#adult nonsense ahead

[autball]

We. Can. Hear. You.

It’s AAC Awareness Month! AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) is more than just high tech devices like the one depicted here. It includes picture books/cards, sign language, writing it down, Spelling to Communicate - basically anything that conveys a message that is not speech. 

And anyone can use it! If you are non-speaking, unreliably speaking, not-yet speaking, or just find words hard sometimes, then AAC is for you. There is no “non-speaking enough” threshold you have to meet - if it makes your life easier, go ahead and use it.

AAC is empowering. People routinely talk about autistic kids and adults like they’re not even in the room, even when they CAN speak. (Which, if you’re someone who does this, STOP IT RIGHT NOW.) This parent could have assured this asshole professional person that her son could understand til they were blue in the face, and they wouldn’t have been believed if he hadn’t been able to communicate it for himself. 

Communication is a right. Don’t let anyone try to discourage AAC on the basis of it hindering speech or “being the easy way out” or whatever other nonsense they come up with. AAC *enhances* communication, and everyone deserves the ability to communicate their needs, tell you their thoughts and feelings, share their hopes and dreams, and tell people to fuck off when needed. 😉

(Image description in Alt Text.)

[sashi-ya]

ishida ryuuken x f! reader tw: suggestive language, not entirely nsfw. reader is of course a grown up. wc: 589 masterlist 🌱

OLDER, COLDER. “It doesn’t matter how old you become; you will never learn Uryu. You are a fool, son”. “Same goes to you, Ryuuken!”

You listen to them argue, as probably every time you’ve seen them together. Your best friend and his father… his absolutely attractive, troubled, and cold as snow father.

Uryu lays, once again, in a bed of his own hospital. He has gone too far and ended up hurt one more time. And yet again, despite the years and being an adult now, gets treated by his father, Ryuuken Ishida.

You, waiting right by the entrance, hope for Uryu to calm down. You don’t want him to feel embarrassed that you’ve witnessed -in words of Ryuuken- one of his “tantrums”.

However, it isn’t for you to decide.

“Come on in, (Name). Perhaps your presence will make this kid calm down” Ryuuken says, knowing too well you were there. He can sense your spiritual pressure, after all he is still a Quincy.

Hearing your name being called by him makes your insides shiver. Yet, how immoral it feels… your best friend’s father, a widower… a man you’ve known since you were a little girl.

And a man you desire, a man you lust for.

“Ah… yes. Hi. Ishida-kun, are you ok?” you ask, seeing your friend bedridden but well enough to be shouting at his father. Probably, it was just a minor injury made in battle, but still needed to be taken care of. That, or maybe Ryuuken’s only way of showing him affection is by curing his wounds.

“I’ll leave you two alone, I got work to do” Ryuuken says, placing his heavy hand on your shoulder. He squeezes just enough to -at least in your mind- assert dominance over you too.

You can barely breathe. But you nod. Trying to focus on your friend, trying to ignore that man’s crushing presence invisible squeezing your neck.

Soon, you relax. And Uryu does too. It doesn’t take much for you two to engage in pure nonsense and some hours of “tik tok” watching. The time, in fact, escapes your track and soon the sun sets on a cold winter day of Karakura town.

By the time you realize it’s too late even for a calm little city like yours, Uryu has finally fallen asleep peacefully and soundly. He needed it, rest is mandatory to get better.

As the soft cycle of breathing of your best friend fills the room, you walk slowly towards the big window ahead. It doesn’t really surprise you to see heavy snowflakes falling, but it does seeing the state of the road.

“Oh… fuck” you murmur, soft almost inaudibly not to wake up Uryu. You know exactly this will mean no coming home tonight; by the time you’ve walked two blocks you would be buried under a white coat of ice.

“I thought you’d left earlier. A snowstorm is coming tonight” a deep, still soft voice whispers behind you. His hand lands on your waist, pulling you slightly against him.

“I wasn’t aware…” you sigh, turning around to see a white coat as white as his hair. You bite your lip, with your belly pressing against his… his hand squeezing you tightly….

A dimmed white light coming from the hall outside filters and shines against his glasses, but his body covers almost it all. You are left in the dark, right in front of him and next to his son’s bed.

“Come to my office, doll. We won’t be able to go back home tonight” “Yes, Ryuuken-sama…”

[readsquirrel]

I just keep having all the thoughts and feelings about Ferdinand in the most recent Ascendance of a Bookworm (part5vol8).

So many years of Ferdinand painting himself as the sensible one and Rozemyne as the loose cannon, when—

1. He’s been casually rocking 40% of the Book of Mestinora—not just having access to it since the academy but actively using it.

For example, previously it was mentioned that others were surprised by someone being able to do a large scale waschen on the lower city, and now we find out that the large-scale magic circles are all in the part of the Book of Mestinora that he has. What other of the crazy magic he’s been doing has come from there?

2. He outright offered to murder Georgine on demand, and it was only Sylvester’s good sense that stopped him from doing that.

3. He had all the Opinions about Detlinde being so shameless running around with the Langraeve dude, when she still had enough sense to not ride in a carriage with him. Then Rozemyne shows up looking like an adult and he’s flying her around on his highbeast in front of -everyone-. And looking ahead in the illustrations, this does not seem to be a one-time thing. Shameless!

4. Minor compared to this other nonsense, but when Mr. Let’s Summon Winter handed his cloak off to Rozemyne, she mentions that the magic circles started glowing. Presumably, that means he used her ink to add circles to his cape. Which, that’d be fine except that he didn’t mind making her look like some kind of god figure flying around with him on highbeast (again, shameless!) just to keep her fingers from getting a little cold.

Which is all to say, I love it. You keep doing you, Ferdinand.

[knoxvillesjackass]

hello! I had an idea of No Nut November with Johnny x female reader. The jackass guys all dare each other to do it and the winner couple is who lasts the longest. When his girlfriend finds out, she keeps teasing him and it all ends in smut!! Love your stories!! ❤️

𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 - 𝐣.𝐤

im so happy to finally see a smut request!! pls, send some more, because i want to get better at writing it! also, do you guys enjoy reading it or do you like fluff and/or angst better?

warnings! edging, oral sex dom!johnny x sub!reader? ( reader receiving and giving), dirty talk, very dirty hihi

words; 3.375

It was bizarre. Annoying, really. You’d given him every opportunity in the world to rail you, blow your back out and make you incapable of walking for the day…All of your attempts were shut down, which was new for you.

Usually, all you had to do was send the smallest signal to Johnny, and he would be ready at any time, but the past two weeks had been different.

He’d been avoiding you, it seemed. He only kissed you when he left for work, and he’d even slept on the couch for some nights.

You’d been left confused and a little hurt by it all. Had you done something wrong, or was he perhaps just not attracted to you anymore?

The thoughts killed you, but it killed him even more. If it hadn’t been for that stupid bet….

“A month without sex? You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Johnny shook his head as the room erupted in laughter, but he was totally serious.

He couldn’t believe that he was the only one objecting to this nonsense. The concept was idiotic and frankly childish.

Steve-O had been the one to bring it up during lunch break. Everyone had shrugged it off, but as the tension grew thicker throughout the day, everyone suddenly began to take it very seriously, Johnny included.

So, as stupid as he thought it was, Johnny was knee-deep in the ‘No Nut November’ phenomenon, even though he hated the idea.

You and Johnny had sex a lot. No shame in that. Just two adults, who loved each other very much. What Johnny did feel off about, was that all of his friends knew just how much sex you had. How? Well, at every given chance to escape the craziness of the crew, the two of you did. And you didn’t do it to have conversations and drink tea. No, you did it to fuck.

Johnny had been labelled as the guy to fail the quickest, and it didn’t sit right with him one bit.

Luckily for him, his self-control was a different ball game. He had more control than all of the jackass guys combined. If there was a will, there was a way, and Johnny never let himself down once he had a goal.

“Oh, y-you’re participating?” Steve-O asked Johnny, who shrugged and nodded. “Yeah,” he huffed, and the room once again erupted in laughter, this time, it sounded more ridiculing than anything.

“What?” He asked confused and scoffed as he stared back at his wide-eyed friends. “Dude, you’re not going to last for two days,” Pontius grinned, Johnny returning a simple growl. “Let’s just fucking see, shall we?”

-

“Hi, baby!”

You grinned excitedly as Johnny entered your shared apartment. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, furrowing your eyebrows at once when you didn’t feel him embracing you.

“Are you okay?” You asked and unwrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him innocently. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine, Y/N, I’m just tired. Think I’m gonna go take a shower,” he commented, his eyes focused straight ahead and not down at you.

“Oh, okay. Well, I could join,” you smirked and winked at him, but he merely shook his head and smiled politely before disappearing to the bathroom.

Well, that sucked, you thought.

He was probably just tired. He’d been working long hours, and maybe all the man needed was some space.

You’d attempted to be the understanding girlfriend, even when you felt ignored by Johnny.

The first few days went by okay, although the hours seemed to get longer as the days went by. The week overall was manageable but when the second week struck, Johnny was beginning to struggle.

The day of your anniversary, you'd made everything really special for Johnny. Dressed up nice, cooked some good food, and made the bathtub the perfect place to end the night, together.

When he'd come home, he'd acted just as you'd feared.

Distant and seemingly blind to the effort you'd put into making your fourth anniversary a special one.

The dinner was awkward and you hated the tension. You broke the silence every minute, asking him questions to which he answered with simple and short sentences.

"I have a surprise for you," you smirked. Maybe what he needed was some extra spice, and that was what you were going to give him.

"A surprise?" He asked as he was washing the dishes. He jumped when he felt your arms snake around his waist. Johnny moved away and coughed. His boxers were starting to feel tight, uncomfortably tight.

You grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bathroom. You'd scattered rose petals on the floor and lit some candles. It was the most romantic bathroom you'd ever seen, but Johnny didn't seem to agree.

"O-Oh, Y/N," Johnny coughed nervously and slowly backed out of the bathroom.

"Did I do something wrong? Are you trying to punish me or something? Please, tell me what's going on!"

"No, Y/N-"

"Then why won't you FUCK ME?" You shouted and sniffled. Johnny's heart tore a bit. He wanted to tell you, he really did, but with the mood and how you were feeling, it didn't seem as if it would've been a massive help in his eyes.

The next days were rough. You were upset, understandably. Johnny continued his odd behaviour and you were just about done with it all.

“Just tell me now; when did you give in and how was it?”

Bam stood like a little child next to Johnny and giggled, but Johnny rolled his eyes underneath his sunglasses and sighed.

“I haven’t given in yet, and I’m not going to, so you might as well quit bothering me.”

Bam scoffed at the answer he got from Johnny, but he hadn’t expected much else, considering Johnny’s recent behaviour.

He was in a pissy mood. He was at conflict with himself at all times. The whole dare had transformed into something beyond his control. He was so competitive, sometimes it scared people.

Johnny sat down in the conference room, where the crew held their weekly meetings. He cursed to himself and looked around. Pontius, Steve-O and Jeff sat and looked at him with smug grins.

“How’re you holding up over there, Knoxville?” Jeff asked, to which he received a middle finger from Knoxville.

“It’s been a long time since I've seen Y/N around? When is she coming by again?" Pontius pouted. Just the thought of your name at this point, could get Johnny hot and bothered.

"I-She's not," Johnny mumbled and rubbed his sweaty forehead. Was it just him, or was it starting to get super hot?

"That's weird. I talked to her this morning. She said, she's dropping by to say hello," Jeff said and immediately, Johnny tensed up.

"What?" He asked. He hated to even think it, but you were the last person he needed to see now.

"Y/N!" Wee-man yelled as soon as he saw your figure in the doorway.

Johnny hid his face in his hands as soon as he heard your voice. He imagined you saying his name, moaning it, screaming it.

"Hi, guys," you smiled and entered the conference room, greeting all of the guys with a hug, moving your way around the table until you reached Johnny. "Hi, babe," you smiled and leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips, although he moved away almost immediately.

You scoffed and stood up. What had you expected? He'd only been treating you like that for the last two weeks.

"Well, I can see that I'm not wanted here," you mumbled but were quickly met with reassurance from everyone but Johnny.

"Why would you think that?" Jeff asked, "we love having you here, Y/N."

"You might, but I think Johnny feels a bit different," you hissed and glared at Johnny, who slapped his forehead.

Suddenly, Ehren began laughing hysterically, to everyone's surprise. "Wait, you haven't told her yet?" He grinned and the boys slowly caught on and joined Ehren's laughing fit.

Johnny was so not having it. His fists were curled and his jaw was clenched. And you, you were utterly confused as to what was going on.

"Told me what?"

You raised your eyebrow and looked down at Johnny, who refused eye contact at all costs, the guilt weighing him down like uranium.

"We dared each other do the no nut Novem-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," you said and cut Ehren off. You were quiet for a few moments, trying to assemble yourself before speaking up.

"You wanna explain yourself, asshole?" You spat and looked down at Johnny, who sighed and looked up at you.

"Y/N, I'm so so-"

"Do you guys know how long it's been since I've had sex with my boyfriend?" I asked into the room and the guys all chuckled.

Of course, they knew. They were a part of it too, after all.

"Two weeks!"

It didn't sound like a lot, but anyone who knew you and Johnny understood that this was totally out of the ordinary.

"You're telling me I have to wait two weeks before he can bang me? How many of you guys are still in this bullshit?" You asked loudly to which Pontius, Jeff, Ehren and Wee-Man's hands went up.

"Fuck this," you sighed. You knew just how competitive Johnny was. Nothing could get in his way. Literally nothing, but then again, if anyone had the slightest chance, it was most definitely you.

-

"Y/N?"

You sighed at the sound of Johnny's voice.

Your fingers were curled inside of yourself as you lay spread across the bed.

You continued, although the sound of Johnny's footsteps came closer and closer.

You closed your eyes and began rubbing your clit, letting out a quiet moan.

"Y/N-fuck," Johnny breathed out when he walked in on you pleasuring yourself. His cock was throbbing at the sight of your naked body, but he denied all of those feelings and shuffled out of the room. The sight had made him hard as a rock.

"Johnny!" You called out. An idea had popped into your head.

He opened the door and peeked in. Your legs were spread open and they were trembling with anticipation.

"Huh?" He asked you. His eyes were almost closed. He couldn't bare to see more.

"Look, I know you're not allowed to cum or whatever, but I'm horny and I need your help," you stated and Johnny's eyes opened wide. You might be on to something, he thought.

Pleasuring you always brought Johnny pleasure, he didn't even have to pull his dick out for this one.

He smiled and rushed over to you.

He wasted no time digging his two fingers into your cunt, plunging them in and out of your wet entrance. His head rested between your legs as his tongue made contact with your clit. You reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair. God, he loved it when you did that.

What he loved, even more, was the way his name sounded when you screamed it out of pure pleasure. "Fuck, Johnny!" You cried and grabbed his one hand that wasn't fucking your cunt and pulling it up to your breast, signalling for him to massage it, which he did, gladly.

Johnny smiled against your folds and licked them up and down, ever so often pinching your sensitive clit between his lips, which drove you crazy.

"I-I think I'm g-"

"Look at me, babydoll," he ordered and you followed, looking directly into his dark brown eyes. You couldn't contain the eye contact for long though, because your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you let out a loud cry as you reached your awaited orgasm.

You tugged at Johnny's hair and breathed in loudly, trying to gather yourself.

"J-Johnny, just fuck me already, please," you sobbed and looked at Johnny.

The offer was so tempting, but he just couldn't. He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt his jeans tightening to the point of it being uncomfortable.

"O-Oh, shi-" he hissed and suddenly flew away from his position. You looked him up and down, eyes landing on the massive boner, he had packed. You held back an evil laugh as Johnny stormed out of the room. "Where are you going?" You yelled as you stood up from the bed.

"I-I'm just gonna go for a drive!" he yelled back and slammed the door. He wasn't angry with you, and you knew that. He was angry with himself. This bet was starting to get really fucking old.

The next days were seriously awful for Johnny. After helping you out, he realised that it might've been a bad idea.

The only thing on his mind was the feeling of your pretty cunt against his fingers and the sound of your screams still rang in his ears every now and then.

And you'd, of course, been making his life a living hell. Walking around naked in the apartment or dressing up in your sexiest lingerie.

Johnny kept himself together, though, and you had to give him credit. He'd handled it all very well, better than you ever could.

(random a/n; this same-ish story, but where the reader is dared?)

The end of November was just around the corner, thankfully. Sure, Johnny's hands were equivalent to magic, but nothing beat the feeling of his cock ramming into you.

You couldn't wait, quite literally. Johnny was so much better at staying committed to a dare than you. You needed him. Like, really needed him.

"Johnnyyyy," you whined and threw yourself at him like a little toddler,

He wasn't as sensitive as before. It seemed that the roles had taken a 180 because you were hornier than ever.

Johnny was sitting with his computer when you suddenly planted yourself in his lap and hugged him tightly.

"What's going on?" He asked and rubbed your back.

"I want it so badly," you whispered and bit your lip. Johnny stiffened up and shifted uncomfortably around on the couch. "Three days to go, Y/N," he comforted you, but that wasn't good enough. "No, but like, now," you said and reached down to straddle his cock. He let out a yelp and lifted you from his lap to the seat beside him as he stood up and paced around.

He was frustrated. It was really not fun anymore. Actually, it never was.

Johnny hurried to his phone and put the phone to his ear.

"Chris, you tell me now and be honest; who's still a part of this November bullshit?" Johnny asked. You smiled to yourself and crossed your fingers.

No one, please say no one.

You couldn't quite hear the rest of the conversation. You didn't really care either, because when Johnny came out, he had darker eyes and a wicked smirk on his lips.

"Go to the bedroom and take your clothes off. I'll be up in two minutes."

You squealed with excitement and ran up the stairs faster than ever.

You stripped out of your clothes and threw them to the side, feeling a knot in your stomach, waiting to be untied.

Johnny entered the room. He'd taken his shirt off on the way up the stairs.

"Get on your knees," Johnny ordered and you did so immediately and without protest of any sort.

The room was pretty dark, but you could still see Johnny's crooked smirk.

He approached you, stopping when he stood right in front of your kneeled figure.

He brushed some hair out of your face and cupped your cheeks as you stared up at him, batting your eyelashes.

He gathered your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head and tied it with the hair tie he had around his wrist.

"Fuck, I've missed your mouth," he moaned and unbuttoned his pants, not even bothering to pull them all the way down. And you were just as desperate to please him again, so without waiting any longer, you took a hold of his rock-hard length and gave it a few pumps. Johnny threw his head back when you put just the tip into your mouth. Impatient and understandably needy, Johnny skipped your slow tempo and grabbed the back of your head, pushing his cock into your mouth fully.

After four years of dating Johnny, your gag reflex was pretty much non-existent.

He began gently thrusting himself into your mouth and then sped up until you eventually could feel his tip at the end of your throat.

You watched with tears in your ears as your boyfriend had lost himself in you, thrusting himself into your mouth again and again until he was a mumbling, moaning mess, cumming down your throat.

You swallowed and Johnny watched you in admiration as he offered you his hand to help you stand up.

Your lips crashed together for the first time in weeks, and you moaned into the kiss when you reached the bed. Johnny put a hand behind your head and the other one on your back, slowly lowering you on the bed as he hovered over you with a hungry, lust-filled gaze.

You were merely wearing his t-shirt and a pair of old shorts, which Johnny quickly tore away, your underwear following. He pulled the shirt from over your head and admired your naked body for a while, before snapping out of his trance to return to his duty.

He began placing kisses down your chest but you pulled him up when you saw where he was going. You grabbed his hand and forced it down to your dripping cunt. "I don't need anything, I just want you to fuck me," you nodded and Johnny smiled. Foreplay was always a big thing in your relationship. It was a way to ensure that both parts were 100% ready, but there was no doubt in your mind; you were ready.

"You're still on the pill despite this stupid bet, right?" He asked and you nodded. He knew how bad you were at forgetting it, and he often scolded you for it.

"Good girl," he whispered raspily. That made your heart melt.

His tip was at your entrance, and you wondered if the three weeks had changed something within you. Was it going to hurt after that long with no sex?

You shook every thought off when Johnny placed a kiss on your forehead and slowly pushed into you.

"Ah-!"

Johnny looked at you with wide eyes. You apologised quietly.

"It must be because it's been a while," you said and Johnny nodded, understanding what you were feeling.

He continued pushing his member into you and watched you closely as you clenched your eyes shut and dug your nails into his wide shoulders.

He rested for a while, waiting for your sign to move, and when that sign came, he began pumping in and out of you slowly but deeply.

You grasped onto him and pulled him as close as possible while also wrapping your legs around his waist. "F-Faster," you moaned with closed eyes and Johnny grunted as he sped up, fucking you at an impossibly fast pace.

Everything seemed to go dull for a short moment. Your pussy clenched and your belly contracted tightly when a wave of pleasure hit you like a thousand bricks.

"I-Oh, my God!"

Your nails dug deeply into Johnny's back and you scratched them up towards his neck, where they rested, fiddling with the ends of his brown hair.

"Look at me, baby," Johnny ordered and continued his thrusts. You had to collect yourself before even listening to his orders, but Johnny was impatient and close to an orgasm, so he didn't have much time.

"Y/N, I said look at me," he repeated. The tone made you look at him immediately and you bit your lip and moaned loudly as you watched him orgasm for the second time that night.

"Fuuuck-urgh, baby!"

He trembled and with one last thrust, he pulled out of you and fell down beside you with a heavy but satisfied sigh.

"This November has been the best and worst of my life," you sighed and Johnny laughed in agreement as he kissed your forehead and snuggled you closer.

-

probably my favourite smut i've ever written, but what do you think?

[smokeys-house]

⭐️Also available on ao3!⭐️

💫 sequel to TCKD 💫

⭐️ Art by @miranagi, writing by @smokeys-house ⭐️

The Cane King's Daughter: A Story for Another Time

"Ah, Miss Puukko, I thought I'd find you here!" Moominpapa arrived through the kitchen door of Moominhouse, finding his wife and an old friend cooking in tandem for the evening's dinner to come. "The children said they saw you coming down the mountain not too long ago. It's been a while since your last visit!" He smiled, dusting off his hat before placing it right back atop his head. He looked as though he'd been in a hurry to get here.

"Aye, that it has." Puukko was squinting as she struggled to dice vegetables, the counter was quite low for her, and the kitchen quite small. She ducked underneath the stove's hood in order to add them to the pot. She wasn't terribly large, but she'd gotten quite used to living in a house her own size. She was happy to help, albeit much happier when the help was getting something down from up high.

Moominmama chuckled softly at the sight of the large moomin stooping in her kitchen. "Why don't you help papa set the table? I can finish up in here." The pair left Moominmama to her cooking as they brought dishes and silverware into the dining area. Moominhouse was calm, quiet, and now filled with the aroma of a nearly ready home cooked meal.

"Miss Puukko, forgive my er, uh, impatience, but uh, I do believe last time you were here you had said you had a story for another time." Papa began organizing each table setting.

"Aye. I believe I did."

"And it would appear, er, uh… that it is another time. Isn't that right?"

"Hmm… I'm thinkin' ye might be right. Can't be sure. Now what was it?" She playfully rested her snout in her hand with her arm crossed beneath it, striking as contemplative a pose as she could muster.

"I believe you were telling us about how you got caught. After Marion had joined your crew." Mama said, entering with a steaming tureen of stew, and setting it upon a potholder on the table.

Puukko eyed the other table settings. "I'm afraid that one's a bit impolite. Mightn't be good fer the young ones."

"The children are out camping this evening, I've just seen them off before arriving." Papa said, taking his seat. "They won't be back for at least another two days, if the weather holds."

"Then why'd we set the whole table and cook all that extra stew?" Puukko asked.

"It'll be nice in case they come back early. If they get rained out I'm sure they'll want some stew to warm them up." Mama smiled as she sat at the head of the table adjacent to her husband.

"I see… It's still not the nicest o' stories I fear. I think it can wait fer after dinner at least." Her reticence was apparent, as she idly fiddled with her utensils. She was seated across from Moominpapa, next to Moominmama.

"Nonsense, go right on ahead! No need to spare us the details, we're all adults here." Papa said. He was eager to hear the rest of the story, his repeated encouragements were evidence of that enough.

"Well… I s'pose ye earned it after sittin' through the first part. Ye know where it all started, but some time after that…"

–

Years had passed since Captain Whetstone had become legend in Marseille. Stories and songs alike featured a fearsome and dashing rogue doubly wounding a wealthy rum purveyor. The Cane King, as he'd taken to calling himself, had grown rather fond of his reputation after thoroughly scrubbing it of any misgivings. Each version of the tale was told a bit differently, but Jules Cartier, the man himself, was eager to remind the public of his own sanitized version.

There was always a pirate by the name of Whetstone. She was often depicted as devilishly handsome, and highly capable. Just as often, though counter to the first, she was depicted as monstrous, or drunk and oafish. Regardless, one thing was certain: she'd steal off with the Cane King's daughter. The fight that occurred at Cartier Manor was witnessed by many, though few spread the truth of Jules' cowardly actions following his defeat in the duel that day.

In the time since, Captain Whetstone and her now first mate; Marion Cartier, had plundered many ships associated with the Cartier family business. If there was a crate with the Cane King's face on it, the crew of The Honeyed Word was not far behind. Despite this brazen and rampant piracy, the age of swashbuckling sailors seemed near an end. Those that still engaged in the splendors of piratical adventure hung their hats in Nassau, living a free life off stolen coin. Legends had risen and fallen just like the waves they'd sailed upon, and yet few remained afloat.

"Cocoa?" A fillyjonk woman with a soft voice knocked at the door of the Captain's cabin. She entered just after.

"Ah, no thanks. I'm afraid it doesn't mix well with pipesmoke." Captain Whetstone replied from her seat at her desk.

"No, I mean as in the last bit of your name. Ko-Ko. It's cute. It makes for a good nickname." Marion was, as always, earnest to a fault. "I've just seen the quartermaster, he and I feel we've taken on all we can for the time being. That last haul was a big one!"

"Aye…" Whetstone said, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "Don't ye be callin' me that where the crew can hear, lass. Not but one knows me by Puukko these days. And that'd be you."

"But Whetstone's no fun for nicknames, cap!" Marion teased. She never seemed freer than when dressed for a day's work aboard a ship. Despite having her life upended all those years ago, it seemed she'd finally found where she belonged. She'd long since abandoned her garish trappings, finding herself far more comfortable in clothes fit for salted air.

"Nassau." The captain stood from her chair, smoke gently drifting from atop her pipe. "That's why we're sailin' fer Nassau. Dump the lot on the usual friendly faces." Her voice had grown raspy and deep over the years, but not without charm. She approached Marion, casually resting her paw upon her lover's cheek as she cleared the hair from her face. She took a moment to look into her eyes. Sapphire blue, and bright like stars. For all the time she'd been hardened as a pirate, she'd thought nothing could make her feel quite so soft again.

"Captain?" Marion stood awkwardly, blushing brighter with each passing moment. She beheld the captain's face, rugged, yet kind. Jules had given her quite the scar, a large streak bereft of fur stretched across her left eye.

"Marion.. I been doin' some thinkin'. Ye been talkin' of want fer t' see the world, and I been thinkin'... maybe I could be the one t' show it to you." She hesitated a moment, searching for the right words. "Whaddaya say after we clear the haul, you n' I find somewhere’s quiet fer a while. We could be t-"

"Crosstrees, captain!" Shouts erupted from the top deck. "Nigh on in range!"

Captain Whetstone tensed, balling her fists. Both her and Marion made for the top deck. Whetstone retrieved her spyglass, extending it to view a ship fast approaching.

"Pirate hunters." She said, laden with disdain. "I know this lot. Spanish privateers." She collapsed the telescope, turning to face the crew. "Full sail! Catch as much wind as she's able! We make fer Nassau!"

The crew got to work with haste. Every member of the crew knew exactly what they were to do, and did it fast.

"More and more of them these days, it seems." Marion said with a sigh, taking up a position near her moomin companion. "Do you think there'll be anyone taking patrol up near Nassau?"

"I'm countin' on it. Maybe a ship 'er two out 'n about. If not, well… it'll be fireworks fer the lot of 'em if they end up close enough to that ship old Hornigold beached."

"They ought to know better than to sail into these waters. They're getting bolder."

"I fear ye might be right." The captain took up the helm, stern and stalwart. The wind was fast and favorable, and The Honeyed Word took to it, sailing fast as she could. Several loud thumps forced their way through the humid air as smoke billowed like rain clouds from the gunports of the hunter ship, sending cannonballs hurtling toward their target.

"Git down!" Whetstone shouted a warning to all that could hear. Everybody laid still on the deck, covering their heads. Within seconds the sea was shattered into fine mist against the shot, narrowly missing the hull.

"No hits captain! Just out of range!" One of the crewmembers came up from the gundeck.

"Prepare to return fire, but hold! We're makin' a run fer it! Man the rear swivels!"

The hunter ship closed in on the port side, narrowing the time left for an escape. They fired another volley. Cannon after cannon fired near in unison, the majority just barely missing their target. Wood splintered violently as the iron round shot disrupted its shape, tearing through railings and walls above the waterline of Whetstone's ship.

"Booble's beard! I think she means t' board us!" The captain shouted as she got back to her feet once more. "Give 'er all we got, lads!" The crew fired on the hunter ship as it came within range, blasting the hull in several places.

"Good hits, Cap'n! But she's still on us!" A young man from the gundeck shouted.

The Spanish ship was gaining on them, and the Honeyed Word's cannons would not be ready for another volley until after the privateers had time to close in for a broadside. Whetstone's crew rushed to load their cannons as fast as they could, while others scrambled to get to their weapons and prepared to be boarded. The two ships were rapidly approaching the waters near Nassau, both focused on one another rather than their course. The hunter ship began firing grappling lines in high arcs in an attempt to catch the railings of their quarry.

Pff! Pff! Pff! BOOM!

The comparatively lesser blasts of the boarding guns were interrupted by the sound of over fifty cannons firing almost simultaneously. Captain Whetstone watched in awe as the ship that was just chasing her was sundered in a matter of seconds. The ship was there one moment, and then in its place lie only flotsam. The grappling lines that hung from the railing went limp, falling into the sea. Everything was for a moment, silent, save for the rolling of waves beneath. They hadn't gotten within range of Hornigold's safety measures, and yet their attackers were dealt with all the same. She looked ahead, utterly confused to see a Man O' War of the king's navy anchored just outside what she had known to be the haven of all pirates.

"Strike the colors, boys!" The captain shouted in disbelief. She looked around and took in the scene. "Hoist the white flag. This ain't a surrender, but I'll be damned if we get blasted t' smithereens like those fellers did."

The crew sailed slow to their destination, and were not fired upon. The Man O' War was too big to slip between the sandbars and would run aground if it sailed any closer. The Honeyed Word anchored a careful distance from shore further in than the hulking giant of a ship that had nearly shot them down. Several of the King's smaller ships were anchored nearby and otherwise sailing the area, but none of his men were seen immediately ashore save for a party of three now discussing something with a pirate down on the beach.

"Marion, I think it likely fer the best if you and the crew stay aboard fer the moment. We might be in an awful hurry t' get outta here afore ye be knowin' it." Whetstone eyed the conversation through her spyglass. The tension was high and visible in all those involved, but had yet to boil over.

"What are you planning on doing?" Marion asked.

The captain checked one of the pistols in her brace before tucking it right back in. "Just gon' ask a few questions is all. I'll be back before supper, worry ye no'."

"Just be careful. Ruth won't be here to save you like in Marseille."

"There ye'd be right, but there ought t' be at least a few dozen what sail a black flag still ashore. Can't 'ave all been shot down on the way in." She shrugged.

A short while later, the captain had arrived on shore as the tender her crew had brought her in on made its way back to the ship. The conversation she witnessed had come to its conclusion seemingly without a fight. She wandered into Nassau proper, aiming to avoid the eyes of the King's men. The veritable shanty town that encapsulated and surrounded the proper buildings of Nassau were usually alive with scores of merchants and merry-makers, instead they were filled with a tentative silence. Great change was coming, and its harbinger was anchored just on the horizon.

Canvas covered tents and makeshift shacks led onward into the heart of town, and it remained just as quiet. Captain Whetstone trod what once felt a familiar path in caution, an uneasy feeling in her gut as she took in the emptiness.

"If yer here fer nonsense, you'll assuredly find it this day." A voice like tumbling stone called out from a hammock tethered between a post on a house's porch and a palm tree.

"Calico Jack." Whetstone sighed in response. "I'd have thought you busy with yer own brand o' nonsense as usual. What in blazes is goin' on here? Where's everyone gone? Why's there a behemoth of a ship skulking outside Nassau?"

"Like I said. Nonsense. The King's come a'callin' fer a pardon. Any pirate that's wanting fer an out can get back into the good graces of his majesty, loot untouched. Everyone's holed up or arguing amongst themselves about where to go from here. Seems too good t' be true, but old Benji boy seems quite taken with the idea." Said Rackham. He gave himself a push off the ground with his foot, swinging his hammock a bit. "And them that don't sign their name?" He dragged his thumb across his throat.

"Hornigold? Ain't he practically the founder o' this place? Why give it up? We've got real freedom here."

"Founder and mayor, or so he thought himself. Among others I s'pose. The King's seen t' that, too. You be knowin' a man by the name Woodes Rogers? Failed privateer or some such. He seems to know you."

"Aye, I know of him." She thought of the moomin in the powdered wig at Cartier Manor. She chose not to bring it up.

"That'll be yer new mayor. Appointed by the crown and everything." Jack seemed as carefree as ever despite the news, his arms thrown behind his head. "Hornigold seems to think the place he built up on stolen gold could grow into something proper. I think he's gone dotty in his age an' just wants fer a statue of himself." He coughed out a coarse laugh, wheezing a moment as he wound back down.

The Captain's mind began to wander. If it was true, she could get the quiet life she wanted with Marion, away from the rigors of life at sea. She'd be free, but would Marion consider it freedom? She'd been too nervous to ask her, after all, it was Marion's dream to sail and do as she pleased. A pirate's life suited Marion better than it ever had herself, and her stint as a pirate had only just begun. Retirement had been Whetstone's goal until she met the fillyjonk she loved, but could she do so without the guilt of clipping her wings? Could she give her the freedom she'd always wanted without the risks of swashbuckling and seafaring? Each of her thoughts peppered her mind, the circular nature of it causing her to lose focus.

"You should go see Hornigold. Make of all this what y' will with yer own peepers. I'm going to take a very long nap… to clear my head." He placed his hat over his face.

"Where's he supposed t' be?" She asked. In response, Jack loudly pretended to snore. The captain tapped the underside of the hammock with her foot. "Rackham. Where's Hornigold at right now?"

"I'm sleeping!" He shouted as he turned over. The scent of booze surrounded him as he shifted. Whetstone kicked him again, harder this time. "I'm sleeeeeeping!" He sat up and sang loudly. A pewter mug flew out the top floor window of the building he was anchored to and struck him squarely on the head. He yelped, covering his head as he lay back down in his hammock.

"Damn it, Rackham, you lout! I know you ain't do much of it, but some of us is tryin' to think!" A woman with dark hair in a green waistcoat leaned out the window. "If yer looking fer Hornigold, he's up at the old fort overlooking the shore. Seems to spend an awful lot of time there these days. Nice seein' ye by the way, Whetstone. Wish it were under brighter circumstances."

"Thanks, Mary. Glad t' see some folks still got their wits about them." Whetstone said, happy to see a familiar face with some thoughts behind it.

"Careful up there. He's like to have Rogers with him. Don't let him force ye to sign something you ain't thought about."

Captain Whetstone had never really been to the old fort save for wandering by, but she had always seen it on her way in. Last she'd seen it, the fort was mostly dilapidated and deserted. It hadn't seen use since before Nassau was Nassau, and the defenses that had been put up focused primarily on the inlets rather than the surrounding sea. It seemed as though it had been worked on recently, with new bricks having been laid in some areas and a few spare cannons brought over. Supplies, crates, and tools were strewn about the fort, and new doors had been placed on a few of the scant interiors. Men of the King's navy armed with rifles lined the walls, closely and silently watching the captain as she searched around. She tucked her paws into her pockets as she walked, uneasy in the open space surrounded by unfriendly eyes.

"Hornigold?" She knocked on the new door, pressing her ear against it to listen.

"Enter." A voice said from within.

Whetstone pushed open the door, revealing that the interior had been decorated, although sparsely, with furniture and the trappings of an office. A stone spiral staircase led down on one side of the room, and a closet mirrored it on the other. Daylight poured in through the gaps in the window's impromptu cabinet doors, highlighting the peeling paint on and splintered wood within.

An older snork man sat in a chair behind a desk. He had short brown hair combed neatly to the side, fitting just between his ears, atop pristine white fur. His frock coat was gray and well maintained, beneath it was a clean and spotless white shirt. He removed his reading glasses and set them aside, before clearing his throat and folding his paws on the desk.

"Captain Whetstone I presume. A pleasure to meet you, I'm Governor Woodes Rogers."

"I knew that bastard hired a phony Rogers…" Whetstone thought aloud, just below speaking volume.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothin'! Nothin' important anyway. Ain't I supposed t' be the one beggin' fer a pardon?"

"No, I mean, I don't know what you just said."

"So there isn't a royal pardon?" It was almost never clear if she was joking or not.

"There…There is, yes. Sit down, please, and we can discuss matters further." He was clearly already very tired of dealing with pirates. The captain sat down, not wishing for any misunderstanding with several armed men just outside.

"His majesty has decided to extend his grace to any who have committed acts of piracy, they need only sign their name, give up their ways, and they are free to go. Any who do not accept this offer are to be brought in as criminals and or hanged given the severity of their crimes. No tricks, no games. We've enough trouble with the war as is, and needn't have the constant fear of pirates alongside enemies of the crown."

"So it's be pardoned or get blasted to bits by that Man O' War on the way out, is it?"

"No. Everyone's free to leave. They've all got till the fifth of September to turn themselves in, and after that they'll all be hunted down." Rogers spoke sternly and plainly, but not unkindly. "You, on the other hand…"

Just as Rogers finished speaking, Benjamin Hornigold rose from the stairwell, a flintlock pistol in his paw. His round hemulic silhouette was cut short by the sharp angles of his coat, and the broad shoulder pads within it. He pointed his gun right at Captain Whetstone, who immediately stood and reached for hers.

"Still as a sandbar, Whetstone! Don't get grabby with anything shooty 'er sharp." Hornigold pulled back the hammer on his pistol. He entered the room fully, but just beyond the range of being tackled to the ground. He'd seen much and done much in his day, and moved with purpose.

"What in blazes are ye doin' Hornigold?!" Whetstone raised her paws in the air. She eyed her surroundings as best she could, not taking her focus off her supposed ally. Rogers remained completely unfazed, sitting calmly at his desk.

Hornigold whistled loudly. "Right, boys! Kindly relieve Miss Whetstone of her belongings. She won't be needin' em much longer."

Two of the navy men from outside answered the call, entering and slowly approaching the captive captain. They flanked her on either side, while Hornigold kept his aim on her.

"Why are ye doin' this? There's a pardon, Hornigold! We can be free again!" Whetstone said. While not committed to the idea yet, her renewed hopes were being dashed before they had a chance to grow.

"Because we cannot have you roaming free anywhere in a civilized world. Most of these men became pirates out of a loyalty to country or kin, and can be reformed. You fight for nothing. You work for nothing. You do nothing but take for the thrill of taking!" Woodes Rogers slammed his fists on the desk as he stood. "I was a privateer… I traveled for five long years around the globe. My own brother was killed at the hands of scum like you. Do you know what happened to me upon my return? I was sued by my own crew for lost wages." He paced the room, the tension was palpable as he did so. The men that had arrived to disarm the captain had not yet made an attempt, instead listening to Rogers' story.

"I was badly wounded the day they took my brother. I had barely recovered by the time I arrived home. I had praise for my accomplishments, to be certain… but I was destitute and alone. Some time later I hear of some… would-be folk hero pirate– who showed up in France and stole away with some pompous fool's daughter." His composure was beginning to break as the volume of his voice began to rise. "My exploits are many, and yet no songs are sung of me. No plays written after me. My legacy exists only in a book I penned myself! I've fought to be remembered. And you… some lazy, layabout nobody… you've captivated the hearts and minds of countless men, women, and children. Tales are told about you and your purported skills and the things you've allegedly done. Doubtless riddled with lies. And to top it all off, you've roped me into your shenanigans by placing me at your duel in Marseille. You billed me as a coward and a buffoon." He turned his back to her as he paced, paws folded behind him. "You are a pox! Upon this world! A blight on the name of sailors everywhere!"

The man to the captain's right reached for one of the pistols in her brace, slowly removing it. Just then, she struck the man to her left with her elbow square in the nose, knocking him unconscious. He grunted hard as he fell to the ground. She took the other man's neck in her raised right arm, spinning him to her front as she drew her other pistol.

tst-BOOM!

Hornigold fired at the captain, instead wounding the man she captured in his shoulder. She tossed him aside and went to rush Benjamin as the navy man stumbled to regain his footing. Hornigold threw his spent gun at her, deftly backstepping as he readied a second pistol from the small of his back. Whetstone fired back, missing by a hair as she batted the thrown gun aside and sprinted toward him. He managed to bring his second gun to bear before she reached him, stopping her in her tracks.

"Enough!" He shouted. "Don't make me shoot you, Whetstone." His voice betrayed a hint of regret.

Several more navy men poured in from the door after hearing the shots. They pointed their rifles at her in practiced formation from the rear.

"Nassau's future depends on this! We can't win a war with the crown. I won't be givin' up what I've built here after so long!" Hornigold tightened his grip. "Just give it up. Please. I want a part in Nassau's continued growth. Rogers won't let that happen if yer still knockin' about."

The captain balled her fists as she growled. She was surrounded thoroughly, with no chance of escape.

"You are to be taken to England and hanged as an example. An omen to those who'd fly a black flag rather than accept the pardon and live as honest sailors. If the legend of Captain Whetstone is to be told with me in it, it will be told with a definitive end." Woodes said, sitting back down in his chair. "Your crew has already been captured, overpowered by mine and Benjamin's men. They'll be tried, and likely hanged as well. Take her away."

–

Puukko took a moment from her story, and along with it a sip from her glass. She'd hardly touched her stew, despite its enticing aroma. She found it hard to speak about those days beyond the stories worth telling. The rest of it ate at her all these years, her piled regrets folded neatly like so much laundry. She scanned her hosts’ faces. She hadn't reached the grim parts of her tale, and yet already she'd felt she'd cursed the valley with recountings of such hot blood. Neither Moominpapa nor Moominmama seemed to be put off by the story so far, each listening attentively as they ate.

“Spent weeks aboard Benji's ship. I were tied down below deck with nothin’ but me fur and a scarce bit o’ food n’ water here and there. Spent the whole time dreamin’ up revenge plans while I rotted away, but by the time I'd been brought into a private cell somewheres, I'd given up hope. M’ crew’d all been held someplace else, somewhere they usually hold pirates afore their trial I s'pose. I was put in some guarded camp with a myriad of small outbuildings, probably cells in each of ‘em. Pirate after pirate took pardons, and it were as close to the end of the golden age as you could put a point on. Word got out of my capture and soon-t’-be execution ‘round England. Sounded like the bells were tollin’. Spent maybe a day ‘er two in that cell starin’ at the moon through the bars too high fer me t’ reach. Just sat there hating myself for what I'd done to Marion. The sentence I'd sold me crew and t’ her most of all. Head was full o’ hate. Hate and fear and sorrow and all sorts of other things…”

Puukko set her spoon delicately atop the thick stew in her bowl, the surface tension holding it a moment. She watched it sink. Her eyes were distant, heavy with the fog of memory. She continued once again.

“Rackham and Read had taken the pardon. First thing they did with their new found freedom was t’ pinch a crate o’ hand grenades. Weren't sure if that part were part o’ the next bit, or if they were just feelin’ like celebrating with a bang.” She chuckled a little, though in a somber, almost mournful manner. “Anyhow, they tracked me down an’ blew the cell wall out. Quite the jailbreak. Mary took a bullet to the calf fer me then, on the run out. Not sure how we pulled it off, but after we'd made it out she'd spilled her beans about how she were fixin’ t’ save me crew, too. Whole lot, Marion included. Trouble was, she were part o’ that plan, but now she'd been shot she weren't able to do nothin’ and the execution was just a few days out. She gave me all she knew about Rogers and comp'ny an’ who what where an’ why, but it would be up t’ me to pull it off. Plan was half-baked at best, but then again I never was good at followin’ a plan.”

–

“I have had enough of fancy manors an’ fancy folk.” Whetstone said, crouched behind a hedge alongside Calico Jack. The evening air was taught and cold, but thick with the sound of a dinner party from within a mansion across the way. Similar large houses dotted the area, sprawling out from the city.

“Least you won't have to do any running tonight, missy. If ye can stay quiet, that is. You look like a bear, and smell like one, so I'm hopin’ ye can climb like one. Anyway, dear captain, I fear I've work to do! See you on the other side of all this mess.”

“Thank you, Rackham. Give Mary m’ best. In case I don't be seein’ ye.” Despite the tense atmosphere, she couldn't help but wonder just how Jack of all people would know what a bear smells like. She shook the thought out of her head.

The original plan Mary had laid out involved fine clothes and playing at being high status to get into the manor, but without Mary's wit and relatively unrecognizable face, they'd have to make due. Jack wandered off into the street, feigning a drunken stupor. He approached a duo of guards stationed at the gate, bottle in hand. Each were stout looking hemulens with constable attire and billy clubs to match.

“Oh, don't ya just hear the old man say? Goodbye fare ye well! Goodbye fare ye well!” Jack sung slurredly, now stumbling directly in front of the guard on the left side of the gate. The captain watched in quiet anticipation from her hiding place.

“Make tracks, piss-pot! This ‘ere ain't another pub for you to crawl into!” The guard shouted as he shoved Jack back into the street, nearly toppling him.

“What’s is he sayin’? That he don't… that he dun’t like my song?” Jack pouted looking over at the other guard, who was clearly bored with his duties. Rackham began singing again, practically shouting. He wandered straight into the open gate, scanning the area as he sang. “Oh don't you hear the old man say! Hurrah! Me boys! We're homeward bound!”

“Invite only! Back to the bars with you!” The constable dragged Jack out from his shirt collar, tossing him into the street.

“Meet ya there, mate!” Jack rose up from the ground, and wound up his arm comically far before slapping the guard that shoved him right across the snout, then cackled as he began to run.

“Oy!” The guard clasped his paws over his nose, recoiling from the sting of the slap. “Get ‘im in irons!”

Both guards began chasing him, clubs raised high and shouting. About halfway down the street, Rackham threw his bottle toward the guards, intentionally missing them. It landed hard, shattering and scattering glass throughout the street and an echo through the air, signaling the waiting Captain Whetstone that both guards were after him, and the courtyard empty.

Whetstone ran as quietly as she could past the gate, heading off to the side before anyone could come out to investigate the ruckus. The manor house was tall and elegant, a symbol of status gifted to Nassau’s new mayor, the man poised to put an end to the golden age of piracy. The occasional shrill shriek or boisterous laugh could be heard from inside on the main floor, the dinner party was as raucous as could be for the wealthy and the powerful. Whetstone looked around for a way up and in. Mary had scouted the place well enough, but her plan had them entering as guests.

Sparks glittered against the night sky following shortly behind a cigar tossed from the rear balcony. It tumbled into the cool grass, smoldering into darkness. The Captain couldn't help her eyes being drawn to it, she traced its path up and to the balcony railing. It stretched out and round hovering above the rear garden, pillared over the patio. The pillars themselves cornered about the perimeter, and stopped nearest to the ornate blackened metal archways supporting numerous decorative flowers which bordered the courtyard itself. She made sure the dagger Mary and Rackham could spare for her was tucked firmly within her belt, over her coarse linen shirt and borrowed slops. She tested her footing on the ironwork, climbing up and over toward the balcony's edge. She pulled herself up as far as she could muster, peeking in to ensure none saw her climbing over the railing. Despite her size, she was quite agile.

The doors were unlocked, allowing guests to enter and exit as they pleased. She snuck in and began checking rooms, hunting for Rogers’ office. She listened carefully, pressing her ear to each door as she passed them. Her heart beat loud in her ears, contested by the creak of each floorboard and the rattling of each doorknob. Her normally steady paws shook just so. The upper floor consisted of several rooms arranged along a boxed hall, each ending in stairs leading down to the main foyer. She'd checked every door alongside the balcony, and had only the riskier side halls to go. She peaked around the corner down the hall, waiting a moment to listen. When she felt it was clear, she slinked around the bend, heading straight for the first door she could see. Just then, a slender young fillyjonk abruptly exited the room nearest the stairs. He wore a hat obscuring the top half of his face, and a white dress shirt with suspenders. He held a cut cigar in his paw, and was heading straight at Captain Whetstone. She tucked herself against the wall around the corner, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened to hear if he'd noticed her.

She heard his footsteps continue at pace. Whether he saw her or not, he was still approaching, and fast. Whetstone's mind raced, she thought of heading back to the last room she checked, but her feet wouldn't move. She froze in place. She felt a pang of guilt run through her, and struggled to figure out why. The thought finally hit her, in seconds that felt like hours. The man approaching looked just like Marion did the night she met her. It was too late to turn back now, he was almost on her. She fumbled a moment for the dagger beneath her sash. The sound of its sharp edges running against the soft leather of the sheathe made her stomach churn. She was all too familiar with the violence it would wreak, but never on someone so unsuspecting, unarmed. Never in such cold blood. Never on a man who simply turned the wrong corner at a party. She'd taken lives before, but never callously. It was not something she did easy, but tonight, it would have to be.

The fillyjonk's arms appeared first, clutching a borrowed table lighter in one paw and his cigar in the other. Then his nose, whiskers drooping just slightly off his face. The captain raised her arm, dagger pointed down from on high. She felt wrong in every inch of her body. Every follicle of each individual hair in her fur felt like a thousand needles. His foot stepped into the hall just past the corner, and in an instant she began swinging down in a forceful arc.

“Henri!” A voice came from just atop the stairs. “Henri, where are you going? We're going to smoke in the parlor, not on the balcony! It is far too cold for a young damsel like me!” A drunken woman with a heavy French accent shouted in an almost flirty tone.

Whetstone's arm stopped hard just after building momentum, her muscles nearly collapsing from the sudden stop. Her arm felt like a ship breaking up on the rocks. Her eyes went wide, and she pressed her empty paw to her mouth to hide the sound of her pain and the sudden wave of guilt and relief that washed over her. Her eyes began to well up with tears.

“Coming, dear! I told you to bring a coat. You don't listen to me as often as you should, you know.” The man said smugly as he turned about face, back down the hall, completely unaware that his life was nearly cut short.

The captain's gut wrenched, she began breathing heavily as she slumped against the wall, tucking the dagger back into its sheathe. A few moments passed before she regained her composure, pushing the thought out of her mind as the reality of her task set back in.

The second door she tried after her encounter opened into a wide, unlit office space. It was Rogers’ study, she was sure of it. Decorated neatly with his accomplishments, and with a massive painting of himself hung center behind the desk. The room was fit for a lounge, with chairs, a table, a globe that was open revealing within a small bar, and taxidermy animal heads lining the walls. She opened a small door beside a display case and found a closet with several coats and hats hung within. She tucked herself inside, and began to wait.

She sat alone with her thoughts. She grieved the man she'd almost killed as though she'd done so, and grieved her crew as though they'd already hung. She grieved the pirate named Whetstone, the legend she'd created and become. Mostly, she grieved the life of freedom she'd stolen from the woman she loved. She pressed her claws into her palm one by one, the urge to pace pulling at her legs. It reminded her of the times when she would hide from her parents when she'd felt she'd done something wrong. It reminded her of the agonizing silence when she tried to speak to them as a child, her voice too quiet to escape her body. She remained trapped in her mind, the past few weeks a near uninterrupted onslaught of memories and regrets.

The door to the study creaked open, and heavy footsteps rolled in. A snork gentleman sighed contentedly as he lit the sconces about the room and the lantern at his desk. Woodes Rogers pulled his chair back from his desk and sat down. Puukko had not even noticed that the party had ended, but the silence from below confirmed it. She steadied herself, ready once again to play the part of fearsome pirate captain.

“Woodes Rogers.” Whetstone stepped out from her hiding place, dagger in her paw. She flipped it idly as she walked to the center of the room, turning to face him at the end of her stride. Woodes scrambled to open the top drawer of his desk.

“Ah! I wouldn't do that.” She said, laughing low and gravelly just after. Woodes pulled a flintlock pistol from the drawer, pulling back the hammer and leveling it at Whetstone. “How much you had to drink tonight at yer little soiree, Woodes? Think ye can kill me in one shot? Even if ye do, a whole lot more folk than jus’ you or I are gonna die if I don't make it outta here ship-shape.” She smiled a wide, toothy grin and held her arms out.

“If it isn't the famous Captain Whetstone.” Woodes sneered bitterly and sarcastically. “Shouldn't you be rotting in a cell before your execution?”

“Yup. Nothin’ left to lose, saw to that one yerself. Been real lonely since ya captured me, y'know. I'm just itchin’ fer a conversation. And I don't know about you, but I find it much easier t’ talk without a gun pointin’ at me.”

“What is it you want?” Woodes set the pistol down on his desk, within reach. “Not one step closer.”

“Just what I'm owed, Woodes. Not more'an that. I come a'callin’ fer an act of grace.”

“Ah! Hahaha!” Woodes doubled over in laughter. “It's a bit late for that now, your execution is already scheduled! Not to mention the crimes of escaping custody and breaking into my home. You've gone completely mad!”

“I'm assuming you can write those last two in there, too. Get yer pen out. Ye got one of them pardons stashed away in yer desk?”

“It's not one per pirate, it's one large document all involved parties sign. Even if I had it here, you'd need to sign it in court, buffoon.”

“Figures. Well let's talk about what we can do here ‘n now, th–”

“I could shoot you. Or you could rot in a different cell from your last one. Or both. I hardly care for the details.”

“Yer fergettin’ abou–” Before the captain could continue, Rogers reached for his gun once again. She flipped the dagger in her paw, gripping the blade before sending it sailing through the air. Just as Rogers readied the gun, the dagger embedded itself into its wooden frame, knocking it out of his paw. She closed the distance, lunging over the desk to tackle him. She gripped his throat, and with her other paw, rested her claws just against his neck. He stopped struggling as soon as she'd had the upper hand.

“Those things are awful noisy, Woodes. I'd prefer if ye could hear what I'm about t’ tell ye.” She pulled up, forcing him to upright himself, then she held him against the wall. “Say, do ye remember the Man O’ War Hornigold beached in front of Nassau?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, mouth closed.

“You were a privateer. How much powder d'ye reckon it takes fer a full broadside from her? All the guns shifted t’ the one side as it were. And how many times do ye figure she were fit to fire before taking on more powder? Bein’ a warship an’ all.” She tightened her grip. “and how much more powder ye think were… donated… to Nassau and her many pirates?”

“You're bluffing!” Rogers' eyes went wide as he put the pieces together. He slackened, and Whetstone let him free to sit atop his desk.

“I wish I were, Woodes!” She bluffed. “You could either be the man who captured and executed the legendary captain Whetstone, or you could be the man who's failures brought the newly civilized Nassau to ruin. And I'll do it again, too. Panama. Curaçao. Anywhere. And it'll be in your name. There‘re folks with torches lit jus’ waitin’ t’ hear that I didn't make it out of here. Or that I did, and that you couldn't work it out. The choice is yers.” She retrieved her dagger and the pistol.

Rogers sat and thought for a while before speaking up. “Wait, captured and executed?”

“Still a few days afore the execution. Plenty o’ time to come up with somethin’. Ye get t’ be a hero, so long as I get to walk. Ye can announce at me crew's trial that the King has shown ‘unprecedented grace’ towards his people and decided to spare them the grisly gibbet, and send them mean ol’ pirates off somewheres else. Sentenced to transportation.”

“And you? I fake your death? And then what, you skulk about England free as a bird to hop back on a ship?”

“Poof! Gone. Forever. A puff of smoke from yer pipe soakin’ into the curtains.” She gestured dramatically.

Rogers began putting pieces together in his head once more, the details fitting together neatly in his mind. “I'll charter you a ship. You're to be taken somewhere else, NOT along with your crew, mind you. No… You'll be sent a world apart from them. And if the ship's captain reports you did not show, there'll be no trial for your men. If I ever see your name or hear of someone that looks like you on a ship ever again, I'll know where to find your people. And I'll have their pardons revoked. They'll be summarily executed.”

–

"Soon after that, Marion an' me crew got sent off to Australia or thereabouts. Sent me o'er t' North America. Figured I'd just cause trouble if I went wherever else they send criminals, so I got shipped out t' the wild west. Did some gunslingin' and highwayman shenanigans. Were a gun fer hire fer a bit. Not at first, though. After I'd lost everything I figured I'd hit the straight n' narrow, work as an honest blacksmith again like I did afore I were a pirate. Didn't get very far, figured I was only good at bein' an outlaw. I were a legend brought low and vanished, a ghost of a person… Hardly anyone recognized me out that way, despite it all. Thing about it is, weren't too much use fer swordsmanship nor sailing in the mainland, and the guns o' the time were a bit harder t' manage fer an old salt like me. Bein' a highwayman an' bandit meant stealin' from folks what ain't deserve it most days, an' bein' a gun fer hire meant gettin' in fights I ain't got a stake in fer a coin. I weren't much good at it neither. At sea, there's miles an' miles o' water 'tween you and thems that know yer face and can do somethin' about it. When ye make too friendly with some feller's wife, er rob the wrong folks, well… small towns. Lots of wide open, sure, but the folk all know yer name and who done what. Us moomins cut a pretty recognizable silhouette I reckon, so I got chased out of near every town I found myself. 'Stead of pushin' further west like most folk o' the day, I kept heading east. Kept runnin' an' runnin' and eventually I realized I weren't bein' chased no more. I spent a lot o' time thinkin'... got real down on m' self. Felt I weren't good fer nothin' and felt I ought t' cut out alone somewheres. I'd been bad, and I'd done lots of wrong. Did a whole lot I ought t' regret. Heard tell of a place called Moominvalley. Set out and hunkered down alone in the mountains. Took a long time 'fore I ever came down into the valley itself… And the rest is history." She sighed and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

"When I met Marion, my only fear was losing her. As soon as I lost her, my only fear was seein' her again... Fer all I've done and fer who I've been, I'm scared. Scared I won't be able t' face her again. I thought of apologizin' an' all kinds of other things. It's the one thing I'm not sure I'm strong enough fer. I spend most of my days living a new life, and it's a life I love. But there are days I think about it all, and think about her. And what she's like now. And what became of her." She idly tore bits of bread apart, setting them in her bowl of stew and watching them swell and sink around her spoon. She hadn't raised her head to look at her hosts since around halfway through her tale.

For a moment, the room was silent. No one ate, no one said anything. The cool breeze halted and the wood of the house dared not settle nor creak. They simply sat, enduring the reality of her story. By now, most of the valley knew she'd been a pirate, but few thought more of it than the romantic stories they've heard over and over. The truth of who Puukko once was and who she became were laid bare. It was hard for the Moominparents to believe that the friend they'd come to know, the eccentric and often grandmotherly blacksmith living in the mountains had once led such a life. She was an outlaw, and a killer, and there wasn't any taking that back.

"I'm too old now to believe that only the good die young. But I sure seem t' have lived an awful long time…" The silence became too much for her to bear. She stood up, pushing in her chair. "I think it's time I got on."

Moominmama stood and grabbed Puukko by the paw with both of her own.

"I'm not sure what brought you to Moominvalley. But I'm glad you ended up here." She smiled, in a reassuring way that only Moominmama could manage. “Whatever you did back then, all we can do is make up for it by living here and now, the best we can.”

"You know…" Moominpapa scratched at his chin. "We visited the wild west once. The whole family, in fact. It's quite the story, if you've got the time! Sit back down, I'll tell you all about it! They used to call me Two-gun Moomin!”

“Dear, I believe only you called yourself that.” Moominmama chuckled softly.

Puukko smiled, returning to her seat. The Moomins had a warmth about them that she couldn't shake, and always seemed to know exactly what their guests needed. They were strange, but they were kind. It'd been an age since she felt that someone truly knew her. She felt a lump in her throat, and a sense of acceptance she'd not felt in a long, long time.

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

📦

Pro Hero and single father Eijiro Kirishima raises a brow when coming to a stop in front of the complex where he lived, tilting his head as he adjusts the hold he has on the groceries he’s carrying. There’s a large moving truck with various workers carefully handling belongings and boxes alike into the building. Fresh from patrol he had civilian clothes of an open button up manly-pink shirt to reveal the tight fitting black undershirt and a pair of stylish black cargo pants and boots with red hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. One of his hands was holding tightly to the little one of a small girl of six who eagerly licked the little peach popsicle she’d begged from her big strong daddy to buy. “Looks like someone new is moving in.”

Curious, Aida raises her rose quartz gaze to meet his carmine, the wind playing with the little sundress covered in tiny prints of unicorns and rainbows she wore as she grins. “Maybe a new friend!”

“Maybe,” he chuckles to himself; she definitely got that smile from him. “Or maybe it’s a monster come to gobble up the sweetest little treat that keeps getting into trouble with her teacher.”

“Monsters don’t exist, daddy! Don’t tease me!”

“What? All I’m saying is if you weren’t such a trouble maker maybe an Angel would move in instead of that nightmarish guy with that barking Rottweiler like last year.” He grumbles the last part to himself with an exasperated expression that earns his daughter’s bubbly laugh.

“Or maybe my new mommy is moving in!”

He chokes audibly on his own spit, making his hand holding the several bags of groceries nearly fall from his grasp. “A-Aida!”

With a laugh, she slips free from his other hand and skips a few steps ahead. Her smile wavers and the popsicle falls from her hand in slow motion as she trips on the curb, eyes widening as she reaches for him in hopes he’ll catch her. Eijiro is just a hint too slow, his red gaze catching sight of a car coming too close taking his full attention as he protectively moves forward—

“Whoa, easy there!”

His hand clasps empty air as a stranger appears from around the moving truck, your arms quickly scooping up the little girl to save her from the tumble. The Pro Hero can only watch in shock and mild amusement when his daughter begins to thank you profusely and even offers you the rest of her popsicle. “Thanks for the save, really, I—“ His words are cutoff when your gazes meet, for the first time in his life he felt as if the sky had swallowed him up when your lips rise into a smile so bright it could rival the sun itself.

“That was a close one!” You coo at Aida softly, brushing your fingers beneath her eyes when they threaten to tear up. “Aww, there, there! It’s alright now! See?” The little girl you held breaks into a fit of giggles when you nuzzle her cheek with your nose as a playful smile raises your lips.

Did his heart just skip a beat?

Did that long forgotten warmth suddenly flood his chest?

Did a blush just enter his cheeks when you shoot him a wink as you continue to play with his daughter?

Those hips…breasts…oh, heavens, those thighs…lean calves and arms…that face…your voice… He very much liked what he saw. “Oh, damn it all to hell…” he whispers to himself as he takes in your outfit and appearance.

“No swearing!”

Now the blush becomes one of embarrassment at his daughter’s scolding. “Hey, little gem, I’m the adult not you. I can say whatever I please!”

A laugh sounds from you that instantly earns his sheepish chuckle. “Your daddy is right, but a manly-man like himself should be a little more careful of that mouth of his when such a cutie is around! Gotta set the best example for the pretty little princess, after all!” The tip of your tongue teasingly appears between your smirking lips as you send him a wink.

Eijiro was never one to believe in that whole “love at first sight” nonsense. Even with his first wife, now deceased, there hadn’t been a connection like this. This felt like a wildfire had woken from deep within his veins.

Oh, shit…

He could barely compose himself when you introduced yourself. And when you said what unit you were moving into, revealing that is was the one directly across from theirs. Meaning if he opened his front door and you opened yours, the two of you would be facing one another.

Oh, shit…

“Daddy?” Seeing Aida become worried about her suddenly unresponsive father, you move closer so that her waving hand is closer to his face. Amusement filled you when the little girl promptly shoved the rest of her popsicle between his partially gaping lips. “Daddy! You’re staring at the nice lady!”

You couldn’t resist leaning closer and dipping your voice slightly. “Earth to Red Riot~, your daughter is calling you…”

Now that blush was all over his face and ears, not to mention his neck, when you whisper his hero name in that tone.

Oh, shit on a shingle in the scorching summer sun on a Sunday…

“Daddy, you look like Uncle Denki when he sees a pretty girl.”

He snaps out of his stupor with a full bodied shake, trying to regain his composure and gives a chuckle while quickly eating the popsicle that had been shoved between his lips. “Yeah, I hear her, and she’s about to get a visit from the tickle monster for saying I look like Kaminari!”

You can’t help but laugh as Aida clings to you for protection while begging to be saved when he wiggles the fingers of his free hand. “Oh, no! I must save the princess! Quick! Let’s run away!”

He almost fell into a fit of laughter when you slip her onto your back and start to run away. Never has he seen his daughter warm up to anyone this quickly! And he can’t help but notice how natural this all feels…you holding her so close to you, the smiles on your and her faces, how Aida even nuzzled into your hair when the wind made it tickle her face.

It was as if this moment was straight out of a movie, like a sappy rom-com his previous wife had loved to watch. The memory was heart aching when recalling how things used to be, how the woman who had birthed Aida all those years ago wasn’t here because of the illness which took her life before the little girl had turned two. The breath in his lungs suddenly catches when for a split second, in a sudden gust of wind that caused several fallen cherry blossom petals to swirl in the air around you and Aida, he swore he saw her form appear while resting a hand upon your heads as you continue to play together.

Was this a sign that it was okay for him to find love again?

The apparition turns her attention to him and smiles before it vanishes.

He nearly jumps when something brushes his cheek, his red gaze shifting down to see it’s your hand that’s carefully wiping away the tear slipping down his cheek that he himself hadn’t been aware of. The touch was so soft, light as a feather, and so warm…

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” Aida asks softly, her little hand meeting his other cheek as another tear falls. “It’s okay, daddy, there, there!”

Sympathy fills you when you see the loss in his gaze despite the smile raising his lips. Without a single word, you place her within his arms and collect the groceries he was still carrying so that the two can have a moment, smiling softly to yourself when the two tightly embrace one another. What a cute father-daughter pair they made. Your gaze shifts from them to the moving crew still at work and with a soft smile while placing the bags beside his feet so as not to disturb them, you turn and walk away to continue moving in.

Maybe coming to this side of town was going to be a good change after all.

[flatoutin-eaurouge]

Don't leave me alone in this cruel world. Part 1/2

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

A week ago a lovely anon 🫶 entered my askbox with a heart-breaking and very angsty prompt. Thank heavens, I was allowed to write a happy ending! I wanted to do this prompt justice so I decided to write it in two parts...

Amid the revelry at the afterparty of the FIA ​​Price Giving Gala of 2001, two rivals sat down for a chat in a quiet corner of the huge ballroom. Michael had perched himself on one of the lounge chairs, his shiny trophy proudly sitting next to him on a side table. This evening he was at the center of attention, but he gladly made time for his favourite rival.

Mika stared at the World Champion of 2001 sitting opposite to him and smiled. Michael was well on his way to become the greatest legend of the sport, if he wasn't already. Four championships and counting. He slapped the German on the thigh. "You're making it very difficult for me to catch up!"

Michael laughed, his lips quirking up in a warm, genuine smile. He grabbed Mika's hand and gave it a little squeeze. "I miss our battles, Mika! I miss fighting tooth and nail for championship points and I miss deciding a championship on the last race day."

Mika threw Michael a rueful smile and tilted his tumbler of Scotch, staring at the amber liquid inside the glass. "I've lost my spark, Michael. I don't know what it is, but DC seems to have surpassed me in terms of speed."

"That's nonsense, Mika!" Michael placed his own tumbler of Scotch on the salon table and spread his hands in front of the Finn, as if he was trying to make a point. "Your car is incredibly unreliable! It creates a distorted picture of the championship table. Remember Spain?"

"Of course I remember Spain. You were very sympathetic to me. I remember that!"

Michael nodded. "You know, I just feel a certain way towards you. Our battles were always fair and I appreciate you as a rival. Villeneuve and Hill wouldn't have deserved that kind of sympathy from me."

Mika chuckled. He studied the face of Der Kaiser and noticed the glimmer in his eyes. "Always fair? From your side as well?" he teased.

The German took Mika's comment in good humor, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Okay, Macau 1990 is debatable... but other than that?"

Mika winked at his rival. "All good."

Michael threw Mika a beaming smile and realized that their connection was really special. He would have never expected to feel genuine admiration for a fellow driver. But Mika and him had a long history. He could still remember the day they met. It was on a rainy day in Kerpen, Manheim. They were both lanky teenagers with questionable haircuts in cheap racing attire. They were always a bit distrustful towards each other, which was logical because they both still had a long way to go to get to F1. Over the course of years, they had grown into handsome adults and their interactions had grown more mature.

"Hey Michael." Mika snapped his fingers to pull Michael from his daydream. "I want to know your opinion on something."

"Oh sorry. I was fading a bit. I don't think you need my advice, but please go ahead."

Mika looked around nervously, making sure no one was in hearing distance and leaned a bit forward in his chair. "I am thinking about quitting," he whispered.

What?! Michael froze in position and blinked with his eyes. The ease and the swiftness in which Mika spoke these words startled him. It caught him by surprise completely. If he was drinking his whiskey right now, he would've probably spit it all out on the neatly ironed slacks of the Finn. "You say what?!"

"Sshhh." Mika pressed a finger to his lips. "Not so loud. Only Ron knows about it."

"Mika, you can't quit!"

"Michael, lower your voice, goddamnit!" Mika hissed. "There is too much press here!"

"Sorry!" Michael now whispered. "What did Ron say? I don't think he is happy?"

"Ron, told me to think about it very thoroughly. He is willing to give me a year off, like some sort of sabbatical for next season. So my decision won't be too definitive."

"Why would you want to quit though?"

Mika sighed as he downed his glass of Scotch. "I don't want to risk my life anymore with that unreliable car. I've had my shunt in 1995 at a time my journey wasn't complete, so I decided to return to racing as soon as my condition allowed it. But now... I have two world championships and Erja is at home taking care of my first born. I don't want Hugo to grow up without a father."

Michael swallowed as he stared at Mika intently. How could he forget? His rival had almost died that year. He rembered how upset he was. Even during his championship celebrations he spared a thought for his unfortunate childhood rival. "Your 1995 crash..."

Mika nodded. "Yeah, I don't want to relive that all over again! Especially not now I have a little family."

There fell a silence between them.

Michael stared at the floor and tried to smooth out the creases in his slacks. It was six years ago. So many things had changed. The FIA had obliged drivers to wear a HANS-device.

"Mika... would you consider driving for one more season? Just to see if Newey can make your car more reliable? To wipe the floor with David and battle against me?"

Mika bit his lip and thought for a moment. The images of his near-fatal crash flooded his mind "I don't know, Michael. At least two of my big crashes were because of a failing tyre suspension."

"You know how much the safety has improved since your crash in 1995!" Michael was shocked by his own words. Why did he make it seem like Mika's crash back then was no big deal?! Was he too selfish asking Mika to stay?

Mika quirked up an eyebrow. "What difference does one more season make, though? Do you really think this year will be different?"

"Mika, you're talented and fast! You deserve another world championship! Maybe you win 2002 and we will be sitting at the FIA Gala like we are now, staring at your shiny trophy."

Mika nodded. He didn't seem convinced but the twinkle in his eyes told a different story. "I will think about it."

Melbourne March 3 2002, Albert Park

There he was! Like nothing had changed. Michael let his eyes roam over the silver-white McLaren race suit. The garment hugging Mika's slender waist and making his shoulders look extra broad. It was the outfit he loved most on him, despite the garment wearing the badge of the arch rival.

Mika had grown his hair out again as if his renewed race spirit had begged him to go back to the good old times, where Michael and him had to fight for every championship point.

Michael watched as Mika's hand carded through that mop of thick blonde hair, making its golden layers cascade in the sunlight. It was really just like the old times!

The Finn walked past Michael and winked at him, as if he wanted to say: See! I listened to you! Here I am! Now make it memorable!

Michael felt a source of warmth send sparks through his body. The corners of his lips curled up in a genuine smile. He craved for the good old times! He craved for a season like 2000.

Yesterday, Mika had managed to qualify his McLaren MP4/17 on the first row next to Michael, proving that he had lost none of his spark.

"Now we will have to see if the car doesn't fall apart during the race. I have some bad memories from last season," Mika had said during the press conference.

Michael remembered that he had told Mika at the FIA Gala that he was convinced Adrian Newey would make it work. That man was genius! A genius that Ferrari would love to fit into their team.

But Newey was a McLaren guy just like his favourite rival, who was getting into his car right now. Michael watched as Mika put his blue and white helmet on and felt the heat from the core of his body travel to his cheeks when he noticed that Mika was smiling at him. He reveled in the Finn's cheeky twinkle. Gosh. Michael wanted to thank the heavens Mika qualified first row with him.

He sat down in his own car as all mechanics were ushered to leave the grid for the starting procedure. Michael flipped his visor down. He had an inkling he would be going to enjoy this race, driving wheel to wheel with his Mika.

With the formation lap done, Michael focused on the red lights flashing on one by one and engaged his throttle. Lights off...

The joy of a perfect start... Mika knew he was an excellent starter, but bringing the wheelspin to a minimum and flooring his pedal at just the right time sent a wave of serotin through his body. Could he miss this feeling? Was it the right decision to continue after all?

Michael saw him disappear into the horizon and he could feel the broad grin that tugged at the corners of his lips almost instantly.Yes! Let's go!

Mika's leap to the front lasted for a full fourteen laps before Michael saw the Finn's car gradually growing more prominent into his vision. That black, white and silver... not the black, white and silver of David Coulthard, but the right black, white and silver.

He grabbed the steering in a white-knuckled grip and almost jammed the throttle into the floor of his car. His engine roared. The chase had started...

He followed Mika, copied his racing line and tried to optimize it Schumi-style. It worked. He was swiftly approaching his rival.

Until a radio call stopped him from engaging in a battle with the Finn.

"Box, Box Michael. We're going for an undercut."

"Give me one more lap, please!"

"Negative."

Michael shook his head in annoyance. He craved for a wild, primal battle with that blonde stud. Maybe if he drove a little more on the limit he could get Mika before the pit entry!

He bit his lip and pressed down. The RPM reaching the limiter.

"Michael, what are you doing? Cool the engine!"

Michael could see the large back wing reading Mika's name on it only 1,5 second in front of him. A feeling of sudden happiness spread through his body. He was close...so close...

Until...

The entire tyre suspension on the front of Mika's car tore off, leaving debris all across the track. It sent the car into a wild spin. A spin at a speed of 300 km/h. Michael gasped as his eyes tracked the sudden movement. What the hell?! This can't be real!

The tyres of the black car scraped on the tarmac. Sparks jumped off of the broken metal of the tyre suspension. A large sausage curb sent Mika's car flying into the gravel trap with a heart-stopping speed.

Michael began to slow down in an instant and watched the silver McLaren crash into the barrier surrounding the track with a loud bang. His heart rate went up. It all went quiet for a moment as the agressive roars of Michael's engine starten to lessen. He steered his car onto the grass without hesitation.

Michael stopped his car and jumped out of it. My God, Mika! He beelined through the gravel trap all the way to the steaming wreckage. The race would probably be redflagged anyway... and even if it didn't... who cares! Mika was inside that wreckage. The man who didn't want to risk his life anymore. The man who wanted to see his firstborn grow up. The man he asked... no begged... to continue racing regardless!

Michael rushed to the cockpit of the car, his rapidly beating heart banging against his rib cage, afraid for what he would encounter.

He gasped in horror when he saw Mika's seemingly lifeless body hanging over the steering wheel. Michael didn't hesitate. He took Mika's helmet off to make sure he could breath freely, then gently pushed his body to lean back against the headrest. Oh Christ!

The Finn's balaclava was damp and dark red and his eyes were closed. No, Mika! Michael tugged at the drenched cotton, wincing at the warm and moist feel of it, then gently pulled the thing off.

Mein Gott! Like his balaclava, half of Mika's face was coated in blood. It streamed in waves of red from his nose and mouth, pooling in the collar of his race suit until it seeped down from underneath the velcro of his collar. It contrasted brutally with the silver-white of the McLaren overalls.

It was only five minutes that Michael was alone with Mika, but it felt like hours...

The tears streamed uncontrollably down Michael's cheeks. To watch the life literally pour out off his beloved rival broke his already aching heart beyond repair. This was his fault! He did this!

He gently caressed Mika's face and wiped the blonde hairs sticking to the blood on his face to the side. I'm sorry I did this to you! Michael's hands were shaking as he unclasped the Finn's safety belts and clutched his limp body to his chest. This should not have happened.

Even if this crash was like Adelaide '95 – meaning that Mika would recover... – it also meant he would have to go through all of that again! The pain, the anxiety, the loneliness and the boredom.

Michael held him as he cried bitter tears of emotion. He tried to cuddle the Finn's body to his chest and murmered encouraging words into Mika's ear. Stay with me, please! Please, Mika!

In the remaing minutes, Michael zipped the Finn's race suit open, looking for wounds that needed to be staunched. Where does all that blood come from!? Michael's hand ghosted over Mika's fireproofs, feeling for red, damp spots... until his fingers touched something cold and hard. He gasped loudly and tugged the sturdy textile of the race suit further open to see for himself how a long piece of debris from the car had impaled Mika's side. The steel rot stuck out from between his ribs. A dark red spot betrayed the severity of the wound.

Michael retrieved his hand and stared at his red, treacly fingers in terror. He shuddered all over. Bitte, helf mir mal! Jemand! His hands went down again, inside Mika's unzipped race suit. He grabbed the textile of the fireproofs surrounding the wound and pressed down to staunch the bleeding. Stop fucking bleeding!

He cried in frustration. His breathing hitched in his throat. Hot tears made his vision blur. Michael was in a shock. The guilt taking over his mind made him shiver in pure agony. This was his fault!

Closing his eyes and fearing for the worst he felt for Mika's pulse. Contrary to what he expected, the Finn's heart was racing, which meant he was still alive, but Michael knew the organ was fighting against the enormous loss of blood. Trying to dry the ocean with a thimble! Where were the goddamn medics?! Five minutes already!!!

And although those five minutes alone with Mika meant the world to him, he cursed those five minutes as well, because it all took too long. The life was literally pouring out of his rival.

Michael started to fear that this crash was nothing like Adelaide '95.

He held Mika's face in his hands, gently pressing a kiss to the Finn's temple. You are the most respected rival I've ever had! Don't go! Please don't go! He stared at the Finn's pale face, his colourless lips and his closed eyes. His expression was calm and serene like that of an angel, but his face was hellish red. Will you ever forgive me?

Michael watched apathetically as the medics pushed him aside to take over from him. He barely listened to the medic scolding him for removing Mika's helmet without stabilizing his neck first. All he could think of was his Mika, suffocating in waves of blood.

Michael was gently but firmly lead away from the scene of the crash, while he barely registered what was going on. They pushed him into a safety car and drove him back to the paddock.

He stared with tears in his eyes at the red flags that were being waved along the track. He sighed and closed his eyes. Why the hell did this happen? How could he ever live with himself?!

When he arrived at the paddock, Michael wiped his forehead and immediately realised that the blood he was smearing all over his skin with the action, was the blood of Mika.

Michael let out a heart wrenching sob and sagged down against a wall. He covered his face in his hands and didn't look up when people put a hand on his shoulder and spoke to him. He didn't dare to look at the tv screens inside the Ferrari garage that broadcasted the actions of the medics. He was in a world of his own. Praying he could reverse time...

[aechii]

₍⁠₍ BOX OF MEMORiES ₎⁠₎

a.k.a good luck charm pt. 2

{read part 1}

PAiRiNG ?! childhoodfriend!kylian x black! femreader

GENRE ?! romance, angst if you have 15/15 vision, fluff (😞)

SYNOPSiS ?! in which kylian and y/n bond over a decade-and-a-half old time capsule that has old feelings reflourishing.

C/W ?! just too sweet sweetness, kylian has ****** **** ** ****, small mention of dismembering (it's not serious at all, i promise), kiss kiss

A/N ?! the part two of 'good luck charm' that was requested many a time 😋 divine romance at its finest, i think i luv this 🖤 anyways, enjoy this kinda long fic :D

TAGLiST ?! @mrs-bellingham

~°~

[y/n] slides an unbranded shoebox into the centre of the carpet. vertices still crisp, crooked and wavering hand doodles tattooed all over cardboard brown, with assorted stickers stuck haphazardly, in no particular order. it very much screamed 10 year old kylian and [y/n], infected with chaos and eagerness to fill any empty space.

"my mum gave this to me over the weekend," [y/n]'s voice is whimsical, "do you remember it?"

kylian scratches his head, contemplative, "not necessarily. though, i can recognise my atrocious handwriting."

[y/n] is chuckling, shuffling closer to kylian and the box, which has currently found purchase in the midst of his palms, "with you on that one. you've never been one to have good writing."

a fact that kylian couldn't deny, so he stays silent, not without emitting a surrendering grunt.

he reads that words written in block bold with black, a failed attempt at times new roman capitals.

"'bondy's golden duo- kylian mbappé & [y/n] [y/l/n]', " he snorts and [y/n] does the same.

"so corny."

"yet who made it?"

kylian is taken aback, mouth slightly agape, "right— okay then."

[y/n]'s laughs seep into the air of the room, bouncing off the walls and sinking into the skin of the man in front of her. leave goosebumps in their wake and kylian has to clench his fists to extinguish the jitter in his stomach.

giggles diminuendo, and she urges him on to open it with a light nudge.

kylian picks at the tape that edges the lid on all its four sides, sticking it to the body. the sound of tearing is swift, ends no sooner than 5 seconds later, and kylian is quick to flip the top off.

the first thing noticed is two pieces of paper, folded twice and inscribed to their respective person.

both adults look at each other, a silent gesture signalling the other to read theirs first. but none seem to want to move.

"come on, [y/n]," a smirk, "ladies first."

she rolls her eyes, complying as she picks the letter with two fingers.

"ah, won't you kill me with your chivalry."

kylian snickers, and she pries the folds open, seeing the first few words that initiate a smile, "we wrote these for each other."

kylian's lips curve into a grin too, "really?"

[y/n] nods, causing kylian to take his, hurriedly opening it as his fingers fumble, "then i definitely can't wait to read this."

"i was probably just spewing shit, i don't even remember, to be honest," [y/n] tries to excuse the impending nonsense past her had written to kylian. yet, it rather makes the man more excited.

"that's why i wanna read it... first."

[y/n] sighs, groaning into her hands, "go ahead, then."

smiling, his lips begin to move as he says what his eyes scan, aloud, " 'dear ky, i don't even know what to write but i see you speeding ahead so i'm pretending i do right now'- do you really hate me that much?"

[y/n] is quick to deny, "no! ky, you know i'm not good with words."

he pushes the use of the nickname into the depths of his mind, somewhere he could reach later to daydream over.

"i know, i know. i'm sorry." his smile portrays otherwise, and [y/n] clicks her tongue.

"just continue reading, kylian."

he does so, uttering his best friend's words through his.

"'i think i'll start this letter by saying how much i love appreciate you. sappy and all, yes, but your smile makes me smile, and your laugh makes me laugh. i don't see us as best friends, but soulmates? i think that's what it's called. anyways, i hope you stay being kylian, whatever that means. continue kicking the BALL and not my LEGS, and kick your way stardom!! i wanna see you on my screen one day. imagine it: kylian mbappé, france's best footballer (not the world's, you can never beat LIONEL MESSI!!). how cool would that be??? anyways, love adore you forever, and see you in 10 years. can't wait to open this with you haha.' "

the silence that follows is not awkward, or filled with embarassment, but instead, holds too much emotion to bear the weight of words. kylian is sure he has read it countless times within the space of deafness, ensuring that every syllable is etched into his subconscious, memorising every word so that he could proclaim them by heart.

"10 years, huh?" a number that had been exceeded by 5 years, numbs [y/n]'s oesophagus as if boiled water trickled down the walls of her throat. it seems as if all their friendship had were fraying ends of broken promises and loosening bonds.

"i'm sorry, [y/n], so so sorry." his tone leaks pained regret, [y/n] hates that.

"and, as i said before, you don't need to be."

kylian doesn't look convinced, avoids the girl's eyes as he stares at the paper for so long that the loops and leaning lines of [y/n]'s writing turns into a swirl of black in his vision.

"but you know it didn't have to be that way, [y/n]. a friendship doesn't have to end just so a career can start."

stays quiet because she truly has nothing to say. knows that if she retorts with a blame on herself, kylian would be more angry than he already is at himself.

"we departed on good terms, didn't we? so i have nothing against you."

"i didn't even know if you were alive, [y/n]!"

leaves a quiet room after, and [y/n] sighs, moving closer to kylian.

"but i did. i knew you were doing what younger you wanted, and as much as it hurt that i wasn't a part of it, you being happy made me happy."

tugs at the loose strings of a pillow that graces her lap, then continues, "you had neymar, achraf, sergio, the whole of the france national team, as your support system-"

"but they aren't you, [y/n]," blinks the burning sensation of accumulating tears away, "i wanted to experience all of this, with you, and i hate myself for pushing you away."

she doesn't like how her heart jolts in her chest, sending a ripple of shivers down her spine. they've only just gotten back into contact, yet her body is replenishing the old feelings she pushed down, because kylian couldn't like her back.

"don't hate you, never did and never will, ky," doesn't know what to say and so urgently tries to fill the air with something, "we've reunited now, so why focus on the past?

her words are final and she goes to reopen her letter. kylian stops her however. remembers what he had written, messily but passionately, and would rather she read it when he wasn't there to bear the humiliation and ache of butterflies.

"open yours later." his smile is shaky, but deems it reassuring enough.

[y/n] is skeptical, and raises and eyebrow, "why? i want to know what you wrote about me."

kylian fiddles with the thread that rings his wrist, "and i want to see what would put in there."

[y/n] says nothing, just gazes at him, but gives in and sighs.

kylian cheers, removing the novelty gift wrap that had covered the contents of the box. the laughs that follow are loud, full of disbelief.

"no way!" [y/n] reaches into the box, and takes out a metal case. the things within in hit against the corners, and she feels the weight of the box tilt to one side as they roll inside.

"i forgot about these!"

kylian is dumbfounded, "marble crash?"

she nods, opening the container. there's only a couple of the glass spheres in there, but that's all needed to complete a heated game. reads the small note stuck beneath the lid, and laughs after. it's obvious that it was written by kylian.

"'demand a rematch when you open this. [y/n] cheated in our last match before we put this in here.'" followed by angry face and a sad one.

"there you go— telling lies."

"lies?! [y/n], you never played a marble crash game fairly, and you know that."

she ponders for a few beats, shrugs her shoulders and dips her hands into the box for the next item.

"a win is a win, kylian."

he side eyes her, expression incredulous.

"unbelievable-"

cut off by a scoff, before a soft object is hurled into his direction. he catches it before it hits his face, and recognises the matted fur and missing space of where an arm should be.

"armless messi ?" smiles as he notices ]y/n]'s disdained look. recalls the memory like it was yesterday, and can't help but feel sorry for the footballer-named teddy bear.

"i'm still angry at you for that, kylian. don't look at me."

he cackles, mouth wide and he falls backwards. [y/n] climbs over to snatch her sentiment back.

"you know i didn't mean to rip his arm off." pants as he attempts to recover. fails, and starts laughing again.

"i will kick you out-"

"okay, okay! i'll stop."

[y/n] stares at the odd, white stitches situated near the bear's right shoulder, traces the abstract lines of string before settling it beside her.

"you're not touching messi ever again."

kylian whines, latching onto his friend's arm, "come on, i'm more responsible now."

[y/n] sarcastically replies, "i believe you."

kylian lets her go, and pulls out two figurines. the girl beside lets out a gasp, and grabs her respective one.

"letting this go was the worst decision of my life," she hugs the kim possible doll as kylian twists the legs of ron stoppable.

"still functioning."

"and why wouldn't it be, kylian— i swear, you have an obsession with dismembering dolls-"

"i do not!"

"yes you do!"

the back and forth continues until they get tired, lips stretched wide and upwards, teeth showcased and glimmering in the dim, warm light of [y/n]'s room.

something distinct, yet minutely incinerating surges through their bones as the sun begins to sink below the horizon and the air loses it energy. doors of locked events in the past fly open with the key of nostalgia and gasping surprise.

from a picture of kylian in a leg cast and [y/n] signing it, to outdated souvenirs from when they both went to portugal with their parents.

a staggering reminder of what they once were, and wish to be.

hours pass like seconds, the box is now only one item empty- another sheet of paper, so much for 'not being able to put things into words'- and steaming mugs of coffee warm their hands.

"are you gonna read it, or should i?" kylian asks [y/n] as she takes a sip. her head juts towards him, and he obeys, ridding the box of its last content. it's only half an a4 sheet, and it's titled '5 questions to answer', which [y/n] laughs at when she's told. decorated with more stickers and weirdly drawn stickmen, courtesy of kylian.

"what's the first one?"

"'how's life like 10 years later? '"

a chuckle, light and forced, leaves [y/n]'s lips, and she shrugs, "i wouldn't be able to remember life 5 years ago, to be honest. i guess i was just studying and living life as it came. you?"

kylian takes time to think, "won the world cup, was on loan at psg. that's pretty much it."

"you say it as if winning the world cup is nothing, kylian!"

"i'm happy about it, but still salty over the last one."

"ah," [y/n] grins, picking up armless messi as she makes him dance in the air, "he's truly the goat, isn't he, messi?"

kylian is quick to disagree, "i may play with him at home, but ronaldo tops him, by far."

"i'll tell him you said that."

"how?" he cocks his head, "and even so, he's already aware."

doesn't give her a chance to reply, reading the next question beneath, "'is [y/n] still taller than kylian?' oh wouldn't past me be glad."

[y/n] huffs, "i'm still supposed to be taller, you just had an odd growth spurt."

"it was bound to happen."

looks at him disdainfully as he snickers, "next one, kylian."

"is kylian famous yet? like as famous as ronaldo?"

"i guess you already speak for yourself," [y/n] says, smiling, "i'm proud of you."

kylian returns the grin, gives the girl a look that forces her to avert her eyes elsewhere, "thank you."

"my pleasure. what's the one after?"

kylian straightens the sheet of paper, "asks if you're a graphic designer now."

[y/n] smiles and nods, "can strongly confirm."

"always been a picasso-" his words make the girl laugh, "-how's that going?"

"stressful at times, but honestly, it's fun. didn't feel pressured into pursuing a career i didn't want so, i'm not gonna lie, i had things easy."

"but that's good, right?"

"of course. never envisioned myself in the stem industry, don't know why."

"you were smart, though. too smart," kylian playful retorts. [y/n] slides out a chuckle, "it was obligated intelligence, not necessarily welcomed, you know."

"something smart people say," he rolls his eyes after, causing y/n to shove him.

"shut up, rich man, and read the last question."

kylian is humoured, shaking his head as he goes on to read the last words on the sheet. his amused expression falls and eyebrows raise as he is reminded of what he had written as the final question.

"oh."

"what is it, ky?"

inhales, then reads the words out loud, "'are we living together as promised? remember, it has to be a large mansion in the heart of paris!' "

[y/n] tries to formulate words, fails at doing so, and leaves the room silent.

as promised.

kylian remembers. frankly speaking, it was the only thing he wanted to remember because it was something that he looked forward to in the future.

then things fucked up, [y/n] had moved away from paris as a whole and kylian tried to fill his apartment with only one presence, but failed everytime.

"it's not too late, is it?"

he doesn't know what he's saying, his mouth moves on its own accord.

"what?" [y/n] sounds winded, feels the stare on her face and turns to look at who's guilty for it. her eyes are everywhere, all over his face, all at once. from his hardened eyes to his pouted, blushed lips.

looks at the kylian mbappé now, and sees the kylian mbappé then. aged, and that's it, but devious childishness still remains.

she doesn't realise that he has moved closer, and can suddenly see the fine lines of his textured skin, and feel his breath tickle her cheeks.

"what are you doing, kylian?" she whispers, can't muster a volume louder than that.

fingers pick at her stray braid, tucking it behind her back, "i don't know... should i stop? i will if you wan-"

"no," she cringes at how desperate she sounds, "it's okay. i want you to."

kylian's thumb traces the dip of her lip, out of breath as her eyes absorb every intake of air from him. [y/n] had always caught his eye, been the only one who had, and kylian knows he would be downright stupid to let her slip through his fingers again.

a ringing phone cuts through the static silence, and they both jolt violently in shock. [y/n] distances herself from him, numb all the way to her fingertips in anxiety, as kylian huffs, digging his pockets for the source of the loud sound.

picks it up, and [y/n] doesn't hear who exactly he's speaking to, but rules them as important when kylian's eyebrows furrow inwards and mumbles a chorus of 'yes's and 'okay's. ends the call just as quick as it started, and sighs, looking apologetic.

"i have to go."

"that's okay," ascends from the floor, and stretches out an arm to help kylian do the same. knows he's too heavy for the girl so he doesn't dump all of his weight on her, using his other arm to push him upwards.

grabs his coat from the hanger by the door, and slides into his shoes, but stops as he remembers something.

"kylian, where are you going?"

"one second, wait," shuffles into the room again, and immediately notices the ron stoppable doll lying on its back on the carpet. smiles, bends to pick it up, then shoves it into his pocket. looks at the room one more time, then closes the door behind him, ambling back to the front door.

"what did you forget?"

"nothing, i thought i had."

she doesn't look convinced but lets it go, opening the door.

"call me when you get home, okay?"

nods and says an 'i will', but remains stood on the doorstep.

he truly has no clue where his confidence surfaces from, but the next second, his lips are flush against [y/n]'s. they're soft, he notices, taste slightly of cherry and it's fucking addicting.

breaks it before he loses himself within it, a small smile upon his face as his mind becomes hazed and dizzy.

[y/n] is still, eyes wide, and the thrumming of her heartbeat upon her skin is... thrilling.

"see you later, [y/n]."

+_-

'dear [y/n],

i think letters are old fashioned and something people in the 17th century do, but for you, i guess i will suck it up and write one anyways.

i hope when you read this, you smile like you always do. have i told you that you look pretty when you smile? i'm only saying it once, and you'll never hear me say it again.

life with you is fun. i don't think i would be alive if God didn't put you with me, so i'm thankful everyday that you're my best friend. i really hope we stay friends forever, and that when i become the world's best footballer of all time (after cristiano ronaldo of course!), i can show off to everybody that you helped me get to the top of the top!!

anyways, this is getting too long and you know i don't write. so, bye bye, and see you in 10 years.

i love you.'

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three (BOBF) - Chapter 4

Chapter Four: In the Name of Honor

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with a slowly discovering lineage. With the child off with the Jedi, the close-knit pair continues their travels through the galaxy.

Word Count: 8.9K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, angst, slight ptsd, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments

------

Returning quickly back to Mos Espa hearing an attack happened on the Sanctuary, reaching the exploded building the sandstone blacken by the explosion. Entering the building you see Boba, Fennec, and the two Mods; Drash and Skad.

“That was fast. Were you able to hire any foot soldiers?” Fennec asks and Din says, “I think so…Cobb Vanth is raising a garrison for us.”

“What price did you negotiate?” Fennec questions waiting for the price but he shakes his head, “Free.”

“Free?” Din nods, “He’s been holding off the spice trade single-handedly. I told him we could shut it down.”

“That’s not free. That’s most of Jabba the Hutt’s business.” Fennec protests with Cobb’s demand.

“That’s what the town wants,” Din replies and Fennec goes to retort but Boba cuts her off.

“I agree to their terms.” Fennec comes over to her boss trying to reason with him, “There’s a lot of credits to be made from that orange powder.”

“In the long run, it is better for us as well. Mos Espa can become a prosperous city under our protection. Spice is killing our people. Let Marshal Vanth and the people of Mos Pelgo…” Boba says.

“Freetown is its name now.” You pipe in and Boba nods, “Let the people of Freetown know they have my word.”

“You can tell Cobb Vanth himself when he arrives here with the reinforcements.” Din says and Boba is only worried he will not, “You are confident he will come?”

“I am.” He vouches and the bounty hunter nods, “Well if he does not, we are doomed. Our skill is no match for the Syndicate numbers. We must buy time until they arrive. We’ll lockdown at the palace.”

“It’s a bad idea.” Skad says and Fennec looks over at the bionic man, “Is that so?” 

“It is.” He says and the assassin leans against a wall looking at the man, “And where do you propose we wait for reinforcements?”

“Here.” He says gesturing to the ruins you were in. “Here? In these ruins? Nonsense. The palace offers greater protection.” Boba says shaking his head and Drash steps forward.

“If you want to abandon Mos Espa and hide in your fortress, go ahead. We’re staying. The people who live here need our protection.” She says that the two young adults' decisions are final. You had to respect it, this was their home and they were fighting for it. Fett is silent looking at them before he nods, “We’ll stay.”

You set up camp in the ruins of the Sanctuary and when dawn arrived the plan was put into action with only Fennec, Boba, Din, yourself, and the majordomo that was apparently their hostage/informant.

“As we wait for the reinforcements to arrive with Cobb Vanth from Freetown, our forces are quietly patrolling the streets of the old city. The Pyke Syndicate has not yet arrived in numbers, but the minute they do, we will see them before they see us. The truce you negotiated with the other families of Mos Espa will ensure that they will remain neutral and allow us to gain the upper hand by surprising the arriving soldiers,” Fennec explains the plan as you sit on a piece of rubble listening in, “The Gamorrean guards are posted in the Klatooinian territory at the starport and will alert us if any of the Pyke Syndicate forces arrive. Krrsantan is in Trandoshan territory, keeping tabs on the streets of the municipality in front of City Hall. Drash and Skad are with the other Mods keeping an eye on the Worker’s District and the Aqualish Quarter. As you can see, all our flanks are covered. Nobody is sneaking up on us. When the people of Freetown arrive, we will have the forces required to pivot our strength to whatever region the Pykes choose to attack from.”

“For now?” You ask resting your hands on your crossed legs and Fennec looks over at you, “We wait.”

“Lord Fett?” Boba’s 8D8 droid enters the sanctuary, “There is someone here to see you.” You all stand up surprised someone had arrived at your positions.

“I thought you said nobody could sneak up on us.” Boba says to Fennec as you all draw your weapons and Din puts you behind him as the three of you hid outside behind the pillars while Boba steps out into the open and you hear him speak, “I thought I smelled something. If you’re looking for a job, you’re late.”

“I’ve already got a job. I’m here to negotiate on behalf of the Pyke Syndicate.” A gravelly but distinctive voice calls out and Boba scoffs, “I don’t negotiate with gutless murderers.”

“If that’s not the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy.” The man retorts for the hypocrisy from Boba. “Clear out. And tell your bosses we know they’re outnumbered.” Boba warns him and you hear the man chuckle and you tighten your grip on your blaster.

“I wouldn’t be counting on the people of Freetown to be coming anytime soon. I paid Marshal Vanth a visit. You should’ve never left him without his armor,” The air is silent as your blaster falls from your hands. No, you just saw him he couldn’t be. The guilt that crashed into you made you physically ill, no he was still there and safe. Cobb was…

“Without training, you are a danger to yourself and others. People will die because of your actions if you continue down this path.”

“You bastard!” Your body reacts running past Din and you get right around to see the man with blue skin and completely red eyes. His hand moves to the blaster on his waist and Boba grasps his own. Hands snatch your shoulders and you’re pulled behind the pillar as Din’s hand covers your mouth muffling your screams that turn to cries his other wrapped around your waist to stop you from running. Fennec has her rifle aimed out to cover you both as Din tries calming your breakdown.

“Shush you’re alright. You have to be quiet.” He whispers in your ear as he holds your back against his chest as you flail in his grasp as your tears and cries are quieted by his hand. His heart breaks hearing your cries it was cruel you had just seen the man who had helped raise you only to find out he was killed in cold blood.

“Before you get any ideas, I’ve got backshooters too. Let the spice move through Mos Espa, and all this can be avoided.” The man calls out as your struggle stops as you slump back to Din’s body tears streaming down your face.

“No.” Boba says and Bane looks at him his hands resting on his waist, “What do you propose then?”

“I will only negotiate with the head of the Pyke Syndicate.” Boba says and Bane grins ready for the killing blow, “You mean the one that massacred your Tusken family and blamed it on a speed bike gang?” Boba is frozen by the memories of the ones that taught him the ways of Tusken, he had thought it was the speed bike gang.. “You know it’s true.”

Boba’s hand moves his finger resting on the trigger and Fennec appears from behind the pillar her rifle ready as she calls out to him, “Boba.”

“Let’s do this right here, right now.” Bane taunts him as anger runs through his veins. He could do it right now.

“Not now. You pick when.” Fennec reminds him but he shakes his head, “He killed Vanth. The reinforcements aren’t coming.”

“We fight on our terms, not theirs.” She says trying to convince him but anger had taken over him as they were clearly at the disadvantage, the Mandalorian behind the pillar was busy calming the grieving girl and he was blinded by the idea of killing Bane.

“I can take him.” He says his voice rough, “You’re emotional.”

“I can take him.” He grits out and Fennec moves to stand right beside him.

“We need to adjust. You’ll have your moment.” She reminds him. Understanding where he was coming from but it wasn’t the time. The anger clears his vision just enough to listen to her reasoning and his finger leaves the trigger.

“Tell your client negotiations are terminated.” He says turning and Bane calls out to him making him look back. “You’re going soft in your old age.”

Looking at the other bounty hunter the man that knew his father that knew him before he responds, “We all do.”

You’re pulled inside the sanctuary Boba and Fennec following afterward as the majordomo starts speaking, “That was an impressive display of restraint. Exemplary stratagem. If I may be so bold as to offer additional counsel-”

“I wonder how much he would pay for the Twi’lek.” Boba says and that shuts him up, “Understood. Many pardons. I should never have interjected.”

You shove Din off you moving towards the back of the room the guilt and sorrow in your chest turn into something ugly. It was burning in your veins the anger you had felt on that cruiser, the rage that fueled your body. Your knees hit the floor and your hand grabs the saber resting on your belt. The small pearl resting inside the kyber crystal chamber is the first gift you’ve ever got from him. He raised you…protected you..and he was gone. You clutch the blade to your chest mourning over the loss of the man you once saw as a father. Those ugly thoughts whisper in your ears, he would be alive if you were there to protect him, you got him involved with the Pykes and now he’s dead, Freetown blames you for his death, you killed their Marshal…their protector. The fear and anger bleed through your body unaware of it seeping into the weapon in your hands.

Din looks over at where you sit on the ground staring off completely shutting out the world. Your droid stands beside you but you don’t even notice it. He didn’t know what to say or do, he wasn’t good at going through loss. He moved on when someone died having connections was not safe for a man who is constantly put in danger. But you were just a child…you wore your heart on your sleeve and he was forced to watch you lose yourself with the man’s death.

Boba and Fennec are silent, the other man going through his own form of mourning with the truth of the Tuskens’ death. Silence fills the destroyed sanctuary before Drash’s voice comes in through the comms, “Come in, boss. Come in. Something feels strange over here.”

“Have the Pykes arrived?” Boba asks, “Not yet, but something feels off.” The woman responds and suddenly there’s blaster fire

“The locals are attacking! I thought we had a treaty.” Drash shouts over blaster fire and Boba frowns at the news,

“So did I.”

“They laid a trap!” Drash yells out before the comms go mute as Boba yells trying to get in touch with the Wookie, “Santo! Santo, come in!”

“It’s a coordinated attack. We’ll have to gather our people.” Boba says looking at Fennec and Din who listens in keeping an eye though on the girl in the back.

“There’s no way to overcome their advantage. We need to take out command and control.” Fennec shakes her head and Boba curses.

“Does the Pyke Syndicate still operate out of Mos Eisley?” Boba asks Shaiz’ majordomo who tries not to reveal the full information.

“Oh, it’s difficult to say for certain that…” Three blasters are pointed at him and he corrects himself, “Mos Eisley? Yes, now that I think of it, indeed they do. More specifically, the Desert Survey Office.”

Boba turns to the assassin, “Can you do that? Can you get there in time?” She shrugs, “Worth a shot.” She quickly departs taking a speeder and zooming through the streets.

“They’re here,” Din calls out and Boba joins him looking through the broken window as the Syndicate forces begin to move in surrounding the whole front of the building.

“It was just a matter of time. Is Cad Bane with them?” He asks trying to spot him but Din shakes his head, “Don’t see him. Any news on the others?”

Boba looks defeated, “Would be a miracle if any survived. All three gotras of Mos Espa turned on us.” He says and Din nods,

“It was the smart move.”

“It was. I suppose you’ll be heading out.” Boba asks seeing the very imminent failure.

“I’m not.” He refuses but Boba gives him the chance, “You should.”

“It’s against the Creed. I gave you my word. I’m with you until we both fall.” Din says and Boba looks at him, “You really buy into that bantha fodder?” He asks and the Mandalorian nods

“I do.” Fett chuckles checking the cartridge of his blaster, “Good.”

“The way I see it, we have two choices. We wait until they get into position and launch a siege on their terms.” Din says and Fett looks at him, “Or?”

“We rush out there, catch them unaware,” Din gives a quick but shoddy plan, “Then we can escape to your ship at the palace.” Fett shakes his head hearing the end of the plan.

“I can’t abandon Mos Espa. These people are counting on me.” He explains and Din nods pulling out his blaster, “Okay, then. We’ll both die in the name of honor.”

“You sure you wanna stay?” He says he was giving him the chance to leave, especially with the girl he was protective of.

“This is the way.”

“If I may offer an alternative?” The majordomo cuts in and the two bounty hunters look at him silently, “Shall I continue?...I’ll continue. You may not know this about me, in fact, how could you, except perhaps what vestiges remain of my accent, but… I was educated on Coruscant. Not that that makes me better in any way.”

“Get to it.” Fett cuts him off and he nods sharply getting back on track,

“Yeah, uh… I attended finishing academy. My parents were not wealthy by any means. I specialized in Civic Council Negotiations. Now, if you would feel confident empowering me to negotiate on your behalf, I’m fairly certain we would be granted passage off world with, at worst, some theatrical, symbolic, groveling gestures and an exchange of funds.”

Fett is silent before nodding, “Very well. Give me your tablet. I will write out my statement and what I am willing to pay.” Taking the majordomo’s tablet and starts writing as he smiles, “I shall go as your emissary. I have no compunction whatsoever genuflecting or even groveling if needs be, which would save you from any potential bruising of ego, so to speak.”

Fett returns the table before gesturing outside, “Now go before I change my mind.”

“Yes. Excellent.”

Din looks over to where his adopted daughter rests panic runs through his veins finding you and your droid missing. “Kid?!” He shouts but it’s too late to try finding you as their plan was already in action

“Salutations! Salutations! I am unarmed but for this tablet bearing the terms of surrender. I wish to present to whomever spokesperson is empowered to deliberate an acceptable outcome in the eyes of the Oba Diah high council.” The majordomo calls out with open arms to the armed men outside the Sanctuary. The commander of the group steps forward looking at him,

“Read it to me, tail-head.” He spats and the majordomo points to his head laughing at the joke, “Oh, because of the enchanting sobriquet, and one of which I never tire. Yes. Someday I hope to see the fabled Obsidian Cliffs of Oba Diah with my own eyes.”

“Read it.”

“Agreed. Let us dispense with the pleasantries,” Clearing his throat he looks at the written surrender, “I, Boba Fett, speaking as Daimyo of the Tatooine territories formerly held by Jabba the Hutt, do present the following offer,” His voice trails off having read ahead quickly growing silent, “Perhaps we should discuss what you’d be willing to…”

“Read it.” The man repeats growing tired.

“…following offer. Nothing. Uh…You will leave this planet and your spice trade. If you refuse these terms…,” Clearing his throat fear taking over his body as he’s forced to keep reading, “…the arid sands of Tatooine will once again flourish with flowered fields fertilized with the bodies of your dead.”

The Pyke commander lifts his blaster at the majordomo as he holds his hands up, “His words.”

Before the majordomo can be executed, Fett and Din soar in on their jetpacks gunning down the Syndicate soldiers. Though they are fired back the beskar armor protects them and with their weapons and the surprise strike the two are able to take down many of the Syndicate soldiers on their own. Firing his whistling birds Din takes down several Pykes and Boba sends an attack with his flamethrower. Bolts hit the two of them striking them back as they grow too much as they are knocking them down.

“They just keep coming.” Boba groans firing at as many soldiers as he cans but when one falls down another appears.

A few soldiers draw closer to the two of them as they try taking them down when they suddenly are pulled into the air dropping their blasters and clutching their throats. The soldiers and the two bounty hunters look around for who was doing this when a loud crack fills the air as their necks all snap in sync their bodies hitting the ground.

A screech fills the air and they all look over as fear strikes through them, even the bounty hunters seeing their ally. Din felt his throat close up and he was back on the cruiser, frozen watching you beat the life out of Moff Gideon. The rage in your eyes as your fist pounded caving in the man’s face the blood coating your body. What frightened him was seeing the weapon in your hand but it crackled in the air the plasma blade wild and chaotic reflecting your emotions. It was the color no longer orange but a blood red, a color all knew that referred to the opposite of the Jedi.

The color of the Sith.

“Is that a Jedi?” One of the Syndicate soldiers calls out the confusion in their tone. Unsure if the red-lightsaber wielder was their enemy or their ally. A snap fills the air as their neck turns a full 180 and they drop dead. You drop your hand the other clutching the saber your anger and hate bleeding into the weapon as it grows more powerful but also more unstable.

“Where is Cad Bane.” You growl out as blaster fire aims right at you. Dodging or reflecting the bullets back at them as they try to fight back but your rage is flooding through your veins. The blood pumping in your ears as you decapitate a soldier turning the blade around to stab another that tries to get the jump on you from behind. Din and Fett watch in awe but also in slight horror as your fluid movement with the weapon massacres their enemies. You arch the blade up slamming it down on one as they are split in half. The shades and hues of different blood coat your hands and parts of your body.

Grabbing one by the neck after cutting his hands off you pull him into the air, “Where. Is. Cad Bane.” You hiss as he screams in pain and you dig your saber deep into his chest silencing him.

The roar of a speeder and blaster fire comes from behind unaware reinforcements arrive. “The people of Freetown,” Boba calls out firing out as they move towards the armorer vehicle filled with people firing at the Pykes. Din wants to pull you away from the fight as you are in the middle of it but is unable to move beside the speeder seeing Taanti,

“I’m sorry about the Marshal.” Din gives his condolences as the Weequay fires out at the soldiers,

“They gunned him down in cold blood.” He hisses and Din feels his heartbreak trying to think about how you were feeling.

“You didn’t have to come here.” He says and Taanti shakes his head, “Yes, we did. This planet deserves better. I don’t know how she’s dealing with it.” And they two see you slash your blade through another man not getting a second to breathe as you block blaster fire to kill another man. This is what he feared, he had seen your old self start to come back but it was crushed so quickly. The bloodlust and anger in your eyes, when the punches stopped being held back the attack not to defend yourself but to make them hurt. For them to feel the suffering that you felt. Blood soaked the sands as you tear through their defenses, but it was the moment he saw you hesitate to take in much-needed air he saw you go down.

“Kid!” Din yells running straight into the chaos, as the others give him cover, and the arrival of the mods pulled the soldiers' focus away from you. He sees your hand grabbing your leg your saber held in the other, you swing at him still blinded but he’s able to block it with the beskar. Your arm drops seeing it’s Din as he pulls you up to stand trying to take most of your weight off pulling you to safety and your free hand blocks blaster fire with your saber. Once around the safety of the Freetown armored speeder, your back is against the speeder as Din kneels in front of you. Your thigh was bleeding from a bolt striking you there, he rips part of your cloak and ties it above the wound to stop you from bleeding out. You go to move but Din pushes you back down the fighting still going on around you.

“I have to get Cad! I have to kill him! For Cobb-” “You’re done!” Din yells pushing you back down as you try to get back up again. Your gaze is fierce as you stare down Din and he holds you against the speeder. “You’re done, kid…” He says his voice weak.

“They’re falling back!” Someone yells out and you struggle to stand as Din helps you up an arm around your waist to keep you up. You could see the Pykes retreating away as the people around you cheer and celebrate.

“Freetown!” “Yeah!”

“I wouldn’t celebrate yet. We got problems,” Din says as you see coming around the corner two very large spider-like droids, “We got real problems.”

Blasters and even Fett’s missiles are useless with their powerful deflector shields as they turn and take aim at the vehicle. “Run! We’ll distract them.” Din helps you run away as the attack hits the speeder and it explodes in a ball of fire. The people of Freetown, the Mods, and Krrsantan start to flee down the streets of Mos Espa as the three of you stay back.

“Go get out of here!” Din yells and you shake your head pulling out your saber the red blade appearing with a crackle and roar,

“I’m not leaving you!” You shout back quickly dodging a bolt from hitting you as it collides. Rolling as the sand kicks up in the air from the powerful attack you hiss in pain looking at your leg and seeing the blood soaking through your pant leg. Din and Boba attack the droids their blasters making no dent and Din pulls out the Darksaber trying to pierce through their shields but it doesn’t go through.

“I can’t get through.” Din yells out as you keep moving backward avoiding the droids' attacks, “These two will destroy the whole city!” Fett shouts and Din tackles you when another attack is aimed at you. He helps you up as you keep running well yours is a half-sprint half-hobble

“Our energy weapons can’t get through, and our kinetic weapons have too much velocity,” Din says

“Can you protect the others?” Fett asks and Din nods, “I can distract them for a spell. Why?”

“Watch out!” Fett yells as you both dodge a bolt heading to the two of you, you grunt from the strain in your leg.

“We need reinforcements.” You wheeze out your arm wrapped around Din’s shoulder the other holding your saber.

“From where? You’ve run out of friends.” Din says aiming the comment at Fett.

“Protect the others.” He says before blasting off into the air leaving the two of you against the giant droids. Din fires at them and is able to get the attention of one as you both take off in the streets. You’re pulled forward by Din a clear trail of blood following behind you both as the droid fires upon you. Turning the corner you see a cart driven by a rickshaw droid heading toward you and a woman waving at the two of you.

“Mando! Ha! We found you! I got a surprise for you.” Peli calls out to you two as Din waves his hand forward,

“Turn around!” He yells over the sound of the droid getting closer and how far away you were. “What?”

“Turn around!” “Can’t hear you!”

“Turn around!” You both scream as the droid turns around the corner and Peli screams out as the cart quickly turns around. Din with the help of Peli helps you onto the back as he jumps on as well as the droid drives down the street.

“Can this thing go any faster? Go faster, you bucket of bolts!” Peli yells at the rickshaw droid as it speeds up and you have to clutch onto the back of the seat to hold on. Din fires back at the Scorpenek as it chases after you all, his focus was torn in two defeating the droid and making sure you were okay. Your hand was a death grip on the back of the seat the other deflected bolts from the droid. You were bloody and sickly-looking he could see your blood staining your pants from your injury.

“Hey, Mando! Look who’s here.” Peli calls out and you both look as she pulls a blanket off revealing the child you both look away only to whip back in shock.

“What? Hey, what are you doing here?” Din leans forward looking at Grogu in shock, “Buddy? How..” The small child jumps into Din’s arms and he pulls him into a hug,

“Oh! Okay, little guy. I’m happy to see you too. I didn’t know when I’d see you again. It’s okay. Yeah. I missed you too, buddy,” Din chuckles at the coo Grogu releases and you smile stroking his ears and he giggles, “But, uh… we’re in a bit of a bind here right now. You be careful. You keep your head down. You stay hidden until the fight’s over. Hey, that’s the shirt. You got the shirt.” He brings Grogu back to his seat and peeks inside his cloak spotting the beskar shirt hidden underneath.

“Save your tender moment. We’ve got a Scorpenek droid chasing us.” Peli shouts out as she fires her blaster past you.

“What is he doing here?” You ask and Peli shrugs, “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

The Scorpenek droid fires at you missing you all but it manages to shoot off the head of the rickshaw droid. It shakes before exploding as the cart flips from the momentum as you all are sent into the air. You see Din grab Grogu right as you crash into the ground groaning in pain as you turn to see the Scorpenek droid right upon you as you deflect its blaster fire. You come to stand but fall back down your hand presses against your thigh pulling back and seeing it stained red. Din yells out to you as the droid aims right at you but before it could fire a terrifying roar that makes you cover your ears distracted. Looking up seeing a rancor jump over several buildings dodging the fire from the droid. You’ve only heard the stories of the creatures hearing the legend that Jabba the Hutt had a rancor and those that disobeyed him would be fed to it.

The rancor appears before you and you see Boba Fett on top riding the beast as it manages to damage its shielding. You see Din appear behind the droid and use the darksaber to break inside the deflector shields. Climbing on top of the droid as it tries shaking him off and he slices off one of the gun turrets but is knocked off. It raises its leg to crush Din when you throw your saber it spins cutting off the leg and it returns back into your hand. The droid collapse gave Fett’s rancor time to finish tearing it apart and destroying the tech. Din grabs you pulling you into his arms as he embraces you and the child. His breath is shaky as he holds the two of you feeling like a part of him is whole again. He wasn’t sure how the child had gotten here but was thankful for the higher beings out there.

The attack of the second Scorpenek droid ends the touching moment as Din stands helping you up holding Grogu in his arms, “Keep ’em on their heels. They’re on the run.”

“Come on, let’s get the Pykes.” You say moving forward your saber ready as you join the battle against the remaining Pyke soldiers and the final droid. The rancor beats the droid into buildings and it fires at it but its hide absorbs the attack. It rips apart the turrets stopping the droid from firing it tries stabbing the rancor with its legs but the creature destroys it. With a roar, it destroys the droid before going after Pykes. You deflect blaster bolts from hitting you or your allies as you shove your hand out and it shoves back a few Pykes into stands of fruits or walls. A fresh breath of air fills your body and you sense the presence. Your head turns off in a direction and the anger that had been left distracted by others had felt it too. You could do it. Get your revenge..for Cobb. Your saber drops slightly as the blaster fire flies past you, you can reach out tapping into the force that surrounds you. Feeling the grains of sand, the smell of the blasters, the drip of sweat mixed with blood falling from your body, the muffled sounds of gunfire and shouting.

Then you find him as the world around you returns and you stare at his presence.

“Bane…”

Cad Bane fights against the Rancor firing his blaster at it before he scares it off from the fire in his vambraces. The creature roars throwing Fett off his back and flees into the streets of Mos Espa. Fett rises staring at the other bounty hunter across the street just the two of them.

“Clear out and take your hoodlum gang with you,” Fett calls out to the man.

“I’ve known you a long time, Boba. One thing I can’t figure. What’s your angle?” He admits and Fett shakes his head, “This is my city. These are my people. I will not abandon them.”

“Like the Tuskens.” Bane tries to goad Fett but he remains firm and doesn’t let the anger take over, “Don’t toy with me. I’m not a little boy any longer, and you are an old man.”

“I’m still faster than you.” Bane retorts.

“That may be, but I have armor.” He agrees but he had the advantage of the beskar armor that protected him.

“Let’s find out.”

The two stand still before whipping out their blaster, Bane hits Fett knocking him down his blaster flying from his hand. Looking down at him Bane stalks toward him, “Now’s about the time you jet off to your bacta tank.”

“This is my city!” Fett yells sitting up flames emitting from his vambraces as Bane dodges rolling out of the way and firing at him again knocking him back down.

“You gave it a shot. You tried to go straight. But you’ve got your father’s blood pumping through your veins. You’re a killer.” Kicking him back away from his weapon, Bane kicks his weapon away, “This isn’t the first time I beat you out on a job.” He slams his foot onto Fett’s wrist as he groans in pain pinning him down to his knee and digging into his chest as he shoves the blaster between the gaps of armor.

“There’s no shame in it,” Bane says ripping the helmet off Boba revealing his face as he glares at the man. Rising to stand still pinned he slowly raises his blaster, “Consider this my final lesson. Look out for yourself. Anything else is weakness.”

“Bane!” A voice calls out and the bounty hunt looks forward and Boba looks upside down trying to see who it was. On the end of the street is a girl covered in blood though not her own. She stands tall though Bane notices the weight she shifts off the injured leg. “You and I have business.” Your hand pulls the saber off your belt a screech fills the air as the red blade appears and you see Bane grin.

“A jedi?” He says and you raise it pointing it at him,

“You’re going to die for what you did.” You spat and he laughs only making you tighten your grip on the weapon.

“I think you’ve wandered off little lady..best get back to your Mandalorian.” He says and your glare is piercing.

“I’m exactly where I need to be.” You hiss and Bane steps away from Fett not before delivering a swift kick to his side making him groan.

“You know I’ve met your grandfather before,” Bane calls out and you bring your other hand to stabilize your grip on the saber, “I know who you are, you look just like Kenobi…but your anger is just like Skywalker.” He hisses the names to remember his enemies during the time of the Clone Wars.

“The Marshal died a painful death because of me…his screams filled Freetown.” He says and your vision goes red. You race towards him as he fires at you though you deflect them sending them back to him. Throwing your saber it spins toward him but he dodges the attack sending flames your way. Rolling underneath the attack grabbing your saber mid-air a beam of plasma clips your hair the loudness causing a ringing in your ear. Closing the distance you raise your saber to strike him down when he kicks you in the stomach you fall back and he fires right at your saber hitting the open chamber of the saber.

The plasma completely destroys the saber as the power cells become unstable and explode. You’re thrown back hitting the ground the wind ripped from your lungs as the destroyed saber rest before you. You were certain you blacked out when you hit the ground, your ears ringing as you gasp for air. Scratches from the shrapnel of the hilt decorate your face and hands. Shakily trying to push yourself up a kick to your face and you spit out blood before a foot digs into your chest pinning you back into the sand, Bane stands above you and you see the blaster raised and aimed at you when he’s attacked by Boba Fett. You force yourself to roll to your side pushing yourself up on shaky hands and catching Fett impale Bane with his gaderffii stick. 

Blood pours from your face and nose as you drag yourself and rest on the sands the destroyed saber and the crystal shattered in pieces. Tears and blood blind you as your fingers shake trying to collect the pieces of the krayt pearl until the fragments rest in your palms. The gift you treasured for years, using it for your saber, destroyed by you…by your anger. Your head drops as you cry over the broken weapon mourning over losing one of the only things you could call yours.

Following the battle, Din realized you went missing before he received a call through his comm from Boba, that he had you. Arriving with Grogu in his arms and Peli and the others they found Boba Fett standing over the body of Cad Bane a grim look on his face. Din’s focus was instantly drawn to the girl keeled over in the sands. Rushing to her his movements slow down hearing the cries come from the girl and coming around to face her sees the destroyed saber resting in front of her as you clutch something in your hands to your chest. Slowly kneeling down and placing the child down beside his hands hover out in front of him.

“Kid..” He whispers making you look at him and his heart cracks. Cuts litter your face as blood a now steady trickle from your nose and your mouth. Your eyes were red fresh tears wet your waterline and lashes. Your bloody hands pull away from your chest opening it up and revealing the shattered pearl, “Oh kid..” He pulls you into his chest as you crumble crying into his chest. Din holds your head to him the other stroking your back.

“It’s…it’s my fault…I would get people hurt,” Your voice hoarse as he tries wiping the blood from your face, “People were…going to die…because of me.”

“No..no none of this is your fault okay…it’s not your fault cyar’ika.” He says holding your face between his hands as tears fill your vision.

“Din..” You fall back into his chest as he holds you to him. The small child looks on with a sad expression before coming between you two and you pull back as it brings his small hand over yours. His fingers barely cover a single finger and he closes his eyes focusing. You can feel the immense force coming off him as he pulls back then looks up at you and you understand the look in his wide eyes. You look at your hand at the pieces of the pearl it was dull lacking its shine and hue.

Closing your eyes you squeeze the portions of the pearl tightly in your fist pouring all your energy into it, turning the fear and anger that first harmed the crystal into love and peace. Thinking of all your positive memories, being on the Razor Crest with the child and Din, on Sorgan seeing trees and so much green for the first time, reuniting the Frog family with its children, coming home to Tatooine, and seeing Cobb. The memories you had with him, your first time meeting, he teaches you how to defend yourself, the times he took care of you when you were sick or soothed your fears when you had a nightmare, his horrid jokes as you worked on your speeder together, your fifteen birthday and actually celebrating it since your parents died, him gifting you the Krayt Pearl. Tears of sadness as the memories of Cobb fuel you to heal the crystal. Din watches you focus your eyes closed as you clutch the destroyed pearl between your hands. A weight is lifted off your shoulders and you open your eyes slowly opening your palm tears spring from your eyes seeing the intact crystal as it shimmers in the light. You look at the pearl a wide grin covers your features as he looks at the item resting in your hands. He would always remain amazed by the things you or the child could do just earlier seeing Grogu put the fierce rancor to sleep. You smile looking up at Din when all the energy in your body is drained as your vision goes black. Din was able to catch you the second your eyes rolled back, he panicked for a second seeing you collapse in front of him bringing his fingers to your pulse sighing in relief feeling your heartbeat. The pearl barely rests in your unconscious hands, the act of healing must have drained all your energy just like it had for the child who looks at the two of you.

“Come on kid,” Din says to Grogu as he grabs the pearl and the remaining pieces of your saber putting it in his satchel, his own gift still with him. Scooping you up into his arms he holds your unconscious body looking down at the small child beside his feet and then at the one in his arms. He felt at peace knowing the two of you were back with him, he would protect you two and make sure you never shed a single tear again. He swears on it.

You felt weightless a calming sensation surrounds you but the urge to wake up draws you away from the dreamless sleep you are in. Your eyes blink open and you notice you submerge in some cold liquid and a breathing device is in your mouth. Taking in a breath of air from the device as you try thinking back on how you got to hear everything in a blur. Suddenly the liquid drains as the capsule opens and you sit up pulling the apparatus from your mouth and taking in a shaky inhale suddenly aware you were soaking wet only in the new pair of clothes as they stick to your skin.

“Princess Kenobi-Kryze you are awake, your bacta session has fully healed your wounds.” A protocol droid rolls in as it hands you a robe that you quickly wrap around yourself. Being the cold water now out in the air your body shakes slightly as you try to warm yourself up. “I will notify Lord Fett and your party that you have awoken.” The droid doesn’t give you much time to answer especially the title as you sit there looking around the room, it was pretty empty besides the bacta tank and some other items which you assumed were Fett’s. You bring your hand to your face not feeling any cuts or scaring on your face. Looking at your leg pulling up the pants to see your thigh. Your fingers run along the smooth skin, the blaster wound not even leaving a mark

“Kid.” You turn seeing Din standing in the doorway the small green infant in his arms. He crosses the room before you’re even out of the machine his free arm wrapping around your head and pressing you to his chest. You can feel the shaky exhale he releases as he holds you to him Grogu grabs a finger with his small hands and you smile stroking his ears. He pulls back looking over you not a single scratch was left, the bacta completely healing your injuries.

“Come on kid, they're gonna need this tank.” He helps you to stand as he keeps a hand on your shoulder. You don’t get to ask when Drash and Skad bring in a man and the air leaves your system as they move past you quickly to place him inside.

“Cobb..” You whisper looking at the man as he’s placed inside the tank and they quickly close it up, it filling with bacta. “But they said…”

“He was able to get some help but the bacta will quicken the process,” Drash says as she looks at the man with understanding in her eyes and it hits you.

“You modified him..” Drash nods as you pull from Din’s arms stepping towards the tank and seeing the man resting peacefully in the healing bacta. Your hands rest against the glass wishing he could reach out and take yours. Resting your forehead against the tank whispering into it, “Please be alright.”

“Come on kid..” Din calls out as you stand up swiping the stray tear that threatens to fall and you pull returning to the Mandalorian as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Let’s get you dressed.” He says leading you like a child to another room as the droid comes over your clothes in its arms. Thanking the droid you head behind the privacy screen getting dressed grateful to be back in your clothes. Your fingers run along the clean fabric as you pull your pants up your legs surprised to see the sewing put in to fix your pants.

Returning around the screen Din still waiting there with the child in his arms as you holster your blaster and knife. It was like instinct to grab your belt to fix your saber but your hand comes empty. The pain from losing your saber is too fresh as a frown takes over your features.

“Hey kid,” Din calls out and you look at the man trying to hide the sad look on your face to no avail. He waves his hand for you to follow him. Leaving the tower as you move through Boba Fett’s palace until you reach the throne room and laying in the middle as a rug and a singular item wrapped in a cloth tied with a cord.

“What is this?” You look at the man as he leads you toward the rug placing the child down as it moves to the cloth sitting across from it.

“A gift.” He says taking you by the shoulders to make you sit on the rug in front of the object wrapped in cloth. Din moves back standing to the side and you look up at him as he gestures to you and then to the cloth, “Go on.” You give him a suspicious look before turning to the cloth and glancing at the child who is also looking in interest. Undoing the cord with care and putting it to the side you slowly undo the cloth, your breath gets caught in your throat when you see the item. The saber is in perfect recreation as it rests in separate pieces including the inner works. The only difference that you did notice was the metal of the hilts it had a slight marbling effect something you’ve never seen before. Grabbing a part of the hilt the cold metal presses against your skin, and you feel the weight of it but it was light at the same time.

“Is this beskar?” You look at Din as he nods at the shocked expression on your face. “But I thought beskar wasn’t meant to be weapons.” You ask as he moves towards you crouching down.

“It’s not, it’s technically considered taboo to Mandalorians, but like the child, you deserved armor as foundlings,” He points at the hilt resting in your hand, “This is your armor. To protect you as a Jedi…and a Mandalorian.” Din reaches into his satchel pulling out the krayt pearl and you perk up as he passes it to you and you accept it with such delicacy. The intact pearl shimmers in the light and has a faint warm glow that is brighter in the healed cracks. You look at the disassembled saber and the crystal in your palm slowly placing it back down onto the cloth as Din steps back. Taking a deep breath feeling your heartbeat loud and strong as it slows down with your breathing. Your hands rest on your knees as your palms face upward as your drift shut. Focusing on your breathing as the doors open as the Force rushes over you wrapping around your body like a blanket. It’s comforting and welcoming like an embrace protecting you as the small objects shake gently and then rise into the air. You can feel the sunlight through the sandstone, the texture of the handmade rug underneath you, hear the inhales from the child in front of you and the modulated breathes from the Mandalorian, tasting the crisp air, and the smell of fresh linens that wraps your body.

Din watches in amazement as the pieces of the weapon move throughout the air stopping in their desired places and the weapon forms before him. Working outwards on both ends towards the middle, the power cells are covered through wiring and the beskar hilt. The weapon of the Jedi imbue with the Force as it comes towards the middle the final piece of the puzzle being the krayt pearl is it slots itself in the open chamber but protected by the metal of his ancestors.

You open your eyes as the weapon rests before you. Reaching out towards it you feel the sudden weight of the beskar but in your hands, it lightens in your grasp. Your eyes trace the details of the saber as your finger rest on the button and you activate it. A screech fills the air as the plasma emits from the hilt. A gorgeous orange like the sunset on Tatooine bathes you in the color light. The healed crystal purifies it of the color of the Sith.

The blade retreats back into the hilt and you look at the saber resting in your hand but also the weapon on his belt, the whispers faintly coming from it calling you. Din follows your gaze seeing the Darksaber resting on his hilt before he pulls it off his belt holding it out to you. “I am not the owner of this weapon thus it should not be in my possession.” He explains that you froze it was fear that stopped you. The weapon that had cut through your flesh, in the possession of the man that slaughtered your people, was yours by right, your claim to the blade but also to the throne of a destroyed planet. But while no throne rests or no armor of your ancestors adorns your skin this weapon was yours to lead and rule the hidden Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy.

“Ibic cuyir te ara.” The whisper of the voice as a hand is ghost-like on your shoulder, and you feel the presence of the person before it fades as you take the weapon in your grasp feeling the weight of it as you attach it to your belt beside your saber. You felt the conflict in yourself as you hold the weapon meant for true rulers not orphans from Tatooine. Din could see the fear in yourself with this weapon and the responsibility it means to yourself. You look up at Din who is looking at you though you can’t tell what his expression is underneath the beskar.

“You can stay here, with Cobb have a home here on Tatooine. I won’t stop you.” Din says the fear of seeing you hurt again is too great for him to deal with. If he knew you were here and safe he could deal with his exile without fear. You look away to the child holding onto your pant leg. Bending down pulling the child into your arms you step forward and Din holds his breath ready for you to agree and leave his life. Your hand reaches out grabbing his holding onto the leather glove as his finger wraps around yours instinctively his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“I’m not leaving you,” You say looking at the man you see as a father figure, the man who protects and loves you, the man who would tear a part of the galaxy to see you safe with him, your buir, “I’ll follow you anywhere you go.” You promise him as he looks down at you.

He was at a loss for words, the girl he had originally meant to be a quarry, their relationship rocky and hesitant, but with time you had slowly broken down his walls and created a space in his heart, he would do anything to see you smile or to hear your laughter, put down his own life to make sure you and the child were safe, to allow you to be a kid…his kid, his ad. Din looks down at you before nodding,

“Okay.”

Din prepares the N-1 with the coordinates of the planet they were meant to travel sending the navigation to link with your X-Wing. From behind him, Grogu taps the dome with the small ball from the Razor Crest in his hands.

“No.”

A series of more taps as Din speaks again to the child in the pod seat built into the N-1.

“Uh-uh.”

More taps follow as Din grows more annoyed by the persistence of the child.

“No.”

A chuckle follows his comms as he looks over seeing you in your X-Wing watching the display, “Come on he’s not gonna stop until you do it.” You say as the child bangs on the glass more frantically. R4 produces his own response as you make a sound of agreement.

“Don’t need the opinion of the droid here.”

More banging comes from the glass making Din glance back at the child.

“All right. But this is the last time.” He says flipping the switch you watch the ship accelerate rapidly and you hear Gorgu’s squeals from the comms as it jumps to lightspeed. R4 beeps at you as you chuckle adjusting your grip on the joystick and punching in the coordinates,

“I know R4,”

Flipping the switch as the 5th engine roars ready and your finger hovers over the button to release the energy and jumps to hyperspace. To explore the galaxy as one adventure ends and another begins,

“This is where the fun begins.”

A/N: There is Clan of Three: Book of Boba Fett! Another part of this fantastic series is done! You are fucking incredible people and season three's first chapter is coming out next Wednesday!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Y'know there's a wrong assumption I made about this fandom. I thought that Azula stans are zutara shippers. Turns out they are mostly hard antis lol.

... Okay, not gonna lie, I can count on one hand how many zutara fans I met that didn't absolutely despise Azula, let alone like her, so I'm REALLY surprised that you thought that XD

Zutarians in particular tend to hate on Azula fans for whatever reason. I guess it's part of the "Zuko is an innocent, awkward turtleduck" thing. Azula was mean to Zuko and that's a sin, AND he actually chose to join her, "betraying" Katara (rejecting an offer of peace really) and then sending an assassin after her friends, so they have to go on and on about how Azula somehow forced/manipulated/ borderline mind-crontrolled him into doing all of that so it's not really HIS fault.

Pretty much the only people in the fandom that USUALLY are Azula stans are the ones that like a ship she's in - Tyzula, Maizula, Sokkla, etc. Because the only common thing between these tends to be "I like Azula", there's often a lot in fighting... especially because some of ships need to drastically change her personality to make it work (and I'm not talking redemption here, I mean full on replacing the character with an OC, like zutarians tend to do) and naturally the ones that don't do that end up raging at this "replacement."

I do get annoyed at fellow Azula fans every now and then because of that, AND because they suffer from the same condition the overwhelming majority of the ATLA fandom has: thinking some real basic, really popular take that most of the fandom (our the Azula fandom in this case) agrees with is a "hot take"

And there's the weirdos like me that suddenly show up to remind them what a "controversial" take really is and scar them for life (Warning: adult nonsense ahead) XD

[alastorsw1f3]

|| 𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑶'𝑺 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 ||

Contains;

Smut | Violence | Swearing | Drugs | Addictions | Alcohol | Non-Con/SA | Adult/Mature Themes

|| 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑭𝑰𝑽𝑬 ||

You wake up from your sleep, which wasn't so great. You were up most of the night thinking if you shouldn't have made that deal with Alastor last night. Getting out of bed to stretch, Alastor seeps up through the floor, holding onto his cane with his usual smile.

"Hello, My Dear!" He grins at you, standing where he rose from.

"Alastor, I could have been naked. You should learn how to knock." You tease.

He ignores what you said and steps towards you. "I need to handle some business of mine, and I need you to attend. Nothing difficult."

"And so early? Well, it better not be 'difficult'." You scoff and place your hand on your hip. "I have to get ready first, so if you could lea-"

Alastor snaps his fingers and your silk pajamas are replaced with an elegant, yellow dress with white polkadots, white gloves and white heels.

"Oh wow." You say, checking yourself out in the new outfit.

"There we are. Let's be on our way, now!" He lends his arm to you and you carefully intertwine yours within his.

"What a gentleman." You say sarcastically. "Where SPECIFICALLY are we going, Alastor?"

"Don't you worry a thing about that. All I need from you is to just BE there and stay quiet the entire time."

You nod. You and him are then teleported to some random building, it looks abandoned.

"Here we are!" Alastor says.

"Alastor, it doesn't seem like anyone is here." You mutter.

"Ohoh! Nonsense." He unlinks his arm from yours and elbows your arm, laughing. He takes lead, walking ahead of you and opening the front door to the building. Alastor steps aside, letting you walk in first and then following after, letting the door shut behind him.

The lights are off inside the building. With how quiet it was, you could hear your own blood running through your body and your own heart beating.

The lights are then turned on. 3 men are already seated down at the table in the middle of the room. The men are sharks in suits and fedoras. Seems like they could be apart of a mob or mafia.

One of the sharks is seated in between them and is centered at the end of the table, with a cigar in his mouth. He places the lighter up to the end of it and lights it. "Sit down." He commands.

'There's no way Alastor could let some wanna-be, gangster tell him what to do.' You thought to yourself as you looked up at Alastor, waiting for his next move.

Alastor walks over to men and you follow.

'Apparently I was wrong.' You think to yourself.

Alastor slides the chair out on the opposite end of the table, but is then stopped.

"Alastor, c'mon now. Why not sit WITH us? We're pals, eh?" He chuckles and motions for us to come closer with his hands.

He slides the chair back in. You and him sit across from each other, next to the sharks.

"That's more like it. Now, I already know what you wanna discuss. The shipment." The shark moves his hand and grasps the cigar in his mouth.

"It seems you've read my mind, Frank." Alastor says, blankly.

There's a pause. Now, the men are all eyeing you. "What a looker. Where'd you find her, Al?" Frank continues to stare at you.

"I found her somewhere I work. I own her." Alastor fixes his bow-tie and sits up straight, his smile stretching and becoming even more menacing.

"Is that so?" Frank questions and gets up from his seat, making his way to where you are seated.

You tense up as he slides his grubby hands onto your shoulders.

"Can I have her?" Frank grins and asks Alastor as he begins to slide his hands down your body.

You stare at Alastor and shiver, waiting for him to do or say something- anything. Alastor stares at Frank, watching him touch you. His patience being tested.

Frank bends down and whispers into your ear, "Can I have you, Sweetheart?" He chuckles and slides his fingers under your dress, rubbing you through your panties.

You let out a soft moan and bite your lip, lowering your head.

The other shark-man gets up and grabs a fistful of your hair, chuckling when he raises your head to make you look at the two. Your eyes are watery.

Alastor stands up and slams his hand on the table. His tentacles fly at the shark-man who is latched onto your hair, sending him flying across the room and making him let go.

Frank puts you in a headlock, forcing you up from your seat and having you both back away from Alastor.

"Do you really think you can get to disrespect me? Violate what belongs to me?" Alastor questions, clenching his fist and gripping tightly onto his cane.

Frank pulls out a knife, it looks DIFFERENT. "Stay the fuck back or I'll end her."

You're face drops, It's an angelic knife. You might really die.

"Don't!" You cry out as you try to squirm out from his hold on you.

Frank brings the knife to your wrist and slowly cuts into it. It's an agonizing and slow pain and you're sure it will leave a scar, but it fills you with adrenaline.

You yelp and elbow him in the gut, causing him to let go and groan in pain. You spin around and kick him away from you.

A whole army of men come out from another room and shoot at Alastor with their guns. Alastor forms a bubble around himself, acting as a shield. He cackles "You believe you could take me down with THAT? Who do you take me for? ꀤ'ꂵ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꋪꍏꀸꀤꂦ ꀸꍟꂵꂦꈤ." His voice glitches out and the room is filled with blaring and ear-piercing static. The noise is hard to block out, but you cover your ears anyway. Alastors form grows.

The situation has escalated, and it's not gonna get any better anytime soon.

You whip your head around as you hear loud footsteps rush your way. Frank punches you in the face, knocking you down. He caught you off guard and busted your nose.

You use one of your hands to cover your nose and the other to shove yourself off the ground. You're instantly kicked in the chest and knocked back down.

Frank steps on your arm, pinning you down. He crouches down, grabbing onto your head and slamming it into the hard, concrete floor. "You fucking bitch. There's gonna be nothing left of you when I'm done." He growls and raises the knife.

Your vision is blurry, you have a pounding headache and you're trying to hit him with your other arm that's not being pinned down, but it comes out as pathetic slaps.

He grabs your free hand and pins it down, plunging the knife into the palm of it.

You scream as he gets on top of you, using his available hands and wrapping them around your throat. Both of your hands are unavailable, his knee is on top of your right and an angelic knife is sticking through your left. This is your fate, you're going to die. You begin to gasp for air as his grip on your neck tightens, you cant breathe. You use your knee as it slams into his crotch, causing him to roll off and let go. You gasp and choke as you're finally allowed to breathe. You're unable to move anymore, you're worn out. The pain is too much to handle. You're paralyzed and staring at the ceiling as blood gushes from your nose.

When Frank gets up, he's crushed to bits of flesh by Alastor's tentacles.

Alastor's form goes back to normal. He's out of breath, Alastor's smile is strained as he turns his head to you. He walks over to you and picks you up, carrying you bridal style within his arms.

Your arms are limp and sway as Alastor walks with you. You're exhausted and hurting. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your head falls back. It's dark.

You wake up later on, no clue what the time is. Your body is aching. You're in your bed and in your pajamas. From the palm of your hand to your wrist is wrapped in bloodied bandages. You slowly and very carefully sit up, noticing Alastor sitting with his eyes shut, in the chair in the corner of your room. You hop out of bed and it creaks, startling Alastor awake.

You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. Your throat aches, you were screaming and being strangled just earlier. You move your non injured arm to your throat, rubbing and massaging it.

Alastor gets up from the seat. "I'll be on my way now." He says and walks to the dual doors of your room.

You run over to him and grab his wrist as his hand is on the handle of the door.

He turns to you and stares, waiting.

You let go of his wrist and wrap your arms around him, it hurts to hug him, (because of your arm) but you don't care.

He stands there like a statue, looking down at you.

You nuzzle your head into his stomach, gripping onto his suit.

"What are you doing, (Y/N)?" He questions, his gaze still on you.

You turn your head to the side to avoid looking at him, not even attempting to respond to him.

He unravels your arms from him and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

Only now is when you stare into his eyes, you both are staring right at each other. He moves his hand from your chin and cups the side of your face, grazing your cheek with his claws. Eventually, he let's go of your face and picks you up. Without saying a word to you, he carries you back to your bed, setting you down and tucking you in and under the covers. He sits right at the end of your bed to accompany you, his back leaning against the bed's pole.

After a short while, you manage to fall asleep. Snuggling your pillows.

Maybe all the pain was worth it.

[animebw]

So The Woman Called Fujiko Mine feels like an argument against itself.

I don't mean that in broad metaphorical terms. I mean that this show quite literally looks into the camera and tells you that the very concept behind it is bullshit. It's a grim and gritty re-imagining of Lupin III that seems to regard grim and gritty re-imaginings as little more than contrived nonsense, something hastily slapped onto a perfectly fine piece of media with no regard for what makes that media work in the first place. I don't think I've ever seen a more purposefully self-defeating work of fiction in my life.

What do I mean by this? Well, the basis of this show seems to be explaining the backstory of Fujiko Mine, the Lupin franchise's resident femme fatale cat burglar. What kind of experiences, it asks, would lead someone to sleeping and stealing their way through life? And this being a supposed grim and gritty re-imagining with Naked Titties and Fucking, the answer it comes to is, of course, horrific sexual trauma. The final arc descends into this ludicrously overcomplicated conspiracy involving hallucinogenic drugs, human experimentation, possibly actual magic, all to explain how Fujiko was horribly abused as a child and repressed those awful memories through a life of cheap sex and fancy trinkets. Even the OP screams this point at the start of every episode: "The act of stealing lets her forget everything and keep her memories at a safe distance." She covers herself in jewels and men as if they can hide her shameful, scarred body from the horrors it was forced to endure, a lifetime of cheap thrills to escape the pain of her womanhood.

Except just when you think the whole conspiracy justifying this backstory can't get any more complicated, it overcomplicates itself even further to reveal that none of this actually happened. Turns out, Fujiko's repressed trauma memories were false memories implanted in her when she was already an adult as part of some roundabout cry for help from the actual victim. And in fact, Fujiko was already a sex-loving, treasure-grabbing femme fatale by the time those false memories were put in her. Not because of trauma, but because she just likes having sex and stealing things. And I'm not exaggerating when I say she all but looks the audience in the face and outright says, "See? Isn't it stupid and condescending trying to force a contrived rape narrative onto a female character just because she likes sex? Why can't I just be a bombshell who loves what she does without having to feel ashamed of it? Or does it only count as feminism if characters like me have to suffer for our sexiness?"

It's a genuinely wild subversion that feels a decade ahead of its time. But therein lies the problem: you still have to sit through a mostly straightforward grim and gritty deconstruction to get to the point where it points out how stupid most grim and gritty deconstructions are. And if the point was to criticize those kinds of stories just by being an example of one, well, all I can say is that it succeeded. It absolutely feels at times like a pointlessly dark and edgy paint job slapped on top of a story for the sake of feeling "mature" when all that really means is lots of rape and uncomfortable sexual hangups. Did I mention there's a Class S episode where Fujiko becomes the teacher at an all-girls school and proceeds to have affairs with multiple of her students? Because that happens, and I could feel my skin trying to crawl off my body the entire time.

Like I said in an earlier post, this isn't fanservice in the traditional sense. In fact, with the ending reveal in mind, the presentation and execution is almost maddeningly confrontational, as if daring you not to see it for the cheap shock value it is. You can almost hear Yamamoto and Okada laughing behind the scenes as you scramble to find an explanation for why all this misery porn needed to exist, only for the show itself to say "Actually, yeah, this was all pretty tasteless and crass, who would actually want Fujiko's story to be like this?" But it's still a frustrating fucking show to watch in the moment because all that possibly intentional metafictional subversion just reads as straight-up boring edgy grimdark before you're shown the man behind the curtain. Or, woman behind the curtain. Whatever.

I dunno, I don't think I can give this one a proper score. 5/10, I guess? Ask me in a few months and see if that's changed at all. For now, I'm more than happy to polish off my Yamamoto back catalogue and move onto something else. Which 2013 show will take its place, I wonder?

[xaphrin]

Good Morning

[Adult Nonsense Ahead]

The smell of expensive, freshly brewed coffee was the second best sensation to wake up to. 

The first was Damian’s clever mouth buried between her thighs. 

Raven’s back arched off the heavy, brocade bed sheets, and she let go of a soft moan. Her wrists were bound above her head with a silk rope and she tugged gently to test their strength. Strong enough to hold her in place, but knotted in just away to allow her escape if she truly desired it. 

She didn’t. 

Damian hooked a thigh over his shoulder and his tongue traced the length of her, circling around her clit. Her breath escaped in a single rush as flames started to lick at her skin, burning her with every pass of his mouth. He nipped at the crease of her thigh and stared at her over the curves of her body. “You’re awake.”

Raven opened her mouth to think of some clever retort, but Damian was already spreading her wider, his tongue sliding between every intimate hollow and driving every good thought from her mind. He slid a hand up over her stomach and cupped her breast, teasing the nipple into a tight peak. Raven whimpered, feeling her orgasm start to build just under her navel. He was going far too slow for her, and she was forced to let him move at his own pace. 

“I thought-”

Damian pulled back and clicked his tongue, silencing her. His eyes were dangerously dark, and they kept her pinned more to the bed than the silk ropes. “You talk too much for someone getting eaten out first thing in the morning. Your only words should be yes, more, and harder.” He gave a devilish smirk. “And my name of course.” 

Her stomach tightened, and she threatened to come from that look alone. Damian seemed to notice, and he grinned, running his fingertip through her. He circled her clit slowly, his eyes never leaving her. “A queen should be worshiped every day with the sun.”

“Is that an al Ghul saying?” Raven’s voice was breathy, and she would have been ashamed if she wasn’t so far gone. 

“A personal opinion of mine.” He dipped his head again, redoubling his efforts. His tongue did wonderful things to her, flicking over her clit, fucking her. Every movement brought her closer and closer to the brink of sanity. She was shivering, pulling at her restraints, nearly crying as he rode the edge of her orgasm hard. She could feel her body fluttering, waiting for the last stroke to send her careening into oblivion, but…

He pulled back again, crawling up over her. Raven whimpered, her hips shifting and pushing against the head of his cock. Damian gave a low, teasing chuckle, sliding his length over her in a mockery sex. He nipped at her throat before looking down into her eyes. 

“But I’m not above asking my queen to beg.”

She shifted her hips, her pride preventing her from doing what he wanted. “I thought you wanted to worship your queen.”

“I do.” Damian trailed his fingertips up the pale length of her arm, his finger stopping to toy with the thin gold band on her left hand. “I am. But… seeing my demon fall so far that she cannot help but beg for my cock is a rather enticing thought.” He pushed the head of his cock against her, teasing her even more. “Such a proud little demon, brought to her knees by the mere anticipation of pleasure.” 

Raven shivered and she widened her legs even more, trying to entice him. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll do it myself.”

“I’d love to watch.” He seemed unaffected by her threat, as if he found it amusing. “I’d love to see your fingers stroke and touch your cunt. Watch your eyes close and your breath hitch. Listen to my name cling to your lips as you imagine that your hands were mine.” He pushed his hips again, his cock still teasing her. “A cheap replacement, but serviceable in your time of need.” 

Raven whimpered again, and her teeth sunk into her lower lip. “Damian…”

“Or…” His voice was casual, as if they weren’t both teetering on the brink, desperate looking for something more. “...you could beg. Beg for my cock. Beg for me to take you. Beg for your orgasm.” His hand gripped her thigh and he hitched it up higher on his hip, anticipation thick between them. “Beg me, my queen. And I promise to give you everything you want and more.”

She took a deep breath, shoving her pride into a pit in her chest. “Please. Please, Damian.” Her voice was wavering and weak, and didn’t sound anything like her. But her need was too great, and he knew it. He was playing her like an instrument he had honed just for himself. “Please. I’m…” She swallowed. “I’m begging you. Please fuck me.” 

Damian’s slow smile nearly did her in. And without another word, he thrust himself deep inside her. Raven felt a scream bubble up before she could stop it, and the lanterns around them flickered in the early morning light. She twisted her hands in the ropes above her head, needing something to hold onto. Without any preamble, Damian set a furious pace, his hips snapping hard against her skin as he fucked her with wild abandon. His thick cock stretched her wide, reminding every muscle in her body of the ruthless way he fucked her on their wedding night. 

Raven’s back arched off the bed and she pulled hard against the ropes. 

“Look at me.”

She shivered and met his wild eyes, seeing the darkness of the Pit glow in their depths. 

“When you come all over my cock, don’t look away. Know that I am fucking you. Damian al Ghul. The Demon’s Head. Your king.” He slammed his hips into her with bruising force. “Your husband.”

Raven leaned up and caught his lower lip between her teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood. “My love.” 

Damian smiled, and that was the last thing she saw before she drowned in pleasure. Raven screamed, looking into his face as wave after wave shattered her. Her muscles tightened and released, endorphins flooded her body, and she let herself ride the delicious high of her orgasm. 

He kept fucking her, relentless in his persuit of her pleasure, and it wasn’t until Raven collapsed on the bed that he let himself enjoy his own orgasm. Raven watched, fascinated as the muscles in his shoulders tightened and his head tipped back as he cried out. Gods. He was beautiful like this. Lost to his own needs, and chasing this carnal high. Time seemed to stretch forever until he fell onto the bed next to her, releasing her wrists before gathering her in his arms. 

Silence settled over them like a warm, comforting blanket, and Raven buried her face into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and sweat. 

“Good morning.” 

She laughed and looked up at him. “Yes. It is.”

[absentlyabbie]

i've developed some interesting methods of handling having a relationship with my mother who made my childhood/teen years misery and committed more than a little abuse.

as an adult, we have a very different dynamic, her daughters (sister and i) have confronted her with a lot of her bullshit and the things she both did and enabled. for some she has been sorrowful and even sometimes apologetic. she's a better mother to me now than she ever was when i most needed one. so i'll never actually trust her again, and she'll never be much deeper than surface level in my life, but we have something mostly good now, and on my terms.

however, she is very definitely one of those "i don't remember it that way" and "i did the best i could" mothers in a lot of areas, and has also always been the type to (probably unconsciously) emotionally manipulate the people she's hurt into catering to her hurt feelings about it instead.

over the years i've learned to get really comfortable with just not indulging it.

is she having a bad day, seems sad and upset? i'll give her a hug, try to make her laugh. if she throws broad hints it's a surge of hurt feelings about having driven one of her children to cut her off? well i'm just gonna stand there and not acknowledge or entertain it.

"well, apparently i was a bad mother" or shit like that? i'm just gonna look at her for a second, and i might either shrug or even nod, but i'm not saying a damn thing. i'm not awkwardly, uncomfortably, painfully contorting to her guilt trip nonsense. i'm not apologizing or trying to soothe her or reassure her or minimize it.

like, yeah. you really were. you know it, glad to hear it. we've definitely had that talk.

best kindness, most generosity i can offer her in times like that is not maintaining eye contact to bluntly tell her "yeah, you were." she can go ahead and feel bad about it.

it's not on me to make her feel less bad. she should feel bad. and i am definitely not someone she gets to seek comfort from about it.

hopefully someday she'll inch past just "poor me, i'm so sad and angsty about it" towards, like, examining the whys and acknowledging what she actually did wrong and work actively to be be better. in a few places, some of that has happened.

but that's her work. her job and responsibility. she can do that shit on her own time.

i say all this to offer a shoulder of solidarity to others like me. if you maintain a complicated relationship as an adult with the parent who hurt you and did you wrong as a child, that is okay. you get to choose how and if to thread that needle.

but you don't have to accommodate emotional manipulation and guilt trip garbage. stonewall it. walk away if you need to. don't apologize. don't try to make it better. that's not on you and it doesn't have to be. it's okay.

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Love About Fionna and Cake (Vaugish spoilers ahead)

For those who follow me, this isn't going to be an EXTENSIVE review, but it's not going to be a "Quick Thoughts" either. It's more like an in-between option because, gosh dang it, I NEED to talk about Fionna and Cake.

When it was announced there was going to be a Fionna and Cake spin-off series, my stomach immediately filled with dread, and for two reasons. First of all, I just wanted Adventure Time to be done. Not because I hated the series. Far from it, in fact. It's because with the show's finale being this big conclusion that left me feeling empty inside and with "Together Again" feeling like a better, satisfying end to the franchise AND Finn and Jake, the last thing I wanted was MORE Adventure Time. I know the show's tagline is "The fun will never end," but the fun HAS to end at some point.

Also...I wasn't really into Fionna and Cake, both as a kid and as an adult. As a kid, I found it weird that Adventure Time just had this random episode where all the characters had swapped genders for some reason and my dumb young boy brain went "Ew, girly nonsense!" I matured past that now and actually learned to appreciate how it's actually a playful jab at the fanfic community and their occasional cringiness. That being said, I still wasn't into...how weird things got with Fionna and Cake, and I was NOT ready for a whole series based on them. I mean, why would I want a series of a genderswapped Finn and Jake when I could have...Finn and Jake?

But then the show came out...and I was NOT expecting the ten-episode long emotional roller coaster that had no right being as good as it was. NOR was I expecting it to be for adults this time.

I heard about...two weeks? Yeah, two weeks before hand, I heard that Fionna and Cake would have a TV-14 rating, and that's primarily the reason why I got more interested in the show. And a part of me kind of wish I didn't know that beforehand because I kind of wanted the surprise of characters going "God dammit" and Finn stabbing a monster in it's snout, leaving a gaping bloody hole in it. Like...could you IMAGINE?

But before you say anything, Fionna and Cake, thankfully, isn't rated TV-14 JUST BECAUSE it has swears, violence, and its main character topless for...more than half the series, to be honest. In actuality, the show's rated TV-14 more or less for the themes and messages that appeal more towards adults than it would have for kids. This show is more or less for the fans who grew up with Adventure Time, whether they're the kids now in their early twenties like Fionna, or the adults that watched the show for some reason and feel the same existential dread as Simon. The show is about the two of them and their growth to learn the lesson every body and their grandma needs to learn: Just cope.

Some of us yearn for a magical world with adventures that saves us from our boring, mundane lives. Others, even as adults, feel like they don't belong in certain spaces and wish to have back their loved ones who made them feel like they DO belong. So Fionna and Cake is there to just give the harsh truth, but instead of making the show feel like a downer, it gives a beautiful yet tragic experience that says you shouldn't yearn for what you WANT and appreciate what you NEED. Fionna wanted a magical world, but she didn't NEED it. Simon wanted Betty back or to return to his madness, but he didn't NEED to. The journey these characters go on leads to Fionna needing to learn that her life is fine just the way it is and that Simon needing to learn that his life HAS purpose even if it's without his true love. As for how they go through it and what conclusions they come to...I'm not going to spoil it because it's all brilliantly done and best left for you to see for yourself. Trust me when I say there is so much about their journeys that's best left to see for yourself if you haven't. But the bottomline is that it teaches audiences that your life is just fine the way it is. You just need to see the beauty through the dread and/or tragedy.

And despite this overlaying maturity, the show is still very much Adventure Time. It's filled with characters saying goofy things and acting silly, it's just now the show can go FARTHER with its mature messages, no longer having the kiddie gloves on for the sake of the children. They can go ALL IN on the existential dread much more than they did in the past, is unafraid to explicitly kill characters, and can make the gay characters kiss and date...Okay, they probably COULD have made that last part for kids with Steven Universe and The Owl House popularizing LGBTQA+ representation in children's media, but they definitely couldn't with those first two options! And I'm so glad that despite being mature, Fionna and Cake stuck with Adventure Time's brand of charm, heart, and fun times. It's just that those fun times can be interrupted by your favorite characters dying...But don't worry. They're not the REAL characters you grow up with.

Fionna and Cake is a multiverse story, meaning the show jumps between world after world. Not only does it provide peeks into new, interesting worlds based on these "what ifs" I didn't know I wanted to see, but it also allows the writers to basically kill off every character you loved as a kid. Sometimes it's explicit by showing viewers unmoving, withered, and sometimes even BURNT corpses, and other times it's implicit with nothing viewer interpretation guiding what MIGHT be true. Adventure Time HAS gotten dark like that in the past, but this is a time when the writers really go all out without holding back an inch, and I respect that.

And as for this being a multiverse story, I know we're all starting to get sick of those, but Fionna and Cake does it in a way that takes advantage of its premise. Each universe provides a dark and twisted version of Ooo, to the benefit of teaching Simon and Fionna to find what they NEED, not give them what they WANT. Again, I won't give away HOW, but it all works really well and it's why multiverse stories like Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness and The Flash tend to fail. I talked about this last night with a buddy of mine, but a multiverse story works better when it's used to help the characters grow and provide interesting views of things that COULD HAVE happened if things went differently. Not to spit out cameos for specific fans or make jokes about how pizza is in balls or how Aquaman's dad didn't marry the queen of Atlantis. Fionna and Cake has cameos, but they're again to show how different each universe is, teach Fionna and Simon, and even reveal the tragedy that they present at times. It just happens to be done in a way that's a fun cameo for fans.

Speaking of which, it's hard to recommend Fionna and Cake because this is a spin-off that's clearly for the fans of Adventure Time. The ones who watched the show from the beginning and get all the little in-jokes, references, and call-backs that were frequent of the series. If you HAVEN'T seen the show...I'm willing to say you'd enjoy it ENOUGH, but you'd still be left confused. You COULD watch the show beforehand, and I definitely recommend you do that, but that means watching ten seasons and four specials of television just to watch ONE spin-off. Not everyone is going to have the patience to do that, and I can understand why. Just know that if you're fan, you'll definitely enjoy this.

If there's anything to complain about, the only real nitpick I have is Cake. Despite being the OTHER titular character, she...doesn't really do much or have a journey to go on. Her character is just being there for Fionna and wanting to be the magical cat she wanted to be. Only instead of coping with what she has, Cake...doesn't do that. She gets what she wants and she's fine with it, which is kind of disappointing. And as a character, she's kind of selfish, not really caring what happens to Simon just as long as SHE gets exactly what she wants. Now, she still has some great one-liners and still has an engaging purpose as a counter-argument to what Fionna needs to learn, but that doesn't change how she's pretty much the weakest part of the show, at least to me.

Fionna and Cake is definitely a show that has more strengths and weaknesses, completely shattering expectations and making a show I didn't know I needed. Would I want another season? Eh, not really. I'm fine with how things end here. But I'm glad I watched it and I'll likely rewatch it over and over again.

If you're not a fan of Adventure Time, this probably won't be your cup of tea. But if you are, then this is a solid A series for you. Check it out and see that just because the fun will never end, that doesn't make it a bad thing.

[sneezemonster15]

what do you think of yuuta and rika?

Obsessive love turned obsessive cursed spirit. In the JJK film, their relationship while Rika is still alive, is a very close and innocent one, as in the kind that one would expect two shy and introverted kids to have. Like two lonely kids finding solace in each other. But while Yuuta treats the relationship like a child would, Rika seems way more obsessive. I felt like it turned from 'sweetly childlike' to 'obsessive' pretty fast. Rika always looked a little odd to me, the first time when she meets Yuuta, she is alone sitting on a hospital bed with a dreamy faraway look in her eyes, and then she sees Yuuta and smiles as if she has known him forever, her love for Yuuta seemed more adult as compared to Yuuta's love for her, which even though strong, is innocent and childlike, not romantic. To see them playing childish games, which Yuuta takes in good innocent spirit, just like a kid would, Rika seems more resolute and serious, even though she is also a kid, it created an unsettling feeling and it was justified later. And it made one anticipate that this relationship will be the precursor to something drastic. It made more sense when I checked out Gege's interview about the same.

Like you can tell Gege didn't intend to write Rika as a 'normal' person. Like a bomb that will potentially explode and will be destructive as hell. Rika was jealous of Maki in the film, given the attention Yuuta gave to her, and the idea of being with Yuuta as one at the end of the film, the idea of symbolically marrying him ends up drawing her to her full power.

However, Yuuta came of age in the film, after he realizes that it was him that cursed Rika unconsciously, and makes a pact with her, his relationship with Rika also evolves. Although I do think that even though it was Okkotsu that cursed Rika, had it been anyone else than Rika, it would probably not have resulted in a curse, and definitely not such a strong curse.

Anyway, after that, he takes accountability for what he accidentally did to Rika. And now they are a unit, she works more like a subjugated shikigami from ten shadows technique than a wayward cursed spirit. They definitely have a strong bond. But I don't think it is romantic.

However, what is certainly potentially romantic is the relationship between Yuuta and Maki, like it was portrayed in the movie. Yuuta is not a kid anymore, he understands the finer nuances of love, an equal kind of love.

Maki is no nonsense, revolutionary and resolute type of person with a specific goal, who has had a lot of exposure to toxic, inhuman and entirely misogynistic men like Naoya and the entire Ze'nin family tbh. Yuuta certainly breaks that stereotype. He is not afraid to take the more humble position in the relationship, his humility, modesty and sweet humor kind of 'melts' her defences, makes her softer around the edges. She opens up to him even though initially, she did not have the best impression of him and generally was a little prickly towards him. But it evolves. Their relationship is given credible development in the film.

Finally, it's this cover art that I find symbolic of Yuuta and Rika's relationship.

Looks like she is lovingly cuddling with a Yuuta doll. Like a little girl. A doll typically symbolises a plaything, it has no power, to be controlled by someone else. Love can be obsessive like that, but when it's one sided, it makes one anxious, raises red flags. Which is why it made sense that she was drawn to her full power only after Yuuta gave himself to her body, heart and mind. It's clear that Yuuta's guilt about cursing Rika played a big part in him bonding himself to Rika. It doesn't seem like an equal sort of love, it more than borders on obsessive and a bit insane. But it is a very strong bond nonetheless. Rika also reaches some kind of resolution at the end of the film about Yuuta, so I think Yuuta can go ahead and find love someplace else.