Camila tries to reassure her with all the sweetness of her soul, but the words fly over Luz’s head. “You don’t deserve any of the pain you feel.”

. “Mama! You don’t know that.” Luz’s eyes are glassy, filled with that ugly guilt that Camila has become accustomed to. Her hair is dishevelled and Camila raises a hand to stroke the hair away from Luz’s face, but Luz slaps it away “Dejame tranquila!”  

Camila’s hand begins to sting from the contact, still floating there aimlessly. Luz’s eyes flitter from Camila’s hand to her own. She bites her lip before getting up, and Camila briefly catches a glimpse of the tears that stray from her eyes.

“I’m – I’m going to my room.” She says, words lost on a heavy tongue.

Camila reaches out to her, she calls out her name, but it is too late. Luz is already gone, and her hands fumble the air for an absent ghost. Instead she is left alone, still trying to decipher the girl who runs deeper than her blood, still grasping on to someone who is slowly becoming a stranger.

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Woo! First time writing something Riordanverse related- lemme know what you think! Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Little bit of angst, with fluff and bitter sweetness,ressurection, death, overall just some Bianca representation 😭🫶🏾

Pairing(s): Nothing major, slight mentions of Solangelo

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ꜱᴏʀᴇʟʟᴀ ────•°•☁︎•°•─────•

Everything was dark and cold. Even though it shouldn’t be. That’s what Bianca told herself and she glided through the Elysian Fields. It was lively and peaceful, of course, but everything felt so... wrong. Like she didn’t belong. People here were people who lived good lives and had done good things. And while the judges in the Underworld deemed her sacrifice to save her friends was valiant indeed, Bianca felt like she didn’t deserve it. 

But that was probably just a normal thing everyone went through.

Right?

She had told her father that she wished to be reborn, but the king of the Underworld refused, saying that in order to do so, one must completely let go anything that tethered them to their past life. And she did. She tried to, at least. And she wanted to. But she couldn’t. 

She couldn’t let go over the Hunters, the small welcoming family of girls like her, eternals maidens, who became her eternal family when the one she already had was just too much. Those who took her in when the burden of holding the only ones she loved close became a crushing weight of repressed emotions and being forced to grow up too fast. 

She couldn’t let go of her mother, Maria Di Angelo, who held her close when she cried and soothingly sang sweet lullabies with her distinct Italian accent making young Bianca feel the warm tingly sensation of feeling loved. The way her cooking always wafted through the kitchen with spices and sauces that made her mouth water.

And she couldn’t let go of Nico.

Nico, who had a messy mop of black hair that she would always braid when she was bored, much to his annoyance. Nico, who thought the world was just a game of Mythomagic where everyone had statistics and attacks. Nico, who loved the color green. Nico, the brother she selfishly abandoned. Nico, the one she swore to protect when their parents disappeared from their lives.

The thought of forgetting him made her heart sink.

Days went by, or at least what she thought was days, stuck in this turmoil, until an abrupt voice in the back of her head started reaching for her, beckoning to have her follow.

“Bring me Bianca Di Angelo!”

It sounded like a boy, a teenager maybe, but it sounded familiar somehow. 

And she was curious.

So she let the voice whisk her away.

And when she opened her eyes, the darker ones of Nico Di Angelo stared back at her. 

His eyes were wide, and there was a discarded Happy Meal box by his feet. And gods was she starving.

So she tentatively took a bite of the burger and looked at her brother. 

He was older now, and he looked more tired. His hair was even longer and more tangled, her fingers twitched at the urge to braid them. Old habits and all. 

She cupped his jaw with a pale translucent hand, flesh that used to be there ghosting over his skin, unspoken words and emotions reciprocated through the gesture.

“Why did you summon me Nico?” She asks quietly, looking at him.

“I knew you were leaving. Everything. Don’t ask me how I could just tell. Son of Hades thing I guess.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but Bianca could tell he was bothered by it. She was too.

“I don’t want to forget you Nico. Not without knowing that you’re safe. I failed as your older sister to protect you and now… I don’t want to move on without my duty as your sister fulfilled.” Her voice cut off from the thickness in her voice, tears threatening to spill from her eyes but never would because they couldn’t.

Nico looked close to crying too, as he tried to hug her but couldn’t, leaving them standing close to each other, her forehead grazing the skin of his.  

“Do you think I should do it?” Bianca asks after a while.

“Yes.” He says without hesitation. “My job as your brother is to make you happy.” 

Bianca’s eyes widen as his choice of words. Is not was.

“Are you safe?” She repeats, her voice reduced to a whisper. 

Nico chuckles sourly at that. “As safe as a demigod can be. Plus I’ve got an amazing boyfriend and friends who care about me a lot for some reason. I’ve even got a half sister.”

Bianca smiles at that. “As your biological sister, let her know she has my blessing. “

“As a sister.” She adds, a corny smile making its ways across her lips and Nico snorts at that.

“Go and be happy Bianca. I love you sorella.” 

The unshed tears threaten to suffocate her from the familiar Italian word. 

“I love you too fratello.”

And then she was back in the underworld.

But this time, it didn’t feel so dark and cold anymore.

BONUS:

Bianca stands at the front of the looming doors to Hades’s palace. But it was too late to turn back now. 

She had to do this.

The doors open and she walks in, the quiet of the halls was disturbing.

Sitting at his throne was Hades himself in all his glory, looking as gaunt as ever. He looked bored, but his black eyes glittered with intrigue as Bianca knelt at his feet.

“Daughter.” He says, slightly surprised.

“Father. I have a request regarding my rebirth.” She says slowly.

He leans forward at that, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what would that be?”

“I wish to be reborn with green eyes.”

[outoutdamnspark]

OC Thoughts: Kana (& Osuke)

- Kana likes flowers, too, but not in the same way Reina does; rather than being interested in plants as a whole (with the ones used for food and medicine being their own separate thing), Kana just enjoys how pretty flowers are, and the romantic connotations they can have. She likes their aesthetic, the way they smell, the colors, the different ones that bloom in different seasons - one of her favorite things to do on summer evenings is sit and watch wildflowers in the breeze. Her favorites are daisies, clover, and sunflowers. (She’s always wanted to participate in Hanami, but never got the chance before Hoopa sent her to Hisui.)

- Her Murkrow, Buddy, was her late husband Osuke’s partner. ‘Buddy’ wasn’t his name originally, but Kana kept calling him “little buddy” when he followed her around, and it stuck.

- Unlike Reina, Kana does like to sing. Not as much as Hina, but Kana enjoys humming and singing to herself, or signing little lullabies or soft things to whomever is beside her while she embroiders or watches the sunset. Her (new) voice claim is Sharon den Adel from Within Temptation. 

- In addition to making her own sort-of makeup and perfume, Kana loves to embroider while in Hisui. It calms her head and gives her hands something to do while she sits and relaxes - plus it makes pretty things! A lot of her hair accessories are embroidered or knotted, and she’s been known to give them as gifts or to sell or trade them. Her Diamond clan tunic and leggings are embroidered with a jolteon, a gyarados, a murkrow, and a wartortle. She’s working on the rest of her team.

- She’s a strong swimmer and a nimble tree-climber; Osuke was a hunter and a forager, and so taught her how to climb and track and swim and forage.

- Despite the rest of the clan picking at them for it, Kana and Osuke never had any plans for children. They were both very good with children, and they agreed that maybe one day they’d want their own, but it wasn’t high on the priority list.

- Osuke was orphaned at an early age, and while he was raised by the whole clan essentially, he grew up feeling like he didn’t quite belong in any one place. As a result of this and his profession as a forager/hunter, he lived a little ways away from the village and came to visit several times a week. When Kana fell, he took her in and they bonded over feeling like (or being) outsiders. Osuke got some disproving looks, but he told the busybodies to shove off and nothing really ever came of it.

- They’d both known Adaman since he was young. (Younger Adaman had a puppy crush on Kana for about a year.)

- Kana was two years older than Osuke. They knew each other for 5 years as companions after he brought her into the Diamond Clan; then he courted her for a year before they were married. They were together for another 6 years before he was killed in a pokemon attack at the age of 28. The murkrow embroidery on Kana’s leggings is part of a pair that she made; the other one was on Osuke’s tunic. She wanted to keep his and sew it on next to her own so she’d have part of him with her, but she broke down when she realized taking it would mean he wouldn’t have a piece of her; she left it where it was so he wouldn’t be alone. (It’s around 3 or 4 years later that Kana and a certain Pearl Clan warden start dancing around one another.)

(Made using this Picrew)

- (There’s an AU, thank you Peach! in which a parallel timeline exists where Kana died and Osuke lived. In the AU, the timelines get connected, and Parallel Osuke falls into Kana’s universe, reuniting them. He chooses to go back to present day with her when Akari gets them all sent back home.)

- (Maybe if it’s far enough along, there could even be a linear polycule with Warden Ingo, with both men forming a friendship and Kana having two husbands? Who knows! Haven’t thought that far ahead yet!)

[kylobith]

The Inner Battle - Chapter 2

The Cloaked Figure

Raindrops whipped the ground as clouds blown by western winds huddled in the Mantellian sky. Earthy perfumes emanated from the grass, hanging in the cool and foggy air. Water gathered on the tree leaves and grass, dripping onto roots in a regular rhythm, playing their calming lullaby to rodents hidden within the tree trunks, pressed together to maintain their heat. Puddles began to form, turning dry dirt into mud, reflecting the few patches of visible stars peeping through the dark veil of the overcast night.

At the exit of a tunnel hidden by tall weeds appeared a silhouette with a backpack across its shoulder and a stained rag used as a bundle in its hand. It shuddered and looked all around, trying to find its precise location in the dark.

On its side, a roar resonated while a bright light took the silhouette by surprise by shining upon it. Blinded by the luminescence, it lifted an arm before its eyes, attempting to identify its source. A succession of beeps filled the night, triggering joy in the stranger’s heart.

"R2!"

The figure, who was no other than Teebasha, ran up to the droid, who had the brilliant idea of turning on the engines of the Jedi Interceptor as soon as she resurfaced from Horle’s den. The hunter knelt down beside her friend and rested a hand on its side.

"It's so great to see you! How did you know it was me?"

The droid answered with excited chirps, bouncing from one foot to the other. 

"You saw them take me to this tunnel, then... They were right next to us from the beginning. Anyway, I'm glad I managed to come out. Let's leave this place, I wouldn't like to fight against some other gang."

Standing up, the bag she held in her hand bumped against the droid’s body. He stared at it quizzically, triggering a proud smile on the young woman's face. She opened it to show its content to R2, who let out a horrified scream.

"Shush, R2, calm down! It's Vonar Horle's head,” she laughed, tying the top of the bag. “I can't believe how easy it was to find and kill him. Looks like the Force was with me all along!"

Without waiting for her order, the droid unlocked the starship. The canopy of the cockpit slid open above her, enabling her to throw the bag with Horle's head inside, as well as her backpack. She and the droid both settled in the ship, preparing for takeoff. Whilst she was pushing some buttons, she slipped her headset around her forehead.

"Alright, R2. Let's find a safe place to spend the rest of the night. In the morning, we're returning to Ord Mantell City. There's… something I must do there."

The engine purred and hiccupped until the ship took off, flying over the lakes and desert lands, where herds of animals slept or fed themselves under the attentive look of nocturnal predators. Life pursued its course there, undisturbed and untouched, if not for the tunnels and caves tainted by criminals. Everything had its own order — seasons passed in silence, whilst death visited every so often to claim its dues, reaping lives only to enable new ones to bloom, pure and full of potential.

Buds peeked from underneath the leaves, too shy to burgeon, whereas other plants flourished in their prime, their bright colours compensating for the dull and grey of the city hundreds of miles away. Flowers bent in the rainfall, while the reeds on the banks of the rivers and lakes stood solid and proud, only bobbing as the breeze passed.

As the Interceptor ripped through the air, eastward bound, Teebasha admired the frozen and still landscapes passing before her eyes, massaging the back of her head, still painful from the blow. She tried to remember what it looked like when she used to live there, long before the First Order burnt cities and villages down for its own enrichment.

Ord Mantell had suffered from a tormented history and under the yoke of different forms of evil having plagued the galaxy. For thousands of years, the constant wars between the Republic and the Empire roared upon its ground, devastating its landscapes and destroying lives. Later on, the Empire, syndicates and the First Order drained its resources, stealing food from the population’s hands, leaving many to die. The New Republic turned a blind eye as the population called for help, begging them to take action.

When the day came that the Hosnian system was reduced to ashes by the mysterious superweapon of the First Order, no tear was shed by Mantellians. Only a lingering terror deepened at the prospect of yet another colonisation, which would cost the lives of thousands.

After three hours of travelling under the Order’s radar, Teebasha caught a glimpse of the high illuminated towers of Ord Mantell City, far in the horizon. Its hills loomed over the lower districts, amongst which the broad spaceport stood, its gaping mouth providing a way out of the gloom of this once prosperous place.

If you want to read more, the rest of the chapter is available on Ao3

Tag: @emmanuellececchi

[distressedgold]

Níl sa saol seo ach ceo

Is ní bheimid beo

Ach seal beag gearr

[hoboal87]

Nothing Else Matters

Pairing: Dean x f!Reader

Characters: Dean, f!Reader, Bobby, minor mentions of Sam

Summary: Six months before Dean's Demon Deal is due, he receives unexpected news.

Warnings: fluff, angst, sads, unplanned pregnancy, daddy!dean, past fertility issues, major character death

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: thanks to @synmorite for being and Alpha and Omega reader for me, love ya Syn 😘

A/N 2: this cover version of "Nothing Else Matters" helped inspire me

Beta'd by @writethelifeyouwant, thanks Mads!

My Dean Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

“C’mon, sweet girl,” Dean coos down at the infant in his hands. He’s done it all: changed her, fed her, burped and bathed her, but Avery just keeps crying. Y/N’s voice fills the room, singing the soothing lullaby that usually calms Avery, but even that isn’t doing the trick tonight. Dean chimes in, hoping that hearing both his and Y/N’s voices will do the trick, but the infant keeps wailing against his bare chest. “I don’t know what else you want, peanut,” Dean sighs as Y/N moves on to the next song.

January 2008

“You’re serious?” Dean asks Y/N as she hands him a positive pregnancy test. “I thought– You said that you couldn’t get pregnant.”

“I guess the doctors were wrong,” Y/N shrugs.

Once their relationship started to get serious, Y/N had made a confession, hoping it wouldn’t be a deal-breaker: she may never be able to give him children. They were still young, and Dean admitted he never really thought about it before, having kids; not with the life he and Sam lived. Dean didn’t want to raise a child the same way his dad raised him.

If monsters were gone, and he and Y/N could live some apple-pie life, he’d love to have a family with her. But right now, he only has a few months before the contract on his soul comes due. The thought that he’s leaving Y/N alone and pregnant, to raise their child on her own, is too much to bear.

“Say something, De.”

“Just– gimme a second, Y/N,” Dean says more harshly than he means to.

“I know you said you didn’t ever want kids–”

“That’s not what I said, Y/N. This life? It’s not safe. You know that as well as I do, so when you told me that you couldn’t have kids, yeah, I was relieved. I don’t wanna bring more innocents into this fucked-up hunter's life. And now… now, you’re telling me that you’re pregnant... I’m dead in a couple of months, and you wanna bring a kid into this?”

“Fuck you, Dean.” Y/N says, reaching for her bag. “You think I planned this? That I thought ‘hey Dean’s gonna be dead in six months, might as well try to get knocked up?’”

“I don’t know, Y/N. We haven’t been using protection for years, and now, now, you’re pregnant. Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

“I can’t believe you. You wanna die alone, Dean? You don’t wanna worry about me and our baby? Fine. Enjoy the rest of your life.”

Before Dean can say another word, Y/N is out the door, and he can hear the rumble of her engine turning over. It’s not that he doesn’t want kids, he’d love to be a dad one day, but the second he’d traded his soul for Sam’s life, he’d put that thought far behind him.

As the sound of the roaring engine begins to fade away, Dean comes to his senses, running out the door. He can’t– he won’t let Y/N leave, even if their time left is limited, he wants to spend every second that he can with her.

Y/N’s stopped at the edge of the parking lot when he catches up to her.

“Wait!” Dean bangs on the window, waiting for her to roll it down. “Please, Y/N, I’m sorry, don’t leave.”

“Why, Dean?”

“Sweetheart, please, just come back to the room.”

“Again, Dean, why?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t want you to leave like this, come back to the room, let’s talk, and if you still want to leave, I’ll let you go. If you’re gonna have my kid, even if I’m not gonna be around, I deserve to know what your plan is.”

“Fine,” Y/N scoffs and Dean can practically see the anger radiating off of her. He can’t say he blames her, he’d accused her of getting pregnant on purpose, lying about not being able to have kids. He knew how much she wanted them, how she’d seen more doctors than he could count hoping that one of them would give her a sliver of hope. But they all told her the same, fibroids, combined with the years of hunting, had done extensive damage to her systems and would make it nearly impossible for her to ever have kids.

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeats again as Y/N settles on the bed, knowing no matter how many times he says it, he can’t take the hurtful words back. “I just– if I thought– I didn’t ever expect this.”

“I didn’t either, Dean. And I’ve been terrified to tell you. I’ve been waiting and waiting, thinking that maybe I was wrong. I took that test almost two weeks ago, and I’ve taken one every day since, thinking maybe it was a false positive. But ten positive tests can’t be wrong. This baby, Dean… it’s a miracle, it’s our miracle. And I know that you’ll be gone soon–” Y/N doesn’t finish, tears escaping from her eyes, and Dean moves forward, encasing her in his arms.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And I don’t want to do this alone, Dean, I want our baby to have both of us in their life. That’s why you have to let Sam try to find a way to break your deal.”

“Not if it ends with him dead.”

“Dean, I love Sam like a brother, you know I do, but if he’s willing to make the same deal that you did, that John did… we're going to be parents, Dean, it's not just about us anymore."

Dean considers Y/N’s words, and he resolves to let Sam try to find a way to get him out of his contract, fruitless though it may be. But he won’t let Sam die so that he can live, though he isn’t telling Y/N that. He gives her a slight nod, and pulls her in for a gentle kiss. “I love you, sweetheart, and know that even if I’m not here, I love our baby so much already.”

April 2008

Dean’s year is coming to a close sooner than he’d like, so he commits himself to spending as much time with Y/N as possible. Once she had a close call on a hunt, they decided together that she needed to retire, it was bad enough that their daughter would be without a father, he wouldn’t let her grow up without a mother too. A daughter. Dean was gonna have a little girl, Avery, Y/N insisted on her name, even though Dean laughed. It was a last name, he’d said, kids shouldn’t have last names as first names.

Dean watches in awe as Y/N’s belly grows larger, imagining the life that he hopes his daughter will have, one free of death and monsters. Though she’ll already be down one parent by the time she enters the world. They’re decorating the nursery, a spare room at Bobby's, and Dean can’t help but laugh. Bobby Singer now has a nursery in his home. Y/N’s singing along to one of Dean’s cassettes, insisting that Avery’s favorite song is already 'Nothing Else Matters.'

“I’m serious!” She laughs as Dean rolls his eyes, though he can’t lie that it actually makes him very happy that Avery’s learning the classics already. “Look,” she says, bringing Dean closer to her, putting his hand on her belly. “So close, no matter how far, couldn't be much more from the heart,” a slight kick comes from Avery. “Forever trusting who we are, and nothing else matters.”

“That’s m’girl,” Dean whispers, placing a kiss on Y/N's belly. “Never opened myself this way, life is ours, we live it our way. All these words, I don't just say, and nothing else matters.”

“We should have you record it, so she’ll always know what your voice sounds like. She won’t have to guess. You can make a bunch of tapes!” Y/N says excitedly, pulling a tape recorder out from a hiding place, something that she had clearly been planning. “You can tell her stories, have tapes for special occasions.”

“That’s a little morbid, sweetheart. ‘Sides, I thought you were counting on Sammy to get me out of my contract.”

“I’m making some too,” Y/N says, ignoring his comment. “So if I’m on a hunt and she can’t sleep, Bobby can play it for her. It’ll be fun, please De?”

“Fine,” Dean says with feigned annoyance, and settles in a chair, as Y/N brings him the tape recorder. He doesn’t know what to say, what are you supposed to say to your unborn child that you’ll never see grow up? “Hey, baby girl,” he hesitates, “it’s your dad, and I just want you to know how much I love you, and your mom, you are so lucky to still have her, peanut, her and your uncle Sammy. I’m so sorry that I can’t be here to watch you grow up, honey, know that if I could, I’d give anything to change that. And I want to apologize for the lullabies, it’s your mother’s fault,” he looks up to Y/N, tears filling her eyes and gives her a wink. “Well, your mom’s turning into a blubbering mess, so I’m gonna stop this here for now. I love you so much Avery, don’t you ever forget that.”

Once Y/N’s calmed down, she and Dean finish in the nursery before Sam calls and tells Dean and Bobby that he’s found a way to get Lilith. Dean leaves Y/N with a passionate kiss, she refuses to let him give her a final goodbye, instead insists that she’ll be waiting for him to come home. It leaves him uneasy, it’s only a matter of days before hellhounds will be hunting him down, and if Sam’s plan doesn’t succeed, then he’ll never get to say all the things he wants to say to her, and to Avery.

All he can do is hope that Sam’s plan works, and soon he’ll be reunited with his family.

Dean wakes in a barren field, unsure what’s happened. He remembers bits and pieces, Ruby betraying them, making sure to tell Sam to watch over Y/N and Avery, the hellhounds clawing at his chest, Y/N’s face filling his vision one last time before everything went black.

After clawing his way out of the ground, he makes his way down the road, hoping that eventually it will lead him back to civilization, back to Y/N, back to Avery. How long had he been gone? A week? A month? Years? What if Y/N has moved on and someone else has been raising his daughter with her?

He treks along, eventually finding what appears to be an abandoned gas station. Maybe just empty, as nothing has expired and everything is stocked. There’s a newspaper stand, and Dean reluctantly looks for the date, hoping that it’s only been a short time that he’s been gone.

“September,” he mumbles, four months, Avery would be about a month old, he hadn’t missed that much, she wouldn’t ever remember him not being there. He tries calling Y/N and Sam, but both numbers are disconnected. He tries Bobby next, but he doesn’t believe him. He steals the lone car from the gas station and makes his way to Sioux Falls, hoping that’s where Y/N and Avery are waiting for him to return.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean smiles as the door to Bobby’s home opens. It takes some convincing, but when he’s satisfied, he lets Dean in, wrapping him in a tight hug, only to be broken up by the cries of what Dean hopes is Avery.

“She’s here?” He asks, a large smile forming on his face. “Can I… can I see her?”

“Course, son, she’s yer kid.”

Dean hesitantly makes his way up to the nursery that he and Y/N meticulously decorated. He enters the room, only for it to be filled with the growing wails of Avery, though he can hear Y/N’s voice coming through a small speaker. She’s hunting? So soon?

Laying eyes on his daughter for the first time fills Dean’s heart with more love than he’s ever known before. Avery is the perfect mix of him and Y/N: Y/N’s mouth and ears, his nose and eyes, the baby’s head covered in dirty blonde hair. She perks up when he says her name for the first time, Y/N must’ve kept her promise of playing the tape he made, and he reaches into the crib to hold his daughter for the first time.

“She’s a cute one, huh?” Bobby says, entering the room nearly thirty minutes later. “Looks like she’ll be takin’ after you instead of ‘er mama, poor thing,” he jokes.

“She’s perfect,” Dean sighs as Avery attempts to snuggle closer into his chest. “Where’s Y/N? She can’t be on a hunt, not so soon, and what about Sam? I tried to call both of them but they didn’t answer.”

“Sam’s– Sam’s been off the grid lately, haven’t seen him since bringin’ Avery home from the hospital.”

“She was born about a month ago, right? You haven’t seen Sam in a month?”

“More like two,” Bobby corrects, and a sad smile forms on his face as Dean sends him a questioning look. “After Pontiac, Y/N was a mess, but she was doin’ her best, the stress of losing you nearly sent her into labor. The doctor ordered her on bedrest, but it only worked for about a month. Avery made her appearance almost seven weeks early. She was tiny, but a fighter, they released her from the hospital after about three weeks, been here ever since.”

Dean can’t help but notice that Bobby’s failed to answer his question about Y/N.

“So where’s Y/N?” Dean asks, this time more pointedly. “Is she hunting?”

“Y/N,” Bobby sighs, “she was in bad shape Dean. When she went into labor, there were… complications. Doctors worked on her for hours, but the damage was too much, she wouldn't stop bleedin'." Dean can feel his stomach drop and his heart starts thumping faster in his chest. "Hunting did a number on her, they said she was probably in constant pain, but y'know how stubborn she could be," Bobby lets out a sad laugh.

“What’re you sayin’, Bobby?” Dean asks, clutching tighter to Avery in his arms, the only thing that's keeping him grounded.

“They couldn’t do anything. She never made it out of the delivery room.”

Dean rewinds the tape again. He’s listened to all of them more times than he could count over the last 3 months, his own way of holding on to Y/N. One tape is just for Dean, as if she knew he'd be brought back somehow. Y/N tells him how sorry she is for not telling him or Bobby about the warnings she was given, but she couldn't let go of the one piece of Dean she still had. She tells him that she knows he'll do right by Avery, give her everything he never had, but he can't blame himself (though she knows he will).

Dean sets Avery down briefly, giving her tummy a loving rub before slowly backing away, shushing her as he thinks he knows what’ll do the final trick. He finds the tape labelled “Daddy’s Mix,” making sure it’s at the beginning before pressing play.

“Hey peanut," Y/N's soft voice comes through the speaker as Dean pulls Avery back into his arms, a soft whimper leaving her. "These are some of your daddy’s favorite songs. Hopefully you’ll still have his taste once you’re out in the world.”

She’d gone all out, finding an instrumental to sing along to. The familiar guitar riff seeps from the speaker, and Dean hums the melody, letting Y/N have the first few verses to herself before joining her, rocking his daughter to sleep.

“Trust I seek and I find in you, every day for us something new. Open mind for a different view, and nothing else matters."

Feedback is fuel! Please let me know what you think!!

[aroacemisha]

Reassurance

A short Retired Leaders AU fic, taking place around a decade in the past, when Hunter was still a little kid.

---

It was late in the evening. The Emperor sat on the side of his large canopy bed, whispering bedtime stories to his young nephew and stroking his head.

Little Hunter appeared to be asleep, but as Belos fell silent and pulled back his hand, the boy opened his eyes and called out to him.

“Uncle?..”

“Yes, my dear?”

Hunter sat up on the bed, with his brows knit and his pointed ears drooping.

“..Is it true that I’ll never have powers?..” - he stared up at Belos. He was still holding on to a tiny sliver of hope.

The old man hesitated. He averted his gaze.

“It is” - he murmured.

Hunter looked downward, tightening his grip on the edge of the blanket.

“..It’s not fair...” - his magenta eyes glistened with tears. - “Why can everyone do magic, but not me?”

Belos sat still for a moment.

“I don’t know. But I can tell you something that might help you feel better” - he turned towards his nephew with a soft smile. - “Did you know there is another world out there?”

Hunter shook his head. The Emperor continued.

“It’s called the Human Realm, named after the humans that live there. They’re a lot like you and me, but not quite the same. They look like us” - he conjured up a small illusion to demonstrate, - “but they have round ears” - the illusion then quickly dissolved. - “They have achieved many great things throughout the centuries, creating more and more advanced tools and technology... And they did it all without magic. It doesn’t exist in their world, and they are all born powerless”

Hunter’s eyes lit up with excitement and curiosity, and his jaw dropped. Belos smiled at the sight.

“See? You are not alone. There is a whole world of people out there living without magic, and they could still do many wonderful things” - he placed a hand on his nephew’s cheek and looked into his eyes. - “Magic isn’t everything, Hunter. You may be a powerless witch, but you are destined for greatness”

He leaned in, gave Hunter a peck on the forehead and gently ruffled his hair, as the little prince giggled.

“Now, go to sleep, sunshine” - Belos pulled back his hand. - “If you want to be big and strong, you need to sleep well”

Hunter lied down and tucked himself in.

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” - he asked.

“Of course” - Belos replied softly.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He began to quietly sing in his sweet, soothing voice, and soon, the young prince was peacefully asleep.

---

If you like my work, please reblog it. And feedback is also appreciated.

[undercityviktor]

Excuse me DHAMPIR VIKTOR STORY 👀👀👀 TELL MORE PLS?

Gosh, thank you, Anon!

My 'dhampir Viktor' idea is currently an unpublished, 8k word, 4 chapter, WIP set in an alternate universe where Viktor is a half-vampire/dhampir (his mother was bitten while she was pregnant with Viktor), and the Talis family are sort of vampire/monster hunters, who also build silver/specialised weapons etc. for monster hunting. Think... Arcane series meets Castlevania series for vibes??? *shrug*

(WIP excerpt at the end)...

Rough outline so far is:

Jayce left his monster-hunting family when he realised that hunting sapient creatures was not something he wanted to be a part of, and he preferred the exploration of magic and technology.

The council refused to fund his projects or take his Hextech theory seriously, his study got broken into, the room exploded, he got dressed down by the council and expelled from the Academy so he can no longer work on his stuff. All seems hopeless, and he goes to the edge of the chasm that overlooks Zaun and is about to give up completely when Viktor finds him and is curious about what would drive a young man from Piltover to the literal edge like that.

He subtly compels Jayce away from the edge (Jayce doesn't notice, despite his training since childhood) and they talk, and Viktor leads him back to his house, where Jayce recovers a little, and Viktor reads Jayce's notes. He figures out the maths that Jayce is missing, gives it to Jayce on the condition that he swears to use it to help the people of Zaun as well, and he also asks Jayce to keep his name out of it.

Jayce returns to Piltover, uses Viktor's equation to complete his Hextech work, and three years later, the Hexgates are unveiled on Progress Day

BUT there's a vampire attack not long after the reveal

Additional:

Sky is a selkie

Vi is a werewolf

Powder/Jinx and the others are also there but... spoilers :)

I can work on it more seriously if anyone is interested? Lemme know if you are!

___

Excerpt:

The man was quiet for a while — so quiet that Jayce jumped when he appeared at Jayce’s elbow and looked up at him. “Come with me,” he said in a voice like a lullaby. “I would like to hear more about this ‘Hextech’ theory of yours.”

“It’s not a —”

“So you say,” he said, and his amber eyes really did seem to glow in the distant light of Piltover’s windows across the fissure. “Come away from this ledge and talk with me, hmm?” he said in his velvet voice.

Jayce swallowed and could find no argument, no reason whatsoever not to follow the beautiful man wherever he wanted to take him. “I don’t even know your name,” Jayce croaked.

The stranger with skin like moonlight and eyes of amber looked up at him through long, thick lashes. “It’s Viktor.”

Get in touch if you'd like to read this one.

[a-lil-perspective]

Hi! I’m not sure if this is your kind of thing or not, but do you have any Dad Batch head cabins that you really like? :)

Oh friend—Dad Batch is literally all there is to me.

Dad Batch + Omega headcanons anyone?

Omega rises early with Hunter. They like to cook breakfast together—Meg turns out to be quite the chef and Hunter’buir is surprised to pick up a culinary trick or two. Everyone thinks her cooking is light years better than Hunter’s. Their tastebuds wholeheartedly agree. But don’t tell Hunter that. Or do.

Residing among the Bad Batch has been drastically different in every aspect. Omega is somewhat at a disadvantage because she is now lacking curriculum and structure that was very much a mode of functionality back on Kamino. She is young, we know her mind is curious and hyperactive, and so the Bad Batch has to really put their heads together to implement some strong academic means for her so that she does not fall behind and miss out on developmental milestones.

Tech in particular really comes through in this aspect; he is able to construct a variety of curriculums on the ‘pad to keep her engaged and mentally stimulated.

Omega quickly masters those and branches out to more hands-on activities, dabbling into creative outlets which is where Wrecker steps up to the plate.

Meg discovers her affinity for painting and designing.

She loves to test her skills on Gonky, who is a real champ through all the strung accessories and clothing ensembles.

Because funds are tight, Omega repurposes blankets and different fabrics around the Marauder for Gonky’s outfits. She becomes quite the master of disguise, and the boys are impressed.

In light of a minimalistic lifestyle, Omega adopts quite the set of home-economic skills, which is particularly pleasing to Hunter.

Independence is one of the most important factors for the boys, which they instill heavily in Omega. They do their best to teach her something new every single day, no matter how mundane it seems.

Tech spends a lot of time teaching Omega how to pilot—against Hunter’s wish (he thinks Gonky would be a better instructor than his genius yet hopelessly negligent brother)

Echo spends a lot of time telling Omega stories—it’s usually the last phase of her bedtime routine, at the end of the day, snuggling up with Echo (sometimes not) as he recounts old brothers and early life back on Kamino. The two grow really close through their experiences, as Omega’s own tenure there is still fresh in her mind compared to the other Bad Batchers’ who have largely broken away from their roots. Echo’s stories/memoirs prove to be a very vindicating, therapeutic experience for him. He appreciates Omega’s sage and calm temperament through it all.

Omega takes to maintaining Crosshair’s gear while he’s away...

His armor actually appears to fit her physique the closest out of all the others. She always wants to try it on but refrains out of respect for the estranged Buir. He’ll be home soon. Home, and back in his rightful armor.

Until then: Omega recruits all of the boys to help her forge her own. She is adamant, and her artistic eye leaves her certain of exactly the design she wants. It’s a bit crude, and elementary, but it’s perfect for her.

Lula and Gonky are of course included in the creative process! They become something of muses, their designs incorporated into a pauldron or a Tooka-sized pouch on her utility belt—Lula likes to come on missions, too. :)

Wrecker retrofits Lula with a grenade—in which Omega acquires some valuable textile skills. Sewing a grenade into a plushie’s stuffing is a tricky process.

Wrecker feels better knowing that as long as she carries Lula, she has a weapon and means of protection. He makes haste to remind her to use Lula as a last resort only (though of course he hopes she never actually has to use it). Wrecker is quickly becoming the best Uncle ever.

Hunter’buir is not too keen on Omega sleeping with what is, essentially, a grenade curled up in her arms every night. It’s a bit arbitrary.

Some days, late at night when Hunter is left alone to his thoughts, he wonders if they’ve gotten way in over their heads. He wonders if Omega is actually thriving, and what even constitutes as “thriving” for a child.

Watching her sleep, warmed by a mix of blankets and Bavodu’e and carefully recycled cabin air, he decides that as long as she’s safe, and satisfied, then they must be doing pretty good.

When Cross’buir finally comes home... everything is very different.

Meg—from what little she remembers—knows that Crosshair didn’t talk much before, but he’s even more quiet now. Except for the times he mutters to himself. And the times he wakes up in the middle of the night, shrieking from an episode of psychosis.

For the longest time, Hunter’buir would forbid her from coming to his aid. Saying Crosshair is “unstable”, that he’s not “feeling well”, and that he needs to heal.

Meg can’t help it. She has to be there. Has to help, has to heal. It’s in her nature.

And so Omega will always find a way.

She finds that Crosshair responds well to singing. Her singing.

She doesn’t really know any lullabies except for this one tune—well, more like a few obscure notes—that she would catch Nala Se humming on more than one occasion. Meg doesn’t know the significance, or what it means, but she associates it with comfort. So does Cross’buir.

And so she hums to him, as a late night soothe. He never says a word. But his breathing comes a little easier, his shakes recede, and sleep finds him once again.

While Meg has had ample time to bond with her other Buirs, It takes awhile for her to make actual headway with Crosshair.

When she is discouraged over this, Hunter’buir has to gently remind her that Cross isn’t quite the same as he once was, and to give him time.

She understands. Omega is a beautiful soul.

Cross’buir and Omega bond over board games; silent, strategic games. These are the times she sees a flicker of Crosshair peek through; that deft mind and astounding composure he had before, that he’s always had but that he’s just forgotten. Strategy games make Crosshair feel like he’s in control. That he’s not just detachedly following orders. That his mind is his own, and his mind is free. Cross’buir loves strategy games.

The first time Crosshair utters a word to her since his rescue, months have passed, and it’s after she wakes from a nightmare.

He hears her. It’s faint, her broken whimpers echoing from down the hall. His feet pick up a will of their own.

It feels like an out of body experience, and Crosshair doesn’t much like those, because he’s afraid he’ll slip away again, back to a mind that is not his own, devoid of feeling—

But this—when he comes to Meg’s aid—this feels right. He’s influenced by pure instinct as he gathers her up in his arms. She looks up with a damp face, and whispers his name. And then: “Cross’buir.”

And that charge... that registers to Crosshair. It meets him soundly. It meets him softly. He takes a full breath, and squeezes her tight.

“Cross’buir is here.”

[shadow-sovereign]

Hello, it's Lullaby again. An idea quite similar to Time traveling Shadows, but it's either Jin-woo as a Shadow Monarch or The Shadow Monarch himself. As in Ashborn is Jin-woo and he is often time hopping. I mean, what if original Jin-woo in a timeline way before canon got trapped in one of his earliest dungeons and got yeeted right to the Supreme Being's throne room at the ripe age of 20?

"... at the ripe age of 20?" it certainly would explain his loyalty to the Being if he was treated kindly and trained to be one of the Being's generals, as he maybe was led to believe. So he underwent an endless cycle of giving his power to his past self in order to keep him (the younger him) in the Human world but until canonverse it was all a failure.

Huh, this is an interesting concept. Lots of time wimey shenanigans.

It’s an au where the Rulers tried to give the humans magic in the earlier timelines (which must be driving them crazy that they keep losing, since in canon that was their last ditch effort to keep some of the humans alive). That does make me wonder what else they would have tried, though. Maybe different National Ranked Hunters in each timeline.

So, Jin-Woo of the first timeline ends up in front of the Supreme Being (also called the Absolute Being, at least that’s the translation I read), I guess far in the past, since we don’t know when exactly the Rulers turned against their creator.

Jin-Woo is amazed that such a powerful being sees potential in him, making him so much more powerful. Making him practically a god, really, especially after he dies and becomes the Shadow Monarch.

He’s a very loyal person, perhaps he even started to see the Absolute Being as a second father. With the time travel and everything, he would have known the AB a lot longer than his mortal dad. It would have made the AB’s death hit him a lot harder, feeling like he’s lost another parent. Then the conflicted feelings of why the Rulers killed the AB.

Jin-Woo isn’t naive. He understands the Ruler’s argument for how the AB is using their fight with the Monarchs as entertainment. So, he has to wrestle with his own feelings of loyalty, love, and betrayal. On two fronts, really, since he would have grown close to the Rulers as well.

A part of him would know that the Rulers just killed the AB to save lives, both of themselves and of their subordinates. But that doesn’t take away the pain of losing his father-figure.

When the time travel stuff happens, the Rulers trying to save the Earth, he sees his other self and wants to spare him the same pain. And perhaps give himself a chance to rest, to erase this version of himself and replace it with one who hasn’t known the same loss.

And so, he keeps trying to give his powers to these other versions of himself, but it’s a delicate balance, trying to give a human so much power. If he takes too long, young Jin-Woo won’t get the full power up before the Monarchs arrive and die that way. But if he gives him the power too fast, it will...probably disintegrate him. That seems to be what happened to Il-Hwan, too much of the Ruler’s power at once.

Also, maybe sometimes young Jin-Woo just gets killed before he can fully inherit the Shadow Monarch’s powers. With all those dangerous dungeons he goes on and maybe even acquiring the ire of Hwang Dong-Su before he’s leveled up enough. There are a lot of factors that could get him killed.

But over the resets, SM Jin-Woo figures out a game plan for how to level him up, creating those fake dungeons for him to train in. And at least in the fake dungeons, he’d be able to stop any of those created monsters from killing young Jin-Woo if something went wrong.

And you know, once the two Jin-Woo’s meet, that speech will be a lot more literal. The ‘I am you and You are me’ and ‘I’m the record of your struggles’ thing. Much more literal. [I don’t remember the exact wording of that speech, but that was the gist of it.]

After that, I think things would happen pretty similar to canon. Young Jin-Woo becomes the new Shadow Monarch, fights Antares, goes back in time, defeats the Monarchs. But perhaps this time, the Rulers would be more involved in his life when everything is said and done. Because in this case, the “Ashborn” they had known was just an older Jin-Woo. Now, they want to get to know this younger Jin-Woo, without all the bad history between them.

This Jin-Woo is more objective than his other self, having never met the Absolute Being, so he doesn’t feel the same sense of betrayal from the Rulers killing the Absolute Being. He knows the guy needed to die, if there was ever going to be an end to the fighting.

He’s not sure what to think of the Rulers, since they’re attached to a version of him that’s...not quite him. They get surprised by what he does sometimes while other actions are completely inline with what they’d expect. It makes for a rather unique getting to know you experience.

I imagine he’d really start to warm up to them once the Rulers started to interact with his human family. Maybe they have an attitude of any family of Jin-Woo’s is a family of theirs. So, they treat Jin-Woo’s family well, not even doing it to endear themselves to Jin-Woo, which makes it that more effective.

Perhaps he and Jin-Ah would start to see the Rulers as Aunts and Uncles. They could show Jin-Woo how to use more of his abilities and to grant his human family longer life. And they’d all fight to babysit when Jin-Woo or Jin-Ah has kids.

And they all live happily ever after. Because I like happy endings.

[lemonandpeachess]

Small Moments

Pairing: Wrecker x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:2,220

Summary: You and the squad have a little bit of downtime before completing a job from Cid. This time allow you to think ahead for the future of the squad, and of Omega. 

AN: I hope you all enjoy! This is my first bit of writing in a long time so we’re keeping it pretty simple. xx

Gif credits to the owner <3 

The noise was no stranger to you, the deep and seemingly endless drumming above your head. An icy coolness slips into your skin underneath your clothes, your eyes slipping shut at the sensation. While for the most part you enjoy your time on the ship with your crew and it feels just as much of a home as you could ask for, it did have its drawbacks. The closest thing to a simple rainfall you got to experience while cruising through space were meteor showers, and landing in the middle of one of those was not the most relaxing experience. You feel a small, hand wrap itself into your own, giving it a small squeeze. Your eyes cast down and you smile at the sweet brown eyes peering up at you from beneath wet, blonde curls. Omega has her hood over her head, holding down the side with her opposite hand against the wind.

“I sort of missed the rain (y/n).” She says, looking up at the sky and smiling, the raindrops sprinkling down on the two of you. You lift your head back up, sticking out your tongue. Omega looks at you, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Catching raindrops. You can do it with snowflakes too. We used to do it on my home planet when I was small.” The tiny clone follows your actions, laughing as she lets go of your hand and makes a show of running around you, catching the water droplets from above.

You were thankful that for both the sake of you and the squad, and for Omega herself, that she had taken the business of being a part of the team so seriously. The young one dove into everything that was ever handed to her, from Hunter’s hand to hand combat routines, to Tech and Echo’s near constant technological learning. She was a fighter, and a determined one at that.

Your heart was heavy at times however, thinking about how she was still a child. She should be able to enjoy the things children enjoy. The sweet, small things that with adulthood and the burdens of growing up, we all tended to forget and appreciate. You took it upon yourself to make your training for Omega to be how enjoy things she could not before, to make her feel like she wasn’t restricted, or stripped of her curiosity. You encouraged it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my data shows that the atmosphere on this planet coupled with the local vegetation means excessive consumption of precipitation could lead to harmful side effects.” Tech says as he walks past, guiding his scanner around you as he too gets off the ship. You purse your lips and look down at your small companion once more, chuckling.

“Bit of rain won’t hurt you.” Hunter says as he comes up behind the two of you, handing Omega her small backpack you had found for her at a market during your last job for Cid. You wanted her to have something of her own and found some amenities to put in it as well. Some new fresh clothes, and a small toolkit among other things, including her beloved clone trooper doll. “We should get inside though. Cid said we can stay at her camp here before we continue to the other side of the planet for the exchange tomorrow. We can’t proceed until late morning at least. Best to get some rest while we can.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice Sarge.” Wrecker yells from the belly of the ship. You hear his footsteps as he barrels down the gangway and feel him join you both. He grabs your own pack from your shoulder and puts it over his own, its size shrinking against his broad form. “You and the kid take your time, beautiful. I can take our stuff inside.”

“Wreck I can take that, it’s just a few things.” You laugh, grabbing for your pack. He dodges your efforts and keeps walking forward, turning to wink at you as he follows his brothers. You huff out another laugh and lead Omega towards the cleared path in the forest. “Well, I guess I’ll just escort you then my lady. I’ll get you settled in in Hunter’s room before I join them so we can go over the mission details for tomorrow.”

“Can’t I be there? I want to know what’s going on tomorrow too!” Omega asks, her shoulders slumping down a moment under her cloak. You squeeze her hand and nod.

“Alright Omega, you can come with me. We’ll drop your pack off and then find our way. Just be weary. I’m not sure what kind of mission this will be or what Hunter’s plans for you are. This may be one you need to sit out, for all I know the both of us might be sticking behind. You’re a part of the squad so I see no issue of you being there. Just be ready to play the part Hunter and the others have planned.” You tell her. Thankfully, Hunter had begun to allow her a little more freedom with her involvement in missions. There were still runs Cid sent you on however that weren’t worth the risk.

“I promise I will!” She says, saluting you. You look ahead as a clearing broke out of the path and you see a glassed-in observatory style station come into view. It looked like a two-story home, perfectly rectangular in shape. The walls were made completely of glass, save for the metal framing around the edges and planforms, holding the building above the ground. You imagined the views of the forest were breathtaking from inside. You had to give it to her, Cid had taste. 

“(y/n)? Can I ask just one question before we go in?”

“Go on Omega, I’m listening.” You answer, still looking towards your quarters for the night.

“What are snowflakes?” ***** You sigh as you enter the code to your keypad Wrecker directly behind you as you all retired to your rooms after the mission briefing. Omega left in happy spirits with Hunter as he had a part for her to play in this mission, the situation being a simple drop-off of supplies with payment, nothing too messy. Since Omega had paid off all your debt with Cid, you were able to stick to more low-profile jobs while you figured out a new plan regarding Omega’s safety and the unsettling end of the war.

“The kid seemed happy that she has a job to do with us. I like when she’s able to come out in the field with us.” Wrecker says, starting to take off his uniform. You cross your arms over your chest, still a little chilled from the rain as you look out. You were right before, as the whole building, including your room, was surrounded by windows. Thick, one-way, bulletproof windows, as Tech made sure to point out, given who owned it. It really was a beautiful sight.

The view made it easy to look out into the forest, the leaves on the branches, bright from the rain and crisp air. The foliage swayed back and forth with the wind, creating the most soothing hushing sound, mother natures lullaby. Accompanied of course by what had to be some type of owls, their deep calls coming from their nests in the surrounding trees. Open space had a soothing effect to most. It’s infinite darkness with specks of light, but to you, it was far too quiet. No outside noises penetrated the thick hull of the Havoc Marauder, only the synthetic beeps and whirs of the engines going off in the night could soothe you in the deafening moments.

“I know that ain’t true, you smacked me in the face with your pillow the other night cause you said I was snorin’ too loudly.” Wrecker points out, lifting his chest piece over his head, his upper body now free of the extra weight. You hadn’t realized that you were thinking out loud, though you often did it around Wrecker. He was your partner, for a couple years now. Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Echo you trusted with your life. With Wrecker, you trusted him with your life and your heart. You take his chest piece from his hand and set it in the trunk he had carried in along with your bag. “

That is different!” You laugh, coming back to take the final pieces of his suit, leaving him just in his black thermal set. You lay the final piece into the trunk and sit on a chair that faces the windows. “This place reminds me of things I love. The birds, the trees, the smell of the rain. You can’t find that in space big guy. I’m glad we’re able to take Omega with us to these different planets and worlds. It’s important she knows about the world and everything in it. Good and bad. I just try my bests to let her see the good to remember during those bad times. She’s going to have to fight for a lot in her life, an unfair amount…”

“Hey, listen-“You feel Wrecker stand behind you, putting one hand on your shoulder and gesturing for your other one. You put your hand in his and bring the warm top side of his to your lips, kissing it gently. His hands dwarfed your own, as he did most parts of you. You were always safe when you were with him, and you knew if he wasn’t near, it wouldn’t take much to have him barreling towards you at any moment when you needed him. “We’re gonna look after Omega. We made it this far, I’ll stand in front of anyone that tries to hurt her… Or take her away.”

“I know you would Wreck, we all would. She just adores and admires you all.” You say, his fingers grazing your cheek as you speak. You were honest too. If your run in with the bounty hunters wasn’t enough, you knew in your heart that child was probably the most protected thing in the galaxy.

“She likes you a lot too ya know. She tells me all the time.”

“Does she?” You smile to yourself. The word ‘love’ was seldom used around the ship, usually only regarding Mantell mix by a select few. The feeling was always present of course, the brothers all loved each other, and as the time went on, it extended to both yourself and Omega as well. Wrecker had told you after he told you he loved you for the first time in your relationship, that it was the first time he had said it to someone in such a way.

“She does. She thinks your beautiful, and smart and kind. I like her, she’s a smart kid.” Wrecker lets go of your hand and comes around to the front of your chair. You barely have a moment to look up before he picks you up into his arms like you were nothing, carrying you to the plush bed that was made up in the middle of the room. He sets you down gently and crawls into bed with you. 

“Cause I think you’re beautiful, kind, and smart too.”

You laugh and prop yourself up a little more as Wrecker settles beside you, who is also sitting up to look at you. You extend your hand and cradle his face in your hand, your thumb brushing along his cheekbone. Before you can reply you feel a yawn manifest in your throat before it escapes, your hand covering your mouth as you try and keep your gaze on your favourite trooper.

“Am I that boring?” He chuckles. You swing your legs back over the edge of the bed, starting to unhook your boots. Wrecker gets up from the bed again and walks to your pack, grabbing your sleep pants from it.

“No Wreck of course not. I’m sorry, I just feel really tired suddenly.” You reply, pulling off your boots and setting them beside the bed, keeping them close just in case. You feel his hands slip under your shirt and you let him lift the fabric from your body, leaving you in just a worn sports bra. As you wiggle out of your tactical pants, he hands you the black sweatpants and you slip them on, relishing in the feel of the soft fabric. You never seem to realize how tired your body is until you properly stop for a moment.

“It’s okay baby, it’s been a while since we had a break. Even when we do, you’re always doing something for us, or for Omega.” He says, joining you in bed again. You lay back on his chest, relaxing into him as you look out the array of windows and out into the wilderness around you. You wished you had time to explore more, and to enjoy your time there, but you could already feel sleep tugging you down, not being helped by Wrecker’s fingers grazing up and down you arm.

“I know- but I still wish we had some extra time. We haven’t had a lot of time together either, just the two of us. I’m sorry I’m wasting it.” You sigh, fingers dancing over his chest.

“Don’t worry (y/n).”  Wrecker takes his arm around you and rolls you onto his chest, almost laying you almost on top of him, kissing that spot on your neck that makes your heart thrum. “There’s always the morning. You know how much I like breakfast.”

[kingofkingdom-archive]

1979

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (Read part 2 HERE)

Rating: T (Teen) - part 2 will be E

Summary: The year is 1979. You need a ride to anywhere that’s far away from where you are. When a handsome stranger in a rustbucket pickup gives you that ride, neither of you could predict any of the events that follow.

Warnings: Smoking (and lots of it), mild violence (a punch is thrown), brief harassment of reader, food, mention of a gun (one is encountered but not used), mention of homelessness, brief mention/description of war (Vietnam), child abandonment, mention of abusive/dangerous father figure, passing mention of serial killers, vague description of non-specific events leading up to reader resorting to hitchhiking, very meta mention of a certain beloved space opera

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: Whew! This one has been in the shop for a LONG while. Originally I meant for this to be a single work, but I’ve hit a bit of a slump with the last bit. I decided to post this to see how y’all feel about it! The second part will be much longer :) Also: I know there has been some discourse recently about Din’s characterization in certain fics, so I hope this does him justice for you! I’m always open to comments, and like I said I’m very interested in hearing what you think! As per usual, no use of Y/N and please heed the tags/warnings.

8:47

You lean against the streetlight, glancing down at your watch and then back up to the motel across the street. You told yourself you'd wait until 8:30 and then you'd go back and reserve a room for another night. As you watch the second hand wind its way around the small, plain face of your 2-dollar timepiece, you've convinced yourself that maybe staying out until 9 is the ticket.

Your ticket, out of this shithole town.

The summer air is hot and thick around you. It's especially unbearable both between your legs and at the band of your bra, the elastic stretched around your middle doing its best to make you feel as sweaty and uncomfortable as possible. At least you're wearing your cutoffs, giving your legs the chance to breathe. You've also got a loose tank on, which flutters in the sticky wind as cars pass you by.

8:51

Your thumb has been stuck out for passerby to see for the past three days. No one has picked you up. You suppose you should be more wary of taking lifts from complete strangers with all the murder and kidnapping that's been in the news recently, but you're more than a little headstrong with a dash of stupid to go along. That's what your mother always told you, anyway.

Some Cadillac speeds past you, blaring what you think is a Donna Summer song, and you watch as the music and taillights fade into the night.

You shouldn't be surprised, you figure, as the minutes continue to tick on by. There's a gas shortage, you reason with yourself as you bend down to pick up your bag, thumb still stuck out, elbow resting on your waist. People don't do this anymore. Afraid of getting picked up by a pervert or a killer. Afraid of picking one up, and then a streetlight just like the one you're under is the last thing they see.

8:58

You sigh, ready to head in for the night. Marvin, dude who sits at the motel's front desk, is sure to give you shit about it again.

You're preparing to cross the street when you hear the low growl of a pickup truck approach. Not looking to get creamed by some fuckin' rusted-out GMC, you step back onto the curb where you'd been posted.

Except the truck slows up, and the window rolls down as it crawls to a stop in front of you.

Your heart races. Finally.

You walk up to the passenger side window and look in, expecting some fat old putz looking to get some tail in exchange for a ride.

That's not what you see.

"Need a lift, young lady?"

The truck's driver is older than you, sure, but you were wrong about pretty much everything else. He's got short dark hair and a 'stache, with some stubble across his chin. He's wearing a leather jacket over a plain gray tee, with a pair of sunglasses hung on the collar. One hand is on the wheel while the other is laid across the back of the bench seat, a cigarette perched in between his first two fingers.

You lean forward on your tiptoes as best you can, forearms resting on the door's open window. Pretending to survey the interior, you look around and take the opportunity to check the man out. God, you think. I wouldn't mind giving him whatever he wants in exchange for this ride. Maybe another kinda ride. Ha!

"As it turns out, I do. You offering?"

You rest your chin on your arms and give him the sweetest smile you can muster. The man eyes you up and takes a drag from his cigarette. You watch with rapt attention as he inhales deeply and then exhales the smoke out through his nose.

This guy's got you all hot and bothered and you haven't even gotten in the truck.

He gestures with his hand. "Come on, kid. I gotta make the state line by midnight."

You definitely like the sound of that. Eager and supremely stoked to finally have a way out of this dump, you pull on the handle, jump in, and swing the door closed behind you. Your backpack finds its place between your feet, and the stranger starts driving again as you pull your seatbelt across your shoulders.

"Where're you headed?" the man asks, glancing over to you and then looking back at the road. The asphalt seems to stretch into infinity, flanked by trees and fields and the occasional watering hole.

"Away from here," you chuckle as you fidget with your fingers. Black nail polish decorates your trimmed nails. It's chipped and uneven in some spots; you never were great at painting your nails, especially your right hand.

"I got that," the man drawls, voice deep and smooth like honey. "Any particular destination in mind?"

You shrug. To be honest, you hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. Your first and only priority was a way out, and anything after that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

"Nope. Just as far as you're willing to take me."

The guy nods and takes a drag. The smell of cigarettes never bothered you like it does some other people; you find it relaxing, calming, especially when it's fresh and all-consuming like it is in this guy's truck. The vehicle itself is old, maybe 10 or 15 years, and a glance into the bed behind you tells you he's traveling with a couple boxes and nothing more.

It's certainly not state-of-the-art, but that's all the better for staying under the radar.

The silence looms over you like a cloud. The stranger seems content to just listen to the engine and the tires on the road, but you're prone to fill silences unprompted.

"What's your name?" you ask, and look over at him. He glances at you and raises a brow.

He clears his throat, eyes moving back to the road. "You can call me Mando."

"Mando?" you retort before you can stop yourself. "What kinda bogus name is that? Like, what... you got a thing for mandolins or some shit?"

The man huffs. "It is what is, kid. Get used to it."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Alright, alright... Mando."

He doesn't try to continue the conversation, so you don't either. Minutes pass, and then hours, and you find yourself drifting off not too long after the clock reads 10:00. You shake yourself awake, wanting to stave off sleep until he pulls over to rest for the night.

But the engine is like a lullaby, the soft swaying of the truck a gentle rocking motion, and your eyes fall closed despite your best efforts.

When you wake up again, the truck is no longer moving, and the clock reads 12:30. 

You must have been woken up by Mando putting the truck into park. The darkness outside does not give any clues as to where you are, but as your eyes adjust you can just make out some picnic tables, garbage cans, and signs.

A rest area. Makes sense.

Mando is fumbling with something beside you. It's a map, you realize when you look over.

"Where are we?" you ask with a yawn.

"Just over the border. Made it a bit later than I would've liked, but that's not a big deal. You can sleep here in the cab. I'll take the bed, since I sleep there anyway."

You nod, though you find it odd the way he's... not asking you for anything. He hasn't mentioned payment, monetary or otherwise. You watch as he folds the map back up, and catch his gaze as he stashes it in the glove box.

"I gotta repay you somehow, mister," you mutter. "For how nice you're bein' to me. 'Specially since I made fun of your name and all."

At your words, Mando gives you a stern look from under one of his furrowed brows. "No, you don't. Blanket's under the seat. Get some rest."

He turns away, grabs the keys, and is out the door before you can reply.

It's just so unusual for a guy to pick up a girl like you and refuse payment, much less not ask for or take it outright. It's a shame, really. Any other guy, you'd give him what he wanted sure, but with less than enthusiastic participation. The one man to whom you'd gladly deliver anything he asked... and he seems not to want it.

You suppose you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Better a prude than a murderer, that's for sure.

As you reach under the seat for the blanket, your hand brushes against some sort of canvas bag, long and zippered. You lean over to look in at it upside-down, hair brushing against the dusty floor mats.

It's a rifle bag. You reach in to feel at where the barrel would be, and sure enough, there's something distinctly rifle-shaped inside.

Huh. It's not a surprise that a guy like him's traveling armed, but it makes you wonder. A hunter, maybe? Probably. There's a lot of those around.

You spot the blanket and pull it out. It's gray, scratchy wool, but as you pull it over yourself, you find it keeps the nighttime chill away quite well.

-

You wake up to Mando swatting at your feet.

"Time to get up, sunshine. Gotta get going."

His deep voice pierces through the fog of sleep still hanging thick over your mind. You groan and push yourself up onto your elbows, drawing your feet in to give him space to slide into the drivers' seat. 

It's still dark out. You see a hint of light on the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise peeking over hills and fields.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing at your eyes. You're a chronic over-sleeper, so seeing the sunrise is a rarity. It seems Mando has no such problem.

"A bit after six. We'll stop at a diner for something to eat in about an hour. You're welcome to go back to sleep until then." He turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life, a blast of lukewarm air hitting you in the face. 

"No, no. I'm up," you assure him, shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. As you fold it, you look over at the man beside you. He's wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket as yesterday, but the shirt underneath has changed. The sunglasses are still hung on the collar, but now it's some faded band tee from like 8 years ago. 

You set the folded-up blanket on the seat between you and him, watching as he puts the truck into drive and starts off. Before you know it, you're watching the early-morning world pass by outside your window. You kick off your sandals and tuck your feet up under yourself, sitting crosslegged on the seat.

About 15 minutes later, you've grown tired of watching farmhouses and cornfields fly by in the dark.

"So, uh..." you start, not really knowing where you intend to finish your sentence, "you like music?"

Stupid. That was stupid.

Mando chuckles. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" you reply, hopeful that he might have more to say.

"Yes. I do like music."

You roll your eyes. "What kind of music? Jazz? Opera? Country-western? Who's your favorite artist? Got any favorite records?"

He glances over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I figure if I'm gonna be traveling with you for a good while, I might as well know a bit about you. And vice versa."

Mando just hums. 

"I'll tell you mine, then," you inform him, grinning widely now. "My favorite record right now is Parallel Lines. By Blondie, you know? I really like them. This time last year I woulda told you my favorite album was something by Wire or the Sex Pistols - I was real into punk, if you know anything about it. Now I'm more into poppy stuff. I just think it's fun, to be honest."

You continue to ramble to Mando well into the drive. The sky grows lighter and the road grows more crowded, but he does not stop you. At the end of a tangent about Bowie, you turn to look at him, and he's sitting there like you haven't just talked his ear off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sorry. I jus-"

"Don't apologize. It's... I don't mind," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the sandal-shaped marks on the tops of your feet. "Don't you have any particular songs you like?"

Mando's quiet for a minute. You wait, looking up out the window. The sky is a pale pink and blue, with a hint of orange off to the east. A field of cows comes up on your left - your eyes track them as they pass by, wondering what it's like to pet one.

You bet they're soft. Soft and cuddly and so dumb they're cute.

"You have to promise not to laugh." 

The words come as a surprise. You look over to Mando, eyes wide and interested.

"Never. Favorite music is sacred."

He sighs. His grip tightens on the wheel, like sharing even a small part of himself causes him distress.

"Tapestry. Carole King," he says, though the words are quiet and guarded.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting. "Really?" you ask, smiling brightly.

He just nods, though he spares a glance towards you, like he's gauging your reaction. You lean back against the seat, turning towards him more fully.

"I wouldn't have guessed. Color me surprised, Mando. You have good taste." It's true. The album's a classic, though more so with girls your age, not guys who pick up hitchhikers and keep rifles in their trucks. "What do you like about it?"

Mando shifts, bringing his left arm up to rest on the door, elbow propped so his head can rest on his hand. "Not sure. She writes a good song, that's all I know."

You're not satisfied with that answer. You'll get to know Mando, even if it's like pulling teeth. "Bull-shit. Pink Floyd writes a good song. Paul Simon writes a good song. Why her? Why that record? It came out like ten years ago, there's gotta be a reason - a real reason - you still like it."

The drone of the engine and the road is like a soundtrack in itself to the silences that loom heavy before every sentence he speaks. You wonder when the last time he really got to talk to someone was - talk like this, not small conversation with the waiter or grocer. 

You're no psychiatrist, but it doesn't take a genius to spot someone who's been alone for a while.

Mando hums. "I guess I relate to her songs... in a way I didn't expect to when I first heard her music."

You smile at that, pleased as punch that he trusts you with that information. It's like cupping cool water in your hands on a hot summer's day, fleeting and precious. "What's your favorite song on the record?"

He turns his gaze to your for a moment, dark brown eyes staring at your dirty feet and day-old shirt and messy hair. You're not sure what exactly he sees as he takes you in, but you sit there and allow it regardless.

Mando looks back to the road, watching the small town approaching slowly on the horizon. "I Feel the Earth Move."

You nod. "A classic."

He just hums in response, and you expect the truck to fill with silence once again.

Except it doesn't.

Mando reaches out and presses the button to turn on the radio. Blondie's Heart of Glass flows out through the speakers - and you laugh.

-

The glowing neon sign advertising Lindy's Diner, with her promise of pancakes and eggs and bacon and coffee, gets you more excited than you care to admit. Mando pulls into a parking spot along the street, and you're out the door before the wheels have stopped turning.

Admittedly, you do also have to pee. 

You rush into the diner to take care of your business, also using the provided sinks to brush your teeth and the mirror to comb through your hair with your fingers. 

It's not much, but you do feel better. Hopefully tonight you can stay in a motel at least, maybe take a shower.

You exit the restroom and look around the diner. Mando's sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. You head over, tossing your backpack into your side first and sliding in after it.

"I'll be right back," he says, and leaves. You watch him walk over to the men's restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Whatever. Kinda rude. Not like you care, anyway.

You lean back in the booth and take a menu from the stand at the end of the table. The classic breakfast platter is looking particularly tempting, with its hash browns and bacon and eggs-however-you-like. You're contemplating scrambled versus over-easy when you hear a pair of footsteps walk up to your table.

Two strange men stand over you, looking at you like they know exactly how homeless you really are.

"You here alone, baby?" the shorter one asks, putting a grimy hand on the back of your booth, right behind your head. You open your mouth to say no, in fact, I am not, but the other guy speaks for you.

"It looks like you are, honey. Just our luck, a girl like you all on her -"

"Is there a problem?"

Mando's deep voice cuts through whatever it was the creep was planning to say. The low timbre of his voice, normally soft and kind, is uniquely dark - almost menacing - when it hides a threat. 

You slowly cross your legs, hoping no one notices the movement under the table.

The two guys turn, and behind them you see Mando, looking extremely pissed. He puts a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, cig still perched between his fingers, and yanks him away from where he'd been standing in front of Mando's side of the booth.

"Jesus, man! We didn't know you were -"

Mando puts his hands on his hips, eyeing them up like a lion might size up its prey. "What? You didn't know what?"

The guy gulps. "Uh..."

"Come on," Mando taunts, something dark glinting in his eyes. "Don't get nervous on me, now."

"We didn't know you were with her, man. Sorry."

Mando shakes his head. "No. Don't say that to me. Say it to her." He nods hid head towards you, subtly positioning his body in between yours and theirs.

You're frozen in your seat, torn between fear and arousal.

The tall guy glances at you. "Sorry," he mutters. The shorter one's still looking at you funny, though.

Your companion jerks his head towards the door. "It's best you both leave, now." 

You realize the diner's gone quiet, customers and employees alike watching the exchange with bated breath. The taller guy glances around and turns, heading straight for the door. His buddy hesitates, gaze shifting from Mando to you and back again. Eventually he also turns to leave, following the other one out.

Mando slides into his seat, though he won't quite meet your gaze when you look at him. Noise picks up in the diner once again and you let out a shaky breath.

You're about to say something when the two guys pass by the window. The shorter one peers in, works his jaw, and spits on the ground on the other side of the window from you. You see him mouth the word 'bitch!'.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Mando to try and joke about it, attempting to brush off the uncomfortable encounter. But he's not there, and you realize belatedly that he's now storming outside.

Mouth agape, you watch as Mando stalks up to the short guy. Jesus, you think, if looks could kill... 

The creep whirls around, throwing a fist at Mando before he even gets a good look at him. Mando dodges it easily with a step back, looking simultaneously murderous and annoyed. He winds his arm back and sends his fist flying at the creep's face. The guy stumbles and falls, clutching at what is now a bloody and broken nose, landing on his back on the sidewalk. His friend has long run off.

Mando puts a boot on the guy's sternum, pressing down so he can't get up no matter how much he struggles.

You see him lean down, elbow on his knee, and say something. The guy's eyes widen and he nods frantically. Mando then removes his foot and, without sparing the guy a second glance, re-enters the diner.

He slides into the booth again and takes the menu from you. There's blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but he makes no move to wipe it off. He flips through the pages as if nothing happened. You stare at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter, voice soft and wavering. 

Without looking from the menu, he responds. "Yes, I did."

"But, you coulda just... just let him go..."

"I could have," he replies, and turns a page. "But I didn't."

"But -"

For the first time since you both entered the diner, he looks up at you, and you're taken aback the intensity of his eyes. "He deserved worse, kid. Far worse."

He sounds so sure of it that you can't bring yourself to say otherwise. You sigh and clasp your hands together on the table, unsure of where to go from here. 

Just then, the waitress comes up to your table, notepad and pen in hand.

"You two know what ya want?" she asks as Mando puts the menu back in its place.

He gestures for you to go first.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the classic platter with scrambled eggs and white toast. And black coffee, please."

The woman nods, writing your order on her pad. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the blueberry flapjacks, please. And coffee, black, for me as well."

The waitress nods and turns away. As you watch her push through the silver kitchen door, you realize that maybe you should be grateful for the way things went. That they didn't get uglier.

That Mando was there at all.

"Thank you," you say softly, doing your best to convey your sincerity to the man sitting across from you.

He simply nods, observing you with a look you can't quite place.

-

After breakfast, the two of you set off down the highway again. Fleetwood Mac flows out through the speakers and you don't expect to stop until after noon, when Mando will have to refuel (both the truck and your stomachs). Until then you kick off your shoes and put your feet up on the dash, window cracked about an inch so the summer wind can flow through your hair.

Despite the rocky start to the morning, the hours pass by easily, weightlessly. Sometimes you talk with Mando, other times you simply sit and watch the world pass by. You don't think you've ever seen this much land in one go, and it thrills you. The idea that there's so much more. 

The topics vary from your time in school to movies to the truck. You're surprised to find out that Mando's never seen Star Wars, a fact nearly unheard of to you. You promise yourself that you'll make him watch it sometime, somehow.

Lunch passes without incident; you insist on paying for your ham and cheese sandwich, because Mando had covered breakfast before you could protest. It hits the spot, along with your ice-cold Coke from the little market's freezer. There's a line to get gas, as there is everywhere, but luckily it isn't too long, since you're in the middle of nowhere. Mando won't be able to fill the truck up again for a few days, meaning you'll have to stop for the night earlier tonight than you did yesterday.

You do find something interesting at the market and you decide to shell out the money for it because it intrigues you. A new style of Kodamatic camera, complete with a pack of instant film - 12 potential photos.

In your mind you see pictures of mountains, and the truck, and Mando, and you stuff the camera in your bag before your mind can wander any further down that road.

You have to admit - traveling with someone who you know can protect you if the need arises is comforting in a way that almost makes you nervous. You keep telling yourself not to get used to it, that this is just a temporary situation for as long as he sees fit to keep you around. After he decides he's had enough, he'll leave you, and you'll be on your own again. You can't get too dependent on him.

Nighttime arrives much too quickly. The sun has just dipped below the horizon when you drive into another small town, not much more than a stoplight and a few bars. You get lucky, though, because the unmistakable neon of a motel glows just ahead.

"Thank god," you groan as Mando pulls into the parking lot. "I need a shower so goddamned bad."

Mando chuckles. His arm rests with his hand out the window, flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette out onto the pavement. The orange glow at the end of it brightens as he takes a drag, and you tear your eyes away from his lips before he can catch you staring.

That's another problem. He's every inch as attractive to you now as he was before, except now you know he's nice. The mustache and the dark curls and the broad expanse of his chest are all only made hotter by the knowledge that he likes Carole King and Elton John (he knew all the words to Tiny Dancer) and blueberry pancakes.

Plus there was that whole punching a guy to defend your honor business.

The guy at the motel's front desk reminds you of Marvin. Greasy blond hair and acne on a kid not much younger than you. You give him a disgusted look when he eyes you up, but he cuts it out when Mando walks in behind you. It gives you a small sense of satisfaction to see him so meek before your companion.

"We need a double for the night," Mando drawls, counting cash on the counter, cig perched between his lips. The sign advertised a night's stay for $22. You'd tried to pay Mando your share, but he'd refused your money.

The kid shakes his head. "Only got singles available."

Mando raises his brows. "Really."

The kid, whose name is Matt according to his name tag, nods. It takes Mando a moment to think on it, and then he looks to you.

You shrug. "I'm fine with it if you are, Mando."

He nods once and pays for the room. 12. You take the key and head over to get a head start on your shower while Mando parks the truck and gets his stuff.

The hot water feels divine. Even the towel feels great, because as threadbare and shitty as it is, it's clean and warm from sitting under the vent. You finish up in the bathroom and emerge in a pair of old track shorts and a loose-fitting tee.

Mando's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His jacket's draped across the table and he's kicked off his boots, so he sits with the remote in hand, barefoot. It's the most casual you've seen him thus far, and it makes your heart race.

"Shower's all yours," you tell him.

Mando looks at you from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what he's thinking at any given moment, so you fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you. 

A thought blooms unbidden in your chest. I wish I could kiss him.

You blink, taken aback at the sudden, intense nature of your desire to feel his lips against your own. Not knowing what else to do, you cross your arms and turn to the TV. Bonanza is on.

"Seen this episode before?" you ask. It's an old show, but you still like it.

Mando nods, humming. "Used to watch these every week, right when they came out. Only the first few seasons, though."

"Why'd you stop?"

He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the ground. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes hide something pained.

"I got drafted."

Oh. "Oh. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," he says and gets up, brushing past you to enter the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

You walk over to sit on the other side of the bed from where he was. Drafted. Jesus. You feel bad for bringing it up, even if it was unintentional. The TV plays though you aren't watching, mind wandering to thoughts of Mando in Vietnam. You picture him in the jungle or in a helicopter, the deafening noise of artillery and gunfire filling the air around him.

Maybe that's where he got the nickname. It certainly explains the rifle.

You reach over for the remote and shut off the TV. The clock on the wall reads about 8:00, still early for you, but you tuck yourself under the sheets and blanket regardless. You face the door, away from where Mando will sleep.

Just as you're drifting off, the lamp on the bedside table clicks off. You feel the weight of Mando crawling in beside you, and he too curls up on his side, back turned.

You fall asleep hoping he's not too upset with you.

The next thing you know, you're awake, though the world is still dark outside. Behind you, Mando snores softly, warm breath fanning out across your neck.

Wait.

You blink a few times and realize the two of you must have shifted in the night. Mando's body is pressed right against yours, chest to your back, arm draped over your middle and hand tucked under your chin. Your legs are intertwined and against the back of your thigh you feel -

You feel him.

Sleep is a powerful drug, however, and the realization is not enough to make you move. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you think maybe this isn't so bad. Your tired brain convinces you to revel in it, to enjoy this position you've found yourself in. Before you can second guess that reasoning, you drift off.

And then you're awake again. 

This time it's thanks to a rush of cold wind in your face. You reach back to feel for Mando, but the warm pillow tells you he's not there. You open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at something. It's still dark out, but the lights of the motel parking lot put him in silhouette before you.

"What is it?" You lean up on your elbow to get a better look. The nighttime air is cool on your face, smelling faintly of gasoline and rain.

He bends down and picks up whatever it is that's in front of him. You watch as he turns to look left, then right, seemingly in search of something. He turns around and you see what he's holding.

It's a baby's carrycot.

You immediately sit up, heart racing. "Is it -?" you whisper.

Mando nods, closing the door behind him. You get out of bed and rush over to stand next to him, peering into the carrier.

Sure enough, there's a baby asleep inside. It looks to be a boy, about a year old. You bring a hand up to your mouth.

"Why - who would - what?"

Mando shakes his head, staring at the little guy. "I don't know. I heard a knock at the door and there he was - no sign of anyone else."

"We should - what do we do, Mando?"

He brings the carrier over to rest on the table beside his jacket. The boy is out cold - his little hands grip the blue knitted blanket and his mouth is just barely open. He's got dark hair, wispy and soft atop his head. As you observe the sleeping child, you notice the corner of a small piece of paper tucked in between the blanket and the cradle. You reach out and grasp it between your thumb and forefinger, unfolding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Mando whispers. Your voices are low so as to not disturb the child.

"Grogu. Please take him far from here," you read, and feel your blood run cold as the note goes on. "Not safe in this area. His father is dangerous."

It's scrawled in blue ink on half a sheet of lined notebook paper, the fringe from being torn still attached. Your hands shake as it hits you - there's some mother out there so scared for her son that she left him in the care of strangers. That there's a man out there who legitimately threatens this boy's life.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, rage and sadness simmering in your chest.

"We have to, Mando." Your words are shaky but certain. The man beside you rests a hand on the carrycot, still looking at the sleeping child within.

You turn your eyes to him. He nods, solemn.

"Let's let him rest. We'll leave in the morning, get as far west as we can. Might even be able to make Texas if we leave early enough. We can figure it out from there."

His other hand brushes against your back, and then he's drawing you into his chest. The embrace is soft, unhurried, and you lean your head against his shoulder, hands tucked against his chest. Letting your eyes slip closed, you think back on the previous day, how you never could have predicted this turn of events. How you've never felt so uncertain of things, even when you'd lost everything.

Together you return to bed, but neither of you gets much sleep.