#gen rated

[lostelfwriting]

Dreamling Christmas Fic

[You can read here or on AO3!]

Dream didn't get it quite right the first December the 24th that he spent with Hob. He arrived late in the evening after giving Hob space to spend the holiday with his friends. Hob smiled at him warmly as he opened the door for Dream. (He learned to knock instead of appearing in the living room for this purpose only – to see Hob's welcoming smiles.) Dream had no reason to suspect that this wasn't how their Christmas was supposed to go.

Dream kissed Hob on the cheek before giving him his present – a silver bracelet, beautiful and just on the side of unearthly to be clear that it was created in the Dreaming but not raise suspicion. It looked gorgeous on Hob's wrist. Dream couldn't stop looking and Hob laughed at him warmly before giving him his gift. He was shy about it, apologetic even, “I didn't know what to get a God”. Dream assured him that he didn't need anything, but that only seemed to make Hob sad, so he quickly changed the topic, opening the sparkly gift bag.

It was a dream catcher. He was familiar with those – they had been around for a long time. Dream smiled and asked if there was a particular dream that Hob wished to catch. Then, they made love on the living room couch, watched a movie, and went to sleep. The day went how Dream expected it to and the following morning as well – Hob made breakfast for them and they ate at the bar isle in the kitchen, barstools dragged close to each other so they could remain snuggled close. Then, Dream returned to his realm, satisfied, but to his shock, a certain air of sadness that Hob refused to acknowledge clung to the human for two weeks after that.

When the next Christmas started approaching, the sadness from last year returned, and Dream was determined to fix whatever mistake he had made. He tried to figure it out alone at first – reading, peeking into people's dreams, researching the modern Christmas traditions. He learned that the holiday was celebrated with one's family and friends, and that gifts were given, and he failed to see where that had gone wrong. There was a bit of confusion about when the gifts were to be unpacked, but Dream doubted that was the problem.

He consulted Lucienne next. Subtly hinted that he would not mind if she took a closer look at Hob's dreams in December – it didn't count as cheating if Dream wasn't the one who was looking, right? She presented him with a short list of gifts that the human might appreciate and a stern, disapproving look.

Dream acquired all of the gifts, not yet decided which one he would give Hob, if all, or just one, or some. He was surprised by the simplicity of the gifts – a heated pillow, something called the gravity blanket, two new sets of pyjamas, an expensive suit (he probably didn't need to get the most expensive one he could find, but Hob deserved the best, and money meant nothing to Dream), warm socks, normal sock, a set of new glasses for Hob's kitchen because one too many have been dropped and broken in the past year.

Could it be the gift, Dream wondered? Hob never took the bracelet off, frequently had it polished, loved it. No, Dream didn't think he went wrong with the gift last year. It was time to do the one thing he feared – consult Matthew, a friend and former human.

When even the raven seemed stunned by the fact that Hob didn't enjoy the previous Christmas, even after all the time Dream and Matthew spent picking out the best wrapping paper for the bracelet, Dream began to worry that Hob just didn't like him on that day. But then the bird tilted his head and asked Dream to tell him how the day went one more time.

“Could it be that he wanted to spend Christmas with you? Did he think that you couldn't make time for him?”

“I had asked him how he wanted to spend the holiday. He had said that he would probably do the same as every year.”

Matthew sighed, in the tone that told Dream that he had fucked up. “Yep, he definitely didn't want to bother you or hold you up from your duties. But he wanted to spend Christmas with you.”

Dream still didn't understand. He knew that humans, even Hob, sometimes didn't ask for whate they wanted, especially from their loved ones. Hell, even Dream was guilty of doing that. But… “But we did – we spent Christmas together,” he argued.

If Matthew could roll his eyes, he would. “Christmas is more than just the day and gifts. It's decorating the tree together. Kissing under the mistletoe. Being lazy in the morning and postponing going out to all those parties that you've scheduled because you're just too comfortable. It's the Christmas spirit. You were only there for the main event, but not for—”

Dream didn't hear the rest of it because he knew what he had to do. He would thank Matthew later. First, there was a heated blanket in need of unpacking.

Dream looked out carefully for the day Hob would be decorating the tree. The flat was filled with the sound of Christmas carols and Hob was wearing a horribly ugly sweater and sweatpants. When he opened the door and saw Dream, he was surprised, asked: “What are you doing here? It's 10am.”

“I did not want to miss this,” Dream replied, and by the look on Hob's face that answered exactly zero of Hob's questions. He let himself in, followed by the surprised human. When Dream stood in front of the tree, the scent of fresh pine filling the air, he realized he should have asked Matthew a few follow-up questions.

“It's mostly a matter of improvisation,” Hob said behind him knowingly. “Just take an ornament and put it somewhere. Don't worry about making it balanced or aesthetically pleasing. It'll always look great in the end. Mostly because I have too many ornaments.”

Dream watched carefully as Hob took a little statue of an angel from one of the boxes on the floor and hanged it on a thin branch. He followed the example, carefully handling a glass ornament, for a second admiring the craft that went into it – he could tell it was hand-made, and the creator filled it with their dreams of the winters past. When the ornament was securely hanging on one of the top branches – something so beautiful deserved such high position – Hob spun Dream around and kissed him.

“What was that for?” Dream asked curiously. Not that he'd ever turn down a kiss, but he needed to know if he had done right coming here.

“Because I love you,” Hob replied, grinning. “And also because we will need all the strength we can get to hang all of these,” he gestured to the boxes, and Dream had to admit that there were too many. He had time, though. He would always make time for his greatest friend and lover.

Almost two hours later, the tree was decorated with lights, ornaments, bows and sparkly chains that tickled horribly when Dream touched them. Hob collapsed on the couch after he put all the boxes away, tired. Dream seized his chance, going to one of the living room cabinets with purpose and taking out the gravity blanket. He had summoned it from its hiding space within the Dreaming, but he knew it unsettled humans when things were summoned from thin air, so he tried to take a bit of the mystique out of the gesture.

“Has this always been there?” Hob asked, a smirk on his lips telling Dream that he knew exactly what happened.

“Yes,” the Endless replied stubbornly before covering them both with the blanket. He could not truly enjoy its effects – human-created objects didn't have an effect on him unless he let them, and he was hesitant to let this one affect him – but Hob groaned, melting into the couch.

“I'm never getting up again,” Hob sighed, closing his eyes. He was asleep within a minute, leaving Dream confused. He was hoping for Hob's subtle guidance. Christmas was only two days away and there was so much they needed to do, but Hob was comfortable, and Dream wouldn't want to wake him up even if the house started burning.

Mentally going through the list of traditions they could enjoy together, Dream decided that he could make some dough for cookies. His mind was full of images of happy couples baking together, laughing, singing. He knew Hob would enjoy that – he enjoyed food and enjoyed making Dream try food.

Hob, contrary to his words, managed to free himself from under the blanket about an hour later. He looked like he wasn't sure that he wasn't still dreaming when he saw Dream in the kitchen, carefully kneading homemade dough. But he didn't question it and instead took out a box of cookie cutters from the cupboard and turned on the oven.

Hob's happiness radiated off him for the reminder of the day, and Dream felt happy that his lover was happy. When he had to return to the Dreaming – this was a busy part of the year, after all, and Lucienne would not be pleased if she had to handle it all by herself – there was not a hint of sadness in Hob's heart.

After the success of the previous day, Dream became a bit more at ease. He returned in the afternoon of the next day to watch a movie with Hob, drink hot chocolate and maybe secretly try to peek into Hob’s mind to figure out what the best present would be.

A heated pillow would help with the ache in Hob’s neck, but then Dream’s hands did a much better job with a massage, especially if he made his body slightly warmer than was normal. Hob’s pyjamas needed a refreshment, all of them being threadbare and washed out, but Dream much better preferred him without clothes at night. Socks were cheap, not worthy of Dream of the Endless’s lover. The suit that he had picked out was great, but he wanted to give it to Hob before Christmas, so he could wear it to the party that he was invited to.

Hob seemed happy with the time they spent together, happier even than the previous day. Still, Dream was worried about the upcoming day. He spent the time in the Dreaming distracted, his work taking twice the amount of time it should. But in the end, all dreams were ready for the big day, ready to help children all over the world sleep peacefully and dream. Nightmares were ready for people what needed the final push to decide to turn their life around. (And for people who Dream didn’t like.) Dream would, of course, be present to supervise, at least for a couple hours. But first, he needed to drop by the waking world and give Hob the suit.

“I will be back in an hour,” he informed Lucienne before grabbing a fistful of sand from his pouch. He noticed her stern gaze and held off.  “What?” he asked.

“You will be back?” she raised her eyebrows. “It is Christmas, and everything is ready. Won’t you spend the time with your companion? Is that not why you had been working so hard the past days?”

With a confused frown, Dream nodded. “It is. So I can spend most of the day with him. But he is visiting some friends, first.”

Lucienne was about to give it to him gently – he could see it in her eyes, the understanding and sympathy. Matthew was faster. “Boss,” he said sternly. “Don’t you dare leave him alone on Christmas.”

Dream did not understand. Hob would be the opposite of alone. But he did not want to admit to his confusion in front of his subjects, so he nodded. “It seems I won’t be returning until tomorrow, Lucienne,” he nodded to her, and then left.

Hob was not surprised when he opened the door. He grabbed Dream by the lapels of his coat and pulled him inside, kissing him until they were both out of breath. “Nice to see you,” he panted against Dream’s lips when they parted.

Dream, ever the clueless idiot around his immortal lover, didn’t know how to react lest he caused Hob to arrive late. “I have something for you,” he said, pressing the suit into Hob’s arms. “For the party.”

“It’s more of a brunch,” Hob laughed, struggling to see what he was looking at until his eyes finally found shape in the mass of rich fabrics. His eyes widened.

“Wear it today, please,” Dream said before Hob could start arguing that it was too expensive. Still, the human frowned, scowling at the brand at the collar of the suit jacket. Dream made the words disappear off the tag with a wave of his hand, which didn’t impress Hob.  “Please,” he repeated. “For me.”

Finally, Hob relented, going to the bedroom to change out of his slacks and light blue shirt into the suit. Dream waited somewhat impatiently, trying not to peek into the room, hiding in the shadows that were always all too happy to serve him. Finally, Hob walked out, and Dream forgot to breathe.

There was a remark on Hob’s lips, but it died before it could be given voice. He tilted his head and watched Dream curiously while the Endless took in the look. Did Hob know how much it pleased Dream to see Hob in the clothes that he had given him? He couldn’t have. Dream never said so and he tried not to make a habit out of dressing his lover in expensive robes. The modern era no longer called for gestures like that. Yet, there was a smirk on Hob’s face as he reached up to play with his ear nervously, the bracelet peeking from under his sleeve, pulling Dream’s eyes to it like magnets.

“I will be severely overdressed,” Hob said finally.

“We will be,” Dream corrected. It was a subtle question, and when a grin spread on Hob’s face, he finally made his mind. He would be happy to wait for Hob at home, but maybe Hob really wanted him to come to the party.

“Go change, then,” Hob urged him.  “We really need to go.”

Dream nodded and walked to the bedroom, changing within the blink of an eye into an equally fancy suit. His was black, though, while Hob’s was grey. When he walked out again, the human whistled.

Dream knew some of the people they met at the brunch. Hob introduced him to the rest, presenting him as his mysterious boyfriend. Those who had never seen Dream before laughed and the rest rolled their eyes fondly. The atmosphere of the party was strange, lacking the Christmas spirit that Dream had learned to look out for. Hob later explained that it was a work thing, not everyone was friends and some people barely stood each other.

They headed to the New Inn next. There were only two people working, those who volunteered or even insisted, because Hob wouldn’t force anyone to work on that day. Their patrons and friends came to celebrate with them, bringing a much more pleasant atmosphere. Dream dared to be bold, taking Hob by the elbow and leading him to an archway where a small piece of mistletoe was hanged. He kissed him much longer than was appropriate and much less than he truly wanted.

Hob was teary-eyed the rest of the time. Soon, people started filtering out to spend the day with their families, and the New Inn was empty by 2pm. Dream helped Hob clean up after they shooed the remaining employees away to go home and celebrate, and then they went upstairs.

It was different than last year. Dream was confident when he helped Hob fix them a nice dinner, didn’t pause to seek Hob’s guidance as he opened a bottle of wine for them, and after they ate, he knew it was the perfect time to bring Hob to the tree and present him with a sparkly gift bag.

“Don’t tell me you have any more gifts!” Hob groaned, but he was laughing, his eyes shining like stars and fond.

Dream frowned. He didn’t— Right, the suit. He counted that as a gift to himself more than Hob. And the blanket was a gift, but it helped Hob sleep, so it was more for Dream, again. He shook his head. “I know you will love this one,” he promised, ignoring Hob’s “I loved all of them.”

When Hob opened the bag, he started laughing. The tears finally spilled from his eyes, and for a horrific moment, Dream was scared that he had miscalculated. But then he received the sweetest kiss he had gotten in all of his entire existence, and his nerves were calmed.

“How did you know I ran out of nice socks?” Hob asked, digging through the endless number of socks in the bag. (Maybe not endless, but this would last him for years to come.)

Dream could say something like lucky guess, or admit to cheating and peeking into Hob’s dreams, but in the end, all he had to do was pointedly look down at Hob’s bare feet, a toe poking out of the tip of his black sock.

“Right,” the human chuckled and kissed Dream again. Then he sighed, for a moment showing a hint of sadness – melancholy, Dream recognised – before his face filled with overwhelming happiness. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I haven’t had a nice Christmas in years.”

Nice Christmas. Dream smiled. Yes, he thought. I have made this day nice.

[freddie-mercury-rising]

Hold Me Closer

For @pumpkinlilyao3

Happy belated birthday!



Roger’s own anger was gone, replaced by the urge to nurture. The two couldn’t exist at the same time, he marveled. The minute he let himself believe he could protect Freddie, the rage leaked out of his body. Sure, if Bill walked in the door, he’d have a few choice words for him, but Roger wouldn't hit him. Now, all his hands wanted to do was comfort Freddie.

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the "Mature" rating was ranked most enjoyed by consumers, while those posting works most frequently posted "Teen and Up". Only 16% of those who had posted works to AO3 said they had never posted M/M, while 69% of consumers "Strongly Enjoyed" M/M works.

To see more analysis, including transcripts of all the data shown on the graphs, please view the full results on AO3 for both ratings and relationship types.

[saint-ambrosef]

"interest rates" this, "interest rates" that. you know what is also a major cost prohibition in homebuying for people? high property taxes.

[sojutrait]

first graduation of the gen 3 kids YAHOIEEEEEE

[front-facing-pokemon]

[hopalongfairywren]

As much as I hate 'generation discourse' Nothing makes me roll my eyes harder than older Gen Z/millenials shitting on Gen Alpha now. Like of course there's a lot wrong with using screens to pacify young children, but it's not even critiquing the parentings, nope we've moved on to full on 'this new generation is rotten and doomed' rhetoric about how these literal children and toddlers are gonna be the downfall of society because someone posted a video of a toddler having a meltdown for millions of people to see and find their justified outlet for wishing harm upon young children- I mean, Ipad baby meltdown cringe comps. What kills me though is the irony, all the things Gen Z and Millenials rightfully despised Boomers for- You are doing right now, in your twenty five minute video essay on why some parents neglecting their toddlers means kids these days are all uncultured drooling npcs. Calling the next generation after you stupid and inferior to you goes back to ancient times, and now you have unironic video essays on why Gen Alpha will be the worst generation in history.

I hate ageism.

[camelotremix]

ART: Sun and Snow

Title: Sun and Snow Creator: ??? Work Type: art Work URL: Link to artists Tumblr to be added after fest reveals Remixee Name: merthurmagic025 Link to Work Remixed:https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734950 Pairings: Merthur Length: NA Rating: G Warnings: None Notes: I had a lot of fun reading your fics, and I hope you enjoy my remix art of your story 'a gift for you, my love, this cold winter's day'. I enjoyed the image of Merlin's cold fingers and Arthur's warm regard chasing off winter, and that feeling I had is what I tried to capture! Summary: “Merlin! Your hands are freezing, what were you thinking?”

[valdrift]

drew my shield team :)

[samssims]

[fic-recs-by-lulu]

Title: only the dead stay 17 forever

Author: Sky_Dust

Fandom: Batman, Red Robin

Rating: T - Teen and Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,017

Summary:

Tim is seventeen. Tim has been seventeen for a long, long time, a lot longer than most seventeen year olds have, but he thinks he's starting to get the hang of it.

(Tim is lying. Tim is getting farther and farther from getting the hang of it. Tim is going insane.)

OR

Tim is vibing. Having the time of his life, if you will. Please disregard the screaming and explosions.

[heavendraven]

very self-indulgent thing I worked on today instead of schoolwork. I like to think that their impeccable vibes transcend time

pose ref

[queenserena-13]

WELP, FINALLY DONE, I’m glad to see there was a lot of interest for the WIP this art, I hope what I made delivers, here’s the hisuian typhlosion gal I made, her name is Vivian

Do please let me know what you think about her, it means the world to me to hear people enjoy my art and what they like about it

[sojutrait]

WAAAAAAAAA

[front-facing-pokemon]

whats gonna happen to this blog after every pokemon is front facing? will it only update when theres new pokemon? or will it just die?

i've seen a few ideas tossed around on this front. most notable i think is going through the entire pokédex again with shiny forms. ultimately though i've been leaving it up to "we'll figure it out when we get there," since it'll be a while. i'm open to suggestions, however! i've heard back-facing-pokémon and front-facing-shiny-pokémon as ideas. i do like the shiny idea

they all have a tint of red or yellow in their eyes, i believe! it's just how gmaxes are i suppose

then yes! i just queued that one up this morning, i believe

YES i know everyone loves eevee. i do too. it just does NOT have the move pool or stats to make it a useful member of a team unevolved, is all. every time i've tried to use an eevee when i'm trying to get one of its friendship evos, it's always a pain in the ass trying to get it to survive through a single battle without switch training it. maybe i'm just using eevee wrong! but bite/swift/baby-doll eyes/quick attack is not the set for me

[samspenandsword]

The Fields of Sorgan: Din Djarin/Reader (Fem)

Summary: When Mando takes the job on Sorgan, he runs into the reality that he’s never had to take care of a baby before. Let alone a non-human baby. Luckily, the woman housing him is more than happy to help.  Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance. Rating: GEN — SFW Warnings: None — allusions to violence, small amount of language, domestic bliss, fluff, ridiculous amount of baby and child antics, topics relating to being/becoming parents (NO PREGNANCY) some angst towards the end. Word Count: 4.3k

When you and your sister-in-law Omera volunteered to house the ones who promised to help repel the attachs and raids on your village, you hadn't quite been expecting who actually came. One was a woman, tall and obviously strong with dark hair. She left quickly with Omera, Winta and her million questions bounding along right behind. But the other, the one who followed behind you with steps quieter than his armor seemingly should've allowed, was the Mandalorian. You'd never met a Mandalorian before, though you'd certainly heard of them. Even on Sorgan, you'd been told stories of the greatest warriors in the galaxy.

Mando was quiet as he followed you, weaving around the pools and paddies of krill your village farmed to brew spotchka. You lived around the outskirts of the village, closer to the treeline than anyone else. You had your small hut, and your barn, equally small. You hoped it would be enough for the warrior, but something told you he had slept in worse conditions than a small barn.

He himself was quiet, which you imagined helped him sell the whole brooding-warrior-in-beskar image he wholly embodied, but as you came back into the barn, carrying a pile of hand-stitched and woven cushions and blankets, he thanked you.

"I appreciate it."

He had a soft voice, with a mild gruffness behind the modulator. You couldn't tell if the gruffness was natural or if it was simply a result of him not talking much.

"It's no trouble, really. I appreciate everything you're doing for us. I know we weren't able to pay what a man like you would usually make."

His weight shifted a little, caught out, but you didn't allow him to feel awkward for long, disappearing once more. When you returned, only a moment later, you set down a bassinet not far from Mando's makeshift cot.

Mando's baby, or foundling, you supposed, was cute. In an ugly sort of way. You'd never seen a lifeform like him before. He was little, green, and wrinkly, with wispy hair on his head. His ears were the size of his entire body, his eyes huge and curious, and he wore clothing that could've doubled as a sack for potatoes.

You couldn't help but smile at him. "Hi, little one." At your voice, the baby cooed, raising his arms up in a clear request to be held. After a subtle nod from Mando, you obliged the baby.

"Ooh, you are a cutie, aren't you? You're going to be spoiled rotten. Are you hungry, baby? I bet you're hungry. Let me get some food for Mando and then I'll get some bone broth for you."

You soon learned that the baby was a bottomless pit when it came to food. He truly would eat all day if you and Mando let him. Thankfully, he was occupied most days by the village children, who were absolutely delighted to have the child as a playmate. He spent the days both before and after the attack running around the paddies with the other children. And came back with his insatiable appetite. You might be annoyed by it if he wasn't so damn cute.

And if you didn't have such a soft spot for his father.

You'd only referred to Mando as the child's father once, and you had seen the way he shifted. He obviously wasn't sure what to make of the term, so you'd never used it again. Eventually, in the days following the successful defense of your village, he told you how the child came to him: the bounty, the Imperial remnant, the rescue, the Guild coming after him, the Covert coming to his rescue. You weren't sure exactly why Mando was telling you everything, but you had the feeling he simply needed someone to vent to. He'd obviously never had that before, and you were happy to listen. A lot had changed for him in a simple matter of days, and he had no idea where his future would lead. But all the same, he had still helped you and your village, so you were happy to give him whatever he needed. Food, shelter, cover fire, an ear.

Childcare lessons.

It had been fairly obvious from the start that Mando had no idea how to take care of an infant, even if that baby was 50 years old. And even for you, who had helped to raise your younger siblings, there was a bit of a learning curve. The child wasn't human after all, so neither of you had been sure what was and wasn't safe for him to eat, or what would provide the best nutrients for him, and Sorgan didn't have the resources for either of you to go researching. Mando told you, with a dry sort of humor in his voice, that the child seemed happy eating everything from bone broth to live frogs. You'd grimaced.

"Let's hold off on the live frogs for now," you said. "I'm not sure all those bones are good for his digestion."

The baby was miffed every time the both of you scooped him up when he went after the frogs hopping around the paddies. But you both held firm.

But he definitely loved bath time.

He loved the splash Mando, and to blow bubbles under the water, smiling and giggling all the way. He loved when you made little swirlies in the water, and seemed genuinely upset when bath time was over. At least, until you wrapped him in a blanket warmed by the fire and let him snuggle with you.

He was a cuddler, that was for sure. Even with Mando, who was constantly covered with his beskar. The baby didn't seem to care. He simply liked being in the arms of others.

Especially you and Mando. Though he loved toddling after Winta and the other kids as well.

He was a good sleeper, too. Sometimes, he could be fussy when he was put down, but he usually fell asleep and stayed asleep.

Though there were definitely harder nights. Nights where he woke up, wailing and crying.

The first night it had happened, it had taken you a moment to realize what was happening, unused to the sound of a baby crying in your home anymore. It was a few days after the attack, and the town had been sleeping soundly for the first time in what felt like months. But as the baby continued to cry, you stood up and padded out to the barn.

Mando was kneeling at the baby's bassinet, awkwardly, shushing him like he was a too-loud droid and not a baby. Feeling a little amused, you knocked on the door slightly, announcing your presence.

The slump of Mando's shoulders either meant that he was relieved to see you, or that he was guilty the baby had woken you up.

Maybe both, but you didn't mind.

"Hi, baby," you cooed gently, padding towards the bassinet. You kept your voice soothing, gentle, warm. The baby had fat tears rolling out of his big eyes, and though you weren't sure what was wrong, you knew the baby needed to be held right now.

You just didn't think it was you he wanted to be held by at the moment.

"Go ahead, Mando. Pick him up."

He hesitated slightly, but stood and gingerly lifted the child from the bassinet. You huffed with amusement. He was holding the baby so awkwardly, like a bomb about to go off.

"Closer," you instructed, gently guiding the baby into the Mandalorian's chest, which you realized was beskar-free. For perhaps the first time since you'd met him. "Hold him closer."

You kept your hand on the baby's little back, soothingly rubbing it as he released a little hiccup and continued to cry.

"Rub his back," you said, taking Mando's hand and pressing it to where yours had just been. You kept your hand over his. It was the first time you'd seen him without gloves as well, and his skin was warm against yours. You tried not to dwell on that. "Like this. It grounds him."

Mando slowly rubbed the child's back, a little awkwardly still, but you could tell he was trying.

"Rock gently," you continued. "Just a gentle shift of your weight, side to side, with the barest bounce. Yeah, just like that."

Mando slowly rocked the baby, your hand still covering his own. Your hand had come to smooth over the child's wispy hair. Mando eased closer so you could continue more easily. You felt his proximity more keenly than you cared to admit.

You swallowed.

"Talk to him," you said next.

"About what?" Mando asked, sounding a little confused.

"Anything. Everything. Just let him hear your voice."

Slowly, and maybe a little unsurely, Mando began to talk. He was clearly unused to making idle chat, and you smiled amusedly as he began to list the specs of his ship. A Razor Crest, he said. How it was pre-Empire. The engine speed and capabilities. The weapons systems. Both spec and modified. How he'd built a chamber into the ship so he could freeze his bounties in carbonite.

Slowly, but surely, the baby began to calm down, his cries quieting to sniffles and hiccoughs, and eventually fully ceasing, his little face smushed into Mando's chest as he slept once more. Mando fell silent again too, slowly, and a little tensely, replacing the child into his bassinet. You gently tucked him in, and the baby continued to sleep soundly.

You gave Mando's arm a gentle squeeze. He didn't tense or jump at the contact for once. You tried to chalk it up to him being tired.

"Why was he like that?"

You chewed on your cheek a little, wondering how to answer.

"Children get scared, Mando. What happened a few days ago was scary. And he may not have seen everything, but children pick up on their surroundings more than you'd think. We were tense and scared, so he was too. He could've had a nightmare."

Mando was still, like he'd never considered the possibility. You squeezed his arm once more.

"I got him next time. We can take turns."

And with that, you both went back to bed.

But the next morning, things were undeniably a little different between the two of you. It became less of Mando taking care of the child while you gave tips. More of you both taking care of the baby. You ended up sewing up a quick sling for the baby so he could be with you when you woke early and made breakfast, letting Mando sleep in a little further. Or when you did laundry and mended clothes from the village. There had been one day where the baby had been particularly insistent on staying close to Mando, and it had been more than a little funny to see the baby, smiling and swinging his little arms from the sling around Mando's beskar-covered chest.

The memory of Mando's sigh still made you giggle.

You also remembered when you'd taken the baby with you as you ventured out for a hunt. As one of the only people in the village other than Omera who was proficient with firearms (your brother, her husband, had taught you both), you often brought meat and foraged plants back to the village. The baby had been strangely thrilled when you'd brought down a particularly large grinjer.

You'd chuckled at him, dropping a kiss to his little head. Traveling with a Mandalorian was going to do weird things to the child's sense of humor.

The days came and went in relative normality. And somehow, the warrior-in-beskar and his little foundling simply became part of the village. As did the former shock trooper, who you found a bit intimidating, but good-humored. Winta seemed to really like her, and Omera seemed happier and more at ease than you'd seen her in a long time. And the longer the village went with peaceful, raid-free nights, the more it seemed to settle. Children laughed and played more, the work in the paddies no longer seemed so draining, and the village simply began to feel like home again.

But a stone grew in your gut with each passing day. Because you were beginning to wake with the fear that each day would be the last you got to spend with the Mandalorian and child.

And that day soon came.

It was a nice day. The sun was shining and the sky was blue with lots of fat, fluffy clouds. It was perfectly warm with the more pleasant breeze wafting over the grass fields around your village, just before the thick trees of the forest.

You'd packed some lunch for the kid, trying (and failing) to keep him from slurping it all up in five minutes flat before he toddled off to chase some dragonflies.

You smiled, shaking your head fondly from where you sat on a well-worn, well-loved blanket. It had become the baby's favorite in the weeks he'd spent with you. He didn't want to go anywhere without it.

You were so, so conscious of the fact that Mando was sitting just beside and slightly behind you. So close you were aware of every breath he took. So close that all you had to do was lean over an inch, and your shoulder would brush against the armor on his chest.

"It's... very nice here."

Your good mood dropped. You'd been fearing, expecting this for days now. But it didn't stop the swell of disappointment in your gut. The words made you feel chilled, as if the warm midday sun had simply decided not to touch you. The fond smile that had graced your face was no longer there, replaced with something grave.

"It is."

Your voice was level. More level than Mando had ever heard it. He winced beneath his helmet. You knew where this was going, and it made you upset.

He had made you upset.

It hurt him more than he wanted to acknowledge.

"He's very happy here."

Mando's helmet tilted in the direction of the child, who paid the two of you no mind as he chased dragonflies and butterflies over the grass in your peripheral.

"He is."

There was a pregnant pause, and Mando realized you were going to force him to say what he meant. What he was thinking. What he was feeling.

You were good at that, in a way no one else he'd met was. He both loved and hated it.

"We raised some hell here a few weeks back. It's too much action for a village like yours. Word travels fast." There was a pause, as Mando swallowed and forced himself to continue, unable to meet your heavy, upset, knowing gaze. Even from behind the sanctuary of his helmet. "There are kids here. And everyone's finally happy again. I can't stay knowing it could bring more attention to your home. More danger. It's time to cycle the charts and move on."

Your throat began to tighten, and it took physical effort for you to keep your voice level when you responded. And when you did, it was still in barely more than a whisper.

"When do you want to tell him?"

The two of you looked over towards the baby, playing happily in the grass. The sight of his little mud-stained outfit, and the idea that you might not get to cuddle and hold and feed him again made your eyes sting too.

"I'm leaving him here."

You whipped your head back around, mouth falling open with shock.

"What?"

"He's happy here." Mando's voice, gruff as it usually was, contained a softness to it you'd never heard before. He almost sounded... sad.

"Mando, no -"

"I can't take him." The softness left Mando's voice, replaced with a vehemence that made it sound more solid, more organic than his modulator should've allowed. "I'm a bounty hunter, not a caregiver. You showed me that. You can take care of him better than I ever could. I track bounties for days, sometimes weeks at a time. And I'm wanted now. I can't bring him with me and knowingly put him in danger. Knowing I can't provide for him like he needs. The credits your village gave me is barely enough to cover fuel for my ship, let alone food or toys or new clothes like he needs. I —!"

Mando's voice never increased in volume, the two of you still speaking in hushed tones so as not to gain the baby's attention.

"Traveling with me..." Mando's voice was soft again, and this time you were certain of the sadness in his tone, "that's no life for a kid."

Your throat was still tight. Maker, you were upset. But you couldn't deny Mando had some good points. His lifestyle was dangerous even before he went rogue and rescued the child. And now, he would be forced to take jobs with less pay and more danger than before, now that the Guild was looking for him, thirsty for retribution. It wasn't a stable life. Not by any means.

And children needed stability. If not from a lifestyle, then from people. Mando could provide neither.

You could provide both.

But Maker, you were upset!

"It'll break his heart," you whispered. You didn't add that Mando's leaving would break yours too.

"He'll get over it. We all do."

His words made you angry this time.

"Get over what? Losing a parent? Or being abandoned."

Mando actually flinched.

"That's how he sees you, Mando," you said. Now that you'd started, you couldn't stop. "You rescued him. You saved him. You were the first positive figure in his life in who knows how long. You're as good as his parent, Mando. And he needs a parent."

Mando looked at you, gaze piercing into you. "He has a mother."

The words that once might have made your heart feel warm made you, instead, feel cold.

"He needs a father, too."

A tense silence fell between the two of you, broken only by the happy squeals of the child, some feet away. He was now digging in the dirt. Maybe looking for a worm.

Or maybe a frog to eat.

Your anger melted away as you looked back at Mando. You knew this was upsetting him as much as it was you. In the weeks he'd been in your village, you'd seen how much the warrior had grown to care for the baby. The increasing involvement in his daily routine. The way Mando cuddled him closer on bad nights, the way he spoke more, the way he helped you with bath time, even took care of the baby in the mornings to allow you more sleep. You'd seen the way he'd grown to see the child as his charge. Maybe even as his own.

Just like you had.

You scooted towards Mando, sitting as close to him as you possibly could without being in his lap. He didn't shy away from the press of your legs against his, and his gloved hands covered your own as you reached up to grip the cowl around his shoulders.

"I'm not saying this to make you feel worse, Mando. But he's not going to understand that you're doing this for his own good. All he'll know is that you left him. That is what he's going to remember, fifty years from now, when he's grown and talking and has maybe grown out of his habit of eating live frogs."

Mando's shoulders shook in a silent chuckle. A sad chuckle.

"You don't have to do this," you whispered. You clutched the fabric tighter in your fingers. "I know your Creed is important to you, and I would never ask or expect you to abandon it. But... you could stay. The village wants you to stay." You bit your lip, voice lowering until he nearly couldn't hear you. "I want you to stay."

Mando's hands squeezed your own, and ever-so-gently, leaned his helmeted forhead to yours. You exhaled shakily, blinking back the wetness in your eyes. Because even as you'd said it, you knew it simply wasn't possible.

Mando couldn't stay.

"Cyar'ika, I —" But he stopped. Because you'd stiffened. And in a blink, you'd grabbed his pistol and shot into the trees.

Mando whirled around in time to see a dark figure fall to the ground.

"Get the kid! Get back to the village!"

He grabbed his phase-pulse blaster and sprinted towards the trees. You gripped the pistol still in one hand, scooped up the scared child in the other, and ran back to the village.

Omera and the trooper, Cara, met you.

"What happened?" Cara questioned.

"There was a figure in the trees," you panted. You cuddled the baby close. You'd stared at the edges of the forest every day for your entire life. You knew what they looked like. You knew when something was different. "They had a rifle."

Cara darted towards the trees, drawing a blaster of her own.

Omera wrapped an arm around you. "Come on, let's get inside."

Mando didn't return until nearly an hour later. There was a cup of tea clutched in your hands. You'd settled the baby down for a nap. And though he'd fussed and refused, your rocking and singing had eventually lulled him into slumber. Mando stopped in the doorway before slowly approaching. Something about his posture made you feel dread.

"Bounty hunter?"

"Yes."

"Was he tracking you?"

There was a pause. "No."

Your eyes closed. "The kid?"

Mando didn't need to answer. He sat down beside you, shoulders tight with tension.

"They'll keep coming for him, won't they?" you said.

"Yes. They knew he's here."

You swallowed hard. You could not imagine what had led to someone putting a bounty out on a child.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'll get his stuff."

But when you went to stand, a gloved hand stopped you.

Mando didn't say anything for a few minutes, but it was clear there was something on his mind. So you waited, squeezing the hand that held yours.

"Come with me."

The words came so suddenly and so quietly you were sure you'd imagined them. But you blinked, looking into his visor, and saw the sheepish, almost hesitant set of his shoulders.

"What?"

"Come with me." Mando stepped closer, gripping your hand more surely. "The kid can't stay here. And neither can I. The bounty hunters will keep coming. They won't stop. The pay-out for him alone, let alone both is too high. But... you were right." He squeezed your hand again. "We were both right. He needs stability. He needs a caregiver. A parent. Someone who can watch him when a bounty is too dangerous to bring him. Someone who can take care of him and my ship when a bounty takes me away for days at a time. Someone who can provide a more consistent, stable presence than me."

You were sure you looked a picture right now. You had never left your planet before. Barely ever left your village. The life of a farmer was one you had been born into, and while you had entertained the fantasy of something different in your youth, you had been forced to accept that your place was on Sorgan, in your quiet little village where everyone grew and married and farmed krill.

"I don't know anything about taking care of a ship."

"I'll teach you."

"I can't fight."

"You can shoot. You took that bounty hunter down in one shot from several meters away. And you're strong. Farming has made you strong. With some training from me, you'd be able to hold your own. You'd be able to protect yourself, and him if it came to it. And it'll come to it."

There it was, the admission that if you accepted, your life would become far more dangerous than you were used to. The recent raids on your village had been the most danger you'd ever experienced before. But for Mando, it had been just another day. And part of you still couldn't believe what you were hearing. Go with Mando? Leave Sorgan? For real?

But the young spirit in you who'd never gotten to stretch their wings or see the stars beyond Sorgan was roaring at you to accept. No matter how reckless or irresponsible it may be. You knew it'd be difficult. You knew the learning curve would be a steep one. You knew there'd likely be days where you wanted to get angry and yell and cry. Days where Mando wanted to storm off and grumble and get frustrated at having to suddenly share his space with two more people, one of them a child. You knew there'd be hard days, and maybe, maybe in the end you'd grow to regret it. Decide to leave and barter passage back to Sorgan on cargo ships and merchant vessels that came to Sorgan to pick up spotchka.

But then, Mando's words from earlier rang in your ears.

"He needs a mother."

The baby sleeping in your barn was the closest you'd ever come to having a child of your own. To being a mother. And even though it had only been a few weeks, the stinker had thoroughly worked his way into your heart. You literally couldn't imagine your life without him anymore. And you looked at the beskar-covered Mandalorian in front of you. The figure who'd come into your wet little village, armed to the teeth, and saved you all. The man who'd also wormed his way into your heart without even trying. The closest you'd come to truly falling in love.

And you knew you wouldn't regret it.

"Give me thirty minutes to pack?"

Mando touched his forehead to yours once more, squeezing your hand in his. The tense set of his shoulders relaxed into something far happier.

"You have twenty."

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