#blue nova beats

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

hyperfixations are funny cuz sometimes i remember that most people probably can't like. name every rhythm heaven game in order. i can just casually do it. actually most rhythm heaven fans probably could do that we're all kind of unhinged about funni moosic gayme-

[the-best-bagel]

Overall the star blazers remake seems pretty mediocre but I did cry a lil bit when they brought red scarf out for the crew saying goodbye to earth

[morkhan]

Jedi Survivor impressed me so, so much. I loved Fallen Order, but I genuinely feel like Survivor was on another level. A few things I loved, full game spoilers ahead...

Cal genuinely feels so much older and more mature. It's incredible how much his interactions with the Mantis crew feel like a wayward adult son coming home again after a long time away.

Cal and Merrin's romance was beautifully built up and paid off, felt totally natural. Importantly for me, it required both of them to move the needle; Merrin to definitively make the first move and let Cal know she wants him, and Cal to finally acknowledge that he wants her too, that he isn't really a Jedi and that they weren't right about everything.

Cal using the Dark Side is portrayed as dangerous, but not inherently evil. The game does not vilify or punish Cal for using it, in fact, it does the opposite; it essentially says that it was necessary for Cal to embrace his darkness in order for him to survive. Importantly, it shows that even the darkness can be controlled; when Cal first uses it on Nova Garon, he nearly loses himself in it, but Merrin calls him back. When he uses it again on Tanalorr, he is in complete control of it, calmly using it to lift Bode off of him and partially disarming him before letting it subside. Merrin's final monologue to Kata in the ending says it all; your pain, your loss, it will always be a part of you. But it doesn't have to define you. Both Dagan and Bode let their pain and loss consume their entire lives, and it led directly to their respective ends.

When Cal kills Bode, he does so quietly and with no anger, and only after offering him multiple chances to surrender, all of which he rejected violently. Cal killed Bode not out of vengeance, but because it was clear that Bode was beyond reason. He was never going to stop. He was never going to accept any outcome other than the one that he had decided was best. And even then, Cal quietly takes a moment alone to mourn him, and respectfully gives him a Jedi funeral alongside his two mentors.

The entire final chapter is such a beautiful contrast to the first game's. Fallen Order had you storming Fortress Inquisitorious, fighting hoards of the game's hardest enemies and concluded with a bombastic escape sequence. The atmosphere was alternately oppressive, tense and exciting, full of mechanical reds and blacks. Tanalorr is the complete opposite; it is quiet and calm, an organic place of white rocks and blue plants. There are no enemies there other than Bode, a man whose paranoia has isolated him from everyone in his life, including the daughter he supposedly loves so much. When you find him, he is not even with her. When you beat him, there is no bombast. This is not a victory to be celebrated; it is a tragedy, one that you tried to avoid, but was seemingly inevitable.

"Ghost Star," the lullaby you hear Kata singing as you approach the final battle, is so stunningly beautiful and thematically appropriate that I am appalled there wasn't a full orchestral version of it playing over the credits.

So yeah, there's probably some other stuff I'll post about later, but man, Survivor really kinda blew me away.

[raayllum]

this isn't how i'm writing it in fanon s6 bc i can pace things however i want with zero time constraints but this is something i could see s6 doing + i like being self indulgent so

They'd been stupid to trust the Celestial Elves.

It was the only thought running through Callum's brain as he stared in horror, the corona sealed back glass, the Nova Blade a weapon no mortal could wield, and Rayla—

On her knees, the leader holding an ordinary but no less terrifying blade to her throat, his face still a bit scraped up from his and Rayla's earlier scuffle. She'd been the one to catch the elf reaching for Callum's bag when they slept that night; she'd be the one to draw her sword first and engage him, quickly overwhelmed by the time Callum and her parents had arrived.

They were all talented warriors, but rusty after two years in a coin—Runaan unable to draw his bow with only one arm, and something long range was needed here. Some way to kill the leader and give Rayla time, even if he held her in a vice grip, pressing down hard enough on her throat there was thin, scarlet line growing.

"You have something we need, boy," the leader hissed, breathing heavily through a broken nose. "You know what it is."

Runaan's voice broke through, sharp and demanding—"What is he talking about?"—but Callum couldn't tear his eyes away from Rayla. She was struggling to breathe, let alone speak, but gave her head the barest shake. No.

"What are you going to do with it?" Callum says as neutrally as he can, stalling (there has to be a spell or a way out of this) even if he already knows the answer.

What else could they hope to do with something called the Key of Aaravos?

"I'll tell you what we're going to do your elf girl unless you give it so us," the Celestial elf snarls. "On the count of three, I'll slit her throat. One—"

"Stop!"

Two hadn't even left his lips, Callum having an excuse to look away from Rayla's glaring, tearshot eyes now as he digs the cube out of his bag. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as he holds it up.

On Finnegrin's ship, at least he'd been able to hide what he was doing—what he was willing to do—in the shadowy depths of the ship. Here, in the light, there's nowhere to hide.

Callum holds it out, taking a few steps closer. "Lower the sword first," he says.

"And have her wriggle free? I don't think so."

"Callum," she wheezes. "Don't—"

"Fine then," Callum snaps. "At the same time—an exchange. On my count of three. One—" He looses his grip on the cube, the ring of celestial elves watching eagerly. "Two—" It's not ideal, him and Rayla in front of where any of her parents could join the fray; there will have to be distance before anyone can fight either way. But then, he's not doing this out of the certainty he'll get the Key back, that it won't end in disaster.

Just for her safety. Just for himself, because he can't live without her.

This was his destiny, what Aaravos was banking on. And he was right.

"Three!"

The Celestial elf takes his blade away and shoves her forward at the same time Callum tosses the cube over. It's caught in one shiny blue hand, the elf towering over him as Callum slides to his knees, catching Rayla as she careens forward before she can hit the floor. She coughs weakly in his arms, bleeding at the throat, but it seems shallow.

The celestial elves make it maybe five five away with their prize before her parents leap into action, swords clashing, but Callum grabs his staff and constructs a funnel of wind around him and Rayla, a thick enough wall of air to keep anyone else out momentarily, as he helps her sit up.

"Callum." She's crying, but alive.

"Let me look at you," he murmurs, lifting up her chin. He uses his scarf to wipe away the blood, relieved when more doesn't follow. A shallow cut just to scare him, but it'd worked. He pulls her into his arms next, just needing a moment to feel her heart beating against his.

She takes a second to hold him back and then does so, tightly, and his heart settles as they sit there shaking. She hasn't forgiven him for it yet, maybe—but she will.

[rebelwrites]

Five: I'll Call You Sunshine

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till The Wheels Fall Off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

So far the night had gone okay, I had managed to keep myself busy, meaning the only interaction I had with Charles was when Pops brought him over to the bar. Every time I passed Jax he cocked his brow, giving me a look which told me to go talk to him, each time I either rolled my eyes or slyly gave him the bird. Crouching down I swiped another energy drink from the fridge, I was so exhausted I needed all the help I could get right now.

Caffeine was my best friend.

“How many you had now?” Jax asked, leaning across the bar, nodding at the freshly opened can in my hand.

“This is my first one,” I grinned, hoping that he couldn’t see through my lie but the moment the words left my lips the expression on my brother’s face changed telling me he wasn’t going to accept my answer, especially when he dropped his gaze down to the trash can where three more empty cans laid. I knew I wasn’t getting out of this. “Fine, this is my fourth,” I mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with him, like a child not wanting to get scolded.

No words left his mouth, within seconds he jumped over the bar, prising the can out of my hand. “Squirt, we have talked about this,” Jax sighed, once again I could hear the guilt in his voice, he knew the reason I pumped myself full of caffeine. “The last thing I need is for you to wind up in hospital from exhaustion or heart palpitations.”

“What am I meant to do, Jax?” I sighed, running my hand over my face. “We don’t have enough staff, especially at the cafe.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Ima quit this morning,” I scoffed, although I did have a slight smirk on my face. Ima was shit at her job, never wearing suitable clothes, always fucking up orders and I was only days away from firing her scrawny ass. But she beat me to it, in turn taking a job off my extremely full plate, even if it meant adding a million more in return. “So it’s the no sleep club for me,” I paused, meeting the blue eyes of my brother,“for at least the foreseeable future.”

“Nope, not happening,” Jax hummed, placing the open can on the counter, “let me speak to Nero okay, he has management experience so maybe he can take some of the pressure off either here or at the cafe,” he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, leaning in and pressing a kiss against the top of my head. “For now you are off the clock, I will take over the rest of the night, you go join Pops and Elenor for a little bit but then you need to go home and get some sleep, okay.”

Shifting my gaze over to Pops’ booth, I saw Charles and Pierre were still chilling with him and Elenor. I could have died of embarrassment, as Charles looked up causing our gazes to intertwine. I quickly found myself getting lost in his beautiful eyes, feeling my heart practically skip a beat with how he was smirking at me right now. Taking a deep breath I somehow managed to convince myself it was just the caffeine causing the spike in my heart rate not the fact I was having a moment with Charles Leclerc.

“I can’t,” I mumbled, finally breaking the eye contact, “I already made a fool of myself yesterday.”

“Well, looks like you don’t have to, he is coming over here,” Jax smirked, pushing me out of the bar. “Nova, this is a small town, you won’t be able to avoid him so as your older, smarter, better looking brother I’m demanding you put your big girl pants on and just talk to him.”

Right now all I wanted to do was strangle my sibling, he had thrown me into the deep end without a life ring. I was not ready to deal with this. However, time was definitely not on my side as before I knew it Charles slid onto the bar stool next to me.

“Jax, can I get another beer please man?” Charles nodded at my brother, “and whatever the lovely lady is having.”

“Oh, this lovely lady is on water for the rest of the night,” Jax laughed but quickly changed his expression, shooting me a stern look as he grabbed the open can of energy drink, taking a large sip of the liquid, “somebody has had far too much caffeine today.”

“I am still here, asshole,” I pouted, glaring at him. He knew what I was doing, I was trying to put off having the conversation as long as possible. My stomach was in knots, my palms were sweating and my heart rate wasn’t coming down, it wasn’t everyday I had a famous racing driver approach me to talk. Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady my heart beat, although nothing was working. Once again I found myself blaming the amount of caffeine I had in such a short space of time, although I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. I was petrified Charles would notice how nervous I was, but judging at the fact he was still chatting with Jax, I was in the clear right now.

“So, I never got your name,” Charles smiled, finally turning to me.

“Because I never told you,” I shrugged, I could pretend that I didn’t know who he was, right? Even though I did burst into the bar yesterday reciting the commentary from his maiden win at Monza.

“Si tu ne me dis pas ton nom, je t'appellerai Rayon de soleil. If you don't tell me your name, I'll call you Sunshine,” he said smoothly, scooting on the stool to move closer to me, my heart was moments away from exploding when his knee rested against mine.

“Appelez-moi comme vous voulez, mais je pense que vous connaissez déjà mon nom. Call me whatever you like, but I think you already know my name,” I smirked, judging by the look on his face he was not expecting me to respond to him in fluent French.

“Since when did you speak French?” Jax questioned, barging into the conversation.

“I don’t tell you everything, ya know,” I scoffed, poking my tongue out at him. “Don’t you have work to do, like I don’t know, maybe run the bar or something?” I scolded, raising my brow at him whilst silently telling him to fuck off. Thankfully he got the hint and wandered off into the kitchen. “Sorry about him, he can be a right pain in my ass at times,” I said turning back to Charles.

“Boyfriend?” he asked.

The moment the one word left his perfect lips I choked on my water, spraying the bar with liquid. I felt my entire body heat up from embarrassment as I reached over grabbing some napkins to not only dry my face but the counter as well. Once I had caught my breath back I looked up at Charles. “Nah, my older annoying brother.”

“Good to know,” Charles hummed, slowly nodding his head before pulling the beer bottle to his lips. “So, the picture behind the bar, is that you daughter?” he asked.

“My niece,” I smiled, momentarily forgetting what picture he was on about, scanning the bar I saw the photo he mentioned, mentally I cursed myself for not taking it down the second I knew he was here. “She is an absolute angel, however she has Teller blood running strong through her veins.”

“I’m gonna assume that’s not a good thing.” Charles laughed.

“Urm, depends who you ask really,” I smirked, leaning forward against the bar. I couldn’t help myself as I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at the Monégasque driver. I knew this was going to be a dangerous game to play, flirting with someone I couldn't have but it was like a switch had flipped in my brain from wanting to avoid him to now thinking fuck it whats some harmless flirting. Before either of us could say anything I realized that Pops had appeared between me and Charles. I couldn’t be annoyed at him because it had been nearly a week since JT has felt himself.

“How is my favorite girl doing?” Pops asked, resting his hand over mine.

“I’m good Pops,” I smiled, turning my hand over softly, squeezing in return. “You calling it a night?”

“Yeah, I think I should. Elenor has fallen asleep against Pierre so the least I can do is save him from the drool monster,” he chuckled, placing his coffee mug on the bar.

Turning my gaze to the corner booth, I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, Elenor had fully passed out with her head resting against Pierre’s arm, he was being so good with it all by making sure he didn’t let her head slip from his bicep whilst he held his phone in the other hand, more than likely scrolling on Instagram.

“You aren’t driving home are you?” I asked, with a hint of worry in my voice.

“My sweet girl, you worry too much,” he responded before pressing a kiss to the top of my head, “I’m not driving, Chibs is gonna give us a ride back.”

“Okay, Pops,” I smiled up at him, “Jax is in the kitchen with Bobby.”

Taking a deep breath, I watched him make his way through the bar and into the staff only hallway. For a second I forgot I had company until Charles placed his hand over mine, squeezing lightly causing sparks to erupt over my whole body.

At that moment I knew I was screwed, I hadn’t felt sparks like this for years, the last time I had feelings like this I put my whole heart into it and ended up getting burnt. To the point where I had built thick indestructible walls around my heart in order to protect myself. I also vowed never to fall for someone like that again but one touch from Charles and I knew I was gonna end up breaking my number one rule.

“Thank you,” I whispered, finally looking up at him.

“What for, Sunshine?” he asked, with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

“I know you sat with JT last night and honestly I haven't seen him that happy for a little while now,” I sighed, feeling tears starting to build in my eyes, “I’m not gonna go into it but he is having some health problems at the minute. The fact that you made him smile again is something that means so much to not only me but to Jax as well,” I said softly, trying my hardest to keep these tears at bay, “I don’t know if I could ever repay you for that.”

“I know I only met him last night but he seems like a good guy, he definitely knows how to make you laugh,” Charles hummed, taking a sip of his beer. I noticed his hand was still covering mine, although I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I hadn’t had this sort of intimate contact with someone in years and honestly it felt amazing. “I can think of a way you can repay me.”

“Oh, how’s that, Mister?” I hummed, looking up through my damp lashes, whilst cocking my brow at him.

“Come to dinner with me.”

Once again I nearly choked, it took my brain a moment to catch up and realized that he had basically asked me out on a date, “Urm,” I mumbled, finally pulling my hand away from his. What the hell was going on? This started as some harmless flirting from newly found confidence I had gained, but now it had turned into a proposal of an actual date. I felt my heart practically stop as panic filled my body, I had no idea how I was going to be able to keep up the facade of not knowing who he was, especially if I went on a date with him. “I don’t know if I can, I run two businesses, I’m the main carer for Pops and with helping Jax organize the fundraiser next week there aren't enough hours in the day. The only reason I'm on this side of the bar and not behind it is because Jax forced me to take the night off,” taking a deep breath, I rested my hand on Charles’ shoulder before half smiling at him, “sorry.”

I needed to get away from this situation.

Had I really just turned down Charles Leclerc?

In my head I knew it was the right thing to do, even though my heart was currently screaming at me for declining his offer. I couldn’t put myself in a situation where it would only end in my heart broken and me once again crushed.

I needed to protect myself, even if the price to pay was being alone for the rest of my life, that was a risk I was willing to take.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[rjalker]

[ID: Eight vintage pin buttons against light backgrounds.

The first is black with an upside down pink triangle in the center, and thin black text that reads, "Get your filthy laws off my body".

The second is white with black text between two black lines, reading, "Promote Queerness"

The third reads, "PFLAG, Halifax, Nova Scotia", with a logo of a heart and upside down triangle with a rainbow pride flag. In blue marker, someone has handwritten, above and below, "Proud mom".

The fourth shows a black whale with a plume of water above it, and reads with red text curving around the outside of the button "Gay whales against racism".

The fifth is bright yellow, with black text that reads, "Out of the closet and into the street"

The sixth is off-white with orange text that reads, "Help stamp out freedom -- support censorship"

The seventh is black, with a yellow sillhoette of a hand holding a police baton, with yellow text above and below reading, "Help the police - beat yourself up".

The eighth is dark orange and beat up, with black text that reads, "Your silence will not protect you", as a quote credited to Audre Lorde.

End ID.]

Sources:

Get your filthy laws off my body Promote Queerness Proud mom Gay whales against racism Out of the closet and into the street Help stamp out freedom - support censorship Help the police - beat yourself up "Your silence will not protect you"

[iwashie]

💛𝙱𝙻𝙻𝙺 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 💚

︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶ "warnings"- brasileiros que curtem as minhas coisas, agora é hora de vocês aparecerem. AQUI É BR PORRA! The songs have Spotify link. (pt 2 coming soon)

💚ISAGI- MAIS NINGUÉM- BANDA DO MAR

He gives me the vibe of no matter if you're surrounded by people or alone, things with him get comfortable, you two create your own little world, lost in each other's eyes. It doesn't matter if you're just friends, have a crush, dating, married, things with him are light and cozy.

💛 BACHIRA MEGURU- WHISKY A GO-GO- ROUPA NOVA

He would definitely love this song and dance with you, no matter if he doesn't understand the lyrics, the beat speaks for itself. He passes this chaotic vibe of Brazilian party. He is the fun in person and brings joy to things like this song, with him there are no bad situations!

💚 ALEXIS NEES- EXAGERADO- CAZUZA

he has the same vibe as the lyrics of this Brazilian anthem – as dramatic and passionate as Cazuza in this song. He would take you a thousand stolen roses, throw himself at your feet and apologize if you had made a mistake, he would also cry a lot, making drama if you ignored him.

💛 MICHAEL KAISER- ENTRE TAPAS E BEIJOS- CALYPSO

He gives me this vibe of always fighting but never separating, always at loggerheads. You two have good times and bad. You don't know if you love or hate him, always wanting to strangle him but also kiss him. you two pull hair, beat each other, bite and love each other—people don't know if you love or hate each other. You two are match made in heaven like beans and rice.

💚 RYUSEI SHIDOU- TE AMO DISGRAÇA- BACO EXU DO BLUES

Impossible to listen to this song and not remember ryusei. bottles of wine, fucking all over the house, on the balcony, in the car and in the bathroom of the bar. That mix of rap, blues and hi-hop is so much his vibe. Indefinite relationship, you fight and fuck, love each other. It's both of you against the world.

💛 KURONA RANZE- EQUALIZE- PITTY

He's so smart, handsome, calm and everything you like that you get lost around him. He's so perfect and friend/boyfriend/husband material that you don't have eyes for anyone else. You like him so much that you want to keep him to yourself, etch him in every bit of you so you don't miss him.

💚 NIKO IKKI- EDUARDO E MÔNICA- LEGIÃO URBANA

he's totally Eduardo, all silly, funny and charming that the need to keep him protected and around is enormous. He was sure to fall in love with someone older, maybe a little different from him, but the feeling would simply be there, slowly growing. "And who will one day say that there is reason in things made by the heart."

💛 CHIGIRI HYOMA- DE JANEIRO A JANEIRO- ROBERTA CAMPOS & NANDO REIS

He has this something that doesn't matter if you deny it or just haven't realized it yet, you like him and he likes you, and no matter how much time passes, that feeling isn't going to change. He's like, "If I date it's to get married."

💚 KUNIGAMI RENSUKE- O SOL E A LUA- PEQUENO CIDADÃO

You can compare he before and after the Wildcard to this song. Before he was all cheerful and had the dream of being a football hero, he was hot. And now he's "the sun froze its heart", all emo… sad. but I can also say that he would not give up so easy on you, as he does with football and like the sun still asks the moon in marriage.

💛 TABITO KARASU- DESPERDIÇOU- SANDY & JUNIOR

he dumb like ryusei, not knowing how to deal with the passion of the person, but he sure would do the same as Junior in this song- I can see him messing up your wedding day, saying he still loves you and taking you still dressed as a bride away and promising eternal passion. or he just wasted the love, left and never called, ran away with your peace.

[simplyfandomish]

Imagine being a Captain of a rebel resistance force against the Galra Empire...

Simplyfandomish’s Masterlist 

Word Count: 4,444

Warnings: None! Other than cheesy fluff, Lance being a flirt, and badass female fighter pilots

(Totally stole the plane design from Star Wars lol and character descriptions were inspired by @ctchrysler​‘s Original Characters💕) 

Set in Voltron Season 2, Episode 3: “Greening the Cube”

“Hello, daddy. Hello, mom.

I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!

Hello world! I'm your wild girl.

I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”

Nova’s blue eyes twitched in frustration as tools and small gadgets jumped off of the table and shelves as a result from the high bass setting that echoed through the ship.

Even with her earplugs pushed tight into her ears and her sole attention drawn to the weird space spore connected to her computers and scopes, the obnoxious music managed to penetrate her small bubble.

It seemed to be a religious practice for the ship's captain to blare annoying Earthen 80's music whenever they could. And it annoyed the other ship’s occupants to death.

“Stone age love and strange sounds too.

Come on, baby, let me get to you.

Bad nights causing teenage blues.

Get down ladies, you've got nothin' to lose.”

On the floor above, Nexia was being restricted to a much-needed nap.

The upbeat music caused her to groan in frustration and slam her pillow onto her face, desperate to at least muffle the infuriating sound. She continued to steam in anger as she reached over for her belt and buckled the pillow around her head. She began to smash her head against the wall.

“Hey, street boy, want some style?

Your dead end dreams don't make you smile.

I'll give you something to live for.

Have you and grab you until you're sore.”

Ishoël was busy in the ship’s hull with her maps and coordinates. Her large purple ears twitched and rang slightly due to their sensitivity to the blaring music, but she couldn’t help but tap her foot and swish her tail along with the beat.  

Being of Galran descent, she had never heard such upbeat music before, only monotone hymns and war chants. As much as her squad would whine and complain, she quite liked Earthen music. It was so different!

“Hello, daddy. Hello, mom.

I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!

Hello world! I'm your wild girl.

I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”

In the center of it all, the bringer of suffering was you. You danced around the ship’s deck like no one was watching - and even when Nexus and Nova would sit by, glare, and judge you, you wouldn’t stop anyways.

You would always argue these moments of dance and song were all in honor of your team’s success of the many successful liberation missions against the Galra Empire. The twins and Ishoël would always agree with your statements and let you return to your goofy, silly party state.

Oh, the perks of being Captain!

Your long pink hair swished and swayed with every movement, you enjoyed having your hair down once in a while. You loved these rare moments, when you could blare your foreign music and dance wildly.

“Cherry bomb!

Cherry bomb!

Cherry bomb!

Cherry bomb!”

Back under the decks, Nexus trudged out of her barracks with her pillow still tied tightly around her ears and entered her sister’s lab. Nova glanced up from her test subject towards her miserable twin.

Any other day the scientist would smirk and revel in her twin’s irritation, but both of the twins were suffering terribly at the moment.

“I swear, I’m going to kill that nerdy Earth kid for introducing her to this crap.” The eldest twin grumbled as she slammed her head onto the messy work desk in front of her. Her pillow knocked over a pencil cup and an empty test tube.

The younger twin nodded her head silently, her eyes never breaking from one of her many computer screens, her pale nimble fingers flying over the keys.

“What’re you doing anyways? Trying to make electricity with your space potato?” The ship was blessed with a moment of silence as the sound system was preparing for the next terrible Earthen song.

Nova ignored her guest and carried on with her business. “Isn’t that the squishy asteroid thing we picked up outside?” Another round of silence. The eldest grew a tick mark from her sister’s kuudere personality, but the expression was turned into one of confusion when Nova read the computer screen, “Under attack...Galra...Help.”

“What?!”

Nova ignored Nexus again as she typed in the coordinates the space spore produced. With a chime from her computer, she turned the screen to her Nexus. The image on the screen provided all the answers.

“The Olkari?” Nexus asked. Nova nodded in affirmation. Nexus nodded firmly, “Let’s get this to miss leader, before she makes us all deaf.”

“We're no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I~”

Nova and Nexus shared a horrified look before sprinting out of the lab and to the main deck. “Not this song! It’s awful!”

______________________________

The sight before the mighty Paladins of the Legendary Voltron was not at all what they were expecting.

When the Paladins heard whimpers and wails behind the cell door, their immediate thoughts went to torture, but last time they checked, a romantic movie with the Romeo and Juliet troupe wasn’t torture.

The Black, Red, Blue, and Yellow paladins shared a dumbfounded look with each other.

“She loves you!” Their mission’s target was sobbing like a baby, his eyes never tearing away from the holographic movie screen.

The paladins approached the kidnapped king. “King Lubos?” The black paladin asked. Confusion swam in all of the paladins’ minds. Both the king and his chained assistant turned to the newcomers.

“Who are you? The jesters I requested?”

“Ummm…” The blue paladin started awkwardly, “We’re here to like...rescue you?”

The king made a noise in the back of his throat and discreetly pressed a button on the side of his recliner. The lights flashed on momentarily blinding the occupants, and the main doors slid open. Red lights and sirens flashed all around.

The Galran base leader stalked into the room with a vicious smirk. They were caught!

“You could’ve just said ‘no thanks’.” The yellow paladin remarked towards the traitorous king.

“Looks like someone came to rescue you, your highness.” The base leader smirked in amusement.

“You turned your back on your own people to save your own skin.” The black paladin accused, offending the Olkarian King.

“I’m doing this for my people! They wanted to fight the Galra, but they’re too powerful. The gala could destroy us!” The king tried to defend his actions, but it was a blatant excuse and the Paladins knew it.

“So you helped enslave your people to build some super weapon?” The blue paladin hissed.

“Don’t make me the bad guy!” King Lubos snapped and pointed a finger toward the base leader, “He forced me to do it!”

“Did he force-feed you too?”

The silence spoke a thousand words.

“You’re no king.” The red paladin piped up before charging at the Olkarian king. The royal tried to scramble away, but was head-butted by the chained assistant and thrown into the paladin’s grasp.

The red paladin raised his bayard toward the king’s throat. “Ok! We’re walking out of here! Anyone who tries to stop us and Lubos gets it!” The paladin’s teammates spluttered from shock of Keith’s sudden declaration.

“La-sai, what’re you doing?” The king whimpered towards the angered assistant. “You betrayed our people, I can’t live this lie anymore!” La-sai stated with a deep glare.

“You don’t want me to hurt your genius engineer, right?” The red paladin returned his attention to the Galra commander.

“Oh, be my guest~ His work is done. The cube is complete.”

“What?” King Lubos exclaimed, sweat dripping from his forehead. “B-But, I thought we had a deal!”

“Guards, put them all out of their misery.” The commander smirked. The Galra soldier bots’ guns lit up as they began to charge its ammo, but before anything could happen, an explosion shook the entire building. Red laser blasts cut through the wall and separated the paladins and the Galra.

Through the newly formed hole was a mysterious ship. One that only the Galra could identify.

“Valkries!” The Galra leader was choked on the large clouds of smoke.

“Need a lift?” A female voice called out through the plane’s speakers. The paladins didn’t know who or what side they were on, but they needed a quick escape and the world presented itself with one. Hastily, those who sided with Team Voltron climbed onto the ship’s nose and held on tight. The pilot backed out from the building and sped off towards the forest.

“I got pick up, Artemis. Light ‘em up!”

“Roger, Luna!”

A plane nearly identical to their rescue vessel, other than its color scheme, soared past them and began laser assaults on the main building as well as taking out all the Galra posts surrounding the base.

“Who are you?” The black paladin shouted over the wind. He tried his best to distinguish their rescuer, but with both the tinted window and helmet visor, the Shiro could only see the pilot’s silhouette.  

“An ally!” She answered with a thumb’s up.

“Shiro, Lance, you guys okay?! Who is this?” The green paladin asked through their comm link, tailing the foreign plane into the woods.

“We don’t know, they said they’re an ally.” Shiro answered back.  

“Here’s your stop!” The pilot said as she hovered above the ground, nearest to where the Olkari village was settled.

“It’s the Geidi Prime Valkyries!” An Olkarian exclaimed, triggering the rest of the populace to flock towards the plane, all cheering and waving.

King Lubos practically threw himself off of the plane’s nose and went onto his knees, his forehead buried deep into the ground. With the Valkyries here, he was toast now! He began to vomit out praises and apologizes, beginning for his safety.

“The what?” Lance asked the nearest Olkarian to him. The alien brought their hand down from the air and clasped them to their chest in a lovesick manner. “The Geidi Prime Valkyries! They’re the best of the Geidi Prime brigades whose mission is to stop all Galra! Much like yours, mighty paladins.”

The paladins observed the medium-sized ship. It had more length than height with its nose being the most prominent and decorative. Along the hood was painted outstretched wings with a sword running through the middle. Down its body was a mint green stripe, and numerous painted tally marks dotted the line. It had four thrust engines with a laser cannon on each of its four wings. The wings themselves formed an ‘x’ shape.

The pilot saluted to the crowd through the window, before swinging back around towards the Galra base and hitting its thrusters. As seemingly fast as their own lions, the vessel swerved through the trees and out of sight.

The Olkari crowd continued their cheering even after she left. Pidge was unashamedly a part of this crowd.

The paladins stared at their youngest with raised eyebrows.

Pidge chuckled sheepishly when she finally realized the looks her team was throwing at her. “What??” She asked innocently. “Did you see those Incom 5H5 fusial thrust engines?! And the LP8 laser cannons?!” Pidge continued on with her fangirl rave.

Hunk, Lance, and Keith recoiled when Pidge began to drool.

______________________________

“All bystanders are free from the battle zone.”

“About time! What’d you do? Have a pint of mead and flirt?” You snorted.

Artemis was always the first to respond, and always with a sassy comment. “I wouldn’t have minded, the one in black was cute.”

“Whatever, Luna.” You grinned at Nova’s annoyance.

“Are you two done with your lovers’ quarrel up there, because the Galra’s newest weapon is on the move.” Gemini was the next to come through the link.

“Alright, alright, what you got for us, Apollo?” You asked. Your eyes trailed on the weird black floating cube in front of you.

“So far it hasn’t done anything, but cruising along the planet’s surface.” Nova’s smooth, monotone voice answered. “Gemini and I are still trying to hack into the main base to get intel.”

Both Valkyrie ships cruised parallel to each other, staying a good distance from the cruising cube: the Galra’s newest war machine.

“It’s just a dumb cube, what’s it gonna do? Shoot lasers at us?” Nexus wisecracked with a smirk.

The purple lining of the cube flashed and formed a- “GAH! I didn’t mean it!” It seemed the weaponry had heard Artemis’ taunts and fired a laser at her.

“You just had to go and taunt the thing didn’t you?”

“Shut up and help me!”

You rolled your eyes and went to assist your partner, who became the target for the cube’s lasers. You fired lasers at the cube, the bullets only being absorbed and no damage coming to the cube. You became the next target, as the cube started firing its lasers back at your ship. You just managed to flip your plan just in time to avoid being hit with the rapidly fired lasers.

“Great! It absorbs power!” Artemis shouted angrily. Both female pilots swerved out of the way from lasers as the cube continued to relentlessly fire at them.

“Apollo, get me a weakness!” You exclaimed over the comm.

“Trying.”

“Artemis, fall back so Apollo can figure it out.” Nexus sighed in frustration and pouted. She came out for a fight and now-! “AH!” She screamed out again when a large vessel flew past her, nearly clipping the end of her right wing.

Gemini gasped, “Oh my stars...I-Its…”

“Is that-?”

“It’s Voltron!”

The four Valkyrie’s stared at the robot in awe.

“So it’s true…” You breathed.

They all watched as Voltron tried to fight off the cube, but the Paladins had yet to realize the cube’s power as they used one of the robot’s special powers to try and defeat the weaponry. Not even a moment later did the cube retaliate with its own power and the mighty robot was thrown to the ground like a rag doll.

______________________________

“Ouch!” The Paladins yelped from the hard landing.  

“You all alright?!” Shrio asked through the comms. He sighed in relief when he got responses back. “Good! Now let’s: Form Sword!”

______________________________

The Valkyries watched Voltron summon its sword and slice the cube straight down the middle.

“T-that couldn't have worked...right??” There were now two cubes floating. The pair flashed a blinding light, before returning to their black and purple coloring.

“It can split up?!” Nexus shrieked in the comms.

“Weakness! Now!” You commanded.

“We’re trying!” Ishoël answered back.

Voltron retaliated and sliced the cubes through the middle, but their victory didn't last long as now four cubes flashed and came back online. They began to surround Voltron and fire their lasers at the large robot.

Voltron used its shield to deflect the lasers, but in no time the robot had difficulty protecting all its sides from the four fierce cubes, and eventually, the robot separated into five individual lions.

“I’m going in!” You punched your right throttle forward, your ship lurched back into the fray.

“Finally!” Artemis cackled and followed you in.

You flew past one of the cubes that chased after the red lion, instantly gaining the cube’s attention. The cube fired its lasers at your plane, but you were quicker.

With both throttles, you maneuvered your plane into summersault to avoid the lasers. Upside down, but leveled you fire your lasers against a second cube that was relentless upon the black lion. You swerved your plane to avoid colliding with the weakened lion robot, but now you had two cubes chasing you.

"T-there's no weakness!" Gemini stuttered through the comm link.

"What do you mean there’s no weakness?!" Artemis screeched as she did the same flip maneuver to save the blue lion.

"The cubes were made by the Olkari, they make their tech flawless with no abnormality. No matter who or what the weapon is for.” Apollo piped up.

To make matters worse, the green lion was shot down by a cube. Its mechanical cat body rocketed back into the tall forest.

“Ah!” Artemis grunted when a rogue laser struck the tip of her X-wing. “Oh no you didn’t!!” She roared in anger and fired upon the third cube. The Valkyries’ lasers did nothing to the four cubes, but with all chasing the pair, the beaten-up Voltron lions sat out and tried to recuperate.

______________________________

"What are they doing?!" Keith grunted out as he and the rest of the Paladins watched as the Valkyries played tag with the cubes. Pidge had been shot down and was unresponsive and now these strange planes were doing another reckless thing!

"I don't know, but that is probably the best piloting skills I have ever seen," Shiro stated in awe as the two planes dodged and spun away from the array of lasers.

Keith and Lance pursed their lips, mainly the latter. Both thought their flying skills were exceptional, yet only to get shown up by a group of mystery pilots.

"They can't hold on much longer," Keith said as the purple-painted Valkyrie had smoke trailing out its wings.

"We gotta get back in there!" Hunk exclaimed as he and the paladins moved to enter back into the field.

"Guys, hang on!"

"Pidge!"

______________________________

"I can't keep this up all day, miss leader!" Artemis clenched her teeth as she dove into another nosedive. She winced again when another laser shaved off a piece of metal from her laser cannon.

As much as you never wanted to admit defeat and raise a white flag of surrender, you couldn’t help but agree. Sweat had built around your temples and your knuckles began to throb from how tight you squeezed the throttles.  

Would this be it?? Would you and Artemis be shot down because these stupid cubes couldn’t be defeated?? Would this be the end of the Geidi Prime Valkyries??

“Got ya!” Pidge cheered in victory as she shot a large bright green laser at one of the cube’s on Artemis’ tail. The laser hit the second cube, causing the glowing purple lights to turn green for a moment before an army of vines erupted from the center of the cube. The long, heavy vines coiled around the edges of the cube and the Galra weapon fell out of the sky.  

The second cube left Artemis and chased after the green lion, but Pidge was ready. The lion simply spun around and aimed its newly formed cannon at the cubes.

“Aw come on!” Artemis whined. “He just stole my thunder!” She pouted, hands loose on the throttles now that the enemy was off her six.

“Want some of mine then?!” You grunted out as you spun your ship into a tight freefall. You could feel your seat growing hot and on your screen, the left bottom engine began to illuminate orange.

“Luna!” Artemis punched her ship back into gear and intercepted the second cube trailing you.

It felt like you were back to square one with cubes following both planes. "Thanks, Artemis! Now, let's line it up for him!"

Both Valkyries did one last aerial flip; You pulled up from low in the air and flipped upside down again. Artemis did the same, coming from high above.

You both grinned up at one another through your cockpits as you passed each other. Green lasers came from the side and shot at the final cubes.

You sighed out in exhaustion and relief, while Artemis did flips and spirals as she whooped and cheered.

“Did you see that flip?! I’ve never flown upside before!” She cheered.

“Very impressive, sister.”

“Nice job, Artemis!”

“Watch out, Luna! I’m on my way to steal your wings!”

You rolled your eyes in amusement. “Whatever you say, Artemis.”

Gemini came through the comm links again. "Information has been extracted, and the Olkari are invading. All Galra ships are fleeing."

“Roger that, Gemini. Let's go, Artemis." Both Valkyries turned their planes toward the Galra base and cruised off. The Voltron lions followed close behind.

The blue lion appeared at Artemis' side and started to pull ahead. The pilot narrowed her eyes, he wasn’t....was he?

Artemis smirked before hitting her thrusters, leaving the blue lion in her dust.

Lance blinked in confusion before gaining a smirk of his own. “A race, huh? Not on our watch! Let's hit it, Blue!”

"I want to thank you and the rest of your team." Ryner shook Nova and Ishoël’s hands in gratitude.

"We're just doing our duty to the galaxy!" Ishoël grinned before the three of them turned their attention toward the sky. They blinked to avoid dust flying in their eyes as two Valkyrie ships and five Voltron lions landed.

Nova and Ishoël rushed up to the x-wing fighter planes; Ishoël looked like a goofball as she ran with her arms high in greeting. Nova simply followed behind her with a small smile.

The Voltron Paladins rushed out of their own lions to properly meet the Giedi Prime Valkyries. Their attention went from the planes towards the two people on the ground, all of them gasped when they spotted a human girl with dark blue hair tied in a low ponytail that hung loosely on her shoulder, a pair of goggles sat on her head, and tool belt hanging loosely from her hips.

But what surprised the Paladins was the- “Galra!” Keith snarled as he pulled out his bayard. He charged at the tall Galra female with his teammates right on his heels with their own bayards.

The pilot of the purple Valkyrie plane hopped out of her cockpit and landed in between the red paladin and her own teammates.

The Paladins, minus the raging red, were surprised she made such a landing from that height without injury. “Hold your horses, tomato head!” The pilot shouted as she held her hands up and peeled off her helmet.

And it was like slow motion.

The pilot was female and looked nearly identical to other on the ground. Identical twins, they all presumed. But half of the pilot’s head was shaved down with the other half being a sweaty, windswept mess.

Hunk snorted, “Tomato head.” Keith snarled at him.

Lance was all goo-goo eyes and hearts.

“What's going on here?” Their attention turned to the new voice.

And it was like slow motion.

You approached the group and peeled off your helmet. Your long bubblegum pink hair spilled out of the helmet and down her back in a high ponytail. You looked between both groups for answers.  

“Just another Galra mistake, Luna,” Ishoël answered with a wave of dismissal. Her fluffy purple ears flicked as she smiled shyly, showing off her sharp, pearly white fangs. Her golden eyes turned into little crescent moons with her adorable smile.

The black paladin cleared his throat and stepped forward. He took off his helmet to show peace.

And it was like slow motion.

He was tall, handsome, and boy were his gray eyes pretty. His hair was jet black except for the tuft of white that hung into his eyes. A long, jagged pink scar covered his nose, but to you, it made him even more interesting.

Nova elbowed you out of your daydream.

“We’re sorry for our mistake. I-I’m sure you can understand why-”

“Please don’t worry about it. I’m well aware of what my people are doing. You don’t need to apologize.” Ishoël waved off his apology.

“Ishoël, you’re such a saint.” You cooed as you stepped beside her and wrapped your arms around her forearms. She was too tall to properly wrap your arms around her neck.

“You work with a Galra?” Keith couldn’t believe his eyes.

Hunk, Lance, and Pidge had taken off their helmets and sheathed their bayards; Keith hesitated for a moment before following his team.

“There are many Galras that don’t follow the regime. We have lots of Galran refugees in our ranks.” You answered simply. Nexus nodded firmly with her arms crossed, she shot a stink eye on the red paladin.

Your small smile dropped into immense surprise when the green paladin launched herself at your face. Stars had replaced Pidge’s eyes and she stared up at your squad as if you were royalty. “On Geidi Prime right?? We’ve only heard about your planet here and there, but actually seeing you guys in action! Your planes are gorgeous by the way! They’re technological masterpieces and the engines and laser canons- WOW!” Her team also had looks of surprise, never had they seen Pidge fangirl so hard.

Nova stepped forward and- “Thank you! Finally, someone appreciates all my hard work!” The Valkyries matched the Paladins’ shock as they watched their tech wizard come out of her shell and speak so happily.

“You made them?!” Nova nodded with a loud hum.

“That’s AMAZING! I have to see the technological advancements and mechanisms you guys have!”

Stars floated around the pair.

“Of course!” Nova took Pidge by her wrist and dragged her towards Nexus’ beaten plane.

The two battle squads continued to watch the pair with wide eyes and gobsmacked.

“Guess Nova’s found a new friend,” Ishoël commented.

Nexus flushed pink with jealousy and marched over to her plane, angrily grumbling about how no one will steal her twin away from her.

Lance slinked up next to you and Ishoël with his usual cheesy smirk. “So what’re your guys’ names?”

Ishoël smiled with her fangs again. “My name is Ishoël. Nova took off with your friend and Nexus is her twin.” She pointed over to the plane with the purple-painted pinstripe.

“ ‘Nexus’, huh?” He slicked back his short brown hair and readjusted his blue and white chest piece. “I can work with that.” He strutted off confidently towards the older twin.

The remaining Valkyries watched him go with surprise.

“Ignore him.” Shiro huffed in amusement and annoyance.

“That’s Lance, our resident flirt,” Hunk answered with a snort.

“He’s terrible at it though.” Keith rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“So, there’s Lance, Pidge was stolen by your friend, this is Hunk and Keith.” He introduced the yellow and red paladins at his side. “And I’m Shiro. You are?”

Ishoël pinched your side so you wouldn’t sigh out the black paladin’s name like some love-sick fool. You cleared your throat and swallowed down the butterflies. Good thing Ishoël was good at reading you. “Captain (Y/n) of the Geidi Prime Valkyrie Squadron, a multi-awarded Ace and one of the leading generals for the resistance~”

You grew pink as your hair at Ishoël’s words. She didn’t have to give your full title!

Shiro stepped forward and held out his hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m eager to work with you in the future to liberate the universe from the Galra Empire.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go end a war.”

[oceanofsinners]

“My love is my eyes, I am his ears, and you are our HEART.”

Yan!Puppeteer and Yan!Puppet x Gn!Alive porcelain doll♥︎

[mdni, or do, i don't care. omg lore post kind of?? the Multiverse Arche, Nova, and these two live in is large and im making a whole world out of it, so not all of this may make sense. also sorry it ended so abruptly i lost motivation at the end argh]

The Puppeteer came before everything in this wretched Universe, bored and lonely he created himself a lover, someone made from the stars above. 

Then he created The Nine, and the Universe came into existence. It was small at first, larger with every new puppet made. 

But there was only ONE true Puppet, his darling, his toy, his everything.

The first of The Nine to appear was Time, made from his sweethearts torso. Of course, being W̯ͤ̾ͣ͝Hͥ̽ͣ̃̔A̷͙ͭͫ̕T̨͈͗̌ͥ T̨͈͗̌ͥHͥ̽ͣ̃̔Ḛͭ̉̇͟Ỵ̛̖͋͢ A̷͙ͭͫ̕R͉̜̎͡͠Ḛͭ̉̇͟, they simply regenerated.

Due to this, Time’s stomach was made from an hourglass. Rumor has it, when it runs out of black sand, either Time will die or the Puppeteer and Puppet will, meaning Pollylon will die with them.

Her chest is made out of the sand that seeps from cracks in the hourglass, created by a being known as Arche, angry at her for killing his Firefly.

Then came Universe, made from the Puppeteer’s spine, made to be everything and nothing all at once. 

The Universe doesn't have a physical body but neither do they not exist. The Universe is both everything and nothing, you and me. 

Then Life and Death, Life created from the Puppeteer’s eyes and Death from the Puppet’s ears, making something so strong costed both their senses that they lost in the creation of them.

Life’s eyes are pure white, and constantly see every life born from human to animal to even a plant, now and in the past, even in the future. He is blind, and also all-seeing.

While Death constantly hears the screams, moans, and sobs of the dead, from now and in the past, future as well. She is deaf, but can also hear a pin drop.

Love came next, created from one side of each of the Puppeteer’s and Puppet’s hearts, but something corrupted Love’s existence, and another of The Nine was created as well; Heartbreak. 

Love’s heart is constantly visible, constantly beating, the skin around their chest gone, it is said with every beat of Love’s heart, a couple falls in love. 

Heartbreak doesn't have a heart, and is said to be constantly searching for one in the bodies of the couples they break up, hoping to find one to fix their own missing heart.

Then Sleep and Dream came along, Sleep made from the left hand of the Puppeteer and Dream from the right hand of the Puppet. 

Sleep’s left hand is a baby blue, melting into their skin, constantly cool to the touch and able to make anyone fall asleep with a single touch. 

Dream’s right hand is a deep purple, but it's ever changing. Dream is neither cruel nor benevolent, able to conjure up Nightmares bad enough to terrify Gods and Dreams happy enough to warm even Heartbreak’s missing heart.

The last and youngest of The Nine was Fate, rather then being created from a part of the Puppeteer or Puppet, the Puppeteer wove his existence like thread into clothing, and he was born with golden stitches.

Fate is clueless and naive, unknowing of the strings of Fate he holds in his hands, similar to the ones attached to his back, able to be pulled every which way by the Puppeteer.

For a long time, the Puppeteer and Puppet watch as their creations create more, more and more Gods are created by The Nine, more worlds, it was amusing. 

The Puppeteer often busied himself learning about the new diseases the humans find, or about the durability and general stuff about humans. They were so interesting...

But very soon, living in the galaxy grew boring. Even if the Puppeteer had his Puppet, they already know everything about each other, have done everything together. 

“Darlingggg...I'm growing bored..” Puppet whined, and Puppeteer sighed, pushing the violet hair out of his lover’s face. 

“I know, pup. Don't worry, we'll think of something.” Puppeteer signed to his lover, kissing Puppet’s forehead. 

They need something new. So, the two draw a character, adding attributes they found attractive. They wouldn't have emotions or a personality at first, but they'd grow their own soon enough. 

It was a bit of trial and error, especially since the Puppet had liked the idea of the new person being made out of porcelain, like a doll. After all, he's a puppet, so why not have a doll too? 

Eventually, YOU came to appear. 

—

Your eyes flutter open, the world around you freezing cold, the air nipping at your already freezing cold skin. 

You can feel heat radiating off something out side the room, but your mind, without any knowledge of what was going on, only knew to follow the heat.

Unsteady, like a doe on ice, you stand from the bed you were on, immediately grabbing onto a wall for support. 

Your eyes scanned the room with precision, the walls were black, and it smelled strange, but even the candles lit in the room couldn't hide the smell of death and rot.

Steadying yourself, using the wall for support you walk out of the room, looking for that warmth— That you step right into. 

“What—? Pup, is that you?” The voice is curious, and slightly hoarse. Maybe he doesn't speak often. You look up, only to find cloudy eyes staring into nothingness. 

You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a pitiful whine. That seems to clue the person in, who's eyes widen slightly. 

“It's you! I thought you were another failure, I suppose not!” Their voice is cheery now, arms instantly wrapping around your body, as if they're trying to squeeze the magic out of you, yet they're also gentle. 

Unknowing of what to do, you simply melt into them, glad for their warmth. As fast as the warmth came, cold followed after. 

“Darling? Is-Is that them?” The new person, who seems freezing cold, if the air around them is anything, asks with a tremble in their voice, the warm person immediately nods, their head turned towards the colder one. 

“It is.” The warm one signed, which it's weird you can understand, but that might be because of the magic they left inside you. 

The warm person unravels themselves from you, and you whine at the loss making the corners of their lips tug up. 

“Apologies, dolly. But we should introduce ourselves, shouldn't we, Pup?” The warm one speaks while also signing towards “Pup”, who nods, walking closer to the warmth, curling around them like a python. 

“Mhm, I guess we should. I'm Puppet, though my darling and you can call me Pup.” Pup speaks, smiling at you. 

“And I'm the Puppeteer, although some seem to call me A̷͙ͭͫ̕R͉̜̎͡͠L̸̖̽̌͂Ḛͭ̉̇͟Q̦̭̀̾͜U̠҉̷̙ͦI̍̅̀̎̊N̺̻̔̆ͅ for some reason...Either is fine for you and Pup to call me, however!” Puppeteer smiles, which only leaves you without a name. 

But neither seem concerned, and instead guide you to the dining room, but the castle you're in...it seems almost...alive. Doors open on their own, books rearranging themselves, rags cleaning the castle. 

You're quickly sat down, Pup on your left and Puppeteer on your right. There's all different types of food on the table, some more enticing then others. 

“Dolly, see anything you like?” Pup asks, and you shrug. I mean, sure some of it looks good, but it's just food. Pup pouts, and grabs a fork, picking up some spaghetti and spoon feeding it to you. 

They practically spoon feed you the entire time, talking and chatting with each other while you listen, before guiding you to their bedroom, where the two sleep together, while you watch curiously. 

That morning, by the time they're awake you've been up all night, watching. 

“Mm, Dolly, did you stay up all night?” Pup yawns, rubbing his eyes as he looks at you. You nod, and Puppeteer frowns. 

“You shouldn't do that.” Puppeteer says, and you tilt your head like a curious puppy, and he points at your chest. “You're not human, of course, but look.”

Puppeteer walks over, taking off the shirt you had been given by Pup, and opens the plate on your chest. 

You glance down curiously, and freeze. In the middle is a two red hearts, beating quietly, stitched together to create one, with strings from each of your limbs, so you can move. 

“You may not die from lack of sleep, but you will grow lethargic. I'd prefer you happy and awake, alright, dolly?” Puppeteer looks up with a look in his eye that leaves no room for discussion, as if it wasn't a question. You nod, somewhat worried of what would happen if you disagreed. 

Very quickly Puppeteer begins teaching you how to speak while Pup teaches you how to write, the two are amazing teachers and with how you were created, you easily learn everything. 

Even though you're still without a personality, soon you'll make one your self, and realize something.

Created from two lovers hearts into a new being. You have no escape, after all, this is their domain, and there is no way to leave them.♥︎

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Any chance Antoni wants to share how he's doing today?

He sits at the kitchen table, the fingers of one hand loosely curled around the handle of his mug of tea, the other hand supporting his chin. The look in his dark brown eyes is distant, seeing something far beyond the wall he seems to be staring at. His hair is missed and a little overlong, needing a cut but he hasn't had the energy for it.

Not for a while.

He doesn't see her at first, because she stands in the doorway off to one side, perfectly silent. It could be seconds - it could be minutes.

But when he sits back, he catches a flash of bright blue from the corner of his eye and jumps, heart skipping, thinking for just a moment he sees the woman, with her dulled eyes and dark bruises and incongruous luxury, the woman who wore furs and bloodied lower lips with an equal lack of understanding.

Then he realizes, time crashes its layers together, and his heart beats again. "Chort voz'mi!"

Nova stares at him, almost unblinking. She is, as always, impeccably made up, with a carefully casual updo and thrift store clothes that she wears like they cost more than this house. "Are you sad?" Her voice is oddly light for the question, vaguely curious, not concerned.

He swallows, shrugging, looking away from her and back down at his mug. He forgot the tea for too long - when he sips, it's lukewarm and too bitter. "No. Only thinking. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Maybe you looked sad." She shrugs. "Is there any breakfast left?"

"Mmmn. Somewhere. Fridge, maybe."

Her eyes narrow, looking him over. Nova looks at everyone like a math problem to be solved, and he wonders what calculations she has made about him. "You always cook breakfast."

"Yes, well. I did not today." He puts the mug down and winces as it cracks too loud against the table, but at least it doesn't break. "There is plenty to eat."

"But-"

"I did not cook today." His voice is chilled, now, each word carefully spoken with perfect articulation. "Please feel free to eat anything you like."

Her eyebrows raise. "Oh, you are sad. What are you sad about?"

"I do not talk about it."

"Why not?" She moves into the room with artificial grace, leaning over with her back straight to look into the fridge. When she turns to look back at him over her shoulder, curling tendrils of hair frame her face, just the way she wants them to. "Dr. Berger says-"

"You are not Dr. Berger. And I do not talk about it."

"Well... Fine." She pours herself some milk after smelling the top to check if it's still good, then turns to look at him as she drinks, eyebrows raising. "I don't actually care, you know."

That manages to pull from him a faint, faded smile. "Yes, you do. Or you would not ask."

"I'm just being polite."

"You do not care about being polite."

"No, I don't." She thinks about it. "But I care about you."

"What? Why?"

Nova doesn't answer. She sets the glass down, emptied and still marked with milk, and then swans out of the room, leaving him staring, baffled, after her.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING HOLY

CHAPTER 5: The Ghost

WARNINGS: angst, explicit content

SUMMARY: “Would you still follow me anywhere?”

“Into the dark,” Din vows. “Into the stars.”

“What if I go somewhere you can’t follow?”

He stares. Nova can feel the crushing weight of his fury on the other side of that question, even in the dark. But she doesn't speak, doesn’t try to undo it, doesn’t try to take it back.

She’s not talking about leaving. She’s talking about being ripped away. With teeth and silver, a parting from this mortal realm. Something is buzzing low in her head. Nova can’t quite put it to name.

“I am never,” Din repeats, low and angry, “leaving you again.” A beat. “What do you want, Novalise?”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING HOLY SATURDAY!!! i am once again asking you to forgive me for my very extended absence (more notes on this at the end). this chapter is a slow thrum with smut and angst (with a dash of plot). i hope you love it <3

If you're new here, Something More & Something Deeper are the first installments in this series, available on here & ao3!

First—blinding, searing light. 

Then—a whisper, creeping in around the edges.

Nova blinks once, twice, trying to shake the exhaustion from her eyes. Everything filters in slowly, like she’s been drugged, in a coma, off floating in another dimension entirely. It all floods in flashes—in and out of the light, like her own eyes shuttering against the memory. She’s drained—down to her bones, she can feel it, the weary, tired seep. It feels like how she did when she slept off three months on Naator, head stuck in a dream, body lost in the void.

That does it. She jackknifes upward, catapulting forward, hand on her belt.

Her belt is empty. 

Nova curses under her breath, stumbling around in this ship’s low, grey light. It feels similar in make to the Crest—but it’s not the Crest. It’s roomier, warmer, slightly, and she categorizes all of this while rooting around for her lightsaber, the Darksaber, any saber will do, really, she’s not picky—

“Your sabers are safe.” 

Nova whirls around, fists up.

The woman leaning against the wall is grinning at her. Not sadistically, not evilly—just smiling. Also, she’s a Twi’lek. And she’s green. Nova runs through these facts in her head, trying to make sense of them. She comes to the same dividend—she cannot. 

Nova blinks. Once, twice, trying to dislodge the sleep in the corners of her eyes. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” 

The woman’s smile widens, rows of glittering teeth so bright in the dim light of the ship that Nova shrinks back. Her eyes rove over Nova’s body—her tousled hair, her ripped clothes, the cuts she’s sporting. At some point, Nova’s lip split, her ribs are still bruised, and her eyes feel puffy. She’s not sure if that was from the ship fracturing or from blowing up the remnants of the evil laboratory, but she can feel the ache now. 

The woman in front of her has blue, blue eyes—river-deep and unreadable. “You’ve been through a lot.” They’re kind, though, Nova recognizes, running the pad of her thumb over the seam of her lip, worrying along the fault line. From her eyes to the smile on her face, the woman in front of her looks kind. 

Nova darts her tongue out, then immediately winces at the sharp pain of the still-open wound. She sits up straighter instead.  “That’s an understatement.” 

“She told me you’d be wary. That’s good. Out here, wary keeps you alive.” 

“She?”

“A friend…sent me.” 

Nova chances a half-step forward. Her head feels underwater, her body feels bruised. She wants Din, and a hot shower, and to curl up and sleep for another full rotation. But she forces her chin up, tilting her head to the side. “I have lots of those,” she says evenly, “you’re going to have to clarify which one.” 

The woman laughs—a hearty, inviting thing. She doesn’t look dangerous. She looks warm. Nova eases up, both physically and mentally. “And I happen to have multiple friends in common with you, and it’s a shame we haven’t met before. Welcome aboard the Ghost, Novalise Djarin. My name’s Hera.” 

It sounds familiar, but in her addled state, Nova can’t place it. She relaxes, though. It’s imperceptible, but it filters into the crush of her jaw, easing the tension of her shoulders.  “And you know me…how?” 

“A few ways,” Hera says, cocking her head to the side. “And you’re safe now. All of you.”

 Nova squints at her, dazed. “I think I hit my head.” 

Hera sobers, moving to meet her in the middle. “I’m sure you did,” she murmurs, holding her hands out in an invitation. Cautiously, Nova creeps forward until Hera’s green fingers trace across her forehead, looking for the source. “From what your husband told me—”

Nova rears back. “Where is he?” 

“Oh good,” Din murmurs from somewhere in the dark, emerging like shadows singing around the woman in front of her, immediately drowning everything else out, “you’re awake.” 

Nova leaps across the floor, running into Din’s chest—thankfully unarmored, but it still packs a wallop—and sinks her skin against his. Freshly showered, he still smells like gunsmoke and cinnamon, and the lingering waft of metal, the tang that never seems to leave his skin, his blood, his heart. “You’re here.” 

He smiles down at her, one thumb tracing over her cheekbone. “Where would I go?”

Nova bites her split lip, winces. “Down there, we—”

Din’s brown eyes flash with something—guilt, a memory, she’s not sure. All Nova knows is that hers are likely flashing with the same thing. “Not now,” he whispers, a ghost of a thing, and then: “All that matters is that we’re all here.” 

“And where,” Nova says, a half-step louder, still muffled against Din’s beskar-clad chest, “is here?”

“The Ghost,” Hera supplies, and Nova reluctantly leaves Din’s tight grip to face their rescuer again. “My ship. And our mutual friend—the one I was referring to, anyway—is Ahsoka Tano.”

Nova’s breath catches in her throat. “You said all of us were safe,” she whispers, heart banging in her chest, hammering against her injured ribs, “but if Din and I are here, then—” 

The noise comes from just out of reach, in the cockpit. It fills Nova’s lungs, seeps warmth into her blood before she can recognize why. When Grogu comes toddling around the bend, Nova lets out a cry—part anguish, part relief—and scoops him against her chest, pressing her injured forehead against his green one, three-fingered palm tracing right over the place on her cheek that Din’s hand just left. 

“Ahsoka sent me,” Hera says, smiling down at them, “but this little guy found me. Come sit down, Nova. We have a lot to talk about.” 

*

Grogu is safely nestled in Nova’s arms, the warmth of his little green body thrumming against her own chest. Hera is making them tea—real tea, brewed with leaves and flowers, some of Yavin’s purple petals tucked beneath the rest of the scattered ones. It feels like a good omen. 

“We have a lot to cover.” Hera says this matter-of-factly, like she’s running through a pre-flight checklist. There’s a no-nonsense assurance to the way she carries herself, the way she puffs out her chest. It’s not arrogance. It’s knowledge. She’s careful and she’s sure—it fractures Nova’s chest, just a little, because even in just this glimpse of her, Hera reminds Nova so much of her mother. “But you must have questions, and I’d prefer we start there.” 

Nova slides her thumbnail between her teeth, worrying along the split. A gloved hand darts out to catch her wrist before she can dig in too deeply. Din’s helmeted, obscured from the light, but Nova would bet all of her credits that he’s wearing a neutral expression underneath. The familiarity of this—Nova, unhinged, Din, unbothered—feels so much like their early days traversing the galaxy that she’s lost there for a minute, eyes roving over her Mandalorian, hands clasped around their kid in her lap. 

“I’ll start with the worst one,” she mutters, sliding her fingers around a roguish curl instead. SHe inhales, exhales, trying to keep her fear at bay.  “How long was I out this time?” 

Hera’s eyebrows furrow in the middle.

“Five days.” Din tilts his head to the side. “Well. Five and a half, technically.” 

Nova sits back in her chair, sighing. 

“Not the worst,” Din murmurs, trying to keep her level. His thumb strokes over her own. 

“Not the best,” Nova volleys back.

“We were so far out there,” Din says, voice level, to keep her even-keeled, “that you didn’t miss anything. We just reached the far side of the Outer Rim earlier, about an hour before you woke up. You didn’t miss anything—”

“I missed five and a half days of my life.” Nova swallows, trying to hold onto the sense of calm that Din always embodies in the face of her unsteadiness, trying to absorb some of Hera’s cool. It radiates off her in waves. Nova presses the heels of her hands into her eyes until stars explode. “I don’t care what happened when I was out. I hate losing time like that. You let me sleep?” It’s not meant to be accusatory, but it comes out that way anyway.

“Nova—”

“Excuse me,” Hera cuts in, steady yet warm. “You were just in a crash landing—where, miraculously, nobody died—and you’re…upset because you…” she trails off, blinking at Nova, clearly trying to not offend her, which makes Nova warm to her even more, “...slept?”

Din sighs, trying again: “Novalise—”

“I once lost three months,” Nova says miserably, wrapping her arms around her legs like a little kid, fully aware she’s acting morose and silly, but unable to shake it free regardless. “Three months of my life, gone, because a Sith acolyte found me in my dreams and began to possess the people around me while also siphoning off my life force. Poof. Gone. I was out—not sleeping, dead, but somewhere in between.” She snaps her fingers for emphasis, which is a sound entirely too sharp for the interior of the Ghost, and all of them jump. Just a little. “She also kidnapped my best friend, tried to raze Mandalore—again—stuck Din with a poisoned dagger, almost killed him, seriously interrupted my journey to become a Jedi, found out she murdered my parents, manipulated me into trying to meet her alone, kidnapped Bo and Din, tried to kill them, again, tried to kill me, again, but then I killed her—except, except—she’s still fucking around in my head. I keep having visions, I keep having nightmares, and I cannot figure out where the premonition ends and the dream begins. And since Wedge ran into you on Hoth, I have been running across the galaxy in the search of a lost Jedi that I’ve never met, even though he’s told me not to, over and over again, and that what’s coming is even worse than what already happened.” She swallows, placing a hand over her racing, skipping heart, trying to will it to quiet. Hera is staring at her. Nova blinks, once, twice, a futile attempt to come back down to earth, closing her eyes tight when she realizes just how much that was—to blurt out, to experience. Either. Both. She can’t differentiate. 

“Needless to say,” Din says, low and even, “Novalise doesn’t like to lose time.” 

Hera’s staring back and forth between the both of them. 

“I know you have questions, too.” That’s Din, talking. Nova’s fighting the furious, stubborn tears welling up in her eyes. “Especially after that. Ask them.” 

“Didn’t you guys…talk?” Nova asks, when Hera’s mouth doesn’t move from the shell-shocked, half-open state it’s hung in since she began talking, “while I was…out?

“Your husband,” Hera whispers, “is not a man of many words.” 

Despite everything, Nova laughs, the feeling of it bubbling up in her chest foreign and bittersweet. 

“It must have been very hard,” Hera says, carefully, “to carry the enormous weight of being responsible for so many lives, including your own.” 

Nova swallows, looking down at her purple fingers, war-torn with the efforts of the starfighter crash, the destroying of the midichlorian tanks, the days of unconscious and fitful sleep. She feels bruised around the edges, crushed like the Yavinian flowers in her tea. Everything is violet and half-formed. She feels raw—not like she’s been through war, but like she’s at the dawning of a new world, after the devastation of losing her original ones, over and over and over again. “I am not very good at delegating,” she whispers, and Din’s hand finds her knee, anchoring her to the bench of the table, unfurling all the seismic hurt pooling in the center of her chest. Grogu is asleep on her lap, his tiny breaths synching in tandem with her own. “Which is to say,” she continues, barely a whisper, and she’s being melodramatic, maybe, but Nova thinks at this point in her life, she’s earned it, “my name is Novalise Djarin, and I am the patron saint of lost causes.” 

Din stiffens beside her, recoiling. The words taste awful in her mouth—but they aren’t untrue. “Nova,” he whispers, and there’s so much weight hurled behind that one small sound, the anatomy of her name, but they can’t do this, not here, not now, not after everything—

Hera’s green hand comes up between them, bisecting the tension, dissolving it. “You are Novalise Djarin,” she says, “and nothing I am about to say makes that unshakable fact untrue.” Nova sees it in her eyes, what she’s going to say. “But I think before you were Nova, you were someone else.” 

Nova straightens up a little, wary, even though she’s fully let Andromeda back in, made peace with her hurt, clutched her former self’s strength to her heart like a pearl. But she knows Hera Syndulla ran in the same orange circles of where she originated from, where Andromeda was formed, where Andromeda was unmade. And she is so close to fracturing, so she waits with her swollen lip bit between her teeth. 

“I knew your parents,” Hera says softly, extending a green hand across the granite of the table between them, a living shock against the anathema of white. “And I think who you are now is in no small part because you are Piper and Arokel Maluev’s daughter.” Are, Hera says. Present tense. It wraps Nova in like a hug, and she breathes out a sigh of relief. “And I think that the woman you’ve become has the spirit of a Mandalorian and the heart of a Jedi. Resilient. Strong. You live up to every legend that the people we share have told me about you.” Her teeth shine in a sad, eternal smile. “And I am so sorry, Novalise, that you have had to shoulder so much hurt.” 

Nova can’t speak it into words, the relief she feels, the safety in this woman who rescued them—who is still holding both her sabers hostage—and she lets out a small noise, a quiet keening sound, wiping the unlodged tears from her eyes with the back of her free hand.  

“Thank you,” she manages,  and then: “I’m very grateful you’re the one who found us.” And it’s a tiny thing, miniscule in comparison to what Hera has just said, but it shines between them, that understanding, like a star. Next to her, Din’s body shrinks against Nova’s, the tilt of his pelvis closer, his leg, so warm, even clad in beskar, pressed against her own, and when her hand slips out of Hera’s, it finds his gloved one. She looks over at him, and even through the mask, there’s understanding. There’s an apology, even though it’s not necessary. They are the ghosts of every version of Novalise and Din that have come before, and they return to each other again and again and again. His thumb strokes over her exhausted one, and for the first time in weeks, Nova feels a sense of settling. She chooses to name it peace. 

“Bo-Katan Kryze,” Hera says, faintly, bringing Nova back to steady ground, “is your best friend?”

Nova nods. Fear stokes up in her chest again like a roused flame. “I don’t know where she is—” But Hera’s already pulling something out of her back pocket as Nova’s heart catches in her throat. “But you said all of us, earlier, were safe—?”

Hera’s green finger thumbs over the button on a hologram. The white disc fills the space between them, suddenly opalescent and painting the atmosphere blue. “Can you please move? Move!” Then, slightly winded and heavily sour, like she’s just been elbowed somewhere soft: “Please. Thanks.” Mumbling and grunting in another language filters off-screen, and Bo-Katan’s beautiful, annoyed face floods the screen, and Nova feels relief seep like a drug through her bloodstream. “I don’t know if this’ll get to you.” 

“It will. I memorized the channel frequency before we left for the Unknown Regions.” 

Bo-Katan shoves at Wedge offscreen. More grunting, a distant, slippery language on the tongues of assorted people in the background. Decidedly not Wedge, or Bo-Katan, who’s looking off-camera like she’s at her wit’s end. 

“Yes. Very smart, Wedge,” she spits, and Nova can feel the smile Wedge is sporting from lightyears away. “Okay. The report from this half of the Victory crew is this: we got picked up by a group of very slow-moving Mon Cala. Their hyperdrive’s broken, so we’re stuck on this medical frigot indefinitely. But we’re heading—slowly—towards Mandalore, where Wedge and I are planning to rally the troops that we can.” She pauses, leaning in, the striking curve of her jaw clenched. 

Nova’s breath catches in her throat, tears pinpricking at the corners of her eyes. 

“Technically,” Bo-Katan continues, “I’m cashing in on a favor that doesn’t exist yet. But it’s one I’ll repay tenfold when we’re back together again. Listen, Hera—I know this is a big ask. But I also know you’ve been looking for Ezra, and if you’re not flying a mission for the New Republic, you’re out in the Unknown Regions anyway. So I am hoping against hope you’re closer to the rest of the Victory crew than we are. I don’t use this word lightly—please,” she whispers, and her machismo and iciness vanishes in that one word, “please make a pit stop on Lenahra and look for the shattered Mandalorian starfighter. It’s a massive wreck. You can’t miss it.” She swallows. “I have friends there in need of rescuing.” She glances right. “Get in here.” 

“Hi again,” Wedge says, as he’s yanked into frame, “General, if Bo-Katan hasn’t already sold you, it would be the favor of a lifetime.” 

“You’re being weird,” Bo-Katan stage-whispers, “stop it.” She lifts her chin, with a little bit of hope etched onto her face. “Hera,” she says again, “if that wasn’t convincing enough, there’s more.” She swallows, her gaze again flickering upwards, like she’s not sure if she can speak freely. Wedge squats down beside her, the two of their faces filling the entire space in front of Nova’s eyes, and her heart is still thundering in her ears, even though they’re safe, they’re safe.

“You know the Chimaera is back,” Bo-Katan whispers. “And I know what that means for Ezra.” She holds Hera’s gaze through space and time, even though it’s a message, it’s being played, it’s not in real time. “But that means he’s here, too.” She swallows, raising her chin, the mask snapping back on. “So—be careful. I really, really owe you one. Get the Djarins and meet us on Mandalore. We’ll see you soon.”

The hologram flicks off, leaving all of them in anesthetic silver and white. Din sighs out next to her—in relief, in exasperation, Nova’s not sure. But she leans into him, slowly handing off Grogu into his crossed arms, and looks at Hera. 

“That message,” Hera says, her voice faraway, “came in not five minutes after Ahsoka’s did. She set up a beacon across every planet in the Unknown Regions, set to trip the second new life forms entered the atmosphere.” She swallows, and for the first time since Nova’s opened her eyes, Hera looks undone—afraid. She licks her lips, knotting her fingers together, bracing herself for impact. Nova leans in, slightly, knowing she’s missing something—a key piece of the puzzle—she just doesn’t quite know what. It’s ringing, dimly, faintly, in the back of her mind—she has all of the information, it just hasn’t clicked into place. “Ezra Bridger,” Hera says, with the ache of a thousand worlds, “is my family.” She swallows. “A long time ago, he disappeared into deep space. And now,” she whispers, “according to the Chimaera’s distress signal, and Ahsoka’s message, and Bo-Katan’s hologram, and your testimony, Ezra is in this galaxy. Ezra Bridger, my long lost, brave Ezra—he is home.” Hera shifts, fear and hope, in equal measure, warring across her face. 

“I haven’t found him yet,” Nova whispers, “but I’m going to, Hera—”

“Ezra is not lost,” Hera interrupts, her voice low and thrumming with pain, “because he is back here, against all odds, in this galaxy. After years, after sacrificing himself to save the rest of us, Ezra is back here, hiding again, obscuring himself to protect us.” Her eyes meet Nova’s with startling clarity—the same reflection that she’s seen between herself and Ezra, the parallel lines connecting their spirit, over and over again, alike like only two Jedi can be. “And that is not good luck. That is not possible, not without him.” 

Nova blinks at her, still feeling like she’s on the outside looking in, like she’s peering through the looking glass without a solid scope, a kaleidoscope, a mosaic of so many lives, woven together by an exhausted gold thread. “Hera—” 

“If Ezra’s back,” Hera says, far more evenly than Nova would have been able to muster, “that means Grand Admiral Thrawn is, too.” That name. Like calls to like. It’s been spoken aloud, for the first time—but Nova feels it resound in her chest—blue skin, rows and rows of glittering, awful teeth. Sharp, that name—razor-thin and infinitely more dangerous. The nightmare in the back of her skull, primordial and real. Hera holds up a finger as Din shifts, as Nova inhales, both too sharp. “And that means,” Hera whispers, “that the entire galaxy is going to war.” 

*

Hera fills Nova in on an entire history. Nova listens to Hera’s account of the Alliance she was never a part of, the wars going on in space she was never privy to. When Hera and Ezra and the crew of the Ghost were running around in the stars, Nova was fighting for her life.

And yet, Din knows, she’s kicking herself for not being there anyway. So Din watches Nova, tuning out everything else. 

Nova, his Novalise, his cyar’ika—his beloved, his home, his heart. She is there, alive, filled with mortality and vitality. She feels like a heart attack, too warm, too close. Hera is talking, monologuing about the history of Thrawn, about his prowess, his sick skill, his evilness—and it should absorb, really, Din should be listening, and he is, he’s incapable of not multitasking, but he can’t focus on anything but Nova. 

She is sitting, body coiled taut like a live wire, energy radiating off her in spurts. So alike the Nova that used to sit in the cockpit with him, as Din fed her lines of his restricted life, his dangerous thrush, his brutal career. She is unflinching in the face of despair—it shines like a star, like a pearl. Maker, she’s brute strength, his wife—every single part of her tuned into a frequency he cannot access, cannot hear. Before Nova, Din didn’t even try.

He does now. 

“He’s going to try and take over the galaxy,” Hera is saying, her hands laced together so tightly that she could break her own bones. Din watches Nova out of the corner of his eye. “And he is terrifying.” 

“We’ve dealt with terrifying,” Nova starts, but Hera shakes her head, tightly. 

“Not like this,” she manages, letting the words hang in the balance between them. Din watches as she tries to collect herself, gathering that even-keeled composure she’s kept since she first picked them back up in the Unknown Regions and then shifts. It snaps back into place, but Din’s an expert by now at seeing the cracks in the veneer. 

Nova’s leaned into Hera, like she’s magnetized in her orbit, teeth gnawing on her bottom split lip, the smell of freesia and coconut still raising off her curls, even after a crash landing and the ship splitting apart. Din inhales through the helmet, not moving a muscle, watching her.

Hera sighs, sitting back. She drags a hand over her face, trying to physically erase the sorrow written there. She lifts her chin, trying to snap that sense of calm and control back into her face. Din watches as her blue eyes flick to the visor, then to where his gloved hand is clenched around Nova’s. A tiny, sad smile flashes across her face, a flutter-cut. If Din didn’t wear that expression like an old friend, he wouldn’t have caught it. 

Hera sighs. “You both must be—well, exhausted doesn’t even cover it. Why don’t you lay down. Catch up.” She gestures to Grogu, who’s still sound asleep in the hollow of Din’s arms. “I’ll take the little guy up to the cockpit with me. I could use a copilot, even a sleeping one.” 

Din raises an eyebrow under the helmet. Nova looks over at him, and the world cements, crystallizes. He relents, sighing, letting Hera pluck Grogu out of his arms like a berry. 

“I’ll get you both up when we land to refuel,” Hera promises, “and we can make a plan.” 

“The plan,” Nova says, “is to get out of enemy territory. Get back home.” 

Hera cocks an eyebrow. “I was planning on that,” she says, a small grin playing across her mouth. “I’ll program the flight plan towards Mandalore.” 

Nova smiles, and it’s like light streaming through the clouds after a year of rain. “No,” she says, chin in the air like the leader she is, “I’m a Mandalorian, Hera, and a Jedi, too, but before that, I’m a Rebel.” Her eyes connect with Hera’s and Din’s chest swells with pride, listening to her talk, to speak, to slot their shattered pieces back into place. “If we’re fighting a war, we need to start at the beginning. I want to go to the base.” Nova blinks away sorrow and pain, shifting back into herself. There she is, Din thinks.

“We need to go to Hoth.”

*

The room is so quiet. It’s not a room, really, it’s just an alcove, barely big enough to fit a double-person bunk, but it’s tucked into the hull of the Ghost, away from the bridge and the cockpit. If Nova didn’t spend most of her life out in the stars, she wouldn’t know they were hurtling through space at all, but she can feel the vibrations of the metal as the ship soars through hyperspace, getting closer and closer to home. 

She touches her hand to the hull, ice-cold. Nova snaps her eyes shut, and for a second, she’s back on the Crest, and she’s falling in love for the first time. Din is not her husband, he is not her anything—he is the Mandalorian, and he’s brought her out of Nevarro and into the stars, and all she has of him is the cockpit they share and the millions of miles of open space. She longs for it, sometimes, the simplicity of their beginning. Din asked her if she wished they could stay on Naator—but before Naator, they had bounties and quarries, they had wounds and silence, and they had the crush of space. It’s always been them, through all of this—but sometimes, sometimes, when Nova lets herself, she yearns to start at the beginning, to blip herself back in time, to touch her hands to Din’s face for the first time. 

To feel like a supernova, rather than being Supernova. 

“What?” His voice, low and gravelly, holds volumes. 

Nova inhales sharply, dragging her hand off the hull, turning to face Din in the pitch-dark, in the vantablack night. 

“When you picked me up on Nevarro,” she whispers, afraid to put it into words, “if you had known all of the hurt and heartbreak that would come of it—would you have even looked twice?”

Silence. It crushes her, pulverizes her chest. Din’s thinking, choosing his words, plucking them out of the illuminated pinpricks around them, but it hurts in Nova’s chest all the same, the weight of waiting for his answer.

“Novalise,” Din says, the word—her true name—baring teeth in the darkness, “if you even have to ask me that question, you have no idea how deep my love for you runs.” 

Nova swallows. “I am a mess,” she whispers, the words fractured. She drags her knees up to her chest, leaning back against the headboard—or lack of one, really, because all that’s in here is the metal wall of the ship. Her hands press into the hollows of her eyes, hard enough to try and force the tears back. “I don’t feel like my—I don’t feel together,” she whispers. “I feel—wrong. Like I have made the wrong choice, over and over again, and it keeps almost costing us all our lives.” 

Quiet. The small rustle of Din shifting closer to her in the blackness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Nova says, inhaling a shuddering breath, “that we shouldn’t have left Naator. But we shouldn’t have left Mandalore, Din. When Wedge and Bo-Katan said they got the distress signal—when I found out it was Ezra, I should have listened to what he told me. Clear as day, don’t come after me. And you have tried to bring me back to earth, over and over again, since this senseless mission started—to tell me that he didn’t want to be found.” She swallows a sob. “He didn’t want to be found because it was dangerous. And now he is lost, again, while Thrawn—this elusive, evil terror—has made it back to our galaxy to—unmake it.” Nova heaves out another uneven breath, feeling that same knife bisecting her heart, feeling the terror of what’s to come pulverize her stomach. “I made the wrong call,” Nova whispers, a tiny admission the weight of the universe on her tongue, “and you gave me the chance to correct it, and I didn’t.” 

Din’s warmth is right next to her, but it feels like he’s a million miles away. In her head, in flashes—the snap of Sparmau’s glittering teeth, the devastation of a starship crashing, the ghosts of her parents in every breath she takes. Thrawn, a vision, nothing more—holding the fate of the galaxy hostage. The midichlorian tanks, the evil running in fault lines that drip across the galaxy. The reflection of Nova’s own face in the mirror—her, but not her—the way she can feel herself unbecoming, atom by atom, the exhaustion in her marrow, the anger still clinging to her bones. Everything is amorphous and ungrounded, and Nova is fractured into millions of tiny stars, trying to fix it, to gather herself up, to pull it all together, to save everyone, to find the fight again—

“Novalise.” 

Quietly, barely a breath: “What?” 

“What do you want?” 

She stares out into the darkness. Somewhere, in the very back of her mind, Nova can’t shake the sensation of the darkness staring back. “I want to save the galaxy.” 

Din’s shutter-still, only breathing in the darkness. He smells like cinnamon and metal, and Nova is so exhausted, and so afraid of falling into fitless sleep, and everything is pulsing through her temples like a migraine, like a hex, like a curse. Din speaks softly. His words could rattle mountains. “What else do you want?” 

Nova doesn’t put words to what she wants—really, truly wants. It does not exist. It cannot exist. She has become the divining rod for something more, the physical symbol of rebellion. The fight ahead of them—it has the power to shatter the stars entirely. She is the earnest and exhausted savior of the galaxy—for better or for worse. It is a Herculean feat, and Novalise is, decidedly, not a god. 

(She wants something more than all of this. She wants to put down the weight of the world. She wants Mandalore to have a truer leader. She wants to learn how to be a Jedi, to live on a quiet planet with yellow trees and purple-pink skies, and she wants to live a life free of violence, to grow old without the threat of war, or pain, or death. She wants to choose love. She wants to choose her family.)

“I want,” Nova breathes, “you.” 

Din doesn’t move. “Nova—”

“You,” she chants, like casting a spell. “No—I need you. I need you, Din.” 

He’s staring at her through the dark. Nova can feel it radiating through to her, want and need coursing in equal measure through her bloodstream, taking the bite out of all of this hurt. It’s so simple, she realizes—Din and Nova, traveling through millions and millions of stars, how it’s always been, how it always will be. In this moment, right now, she doesn’t have to think about the hurt that’s happened, or the horror on the horizon. 

“I can’t save you,” Din breathes, cutting through the dark. “From what pain is living in your head or from the danger ahead of us, I cannot save you. I need you to understand that.” 

It’s too big. Nova fights the urge to slap her hands over her ears. “Din—” 

“You made the wrong call,” Din whispers, “but you did not force me into battle. Do you hear me? I am not an unwilling soldier. I am not marching to my death. I am following you—my Mand’alor, yes, but more than that, my savior—into the next war.”

“Din,” Nova whispers, and she feels him moving closer, but she cannot sense where he is, and the thrum of her heart starts up like a hummingbird. 

“You can save the world,” he whispers, “I know because I’ve seen it.” 

“But it’s so much—” 

“You are Novalise Djarin,” he whispers, and for the first time, it doesn’t sound like a prayer. It sounds like a question. It scares Nova more than she can admit, but the heavy thump of her heart drowns it out, floods it to the back of her mind, clinging on to Din’s words as he moves in above her, like a predator, like a soldier— “You want to save everything? I am your first in command. You want to burn it down? I am still your first in command. You made a bad call. I’ve made them before, too.” His mouth presses against hers, and Nova flinches at the surprise of it in the dark, then leans into his eternal, magnetic pull, like a tractor beam—inevitable. Her Mandalorian. “My worst call was leaving you,” he whispers, “and that will never happen again.” 

“Din—”

“You can do this, Novalise. That has never been in question.” 

But, Nova thinks, an awful thunderstorm raging in the back of her mind, what if I become something else in that process? What if I lose sight of something holy?

“Would you still follow me anywhere?”

“Into the dark,” Din vows. “Into the stars.” 

“What if I go somewhere you can’t follow?” 

He stares. Nova can feel the crushing weight of his fury on the other side of that question, even in the dark. But she doesn't speak, doesn’t try to undo it, doesn’t try to take it back. 

She’s not talking about leaving. She’s talking about being ripped away. With teeth and silver, a parting from this mortal realm. Something is buzzing low in her head. Nova can’t quite put it to name.

“I am never,” Din repeats, low and angry, “leaving you again.” A beat. “What do you want, Novalise?”

“I want you,” Nova manages, through glass and poison, through the insurmountable weight of everything that lies ahead. Then, one word, a shattering, desperate thing— “please.” 

His lips are on hers like a siren, like a bandage. It’s loud and it’s everything and it drowns all the hurt out of her. In the darkness, stars explode. Din licks a line over her split lip, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, lapping up everything that Nova has left in pieces. He surges forward, and suddenly, his body—unarmored and tight, corded muscles tensed over the wash of her own—is covering her, crushing her, pulling her back into his orbit. 

Nova’s mouth opens wide as Din’s lips latch onto her neck, tongue flickering against her pulse point. He knows her body. He’s memorized it, over and over again, more times than she can count. And every time he latches onto her like a viper, it feels like the first time. She mewls out, the wound wet and low and obscene in this tiny alcove, and Din growls, baring his teeth against her throat.

“Careful,” he warns, low and angry. 

“What?” Nova breathes, stars exploding behind her eyes as a rough, ungloved hand comes up hard between her thighs. It knocks her knees in opposite directions, and Nova sings out in the dark, grabbing at his back, his hair, anywhere she can dig her fingers in. Then, lazily, delayed: “...do you mean?”

“Careful,” Din hisses again. His hand comes up, bracketing her throat, fingers squeezing down just enough to send the stars through her eyes again. “You have no idea,” he whispers, but it’s like he’s not talking to her. It’s ragged, a breath, like Din’s praying. Nothing about this feels holy. She is once again begging to be desecrated—to be torn apart. “No idea,” he mouths against her skin. 

“No idea,” Nova manages, through half-lidded eyes, her blood molten and heavy running through her veins, “about what?”

“What you do to me,” Din grits out. Nova mewls again as his other hand trails up the inside of her thigh, nails dragging into the threadbare fabric, tantalizing and dark and possessive. Everything has melted away, everything has—run backwards out of her, like water dripping off somewhere distant. There is no hurt here, nothing dangerous. Nothing beside the man on top of her, her hulking Mandalorian, clad in loungewear instead of armor, diamond-hard. Nova wants to feel him bisect her, split her open, give a new name to the hurt. Turn it on its face, inside out. 

“I have some idea,” she breathes. 

Din doesn’t dignify that with a response. One hand snaps up, quicksilver, pinning both of hers above her head. Nova mewls out again in the darkness, and the hand that was roving between her thighs, teasing against her clit, shoots up to her mouth. Din pinches her cheeks between his forefinger and thumb, puckering her split lip out, and Nova sighs. 

“You want me, cyar’ika?”

Nova nods, eyes tearing up from how hard his grip is—unyielding. Unmoving. It is unbreakable, and she’s caught under the weight of it. This is the darkness she wants. This is the darkness she craves. She would die for every version of Din Djarin, but this one? This one, she would pray to. Endlessly. Worship at the altar of his terrifying, impossible beauty. He is the opposite of monstrous, but in this blackness, he can play one so well. It’s devastating—it’s everything. One word, she’s able to eke out. “Yes.”

Din lets go of her in the darkness, and Nova slams back against the mattress, the flutter of her heartbeat ricocheting off her chest. “Prove it.” 

Nova blinks up at him, entirely unseeable in the vantablack, and slowly channels all her strength into her hands, pushing back against Din’s unshakable grip enough for him to loosen it. Lightning-quick, she pulls her pants down with one hand and shoves his face towards the apex of her thighs with the other. She’s shaking, from want, from fear—it all feels the same. Din inhales, low and deep, and shivers, pressing the bridge of his nose where his hand once was, dragging it back over her clit. 

“Oh, Novalise,” he rumbles, and it reverberates so low it feels like the sound is coming from inside of her. 

Nova shivers. She feels feverish, drunk, like her body cannot hold. She forms the shape of a word in her mouth and it wobbles and fizzles before disappearing entirely, because Din’s licking a hot, wet line up the seam of her cunt, and everything inside of her head has ceased to exist. 

“You don’t want me.” His voice is simpering. Cruel. It cuts her down to the bone. It’s the voice Din used before he was ever Din to her—just the ruthless Mandalorian, the most feared bounty hunter in the Outer Rim. Shivers dance down her spine at the timbre of his voice. “You need me.” 

Nova moans. He slaps a hand over her mouth—hard, hard enough to make her jump, and then he’s soothing it with his tongue, his hands immediately replacing its steady thrum between her thighs. 

“Quiet,” he whispers, “or I’ll have to stop.” 

“You can’t.” 

“I can,” Din whispers, tongue dancing out across the hollow of her collarbone, thready with her hammering heartbeat, “do whatever I want.” 

“Din—” 

“You’re mine,” he whispers, grinding down on top of her, and Nova almost blacks out. “Mine, mine, mine—” 

Nova knows it’ll tip him over the edge. She needs it—she needs him, this unfettered, uncapped version of him, to leech inside of her to the hilt and take everything else away. She is fevered, delusional, grabbing at his hips, trying to loosen the tie around his waist. She breathes out, staccato, the sound of it pornographic and too-loud in the darkness, and then she unleashes her own kind of demon. “Prove it.”

Din goes quiet. Too quiet. The silence falls upon her like a predator that’s just spotted its prey in the wild. Nova doesn’t make a sound. She has just stolen the helm of control and surrendered it in the same two words. She knows he will—he will take, and take, and take, and Nova wants to give him everything down to her bones, until there is no more questioning, no more darkness, no more hurt. Novalise’s light is flickering in the blackness between them, and she needs Din to snuff it out. 

He lets out a low laugh—an indecent rumbling chuckle, and then he is shoving his waistband down, far enough to just free his cock, springing free with force, and then he is pushing inside of her. Nova’s back arches off the mattress. It spears her, bisects her, forces her apart. She has been split down the middle—and then he’s gearing up again, pulling all the way out to slam into her. Nova yelps, and Din’s hand is back over her mouth, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes from the size of it, the weight he’s slamming into her. 

“What?” He pulls all the way out, a sick tease at her entrance, and then thrusts back into Nova. Hard. Hard enough for her to see stars again, more of them, another galaxy’s worth. There are tears running down her cheeks, now, from Din destroying everything inside of her. She craves it, this sick, sweet release. “You talk a big game, cyar’ika.” Another thrust, Nova’s whole body ricocheting from the force. “You told me to prove it.” 

Nova wants to speak, to tease him, to prod him into the Din of her dreams—the unfettered one, the unholy one, haunted and dark. But she can’t open her mouth, can’t form words on her shaking tongue, so she just lets out another moan, hoping he’ll punish her for that one, too. 

“Not.” Din says, punctuating each word with a heavy thrust of his hips, “Good. Enough.” 

“More,” she manages. 

“More,” Din repeats, crooning,” and Nova’s eyes roll back in her skull. “Are you close, Novalise?”

“Yes,” she chokes out, the word split down the syllable, feeling him swell even bigger inside of her, threatening to send her right over that edge. 

“No,” Din snaps, and one hand is back on her throat, squeezing down, hard enough that air wheezes out of her lungs, oxygen leaving her tongue. Nova’s unable to suck it back, and stars, that feels good—to be kept in this limbo, to be unmade by Din’s need. To not think about the horror ahead of them, because she is held, imprisoned by this sweet, cloying torture and bliss, in equal measure. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you to.” 

It’s harsh, gritted out through bared teeth, his voice low and gravelly, and Nova cries out. It’s a sound that always halted him before—half moan, half sob, all need—but both of them are so deep in the maelstrom of want and desire that it’s choked out by the vantablack room around them, lost in the ether of space. 

“Please,” Nova sobs, a desperate, broken—pathetic—thing.” She can feel Din’s lips curl against her neck, purpling the same spot on her pulse point his own shade of violet, and her eyes roll back in her head.

“No.” 

“Din—”

“You do not yield,” Din hisses, “not to anyone but me.”

Nova can feel her orgasm threatening to rip through her—a tornado of feeling, of need. She is not a person, here, she is just a coiled, wet vessel of desire. She is begging Din, but the person on top of her is the Mandalorian, silver and bullets, hail and thunderstorm, and he is closer to a god than he is a man. He is ruthless and dark and everything she has ever wanted, and she can feel release building inside of her, even as he refuses to let her. 

“Please,” she whispers. 

“No.” 

“Please.” 

Nova can feel Din’s lips curl into a smile. “I love it when you beg.” 

“Oh, Maker—” 

He drives into her cunt to the hilt. “Your Maker isn’t here, Novalise,” Din growls, “just me.” 

“I know,” Nova manages, her head dizzied and spinning, “please, Din, let me—”

Din bottoms out into her again, and it’s so close, so cloying, so desperate, Nova can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Cum for me, cyar’ika,” he grits out, hand fisting in her mess of curls, pulling her off the sheets, “Now.” 

She does. Nova feels the world implode, one by one, those millions of stars blinking out behind her eyes. Din’s grip on her throat finally lessens, and she sucks down oxygen like it’s water, throat throbbing, already hungry again in his absence. He makes a low, guttural noise, and then he’s tipped over the edge too, spilling deep inside of her, both of their breathing ragged and undone, chasing breath after breath as they lay together, sweaty and entangled in the darkness. The hand that’s fisted in her hair pulls taught again, and Nova inhales, Din’s lips wet against her ear. “Do not,” he chokes out, “ever insinuate you could go somewhere I could not follow again.” 

The darkness is there—omnipresent, crushing, but right now, it cannot touch her. And Nova is exhausted, held up by Din and the holiness of their desecration and nothing more, but she links her pinky in his, pulls his lips to her mouth, and whispers silent vows into the gap behind his teeth.

*

Hera watches the stars trip by, an endless maze of light. She is no stranger to the hyperspace run—and even less of a stranger to the loneliness of it. The stars are her home, but these ones, these pathways, closer and closer to the Rebel base—they cut her, sluicing with regret. She straightens up in her seat, takes the Ghost off autopilot. They’re low on fuel. They’re too low—running in reserve. She usually pays better attention—but usually, Ezra and Thrawn are not back from another dimension, another galaxy, another cosmos. Hera is torn between fear and excitement—Ezra, her surrogate child, her family, home again—that she let herself get complacent. The fuel gauge glares at her. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, patting the dashboard. “I’m stopping.”

And the hologram sensor roars to life. 

“Hera!” 

She squints. “Bo-Katan?”

“Can you hear me?” She flickers in and out. Hera leans forward. 

“Barely. Where are you?” 

“Still on this—forsaken ship—”

“Bo-Katan!”

She comes back into screen, sharp and dangerous, the face of a general snapped on. Hera knows it too well. “Hera,” she says, her voice shaking, “we are stuck on Corellia.” 

Hera feels relief seep in, anathema in her bloodstream. “Stars, Bo-Katan, I can come get you, I’m  not far—” 

“That’s…that’s not the problem.” And Bo-Katan, unshakable, ice-princess Bo-Katan has tears in her eyes. “Wedge just got a transmission from the base on Hoth.” She turns away. “Hera,” she whispered, muffled, “I’m so sorry.” 

“General Kryze—” 

Wedge’s face fills the screen. “Hera,” he says, so somber, so unlike him— “the Chimaera’s signal just popped back up on the map.” 

“Ezra—?” 

Wedge shakes his head, shell-shocked. “No,” he manages “Thrawn.” 

Hera swallows. “Where.” 

“Just over Bespin.” 

Her heart flares. “We’re heading to Hoth,” she says, “right now, I just have to stop for fuel, we can…I don’t know, blockade him, shoot him down—” 

“Hera,” Wedge says, “he is going to beat us there.” Then, barely a whisper: “There’s not going to be a Hoth to save.” 

*

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*

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! my sincerest apologies as per usual for the literal 6-sh months wait :( 2023 was the wildest and most lived year of my life so far, and unfortunately, it put SH on the backburner. the good news? i sat down over the last few weeks and wrote an entire outline for the full book, as well as a chapter-by-chapter outline through Chapter 16 (for those following along with the Something More Series Lore, that is historically the Nova-Centric Chapter), so while life is still busy with work/living/everything in between, i will be posting MUCH more regularly for the foreseeable future!

thank you all so much for your patience, kindness, and for loving this fic so much. i started writing this series for me, and with how absent i've been, i've made peace with the fact that i may end up finishing writing this series for me, but each and every one of you have proved at every turn how much you care, and the fact that you spend even a few minutes reading my work means more to me than i'll ever be able to say <3

CHAPTER 6 COMING SOON! for day-to-day updates, follow me on tiktok @ padmeamydala :)

xoxo, amelie

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter Four

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: Angst, Light Smut, Incest (Technically?).

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone. 

Word Count: ~2.1k

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You stood on the balcony of Morpheus’s study, watching the sunset that illuminated the skies behind the mountain range in the distance. Your lips were still stinging from the hungry kisses you had shared with Morpheus within the library. Hand rising to your lips, you brushed your fingers over your puffy flesh in deep thought. In all honesty, you had never thought anything would come from what you felt for Morpheus. But after the taste of returned intimacy and returned affection, you were addicted and wanted more. You were drawing your fingers down your lips and chin when you felt Morpheus’s presence approaching. You steeled yourself for another argument because you knew that he was noble, and even after a lapse in control, he would still try and do the right thing. Turning your head ever so slightly, you observed Morpheus. 

He was the epitome of conflict. You studied him as he came to a stop and observed you with silver-blue eyes. You decided to act first. 

“If you wish to end our brief relation and never speak of what happened within the library, I will make it so immediately.” You spoke softly, watching as conflict and consideration competed within his eyes. Morpheus was clearly thinking over your words. Carefully. What you didn’t know, and couldn’t see, was how much he wished for you to be his… but to also do the right thing as the older Endless and ignore his intimate wants. He never wanted to be the reason why you hurt, why you felt pain within your precious being. 

“Is that what you wish for, Dawn?” Morpheus questioned you lowly, his soothing voice echoing in the grand room. Your eyelids flickered and you curled your fingers into the skirt of your dress. 

“I do not speak of my wishes right now, Morpheus,” You pointed out, staring him in the eyes until he broke eye contact and looked away. “What is it that you wish for? My question is a simple yes or no.” You materialized the flower you had given him only hours earlier, in your hand, and stared at the delicate bloom. You occupy my thoughts. Its meaning now weighed heavily on your heart, so with barely a flicker of your power, you made the beautiful bloom start wilting, driving it toward death. Destruction. “I can make it all disappear.” He stared at you, internally struggling. You were willing to obliterate all that you felt for him if that was what he so desired. Morpheus was speechless. You prompted him for an answer. “What say you, Dream of the Endless?”

Morpheus’s eyes tightened at your call out and hyper-focused on the rapidly wilting flower in your hand. It was dying. You stared at it and your offer of wilting your thoughts of him, wilting your feelings, wilting everything you had built with him. You’d do it, just for him. The flower was almost half dead before Morpheus came striding forwards and closed his hand around yours, forcing back your powers from the little bloom. You let out a small noise in the back of your throat at the force at which he stopped you from killing the precious flower you so lovingly tended. You tried pulling back your hand but he held yours in a tight grasp, his eyes staring down into yours with the glow of a nova. Heart beating faster within your chest, your eyes widened. 

“I shall make this clear only once, Dawn,” He spoke to you, fingers drawing down your wrist with a touch that made your arm tremble. You could feel a thrilling absolute seriousness within his words, the type which you knew that he meant with every fiber of his being. “Should you be mine, you will only be mine. Your personification will be mine, your kisses will be mine, your body will be mine, your pleasure will be mine, your sounds of ecstasy will be mine.” You felt his other hand slipping across your lower back, pulling you against his body against his. Your next breath caught in the back of your throat and you felt heat glow beneath your cheeks. “Do you still wish to be mine knowing that, Dawn?” 

His threatening words only made your skin and body ache more. Did he think you so vain and lustful? Perhaps, but what you felt was not driven by the fleeting urges of lust. So staring up into his intense gaze, your lips twitched for a moment before stretching into a challenging smirk. 

“Trying to scare me off already, my Dream?” You offered in challenge, your eyebrow raising. “You will have to try harder than that.” Morpheus liked seeing that challenge glittering within your eyes, undaunted and wild with adventure. Here you were, offering yourself freely to be only his, with the maturity and temptation of Desire themself. But despite your bravado and matureness, Morpheus could never forget that you were entirely untouched save for your lips which only he had the pleasure of enjoying, just hours earlier. To take you would mean he would ruin your innocence forever. “I may be untouched and inexperienced, but I am well aware of the intimacies between man and woman. I am the embodiment of hope.”

Morpheus chuckled darkly at you, knowing full well that you might understand the mechanics, but you were far from informed on what pleasure felt like. His head dipped down so your faces were close to touching. 

“We shall see,” He told you with a twitch of his eyebrow and a challenging look growing on his face. Your wrist was released and Morpheus took the back of your neck, closing those last millimeters between your lips to take your desirous mouth once more. Morpheus’s desire to consume you with all his love and adoration was pushing at the bounds of his control. It was taking every ounce of his being to not surge forwards and devour your flesh with a pang of animalistic carnal hunger. At the very least he could get his fill of your lips and mouth… and so he did. Morpheus urged your lips to part and licked at your already kiss-bitten lower lip, already fixating on the way you softly moaned against his action. If he could hear that lovely sound on repeat he would. 

Morpheus nipped and tugged at your lower lip until your moans had turned to whimpers, then he swept into your mouth and curled his tongue around yours. You could barely keep up with the sensations exploding just from his kisses and perhaps you thought him to be too much, your palm being placed on his chest. But rather than push, your fingers dug into the coarse material and you dragged him closer. Your breaths were ragged and shallow against his lips, but you kissed back with ardent need. Morpheus wound his fingers into your hair and pressed your lips against his with bruising force. You stretched upon your toes, choosing to press back against him with your tongue. You loved the way he tasted of stardust and dreams, you loved the way he made you feel more than just a robotic being obediently following the tasks assigned. 

With a soft growl, Morpheus dragged his mouth from yours, pulling your head back by your hair to set his lips blazing across your unblemished neck. You wilted with a soft cry, feeling lips ravishing your skin and teeth scraping flesh until you were shivering in his arms. Running his lips up the column of your throat, Morpheus felt the way your life force hummed beneath the tender skin, rushing through your body like the body of a mortal. He sealed his mouth over a section of your skin and laved at it with his tongue. You squirmed and gasped, one of your hands slithering upwards to slide into obsidian hair. Winding the strands around your fingers, you raked your nails across Morpheus’s scalp when his teeth sank into your flesh with possession. Your proceeding strained moan, dripping with nectar and aphrodesia, was more than Morpheus could fight against. 

With his mouth releasing your throat, Morpheus lifted his glowing eyes to your face. He could feel the heat rippling beneath your skin and the way your head was thrown back in rapture only fed Morpheus's desire for you. Your lips, your flesh, they were begging for his touch, for his love. Shifting his grasp on your body, Morpheus swept you up into his arms and turned around, simultaneously shifting his study into a bedroom worthy of bearing witness to the divinity of your nakedness, of your sounds of ecstasy. It was all for him. With you cradled against his chest as he walked, Morpheus drew his hands down your back, fingers catching the pleated straps of your chiton. One tug and the delicate gold clasp holding it on your body broke. The moment Morpheus realized just how easily accessible your naked skin was, his fingers tore the material from your shoulders. You gasped in delight, feeling a rush of cool air against your back. 

Your fingers reached up and took his face in hand as you pressed your lips against Morpheus’s once more. He hungrily kissed you back, teasing your lips and running his hands across your shoulders and down your back. As you softly moaned, your fingers slipped back into his hair. You had never dreamed that his touch could feel so wonderful, so good, so delicious. But now your dress was revealing more of your tempting skin. Morpheus was getting glimpses of the tops of your breasts, uninterrupted planes of shoulders… bunched fabric was starting to get in the way so, with eyes filled with dark desire and yearning, Morpheus pressed you back against soft sheets and ripped the fabric free from your body. 

The fabric of your dress was discarded and instantly forgotten before it even fluttered to the floor.

Now you were breathing at a quickened pace, heat sweltering beneath your delicate skin, biting at your cheeks, pushing outwards for more. Something within you burned and made streaks of fire rush through your veins. It traveled down your body, pricking your skin until you squirmed with blazing cheeks, embarrassed by what you felt between your legs. 

“I have never encountered such perfection until you, my Hope.” Morpheus husked, his eyes wandering everywhere and nowhere, absorbing your luscious curves and sculpted body. He was convinced that Mother Night and Father Time had woven you from the most precious stardust and flowers, formed your essence with the embers of the brightest nova, and filled your irises with a kaleidoscope of nebulas. Morpheus dipped down and pressed several kisses against your stomach, marveling at the softness and adoring all that was. You sighed, your fingers brushing through his soft strands. Kiss after kiss Morpheus placed against your skin, traveling all over your stomach and then moving upwards. Your eyes had only just met when he ran his lips up the curve of your breast and sealed his mouth over a pert nipple. 

“Oh,” You gasped, your grip on his hair turning sharp as sensations erupted across your breast. Morpheus rumbled happily against your flesh, his tongue teasing the bud and rolling it. Not only did you look ethereal stretched out beneath him, but the sounds you made were also pure ecstasy. He couldn’t help but rush his hand up your side and spill his fingers over your remaining breast, cupping it and kneading your soft flesh. You moaned ever so softly and shifted your body upwards, pressing against Morpheus’s still fully clothed one. Your proceeding soft sound full of need was like a drug to Morpheus. Morpheus pulled his mouth from your breast and gave your slightly heaving chest one last look of appreciation. He would be back to paint your beautiful skin with his adoration, but right now he was dying to know what you tasted like. 

“You know of the pleasures of man and woman, Dawn?” Morpheus questioned, caressing your body and allowing his hands to migrate downwards to your patch of curls. Your hips jerked beneath his touch when he weaved his fingers over your flesh and your next breath caught in your throat. Morpheus stared into your eyes with deep calculation, but his desire for you blazed behind it. “Perhaps, but I doubt you grasp the entirety of it.” You froze when his fingers ever so softly moved downward, slipping between your folds and sparking pleasure. He only gave your bundle of nerves a short stroke before withdrawing with a teasing smirk. “My precious little hope, I am going to devour you until I have unraveled each and every string that holds you together and I will not stop until I am satisfied you understand my desires.”

“And how am I to know when that is?” You questioned, trying to quell the shivering delight that was making your body tremble. Morpheus offered you no answer, only the ghost of a smirk shortly before his mouth descended toward your soft inner thigh. Immediately you were squirming, Morpheus’s lips pressing open-mouthed kisses against your flesh that made you gasp. He teased your inner thigh, switching between loving kisses and devilish bites that would mark your skin for days. He hadn’t lied about wanting to devour you. Morpheus wanted everything you stood for, illumination, rebirth, a chance for happiness and improvement, hope. He craved you and your gentle embrace, he craved to be within your arms, within you. Morpheus wanted to twist his Endless essence with yours until you become one… and he was going to start by tasting you. 

Date Published: 1/27/23

Last Edit: 1/27/23

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[baxteravenue]

Hello, don’t know if you’re still doing the concepts based on the random dialogue thingy but if yes could I get something based off “i love you. i love you, and not any unrealistic or nonexistent version of you. i love you for you, and all of your flaws too.”? Tyyy

i hope this was ok lol

Jack, your boyfriend, who never missed a beat took notice in your change of demeanor while the two of you stood in the VIP section at the Forecastle Festival in his hometown.

He wasted no time in asking you what was wrong when the two of you arrived back to his place after, “You okay baby?”

You nodded, almost too fast.

“You sure? Cause I don’t think you’re being honest with me… and I thought we were gonna be honest?” Jack looked at you, his baby blue eyes piercing into yours.

“Really, it-its all good.” The stutter in your voice was enough for Jack to know for sure that you weren’t good.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, like a father trying to get a child to listen.

It was enough to send you into a fit of tears, “It’s just… I just.. I’m not good enough Jack. I’m not—“

“I’m gonna stop you there baby,” Jack brought you into his chest, “You are enough, you are more than enough for me baby. Why do you think that?”

You thought back to the girls who had given you stares all day, the same girls that Jack said were nice and that they would love you. The same girls who always flirted with him and always managed to look perfect, something you had yet to accomplish.

Shaking your head, you looked up at Jack. “Those girls they would look so much better with you. They match your aesthetic or whatever with their outfits and heels while I chose to wear a extra large hoodie and my beat up shoes.”

“I know you did not just say that, are you joking?”

“I tried my best to be this person that would be perfect for Jack Harlow but I can’t. I’m not an Instagram model, I don’t have any fashion nova deals and I can’t even walk in heels. I’m in med school Jack.” You looked down at you feet, feeling even worse.

Jack was laughing though, his chest shaking against yours. “Exactly, it’s why the words go she in med school want to date a nurse not she’s on instagram want to date a nova babe.”

That comment made you crack a smile.

“There you go,” Jack pinched at your chin, “I love you baby. I love you, not what you think I love but you and I mean the girl who makes me quiz her on stuff I can’t pronounce, the girl who chooses comfort over anything else, and the one who know my heart.”

You shook your head, smiling at Jack after his sweet words. “I don’t know why I get like that, why I let girls I don’t even know get to me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize baby, just talk to me next time. Don’t hold it in.”

“I love you Jack.”

“I love you more Mama.”

[icey--stars]

Born For Tragedy: Part 6

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: im working hard on writing more of BFT so yall dont get this weird, slow weekly update thing forever. im just procrastinating. ill get to writing soon so i can finish and start like daily updates or something

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

“Beron… tortured you,” Valda stated, staring at Eris with wide eyes.

He swallowed, turning back to his wounds, and nodded. “Has multiple times. I’m surprised Nova hasn’t warned you to not get in the way.”

Valda’s lip curled. Her hand itched to reach for the dagger strapped to her thigh and go on a murder spree. She huffed out a breath and pulled back her magic that was threatening to break out and kill.

“He forbids you to see a healer,” she continued. “He tortures his sons with ash daggers.” She turned suddenly towards him. “You cover it with a glamor.”

Eris’s jaw tightened as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He dipped his head once.

Valda wanted to strangle him. Not Eris. No… she wanted to kill Beron so utterly badly right now. She remembered being beaten by her family. She remembered that. She knows how much it hurts and how much it would damage someone. Yet, Eris is here, and still strong. The eldest of the Vanserras…

The story was too similar to hers. The memories felt too real right now.

“What are you doing?” Eris asked, voice rough.

Valda snapped back to her own body and realized that her magic had begun gathering around her closed fists. “You know that he shouldn’t do that, right?”

“I know very well that,” Eris snapped. “I’m not a dumbass.”

Valda took a deep breath. “Why do you endure that?”

Eris didn’t answer. He threw the washcloth into the sink. “I think it's time you leave Adira.”

“Why Eris,” Valda growled. “Tell me why.” She threw out her hand to block the door as Eris tried to walk out. He turned a fiery, raging gaze on her. Good, she thought. She couldn’t for the life of her find out why that was good.

Valda sighed, shoulders dropping and she dropped her hand. “Tell me why, and I’ll tell you something about me. Whatever you want.”

Dangerous, she told herself. So incredibly dangerous.

Eris glared at her. His amber eyes looked like the color of flames.

“Get out,” he snarled, pointing towards the door.

Valda tilted her head and raised her brows. “You’re scared,” she observed. “And weak.”

“I’m not weak,” Eris snapped, raising a fist. “You call this weak?” He promptly covered his palm in white-hot fire that she felt a bit too much on her face. She took a stumbling step back in shock.

“Tell me why,” she demanded again. “Tell me why the fuck you endure your own damn father’s torture.”

Eris stared at her a moment longer, eyes scanning her own. She held his gaze without an ounce of fear, even if the darkness inside of her was rolling.

“My father hit me too. My mother hit me and my brother learned from them to hit me as well,” Valda spoke carefully. “I never hit them back and I have been paying the price of that docile little animal I was forever. It’s scarring, Eris Vanserra. You might not believe it, but once you’re free? You can be whatever you want. Tell me why you endure it. Do you do it to appease others? To get ranks? Why do you let the High Lord do that to his own sons?”

Eris’s breathing stopped, and he stared into her blue irises for a moment longer before the fire around his fist winked out and he licked his lips. “I don’t know,” he answered.

Valda nodded. “Figure that out, heir. Perhaps it's time things change. I expect you to care for your wounds.” She turned to exit the bathroom, and then escape out of this damned house and rip something to shreds.

“Can-” Eris cut himself off. She paused, turning on the ball of her foot.

“Can you check on my brothers?” Eris asked. “Hue and Kuhn?”

Valda nodded, barely perceptible. She decided she’d leave that broom in the bathroom there, to remind Eris of what had happened. Perhaps he’d finally think. She walked out into the hallway and sucked in a breath as she spotted two red-haired individuals speaking just down the hallway.

Hue was one of them. He looked up as he heard her. Hue practically sprinted towards her, eyes ablaze, but not with the same type of fire as Eris had in his own amber eyes.

“Is he okay?”

Valda narrowed her eyes. “He should be,” she answered. “I made him clean his wounds at least.”

The other male, a bit bulkier than Hue or Eris, asked in a rougher tone, “That’s a first,” he chuckled. “Who are you? You don’t seem like just a servant.”

“I clean Jax’s and Eris’s rooms,” Valda replied. “So I am just a servant.”

“Definitely don’t act like one,” Hue observed. “You’re High Fae,” he noted, glancing at the side of her head.

“Yes,” Valda answered, raising a brow. “What of it?”

Kuhn narrowed his eyes. “Nothing of it,” he answered for him and his brother. “It’s just rare that we see Eris obey someone about cleaning his wounds, and not immediately firing them out of his room.”

Valda didn’t reply. When neither of the Vanserra brothers in front of her did either, she moved to walk down the hall.

“What’s your name?” Hue asked, making her pause momentarily.

“Adira,” she lied and kept walking.

The darkness that came out of the veil, once she’d escaped the Forest House, was not something anyone would’ve liked to see. She’d gone to her cabin and picked up her sword, and began training in a desolate clearing. Her darkness did not blind her, but it was blind rage itself. She couldn’t shake that damned feeling she felt. It was an odd feeling, one she had trouble describing, but it spoke of rage and comfortable warmth at the same time. She felt that connection to her old life. Eris was living a nightmare so similar to her own.

She could fix it if she wanted to. She could kill Beron. She could end it all. She needed to-

The power that rushed out of her at that thought sent her stumbling.

She needed to help him.

She wanted to help Eris Vanserra and set the score right. When did she ever care like that? When did she ever know what she needed to do? She shouldn’t care. She knows that. A life full of pain and suffering reminded her of that damned fact every time. If she cared, she got hurt. She was terrified of that. If she showed an inch of weakness, someone ripped it away eventually. She needed to not care because then she’d fail. She knows she will. She would-

There was a step just outside her misty, impenetrable darkness. She froze, glancing at her blade and quickly sheathing it behind her back. She glanced down at her clothing and winced. She was still in her servant clothes. She hadn’t changed into armor, so she couldn’t intimidate her way out whoever was there. She had to stay hidden. Especially if they were from the Forest House.

Valda focused carefully on breathing and drew a dagger from her side.

The thing took a step to the left. Avoiding her darkness, which was a good call. She heard sets of footsteps going around the other way and she jolted. Whatever it was, whoever it was, came with friends.

She schooled her breathing and drew in her darkness an inch.

“What the fuck-” A male voice asked from outside her little shield of darkness. A fae then, she deduced. She turned as she heard the right footsteps go just a bit too far over, to cover her flank. Valda could see what was inside her little darkness, but not through it, but it was dark on the male’s side as well. She had to keep still and safe.

There was a whistle, an order, and the feet circling her right flank went over to the left, so she turned on the ball of her foot again.

Double great, she groaned. She wasn’t wearing sturdy shoes, instead wearing the loose sandal-like things she was forced to wear during work. When did she ever think that training without her armor and boots was a good idea?

Oh right, when she was about to tear someone’s head off their shoulders.

She could make a swift kill here, and drag the body to the Forest House and string it up with some sort of note as a warning- Plans flashed before her eyes as she tried to come up with solutions. There were both many and few.

“Reveal yourself,” the male ordered from outside the black mist. “Or I will.”

She snorted, letting that little mocking amusement filter past the darkness for the male to hear. Perhaps he’d back off.

“Shadow?” The male guessed.

Valda smirked. “I suggest you leave, male,” she said, carefully keeping her voice rough and unrecognizable. It would be a poor set of events if someone happened to remember her voice and then reported her now, wouldn’t it? If she just modulated her voice a bit lower, and a bit rougher, it was impossible to recognize.

“I suggest you reveal yourself,” the male countered, voice haughty and commanding. She rolled her eyes at his antics and audibly scraped her dagger against the sheathe, for the illusion that she was drawing her weapon, despite already having it drawn.

There was another deeper whistle and the other footsteps appeared behind her. She pivoted immediately. Another sound came from behind her though. She was surrounded, which meant this was about to become one hell of a bloody scene.

“Drop the magic,” the male growled.

“How about,” she crooned. “You leave.”

The male scoffed and then chuckled. “I should’ve known the Shadow wouldn’t listen.”

“You really should’ve,” she responded, eyeing the area of black mist where she kept hearing the voice.

She almost jumped clear out of her skin when a bolt of fire shot through her darkness. Only a last-minute roll had her saved. However, that fire had gotten through her safety, which meant she was no longer safe. She had to use her magic carefully. If she got a hold on the locations of the others stalking her, she could blind them all and winnow away… actually, she might just winnow now.

“Drop the magic,” The male snarled.

It was now, and only now, that she recognized that snarl. It was Eris Vanserra. Eris was stalking outside her mist. Eris was so incredibly close to finding out her identity and ruining everything.

She tried to winnow. She tried to reach for her magic to fold the worlds and end up somewhere semi-safe.

It didn’t work.

There were wards, then, she deduced, blocking that. Which meant she was stuck in a very precarious situation that she had to be careful about. Eris would likely kill her here and now, and she wouldn’t let that happen. However, with the information she’d learned, and the fact that Eris was still hurt, she was reluctant to mist him, or even stab him.

When was the last moment she’d felt that way? Cared enough to protect someone? It was likely after the Masters were dead, and she’d made the mistake of attaching herself to a lover. Friar had died only a month after Valda had come to live with her, and when she found the beautiful female with her guts spilled across the town square… she’d felt rage that was akin to what she’d felt after witnessing Beron slap Merle, or hear that he’d tortured Eris. She was terrified of that care, of that attachment.

“Drop the magic,” Eris snarled again. “Or you will die.”

Valda couldn’t breathe. What was she going to do? Killing was off the table, even injuring was off the table. She didn’t want to hurt him. And not just because of the mission she’d been dealt, but because she saw a story reflected by her own and she hated that. She was repulsed by the idea of throwing a dagger through his eye or turning him into a bloody mist on the forest floor.

Fire shot for her again and she shifted the darkness behind her into a swift shield, only just barely blocking it.

“Stop!” She yelled. She needed time to think. She desperately needed a plan. Something she knew how to do. She had no fucking idea how to navigate this.

“Reveal yourself,” Eris ordered again.

Valda took a deep breath and prepared to run for her life.

She dropped her mist to the ground, letting it roll over the stones, leaves, and dirt there as she looked up to face Eris.

She dropped into an obvious crouch. “If you let me go,” she said in a dangerous tone. “I’ll spare you.” Lies, lies, what a delightful little liar, liar, liar-

“Adira?” Eris’s jaw dropped. What previously was a fire in his palms extinguished to nothing. She turned to observe who else was there. There was nobody… There were dogs. Eris had his ghost hounds with him. She truly was an idiot.

“Adira– you’re the Shadow?”

Valda stared Eris straight in his amber gaze and nodded once.

“My name is not Adira Void. It is Valda Callahan.”

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird,

[rebelwrites]

Twenty Three: Don’t Make A Scene

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

“How is everyone doing back home?” I hummed, leaning against the wall of the Ferrari hospitality area, a smoke hanging from my lips as I squinted at my phone screen trying to block out the Italian sun, even with the raybans shielding my eyes it wasn’t enough. Everything was different here, I had never really traveled outside of Charming, well apart from the occasional run with Jax back in my teenage years. But this was different, the warmth of the sun beating down against my skin felt like I was being wrapped in a fluffy blanket. There was something comforting about it and I couldn’t help but smile.

Everything so far had been somewhat of a culture shock, I had tried foods that I would have never dreamt of trying, and even though I was still trying to adjust to the time difference I was living my best life.

“Everyone is good, in fact everything is perfect,” Jax smiled back, there was something about it that didn’t sit right with me. Not only wasn’t it as bright as normal but he had a haunted look on his blue eyes.

“Tell that to your face,” I scoffed, taking a long drag of the cigarette. “You look like someone just took a shit on your Harley.”

I stared intently at my device, watching as my older brother ran his hands over his face. “I’m just tired, that’s all,” he paused, obviously trying to think of what lie to spin. “There is nothing for you to worry about, I’ve got everything under control. Now enough about me, Squirt, how is Monza treating you?”

“It’s amazing, Jax,” I beamed. I finally felt free from the weight of the world that always seemed like it was crushing me into the dirt. Part of me felt bad for feeling like this, but I had quickly realized that taking care of Pops and the club had taken a toll on my mental health, so it was nice to have a break from it all. Although that didn’t stop me from missing everyone. “Everyone is amazing, and they are already treating me like family. Fred has taken the role of my body guard which is highly amusing,” pushing myself off the wall I decided it was time to head back into the garage, not wanting to miss the start of free practice.

“As in team principal, Fred Vassuer?”

“That’s the one, being the new kid on the block the press are trying to get the latest gossip but anytime they try and get too close to me whilst Fred is around he gets all protective of me. It’s kinda cute, reminds me of Pops.” I grinned, glancing over I noticed that the pit crew had formed what looked to be a human wall at the front of the garage. There was some sort of commotion going on, I wasn’t quite close enough to hear what was happening but the moment I heard my name being screamed I felt my blood boil. It had been years since I heard that scratchy voice, the sound alone sent a cold shiver down my spine.

“Squirt, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost, you have gone white as a sheet.” Jax asked, causing me to shift my attention back to him.

“I think I fucking have,” I mumbled, trying to stop the anger brewing deep inside me from bubbling over, causing me to explode, this was not the place, “that bitch has a fucking death wish.” I growled, flicking my gaze between my brother’s face and the opening of the garage.

“I can fucking see her, let me speak to my daughter.”

“There is no way,” Charles growled, venom dripping from his words. This was the first time I had seen this side of him but I wasn’t scared, in fact my heart skipped a beat at how protective he was being. “Sur mon putain de cadavre. Over my fucking dead body.”

I could feel the anger radiating through the phone screen from my brother, from the look on his face I was adamant he was going to jump on a plane to personally take care of the waste of space that was my birth mother.

“I am gonna fucking kill her,” Jax seethed, “She has no right crawling back into your life now, god I am so fucking angry right now!”

Taking a deep breath I knew I was going to have to take control of this situation, this was not the type of press coverage the team needed.

“Jax, I gotta go, don’t worry about me, I can handle this bitch,” I said, not taking my eyes off Charles. I could feel the anger radiating off him from the other side of the garage. “Charles is gonna snap and that isn’t good for him or the team.”

“Don’t make too much of a scene Squirt,” he hummed, cocking his brow at me.

“No promises.” I shrugged, before quickly saying bye.

Slipping my phone into the back pocket of my jeans I let out a shaky breath, I hadn’t seen this bitch since she last tried to make contact with me and Pops and the club chased her out of town.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Fred asked, appearing at my side.

“Je le serai, une fois que j'aurai mis cette salope à terre. I will be, once I put that bitch down.” I growled, clenching my fist by my side. She had no right trying to worm her way back into my life, I didn’t need her, she was dead to me.

“Il suffit de ne pas salir le sol et des blocs de glace se trouvent dans le réfrigérateur si vous en avez besoin. Just don't dirty the floor, and there are ice packs in the fridge if you need them.” Fred chuckled, taking my shaking fist in his hands squeezing softly. “Don’t let her get to you, kiddo.”

Slowly nodding at the Frenchman standing in front of me, I took a deep breath trying to steady my heart rate. I knew I needed to confront her otherwise she would never leave and reporters were already gathering around the garage trying to get the best shot of the disruption to the weekend. Within a few short strides across the room I found myself standing next to Charles, my hand instantly finding his, not caring if I outed our relationship at this moment. I needed his touch to keep me grounded and calm because I did not want my face plastered all over the gossip sites.

“The fuck do you want?” I said keeping my voice low and emotionless.

“I want to make amends, you are my daughter at the end of the day,” she pleaded. “I’ve changed, I went through rehab, I’m clean just for you baby.”

Rolling my eyes at the confession, did she think I was stupid? Her pupils were the size of dinner plates, she couldn’t stand still to save her life and was excessively sweating. I knew what her game was here and she wasn’t going to succeed in creeping her way back into my life, using me to get money.

“You ain’t clean,” I scoffed, leaning further into Charles. “Do you really think I would believe you? I ain’t that vulnerable five year old you left living in squalor just so you could get your next fix.”

“Fred, il faut la faire sortir d'ici. Fred, we've got to get her out of here.” Charles said, turning to his team principal.

I was moments away from lunging forward tackling the person who abandoned me, the main cause of my trust issues, the reason I carried demons on my back, but before I could step forward Charles wrapped his arms around my shaking body, holding me tight as he managed to guide me through the garage back to his driver room.

Once the door was shut I felt my resolve crumble, my fingers went into my roots as I slumped on the floor letting out a strangled scream. “Who the fuck does she think she is, coming here trying to act like the caring mother.” I growled, “you should have let me rip her apart.”

“Sunshine,” Charles whispered, crouching in front of me, placing a hand on my knee. “You need these right now,” he said softly, handing me a pack of cigarettes.

“I don’t,” I whispered, resting my hand on his cheek. “I just need you.”

“Je suis là, bébé, je ne vais nulle part. I'm here, baby, I ain't going nowhere.” he hummed, wrapping his arms around me, pressing small kisses against the top of my head. “Why would she come here now?”

“Because you have money and she is a gold digger, she must have seen the posts about us and thought she could get a massive pay day,” I breathed, gripping onto Charles’ fireproofs like my life depended on it, “and she knew if she tried to step foot in Charming, Pops would kill her with his bare fists.”

“Well, if she tries to come near you again I will drive over her with my car at 200 miles an hour.”

“Char, that would cause too much damage to the car,” I said with a slight laugh. Letting out a shaky breath I looked over his shoulder to the clock on the wall. “Five minutes till FP1 you better get going.”

“I can’t leave you, not like this.”

“I will be fine, promise,” I nodded, resting my forehead against his, “I’m gonna go chill with Fred, we might even make a list of different ways to kill her, you know just some light bonding nothing major.”

I knew Fred would make me feel better, there was something about him that reminded me of Pops, he happily took me under his wing in Zandvoort making me feel right at home within the team. I knew Charles had told him everything he needed to know about me and my past, which was the reason he was so protective over me when the devil made her appearance in the garage.

“Just don’t go all psycho killer on me now baby,” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss against my lips.

“Don’t spoil all my fun, Mr,” I hummed, a small smile appearing back on my face. “Now go kick some ass out there.”

I found myself staring blankly at my boyfriend, trying to process the words that had just casually fallen out of his mouth.

“Hold on a second, you want me to drive that?” I stated, pointing at the SF-23 that was currently sitting in the middle of the garage.

“Were you not listening to me, Sunshine,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss against my temple.

“I was listening, but you do realize how crazy you sound right now? I don’t even have a super license, we would get into a shit load of trouble if anyone knows I took her on the track. She aint set up for me Char,” I rambled, not taking my eyes off the car, “there is no way. Aint happening, I will kill myself do you know how fast that thing is.”

The sound of Charles laughing caused me to tear my gaze away from the middle of the garage, cocking my brow at him, it was official he had completely lost his mind.

“Babygirl, it’s fine, we are all good, no one will know, trust me. Plus we aren’t in parc ferme conditions yet,” he smirked, slowly guiding me towards the car. “All I ask is don’t crash, I kinda need her for quali tomorrow.”

“You are fucking crazy, Leclerc.” I shot back, refusing to believe he was being serious. “We shouldn’t even be here, everyone has gone home.”

“Thought you loved driving fast?” he hummed, that cocky smirk still firmly planted on his face.

“Yeah in my beater of a truck, that if I am lucky will hit 70 miles an hour, or Jax’s Dyna, not a beast of a machine that is built for speeds of 200 miles an hour plus.”

“Fine, if you won’t drive this, what about this?” he said, fishing his car keys out of his pocket, placing them in the palm of my hand.

Dropping my gaze I ran my fingers over the bead keyring Elenor had made for him, my heart fluttering at the fact he had this on his keys, “wait, isn't this your Pista?”

“You talk too much,” he winked, moving so his arms were wrapped firmly around my waist, in one quick motion I had been thrown over his shoulder and was staring at his ass.

“Well, this is the best view ever,” I giggled, praying that he didn’t lose his grip as he carried me out to the track. “You drop me and I will kill you.”

“Quoi, comme ça ? What, like this?” he said, jolting his body causing me to cling onto him for dear life.

“Fucking asshole.”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @burningcupcakefire @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[cahootsmangoes]

Nova making a series about doomed yuri, dreams and a slight psychological horror just from a single dream she had a few years ago?

More likely than you think‼️‼️‼️

Anyways I think I should start speaking more about the main trio :p

This is Ophelia Emberglow, the main focus of this future fic series. She (alongside two other woman) are forever stuck living in a dream world the moment they were born.

It is pretty much exactly what it sounds like, a realm that humans from the real world have a chance of entering whilst asleep which lasts the entire night, each character I will mention has their own specialised realm depending on their likes and interests.

For example Ophelia’s realm is mainly focused around rainbow sugar clouds due to her slight love of sugar and rainbows.

(Every member of the dream realm has two pink X’s on their cheeks)

Ophelia was originally a very sweet and polite 23 year old woman who was in a group previously named MoonStar Trio, the girl unfortunately became very obsessed with the human world and wanted to visit there one day however when she found out she couldn’t leave the dream world, her mental state began to worsen day after day.

It got so bad to the point that her old friends left her and rebranded as the MoonStar Duo

Now this is Mabel Heartwhisper

She is the current leader of the MoonStar Duo and is known for being sensitive yet at the same time the most powerful

Her realm is themed like a museum with a giant beating blue heart as the main attraction (referencing her last name and outfit)

She is 20 years old which makes her the youngest out of the trio, she is also fascinated by the human world but not to the extent of Ophelia.

Due to her heart motive Mabel describes herself as the heart and soul of the MoonStar Duo/Trio since she can empathise with Ophelia but is too nervous to help her.

Mabel is also afraid of what her powers can do at their full potential.

Finally this is Yashi Dreamweaver

She heavily admires Mabel to the point of always calling her by her full name or “Miss Heartwhisper”.

She is the oldest member as she is 24 years old

Her realm is themed around space in the night sky with a few props here and there

She is known for being brutally honest whilst also being very formal + mature towards others at the same time, this makes most people who manage to visit the dream world feel intimidated by her

Whilst Mabel doesn’t mind Ophelia and is just worried, Yashi doesn’t like Ophelia in the slightest and will not hesitate to speak her mind about her

(The whole doomed Yuri thing is between Ophelia and Mabel because whilst Ophelia still has tension with Mabel, Mabel doesn’t and still somewhat loves her, not to mention that Yashi undeniably has a crush on Mabel with the way she treats her making this into a love triangle)

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK ME THEM!!! :3