#at first I was able to handle it but it built up and weighed on me so hard

[waspgrave]

Thinking about how mean to me ppl were about my art a few years ago and man, I did not deserve that!! I hope they’ve bonked their heads on open cabinets they were too distracted to close bc they were sending me mean messages

[shadesofdeviant]

SO...I thought I'd actually do WIP Wednesday for the first time in a LONG time. And I thought I'd share a bit of my current WIP, my Good Omens x Doctor Who Crossover because I'm super excited about it. I was gonna post a bit smaller than this but I couldn't work out a good place to crop it. I'm enjoying this so much. And I hope everyone else does too. Most of it is beneath a cut cause I'm posting a fair chunk haha.

Tagging those who I know are interested in this: @lauranthalasah and @celestialcrowley I would tag my usual WIP Wednesday buddies but I don't think any of them are Good Omens or Doctor Who fans. 😂 😂 😂 

"Doctor?!" Crowley yelled as he staggered down another endless corridor, cursing softly as the floorboards rippled and rolled beneath him like a shoreline lapping against the sand, the rising crests of the wood giggling like naughty children as they tried to trip him before they ran away up the hallway. As he raised his hands to catch himself against the walls with the heels of his palms, the gold embossed skulls in the centre of the damask pattern wallpaper started to scream in agony, the noise a cacophonous crescendo that built and built until he managed to find his footing and snatched his hands back. “Donna?!” He tried again as he idly tugged at a random door as he passed by. Yet just like the immeasurable number of doors that had gone before it, once again this door failed to bend to Crowley’s will and remained firmly locked in place.

The air inside the toy store was permeated with the sour decay of age, cloying, damp and irritating at the back of the throat. Whatever magic this strange toymaking entity wielded was wild and hostile as it pressed in around him, settling over his shoulders like a weighted blanket, growing heavier and heavier the longer he walked, stiffening his legs and arms until he was wading through the atmosphere, a band of pressure tight around his chest almost like a child was holding him like a doll as it walked him across their imagination, the threat of being crushed beneath their sticky fingers tingling at the back of his mind. From somewhere beyond the endless corridor, a sharp, terrified scream erupted into the air and Crowley lurched forward on instinct, racing down the corridor towards what he assumed was Donna being attacked. Or at least, he tried to. If he thought the weight of the magic around him was heavy before, now as he tried to come to the rescue of some poor soul, Crowley found himself being weighed down even more, his knees threatening to buckle beneath the strain, feet scraping across the floor as he tried to lift them for each step. Eyes blazing gold and fully snake-like as he pushed back against the magic surrounding him, Crowley snarled and thrashed as he moved, power crackling beneath his skin as the anger burned within him. “Fuck this.” Crowley hissed as he reached the next locked door, barely able to lift his arm to try the handle from the compression enveloping him right down to his true form. “I’ve had enough of this shit.” Gathering what strength, he could, Crowley snarled as he pulled up sharply on his demonic power and snapped his fingers, gritting his teeth as electricity coursed down his arm and sparked from his fingertips as it battled with the toymaker’s magic. His power coiled and weaved snake-like around that of this foreign entity, lashing out viper-quick and sinking its venomous fangs into the stream of power to try and force it into submission until the door in front of him started to creak open. “Nein nein nein!” The sudden voice at his ear was loud enough to rattle his eardrum and rather unceremoniously shattered Crowley’s concentration, his power falling away into glittering wisps and dissipating into the air uselessly and taking what was left of his strength with it. “Naughty demon, not playink by ze rulez.” The Toymaker snarled as he suddenly loomed up over Crowley’s head, the sharp contours of his face darkening as his entire frame seethed and pulsed enraged. “Crowley!” Hearing his name, Crowley turned his head and frowned as he spotted the Doctor and Donna running towards him, those once familiar chocolate brown eyes wide in fear as the Time Lord tried to reach them even as the corridor continued to expand beneath their feet. “Very vell. Haff it ge-your way.” The Toymaker sighed, before his hands suddenly slammed into Crowley’s chest, pushing him backwards with one sharp shove causing him to go crashing through the now cracked-open doorway. For one extended moment, Crowley seemed to hover in the air, the area where his stomach should be, dropping as he fell backwards in slow motion before time seemed to remember to move and Crowley slammed into the floor in the new room with a broken grunt of pain. The Doctor’s hand reaching out towards him uselessly from seemingly miles away was the last thing he saw before the door slammed shut and the room plunged him into darkness.

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

My story needs me  to create massive load bearing trucks (up to 80 metric tonnes) in my story as well as the roads they go on. They do need to go on the main roads across my world, not specifically designed roads in limited areas. I'm not sure what are good truck measurements that I need or anything like that. How many tyres, how large? Whether they are tall, long, or wide. I suppose if they are wide trucks, they are certainly allowed to use two lanes. These trucks need to either have a container of their own or are simply flat and you can place a container onto it. Also what speeds can these trucks go, what if I in fact do need them to be speedy as well?

Addy: While this isn’t my area of expertise, I have a little bit of experience with road capacity and design. I’m most familiar with the United States, so I’m going to use US numbers for road and vehicle capacity. “Main roads” could mean many things, from highways to residential streets. I’m going to assume that this is some sort of freight that needs to be delivered to factories or other industrial centers.. basically, I’m assuming that this vehicle needs to go anywhere a modern-day semi truck needs to be able to go.

When in doubt on this kind of thing, a good place to start is to look up whatever governmental agency regulates your subject of interest. Read through the glossary, look at their website, see what kind of things they focus on and find important. You can also look up a handbook, or combine the agency name with a simple keyword. I have an advantage in knowing what to look for, but it all really starts with the governmental agencies involved.

If this was Earth, the kind of capacity you’re talking about – 80 metric tons / 176,000 lbs / 88 imperial tons – would be handled exclusively by rail, with normal freight vehicles moving cargo to and from the rail depot. In some cases, such as for rock quarries, rail stations are built on-site to eliminate the need for wheeled vehicles. Rail doesn’t offer much mobility, though, so let’s look at some numbers.

(Image is from a 2012 FHWA report on some kind of pilot program in Maine and Vermont, I just lifted it from google)

Semi-trucks (which I’m just going to call trucks) have two main types of axle. You have single axles and tandem axles. You also have tridem axles, but those aren’t as common on large vehicles. A single axle is just an axle with wheels on it. A tandem axle is a grouping of two axles that are closely spaced, around 4 ft/1.2 meters. The weight capacities allowed on these axles varies by the state, and I’m going to use Michigan numbers. More on that below.

Next to consider is the overall weight of the vehicle. Trucks have laden and unladen weights; these are also known as gross vehicle weight (GVW) and curb weight, respectively.  The laden weight/GVW is how much it weighs with cargo, passengers, fuel, and everything else. The unladen/curb weight is how much the vehicle weighs without any loading or containers on it. The laden weight is what safety measures and capacity laws apply to. There are two major reasons that trucks have weight limits. The first is wear on the road. The longevity of a road is basically determined by how many heavy-weight vehicles (so semi-trucks and RVs) drive on it – passenger vehicles don’t really weigh enough to cause an impact. Heavier vehicles, more damage to the road. The second reason is road safety. At speeds of 65 mph/105 kmph, it takes a passenger vehicle ~300 ft/91 meters to come to a stop, assuming a flat road. A semi truck traveling the same speed will take about twice as long to stop. Your proposed vehicle would probably take a bit over twice as long again, for a total stopping distance of roughly 1320 ft/402 meters. This is just a matter of physics. 

You can have it go as fast or as slow as you want, but it’s probably going to have pretty terrible acceleration. You also probably don’t want it to go too fast, since the whole stopping distance thing can get pretty dangerous.

Most states have a maximum gross vehicle weight of 80,000-100,000 lbs, but Michigan is apparently insane, with a maximum GVW of 164,000 lbs. Their calculation method is actually a bit easier for us, as they limit the amount of weight on each axle in a way that lets us add a lot of wheels. So ignore everything I just said, we’re going to use the Michigan method.

Max loads, pulled straight from Michigan law. If you want to look it up yourself, google “MVC 257.722”

 (a) If the axle spacing is 9 feet or more between axles, the maximum axle load shall not exceed 18,000 pounds for vehicles equipped with high pressure pneumatic or balloon tires.

  (b) If the axle spacing is less than 9 feet between 2 axles but more than 3-1/2 feet, the maximum axle load shall not exceed 13,000 pounds for high pressure pneumatic or balloon tires.

  (c) If the axles are spaced less than 3-1/2 feet apart, the maximum axle load shall not exceed 9,000 pounds per axle.

  (d) Subdivisions (a), (b), and (c) shall be known as the normal loading maximum.

Michigan law also allows for a single tandem axle with 16,000 lbs/axle, for a total of 32,000 lbs across the tandem axle. There are other exceptions and allowances, but they don’t apply to our many-axled vehicle. 

Image from Livingston County Road Commission

This is an example of an allowed Michigan truck design. The tractor unit is the part with the driver, and the semi-trailer is the part that detaches. If we change the steer loading from 15,400 to 18,000 (permitted if you do special tires), add a third axle to the rear portion of the tractor unit (not allowed under Michigan law, do not try at home), and add one additional tire to the back of the semi-trailer, that gets us up to 183,000 lbs. If we keep the tractor unit the same and instead add two tires to the back of the semi-trailer, we get 180,000 lbs, which also gets us to your 176,000 capacity.

To word it another way, the image shown has a 1-2-8 pattern. We could make that a 1-3-9 pattern or a 1-2-10 pattern – either way would work.

So basically, you’re looking at a vehicle that’s 53 ft long along the axles. If we add 6 ft to account for the front and back, that gets a vehicle with an overall length of 59 ft. It’s 8.5 ft wide and has one steer axle, 2-3 rear tractor axles, and 9-10 semi-trailer axles, for a total of 50 wheels. In meters, that’s 16.2 along the wheels, 18 total length, and 2.6 wide. Height doesn’t really matter, though it’s probably somewhere between 3.5 and 4 meters.

Michigan does apply a seasonal limit decrease in the spring, reducing capacity by 25% on concrete roads and 35% on all other road surfaces. Call it 35% on everything to be safe, so you’d have a springtime capacity of roughly 118,000 lbs.

Utuabzu: Sounds like you want a road train, you see them in rural Australia fairly often. They're big, noisy and pretty intimidating to drive past. Generally they're used to transport ore from mines to ports where rail isn't available or practical.

Tex: This was, interestingly, also an issue faced by the US President Eisenhower. He was previously part of the 1919 Motor Transport Corps convoy, and when he became president, he expanded upon the Interstate Highway System with the passage of the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956. American highways were used as part of the military logistics system, compensating for the limitations of transportation via railway. Most of the roads that later formed the Interstate Highway System were based upon the Pershing Map, created by General Pershing in response to the 1919 convoy.

This allowed the standardization of roads, routes, and construction of highways, which needed to withstand the weight of goods transported by the military (i.e. tanks, missiles). Highway engineering has accordingly developed its own methods, and really came into prominence after WWII, with significant developments in its construction.

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 31: I truly am my parents' child

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

The following weeks were chaos for Aenys. He heard the whispers of the lords, calling him weak, a pushover, he saw the way his aunt looked at him with that look of disappointment whenever she set eyes on him. The crown weighed even heavier on his shoulders than ever before. It used to be one of his more favoured possessions, as he had designed it together with his mother, but instead of it bringing happy memories to his mind, the sight of it only deepened the thought that his parents would be so disappointed in him for not being able to handle the realm they had built now that Maegor was gone.

He could excuse the lords he heard speak lowly of him, they did not know him personally and truly, who could stand in the shadow of Aegon the Conqueror? But the disappointment his aunt had for him was something he could not shake off at all. No matter what decision he made, never once did she praise him or agree with him. He wasn’t sure why he was so hopeful that she would, he didn’t even know if she did so for Maegor, but perhaps part of him wanted his aunt, his mother’s sister, to approve of him. 

She hadn’t caused any fuss at all, largely because of lady Rowan talking to her about it, or so he assumed. The young lady Evergreen had not given him any report of his aunt plotting something, so amidst the chaos of the revolts across the realm, Aenys had made the assumption that things were fine. Now that he had a small moment to breathe, he realised that it would not be wise to leave the subject completely unattended. 

He had some hope that his aunt would initiate conversation first, but so far, nothing. Not even when he and Alyssa had announced her fourth pregnancy, now that a few months had passed and she felt safe enough to do so. His aunt didn’t even seem to have a reaction, if anything, it could even appear that she frowned. He knew she had no love for him, but the idea that she could even hate him ate at him. He understood that not everyone would love him, but hate? Alyssa had urged him to find a way to talk to his aunt, to find a way to get her to like him. He and his wife had that in common, they wanted to be well liked. 

That morning, he saw Rowan make her way back to his aunt’s solar, holding a large basket that was covered up with a cloth. Of course he was curious, but he had to attend the meeting with his small council, which only seemed to bring forth more bad news for him to hear. It was much later in the day when Aenys found the time to send for the young lady so that they could properly talk. 

She looked calm when she walked in the room, despite the rising tensions in the realm. Surely, being on his aunt’s good side gave the young lady a certain peace of mind.

“Your grace.” she curtsied, showing her respect. He wondered where this conversation would take them, if she was going to be honest with him or just cover up for anything strange his aunt might be up to. It was difficult to not be paranoid, knowing that Rowan was by his aunt’s side since she was small, it wouldn’t be a crazy idea would it?

“Come in, my lady, please sit.” he replied in the same polite tone, motioning to the large sofa and the seat near him. She hesitated for a moment, perhaps not used to being this close to him the same way she seemed to be with his goodsister and goodbrothers, but she did take a seat.  “I saw you bringing my aunt a very full basket. Might I ask what it contained?” he asked, deciding to get straight to the point.

“Mostly herbs, your grace.” Rowan did not hesitate. She noticed the confused expression that crossed Aenys’ face and continued. ”For as long as I can remember, she’s been interested in botany. Once in a while, I go into the city to refill her stock.” she explained.

“Botany…” he trailed. What business did his aunt have with botany? They had an abundance of maesters for that task, why would she spend her time with it all? “She’s always had strange hobbies, hasn’t she?” he laughed lightly, trying to ease the small awkwardness between him and the young lady. She didn’t laugh.

“I don’t think it’s strange at all.” she said, her tone confused. Aenys studied her expression for a moment. Rowan tilted her head, waiting for him to expand, but Aenys didn’t.

“Well, you did grow up with her.” he smiled. Of course, Rowan wouldn’t find it strange, she has been seeing it since she was a girl. It made sense. It did make him wonder what else his aunt told her as she was growing up. Was she always like this, a little handmaiden or a student? What a curious relationship they had.

“Lots of people are interested in botany, your grace. Where I’m from it’s very common.” she explained, gently telling him his assessment of his aunt was wrong. She seemed to hesitate again, but decided to say what she was thinking. “Your father would sometimes gift her books and supplies through the years.” she said, giving him a small smile. He never heard of this before. For the longest time, his father could barely stand in the same room as his aunt, but he supposed sending her gifts was not a crazy notion.

“Really? I didn’t know… I mean, I do know that they got close near… near the end…” he trailed, leaning forward, the topic catching his full interest and attention. It felt strange to pry on this specific relationship, since his father never spoke of it. Even when they were mending things and he moved back to Dragonstone, he never really spoke to Aenys about it in detail. He had always chalked it up to the fact that he was going on a royal progress, but perhaps there was much more there. Who’d know better than the lady sitting next to him?

“He’d send her things for her nameday, I’m guessing because he felt guilty for not being there or celebrating her.” she said, but her voice indicated that she was not telling him what was truly on her mind. He didn’t blame her, it must be a strange place for her to be in, but he hoped she understood that this was important for him to know. Guilt… His father felt a lot of guilt when his mother was killed. Guilt that he lost the love of his life over a war that went nowhere, when he could’ve just been satisfied with the six kingdoms he did conquer. But he never thought he’d hold any guilt for his aunt.

“I always assumed she wouldn’t care for celebrations.” he said honestly. His aunt never seemed to be one to celebrate occasions, but then again she wasn’t present for many celebrations for him to know. She never seemed to like King’s Landing, but he assumed that compared to Dragonstone, the home she was born and raised in, the Red Keep was yet to become the castle that would be worthy of their family. He needed to get on with that, he hasn’t even looked at the building plans since his father’s untimely death.

“Why would the Queen not want to be celebrated by her husband before the realm?” she asked him, raising her brows, almost in disbelief that he even said that and had that assumption in the first place. He was taken aback and his face must’ve shown, because Rowan was also surprised by her own tone. “Forgive me, your grace, I did not mean to speak out of turn-”

“Do not apologise, I truly do wish to know what you think. I admit I know very little of my aunt, and I wish for that to change, but she’s refusing to even be in the same room as me at the moment.” he interrupted her and assured her he wanted to hear what she thought with no filter. He was well aware that people did not tell him the whole of what they truly thought and that bothered him. He loved to get to know people, to understand them. “She always frightened me as a child, you know? She was always so cold and distant toward me.” he sighed, thinking back to her imposing figure whenever she visited the capital. “Did she ever frighten you?” he asked her, curiosity overcoming him. Rowan smiled.

“Not frightened, no. I was intimidated though, just as I was when I met your parents. I never thought I’d meet royalty, let alone when I was a child. Everything was different, I was away from home, so I found everything strange and I was worried I’d do something wrong and offend someone.” she laughed lightly, making Aenys smile as well. She must’ve been awestruck to see dragons up close. Everyone was. “She was always kind and welcoming to me, allowing me free reign of the library on Dragonstone, and she even let me join in the lessons her son was receiving. She often helped me with High Valyrian too.” Rowan said, smiling again. Aenys was a bit stunned. It was like his aunt was a completely different person, like there was a gentle and caring side to her that he was not deemed worthy to witness. He couldn’t picture his aunt, his harsh, scary and cold aunt, being welcoming and warm to a little girl, even if she was the daughter of her advisor.

“And what about Maegor?” he asked carefully, knowing it was a subject that stung her, but he wanted to know. He still hurt mentioning his brother, he could only imagine how Rowan would feel. “Did he frighten you?” he asked. Maegor was unsettling as a child, one got the feeling that his eyes saw right through you once they landed on you, and his temper was unpredictable whenever he was around. It was difficult to see what he’d have in common with someone as normal and calm as Rowan.

“No, not at all.” she smiled a sad smile. “He was really grumpy and at first, I truly thought that I annoyed him. But it only took us a few weeks to get to know each other, and he truly became my best friend. He never frightened me.” she spoke with a sorrow of nostalgia, no doubt missing the days of her childhood. Aenys missed his too. He missed the warmth of his mother, the safety he felt with his father’s protection, the feeling of having a whole and complete family. Rowan must be missing her mother too. “Did he frighten you? I know he’s not exactly the friendliest.” she asked, catching him a bit off guard.

“Well…” he sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed. To say Maegor was not friendly would be the world’s biggest understatement. He was hostile and cold, always having that look of suspicion in his eyes. “My parents always told me to be wary of him. I remember one time when we were training at the same time, gods, he was vicious! He only had a wooden sparring sword, but I could swear he wanted to stab me! He managed to give me a huge bruise on my leg, gods, mother was taking care of it for weeks!” he laughed at the memory, but it hurt, now that his mother was no longer there to comfort him and his father no longer there to keep him safe.

“I remember that day.” Rowan said after some time. When he looked up, Aenys saw the frown on her lips and the sadness in her eyes. She had these doe-like green eyes and he was afraid he saw more sadness in them than he ever did joy. Such a shame. 

“Really? Was it during one of your stays?” he asked, pleasantly surprised that she also had memories of that day. It must’ve been exciting for her to accompany her father in the capital during his father’s reign. The city truly flourished under him.

“Yes. I still remember it too.” she said softly. He could see she was once again contemplating if she truly wanted to continue, but Aenys silently urged her to go on. “He was so upset. I had returned from the sept and he was barricaded in his room.” “It was one of the few times I saw him cry.” Aenys stared at her in disbelief as she explained. 

“Cry? Maegor? But he wasn’t at all hurt, not from what I can remember.” he said, almost wanting to call her a liar. Maegor was not one for tears, even as a young child. Everytime Aenys saw him, he was always covered in bruises and cuts and some sort of bandages. He was so sure that he was immune to physical pain at that point, and he highly doubted he did any real damage to his little brother that day. He couldn’t even if he tried.

“He was really hurt, but not because of a bruise or scrape. He wanted to impress your father so badly, and fighting seemed to be the only way to catch any of his attention. I told you, he used to train for hours upon hours, that day felt like his moment to truly shine. The late King never watched over him while he trained, so the fact that he even was there to begin with was huge to him. And despite doing his best, all of your father’s attention fell to you, all his praise and worry. Maegor was so hurt, he was disappointed for weeks. I remember trying everything to get him to cheer up.” she explained and Aenys felt like his breath was stuck in his lungs. 

“But…” he furrowed his brows, confused. That day was pleasant, that day was good, how could their father ignore Maegor? She must be mistaken, her memory must be hazy from her grief, yes, that was it. “Surely father would’ve made up for that. There were other times they spent together, right?” he asked, looking at her. His father was the King, the very first King of Westeros, he had so much to take care of, of course he’d miss out on his children a bit, it was only natural.

“Not even when he knighted him.” she shook her head lightly as she spoke. Something about her tone, something about the sorrow in her green eyes, something about the disappointment she seemed to feel, it all made him get so defensive, as if she had pulled out a sword to attack his dead father.

“How can you be so sure? How can you know? My father, yes, he was never the same after mother’s death, but this cannot be the whole of it!” he asked, his tone sharp but his eyes pleading for her to tell him he was right, that the sinking feeling in his stomach was nothing to think about. Lady Rowan did not give him that reassurance this time.

“Maegor and I always told each other everything. We would talk at length about your father. He used to be so hopeful, you know? That one day, your father would come to Dragonstone and finally, they’d be a family, a complete family. He’d always tell me every little thing he noticed the late King did, if there was ever any time he did anything with just Maegor, he would’ve not stopped talking about it.” she said, her voice still gentle, like she knew already that her words would hurt him.

“I… My father, surely, he would…” There were sides of his father that he’d never see or fully understand, just like he was sure his own children would feel about him one day, but the sheer difference in what image he had left behind seemed monumental. Rowan’s eyes were understanding, allowing him time to think before she spoke up again.

“How often did he mention your brother to you? How many namedays did he celebrate with him, let alone throw feasts for? Gods be good, he never even told him he loved him. Would you ever do that to any of your children?” she asked, her tone soft, but firm. Aenys wasn’t the only one feeling defensive it seemed.

“No! Gods, no, of course not!” he answered, hurt that she’d even suggest such a thing. It felt overwhelming, it felt like she was accusing him of being willfully blind and complacent, and it was confusing. His father was never a man of many words, but he could recall moments when he told him he loved him, few and rare as precious gems. Precious gems his brother was desperate to find, but was never able to. His father always threw feasts for Aenys’ namedays and he recalled how Maegor was always bitter during the weeklong celebrations. He assumed he hated fun, but had he truly been so blind, so unwilling to be empathetic? 

“The late King was a great warrior and a fair ruler, but he was no father to Maegor.” she said with a frown. Aenys frowned as well. What did she know of Aegon the Conqueror, when she was barely in his presence? How could she ever make such an assessment of his character and speak it so boldly to his son? Was this what Visenya spent her years teaching her and Maegor? To blame it all on the late King?

“Well, if my aunt had allowed him to grow up here in court, father would’ve had the chance to be in his life.” Aenys spat out before thinking any further. Rowan had been calm and understanding whenever they spoke, but what he said made her angry.

“Everytime she brought him here, your parents would only ignore him and avoid him. Being around them did way more damage than it did good, to both your brother and your aunt. And why should it have fallen on her to fix things when it was your father that messed them up in the first place? He had a dragon, Dragonstone is only a few hours away, even fewer considering he had Balerion. He chose not to be around.” she countered, looking at him for an answer, knowing he couldn’t give one. For that moment, he felt like a scolded child.

“It’s not their fault my aunt distanced herself!” he said, feeling somehow cornered, despite the fact that the lady sat next to him had no power in comparison to him. His defence was a weak one, he knew it as soon as it left his mouth, but she spoke up before he could add any more substance to it.

“How exactly is it not their fault? They treated her presence as something to be tolerated, when everyone knew they’d never have achieved any of this without her, and yet they ignored her, pushed her away. You might’ve been sheltered from it all, but I was right by her side, holding her hand. How would you feel if Alyssa pushed you aside and took another husband, ignored you and the children she had with you in favour of her new family, all the while you had to sit there and watch as she humiliated you, because if you made any fuss you’d be labelled crazy and it would show rifts in the family that had to appear solid. Can you imagine the hurt and the betrayal she had felt?” 

Silence. Stunned silence. Her angry tone was not something he ever thought he’d hear. Aenys had always prided himself on his ability to be empathetic to people, his allies, his opponents, anyone and everyone, so why had he never extended that to his aunt, he couldn’t know. Rowan’s gaze made him feel ashamed, as everything was there, right before his eyes in order to reach that conclusion and yet he never did. Perhaps he knew deep down, but he knew that thinking too much about these things never led anywhere good. He felt like a coward. Like he had been closing his eyes willingly ignoring anything that could stain the perfect sculpture he had crafted in his mind of his parents, and Rowan had just thrown a giant rock at it, damaging it. He sat there silently, trying to calm his beating heart. It felt as though someone was chasing him. 

His aunt was never someone he could picture betraying, as it would mean certain death. He had always known that things were tense between his parents and her, but they had always made it out to be because of something she had done. Rowan clearly had a different perspective. She looked like a child defending her mother, just as Aenys was a few moments ago. As the silence grew, her features calmed while she thought.

“Your parents and their memories, they’re holy to you. As they should be. But they were people, not saints. I am angry at her, you cannot imagine how angry I still am and I’m sure you are too, but you do not get to use her as some villain in order to sanctify your parents." She spoke slowly, her tone gentle and soft once more, but it was firm.

Was that what he was doing? It felt like an accusation in many ways, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak to refute it. To ever think that his parents never did anything wrong was foolish, everyone messed up sometimes, and yet it was so incredibly impossible for him to accept all that Rowan was saying, no matter how much sense it all made.

“She truly did raise you.” he concluded after some time. Sometimes she sounded like a young maiden, sometimes like a wise old crone, but the influence his aunt had on her was unmistakable, if one knew how to look and what to look for. He would never expect it from someone like Rowan, someone so quiet and sweet, and yet there it was.

“I’m happy she did.” she replied, a tiny smile on her lips. There was another moment of silence and Aenys grew a bit uncomfortable.

“Do you think she was raising you to be Maegor’s wife?” he asked, without thinking. The question clearly took Rowan completely off guard, as it was now her turn to be stunned into silence. “She raised you by his side, taught you our language and customs personally, she trusts you like a daughter… Have you ever thought about it this way?” he asked, trying to not appear too insane for springing that onto her out of nowhere.

“I don’t think so.” she finally concluded after her moment of reflection. “No, I don’t think she did. She always told Maegor that his marriage would be a political one and from what I recall, she was reviewing a lot of potential matches for him. She was furious with the late King for taking that choice away from her. I’m not sure when exactly she decided to advocate for us to marry, but by the time she did, it was already too late and word had been sent to Oldtown. I don’t think she was raising me to marry him, but perhaps she saw me as someone safe for her son to be with, someone she could trust.” she explained.

Aenys let that sink in for a moment. It wasn’t an unfair question he had asked her, was it? His aunt was always selective on everything, even more so when it came to her one and only son. It wasn’t that crazy of a notion that she would pick a young, highborn girl and raise her to be the perfect example of a match for him. But then again, Rowan’s explanation made sense. If she had been planning this all along, she would’ve fought way harder for it to come to fruition, but it was not the case.

“It saddens me that they fought so much…” he sighed sadly. As strange of a relationship his father and aunt seemed to have, he never relished in seeing his aunt sad and lonely. He was at least glad they didn’t fight nearing his father’s end.

“She loved him. Despite everything, despite how horribly he treated her, no matter how much he hurt her, she still loved him. She would’ve still died to protect him, even though I could never fully understand. Things were finally getting good between them, after all those years she spent alone, missing him. He moved to Dragonstone and was finally a husband to her, a proper one, not just in name, and then he was taken from her. She still mourns for him, even when you think she’s not.” Rowan explained, almost like she was still in disbelief of the depths of love his aunt held for his late father. It was something he could grow to admire.

“She should be glad to have someone like you by her side. I can see that you love her very much, both her and my brother, that you’re willing to be so forthcoming with your King.” Aenys smiled, the tension that arose before now completely gone. Rowan’s eyes widened at the realisation of how casual and informal she had been with him and was quick to an apology, but Aenys stopped her.

“I’m sorry, your grace, I thought-”

“None of that. Please, call me Aenys.” he smiled tiredly. How many people were tip toeing around him, telling him half truths that he wanted to hear? This was important, this was necessary. “If you wouldn’t mind it, I will call you Rowan.” he said, feeling at ease again.

“If you wish it… Aenys.” she tried it, trying to not feel weird calling him by his first name and not his highest title. “Look, I’m really sorry if I overstepped, if I pushed too much on topics that are sensitive.” she apologised again, looking like she truly meant it. It was then he noticed that she also looked exhausted from everything, perhaps what led her to be so frank with him in the first place.

“No. You told me things that hurt me, things that angered me.” he insisted, looking toward the grand window of his solar, overlooking the sea. “Which is exactly why I need you by my side. I need someone to tell me the truth of things without fear, even if it’s something that will hurt.” he explained. She would make a very useful ally to have. If not now, in the future, when Maegor would return. “I know. I know that in my mind, my parents are saints. And that has made me turn a blind eye to some things.” he sighed, finally trying to wrap his head around it all, trying not to feel completely overwhelmed.

“It’s only normal. I lost my mother so young, I cannot for the life of me imagine her as anything other than the smart, caring and loving mother she was to me. But she was much more than that, much more than a nostalgic memory. She was a person, one that surely had moments when she got angry and fought with her parents and siblings, and wasn't so selfless and kind and loving. Because she was human. Just as your parents were.” Rowan explained kindly. He remembered she lost her mother young, Edith, was it? Something they had in common. They seemed to have a lot in common, and it calmed Aenys a lot. He wasn’t sure why. She just had a calming energy around her, despite feeling tense before.

“Are you always this empathetic to people you hate, Rowan? My parents, I mean, that was a very sweet thing to say.” he lightly laughed. The more she talked, the more the truth came out, she had a hard time hiding her distaste. This time, she did not start apologising, but she did have a sad gleam in her eyes again. He could see why Maegor was so fond of her, she was a beautiful woman. It was a shame he mostly saw her sad.

“I don’t hate your parents.” she countered. “I never knew your mother personally, but your father… All I can think of when I think of him is all the hurt he caused to two people I love very much.” she admitted, her voice almost too soft to hear if one wasn’t actively doing so.

“After everything?” he asked with his voice full of sympathy. After they both betrayed her? He supposed there was a lot more there than just betrayal, built upon years and years of love.

“After everything.” she confirmed.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[just-a-fander]

What you don't see | fear

This is the second chapter. I'm writing this with @ghost-guard-13 the book version is on wattpad

Wc: 1678

Cw: smoking, fighting

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6 am, Monday

Virgils pov

The suns rays disturbed my fitful sleep, earning a groan at the realization that I had never really left. I'm still here, I thought, in hell.

Sighing miserably, I slowly sat up, looking at the wings that weighed me down like the onslaught of responsibilities I held. I knew I had to put them on. They sat there, across the room on a stool, it felt like they were mocking me, saying I'm free but always keeping me in place.

I finally stood, striding to the bathroom connected to my room, glancing at the calendar hung on my wall and allowing a small smile to shine through. It was Monday, meaning I got to eat breakfast.

Under it said meeting, in bold letters. Great, another useless meeting about some stupid thing, I thought. Maybe it would be exciting this time, or as exciting as it could get.

I leaned down and turned the handle, cold water pouring down from the faucet. I cupped my hands under the water and felt it pool in my hands, I then brought my hands up and splashed my face to help wake me up. I then started to brush my teeth after I went out and got the wings, I took off my sleep shirt and threw it on the bed, its not like it mattered if the bed was a mess, it fit the rest of my life.

I picked up the wings and walked over to the angled mirrors, grabbing the screw driver. I carefully turned, watching the mirrors as I screwed the built in screws in the little holes of the over-sized door hinges that held them. Immediately I felt the 20 pounds of that wing alone hold me down, then the other. They pulled my shoulders down, forcing me to have good posture.

I sighed and looked at the time

6:20

I then walked over to the dresser and opened it, looking for the one shirt that was made to fit me with my wings.

No one pov

After Virgil put on his shirt as well as his belt.

He walked over to his bedside table and picked up his ring, it had a black band and a purple gem. He slipped it on and turned to walk out, glancing at the clock.

6:24

He left his room and walked to the meeting room. He reached for the door nob, hesitating before finally opening it, walking in. Everyone was already in their seats. Nameless faces as far as he was concerned. He walked over and sat down, feeling the weight of his wings on his back, his shoulders where pulled down, he know it should hurt but he wasn't able to feel it, he couldn't feel really any pain other then on his back even then he hardly allowed anyone the chance to be behind him.

He looked ahead, his father finally speaking, "your late, as usual."

Virgil kept eye contact, looking down would be a sign of weakness, he couldn't show weakness. As much as it made him uncomfortable, he had keep eye contact, he nodded. "My apologizes, my wings are quite heavy, its hard to put them on."

His father dismissed him and started talking, Virgil didn't really pay attention to most of it, until he heard his name. "Virgil, you will be tasked with capturing Phoenix. I assume you will have no trouble with doing that, correct?"

Virgil nodded "of course not."

"Good, you may go get ready"

Virgil nodded, standing and walking out, heading for the kitchen, there wasn't much to eat, he made some toast and ate it as he began to plan. Of course he wouldn't be the one going after him at first, he had to find Phoenix's limit. He couldn't go after Piper, one of the two other hero's that were usually seen with him, the last time someone went after Piper and hurt him the rest of the hero's went after them. Piper did seem to be the one that everyone protected.

It would be stupid to appear randomly and go after him, Virgil himself hardly ever appeared, it would suspicious. He decided on sending a lesser villain out to do what he wanted. They usually rushed for the chance to get noticed by him or his father, everyone wanted to be on their good side.

He decided on Blade (amateur name, minor villains name themselves). He picked up the phone and called him. "Hello Blade~ your going to do something for me"

9:00

Just as Virgil was getting bored watching this child play with his butter knives, his target finally appeard. "Hola villano, who might you be? I was kinda in the middle of something."

So he has a life.

Virgil watched as the lesser villain, in that tacky ninja mask, announced himself (honesty making a fool of himself) "they call me Blade"

Virgil tried not to cringe. "Thats a bit on the nose, don't you think?" Phoenix stated, for once he had to agree. Virgil watched closely, taking notes.

He was quite high up, watching from a fire escape. He left his wings at the base so it'd be easier to wear his black jacket. As much as he hated wearing black on hot days, it made it easier to hide in the shadows and watch.

"Like yours is any better, Phoenix."

"Well at least I'm creative! Blade."

Virgil rolled his eyes, they sounded like children bickering.

"Now now, what do I always say about name calling." An unfortunately familiar voice said, Piper. He groaned, the one person he didn't want to be here, great.

"Piper, nice of you to join the party!" Phoenix said excitedly.

He grabbed the phone at his side, quietly walking away. Blade was going to need back up. The metal creaking slightly. He slipped inside of the building seconds after. Hearing Pipers voice "well I couldn't leave you alone now, could I?"

Virgil came back only a few minutes later hearing one of the other villains voices, "I had a feeling you were going to need back up." Frost said, Virgil slightly smirked.

He saw that Blade was already loosing, honestly, what he expect?

Virgil sat back down, watching the fight from afar, taking notes.

Frost jumped down from staue of some forgotten person, landing gracefully on the ground.

"Well if it isn't Frosty the snow man." Phoenix teased.

Frost raised a brow, "you seem to forgetting that I've won the last few times we've met up, sparky."

"I beg to differ."

"Then go on, beg." Frost smirked. Virgil sighed, of course Frost had to risk his life just for some action. No wonder why he was single.

"This reunion is nice and all, but unfortunately we have places to be, so let's wrap this up." Piper said, Virgil raised a brow.

Phoenix smirked at him, "I'd hate for you to melt."

"Aww how considerate of you~"

Virgil groaned, were they seriously going to flirt the whole time?

Piper unclipped his pan flute. Blade shouted and attacked Phoenix from behind, Frost sighed. Ice appearing, separating Blade from the heros. "I don't have time to babysit you, I have a job to do." Frost stated. Virgil was silently grateful for him being work focused though, he would never admit it.

"That makes two of us."

Ice inclosed the two, Virgil sighed. He supposed he would only get to see the end. On the inside of the circle Frost stared at Phoenix, "I'm here for you."

Virgil heard the sweet and almost calming song of Pipers pan flute.

Phoenix punched the ice wall, only going half way through, cracks spreading. Phoenix tried again. Frost spoke up, "I know you too well, sparky. I can't afford to get distracted by your friend." The spot the was originally damaged repeared itself.

"I think you've forgotten just how much we've faced each other snowflake." Phoenix replied.

"And everytime you give me a reputation with the boss, and get new access to things I didn't have before." Frost said calmly.

Phoenix placed his foot down, flames erupting against the ice wall. Frost glared at him, not wasting any time as he started to climb. He shot ice near Phoenix, hoping to get him off balance and make him fall. He wasn't allowed to kill him after all.

Frost watched as Phoenix climbed over the wall, dropping to the ground. Frost made an archway for himself as he walked over, "you're making this harder then it has to be Sparky."

"Can you mix it up a little? Sparkys getting old, popsicle." Phoenix replied. Virgil watched, slightly smiling, so he wants something new?

"Oh don't worry, Sparky, we're just getting started." Frost smiled at him.

"Thats what you said the last tem times, helado!"

Virgil spoke into the earpiece, "I've got enough for now, you can back out."

Frost laughed, backing up. "Leaving so soon?"

"Oh Sparky, this is nothing like the past. Its a shame this may be last fight for us though."

Virgil watched as Frost backed up, a mini blizzard appearing around him, as he slipped away. "Come back you coward!" Phoenix yelled.. Virgil quietly got down, meeting Frost.

"You did good, better the new boy." Despite being smaller then him, Frost still feared the man.

Frost nodded, "thank you, its always a pleasure working for you."

Virgil smirked, "the pleasure is mine."

He turned and walked away, finding the scene, slipping into the crowd. He watched Piper and Phoenix arrest Blade, he didn't care. Blade had proved himself useless.

Finally he watched as Phoenix made his grand exit. Flames erupting around him. Virgil managed to get near where Phoenix last was, trying to find him.

He walked over to the alleyway, looking down it. He saw nothing but crates, still he decided to stay near it, just incase.

He leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette. Breathing in the smoke. He knew it was unhealthy, he just didn't care, he lost everything already, so why should he?

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

Please let me know if you like this

[aberrant-webnovel]

Aberrant - Prologue

Content Warning: Gore, horror themes, profanity

Chapter 0.1 - Vault Breakers

Finally, a welcome silence. The only thing other than stillness was the sound of a few of us trying to steady our heavy breathing.

I gripped my weapon. It's a bulky mass of metal and it weighs about 15lbs. But damn does this gun let loose a hell of a bulletstorm.

The Mk.6 Caliburn. One of the finest pieces of engineering from the Crytin Domain. Those guys hiding up in the ice aren't much for fighting, but they put together the best equipment a Breaker could ask for.

I've been stuck in this deployment for way damn too long, but what I found is probably going to buy me a few years of lodging and food in a pretty good district back home. I just gotta keep myself alive for long enough to cash in my haul.

"Gajjet, you got enough mags readied for the last push?"

"Yeah, Sarge, I've got enough. You got enough steam to push passed the Abbies?"

My team's boss called out to me to make sure I was good to go. He's a hell of a leader, especially when we're pushed up against a wall like this.

"Yeah, G. I'll charge through and make sure to open those door for the rest of ya. Y'all ain't getting out of here if I don't, right?"

He really was the best damn guy we could have with us right now. The only thing standing the between us and safety is a hoard of those aberrations and a blast door. There's no working power in this area so the blast door's are magnetically sealed.

Sarge is a bit of a specialist with Vault breaking and use of raw power. He's 6'6", weighs 240lbs., and he's built of some the thickest muscle you can find on an augmented human. When most of them tend to be outfitted with gear to compensate for what they were missing physically and mentally, Sarge took a different approach.

This hulk in front of me once said, "If I train to get strong enough to fight them things with my own two hands, then imagine how strong I can get with some tech giving me a boost on top of it."

When he finally got that tech, it was pricey enough to win him an election through bribes alone. But he wanted to achieve a goal. Something he had to do on the frontlines and fighting tooth and nail.

This guy now has plating under his skin strong enough to prevent those things from biting into him and arms loaded with enough hydraulic power to lift a tank.

"Hey, are you sure we can't take another 20 or 30…? I can barely keep my legs steady. I damn near collapsed before we got inside here."

Carlyle was always a bit weaker than the rest of us, but he was damn resourceful. Smart-ass, but resourceful. This was his first time going so deep into a Vault, though. Scouts usually stay back and let Runner's handle the dirty work.

"Shit, C, you only gotta run one last time. You telling me you wanna sit in here for 30 fuckin' minutes before you get to taste what it's like to actually conquer a fuckin' Vault!?"

"Fucking…. Yeah, you've got a point. I'm gonna have to actually give it everything I've got in this one, yeah?"

Carlyle pushed himself up off of the ground and started to stretch his tired limbs. He was young, maybe early twenties. Good-looking guy. Not qutie as handsome as my Gage, but he'll catch the eyes of a few ladies when he makes it back from this. Especially with the stories we can recount loudly at the bar.

"Hey, G, does the girl seem to be able to make it? I can't carry her out during this. It's on you and C to get her out."

"She ain't said a word. I'll get her out of her on my back if I gotta, though. She's definitely getting back to the city."

"Check her over and make sure she's good enough to move. We've got about five minutes til they start to pick up our scent."

Against the metal wall of this torn up science outpost, I looked at the girl we found on this job. She was damn catatonic at this point. I couldn't possibly think of what happened to her in this place all alone.

I reached out to her to move the cloak up that she wore. She was still naked underneath, but that wasn't what I cared about. All the bruising and lacerations on her body were looking terrible. She was hurt in so many ways, bound and cut somehow by someone or something.

"Hey we're about to get going again. Sarge can't carry you, so can you stand at all? I'll move you if I gotta, but I'm only barely bigger than you."

Yeah, she really only was a bit smaller than me. I'm a woman and not very tall of one. Only about 5'5". I work out plenty and train my body, so I can't be called weak by any means.

This girl before me was only maybe an inch or two shorter. She seemed like maybe only 19 or 20 years old. She seemed really healthy as far as her body went other than her wounds. I don't really have too much of a chance to fight if I carry her out. It's going to take both arms to haul her and so I can't shoot at all during that.

"…."

She looked at me blankly. Not a single though seemed to be fully processing up there. Maybe after we got her out of here, gave her a bath and a meal, then she'd be more able to talk or something.

At least, I hope so.

"Sarge, she's as good as she's gonna get. How about we start running and shooting? About time I got home to see my kids. They're gonna give their papa a really hard time if I don't get back to yell at 'em."

"Haha! You're right. Gage can't handle everything that you do for him. Luckily Marcia is still back at home. She'll have been making sure things are fine with your man and your babies. Now, get this girly on your back and get ready. When I rip open the doors here, we ain't stopping til we're home free."

Chapter 0.2 - Home Stretch

Bullet casing were leaping through the air, clanging down onto the rocky surface at Carlyle's feet. Blood splattering as each casing displaced bits of the puddle pooling there. Carlyle never stopped shooting.

I gave him my gun to use for this last push. He didn't have much firepower with the lighter weapons he carried. Being our scout, he never really needed something like my gun weighing him down. But at a time like this, the best option was the biggest gun he could use.

Carlyle couldn't carry this girl fast enough to have made it to the blast door with us. Only I could do this since Sarge had to fight off aberrations with his fists and then use his hands to pry open the door. It's up to Carlyle to hold the line when we're breaching.

He stood behind Sarge while the hulking man tried prying open the blast doors. His massive, augmented arms weren't only given the gift of strength, but also a specialized device that could disable magnetic shielding.

The blast doors were typiclaly held together by such a powerful magnetic force that opening them was impossible without first disabling it. With the control panels all shut down in this vault, there wasn't a way to open there doors. At least, not without Sarge's special arms.

Slowly the 1-ton doors were squeaking and spreading apart. Gajjet was running in place anxiously as the doors opened. She lookecd back for a moment. The sound of bullet firing had stopped, the clicking the the firing mechanism had not.

Blood. A fountian of crimson and entrails flowing out from what what left of Carlyle. His torso had been shredded apart from his ribs up. The arms were barely still hanging out by tendons, but his grip on his rifle's trigger wasn't letting up. Despite no rounds being present in the gun, the mechanism kept trying to shoot.

I opened my eyes wide and took in the sight before me. Ignoring the gore of my friend, I stared at the aberration before me. A creature with a worm-like body, but an eagle's face. Two long arms protruding from under its neck with spindly limbs, stretching out, one elbow joint, and stick-like finger all with a large talon at the end. The body has dozens of rows of smaller taloned feet.

The eagle face twisted and looked at me upside down, then rights its position and stares at the girl on my back. A screech. A terrifying, blood chilling sound that sent my mind into a dark place. I couldn't move. I imagined this beast tearing me limb from limb. I watched it lower its body and start the crawl across the ground at an incredible speed.

Why am I frozen? I want to run and shout for Sarge to save me. I want him to have that door open. Then we can both go. I'll take the girl. I'll be the one to tell Carlyle's parents about him. I just want to move. I want to run. I can't…. I can't.

I can't move my legs. I can't speak. I can't turn to look behind me. I just watch this creature slithered closer and closer. It's only a few feet away.

It lunges. It's a foot away. I feel my body freeze to receive the attack. I move.

My body is being pulled. I don't understand anything about it. As I fly backwards, I see a large arm. Muscular. Dark. A little hairy. Bits of metal breaking through the skin that I could see. Sarge.

"Get going! You got this!"

I flew through the air. I felt control come back in this moment. I turned my body. I knew the girl was on my back. I can't land on her.

It stings. My face scraped across the concrete below me. My chest was pressed tightly against it. I involutnarily took in a deep breath. This almost hurt just as bad as the landing.

Was I paralyzed? Was it fear? Was it a spell? I couldn't figure it out. I lifted my body with girl still clinging to my back. She seemed to at least know to hold tight.

"Shit, Sarge, thanks. Save my ass. Let's get going."

I didn't hear a response. I didn't really hear anything. After standing up, leaving the girl sitting next to me, I turned my head around. I just see the magnetically shut blast doors. Sarge wasn't with me.

Chapter 0.3 - Soft

A wall of black. Conrete with paint as dark as we could find or manufacture. On the wall are indentations, names. Carved into the wall, painted in with white.

Yorrick "Sarge" Bartman, Sargeant of the Vault Breaker Corp.

I stared at those words. I couldn't stop recalling those final memories of the event back then.

I pounded my fists against that blast door.

I screamed.

I cried.

Blood was splashing against my face, staining my eyes. It ran down my arms.

How long did I scream and cry and hit and bleed….?

How long was that girl holding me back? With all the faulting strength in that feeble self?

Until I stopped hitting the door, she wrapped her arms around me and tried to pull me back. I wasn't sane. She seemed to react to that.

Her hand now was resting on my shoulder. It was a soft and white hand. Skin that seemed to never grow old. I looked at my hands and saw the wrinkles beginning to form.

That's right. All this happened thirty years ago, didn't it? I've become much older. Never really lost my edge. Only actually got better at what I did. Breaking into Vaults and recovering crazy tech from ages lost. I killed aberrations left and right with the best of the best gear.

I missed that rifle I had back then, though. I thought about going to get it sometime, but got cold feet about what I would see if I ever breached those doors again.

I looked up from that soft hand at the face of the girl. A soft smile. Everything about her was soft. Her emerald green eyes. The hair on her head was a soft, pale blonde. Almost white, really. Platinum? Maybe that's the right word for it.

Her lips were thin. Like she'd been sick and never got better. But the warmth and life that radiated from her contradicted that feeling entirely.

I never learned her name. She never could tell me. Not a word ever escaped those pale lips. Nothing ever was told to me about her. But she showed me.

She showed me that she worried.

She showed me tears.

She showed me terror.

I took care of her for a long time when we got back to the Vault Breaker HQ. From the Vault we escaped, it was about two weeks of travel through the Desert Sector to get back to the Igneol Domain.

Provisions were all lost when we escaped the Vault. I had to fight and procure just enough to keep us alive for that time. Whenever I left to hunt, she'd be inconsolable. Once I returned, she'd hang onto me like a lost child. Or a puppy.

When we returned, she slept for three days in room. I stayed in Carlyle's room for that time. I wasn't able to go home until after she woke up and we could examine her.

I made sure to call Gage, though. He was worried sick. I didn't realize that we were in the vault for a nine days longer than what everyone thought. The trip back should have been only three days with the whole group. Maybe five days if Carlyle didn't make it. But it took Gajjet and this girl two weeks.

The contract detailed that it would take five days to enter, scout, and retrieve all valuables. It showed all signs of being a Class 3 Vault. That's why I went along. They needed one of the best fighters readily available to make sure they could survive the aberrations in a Class 3. Couldn't wait an extra month to call in an expert Runner. I wasn't an expert, but I knew all there was to know about Class 3's.

Shit wasn't actually a Class 3, though. I couldn't tell you what I'd classify it as. It was just Hell. Those things were stronger and stranger than anything that had been seen before. There were more of them than in any other Vault ever recorded.

The tech in there was beyond their wildest imaginations, too. Wires, tubing, blinking lights, pods filled with fluid and weird masses of flesh and gore floating and contorting within. It was in one of those pods that this girl was found.

After examinations, we learned that she possessed a mixed set of DNA. She was a human, but had the same structures found in various aberrations. Everything about her seemed human until we saw that.

There aren't any signs of her being a danger. She ate, slept, relived herself, and even ovulated. Over about a whole year study, they deemed that she was fine to live with me as her guardian.

I welcomed her into my home. Gage, my husband, did everything he could to prepare enough space for her. We had an extra room for when my mother came to visit, but she passed some time ago. We let her sleep there. Gage fixed it up and dusted it. It was a nice room.

My children were scared of her at first since she didn't speak. But after giving them some warm smiles and tender strokes of the hair, they warmed up to her.

Oh yeah, my kids were only six and four at the time. Harper, the elder sister, was protective and wanted to make sure was was seen as strong all the time. She took after me way too much. I always wished she would be a bit more calm like her father.

Her younger brother, Varun, was an interesting kid, though. He seemed fascinated with everything I brought home to add to my armory. I always made sure to bring it home, clean it, tinker, and tune before taking it back to HQ to have readied for my next deployment.

When his eyes locked onto whatever gun, blade, or armor piece I was working on, he'd sit and stare as I'd work with it. It seems like he'll be a fine man to join the Vault Breakers one day.

But as far as how my family felt about this girl I brought back, they treated her like she belonged very quickly. With time, she began to become more expressive. She'd showed emotions and react with various expressions to different events of conversations. She couldn't ever speak, though.

It wasn't for a lack of trying, though. My husband and I took time to arrange some lessons with a friends of ours. She taught at a school nearby and typically helped young children learn the basics of language and arithmetic.

The lessons never really took off though. Not to lack of effort, but the tutoring couldn't ever take off since she was physically unable to make sounds with her voice. It was like she didn't have one at all.

I took her to have some more exams performed with her consent and learned something that was missed initially. She didn't have properly formed vocal cords. The reason for this was unknown, but she didn't have the ability to produce sound the same way as use.

We eventually taught her a common form of sign language that we have here in the Igneol Domain. It's a bit different in other places, but, she was able to learn it fast and get along with others quickly.

I couldn't be happier if I'm being honest. I taught her many things about how to live in this place and what we all do to survive. I taught her to communicate with writing and signs. I taught her what it was to have a family. She became someone important to me and my family. It's a shame we could never learn more about her. But really, that wasn't important to us anymore.

[I still remember Sarge. So strong and big. I still remember your sadness. You're still sad, though. Right?]

"Yeah, Del. I don't think that's ever going to go away. He helped raise me into who I am. He introduced me to my husband. He named my son. He saved both of us with his last action that we could remember him by. Not being able to thank him for all of that is going to stay with me forever, I think."

[Then I am going to have to try extra hard to make things fun tonight!]

"Tonight? Oh shit, yeah… It's my birthday. Sixty-three…"

[And still beautiful.]

"You're a joker, you know that? You never age a day. Still as pretty as when I pulled you out of that Vault. What I'd give for that."

[STILL. PRETTY.]

"Okay! I get it. But one day, you're going to need to use those looks of yours, you know. Get you a partner. You're totally capable of loving someone and being loved, you know?"

[Hey, hey, hey! I get it! Stop it with that! I'll get to that when I'm good and ready!]

"Hah! At this rate, you'll be meeting someone at my funeral."

[No fair! I've had my eyes on certain man, actually. Maybe I'll have to bring him as a date to the funeral.]

"Oh-ho-ho! Getting cheeky now, ey? And who is this man? I haven't met him have I?"

Del. Delilah. I gave her that name shortly after we brought her into our home. My kids wouldn't put up with just calling her "auntie" the whole time. Delilah was my own aunt's name. She was a kind woman. Someone who cared for her family. Someone who would offer a shoulder to cry on. Someone who learned from everything around her. Delilah felt life the name that she should have. When I told her this, she cried. She hugged me and signed to me.

[I love it! I'm happy as Delilah!]

I carried on with teasing Delilah for some time. She wouldn't ever give me the name of that man. At least not til she was ready to ask him out. Then she needed all the advice she could get.

Over many years, I thought about the time we spent together. I risked my life for everything I beleived in. I wanted our society to flourish. And so I brought back a small piece of tech that did just that. The same time I brought back the girl that I'd give the name Delilah.

She was someone who cared for me. Someone who grew as a person and who would laugh and love with all of us as a family. She became a friend. And sister to me. And auntie to my children. She became a mother to her own. Delilah was someone who could live a full life filled with the warmth of those she loved. The same warmth and love she would give to us all. I love Delilah so much. I continued to love Delilah. For the rest of my life.

That life of mine was never dull since she appeared. Not ever. Not even til the day I died. She held my hand in hers. In her soft hands. With her soft smile. The first time I felt them, I was crying, screaming, and bleeding. Now, I'm still, calm, and happy. Happy that I died with this friend by my side.

[askforfireman]

(???)/5 stars : would not recommend

re-vamped by Ree tagging: all (for funsies!)

NAME: Volke

BODY

height: 187cm (6/2ish)

strength ★★★★☆ ( 3 1/2 ; built solid so he's lucky ; boon for hefty contracts ; the Daein lifestyle of needing to be able to throw a solid punch)

dexterity ★★★★★ (he cannot be caught. ninja. only reason he's still kicking is by slipping the noose)

health ★★☆☆☆ (lackluster despite his demeanor - that Daein lifestyle of starving. did not help him grow with good health, but he manages)

energy ★★★☆☆ (health affects it, so weighed down by lackluster health ; training has significantly improved his energy levels ; busybody)

beauty ★★☆☆☆ (would consider himself average, but doesn't focus too much on cosmetics)

style ★★☆☆☆ (not a fashion guru. never claimed to be. won't be. practical over pompous.)

hygiene ★★☆☆☆ (is too used to going a hot minute without a nice cleanse so it's unfortunately habitual. is much better about it & trying to appear as professional as needed in his line of work)

SKILLS

perception ★★★★★ (he's nosy. he knows everything about you. works in intelligence - needs to be perceptive. literally puts his food on his plate)

communication ★☆☆☆☆ (awful. loner, not great with people. can communicate if need be but prefers to keep chit-chat short)

persuasion ★☆☆☆☆ (not-well liked or charismatic, so probably not the first person that will be listened to. also doesn't care too much about swaying someone. it's not his problem)

mediation ★☆☆☆☆ (might just sling two people who are quarreling into a wall and slink off. or might just slink off. never pays enough to get caught in the crossfire.)

literacy ★★☆☆☆ (Daein-lifestyle. he can read and write, but gets curt when people use fancy language because it's not his forte. below avg.)

creativity ★★★★☆ (Fireman for a reason - he puts out your problems. gotta be creative to get good reviews on yelp. questionable, but creative.)

cooking ★★☆☆☆ (can get by. only seasons with salt and pepper.)

tech savvy ★★★★☆ (nifty at figuring things out. typically catches on because he's observant)

combat ★★★★☆ (has to fight to land some jobs and keep going. has done it his entire life. it's like breathing.)

survival ★★★★★ (he's been doing it since day 1. grew up poor and lived everywhere. jack of all trades. the guy you want if the apocalypse comes)

stealth ★★★★★ (how else would he get his intel on people?)

street smarts ★★★★★ (grew up on the streets. knows every nook and cranny. knows where to go and where to avoid. knows who's hostile and who's not.)

seduction ☆☆☆☆☆ (not a charming bone in his body)

luck ★★★☆☆ (pretty average, but he doesn't believe too strongly in luck. humors the idea, but doesn't worship it)

handling animals ★☆☆☆☆ (no.)

pacifying children ☆☆☆☆☆ (I think we know how his and Veyle's thread is going)

MIND

intelligence ★★★★☆ (intelligent in the sense of adaptability is HIGH. has been adapting his entire life to this screwed up world. But book smart? no. can figure things out, but won't start posing complex questions. really just doesn't care.)

happiness ★☆☆☆☆ (he's indifferent. it's just life. ambles in limbo with his joy because it's a gray area that he just doesn't cater to. not depressed or anything close to it, but not very familiar with the feeling of complete happiness. strong gray area)

spirituality ★★☆☆☆ (doesn't really acknowledge the goddess but knows she's . . . real)

confidence ★★★☆☆ (avg ; self-esteem? all he feels is the weight of gold in his pocket, not the pressure/opinions of others)

humor ★★☆☆☆ (dry and deadpan like a desert. scoffs a lot - it's his laugh)

anxiety ★☆☆☆☆ (could not give any fewer fucks. might feel a tingle when he needs a job done quickly but probably won't)

patience ★★★★☆ (actually great! takes patience to have things go smoothly, and he'd rather succeed the first time on a job than have to do it again. +hard to get clients with impatience)

passion ☆☆☆☆☆ (is pretty much just existing. very monotonous life. not really passionate about anything. very tragic. )

nice         ★★☆☆☆     mean (doesn't come off as the nicest but doesn't intend to be mean)

brave       ★★★☆☆     cowardly (really doesn't care at this point?)

pacifist     ★★★☆☆     violent  (either or. not quick to temper)

thoughtful ★★★☆☆    impulsive (prefers to think things through)

agreeable ★★★☆☆     contrary (not here to start a fight but can finish one)

idealistic   ★☆☆☆☆     pragmatic (thinks idealists are blind dreamers)

frugal        ★★★★☆     big spender (grew up poor and will not blow his funds)

extrovert   ☆☆☆☆☆     introvert (not the crowd-sort. uh-uh. nope. leave him alone.)

collected   ★★☆☆☆     wild (more calm than anything. wild doesn't imply efficiency in the workforce)

ambitious / possessive / stubborn / jealous / decisive / perfectionist

SOCIAL

charisma ★☆☆☆☆ (he flusters when Ike thanks him. THANKS. bare minimum of social skills and he fucks it up)

empathy ★★☆☆☆ (understands that people might feel certain ways but doesn't connect with them. not his business unless he gets paid for it)

generosity ★★☆☆☆ (doesn't really work with a discount system. gets flustered attempting to be generous)

wealth ★★★★☆ (with the rates he charges? heh. the only issue is that . . . he's not a big spender. he's like a dragon hoarding gold.)

honest   ★★☆☆☆ deceptive (doesn't actively lie unless he needs to but that doesn't mean he gives complete truths either)

leader   ☆☆☆☆☆   follower (neither. just leave him alone. please. followed Ike to honor Greil. that was the one rule breaker)

polite     ★☆☆☆☆  rude (comes off as rude because he's awkward)

political ★☆☆☆☆  indifferent (largely indifferent until you start roping politics into scientific shenanigans like Izuka did)

BELIEFS

higher power ★★☆☆☆ (was with Ike's party when shenanigans went down, but isn't really spiritual)

fate/destiny ★★★☆☆ (not that poetic, but definitely feels like he's just existing so he could clock out one day and be alright calling it fate)

magic ★★☆☆☆ (he's seen it, yeah, but there isn't a magical bone in his body)

soulmates ★☆☆☆☆ (no. doesn't even think about feelings and you think he's gonna think about divine romancing? no.)

good and evil ★★☆☆☆ (literally exists in that gray area. believes more so in doing what needs to be done for you to survive.)

luck ★★☆☆☆ (likes the concept, but doesn't really think about it)

PRIORITIES

family ☆☆☆☆☆ (what family?)

friends ★☆☆☆☆ (they're clients. contracts. people that will pay him and then he'll move on.)

love ☆☆☆☆☆ (never really learned about it. never really had it. doesn't really acknowledge that it's a thing.)

home ☆☆☆☆☆ (home as in family? no. doesn't have that. doesn't know if he wants it, but certainly doesn't have it)

health ★★☆☆☆ (Daein-lifestyle. grew up lacking in it but worked himself out to a good constitution when he grew older. can start to slack on it if he's busy)

praise ☆☆☆☆☆ (please don't praise him. he's never been exposed to that sort of goodness, and it makes him awkward/uncomfortable)

justice ★★☆☆☆ (can differentiate great good from terrible evil, but it's largely gray to him. he gets paid either way)

truth ★☆☆☆☆ (he doesn't prioritize truth bc at the end of the day he can be honest or lie - whichever puts gold in his pocket)

power ★★★☆☆ (he doesn't think he needs many assets of power. considers himself content with what he has - it's gotten him this far. could always be improved, sure)

fame ★★★☆☆ (getting his name around gets business, but doesn't like an audience)

wealth ★★★★☆ (big priority because he grew up lacking it and longed for it so it's his way of satisfying everything that he's lacking but he simultaneously doesn't spend it because of that dread of being penniless again)

others' opinions ★★☆☆☆ (only cares because if word on the street of him is bad? no business. and that's not good.)

[baywaters16]

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[monroecrosby39]

Buying Facebook Photos

There is a very interesting experiment Used to do with Photo Noticing. I uploaded 4 drawings. Then I tagged 50 people per photo (That's the maximum FB will allow) and I only choose people I know or have corresponded with before. Always be be rather presumptuous to tag people I don't be familiar with. And then you can can start enjoying there is plenty of many of the right apart. You can look through other profiles, you can send emails to people you might be interested in chatting online with; you can browse the photo galleries to find out someone's look spark your interest. An image hosting service, or photo hosting service, lets you upload your photos by going online. The host will then store the photos you uploaded during their server. Once your images happen to uploaded on top of the host's website, the pictures will be available to people's. This service could be the best selection for you because you can view all your pictures dealing with your computer each and every accessing the internet. Photo hosting service has become quite popular, as the demand for such services continuously grows. If you've already loaded your photos onto your computer, then take a minute now to participate in for a trouble-free photo sharing site. Perform a search on the Internet for "easy photo sharing" - plenty will appear for which choose totally from. If you already belong to one of these services, cool! Once you've signed onto uncomplicated shot photo sharing site, just follow the instructions to upload you photos. Reason 1: Virtual Professional. This is one big asset the new version of Fifa. The player has the freedom and authority alter whatever aspect he or she need for any soccer grower. As a matter of fact, completely able to have built your photo uploaded and utilized. Then you can certainly be that may change attribute and play style in order to some player a person can choose. Not that, couple of different methods different modes with different arenas you can use and workout. I said earlier that that presume that 4K Stogram I understand have and email sort out. Well almost as many have FB accounts too actually possible obtain people when using the 'Find Friend' search facet. You have to have an FB account to attempt but merchants also as well sign up if you have never already would other professionals done. In order to be competitive in the market, the HP A536 Small Photo Printer offers many useful features offer the users not only convenience but excellent results as easily. The first is the size of the printer. It weighs only about 4.2 pounds and features dimension of 11.8 by 6.5 by 8 inches. This means that the HP A536 Small Photo Printer allows space saving and storage. And because of the weight, it really is very portable as it is additionally equipped using a built in handle and fold-up paper tray. You discover that one digital photo sharing service is better than the others you have, in which might create a difference your past quality of one's pictures. I spend time Shutterfly for a huge involving free storage, but the standard of of the pictures after I have 'shared' these with my friends online is not what I'd personally hope. 4k stogram Torrent are perfect though, and that is why I keep to them. You'll find numerous avenues and you actually may find may just surprise you can. There are the latest features being offered for digital photo sharing and processing all the time.

[4lorne2]

Jealousy, my old friend. It shot through me like a wave with just a casual admission on her part. It lingered in my mind long after that initial shock passed.

A cacophony of thoughts and feelings: frustration as the patterns of my affections repeat again despite my efforts to deviate from them; frailty brought on by my self imposed confinement and lack of connections with others; fear about the consequences of opening myself up to more painful feelings with little potential payoff.

I weigh the costs and benefits. I consider all relevant variables. I try to convince myself that desire is not a zero sum game. That her liaison does not make her off limits to me. But I worry about the calculated nature of such an admission. Is it a signal to back off? Is she setting a boundary by telling me this, as if to say, “I’m only telling you this because you’re in a different category.” You wouldn’t tell someone you were attracted to about intercourse with someone else would you.

The reality stings that I have always been the more open of us two. That this is the sort of insight I was seeking, if not the one I wanted to hear. She is there and I am not. Fixating on me makes no sense for her, but it makes all the sense in the world for me in my isolation. That is the unequal standing that our relationship is built on after all.

I am trying to tell myself not to label it. That she still wants to talk to me. That we can be close without being “close.” It’s foolish, but it’s also the only way I see to break my pattern. And when we come face to face there will be chances for intimacy that others don’t get to have. She respects me and values me. That has to be enough.

I have never been able to figure out what to do about the fact that I am attracted to people I admire. Admiration is by no means an equitable ground for love. It smacks of “pedestals” and elevating the other beyond myself, but what can I do?

The only thing I can think to do is disclose even more of myself. I am still reticent to tell her how she makes me feel. It feels premature and would necessarily shape the course of what’s to come by putting pressure on her to take the burden of those feelings on.

There is no “natural” way for the relationship to develop, but there is one where I keep my disclosures running parallel with her life, rather than allowing them to intersect. Intersecting can come later, if it is meant to come. In the meantime, I can continue to make myself known to her and hope she will do the same for me.

I recognize that she has shared much less of herself with me, but what do I have to lose by being open with her? She cannot hurt me if I lay myself bare. I am not asking to possess her, just gifting her with more and more of me. I have no reputation to damage. No ego to preserve. If I can let those things go, perhaps I can be loved in whatever way she sees fit.

It’s scary to relinquish all this power. I fear her getting bored of me. I worry about missing a chance. I despise the thought of having so little control and power in the relationship. The thought of giving it all to her is scary, but maybe that’s exactly what I want to feel. If I remove the time table, along with the expectations, and give her the freedom to react to me however she sees fit, I can give her power. I can try to wait desire out. If it fades, it will be a more palatable way for our relationship to end than a straightforward rejection. If it endures, then I will know that she has allowed it to grow, without ever being forced to.

The conventional wisdom is to rush in head first, tell them how you feel, don’t wait. But I have never been one to readily accept common sense. Who is to say that I understand my feelings. How do I know that I know what I want.

I will wait, for love is not unrequited unless we define it as such. For now, I will allow it to remain a desire to disclose myself to someone I admire. That feels substantially different from how I have handled these situations in the past. Especially when I have let my anxieties and pride keep me from revealing myself to another.

Our feelings are not ourselves. I will try to tell her about myself rather than about how I think I feel. That seems to me the better path to an as yet undetermined relationship. One that is not ruled by preconceptions or assumptions about what I want. To me it is this approach that I think is more likely to make me happy in the end.

Don’t Tell Them How You Feel, Show Them Who You Are

The Right Kind of Relationship Will Occur On Its Own

[susanoctave6]

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[no-droids]

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec​

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay!  I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.  

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck?  Look whenever you want?  That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind.  You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are?  Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look.  You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right.  You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there?  Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means.  It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible.  Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look.  Sort of.

Sort of.  Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid.  Mostly for him.  What if he’s making a mistake?  It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you.  This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn.  Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him.  To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around.  Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer.  Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?”  (“I don’t know.  Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?”  (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?”  (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles?  Or moles, or birthmarks?”  (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?”  (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?”  (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?”  (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look.  One right after the other.  You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence.  You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take.  One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally.  And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines.  He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful.  When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib.  But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off.  He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because.  Now he does.  Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully.  Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch.  Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear.  At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom.  He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door.  Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them.  Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born.  Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare?  He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye.  But to you, he’s… his own monument.  Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else.  A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him?  No, that’s not phrased right.  What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference.  He could be anybody.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features?  Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun.  Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would.  Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing.  Every single time.  You feel like you could do it in the pitch black.  You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous.  Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable.  Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous.  Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides.  He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back.  He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over.  No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova?  For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning.  He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it?  Din is… different, he notices.  He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too.  He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around.  That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why.  You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood.  While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes.  Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite.  Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder?  He said you’d say no.  Was he right?  You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now.  It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could.  Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself?  Where would it be?  Naboo?  No, that’s too cheesy.  One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it.  You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels.  Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away.  You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is.  You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated.  Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you.  “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair.  “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it.  “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it.  “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss.  You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs.  “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time.  You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it.  “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around.  “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body.  The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it.  “Be safe.  Please.”

But then… well.  Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach.  You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so.  Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned.  “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up.  You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him.  But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you.  Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him.  You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea.  “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

*** 

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…?  You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real.  You actually fucking did it.  You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey!  See that, bug!?”  You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms.  “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him.  “No demon powers necessary, little man!  I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two.  You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward.  You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach.  You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.  

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious.  Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.  “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm.  It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible.  You have company.  “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.”  He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you.  It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still.  Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…”  You immediately feel yourself get nervous.  “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more.  The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity.  Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits.  It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it?  But it doesn’t hit.  It misses, like usual.  Miserably.  And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck.  You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either.  But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect.  There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly.  However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just… 

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point?  All that practice and nothing to show for it.  If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot?  Are they gonna stand still for you?  Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk?  You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done.  It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.  

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time.  You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him.  “I hit it earlier.  I did, I promise.  You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago.  “I know you did.  It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center.  I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet.  Dumb.  Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear.  “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection.  It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things.  Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through.  You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you.  Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it.  “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point.  I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist.  “Try using this one when you do.”  And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship.  Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand.  You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor.  Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety.  It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look.  The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be.  The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside?  Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot?  Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him.  Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones.  “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs.  “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up.  He didn’t have to do this.  This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do.  Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle.  You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place.  It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly.  “They’re… dangerous animals.  Fiercely protective, preferring solitude.  The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him.  It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor.  Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel.  You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back.  “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other.  The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right.  The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is.  What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears.  Fuck yes.

“Look at that!”  Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory.  Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous.  You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark.  “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot.  A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later.  “That one.”  Bark splinters.  “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing.  “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous.  As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance.  So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger.  Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress.  He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that.  Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way.  It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back.  That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again.  “We have to get going.  The fifth quarry is far.  Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker.  You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest.  His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight.  “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you.  After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding.  You hope he sees it in your eyes.  You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along.  It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.”  Short.  Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay…  Um.  Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.”  Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks.  Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now.  “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay.  I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp.  “My fault for being late.”  And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive.  Aloof.  Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help?  Maybe?”  Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you.  “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up.  You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known.  You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it.  “I can be useful.  I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—” 

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?”  He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze.  You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how.  I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.”  He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before.  “No.  Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry.  Quit asking.  I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine.  Uh.  You… the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then.  No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder.  Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat.  Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting.  It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself.  It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting.  Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him.  A choice he made because it just fit him best.  You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you.  You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence.  Not… everything else’s.  Now it’s haunting again.  Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes.  Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance.  Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.  

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will.  You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid.  You’re quiet but in a different way from Din.  When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to.  When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right.  What were you thinking, wanting to tag along?  Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant.  Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though.  That still stings a bit.  This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time.  Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally?  You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap.  He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there.  You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either.  The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be.  He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is.  You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms.  There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny.  He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull.  There’s a good chance he’s already asleep.  “I think… he might still be mad at me.  Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation.  That’s not gonna work, come on.  They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips.  It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?”  You ask him, unable to even fathom.  “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength.  You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again.  It’s just as well, you figure.  He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time.  You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be.  So big, crammed into such a tiny place.  You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace.  He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time.  You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door?  The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be.  You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?”  You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor.  A complete mystery again.  Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.”  His voice stops you dead in your tracks.  It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter.  “I… hurt your feelings.  I’m sorry.”

And…  Maker, if anybody else had said it.  If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment.  But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted.  That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it.  This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now.  Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before.  Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him.  He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is.  “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to.  It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before.  Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time.  “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well.  Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet.  “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it.  “Shit.  I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly.  “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way.  I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel.  I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?”  He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused.  “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…”  Now you’re confused.  “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything.  “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now.  “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing.  He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all?  By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.”  He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground.  “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor.  “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?”  He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they?  You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little.  You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?”  Din asks you, the words sounding cautious.  Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all.  “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this?  It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed.  Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did.  Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier.  It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now.  At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have.  You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second.  There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him.  Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral.  “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that.  What are you, an eight year old?  Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life?  Credits?  Time?  Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal.  Why is he even entertaining this right now?  “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words.  “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall.  Someplace to find for yourself.  Explore.  Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that.  Like he… just inherently understands.  He knows.

He knows you.  He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying.  You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now.  “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing.  “Ever.  And not because you can’t handle it, understand?”  He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to.  “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars.  He’s… too kind.  You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve.  You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to.  Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands.  You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it.  “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit.  Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints.  That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din.  Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this.  Yikes, this is a toughie.  “Um.  If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words.  “Say what you mean.  Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain.  “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry.  It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before.  If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week.  But only if you want to, you don’t have to.  It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise?  Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah.  Well.”  You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms.  “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that.  As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up.  You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?”  Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest.  So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?”  You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you.  You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip.  You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable.  One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker.  The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you.  Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue.  “Forgive me.  Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed.  But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing.  Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through.  You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours.  It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…”  You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic.  It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good.  Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you.  “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering.  Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes.  “There could be, but I don’t know it.  I’d use… out of a million million millions.  Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier.  Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation.  How is that possible?  You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through.  You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t.  You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower.  You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?”  You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth.  The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall.  Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on.  “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…”  You blink, surprised.  “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay.  You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it.  He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you.  “You’re going to run.”

“Um.”  You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised.  “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation.  “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee.  “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves.  He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside.  “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire.  You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start.  You’re going to run from me.  Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now?  You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised.  Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?”  He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay!  Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone.  “One.  This is a safe world, but things can always happen.  You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only.  Do not shoot me with it.  Do you understand?”  You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow.  “Out loud, please.  For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you.  “Do not… shoot at me.  Near me.  Around me.  No, just—don’t shoot.  Unless I am… very far away.  Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that.  You frown, but acquiesce regardless.  “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words.  “Second rule.  Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either.  We’re on foot.  I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair.  “Good.”

“Three,” he says.  “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you.  Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight.  What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod.  “Also not really a rule.  Please continue.”

“Four.”  He pauses for a second.  “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back.  “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide.  “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious?  “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you.  “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet.  Trust me.”

You… do.  Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do.  If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin.  It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it?  It actually sounds right on par for him.  “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly.  “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright?  I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises.  Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening.  “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too.  Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.  

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly.  It is a very, very stern tilt.  “Okay.  New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows.  “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious.  “Us.  Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate.  “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh.  Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting.  “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry.  You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine.  “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator.  Not mean or harsh, but firm.  “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not.  When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground.  “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest.  There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud.  It… really is a struggle for him too, then.  You understand.

“Okay,” you nod.  There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given.  You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself.  It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more.  “Final rule.  I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe.  Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies.  He doesn’t do that.  Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?”  You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you.  Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself.  “This is your communicator.  It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance.  I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days.  If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.”  Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other.  Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head.  His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator.  “Gar darasuum.”  For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain.  You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning.  Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here.  Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way.  The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?”  You ask, already clueless.  “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side.  “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me.  You know how I think.  I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…”  He slowly shakes his head.  “See me.  Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now.  “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time.  “Remember what I told you a long time ago?  What your best weapon is?”

You… do not.  He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast.  You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?”  Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers.  “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet.  So…”  He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.  “Don’t try to outrun, okay?  Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.  

Outsmart.  Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking.  His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know.  You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair.  Are you going to a city?  Would there be one in walking distance?  The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals.  The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him.  He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long.  Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement.  He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.

[desultory-novice]

How would you think Kirby would handle it if Elfilin died for real? Also do you think in a ideal world where most don't know true loss that anyone would be able to help?

EDIT: Due to the serious nature of this topic and the potentially detailed description of mourning I go into, I recommend anyone who is currently dealing with grief or loss or has experienced traumatic loss in the past and wish to avoid being reminded of it indulge in self-care and avoid this post.

Wishing everyone well.

Phew...Deep topic... Warning for discussion of death, loss, and grieving. Also Forgotten Land end game spoilers, naturally.

First off, I think there's two possibilities to consider.  1) Kirby is unable to rescue Elfilin from Elfilis and loses him that way. 

2) Elfilin loses his life sealing off the two worlds. 

Both would be equally devastating, but I think both would come around to the same general outcome. Let's discuss.

We get a glimpse of Kirby's reactions upon thinking he's lost Elfilin, and while it's relatively subdued-seeming, this is only the very first emotional response that comes to him. He's sad and he looks a little lost. Grief and loss are weird things - they effect us our whole lives long. Even if it's someone you didn't know for very long or know very well, it can hit you again out of the blue while you're getting a drink or laying down to sleep, "That person is gone." 

With Kirby and Elfilin, they may not have known each other for long, but they became friends and PARTNERS in such a short period of time. And the bonds built in battle (I mean, kinda. There is a bit of a war going on between the Dreamlanders and the Beast Pack, but it's underplayed) are said to be some of the strongest. Needless to say, his bond with Elfilin is a deep one.

If Kirby loses Elfilin to Elfilis, there's an additional emotional wound Kirby would take here and that is FAILURE. Kirby made it his quest to save Elfilin, and while people have died (or had other bad stuff happen to them) around him, it's never been because he -failed- to do what he set out to do. (For example, with the not-quite-but-looked-dead Magolor, it was Kirby's goal to stop him, and he did. He also needed to stop Haltmann, who, while important to Susie, was already braindead/had his conscious mind permanently merged with Star Dream by the time Kirby had even a remote insight what their relationship was.)

This would be the first time Kirby failed in a RESCUE mission and even if he got back up and continued the fight, it's probable it would be a blow to his self-confidence. Even doctors, nurses, emergency service workers, and caretakers who've been around life and death their entire career will find themselves asking, "What could I have done better?" I don't think guilt would ever stop Kirby from doing what he does, just like those who make it their job to save lives here do, but it would weigh on him. Which is interesting, because we've seen very little do so before now.

Now, if Kirby sees Elfilin sacrifice himself to close the portal, there's another aspect to consider: he is forever separated from King Dedede, Meta Knight, and the other Waddle Dees - I mean, as far as he knows. (Dimensional Rifts aren't uncommon in Kirby, but Kirby's never personally been responsible for them. And he wouldn't even know what dimension to START looking in to find them.) He also last saw Dedede in a bad situation, which certainly can't help. In this instance, not only has Kirby lost his new friend Elfilin, he's lost two of his greatest allies and two people who he almost certainly would have wanted/needed to help him through these new feelings.

(Of course, I think Meta Knight and King Dedede would find their own way back in time. King Dedede especially would fight like hell for it - once he recovered, that is.)

He still has Bandanna Waddle Dee with him, and there is a bit of salvation in the fact that he DID get to rescue Elfilin and they teamed up together one last time. Plus, he'll know that Elfilin died to protect him and all of Popstar. For a lot of people, knowing someone you loved died helping you or others out is a blessing during the grieving period. I think this would be the "best" outcome for Kirby in an "Elfilin has to die" situation. Not that death is ever ideal, but, you know what I'm getting at.

I can't say for certainty how the act of -mourning- would go for Kirby, but I definitely see food not tasting as good for a while, and him maybe just not wanting to eat. He may also find himself wanting to spend some time alone and just ending up in a daze. Bandanna Waddle Dee would make sure his idol and best friend doesn't wreck himself in his grief, and I think Kirby is the kind of person that becomes a shield for others when they're in trouble, so if a dangerous incident occurred while Kirby's still grieving, Kirby would spring up to handle it anyway. That's just the kind of puffball he is. But the feelings are likely to come back and linger once the dust has settled.

...Now, that we've covered the initial impact of the loss, and part of the grieving, let's see how he might deal with the impact of someone's death going forward.

I mentioned my own guilt at "killing" Marx in another post, and I do think Kirby (the series and the character) has subtlety come around to touching on the idea of loss and permanency as the games continue on. Think about how many games there are where he just walks away from the villain's defeat without batting an adorable eye. But just like he started coming around to the idea of redeeming the "bad guys" in Star Allies, I think the attitude of "The big bad exploded, time to go home!" is shifting in Kirby - especially now that Kirby has encountered actual, canonical permanent loss.

I'm talking about Sectonia and Max Haltmann, of course.

They were antagonistic to him at the time, yes, but they were both very important to people who were friendly to him (...err, after their turnarounds) and I think Kirby can recognize what that importance means now. I think recognizing that people you may not know very well and may not even like were very important to someone else and thinking how you'd feel if you were the person who loved them is a big step in the growth of empathy. So I'd say the Kirby of Forgotten Lands (assuming a linear timeline) has begun to learn about grief and loss AND how to re-evaluate those who hurt you from Taranza and Susie - which leads us to who would be able to help.

Now, I think Taranza and Susie would have pretty opposite views on how to help. Which is going to best for Kirby, as when someone is relatively new to loss, you don't want to pigeonhole them into one form of grieving. We're all different people with different but similar needs, and sometimes it takes some shopping around to figure out what is going to be the most meaningful/the most helpful to you.

Susie is likely to be the kind to gently (or not gently) push "Pinky" to move forward and point out they're not acting like themselves in hopes that Kirby will get back to a routine - and routines can be so important. Health is a combination of factors and not eating, sleeping, or moving can contribute to breaking the body down a lot faster when the mind/heart isn't it it. Taranza, who is used to holding on to grief in the long term and maintaining the precious memories of the lost, would offer Kirby lots of time and plenty of opportunities to reminisce and talk about Elfilin, knowing that the impact death leaves on us is huge and that the hurt may never go away.

Even if neither of them could provide the perfect solution for Kirby's grief, Kirby would still have some positive take aways from the fact that both of them are trying so hard to help him. (And I think they would, honestly.) 

In fact, there's a bit from another one of the Itsudemo Kirby books where Kirby is specifically hanging out with Taranza -while- Taranza is reflecting on Sectonia, and the text (my translation) says, "Thank you for your presence and the memories of you that always bring light to my heart." 

That right there is, I think, exactly the kind of resolution waiting down the road for Kirby in a scenario in which Elfilin dies. 

Whatever happens in game, the Kirby series tries to maintain a positive outlook, even if that means dealing with the loss of a friend. Kirby would eventually come to focus on the adventure and the memories and the fact that Elfilin cared so much for Kirby in the time they knew each other. Elfilin being gone can't change that.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Walk Away (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello!

Double Lizzie! All I will say is be prepared for chaos. Enjoy! :)

Summary: How will Y/n handle developing feelings for Wanda and an intricate history with Leigh? Will it all boil over on their birthday?

It was a mistake. It had to be. That’s the only way you could rationalize the invitation glaring obnoxiously back at you from the screen of your laptop. You pinched the bridge of your nose to ease the tension that had built from being in the situation.

As much as you wished you didn’t, you couldn’t help but feel the familiar sensation of irritation that began to crawl under your skin. It seemed that no matter how many times you played this game, you were always the one at the disadvantage.

Again, and again, and again.

The routine of her pushing you away and pulling you close was familiar, but you expected things to be different this time around. That was your own fault. You were foolish to think that anything would change.

The cycle would never end because you would never have the strength to break it.

Figuring there was nothing to lose, you pulled out your phone and dialed the number you had memorized years ago. It wasn’t like you expect her to answer anyway. She hadn’t since your night together and you were quite comfortable with her voicemail at this point.

“Hello?” The surprise of Leigh actually answering caused you to choke slightly. In an attempt to breathe through the fit, you began coughing. “If you’re choking you should’ve called 911, not me.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

You adored the woman, but nothing would’ve given you more satisfaction than to be able to flip her off in that moment.

With a final cough you rushed out a reply. There was no point in beating around the bush with formalities. She might hang up before you got to the point. “Was it a mistake?” The words clumsily tumbled from your lips without allowing your mind time to process how they may sound.

“Are you seriously-”

“The invitation to your party.” You clarified over the sound of Leigh’s response.

There was a brief pause. “Oh. That.” You furrowed your brows. “No, it wasn’t. You should come. I mean, if you want to come. I know it’s last minute.”

If Leigh wasn’t infamous for her brutal honesty you would have thought that was the opposite of what she wanted. “I’ll be there. I think it’s only fair since I missed your last one.”

Her last birthday must have been much harder than this one and the guilt that you left her alone for it still weighed heavily on your conscious.

An awkward silence hung tensely in the air. “Right. Well... See you then. Bye.”

“By-” A small frown tugged at the corners of your lips when the dial tone interrupted your parting. “Of course.” Leigh was always an enigma but lately you had been getting whiplash from the uncertainty of it all.

You couldn’t help but feel like you always seemed to lose a piece of yourself to her whenever you spoke.

There was one person who's conversations didn't come wrapped in barbed wire. One person who stole all your words away in the best way possible. Just the thought of her eased the tension that pressed heavily against your chest.

It was as if she knew you were thinking of her because your phone began ringing almost immediately after thoughts of her began to float through your mind. You couldn’t help but smile that appeared when you saw her name flash across your screen.

Your spirits had been lifted before you even heard her voice. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

A quiet hum drifted over the line and you could see her soft smile so vividly in your mind that it was almost as if she was there with you. “Is that so?” You hummed in response. “And what exactly was it that you were thinking about?”

Absentmindedly you began fiddling with a pen that was on your desk. “Oh, just that I kind of miss you, Maximoff.”

The sound of her laughter made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Only kind of? Guess I should ask them to extend my time over here until you fully miss me.”

You gasped in mock indignation. “Don’t you dare.”

“I kind of miss you too, Y/n.” She said softly, and the butterflies multiplied. “I was actually calling for a different reason though.”

Again, you gasped in mock indignation. “So, you mean to tell me you didn’t call just because you couldn’t bear to go another minute without hearing my voice?”

The laughter that floated down the line was even more boisterous than before which caused your own smile to grow. “That and I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.” You replied easily.

You could hear the sounds from where she was become louder, but she didn’t seem fazed by it. “Are you going to Leigh’s party tomorrow?”

The pen slipped from your grip. “Technically your party as well. Tomorrow is your birthday too.”

“Parties aren’t really my thing. It’s Leigh’s party.” There was a shyness to her words that you found so endearing. “You didn’t answer my question.”

You picked the pen up again. “I’ll be there. I wouldn't miss it. I wasn't around for her birthday last year and it was after she lost-” you stopped yourself, not sure of how much Wanda knew about Leigh’s life yet.

“Her husband.” Wanda finished quietly. You nodded even though you knew she couldn’t see it. “Why weren't you there last year?”

On reflex your fingers formed a fist around the pen. “It’s a long story. A story for when you’re not who knows where.”

You dreaded the day you’d have to explain the complicated web of history that you shared with Leigh. The thought alone filled your body with anxiety.

It was as though Wanda could sense your discomfort, as she changed the subject. “I’m pretty sure I told you where I was.”

“I’m positive you didn’t. Keeping up the mystery.” You teased lightly. “Will you be back in town in time for the party?” The obvious hope that slipped into your words made you bite back a groan. You hoped she didn’t think you were desperate as you sounded.

There was a bit more commotion coming from Wanda’s end. “I actually should be touching down right before Leigh’s party begins. I wasn’t sure if I should go or not.”

“You have to go. Please. Then I can give you your present on your actual birthday.”

For a moment there was silence. “You got me a present?” She asked quietly.

Again, you nodded even though she couldn’t see. “Of course I did. You’re- I- We’re friends.” You stuttered out nervously even though friends was the last thing you wanted to be with Wanda.

“Oh.” She mumbled and suddenly the commotion became even louder. “Hey, Y/n, I have to go, but I’ll be there. I can’t wait to see you.”

A small blush spread across your cheeks. “I can’t wait to see you either, Wanda. Safe travels.”

Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was going to be.

_______________

From the sound of it, the party was in full swing and you couldn’t help but feel nerves build in your chest as you knocked hesitantly on the door. “Y/n!” Jules greeted happily as she ushered you into the home.

“Hi, Jules.” You mumbled, still feeling the residual embarrassment from the last time you saw her.

She nudged you playfully. “If you plan on sneaking out tonight after your extracurriculars with my sister, just make sure you plan ahead.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “That’s no-” But she had walked away before you could finish your sentence. Looks like that ran in the Shaw family.

With a sigh, you ambled out into the backyard where it seemed everyone was gathered. You didn’t see a point in lingering inside when the memory of the last time you’d been there was still so fresh in your mind.

It only took a moment, but you finally found Leigh by one of the tables speaking animatedly to one of her friends. Your heart dropped at the sight of her in that black dress. You almost wanted to turn around and leave rather than run the risk of saying something you know you shouldn’t.

When she looked like that you knew you probably would.

The opportunity disappeared when she looked up and met your eyes across the yard. You took a steadying breath and made your way over to her, listening to her excuse herself from the other person. “Hey. You look lovely.” You said with a small smile, hoping that even if it was just for a night, everything would be okay.

The storm in her eyes seemed more subdued. Maybe you’d be able to stay afloat. “Thank you, Y/n. You look… nice as well.” The small smile and compliment she returned nearly sent you into shock.

“Happy birthday.” You offered her the wrapped package timidly. You ignored the small tingles that arose on your skin from where her fingers brushed.

The intricate design on the front of the gift appeared as Leigh slowly tore away the wrapping paper. “Is this what I think it is?” She asked quietly as she turned the book over in her hands.

You nervously rubbed your forehead. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just figured since In Time of Daffodils is your favorite poem, it’d be nice to have a first edition. Which, thinking back now, was kind of ridiculous since I’m sure you have a copy already and-”

Your rambling was brought to an abrupt halt when you felt Leigh’s arms wrap around your waist as she pulled you into a gentle embrace.

Despite everything in your mind telling you to leave, you couldn’t help but melt into her as your hands hovered tentatively over her waist. “Y/n. I love it. This might be one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone’s ever given me. I can't believe you remembered my favorite poem.”

The smile on your face was inevitable when she spoke to you like that. "Of course I remember." You mumbled softly. When she stayed in your arms, you allowed your hands rested lightly over the middle of her back.

You could feel your heartbeat racing in your chest when you felt her arms tighten around you.

“Hey, lovebirds. Break it up. You’re not in Leigh’s room yet.” Jules joked in passing as she made her way over to the snack table.

As if coming to her senses, Leigh abruptly stepped back and tossed the book on the table like it had burned her. The storm in her eyes was back in full force. You mentally cursed Jules. “I’m going to go mingle. Enjoy the party, Y/n.” Before you could say anything, she had rushed off.

All you could do was breathe out a heavy sigh as you rubbed a hand down your face. You looked around the party and recognized a few acquaintances, but no one you could actually talk to. They were all Leigh’s friends. Jules was your only other friend there, but you didn’t think you could handle the teasing.

With nothing else to do, you picked up the book Leigh had carelessly thrown aside and began reading. You just needed to pass the time until Wanda arrived.

You were lost in one of the poems in the book when you heard the volume of the white noise around you shift, almost like everyone began talking all at once. You decided to ignore it.

“Hi.” You heard a quiet voice say by your side.

That voice. The one that had begun to infiltrate your dreams. Your head shot up as your eyes met the sparkling emeralds before you. “Wanda.” You breathed out happily as you gently placed the book to the side.

She’s a dream that keeps coming back and I don’t think I ever want to wake up. You thought to yourself dazedly.

The corners of Wanda’s lips turned up in a genuine smile. A subtle hitch of her breath caught your attention. “Y/n.” Before you could even process what you were doing, you leaped in her arms. The sound of her surprised laughter filled the air around you as her arms pulled you closer.

“Happy birthday. I missed you.” You said into her shoulder, allowing yourself to relish in her touch.

In response Wanda buried her face in the crook of your neck, her lips lightly brushing your skin as she spoke. “I missed you too.” The warmth of her breath fanning across your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

I think this is happiness. Was the only thought in your mind as you remained wrapped in her embrace. You could feel Wanda shiver as her arms tightened around you.

Eventually Wanda pulled away and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness. “You look beautiful.” You said sincerely, allowing your thoughts to escape the confines of your mind for once.

Wanda ducked her head bashfully. “Thank you. You look quite beautiful yourself.” Your cheeks burned with her words.

Reaching into your jacket pocket you pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. “When I saw this, I couldn’t help but think of you.” You explained as you bashfully offered her the box which she shyly accepted.

You watched with bated breath as she opened the box and pulled out the dainty necklace with a small crescent moon attached to the chain. “It reminded me of the night we spent at your spot. When we looked at the stars.” You added after a moment of silence, feeling your nerves build the longer she went without saying a word.

“Y/n. It’s beautiful. I love it.” Wanda finally said as gaze shifted to meet yours. There were constellations in her eyes. Your heart thudded heavily against your chest at the sight. “Can you help me put it on?”

Wordlessly you took the necklace from her hand and moved to stand behind her. Your breath became heavy when she pushed her hair to the side. You clasped the necklace and quickly moved to stand in front of her again. “Beautiful.” She blushed.

The rest of the night was much easier to get through with Wanda by your side and the hours passed by in a blur. “So, what exactly is it you do?” You asked with a quirked brow. “I mean, I know you get sent crazy places, but you always avoid saying what you do exactly.”

Wanda shifted uncomfortably at the question which you didn’t understand. “Oh. I do humanitarian work.” She began to play with her fingers which you now knew was a nervous habit. “With a really obscure company.”

You could sense that she was desperate for you to drop the subject, you just didn’t understand why. “Okay, Wanda.” You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that she didn’t want to tell you whatever it was she was hiding.

There was a brief moment of silence. “You know, I hadn’t acknowledged my birthday since I lost Pietro. I expected this night to be so hard.” Wanda admitted suddenly, her eyes clouding over.

You took her hand in yours. “We celebrate him today too, Wanda. Even if he’s not here with you now. He’s here.” You pointed to the center of her chest with your free hand, “And here.” Your pointer finger lightly tapped her temple. “And he always will be.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips and your heart hurt for the woman before you. “I know. I miss him. Everyday. Especially on days like today.” You squeezed her hand lightly in comfort. “But being here with you made today a little easier.”

“I know there’s nothing I could say that could ever fix the hurt, but I’m here for you.” You told her quietly. “You deserve the world, Wanda.”

A small smile formed on her lips, “Thank you. Hopefully we’ll see it together.” Wanda’s eyes widened slightly as if she wasn’t meant to say that out loud. You heart fluttered.

Almost immediately she ducked her head, her hair falling gracefully in her face. You reached a hand out to gently brush away a piece of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

Your hand lingered as your thumb lightly caressed her jaw. Wanda leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to kiss her. How can I be just friends with someone who I want to kiss? You thought to yourself as you became lost in her eyes. Wanda’s cheeks flushed as she raised her hand to rest over yours.

Her lips parted slightly, and your eyes were almost immediately drawn to the action. Your breathing became more ragged as you fought against every instinct to stop yourself from leaning in and feeling her soft lips against your own.

Am I dreaming or is she leaning in? You wondered in disbelief.

“Alright, sis! Time to sing happy birthday!” Leigh interrupted with a clap of her hands. Both you and Wanda sprung apart, matching blushes on each of your cheeks.

Your brow furrowed at the overdramatic smile on Leigh’s face. It was obviously fake and being fake was so out of character for her. “Looks like the spotlight is calling, birthday girl.” You whispered in Wanda’s ear with a playful smile.

A quiet laugh fell from her lips as she met your eyes. “Looks like it.” She bit her lip shyly. “To be continued?”

Your body vibrated with excitement. “To be continued.” You promised.

Leigh took Wanda by the hand and dragged her away just as she opened her mouth to respond. You could see Leigh’s jaw was clenched from where you stood.

A moment later everyone in the yard was singing to the two women and you couldn’t, for the life of you, tear your eyes away from Wanda and the way she shifted uncomfortably under the all attention she was receiving.

When her eyes met yours, her shoulders visibly relaxed and you played up the way you were singing in hopes of easing her discomfort. The smile that overcame her features made making a fool of yourself in front of all of Leigh’s snobby friends more than worth it.

As you were making your way over to Wanda after the cake had been distributed, you saw Leigh storms off out of the corner of your eye. You worriedly watched her disappear into the house.

“Hey, do you mind if I go check on Leigh? She looked upset.” You asked Wanda when you were finally stood in front of her.

Wanda shook her head with a small smile. “Not at all. I’ll go talk to Jules while I wait.”

You easily returned her smile. “I’ll be back.” You assured her as you turned to head inside, following the path you had seen just seen Leigh take.

When you walked into the kitchen you saw Leigh slam a bowl into the sink, the glass shattering on impact. Your eyes widened in concern. “Leigh!” Instead of answering, she took a plate and threw it into the sink as well, the shattered pieces mingling with the fragments of the bowl. You rushed over to her as she picked up another plate. “Leigh, stop.” You took her hands and gently pulled her away from the sink.

Her breathing was shallow, and her jaw remained clenched angrily, but no words left her lips. “Look, I know today is hard for you.” You began cautiously.

Leigh ripped her hands away from yours. “You don’t know anything.”

“Let me help.” The words bordered on pleading as you could see that all her defenses were up.

“I don’t need your help. You can’t do anything for me.”

Going against your better judgement, you continued. “I know you’re suffering, Leigh, and I know that you feel suffering is all you are but you’re more than that-”

Her words were so faint you could barely hear them. “Stop.”

“It can be a part of who you are, but don’t let the pain push away the people who care about you.”

“STOP!”

You recoiled in surprise, taking an involuntary step back. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

Leigh pushed a frustrated hand through her hair. “Well you’re not helping! Stop trying to fix me!”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Leigh.” You insisted as you took a cautious step forward.

“You are though!” Her eyes were wide with fury.

The last thing you wanted was to make her feel like she needed to be fixed. You just wanted to help ease her pain. “I really wasn’t, Leigh. I was worried, and I wanted to see if there was something I could do to-”

“You’re pathetic! I just use you and you keep coming back.” A dark chuckle fell from her lips. You flinched. “I’m not yours! I was never yours and I will never be yours! I’m never going to want you back so just stop!”

There was a heavy silence in the air as Leigh’s chest heaved from the force of her words. It was a low blow and she knew it. You’ve had plenty of experience being burned by Leigh’s words, but this time felt different though. It was final. She finally said how she truly felt. You were done avoiding that.

You schooled your features and nodded slightly. “Okay. I’m sorry. Have a good rest of your night, Leigh. Happy birthday.”

Leigh was a hurricane, what more did you expect than to be caught in the downpour?

“Y/n-” You left before she could say another word, so you didn’t see the way her face dropped as tears welled in her eyes.

If Wanda wasn’t still there you would have left and never looked back, but you knew you couldn’t leave her without an explanation. In a useless attempt to gather your emotions, you paused before entering the backyard and took a deep breath, clearing your mind.

The sight of Wanda’s smile brought you a small sense of peace, but it couldn’t take away from the fact that your precariously healed wounds had been ripped open. Ashes within yourself had been set ablaze in anguish once again. You needed to tend to the flames on your own.

“Hey.” You softly called, your hand on her elbow. She turned from Jules who quietly excused herself. “I'm sorry, but I have to go. I’m not feeling well.”

Wanda’s brows furrowed, and her eyes filled with worry. You mentally cursed yourself because you knew she didn’t buy it. “Are you okay?”

You nodded in hopes of reassuring her, your lips quirking up halfheartedly. “I really am not feeling well.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. “Do you maybe want to do something this week though?”

The worry never faded from her eyes as she nodded faintly. “That sounds great, Y/n.”

“Perfect. I’ll call you. Happy birthday, Wanda. I hope it was a good one.” You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, smiling slightly at the blush that was left in your wake.

Wanda began fidgeting with her fingers. “It was. Bye, Y/n.” She said shyly as you walked away. When you had disappeared out of view, Wanda turned to face the house. If something had happened with you, she figured she should check on Leigh. She was her sister after all.

When Wanda entered the kitchen, she found Leigh leaning against the counter, her face buried in her hands. Wanda knocked lightly on the wall to get her attention. “Hey, Leigh. Are you okay?’

Leigh’s head shot up, her posture relaxing slightly when she saw it was Wanda. “Why? What did Y/n say?”

Wanda blinked in surprise. “Nothing. I just wanted to check on you.”

A smile that didn’t reach her eyes formed on Leigh’s face. “Right. Well, I’m fine.”

“Okay, I just wanted to check.” Wanda eyed Leigh skeptically but didn’t push. “I think I’m going to head home, it’s been a long day. Thank you for inviting me. I had fun.” Leigh just nodded as Wanda began to exit the kitchen.

“Hey, Wanda?” Leigh called. Wanda stopped and turned to face Leigh, her eyebrows raised in question. “Look, we’re sisters now, right?”

Hesitantly Wanda nodded, unsure of where Leigh was going with her words. “Yes…”

Leigh shifted slightly. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course. What is it?” Wanda worriedly walked over to the other side of the counter, so she was face to face with Leigh.

There was a brief moment of silence before Leigh met Wanda’s eyes again. “I need you to stay away from Y/n.”

The surprise of the statement made Wanda laugh. Her laughter quickly faded away when she realized Leigh wasn’t joking. “You can’t be serious.”

Leigh rubbed at her temple, avoiding her twin's gaze. “I am. I need you to stay away from Y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Wanda eventually replied, her head tilted slightly. Leigh’s eyes hardened when she met Wanda's determined stare.

And we have concluded part 3! Chaos has ensued. Thank you all so much for all the positive feedback this story has been getting! I hope you all enjoy this part just as much. Are we team Leigh or team Wanda? I would love to read your thoughts!

As always thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

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[mediocrevideopodcast]

Short! S/O

Request: Can I ask for some rottmnt x short/small reader

Pairing:  Raphael/Reader (Established), Leonardo/Reader (Established), Donatello/Reader (Established), Michelangelo/Reader (Established) (ALL SEPARATE - NONPOLY)

Content Warnings: None! 

Word Count: 1200 

[A/N: Whoa.... two fics in a row where I landed on a perfect wordcount.... I feel blessed.]

Raphael

Tall and small… the optimal dynamic…

He’s one of the few who won’t hold your height above your head. (Pun intended.) He honestly just sees you as you, you know? He’s always been considered tall, so your height isn’t that crazy to him. He’s not necessarily the type to freak out about it in regards to self defense, either. You’re a total badass: you can handle yourself! He’s always the first to step in when someone tries to start something, though. That’s just who he is, though: he’d still do it if you were 10 feet tall. 

He always tries to put things where you can reach them, but sometimes you need something up a little higher. And oh god, he’d be lying if he said his heart doesn’t melt when you ask him to grab you something off the top shelf. 

Piggyback rides galore!! He also likes to carry you like royalty, and he’s always surprised by just how little you weigh. He thinks it’s cute. 

(He’s awesome to go to concerts with!! You can sit on his shoulders to get a better view, and he holds you so steady. He’s also built af so nobody’s gonna be able to knock y’all over <3) 

It’s so nice to lay down and cuddle with him!! He envelops your smaller frame almost entirely, and you feel so safe in his arms. You could lay like this forever, you think. 

He’ll always bend down for kisses without question, but god, please pull him down by the strings of his hoodie someday. He gets this really cute and dorky laugh as the blood rises to his cheeks, and he can’t help but kiss you again afterwards. 

Leonardo

He’s so cocky about being taller than you, it’s unreal. He can’t help it! You’re just so tiny and cute and-

Attack him like a feral dog to put him in his place <3 (/j)

He’s not really worried about your ability to defend yourself: You’re plenty capable, and you’ve picked up your fair share of self-defense moves. Height isn’t an indicator of strength, by any means. 

Loves grabbing things off the top shelf for you!! He gets this dorky little smile on his face when you ask, and for a moment, he’s silent. He laughs a little, ever so softly, but not in a patronizing way. He totally asks for a kiss as payment, though. 

(But from then on, that thing is in a place where you can reach it. He likes being able to grab stuff for you, but he gets that you wanna be able to just grab shit sometimes. What a sweetheart <3 He pays attention!!) 

Temple kisses? Temple kisses! He loves having his arm around your shoulder, just as a casual form of affection, and sometimes he’ll pull you a little closer so he can lean down and place a kiss to your temple. 

If you’re both feeling particularly playful, he’ll totally hold stuff above your head so you have to lean into him to grab it. 

He’ll short circuit if you ever pull him down for a kiss. Do it, it’s cute to watch the blood rise to his cheeks as he processes your actions. He’s so in love with you. 

Donatello 

As friends, he doesn’t really acknowledge your height at all. But once you guys get together? He suddenly starts processing how much taller he is, and it totally makes his heart melt. Like oh! I actually have to lean down to kiss you? It’s something that he doesn’t really understand until he’s in a relationship with you, and it’s cute. 

People often underestimate how strong he is but like… he’s low-key kind of built. As a hands-on engineer, you have to be! And you can bet that he totally uses that when he’s feeling romantic. He loves picking you up and carrying you around like royalty. (That inner theatre nerd also comes out, 100%. If he can’t pick you up and serenade you, what’s even the POINT.) 

Adores grabbing things for you if they’re put up too high for you to reach. Like god, you could inject straight dopamine into his brain right now, and it wouldn’t even be able to compare to grabbing shit off the top shelf for you. He’s so cocky about it, and you know he’s gonna ask for a kiss on the cheek as payment. 

Always yells “do you need help with that?” if he sees you standing on your tiptoes for something. He thinks you’re cute. 

He’ll lean down for kisses, but you can see a smile toying at his lips when you ask. He won’t comment on it, though. 

It’s so fun to dance with him!! You move slowly across the dancefloor, fingers interlocked with his as you spin around and around. He’ll always drop his hands a little so you don’t have to stretch as much, but he revels in the way you press yourself against him. He could spend forever like this, and quite frankly? So could you. 

He’s happy being the big spoon or the little spoon, honestly. He has no preference. If you try to be the big spoon, he’ll snicker about it a little, but he won’t comment on it. 

He loves when you guys are sitting, and you rest your back against his chest. (It’s fun playing animal crossing with him like that. (His favorite villagers are Wolfgang and Roscoe. He gets really excited if you have them in your town.) 

He’s gonna short circuit if you pull him down by the hoodie strings to give him a kiss. It doesn’t matter how many times you do it, he’s gonna pause every time. Don’t stop, though. He loves it. 

Michelangelo 

He could be a SINGLE centimeter taller than you, and he’ll lose his mind. Finally… he’s tall… god is real <3 

Unfortunately, both of y’all are kind of fucked in the height department. That just means you get to climb shelves together, though! And kick tall people in the shins for saying overdone height jokes. You guys are a power couple in every sense of the word. 

He loves having his arm around your shoulders! 

Since you guys live together, it’s really rare that there’s ever something that’s put up too high for both of you to reach. 

It’s really funny when you’re standing on your tiptoes to grab something that’s just out of reach at a store. 

“Oh shit, that’s way too high up. Don’t worry babe, I’ve got this.” 

...he’s climbing the shelves like a fucking spider. People are staring. He refuses to ask a stocker for help. You’re getting kicked out of Yokai Target for this, but you got your can of peas. That’s all that matters. 

He loves it when you rest your head on his chest while cuddling, or when hugging. 

Forehead kisses!! He loves them so much… He’ll run his thumbs over your temples so, so gently before kissing your forehead. He’s most fond of doing this in the early morning or late at night, when you’re both really sleepy. The air seems different, more serene. 

[chilly-me-softly]

part 2 to the imagine of mason cheating on holiday? loved it💗

I did it. Not really satisfied with that but I wanted to thank you for all the support for the first part x

Part 1

The last few days as you started to pack your things, you had been thinking about what to do. You knew that your parents would be more than happy to host you for as long as you needed, but you didn't have the energy to give many explanations at the time and going back to your own home would make you feel even more of a failure. So you thought about renting a flat, you would still feel like a failure but within walls that had never welcomed Mase. And you set about trying to solve that little problem as quickly as possible, not wanting to be alone with him any longer than you had to be.

How exactly do you deal with something like that? You're exhausted, you just want to throw yourself into bed and try to catch up on some sleep but you can't. First you have to leave that house and that means confronting Mason.

"Hey do you want me to take them up?" Mason walks down the stairs joining you after quickly dropping his bags off at the laundry room, yours at the same place you left them at the front door just before.

"Do you really think everything is alright between us Mason? Or are you playing dumb hoping I'll just forget about it?" sitting on the couch you stare straight ahead, your arms over your legs ending with your hands crossed.

"Oh so we can talk now" your eyebrows rise in surprise at the sarcastic tone you detect in his voice.

"Excuse me?" you get up to look at him finding him behind the couch with his arms crossed.

"I've been trying to talk to you for days, but all you do is push me away"

"Can you blame me? Anything that would have come out of your mouth would have been pointless" your gaze lands on the suitcases knowing it's one of those now or never situations, so you sigh trying to look as casual as possible. "Anyway I'm leaving for a while"

"What?" his arms lose position, his gaze following yours as he seems to understand why you haven't moved a finger yet until that moment. "No, you can't be serious"

"Luckily we're not related at all, it'll be easier" you mutter with a low stare, you know you've hit him in something he cares about and it hurts. But you want to defend yourself somehow and not be the only bleeding one of the two.

At a determined pace you make your way to the suitcases, but his imposing figure gets in the way before you can even grab a handle. "What do you mean? Just because I haven't put a ring on your finger yet then you can't leave me like this!"

"You asked for it!" caught up in your anger you push him with all the strength you have, Mason stumbles for a moment taking a step back in surprise. "God Mason, these last few days have been hell!"

"I've already said I'm sorry"

"Well that's not good enough" you state harshly looking into his eyes. You're there face to face but you struggle to see him, to recognise him. "Let me go" you plead with him exhaustedly, changing emotion from one moment to the next.

"No" but he shakes his head stubbornly.

"Mason"

"(Y/N) please. We can work this out"

"If we have even a small chance of working this out, you need to let me walk out that door right now Mason" and he looks at you, seeming to weigh the choices in front of him carefully before sighing and stepping aside.

-

You've just sat down when the doorbell rings a couple of times and you stare at the door as if you can see who it is that seems to have sympathy for that button. When you seem to realise you have to get up to open the door, you snort.

"Hi" you greet softly, chuckling as the girl in front of you is trying to keep the little girl in her arms from leaning over to ring the doorbell again.

"(Y/N), hey. Say hello to auntie (Y/N), no more doorbell" the little girl gives you a warm smile as the girl goes inside and sets her down.

"Nice place, you've settled in nicely" she compliments after taking a quick look around.

"Thanks"

"Does this mean you're not planning on going back to your place anytime soon?!" you roll your eyes automatically, you were actually just trying to figure out why she had come to see you. You had built up a nice relationship over the years but you were kind of avoiding everyone lately so.

"It just means I don't want to live in an empty place" you sit down on the couch as the baby girl comes to cling to your legs and you sit her on your lap happily.

"Sorry I have to ask. Did he send you?" after a few moments of silence where you engage in playing with the baby but your head always thinks back to the same thing, you have to ask.

"No, I just wanted to see how you're doing" an apologetic expression makes way on your face as she smiles at you slightly. You talk about this and that, tiptoeing around the situation, but you make the mistake of asking how he's doing.

"You miss him don't you? Why don't you call him?"

"It's a little more complicated than that"

"It only is if you make it"

"It's not like we yelled at each other, he cheated on me. It's something I can't get over so easily"

"But maybe if you talk about it..." she pushes again but you shake your head harshly, handing the baby back to her and getting up from that couch.

"It wouldn't change anything" you tighten your arms around yourself scratching an arm gently, "if we talked I know I'd go back to him, I love him and that won't change. But my head wouldn't be the same, I wouldn't be able to enjoy a single moment with him. I can't move on" you try to explain yourself the best you can but it's really impossible putting everything on the table.

"So that's how it ends?" you hear her checking from the window where you are.

"I guess so"

"And does he know that?"

"He'll figure it out soon enough" you murmur, your gaze looking out hoping that that wound can heal soon.