#you know? those good credit songs that just capture the heart of the story and you're like yeah that's what this is about

[prosebushpatch]

See since I can’t draw, a specific type of montage i imagine for ocs and fav songs are actually like, I find a song and instantly think “oh this will be a great ending credits song for this novel that is not yet written and will probs not ever be a film” and then I think nonstop of a clips of my characters living their happily ever after beside scrolling text. Anyway shout out to the dentist for reminding me that come to me by the goo goo dolls exists im totally going to be normal about blorbos from my brain for a while

#rose and rambles #spoiler alert! by normal she means she's crying as she imagines her characters dancing around with each other after #going through such an Ordeal that the very fabric of their lives and their selves have been irrevocably altered #BUT IT'S OKAY BECAUSE they are with their sweetest friend and they're going to start again AND JUST LET ME HAVE THIS #frick #it's just too good #listen i'm always so terrified at the dentist and im like gripping my arm as they clean my teeth #and then i hear the chorus over the terrible sounds of dentist tools and im just like 🥺 omg... it's just like my blorbos.... #i also imagine trailers for my stories but this one is peak credit song material #like the most feel good moment at the end of a movie #you know? those good credit songs that just capture the heart of the story and you're like yeah that's what this is about #real talk one of my fav credit songs of all time is something i want at the end of tangled like that's so bouncy and vibrant #leaves you dancing after a heartfelt movie? that's the stuff #and sticks and stones at the end of how to train your dragon that leaves you with a pure sense of awe and wonder? #fantastic

[pinchofhoney]

Hi!! How are you doing? I wanted to send in a request for your celebration, please!! But first, congratulations for this milestone!! Ot's amazing!! 🥳 I would like to make a fluffy request for Ben Barnes with prompt n°2 in the fluff list (the one with the playlist). I don't have a plot or anything of the kind, but as we know how important music is for Ben, and that he often makes playlists (for his roles for example), I thought it would suit him. I hope you feel inspired by this idea. I hope you have a nice day, and congratulations again!!! 💕

if only my heart had a voice # 200 follower special event

» prompt event » special events masterlist

fluff prompt two: “make me a playlist sometime, will you?”

credits to ben barnes and his 2021 instagram story

ben barnes x reader

word count: 1.5k

warning: none, just another fluff, no use of y/n

summary: Music has the power to tap into our memories and stir up deep-seated emotions. And the beauty of it is that each time we hear a song, it can bring back those same memories and feelings as vividly as the first time we experienced them.

a/n: hello<33 i'm great, thank you! i hope you're doing great too and the upcoming weekend will be the good one!! thank you for your request, i hope you will be satisfied enough with what i have prepared and that the level of sweetness is just right for a fluff queen<3 and if not, i hope the video i found will melt your heart so much that what i wrote will no longer matter

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @myladydarkling @alexxavicry

The chilly evening had settled in, with the frosty breath of winter creeping in through every nook and cranny of the cozy house. You sat perched on the soft leather stool at your boyfriend's grand piano, your fingers tentatively hovering over the ivory keys. You were wrapped in a fluffy, knitted blanket that had been lovingly crafted by your mother, with its comforting weight enveloping you with warmth.

The fire in the nearby hearth crackled and sputtered, throwing sparks and shadows onto the walls of the room. The flickering flames illuminated the piano in a warm and inviting glow, casting dancing shadows across the polished wood of the instrument.

The room was filled with a plenty of comforting details. Starting with soft and cozy throw rug, which was spread out in front of the fireplace, inviting you to curl up on it and bask in the warmth of the fire, a nearby shelf stacked with an assortment of books and ending with a collection of photographs from your travels with Ben, adorning the walls with captured cherishing memories and moments frozen in time.

But your attention was focused on the piano, and the notes that Ben had taught you the previous night. With a deep breath, you began to play, trying not to make any mistakes and the sound of the piano filled the room and bring a sense of comfort and peace.

The keys felt cool and smooth beneath your fingertips, the weight of each note echoing through the room. Unfortunately, you weren't as skilled at playing the piano as you had hoped to be. Every now and then, your fingers would stumble over the keys, causing you to furrow your brow in frustration. Your perfectionist nature demanded immediate success, but the intricacies of the music proved to be a challenge, especially for a person like you who had never really been in touch with the piano.

You let out a defeated sigh, feeling overwhelmed and discouraged. But just as you were about to give up, you heard the sound of Ben's footsteps approaching. He entered the living room, carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, the rich aroma of cocoa and marshmallows filling the air.

“Hey there,” he said with a warm smile, placing the mugs on a small table nearby. He sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “How's the practicing going?”

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, shaking your head in mild embarrassment. “Don't act as if you haven't heard that sound of failure,” you said, feeling a sense of comfort as you leaned into his embrace.

Ben responded with a soft laughter, his arms tightening around you. “Don't be so hard on yourself, love,” he reassured you. “Learning to play an instrument takes time and practice. You're doing great, and you'll get there.”

You let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of impatience with your progress. “But I want to be there now,” you muttered, poking out your lower lip in frustration.

“Has anyone ever told you before that you're impatient?” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You've only been playing for a week, my dear. Give yourself some time.”

You couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone, feeling a sense of warmth spread through your body. Ben always had a way of making you feel better, even when you were feeling frustrated or down.

“Maybe I would have been better at it if my teacher wasn't so distracting,” you teased playfully, poking his side.

“Excuse me?” Ben's eyes widened in mock surprise. “Now it's my fault?” he asked in a playful tone, his lips curling up into a smile.

A sense of warmth enveloped you as you lifted your head to kiss Ben's jawbone, which was easily within reach from the way you were seated. There was something about being with him that made even the simplest of moments feel special. It was as if the world around you melted away, leaving just the two of you in a warm, cozy bubble.

After a peaceful moment of silence, with only the sounds of the fireplace crackling in the background, Ben asked with a smile, “Would you like to hear me play something?”

“Anything you like,” you replied, feeling the tender weight of his kiss on your head before he moved his hand away to make him more comfortable to play.

You scooted back a bit, tucking the blanket more tightly around you as though the room had suddenly grown colder without his closeness.

“Well?” Ben prompted, fingers poised above the keys.

You shrugged, unable to hide the grin on your face. You knew that anything he played would sound beautiful to you, and you savored each and every note that he brought to life on the piano. “Maybe something that reminds you of?”

Ben's eyes crinkled at the corners as he considered your request, his fingers dancing over the keys. Slowly, a familiar melody filled the room, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and let the music wash over you. It was the same song that had been playing on the radio during your first date, and the memories it brought back made you smile.

The notes seemed to transport you to another world, easing your worries and soothing your soul. The warmth of the room, the soft embrace of the blanket, and the gentle light from the flickering hearth cocooned you in a peaceful bubble.

After a moment, you opened your eyes and looked over at Ben. His eyes were closed, and he was completely lost in the music. The way his fingers moved effortlessly over the keys created a beautiful symphony, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration and love for him. You noticed the way the firelight danced across his face, highlighting the features that you loved so much, and you felt grateful to be sharing this moment with him. There was no place you wanted to be more than here. With Ben.

As the melody came to an end, you let out a soft sigh, feeling as if you had just woken up from a beautiful dream. You looked back at Ben and saw that he was looking at you, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. “I love you,” you said what the first thing that popped into your head.

A small smile formed on Ben's lips as he heard your words. He reached out and took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I love you too, more than anything in this world,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. You leaned in to give him a soft kiss, feeling more in love with him than ever before. As you snuggled up to him again, you felt a deep sense of joy, knowing that you were the luckiest woman in the world to have him in your life.

As you settled back into the cozy atmosphere, you thought of something that had been on your mind for a while. “Hey, make me a playlist sometime, will you?” you asked, looking up at Ben.

He looked a bit confused, as if he didn't understand why you were asking this all of a sudden. “A playlist?” he repeated.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I don't know why you haven't done it yet. I’d love to have the songs that you associate with me. With us. I think it would be nice to always have them with me.”

A smile spread across Ben's face as he understood your request. “Of course, love,” he said, leaning in to give you a loving kiss on the forehead. “I'll make you the most special playlist you've ever heard.”

You snuggled into him even more, feeling his warmth enveloping you. “You know, there are some songs that always remind me of you,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Like the one we danced to in my trailer when you visited me on the set,” he chuckled as he recollected the moment. “Or that one we listened to on our picnic date while watching the sunset.”

You smiled at the memories that flooded your mind. “Yes, I remember,” you replied, feeling a sense of nostalgia mixed with happiness.

Ben reached for his phone and began scrolling through his music library. “Let's start with this one,” he said, pressing play on a song that you had never heard before. The music that filled the room stirred up emotions within you, and though you didn't recognize the song, it felt as if it was crafted for you and Ben alone. As you listened, you couldn't help but wonder about the other songs that Ben associated with your relationship, those that held a special place in his heart and reminded him of you every time he heard them.

As the night went on, Ben played song after song, each one more beautiful and meaningful than the last. And as you listened, you knew that this playlist would always hold a special place in your heart, a reminder of the love and happiness that you shared with the most important person in your life.

#pinchofhoney's special events #200 followers #200 follower special #200 follower celebration #ben barnes #ben barnes fanfic #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #no use of y/n #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes one shot #ben barnes prompt #ben barnes fluff #fluff #fluff prompt #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone fanfiction

[existentialmagazine]

Review: The indie-pop duo Wotts paint swirling visuals and dance-along vibrancy in their new feel-good single ‘Allo!’

Hailing from Ottawa, Canada, the indie-pop duo Wotts are back once again with their newest single ‘ALLO!’ Heavily inspired by Pond and Djo, and a few other artists of that ilk, this recently released track is one that steers back towards the pair’s synth pop origins while still mixing modern and retro influences.

Right from the start, ‘ALLO!’ declares itself to be a song you hear from your eyes - and yes, you did read that right. Painting swirling visuals of interlacing colours and psychedelic-esque explosions into your eyelids through sound alone, Wotts see their music to be much more than an audio experience alone, utterly transportive in the scene it has to set. From instant exuberant analog synth and sparkling pops, ‘ALLO!’ is a pop of much-needed vibrancy in a world that can often feel bleak, soaring through only the brightest of sounds. As big drum beats and pounding bass twangs add to the depth of the sound, this glowing performance dances through like frolicking through a field on a summer’s day, leaving you feeling nothing but overwhelmingly elated. Soaking their vocals in a distinct vocal effect, Wotts’ deliver lines with an echoey, almost subdued-feeling approach, a little distant in the sound but in a way that only elevates the instrumentals incredible vibe. Things push forward with this constant liveliness, delving into emphatic electric guitar riffs and instrumental fade-outs, layering intimacy into a song otherwise walled off with an outer layer of infectious joy. At just over three minutes in length, ‘ALLO!’ is the kind of release that’s determined to get you on your feet and feeling good, a snapshot of utterly addictive indie-pop and synth layerings combined.

Though some of Wotts’ past releases have covered themes like existentialism and unsaid goodbyes, ‘ALLO!’ takes on a different kind of message and meaning, one intended to be the light in a world often consumed by negativity. Capturing those initial moments of butterflies, silliness and racing hearts in the company of a newfound crush or partner, ‘ALLO!’ is filled with that unfiltered bubbliness we all get when we’re falling hard, finding endorphins rushing and emotions high. As they open with the line ‘she comes and goes’, it makes it quite clear right away that the unfolding love story in ‘ALLO!’ is just in its mere beginnings, always keeping an eye out for her presence and hoping she’ll tag along. Later continuing ‘know that she loves me’, there’s a clear connection between the pair and a thrilling enjoyment of their conjoined feelings, jumping in headfirst without fear. More abstract lines like ‘remix the colours to welcome around her, never judging anything’ simmer in an almost poetical edge, seemingly appreciating her aura over appearance, looking within at her heart and soul to love deeply and sincerely. It can often be hard to find healthy love explored, yet ‘ALLO!’ covers all the grounds of a heart-warming partnership that everyone deserves to find, filled with nothing but pure affection, tenderness and a real understanding of what it means to find your other half.

Check out ‘Allo!’ for yourself here to appreciate the dance-along sound and equally feel-good message!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#tatiana

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ prompt: you’re going to a chistmas party with your ex in attendance and you try to find a replacement as quick as possible. 

♡ song suggestion: HIP - MAMAMOO

♡ pairing: jon kent (superboy) x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes 

“i can’t just go to this party and not show up with a date, do you know how humiliating that is?” you exclaimed to Damian, chugging back the last bit of wine you had in your glass, “it’s easy for you to show up like that because you’re fucking Bruce Wayne’s son and you aren’t the one who actually lied here...I DID!” 

Damian saw the panic arising in your eyes as you tried to come up with just anything to get out of the Wayne Christmas party but nothing was coming up in order to actually get you out of it. it was too late to actually back out and you swore to Damian you’d attend the party so it wouldn’t be so miserable for him. 

“who exactly did you lie to that you’re that deep into a lie?” Damian asked, kicking his legs up on his desk. “Michael from human resources! he’s been up my ass about taking me out that i finally broke one day and said I was already in a relationship and while he did back off, he’s expecting me to bring a date,” you confessed. 

Damian started laughing again, not knowing whether to fire Michael to finally put you out of your misery or actually take the opportunity to make you meet his oh so single best friend...Jon Kent. he sat on the idea for a few minutes as you ran your fingers through your hair nervously. 

“good lord, if I bring a friend of mine as your date, will you be quiet?” you looked at him in confusion. “you have friends?” you laughed, instantly dodging his wad of paper. 

“for your information, I actually do,” you sighed, not really knowing if you wanted to take him up on the offer, “he’s a friend of mine from Metropolis. he’ll say yes, it’s up to you,” you cautiously agreed, threatening him that if his so called ‘friend’ ended up being some creep, you were within your rights to hurt him. 

as you and Damian exited the building, you saw the copious amounts of reporters standing to the side, trying to capture photos of Damian or getting information on the party for tomorrow. 

you sighed, giving the reporters the middle finger, not really in the mood to deal with their bs. there were a few times those nosey reporters had made stories about you and Damian. claiming that you were sleeping with him so you could get closer to the Wayne family heir. it didn’t exactly help that you were in the assistant and secretary role as well. 

“wow, feisty aren’t you?” you heard Damian’s eldest brother, Dick, say out of no where. you quickly greeted him, seeing that the street to get out of Wayne Enterprises was getting clogged up with traffic, “see all of you tomorrow! Damian, don’t let me down!” 

Dick looked over to his brother, wondering what you meant by that. “I’m bringing Jon as her date for tomorrow,” he explained. his eyes widened, “really? him?” he asked, surprised that he would even set up a date for someone. “yeah, he has way too much time on his hands and it’d be better for me to set those two up to finally get them out of my hair.” Dick laughed knowing exactly where that could go wrong. 

+ 

the morning finally came, much to your unamused pleasure. you had told Damian that you’d meet him at his place so if anything funny happened with his date, it wouldn’t happen to your embarrassment at your work place. you were not sure who your mystery date was and Damian refused to give you a name. all he had told you was that he worked in Metropolis and had been his friend for years. 

you dragged yourself into the shower and unwillingly got dressed. your makeup was the hardest part of the entire outfit as you were going to try and perfect it as much as possible. you had never really gone all out with the makeup in what felt like years so you figured today would be the day. 

“almost ready?” Damian asked over the phone. you rolled your eyes, “yeah, i’m just pulling my shoes on before heading over to your place,” you responded as you munched on a granola bar, “why do you care?” you asked. 

you heard two voices laugh, “because your date is here so hurry up!” Damian exclaimed before hanging up the phone. you didn’t bother to play into his antics before finishing up. the dress you had bought was something you had from a previous event and up until now, you hadn’t worn it again. 

the dress you had picked was one from a previous event that no one hardly saw. it hugged the curves you wanted to show and you knew it would surprise those who hardly saw you gala or formal party attire. 

you got into your car and chugged back a red bull before heading into Damian’s home. you saw a few cars parked in his garage along with a limo to which you assumed you and a few others were going to take. you annoyingly pushed the doorbell to strike a nerve in Damian. 

“woah,” you heard Dick say as he opened the door, “I know, I look good,” you said smiling. he nodded in agreement as the two of you walked in farther into the house. you could tell Dick kept looking at you every so often and even dropping a few compliments and pick up lines. 

as the two of you were walking, you hadn’t realized you had completely passed Damian and his friend. you were so enamored with your conversation with Dick that it wasn’t until Damian half-annoyed screamed your name out to catch your attention. you turned around and stopped mid way through when you saw Damian and his friend. 

“oh hey,” you whispered, not wanting to look at Damian’s friend in the eye. he was a lot more attractive than you had anticipated. “didn’t know you could actually clean up nicely,” Damian murmured, not even hiding the fact that he was checking you out. 

you gave him the middle finger in response, “this is Jon Kent, Jon, this is ( your name ), I guess she’s my friend,” he rolled his eyes at the last thing he had said. you slowly stuck your hand out to shake but much to your surprise, Jon had shook your hand rather excitedly. 

“nice to meet ya!” he exclaimed, his slight southern drawl coming out. you laughed at his excited tone, “heard a lot about ya!” he continued. you looked at Damian, “aww, you do like me!” you said, a mischievous smile appearing on your face. 

Damian kicked you in the back of the leg before murmuring that all of you needed to head out before any of you got into trouble for being late. you met up with Dick and Tim who were arguing about something as the three of you waited for Alfred to pull up with the car. 

the entire ride to the venue, it was just you and Jon talking here and there. you could tell that Jon was the very exact opposite of Damian and it was a wonder how him and Damian even got along with their personalities being the exact opposite from each other. once the car came to halt, all of you piled out, the cameras immediately snapping as they realized the Wayne’s have arrived. 

“don’t kill them this time,” Damian threatened you as you put up your hands in defense. you looked over to Jon and gave him a small nervous smile, “ready?” he asked as you nodded. 

he put his arm around your waist, tightening it as the two of you walked up to the red carpet. you smiled fakely to the cameras. Jon looked down at you, not expecting this reaction to the paparazzi. “not a fan, eh?” he asked. you shook your head no, “god knows how many times those idiots have thought that Damian and I were together.” 

Jon gave you a look, “but the two of you are like siblings?” you shook your head, “I know but they think we’re hiding behind all of that.” the two of you reached inside of the building to see the long extended tables as you and Jon were seated on a two chaired table. 

Jon pulled your chair out, making sure you were comfortable before sitting down across from you. the menu was pre filled as it was your job to make sure everything on it was correct and put everything they were going to serve for the course of the night. 

“so, what do you for a living in Metropolis?” you asked as they put small appetizers in front of you. Jon smiled, “I work for the newspaper,” he replied, “I bet it’s tough to be Damian’s assistant, huh?” he asked as you nodded yes, dramatically. 

through the course of the night, you and Jon talked, Jon making sure the conversation never died down. you had to give Damian credit. you weren’t exactly trustful in Damian that he would pull through on his blind date for you but Jon up till this point had not made you seem uncomfortable or even slightly creeped out. he was like the perfect gentleman. 

“wanna dance?” Jon asked, getting up from his chair and grabbing your hand softly. you held his hand, giving it a squeeze as a response. 

the two of you walked to the small dance floor as you saw a few of your coworkers, those who were either married or in long term relationships dancing. you gave them a wave as they waved back before going back to their conversations with their partners. 

“I’m glad you came,” you told Jon as you took a sip of your champagne shyly. he looked down to you and grinned, “I’m glad I did too. I wasn’t going too originally but once Damian told me a bit about you, I just knew I had to meet you,” he replied as you hid your face in his shoulder, slightly embarrassed. 

the song playing in the background happened to be a piano rendition of ‘Someday My Prince Will Come’. you had watched Snow White a million times as a child and the fact that this song was playing as you were dancing with someone who you hoped would give you a second date made your heart swell. 

“I have to admit, I’m glad I told Damian as well. the date was so last minute and honestly, Damian is the last person I would ever trust to put me in a blind date situation but I’m happy that he actually pulled through for once.” 

Jon laughed as he bent down a bit and kissed your cheek in response. you noticed that the more nervous Jon got, the more his slight southern accent would come out. you reciprocated the kiss but this time, you kissed him on the lips. he was taken by surprise but nevertheless, he returned it. this time deepening it a bit. 

after the two of you danced a few more songs, you took a break as Jon excused himself to the bathroom and you made a beeline to the bar to refill your glass along with Jon’s. 

“hey there gorgeous,” you heard the voice from the last person you wanted to see. you turned to Michael and gave him a tight lipped smile, “good evening Michael,” you responded, trying to get back to getting your drinks. “I saw you with your little boyfriend earlier but I knew I had to come over here and tell you how fine you looked.” 

you felt yourself wanting to gag by what he was saying as you felt him grab your wrist, “since your boyfriend isn’t around, how about you give me a little dance,” he asked. just as you were about to response, you felt Jon’s presence behind you, “who’s this, baby?” he asked, staring down at Michael. 

to Jon’s credit, he was towering over Michael. “no one,” you replied, shaking yourself off of him, “hiya! I’m Jon, ( your names ) boyfriend. you are?” he asked. Michael scoffed, half scared at how Jon was looming over him, “I’m her coworker,” he replied before leaving. 

you look to Jon in relief, “thank you so much,” you said. he smiled, putting his arm around your waist, “no problem, isn’t that what I’m here for?” he asked with a smile on his face. without actually realizing what you were doing, you happened to snuggle closer to Jon as you saw Damian approaching the two of you. 

throughout the rest of the night, you kept yourself to Jon’s side as you remained with Damian and a few others. every time you left, Jon made sure that once you returned, he always had his arm around your waist or shoulder. Jon’s grasp was firm and even slightly possessive but you did not mind it one bit. 

if you were being honest, you were hoping that at some point in the future, the two of you would get farther than that but for the moment, you enjoyed being in his grasp. 

#DC comics #dc imagine #DC imagines #dc x reader #dc #Jon Kent #jon kent x y/n #jon kent imagine #jon kent x reader #Superboy #superboy imagine #superboy x reader #superboy x y/n #comics

[mymelodyheart]

Save The Date Chapter 11 ~What’s Brewing Claire?~

picture credit

 Previously in Stramash ...

Jamie pulled back to look at her face and tipped her chin up to survey the cut on her lips. "He did this?"

She could only nod as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

Jamie turned the gun in his hand and marched towards the door, shouting at the police ushering Jack out to wait. Before Claire could scream for him to stop, he brought his forehead down on Jack's nose in a head butt before handing the weapon to a nearby officer. The sound of cartilage crunching echoed in the tiny room, making Claire wince. Jack fell onto his knees with a loud thud, holding his bleeding nose, shouting improprieties muffled by his hands.

"Now, that was uncalled for, Fraser," an officer clucked, but his grin and the amusement in his eyes implied he wasn't too bothered over Jack's injury. "Now go and get some rest. I'll handle the paperwork and delay the statement for tomorrow morning. You both have done enough to save the day."

  If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

  Jamie studied Claire. She lay relaxed on the examination table, going through her phone and reading messages. She looked untroubled and seemed to have recovered from the ordeal this past weekend. The only tell-tale sign left of that hellish night was the tiny scab on her lower lip and bruising on her right cheek where Jack Randall had struck her. She was whole and safe, and yet here he was, having trouble letting go of that incident.

When he'd helplessly watched Jack shoved a gun against her neck and dragged her away from his sight, he'd felt the full gravity of her vulnerability and his inadequacy to secure her safety. But how Claire had handled the situation was nothing short of mind-blowing, albeit heart-stopping. She'd kept her presence of mind, aptly keeping Geneva talking while the tech specialist monitored the audio listening device. The moment they'd identified the voice on the phone, the administration in Broadmoor had been immediately alerted to make sure Geneva didn't go anywhere until the police arrived.

Geneva and Jack were in jail now, awaiting trial and most likely would stay there for a very long time. He really needed to stop fixating on what could have gone wrong and focus on the matter at hand, like their baby's condition and Claire's health.

He puffed out a breath and sprung onto his feet. "Ye comfy, Sassenach?"

"I'm good," she replied, without looking up from her phone screen.

"Ye ken, we can cancel the baby reveal for another day."

"I know, but I prepared so much food already."

They were having his family and closest friends over for afternoon tea to share the news of their baby. Claire had insisted on a celebration to invalidate the ordeal Geneva had put them through, determined not to allow recent events to cast a shadow over their upcoming nuptials. Jamie had thought it was too soon, but Claire had pressed that the sooner they moved forward from the incident, the better. 

So last night, she'd spent the entire evening preparing shortcrust pastries, scones batter and making Victorian sponge cake. Apparently, she'd taken some lessons in baking and cooking from Mrs Fitz so that she could host parties like Jenny and his ma. It was as if her work, all the travelling she'd been doing, preparing for the wedding and recovering from trauma wasn't enough. She also needed to put up a brave front.

Though the doctor had given Claire an all-clear in London after a routine checkup, Jamie had insisted on another examination when she'd complain of spotting last night. He hadn't a clue what that had meant, but the concerned look on her face was enough for him to push her for another doctor's appointment. To his relief, she'd hardly put up a fight, and he'd immediately arranged a consultation with a private practice to speed things along since the NHS hospitals were notorious for long waits.

"I just want ye to be certain, Sassenach. That's all. I dinnae want this tea party putting a strain on ye."

Claire put her phone down and glanced up at him. "I'm pregnant, Jamie, not incapacitated. I know you're worried about the spotting, but I'm quite certain pregnant women gets them sometimes. I don't feel ill, but here we are, taking precautions."

Sighing, he moved to her side and took her hand in his. "It's just that I'm bothered about that bruise behind yer back. It looks vicious. I ken bruising looks a lot worse than it is, but I cannae help but wonder if the baby has been harmed when ye banged yer behind on those shelving units after Jack pushed ye. I'm concerned about any delayed complications. Or if the doctor in London overlooked something."

She squeezed his hand. "Your worries are valid, Jamie. The odds of miscarriage or complications might be highest in the first trimester, but I haven't had any issues." She shrugged. "Oh, well, except for the tiny spotting last night. I'm sure everything's fine. Try not to worry."

Easier said than done, Jamie thought. How could Claire sit there looking so calm?  Now that she's pregnant, the world was suddenly full of threats: unpasteurised juice and dairy, soft cheeses that she loved so much, fish high in mercury, saunas and hot tubs, secondhand smoke, changing Adso's litterbox. Not to mention aunt Jocasta's bloody stories of baby-abducting fairies. He really needed to stop reading too much pregnancy information; otherwise, he'd go insane.

Claire gave him a look that said she could tell he was overthinking things.

He promptly kissed her on the lips. "Aye, I guess ye're right," he conceded. "I'm sorry for over-reacting."

The door suddenly opened, and in walked a friendly-looking middle-aged female doctor. "Hello, Claire! Dr Fiona Innes. How are we feeling today?"

"I'm good, just a bit nervous about the spotting," Claire breathed. 

"Understandably." Then the doctor turned to Jamie. "And ye're..."

"James Fraser. The one who got her up the duff," he replied, taking the doctor's outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. 

"Jamie!" Claire gasped, her face crimsoning profusely.

The doctor laughed. "Hah! I like that! A good sense of humour will get ye through anything." She dragged the ultrasound monitor closer to the exam table and pulled up a stool. "So, let's get started so we can put both yer mind at ease, shall we?" She proceeded to put gloves on and prepare the probe that Jamie had the unfortunate luck of knowing already what it was for. "Now, Claire, I want ye to lie back and place yer feet in the stirrups." 

Claire did as she was told while Jamie helped her ease down. He winced when he heard the sound of latex snapping over the probe. He looked away and took Claire's hand in his.

"Is this your first ultrasound visit, Mr Fraser?"

He glanced over his shoulder, thinking the doctor must have noticed the strain on his face. "Aye and no."

Dr Innes arched an eyebrow.

Jamie pointed at the probe and tried not to grimace. "I've seen a doctor used that thing on her when she was hospitalised a few weeks ago. I hadn't known what was going on then, so I walked away and let them get on with it."

"I see." The doctor refocused her attention back to Claire. "Now relax for me and big deep breaths," Dr Innes advised as she put lubricating gel on the blunt tip of the probe. "This will be a tad bit uncomfortable."

Claire shut her eyes and took a deep breath while Jamie whispered all sorts of nonsense in her ear. When her grip clenched into a tight vice, he pressed his lips on the top of her head.

A few seconds passed, and that's when he heard it. He stilled. It was loud, clear and steady. The unmistakable sound of a heartbeat coming from the monitor. It was their baby's. He let out a sharp exhale, realising he'd discovered something powerful in the tiny, vulnerable life form growing in Claire's womb.

His ma once said that the heartbeat was the first music that a child heard and that every bairn was born knowing the rhythm of their mother's song. To Jamie, this was the sound of their child's soul, the unspoken words already speaking volumes. It was as if it was saying, I'm alive and well, can you hear me?

"Weel, that sounds like a strong and healthy heartbeat there," Dr Innes remarked. "See right there?" Jamie and Claire stirred in their positions to take a better look at where the doctor was pointing. "That's yer baby."

Releasing Claire's hand, Jamie stepped closer to the monitor and tipped his head to the side, adjusting his eyes to discern the grainy image on the monitor. When he finally figured out the shape, mixed emotions began to bombard him in all directions. He felt the complexity of love at seeing a piece of himself and Claire on the screen, inspiring fierce protective instinct to kindle within him. Words like elation, joy and sobering responsibility were too meagre terms and did not give justice in describing how visceral all his emotions were.

"T-that ..." Jamie pointed an index finger at the image, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Is that a ..."

"It's not what ye think, Mr Fraser. That's the foot," Dr Innes responded briskly. She shifted the probe at a different angle to capture another image. "As far as I can see, everything seems to be in perfect working order. I can safely say ye have a healthy, strong baby, so ye can both rest easy."

Jamie continued to stare at the monitor, still trying to wrap the idea of impending fatherhood around his head. "The baby is no' missing any parts, is it?"

"The baby has everything it should have at this stage of the pregnancy," the doctor replied, amused. "Though I think we'll need another few weeks to be able to tell the gender."

"Thank you so much, doctor," Claire said gratefully, pushing herself upright. "We were worried about the spotting and thought it might have had to do with the stress and trauma of what happened last weekend. It was mad, really. I nearly got abducted and had a gun pointed at me."

The doctor threw the probe's latex into the waste and began peeling off her gloves, seemingly unaffected by what Claire had just revealed, making Jamie think physicians were used to hearing such stories. The doctor gave them both an understanding look. "Having a gun pointed at ye is quite jarring, so I understand why ye're both concerned. So how are ye coping mentally?" 

"I try not to dwell on it and carry on as usual," Claire shrugged. "So far, I'm dealing with it fine."

The doctor looked at Claire curiously, her expression full of empathy. "Sometimes ignoring it isn't as cut and dried as you think. Try and get some counselling. Ye're going to deal enough with all the hormones impacting yer physiological, physical and mental well being. This is the time to be enjoying this exciting time in yer life, so counselling is just taking a precautionary step to ensure you are in a good place and prepared for what the next few months will throw at ye."

Jamie locked eyes with Claire, and a silent agreement passed between them. They both understood the impact of a traumatising experience, and he wanted to take the doctor's advice on board. 

"I'll make sure she and the baby are well taken care of," he reassured the doctor, patting Claire's thigh.

"I'm sure ye will," the doctor smiled, pressing buttons on the monitor.

"Let's just hope he won't go over the top," Claire added. "He has a tendency to do that."

The doctor pulled out copies of ultrasound images from the printer and glanced up at Jamie. "I can understand the need to protect, but just bear in mind, us women are more resilient and stronger than we look," she pointed out. "And pregnant women aren't as frail as society perceives them to be."

Jamie laughed. "There's no question about that. After all, my wife-to-be here achieved what twenty-four specialist firearms officers could not."

"Oh?" Dr Innes looked surprised. "And what was that?"

"She single-handedly took down a maximum-security prisoner escapee, helped led the police to his psychopathic accomplice and in the process saved an innocent mistakenly imprisoned," Jamie explained. "I ken it was a foolish move with her being pregnant and all ..."

"It might have been foolish, but I happen to believe Claire's response is inherent in all mothers and mothers-to-be, and it's something almost impossible for the human brain to override." 

"Och, aye?"

"It's called maternal instinct, Mr Fraser, and it's as old as life itself." Dr Innes got up and handed him an envelope containing the ultrasound images. "So woe to anyone who dares a mother-to-be or new mother harm because they're utterly more ferocious than any man wielding a gun when it comes to defending their nest." She looked between him and Claire and smiled. "Anyway, congratulations to you both on your coming parenthood." Then she faced Jamie and patted him on the shoulder. "And as for ye, congratulations on yer newly acquired bodyguard. Ye can sleep well tonight." 

..........

Jamie walked in and placed the last of their shopping bags onto the kitchen counter. "Is there anything else ye need, Sassenach, before I go?"

Claire felt him approach and busied herself, placing apples in a large bowl and then lemons in another. "Umm ...I think I have everything I need." She felt his eyes boring into her back but tried her best not to get distracted. "Shall I make a sandwich to take with you?"

"No, I'm no' hungry."

"Oh, alright ...I guess I shall see you later then."

"I have a few minutes to spare. Want to talk?"

"Talk about what?"

"What ye're feeling. Ye haven't said much all morning ...since we left the clinic. And ye hardly talked to me while we went food shopping."

She took out a knife and honing steel from a drawer and went through the motion of sharpening the blade. "Oh ...I guess I must have been preoccupied with my mental to-do list. That's all."

A long silence ensued, and after what felt like an eternity, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Sassenach, can ye stop what ye're doing for a minute and look at me?"

Hot tears suddenly settled behind her eyes, but she fiercely blinked them back and breathed deeply, swallowing down conflicting emotions and refusing to let them fall. She didn't want to be the type of woman who cried at the littlest and inconsequential thing. She'd never been a crier before, and she wasn't about to become one if she could help it.

"I'm busy, Jamie."

"Please."

Bracing herself, she placed down her utensils and faced him. "What is it?"

"This ..." Jamie waved his hand at the shopping bags on the counter. "I ken what this is. Ye havenae sat still ever since we came back from our trip. Ye've decluttered our bedroom and cleaned out all the kitchen cupboards. And now an afternoon tea party? I ken what ye're doing. Ye're keeping yersel' busy to forget what happened in London instead of talking about it."

"No." She shook her head. "It's not that."

Jamie impatiently rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "Weel, what is up with ye then?"

"Hormones."

"Hormones," Jamie echoed. "Why did you no' just say so?"

She felt her face heat up. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't know it at the time. Or perhaps, because it all seems so silly that I'm getting all worked up for nothing."

Jamie stepped closer and braced her cheeks with both hands, a calloused thumb tenderly swiping her lower lip. "Listen to me very carefully. Whatever ye're feeling or going through, hormonal or not, is never silly. Everything ye have to say is important to me. Trust me on that. I always want to know if something is bothering ye and be able to help ye fix it. Yer body is going through many changes, and it's normal yer emotions are all over the place. So no more self-deprecating thoughts about yer feelings. Am I making myself clear?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, tamping down the urge to cry.

"Very well then, tell me what's going through that mind of yers. At least we can clear the air between us before I go, and my whole family comes and start noticing that something isnae right. Today is supposed to be a celebration of our baby. I dinnae want anything to ruin this day in as much as I think we should delay this for another time."

"Fine." She shut her eyes to search for the right words, but no matter how she formulated them in her head, it didn't sound right. Saying it out loud would only make her appear pathetic. But there was no way around it once Jamie set his mind in extracting something from her. 

"Sassenach?"

Her eyes flew open. "Yes?"

"Yer face is getting redder by the second. I'm beginning to worry."

"Very well, if you must know ..." She blew out a breath. "You haven't touched me since that night in London, that's what," she blurted out. "I feel like you're avoiding me. Every time it was time for us to go to bed, you always had some excuse, like you haven't walked the dog or you need to check the emails." Unable to hold it back any longer, she suddenly burst out crying. "I know it's hormones talking, and I'm acting silly. But I can't help but feel the way I feel because I'm hormonal and horny. That's why I'm keeping myself busy, so I will not overthink things. Because if I did, I'd start believing you don't want me anymore, even if logic says it's not true. Happy now?"

He blinked rapidly as if his brain was short-circuiting. 

"Yeah, just the reaction I knew I was going to get. See what I mean when I said I was acting silly?"

"No," he groaned out loud. "Sweet baby Jesus! Ye cannae say things like horny  when I have to go."

Claire slapped Jamie on the chest. "Jamie! You wanted to know what was wrong! Now that I've said it, you can't blame me for it!"

"Cancel the tea party, and I'll tell Willie I'll be late!"

"No!"

"Why no'?"

"Because!"

With a deep groan, he grabbed her neck from behind and gave her a hard kiss. There was nothing tender or playful about it, just a desperate act of trying to get his fill. He let out a frustrated moan as his tongue swept in her mouth, and a hand cupped her breast, his arousal hard and thick against her belly, letting her know how much he wanted her. When he finally broke the kiss, they were both gasping for air. He pressed their foreheads together, breathing harshly into her face. "How could ye think, even in yer hormonal state, I dinnae want ye any more? Damn it, Sassenach, I've been aching for ye these past few days."

"Then why didn't you touch me?" 

He shook his head as he attempted to even his breath. "That night in London, after I took ye back to the hotel, I wanted to bury myself deep inside ye so I could remind myself that ye're really alive and back in my arms. But when I saw that bruising behind yer back and knowing what ye've just been through in yer pregnant state, I thought if I took ye right there and then, I might cause ye irreparable damage, physically and psychologically. I wanted to make sure ye're properly healed first and that our baby was safe. God, all those nights I was away from our bed, I've been doing push-ups to release all those pent-up frustrations of not being able to make love to ye."

"So you did want me all along ..."

He tapped her nose. "Aye, ye silly goose."

"Oh Jamie," she sighed. "You still don't get it, do you?" She placed a hand against his face and smiled for the first time that morning. 

"Get what?" he asked, looking suddenly confused.

"You should know by now, lovemaking is the best stress reliever. I thought you knew that." 

"Weel ..."

"Remember the times when you were all worked up and conflicted, and how much better you felt after sex?" When he nodded, she pressed on. "Whenever you and I have sex, whether it's fast, hard, long or a quickie, it always came from a place of love. And we've talked about this before ...love heals. The most wonderful thing about our lovemaking, it puts us in that intimate space where we can better connect, heal, open us to those hard conversations, helping us in the process to find closure and release. If sex worked for you to ease your stress, why should it be any different for me? I needed you most after that horrendous night, Jamie. I needed your body to ground me. But I understand now why you didn't touch me that night."

Jamie stared at the ceiling and sighed before looking at her with a mixture of wonderment and torment. He let out a pained laugh. "Weel, right now, I'm under a lot of stress and pressure." He took her hand and placed it on his bulging arousal to make a point. "How about we continue this in the bedroom and let off some steam? I'm stressed, and ye're horny. Ideal combo! Ye can use my body anyway ye want."

Claire clucked her tongue and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Oh, no, you don't, you sneaky, Scot! You're running late as it is." She placed both hands on his chest and began pushing him out of the kitchen. "How about you let me get on with food preparation, and you finish what you need to do so you can come home as soon as you can in time for the tea party?" she proposed.

"How about my stress levels?" he grumbled.

"Your stress levels are fine!" She turned him around and smacked him on the bum. "Now go. Mrs Fitz will be here any minute to bring the Battenberg cake I ordered."

At the mention of Mrs Fitz, Jamie didn't need any more prodding. He gave her another quick kiss and left the cottage, muttering something about getting a new house before slamming the door behind him.

..........

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed by quick, and something in Claire lightened even though she was a nervous wreck hosting her first traditional English tea party.

She looked at the kitchen counter laden with several tiered plates displaying the delicacies she'd meticulously prepared. She was ready, and everything looked perfect. 

She'd made four different tea sandwiches to be on the safe side: pear and stilton, cucumber and cream cheese, egg salad, and smoked salmon and dill. And then there were scones, lemon curd tartlets, fruit tarts, and shortbread and Linzer cookies she was looking forward to gorge on. On the other end of the counter were Mrs Fitz's Battenberg cake and Claire's pièce de résistance, Victoria's sponge filled with jam, berries and double cream. Her teabox was neatly packed with Darjeeling, Earl Grey, and Assam, and the pitchers of lavender and elderflower lemonade were cooling nicely in the fridge. 

Perfection!

She was about to wash the sink when she heard a rap on the window. She looked up and saw Jenny waving at her. Letting her in through the kitchen back door, she was surprised to see her carrying a stack of real estate pamphlets and magazines with its pages tabbed with colourful sticky notes.

"Jen! What's all that?"

Jenny shrugged. "Weel, after what happened to ye in London and with everything going on at the moment, I thought I'd make yer life easier." She plonked down her load on a nearby stool and picked up a magazine, leafing through the pages. "I heard from Willie ye and Jamie are looking for a bigger place. So I decided to grab all these. It has listings of every available property for sale in the surrounding area. Ma and I saved the pages we thought ye and Jamie might like."

"Oh, Jen!" Claire gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Jenny waved a hand. "Think nothing of it!"

Feeling emotional, Claire gave Jenny a big hug. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much." When she finally broke away from their embrace, she noticed deep furrows on Jenny's forehead. "Jen? What's wrong?"

Jenny's usually brilliant blue eyes suddenly looked serious as they landed on the bruising on her cheek. "Does that still hurt?" 

Claire touched her cheek. "Oh, this? No, not at all. It looks worse than it is. Poor Jamie getting all these weird looks when we're out and about. He was even accused by some granny of being an abuser. I can understand why but I had to step in and explain to the old dear."

Jenny wrung her hands and gave her a small smile. "Actually, I -I came early because I wanted to talk with ye. Just us two."

"Oh, do you want a drink first?" Claire offered, jerking a thumb in the direction of the fridge. "I have some lemonade ..."

"No! Please! I need to get this out before anything else."

Claire nodded. "Alright then, I'm all ears."

"I-I want to apologise for ..." Jenny's chin crumpled, seemingly attempting to blink back her tears. " ...for what happened to ye in London."

"Wot? Oh, Jen! Why are you apologising? That wasn't your fault."

Jenny raised a hand, which told Claire to let her talk. "It was in some ways my fault, Claire. Geneva was my friend, and I tried to push Jamie and her together. I shouldn't have told her last year there was a vacancy in the village, and then she wouldn't have come back and pursued her interest in my brother. I honestly had no idea she was capable of such horrid deeds. If I'd known, I wouldn't have taken her into my circle of friends and family."

Claire shook her head. "No one could have known, and no one knew. Even her work colleagues and peers were shocked when they found out what she's done. She's a master manipulator, Jen, and she probably manipulated you too under the guise of friendship."

"Still ..." Jenny insisted. "If it wasn't for my meddling ..."

"Stop right there!" Claire wagged a finger at Jenny. "We've locked horns on the subject before and moved on from that already. Alright? Past is past. We all make mistakes. The most important thing is we learn from it. So no more mention of Geneva."

This time Jenny's smile reached her eyes. "Fine! Just dinnae tell Jamie we talked about this."

"Whyever not?"

"Jamie has given everyone in the family strict orders, not to mention about London today."

"Really?"

Jenny nodded. "He didn't want to ruin today's celebration rehashing what happened. Unfortunately, I had to in order for me to apologise, but enough of that now." She clapped her hands. "So, how about that drink. I'm parched." She whirled around and stopped, her eyes widening when she saw the spread Claire had prepared. Walking over to the kitchen counter, she took in everything with a smile. "Goodness, did ye make all these?"

Claire smiled with pride. "I did. Except for the Battenberg cake. Mrs Fitz made it."

"Ye said, ye didnae know how to bake," Jenny said almost begrudgingly. 

"Now I do, thanks to the wifey Bootcamp I attended, also known as Mrs Fitz's kitchen."

"These all look scrumptious. It's been ages since I had a proper English afternoon tea." Jenny glanced up at her and grinned. "So, what are we celebrating?"

Claire nearly blurted out the baby news, but she quickly caught herself. Sliding an arm around her soon-to-be sister-in-law, she walked Jenny to the end of the counter to show her the sponge cake. "Today, we're celebrating love, friends and family."

Jenny poked a finger into the clotted cream and licked. "I like the sound of that. That'll always be a perfect excuse for a celebration or a proper afternoon tea party."

Claire smiled. "I couldn't agree more, Jen. I couldn't agree more."

..........

Jamie came home from work and noticed all the sandwiches, tarts and cakes laid out on the kitchen counter. He was mildly astonished that Claire had been able to prepare so much in the nick of time. He glanced out the window and spied her and Jenny in the garden, busily arranging tablecloths on the long wooden table. Looking at his watch, he realised he had about fifteen minutes to get ready before their friends and family started arriving. 

But first things first.

Stepping out into the backyard, he snuck behind Claire and wrapped his arms around her waist, planting a soft kiss on her neck. "Mmm, ye smell of berries, lemon and lavender," he whispered, running his lips on her bare skin and ignoring Jenny's mumbling about getting a room.

Claire turned in his hold and smiled up at him. "And you reek, mister. You won't be served tea smelling like that."

"Fancy a shower with me then?" he suggested, feeling mischievous. "Jen's here to look out for guests."

"Nice try, but I had a shower already, and Jen is our guest today." 

He leaned down and nibbled her earlobe, making her squeal.

"Jamie, you're going to get my dress dirty. Oh, fiddlesticks ..." She suddenly stilled mid-laughter and made a face, her hand covering her nose. "Urgh ...what's that smell?"

Jamie let her go and took a whiff of his shirt. "Oh, it's just a bit of wood stain I was working with. It'll come off in a wash."

Her face suddenly turned pale. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick. Tell Jen I'll be right back ...and you ...you go have a shower before your parents arrive." With that, she spun around and ran back to the cottage.

Stunned, he watched her disappearing form and whistled under his breath. "What just happened?" he muttered, even though he knew the answer had to do with the dreaded pregnancy sickness. She'd been doing so well so far he almost thought morning sickness was nothing but a myth, even though Claire had revealed, she couldn't stand the smell of aniseed, star anise, fennel, and liquorice.

"Maybe, she's pregnant and suffering from sickness?" Jenny replied, walking past him with an armful of wildflowers to put into the empty vases dotted on the wooden table.

He hadn't realised Jenny had returned from wherever she'd disappeared to. He needed to be careful not to reveal their baby news too soon, or the surprise would be ruined. Jenny was simply someone who couldn't keep a secret. 

"Ach, I should have known chemical smells always make her nauseous," he explained, not wanting to give too much away to his perceptive sister.

Jenny twitched her lips from side to side as she trimmed the bouquet's stems with pruning shears. "Aye, that will be right!" she smirked.

He glared at his sister. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged and gave him a knowing look. "Nothing! Now go have a shower, and I'll take care of things here until Claire feels better."

Jamie was about to say more when he heard the sound of a car parking in the driveway. As Jenny made a move to take a look, he quickly made a beeline back to the cottage before anyone saw him, hoping Claire had already recovered from her bout of sickness.

..........

Jamie leaned back on his chair and glanced around. It was a perfect summer late afternoon, and everyone seemed to be having a great time and enjoying the food Claire had prepared. The sun warmed his face and bathed the garden in dazzling light, making the different shades of green and the profusion of wildflowers more vibrant and alive. The chatter was lively, and funnily enough, no one complained about the lack of alcohol which was highly unusual for a gathering in Scotland. But, he suspected his godfather must have a flask of whisky or something similar tucked away somewhere as he was getting louder and more boisterous as time went by.

He took Claire's hand in his, and she turned his way and smiled. Her face looked pale, but there was an aura of tranquillity radiating from her that told him she was happy and content. Though her plate was full of food, it remained untouched, and if anyone had noticed, no one said anything. "How are ye feeling, Sassenach?"

She took a huge deep breath, held it in for a few seconds and then relaxed. "I'm fine," she sighed. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

He knew she was valiantly fighting back the sickness that must be creating havoc in her body but was too stubborn to give in to it. "Shall we tell them about the surprise so you can finally have a rest?" he suggested in a low voice, so no one would hear. "It cannae be comfortable sitting here when ye feel so unwell."

She shook her head as she gulped in more air. "I want to wait for uncle Lamb. He'll be here soon."

Quentin's plane from Athens should have arrived four hours ago but was delayed because of some mechanical issues. Jamie hoped for Claire's sake Quentin was on his way and wasn't dilly-dallying somewhere, like planning a grand entrance. Jamie kissed her cheek, hoping to sweet talk her to giving up this charade of wellness. "I'm pretty sure ye're uncle will understand once he finds out about yer condition."

"I know," Claire murmured. "But I want today to be perfect and complete. I want to see uncle Lamb's face when we announce it."

"But it's already perfect."

"Not without uncle Lamb."

Jamie prayed for patience and tamped down the urge to haul this beautiful but infuriating woman in his arms and carry her to bed. He squeezed her hand and yielded to her request, knowing this get-together was important to her. "Whatever ye say, Sassenach. Just let me know if ye need anything."

"I will," she replied between sharp intakes of breath.

Jamie decided not to press anymore. He knew this was one battle he couldn't win without creating a scene in front of their friends and family. But if Claire thought she was pulling this act off, Jamie was convinced, his perceptive family had already caught on with what was passing. Claire was a terrible actress, and she couldn't even lie to save her life.

Fortunately, their intimate tea party was animated and loud, and it diverted the attention from Claire. Directly opposite them, Tom and Willie were discussing the merits of owning a mini campervan for spontaneous weekend trips around the Highlands. On one end of the table, Murtagh passionately ranted and raved to Brian and uncle Duncan about the Tories and how SNP was the solution to Scotland's political future. Next to Claire, Annalise showed Ellen and aunt Jocasta how to work the Instagram app while Jenny, Mary and Geillis cackled over some celebrity gossip they've probably read somewhere. Grannie Annie had meanwhile fallen asleep in her seat with Adso in her lap and Rollo at her feet. At the far end of the garden, Finlay, Geillis' boyfriend and Ian were having a go at playing badminton but kept hitting the shuttlecock over the hedge to both their frustration. 

Though Jamie was happy the tea party had gone as planned, he couldn't relax, too worried about Claire predicament. If it got to the stage where Claire lost any more colour to her face, he was sure no one would be able to blame him for whatever course of action he would take next.

"Right, does anyone want some fresh cuppa?" Claire suddenly announced, getting up from her seat.

Annalise immediately jumped to her feet. "I can do that."

Willie got up too. "I'll put the kettle on."

"I'll clear up the empty dishes," Geillis offered, already grabbing an empty tiered plate stand. "We dinnae want this stunning antique piece being knocked over, now do we?"

Ellen reached over to Claire from her seat and patted her hand. "Everything was lovely, dear. I couldnae decide which was my favourite. And that lavender lemonade was refreshing."

"Aye," Murtagh piped in as he got up and sat directly opposite Claire. "I bet it will taste even better with gin or vodka."

Brian frowned at Murtagh. "The lavender lemonade tastes good as it is. There's nae need to spoil it with alcohol. Besides, it's good for ye to give yer poor liver a wee break. If ye're no' careful, yer gene pool will soon have a swim-up bar."

"I dinnae drink that much," Murtagh grumbled. 

"Aye ye do," Aunt Jocasta pointed out. "Dinnae think for one minute I didnae notice ye've been spiking yer tea."

Before Murtagh could retort, Geillis came back in time with a steaming mug and placed it in front of Claire.

"Ooh, what's this?" Claire asked, looking into her drink.

"It's ginger and turmeric tea," Geillis declared. "It's good for ye. I brought it with me from Glasgow. It's organic, and thought ye might like it."

Jamie couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew ginger tea or any form of ginger were effective in reducing nausea. Claire probably knew too because her eyes lit up and gave Geillis an appreciative nod. If he wasn't a hundred per cent certain earlier, everyone knew about Claire's condition, now he's more convinced than ever they were playing along. Jamie appreciated the gesture, but this had gone on too far. Where the bloody hell is Quentin?

"I'm back!" boomed a voice, waking grannie Annie up. It was as if Jamie's thoughts had conjured Claire's uncle from thin air, and there he was making a grand entrance as Jamie had expected. "I hope there are some leftovers. I'm famished."

Claire laughed, twisting around on her seat to watch her uncle approaching. Ellen got up and started plating some food for Quentin.

"There's plenty of leftovers," Annalise assured as she placed another platter of sandwiches on the table. "Claire made enough for the entire village."

Quentin gave Claire a quick kiss on the forehead before greeting the rest of the party, who'd gathered back around the table. "Sorry for the delay," he apologised, finally taking a seat next to Claire. "Our plane was stuck on the tarmac without any air conditioning. We had no choice but to sit there and stew in the heat while the engineers fixed the plane."

"Well, I'm glad you're here now," Claire said, looking adoringly at her uncle. 

Quentin stared at the bruising on her cheek. "I don't like the look of that. It looks ..."

Sounds of several throats clearing ensued, a signal to Quentin not to pursue the London topic any further.

"Very well," Quentin nodded in understanding. "I'm glad too that I'm here."

Claire smiled. "Alrighty, so now that everyone's here, Jamie and I have an announcement to ..."

"Hold that thought, sweetheart," Quentin interrupted as he bent down to retrieve the holdall he'd placed at his feet. "I brought a souvenir."

Jamie bit his tongue at the interruption.  

"I hope it's not another ceramic plate," Claire groaned, unaware of Jamie's frustration.

"No. I got something better." Quentin waggled his bushy eyebrows as he unzipped his bag and proceeded to rummage through its contents. "Wait for it! Wait for it!" Suddenly he yanked out a bottle and held it up for everyone to see. "I got Ouzo!" he announced with satisfaction.

"Yesss, ya beauty!" Murtagh cheered happily, banging a hand on the table. "I love Ouzo."

Aunt Jocasta scowled at Murtagh. "Ye like anything alcoholic. Ye'll drink Listerine if it was placed in front of ye."

"What's Ouzo?" Claire asked as she stared curiously at the offering. "I mean, I've heard of it before, but I've forgotten what it is."

Jamie was about to fill in the information and tell her she wouldn't be able to stand the smell of it when Quentin expertly uncapped the bottle and held it under Claire's nose. Oblivious to Jamie's hitch of breath, Claire pressed her nose closer to the opening of the bottle to take a better whiff. Ah, shite!

"It's an anise flavoured liquor," Quentin described. "Mostly served as an aperitif in Greece.."

Jamie watched in awe as Claire's head jerked back and her face contorted when her senses registered the smell, and a low, gurgling sound came from deep down in her belly. He winced, half expecting any moment now a horrific scene of projectile vomiting, and the recipient would be none other than his godfather sat opposite her. But Claire jumped to her feet, startling everyone, and her hand immediately clapped over her mouth, golden eyes bright and tearing up. Quick thinking Jenny, grabbed a sprig of mint she'd put in the vase, macerated it in her hands and offered it to Claire. Everyone gasped and watched in fascination as Claire took the green leaves and stuffed her mouth with them, and began to chew, jaws working overtime, reminding Jamie of a cow feeding in the fields. Nobody said a word, waiting for the next scene to unfold or for someone to offer an explanation.

Swallowing audibly, Claire finally untensed and slumped back down to a loud hearty burp. And as if nothing had happened, she calmly drank a good measure of her ginger tea, put the mug down and then smiled. "Sorry about that. So where were we again?"

Eyes bulging almost out of his head, Quentin sputtered before he managed to string a coherent sentence together. "W-What the bloody hell was that? Was that some kind of weird side effects from what happened in London that I have no idea of?"

Claire looked at Jamie, looking suddenly exhausted. "Can you please tell them?"

"Tell me what?" Quentin bristled.

Jamie dropped his head on his folded arms resting on the table and allowed it to bounce once. Twice. Thrice. God must have taken pity of him because when he glanced up, everyone shouted in chorus. "Claire and Jamie are having a baby!"

   Dear Readers,

Thank you all for the response and feedback I received for my previous chapter. I know it got a bit crazy; therefore, today's update is more subdued to allow everyone's breathing to go back to normal.  Nevertheless, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much I've enjoyed writing it for you.

Anyway, I hope you're all keeping safe and taking care of yourself and mostly taking the time to enjoy the last days of summer. Keep up the good vibes and be well. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #savethedate #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

[beskarberry]

The Roar of Thunder

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 12, Book Two Finale

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

He couldn’t console Grogu, or even get him to eat most days, and that made him just as worthless as Imp scum. The last bounty lay at the end of the wormhole, a pathetic bail jumper that should take no time at all to capture, and once that was complete and the credits collected maybe…

Maybe he should take Grogu home.

<- Previous

Rating: Extra Explicit

Word count: 24.2k SORRY

Content warnings: *deep breath* Dark themes, self loathing, depression, thoughts of suicide, implied parental abuse, drug induced abductions, use of needles, auditory and visual hallucinations, extremely graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, stupid amounts of murder. Oh, and smut! Yay!

A/N: THE EPIC CONCLUSION (???) OF BARGAINING WITH BESKAR! Holy shit I can't believe we've made it this far! I know those tags are super fucking intimidating but there is a light at the end of this tunnel, it's just a very long, dark ass tunnel and you're gonna have to work to get there! THANK YOU ALL so much for joining me on this wildass ride that I already said I was finished with once before lol. There's a lot that I'm leaving off with so there's a very good chance I'll come back to this story in the future, but for now, enjoy!

The Crest had been silent before, for years actually, but never like this.

When it had only been him aboard the old gunship, long before the child and much longer before you, silence had been the Mandalorian’s only companion. In the wake of betrayal, the eerie quiet of hyperspace had returned like a plague; creeping in on innumerable, chitinous legs through the Razor’s solid walls, taking up space like something alive.

Or maybe something dead.

Silence was heavy, viscous and rotting in Mando’s ears. It slithered through his ear canals and down his throat, seeping over his heart like melted tar. It hurt, the silence. Somehow both burning like acid and freezing like ice in his chest and it hurt. It made his bones ache. It made his ears ring in place of the lack of noise, the lack of life and love that he had grown so fond of.

But the silence was better, a hundred, thousand times better than the crying.

Grogu wailed whenever he was awake, sobbing and choking on the tears that streaked down from his cosmic eyes and stopped up his teensy tinsey nose with snot. The little terror never made so much noise in all his life, and he would frequently cry so hard he would tire himself out and fall into a fretful, restless sleep. Din would try everything he could think of, holding the baby, rocking him and shushing him as sweetly as a mountain of metal could; but the child only cried harder for his efforts.

The child wouldn’t eat, barely slept, and wept relentlessly. Din’s shattered heart broke a thousand more times with each fitful sob that tore it’s way out of the tiny toothy mouth of his adopted son, and every day that it continued he thought the agony would kill him.

He knew why Grogu was so heartbroken, though he refused to accept it, still tasting the bitterness of betrayal on his tongue. Dirty Imp. He wanted to be so angry, he still was, but the exhaustion of trying to comfort his son drained every ounce of fight from the mighty warrior’s body. Din’s decision was final, even if it was starting to feel like the worst decision he’d ever made in his entire life. He wasn’t going to let any goddamn Imps near his son, no matter how lovely they were, how beautiful… how wonderful.

Grogu was just going to have to get over it.

But...what if he never does?

Din was cradling the child against his bare shoulder, trying, and failing, for the thousandth time that week to get Grogu to calm down. The Mandalorian rocked slowly, holding the child’s head to his shoulder and petting him softly, running his thumbs over his ears in the way that used to make the little beastie coo and hum. Made him close his eyes and sleep. If… if he could just get the child to sleep, to relax, maybe he could think straight.

When she was here, what would she do? Din didn’t want to think about the monster that he had let into his life, let into his heart, but he couldn’t stop the train of thought as it left his mental station. She would sing. She would sing him a lullaby and he would conk right out. They were his favorite. He groaned, blinking up at the hazy cabin lights as if the Maker was up there with better answers.

They were my favorite, too.

Din sighed heavily against the weeping creature he loved so dearly, then started to hum one of the songs he thought he remembered. Low and slow, a deep, rumbling baritone that once was as warm as honey, but now felt cold, lifeless and dull.

There was the briefest of respites in the child’s crying, only to pick back up with a vengeance at the memory of his lost buir’s lullabies. Assaulted by the uptick in the wailing, Din wracked his brain for the words to those songs. Stars, there were so many, but there was one that sort of… stuck.

“Hey, womp rat, let me see you.” Din pulled the soggy baby from his shoulder, fishing the edge of his cloak around to wipe the child’s flooded eyes. “There he is. Um, how does it go… I have sailed the… no that’s not… I went sailing in the midnight sea, something something…navigator... wait, please don’t cry. Fuck.”

Singing wasn’t one of his strong points, no matter how many times you had told him he had a lovely voice, soft and dark and velvety. No, it was you whose voice was spun from gold, not his. You had brought music into his world, that very first day, sitting in the passenger seat with the child in your lap you had broken into a star-shanty that dissolved every barrier the Mandalorian had erected around his heart and sang love into his world.

Your voice wasn’t just powerful, it was a siege weapon.

Nothing had ever had that kind of power over him, made him want to rip his helmet from his skull and throw it overboard just to hear your voice as it was meant to be heard in all its glory. And then when he had gotten to hear it clear and true, without the modulation of his audio intake processors, he knew he would never hear anything more beautiful again in his entire life.

His Starsong.

Din tried to bring himself back to the very first song, something about a navigator, guiding a mighty ship through the stars. So long ago, when Grogu had fallen asleep from your lullaby and you were just humming the last verses, you had caught Din staring at you and abruptly cut the song short; thinking that the Mandalorian was ready to slit your throat for being so close to his precious cargo. It wasn’t until later, after a victorious but near-fatal hunt that you had been asked to finish it.

You were cradled against his side, tucked into the crook of his arm with your head on his chest, tired and breathless from critical bloodloss and a foolish bout of lovemaking. You had nearly died, and his son had saved your life, given you back to him like a precious keepsake. Din had felt your breathing slow way down, watched your eyes close from behind his visor, and suddenly he just had to know.

How does the song end?

Mmm? Why, do you need a lullaby too?

No, just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.

Din stopped rocking the child, struck fast by the memory. Grogu was starting to tire himself out, but the tears still flowed, dampening the flack under his squishy baby face.

When you leave.

He had made a deal with you, one hunt and you were off the hook, spared from carbonite and the Guild’s vengeance; but everything about you enchanted him so much that he nearly broke his own Creed just to feel your body against his, feel your lips on his face, your hands in his hair. Even before he heard your singing his ears had fallen in love with your voice. Maker, the sounds that you had made; the soft little pants, the choked cries, the moans. He had to have you.

He had to hear you.

Ensorcelled by your siren tongue he took you for himself, gave himself to you in the sacred way his Creed demanded should have come after riduurok, but he didn’t care. The first time he filled you was heaven, an addiction more fixing than spice. In that moment he was too far gone to try to explain to you that The Way dictated he was bound to you now as your protector, but would have understood if you had told him no. Told him to leave you alone, let you get back to your life. But you had only sunk your claws deeper, given yourself more, entwining yourself with him more closely than the beskar that had been forged around him.

When you leave.

You’d become protective and caring and dangerous, a weaponized testament to the love you’d grown for your two boys. You hunted with the fury of thunderstorms, defended your kin with your own life, loved them like no one else ever had and it was beautiful. Din’s foundling became your foundling, and soon you’d become the foundling’s buir, bound to his little clan by the sacred ceremony of riddurok. Indivisible, inseparable. A pack, a clan, a family.

A lie.

A dirty, filthy, soul crushing lie.

A fucking Imp had been right under his nose, in his fucking bed, whispering in his ear that he was loved, that he meant something. Anger burned behind his eyes at the memories that he once cherished, making their corners sting. Grogu picked up on it instantly, his almost-closed eyes flying back open with another shriek. Din gave up. He couldn’t take it anymore. The child was gently lowered to his pram, still sniveling but at least tired enough that maybe he would fall asleep soon.

With squinty, flooded eyes the baby glared up at his adopted father, his ears nearly falling off his head with how droopy they were. He sank his adorable little talons into the fabric of Din’s wrist, keeping him hostage so the tiny green terror could break his fathers heart just one more time.

“Bubu?”

“Yes?”

Grogu grumbled with a scowl, looking away from Din’s exhausted face, trying to find somebody else. “Bubu.”

Din had heard the baby use the shorthand of buir for the first time when he was storming up the Crest’s ladder after abandoning you on Elgon Station, hatred and disgust deafening him to the sound of his son's first almost-word. When he was blasting away from the sudden starcruiser, he had heard the baby shouting the sweet phrase over and over and over again, his little voice choked with desperation; and he knew that it wasn’t meant for him.

It was meant for you.

Din shook his head, unhooking Grogu from his sleeve. ”Sorry kid, It’s just me now.” Fighting the mist forming in his eyes, he closed the lid, sealing the pram with an ugly hiss at yet another betrayal. Sorry kid.

For everything.

Exhausted and broken, Din flopped down in the little sleeping nook that he had once shared with you, sinking into the bedroll. The Tatooinian bed roll. You had picked up the soft, plush foam mattress on your shopping excursion through the desert bazaar, spitting fire about the quality of the bed he had grown used to.

It was your bed roll.

Din was too tired to yank the thing off and shred it like he had been meaning to, at least that’s what he had been telling himself for the last few cycles. The reality was that it still smelled faintly of you, a scent that was losing its strength with each passing jump through hyperspace. Sleep made him just as restless as his son usually was now, often waking him up in a flop sweat that was slowly replacing the scent in the mattress with wallowing anguish.

Not even an hour after he had laid down he woke up in one such panic, sweat turning to ice on his brow and down the expanse of his chest, and on instinct he reached for you.

But you weren’t there.

When you leave… her. You left her, Djarin. You left her behind. Left her to die. It’s your own fault.

Agony and despair and guilt were his only bedfellows now, grinding against his ribs and chewing through the lining of his stomach. He reached up for one of the thin, utilitarian blankets that he kept in the mesh netting high above his head, maybe more to wipe the sweat off than for comfort. Comfort had tricked him and told him lies. Comfort had made him weak, made him blind to the insurgence that laid next to him at night. Comfort was not something he deserved.

The threadbare blanket fell down from its spot, bringing something else down with it.

Bantha wool.

Growling, Did made to throw the fleecy thing away, hoping it would take his painful memories with it, but the smell of you was all over it. Strong as if you were right there with him, as if he held you in his arms again.

He stopped fighting, hugging the desert fabric to his chest and burying his face in it, breathing in the scent of you as if without it he would suffocate and die. He held the air in, feeling it flow through the serrated hole where his heart used to be. The breath in his lungs let itself out, ragged and broken and threatening.

Alone in his little bunk, the best hunter in the parsec swallowed his sobs down, terrified of waking the baby. The scent of you brought him back to that moment, the moment that he’d snapped. You’d been trying to tell him something, but he had been consumed by his anger, blinded by his hatred of the Empire and the threat that it posed to his son and the memories of what it had done to his people. The Empire that you served.

His body shook at the memory of your confession, I am not an Imp! That’s not who I am anymore! You’d shouted, no, roared, concealing the usage of some kind of… interference device that must have been hidden on your person. His visor had flickered and his audio processors blew, nearly deafening him with feedback. The damage done to his helmet was extensive, and like nothing he’d ever seen, the wires and microchips crushed by some phantasmal force. It took days for him to repair, but it was a welcome distraction from his painful memories.

That’s not who I am any more.

Din chewed his lip so hard he tasted blood, sucking it back down as not to stain the cherished blanket. Did I make a mistake? No. An Imp doesn’t change its plasticast… does it? Even… even one as strong and beautiful as her. He breathed the scent of you in deep, curling up on his cot until his knees touched the wall, digging up yet another tainted memory.

The memory of him kneeling before you, of him asking for your hand.

You don’t know me! You’d sobbed, waving around a sword of pure beskar inches from his throat. You don’t know where I’ve been, what I’ve done!

You’d told him right then and there that you weren’t to be trusted, but... it was too late.

He was in love.

Bedazzled in a pair of opalized fangs far too lavish for such a warrior, he’d sank to his knees at your feet, asking for your hand, or your judgement.

You may now ask him to swear his oaths, and should they please you, you may remove his helmet. However, should he dishonor you, you may remove his head.

It was almost unfair, such an ultimatum of love or death.

You broke every single vow you swore to her, Djarin. How are you any better than an Imp? She loved you, and you threw her out like garbage. You purged that love from your life, forsaking the one that you called ner jate’kara, your guiding star. Without her, you will die in the darkness that you have brought upon yourself.

Without love there was only death left for him, though there wasn’t a single being in this parsec that would be capable of killing him…

Except-

Himself.

The brakes had long gone out on his mental trains, and horrifying clarity wrenched his eyes open in the darkness of the bunk. Maybe death would feel better than the heartbreak he was suffering from now. Maybe giving himself up to the cold embrace of the void would feel less damning, less crushing.

To leave this universe on his own volition, and not on the valorous battlefield, was considered the lowest form of dishonor a Mandalorian could endure. Dar’manda. But… that’s what he was. An honorless cur, an oathbreaker. Though his bond to you had been rendered completely fucking worthless, he was still bound to the baby as his father.

Though...maybe…

Maybe he shouldn’t be.

He couldn’t console Grogu, or even get him to eat most days, and that made him just as worthless as Imp scum. The last bounty lay at the end of the wormhole, a pathetic bail jumper that should take no time at all to capture, and once that was complete and the credits collected maybe…

Maybe he should take Grogu home.

To his people, his real people like he was supposed to do eons ago.

What is it?

It is a foundling. And by Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father.

Din had taken that last line to heart. The last memory he had of his own father still haunted his nightmares, the image of his parent’s eyes glassy with frightened tears as they closed the bunker door over him right before the droid army took their lives.

Decades later an opportunity had been presented to him, an opportunity to give this child a father to grow up with; though the child would likely live for centuries after Din died from either old age or, more likely, a bullet hole. His unknown people had not been good enough to protect the baby, to keep him out of harm's way and out of the grasp of the Empire, but a Mandalorian would be.

Or, so he had told himself.

Somewhere out in the vastness of space were potentially more little green creatures that were missing one of their own, and he had selfishly stolen Grogu away from them to live out his fantasy of being a father.

No.

It wasn’t right, it hadn’t been from the start.

And now he was being punished for it.

One more hunt, one last credit haul to fuel his ship up, and he would return the baby to his people, giving Grogu’s real parents every cent he had left in the most desperate hope that they would forgive him. Forgive him for stealing a child.

And then.

Then it would be over.

There would be nothing left for him.

As if there was anything left for him now.

~

It took a couple of cycles to convince yourself that it wasn’t a nightmare, and even longer to come to terms with your waking reality. Your wayward journey through the stars was over just as quickly as it had begun, and you were right back at square one where you had started.

Inside of you a dull, constant ache had settled in the spot where your heart used to be, bitter and stinging against the anger that was growing in your ribs and the nausea festering in your guts. You couldn’t close your eyes without seeing the rage-twisted face of the man you had thought you loved, thought you trusted; the image worse than any nightmare. You ran through the scenario over and over and over until it drove you to silent, secretive tears.

Years of learning to track, hunt, and kill quarry was only a blip on your mental radar compared to the memories you had made with the Mandalorian and his son during the short time you had known them. You wanted to remember the good things, like the sweet laughter of the child or even the funny, gross-ish noises that Din made when he ate. Anything but those furious, hateful eyes and bared teeth, but that was all you saw whenever you so much as blinked.

Behind your closed eyes was the face of rage, but when your eyes were open it was even harder to convince yourself this was your reality, because you kept seeing… something. A flicker here, a flash of blue there. The feeling that someone was standing next to you when you were in an empty room, as rare as that was now that you were back under the ever-watchful eye of the Admiral.

Though your eyes were playing tricks on you, that wasn’t the strangest thing you’d noticed about the old dragon. Aside from the Admiral there wasn’t a single member of the skeletal crew that you recognized, though almost all of them wore some form of duraplast covering their faces. Every bilgerat you had grown up with had vanished, as well as most of the officers that you’d actually grown to like, including Chief Wellers, the engineering deck staffed with more droids now than people.

It was strange to say the least, and lonely, being left with only one recognizable face that you loathed. The unfamiliar officers glared at you while you were being led up the Wyvern’s wide entryway days ago, making judgemental passes at your hunt-fucked attire. To better match the remaining crew you were stripped of your gear and weapons and given a fresh, beige-and-black uniform that rode up under your arms and chaffed your thighs. And to add insult to injury you had even been given a stupid little hat to top it off. You hated it, but at least it had pockets. Pockets full of secrets.

Wrapped up in the red silk kerchief that you had stolen on Canto Bight, the pair of beloved fossils weighed heavy against your thigh, a piercing reminder of another life. Why are you keeping them? He left you, dumbass. He’s not coming back. True as that may be, you weren’t ready to let go, the wound was still too fresh, too recent. You missed those strange boys from the stars, and the tiny collection of trinkets was all you had left of a life that had actually meant something to you.

A set of beskar ear cuffs, a red pocket square, and a pair of krayt’s teeth.

An entire lifetime sitting in the palms of your hands.

You had one in your hand now, the opalized bone glittering under fluorescent lights while you used it to pick at the undersides of your nails, the priceless gemstones reduced to cleaning tools. Glancing up at the ship's clock you calculated how long you had before Forescythe would come around to ‘wake you’, as if you’d slept at all in the last three days.

The Wyvern’s Tongue was surprisingly still docked at the station you had been abandoned on, a scorching reminder of your trauma every time you passed a porthole or walked the bridge, stuck to the Admiral’s side like he had you on a leash. It was difficult to tell what they were loading the ship up with, but every time you saw the station you caught another massive skiff-load of something with the word HAZARDOUS in big yellow letters being hauled aboard from one of the other starships that had docked nearby.

You heard footsteps outside your spartan quarters, getting closer then fading away. Stormtrooper. Though you weren’t being kept prisoner, exactly, the constant vigil between the Admiral and the troopers left you little-to-no privacy, with only the smallests gaps in their overlaps. The rotation of the guards through the hallways was militant with its timing, and it wouldn’t be much longer before you had all of their routes memorized.

The long-strided gait of the Admiral echoed far down the hallway, and you snuck your fangs into your pockets so you could make yourself presentable. Oh-seven-hundred, on the dot. Barely a courtesy knock was given before the detestable man was letting himself into your room, running through the day’s itinerary after a hastily given ‘Good morning, Sparrow.’

Sparrow. Your deadname was dropped frequently, scalding your steeled ears each time, though rarely was it said with anything short of admiration. You almost wanted to be scolded, and you should have been for dissenting for as long as you did, but the way the Admiral talked to you was friendly, dangerously friendly; and the sweet-talking only made you resent him more.

“Today is the last day we will be docked at Elgon, we’ve nearly finished loading up on the...supplies, and will be in hyperspace soon. This old girl’s been fitted with an updated hyperdrive, so we’ll make the trip to our destination in good time.” You nodded, avoiding conversation. It was best that you spoke to him as little as possible to perpetuate the lie that you had become tone deaf, and you could tell that it drove him insane. Good, fuck your shit to hell. He gestured for you to follow him on his rounds, walking alongside him like an obedient puppy. “Come along, little bird, there is much for us to do today.”

“Yessir.”

He froze and turned back at you, a pouty face stretched grossly across his gaunt features. “Now now, Sparrow, I know you’re upset that you’re not my comms officer anymore, but you’re home again, you can drop the formalities when we’re in private.” He crossed the short distance to you, placing his hands on your shoulder and digging his thumbs into the deep-set bruises that he couldn’t see. “You don’t have to call me sir.”

You wished you could vomit on command, spew acid like a voxyn and melt the Admiral's face clean off, peel his smile right off of his skull. You knew what he wanted, but you would rather cut off your own tongue than give it to him. But you knew what would happen if he didn’t get what he wanted, your skin crawling at repressed memories. He left you no choice.

“Yes… father.”

“There, doesn’t that sound better? Almost makes me feel like you never even left.”

No it wasn’t better, it was horrid. You forced your face to stay neutral, but behind your eyes you were seething. It must have been the anger welling up inside you that made you see something flicker over the Admiral’s shoulder. Something that definitely wasn’t there.

You were going to get off of this ship if it fucking killed you.

~

Of course it had to be Tatooine.

The dirtball of a planet lit up the viewport in front of Din, bathing the cockpit in sickly, lemon-yellow light. The Crest slid easily through the thin atmosphere on well-tuned wings, coasting over the infinitely stretching desert until the familiar skyline of Mos Eisley rose into view.

Mando took the old gunship in with rehearsed accuracy, alighting gracefully on the landing pad in the center of hangar 3-5, though not even the roar of the Razor’s engines could drown out the high pitched argument already echoing around the circular space.

“You gotta lotta nerve showing up here again, Mando!” Peli barked, tapping her foot like a disgruntled hare when the Mandalorian started down the ramp. She took a big breath to really launch into a tirade when she saw the foundling, with his huge sad eyes and limply drooping ears. “What… what’s wrong with the baby? Is’ee sick or somethin’?” Din started to hand her the child, but she raised her arms defensively. “Look, he’s cute’n all but I-I don’t need a sick kid on my hands.”

“He’s not sick, he’s... fine.” Din said in a low, level voice, devoid of almost all emotion. Somewhat reluctantly the mechanic took Grogu from him, and the little green baby curled up in a ball of sadness, hiding his head under her chin.

“Alright, if you say so. I don’t mind watchin’ him as long as he don’t upchuck on my jumpsuit.” She glanced past the iron giant’s shoulders, her eyebrows raised almost comically. “Where’s the other one? You get rid of her finally?” Din was still for a moment, then gave a single, slow nod. “Good. Bout time someone turned that Imp in. I’m tellin’ ya, she cheated at sabbac like-”

“How did you know she was an Imp?” Mando asked, suddenly alive.

“I have my ways.” She chided. Din cocked his head vehemently above stiffened shoulders. “Alright alright don’t look at me like that, geez. When she showed up here it was in a Shimian pleasure cruiser, y’know one of those fancy, expensive lookin’ ones. Obviously stolen. She wanted me to take it, even offered to pay me just to take it off’er hands, but I wasn’t gonna fall for that. She had alotta credits too, almost enough to talk me into it, almost! That’s when she pulled out an Imperial officer’s insignia, pure aurodium and easily worth a fortune.”

Peli paused to adjust Grogu, smoothing a wayward ear out of her face. “If she’d’a picked it off a corpse there’s no way she would’a kept it. Nuh-uh, would’a sold that baby the first chance she got. Nah, it meant something to her once, or maybe it was just the last bargaining chip she had, I don’t know.”

The mechanic shrugged. “Either way, I took the token an’ fenced the ship, made alotta cash that day. If she didn’t cheat at sabacc so damn much I’d invite her over more often!” The mechanic snorted a laugh, then a serious look crossed her face. “Hey, um, Mando… you weren’t… you weren’t too rough with her, were ya? When you turned her in? She wasn’t a bad egg, y’know. Bit snarky but- ”

Leather fists creaked at the end of armored wrists, trying to strangle the pain that was constricting his heart. “Can you watch the child or not?”

Surprised by his harsh tone, Peli nodded quickly and watched the Mandalorian spin around on his heel and storm back up the ramp into the Crest without another word. The confused mechanic looked down to Grogu with a playful scowl. “What’s his deal, huh, womp rat?” The child cooed sadly, hiding his face. “Oh, that bad, huh? Wanna tell me about it over some bantha burgers? They’re fresh! C’mon, you look like you’re wasting away, dad not feeding you right?”

“Pa..tu...”

With the child’s care secured, Din started his preparations for the hunt. Dressing-down was second nature to him, and going through the motions helped him clear his mind, tune him into his natural state of being. At the armory, he popped fresh cartridges into his blasters, refilled the slug-strap that crossed his chest, and picked out a handful of vibroblades.

He reached into the bottom of the locker, trying to dig out a whetstone when he heard the sweet ringing of ironsong where his wrist armor chimed against a beskar mask. He’d stashed the engagement present as far down in the armory as he could, somewhere that it would remain hidden, somewhere that it couldn’t stare back at him; the eyeless visage glaring daggers of judgement straight through his skull.

Oathbreaker.

Growling, he shoved the slab of steel out of the way, knocking it into something else in the bottom of the armory: Imp guns.

He stopped digging for a moment, cocking his helmet at the collection of grimey, rust-ridden armaments that were dirtying up the bottom of the cabinet. Din pulled one of the standard-issue blasters up into the slanted daylight coming in from the open door, turning it over in his hands. The guns had been collected on Nevarro from a decrepit squad of stormtroopers caught harassing townspeople for information on the missing mandos.

Stormtroopers that you had killed.

Imps killing Imps? That… doesn’t make sense. Why would she kill her own people? He shook his head. Why would they abduct children or blow up planets? Killing their own isn’t that far-fetched. He tossed the blaster back into the locker, covering the beskar faceplate with the rest of the Imp accessories until it was back out of sight.

Finished with arming himself, he took a deep breath and held it in his chest for as long as he could, letting it out slow and steady. He fished the singular bounty fob from his belt, the tracking light flashing with a rhythmic candor. Nearby, but not close. That means they’re probably in town.

This will be easy.

~

The hour was late, or as late as it could be in a place where ‘day’ and ‘night’ were only concepts represented by the arms of a clock, but it was perfect for what you needed to do. You were dressed and your pockets were stuffed, bag slung over your shoulder exactly as it had been the first time you’d ran away from home. Five fifteen, three minutes before the next pass of guards.

Your plan was flawless. The Wyvern’s labyrinthian hallways and service spaces would lead you to the hangar bay just as they had years ago, it was just a matter of doing so unseen. If you played your cards right you would miss each and every patrol until you could snag another interceptor and get the hell outta dodge. The Wyvern was scheduled to disembark Elgon at oh-seven-hundred, making this your last chance to escape before the ship was swallowed by the stars.

Five sixteen.

Patting your front pockets where your fangs were hidden, you paced the room, running through the pathway again and again. Straight down the hallway past the guard quarters, left at the galley. Unscrew the loose air vent at the end of the breezeway and take that to the main air shaft ‘til you reach the mid deck, then it’s a straight shot-

D̵̫͊o̷n̸’t̷ lea̸̒ve̷.

You stopped your pacing and blinked, glancing around the room for the source of the voice. When you saw no one, you sighed and rubbed your temples. Not this shit again. The incessant voice of your nightmares had stopped being scary and started being just downright annoying. You’d started to get good at ignoring the sound, though it just loved keeping you up at night.

Who needs sleep, anyway?

Five seventeen. Your shoulders crackled when you rolled them, trying to loosen the bruised tissue that the Mandalorian had put in their joints. Asshole. You were about to start counting seconds when you heard the troopers boots echoing faintly from down the hallway. Right on t-

D̷͊o̶n̵͗’̴̕t̷͛ ̵͔͘ḻ̷̛eav̵e!

“Fuck off, spooky.” You hissed to no one in particular. “I’m blowin’ this popsicle stand and ain’t no goddamn ghost gonna keep me here a minute longer.” The bootsteps got louder until they were right outside your door, then continued down the hallway.

Five eighteen on the dot. You waited until the footfalls disappeared entirely, then snuck your way out through the bulkhead door, careful not to make a sound. The long, low-lit corridors echoed with the whirring innards of the Wyvern, but nothing else. Not even your bootsteps.

Much quieter than the ghosts that haunted your dreams, you slinked down the hallway, past the closed door of the guard quarters, hugging the wall by the galley until the five twenty-one patrol passed, then flew to the air vent on the far side of the kitchen.

A knife would have worked better, but a fossil fang was good enough to undo the corner screws that kept the grate in place. You slipped down the air duct right before the five-twenty-three patrol rounded the far corner. Waiting until they passed so they wouldn’t hear you, you belly-crawled down the narrow shaft until you dropped into the main air supply.

Wind rushed around you, delivering precious oxygen to every corner of the ship, but even over the near-howling gales you could still hear Spooky giving you a ration of crap.

Yo̷u̵ ca̴n̷̎not le̸̪̕a̵ve! ̵͒S̷tay̴ ̸̔st̷͐ay ̴s̷t̵̂a̷y̵̾ s̷͂ta̵̍y

“You fucking suck!” You spat, hobbling through the just-too-short-to-stand-up ventilation. “Keep your damn pie hole shut unless you have something useful to-”

H̴e’̴̓s ̴̉c̶̍oming.

You hit the brakes, possibly sacrificing precious time. “Who, Forescythe? He’s gotta get his beauty rest, that old fuck’ll be down at least til-”

N̵͒ò̶, n̴o̸t̶ ̴̓hi̵m, Din.

Ice coagulated in your veins before it was replaced with molten rage. “Oh. Oh ho HO.” You laughed, barely keeping your voice down. “Now… now you’ve done it, Spook. Now I know you’re not real, and I’m just completely batshit! Off my rocker!” You soldiered on, a manic grin on your face. “He is definetly not fucking coming. And if you’d been paying attention you’d know that too.”

H̴e’̴̓s ̴̉c̶̍oming!

“Blow me.” You hustled through the ductwork until you were above the entryway to the hangar. The interceptor bay was on its own air supply in case a magcon failed and vacuumed all the air out, a separate system from the one you were in now. That way the rest of the ship would still have precious oxygen in the event of catastrophe, all you had to do now was get through the door.

The five-thirty-five trooper plodded sleepily along, tilting his egghead back to sip at a steaming mug of caf. What is the point of having a guard rotation if they’re not even awake. Once he’d rounded the corner you set to work on the air vent, quickly spinning the threaded ends of the screws around between your fingers until they clattered to the floor far below.

Carefully you moved the grate out of the way and dropped to the decking in front of the hangar door. Bingo! You dashed to the access panel, slapping your hand on the wide palm reader. Go go go go! The blue laser light slid back and forth, back and forth, lazily reading your fingerprints. Come on!!!

The panel went red. ENTRY DENIED.

“Cocksucker!” You slapped the screen, demanding it take another reading, but instead it flashed another line of text: SPW-7042 PRE-EXISTING MEDICAL CONDITION DETECTED, ENTRY BARRED DUE TO HAZARDOUS RHYDONIUM EXPOSURE.

“‘Scuse me?!” you poked at the screen like an geriatric Gungan, “The hell do you mean rhydonium? What fucking lunatic loads a starship up with rhydonium?! Whatever, fuck your rhydonium nonsense you big goddamn hunk of junk, let me through!”

A third line of text ticked across the screen: CONDITION: PREGNANT.

You BARKED you laughed so hard. “Wooooow, that starfuel must be fuckin’ with your circuits, shitscraps, I’ve been chipped since I was thirteen. Ain’t nobody home.” Loud footsteps echoed further down the hallway, times up. Cursing silently, you poked at the screen until the faulty reading cleared, then booked it in the opposite direction of the incoming trooper. Your plan to escape had been thwarted by the Wyvern’s garbage security protocols, and without another way through you were stuck until the ship made it out of hyperspace.

In a week.

~

Somebody had once equated Mos Eisley to a wretched hive of scum and villainy, and the description couldn’t possibly be more on the nose. A multitude of shady market-goers hustled and bustled down the desert streets, kicking up sand and dust as they went. The Tatooinian bazaar was one of the few places that the Mandalorian blended in, amid the multitude of colorful characters the armored hunter was practically invisible.

Din ambled through the streets, not even trying to be sneaky, though behind his beskar he was suspicious of everyone that passed him by. He wasn’t too concerned about his last bounty, almost nonchalantly making his way to the cantina where the bail jumper would certainly be at with their nose buried in either a deck of cards or a shot of spotchka. Or both.

It was easy to follow the street signs to the local dive bar, making him feel almost lazy with how little effort this would take. Feeling bored almost to the point of pessimism, he took a deep breath, the filtered air bringing with it the smell of street food.

He stopped, holding the air in his lungs before forcing it out quickly, taking another handful of deep sniffs. Though he wasn’t eating much these days, or sleeping, or anything else that humans needed to do in order to function properly, the aroma of whatever was being cooked distracted him until it had his full, undivided attention.

Din followed his nose off of the path he was taking to the cantina, his helmet tilting back slightly with each strong inhalation, taking him down the busy main street until he spotted the source of the familiar spice.

Over a large fire a spit was turning with what looked like oversized root vegetables, slathered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. Mando cocked his bucket at the rotisserie, ignoring the chef that was trying to hassle him into buying something, trying to figure out what was so familiar about it.

Then it hit him.

You.

Many moons ago, he’d watched you book it out of the safety of the hangar and dash towards the delicious street food while the Mandalorian began picking off the hunters that were still chasing you. You’d barely even looked up from your meal as the bounty hunter dragged a squirming Trandoshan down an alleyway and slit it’s scaly throat. It wasn’t until a whole drop through hyperspace later that Din had found out that you had bought him one of the grilled veggies as well. Before you even knew his name.

Mando, you never ate your breakfast.

You… got me breakfast?

Yes? I said I would.

Thank you… you’re very kind.

And don’t you forget it!

The memory flooded his synapses with forgotten joy before being replaced with scalding fury. He shook his head, storming off down the busy main road, dead set now on finding his quarry. How dare you let that fucking Imp continue to distract you. Get to work.

The doors to the cantina nearly broke off when the living locomotive plowed through them, barging his way through the sleazy patrons towards the bar. Lively music and inhalant smoke hung heavy in the air, shrouding the far corners of the saloon and the secrets they may have kept hidden.

Din was too annoyed with himself to properly check his surroundings, but whatever, it’s just Mos Eisley, he could whip every fucko in this joint with his hands tied behind his back if it struck his fancy. He strode up to the bartender with an air of disgruntled confidence so strong it rivaled the smoky atmosphere with its potency. The Mandalorian fished the final bounty puck out of his many pockets and slammed it down on the counter, its holoprojection wavering in the heady smog.

“Have you seen this man?” Din snapped at the bartender, pointing at the weasley-looking face of the bail jumper shining above the counter.

The barkeep, a shaggy-looking Toydarian with a torn wing, eyed the beskar clad warrior suspiciously. “Hmm. Can’ta’ say’a have.'' he huffed, clearly lying.

“Are you sure?” Din asked, sliding a couple of credits over the counter. “Maybe this will jog your memory.” The Toydarian snatched the coins off the counter with shovel-clawed fingers, stowing them away on his belt.

He leaned forward, the acrid smell of alcohol and rotting teeth quickly overpowering the stench of tobacco. “Maybe I see’s ‘im, maybes I don’t…” Another couple of credits clinked to the counter and immediately vanished from view. “Ya, I see’s ‘im.” He stroked his thickly bristled chin, seemingly deep in thought. “You know what? You’a seem’a like a good guy, why don’t’a I take’a you to ‘im, hmm? Come come come.”

The creature’s wings flapped unevenly as he rose off the stepstool he was using behind the bar, floating through the cantina towards a door obscured by an ornate drapery. Din started to follow, but stopped, feeling his hackles rise on the back of his neck. Should I actually follow this guy? Maybe it’s a trap. He pulled the fob out from his belt just enough that he could see the blinking light flashing quicker than before. I’ll be fine, let’s just get this over with.

The Toydarian opened the door behind the curtain, and immediately the reek of Spice wafted up from the hidden cellar. Drug den, great. That would make sense, what better way to spend your bail money than Huttese Spice, wasting away in the dark. Cautiously he made his way down the stone steps, the light of the cantina fading away as the door started to close behind him. Before it shut, he knew he heard the barkeep mutter something under his breath.

“Coo ya maya stupa…” You weak minded fool.

Din whirled at the insult, but the door had already slammed shut, echoing loudly through the hollow passageway. Cursing, Mando continued down the stairs into the spice den, the aroma of the coveted drug growing stronger with each step until it was making him nauseous. At the foot of the stairs was a low, poorly lit room, the stucco ceiling strung over with dark purple lanterns that steeped the den in near-darkness. Strewn about the floor, the inebriated lounged on pillows or rugs, or even the bare stone, plumes of narcotic smoke dancing over their shadowy faces, obscuring most from view.

Pulling the fob out again, he hovered the tracking device over each intoxicated body, waiting for the light to change green. His search took him further and further into the basement until he had to switch on his headlamp just to be able to see. At the farthest end of the room the last possible person was slumped against the wall, and the hunter crossed the remaining distance to the limp figure, grabbing them roughly by the shoulder and hauling them into the light.

The dead man’s withered head snapped from its twiggy neck and rolled away into the dark, making Din nearly throw the corpse to the ground, the body rattling in the manacles that chained it to the wall. Startled, he backed away quickly, too quickly, backing into something sharp. He tried to whirl around on his sudden assailant, but the stabbing pain of an addict’s needle immediately pierced through the thick layers of his duraweave and into his flesh.

Reacting on fear more than training, he lashed out wildly, firing his blaster with one hand and his flame thrower with the other. The wall of fire lit the cellar up brighter than daylight, illuminating the alien faces of the falsely-inebriated attackers that had been lying in wait for the barkeep to send another fool into their trap. Fearing for his life, for his son, Din battled his way through the many hands grabbing at him, but even in his fury he started to feel his pulse slowing down, reacting to the heavy dose of Spice he had been pricked with.

The room began to spin, his eyes began to lose sight, and it wasn’t until his skull cracked against the dirty floor that he realized his helmet had been removed in the fray, damning him forever in the eyes of his Creed. As the world began to fade away he felt himself get kicked over onto his face and a pair of cuffs locked around his wrists.

“Skocha-kloonkee, the Imps’a gonna pay’a lot’sa money for you, mister bucket man. Hehehe, should’a known better than’a to go into a spicehole alone.”

Before Din lost consciousness entirely, his spiked mind conjured up an image of you, lounging in the passenger seat with Grogu seated on your lap, watching the stars streak by overhead. He tried to reach you, his arms straining weakly against his fetters, trying to touch the memory of you one last time. You turned to him and smiled, holding the baby’s fat little paw up and waving it at him.

“Beans, say bye-bye to papa.”

~

The hour was still early, but you were already dressed in your stupid little monkey suit, ears clad in your empty beskar cuffs, pockets full of fabric and fangs; backpack abandoned entirely to avoid suspicion. Today you would be finding out where the Wyvern was destined for when she left port, but you didn’t really care. All that mattered was that the hangar doors would be open during the myriad of activities.

Today was your chance to escape.

*Beep!* Dropping from hyperspace in: one hour.

The navigational warning chimed throughout the expansive corridors of the Wyvern, echoing pragmatically in your spartan room, and you danced a little jig with excitement. Toodle-oo, fuckos! Consider this popsicle stand: blown!

In your abysmally small quarters the fresher area left much to be desired, but the Admiral had at least done you the decency of giving you a private room with it’s own washing space, as tiny as it was. The shower, sink, and potty all shared the same square footage, and the mirror on the wall was barely big enough to fit your face.

You were working on your appearance now, making yourself presentable before father dearest came around. The more you looked like you had accepted your position as crewmate, the less likely he was to notice you go missing when you slipped away. You combed your hair with your fingers, brushing it back as to more easily seat the dumb little hat on your head. Turning away from the mirror, you picked the hat up off the sink and started to put it on, but nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw someone else's eyes staring back at you.

Yo̷u̵ ca̴n̷̎not le̸̪̕a̵ve.

Angrily you stomped your foot, startled by the flickering, faceless apparition that wasn’t physically there when you turned around. “Shit balls of motherfucking hell! I can’t get off‘a this ship fast enough! I can’t get away from you fast enough!” You smushed your hat on your head, glaring at the bluish, indeterminate figure.

H̴e’̴̓s ̴̉c̶̍oming.

“Listen here, you ectoplasmic bitch.” You hissed with fury, stabbing your pointer finger at the warped image in the aluminum. “I don’t know who you are, or where you’re getting your ‘information’ from, but he ain’t coming!” The deep-cut wounds of heartbreak that had started to scar over split open again, spilling fresh sorrow down over your ribs. “I-I don’t need him anyway. I can handle this myself.”

He n̵ee̵d̶s y̵ó̴̧u̶.

“Bullshit!” You stormed away from the mirror while the Wyvern’s antique wiring faulted overhead, making the fluorescent lights flicker and allowing the shadows to reveal the space where the phantom was standing; casting a faint, ghastly aura on the corners of the room. Snatching a fang from your pocket you whirled on the void, brandishing the pointy end at where a throat might be. “Who’d’ya think you are, anyway, huh? Acting like you know what’s best for me? Telling me that Din’s gonna come back? Ain’t no knight-in-shining-beskar coming for me and I’m sick of you telling me otherwise!”

H̴e’̴̓s ̴̉c̶̍oming.

“That’s it! I’ve had it with your games! Your lies! Show yourself, you spookyass motherfucker! Show me who you really are!”

Sweat began to bead on your brow, anger and heartbreak and venom coursing hotly through your veins until it was pulsating behind your eyes. You grabbed the second fang, ready to sink your teeth into the incessant phantom, their edges cutting into the marks they had already put on your palms once before. To any onlookers you would have appeared like a madwoman, brandishing glittering fossils at empty space, your lips pulled back in a snarl, ready to strike.

“I said show yourself!”

Out went the lights.

And in came the ghosts.

Though the bulbs overhead had blacked out completely, the room was radiating with the light of the sudden crowd, the masses of shimmering specters appearing to go on endlessly throughout a space bigger than your room, bigger even than the Wyvern herself, stretching well beyond the edges of infinity. Farther and farther and farther until your eyes couldn’t distinguish them anymore.

There. Were. Billions.

You blinked fast, your breath catching in your lungs until you were nearly hyperventilating, feeling claustrophobic amid the incorporeal congregation. The sweat on your brow turned to ice, your eyes darting between every face, every person, every body, seeing them clearly for the first time.

Some of them wore elaborate robes, some of them were dressed like peasants, and even more distressing were a collection of beskar plated warriors, their visors glowing with otherworldly light. There were species you were familiar with, and many many more that you weren’t. Some of them were even wearing white duraplast, their eggshells cracked to reveal the glowing eyes underneath.

Some of them you recognized.

“We are the victims of the Empire. The citizens of Alderaan, of Jedha, Scarif, Mandalore and countless others. The Republic we once served turned its back on us, and then its weapons, eradicating the very people that brought it into being.”

Many voices spoke at once, the cacophony of it resonating in your skull until you were clawing at your ears, nearly dropping your impromptu daggers to protect yourself from the skull-splitting noise.

“You must stop it from happening again, but you can not do so alone. Only with your soulmate at your side will you save the people from the vindication of the Empire.”

Hot tears stung at your eyes, flooding out from a place of fear and anger. “Soulmate? SOULMATE?! Bullshit! Bullshit bulllshit bullshit! Din is not my soulmate, if he was then he wouldn’t have left me here rot! Dumped me on the Empire’s front fucking door like yesterday’s garbage! Not that I can even blame him anymore, who could ever love an Imp? We are monsters!”

“You are not an Imp, Tra’laar. You are something far greater than they will ever be.”

The sound of your gifted name hurt in your chest more than the broiling hatred that bubbled underneath your broken heart, taking you down to your knees. In front of you, a pair of specters knelt down to your level, a man and a woman in intricately embroidered red robes. The woman’s eyes were warm and adoring, and the way her cheeks rolled high almost made you feel calm, maybe even loved. The man’s aquiline nose stood out beautifully above his radiant smile, giving you the impression that this was a man who would go to the ends of the galaxy for those he loved.

They looked hauntingly familiar.

The woman reached for your hand, and you felt her. You felt her holding you, as if she were really there, her dainty fingers brushing over where the fang was biting into your skin, fading away the pain. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she was still smiling, looking at you like someone seeing the stars for the very first time.

“You are Hope Incarnate.”

You bolted upright from your little cot, gasping for air until your throat was so dry it felt like fire. Sweat streaked over your brow and down the dip of your spine, soaking the sheets under you. With wild, bloodshot eyes you searched around your closet-sized room for any trace of the phantoms, but even in the dim night light you could tell you were alone. Angry with yourself, you slammed a fist into the steel wall, furious that you had been duped by hyperspace yet again.

The pain of striking the unforgiving hull stung more than you thought it should. Flipping on the lights, you gasped when you looked at your palms, the healed krayt bites red with fresh blood. It had been days since you sliced your palms on their edges, pounding on the bottom of the Razor Crests ramp, and the skin had long since closed up. But now it was as fresh as the day they had been cut, weeping crimson.

I have got to get off of this ship.

It took the remainder of the hour to compose yourself, getting out of your sweat-soaked pajamas and tending to your wounds; but at least Spooky and Friends let you be. Your mind replayed the omen on repeat until you were certain that you had completely lost your mind. No such thing as ghosts. You are tired, you are stressed, and you are completely absolutely one hundred percent bonkers. Fuck this entire noise.

Dressed in your stupid little outfit, for real this time, you sat at the edge of your bed until the the Wyvern’s navigational warning sounded again, giving you only a moment before the ship was dropped out of hyperspace. Eager to get the fuck out, you ran out of your room so quickly that you nearly smashed into the Admiral as he was coming around. “Ah, good morning, Sparrow. I see you’re eager to start the day. Come, I need you on the bridge.”

Obediently you followed along behind Forescythe without a word, letting the imposing captain carve a swath through the multitude of scurrying crewmates as you made your way to the flight deck. When the blast doors opened on the wide, triangular space, your eyes went right over the heads of the officers and out the window to the bright yellow world hanging beneath the ship.

“Is that… Is that Tatooine?”

“How very observant of you. Yes, it is indeed, though it won’t be for much longer.”

Whispers hissed at your eardrums, you must stop it from happening again. “What do you mean?”

The Admiral chuckled, the sound grating like nails on chalkboard. “It’s been hard keeping this secret from you, little bird, but you know how much I love surprises! Oh, look, here comes the rest of the fleet.” He nodded towards the transparisteel as another, smaller starcruiser came into view. Then another, and another, and another until there were at least a dozen titanium daggers hovering in a semi-circle that spanned out on either side of the Wyvern like wings.

“The Empire has been busy since you left,” he scolded, folding his arms behind his back like some kind of skeletal vulture. “The Death Star is obsolete, though the mere idea of a supermassive planet destroyer was folly from the beginning, taking decades to build and almost as long to fire. No more, now we can vaporize an entire world with just one single ship.” He gestured with a flourish, blind to the color draining from your face. “The Wyvern will be at the forefront of the Empire’s destructive capabilities, and lucky you, you will have the honor of a front row seat. What a pity it is that you cannot serenade Tatooine’s demise with one of your songs.”

Stinging bile crept up your throat, threatening to send you into a panic. “Th-there’s people down there. How can you justify killing so many innocents?”

Forecythe scoffed, “Innocents?! On that dirtball of a planet? Inconceivable. The Maker will thank us for wiping it off of the face-” His monologue was interrupted by a hailing beacon lighting up on the communication officer's holodeck. The officer in your old seat answered the incoming transmission, talking to whoever was on the other line through their headset.

“Sir, they’ve located the target.”

“Excellent! And on Tatooine, no less. How ironic. Have the target transported to the receiving hangar so we may make their acquaintance.”

You’d long since become numb to the Admiral’s prattling, your mind racing to find a way to stop Tatooine from being wiped off the map. The ugly little hunk of rock had done you no favors, but that wasn’t an excuse to add more names to the list of dead. You were startled when you were addressed again.

“Come along, little bird, I have a gift for you.” Forescythe said with a crooked smile. If he was trying to be genuine, the effect was entirely lost upon you, his gummy smile reminding you of the forgotten captain’s corpse you’d discovered on Endor. I don’t want anything from you, monster. You flashed him a pair of raised eyebrows in response, and he turned on his heel, waving for you to follow. Whatever the distraction was would at least buy you some time.

You dutifully walked alongside the Admiral through the ship towards the balcony that oversaw the receiving bay. The hangar was swarming with troopers and officers alike, eagerly anticipating the transport unit that was easing itself through the magcon field. The bloated tick of a ship billowed with steam as its landing gear deployed, and soon the short access ramp was angling to the ground. Out first stepped a pair of troopers, their guns drawn on the open door.

Then, out stepped a man.

He was cuffed with his arms behind his back, escorted by another pair of troopers manhandling him down the ramp. Blood poured freely from a wound on his scalp, matting his dark brown curls and pooling in the exposed recess of his eyes. His gait was unsteady, though he was still futilely trying to wrest himself free of the troopers as they marched him through the hangar. You nearly puked your heart out at the sight.

Din.

The Admiral laughed proudly, “They’ve caught that damned mando that everyone’s been on about, though I’m not entirely sure why Moff Gideon struggled so much to catch him, or even what he wanted from such a loathsome creature. There’s nothing of value on him except maybe his armor.” A vile glint sparked in the man’s eyes. “It will be so much fun to peel it off.”

You barely heard his words over the sound of your heartbeat thundering violently through your ears. No.. no no no no no. Another egghead disembarked from the transport, carrying Din’s helmet like an empty garbage can. You swallowed around the cotton growing in your mouth, fumbling for words. “They took his helmet off...”

“Indeed. Being uncrowned is the greatest dishonor you can inflict on one of those wretched things, it renders them worse than dead in the eyes of their cult. After we remove Tatooine from the sky we should-”

“Before.” You interrupted, your voice cold and level, far cry from the hurricane of turmoil you were choking down. “Before we attack Tatooine. I want... I want to tear his armor off, and then I want him to watch. As punishment for stealing my ship.”

The Admiral’s wicked grin sent shivers down your spine, and you knew your lie had taken root. “Very well! Oh Sparrow, it’s so good to have you back aboard. I’d always wondered if you’d taken after me.” Disgust welled up in your guts at the pride beaming off the vile man, but at least you were going to get close to Din.

And do… what, exactly?

The tall man leaned over the balcony railing, shouting down at the guards. “Take the prisoner to the bridge, and make him… comfortable. Wouldn’t want him to miss the show!” Behind you Forescythe turned on his heel and set off back towards the bridge, and you cast a wary glance down at the prisoner below. Din’s bloody head hung limpy, but when it swung your way his blackened eyes caught you, glaring daggers through your soul before one of the guards cold-clocked him between his shoulder blades.

If Din’s here then where’s Grogu? You watched the transport unit, scanning for signs of life, but it appeared to be empty. Ok, maybe they didn’t get him. Your already sickened heart did a violent backflip in your chest, or maybe they did and took him somewhere else, or worse, left him for dead. Din and the guards disappeared through a sliding bulkhead, and you sprang to life to hurry in the Admiral’s footsteps.

When you arrived at the bridge, the stormtroopers had already magnetized Din’s cuffed wrists to the wall, dangling him just far enough off the floor that he couldn’t support his weight properly with his legs. The blood clouding his eyes dripped down the length of his nose and over his lips, staining his teeth crimson. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, hinting at a broken rib or two; but worst of all were his eyes. Bared for all to see, violating his Creed with every Imperial gaze that fell on his uncovered face, and yet the pools of bloodied earth were locked to only one other pair.

Yours.

“Looks like he remembers you.” Forescythe said with a villainous laugh, striding slowly over to the manacled Mandalorian. “My my, would you look at him, he is quite impressive, or at least he was”. The Admiral hovered just out of Din’s kicking range, cocking his head like a raptor eyeing a weak little mouse. “See this marking?” he said, pointing a bony finger at the mudhorn on Din’s pauldron. “They only get these when they become clan leaders. This one’s probably got a whole nest somewhere, breeding like rats. Is that what Moff Gideon was after, hmm? The rest of your bucket headed zealots?”

Din growled, the timbre of it so low and threatening you felt a chill run down your spine. He shouldn’t be here. Though you were still furious with him for what he did to you, you knew this wasn’t a fate that he deserved. Doesn’t he though? Doesn’t he deserve exactly what he did to me? Bile burned in the back of your throat. No, nobody deserves this, not even him.

Forescythe chuckled darkly at the Mandalorian’s weak show of bravado. “I was there, you know, when they gave the order to eviscerate that pathetic excuse for a planet.” Yellowed teeth shined under cold, soulless eyes in a smile that could freeze blood. “I was one of the first commanders to get to… test out the kyber crystal technology that eventually led to the creation of the Death Star. They made me a captain for it, commissioned a Corellian ship for me and everything.” He leaned in close to Din, grinning wickedly at the warrior’s seething anger. “Doesn’t Mandalore look so pretty now, all turned to glass?”

“Demagolka!”

The admiral scoffed at the searing insult, nodding to one of the guards. An electric prod crackled to life in the trooper’s grip before it was being stabbed into Din’s unarmored side, making him cry out in pain.

“No!” You shrieked, immediately covering your incriminating piehole. Fuck.

-flicker flick-

Forescythe glanced up at the sputtering lights, then slowly, maliciously down to you. He scrutinized you a moment, then readdressed the guard, not taking his eyes away from your failing facade.

“Again.”

-czzt cRaCK cRAcK CRACK!!-

You ground your molars into paste trying to keep yourself from screaming, but tears pricking in the corners of your eyes gave away your distress, and when the Admiral signaled the guard a third time it became unbearable.

“Stop it!” You roared through snarling teeth, ignoring the faulty lighting and the feel of the ship quake underneath you.

Forescythe’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “I knew it.” he hissed, his lips curling upwards in a serpentis sneer. “I knew that voice of yours was special, but I never realized you needed a catalyst in order to unlock your potential. Does this... upset you?” He snapped his fingers at the guard, sending another bolt of electricity through Din’s body and bringing more angry tears to your eyes.

“Stop hurting him! I’ll.. I’ll do whatever you want just let him go!” You yanked the cuffs off of your ears and cast them on the floor, the sound of beskar on durasteel jingling like loose change. “I’ll… I’ll sing. Whatever you want, just stop hurting him!”

“Oh, no... we’re well past that now, little bird.” Forescythe loomed over you, an evil glint in his eye. “Now that I know I didn’t waste all those years training your voice, we’re going to take it for a little spin.”

Little miss well-behaved evaporated from your roster of characters, replaced with the big bad bitch you knew and loved. “I’m not doing a goddamn thing. I don’t know what you’re on about, you old shitbag, but you don’t control me. I’m not afraid of you!” you growled, snarling like a rabid nexu.

“That’s no way to talk to your superior officer, bilgerat.” Boney fingers snatched you by the collar of your uniform. “You think I pulled you from the scuppers because of your pretty little songs? No, Sparrow, I knew there was more to you than that. I knew it when I heard your voice through three whole decks of durasteel, and I knew it when you tried to rip your own ears off after we blew up Alderaan.” Forescythe hauled you to him, breathing gross old-man breath in your face. “You didn’t just watch it get erased from the maps, you felt it die. You felt it through the Force.”

You spat in his face, earning yourself a stinging backhand. “Ungrateful brat. I made you, I can unmake you.” The ship quaked again beneath your feet, and the lights in the helm went off, turning the wide, triangular space red under the emergency lights. “That’s it, you feel it again now, don’t you?” The dark crimson lights sank shadows under the Admiral’s eyes, highlighting the bones of his skull, confronting you with the grinning face of death.

From behind the collection of stormtroopers a weak, grating voice called out. “L-let… let her… go…” Din called weakly before he was electrocuted again.

“I said stop hurting him!” You barked, your words so steeped in anger they almost weren’t your own, like someone else was speaking through you.

Forescythe laughed, villainous and wicked. “There it is! Yes! Does that mando mean something to you, girl?”

“Go t̶o he̵ll!” Your voice no longer belonged to you, it was the voice of your nightmares, many tongues speaking at once, spewing toxically from your throat. Around you the air became thick with energy, making the hair on your arms stand on end.

“Now now, Sparrow, is that any way to talk to your father?”

“You are n̸͈͆ȏ̷̪ť̶ my FÀ̷̜TH̵E̴͘R!” The energy in the air became palpable, tangible, burning through your veins and setting your fingertips ablaze with crackling firepower. The Admiral reeled from the burn, dropping your collar and backing away from you with confused, frightened eyes. You clenched your fists so hard your nails dug into the skin of your palms, drawing blood from the marks of the krayt’s teeth. “And that is n̸͈͆ȏ̷̪t my n̶a̷m̸e̵.”

Fear was replaced with undeserving pride, spreading a pearly grin across Forescythe’s gaunt, haunting visage. “That’s it! That’s it, Sparrow! Look at yourself! Look at your hands!” he screamed, pointing at the blisters that were starting to form along your arms. “There is power within you! Let me help you discover it! Help you use it to raise the Empire to its former glory!” He stretched a claw-like hand to you, “Join me, Sparrow, and together we will rule the entire galaxy!”

“THAT IS N̴̻̑O̶T̵̒ ̶M̸̆Y̴ N̷À̷̜M̶E̵!” You screamed, the fury of a thousand voices knocking Forescythe and the guards down to the unsteady ground and sending the officers running for cover. The burning in your fingertips turned to raw power, sparking lightning from your hands. Electricity danced over the metal decking, snapping at the Admiral’s frantic heels like vicious, bloodthirsty dogs. You didn’t see the firepower you were generating, your eyes burning with hateful tears.

You crossed the room on vengeful steps to where the Wyvern’s captain was scrambling to find his footing, snaps of plasmatic energy crackling underfoot with each stride. You hefted the vile man up the wall by his neck until his feet were off the ground, choking and squirming in your grip.

“What’s wrong, captain?” You purred with as much benevolence as an abused circus tiger. “Are you trying to sing for me? I bet your voice sounds so prĕ̴tty̵͝. Go on then, sing me a song.” Terror shined in the whites of his eyes, blood oozing from their corners and out of his ears, dripping hotly over where your fists closed around his throat.

“You can not hide who you are, Sparrow, you’ll always be a worthless scupperbrat without my help. You need me.”

You thrashed Forescythe against one of the consoles, crushing his windpipe under your voltaic claws. “I'm not going to TELL YOU Ā̷̡̲̤̊͒G̶̓A̶̛̫I̶N̵̳̓̋!!.” You could feel his pulse under your fingertips, quick like a frightened rabbit caught in the claws of a mighty, savage beast.

And it felt good.

Energy crackled over his skin where your hands met his flesh, making him writhe in pain from the scorching burn. Under your cataclysmic deathgrip you felt the man laugh, ugly, strained belts of air that made the boiling in your blood rage like molten lava. “Pray tell then, bilgerat, who do you think you are?”

You bared your teeth and smiled, dangerous and threatening. You inhaled, bringing every ounce of air in the room into your tormented lungs, ready to breathe dragonfire.

“I

AM

TR̸̻̰̮̘͘A̷͎̜͔̭͋̽’̸̯͙͖͍̟̾̿̆͐̐͠͝LḀ̵̞̈́́̂̕͝ͅA̶̧̧̠̪͝A̶͎̝̠͖̿̀̇̅̈͜Ă̵͙͎̰̪̿͘A̸̼̥̰̙̱̭̗͆Ȧ̸͙͕̺̫̂̚R̴̨̻̉̊̒́R̷̡̛͕̮̋͊̉͝R̸̫̗̹̻̈̋̃!̴̼͖͕̯̟̖͐̐̽!̴͚͐́͛̂!̵̘̺̮̔͌͊̌̀̓͜ͅ!̶̟̱̹͙͎̀”̵͇̖͙̌̈͠͝

Hate and anger flowed through you in a pyroclast of scorn, erupting from your wicked maw in a firestorm of blinding energy. Your banshee screech overpowered Forescythe’s own terrified screams, but his terror was short lived as the force of your rage started to make the flesh of his face quiver, ripple, and tear until it was peeling off, revealing meat, then bone.

When only a ghastly skull was staring back at you did you silence your scream, dropping the Admiral’s faceless corpse to the floor. You wheeled back around in time for one of the rising stormtroopers to goad you with the electric prod, making you wail. The pained cry tore at the raw meat of your throat until your voice evaporated entirely, taking your siren strength with it. You stole a krayt fang from your pocket and drove it upwards into the soft spot at the edge of the trooper’s helmet, carving downward and splitting their jugular wide open.

Finding the other fang you lashed out with reckless fury, sinking your teeth into the meat of the second guard, blood splashing out over your hands. The third guard didn’t stand a chance as they were caught in your whirlwind of carnage, their blood spilling to the floor with that of their crewmates.

Surrounded by your kills, breath heaving in your chest, you turned your enraged eyes on the man still chained to the wall. Din’s bootheels scooted out from under him, struggling to get away from the blood splattered banshee that was glaring him down.

He looked so helpless, so… vulnerable. You remembered his hateful words, his malicious actions, the heartbreak that was still so fresh and stinging in your chest.

The coppery tang of blood hung heavy in the air, burning in your nose and fueling the rage that surged through your veins. He left you. He left you for dead. He took everything from you. He took your heart and your home…

And your son.

“Where is he?” You seethed, numb to the hot splashes of blood pouring over your hands, from both your killstreak and the charred gashes that streaked down the length of your forearms where the meat of your flesh had melded with the duraweave of your uniform.

“S-safe. He’s safe.” Din stammered, “What… what are you?” His bloodied brow furrowed, “What’s wrong with your eyes?!”

Confused, you glanced at his chestplate where two white-blue lights were shining back at you, and realized with horror that it was your own reflection. The world around you finally started to sink in: the dark red lights, the still-warm corpses, the splatter of viscera on the console that had once been the Admiral’s face.

The klaxon blaring overhead.

Whatever phantom force you wielded dissipated like mist, nearly taking you to your knees as it left. You fell more than leaned over Din to his cuffs, fumbling with the unlocking mechanism until he was freed. “Don’t think this m-means that… that I… woo, that I forgive you, ya big fuckin’ jerk.” You were starting to feel woozy, making you wonder if this was how Grogu felt whenever he used his funky baby powers. “The ships got… got some kinda weapon on it, ‘nother planet popper. I gotta fi-fi-find some way to… to stop it.”

“The hell do you mean ‘popper’?

You flailed your arms around in a grand gesture, sending droplets of scarlet flying “Kaboom!”

“Fuck! Grogu’s down there! Millions of people are down there!”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Din tried to wipe the blood that had pooled around his eyes with the back of one armored hand, but the beskar did little to help clear it away. You grumbled and scooted closer on your knees, trading the fangs for the red silk cloth in your pocket and going right for his orbits. He recoiled from your touch, and instinctively you hissed at him to hold still. Reluctantly, he obeyed, watching you with distrust until he spotted what was in your hand.

“You kept that?”

Shrugging, you dabbed harshly around his eyes until they were as clear as you could get them. “Kept a lotta things.” The talking and the cleaning was making you exhausted, and you sank back on your haunches, nearly falling over into the sprawling pool of blood.

Din caught you before you fell, holding you gently, but even his careful touch burned like acid on your rendered flesh. In the corner of your eye you caught his brows fly high when he clocked your wounds, his breath catching when he saw the whitish tint of bone. “You need bacta...”

You ignored him, glancing around the room for a solution to your predicament when one presented itself to you. Under the smear of gore that had been belittling you just moments prior, the ruined console of the main power controls flashed a desperate warning:

WARNING, RHYDONIUM COOLING CELLS OFFLINE. DANGER! UNSTABLE TEMPERATURES DETECTED!

Oh the irony. Sparks danced from the shattered screen, raining down over the bloodied skull of the murdered captain and catching in his empty sockets, glaring back at you. You forced a laugh. “That’s what you get for tryna mess with me, you sick fuck! Gonna blow your own ratsnest sky high!” Your laughter knocked you off your haunches and into Din’s arms, leaning on him heavily.

Looking up at him you smiled, though his face was a disaster, fear and blood etched into his handsome features. It befuddled you that you could still see his face. “Where’s your bucket?”

Din scoffed, “This entire ship saw me without it, not to mention the shitheads on Tatooine that sold me out. I can’t put it back on.”

“There won’t be anyone left alive to remember your face after the ship blows. How’s that for a loophole, eh?” He scrutinized you a moment, swallowed hard, then nodded. It took a great deal of effort for him to pull both himself and your boneless body up from the floor, and even more strength to stumble over to where his helmet had been stashed, sinking the metal over his head and pocketing the beskar cuffs that laid close by.

The impenetrable beskar slid into place not a moment too soon, his visor flickering to life right as the blast doors to the bridge slid wide, opening on a platoon of troopers.

The eggheads fired with reckless abandon into the delicate consoles of the bridge, aiming for the malnourished Mandalorian and his bloodrending banshee. Even in such a sad state, Din was still faster, whirling you behind his blaster-proof body and setting off the salvo of whistling birds from his vambrace; obliterating each and every Imp in sight.

Hugged to his chest, you blinked at the pile of corpses, then glared at the one who had slain them. “Why don’t you use that fucker more often?”

Din ignored you and blasted the door controls apart, locking the two of you in before dragging you both over to one of the escape pods that dotted the prow. Behind your fleeing duo the console was flashing even faster:

WARNING, RHYDONIUM COOLING CELLS OFFLINE. EXPLOSION IMMINENT! DANGER!

Din set you carefully on your own two feet so he could pry the door to the escape hatch open. The little, single-seated pod was just barely big enough to fit the Mandalorian as he backed into it, his arms outstretched to take you.

You started to squeeze in with him when something out the window caught your eye, and your heart sank through your boots at the harsh reminder that Forescythe had been named Admiral because he now controlled a fleet. The dozen or so starships hovered ominously on either side of the Wyvern, their points aimed right towards Tatooine, poised to make the killing blow.

Din growled at you “Come on, you’ll fit. We gotta go before this damn thing blows!”

You turned up to him slowly with glassy eyes. “I… can’t. The other ships…”

“Fuck’em!”

“No!!” you screamed, dimming the lights. “If I don’t do something about them then Tatooine is still lost!” You pushed away from him and stumbled back through the bridge, your eyes going from console to console until you spotted the flashing light on the comms station. Hand-over-hand you dragged yourself over to your once-prestigious seat, flopping down in the familiar chair and slamming the frequency wide open.

“Come in Wyvern, this is Jabberwocky, what’s your emergency, over?”

“The weapon’s unstable! I repeat! The weapon is unstable! Abort mission! Abort mission! Scramble all ships! I repeat! Scramble all ships!!”

“Who the hell are you? You’re not the Admiral!”

“The Admiral is dead, the damn rhydonium has been leaking radiation into the water supply and the fuel lines! The damn thing’s gonna blow! Save yourselves!”

“Seriously?! I mean, roger! Aborting mission!” You watched with a big, shit-eating grin on your face as the surrounding ships winked out of existence, disappearing into hyperspace. The rhydonium’s warning screen was flashing faster than a bounty fob now, and it wouldn’t be long before it blew the old dragon sky high.

“Ok, let’s go, please!” Din pleaded, trying to urge you to the escape pod. You leaned back heavily in the officer’s chair, the edges of your sight going dark as exsanguination took its toll. Raising your arm, you watched with a silly look on your face while you flexed your fingers, the tendons squirming over your exposed bones beneath what was left of your char broiled flesh. Most disgustingly of all was the shiny piece of metal on your palm, the Admiral’s aurodium insignia lodged in the sundered krayt bite, fused to your flesh from the heat of your rage.

Haha, gross.

“Why… why are you even still here? Go on, escape!” You sneered at him, still angry.

“I’m not going to make the same mistake twice,” he said, crossing the room with his hand stuffed under his ribs, trying to hold himself together. “I’m not leaving you behind again.”

You strained a laugh, the noise grating in your shriveled throat. “Y’don’t need me, y’made that perfectly fuckin’ clear. Leave me to die with the rest of the scum. Besides.” You chuckled, raising your withered hand so the emergency lights danced over the gold plating your palm. “I’m the captain now, and the captain should go down with the ship.”

There was nothing left for you outside of the Wyvern anyway, maybe it was time for you to join Spooky and Friends for good. The Empire would surely hunt you down for your crimes, an even more vehement organization than the Guild, and that would only put Din and Grogu in even more danger than they had been when they still called you family. On a dragon you had risen to the stars, how fitting it would be that on a dragon would you leave them. Poetic, really.

Din cast a worried glance at the rhydonium thermometer. “I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Tilting your head back until your skull met the headrest, you relaxed and closed your eyes, feeling the hot drip drip drip of blood running down your arms and pooling at your feet. “Why bother? Why do you even care what happens to me?”

With enormous difficulty he pulled his helmet back off, leaning in close to you. You flinched when two armor plated hands came up under your face, gently lifting you by your chin until you were met with his eyes. Even in the crimson-soaked lights his enormous honeywells shined with more depth than any ocean, glittering with stars.

“Because I still lo-”

*kaBOOM!!!*

Somewhere in the bowels of the ship the overheated ore blew its top, shearing the ship in twain. Din was nearly thrown to the ground from the force of the explosion, nearly dropping his helmet to hold on tightly to the arm rests of your chair. He threw the bucket haphazardly back over his head and scooped you into his arms, roaring in your ears about how stubborn you were sometimes. Under his boots the dying dragon began to angle towards the planet below, starting her final journey to meet the ground.

Din hustled to the escape pod, backing into it and hugging you to his chest, pressing you against the hexagonal divot in his beskar that you missed so much. The little hatch slid closed, sliding over your backside and squishing you up against the Mandalorian. Your guts did a nasty flip-flop as you were launched into space, dropping you towards the planet below.

Before you lost consciousness, whether from the blood loss or the inertia, or just plain old exhaustion, you squinted out the tiny transparisteel window at the ship you’d left behind. The front half of the Wyvern’s Tongue was just starting to break the atmosphere, a colossal blade pointed straight at Tatooine's sprawling desert landscape, breaking apart as it lost the battle with the desert planet’s robust sky.

Breaking the sound barrier, dragonfire erupted around its bow as it tore through the dusty air, sending tendrils of flame fanning in its wake. It was falling fast, but the sheer size of it made it appear to be sinking in slow motion, almost like a dream.

Maybe it was a dream, you thought as you felt the plated arms of your podmate tighten around you, his gloved hands burying into your hair as you plummeted towards terra firma. There was a good chance you wouldn’t survive landing, it was an Imperial built shuttle after all, but at least you wouldn’t die alone.

The roar of atmospheric reentry drowned out any words you may have said to each other, any last words of wisdom or heartfelt apologies would be forever lost to the winds of time, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him back; a final act of forgiveness before the darkness took you.

~

Far away from the sinking ship, the tiny capsule skittered over the sand dunes like one would skip a stone over a lake, bouncing over the sand until it lodged itself in the side of a hill. The hatch door launched off, sliding away from the two bodies it had protected. Raising his bucket, Din watched as the Wyvern met the ground, the enormous beast of the ship blocking out the suns as it crumpled into the dunes. Dragonfire erupted around the monstrosity, consuming it in a column of flame and ash that whipped up a sandstorm to rival any fallout.

Against his chest plate you laid limply, making it difficult for the Mandalorian to roll you underneath his body. He boxed you in with his arms and legs, putting himself between you and the oncoming sandstorm as it bore down on your pod. Gritting his teeth behind the visor, he curled over top of you while the deadly storm roared overhead, determined to keep you safe if it was the last thing he did.

The desert sands whipped over his back, flinging superheated shrapnel and massive chunks of durasteel flying as if they were toys. Din held your body to his, just waiting for the fallout to crush you both dead, or the sands to blow you away; but an eternity later the storm passed, leaving you both unharmed. Exhausted and in agony, the Mandalorian shook the sand from his back and hauled your near-lifeless body from the newly carved dune, brushing the dirt from your face. “Tra’laar? Are you ok? Can you hear me?”

No answer.

He tugged a glove off and stuffed his fingers up under your jaw, hunting for a pulse. Your heartbeat was weak, but steadfast, and he sighed heavily with relief. “This is all my fault. I never should have left you behind, cyare! Please… please wake up!” Kneeling over you, he ran his hand down your face, gently brushing away the grit stuck to your skin. When you still didn’t respond he dug his arms under you and hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the feel of his broken ribs grinding together. With you in his arms for what he knew could be the last time, he set off across the dunes towards the city on the horizon.

~

A warm desert breeze passed softly over you, the first herald of the Tatooinian dawn coming up over the mountains to burn away the mist that hung in the air. It felt nice on your skin, gentle and promising as the new day. It would be so nice to lie like this forever, eyes closed, stretched out and comfortable, basking in the double sunlight. Your eyelids were so heavy, but as much as you would like to laze about til the stars fell down, you knew you had slept long enough.

Slowly, achingly slowly you started to pry your lids open, the world around you blurry and faded. Turning your head was a chore, and was accomplished more through the aid of gravity than muscle. At your side you saw two blurry figures, their features distorted by the haze behind your eyes, but to you they looked like a man and a woman, both wearing intricate red robes like the people in your premonitions.

The familiar lady leaned over you, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your sticky brow. Her radiant smile shined with love and adoration, rivaling the warmth of the twin suns themselves. When she spoke, her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if it was already in your ears.

It’s time to wake up now, Starsong. He’s waiting for you.

The stranger smiled and glanced over at the man who was sitting down in a little chair next to whatever you were laying on. You followed his eyes to where he was holding your hand, quizzically furrowing your brow at his forwardness and giving yourself a headache that made you squeeze your eyes shut.

When you opened them again, the man in the chair was replaced by a different character, this one dressed head to toe in beskar and bandoliers, his helmeted head tilted forward until it was resting on his chest plate, slowly rising and falling in time with his breath. Even in his sleep he was drawing languid circles on your palm with his thumb, his fingers twitching slightly to hold yours closer.

“...Din?”

The fingers on the back of your hand squeezed tight as he bolted upright, nearly jumping out of his seat and frightening the attending nurse droid. “Hey, you’re awake! Are you alright? How are you feeling?” The Mandalorian asked frantically, taking your bandaged hand in both of his and clutching it to his chest.

“What… what’dya mean how am I fe- oh.” You looked down at yourself, finding the long glowing tubes of bacta needles sticking from your other arm between long strips of gauze, making you immediately nauseous. A leather gloved hand came up and caught your face, pulling you back over to meet his infinitely black visor.

“It’s ok, cyar’ika, nothing’s missing, just keep your eyes on me. You were in bad shape when I got you here, but the infirmary had e-bacta infusions on hand. You’re healing up well! They were able to remove the metal piece from your hand and debride the duraweave from your burns, and most of the skin on your arms has already grown-”

“Ok ok ok enough!” you grumbled, starting to feel sick. You leaned back against the cot, relaxing into the feel of a gentle hand brushing over your cheek and down the side of your neck. Din’s caresses made you hum from his comfort, but your hums soon turned to growls. “Din, why am I still alive? I should have gone down with the ship.”

The hands withdrew immediately back to the lap of their owner. “I… I couldn’t let you.”

Your lips pulled back to bare your teeth, adding fresh agony to your growing migraine. “Fuck do you mean couldn’t let me, You don’t get to ‘let me’ do anything! How dare you act like you care!” You hissed with a sting in your voice. “Why do you even give a shit what happens to me?”

“Because!” He barked, fidgeting with his gloves, watching his own yellow tips go round while he twiddled his thumbs, searching for the right words to say. “Because I… because Grogu would never forgive me if I had let you die.”

Something about that last line made your heart ache, maybe it was the reminder of losing your son, or maybe it was the way that Din was clearly trying to hide deeper feelings. “I’m surprised he’s not in here, wouldn’t have to waste credits on bacta then.”

“He tried to heal you, but something about your wounds wouldn’t let him. I-I can’t explain it but… but he tried.” Din’s helmet snapped away from you, fixating on something of interest on the bare stucco wall. “He tried and tried until he passed out, then woke up and tried again. It was too much for him, I-I c-couldn’t keep letting him run himself dry.” Din sighed, letting his shoulders droop. “...He misses you.”

Sorrow and fury nearly broke the circuits of the heart monitor, summoning the nurse droid to come check your lines. You ignored the fussing robot to interrogate the Mandalorian further. “Why? Didn’t you tell him I’m a traitor? Didn’t you explain to him that I’m a lying, filthy Imp?” Your teeth flashed in a snarl. “Didn’t you tell him I’m not part of your clan anymore?”

Din’s laugh startled you, “The day that boy listens to me is the day the universe collapses in on itself. You’re the only one he ever listened to.” Fidgety hands toyed with the strap that crossed over the widest plate of beskar, fingers stopping at each slug to set them perfectly in line as if they weren’t already. “I can’t get him to eat, or sleep, it’s almost like I’m not even there. He… he cries nonstop, especially when he’s looking for you...”

You blinked at the itching in the corners of your eyes, your tear ducts having long since dried out. Though he was talking about Grogu, you knew by the guilt that steeped his words that the little green terror wasn’t the only one suffering from the Mandalorian’s decision to abandon you.

“He… he needs you…” Din trailed off, slowly tilting his visor over at you again, his hands stilling. “I…”

Din paused, letting the unspoken words hang heavily in the air, bringing with them a silence that would rival the infinite void of space. The nurse droid seemed to fade away, followed shortly by the beeping heart monitor, then the walls, then all of Mos Eisley, consumed by the roar of silence.

You could hear it though, the sound of those three little words that would change everything. Three tiny, insignificant words that even ghosts knew how to use. Powerful in their simplicity. You stared at where his eyes should be, imagining his furrowed brows, his tear-streaked cheeks, the corners of his lips twitching as they fought the floodgates that threatened to burst.

Just say it, Din, say what you need to say. Fix what you have broken.

“I...I’ll go get him.” Swallowing around your dry tongue, you nodded, dropping your gaze to the floor. So close. Din stood and brushed imaginary dirt from his clothes, “There’s someone else who wants to meet you as well, if it’s alright.”

“Who?” There wasn’t a single living being in all the galaxy that you wanted to see right now besides Grogu, plus you doubted there was anyone you knew who would want to see you anyway.

“Um… someone who’s been looking for him. His… people.”

You felt your heavy heart sink right out through your spine, dropping like a slab of raw meat onto the dusty hospital floor. “His… h-his people? Does… does that mean he’s going ho-”

“Just hang on, ok?” Din rose hastily and sped from the room, leaving a thick aura of unanswered questions in his wake. When he returned, he gestured to someone behind him, indicating that it was safe to enter your room. A young man with tousled blond hair and long black robes crossed the threshold to the medbay, but you couldn’t care less about who he was or what he looked like, because your eyes were locked to the little green baby he was carrying.

“Bubu!!!” Grogu cried, flailing in the man's arms until he was brought closer.

“BEANS!” you reached out with your good arm to take the squirming little monster, hugging him to your chest while he sobbed.

“Bububububububu…” He babbled, tears streaking down from his cosmic eyes while he patted your cheeks and dug claws into your skin. You curled up on your side and hugged the baby close to your chest, ignoring the dampening fabric beneath you as your own tears trickled down onto the threadbare sheets. You tried to comfort him by kissing his wrinkly head between choked sobs and carefully smoothing his ears, but the joy of having your baby back only made you cry even harder.

“Boo-boo? Wh-what… what’s he trying..?”

“Buir.” Din answered, his voice strong with reverence. “He is trying to say buir.” You burrowed your face against the shaky baby and reached out towards Din’s voice until you found his hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered between tears. “I thought I’d never see him again.” You pried your flooded eyes away from Grogu to glance up at the stranger standing politely in the corner, remembering what Din had said about Grogu’s people. “Who’s mister sunshine over there with the cute boots?”

The young man smiled and bowed slightly. “My name is Luke Skywalker, I came to investigate a disturbance in the Force that led me here. When I met Grogu I thought it may have been him reaching out to me, but now that I am standing in the same room as you, I realize that you are the source of the shockwave that I felt.”

You cradled Grogu against your chest, “The Force? Isn’t that just a saying the New Republic uses? Live long and prosper, may the force be with you, to infinity and beyond, blah blah blah...”

Luke laughed, “It is, but the Force is very real. It is the life energy that flows through all living things, even after they have passed on.” The young man crossed the room to your little trio, his robes and cape swishing dramatically with each step. “Tell me what happened to the ship that crashed out on the dunes, something tells me you were involved?”

You recounted your tale, from your hyperspace premonitions to your whispering nightmares, describing the ghosts you’ve seen and heard. You held up your arms for him to look at the damage the lightning had done, and pointed to your throat when you told him how you shouted the admiral apart. He listened intently and without interruption until you were telling him about the rhydonium bomb that blew the ship to smithereens. “And then I woke up here.”

“That’s fascinating, I’ve only read about Thunderfuries in the ancient texts, I never thought I'd meet one in real life, they’re exceptionally rare. Some scholars have even described them as mythological. Their charismatic voices have been described as ‘more powerful than a siren's song and a thousand times more deadly, able to lull insomniacs to sleep or shout the stars down from the sky.’”

You kissed Grogu’s head and propped yourself up on your elbow. “How come it's only manifesting now? I mean, I’ve had some weird shit happen in my life but never like that.”

“You’ve probably used it before without realizing it. Have you ever been so mad your voice changed? Or convinced someone with an unbelievable lie? Maybe even called someone back from the brink of death?” You nodded at each of his questions, feeling the color drain from your face. “Your powers may become more volatile when you’re threatened, or when someone important to you is in danger, a catalyst, if you will. May I have your permission to touch you?”

You shrugged, not really caring, but Din stiffened visibly at your side before backing away to let the man through. Luke placed his left hand on your forehead and closed his eyes, concentrating. “Yes, the Force is strong with you.” He moved down to your throat, touching your larynx softly. “Even stronger here, I’m willing to bet that the midi-chlorian count around this area is where it is highest, but I still feel something else.” He palpated your sternum though your ratty hospital gown, then your stomach, and finally the bottom of your belly, making you flinch. “Here. There is something here as well. It’s faint but-”

“No…”

“Your youngling…”

“NO.” You shouted, making the man recoil from the energy you gave off. “Not you too! First that damn robot and now this dude. I am not pregnant, I'm chipped! I’ve been chipped since I was a teenager. Get that damn nurse droid over here and I’ll prove it!” You barked at the droid organizing the bacta. “C’mere and scan me!”

The animatronic healer rolled over to you, a long scanner unfolding from it’s chassis. A hologenic light flickered over you, scanning up and down your body, making an extra pass over your abdomen that beeped when it had completed its investigation. “I-am-sorry-miss, but-your-chip-appears-to-be-missing.”

“MISSING?! The hell do you mean…” You trailed off, too many thoughts hitting you at once until one of them struck you like a bell. “Hoth. I probably left it on Hoth. Fan fucking tastic.” Oblivious to the needles in your skin you squished your eyeballs under your palms and slid your fingers into your hair, trying to yank it out.

When you opened your eyes back up you flinched from the collection of boys staring at you. Luke looked respectfully embarrassed, Grogu’s eyes were full of stars, but Din looked like he’d been frozen in time, not even breathing. He managed to croak out a single word: “Ch-chip?”

“Yeah, my standard-issue contraceptive implant’s probably sitting in a pile of goo in that fucky cave. You must be packin’ some pretty potent spunk to have already knocked me up.”

“Con... con-con-con… c-con..tra-”

“Din?”

“C-con…” Din short circuited and fell silent, his mental cogwheels grinding to a halt. A heavy silence filled the small infirmary for a time before he was moving with agonizing slowness. He brought one hand up and set it so gently on your tummy that it was almost non-existent. “...Mine?”

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost fell out of your skull. “Yeah bucket boy, ain’t nobody else got to tap this.” You shimmied in a terrible attempt at seduction, bobbing your bacta lines more than your boobies. He nodded solemnly, still trying to reboot, but the silence gave the poor sidelined Skywalker a chance to speak.

“Congratulations, I think. If it’s alright I would like to speak frankly.” You shrugged and nodded, not waiting for Din.exe to come back online. “Yours and Grogu’s Force powers are very special, but also very dangerous. While it shows that you both have extraordinary talent, without training that talent will go to waste, or worse, could fall into the wrong hands. With your permission I would like to take you both to the Jedi Temple where you can learn to master your abilities.”

You started to try to sit up, struggling against the pain that still permeated your body, but Din sprang to life, helping to ease you comfortably to a seated position with Grogu on your knee. Setting your hand on your collar bone you rubbed at your throat. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean. I dunno jack shit about this Force whatsit, but it was pretty cool to melt Forescythe's face like that. If I go with you, will you teach me how to do that without burning my arms off?”

“The lightning is a byproduct of the Dark Side of the force, it is only manifested through hatred and anger. The more you use it, the more it will destroy you.”

“Oh...”

“I will teach you how to use the Light Side, which is achieved through patience and dedication.” He laughed, “And also won’t burn your arms off.”

“What’d’ya think, Beans, you wanna go to school?” Grogu chirped sweetly in your arms, rubbing at his eyes with fat little paws, then yawned. “I’ll take that as a yes. Alright, sunshine, it’s a deal, ain’t nowhere else for me to go anyways.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Once you have made a full recovery we will be on our way. It was nice to meet you as well, Mandalorian. May the Force be with you always.” The nice young man bowed slightly before turning on his heel and heading out the door, his cape billowing behind him as he went.

Grogu curled into a ball on your lap and fell asleep faster than you’d ever seen, and carefully you brushed your hand over his ears. “Poor baby, so sleepy. You rest now, you’ve earned it.” A heavy silence filled the room, punctuated only by tiny snores. When you looked up from the sweet little baby you were surprised to see Din’s visor locked on you from where he sat, frozen solid. “Well, bucketboy? You gonna say something?”

Wordlessly he started digging into the pouches on his belt, fishing around until he pulled the remains of a microchip out into the dusty sunlight. Although it was nearly crushed beyond recognition, you knew by its broken legs and shattered insignia that it was all that was left of your contraceptive implant. Fresh, scalding rage bubbled in your chest at the sight. “Din… Why do you have that?”

“I found it that night on the Sunskate when you sent me to find you some soap. It was in the canister we used to capture the egg-pod-thing. I should have told you about right away but… but I was worried that maybe the pirates planted it there. Then I got it into my head that it had come from you and… and…”

“And what?!”

“And I’m sorry!” He cried in a strained whisper, careful not to wake the blessedly sleeping baby. “I don’t expect your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it, but… but I’m sorry.” His modulated voice cracked with something, maybe faulty wiring, maybe tears. “If… if I’d just asked you about it from the start none of this would have happened.” He gestured vaguely at all of you, sitting at the end of the cot in your shabby gown, your bare feet swinging freely. “I’m sorry for how I acted and what I said. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“You’re only saying that because you stuck a bun in my oven.”

“No, what I did was wrong, it was cowardly.” his visor snapped up to meet your eyes, “I have dishonored you and myself. I broke every vow I made to you without giving you a chance to explain. I shot at you, I shot at my wife.” His voice faded away, weighed down by shame. “I am a monster.” His helmet tilted away from you towards the ground, studying his boots.

You thought for a moment, watching the warrior coming to terms with his own judgement. Licking your dry lips, you asked him coldly: “Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Try to shoot me.”

He turned away from you shamefully, “Because you were… b-because I decided that you were a threat.”

“A threat to who? To you?”

“No.” he paused, his breath hitching in his lungs. “A threat to… to Grogu.”

“That’s what I thought.” You chided, cocking a brow at him when he turned to face you again. “You saw a threat to your son and you acted, though maybe you could have, oh I dunno, listened to me before you went off your rocker.” His hands twiddled with the edges of his legplates, his eyes avoiding your gaze. You readjusted the bundle on your lap, tucking his goofy potato sack robe under his butt. “If I thought you were a threat, I would’a shot you too.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn't, though I probably shouldn’t have been keeping secrets from you.” Now it was your turn to look away, turning your gaze up to the stucco ceiling where maybe the Maker was watching you. “However, if you hadn’t broken my heart and dumped me on the Empire’s doorstep then I’m guessing Tatooine wouldn’t be here anymore, or whatever planet they decided to fuck over. So I guess…”

“You don’t need to justify it. What I did was wrong and hateful.” He scootched the little chair closer to your side until his knees bumped against the cot’s edge, barely inches away from your own. “If you never want to see me again, I- I would... understand. I wish you and Grogu the best with your training. And the youngling too if… if you decide to keep it.”

His visor sank back to the floor before he was pulling himself to his feet, making to leave you and take his guilty conscience with him, but you caught his hand before he got too far. He whirled around, gawking at you with that big metal bird impression that he does so well.

“What do you mean if? Why wouldn’t I keep it?”

You heard something rattle behind his modulator, accompanied by the strained quake in his shoulders. “I can’t force you to, or even ask you to. I know you said you w-weren’t ready for children, and to have to raise one alone would be-”

“What makes you think I would be alone?” You squeezed his captured hand, running your thumb over his knuckles. Din cautiously stepped closer, brushing his hand over Grogu’s wrinkly little head.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. You’ll have Grogu and Luke to look after you. The boy seems trustworthy enough, and once you master your powers-.”

“That’s not what I mean, Din.” You tugged on his hand, scrounging up the courage to find out the truth, even if you had to use a crowbar to get it. “What… what were you going to say to me, before the rhydonium blew?”

His armored shoulders rose with a sudden intake of breath, going stiff while the air stuck in his lungs. His response came out slowly. “Does... does it matter?”

“If it didn’t, would I be asking?”

Yellowed fingertips flashed in the fresh dawnlight filtering in through the infirmary window, fidgeting on the ends of armored wrists. Din squared his shoulders and stood straight and proud, his modulated voice giving away his timidness. “I...”

“Yes..?”

“I…” he took your hand in both of his, careful not to upset the bacta lines growing from your flesh or the precious bundle swaddled on your lap. “I… I still love you.”

You cocked your ear at him and waggled your brows. “What? I didn’t-”

“I still love you!” Din fell to his knees in front of you with a mighty racket of metal and munitions that shockingly didn’t wake Grogu. “I love you, cyare, I need you! I love the sound of your voice and the warmth of your smile. I love the way you laugh, the way you cry. I love that you terrify me like no one ever has. I love the way you feel, the way you smell, the way your fingers used to tangle in my hair when we slept together.” He carefully lifted your hand until your knuckles rested on the brow of his helmet, “I miss you, beautiful creature of the stars. I would give anything to have you back again.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You pondered a moment, letting him wallow in his guilt until you could hear his breath getting ragged from the suspense. “Alright, give me your ears.”

“You... want me to cut them off?”

“Pfft, no, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.” You said with a laugh. “I want you to listen.” You pulled your hand away from the cool metal of his forehead to pick at the bacta tubes on your other arm. “I was an Imp, but not because I wanted to be. When I was a child I was stowed away on the Wyvern before it left Corellia’s port, which happened often enough on that skughole of a planet that there was a name for us. We were called bilgerats.” You met his visor, watching the way his head cocked to the side. “The Empire adopted me, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Like… like a foundling?”

“Mmhmm. When the captain decided that I had potential, or apparently magic, he gave me a name and a real job, but it was never my choice. I chose to leave them behind. I chose to become a hunter. I chose…” You paused, flitting your eyes between the corners of his visor where you knew his eyes were, wishing that you could see them for yourself. “I chose to love you.”

A broken sob rattled his helmet as his composure started to break down, his hands coming up to caress gently at your cheek. You held your hand over the back of his, leaning into his palm. He took a series of deep, desperate breaths before he found his voice again. “C-could you e-ever love me again?”

“Only if you promise to never dump my ass over stupid misunderstandings again, think you could do that for me?” He couldn’t speak, he just nodded so fast his helmet almost flew off. Laughing, you stretched your arm out to him, careful not to lose the foundling on your lap. Din clambered up from the floor so fast his boots nearly went out from under him, plowing into your chest with a hug so fierce you felt your ribs creak. “I sure hope so, tinman, because I still love you too.”

Not even the dry desert air could stop your tears anymore, and you let them flow freely into the fabric of Din’s cowl, burying your face between his shoulder and the edge of his helmet while he hugged you like his life depended on it. The sharp metal cut your skin and made you frustrated that he even still had the damn bucket on. “Din can you take your helmet off? There’s nobody here but the droid. I want to see you.” He shook his head ‘no’, dragging his palms over your back, his leather gloves snagging on the ties that held your gown closed. “Can we go somewhere you can take it off? Maybe… maybe somewhere more comfortable?”

“You’re in no shape to move.”

“Please?”

He hated it when you begged, or maybe he fucking loved it, either way he was nodding and rising to his feet, stuffing your collection of trinkets into his many pouches. He cast a suspicious glance at the nursebot before helping you pull the bacta lines free. Immediately the attending droid started to protest, but was met with the business end of a blaster. Din cocked his helmet arrogantly, a mused laugh sneaking through his modulator.

“We’re checking out.”

~

You were giggling like a schoolgirl as you were carried up the ramp into the Crest by the Mandalorian, cradling Mr. Sleepy against your chest. The armored warrior set you down gently on the edge of the bed, jabbing at his vambrace to close the ramp. You sniffed the musty air, crinkling your nose. “Holy shit what is that smell?! No wonder the kid can’t sleep, It stinks in here! Open a window!” The singular transparisteel viewport didn’t ‘open’, but the ventilation did, and soon slightly-less-stinky desert breezes circulated through the cabin. “That’s better, now off with your damn head!”

“Alright alright.” Din chided, fishing for the edge of his helmet and pulling the offending beskar away, setting it down gently on a nearby crate. Though the blood had been washed from his hair days ago, a crudely placed cauterizer burn still shined red with swelling, but that was only the start of his worrying features. His hair was unkempt and ratty, his eyes sunken and hollow, even more than they had been when you’d seen him uncrowned aboard the Wyvern. His shaggy facial hair did a poor job of hiding his pale, nearly translucent skin.

But his smile, his adorable, lopsided smile was exactly as you remembered it, rolling the swells of his cheeks right up into his deep brown eyes. Dazzling canines caught the hazy cabin light while he beamed at you sheepishly, his eyes glancing at your face then bashfully away, aware that he must look terrible.

Carefully you set the foundling down on the bed by your side, brushing a wayward ear from his face before reaching out to the baby’s father. Gloveless hands found your cheeks, his touch more cautious than if he were handling porcelain, pulling you into a long awaited kiss.

Din kissed you like it was the very first time, chapped lips brushing yours softly, tentatively, like he was afraid that touching you would wake him from this dream. The dream of having you in his arms again. You slid your bandaged hands up his armored shoulders until you were at his scruffy jaw, pulling him closer.

At the feel of gauze on his skin he pulled away, worry etched into the creases around his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, maybe we should wait til-” Huffing, you dug your hands into his messy hair, dragging him back to you and kissing him so hard you felt your teeth knock together. He inhaled with surprise before melting into your hands, tilting his head to chase the taste of you deeper.

The bristles of his mustache tickled at your nose, but you were too lost in his love to notice, tangling your fingers in the curls that hung at the back of his neck. The hands at your cheeks glided down to your shoulders, then your sides, then around to your back, deftly picking apart the knots that held your ugly gown together. He pulled away from you again, “May I?”

You nodded and laughed, “Please, it’s itchy! Though I’m pretty sure half of Mos Eisley already saw my hooha flappin’ in the breeze today. Hey what happened to that cantina on the corner? They used to have the best spotchka…”

“No idea. Must have been a big fire though…” He laughed at his own poorly-veiled lie, kissing at your jawline while he tugged the last knot free. The ratty hospital gown fluttered to the floor unnoticed, the two of you lost in each other’s eyes. Though you were naked save for your bandages, he couldn’t take his off of your face, reverence stretched across his features. “Is… do you think what the nice man said is true? That you’re… um…”

His versatile hands that could snap necks like twigs or tear flesh asunder came up to settle gently on your belly, rubbing softly back and forth and sending scalding heat to your cheeks. You shied away from him, studying the cabin wall like the secrets of the universe were written there. Flustered, you found your voice, “I don’t know, maybe. Pretty early to tell, but he was right about everything else. Probably right about that, too.”

He caught your embarrassment and withdrew. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… If you don’t… I’ll support any decision you-”

You silenced him with a finger on his lips. “No, I want to. I’m just… I’m scared.” You hugged yourself regardless of the warm desert breeze, fingertips fiddling with the edges of the gauze that rode up to your elbows. Nestled against your thigh you saw Grogu twitch in his sleep, half sunk into the smelly Tatooinian bed roll, his sweet little smile matching your own. “You’re such a good dad, Din, like you were made to be one. But…” You brushed your hand over the foundling's supersized ears, “But I don’t think I'd make a good mom.”

“You already are.” Din whispered with more conviction than you’d ever heard, his hand finding your chin to tilt your eyes back to him. “You always have been. From the day you met Grogu you’ve been his mother. You’re strong, and fearless, and terrifying.” He smiled when you laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear for you. “But you’re also loving, and sweet, and compassionate. And did I mention you’re the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life?”

You giggled again, rolling forward until your brow met with his. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not. I think you’ll be amazing.” He kissed you again, stronger than before, breathing in deeply with the scent of you, of his mate. “I know you will.” You studied his face a moment and nodded, feeling your breath hitch threateningly in your throat. Din heard your hidden distress and backed away, tearing his remaining armor off and gently setting it next to his helmet until he was bare chested before you, a large bacta patch holding his broken bones together.

He dove towards you with passion, his chest pressed to yours, his kiss hungry but gentle. Though his flesh was warm and inviting against your own, your fingers quickly found where his ribs were showing through his sides, rippled like a washboard from not eating properly. You made a mental note to grab some of those roasted taters you liked so much later, but for now you let yourself get lost in the Mandalorian’s touch.

Though his hands were careful, you could tell that there was a hidden desperation behind his movements, his touches frantic to confirm that you were really here. His fingers slid up your back to tangle in your hair, holding you close while he experimentally licked his tongue into your mouth, eager to meet your own. A wide, calloused hand braced on your thigh, supporting his ever-growing weight over top of you. You hummed into his mouth and patted his chest, asking him to give you space.

He looked at you quizzically, but before he could start another long winded string of apologies you nodded down to where Grogu was sleeping peacefully. By the look on his little princely face it had been a long time since he’d slept so well, and though you knew he deserved his rest, he was very much in the way of what you and Din were after.

Maybe it was the bacta still flowing through your system, or maybe it was the fact that you’d survived yet another near-death experience. Or perhaps it was true what the ghosts in your visions had said, that the man before you really was your soulmate, destined to return to you again and again. Either way your body craved him, flooding your belly with heat at the sight of the robust warrior that would rather let himself waste away than live a day without you in it.

You needed him.

And he needed you.

Right now.

You scooched off the end of the bed, covered the baby with a thin blanket, and slid yourself into Din’s arms, kissing your way up his neck to the bottom of his jaw. He shivered under you, groaning with pleasure until you reached his ear, nipping at his earlobe where you whispered: “Do you remember the first time you made love to me?”

He growled, the low timbre of it making your skin prickle with goosebumps. “How could I forget?” His scruff brushed your cheek as he nuzzled you, dragging his teeth along the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his palms squeezing into your hips. You took a slow step backwards, luring him to follow until your knees bumped against a crate, a subtle laugh escaping your lips when you plopped down on it. Din fumbled for the sleeping cubby controls until he found the button that closed the protective door, shielding the foundling from your erotic courtship dance.

Not an inch of space remained between the two of you when he pressed his body to you again, slotting his mouth to yours, hands gripping the stubborn crate to support his slow, demanding ruts against your heat. You wrapped your legs around his waist, catching your heels in the pockets of his duraweave pants, trying to kick them off. His rich laugh rumbled against your chest, reverberating in the warmth flooding in your heart, and pussy. “Please, riddur’ika, let me take care of you.”

Lost in the kisses that he was planting down the length of your chest, he didn’t see your brows furrow at him. “Do… do you still get to call me that?”

He froze, his lips poised just above your pebbled nipple, so close to getting a taste of you. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “That...that is your choice to make.” His pleading eyes looked up to you, so big and full of sadness you almost cried. “I would… I would like to again, but only if-”

“Yes.” you pleaded, running your fingers through his hair, skimming the long, jagged scar. “Yes, please, don’t ever stop calling me that.”

“Ner riddur.” He moaned, sucking the tip of your breast into his hot wet mouth, arms coiling around your waist. The hastily renewed vow tumbled from his lips in between each languid roll of his tongue, mumbled like a prayer to your altar of forgiveness. You sighed and arched your back into his affections, gasping when one of his nimble hands snaked around your front and sank into your folds.

Stars you’d missed this, you’d missed him. Missed the way his lips sought every inch of your chest, missed the way his fingers curled perfectly against the spongy spot hidden in your walls, drawing beautiful gasps from your parted lips. You’d even missed the way he ran his mouth, spilling muffled praises against your skin between greedy laps of his tongue.

He released your swollen bud with a pop of his lips, kissing down the softness of your tummy. You leaned back until the cool metal of the crate met your spine, offering yourself to him fully. Din’s whiskered kisses ticked at your sensitive middle, each one slower and more deliberate than the last until he was just below your belly button. The fingers buried inside you slowed, rubbing careful circles that couldn’t distract you from the loving way his lips met your skin, his kisses lingering.

“Mine.” he whispered with a secretive giggle, his unoccupied arm scooping under the small of your back, holding you steady. He kissed you once more, then pressed his entire face into your belly, rubbing his scruff over the tender flesh, almost like he was scenting you.

Still speared on his fingers, legs flung wide to accommodate him, you lifted your head to get a better look at his foolishness. “Tinman…?”

“I’m sorry, I just.” He planted his chin on your pubic bone, slipping his fingers out and smiling up at you with adoration in his eyes. “I just… I can’t believe it.”

“Really? After all the times you said you wanted to breed me, you’re flummoxed that you’ve actually gotten me pregnant?”

Din popped up like a whack-a-mole at the magic word, a hundred emotions spread across his face. “S-say that again.”

“Breed me?”

“No!”

“Flummoxed?” His brows sank with frustration over his lust-blown eyes, making you laugh. “Fine fine. Din.” You propped yourself up fully, your knees hugging his chest where he was kneeling between your legs. With his head in your palms you brushed your thumbs over his cheeks, reveling in the way he was waiting on bated breath for your words. “Din, I’m pregnant.”

The joy that radiated off of this man could have knocked the suns from the sky if they were any closer, his laughter so full of hope and happiness you couldn’t help laughing along. This was how it should have been presented, not flickering across a screen or coming from a polite stranger. Just this, the two of you alone together, both of you looking like complete garbage and not even caring.

No, in that moment you were the two most beautiful creatures the Universe had ever made, painted so brightly in excitement and love that it was blinding. Din kissed your palms, his face already starting to bubble over with emotion. “I’m… I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Mhmm, now c’mere, give mama some sugar.” You hauled his beautifully wrecked face up to yours, kissing him deeply. His tongue was sloppy, needy, spearing into your mouth between groans of pleasure. You heard the fumble of buckles and zippers, then the flump of pants hitting the floor. His heavy cock bobbed against your belly, leaving kisses of precum above the womb it had filled. You rocked your hips, trying to notch him in your slick folds, but his fingers met your cunt again, scissoring you open.

“I said I wanted to take care of you, buir’ika.” He groaned into your mouth before disappearing down your body and burying his face between your legs. Din’s wicked tongue spun delicious circles around your engorged bean, slurping and sucking away as if it was the only thing he’d ever eat again. You were just starting to feel the knot tightening in your guts when his dutiful mouth slowed, licking experimentally into your cunt, humming curiously.

“Wh-what? What is it?” You panted, rocking your hips against him, trying to fuck yourself on his face.

“You taste different.” He caught your questioning groan and shook his head, the motion making you convulse with need. “Not bad different, just different. Sweeter.” There were a plethora of excuses you could have made, maybe it was that he’d just forgotten how you’d tasted, or maybe it was the fact that you’d been living on Imp food. It couldn’t possibly already be from your changing hormones.

Could it?

Nothing but cries of pleasure made their way past your lips when he dove back to his feast, pulsing his expert fingers against your core and spiraling you towards devastation. Locked to his face, you squirmed on his tongue until he brought you the stars, your pent-up orgasm soaking his scruff and dribbling down his chin. Greedily he lapped your arousal away, humming at the taste. You’d barely gotten a chance to catch your breath before he was rising to his feet, angling his throbbing cock up into you and stretching you full.

“Din!” You whined, your cries swallowed by his mouth on yours, letting you taste your own release. Shit he’s right, I do taste good! His kisses became messy, then lost all together, his head falling from yours to bury against the crook of your shoulder. His cock eased itself out, making you feel every ridge, every vein before it was slamming back into the cradle of your body, the sound of him fucking you resounding wetly throughout the hold.

“Riddur’ika” he moaned into your skin, sinking his sharp teeth into the meat of your neck to mark you as his once again; leaving a blooming patchwork of welts in his wake. With his teeth holding you in place he started giving you what you both so desperately needed, pounding deeply into your flooding cunt. Your walls clenched around him, making him groan and strain, his hips snapping with frantic, frenzied thrusts. It was all you could do to hold on.

Eyes closed, lips parted, head lolling back, you were consumed by his passion; digging your nails into the skin of his back and surely drawing blood. Under your fingertips his muscles coiled and bunched, rippling with each powerful thrust, his cock demanding to be swallowed whole.

Your weeping wellspring sucked up every inch of him, drawing him all the way inside to the gates of your precious womb. The head of his cock bumped haphazardly against your cervix, his length shifting the ring of muscle even deeper into your body, the delicious stretch making you obscenely wetter.

Releasing your captured throat, the Mandalorian leaned back from you, throwing your legs over his shoulders so that there was nothing to stop him from burying himself to the hilt. Each ragged thrust scraped his curls over your sensitive clit and sent his cock spearing into something devastating inside. You cried out from the force of it, your muscles squeezing around his girth as you were catapulted towards ecstacy’s edge.

“That’s it, mesh’la, soak my cock. Claim me as yours!” His oaken voice sent you spinning, obeying his command and drenching his swollen member in your divine nectar. He groaned at your fluttering muscles, your silken folds caressing him and drawing his own gushing orgasm from him. Under your calves you could feel him straining to keep from shouting the heavens down, his face contorted almost painfully while he painted your insides with rope after rope of hot, potent baby batter.

Broken panting echoed in the tiny space of the Razor Crest’s interior, carried by the wisps of desert air breezing in through the ventilation. Din fell heavily forward, his sweat-streaked chest just inches from your heaving breasts, barely giving you room to breathe. Slowly he sank further down, the skin of his abdomen sticking to your belly, then your chest, sealing you together. His hands found your face, brushing the hair from your sticky brow and planting a kiss there, paving the way for him to rest his forehead against yours in sacred unity.

Hot breath mingled in the space between your mouths, bringing with it the spice of lovers bodies, a mix of lust and sweat and adoration, flooding your synapses like an addiction. Though he would happily let himself melt into your body the threat of crushing you underneath him made his exhausted arms shake, especially now that you were harboring precious cargo.

He butted his head against yours once more before pulling himself upright, offering a hand to you. You took his gentle gesture, but the shift in gravity made your soaked cunt gush with your combined cum, oozing down the side of the crate and pooling on the floor. Din couldn’t help himself, his agile fingers sneaking down to your wrecked pussy, stretching it around his fingertips and watching his pearly conquest slip out of you.

Humming with adoration, Din took you by your elbows, careful not to upset your bandages, and hugged you close. The Mandalorian felt like a furnace pressed against you, trailing his fingers up and down your spine and giving you conflicting goosebumps. “You’re so beautiful, mesh’la.” He purred, nuzzling into your neck. “There can be no other as beautiful as you.”

“Yet.” You chided, turning to meet his confused eyes. Stealing one of his hands you pushed his palm to your belly, laughing when he put your puzzle together.

“Our baby…” He cooed, still mystified by the concept. “Our baby will be beautiful, and terrifying if their mother is anything to go by.”

“Rude.” you barked, tugging playfully on his ear. He chuckled, splaying his wide palms over your belly, rubbing tenderly and no doubt imagining you all full and round with his warriors, your breasts heavy with milk, your skin glowing. His spent cock twitched between you, making him flush red. You laughed at his thoughts clearly plastered across his face. “I wonder what they’ll be like, the child of an Imp and a Mand-”

“You are not an Imp.” He retorted with ruinous conviction. “That’s not who you are anymore. You proved that when you sank an entire star destroyer to protect the people of Tatooine.” His hands cupped your face, holding you where his big beautiful eyes could see you, really see you. “I’m sorry that I let your past blind me to how much I love you, but now I see you for who you really are.” He kissed your forehead again, a slow, meaningful kiss that conveyed all the words he couldn’t find. Stars glittered in his lashes when he met your eyes again. “You’re not an Imp, cyare, you are a Mandalorian.”

Some kind of noise busted its way out your throat, maybe a laugh, maybe a sob. Either way you were shaking your head. “Thank you, but I’m not a Mandalorian either according to the Jedi boy.”

“I don’t see why you can’t be both a Mandalorian and a Jedi. Your son is a gremlin and your husband is an ass. I think you can be whatever you want. What was it that he called you?”

“A Thunderfury!”

“A Thunderfury!” He waved his hand dramatically, his eyes shining bright. You snickered at his antics, the melodic sound inviting him to spin you around in his arms, your thighs slicking with lovespunk as you danced. Instantly you wanted the fresher, but your heels knocked against his belt on the floor, making something in the pockets jingle. Bending down, you rifled through the many pouches until you found the one that had your things: two krayt teeth, one blood-stained rag, a pair of beskar cuffs, and surprisingly one other item.

An aurodium insignia.

“This was the Admirals.” You groaned, turning the half-melted token over in the light. Disgust overwhelmed you, and for a moment you considered opening the ramp door and chucking the emblem out into the hangar. Peli could probably find a buyer for it, but another thought snuck its way into your frontal lobe, spreading a grin over your face. “How much beskar do you think this will buy me?”

Din’s brows nearly shot off into space. “The insignia of a high ranking Imperial officer that you slaughtered? As much as you want, a full set even, but what about the Jedi? He’s supposed to take you-”

“But daaaaaad, I need a new outfit for the first day of school! Besides, I can't show up saying I’m a mando when I don’t have any beskar! Also I think the scary sewer queen would kill you if you didn’t tell her we’re expecting.”

“You’re absolutely right, but you do have some beskar.” Din padded over to the armory, throwing munitions and gear out of the way until your faceplate was brought into the light. “I think this belongs to you.”

You took the beloved slab of steel gingerly, turning it over in your hands. Din found the beskar cuffs and lovingly set them over each of your ears. When you set the armor on your face, the visor automatically flashed to life, presenting you with a fireball of a man standing before you, his chest and cheeks burning scarlet. Rolling the iron to your crown, you grabbed the krayt fangs from the pile and handed them to him. “And these belong to you.”

The opalescent Impkillers looked tiny in his wide hands, their whitish shimmer almost glowing in the cabin light. He nodded and thanked you, sniffling back his emotions, trying to remain steadfast as though you couldn’t see right through him. His fingers tightened over the sharp teeth, their edges creasing his callouses. “I’m going to miss you while you’re away.”

Just like that your beautiful, illustrious moment was cast in a dark, cold shadow. “Away? You’re going with me, right?”

“I don’t know if I can. I’m not a sorcerer like you or Grogu, and I’ll have to do something to earn credits for the baby. You go to school, grow our child. I’ll find work, there’s always bount-”

“Woah woah woah. Abso-fuckin-lutely not! You’re coming with us! I’m not going through this pregnancy or my forcefuckery without you.”

“The boy flew an X-wing here, there’s not exactly room-”

“Then we’ll get the coordinates for the school and just… meet him there? You said you’re never leaving me behind again, well I’m not leaving you behind either, ya big fuckin’ jerk.”

“I don’t think he’s going to just give you that information. What makes you think you can convince him?”

“First of all, something tells me he’s desperate, and secondly,” You planted your feet wide, ignoring your sticky, cumsoaked thighs and jabbing your fists to your hips, beskar crown glittering like royalty and making Din realize that one of these days he was going to have to tell you that as an Alor’s wife, you were technically were.

“I’m Tra’laar, the Thunderfury!” You roared, channeling your Force power to make the Crest shake on it’s fat little legs. Dins wide eyes were a stark contrast to your beaming smile, but the sound of scratching and chirping caught your ears before either of you could say something.

The sleeping cubby’s drophatch slid out of the way, revealing the disheveled little baby. Grogu glared at the two of you, rubbing his squinty eyes and squeaking on about how you’d interrupted his beauty sleep. Giggling, you took the baby in your arms and sat down on the bed, cradling him against your bare chest. “Aw I’m sorry, Booger, I got carried away.”

Snuggling the child, you were surprised when Din came over to you with a warm washcloth, offering to clean his mess from your thighs. You held Grogu close so his eyes were covered while Din tended to your needs, gently wiping the evidence of your reforged bond away.

When you were as clean as he could get you, you thanked him and scooted back up the bed, resting your weary head on the bunched-up bantha wool at the back of the cubby. You cooed at the fussing baby. “Do you need a lullaby, sweetie? I need to practice before bucket-baby comes. Would that be ok?” Grogu’s enormous eyes seemed to light up even in the dark recess of the alcove, his little head bobbing with a nod.

“He’s missed your songs, cyare.” Din hummed, crawling into the bed with you, laying so that he faced you and his son. You shot him a cynical glance, but he didn’t shy away. “I’ve missed your songs as well. I-if your voice hurts too much, it’s fine, we can-”

“I’ve missed singing to you as well, and to your son.”

“Our son. Just like it will be our baby. I’ll never make that mistake again, you have my word, and should I ever break it again I want you to put a bullet in my skull.” You were about to protest that last line, but his stern glare told you he wasn’t joking, so you nodded, agreeing to his terms.

“Anything in particular you want me to sing for you, husband?”

He smiled, running his hand over your bandages until his fingers tangled with your own, dancing lightly over the foundling’s forehead. “There was one a long time ago, it was the very first one you ever sang to Grogu, before he even had a name. Something about a navigator?”

“Of course.” You played with his fingers and cleared your throat, dropping your voice into a low whisper like you’d done a hundred times before.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

Across from you Din’s eyes fluttered, fighting the pull of sleep so he could listen to you for as long as possible. You nestled closer to him until your foreheads bumped together, your faces curled towards the child that was already starting to drift back into his afternoon nap.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We’ve stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by.”

Neither of your boys made it to the last line, so overcome with stress-induced exhaustion that they were both sailing off to dreamland on the words of your song. Later you could find Mr. Sunshine and sort this whole Jedi nonsense out, but regardless of what the stranger wanted you weren’t going anywhere if Din couldn’t be by your side, the two of you having already suffered enough apart, missing your soulmates.

No, come what may, your clan of three, soon four, would not be splitting up again. Come hell or high water, you were in this together.

<-Previous

TAGLIST

@mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @kaermorons @ironbabey @theflightytemptressadventure @emesispo @what-iwish-youknew @misscamptl @t3a-bag @poppunkdee @misscamptl @pandastasia @simpingmess @lilychristine01 @inaturenymph @buttercup--bee @blackd0gdesignuk @tanzthompson @transientblueseraph @jasmincita @sunnnygiiirl123 @beskarboobs @doin-stuff @marvelranger

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #bargaining with beskar #bwb

[lovesanmotion]

yandere!fanboy!ateez reacts: s/o writing a song about them

This is: requested | I guess....the yandere!ateez as fanboys are a success from what I can see. I only uploaded them without thinking. Also, don’t hesitate to blow up my request box! I’m jobless like Hongjoong, Yeosang and Wooyoung. Also, to the sender who requested this, thank you so much for appreciating my blog and writing! 

Lyrics I placed in order:  Love Battery - LOONA (Immortal Songs)  Shadow - F(x)  Going Crazy - Secret Jieun ft. BAP Yongguk Peekaboo - Red Velvet Shampoo - After School Babe - Hyuna Into You - Yuri Love Foolish - TWICE 

Hongjoong: 

“Even if you are not handsome, I like it. Even if you’re not buff, I like it. You are just for me, to me, you are the best.” 

Hongjoong stood among the crowd with a foolish smile painted on his lips. His hands placed on top of his chest as he listens to your new song that you are performing at your comeback concert. 

“Hold me one more time. Hold me tightly until I burst. Love’s effect must be fading. I need you.” 

A soft sigh escapes his lips dramatically. Lovestuck as he watches the love of his life sing a song about him and how she constantly needed his touch or else she’d die from his lack of attention on her. 

“Fill me with love. Love battery has drained. I can’t live without you, I really can’t live without you. You are my battery.” 

He clutches his chest tightly, his heart beating loudly inside. He didn’t cared how wild the others were cheering for your comeback stage, all that matters to him is that this song was made for him. Just for him. Normally he would promote your songs by requesting them on radio stations, but he hesitated on the idea of promoting it. This was his song. And only he gets the full rights to enjoy it. The others are just listening to it, he thought that you were kind enough to let everyone hear the song you made especially for him. 

“To me, you are everything. I like you so much, I totally like you. My only love, there’s no other, my love. You are the best.” 

As the comeback concert ended, everyone inside the concert hall talked about how your comeback song is a hit and promised to get you another music show win. The others gushed how you must be in love that you wrote a song about affection. 

Hongjoong could only chuckle to himself as he walks out of the venue, hands filled with your individual merchandise and a wallet almost empty after emptying the shelves of your concert goods. 

“Stupid fools think that the song is for them when in fact the song is about me. Me! Only me! Why would Y/N ever notice all of you when a whole me exists?” Hongjoong thought to himself as he walked alone late that night. 

Seonghwa: 

“Everyday, I secretly chase after your footsteps. I’m always careful so you won’t notice. No one says it but our date has started, our own date.” 

Click click! Seonghwa focuses his camera on a different angle before taking another shot of you. Click click! 

“Where are you going? Step by step, I follow you. Without a word you lead me. Step by step, did you notice me? I have nowhere to hide anymore.” 

Yesterday, Starlight made a comeback and today, they are performing their comeback song at a radio station. For this comeback, Starlight’s Y/N participated in the song writing, having been credited two songs in the mini album. She partook writing the comeback song! 

“When the sun rises, I walk in sync and together with you. I am really really into you. When the moon rises, you fall asleep in my arms. I really really like you.” 

Seonghwa’s parents had been praising him for landing a wonderful job in the corporate world. When in reality, he was only hired by a fellow sasaeng that gave him much flexible work hours so he could still manage to slip out of his work and follow your every footstep in the country or out. He was being paid fairly well even when all he did was just to follow you around.

“Day by day, we resemble each other more and more. Your laughter and tears, I know it all. Don’t be scared, were a fate tied by the sun, its our destiny to be together.” 

As the performance ended, the girls sat back down on their seats and the interview rolled in. Fansites can only hang outside of the studio, and of course, Seonghwa is up close, nearest to Y/N. 

“Congratulations to Starlight! This is their third comeback and the song is really catchy!” The MC remarked. 

“It’s sounds like a summer song! I heard Y/N took part in the production?” The second MC asked, the cameras then turned to face Y/N. Y/N who was flustered, nodded her head. “Yes” 

“Can you tell us the story behind the song? Your fans are dying to know the meaning behind such a good song.” The first MC says. 

Y/N held the microphone in her head, smiling, she explained: “This is a true to life song. I made a song about a guy who was really handsome and captured my heart. We were always going in the same direction and one time, his hand brushed into mine. And I felt so happy by the small connection.” Y/N chuckles. 

When Seonghwa heard about it, he lowered his camera and stared at Y/N. The song was about him. He remembered how he would spend his vacant period at work to follow Y/N when they were shooting an ad around Namsan because of the newly built skywalk. His hand brushed on hers when they were buying food at the convenient store. Seonghwa was so moved by the explanation that he felt like his feelings grew more for you. 

“My sunshine likes getting attention. My attention. That’s right, my sunshine, bathe in my attention only. ” 

Yunho: 

“It’s not love, this isn’t love. It’s just your obsession. Wherever, Whatever I do. It’s frightening. The you who watches me.”

Yunho watched as Y/N practices for her upcoming comeback stage at The Show next week. He admired how she dare approached a bold and mature comeback. And he was so happy to see this new side of his girl. However, he felt like he needed to be more protective of her since she was going for a more risque concept. 

“Have you gone crazy? Why are you like this? Please just leave me alone now. Seeing you is suffocating. Please disappear from my sight.” 

Yunho stood behind the cameras as he watches Y/N and the featured artist practice. He heard a few staffs make a comment about how the featured artist looks like him. And maybe how you might’ve fallen in love with him. Yunho’s feeling swelled when he heard of those comments. In fact, he was so happy that he heard it from them. But you on the other hand, why do you still deny your feelings for him? Why was it so hard for you to be up front and honest with what you feel? Is it because he works as your manager? You’re in the same company as he is? And that you kept insisting to be professional? At this point, Yunho would resign if that was the case. If he can’t have you because of his line of work, he would be more than pleased to resign and be in your arms everyday. 

“Get lost. Just back off. I really can’t breathe. Wherever I go, wherever I am. It’s frightening. The you who follows me.” 

Yunho managed to lift the debts off his family. After paying the debts, he was able to even buy a new home for them around Gangnam area. His parents hesitated on the idea at first since owning a land in Gangnam costs way more than renting, Yunho told them not to worry. Not to worry since he is being paid royalty in his job. After that, he was able to spoil you with luxurious gifts and live with you in your apartment. More like forced himself into your home. 

“This ain’t right, this isn’t love. It just hurts me, don’t be like this. I loved you. But I don’t now. Erase me from your memory.” 

And when the song was released, Yunho was all up for promoting it. He made everyone he know listen to the song in various streaming platforms and watch the MV as well. Whether you would like it or not, Yunho is here to stay in your life. Permanently. 

Yeosang: 

“Peekaboo! This is new, is this love? All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem. I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine.” 

A small painted Yeosang lips as his eyes followed you on stage. He watched you as you danced in a tight red dress. That was his gift for you last Christmas to be exact. The designer brand didn’t really put it out for sale. They only made one and had it up for auction. It was a dress that accentuated your curves and complimented your skin. Yeosang won the auction and had it included in your next comeback. 

“Tag you’re it! It’ll be fun! I’ll include you here. Til the moon hangs on the jungle gym, let’s play” 

Since Yeosang is someone who holds a high position in the company, he made a proposal to be your sponsor. At first, your members didn’t like the idea since sponsors have a bad reputation attached to it. But you were naive and still proceeded with the sponsorship. You thought it would go bad, but Yeosang made you feel comfortable in his home and gave you all the fame that you wanted. Never did he once ask anything that was against your morals. 

“Peekaboo! It’s strange, you’re different. I stop this game and I look at you again. I’m not a fraid, because I just felt that a new story will begin” 

Your members were still cautious about Yeosang orbitting around you. There was something about him that they could not lay a finger on. Scared that they would find their contracts terminated the following day. But seeing you happy, they felt like they needed to stop. As long as you are happy, they are happy. Yeosang included. 

“Don’t worry, my love. You’re safe with me. Anyone who accuses you will come to me first.” 

San: 

It was 9pm when you made a surprise V live alone in the recording room of your company building. San was actually nearby, he was hid inside the convenient store where he bumped into you before. 

“Hello everyone! Have you all eaten? I missed you alot.” He watches his Y/N pout in the screen. His heart raced a bit, 

“I ate already, my love. Don’t worry.” San responds, as if it was only him that you were talking to. 

“I made a new song and I’m in the recording room. Apparently, I was given permission to spoil the song for you!” Y/N happily takes her phone and draws it closer to the company phone of where she is doing her live. 

“I wanna be shampoo Trickling down your hair I wanna embrace you With my strong fragrance  I will wrap around your entire body With white foam  So even the mirrors can’t see you I will cover you  So no one can have you You won’t ever get rid of my scent” 

“That’s all the spoil for now.” Y/N stops the recording and turns the camera to her face again. She leaned her face closer and read a few comments about how would the fans think. 

“What is your inspiration behind this song?” She read aloud. She leaned back in her seat with her lips pursed. “In all honesty, I met a male fan last week. I actually bumped into him and I was able to smell his perfume and...” Y/N paused. “He smelled so good that...was it possible to fall in love just by smelling their perfume?” Y/N chuckles softly. 

San had his eyes wide. The song was about him. He felt like bursting from his seat but he refrained himself from doing so. 

“I hope he isn’t a weird fan. I also have a fan who constantly bothers me even at the late hours. It’s bothering me. And I hope the person stops soon.” Y/N said. Double jackpot! He got mentioned twice by you. He couldn’t wait until the song releases, he was already booking train station platforms in honor for the release of your song. 

Mingi: 

Was it possible to fall in love with just a touch? Ever since the incident at the Incheon Airport, your company has become stricter and hired more bodyguards when it comes to outside activities. From what you heard, VS Media is even rewriting their rules when it comes to fan and idol gift giving. 

“Come on, let me play some more. Why treat babies gently, I cannot count on you, my age. You’ve walked in any magic. I am the one for you. Everyday I wake up. This is mine.” 

Ever since the incident at the airport, you slightly became uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the dorm. Despite your feelings, rest assured that your members were always there for you. 

“I am not sleeping today. I remember my eyes. I’m not sleeping.”

It’s been a month since you stepped foot inside the airport again, things were going okay. You were able to walk inside and through the gates without any problem. The fans still following your footsteps, you tried to loosen up yourself a bit - smiling and waving at them. Nothing could go wrong. 

Until, you saw a figure from your peripheral vision. You turned your head to take a look, but no one was there. Strange. As you and your group were able to board the plane, you took a seat near the window and pulled out your lyrics notebook. Flipping through the pages, you stopped at an unfinished work. The unfinished work is your solo song used as an outro for Starlight’s upcoming full album. 

“Babe babe babe in your eyes. Babe babe babe in your hand. My appearance is babe babe babe babe. I want to hear it again.”

“Are you writing a song?” You were startled with the question. You turned your head and didn’t noticed how a man with a mask and cap sat besides you already. 

“Yes I am” You spoke softly. “Can I read it?” the man besides you asked. 

You hesitantly gave him the notebook, the man took it and read through the lyrics. 

“I like how you composed the song. It’s still in its raw form too. You’re a genius.” The man complimented. You smiled and thanked him for the compliment. The next thing you knew shocked you. 

The man placed a hand on your knee, his other free hand removed his mask and cap. Song Mingi. At that moment, you couldn’t process what was happening. All you knew was that your mind kept telling you to tell at least your members. But your body started heating up at his touch. 

“Did you miss me?” 

Wooyoung: 

Wooyoung had disguised himself as the photographer for your album. The night before it came, he worked on creating his fake ID and borrowed a spare camera to use for the production. 

“At that smile that sees my eyes. For me, the whole world is bathed in light. Hold my hands and I close my eyes. I hope this time stops here.”

Wooyoung’s breath almost took away as he saw you in black under shorts and wrinkled and almost unbuttoned white button down. He didn’t know what the concept was but his eyes were already feasting on your body, not ever feeling full. 

“Fall in love more deeply, you and I. Let’s fall in deeply, you and I together. The one thing that I want. You seep into me, you spread inside of me.” 

“Ms Y/N taking the bold move of doing her first sexy concept.” Y/N’s manager teased her. Wooyoung knew everyone who was on set. Him, Y/N, Y/N’s manager, stylist, make up artist and a few production crew that wasn’t part of VS Media. 

“What’s the story behind this concept?” Y/N’s manager asked, Wooyoung could only stare in awe at Y/N. Never did he see this side of her. He always knew of Y/N as the sweet and bubbly girl in soft concepts. But of course, Wooyoung love to break the types. 

“I actually like to search my name on the internet. And I came across fanfics of myself.” Y/N chuckles. Oh that sweet sound that made Wooyoung’s heart beat fast. The audio recorders can never outdo it. 

“There is a certain blog that possibly does a lot. That blog posts photos of me, writes fanfics and posts my schedules too. He’s doing god works for my other fans.” Y/N chuckles. As the production of the photoshoot started, Wooyoung did his best to capture the real beauty of this side of Y/N. 

“What a hardworking fan. What’s the name of the blog?” 

“ForY/N” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widens as he heard the name of his blog. His blog inspired you to make a song....about him? 

“Filling my whole heart. With you, I feel my heart. Fall in love more deeply, you and I. Let’s fall in deeply, you and I together.” 

“The way that person writes really amazes me. I’d like to get to know the person.” Y/N explains. His mind fell into a spiral. Part of him wanted the song to be released already but there was also a part of him that wanted the song to be released for him only. 

“Wish will soon become tomorrow. Today is more heart fluttering than yesterday. I want to go together with you. Closer to the place where my dream reaches.”

The bonus thing about what Wooyoung did today is that as a photographer, he was able to keep some of the photos. Running away even with some. 

Jongho: 

Jongho fell in line for the release of your album. He was actually second in line as he was actually camping outside of the building of your company. 

“Everyday I called out your name, about a thousand times, about ten million times Before you finally heard it Cut and rewind, why can’t you be mine? Ooh the one who spins my head like this It’s you, just running running running around you  My repeatedly-midnight promise  I don’t know what to do”

Jongho, who had his arms crossed over his chest, looked up and down to turn around where that song was coming from. He hasn’t heard of this song but he knew that was your voice.

“Crazy love!  I love you, love you, hate, foolish Crazy love!  I love you Make me feel so high Love!  I love you, love you, hate, foolish Crazy love!  I hate you Make me so bad It’s weird, the more I fall for you I’m sorry, I’ll hate you I don’t know, I can’t explain this I’m trapped in a labyrinth of strange emotions”

The whole room was adorned with your own merchandise and on the TV display was actually an MV of your b side. Jongho took a basket and grabbed a handful of your limited and regular version of your albums, along with a packet of your photocards and a griptok. 

As he was in line to pay for his orders, in which his basket was filled as he actually bought more of your items. You made a sudden appearance into the room. For Jongho, he felt as if the room got brighter when you suddenly stepped inside. When it was his turn to pay for his items, the people behind the counter were amazed at how many he was able to fit into his basket. 

Tapping his feet impatiently, he wanted to be able to greet you before you left the room. When his bag was handed to him, he immediately took it and sped walk towards your direction, talking to a few. 

He felt as if the gods were with him. As he drew closer to you, the ones you were talking to left and it just you and him now. 

“Hello Y/N!” Jongho greeted. You turned to him happily. “Hello!” 

“I really really like this song of yours!” He gushed happily. “Can you tell me about it?” 

You nodded happily. “The song is actually about someone who makes me feel happy, the idea of love in a dangerous way? The idea send me thrills.” You chuckled. Jongho felt ecstatic. Beyond the moon even. You wrote a song about him! 

That afternoon when he got home, he made sure that everyone in Seoul would be able to hear the song that you made. It was for him so he had full brag rights to do so. 

#ateez #Ateez hongjoong #ateez mingi #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #ateez smut #ateez yeosang #ateez jongho #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez yandere #kpop yandere

[illyaana]

Credits to @breakingpengui1 to the Tendou fanart! Do check them out, I stalked them for almost two hours- ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Fantasy Collab by @bluebellhairpin

God I'm sorry it took so long TwT I wanted to make this really good so TwT (don't think I did it) Do check out the other works involved!! I am also thinking of making this a three-part series 'cause I have some ideas on this and I took way to long on this, so let me know if you want me to do it!!

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Like my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

Tags: Fantasy AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff, Angst, Royal! Y/N x Werewolf! Tendou

Word Count: 2611

There was a time when the world of the supernatural was one of peace and harmony.

Magia, the realm of magic and the supernatural being, was one filled with mysteries and beauty.

Plants would dance to the rhythm made by the woodland creatures. Fairies and elves would sing songs in praise of the wondrous views and people who nurtured the lands and made it the beauty it was today.

Mermaids and the life under the wide oceans and seas shared the riches of the water with those on land to make both worlds something to gaze upon.

Yet, it all changed when humans found something within them.

Greed and Pride - the recipe to the fall of Magia.

Now, the land of the supernatural isn’t like the ones stated in fairy tales and stories by the Grimm Brothers of Hans Christen Andersen.

It is one where sins are not shunned but encouraged.

Kings and queens interfere with the peace once built by the people to become one of villainy and devilish intentions - pillaging and conquering lands to become stronger and “better”.

The ones labelled “magical” or “not human” were either killed or hidden far away, never to be seen once again.

You were born into this - this world filled with anguish and pain.

You were born to be on the top of the food chain - to rule a twisted and dark country: Thelphs.

“Y/N, don’t writhe in pain. You are next-in-line for the throne - a simple wound like this should not make you fall.”

“Y/N, a leader never hides away from death - they face it and make it their weapon.”

“Hold your sword higher! You need the correct angle to slice through someone cleanly!”

“Do not taint the name of Thelphs, young one - death is not the thing you should be worried of but me.”

“If you don’t win, you are no longer my kin.”

Your father’s words rang in your head as you reached the land of Aldis - the land that never fell to the wants of humanity and shunned it.

Aldis protected the supernatural world. They were the ones who held onto the desire to make Magia what it was many, many years ago.

It was known for the beauty it held - the flowers were said to sing songs every day and every night and the mountains shook the ground once a month to say thank you to their valiant effort in protecting what the world of Magia should be.

And yet here you are; leading a line of men wielding swords and cannons aplenty to kill the very thing the world should be.

“Onward,” you shouted as you and your man marched down the stone roads of Aldis, “Fight, my people - fight for Thelphs, fight for your King!”

You pulled the sword sheathed in your belt and pointed towards the land before you. Soon, an uproar formed from the men behind you as you all marched towards the lines of houses.

You begged your humanity to hide as you wielded the weapon in your hand and slashed through hundreds of innocent people.

You begged your ears to close just for a few hours so that the screams of children could not enter as you pillaged their homes, reaping all their goods.

You felt the ground shake below you, trying its best to stop you from killing any more living things, yet you couldn’t.

A haze formed in front of your eyes, hiding all of your caring sides. You could only feel bloodlust - the need to slaughter and to feel the blood of others on you.

It was no use. Your feet, despite being on a moving floor, were still holding on to the ground, The grip you hand on your sword didn’t loosen and tightened.

If you were meant to be a machine designed to kill, you needed to carry out your job properly to ensure you aren’t thrown away.

The fairies soon came to attack you and your men, but you couldn’t kill it.

It was the first time you saw one that had magical abilities. The beauty it held entranced you.

Their wings were translucent. The light that hit it would change colour thanks to the dust that left its wings, forming somewhat of a halo around them. Their hair reached the very bottom of their legs. It swished back and forth as they flew towards you.

A pang was felt in your heart when you remembered your father’s words.

He said the fairies were ones who never cared about humans and instead mooch humans to live.

They were pests that needed to be killed, according to him.

But they are fighting alongside humans right now to protect their homes.

It was clear your father’s words were far from the truth, yet you needed to follow his wants, his needs.

You begged your limbs to move on their own so that you didn’t feel the piles of flesh go through your blade.

But you couldn’t.

You had to stay conscious through all the pain and misery you were giving to those who didn’t even deserve it.

The mixture of both human and fairy blood soaked your inner shirt, forever staining it.

The once grey tiles that covered the floor of Aldis now are forever painted red, and it was thanks to your orders.

You walked through the mountains of bodies, the blood streaming from them staining your shoes.

This was your fault.

This was all your fault.

You looked up to the sky, praying for the rain to fall and wash away your sins, but you could only see the clear, blue sky staring back at you. The clouds moved slowly through the pale blue background midst hiding the Sun’s blinding light away from you.

Semi, your commander soon stood beside you.

“My liege-”

“I killed them - I killed angel-like fairies. I killed humans, I made the ground shake - literally - and I killed the first-ever fairy I have seen. How did my father do this and still walk around Thelphs with no regrets?”

“Y/N...” Semi said, trying to console you.

But you could only laugh.

This.

This is what it means to be human- to kill those who don’t deserve to be killed.

“I can’t handle this anymore, Semi. I want to end this - all of this - so badly, yet I can’t even fight my own father.”

You turned your face to look at your childhood friend.

He too felt the same way you did - his eyes said everything.

Behind the coffee-coloured eyes hid guilt, sorrow and pain.

His face filled with the dust and smoke from the bombs that your men slung to this land. Yet, some streaks were starting from his eyes to the ends of his chin that were clean. Blood dripped from the top of his forehead down to his lips, leaving half of his face coloured in crimson.

Your thoughts rang clearly after looking at the man before you.

It was no longer about wanting to end it, you had to.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, “I will end this, Semi - this unneeded suffering and killings - I’ll end it all.”

He gave a teary smile to you. “Please, Y/N. I don’t think I can do this until I die.”

You pulled a handkerchief you kept in your pocket and proceeded to wipe the blood off his face.

“I can’t, too. This guilt,” you shook slightly, tears threatening to fall, “This guilt is too much to bear.”

He raised his hand and wiped off the tears.

“My liege, you need to be strong. We’re going to face the people we’ve committed countless sins against. Impersonate the devil - be the evil person you aren’t to protect the name of Thelphs.”

He took the blood-soaked handkerchief from your hand and threw it to the floor, “After all, what but devils would do what we did?”

Your heart broke at the words muttered by the man before you.

He was the furthest thing from a devil.

He was the man who comforted you when you were crying.

He was the man who took your pain and gave you nothing but light and joy.

Yet he stood in front of you - covered in blood both his and others with a strong resolve.

You stared at him, anger flaring in your orbs.

“You are the furthest thing from a devil, Semi Eita. But, we are controlled by one. Innocent ones like you should have never fallen into his tricks.”

He was taken aback by what you said. Tears soon fell from his eyes, sobs that he hid from you all these years came flowing like an endless howl.

He placed his head against the corner of your neck. Your shirt slowly began taking in his tears as they trickled down your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his figure. It was your time to comfort him.

Once he stopped crying, he wiped his tears and gripped your shoulders. “We need to go to the riverbank now.”

You nodded and let Semi lead you to the body of water.

You saw how the people tried to protect themselves from your men. They formed a circle with the younger ones in the middle. The ones on the circumference of the circle gripped on their small blades as they threatened your armoured soldiers.

They cared for each other.

The strong wanted to protect the weak; they were willing to sacrifice their lives so that the legacy of Aldis lived on through the young.

“Bring out the carriages,” you told your men. They immediately nodded and proceeded to follow the orders issued.

You turned to the people you’ve captured. A smile managed to reach your lips as they looked at your figure with fear.

“I do not wish any harm on you. We’re just going to make all of you line up and bring you to Thelphs - that is it,” you finished.

Most of them nodded in fear, yet there was one who refused to listen.

His hands had burned aplenty, instantly telling you that he was an ironsmith. He wasn’t rich - the clothes he wore were tattered, many of the holes were formed through his hours in iron crafting, presumably. Yet, you didn’t doubt his skill in fighting. The way he held the sword spoke more than words. The way his fingers comfortably wrapped around the leather handle made you feel some sort of pride within.

He was a person of valour and determination.

In almost seconds, he lunged in your direction.

You didn’t want to take out your sword. It felt like the man needed to hurt you in some way to make himself feel relaxed.

You gripped on the handle of your sword but didn’t have the heart to pull it out of your sheath.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the small tip of the blade to pierce through your skin. You wanted to feel your skin tear from the man’s undying resolve.

But it never came.

Instead, you heard the clashing of metal against metal.

Semi had rushed to protect you using his shield.

He stared at you, anger visible in his eyes.

“You made me a promise, Y/N. Don’t you dare take the easy way out.”

You could only smile and nod at the ash grey-haired male in front of you.

You teared your gaze from Semi to the man before you.

The disappointment and vengeance in him began to grow. The flame he once held within grew into a blazing fire.

“Why? Why attack us?” he began.

“We did nothing to you. We protected ourselves and helped others who needed us. We never bothered Thelphs - not even once, so why?”

You couldn’t reply - your morals would’ve gotten the best of you.

“Chain them all to each other - take all their weapons or anything sharp. We’re going back to Thelphs as winners, we don’t need the scars to prove it.”

You heard the roars of the men who stood before you. In their eyes, they believed all they’ve done is for the betterment of the world you all lived in.

But you knew what hid behind the tapestry that was woven by your father - destruction.

You bit your lip, not wanting to ruin the cheerful moment your men were having - all you could do was stare at Semi and let your eyes speak of all the pain you were feeling.

From afar, you heard a howl that woke up your numb senses.

Werewolves.

Joy graced the victims of your purge.

Their saviours came, ready to vanquish you and your men.

“They said the future leader of Thelphs was one ruthless and evil miscreant, yet they seem awfully sad for someone who led their troops to glory,” a werewolf said as he emerged from the bush beside you, “They do have a heart, after all.”

You stopped the minute you saw the male that now stood before you.

His red hair framed his sharp-jawed face. His obsidian eyes stared you down, a passion forming within the two of you. His olive skin gleamed under the soft light of the Sun. As he moved, you saw the scars painted on his skin - slashes made by swords and vicious beasts shifted in variations of his peach skin.

The ends of his lips raised as his eyes raised up and down, taking you in slowly.

“Mine.”

He rushed to you, his hand finding its place around your throat. He gripped softly, but strong enough to keep your soldiers on alert.

“Stand back!” you said, urging them to move back.

“Oh? - So my mate actually does care for me, don’t they?” He said, his mouth reaching the base of your neck, “How sweet of you, my love.”

Mate?

“State your business here, werewolf.”

“Well, in the beginning, it was to help the people you’ve captured,” his hand travelled to your waist, pulling you in, “But I think my prey has changed.”

You tried to pry yourself off of him, but you knew, deep inside, you wanted to pull him closer. You wanted to throw the troubles you had, all the roles you were born to play, to cast away the men who viciously fought under your order - all of that, just for a male you have just gazed upon.

The pull, the connection - it was instant. It was present, unrivalled.

Its wants and needs rang so clearly in your head.

But you had a promise to Semi - to the country you loved.

“Let go of me, wolf.”

“You don’t mean that love,” he said as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, “You want me just as much as I want you.”

He placed his hand on your cheek and you instinctively melted into the soft touch of his.

“Look at that,” he whispered, “You have already felt it, too - you know you can’t look back.”

“I can’t just give it up,” you tear.

“Then change it. I’ll stand behind you - change your homeland to what it was; a beacon of hope and freedom,” he smiled as your eyes softened, “This connection has to be proof that you were meant to be the change Thelphs needs, Y/N.”

You stare at his black eyes - more specifically the brown flecks that danced within them. They sang of nothing but determination and want - he wanted you, but he knew you had a want to change your homeland. He knew it all - just by a few minutes of just glancing at you.

He kissed your cheek, warmth spreading by that small action.

Your thoughts ran clear, the blinds holding back your judgement drawn.

“No.”

#Illyaana | Haikyu!! #Illyaana | Satori Tendou #Nemo’s Fantasy Collab #hihqnetwork #animehorizon #angelwalker's virtues #hq tendou #tendou fic #haikyuu tendou #tendou x reader #tendou imagine #tendou x y/n #tendou scenario #tendo satori #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyu!! #haikyu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #hq x reader #hq!! #semi eita

[speechlessxx]

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.

[Chris Evans x Reader]

Summary: After one night of truth, it became difficult to hide the emotions behind this illicit affair.

Warnings: implied age gap, angsty, actress!reader,(poorly written) smut but in flashbacks LOL

Word Count: ~ 3k 

sorry this was lowkey ass. i wrote this in the hospital. 

Buy me a Ko-Fi - donations are appreciated but not necessary

Laughter and chatter were almost as loud as whatever top 40 pop song was blaring throughout the speakers. You used to enjoy these get togethers, but this time was different. You dreaded it.

If it had been your choice, you would’ve immediately packed up and flew back to your hometown, but the heavy storm brewing in the skies cancelled all flights out of the city. You were stuck with your co-stars – the makeshift Marvel family that welcomed you with open arms. Though you loved them dearly, six months had been a long time. You longed for a break and you deserved it all the same. But truthfully, you craved the escape more.

You were among the youngest members of the cast – at the prime partying age, according to Mackie at least. Everyone found your eagerness to leave and sudden standoffish behavior completely uncharacteristic, but you always dismissed the accusation.

No one needed to know the truth.

You stared blankly at the wall, a glass of water in your hand as you fought to ignore the eyes that burned through the back of your skull. Looking up would be a mistake, but you were always good at making those.

Your fingernails dug into his shoulders. His muscles defined due to his preparation for the movie. You gasped when his teeth nipped at the delicate skin of your neck, legs locking around his waist as if to pull him closer.

His thrusts were slow and deep as you moaned. The sound echoed throughout the hotel room, making him tsk. A soft chuckle escaped him before his lips ghosted over yours. “Can’t let anyone hear, baby,” he whispered, and you whimpered in response. His voice was deep and husky – a consequence of the early morning. He groaned when he felt you clench around him. “You gonna cum?”

You nodded, too breathless to muster a coherent response. His thrusts became sharper, faster as he tried to push you over the edge. He unhooked your legs from his weight and pushed them over his shoulders before one hand wrapped around your neck, applying pressure slightly.

The loss of blood to your brain paired with the new angle for deeper thrusts had you writhing beneath him, eyes rolling back. His lips found your again, capturing your moans. “Cum for me, baby,” he said into the kiss.

You threw your head back deeper into the bed as you felt the knot in your stomach snap.

“Chris! Chris!”

You took a long sip of water as you tried to shake the memory from your head. You suddenly felt hot – uncomfortable, even.

It had been a routine for you. Encounters that dated back over a year. It had started on a set of another movie, one that was apart from the Marvel franchise. You were new to the industry – the film had been your debut role that launched your career. It had been Chris that put in a good word for you with Marvel’s higher ups, landing you on the roster for an upcoming movie.

Though, now, you wondered if it had been a ploy to keep you in his circle.

You pulled at your shirt, shifting on the couch as you tried to listen to whatever crazy story Anthony babbled on about.

“No champagne?” Lizzie asked you, offering you the bottle. You smiled and politely declined. She eyed you and your water warily as she poured herself some.

“No, (Y/N)’s a beer girl!” Tom piped up, raising his bottle to you as if beckoning you to take a sip. Again, you declined.

“What’s got you suddenly sobering up?” Anthony chuckled. You shrugged. “Oh, c’mon,” he dramatically scoffed. “None of us have a call time at 6 a.m. You’re allowed to get drunk tonight, (Y/N).”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m just not up for it. I guess.” What you meant to say was I don’t want to get drunk and sleep with Chris again.

Your shoulders suddenly tensed when the couch dipped and a familiar aroma swarmed you.

“Chris! Chris!” You chanted his name as you came around him.

His thrusts were relentless as he rode you through your high, desperate to reach his. “Feel so good, baby,” he huskily said. “So tight, so wet.” He pulled his hand from your throat, the blood suddenly rushing back to you, and moved it to rub tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He groaned into you as your pussy quivered around him, shaking your head. “No,” you weakly whimpered. “I can’t – I can’t – “

“Yeah, you can,” he encouraged, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours. His deep blue eyes stared deeply into yours and all you could feel in that moment was just him. “One more, baby… Gimme one more.” Your fingers combed through his hair as you nodded. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon.”

Your breath hitched as your anxiety quickly rose, but you hid it behind a tight smile. Perhaps you were a better actress that you gave yourself credit for because everyone seemed to buy that grin.

“Hey,” your jaw clenched when you heard his voice. It was hushed as if he were afraid someone would catch him talking to you.

Throughout the last month of filming – after your falling out – it had been easy to avoid him. Most of your screen time was shared with Elizabeth or Tom – the three of you being hailed by fans as the “new generation” for Marvel. Even before you abruptly cut him off, you barely saw him on set. Your time together was only limited to midnight rendezvous, closed doors, and twisted sheets.

You let out a shaky breath. “Hi.” You said, keeping your eyes on the rip of your glass, refusing to meet his.

Chris stared at the side of your face. He noticed your clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. The way you avoided looking at him broke his heart into a million pieces. He bit his lip before tearing his eyes away from you, focusing on the pieces of lint that gathered on the material of his pants.

You watched from the corner of your eyes as he picked at them. It was a telltale sign that he was anxious – or bored. Although you prided yourself with the idea that you knew him better than most people did, you still could never tell with him. He was a collection of empty promises, half true lies, and mixed signals.

You should’ve gotten up. Maybe you could’ve excused yourself from your little circle and insert yourself into a conversation with Robert and Scarlet. Would it have been suspicious if you did? Perhaps you could’ve just called it a night, say your goodbyes, and rush off to your hotel – back to the very room where he broke your heart.

“Cum with me, baby, c’mon.”

It was as if your body was attuned to his words and demands. Because just like that, you were a wreck beneath him, gushing and milking him for all he’s worth. He grunted as his thrusts became sloppier until he pushed in as deep as he could and that familiar warmth spread through you.

He was breathing heavily as were you. He pressed a kiss to your temple before gently pulling out. You winced at the sudden emptiness, feeling his cum drip from your hot core. “You did so good,” he praised as he slumped beside you on the bed. Two thick arms wrapping around your spent body, pulling you into him. He left a trail of kisses all over your skin. “Always such a good girl.”

In your hazy, post multiple orgasms mind, you said three words that changed everything.

“I love you.”

But you couldn’t move. You were frozen on that couch, fighting off the tears and the somber memories.

In your blossoming career, your repertoire consisted of two major movies – your debut movie and the Marvel one that wrapped this very day. Both of which had you starring alongside Chris.

You two became insanely close to one another. He could read you like an open book as you did him though sometimes, he threw you off.

“We just get each other,” is what he would say when prompted to speak out about your chemistry. “We’re like two long lost best friends.” Many attributed the closeness to a kinship of sorts – some even saying that you were like the Tom Holland to his Robert Downey Jr; some speculated a relationship. Little did anyone know that this “kinship” brewed from something else entirely.

He knew everything there is to know about you. Your ticks, your pet peeves, the way you tasted and squirmed. He knew from the way your were trembling and the way you gripped your glass that you were fighting the urge to cry.

And he hated knowing he was the reason for your tears.

“I love you.” The words that escaped your lips was barely above a whisper. If Chris had let out a deep breath the very moment you said it, he might’ve even missed it.

But he didn’t.

He heard all three words.

“What?” He unwrapped his arms around you, startled by the confession. You flushed in realization.

“I – I didn’t – “

“You love me?” He scoffed. Your faint smile immediately fell as you shuffled in the bed to stare at him. His eyes were wide in bewilderment – disbelief, even. “You … You can’t love me.”

“Just forget about it, okay?” You begged, not wanting to ruin a good thing. Despite your feelings, you didn’t want them to push him away. You were willing to swallow your pride and love for him if it meant that he wouldn’t shut you out.

Chris shook his head at you, frantically jumping out of the bed. You watched vulnerably with tears brimming in your eyes as he quickly got dressed. “Chris – “

“No.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he pulled on his sweatpants. “Y-you… you can’t love me.”

“Okay, then I won’t!” You urged. “I didn’t mean it.”

He stood at the side of the bed, staring at you, seeing through the lies. He watched your guard fall as you watched his walls go up. He shook his head as he reached for his shirt.

“Chris – no, please,” you begged, pulling the covers to your chest as you tried to stop him from leaving. “I didn’t mea – “

“You meant it.” His tone was hard to decipher. You weren’t sure if he was angry with you or if he was confused. It was just flat. Before you could argue, he pulled his arm from your hands, hastily walking towards the door.

“Do you not want me to?” You asked him, freezing him in his place. His hand ghosted over the cold doorknob as his mind searched for a response. “Or do you not feel the same?” Your voice broke as did his heart.

He didn’t bother to spare you a second glance. “I don’t feel the same.” He said, curtly – emotionlessly – as he turned the knob and left you alone and in tears.

“(Y/N) – “he began but immediately cut himself off when he saw the single tear that rolled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand while he fought the urge to lean over and wipe it himself.

“Uh, I gotta go,” you said immediately after, quickly saying your farewells to your friends.

Chris bit the inside of his cheek as he and everyone else watched you abruptly leave, the door swinging closed behind you. Anthony had whistled, joking that someone was in a mood which Tom replied that you were probably just tired.

But Chris knew better.

-=+=-

It was late into the night when he heard the soft knocks. If he had been asleep, he wouldn’t have heard them. But just like you, his anxiety kept him up all hours of the night.

“Hey.” You shifted beneath his stare, keeping your eyes trained on your shoes.

“Hi.” He greeted in disbelief.

You stood in the hotel hall in awkward silence, trying to find the right words to say. Breathe. You reminded yourself. Just breathe. You found the courage, swallowing your pride, to lift your chin up and meet his gaze for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

It was awkward – to say the least. You always found that his room was much roomier than yours. It felt as if your room was a studio apartment while his was half of a penthouse – complete with a dining table and a full kitchen.

You fumbled with the sleeves of your cardigan as he asked if you wanted anything to drink. You politely declined – you wanted a clear head and an empty bladder for this long-awaited conversation.

You found it strange that he sat down in the seat adjacent from yours. He could’ve sat in the seat across from you – it would’ve made this interaction a whole lot easier.

He stared at you curiously as he wondered why you were here. Your constant avoidance led him to believe that you wanted nothing to do with him – and he didn’t blame you. He didn’t exactly handle that situation very well. Maybe you were here to end if officially?

“I just have to know,” you sighed out, looking up at him as he angled his entire body towards you. You scratched the back of your neck before continuing to fumble with the fabric of your sleeve. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You sucked your teeth before your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. You took a deep breath. “Why don’t you love me?” His brows rose in consideration as he tried to come up with a logical answer.

Why didn’t he want you to love him?

Truthfully, Chris wanted you to. He gravitated towards you like the planets to the sun. You brought a warmth into his life – a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time… and it scared him.

He was no stranger to heartbreak – 39 years on this Earth. He’s had his fair share of it. And despite longing for a true, good love with a promising future, he was still so afraid of the possibility of getting his heart broken again. But he hated knowing that he broke yours.

He didn’t think he deserved you and only limited himself to the stolen kisses behind closed doors. It was his breakable heaven – and in the moment it got too real, he did the only thing he knew how to: leave.

But he couldn’t find the words. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, silently admiring your courageousness. For someone so young, he didn’t expect the cliché of showing up to his hotel – though he contemplated showing up to yours – and prompting this much needed conversation. But he knew your goal was very clear to you – it was either closure or a new beginning.

You rolled your eyes, exhausted. “Because… I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy or naïve, but the way – the way you are with me? It’s not casual. It’s not a one-time thing. And maybe I’m reading too deeply into it, but I – I …” You trailed off. I hoped it was more. I hoped it was real.

“I love you,” Chris muttered. Your eyes widened with shock at the brashness.

“Chris – “you shook your head. You were tired of this long cycle – this vicious game of tug of war that pulled at your heartstrings until they snapped.

“I’m serious.” He said, looking directly into your eyes. He saw the doubt, the sudden indecisiveness that washed over your features. He saw you try to reel back into yourself, subtly scooting away from him to create distance. He saw the walls build back up as his fell for the first time in forever. “I was afraid of what it meant when you said it…” He admitted as he reached over to hold your hands in his. “It just made everything so – so real for me and honestly, (Y/N)? It scared me so much.”

“But you just left me there – “

“And I regret that.” Chris interjected, shaking his head as he pulled your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I regret it so much. If I could turn back time and stay, I would. In the month of you icing me out, it just… I couldn’t live like that. The world never felt colder when you weren’t by my side. But I, truthfully, honestly do love you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it to myself – to admit it to you… But I love you, (Y/N).”

You shook your head, doubting him. Was this another scheme of his? Was he just trying to get you back into his bed by feeding you more lies – by telling you what you wanted to hear?

“Please, believe me,” he begged. His voice had quaked, breaking ever so slightly. “I’m in love with you.”

“Chris – “he couldn’t register the tone. It was flat, not leaning towards angry, or heartfelt, or confused. Just flat.

But then he saw the tears roll down your cheeks and he instinctively cupped your cheeks to brush them away with his thumbs.

You were torn. Despite hearing the very words you wanted to hear a month ago, you weren’t sure how to feel. Of course, you still loved him. His was the very name that your heart called out for as you laid awake in the late nights.

You gasped when he suddenly leaned in, closing the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t hungry nor heated. It was passionate, loving. “Just let me love you,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours – and you melted into him. 

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #andy barber x reader #andy barber #andy barber imagine #imagine #fan fic #marvel #marvel fan fic #chris evans smut #steve rogers smut #ransom drysdale smut #andy barber smut

[thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness]

KAORU PERSONAL INTERVIEW SPECIAL HEADBANG VOL.27 TRANSLATION 2/2

The ideal figure that the guitarist who leads the band as a leader got while struggling, and the reason for his unstoppable pursuit. “Without ‘BLUE BLOOD’ I wouldn’t really be who I am now” “After all, I’ve always liked dark and hopeless stuff, that kind of things” “I’m the type of person who wants to be affected by cd jackets and lyrics” "Sometimes I can do it. A song with a very pop and bright atmosphere"

Notes before reading: This is the second part of the personal interview of Kaoru from the magazine Headbang Vol.27 released on 18th August 2020.  The interview is 11 pages long and this part covers the last 5 pages.  As Toshiya and Die’s interviews, 2nd part is focused on his roots as a guitarist.

You can get the magazine at Amazon Japan or CDJapan. Read Toshiya’s interview here Read Die’s interview here

Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing. Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS is appreciated :) ----- Text by: Yohsuke Hayakawa (First part here) “Without “BLUE BLOOD” I wouldn’t really be who I am now” -Then, the topic of the talk changes from here.  I would like to ask you about the story behind the 20 albums that you selected regardless of era or reasons but, you chose 10 albums from Japan and 10 foreign albums.

K: Is that true? (laughs). It's a coincidence, but it was very difficult to narrow down when it came to choose again. So, I chose mainly the ones I listened to a lot before I started the band and when I started doing it. They are just albums that influenced me. -I have the impression that Japanese music was a kids who read WeROCK’s thing. K:  Hahaha. Yes (laughs). -First of all…. COLOR's mini album "FOOLS! GET LUCKY !!" (1989) is also included. I have to ask about why you picked this one. K: Well, I really love it (laughs). Even though it was "X in the east, COLOR in the west"*, I was really into it, so I went to see their live performance. I like their punkish songs and they have many fast songs. At that time, if a song wasn’t  fast, it was a “no” for me. I also liked ROSE ROSE. *(This makes reference to X Japan being from the Kanto region (East) and COLOR being from Kansai (West) as both band emerged around the same time.) -Then D'ERLANGER. DIR EN GREY participated in D'ERLANGER's tribute (announced in 2017 ‘D'ERLANGER TRIBUTE ALBUM  ~ Stairway to Heaven~ "). Was the album "LA VIE EN ROSE" (1989) a shock for you?

K: That’s right, “LA VIE EN ROSE” too but also CIPHER (G) himself. Well, I think it was at ”BURNN! JAPAN”, CIPHER appeared in a solo photo on one page in colour.

-Oh, it’s a shot in which you can see him standing with a flashy Les Paul guitar. It was before kyo (D’ERLANGER vocalist) became a member. K: That’s right.  I though “What on earth is this person?” After that, they were releasing a CD ("LA VIE EN ROSE") , so I made a I made a reservation right away.

-Also, a band you can't miss from those times is DEAD END. It never gets old because it’s respected across generations. K: I chose "Shambara" (1988), well, it's a masterpiece. Just listening to the opening song "EMBRYO BURNING" made me sick. When I first started listening to metal music, I was a bit reluctant but with DEAD END, the melody that MORRIE sung got me very quickly, I got into them without any resistance. I didn’t have the impression that DEAD END was so-called “metal”. Since I started playing in bands, I was overwhelmed by the seriousness of YOU’s guitar technique. - Next is ZI: KILL is "ROCKET" (1993). Initially, the dark positive punk style was strong but with that last album, their musicality expanded dramatically and there are even piano jazz songs. K: It’s an album that feels like something has been reached. I got into ZI:KILL since the early albums and after making their major debut, I got the impression that their albums got milder. However, when I listened to "ROCKET", it seemed like an insanely cool album. I still listen to it. -Including a horn in their arrangements was ground-breaking. K: Yes, at first I hated it! But somehow, I didn’t care about it at all. Still, TUSK (Vo) lyrics and the songs were addictive. It made a deep impression on me, that’s why I read ZI:KILL lyrics carefully as well.

-Do you care about the lyrics when it comes to Japanese artists? K: I check the booklets properly. After all, the lyrics reach my ears at the point in which the words make you feel something.

- And, needless to say, you also chose X's "BLUE BLOOD" (1989). At the Vol. 20 of this magazine, you chose it as a “metal album that changed your life”. So, as expected, if you choose an album from X japan, would be this one? K: Without this album, I wouldn't really be who I am now.

-You were influenced by everything, both the music and the guitar play….is that so? K: The guitar too, right? Well, it’s not at that level anymore.

-Ah, that’s not the level (laughs) K: I was just listening to it earnestly and thinking “amazing!”, it just something that I like, there is no particular reason (laughs).

“Western music  (I listened to) was also greatly influenced by HIDE. That’s why everything it’s related to HIDE (laughs)”

- On the other hand, Tsuyoshi Nagabuchi and Cocco are also included. K: I've always liked Nagabuchi. Like "Tonbo" (1988), there was a tv drama about that. *(”Tonbo” (Dragonfly) was also a tv drama  in which Tsuyoshi Nagabuchi played a member of a yakuza gang  who is trapped in a violent existence.)

- Oh, after that was "Shabontama" (1991). K: I also like the movie "Orgel" (1989), I was really into Nagabuchi at that time. The "Showa" (1989) album I chose this time is the album that got me hooked. The masterpiece "Gekiai" which is my favourite song was recorded around that time.

-You liked Nagabuchi’s drama series. K: Yes, they are rather dark series. I don’t know much about the brighter/cheerful ones.

-The ones like "Family Game" (1983)? K: That's right. Those are not the ones that I prefer. After all, I’ve always liked dark and hopeless stuff, that kind of things. -(Laughs) However, the radical portrayal of Nagabuchi’s drama shocked your heart as a young boy. Probably such a drama couldn’t be made in this era. K: Yes, you can’t. There isn’t even a rebroadcast of these ones.

-Certainly.  Also, I remember that Cocco was around in the scene at the same time than HIDE (g). K: Yes. When I listened to her album, it didn’t feel like I was listening to a Japanese cd. I felt like it was a western heavy band, so I got into it with that kind of image.

-I feel that foreign music, the alternative vibe is overall stronger, but do you like that? K: After all, HIDE’s influence in foreign music (I listened to) is huge. At that time, I was buying various magazines and looking for some more, I checked the names that appeared in HIDE’s articles and I’ve been listening to the ones I liked all the time.

- I have the impression that HIDE had a great influence on you listening to bands like Jane's Addiction at that time. What about Vanessa Paradis and Japan ( English new wave band)? K: That was also due to the influence of HIDE. That’s why almost everything is related to HIDE (laughs). Also, this album of hers (released in 1992, “Vanessa Paradis”) was produced by Lenny Kravitz, who liked to go to her lives.  She's still good, but I especially like her early days, I'm attracted to that voice.

“I’m the type of person who wants to be affected by cd jackets and lyrics”

- So that's it. The only work related to HIDE that you chose was with X Japan but, what about his solo works? K: Well, of course I like his solo, but in my case, I like HIDE in X Japan the most.

-Other than that, I can tell that you like strong sounds, heavy riffs and industrial. K: That’s right. As I was always seeking fierce things, I came to like strong riffs such as Pantera and Ministry.

-What about the so-called European German metal? K: Especially at that time, it wasn’t my cup of tea (laughs) - Then, some of the foreign music you chose…. "Psalm 69: The Way To Succeed And The Way To Suck Eggs" (1992) by Ministry. This album was already mentioned in this magazine before as an important metal album for you. K:  At that time, there was a foreign-related CD shop called WAVE at  Umeda Loft in Osaka. I think that I found it there and listened to it. I was like “what the hell?”, so I bought it right away. I listened to it at home again. That night I went to a acquaintance’s house and I said “Listen to this!”, and I forced him to listen (laughs). -I can tell your excitement (laughs) K: Then I listened to all the other albums. Above all, I like this one the most.  -And you also mentioned Nine Inch Nails. K: The first thing I heard from them was a single or something. At that time, I thought, "Wow, that's amazing," but when I listened to the songs on that album, I felt like I was listening to something I had never heard before. It's dark, but it sounds very aggressive. But it’s not like european music dark feeling.At that time, I wasn't sure if  they were a band or not (laughs).  -You wondered if it was a one-person band. K: That’s right. I was like “Is the same person doing everything?”, “Is he playing drums too?”. Everything was a mystery. Information was not available as soon as it does now, so I was wondering “Who is this person?”. I also wondered if the cd jacket had something to grasp, like it was a cd jacket that I didn’t really understand. Like the logo. It was all mysterious and addictive. I myself am the type who wants to be influenced/affected by cd jackets and lyrics, so I look at every corner. Everything up to the back of the wrapping. Then, when I looked at the back, I thought, "Isn't there anything attached?" (Laughs).  -(Laughs)There are many things that are totally attractive, including elaborate art books.  K: Yes. Especially for Nine Inch Nails, I went looking for some place that sell T-shirts of them.  "Sometimes I can do it. A song with a very pop and bright atmosphere"  -Among these works, isn't there any in particular that has an easy-to-understand influence on the songs that you make with DIR EN GREY? K: Well, I don't know that .  - Some of the works you chose this time have a strong melody…. For example, on a 2017 tour focused in “MACABRE" (2000), you played “Taijou no ao” for the first time in a while. I mentioned in this magazine before that "If you change the arrangement of a song to your current style, you can still play it ", but is there a desire to make a song with that kind of melody now? K: I don’t have a particular desire to do it. I think that it feels like something from that time, it’s an image that doesn’t make me feel excited now.  -By the way, do you usually listen to music with melodies like that? K: I do, I do.  Rather, I’ve been listening to pop music all the time lately.  I am not listening noisy bands at all.  -Noisy ones (laughs). K: Hahaha. -However, it's a little hard to think that you are going to make songs like that. K: Yeah, it doesn't happen very often sometimes, but there are times when I can do it. A song with a very pop and bright atmosphere. So, when I tried to start to work on songs, one turns out like “this is what I have done”. But maybe then I think that it’s a little different from what I do with DIR EN GREY, so I have to mess with it, fix it or just store it. - Eh! Do you make that kind of songs? I would like to hear a song like that from you now. That’s why the melody of “Taijou no Ao” that I mentioned as an example is not only pop but also suffocating. Faintly scented lyrics. I wonder if that it’s your true self. K: That's right.The first thing that influenced me was  the New Wave*. Pet Shop Boys and so, I liked that kinds of thing. That’s why there is a bit of that “kind of atmosphere” sometimes. It's not just pop. *(New wave is a broad music genre that encompasses numerous pop-oriented styles from the late 1970s and the 1980s) -There is also a sorrowful side. K: So, if I had to pick one, Europe is better in that than America. Well, when it comes to the songs I make, I’d like to make them more interesting, but I don’t feel like doing something that is off the point/wrong.  -I have to ask you about the melody part now. K: If you have any concerns, I will answer them…  - What if there is something clear for you like, “this song has this kind of image”? K: After that, Kyo has several ways to sing so I will combine them in my own way and propose new melodies. Like “I think in this way would be cool”.   -Oh, that’s how you do it. In any case, now I'm looking forward to the day when I can listen to a new song again. Will the album be completed in 2021? K: That's right.  -By the way, Kaoru-san's hard disk has already material for the new album…. K: Well, there's something for the album……there is, but it’s still not the whole thing at all (laughs).

#dir en grey #kaoru #translation #Headbang Vol 27 #interview

[seriouslycromulent]

Random thoughts on ZSJL after 1st viewing

So dear DCEU fans, before I sit down to re-watch Zack Snyder’s Justice League again tonight, I thought I’d share some of my first impressions and thoughts on the film. I really wanted to take part in the watch party yesterday, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to give the film my full attention if I did so, especially since it would be my first viewing.

But now that I know what was inside my birthday gift (my birthday was March 18th), I can chat about it with others and discuss to my heart’s content. 

However, this is NOT that post. This is not a review. It’s just some of my initial thoughts and reactions, which may or may not change after multiple viewings. 

And yes, I will mark this post as “ZSJL spoilers” for anyone trying to remain unspoiled until they get a chance to watch it at their own pace.

Here we go ...

Question #1 - Why does Barry only burn out of his shoes, but nothing else he’s wearing when he moves to save Iris? Is it the friction against the floor? Or is it just convenient for the sake of visuals? We know the suit he made is designed to withstand wind and heat resistance when he moves, so when he’s not wearing it, are his clothes in danger of getting shredded if he moves fast enough? 

This isn’t snark. I’m genuinely curious. :-)

Reaction #1 - I know it’s blasphemous to speak positively about the theatrical release, but I kind of miss the opening credit sequence with the song playing over the images and interactions of people arguing, fighting and falling into despair after Supes died. I felt it was an apt response in the world in the wake of his death, and it suited Zack’s overall tone connecting BvS to this film from the start. I’m not saying the new opening is bad. Just that I kind of liked the theatrical one better.

Question #2 - Now this is kinda snarky. But does Arthur just leave sweaters and shirts littered all over the place whenever he goes below the surface? What if there’s no one there to pick it up like that lady in Iceland? 

Reaction #2 - I’m love, love, loving the much bigger role of the Amazons in this version. That battle scene with Steppenwolf is still brutal to watch, but the extra screen time is much appreciated.

Reaction #3 - I’m now calling the arrow shot into the Shrine of the Amazons the “Hanukkah Arrow” because it was a miracle the fire stayed lit during its entire journey to the Shrine and how it stayed lit until a film crew caught it on the news. 

R#4 - Even though I knew Victor’s car accident was coming, I was still shook when it happened. Like, I genuinely screamed when the other vehicle crashed into them. That’s how emotionally invested I was in that scene at the time.

R#5 - I liked the juxtaposition of going from Victor’s dysfunctional relationship with his dad to Barry’s sweet, but heartbreaking relationship with his dad. Way to mess with our emotions, Zack.

R#6 - “gorilla sign language” Tee-hee!

R#7 - Great placement with the suicide prevention billboard. It was both seamless and poignant. 

R#8 - As a fellow tea drinker, I like that Alfred is particular about how tea is made, even when the cup of tea isn’t for himself.

R#9 - It’s interesting to see how jerky Victor’s movements are in Chapter 3. I know he will move more smoothly as the film progresses, but I feel like that growth and development in his movements were missed in the theatrical release, which is a shame because it’s a great mirror to his psychological development as well. 

R#10 - It’s a shame how easily Steppenwolf captured the 2nd box thanks to King Orm’s incompetence. Ugh. I can’t stand that guy. 

Question #3 - Why is Arthur responsible for retrieving the box that was lost on his brother’s watch? He’s not king yet, so why does it fall to him? Whatever. Orm sucks.

Question #4 - OK. So I know this was in theatrical release, but how is it that the other team members disappeared when Commissioner Gordon turned his back and Barry didn’t notice it happening? That technically should be impossible unless Barry was distracted by a squirrel or something.

Favorite Hell Yeah Moment #1 - Barry saving the kidnapped people from being hit by the falling debris outside after the team rescues them from Steppenwolf. Go Barry! Do that shit!!! You don’t need lessons on how to be a f*cking hero!

R#11 - So Barry did trip in the original script. Interesting. I still don’t like that. It’s in character for where he is right now on his journey, but I still don’t like it.

Question #5 - Architectural question for the design nerds out there. Why does Lois have a glass pane in her front door in an apartment building in a major metro area in the US? That’s an odd design. Is it a renovated office building? Was her apartment at one point the office of a private detective in a noir film? I need answers.

Favorite Hell Yeah Moment #2 - The J’onn J’onzz reveal is officially one of my biggest thrills of the entire DCEU franchise. Years ago, when people were speculating about who was the 7th in the phrase “Unite the 7,” I said it’s J’onn J’onzz, and fanboys corrected me and insisted it had to be Hal or at least one of the Lanterns. And I was like, “Nope. I bet you it’s J’onn. He could easily already be a part of the story and we don’t even know it.” This is the part where I say to you ... Called It! Like 6 years ago! I f*cking Called It!

R#12 - Yep, by Chapter 5, Victor is moving much more smoothly.

R#13 - Dude!!!!!! The “Not Impressed” moment was better than anything Supes ever did in the theatrical release. Anything. It was just so epic and smooth and smoothly epic. I’m accepting that scene as a part of my personal birthday gift. Zack did that for me. That’s why that’s in there.

R#14 - I know Barry got a couple of hero moments earlier in the film, but none of them compare to the actual reconstruction of f*cking time in order to save everyone. The way the ground literally formed under his feet as he ran had me holding my breath without me even realizing it. Thank you, Zack! Thank you for making Barry more than the comedy relief. Thank you for giving him this moment. He deserves this.

Favorite Hell Yeah Moment #3 - I know everyone is talking about how they cheered when the team goes charging into the building altogether (sans Supes). And don’t get me wrong. That moment is pretty f’cking sweet. But dude, my all-time favorite, jump-out-of-my-seat, and jump-up-and-down moment was when Arthur speared Steppenwolf from behind and lifted him up in the air. I was like ...

The fangirl in me was unashamed and unbossed. Arthur deserved that moment. He spent half the film being tossed around like a ragdoll or brooding like a hot stevedore. He deserved that shit! Yes, yes, he did.

Epilogue thoughts ---

Again, this is the longest film epilogue I’ve seen since LOTR: Return of the King, but I’m not hating, just noting.

The extra scenes with J’onn J’onzz and Deathstroke made my day after everything else made my night. They are 2 of my absolute favorite DC characters who were all but cut from the theatrical release. I’m taking those scenes as ... again ... my personal birthday gifts.

I know we may never get JL2 and JL3, but I felt like the cliffhanger was pretty good. It leaves you wanting more, but not feeling as if you’ve been left high and dry. For those who doubted Zack’s decision to keep it a cliffhanger knowing he may never get to finish the story, I say to you, “Aren’t you tired of doubting this man?”

#zack snyder #zack snyder's justice league #justice league 2021 #zsjl spoilers #zsjl #dceu positivity #dceu #dc comics #martian manhunter #j'onn j'onzz #deathstroke #slade wilson #arthur curry #barry allen #victor stone

[tteenagepetulance]

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓵𝔂 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼

𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓋𝒾𝓃𝓎𝓁 𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

wonderstruck & dancing all alone (left) every night with us is like a dream (right) + a collectable lithograph to match !

𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈

she breezed past the threshold of betty’s rose garden, turned left at the hedges, and went deep, deeper, deeply.... back into the folklorian woods, where a magnificent tree reached ancient branches up towards nearly perpetual lavender skies; some called it a wonder, some called it a miracle, others called it a warning. that didn’t stop her from reaching out two fingertips & opening up the tiny hidden door, painted in swirls of teals and bright pinks, beckoning her towards a pandora’s box named freedom... and with a tumble, she promptly fell right down the rabbit hole. 

she found wonderland & this time, she wasn’t getting lost in it.

welcome to fae land’s mistywood high, home of the bullfrogs! once dilapidated school buildings brought back to life by thickets and weeds, swathed in a new coat of pastel pollen paint; teeming with life through vines and ivy, wisteria and lavender and baby breath filling every crack along concrete hallways. plums of roots, shoots, and flowers blooming out of lockers as birds chitter and crickets sing, binders labeled in floral washitape: Large Wing Anatomy Vol.156, ALCHEMY OF RARE GEMSTONES, the encyclopedia of rules and ramifications of ingesting fae food. sneaking out into the mushroom fields and having your first kiss over bioluminescent fungi, all your love immersed in neon blue. a world of neverending youth, dizzy drunk with nectar juice and the splendor of puppy love, each one as intoxicating as the one before. the cafeteria is teeming with political warfare, lines drawn along cliques and conformity. the maddening spin of petals and popularity, crying tears of mascara in the bathrooms... oh honey, life is just a classroom.

how exciting it can be, to dream up new worlds & wonders as the taylor’s version remasters release, and sparse them across new chapter eps, to revel in the majesty and whimsy of our hopelessly romantic inner youth. i hand picked these songs because i think they embody the whirlwind rush of high school, exacerbated under the conditions of nearly endless youth for my fickle fairy friends. 

collaboration continues as my good friend, jack antonoff, returns to my side once again to help with production, this time with his iconic indie-pop sound from bleachers alongside him. every song is remastered under his touch, and you might hear the fluttering beat of fairy wings, the twinkle of their magic, the cry of the bullfrog, the chorus of the crickets, and the endless wistfulness i feel when i think back to this journey we started on. lover, state of grace, and daylight got special attention from the both of us, as i wanted to recreate vibes and aesthetics of mistywood to the deepest of my heart’s desires, and as always, jack thoroughly delivered. also joining me again is hozier, who took complete creative liberty with his remaster, which will bring you to your knees with wonderment and hope. maren morris also joins this chapter for a feature, lending her gentle vocals to create an echoing, beautiful rendition that’ll haunt as much as it hopes. when i started this project, i knew i needed troye sivan to join me on at least one track, and he helped spin a gossamer-light tale of sparkling first infatuation, and helped elevate the track with the original demo lyrics from my days at nineteen. brendon urie rejoined my side for a heart-stopping, strings & piano only rerecord of ME!, a titular pop track from the past two years that’s been passed over by many, so i decided to present it in an incandescent, softer light. lastly, the wonderful kacey musgraves lends her voice and songwriting talent to help combine two iconic songs to create a whole new story - you belong with // betty finally brings the james/august/betty love triangle to fruition, after inez accuses august of actually having feelings for betty, and the titular night of prom that changes everything.

this album is a love letter to love itself. // these songs are open letters. // no matter what love throws at you, you have to believe in it. you have to believe in love stories & prince charmings & happily every after. that’s why i write these songs. because i think love is fearless. // fearless is walking into your freshman year of high school almost immortally at fifteen. // an endless seventeen-year-old standing on a porch, learning to apologize. lovestruck kids wandering up and down the evergreen High Line. // the purple-pink skies of the soccer field on the walk home; the dazzle of opal necklaces i couldn’t afford gleaming from a department store jewelry case. // crowds of loving, vibrant people in the bleachers, watching acorn lacrosse. // daydreaming on parchment and mused about who might ask who to the dance or how nervous i was singing the anthem at the local fairyball game. //  // they are the moments you saw sparks that weren’t really there, felt stars aligning without having any proof, saw your future before it happened, and then saw it slip away without any warning. // a single thread that, for better or for worse, ties you to your fate. // wonderment. intrigue. romance. i noticed things and decided they were romantic, and so they were. // creaks in the floorboards and ultraviolet morning light. // we crave romance. we long for those rare, enchanting moments when things just fall into place. above all else, we really, really want our lives to be filled with love. // love, wonder, and whimsy they deserve //  being young and needing someone so badly, you jump in head first without looking. // real love shines golden like starlight, and doesn’t fade or spontaneously combust. // opening the curtains to see the clearest, brightest daylight after the darkest night. // their secret admirer looks at them and sees an elaborate sunset of brilliant color and dimension and spirit and pricelessness. // all the angles of the kaleidoscope that is you. // i don’t think you should wait. i think you should speak now.

𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

enchanted

ivy

i know places

wonderland

daylight - whimsical world version

out of the woods (hozier remaster)

invisible string

new romantics (bleachers remaster)

ours (remaster ft. maren morris)

state of grace - twinkling fireflies version

you need to calm down

we are never ever getting back together

shake it off

blank space

stay stay stay

the way i loved you

i wish you would

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

lover - midsommar night version

𝒷𝑜𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈

you belong with // betty (kacey musgraves remix)

ME! piano remix by kitty committee studio (ft. brendon urie)

sparks fly (original demo lyrics ft. troye sivan)

op notes: hello & welcome to mistywood! thank you so much for everybody’s interest in this!!!! in my mind, all of these “chapter eps” occur after the release of all of taylor’s versions. this was a very self indulgent project, as you can see, and i can guarantee the rest will be as well!! as you can probably tell, the first two portions of liner notes were written by yours truly, while the last paragraph is a scouring off all of taylor’s to thoroughly ~capture~ the prologues she always provides. please enjoy! i take zero criticism lmao too busy being absolutely unhinged!!! 

please remember that likes are appreciated, but reblogs beat the tumblr algorithm! support content creators!

keep an eye out for next week’s creation, forever & always are the sweetest con (chapter two) - just as a sneak peek, they’re gay, they’re cowboys, they’re werewolves, and i’m thrumming with excitement over getting started!! i’m aiming at having them posted by next weekend :) 

tag list: @tscreators, @networkthirteen, just ask to be added to the next one! credit: coloring (@maxiresources #1, @suunflowerx foodie, @bbyhyuck summer’98), vinyl mockup purchased

#tsedit #ts edit #taylurking #taylornation #networkthirteen #tscreators #taylor swift #taylor swift edit #taylorswiftedit #myedit #taylors version

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Coral Palms newest indie-pop offering ‘Wildest Fears’ adds a refreshing reggae influence to their distinctly vibrant sound

Since their first release a little over a year ago, four-piece indie-pop band Coral Palms have garnered quite the dedicated fanbase and critical acclaim from publications like Rolling Stone amongst others. All inspired by an array of different artists and genres, Coral Palms find themselves dipping toes into sounds like those of Two Door Cinema Club, Alex Turner, Ben Howard, Arctic Monkeys and more that come together to form a one of a kind bright sound. Determined to make music that’s colourful and uplifting despite it’s message being heavier or easy-bearing, Coral Palms latest single ‘Wildest Fears’ adds just another slice of heaven into their already sparkling discography.

As ‘Wildest Fears’ leads with atmospheric, reverberating electric guitar notes, the soundscape immediately lends itself nicely to Coral Palms distinct sound, recognisably marking the next chapter of their musical journey. Offering a slightly more somber and downbeat tone than they often delve within, the verses keep a minimal approach as just steady drum beats, quick guitar plucks and their vocalist’s poignant delivery tell a story of meaningful depth. Kicking up in energy as the chorus hits, a ska and reggae-esque guitar groove loudly picks up from its more quiet verse influence, as well as thumping beats and a vocal hook capture a colourful essence amidst a song that somehow toes the line between intimacy and joyful indie-pop highs. Not losing their well-known dance-ability, ‘Wildest Fears’ whilst slower than what Coral Palms have previously released, still remains undoubtably their own and perfect for getting off your feet whilst perhaps relating to more of the authentic and lingering narrative at hand than their other feel-good hits. Closed off perfectly by a bridge that sees a raw electric guitar solo that translates into one hell of a final chorus, ‘Wildest Fears’ remarkably spices up the indie-pop we’re all used to, instead bearing a sound that’s new, exciting and most importantly one of a kind.

Despite the vibrant sound that Coral Palms lace their sound with, ‘Wildest Fears’ dares to offer a narrative that’s heavier than you’d ever expect under the surface of its sunny tones. Opening up about dealing with anxiety and disliking your self-image, Coral Palms have written a personal but easily digestible insight into how many experience their darker thoughts and episodes without making it too overbearing for the casual listener. With the chorus hook sharing one of the most intimate insights of the entire nearing four minute narrative, the line ‘I don’t know where my head is, I haven’t known for years’ is set to linger in the heads of many and for good reason. Bearing their hearts on their sleeves, it’s clear that ‘Wildest Fears’ bottles up years worth of struggles into one carefully penned story aiming to not only bring light on their darker days but offer hope for those trapped within their own. Aiming to ultimately showcase how one can tackle their fears and confront their anxieties to slowly conquer the things that plague their daily lives, ‘Wildest Fears’ leaves you with a message of hope that if you too find yourself relating to their story you can overcome those struggles too.

You can check out ‘Wildest Fears’ for yourself here to enjoy the distinct sound Coral Palms continue to evolve and impress within!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Dean Sherwood

#coralpalms #music #singlereview

[magesmiths]

let your heart be your guide

Regency AU // Nat Sewell x Lottie Fitzwilliam // part one

Rating: General (will go up)

Word count: 3,495

Read on AO3

The first time she sees her, it’s from across a busy dance hall, mid turn, whilst in the arms of someone else. All evening, the music has been too loud, overwhelming as she tries to enjoy the dancing, a feat now rendered impossible by the presence of one unknown woman. Her smile is what she notices first; open, genuine as she converses with the gentleman standing next to her.

And then she’s looking right back at her, Lottie is sure of it, the wide smile falling slightly as big brown eyes watch her. It’s as if the world narrows, focusing on only her in a moment of pure, blinding clarity.

(She will, months later, whisper between breathless kisses how difficult it was to remember the steps, to keep turning her head away from the beauty that had ensnared her.)

The dance finally comes to an end and she barely remembers to thank her partner for the dance, his request for another fails to reach her as she scours the crowd for her again. It doesn’t take long, for the tall woman is easy to find even amongst all these people; standing near the edge of the room amongst instruments more valuable than Lottie has ever seen. A small smile pulls at her lips as the relief washes over her. Her pulse quickens as she takes the figure in, both anchored by her presence and set adrift by the fluttering need to know her bursting from within.

If this is what the poets speak of, their words are not enough to capture the truth of it.

She edges slightly closer, breath catching in her throat as she notes a loose curl of hair falling into her soft, serene face - tries to banish the accompanying need to tuck it back behind her ear - and elegant fingers skirting over the pianoforte. Silver rings glint in the light, holding her focus as she watches the gentle caress of the keys. She doesn’t press down, the instrument makes no sound, but her fingers ghost over the ivory as if playing a song from memory. Lottie wishes she could hear her music.

Tearing herself away, she searches the room for someone - anyone - who might be a mutual acquaintance, attempting to maintain an air of calm through the urgent hammering of her heart.

She needn’t have worried. Salvation finds her.

“Miss Fitzwilliam?”

Lottie spins on the spot at the sound of her name, skirts swirling around her, and finds herself facing her. Tina Poname, an old friend, who had spoken Lottie’s name is stood beside her and Lottie tries to control the smile from taking over her entire face.

Lottie tears her eyes from the woman’s face, from the quirk of a smile on her lips - beautiful is not a good enough word, she thinks - and desperately tries to remember her manners. “Miss Poname!” She gives a curtsey. “I did not know you were in Bath, I am delighted to see you.” Her eyes, unbidden, flick back to the deep brown ones behind him to find they are watching her.

“And I you.” Lottie doesn’t miss the smile on Miss Poname’s face as she begins her next sentence, “May I introduce you to Miss Natalie Sewell? Miss Charlotte Fitzwilliam.”

She curtseys again as she looks back to Miss Sewell, her name - Natalie - running through her mind, wondering how it would feel to say, how it would sound. “I’m honoured to make your acquaintance, Miss Sewell.”

“The honour is all mine, Miss Fitzwilliam.” The deep voice, saying her name so softly, sends a flutter through her. “I have not seen you in Bath before, are you often here for the season?”

“Never. It is my first time.”

The smile on Miss Sewell’s lips - oh those lips, she could stare all day - grows at her words. “Well, I hope we’ve made a good impression so far?”

“It’s a beautiful city, I have yet to see much of it though.”

“Indeed, it is.” Tina’s voice forces Lottie’s gaze away from Miss Sewell. She had almost forgotten she was there. “My apologies, you will have to excuse me,” She leans in close to Lottie as she passes, “I have just seen Mr Verda dancing of all things and you know I can’t bear missing a chance to tease him.”

She gives a brief bow to them both and walks off, skirts rustling. Lottie turns back to Miss Sewell, has a moment to take her in as she watches Tina reunite with their friend. Lottie has to crane her neck a little to look at her face. Her skin looks impossibly soft, warm brown almost glowing in the candle light.

Miss Sewell turns back to her and she feels herself grow warm at being caught staring, but can’t bring herself to look away. “Is there anywhere in Bath you would recommend going whilst I’m here?”

It’s been mere minutes, but Lottie is already accustomed to seeing the smile on Miss Sewell’s lips; hopes it’s a result of her company, though she suspects it’s more of a permanent fixture. “I would always recommend the library, I spend much of my time there. I suppose there’s the obvious: the Roman Baths. They are quite beautiful, though the city has become more of a resort in recent years, they are certainly worth seeing. The history of the hot springs is fascinating, formed from water fallen thousands of years ago.”

Her brown eyes, wide and bright, are enchanting. Lottie feels as though she could fall into their depths as she listens to her explain the intricacies of rainwater reacting with limestone, her soothing tones like a sweet wine.

“I apologise,” She looks bashful for a moment and looks away. “You don’t want to hear the history of how rainwater turned into hot springs -”

“On the contrary.” Miss Sewell raises an eyebrow as her eyes flicker back and forth between Lottie’s. “I would happily listen.”

One side of Miss Sewell’s mouth quirks up, and she nods at Lottie. “I’m grateful for your kind words, however a tour guide may be better equipped to explain the science behind it if you are interested.”

“Perhaps you could be my tour guide.” Lottie watches as Miss Sewell rolls her lips together and avoids her gaze.

There’s a moment where she wonders if she’s been too bold, too forthcoming with what burns inside her. The suggestion was light, hopeful even, but it’s a dangerous thing. A risk worth taking, she thinks. Lottie has rarely been one to hold back from temptation, no amount of admonishment could quit her from chasing her desires. And this, this is no fleeting want.

She feels a twinge of regret bubble up inside her, hopes to rectify what she has done, almost prays that she has not ruined the chance of even friendship between the pair, when Miss Sewell looks up.

When they make eye contact again, those brown eyes seem darker. “Perhaps I could be.”

That night, when Lottie is home and under her covers, replaying the evening in her mind, watching it play out on the ornate ceiling above her bed, she lets her mouth form her name. Just once in a whisper barely audible even to her.

“Natalie.”

---

The Assembly rooms are busy again. It is by far the most popular place for a social occasion in Bath, or so Lottie’s aunt is wont to tell her. She would roll her eyes if it wouldn’t earn her a reprimand.

Though, in this instance, she probably wouldn’t complain at being brought here again. The possibility of seeing one Miss Sewell set her heart aflutter.

She had never been a fan of romance novels, though she was always expected to have read the latest by those around her. She preferred an adventure, something thrilling. The feeling of anticipation, the possibility of something exciting with every turn of a page, it was like no other.

But even that feeling was nothing to this.  

They are barely in the door when Lottie is craning her neck to see over crowds. She should be thankful her brother and aunt are too consumed by each other’s conversation to notice her distraction.

“Are you looking for someone?” A soft voice comes from behind her and she closes her eyes briefly to savour it.

“Miss Sewell,” Lottie turns and inclines her head at the taller woman, more beautiful than her memory could do credit.

“Miss Fitzwilliam.” She bows her head in return, her smile widening. “So, were you looking for someone?’

“No, I was merely looking around.” Matching grins tell another story.

“Have you met my brother and aunt?” The two step forward beside her to be introduced. “Mr John Fitzwilliam, Mrs Anne Fitzwilliam. May I present Miss Natalie Sewell.”

Lottie watches as Miss Sewell curtsies and begins easy conversation with them. She struggles to look away as her new friend charms her infamously hard to please aunt, her endearing countenance putting all at ease. Her soft laughter pulls at Lottie’s lips, and she should try and compose herself lest someone catch her looking like a lovesick teenager, but it’s too hard to care at this moment.

When the Fitzwilliams eventually excuse themselves, Lottie lingers for a moment, looking up at the taller woman, heart beating so loudly it drowns out the music in the next room.

“I hope to see more of you this evening, Miss Sewell.”

“And I you, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

There’s a moment of silence between them. They both refuse to be the first to break eye contact and it is not just the corset that’s making it hard for Lottie to breathe.

“Your aunt is waiting for you.” Miss Sewell eventually breaks it and nods towards the doorway.

“Yes. Of course.” Feeling herself flush, she finally steps away. Sparing one last look, she smiles to see she is still being watched.

---

Lottie finds her near the pianoforte again on their third meeting, can’t stop the words that slip from her lips in her eagerness, foregoing any formal greeting. “It’s a beautiful instrument.”

An easy smile graces Miss Sewell’s lips. “Indeed. Do you play?” Her eyes are still on the instrument. It’s a grand thing, though it seems untouched in this corner of the hall.

“Not as well as I should like.”

“I’m sure you’re far better than you care to admit.” Miss Sewell turns to look at her then and the crinkle of her eyes tells Lottie that she relishes the blush blossoming on her pale cheeks.

The younger woman lowers her eyes, a small smile appearing on her face “I would hate for you to be disappointed, Miss Sewell. So I shall venture never to play in front of you and prove you wrong.”

“Oh, but that should surely break my heart.”  

“You leave me in an unfortunate position, Miss Sewell. I must either disappoint you, or break your heart, neither of which is remotely desirable to me.” They’re both smiling now, and Miss Sewell’s eyes flash with something , darkening as Lottie continues. “Perhaps you could help me improve.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Lottie barely contains the shiver that courses through her at the words.

---

The pair have formed a ritual of sorts by their fourth meeting, unspoken - though the words need not leave their lips for them both to agree, each seeking only the other on nights like these.

They spend the first few hours fulfilling their duties, dancing and mingling. Lottie can barely stop herself from looking Miss Sewell’s way, though she feels her gaze oft pulled. Round and round she goes, dancing with men who may as well be faceless for all the draw they have.

Balls and dances tend to last upwards of six hours, and it’s remarkable to find someone able to dance the whole night. It is even more unlikely to find someone willing to do so. Miss Sewell, a lover of dancing, would happily spend the entire time on the dance floor were it for the right partner. As it was, the right partner was occupied and, regretfully, off limits.

Although it isn’t unheard of for two women to dance together, she dared not ask the Master of Ceremonies for permission. Want as she might, Miss Sewell was of the belief that even the opportunity to touch Miss Fitzwilliam, in the tender way that dancing requires and not merely in an accidental brush of fingers in a busy room, would render her incapable of letting go.

The company they find when obligation is finally fulfilled is easier than any Lottie has ever known. She can’t help but feel a lightness in Miss Sewell’s company, a happiness founded on merely the others’ presence.

Lottie closes her eyes, a smile growing on her face as she hears the opening notes of her favourite piece. Dancers gather on the floor and she watches as the pairs bow to each other before taking up the first position.

“Are you to abandon me for another dance?”

“Well, I know few others here, save for my brother and aunt, and otherwise preoccupied friends.” Her gaze flickers towards Miss Sewell who is still watching the dance floor, a small quirk to her lips. “I think you can be safe in the knowledge that I will remain in your company.”

“Now that is a wonderful reassurance.”

They watch a little longer and Lottie can’t help but wish she was watching her companion on the floor instead.

“Will you not dance, Miss Sewell?”

Dark eyes meet hers, smile fully blossoming on curved lips. She can’t help but watch them as her friend speaks. “Are you asking, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

She feels herself redden, and the smile on Miss Sewell’s face grows wider. She leans close, and Lottie can feel the heat of the whisper on her skin. “Don’t tell me either way, I couldn’t bear to know if not.”

She turns away again, leaving Lottie to stare.

Two women who find comfort and fulfilment, not in the attentions of those around them, but in each other, have more power than any man in their presence could hope to wield. For what is man if his attentions are unneeded? Undesired? Unwelcomed? He is nothing.

It is, however, another matter entirely for man to know that.

“Good evening, Miss Sewell.”

Her head turns slowly to face the voice.

“Mr Marks.”

A handsome man with blond hair and brown eyes stands before them, his approach gone entirely unnoticed by the women before him.

“I trust you are well this evening? Is the Miss du Mortain here in Bath too?”

“I’m afraid not, she preferred to remain in London for the season. And you, Mr Marks? Have you been in Bath long?”

“Only a fortnight, I’m due to be here for the rest of the season.”

Miss Sewell only smiles in response, leaving the man looking between the two women. Lottie wonders for a moment why she doesn’t introduce them when Mr Marks’ smooth voice interrupts her.

“I should rather like to ask your friend here to dance.” He gestures to Lottie, inclining his head slightly, and she blinks, taken aback. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a cool mask wash over Miss Sewell’s usually friendly features.

“Is it not presumptuous that you should ask a lady to dance without having first made her acquaintance? Some may consider that rather bold, sir.”

“Fortune favours—”

Lottie lifts her hand to her mouth so as to cover the smile growing there as Miss Sewell cuts him off. “Oh, you can do better than recite an old proverb, Mr Marks. A learned man such as yourself must have a plethora of words at your disposal. I’m sure you can enchant my dear friend here with a few of your own.” She folds her hands in her lap, long brown fingers sitting neatly against the dusky green of her gown and holds his gaze, a smile firmly set on her lips.

They both watch as the man before them reddens, opening his mouth and then closing it abruptly. He looks away.

“No? Perhaps your time will be better spent with women already in your acquaintance, Mr Marks.” Lottie has never heard her speak like this, still all politeness in her words, but there’s something underneath, a finality in her tone that sends Mr Marks on his way. “It was a pleasure to see you, I will pass on your regards to Miss du Mortain.”

Mr Marks finally finds his voice, “Forgive me, Miss Sewell,” He nods first at her companion, then at Lottie, “I forgot I already promised this next dance to another.” His eyes linger for a moment on the latter, offering a tight smile, before he turns away, coat tails swishing behind him.

Silence falls over the friends as they watch him depart, neither needing to look at the other to know they have matching smiles on their faces.

“Do you have a history with Mr Marks, Miss Sewell?”

Her smile falters slightly. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“A scorned lover, perhaps? One of many of yours, I’m sure.”

“Scorned -” She turns quickly to look at her, mouth open and brow furrowed in protestation when she sees Lottie’s smirk. “Oh, you’re teasing me.” She purses her lips and shakes her head, narrowed eyes not leaving Lottie’s. “Ironic, as you should be thanking me.”

“Oh? You didn’t want the two of us to have an acquaintance? I couldn’t tell.”

She scoffs. “I would not deign to introduce you to the likes of Robert Marks. I only wish I had been afforded the same privilege, then we might have avoided the altercation altogether.”

“Don’t say that, I rather enjoyed the altercation , as you call it.”

Miss Sewell watches her, brown eyes flickering between hazel ones, the smile that Lottie is beginning to associate with her own happiness working its way onto her face. “Have you plans this week?”

Lottie only shakes her head in response to the sudden topic change and looks toward the dance floor, cheeks still tinted pink from Miss Sewell’s previous attentions.

“I will be going to the Circulating Library tomorrow. Would you like to join me?”

“Only if you do not laugh at how few great works of literature I have read. You will have to give me recommendations.”

“Do I ever laugh at you, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

“Frequently.” Lottie forces her lips in a frown that refuses to hold.

“How can I ever earn your forgiveness?”

The smile is inescapable now, the corners of her lips pull up on their own accord, and Lottie turns to face Miss Sewell, not expecting her dark eyes to already be focused on her.

Before Lottie can think of anything to say, they are interrupted once again. Her brother approaches with a man whose name she pays no attention to, requesting a dance. There is no escaping this time.

Lottie stands, sparing a wistful, apologetic glance at Miss Sewell and she takes the arm of her partner. She watches as Miss Sewell, never alone for long, is approached by someone.

Lottie can see her from the other side of the wide circle as her eyes look up under those dark lashes. Miss Sewell watches her instead of her partner, inclines her head and curtsies, a smile pulling at her lips that makes the butterflies in Lottie’s stomach take flight. Barely remembering to bow herself, Lottie’s eyes finally find her own partner, who doesn’t appear to have noticed her distraction.

They dance in circles, stepping in, and around their partners. At one point Lottie finds her fingers barely brushing against Miss Sewell’s as they pass each other, in a moment too quick to hold onto, though her mere presence warms her through.

It’s a slow, measured dance; one focused on maintained eye contact between partners and hands held up, close to their partner, but never quite meeting.

Lottie later remarks, in a rare, treasured moment of privacy whilst waiting for their respective carriages, that the dance is needlessly complicated and Miss Sewell smiles at her, drawing close.

She whispers, careful to not quite touch — lips so close that Lottie can feel her breath on her skin, “It’s about the anticipation, Miss Fitzwilliam, the build up to that moment you are allowed to touch.” She reaches a hand up, brushing a loose curl back from Lottie’s face. She feels her eyes flutter closed as fingers just barely ghost over the back of her neck. “And then,” her lips are so close, she knows if she turned her head she could feel them, soft against her skin, “it’s about relinquishing it,” Miss Sewell moves away, and Lottie’s body moves of its own accord, attempting to follow, “just when you’re eager for more.”

She does not need to open her eyes to know the smirk on Natalie’s face.

Once again interrupted, their carriages pull up. “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.” The word is sweet on her lips, a promise of something more .

#twc #wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven fic #twc nat #nat sewell #nat x lottie #oc: lottie fitzwilliam #the wayhaven chronicles #regency fic #writing #next chapter maybe they’ll be on first name basis #and actually get to touch #lmao

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reviews: Animaniacs 2020

(CREDIT TO @knightsweeties​ for this rendition of Gentlepenguin support her work and webcomic)

This review will be a bit different then my other reviews, where I just gush about what I saw and give the highlights.

Im going to be dividing it into several sections.

1. Overview.

2. The Good

3. The Bad

4. The Zany (How does each character compare to the original, Yakko, Wakko, Dot, Pinky and Brain.

5. Final Thoughts

With That settled, lets get to it. I’ve got Baloney in My Slacks.

Time to review the Animaniacs

1. Overview

Animaniacs 2020 is a reboot of the Original series that stopped after 1998. Now 22 years later Yakko, Wakko and Dot now face the challenge of being relevant in the age of the smart phones and absolute chaos. Can the Warner siblings show they are Zany to the max even in the chaotic year of 2020?

The interesting thing about the Animaniacs 2020 reboot is that it can be seen  as a sequel series. Since it takes place AFTER the original series.

2. The Good

Yakko, Wakko and Dot are solid. The new theme song is very fitting. 

They still make fun of all the things they should. They have good parodies, hilarious jokes, and there was not a segment that they were in that didn't give me at least a bit of a chuckle.

I was worried on what they would do with Dot, because of the trailer. Especially with cliché ‘#Feminism’ tropes being pushed. (the ones that are clear market grabs and aren't because people actually care. You know what I am talking about ). But everything was handled relatively well. In fact, Dot’s Suffrage song is one of my favorite parts of the new series. Dot was always feminist, so nothing they did was out of character for her regarding this and I am glad. Also her First Lady song was great. For the most part, Dot was phenomenal and I found myself laughing more often at her jokes more than the other two.

Yakko got some interesting character development, and even comes off as more mature. I will say

Pinky and The Brain: OMG PINKY AND THE BRAIN! I don't know how they did it, but outside of the animation improvements, these two fit SEAMLESSLY into the new age! I don't think there was a single Pinky and the Brain segment I didn't like. All of it was hilarious. Brain and Pinky’s dynamic is explored further and we even get a heart clenching back story on WHY brain wants to take over the world. 

The songs are just hilarious, and it is just as self aware as before. The meta jokes are great.

3. The Bad

Okay, so outside of the Warner siblings and Pinky and the brain. The other animated bits, where they were trying new characters.... They were lacking.

Like the contrast between those segments and the main cast are as large as night and Day.

Also, I miss a lot of the extended cast (Slappy squirrel and the hippos especially)

They have one episode that explains what happens to them (which is my personal favorite episode, especially with the plot twist that I didn't see coming).I get why some of the characters didn't come back. But you're telling me SLAPPY SQUIRREL isn't good enough for this? Bull s***

They played it very safe with this season.

That isn't bad, but its clear that in some instances they held their punches.

The show also makes it clear that this was written in 2018, not 2020.

This is a double edge sword.

On one hand, this means they don't have to be 100% on the ball with everything happening in 2020 (which is perfectly fine, I think we could all use a break from 2020) 

But on the other hand it also means you get a lot of the jokes that had been topical at the time but done to death by this year. Thankfully the jokes were still somewhat funny so it wasn't too bad, (some were hilarious) but others fell flat.

I miss Hello Nurse, but the reason she isn't in the show canonically is actually very in character (but the reason she isn't in the show in general is ANNOYING)

4. The Zany

For this I will be comparing how I feel about each of the characters and how they stack up compared to their previous iterations.

Wakko:

He was pretty much the same. Like I really can't distinguish much between the two. Wakko’s antics are timeless and his character was not changed much, if at all through this. So if we are giving a most in-character character for a reboot, Wakko wins.

So 1990′s Wakko = 2020′s Wakko.

Yakko:

This iteration of Yakko was a lot less girl crazy and more centered on his comedy. Yakko double downs on his puns and Jokes, showing that his banter is something he truly focuses on. I think the reason for this is because the show needed to tone it down. 

Yakko’s smart Alec routine felt more reminiscent of Bugs bunny rather than his traditional style. But, the change makes sense. 

Yakko’s comedic jokes are still the best and when he gets a good joke, Its hilarious.

Overall, giving Yakko more Dry humor and less gags actually did hit rather well.

So I would say

1990′s Yakko >= 2020′s Yakko. But maybe season 2 will have me change my mind.

Dot:

The show has me rather split on my opinion on dot, and its not the reasons you think.

Whenever they give her a joke regarding women or anything feminist. It is handled really well and she gets the jokes great.

And her general jokes are handled well, but then there are instances where, she is just a less funny Yakko. I found some of the deliveries of jokes or bits Yakko would have done in the past and Dot just delivered them in a way so similar to Yakko, it was practically interchangeable. I think the problem also is seen in the new theme song. They changed the original lyric from “Dot is cute” to “Dot has Wit”. But they also kept Yakko’s original lyric of “Yakko yaks”. 

I still think Dot is great and I really think the reboot can help Dot shine even more, but the new show needs to find a way to differentiate Dot and Yakko’s humor more.

1990′s Dot >= 2020′s Dot. I do think that Season 2 will improve on it, but they need to be willing to push the envelop more.

Pinky and The Brain:

Perfectly captured.

Pinky and the Brain are timeless. Both of them play off of each other very well. There were instances that I found myself enjoying them more then the original. The two are able to play off of each other flawlessly and these segments of the show, they don't hold any punches.

Honestly, they are the best part of the reboot and if you could only watch one part of an episode, watch the Pinky and the Brain segments. They are the best parts 9 times out of 10.

1990′s Pinky and the Brain =< 2020′s Pinky and the Brain

Final thoughts:

Overall, I give this show 8.0 /10

I think there can be some improvement and I am sure by season 2 the show will be willing to throw more on the wall to see what sticks.

The meta jokes, the bits, the cultural jokes usually land and aside from nitpicks, the show is wonderful.

I do think there are a few things lacking but I think that it can improve more.

I can't wait to see season 2, and I will be sure to bring toast for the Baloney in their slacks.

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Or if you want to help me out, you can buy me a Ko-fi here

#the animaniacs #the animaniacs 2020 #gale reviews #zany to the max #pinky and the brain #animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs

[pastelsandpining]

All I Want for Christmas (Yearning)

The third prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​

Prompt List

**Note: For the stories actually involving Christmas, I and a few other authors changed the holiday to Hylia’s Day (credit to @fatefulfaerie​ for this) so that it’s more relevant to Hyrule

Cover Art: @neezlebums​ be sure to show some love to the original here! I cannot stress this enough guys, PLEASE go like and reblog his work. He spends hours upon hours on every single cover drawing and it’s super disheartening that he’s getting 8 notes max on things he’s working really hard on. So please give his post as much love as you give mine! 

Words: 1956

Summary: Link takes Zelda out to the Festival of Hylia in the hopes that she can enjoy it as a normal kid, and they share a moment during the fireworks show.

BotW pre-calamity (not HWAOC related)

**If I don’t have explicit warnings, read with caution. It simply means there’s nothing I could think of that could be potentially triggering, but I could’ve just missed something. In that case, please let me know and I’ll be more than happy to put a warning!**

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist

The concept of soulmates is rather simple for something so deep. Whether it be one soul torn into two, or a red string of fate, or two souls that found comfort in one another, the premise was the same. Lifetime after lifetime, for the eternity that was to come and go, two hearts cried out for one another. They searched high and low, across continents and oceans, across timelines and ages, yearning for their partner—their lost piece.

Yet fate could be a cruel player in the game of existence. It could drive a stake in between a set of mates, or prevent their meeting entirely. It could taunt them with the prospect of forever, and take it away at twice the speed. 

It could take those souls and resurrect them only in times of destruction and decimation. 

How much could a soul handle? How much could it stretch and bend before it shattered? Was it still marked by trauma all those years later, when it was finally placed into a vessel and sent back into the world?

The soul of a hero, for instance, would be battered and bruised until fate decided there was no use for it. 

And until that decision was made, the hero’s soul would stay by the goddess’s side, even thousands upon thousands of years later. 

An impending war, what they referred to as a Calamity, was nothing new to the old souls. Yet they were filled with optimism, a sort of youthful comfort that wrapped like a blanket, and old souls did not entirely push away childish ideas and schemes.

Said hero was scampering through the streets, hand in hand with the young goddess, both tucked under cloaks that fared as a decent disguise given most participants were too drunk to think otherwise at this point in the night. 

“You cheated,” Zelda accused through a fit of giggles, but she made no move to drop the stuffed sand seal.

“I did not,” Link defended with a borderline emergent smile as he stole a glance towards the booth they’d run from. “I was just… a little better than their usual customers.”

“Yes, because their regular customers consist of skilled soldiers of Hyrule.”

“You don’t know that.”

Zelda pressed a hand over her mouth and laughed again. It got harder to suppress his smile. Something about the freedom that came with sneaking out, on top of the thrill of being where they weren’t supposed to be, left him feeling giddy and mischievous. It’d taken a while to convince Zelda to come with him, but attending the Festival of Hylia to only bestow a blessing over the kingdom wasn’t fair. They’d attended earlier in the day, with the princess wearing a grand, white dress to make her look like the goddess, and all he wanted to do was give her a chance to experience the festival as a normal kid. It was the least she deserved, after spending all of her time and effort focused on the Calamity. Of course, the only way they could actually get out was in a disguise, but Link trusted the cloaks would do their jobs so long as the late night attendees were drinking properly.

“You’re positive we won’t get caught?” she asked, for what had to be the hundredth time since they’d left the castle.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in response, fixing his eyes on hers. They were twinkling even in the darkness, and he could see the Castle Town lights reflected in her irises. When he looked at her like this, when there was no one watching them with attentive eyes, he found it hard to believe she was only Hylian. She radiated a light they couldn’t see, but he knew it was there because she was always so warm. Her eyes were always so bright.

“Yes,” she answered with a nod. Once again, Link almost smiled. But instead, he pulled her by the hand over to another booth. The worker looked too tired to care, so he didn’t have to take much caution in sliding over the rupees and asking for a soft pretzel, a caramel apple that had caught Zelda’s eye, and a set of drinks. It was just a shame they had to release hands to hold it all. 

“We used to come to the festivals all the time,” Zelda said after a few bites, letting her shoulder brush against his. “My mother would play the goddess and do the blessings, but after that, father would take me around to the different games and let me play. I was never any good at it, but they gave me prizes anyway. Mother was brilliant, though. She knew just how to get past the games’ rigging.  After her death, father didn’t let me stay out as long. Once I was twelve, my only purpose at the festival was to give the blessings. Did your family always come?”

“Almost every year. My father always took us the first night,” Link spoke with a nod. “Because he was on duty the other two. He tried getting my sister and I to play the games, but I was only interested in the food.”

Another giggle passed the princess’s lips. 

“It sounds like you haven’t changed at all,” she replied, nudging him again. 

“Except now I know how to win,” he said and gestured to the stuffed sand seal.

“I still think you cheated.”

“They cheated us first.”

Zelda had no argument to that one. Link tossed the paper from his pretzel into the trash, then adjusted the fasten on his cloak.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see the fireworks?” she asked. “I used to watch them from my window all the time.”

“I don’t know if it’s better than the view from your window, but I know a place,” he replied. Zelda slipped an arm around his, like she’d done it a thousand times before, and he ducked his head to hide his face from the overhanging light.

“I’ll have to see it in order to judge,” she said simply. He fought back a smile and pulled her through the streets of Castle Town once more, until they’d reached the outskirts. 

Link jumped up to grab the tree branch above them, then turned and held his hands out to her. Apparently his intentions were clear because even in the darkness, he could see that Zelda was appalled.

“We can’t climb on a random person’s house! Link! Get down!” she yelled in a whisper, but he just let the grin cover his face.

“It’s empty. For sale, I think,” he replied with a shrug. She looked around, as if she wanted to make sure they were really alone, before taking his hands. He pulled her into the tree effortlessly, then boosted her up onto the roof of a Castle Town house. “It’s no castle view, but you won’t be eye-level with the fireworks.”

“You can see the entire festival from here,” she spoke when he joined her at the top. “It’s not just lights. You can see everything. How did you..?”

“There was one year when my father had to attend all three nights, so it was just my sister and I. We ran out of rupees trying one of the games, and she was really upset, so I just.. snatched a prize and ran. We climbed onto a roof and stayed there for the rest of the festival, until I was sure he hadn’t sent any soldiers after us. It gave us a pretty good view.”

“You thief!” Zelda accused, giving him a shove. Link bit back a laugh.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told. So now you’re the holder of some pretty powerful information.”

She hummed in thought and leaned her head against the plushie.

“I could do so much with this. I could tell everyone and finally have my freedom from you.”

“I don’t know if stealing a plushie from a festival booth ten years ago is enough to get me demoted.”

“It’s a serious crime,” but he could hear the laughter in Zelda’s voice. He turned to face her just as the first of the fireworks went off, drowning her in a soft yellow light. Even if he wanted to watch the fireworks, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was in a category all of her own, and the word beautiful couldn’t describe her in her entirety. 

He could call her hair golden, but it still didn’t capture her richness. He could compare her eyes to emeralds, and it still wouldn’t tell how precious they were. He could say her voice was a melody, and it still couldn’t describe how much he loved the song she sang each time she spoke. With every passing day, she grew more and more into the goddess whose blood she carried in her veins. She radiated a power and displayed a wisdom he’d never seen before, yet it felt so familiar to him that it never surprised him. He could watch her for hours, whether she was studying the Sheikah technology or praying at the foot of a goddess statue (not that he did, obviously, because that was sacred and private). It didn’t feel like a job--it never had. He’d give his life for her over and over again, like it was written into his blood and soul. Like he’d done it before. 

With how far they’d come, Link wondered just how much could one feel for a single person. If he could shield her from the world, he would. But she didn’t need that. Zelda was strong and independent, but what he wouldn’t give to remain by her side for as long as he could.

She took his arm again and rested her head against his shoulder. Her hold was as gentle as she. Her fingers intertwined with his and he gave her hand a small squeeze.

“Link?” 

He hummed to let her know he was listening and ready to answer any question she wanted to ask. 

“What do you want for Hylia’s Day?”

The gift giving tradition held true even to this year, but Link didn’t quite know how to answer her. What he really wanted was her. He wanted her to be happy and safe and secure. He wanted the goddess to respond, and for her powers to awaken so she could just enjoy whatever time they had left. 

Was there a stronger word that fit this feeling than yearning? Yearning for Zelda and her life and her future. 

He bit his cheek in thought, because none of that could be said aloud.

“I want a promise,” he replied at last. “that once this is all over, you’ll keep researching. And that maybe I can stay your knight attendant for as long as you can tolerate me.”

She almost laughed.

“Link.. I can’t promise anything. If I can’t awaken this power, then-“

“You will,” he said, holding her hand tighter. “I believe in you.”

Zelda smiled at him—weak and small, but it still filled him with a warmth that made him feel all the more confident.

“I want a day off to just relax with our friends,” she stated, returning her head to his shoulder.

“All of our friends?”

“Yes, even Revali.”

Link chuckled and shook his head, watching the last of the fireworks pop. He’d never felt more relaxed than he did then. It was like they belonged there. Something about her was so calming that he didn’t want to go back to the castle just yet. 

“Thank you,” she spoke softly into the quieting night. “For tonight.”

He wished he could kiss her.

Instead, he gave her hand a squeeze and said, “Anything you want, Princess. Just say the word.”

#zelink #botw link #botw zelda #botw zelink #zelink prompts #christmas prompts #take a shot every time one of my fics shits on revali #it's a common theme #can u tell I dislike the bird manchild #link just kiss her it's fine i promise u #it'll even do u all some good