#Cruising for a snoozing :)

[teapotenuse]

Living my best rest life 😴

- Me going to bed at 6pm

[misty-moth]

Everything reminds me of him ✋😔

[plaquerat]

nmmmm..

[monkey-network]

[loublu8]

I did it I whacked Ganon I can finally rest

[thee-radio-host-is-a-kookaburra]

world war z is such a shit movie. why is is ranked so high as a zombie film. it sucks ass so much

[my-very-cool-dream-journal]

Okay first dream!

I remember this one VIVIDLY, and I’m going to try and go into full detail. Basically, I’m pretty sure my stepdad was a genius inventor in this dream, so he built me a bunch of cool stuff. The first thing he built me was a bumper car, and I drove it around a bit and stuff.

Then, it cut to me on a cruise (which I did just go on one so) and turns out my step dad built me a vr headset?! And it was like, super duper cool! I mean, I already have a vr headset, BUT THIS ONE WAS COOLER. I remember walking through this virtual, like, MMO (kinda like VRChat) but eventually getting bored and taking off the headset. My room on the cruise was super cool too. It was super futuristic, with a full on story game for me to play.

However, I decided to go into the pool with my friends (however they looked nothing like my friends, and I think one became Susie from deltarune at a point??) and we hung out for a while.

Then, I think I used VR in the water, and this time it was me battling Queen in Deltarune. However, this must’ve been my brains idea of an area in the Snowgrave route, because we were sword fighting on a dock and the ocean around us. I think it was representing surfing through the deep dark web? It was really cool, so I’ll draw out a little example for you.

So the battle commences. For some reason I was fighting with this glowing blue crystal, and as cool as it looked, it didn’t do any damage. And the game even roasted me on this, being like “Maybe you should fight with something that actually does damage?? So I picked up one of the pirate swords off of the ground (there were like 7) and started fighting. It was quite suspenseful! In the background I think there was some pirate music playing, however I like to imagine that it was a pirate remix of AOTKQ. I think it ended with somebody telling Queen that she’d be a good mod for their discord server, which then she becomes a stereotypical discord moderator and falls to the floor. She then tells me some stuff that I don’t remember, and the battle is complete.

I then took off the vr headset and hanged out in the pool a bit more before getting out and going to the hangout area. There was this adorable little kitten that I accidentally got wet and cold by wrapping a wet towel around it (I didn’t know it was wet, I thought it would work as a blanket) so it hated me :( I’m also pretty sure it had two names: Charlie and Marina. It for some reason had a full on in depth like, video game profile, so I checked it out and turns out the cat was an rambunctious rebel (which I did not sense from the kitten.) Then, it evolved into this weird looking donkey unicorn, which I DID NOT like, but my stepmom and the lady working there did.

Then, I remember the last part vividly. I had the name “Noelle” written on a piece of paper In a very strange font (I did not write like this.) then I was like, “Wait, Letters don’t look like this, I’m dreaming!” And I started LUCID DREAMING. However, I was in the process of waking up, so I was like “cmon stay asleep…” while imagining..a shoe? But here’s the interesting part. I was hearing voices (which sounded like my dad and stepmom) yelling at me to wake up, kinda like they did on school days. Same, not wanting to be lectured, woke up, AND IT WAS ALL FAKE?! There were no voices, my parents were asleep! I was really angry at that.

So, I forced myself back to sleep for a few moments to which a had a (semi related) dream (however not a lucid dream sadly). I was in the pool again, and one of my friends asked “why are you spending so much time in the pool?” As she said that, a scene from Ruby Gilman played?? I haven’t even seen it yet lol. I looked down at my legs to make sure they weren’t fins, and my friends were talking about why Susie from deltarune had such a long face. I looked up and there was Susie, sitting in the pool with us. I whispered “long nose” and then smacked her on the nose. Before she could react, I woke up.

TLDR, I was on a cruise ship, spent a lot of time in the pool, played a lot of VR (including a Pirate Queen boss fight from deltarune), made a strange unicorn kitten hate me, got yelled at by nobody, and smacked Susie on the nose.

Thanks for reading my dream!

(Unrelated but I like to go to sleep listening to music, and a few minutes after I woke up a Lofi remix of Final Duet started playing and I just 🥲)

[saphronethaleph]

Snooze Cruise

Anakin’s head was whirling as he got into the speeder.

The Chancellor was a Sith. Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith.

The man had been a close friend for – well, since Anakin had left Tatooine, really.

And he was a Sith.

It was… too big. There was too much to grasp.

Anakin backed his speeder out of the parking spot, turned to fly to the Jedi Temple, and yawned.

This led to him nearly crashing into an air lorry, and he skidded abruptly to a halt in mid-air before shaking his head and groaning.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, out loud.

He needed to speak to someone about this.

He should probably speak to Padme about this.

Turning the speeder, Anakin took the air way to their apartment instead, doing his best to concentrate on flying instead of on the fact that Palpatine was a Sith.

The door opened, and Anakin raised his voice.

“Padme?” he called.

“Ah!” C-3P0 said, coming in from one of the rooms leading off the entrance hall. “Sir, I am afraid that Mistress Padme is not currently in. She is involved in a meeting.”

Anakin almost demanded to know if that meeting was with Obi-Wan, before shaking his head as he remembered that Obi-Wan was on Utapau.

“Should I… let her know you want to see her?” C-3P0 asked.

“No, Threepio,” Anakin waved the offer off. “I’ll just wait for her to get back. It’s… something I need to think about before we talk, anyway.”

“Oh, I see,” C-3P0 decided. “Or, rather, I don’t. But I’m quite used to such things. Do you want something to eat, Sir?”

Anakin waved that offer off as well. “No thanks. I’ll just sit down.”

He divested himself of his cloak, hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door, then went through to the main living area and sat down on the couch.

Within a few minutes, four days of no sleep had caught up with him, and he passed out.

Mace Windu glanced at the time – almost eight in the morning – and then flicked on his comlink.

The first comm code he called produced no reply, even after a wait of several minutes, and he frowned slightly before switching to a new combination.

That one, fortunately, produced a response almost immediately. Senator Padme Amidala answered the call.

“Master Jedi?” she asked. “This is Master Windu, yes?”

“That’s correct, Senator,” Mace confirmed. “I was wondering if you knew where Anakin was. I’ve called his comlink, and he hasn’t answered.”

“I don’t know where he is, no, I’ve been involved in a meeting all night,” Padme replied. “Master Jedi – did you know about the Abolition Act?”

Mace blinked.

“I’d heard of it, yes,” he said. “So far as we’re aware, it’s a legal mechanism to try and dissolve the Jedi… we’d believed it was a scheme by Darth Sidious, an attack against the Jedi.”

He glanced in the direction of the Council chamber. “That’s one reason why Obi-Wan launched his attack on General Grievous on Utapau. We hoped to draw Sidious out.”

“I don’t know if that’s what’s going on, but the Chancellor just announced that the Abolition Act was coming up for a vote,” Padme said. “I didn’t have a clue why, but if Sidious is involved… do you think he managed to get to the Chancellor?”

“It’s possible,” Mace admitted. “When is the vote?”

“It’s outside normal order, so… now,” Padme answered.

Mace turned, striding to the doors of the council chamber, and Kit, Agen, Sasee and Coleman looked up from their seats as he entered.

“Something’s happening,” he said. “Senator, can you keep us updated?”

“I’ll do my best, Master Jedi,” Padme promised.

“How important?” Kit asked.

“As important as it can get,” Mace replied. “The whole Order needs to hear this… I can feel it.”

The vote counts began coming in, and Palpatine tried to suppress a nervous twitch.

He was having to improvise. Improvising in the end game was a difficult thing to do, especially when he had no idea why his gambit had failed.

What should have happened was that he would have his new apprentice, or he would have an open break with the Jedi Order… which would earn him his new apprentice anyway.

But as of now, he had neither. And without his new apprentice, he didn’t have nearly as good an excuse for an open break with the Jedi Order… he could not very well have Anakin give his account of how the Council had been planning to bypass and replace the Chancellor.

If he was going to get his empire out of this, he needed that break. Order 66 could not take place without some kind of reason behind it, something he could point to, and yet it had to take place as soon as possible… the war was entering its final phase, and within days the Jedi would be returning home. Away from their loyal soldiers… away from their hidden assassins.

So be it.

If there was anything that would force a break with the Jedi, it was this. And, as the votes rolled in, Palpatine saw that he had managed it… at a great cost, but he had managed it.

At least four factions in the Senate had been persuaded that they had to vote in favour of the Abolition Act despite Palpatine’s professed wishes to keep the Jedi around. Two of those factions had been persuaded by Palpatine himself arguing that their votes were necessary for political reasons, and that the Act would never pass anyway.

“The motion is carried,” Mos Amedda declared.

“I bow to the wishes of the Senate,” Palpatine announced. “And now that it is law, I am bound to carry it out. The Jedi Order will be dissolved, effective…”

Immediately? No. He needed enough time for them to act rashly, not enough time for them to think.

“...as of ten in the morning, today, Coruscant time,” he decided.

The Senator for Naboo signalled to speak the instant it became possible, and her pod floated out into the central arena.

“I have a reply from Master Windu of the Jedi Council,” she said, without preamble, and Mace Windu’s holographic head appeared in projection from her systems.

“Sure,” Master Windu said. “The war’s basically over anyway.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...what?” he asked.

“The war’s basically over anyway,” Mace repeated. “An hour to pack might be a bit tight, but I think we can fit everything into some of the freighters.”

“Are you saying you’re going to just leave?” Palpatine asked, not quite sure what he was hearing.

“Yes,” Mace confirmed. “We have all been working very hard for years, often without much of a rest, and we would very much like a break. If you don’t want to keep us around, we’ll do it elsewhere.”

The image wavered, and a second hologram appeared next to it.

“We’re with you, Master Windu,” Clone Marshal Commander Bly stated. “Voting’s going on now, but I’m sure of it. All of us are – we quit. We’re your army, not the Republic’s, and that’s how it should be… you won’t waste our lives.”

“You were listening in?” Mace asked, sounding amused.

“If it affects all the Jedi, it affects all of us,” Bly declared. “And speaking for myself, Master Windu… we would very much like a break as well.”

Palpatine was staring at the holograms.

“...you are all listening in?” he said, then decided he was never going to get an opportunity better than this one. “Initiate Order Sixty-Six!”

Commander Bly just looked confused.

“Chancellor?” he said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’d like to know that myself,” Senator Amidala admitted.

It took all of Palpatine’s immense self-control to avoid reacting to that bit of news.

Hiding Order Sixty-Six in the biochips of the clones forming the Grand Army of the Republic was the greatest bit of deception and complex planning the Sith had managed in-

Palpatine’s train of thought screeched to a halt, backed up, and examined the proper nouns involved.

...the clones weren’t part of the Grand Army of the Republic any more, or of any direct successor organization involved. They’d quit.

Someone, presumably someone Kaminoan, had simplified the programming by using a function definition that didn’t apply in this situation, and he was now buggered sideways with a lightsaber.

Anakin yawned, stretching, and his hands touched metal.

“Mwuh?” he asked, blinking a few times, then rolled over on their couch and fell onto a metal floor.

That got him the rest of the way awake, and he looked around with surprise.

He was on… a starship, with a blanket half-tangled in his legs. There were crates packed and stacked haphazardly around the bed he was on, and the quiet murmur in the Force of sentients elsewhere.

“Ah!” Threepio said, appearing at the door. “Master Anakin, sir. It is good to see you are awake. Shall I inform the rest of the Council?”

“What’s going on?” Anakin asked, touching the hilt of his lightsaber. “Where am I?”

“I’m not an expert at hyperspace navigation, sir,” Threepio replied. “That is more Artoo’s department. But I believe we are about halfway between Coruscant and the Yavin system. A lot has happened since you fell asleep.”

“Including me being moved into a spaceship?” Anakin asked.

“You were very deeply asleep, sir,” Threepio confirmed.

“…you quit?” Anakin asked, ten minutes later, looking between the holographic forms of the other Councillors – and the half-dozen Clone Commanders who were also on the call. “All of you?”

“The Senate voted to disband the Jedi Order,” Mace told him. “The Order’s not part of the Republic, but it could have caused us a lot of problems. So… we left.”

“Our ally, the Force is,” Yoda said, nodding sagely. “Helped with packing, it did.”

“The only thing we’re not sure about yet is why the Chancellor said what he said, during the meeting,” Rex told him. “We’ve been trying to work it out since we hit hyperspace. Politics in the Republic are very confused right now.”

“I could… probably help with that,” Anakin said. “Though I guess first I should say… is Padme okay? We’re – we’re married.”

That resulted in a ripple of laughter through the call.

“We know, sir,” Rex said.

“All of us,” Mace agreed. “You moved in with her.”

“It was actually causing a problem,” Ki-Adi-Mundi informed him. “Students were asking if marriage was really not allowed or just that we were supposed to pretend it wasn’t.”

“Clearly the second option,” Sasee opined. “Clearly.”

“...do you also know that the Chancellor is a Sith?” Anakin said. “He told me.”

“Okay, that is new,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Perhaps we should tell your wife. She might find it useful to know.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Frozen Ground: Part 1 (Din Djarin x Female Reader)

Content & Warnings: romantic fluff, love at first sight, Mandalorian culture

Word Count: 5.4k

Din travels to a farming planet to recruit a reclusive group of Mandalorians to help retake Mandalore. The snowy season is starting, and the locals are preparing for their winter observance. While waiting for the Mandalorian covert to come to a decision, Din spends time with the local population, finding a bit of comfort with a particular someone.

A/N: Part of the Winter 2023 Collection

Part 2

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: buir – father, mother Mando’ade – Mandalorians (plural) vod – brother, sister, comrade

The N1 Starfighter exits hyperspace and cruises through Itera airspace.

Grogu snoozes softly in Din’s lap. His small body is curled up in a ball, and his face is turned into Din’s chest plate as he slumbers. The foundling has been asleep the entire way to Itera, and he shows no sign of waking any time soon.

Din glances away from his foundling and out the N1’s viewport. A small twang of nervousness coils in the pit of his stomach as he observes the quickly approaching planet. It’s not the planet itself that worries Din, but why he was sent here in the first place. It is the task that Bo-Katan Kryze placed upon him with confidence that sits heavy on his shoulders.

Bo-Katan is uniting the clans. She is calling back the tribes in an effort to reclaim Mandalore. She heard a rumor that a reclusive tribe of Mandalorians dwell on Itera. Din is supposed to find them, and convince them to come back with him to Nevarro.

That is all the information he has. Bo-Katan had little intel to give. Din has no idea if these Mandalorians are more like his tribe, or if they lean more towards the ideals that Bo-Katan and her kin follow.

As Mandalorians, this tribe on Itera should welcome him. But Din knows that isn’t always the case. It wasn’t that long ago that Din had his own misgivings against fellow Mandalorians who walked the path differently than he.

When he first met Bo-Katan Kryze and her Nite Owls, Din shunned them. Even when they stepped in to save his foundling, and then later when a group of Quarren attacked him, Din was still reluctant to engage with them.

It’s not his proudest moment, and since then, much about his life has changed. The way he sees the galaxy, and his understanding of what it means to be a Mandalorian has shifted significantly in the last few years. While he holds tightly to his ideals, he knows that his way is not the only way.

Mandalorians should not hide in the dark any longer.

The cloudy expanse of Itera becomes clearer as Din cruises closer. Itera is a fertile farming planet located on the edge of the Middle Rim. Din rummaged around in some public achieves to scrounge up any information he could about it. According to the information he did manage to locate, Itera is relatively peaceful and mostly inhabited by small farming communities.

Even though Bo-Katan lacked information on who these Mandalorians are, she was able to provide Din with an estimated range of coordinates. She told him that they might be located within this range, but wasn’t entirely sure if her intel was reliable.

He’s worked with less.

Din punches in the numbers and the navigation system focuses in on a small bit of land in the northern hemisphere.

The N1’s engine purrs, and Grogu turns over in Din’s lap. The foundling does not wake.

Din’s ship breaks through the atmosphere and effortlessly transitions into the gray cloud cover. The clouds spit Din out over dreary farmland. Below him, droids and people work the land.

Din does not see any buildings that indicate a settlement. He checks the navigation system again and it reveals his suspicions. The coordinates Bo-Katan gave him cover too much land. He’ll need to tighten the search.

“Kriff me,” mutters Din, as he clears the coordinates from the nav system. “R5, scan the surface. Let’s find civilization.”

R5 chirps, and then a little antenna pops out of its head, spinning slowly in a circle. Din reduces his speed over the farmland, waiting for R5 to give him an answer. After a few minutes, the antenna retreats, and then the navigation system lights up with new coordinates.

Din follows the set path. While most of what Din sees is farmland, buildings start to appear in small intervals. At first, it’s just one or two, and then a cluster at a time. Before long, the wall of a settlement appears. There is open land to the left that Din deicides to land on.

He brings the N1 down softly.

Grogu still doesn’t stir. The little womprat has his right hand in his mouth, and a little line of drool runs down the back Grogu’s palm. Sighing, Din wipes it away.

“R5, what’s the temperature outside?” asks Din quietly as he watches a few swirls of snow drift down from the gray clouds. They land on the glass of the N1 and immediately melt.

R5 responds in a series of binary and Din sighs.

It’s far too cold for Grogu to be walking around for long periods of time. The snowy season has arrived on this planet, and Grogu will need something warmer to wear.

Slowly, Din releases the hatch and cold air drifts in. Using the blanket from Grogu’s pram, Din wraps the foundling in it, gently laying him down in the cockpit seat. Din steps out onto the wing and then the hard ground as the hatch closes.

He turns to R5. “Keep an eye on him while I’m gone.” R5 beeps in reply and Din heads toward the open gates.

The wood wall of the settlement seems more decorative than functional, roughly stopping at Din’s chest. Once Din approaches the entrance, he notices that there are no gates at all. It’s entirely open.

Strolling down the main street, Din realizes rather quickly that no one avoids him. It’s the exact opposite. Every person he passes greets Din with a friendly “hello” or nodding of the head before going about their day.

It’s bizarre. Strange. And it momentarily disorients him.

Din thought that he might ask around, see if he could find someone willing to talk to him. But every friendly face only causes him to question who he needs to speak to on locating the Mandalorian covert. No one shies away or avoids looking directly at his helmet. Each person is bold and unafraid of him.

Is the Mandalorian covert known to these people? Do they interact with them frequently?

Perhaps. It would explain why no one seems frightened of him.

Din enters deeper into the settlement, seeking out a cantina or public establishment where he might find information. Not finding any such place on the main road, Din tracks back to the very front of the settlement, deciding to head east and take a look around.

Rounding a corner, he hears the distinct sound of laughter. It’s not one person, or even a few, but a low roar like a small crowd. Din keeps walking, tracking the sound, coming across a small building that hardly looks big enough to hold a drinking establishment. In addition, the door is just red fabric handing from the top of the door frame.

The laughter comes again, and it’s much louder than before. He’s in the right spot.

With all the confidence Din can muster, he strides up to the curtain, pushing it aside and he steps into the building.

Din comes to a grinding halt, nearly tripping on his own feet.

This is not a cantina or anything similar.

A group of women, nearly fifteen in total, occupy the space. They all have large canvas sacks next to them, each one full of something different. Some look like they’re full of flower petals while others appear to hold bright red berries. The women vary in age. Most of them are older than Din, but there are a few who look to be about his age, give or take a few years.

They glance up but keep working, several of them smiling softly at him.

Din feels like an unwanted intruder even though the women appear calm and indifferent to his presence. He mumbles a “sorry” intended to back out the way he came, but the moment his boot slides backward, one of the women stands, her full attention on him.

“How can I help you, Mandalorian?”

You dust a few petals off your apron, missing the one in your hair, and approach Din, hands clasped in front of you. Din’s heart temporarily stutters to a stop before revving into a thudding beat he can feel in his ears. You’re pretty, but that isn’t the only thing he notices. You’re delicate lines and curves appeal to him in a way that trigger’s his protective instinct.

The flash of feeling, this need Din suddenly exhibits flashes bright and hot before his brain catches up and tries to smother it down to cooling embers.

“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Din tries to back out again but you only push in, and Din’s hand relexify forms a fist in an attempt to thwart the growing need to touch you.

“There is no interruption. How can I be of service to you?” Your head tilts to the right slightly, and the eagerness on your face sends blood to his groin.

Din’s eyes roam all over your body, but his eyes keep going back to the lone petal that’s tangled in the strands of your hair.

The other women still work, none of them glancing in Din’s direction. He decides to seek help, knowing it might not do much.

“There is a Mandalorian covert on this planet that I’m searching for. Do you know where I might find them?”

“Oh,” you murmur. Your eyes round slightly, and your lips part in surprise. “I didn’t realize—I thought you—” You shake your head and the petal in your hair stays put.

“Is there anyone here that might know?”

The gentle surprise morphs into amusement. “Everyone knows where they are.” The corners of your mouth curve up into a soft smile and Din nearly melts under that gaze. He is so absorbed in your beauty that your words are the last thing to catch up to him.

Everyone knows where they are?

Din does not have the chance to follow-up, you’re already talking, telling him exactly what he needs to know. “Just to the north of here. There’s a forested area where the covert lives.”

This is unusual, and Din is slightly unsure whether or not he can trust what he might find once he ventures in that direction.

“Do you know where exactly?”

You shake your head. “We do not go in. They like their privacy, and we are respectful of that.”

This is better news. The two groups must interact frequently. It would explain why everyone in town isn’t afraid of him.

“You’re not from around here?” you ask, curiosity tinging your tone.

“No,” replies Din. “I’m not.”

Your gaze softens. “If no one has, allow me to formally welcome you.”

Without thinking—without pausing to reconsider—Din reaches toward you, his gloved fingers plucking the petal from your hair. He presents it to you, open palmed.

Delicately, you lift it, rubbing it between your fingers. With your gaze on the petal, Din takes a step back, the curtain brushing against his back. You glance up, and Din inclines his head, disappearing quickly before he does something he’ll regret.

Din still burns beneath his armor even after he arrives back at the N1. Grogu is still sleeping, and his ship is entirely untouched. Din is careful with the foundling when he settles back into the cockpit.

He relays the information to R5 who promptly scans the area, sending new coordinates to the navigation system. Once clear, Din follows the trail north, finding the forest you mentioned. Din circles around a few times, eventually settling on a flat spot of land just outside the tree line. Din lowers the N1 to the planet’s surface. Grogu stirs in his lap but doesn’t wake.

He leaves Grogu behind again with R5, knowing that he can come back for Grogu later. The droid will look after him until Din can assess the situation.

As Din approaches the tree line, he pauses, surveying the ground around him. At first glance there are no footprints of even animal prints. He engages the scanner in his helmet. The moment it switches on, his screen lights up with glowing boot prints. They are everywhere, moving in so many directions that Din cannot find a pattern.

Frowning, Din switches over to another scanner. This one seeks out what only Mandalorians leave behind for others of their kind to find. He sweeps the scanner over the ground, and then the trees. He comes up empty.

Sighing, Din starts walking, stepping past the tree line and tries again, this time doing a slow sweep of the ground and trees. The hard ground crunches under his boots, and it is incredibly quiet, the only sound is the whistling wind.

On a tree in the distance, a soft glow catches Din’s attention in the scanner. He pauses, takes one step back for a better view. It’s a glowing Mythosaur with an arrow beneath it pointing to the right.

This is his lead. This is his break. You were telling the truth.

Din heads toward the glowing symbol and then follows the direction the arrow indicates, scanning the area for any other markers. He locates another that directs him deeper into the trees. It leads to a large rock formation. The stone slabs are layered over each other like a twisted crown.

There, glowing bright against the gray rock, is another Mythosaur.

“Hail, vod.”

Din whirls around, his hand on his blaster. The only thing that stays his hand from drawing the weapon is the use of the word vod.

A male Mandalorian drops from a tree branch and strides forward, stopping a few feet away from Din. His armor is dented in a few places and painted in various green tones that emulate the trees.

No wonder Din didn’t see him.

The man has not drawn his weapon, which means he does not see Din as a threat. But why would he? Mandalorians are stronger together, and any reunion, even between tribes, is a joyous one.

Din immediately removes his hand from his blaster, standing tall and proud. He has a job to do. “My name is Din Djarin. I’ve come on behalf of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze.”

The green-clad Mandalorian crosses his arms. “I see,” he replies, tone grim. “And what does Lady Kryze want with us?”

Better to get it out now in case he’s turned away. “She is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

The man is quiet for a beat before he answers. “And she wishes for us to join her?”

“She does.”

The Mandalorian nods, and drops his arms, striding forward. “Well, Din Djarin. You are welcome in our enclave, and we will hear what you have to say.” He presents his hand and Din clasps it. “I am Crix Lera. Welcome to our home.”

Crix releases Din’s hand. He brushes past Din and heads to the rock.

Din follows, and notices a small opening that Crix disappears inside. The space isn’t tight but the formation of the natural rock hides the entrance. You’d need to know exactly where it is to see it.

Din slides through the opening, only to find himself in a small tunnel. Crix walks ahead, and Din follows on his heels along the path. They don’t walk for long. The small tunnel begins to widen, and then opens up into a large communal area.

The first thing Din immediately notices are the lack of faces. Everyone wears a helmet except for a few small children. The communal area is circular, and the center of the room is lower than the rest of the floor. There is a fire burning there, the smoke curling upward to exit through a naturally formed ventilation shaft. In the rocky ceiling are small cut outs that let in some natural light.

When Din enters the area on Crix’s heels, several people pause and glance up, watching the duo as Crix walks along the edge of the room. Din takes this time to take a closer look at the Mandalorians he’s been sent to speak with.

They all appear healthy. Their armor is relatively clean and in good repair. The ratio of men to women is fairly equal, and the number of foundlings is much larger than his tribe’s. Din’s gaze passes over a woman standing by the far wall with a man and a small child. She’s clutching her belly, and that is when Din notices the slight bulge underneath her chest plate.

“You’ll meet with our armorer and tribe leaders,” says Crix over his shoulder, drawing Din’s attention away from the slowly growing crowd of Mandalorians.

“Do they make all the decisions?”

Crix shakes his head. “No. We make them as a group. But when it comes to matters pertaining to the whole clan, they are the ones who mediate the discussions. We will often look to them for final guidance.”

Din does not reply. It’s similar to how his own tribe operates, but he still has too many questions.

Crix guides Din to a small cut in the rock wall. It’s an archway, and it deposits them into a much smaller chamber. A simple forge sits in the center of the room. A Mandalorian Armorer and a child stand together near a workbench. The child is young but old enough to start their training. The two of them talk softly.

On the opposite side of the room, another Mandalorian hammers away at some armor. It’s clear that this is still a child, perhaps a teenager, and must be an apprentice of some kind because his armor is like that of the armorer’s.

The armorer and child both look up when Din and Crix enter the room. Din hangs back near the archway as Crix addresses the armorer.

“We have a visitor, Vikal. This is Din Djarin. Sent to us by Lady Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. He says she is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

At the mention of retaking Mandalore, the apprentice pauses mid-swing to glance over at Din. The small child at Vikal’s hip shifts slightly, clearly nervous.

Vikal sets the vambrace he’s holding on top of the workbench. He turns toward the apprentice. “Darro. Take your brother and leave us.”

Darro immediately responds, heading in their direction.

“But buir!” protests the child, his little fist tugging on his father’s hand.

“Hush. Go with your brother.” Vikal places a hand on the child’s shoulder just as Darro presents his hand. The child takes it, and Din steps to the side as they pass through the archway.

Once they leave, Vikal steps out from around the workbench and strides forward, pausing just a few feet away from Din. Vikal’s armor and clothes are all black. It’s almost like looking into the void of space. He’s tall, too. Perhaps as tall or even surpassing Paz Vizsla in size.

“Yours?” asks Din, using the question to learn a little bit about the tribe’s practices.

“Mine,” confirms Vikal. But he doesn’t elaborate, and Din decides not to say anything more. “Have you just arrived?” inquires Vikal. “From Mandalore?”

“No,” answers Din. “I came from Nevarro.”

“That is far.”

Vikal closes the distance, his helmet moving with him as he clearly observers Din’s armor. It is not an objectifying look, but an appreciation. “You wear fine work.”

“The armorer of my tribe forged it for me. I am honored by it.”

“This is the Way,” states Vikal.

“This is the Way,” replies Din.

Vikal inclines his head and takes a step back. “You are our guest here. You shall have our hospitality before we speak on more serious matters. As warriors, we are always so quick to take action. Rest. Eat. We will proceed from there.” He turns to Crix. “See to it that Din Djarin has a private room and a hot meal.”

Crix nods, and he and Din depart.

In his private room, Din removes his helmet, and eats.

The food is hot. Fresh. So different from the plain rations he’s used to eating with his tribe. Din wants to know more about this one. He is curious to their ways. When Crix comes for him, the two return to the main communal area. The entire tribe is there, including all the younglings. It is then that he notices several Mandalorians clutching infants.

Din scans the crowd and his heart drops into his stomach.

R5 is here. The droid is on Vikal’s left side. On the armorer’s right, sitting on the floor near his boots, is Grogu. The foundling has a wooden bowl before him. He reaches in, and lifts a handful of something that Din doesn’t recognize and shoves it all into his mouth.

Din immediately aims for Grogu. Seeming to sense him, Grogu glances up and coos, his food covered hands reaching for Din.

“I assume this one is yours?” asks Vikal as Din lifts Grogu and holds the little womprat up to his face. Din checks him over but the foundling is fine. No signs of injury expect the food that’s smeared all over the child’s hands and face.

“Yes,” sighs Din. Crix holds out a hand, indicating he should take a seat. Din does so but he puts Grogu back on the floor. The foundling immediately crawls toward the bowl.

“Your foundling and the droid arrived not too long ago. Found us quite easily. Impressive for one so young.”

Din smiles softly behind the helmet.

Vikal rubs his knees and then stands, striding forward, stopping before the fire. The entire room quiets.

“Mando’ade! We welcome Din Djarin.” Vikal turns toward Din and extends his arm in Din’s direction. The Mandalorians in attendance beat their fists against their chests three times before dropping their arms. “He brings us an important message.”

Vikal retreats, stopping before Din. “Approach, vod. We will hear you.”

Din stands slowly. Grogu’s head tilts to the side, watching Din, his mouth full of food. Din walks to the center of the room just shy of the fire.

“I am Din Djarin. My tribe lives on Nevarro. I have come before you at the behest of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze. She is rallying the clans in an effort to return to and reclaim our ancestral home world of Mandalore. She sent me to ask you if you are willing to join our efforts.”

Din pauses and every single person in the room is watching him, saying nothing. He swallows, knowing that he’ll need to say more to convince them to join.

“I know that I am in no position to ask this of any of you. But we have lived in the dark for too long. Our people are scattered. Like stars in the galaxy. Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again. So that our culture may flourish and our children can feel what is it to play in the sunlight.”

The Mandalorians around him chatter softly, but Din cannot differentiate between their conversations. He turns toward Vikal, and the man stands. “Is Lady Kryze certain of success?” he asks, addressing Din. “Mandalorians are few, and our preservation is important. Can she guarantee that there will not be needless death?”

No.

Din sighs, his shoulders heaving slightly. “I cannot give you any such certainties.”

Another Mandalorian stands. It is a man, and his armor is a deep red. “That planet is cursed. The air is unbreathable and nothing grows. We have all heard the stories. Why should we go back to a dead planet?”

“This is not true,” says Din vehemently. “I have been to the surface. I have seen Mandalore with my own eyes. The air is breathable. Life is possible.”

The quiet chatter heightens. Becomes a dull roar.

“What is Lady Kryze’s plan for when the planet is retaken?” This time, a woman asks the question.

“Her goal is the Great Forge. That will be our place of operations and base for reconstruction.”

Din will tell them the truth. There is no reason to hide anything.

“But will we have a place there? Can we call Mandalore home? Or must we return to this planet?”

“All Mandalorians are welcome.”

Vikal nods and stands. “Does anyone else have questions for Din Djarin?” No one replies. “Thank you for relaying Lady Kryze’s message. You have given us much to consider.” Vikal addresses the room. “We will reflect on this, and then convene tomorrow evening for deeper discussion.”

The crowd of Mandalorians incline their heads and place their fists over their hearts. When their arms drop back to their sides, many start to get up and leave.

This isn’t the outcome Din was hoping for. He thought he might receive a quick answer, or even an indication that they are willing to join.

Crix comes up beside Din. “Decisions are never made quickly. You’ll likely be here a few days.”

“As long as I can return with an answer.”

“I’ll come for you tomorrow morning. The local population is holding a festival to celebrate the coming cold.”

Din thinks back to you and the women in that small dwelling. He didn’t exactly get a good look at what you were doing, but Din can only assume the two are connected.

Din tips is head to the side. “You mingle with them?”

“To an extent,” shrugs Crix. “They have no standing army or protection. We look after them, and they take care of us. It has kept our tribe safe for many years.”

Din nods and then bends at the knees to pick up Grogu, cradling the foundling close to his heart.

Crix fetches Din in the early hours of the morning. Grogu is left behind with the other younglings. Din is reluctant to do so, but Crix is persuasive, and Grogu is visibly happy to be amongst other children.

The two men head back through the tunnel, stepping out into the forest. The sun is starting to rise but it’s hard to see through the gray clouds. It snowed overnight, and there is a dusting across the forest floor.

Three Mandalorians mingle just outside the exit. Two men and one woman. They greet Crix with firm handshakes.

“This is Din Djarin,” says Crix. “He’s joining us on our visit into town.”

“Passionate speech you made last night. I’m Jido. Welcome.” Jido and Din clasp forearms and shake.

Jido steps back and points his thumb over his shoulder at the other two Mandalorians. “That’s Ran and Cerra.” Ran gives Din a half-hearted salute while Cerra lifts her hand in greeting. Jido leans in and whispers. “They’re a bit boring.”

“Heard that,” snaps Cerra as she turns her back on the group. “We going?”

The five of them head into the trees, walking in the direction that Din entered from. When they exit, Din heads for the N1, looking it over for any signs of tampering. It’s clean, and Din sighs with relief.

“The people here don’t touch things that aren’t theirs. Your ship will be fine,” states Crix as he walks up beside Din. He runs his gloved hand over the wing in appreciation.

“On Tatooine, I had a run in with some Jawas,” replies Din.

Crix snorts. “What was left of your ship?”

“Nothing.”

Jido, Ran, and Cerra’s jetpacks ignite. Crix and Din follow suit, the five of them launching into the air. Din trails behind, following the four Mandalorians as they jet across dreary farmland.

In minutes they approach the small settlement Din visited yesterday, landing right outside the wall. The people moving about don’t even seem to care that a group of Mandalorians landed amongst them. They keep going about their lives as if is this the norm. It’s the same reaction they had with Din.

Din is almost always the stranger. The unknown variable. In crowded places, he is avoided unless someone needs something from him.

He stays at the back of the pack. Jido, Ran, Crix, and Cerra all appear relaxed. They chat amongst themselves, and even stop for an old woman who presents a basket to them full of the red berries Din saw yesterday. Each Mandalorian takes a handful and deposits the goods into various pockets of their flightsuits.

The old woman approaches Din and holds the basket out to him. He doesn’t want to offend her. He scoops out a decent handful and finds a home for them. He’ll share it with Grogu when he returns.

The old woman inclines her head and moves on. Din’s helmet follows her but Crix taps against Din’s upper arm, drawing his attention away from the woman.

Din inhales, and he isn’t sure if the voice receiver in his helmet picks up the soft sound.

You’re standing right there, eyes bright and eager.

“You found them,” you say enthusiastically.

“I did.” Din is nervous. Why is he nervous? Do you do this to him?

Crix crosses his arms and pops a hip. “The two of you know each other?”

You laugh, and it’s the loveliest sound Din has ever heard. “He stumbled in to Tarra’s workshop while we were preparing the Daily Strands.”

“Make enough for us?” asks Jido, his voice a bit sultry. A bit teasing. Din instantly hates that he’s speaking to you that way.

“There are plenty. So, yes,” you tease back, smiling widely.

Crix shifts, turning his body toward Din. “Since you’re our guest, you don’t need to follow us around while we work.” Crix inclines his head in your direction. “She’ll show you around a bit.”

You look so hopeful that Din cannot say no.

He walks beside you the entire time as you go on about the important buildings, the history of the people, and the finer details of your culture. Din is enraptured by how animated you are toward him. He hardly risks asking any questions, mostly wanting to hear you talk.

“Here we are.” You extend your hand toward the building Din stumbled into yesterday.

“Are we going inside?” asks Din skeptically.

You grin and push back the curtain, gesturing for him to come inside. He follows, and this time there are only two other women in this space. They greet Din politely, but return to their work. You walk over to a large table. On it, are…necklaces? Din isn’t entirely sure what they are.

With caution, he approaches, you present one to him.

“These are Daily Strands. We wear them every day during the winter observance.” You point to the threads holding it together. “The threaded cord is the base, symbolizing the importance of community.” Next, you point to the flower petals. “These symbolize the eventual thaw and growth of new life.” Then the red berries. “These are native to the planet. We dry them out to represent the frozen ground.”

“And what do these symbolize?” asks Din, pointing to long, thin, green, stick-like leaves.

“Abundance. These are needles from local trees, and they grow everywhere.” You smile softly. “But it’s more of a wish for prosperity in the future.”

These are what Jido and Crix were referring to.

 You gently lift the Daily Strand, presenting it to Din like an offering. “It’s customary to wear one of these.”

Din does not refuse. Instead, he lowers at the waist so that you can slide it over his helmet and around his neck.

You gently draw away and your hands fall to your skirts, your fingers fumbling with the fabric in nervousness. “It is also customary for the giver to kiss the cheeks of the receiver.” You shrug. “But I can make an exception given the circumstances.”

Din remembers how eager Jido was to receiving one of these. Briefly, Din imagines you kiss the sides of Jido and Crix’s helmets, and Din instantly simmers.

Not knowing how to ask, Din bends again, this time just enough that all you’ll need to do is to go up on your toes to place those gentle lips against his beskar.

“No exceptions,” he murmurs.

Your mouth forms a soft o, and then it cools, turning into tender satisfaction. Slowly, you kiss the curve of his helmet on the right side and then the left.

Even with the helmet on, Din still manages to catch a whiff of your scent. You smell like the trees and warm sugar. Without instruction, his hand brushes against your hip.

You do not draw away, and that pleases something deep within Din. When you pull back, Din instantly misses your heat.

“I will wear this every day,” says Din, his hand resting against it briefly.

You laugh, and Din doesn’t understand what you find so funny. “It’s a Daily Strand. You receive a new one each day.”

Every day? Does that mean you’ll kiss him every time you place a new one around his neck?

“Then I will be back tomorrow for a new one.”

“Promise?” you murmur.

“Promise.”

Part 2

taglist:

@padawancat97 @foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @garfunklevibes2012 @tiredmetalenthusiast @dameron-grant-spector @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @kayden666

[kithtaehyung]

this man really got me back on the mic for this lol lyrics under the cut | also now on ig if you’re on there!

Uh, I’m on my jungkook jeon One look got all the honeys saying “oh it’s on” Be kinda poetic, it’s kinda pathetic How the beat be getting cooked on, bunny call a medic, uh Sorry to bug you but I’m so smooth with it This the typa beat to seep right through with it Meet and cruise with it, freak and snooze with it Jack wanting more on the street might groove with it Hah, I’m just playing though Silver spoon, nah, we just staying gold Hole in one, yah, but we layin' low* 이해가 안 되?** lemme say it slow One two step let’s see it in 3-D Four five shots I’m calling in 6G Seven different ways, seven different days, JK on the mic, he ateeee

*"layin' low" - hyolyn **이해가 안 되? = you don't understand?

[altocat]

Let me get one thing clear. Genesis woke up at the end of Dirge ready to defend the planet and he still didn’t show up in Advent Children the second time Sephiroth appeared???

You got it lol. Dirge was finally what stirred him from his snooze cruise.

Pretty dumb, honestly. Maybe there was a timer to his sleep, idk. Or maybe he was too weak right after the events of Crisis Core and he needed time to recover before he was fit to be any sort of planetary hero. His endgame at the end of Crisis Core is literal weeks before FF7 kicks off, and he had to be dragged back to Deepground. So I get if he was in too frail of a condition to fight and/or being held up by the Tsviets. Tackling Sephiroth fully high on Jenova Juice would have probably been too much for him without prep.

As for Advent Children, well, maybe he assumed Sephiroth was already gone for good and prolonged his sleep as a result. Or maybe Deepground wasn't being impacted by Geostigma the same way idk. There's a lot of contextual bullshit to everything in retconning Genesis into the story.

Maybe he just didn't want to fight his ex????

[venacoeurva]

Snooze cruise tickets for two (fiddled with pressure curve so needed to get used to it)

-Please do not reupload, edit, or use.-

[justali-anne]

Come to think of it, Sans and Papyrus are both TERRIBLE sleepers!

Papyrus never truly sleeps, definitely an insomniac. He even calls sleeping "NAPPING ALL NIGHT". The dork. I worry about him, though. (Come to think of it, do skeletons even need sleep?)

Since Papyrus seems just fine with his lack of sleep, I tend to just headcanon him as having Short Sleeper Syndrome, just a weird kind of insomnia edition. Like, he said that he "CRUISE(S) WHILE (HE) SNOOZE(S)", so I'm guessing he does at least take short naps, enough to dream, anyway. Maybe that's what the bedtime stories are for?

What does he even have to do during the night anyway? Everyone else is asleep! All the shops are most likely closed! Seriously, what does he have to do? Does he have some sort of secret double life or something? Does he just clean the whole house? Go on his social media platform? Work on his puzzles?? WHAT DOES HE EVEN DO??? (I swear, Papyrus is just as enigmatic as Sans is, if not more so.)

And it seems like skeletons ARE capable of getting tired, because, well, Sans exists. So what even is Papyrus??? Why can he fly, why can he break the laws of physics, why doesn't he sleep??? (Wow, this is a weird rant, I'm gonna pause right here.)

Speaking of Sans, he's... not really much better when it comes to sleep. Papyrus mentions in a phone call that Sans "TIRES EASILY", and we see him napping during the Undyne fight too... And then he falls asleep at the end of his own boss fight (who does that???), but even then it's kind of strange because I don't know if he's faking it or not. Like the few times we see him asleep, he's up literally in the very next moment (in genocide, it's justified because we do try to slash him, but he disappears straight after the Undyne fight too). So it's either he's a very light sleeper or he was faking it.

Papyrus mentions that Sans "naps all night", so at least Sans doesn't stay up all night like Papyrus does... But there's also the many, many midnight snacks that Undyne mentions during a phone call. I think she said that he keeps getting up in the middle of the night to get snacks? That doesn't sound like a healthy sleep schedule. And if Sans keeps getting up in the middle of the night to get snacks, and Papyrus apparently doesn't know how to sleep, then that means that the Skelebro household is still very active at night! If you want to have a sleepover at their house, you better prepare for a sleepless night.

Side note - Sans doesn't have a real bed, it's just a mattress on the floor. Without sheets. That doesn't look very comfortable. Papyrus has a cool race car bed, but Sans just has a lumpy old mattress. Something's not quite right there. Like, shouldn't a lazybones like him have a super comfortable bed? Or is he just too lazy to get a proper bed? So many questions.

[jcjenson-official]

Welcome to space, what were you expecting? It's a dangerous place, thank you for investing Go there for your rota, there for your orders Fill up these quotas, we'll bill for your quarters Report to your foreman but watch for marauders 'Cause if you get eaten, there's fees for your mourners Prosperity's there in the care of magnates In Halcyon, heaven awaits

Did you think it was supposed to look like the poster? It mostly does, oh, if you'd only read closer Just ten short years to a new frontier Snooze as you cruise and you'll wake up here You've been trapped in that ship for an awful long time So perhaps you have simply forgot what you signed Oh, honestly, did you not read the colony policy That defines you as company property?

That waivers your say in autonomy? The conglomerate's got you in lock and key We put the "dollar" back into "idolatry" If you're upset, you can rent an apology We are a family forged in bureaucracy No "I" in "team" but there's "con" in "economy" Were you expecting adventure? Were you hoping for fun? My friend, you're indentured

And pleasure's exempt from your tenure So venture back down to your slum That's provided at generous prices Your worth is determined by your sacrifices A small term of service when down on the surface Internment's a freebie that comes with the purchase

We work to earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to give Ourselves the right to buy Ourselves the right to live To earn the right to die

Welcome to our little town, why don't you settle down? Here, just fill out the paperwork and you can look around We're happy as can be inside the valley cannery We live to pack the cans of meat And not to question where it's found Until we end up in the ground, around the corner in the yard You know, we thought we liked the sound of finding glory in the stars The board has taught us to be proud of never reaching very far So we earn what we're allowed and give it right back at the bar

The ale to cure what ails ya Zero Gee Brew, your favourite flavour So work 'til you bleed, ennobled by labour Then purchase relief from your local retailer If you'd rather drop dead, that's fine But you know that dropping down dead bears a fine So you do your job and I'll do mine I gotta meet a six-foot deep bottom line

We make a fortune for the board by selling boredom door to door Because it's all that we deserve, and it is all we can afford The secrets of the universe and all the worlds to be explored But our dreams are back on Earth and now the work is our reward And you'll be grateful for seats at the table Though it dips at one end and the bench is unstable You may waste your days, but at least you were able To pay off your grave since we leased you your cradle

Be faithful and pray, we'll repay what you invest Behave as you slave for humanity's interest On account that you're all on account And we're quickly amounting humanity's interest You'd think that we'd sink to the brink of rebellion With markets dependent on peddling weapons The architect tells them the secret to heaven Is simply consuming whatever we sell them

We work to earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to give ourselves the right to buy Ourselves the right to live to earn the right to die

You should have read the fine print, my friend Should have read the fine print You should have read the fine print, my friend Should have read the fine print Welcome to our little town, why don't you settle down? Here, just fill out the paperwork and you can look around We work and then we work And then we work and then we work And then we work and then we work And then we end up in the ground

Work, work, hurry, hurry Work, work, worry, worry Work, work, hurry, hurry Worry, hurry, work, work You should have read the fine print, my friend Should have read the fine print

Here and here, and initial here Welcome to the family

what

[dantakeyoman]

𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐘 | 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞

♡ 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ * 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒚, 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒛𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒆-𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔. *

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬), 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐨𝐟 𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬), 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚: 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 *

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

"Looks like anyone who's ever been in a movie lives on this block," Columbus stated, reading the map he picked up as Tally drove you through the Hollywood Hills.

"What exactly you think we're doin' in the 90210, Sally?" Tallahassee smirked.

"I pictured Tom Cruise living somewhere nicer," Wichita stated as you passed his house.

"Definitely," you agreed, watching it go by.

After driving through Arizona and into California, the five of you agreed to keep your little troupe going until you reached Pacific Playland.

Though, Tallahassee had an idea of somewhere you all could crash for some R 'n R.

So that was where you were going first.

"He's a B-lister compared to who I got in mind, folks. We're goin' to the tippy top of the A-list," he assured

"Who?" Little Rock asked.

"You'll see," he cheesed.

Turning the corner, he rode up the driveway of a house with a golden BM on its gates.

"It's a big BM?" Columbus asked.

"And it ain't Bob Marley," Tal quipped.

He pulled over and the lot of you got out, heading in through the ornate front doors.

The place was beyond fancy with golden in nearly every corner, and big, beautiful archways.

It was a gorgeous house.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to La Mancion de Murray," Tal proudly introduced, walking the four of you into a room where a large painting of the famous comedian stood.

"You've gotta be jokin'," you smiled.

"No way. This guy has a direct line to my funny bone," Wichita gasped.

"Whoa, whoa, wait. Who's Bill Murray?" Little Rock asked, confused.

"Hey, I've never hit a kid before," Tal shook his head, disappointed.

"I blame you," you turned to Wichita, "Poor girl wasn't educated."

"I mean, that's like asking who Gandhi is," Tal waved off.

"Who's Gandhi?" The little girl asked again.

You cocked a brow at Wichita, and she scoffed, "She's twelve."

"And you're failing as a parental figure," you shrugged, heading towards the kitchen.

"There's no Twinkies in here," Columbus reported, already having checked every cabinet.

"Shit fuck!" Tally cursed, walking in and kicking a low cabinet.

"Told ya we shoulda gone to Russell Crowe's," you cooed, sitting yourself down on the counter in front of him, "But you don't listen."

"Excuse me for makin' mistake, Miss Perfect," he taunted, rolling his eyes and leaning against the side of the counter.

"Hello? Inside voices," Columbus reminded, picking up his gun, "At least until we know we're alone. Tallahassee, Jersey, take that way. Little Rock, Wichita, come with me."

"Why do I get stuck with her?" Tal complained.

Fakely, of course.

"I'm not jumpin' to be put with you, either, cowboy," you scoffed with a smile, hopping off the counter and bumping him with your hip, heading off in the direction Columbus pointed.

Before he followed you, shut his eyes and took a deep breath, regaining his composure.

You had to be doing this shit on purpose.

No way you weren't.

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

Walking into one of the bedrooms, the two of you shared a look, glancing at the bed, before looking at each other again.

You booked it, but Tal, already guessing your plan, grabbed you by your waist and tossed you back, running for the bed himself.

"Fuckin' cheat!" You exclaimed, recovering and chasing him.

"You snooze, you lose, sweetheart," he smirked, flopping belly first onto the bed.

But you walked over and grabbed him by his ankles, flipping him over the side.

He landed on the floor with a groan, and you happily crawled on the bed, leaning over the edge to look at him.

You grabbed his hat off his head, carefully placing it on your head.

"Guess you could say I gotchu floored, huh?" You smirked.

He looked up at you with a smile, caught off-guard by the horrible pun.

God, you looked so pretty with his hat on your head.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he denied.

"Oh, c'mon, you've said way worse," you scoffed, crawling over and putting down your feet.

"I just add that charm to it," he smirked, standing up and dusting himself off, "S'a me thing, y'know."

"All right, then. Let me try," you cleared your throat, prepping your voice for his country accent, "Guess you could say I gotchu floored, huh?"

He shook his head, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "Needs work."

"I think the hat should give me extra points," you adjusted it as you two walked into the next room.

It sounded like the other three were watching Ghostbusters somewhere, 'cause the theme song could be heard crystal clear in this room.

Tally threw off his jacket as he shimmied, throwing himself onto the couch and holding up his feet.

"Help me with the boots. C'mon," he bicycled to the music, clapping.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the things, yanking them off and tossing them somewhere.

"Thanks, doll," he smiled, sitting up.

"Sure," you blushed, quickly covering by picking up the golf club and balls you found in the corner of the room.

You set up shop were you found them, picking out a ball and winding up your swing, smacking it into the fireplace.

Tally was back up again, horribly dancing to the music still playing, humming along here and there.

You wound up another swing, hitting the ball into the wall, making it roll off somewhere.

Behind the music, you could've sworn you heard the sounds of footsteps, but you paid it no mind.

Probably just one of the others.

Or maybe some sort of creaking.

This place was abandoned, after all.

You didn't really care either way.

It was the one time you could finally let your guard down, finally let loose and live life past the nightmare outside.

You already had enough to worry about.

You wound up again, a little anger fueling your swing as the ball smacked into the window sill, ricocheting off a whole bunch of things until it hit Tallahassee in the face.

He groaned, and dropped to his knees, before allowing himself to fully flop on the ground.

"Shit!" You winced, quickly running over, and kneeling down in front to him "Tally, I am so sorry. It was an accident."

The footsteps had gotten louder but you still ignored it, more focused on making sure your cowboy was all right.

You lifted his chin, checking his eyes to make sure he didn't have a concussion, and they looked fine until they went wide, landing on something behind you.

"Bill Murray, you're a zombie?" He winced.

You quickly whipped around and grabbed your club in one motion, using it to hit Murray in the knees and make him fall.

"Auugh! Ow! I'm on fire!" He shouted in pain, rolling over and clutching his ass, "Ouch!"

"You're not a zombie, you're talkin'....you're okay?" Tal asked, confused, as the two of you stood up.

"The hell I am!" He exclaimed, slowly and painfully, pulling himself up.

'Coulda fooled me.'

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that it was you you," you apologized.

"Are you...? What's with the get up?" Tal asked, referring to the zombie makeup the actor had on for some reason.

"Oh, I do it to blend in. Zombies don't mess with other zombies," he panted, breathing himself through the pain, "Buddy of mine showed me how to do this. Cornstarch. You know, some berries, a little licorice for the ladies."

You nodded, not understanding a single word of what this man was saying.

'Maybe he hit his head, too.'

"Suits my lifestyle, y'know. I like to get out and do stuff. Just played nine holes on the Riviera. Just walked on. Nobody there."

Tal smiled his shouting smile, and you took a deep sigh, prepping your ears.

"Goddamn it, Bill fuckin' Murray!" He exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air, "I had to get that out. I don't mean to gush. This is so surreal. I mean, you probably get this all the time. ....Well, maybe not lately, but I'm such a huge fan of yours."

Bill smiled, bowing a humble thanks.

"I've seen every one of your movies a million times. I even love your dramatic roles and just everything," he continued, "Seven people left in the world, one of them is Bill fuckin' Murray. I know that's not your middle name but I just...I been watching your movies since I was...er...since I could masturbate. Not that the two were connected."

You could tell he was going off the rails a little, so you rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Tal, hon, I think he understands," you snickered, hopefully reeling him in a little bit.

"It's all right. That's why we do it," Bill smiled.

"I love you, Bill. I love you," Tal finished, giving him a quick bow.

"Thank you," he turned to you, noticing that your eyes had set sights on his unruly hair.

"You are staring at me. It's a hairpiece," he assured, lifting it and putting it back down.

"Sorry, no, it was just that you look remarkably like Eddie Van Halen," you laughed.

"I just saw Eddie Van Halen" he nodded.

"No way," you gasped.

"Where?" Tal asked.

"At the Hollywood Bowl."

"How was that?"

"Well, he's a zombie."

You sucked your teeth, "That's a tough break."

The three of you stood there for a moment, awkwardly, until Bill broke the silence.

"Well, how about a little West Coast hospitality. Can I get you something? What would you like?"

You and Tally turned to each other at the same time, sharing the same devilish smirk.

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

A bunch of weed and couple reenactments later, and the three of you were now right outside the home theater, getting ready to send in Bill.

Wichita, Little Rock, and Columbus were in there, watching Ghostbusters, and you and Tal planned to have Bill walk in and scare the shit out of them.

Everyone will scream, everyone will laugh, it was gonna be a grand ol' time.

"Wait, wait, wait," you stopped them, "I saw a Polaroid in the other room. I wanna get a pic of Doofus' face."

The two men nodded and you quickly scurried off to find the camera, excited.

They both were warmed at how giddy and relaxed you looked, but Bill could tell that Tal was enjoying it a great deal more than him.

"Your wife's lovely. A very kind woman," Bill complimented, leaning against the wall.

"Oh, you're seein' her happy. Wait 'til you piss 'er off," Tally scoffed with a smile.

After a moment's delay, he finally processed the sentence, snapping his head over to the actor, "Wait, wife?"

"Yeah," Bill nodded, cocking a brow, "You guys are married, right?"

"Oh, no, no, no, we're not like that," Tal assured, "Just very good friends."

Bill's eyebrows flattened almost immediately, and he gave the man a very sarcastic look.

People were still doing this shit at the end of the world?

"You're joking, right?" He asked, wondering if this was all a big joke.

Tal shook his head.

Bill sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "That's impossible. You two are very obviously in love."

"Nah," Tal shook his head again, crossing his arms, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I may be sweet on the gal, but she's too good for me. She deserves someone better."

"Don't know if you took a look outside lately, but last I checked, there is no one better," Bill corrected.

"And even if there was, that woman is still blatantly in love with y-." "Sorry for the wait, I got lost," you came back, camera in hand.

The two men quickly clammed up, covering any sort of hint as to what they were talking about before.

"So Columbus is the scared one?" Bill asked, slipping on his wig as if nothing happened.

Must be all the acting.

"Yeah. He's like a little mouse," you nodded, holding the camera at the ready.

Tal was still lost in deep thought, replaying his conversation with Bill.

Him being in love with you? ....Possibility

You being in love with him? No way in hell.

Bill had to be pulling his leg. It was impossible.

If it was true, surely he would've seen some sort of sign from you.

But you'd done nothing out of the ordinary....to his recollection.

"I'll get him," Bill assured, holding up his arms like a zombie, "Watch this.

He skulked into the theater, loudly groaning and grunting like a zombie.

And Columbus yelped in fright.

But just as you popped in the door to snap the picture, Columbus picked up his gun and shot Bill square in the chest, your camera catching the whole thing.

He let out a loud shout of pain and dropped into the closest chair.

"Holy shit!" You exclaimed, everyone quickly rushing to his aid.

"No, no, it's okay, it's okay. I got him," Columbus assured.

"Is that.... how you say hello.... where you're from?" Bill asked, weakly.

Columbus' eyes went wide in realization, and he raked a nervous hand through his hair, "Oh my God. I can't believe I just shot Bill Murray."

Tal shook his head sadly, turning to the poor man, "Mr. Murray?"

"I'm just Bill, I think, now," he sighed.

"Bill...I don't think we're gonna be able to stitch this," Tal admitted.

You rested a soft hand on Bill's shoulder, "You think you can pull through?"

He turned to you, and shook his head, "No."

"If it's worth anything now, I am so sorry. It was just instinctive," Columbus quickly apologized.

"It was my bad," Bill assured, "I was never a very good practical joker."

Little Rock crouched down to his eye level, "So, do you have any regrets?"

He paused for a moment, thinking.

"Garfield, maybe."

'Very fair.'

And with a final, incredibly long breath, Bill Murray, the zombie-impersonating actor, was dead.

Wichita let out a snicker, and everyone turned to her with disbelief.

"I'm sorry. He just gets me," she apologized, her smile quickly falling, "But it still is sad."

You nodded, "Even worse to have a polaroid of it."

You somberly held up the photo, which showed the flash of the gun and Columbus' terrified face, along with Bill's body falling into the chair.

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

After giving Bill a proper send off, and disposing the body, the crew decided the best way to cancel out the depressing end of the day was to play some late night Monopoly.

So here you were, curled up next to Tallahassee as you did your best to stay awake through the painfully boring game

"Ooo, free parking," Wichita commended Little Rock as she landed on the space, "Which is the best thing about Zombieland."

"No, best thing about Z-land, no Facebook status updates," Columbus chimed, "You know, Rob Curtis is gearin' up for Friday. Who cares?"

"The best thing is no more flushing," Tal corrected, taking a bite of his Ding Dong, "Epic."

"And the worst thing about Z-land?" Wichita asked.

"You mean, other than the fact that I shot Bill Murray?" Columbus hung his head.

"That's easy," Tal nodded, "Losin' Buck."

The girls looked confused

"S'his puppy," you yawned, trying to stay awake and present in the conversation.

"I'm gonna tell you, I never thought I could love anything like Buck," he sighed, "He was just...the day he was born, I just lost my mind."

Wichita looked down, guilty, "Sorry."

"We were two peas. He had my personality, my laugh, my appetite."

...

'Laugh?'

And that's when it hit you.

Buck wasn't a puppy.

Buck was a boy.

Buck was his son.

'Holy shit.'

You felt like shit. Pure, bonefide shit.

How had you not noticed the signs?

How had you not noticed that outside your own selfish pool of despair, there were others circling the drain, too?

Tal had gotten choked up, his eyes glassy as he fished something out his pocket.

"We made this wallet together out of duct tape," he sniffled, handing it to you.

You carefully took it, tearing up at the pictures of the little, blonde boy, who was nothing but smiles.

It was adorably homemade, the tape not uniform at all and still a little sticky. But it was clear that it was well loved and held a multitude of memories for Tal.

'Fuckin' hell.'

You handed it back to him, giving his shoulder a comforting rub and shooting a sincere look.

He gave you a small nod of thanks, and started to pull himself together, sniffling for the last time.

"I haven't cried like that since Titantic," he sighed, dabbing away a couple tears with some cash.

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

[cadaverousdecay]

they call me sleepy always snoozing

into dreamland i am cruising

with my pillow and my blankie

if i don’t honk shoo i’m cranky

turn the light off brush my teeth

time for me to go to sleep