#i know you can change your name but i've grown too attached to it to do so :P

[ashysmultifandomcatdump]

Rambles about my Lord Wander AU yippee :)

finally Properly drew my lord wander design...he's basically the same but with more sharp edges (inspired by craig mccracken's concept sketches!) and a goofy outfit for when he's Eviling Out with s shooting star motif on it to contrast lord dom's bleeding heart!!! he does have a suit which the shooting star would be more Clear on but i have yet to get around to drawing it...i have been thinking about this AU for over a year now and i think i've finally figured out enough to talk about it so i will under the cut :)

i think for Structural Purposes i will talk about dominator and sylvia first. wander and dom are the only main swaps in this AU (with a smaller swap i think between the hat and dombots because it's Fun) so everyone else stays the same, though due to sylvia's proximity to dom, she has a significant enough change to discuss!!! (i am gonna sneakily reuse art from my last post for this bit hehe)

dee and sylvia travel around together on their own ship! i think the overall tone would be opposite the actual show—while WOY having wander as the main character has it be a goofy, silly show about love and friendship that's interrupted by dominator who's more serious and designed to be more like an anime villain—the tone of the AU with dee at the head would have it be more generally serious and wander's presence brings in something a bit goofier (this is kinda what he does in the show anyway. like everyone takes things seriously and then wander doesn't and people learn from him)! so dee and sylvia are both more keen to use a bit of Violence to get through everything. though that's not to say there's No goofiness, of course there is i mean. when your main opponent is lord hater of course there is!!! dom's also a menace to him like wander is, just in a bit of a different way. they just normally show up and beat them and hater doesn't react well to that of course—his degradation as a villain still ends up happening

dee also builds her little bot friends, for both practical purposes and companionship purposes :) she still names them in numbers though, not out of lack of care she is just absolutely dogshit at naming, forgive her

anyway a reason i brought up the tone thing is that wander isn't necessarily revealed just in the 'season 2' of the AU. there's kind of a looming threat in the background contributing to that. it's gone by lots of different names in lots of different galaxies, but generally is referred to as The End of the Galaxy (or just The End for short!). as suggested by the name, loads of different galaxies have been destroyed in the past. kind of like a force of nature. survivors don't really seem to be sure what exactly it is, only that it's been called by a different name each time, and nobody could stop it before it was too late. and guess who that is!!!!!!!!!!

our silly little friend whom we love the best!!!!!!!

i REALLY REALLY love roleswaps that keep the characters' personalities as intact as possible and that's what i tried to do here!! this guy may be evil as hell, but he's still Wander. he loves friends and having fun and still has that cheery attitude! he almost seems completely harmless at first! and that is part of the Plot in my head is, actually. my first ever thoughts of that spurned the creation this AU were him being a seemingly completely innocuous recurring character throughout the first 'season' of the AU, just showing up at random times, being Wander, you know. all that stuff. with the main gang not really paying him any mind, calling him a 'wandering weirdo' (since he always disappears before they can actually ask what his name is...). and none of them recognize him as The End until he actually reveals himself.

but see, he's actually grown quite attached to them! through all his time following them around, he thinks oh...aren't these folks just lovely!! he truly actually sees him as his friends. and so to honor their wonderful nickname for him, and to pay homage to his dear buddy hater, he decided his name this time around would be Lord Wander! and he'd be a Professional Villain, so they could hang out even more!! isn't he just so nice!!!

and he just doesn't seem to play by the rules at all...while they're trying to fight him, he's giggling and dodging out of the way, hitting them with...pies? just generally bugs bunny-ing out on them? he spends his time messing with them, annoying them, all the same insisting he won't fight because it's Too Violent—you know, the guy who's Killing People. it frustrates them all and he has such fun Playing with them...except dee.

one of my favorite things in the show is how wander just straight up does not like dominator. so i felt it'd be funny to keep that. dee ignores him when he's being all zany like that and he HATES her for it. he won't say it Directly, but it's kinda clear in his attitude how much she annoys him. and with all his Evilness, this would not lead to good things.

another thing about the way He Is is his exemplified traits of the other characters. like how dom was more excitable than wander, tougher than sylvia, more evil than hater and smarter than peepers; lord wander i think would be more chaotic than dom, faster than sylvia, more obsessive than hater, and more strategic than peepers (spinel if you're reading this Thank You for those last two).

anddddd i also must mention his luck because that's Very interesting in this scenario...i do think he has some form of Natural Luck Magic, and he does still have his hat (there's lots i have in mind about the hat. but i won't get into it right now), but a non-insignificant portion of his luck in the show does come from the good karma he receives from helping others. meanwhile lord wander does lots of Bad Things. does he rack up bad karma? does he do good deeds when not Eviling Out in order to cancel it out? i had these same questions a year ago and honestly i am not sure which i want to go with. both are fascinating to me

i do think that unlike dominator he would be in some way redeemable. i don't have his entire methods and motivations mapped out yet, but it's hard to find a way where he just Wouldn't be redeemable. because he's wander. you know? unlike dominator being lonely being why she didn't just kill everyone, wander does genuinely see them as his friends. he's just got a really, REALLY fucked up way of showing it. i've even considered the idea that he doesn't Actually go out of his way to kill people and only destroys the planets, making sure there are survivors but Hmmmmm i don't know about that one. it's a tough balance trying to make sure he's an actual threat. but it is something i consider. him being like a natural disaster in a sense.

this ended up being very disjointed but iiiii needed to get my thoughts Properly out there. here's the twitter thread i made last year of my initial thoughts. i Do have More in my head but i'm not really sure how to get them down in a way that makes sense...i would love to talk more about it though (especially since i have not talked much about the others other than wander. sorry he is my favorite. but i do think about the others A Lot i just didn't know what things to talk about hegshgshhg) so if anyone wants to hear more insane ramblings👍👍👍tell me👍👍👍👍👍👍i'm not normal about it👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

[puppetmaster13u]

@f4nd0m-fun here (I hope they allow us to ask with secondary blogs soon)

Just how wild do you like your Batfam cryptids? I've got ideas for days.

One is a wing fic where all the bats essentially end up half demon. Thomas and Martha make a deal with Alfred to help fix the city and clean up the curses and everything, and. Alfred asks for 'the souls of your descendants' at the point, not caring much for humanity but hoping to get ahead of those pesky demons in his soul collection (so and so said he has Constantine's soul but that's only a piece! What about a bunch of souls that have been tainted by the spirit of a city that has never had reason to hope? Now those are some rare and dark souls).

The Waynes were hoping he'd take their souls instead but he refuses (maybe they're too full of hope or something) but, over time, he grows attached and ends up giving Bruce a shard of his power, allowing him to transform into a demonic winged form based on an animal for his protection after his parents die. When he's young the form is a snowy owl, but once he come back and became Batman his wings have changed. Each of the babies is the same way. As Robin, they gain their baby wings, but, once they move to a new name, their wings evolve.

'The Demon's Head' isn't just a fancy title, the Al'ghul's are demon descended, so Damien is at least a quarter demon even at the beginning, but Alfred's power can't be passed genetically like they thought, so he was born grounded. In this, he shows up sooner, Talkia asking Jason to take Damien with him to his father since she knows her father will kill him for being wingless.

Tim, poor baby. He couldn't fly as Robin because his wings were a shattered mimicry of Jason's Robin wings. He felt like he was in the shadow of the previous Robin, making the 'replacement' nickname sting even more, but, eventually, he grows into the wings of a cardinal and learns to fly.

I'm not sure if Alfred marks Barbara as his person, but if not, maybe he regrets not doing so, thinking that she might not have ended up paralyzed if he'd given her power. But also she's not really considered a 'Wayne descendant' life the kids Bruce adopted, so he'd have to directly make the deal with her. Maybe he does this with Stephanie when she comes along, still thinking about how Barbara might've been better off with a deal. Also, he keeps trying to hold off on gathering their souls because he's grown attached. I figure he'd probably end up wanting to turn them into proper demons too tho when they eventually die but, for now, until the city has been restored (if it ever will be), the Batfam is essentially immortal, and Alfred might be pulling some strings so no one realizes the Waynes are as well. As a side note, I debated Alfred x Lady Gotham for this story.

-

Then I had a dpxdc version of this where the wings were still demonic in origin but basically Scarecrow and Bruce are many many family lines removed cousins from an ancestor who was siblings with Jack Nightingale. On top of that, Danny had wings but they got charred when he was electrocuted. This one also has Clock x Pariah and they have wings due to something to do with ghosts, Danny gets a cloak made out of their feathers while his ghost side slowly grows its own wings (but he'll never have wings as a living again).

-----

Sorry for the long send, I got a bit carried away, but if you want I can dig up my AU again and share what I have for the wings at least, not sure what else I've got written down.

#colony of bats AU

Honestly I love both of these ideas, but what if they were say, combined.

Alfred gifts Bruce a shard of his power- everyone knows the Waynes have wings, even if in most cases too small to fly. But the wings are feathered, usually bright and flashy for the men who inherit the trait.

Which means they're very identifiable. But like you said, Alfred gets (ugh) attached to this little mortal. He's practically raised him and honestly thinks it's adorable watching him manipulate the other richfolk at galas into thinking he's such a "polite young man." Bruce is practically his baby!

So he gifts him a bit of his blood (which we know via Constantine can extend ones lifespan including giving them a bit of healing) and an itty bitty piece of his own power. Just enough for Bruce to be able to willingly call upon it. Just enough for him to disappear into shadows. Just enough for his eyes to gain a hint of an unholy glow. Just enough for a hint of claws. Just enough for feathered wings to shift into jagged mimicries of his own.

You know what could be an interesting thing? The wings are Realms in origin. We know the FentonNightingales separated into the Fentons and Nightingales some time after Jack, so whose to say that the Nightingales didn't get into magic. Perhaps they were given a gift to thank them after a bit of protection or assistance. And the infinite realms are well, infinite. It attaches to all worlds, including say the more demonic ones. But whose to say none of the Fentons made a deal or three in the generations following. They were witch hunters after all, perhaps they need something to keep up with the "traitors" of their bloodline.

Perhaps a deal which resulted in those matching wings.

Now, how could they find out their relation with the Fentons? While there could be the adoption route, what if instead it was right after Danny's accident.

He died screaming, visibly got electrocuted, his wings are torched, there's no way they're not taking him to the hospital. Which means things like blood tests, maybe even a donated organ or two because someone doesn't get blasted with that much electricity without consequences.

Which, it's the batfamily, they definitely have alarms set up for any sort of family pings for both themselves and their rogues. Just in case.

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

Also had no idea where to put it but if this includes demons and ghosts feeding on fear, or emotions in general, then Scarecrow could be instinctively attempting to feed and grow his wings. Also he deserves raven or rook wings. Maybe a jay's if you wanna go for color.

Oh my gosh, even if Alfred and Gotham don't get together, they definitely have tea together and spar. They're definitely co-parenting either platonically or romantically, it doesn't matter this is their specialist lil boy. Who then brings even more of the specialist lil ones ever!

God I love the implications of Clockwork and Pariah creating a cloak of wings for a ghostling for them to use as their feathers slowly grow back. Love what that implies for the culture of the ghost zone. Love the idea of it maybe having an influence on Danny's wings in ghost form since a ghost's appearance is influenced by their image about themself.

[srovtl]

(Pacifying the Raging Lands) Oz SR Card Story Translation

The beast similar to him - Episode 1

Chloe: Hahaha! That tickles, Ozwald!

Oz: ...Ozwald?

Chloe: Oh, Lord Oz! What a surprise...

Oz: You were just calling him Ozwald...

Chloe: This is Ozwald! He's so cool and dignified, isn't he?

Oz:.....Dog?

Chloe: Yep, I thought that the long black hair and beautiful red eyes looked like Lord Oz...

Chloe: I gave this child the fake name that Lord Oz used on a mission before.

Oz: You gave this my fake name...

Dog?: ……..

Oz: ………

Oz: 《Vox nox》

Chloe: What?!

Chloe: Wh-what's wrong?! You suddenly tied this dog up in the air...!

Chloe: U-um, Oz-sama. It looks scared, so please put it down...

Oz: Don't come near it.

Chloe: …….

Chloe: I-I'm sorry. Even though it was a fake name, I gave it Lord Oz's name without his permission, I'm sure I've made you feel unpleasant...

Chloe: But this child is innocent. If you're going to be angry, you should be angry with—.

Oz: I'm not angry.

Oz: And this isn't a dog.

Chloe: Eh?

Oz: Watch.

Chloe: (He threw a pebble at Ozwald's stomach...!?)

Dog?: Chop! Munch, munch...

Chloe: it stomach opened up and ate a rock!?

The beast similar to him - Episode 2

Chloe: L-lord Oz... This dog just ate a stone with its stomach, didn't it...?

Chloe: And it had a really big mouth with lots of really sharp fangs!

Oz: This is a beast that lives in the north. It looks like a dog, but it has a second mouth hidden in its stomach.

Oz: Its nature is vicious, and it's not a creature that plays with people.

Chloe: Oh……. Then, if I had continued playing with it, it might have bitten me.

Chloe: You saved me from a dangerous situation. Thank you, Lord Oz!

Chloe: I'm sorry I misunderstood you and thought you were angry.

Oz: Not a problem.

Chloe: Hehe. Lord Oz is really kind. ………But I see.

Oz: ……..

Chloe: I guess it's better not to play with this one anymore. I thought it'd grown attached to me, so it's a shame.

Oz: ……..

Oz: ...This beast is still a juvenile. Compared to an adult, its fangs are immature and it's a little docile.

Chloe: ? Uh, yeah.

Oz: As long as you don't harm it or scare it, it won't be as dangerous as an adult.

Oz: Besides, as long as I'm with you, we can deal with anything that happens.

Chloe: Does that mean... Now that you're here, I can play with it?

Oz: ...was I meddling in your affairs?

Chloe: Not at all! I'm so happy!

Oz: I've released the binding spell. Don't touch it's stomach carelessly.

Chloe: Yes! Thank you, Lord Oz!

Chloe: Good for you, Ozwald! You can play a little longer.

Chloe: There you go. Does Ozwald like to have his head stroked? How cute, Ozwald!

Oz: …….

Oz: ...I should have made him at least change it's name.

Nyanyan's Temptation - Card Episode

Akira: We all went to the Mount of crimson lotus the other day and it was fun! We saw a lot of animals too...

Akira: Was there any animal that made an impression on you, Oz?

Oz: ……….

Oz: Nyanyan.

Akira: Nyanyan!?

Oz: That's the name of the beast.

Akira: Oh, I see!: Nyanyan! What a great name!

Akira: (this took me by surprise. I thought Oz was imitating a cat's meow...)

Akira: What kind of animal is Nyanyan?

Oz: It's a cat-like creature with small antennae.

Oz: I thought you'd like it.

Akira : Wow, you thought about me when you answered. Thank you!

Akira: A cat-like animal with small antennae... I'd definitely like to see one.

Oz: If I see one in the future, I'll let you know about it.

Oz: But if that time ever came, don't touch it carelessly.

Akira: Eh? Is it a dangerous creature?

Oz: Nyanyan's tongue has sharp protrusions. It is much sharper than a cat's tongue.

Oz: If Nyanyan licks you, your hands will be covered in blood in an instant.

Akira: Wow, that much… Aaah, but it's a cat-like creature...

Akira: I'll be careful not to give in to Nyanyan's temptation…!

Homescreen voice line

Sage? What's wrong, you look so pale in the morning? Ah, the reason Mithra is lying there is because I beat him up earlier. He attacked me just before sunrise, but the sun rose while he was talking about his long-standing grudge... he gets stupid at the weirdest things.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY VARRIC TETHRAS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age: inquisition

who designs a place that takes this many keys to get inside?

look at all the shit that's happened to you.

this shit is ruining my boots.

you've got to be kidding me.

i really am in the ass-end of nowhere now.

i'll take your word for it.

have we reached the stage where we gossip about each other's love lives?

we'll talk later.

nothing's stopping us from going back up.

one of those things would be impossible. all of them together? that's a miracle.

there was nothing simple about it.

you think we could take a couple of these books back with us?

my guess is another earthquake... that hits when we're halfway across the bridge.

i've had to write some letters.

no tantalizing secrets to divulge?

considering the company, i'm surprised it didn't feel longer.

does anybody else smell that? seriously? just me?

we're done here, right?

just take care of yourself.

i tried to warn you.

so it was just you, alone in the vast wilderness?

so we're getting the band back together? that's exciting.

let's try not to poke around someone else's grave, all right?

that had to hurt!

are you blushing?

let's not talk about it.

something about this place gives me the creeps.

i have no idea why places like this exist.

are we sure this is a good idea?

just because two people dislike each other doesn't mean they're about to kiss.

let's talk about your dark and troubled past.

i can almost promise you trouble when you arrive.

great place to get crapped on by a bird.

sounds like you two would have made a happy couple.

well, that screams "up to no good."

that's the seventh root i've tripped over in the last ten minutes.

i'm providing a service.

back me up!

how about dalliances? liaisons? illicit affairs?

you don't want to talk about yourself. i can respect that. so what do we talk about, then?

i'd also like to avoid falling.

i could help, you know.

i make up for it elsewhere.

are you going to blame me for that, too?

well, no one would peg you as a spy.

what? no! why would you even ask that?

let's try not to get eaten, shall we?

good spot for it. i wouldn't look here for anything.

my money's on this being a trap.

i'll keep that in mind.

maybe the locals will lend us a boat.

some things never change.

too attached to hitting things with your fists?

well, you've got to give me something.

personally i think it's some kind of compensation thing.

anybody else vote that we never come here again?

all this fresh air is making me lightheaded.

you remind me of someone.

are you all right?

i got to ask, does any of this shit make sense to you?

i'm not sure what that even means.

of course i'm concerned! i don't need you prodding me with a stick to prove it.

i hate caves.

thank you for not torturing me. i'm so much happier now.

we'll have to find another way.

how do you like being described?

poor bastards.

be still my heart. i've grown on you.

whatever it does, it's probably ancient and invaluable.

so what do we expect to find here?

you're asking me?

i'm hoping if i ignore it, it'll go away.

there's a lot of work to do.

just what we needed.

i didn't specify whose ass, did i?

you want to get shit done, right?

have you been reading the inscriptions?

it's just... all that niceness.

the only thing they seem to have in common is a tendency to burn things.

so there's a rational explanation after all.

well... that's gruesome.

where's the sneaking? the plotting? the subtle machinations?

most people are like cats. they either puff up to look dangerous or they crouch down and hope you don't see them.

it generally helps to respect local traditions now and then.

i've heard some people actually enjoy walking in the wilderness.

anyone know the name of this river?

someone remembered to bring water, right?

it's... hard to explain.

if they're busy staring at your hat, they're ignoring all your other flaws.

beg your pardon? i didn't catch that.

hm... i don't want to bore people.

how could you possibly be a spy?

ooh, that's a tough one.

look, i have to complain, or you'll forget i'm even here and trip over me!

how are you holding up? you've been quiet for a while.

i don't know what you're complaining about. you're taller than i am.

if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. maybe even throw in a heroic death.

you doing all right? i heard you breathing a little hard after the last fight.

no, no... that was good.

i will try my best not to do the impossible.

no argument there.

you seem the type.

you think i get any fun hanging out with them?

well, what you do doesn't make sense.

it seems like you're not having the effect you could.

keep acting like a big shot and hope it sticks.

[minevn]

Is the MC genderlocked, gender selectable, or gender neutral?

I want all of my games to be very inclusive so I'll make it so you can pick your pronouns. In the demo I'll probably have some of the more basic pronouns like he/she/they that you can choose from but in the final game I want to have a system kind of like a mix of Our life now and forever and stnaf where you'll be able to type out your pronouns and have multiple and how often you'll be called those pronouns. I'm not the best at explaining so here's a sketch of how I want it to work

It still may be a bit complicated, there's definitely some things I need to work out. But I want the pronouns to be able to be typed out for neopronouns and then the percent sliders is the rate they'll call you the pronouns you typed :3

HOWEVER!! A lot of my stories I wanted to be novels/comics before I thought about turning them into games, so a lot of my stories have protags that aren't blank slate and have their own story, I have grown too attached to these protags and just don't feel like trying to find a way to fit them into the story, they were made to be protags so I'll keep it that way. But as I said earlier, I want all of my games to be inclusive, so I do plan on drawing masculine, feminine, and androgynous versions of the protags. You'll be able to change their names as well, it'll have the original oc's name but you can choose if you want to change it, kind of like in a lot of otome games. But yeah, my older stories won't have blank slate oc's, but I still want to make them as inclusive as possible. And I know I've talked about it before and you might've seen, but the mc of Mine is a blank slate mc. The only time I'll make an mc that isn't a blank slate now is when It's an rpg game, or a fake gameplay on YouTube, but Mine and any Vn I make after will have a blank slate.

[fezwearingjellybananas]

Answer the questions then tag 5 fanfic authors

Tagged by @kitkatt0430 thank you!

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

My friend sent me a e-mail with some Doctor Who/Sherlock crossover fics to read and they were fun and I already liked writing but was too nervous to actually share any of it, so it seemed like a good way to practise being less nervous because it didn't have to have my name attached to it or be connected back to me in real life

I am less nervous than when I first started, but I'm definitely still too nervous to share anything with my real name attached to it.

How many fandoms have you written in?

AO3 has 25 on my profile but some are connected (like the various dctv shows and several different comics that are all dc)

How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Ten! More or less, I don't have the very first stuff I put on ffn any more, but it's about 10

Do you read or write more fanfiction?

It probably varies from month to month depending on how inspired I am to write, but I think it might lean towards read, certainly at the minute

What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I may still be nervous often, but I have grown in confidence, which in turn does let me experiment with fics more- like using first person POV in the Barriscowest Sherlock Holmes AU, leaning more into horror with Nightmares, dipping my toes in the Eobarry sandbox, criticising the soulmate trope in Blank- without worrying too much about "this one is different will people like it" to actually sit down and write it, and I hesitate over the post button less.

What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I read an entire research paper on CFL quark matter for a throwaway line (and because I was curious) and I still understand literally nothing about CFL quark matter. I'm so glad I did chemistry not physics

What’s your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

All of them? I really love the ones where people pull out a line though, especially when it's a line I loved writing. And @goldheartedchaoticdisaster's Eobard insults, I love those so much

What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I guess I like playing around with rare pairs sometimes to see if I can make a story out of changing relationships around? There are a handful of ships where my fic is the first to use the tag, and there is still only one fic in the Tess Morgan/Tina McGee tag and I wrote it. The same is true of the Laurel Lance/Lily Stein tag only AO3 haven't listed it as a tag you can search for yet apparently, so that probably fits fringe

What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I think everything has its challenges but the hardest parts are always when the characters don't know what to do because putting myself in their spot is also going to mean I don't know what to do, but to get the plot rolling something's got to come next

What is the easiest type?

Short, dialogue heavy conversation fics. Or I assume these must be since that is often what I end up writing

Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

On my laptop, on my phone, in notebooks (though this is typically original writing, not fanfic), and typically mornings and evenings, but honestly whenever I've got a moment and an idea

What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

Original fiction. I've got the idea, I write little bits occasionally, but I know all my trouble writing that one stems from anxiety over what do I do when it's done. One day I'll write it though

What made you choose your username?

Doctor Who. I was panicking a lot and it was the first thing I could think of so I entered it into the box before I could chicken out yet again (Eleven has his "fezzes are cool" bit, the jelly is as in Jelly Babies, and the banana is from the Ninth Doctor)

Tagging @roboticnebula @ftl-faster-than-life @alittleflashvibe @annnesbonny and @spectralarchers if you would like to?

[goblinoid-wretch]

Luna, my scringlo, my favored failgirl, is currently fighting in the B2 Bracket of the @original-character-championship, so I figured I should start the propaganda storm. Here's her brother, Edge (please don't judge me I made both of the poor wretches on amino as a middle schooler and haven't had the heart to change the name or their designs cause I've grown too attached,) who will now attempt to endorse her.

[yes it's written in character as edge i am cringe but i am free]

[Transcript is in the alt text below the description of the image.]

Edge's List of Reasons why you should Vote for Luna:

She is my sister, and I like to believe myself to be a good person, which means she must be at least sorta ok.

In spite of how... prickly she is, she's a decent person once you get to know her.

She's pretty adept with knives and guns and the like, being an agent of A-B (so it could be dangerous to vote against her)

She works for A-B, essentially the god of our world, so she's like a champion chosen by the gods or something like that (probably shoulda mentioned this before the last point to give a bit of context)

Her girlfriend is pretty cool :) (Jess [her girlfriend] wrote that one in)

She is a wanted criminal (probably best to ignore this one)

She really kinda needs to win at something for once in her life, all things considered (shut up edge) (no :])

And those are all the reasons I can think of for now. Just... please vote for her? Maybe? Thanks.

-Edge

Luna's comments:

I SAID I DIDN'T NEED A RECOMMENDATION OF CHARACTER YOU ASS. YOU BETTER NOT POST THIS OR I'M SHAVING OFF THE STUPID BEARD-GOATEE-HAIR BULLSHIT ON YOUR CHIN YOU'RE SO PROUD OF.

[original-character-championship]

shoot idk how this works so I made a post beforehand thinking I had to submit the link but seems like that isn't the case so I'll repost here

_______________________________________________

Luna, my scringlo, my favored failgirl, is currently preparing to enter the B2 Bracket of the @original-character-championship, so I figured I should start the propaganda storm early. Here's her brother, Edge (please don't judge me I made both of the poor wretches on amino as a middle schooler and haven't had the heart to change the name or their designs cause I've grown too attached,) who will now attempt to endorse her.

[yes it's written in character as edge i am cringe but i am free]

[Transcript is in the alt text below the description of the image.]

Edge's List of Reasons why you should Vote for Luna:

She is my sister, and I like to believe myself to be a good person, which means she must be at least sorta ok.

In spite of how... prickly she is, she's a decent person once you get to know her.

She's pretty adept with knives and guns and the like, being an agent of A-B (so it could be dangerous to vote against her)

She works for A-B, essentially the god of our world, so she's like a champion chosen by the gods or something like that (probably shoulda mentioned this before the last point to give a bit of context)

Her girlfriend is pretty cool :) (Jess [her girlfriend] wrote that one in)

She is a wanted criminal (probably best to ignore this one)

She really kinda needs to win at something for once in her life, all things considered (shut up edge) (no :])

And those are all the reasons I can think of for now. Just... please vote for her? Maybe? Thanks.

-Edge

Luna's comments:

I SAID I DIDN'T NEED A RECOMMENDATION OF CHARACTER YOU ASS. YOU BETTER NOT POST THIS OR I'M SHAVING OFF THE STUPID BEARD-GOATEE-HAIR BULLSHIT ON YOUR CHIN YOU'RE SO PROUD OF.

[breninarthur]

Thanks so much for the tag on the WIP meme, hopefully I'll get to play later!

For now, I'd love to hear about When Darkness Comes from your DA list, and Shadows from your original work list.

Thank you!

Of course! No pressure if you don't, but please tag me if you do 🥰

Ahh when darkness comes is my Dragon Age: Origins novelisation! I really loved the idea of writing a mostly canon-compliant fic and writing all the decisions I made in-game. I try to write it in a way that people who've never played it would be able to enjoy as well, and get some context for Origins if they're not planning on playing. But I don't know how many people like that would actually read it 😂

The main character is Kallian Tabris, and I've become so attached to her! She's a city elf who starts off a little scared, a little snippy; but grows and develops into a fearsome leader (who romances Alistair and has the best dog in the world 🥰). She's a warrior who eventually becomes a champion and berserker! Her main themes are self-sacrifice and martyrdom, anger and revenge and whether or not she'll let it consume her, homesickness and longing (hiraeth in Welsh), and of course, found family. And really, when darkness comes has become much more her story than anything else.

Shadows is my original work that I first started writing when I was nine-years-old! It's obviously changed so much since then, but the barest of bones have remained the same. Namely, that the three main characters each have elemental magic, and they're on a quest to find a group of people thought to be dead so they can defeat the Big Bad. At least, that's the first book. It's a fantasy set in a more Iron Age type of setting than a medieval one, and borrows a lot from Welsh, Irish, Scottish, Cornish, Breton, and Manx mythologies and folklore.

The main character, Teifi, is... extremely similar to Kallian 😂 In ways I didn't even realise! She also has themes of hiraeth and found family, as well as anger and revenge. But the latter is dialed up to a hundred, and is her absolute driving force, especially as the story goes on. There are differences too, of course. They both long for their old lives and families, but where Kallian can't return because her responsibilities won't let her, Teifi can't return because her village was destroyed and her family is missing. They both have a found family, but for Teifi it becomes her only family. Kallian wants revenge on Loghain for everything he did, but Teifi experiences a lot more loss because of the antagonist in her story, so there's much more grief, and she takes it all more personally. Really, by the end, I think she'll be wild with it.

Here's an unedited little excerpt from Shadows :)

The creature led her into ever-narrowing gaps between the trees, until it stopped without warning, and she nearly stumbled straight into it.

“Wyddgi…” she panted, barely intelligible to her own ears, her breath ripping its way out of her. “Give it back.”

It just looked at her, its eyes dancing with mirth, teeth clamped around the worn leather parcel.

“Ah, Teifi er Nant, how you’ve grown,” it chuckled, voice barely stifled by its steal. “But we are barely a quarter of a league out from your front door. My pace was not that punishing, was it?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said through gritted teeth, pulling her sling off her shoulder; a clear threat.

With a swish of its sleek tail, Wyddgi laughed. “It’s getting dark, don’t you think?”

It wasn’t wrong. Winter light faded fast, and the woods she’d chased it into were dense and hid the sun as best they could. A shiver ran through her. The last time Wyddgi bothered her family, it had taken hours for it to get bored. 

“You’re horrible, you know that?” she said, unbuttoning the rock in her sling. The pwca didn’t seem at all bothered when she started to swing it around over her head. Probably because it knew she wouldn’t ever let the rock fly.

“Come now, Teifi. The night won’t hurt you,” Wyddgi mocked. Without breaking eye contact, it placed the parcel gently on the ground. “Not yet.”

Teifi blinked, furrowing her brow. “What?”

But Wyddgi had already darted off into the shadows.

Thank you so much for asking!! 💖

[wip title ask game]

[pizzahatt1]

My WG Pizzahatt1. Yes, really. This is why you shouldn’t ask your 10-year-old cousin for name suggestions.

[the-travelling-witch]

Hey Holly!

So, I've been thinking deep, long and hard about this (tehehe that sounded dirty :3) and I've finally found a nice prompt I wish to make a request on...so get your pot brewing cause its angst time.

How about some Childe x harbinger! fem! reader where they both have been in a relationship for a while now…and have grown extremely close since then doing missions and assassinations together etc. And everyone knows them as a power couple/force to be reconned with. However, as you know Childe/Ajax is a family man and after a little night of unsafe 'dirties' reader becomes pregnant and they are both super excited (if you feel uncomfortable with pregnancy you can just change it to them planning to getting married or something its fine) butttt...then they get sent off on a mission together to fight a powerful enemy that is giving big trouble...but unfortunately it was too much for even them and though they win the battle they lose the war (they basically got the badguys but got fatally wounded throughout this)

And its in their last moments together that they reminisce about the good times, remind each other of their love and think about what could've been... I mean if you wanna let them survive too that's cool..but just make sad regardless okay🙂

Thanks Holly❤

*skips out the cafe*

Cookie Customer🍪

What could´ve been

summary: you and childe are living the harbinger life, secretly dating behind the scenes; when a new member joins your little family, how will your life change?

pairing: childe x fem!harbinger!reader

warnings: fluff to angst, major character death, child death, pregnancy, allusion to doing the dirty but noting explicit (therefore suggestive), (mentions of) murder, mentions of maiming/ losing limbs, cursing, long fic (~11.6k)

a/n: cookie, i don´t think you know how much brain rot you gave me with this but you can guess with how much i drifted off; i changed the ending a little bit, i hope you don´t mind; i understand there´s been a lot of focus on the fatui recently bc of the new trailer but i wrote this before we got the news, if you wanna learn more about my progress, you can find a post here; thank you to my best friend and @mari-on-dragonspine for reading this and enduring my breakdowns <3 lastly, i don´t normally ask for this but i invested a lot of time into this, so if you like the fic, please consider reblogging, commenting, leaving an ask or sharing this with others, it would mean the world to me ♡

genshin impact masterlist

“I think I fell madly in love with you the first time we met.”

“The first time we met, I tried to kill you.”

“I know and it was attractive as hell.”

“I worry about you sometimes, Childe.” The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the kitchen and into the rest of the house as the first rays of the sun filtered through the curtains.

“Aww, what's with the name, babe? We're not at work yet,” he whined groggily. Joining you at the kitchen counter, he pressed his chest against your back and buried his nose in your hair. His hands seemed to have found a life of their own as they stroked and squeezed along every part of you they could get a hold of, here and there dipping under the shirt that was actually his. His voice came out muffled as his lips attached themselves to your neck, making it even harder to understand him. “So, don't call me that, yeah? I'm just Ajax while we're at home.”

“Right now, you're just a big baby,” you teased as your hand came up to run through his messy ginger strands before pressing a steaming mug into his hands. “Come on, you'll have to get going or you'll be late.”

“Do I have to?” At the affectionately stern call of his name, Childe slowly detached himself from you. “Fine. But it's really not fair that you get to go later than me.”

“Bring back a gnosis and you might be able to sleep in as well.” You chuckled at the imprecations the ginger directed towards your fellow harbinger under his breath while he pulled out a pan, two plates and some ingredients for breakfast. Now it was your turn to hug your pouty lover around the waist while nuzzling your cheek into the defined muscles of his back. “Don't be like that, honey. I also wish we could have more time together but for now, I'm just happy we even get to spend the morning with each other. Being away from you for so long was really the worst.”

“How can I not agree with you when you're so cute first thing in the morning, hmm?” You felt his laughter just as much as you heard it, the movement of his arms over the pan adding to the sensation. “What do we say to eggs and bacon to start the day? I think we still have some vatrushka buns as a little treat as well.”

“Sounds amazing,” you yawned into his back.

“Hey now, no going back to sleep,” he teased. “If you helped, we'd be done faster, you know.”

“But this is nice, I think I'll stay like this a little longer,” you said, digging your fingers into his ribs, causing Childe to jolt up slightly.

“This is not helping!”

Eventually, you decided to lend a hand and soon after you two got to enjoy a scrumptious breakfast as you soaked up each other's presence, hands intertwined and feet tangled underneath the table. In the early morning light, his ocean eyes sparkled the way they usually only did during an intense battle. And just like always, it was way too easy for you to lose yourself in their depths but reality pulled you to the surface again.

“Thank you for cooking, darling, it was delicious.” As you stood up and gathered the dishes, you pressed a lingering kiss to his temple. Before he could even make a move to help you, you shushed him. “I've got this. Go and get ready. You really shouldn't keep Her Majesty waiting.”

When Childe reappeared in the kitchen door, he was dressed in his trademark grey outfit, harbinger mask settled at the side of his head as he wrapped the striking red scarf around his neck. Stepping close to him, you let him pull you in by the waist as you worked on the buttons of the thick fur coat he threw on.

“What's your schedule for today? I'll be working with some new recruits and they'd better do well. For their own sake.” His thumb traced along the features of your face as if he wanted to commit every last detail to memory.

“I'm sure they'll do fine,” you hummed as you leaned into his touch. “I'll be out collecting some debts. If everyone behaves, I might make it back to Zapolyarny Palace for lunch.”

“I'm looking forward to that,” he hummed before cupping your face and leaning down to meet you halfway. Neither of you wanted to pull away, your hands snaking around his neck keeping him in place as you tilted your head to gain better access to his lips. A groan escaped him as Childe tugged you impossibly closer, your chest flush against the soft material of his clothes. You knew he might not ever leave the house if you didn't stop him, so you pulled back only for his lips to chase yours.

“Ajax, you really should go now,” you giggled. “I'll come meet you once I'm done, I promise.”

There was a smug grin on his face at your statement. “Well, you promised it, can't go back on your word now. Be safe, yeah?”

“Will be. Same goes for you, too.”

He hummed affirmatively before swooping down to place another quick peck on the crown of your head. A cold breeze swept through the entryway of your house as the front door opened and Childe stepped into the snowy landscapes of Snezhnaya. After the door shut, you stood and watched his silhouette grow smaller in the distance before making your way to the bathroom.

Going through your morning routine, you washed up and then moved into your dressing room where your work clothes were already waiting for you. The material was familiar against your skin as you pulled piece after piece on, giving you a sense of comfort and normality. You added a multitude of different accessories to complete the harbinger look and scrutinised your appearance again in the mirror. If there was something you had learned from your time working under the Tsaritsa, then it was the importance of appearances. A harbinger who didn't look the part was much less likely to be taken seriously, by both enemies and allies alike.

When everything sat as it should, you opened the topmost drawer of your vanity and carefully lifted the elegant mask out of its designated case. During a confrontation, it would cover the upper half of your face, leaving your mouth and cheeks bare, but for now, it only served as a special accessory.

Last but not least, you attached the teal vision that almost felt as if it was floating before grabbing your Tsaritsa-given delusion. In contrast to the power bestowed upon you by the gods, it felt cold against your skin but didn't chill you to the bone like it used to.

After pulling on your boots and grey coat, you braced yourself for the frosty temperatures you had learned to endure and started trekking through the snow-covered paths. It was hard to discern anything due to the thick white blanket covering everything the eye could see and you'd no doubt go blind if the sun broke through the dark grey sky. Perfect for an ambush on the unassuming.

“My Lady!” The voice of one of your subordinates rang through the silence of the morning as they appeared before you, their black uniforms standing out against the background as they knelt before you. “All targets have been sighted. We can proceed with the mission as planned.”

“Good. Let's get going then.”

Most of the people owing money to the Fatui complied rather easily with your demands or jumped at the deals you offered them to clear themselves of their debt. Having a Harbinger personally show up on your doorstep was a well-known sign the time for fun and games was over and that resistance would cost you more than any kind of deal ever could. But, as always, there had to be an exception.

You came to a halt on a hilltop outside of a run-down town, the black fur of your coat’s neckline tickling your nose when a gust of wind swept over the ice as you scanned over the info on the last debtor for this day. He had loaned a hefty sum from the Fatui but also from other organisations, all of which he had yet to repay.

“This is going to be fun,” you mumbled under your breath as you handed the files back to an agent. “We'll proceed as usual. Stay back until the target shows signs of resistance.”

“Yes, my lady!”

The snow-mudded streets were empty and if it weren't for the shadows moving behind the windows of the crooked houses, one could've mistaken it for an abandoned ghost town. Whenever you caught the eye of someone through the dirty glass, they averted them with ill-disguised fear.

With confident strides and your head held high, you pushed open the door to a shabby bar while your subordinates melted into the surroundings outside. The falling snowflakes from outside were replaced by dust swirling through the dimly lit room. The floorboards groaned under your heels. Drawn by the noise, a sleazy and haggard man appeared behind the bar.

“Yeah, yeah what do you want-!” His tone and facial expression immediately changed as he took in your appearance but not in the regretful way people normally look at the Harbingers. A disgusting grin spread over his face as he rubbed his hands together. “Oh, my apologies, young lady. What can I get you, dear?”

“I'd like a drink, please.” You put on your most honeyed voice and an easy smile as you slowly approached the counter. Oh, you were going to have fun with him. “A drink worth 800 000 Mora, to be exact.”

“800 000 Mora?!” The guy spluttered. “You must be joking! A- a drink worth this much-“

“I don't jest about matters of this magnitude. Well, if you can't make me a drink, there's something else you could do for me. Certainly, this figure rings a bell.” Your smile grew just a little too friendly as you cocked your head to the side as the fool blankly stared at you. “No? What a shame. But since I'm not interested in wasting my valuable time any longer, let's cut to the chase: I'm here to collect a debt.”

“Collect a debt?” His eyebrows knitted together before he slammed his hands down on the countertop. “Did that bastard Igor send you? Thought a little eye candy would loosen my pockets, huh? Well, you can tell him—”

“Unfortunately for you, I wasn't sent here by Igor. Oh well, since you clearly have no idea who I am, I'll be so generous as to enlighten you.” As the cold from outside seeped into your voice, the shadows on the wall started to move, your subordinates manifesting behind you. “I'm Columbina, Second of the Fatui Harbingers. I'm here on behalf of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, to settle a debt amounting to 800 000 Mora. Without calculating interest.”

His face fell as those words left your lips and he rounded the bar faster than you could say Mora. Throwing himself at your feet, he grabbed at the hem of your coat as he finally showed some remorse. “Please, Lady Harbinger! I didn't know! Please forgive this fool for speaking out of term!”

“Is that all you're apologising for?” Looking down on him from above you studied his already tear-swollen eyes as you ripped the cloth out of his grasp. “Besides, it'll take more than a pitiful apology to absolve you of your misconduct against Her Majesty. After all, going against the Fatui means going against the will of the Tsaritsa herself, you understand that right?”

At his shaky nod, you continued.

“Good. Now that we've established that,” you said, drawing an elegant sword and pressing the dangerously gleaming edge against the side of his neck, “I wonder how our Archon would proceed with someone who dared disrespect an agreement with her?”

“Please, gracious Lady Harbinger, spare my life!” His trembling caused his skin to slide against the steady hold of your blade causing the first crimson drops to run down the polished surface.

“And why would I do that? Give me a convincing reason.”

“I'll pay back the whole debt!” This was the loudest his voice had been since the reveal of your identity, yet, you could see the panic in his eyes as his gaze caught yours, one eyebrow raised as you scrutinised him. “W-With interest of course!”

“Hmm, you sound confident, so I'll believe you for now.” Sheathing your blade again, you motioned for your subordinates to leave. As you reached the door, you looked back over your shoulder at the fool's ashy-grey face again. “Well, then, I'll be back for a drink soon.”

And with that, the door shut with a bang. You exhaled deeply as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Debt collecting was usually not something you enjoyed as most people who loaned money from the Fatui were desperate enough to grasp at the last straws. But sometimes… sometimes seeing a douche like him on his knees in front of you gave you a certain kind of kick.

“Hihihi, Lady Columbina~” Two of your highest right-hand mages, Elaira and Alina,  approached you, the blue and violet ears on their hoods bobbing with their giggles. “It's not often you're so cold with your targets. What prompted this?”

“People need to be reminded once in a while who they're dealing with. Besides, don't you think he deserved it more than any of the others we visited today?”

“Oh, we absolutely agree, Lady Columbina,” the electro mage said in a sing-song voice. “It's always fun to see you so commanding, it really gets me going. You should do it more, it suits you.”

“It's always the same with you two,” you sighed as they erupted in another fit of giggles. “Come on, let's report back to Zapolyarny Palace. I'd rather not waste any more time in this run-down town.”

“You got it, my Lady!”

Stepping into Zapolyarny Palace was like taking a bath in a Snezhnayan lake, the sub-zero temperatures from outside seemed to plummet even further as you crossed into Her Majesty's sovereign territory. The guards at the enormous entry gate saluted as you and your entourage passed before the heavy doors shut again with a deep thud. As the clacking of your heels echoed off the icy walls, every agent you came across halted in their way and stood at attention, even if you didn't spare them so much as a glance.

Signalling for the guards to grant you entry, you held your head high and looked straight ahead, all emotion drained from your features as the high-arching doors slowly swung open. There, on a throne in front of a stained-glass window, sat one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen, the slit in her shiny blue dress revealing the marble-smooth skin of her crossed legs. The crystals in her crown reflected the light like polished icicles and her long snow-white hair moved barely at all as she tilted her head resting on a perfectly manicured hand. Yet, as you levelled your gaze with hers, there was nothing but frost and coldness between you, the mere metres to the base of the throne felt like a tundra worth of distance.

“Your Majesty, we come bearing the reports of this morning's debt collecting,” one of the Cicin mages said as they stepped out in front of you before kneeling like your other subordinates. “We think your Majesty will be very pleased.”

One of the soldiers next to the throne took the papers, then resumed his position and stood still as a statue. With a lift of your fingers, you motion for your leave, never once breaking eye contact with your Archon. The heavy drape of your cloak swept over the threshold of the courtroom and with that the doors shut.

“Ugh! How do you do it, my Lady? What is your secret?” The Elaira lamented as you reached your wing within the palace. Everyone within these corridors was one of your subordinates or one of a fellow Harbinger whose business collided with yours. “I really don't understand how you can look her in the eyes for so long! I'd freeze on the spot!”

“Hmm, I suppose you get used to the cold eventually”, you answered nonchalantly. “Now, to more important matters: lunch?”

As she opened her mouth to speak an agent called for your attention. “My Lady, Lord Tartaglia has requested an audience. He is waiting in your study.”

“Very well.” You turned to the two women. “You go on without me. I will meet you at the training grounds as scheduled.”

“Of course, my lady. Enjoy your lunch~”, the two giggled as they vanished with a wink.

“They'll be the death of me,” you sighed as you crossed the room, shrugging off your coat before slumping into your cushioned chair, your fingers finding their way to the familiar spot on the bridge of your nose.

“You've always been exceptionally fond of them though.” The ginger across from you remarked as he linked his arms behind his head and stretched out his long legs.

“Unfortunately for my nerves, you're right.” With a softer tone, you added “They're a lively bunch; reminds me that not everything in this place is emotionally dead.”

“What about me then?” Childe smirked as he leaned his elbows on your desk. “Am I emotionally dead too?”

“Nah, you're alright.” Your eyes twinkled as they locked with his as your boyfriend placed two containers of homemade lunch on the table. Much better than the cafeteria food especially considering who prepared it. “So, how're the recruits?”

“They're not half-bad,” Childe said between bites. “Well, if you compare them to freshly born bunnies at least. How's Her Majesty?”

“Peachy. What's on the agenda for this afternoon?”

“Just running some errands. I saw you're in for a bit of fun with some newbies too.”

“Don't remind me. As if dealing with them wasn't enough already.” Pointing your fork at him, you swallowed. “Forget the rookies, they're adorably fresh-faced compared to those nuisances. They've been here for a while, they've gone through frigid training. They're not new but they're also not experienced enough. They're itching for a chance to prove themselves without ever having had to face any real consequences. They fancy themselves capable agents already, they have a grandiose sense of self and worst of all, they're the most likely to act out against authority. It's always the same.”

“Every kid needs to eat their vegetables some day and who better to teach them a lesson than dear old mom?” Childe smugly said, leaning back in his chair again. The way you saw it, he was enjoying himself a little too much on your behalf.

“Is it too late to give them up for adoption? I'm sure Dottore or Pantalone would love to ingrain some manners into them.”

“But then we'd also be a couple of soldiers short of what we started with.”

“That's true,” you conceded. “Let's pray they'll choose a Harbinger other than me to bother.”

The remaining lunch break was spent not talking about work. Instead, you started daydreaming about possible home renovations, what to make for dinner or where to go on your day off. When the clock chimed to get back to work, you almost didn't want to leave the comfortable couch or the warm embrace you found yourself in. But alas, you had a job to do.

“I'll see you this evening then. Stay safe, yeah?” You leant up for a kiss as you straightened his uniform. His palms were pleasantly warm as they cupped your cheeks and he pulled you oh so close to him. As your lips connected, all coldness left your bones and made room for the feeling of home, so familiar and safe, it had you immediately smiling into the kiss. Never in your life had you wanted to be anywhere so badly as with him, so you only parted from him reluctantly when there were three mismatched knocks on your door. Childe fastened the cloak around your neck before booping your nose with a playful wink.

“My Lady, we know this meeting must be of utmost importance but there are recruits to be taught,” Alina's sing-song voice called out to you.

Walking side by side with your subordinates trailing behind you, you made for the main hall of the palace where you stopped in front of one another, all previous warmth erased from either expression.

“Tartaglia.” You offered a court nod which the man in question promptly returned.

“Columbina. I thank you for the most insightful meeting.” And with that, both of you turned on your heels and marched off in opposing directions.

You could feel your retainers' gazes bore into you as they practically skipped behind you but you shushed them before they could open their mouths which only earned you a giggle in return. Even though you didn't explicitly tell them about your relationship with your fellow Harbinger, they had picked up on the shift in atmosphere rather quickly. Despite their somewhat ditsy appearance both of them were a lot sharper than people gave them credit for, which really shouldn't come as a surprise considering you chose them as your closest associates. Around the last corner to the training grounds, you signalled for them to stop.

“Out of all the Harbingers, did we really have to get Columbina?” It was the voice of a young man, decent with a sword, terrible with a bow and even worse with a polearm.

“Shush! Do you have a death wish?!” A female recruit, all-rounder, humble, not a troublemaker. “Besides, she is the second of the Harbingers, I'd be honoured to serve under her later. Unlike others, she actually treats us like people.”

“Oh, come on. I'm sure she's the weakest one of the bunch.” Next to you, the sound of electricity crackling could be heard while the temperature was rapidly falling, yet, you held up your hand to hold your retainers back. “Like, that vision has to be a fake, I've never seen her use it even once. She's probably just a fraud or something. What could we learn from someone like that?”

“Stop it! I won't let you talk ill-“

“No, no. Let him finish, it's an interesting take.” Your voice rang out as your eyes flicked over the man rooted in his spot. “Go on, you were so confident about it just a moment ago. Or better yet, want to put your theory to the test?”

“N-No, my Lady, I-“

“Don't be shy now. We're all here to learn after all.” You strode past him to the centre of the open-air arena, your tone leaving no room for argument. “Pick a weapon of your choice.”

When he went to grab a wooden practice sword, you clicked your tongue and motioned to the sharpened weapons. The sword's rack clattered from the tremble in his hands as he lifted a blade from its holder, then turned his head toward you.

“I won't be needing one. We want to keep this nice and fair, yes?” Cocking your head to the side, your smile was a bit too thinly stretched to be comforting as you patiently waited for him to come closer. “This is your chance to show everyone how weak I am. I'll be generous and say that you'll win if you last 20 seconds after initiating the battle. If you manage to land a blow on me, I'll step down from my position as Harbinger. If you lose, however, you'll face the consequences of disrespecting one of the Tsaritsa's hand-picked elite. Sound fair?”

Among the other recruits watching with curious interest, a chorus of shocked whispers filled the afternoon air. Meanwhile, the two mages looking on inspected their nails or stifled a yawn.

“You'll really step down from being a Harbinger if I hit you?” Placing your hand over your heart, you nodded. “With all due respect, my Lady, aren't you being a bit too cocky right now? There's no way…”

“Why don't you cut the chit-chat and find out?” You crooked your fingers with a smirk. “You won't win by just standing there.”

With that, he charged at you like a bull chasing a red cloth, completely blinded by the prospect of winning. You really had to applaud his optimism, though it did nothing to save him from your foot hitting his fist the second he came within reach and sending the sword high up in the air. Delivering a forceful kick to his stomach, you send him staggering backwards before knocking him on the ground by hitting him over the head with the sword handle you just closed your fingers around.

As the blood running from his temple started soaking the floor, you accidentally stepped onto his hand which gave a sickening crunch in return, then you pressed the sword into his neck. Now, where had you seen this before?

“I believe I have won. Or should I grant you a revanche?” At the frantic shaking of his head, you hummed. “You're right, it's not what we agreed upon. Rules are rules after all. As for the stakes we established…I'm a firm believer that you should learn from every lesson, so today I'll teach you how to properly address a Harbinger. All of you should pay special attention now.”

“First of all, kneel unless I tell you otherwise.” You watched as he heaved himself onto one knee, swaying side to side due to the impact of the metal. “And be quick about it. Other Harbingers aren't as lenient as I am. Keep your head down and only speak when you're spoken to, it might save your life or at least a limb. Next up, with all due respect, which is none, do you really think your tone of voice was appropriate when directed towards me?”

“N-No, my Lady.” His voice was shaking as badly as his legs, tears and snot were already covering the part of his face you could see.

“We agree on something then, which means we can move on to the final question for today.” You pressed the sword against his pulse again. “Do you still think my vision is a bluff? If so, I'd be delighted to prove you wrong.”

The air around the training ground crackled with pure power as the winds around the arena picked up speed, harshly tugging at the recruits' clothes and causing them to stagger. Murmurs and shocked gasps could be heard as the others shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Perhaps there really was something akin to comradery amongst them. As the one to your feet opened his mouth, his answer was drowned out by the howling squalls which shook the landscape.

“Do you want to know why I never use my vision?” Without waiting for an answer this time, you leant down close to his ear. “It's because I don't need to.”

You tilted your head and pressed the sharp edge deeper into his skin as you took in his panic-stricken face. Then you lifted the sword above your head and swiftly brought it down. Turning towards the others you made brief eye contact before coming to stand next to your retainers.

“For today's training session, we'll practise disarming your opponent. Everyone pair up in teams of two, one will attack while the other tries to knock their sword right out of their hands.” For a couple of seconds, nobody moved before they bustled about. “Oh yes, someone please pull the sword from the ground and bring your comrade to see a healer. Today, if it's possible.”

An appreciative whistle came from the shadows next to you. “Quite the show, Columbina. A rare treat indeed.”

“Capitano, to what do I owe the pleasure of you following my lessons? Hoping to learn a thing or two?” Your voice was devoid of the boiling heat in your blood upon the arrival of your fellow Harbinger, resembling much more the ice that surrounded you all.

“I like this side of you, it's very entertaining.” He laughed as he patted a heavy hand on your shoulder and you fought hard not to slice it clean off right then and there. “Still, I can't believe you let him walk away with his head on his shoulders. How fortunate for him.”

“I've found people learn more from their mistakes with their heads still attached. Besides, he wasn't doing a lot of walking. Weak knees that one.” The mages barely concealed their interest in your conversation as you side-eyed the man. “Will that be all then? The show is over for today.”

“Oh yes, that will be all. But please inform me next time you put it back on, yeah?” You didn't acknowledge his leave as you closely watched the movement of the men and women in front of you.

The rest of the day went by without any further occurrences and soon enough you rolled your shoulders after bidding Elaira and Alina goodbye. Your thoughts were invaded by the images of a warm bath and cosy snuggles with your boyfriend, making your desire to go home even stronger.

So, you were surprised and somewhat disappointed when you came home to an empty house, the lights shut off and the rooms awfully quiet as you kicked off your shoes and hung your coat. Normally “running errands” shouldn't take Childe that long. Seems like this day was troublesome not only for you. You might as well get started on dinner then.

Yet, you only managed to chop half of the vegetables before the silence was broken by a key turning in the lock as a deep groan, heavy footsteps and the distinctive thud of a body hitting the couch followed.

“Welcome home, honey. How was work?“ The answer came in form of a muffled groan. “Shoes off.” Two smaller thuds.

With a warm smile, you followed him into the living room, placing the knife on the couch table. You squeezed next to him, sitting at the edge, running your hand through his ginger strands, carefully detangling the red mask and discarding it next to the knife. As your fingers ran over his scalp, Childe let out a blissed sigh, shifting to get more comfortable.

Moving your hands further down, you peeled off his grey uniform jacket, revealing the crimson red shirt underneath. Trailing your touch over the planes of defined muscle, you pressed down where most of his stiffened areas sat. This time he audibly moaned.

“Feel good, hm?”, you teased.

“Yeah, you're so good to me, baby,” Childe sighed. “Keep going, please.”

“Later. I'll make dinner and then we'll take a nice long bath together, sound good?” You planted a soft peck against the side of his head. “Just be a little more patient for me.”

As you stood against the counter again, you grabbed for the knife only to find it still laying on the coffee table. “Ajax, dear, could you hand me the knife please?” Your hand shot up to catch the handle right before the blade could pierce your skin. “Thank you.”

“Would you please start catching them a few seconds earlier? One of these days it's actually going to hit you, you know.” His voice sounded closer now, his spot on the couch abandoned in favour of leaning in the doorway.

“As if,” you snorted. “You can't even get a hit in when you're actually trying, so I'll be fine.”

“That's just because you're such a small target,” he whined.

“Maybe you should use those long arms of yours, then, to land a blow,” you mused, winking at him over his shoulder before returning your attention to the poor cucumber on your cutting board.

“You mean like this?” The knife clattered onto the counter as Childe wrapped his arms around you from behind and spun you around, merrily laughing at your surprised squeal. “Caught you, I'm not gonna let you go again now.”

“Ajax! Let me down, I still need to prepare dinner!” Your sentence came out stuttered between your laughter as you half-heartedly thrashed in his hold. His only response was to hoist you up into carrying bridal style.

“I'll help you later. For now, I want all your attention to myself.” There was no hint of exhaustion as he marched straight towards the bath and set you down on the sink, coming to stand between your legs. “I know we don't talk about work at home but I heard about what you did today and I gotta say, that was attractive as hell.”

He didn't even give you the chance to respond, before his mouth was on yours, his hands greedily pulling you closer. The kisses you shared throughout the day had been sweet and playful but there was nothing of that innocence to be found now. Instead, his tongue swiped over your bottom lip with fervent hunger before tangling with yours. Gripping the countertop with one hand as your other arm lazily draped over his shoulder, you felt him cup the back of your head in his palm, the material of the gloves he hadn't bothered to take off massaging against your scalp.

“Ajax,” you breathed out as his lips started mapping out the expanse of your jaw, down your neck and to your collarbones, using the hand in your hair to angle your head to give him better access. “Don't leave any marks on my neck, I can't cover them up well enough.”

“So, everywhere else is fair game?” You didn't miss the hint of mischief in his voice right before his teeth nipped at your shoulder before soothing the spot with a tender kiss. It earned him a light tap on his biceps but when he straightened back up again to level his gaze with yours, he found nothing but mirth, warmth and love swirling in your eyes. Smoothing his hands up your thighs, he wrapped one of your legs around his waist and pressed you tightly against him when you crossed your ankles behind his back, his long fingers covering most of the small of your back. “A bath sounds really good now, don't you think? It's a good thing, too, that you can sleep in longer in the morning. You might be a little tired after such a long day.”

And Childe was right. You were so sore the next morning the smug idiot carried you to the kitchen to “make up for being the one responsible”. Over the next weeks, going to work later turned from blessing to necessity as you were more often than not hit with nausea after waking up. This was enough to tip you off but the final nail in the coffin was your period. Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. 

You knew you needed to tell Childe but something made you hesitate. It wasn't that you were scared of his reaction, everybody knew he was a family man and he often flooded your mind with the thoughts of starting your own family. It was the situation you were in that made your jaw clench. And telling Childe would make all of it become a reality.

Keeping the baby would mean you'd have to desert the Fatui and secretly at that. A Harbinger couldn't have any major responsibilities towards anything but the job and a child would be an unacceptable burden you'd need to get rid of if others were to find out. You were weapons, chess pieces in someone else's game, bound by an oath. In that way, Archons and Harbingers weren't so different.

But betraying the Fatui would mean running for the rest of your life, never being able to properly settle and always casting a glance over your shoulder. How could you possibly raise a child in the knowledge of dooming them to such a fate? If they'd live long enough to grow up that is.

Reality, however, wouldn't change if you kept quiet about it and Childe and you had sworn an oath to carry whatever struggle may befall you together. Besides, he had a right to know, it was his child after all too. So, one evening after dinner, as you were cuddling on the couch, you gathered all your courage. Sitting up so you were straddling his waist, one hand came up to rest against his cheek as the other intertwined with one of his.

“Ajax, there's something I need to tell you.”

At the worry in your tone, his brows creased and his hand squeezed yours reassuringly. “What is it, darling? You know I'll always be here for you. It's a promise I intend to keep, so please tell me what's troubling you.”

“There's no point in prolonging this, then. It concerns you as much as me, you see.“ A timid smile found its way onto your face at the softness in his voice and the way his eyes stayed trained on yours. “Ajax, I'm pregnant.”

You watched him process this newfound information before you were engulfed in a tight embrace and you wondered why you ever hesitated in the first place. Pulling back, Childe framed your face with both his hands, a vivid spark in his eyes as he searched for the indicators of a joke. “Please tell me you're serious.”

“I'm serious, dear. You're going to be a father.”

At that, something in him seemed to snap and he pulled you forward as if he couldn’t bear the thought of separating from you ever again. The kiss was deep, sensual and oh so full of love. As his searing lips slowly danced with yours, his hands slid down your body to settle at your waist as his thumbs circled over your stomach, leaving a trail of molten affection in their wake. Waves of bliss were tugging you deeper into the ocean that was the man before you but you couldn't say you minded; you'd let them swallow you whole if he so desired. You could feel the excited fluttering of his heart matching yours against the palm of your hand. The sensation was only heightened by the vibrations of Childe's deep laughter which had both of you coming up for air.

“I still can't believe it. I'm going to be a dad,” he breathlessly whispered. Carefully he placed one hand fully on your stomach, gently moving his fingers over the place where a new life was beginning to blossom, mesmerised by the thought of his own little family. Pressing another sweet kiss to your lips to confirm this was indeed happening, he leaned his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses almost touching. “I must be the luckiest man alive; how did I deserve you?”

“By the same means through which I deserved you.” You placed your hand on Childe's and he swore he could see the stars twinkle in your eyes. But yours were so much brighter and more captivating than the ones in the night sky; he never wanted to look anywhere else ever again. “I couldn't be happier right now, which is exactly why it pains me to ruin this moment but… what do we do now? We've already been playing a dangerous game just being together but we can't hide a child, let alone a pregnancy, forever. They're bound to find out and they won't be lining up for the title of godparent, that's for sure.”

Childe's grip on you tightened as a shadow fell over his blue irises. “I'd tear Celestia apart with my bare hands brick by brick for this family. If I have to betray the Tsaritsa, so be it. This is worth it; you are worth it.”

“I'm sorry your Majesty,” you thought. Your fingers reached up to touch the icy delusion you had received ‘to freeze this heart of yours’. “But this heart of mine is still very much alive.”

With a reassuring grip on his hand and a daring smirk, you met Childe's determined eyes. “Glad we're on the same page then.”

“There's one more thing to do, though, and I think now's the perfect time,” Childe announced. You shot him a curious glance as he carefully lifted you out of his lap and came to stand before you before pulling you to your feet as well. His eyes shone with delight as he chuckled at your confused expression. “With our little family growing, this is the only right conclusion, is it?”

Not letting go of your hands, he slowly got down on one knee and a fond smile graced his features when he saw your expression catching up with his actions.

“Truth is, there's something I wanted to tell you as well. I guess it's more of a question really but it's been on my mind for a long while now and I'm dying to hear your answer.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a beautiful ring and held it up between you. “Will you marry me?”

You had thrown yourself on him before he could even register the excited string of “Yes!”s leaving your mouth, tears now flowing freely as he cushioned your fall. Both of you were radiating like the sun when he carefully slipped the wedding band onto your left ring finger before pulling out one for you to give him. When you calmed down, you rested your head on his chest, hands intertwined as he absentmindedly traced circles onto your waist.

“I, (Y/n), take you, Ajax, to be my husband, to cherish and to hold from this day forward. Not even death shall do us part,” you whispered into the calm of your living room.

“I, Ajax, take you, (Y/n), to be my wife, to dote on and to protect from this day forward. Not even death shall do us part.” You smiled into the sweet kiss as you wondered how you got so fortunate to call this man yours.

You spent the next couple of weeks planning your escape from the Fatui, double and triple checking every little detail and every possible outcome. It was clear as ice that a single mistake would probably cost you your lives but you had both endured your god-given fate only to end up in the arms of the Fatui, where you clawed your way to the top. If anyone was tough, daring and skilled enough to pull this off, it would be you two. And at first, your plan seemed possible. That was until everything started going south.

“What do you mean Rosalyne is dead?” Pierro's voice echoed through the frosty chambers. “And on top of that, the Balladeer betrayed her Majesty and vanished with the Gnosis. Preposterous!”

The messenger bowed his head even lower as he repeated the dreadful news. When the voices of the other Harbingers were raised as well, he took it as his cue and quickly took leave. You let the others squabble amongst themselves for a while as you looked onto the scene. It was hard to tell whether they were angrier about the passing of one of our own or about the disappearance of the God of Eternity's Gnosis. Either way, it seemed wise to interrupt their petty disputes before tensions could rise even higher.

“Please, calm down, everyone”, you said and despite not raising your voice, the chatter stopped almost immediately. “This is not something to get so excited about.”

“Rosalyne died! How should we not be upset?”

“Do you not care about our duty to the Tsaritsa?”

“Naturally, I am just as appalled by these turns of events as you are and I'm not saying we should go about our days as if nothing happened,” you explained. “I'm merely asking you not to lose your heads over this. Antagonising one another won't bring any progress at all.”

“I must say I agree with Columbina.” It was Pulcinella who spoke up first and broke the silence that had befallen the room. “We will mourn the death of our fellow Harbinger appropriately, then we will strategise on how best to track down the Balladeer and recover the Gnosis.”

That was what you agreed on, at least. But feelings are not so easily repressed just because one wants them to be. The one unifying trait among the Harbingers had been their loyalty to the Tsaritsa and the cause. If they couldn't agree on anything else, they were brought together by the oath they swore. Now, however, even this flimsy string had snapped and they drifted further apart still. 

Who would betray them next? Could you trust in anyone else besides yourself even with the most trivial matters? Shouldn't possible threats be disposed of? These were the doubts lingering inside the Harbingers' eyes whenever their gazes would cross. Lies, manipulation and intrigues had been part of everyone's lives for long enough to become second nature, so it was no surprise their suspicions turned against each other. 

For Childe and you, however, this was like balancing on a tightrope without a safety net. The starting line for your escape had just been reset to an unbridgeable distance. With everyone's guards raised impossibly higher than before, one wrong glance could send you hurdling down towards your demise. But with your family's lives on the line, you couldn't backtrack now. It might have become harder but not unthinkable.

“Lady Columbina, Her Majesty has requested an audience.”

It wasn't the cold which sent shivers down your spine as you saw Childe already standing before the frosty throne but an urgent sense of dread which filled your gut and made it hard to breathe. You came to a halt next to him as you swallowed the lump of premonition lodged in your throat. The fact that there was nobody else even in the throne room didn't help to soothe your nerves, if only it served to worsen your fears.

“You summoned us, Your Majesty?” Despite your doubts, your voice came out evenly and you were tempted to thank the gods. “May I ask what this is about? If it pertains to the Balladeer and the missing Gnosis, please rest assured, the situation will be dealt with swiftly.”

“I have no doubts regarding the matter of which you speak.” It wasn't often the Tsaritsa spoke to her subjects but her voice was unlike anything you ever heard. It was clear and pure like an ice crystal but just as cold and dangerous as the frost creeping over the ground and encasing all life within it. “In fact, I am leaving this case in your capable hands. You shall venture throughout Teyvat and bring home your fellow Harbinger as well as the piece missing in our collection. I believe by entrusting you two with this task, I'm eliminating all possible threats to our cause, wouldn't you agree?”

The front door fell shut behind both of you as you already shrugged off your coats and discarded your boots.

“I've never heard a more thinly veiled threat,” Childe groaned. 

“I agree,” you hummed. “I think we might have waited too long.”

“So, you really think she knows?” The ginger sank into the couch cushions and pulled you in closer by the waist as you took a seat next to him. “There's no chance that this is a coincidence, is there?”

“Hardly. The Tsaritsa might've abandoned her Heavenly Principle a long time ago but I don't think that made her blind to it,” you mused as you placed your head on his shoulder. Your gaze fell onto the stationary set still lying on the coffee table from when Childe excitedly informed his family of the good news. “On the contrary, it probably made her even more conscious of it. After all, love might be one of the few things that could endanger her cause. Case and point, us.”

“But there's not much we can do about it. We'll have to follow her orders until we make it out of Snezhnaya, then we follow through with the rest of our plan and go into hiding; can't exactly disappear from the Palace when everyone's sniffing the air for betrayal like bloodhounds.”

“I hate it when you're right,” you sighed which earned you a flick to the forehead and an offended “Hey!” as you sank deeper into Childe's warmth. “But leaving the Tsaritsa's domain won't exactly be a leisurely walk in the park if she threatened us so openly.”

“So, what I'm hearing is, we'll get a little bit of a warm-up exercise before leaving the country. How thoughtful of Her Majesty.” The challenging tone that would normally have you rolling your eyes at your dork of a husband couldn't quite mask the edge in his voice or the way his arms tightened around you. Had you already lost your footing or would you be able to hang on to that tiny sliver of hope?

“Hey now,” his voice was gentle as he pulled you into his lap and rested his head on top of your shoulder, arms wrapping around you protectively as his warm hands rested on your belly, “it'll be alright, yeah? We'll be together, all three of us. There's nothing more I could wish for.”

“Maybe I don't always hate it when you're right,” you cheekily replied, a teasing grin on your lips as you turned your head towards him. Placing a soft peck on his cheek, you basked in the comfort of the moment which you wished would never end as Childe guided your chin, so he could give you “a proper kiss”.

But nothing lasted forever and all too soon you found yourself walking the cold halls of Zapolyarny Palace again, only now, the corridors seemed much narrower than before, the walls seemingly moving in, leaving you with nowhere to go. The arrangement of the floor tiles reminded you less of diamonds and more of a hunter's trap waiting for its prey to make one thoughtless move.

Pantalone's scrutinising gaze, Dottore's mocking questions about whether you were feeling nauseous and Capitano's blade missing your belly by a hair width during sparring were not exactly comforting either.  You were certain Childe and you weren't the only ones who were given a mission that day.

Therefore, it was almost a relief when the date of your departure finally came. What was about to come would probably be hell on earth but at least it was something. The calm before the storm was always the most unnerving, spending it in anxious anticipation for what was to come, yet, as you triple-checked your weapons, you felt a strange sense of ease, the inevitability of disaster grounding you in the moment.

Pulling on your coats for what would probably be the last time one way or another, a sinking feeling settled deep in your gut as you reached for the doorknob. It was as if you stood at the edge of a cliff, the ground behind you slowly breaking away. There was no way to go but forwards but did that make taking the leap easier?

“Ajax, whatever happens today, I-“ As you turned your head, you were caught off guard by him standing directly behind you, his thumb tracing over your lips.

“Don't.” Childe smiled softly as he feathered a sweet kiss against your temple. “Whatever happens today won't change my promise to you. I'll always be here for you, for both of you. Nothing could ever change that. Let me protect my family, okay? Ready?”

You cradled his hand on your cheek in your own before turning your head and pressing a peck against his palm while catching his loving gaze with your own. “Whenever you are.”

At first, your trip to the harbour resembled more of a relaxed afternoon walk rather than the beginning of a no-return mission. Yet, instead of thanking your lucky stars, the hairs on your neck stood on edge as the unnerving lack of threats made your skin prickle.

When you arrived at a narrow canyon framed by high mountain cliffs, however, your little stroll turned into a walk to the gallows. As you took in the differently heightened plateaus surrounding you, you understood why nobody had attempted to stop you on your way there. And by the way Childe's shoulders tensed as he itched for his bow, you knew you needn't convey your own suspicions.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little birdie told me two traitors would be coming through here today.” A gleeful voice echoed from the boulders, “Looks like it was right.”

“Pantalone. I'd say it's nice to see you but I was told lying is a sin, so let me ask you what you're doing here instead?”

“Ah, my dear Columbina, I told you already, haven't I? I'm here to catch some filthy rats, as our late comrade would've phrased it.” The smile on his face was too wide to be considered friendly but didn't reach his eyes. “I have to hand it to you, you are right on time.”

“Traitors?” You feigned shock and indignance as you stalled for more time to assess the situation at hand. “We're on our way to Inazuma on Her Majesty's behest, I see nothing treacherous about that.”

“You don't have to play dumb with me, Columbina. Both of you are well aware why we are here and we are well aware you wouldn't be off to Inazuma for the Tsaritsa's request.” At your inquisitive raise of an eyebrow at the plural form, both of you dropped your venomous smiles to reveal your pure loathing for one another. “Naturally, Her Majesty has known about your little… situation all this time and, when faced with the possibility of another deserter, requested the full support of her Harbingers to deal with this threat.”

“But not all of us are battle-hungry fools,” Pantalone threw Childe a nasty side-glance to which the ginger merely scoffed, “so, let us be civil about this. Get rid off the baby and this foolish dream of a family and return to your rightful place at Her Majesty's side. I'm sure she will be considerate of your situation and only minorly reprimand you.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. If you make me abandon my child, I will never be able to swear my loyalty to the Tsaritsa again.” With an unforced smile dripping malice, you took a step forward. “Besides, I've been looking for a reason to actually hurt you without pulling any punches for a long time now. I can't just pass this opportunity up. Let us be battle-hungry fools, comrade.”

“So be it then,” he scowled. Raising his hand in an all too familiar gesture, he signalled for his subordinates to take up position and mere seconds later, you found yourself surrounded on all sides.

“Not to be that guy but,” Childe's voice sounded from behind you as he had moved to cover your back, “I am quite honoured at the warm welcome.”

“I know right?” You chuckled as you eyed the eight Harbingers who had appeared next to their troops with varying degrees of enthusiasm. “Pulling out all the stops just for us, that's so thoughtful of them.”

“You know the Tsaritsa always gets what she wants, right?”

“Yes. But we are Harbingers, my dear. We defy the gods.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” The excited laughter spilling from his lips made you think you really had married a maniac but judging by the grin on your face, you weren't fairing much better in the sanity category. “Let's enjoy ourselves to the fullest then.”

The first onslaught of arrows raining down from the cliffs didn't even reach your near vicinity before being caught in the wind torrents surrounding you. Instead, they were flung outwards toward the soldiers charging at you. The characteristic swoosh of Childe unleashing his hydro blades graced your ears as you unsheathed your own sword to parry an agent's dagger aimed straight at your head.

As you slashed through wave after wave of agents, mages and skirmishers, Childe's presence never left you. He was always there to cover your back, not giving anyone the chance to even get close to you. In the corner of your eye, you saw the red flash of a pyro gunner reloading but you couldn't even ready something to take him out with prior to a blue charged arrow tearing through him. It didn't take long for the perimeter around you two to be covered in bodies, some still groaning or trying to crawl away, others completely motionless in the snow.

“This was to be expected, of course, but impressive nonetheless.” The slow clapping sounded nothing but mocking as Pantalone's condescending voice reappeared. “Now then, I hope you're warmed up for the actual fun to begin. We even brought you a gift to show there's no ill will between us. After all, you should be able to say goodbye to your closest associates.”

Among the faces of your former colleagues, you spotted two familiar pairs of ears bobbing reluctantly, trying to keep in the background. They were pushed to the front, however, and barely met your eyes, hoods drawn deep into their masked faces.

“Elaira? Alina?”

They hesitantly raised their catalysts “We're sorry, Lady Columbina, but they threatened to-“

“No, I understand. And I'm sorry, too.” Concentrating all your anemo power into the palm of your hand, you drew them in with a cyclone before abruptly pushing all force away from you, sending them flying straight into the side of the mountain. Hopefully, it would only render them unconscious for the time being.

A gentle touch on your shoulder took your mind off murder for a second. “Are you okay?” Your husband's soothing voice hummed. You merely nodded as you eyed the man in front of you like a hawk.

“Ouch. Cold-hearted, that one. There's really no comradery left in you, is there?” His chuckle brought you back into the present as you gripped the handle of your sword tighter. “I wonder what you would've done if we had brought those little brats instead.”

An image flashed through your mind. The stationary on the coffee table. A small house in a fisher's village. Three ginger haired children smiling up at you. How far would the Fatui go to get back at you both?

The hand on your shoulder tightened its grip, Childe's brain most likely conjuring similar thoughts as yours. If you wanted to hurt Pantalone prior to this, you wanted to see his head roll now. The air crackled with electricity and sheer cold as two delusions were unleashed, the power flowing through your body giving you a rush unlike any other.

“Let's kill them all.” All playfulness was gone from Childe's voice as he unblinkingly stared down the man who had just threatened his family. He needn't wait for confirmation as he charged at the Harbingers with lightning speed, backed by you following close behind him.

The previously light snowfall started to thicken as a white blanket started to cover the landscape but your steps were as light as ever, feet barely leaving prints on the ground as you dodged various elemental attacks directed at you. The ice spear you had conjured after you leapt high into the air missed its target barely as a mechanical arm shielded the person behind it.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Columbina,” the dreamy voice behind the puppet said, “Not all of us are here because of personal reasons.”

“That's true.” The voice of Arlecchino sounded, weapon raised and eyes fierce. “I've actually always liked and respected you a great deal but I can't have you turn your back on Her Majesty and the Fatui.”

“Likewise. I never wished to face you in battle either.” The temperature around you fell several more degrees as you raised your hand over your head towards the heavens. “But it seems some things just cannot be avoided.”

Dove's Lament froze the falling snowflakes above you into sharp icicles before you let them plummet to the ground like falling tears. While your opponents were busy shielding their heads or destroying the projectiles, you took the chance to sweep in but were promptly pushed away by a geo construct rising from the ground. Using the upwards momentum, you catapulted yourself high into the air and landed gracefully next to Childe, who had dodged a couple of metres away from the group. There was an awful screeching noise as a horde of humanoid creatures emerged from within the stone, hunched over, dragging their feet, stumbling, arms hanging limply at their sides. Their expressions were so vacant you couldn't tell if they used to be human or if they never were, to begin with. To be honest, you didn't really want to know.

“What in the abyss is THAT?” you exclaimed, the sight somehow more disturbing than most of what you had seen before.

“I don't know. But seeing how our beloved Doctor is here, I'm sure we all know who we can thank for it.” The arrow Childe fired dug deep into the chest of its target but the creature didn't seem fazed by it at all, merely approaching further as if nothing happened. “You know, I'm starting to starting to realise all our comrades were really mental.”

“You're only realising that now?” You incredulously stared at the man next to you before shaking your head. There was a problem to be taken care of. “Anyway, do the thing.”

The shadow of a gigantic narwhal spanned almost the entire width of the canyon as it emerged from the tip of Childe's arrow. As it descended from its arch, you aimed two fingers with the palm turned outside at it while pulling your other hand back like you were drawing a bow. The burst of ice flash-froze the whale in an instant as it crushed everything beneath a ton of falling ice.

While most of Dottore's experiments were squashed, the other Harbingers had managed to evade the worst part of the damage. With most delusions unleashed now, you didn't want to give them much more time to recover. Frost crept over the ground and up their legs, freezing them in place to give Childe the opportunity to cause chaos.

It wasn't enough though and as they freed themselves from their icy prisons, your element of surprise was mostly gone. And when faced with the wrath of eight Harbingers, even you two found yourself with your backs to the wall.

“Guess there's only one thing left to do.”

“To the bitter end it is then.”

“Foul Legacy, the devouring deep!”

“May you all find Eternal Peace!”

Unlike unleashing a delusion, taking this form didn't feel like a high. No, it was like the flesh was pulled from your bones, every muscle straining and tearing to accommodate the newfound power overtaking your body. Whether you'd obliterate your enemies or would crumble under the pressure, either way, this battle would soon find its end.

Rising above the ground on wings of pure white, you assessed the situation from above and then plunged towards the ground, knocking over opponents with your feathered appendages. You switched your weapons up to two short swords as you took advantage of your heightened mobility. Under normal circumstances, your enemies wouldn't have lived long enough to even properly take in what was happening to them. But the people you were up against were hardly normal.

You could already feel your every muscle beginning to burn as you willed for your legs to move even faster but you were caught off guard by a loud and terrifyingly familiar voice groaning in pain. As you turned towards the source to see Childe hunched over in pain, you registered the shadow coming up next to you a fraction too late and searing pain exploded in your abdomen. As you fell to your knees you clutched the handle of the dagger lodged to the hilt in your flesh.

“Favoured by both the gods and Her Majesty. I've always despised you. See reason, Columbina,” Pantalone said as he returned your furious gaze with cold apathy, “you won't make it out of this alive.”

“Yeah,” you panted. “But neither will you.”

His eyes went wide as saucers as he reached for his weapon in a futile attempt to reach you again but a strong gust of wind pushed him away from you. A rage you'd never felt before coursed through you and exploded outwards into a freezing blizzard, shards of ice and snow pricking the skin of those caught in it. The canyon turned into a massive cyclone with you and Childe at the centre of it, its force keeping the other Harbingers pinned without a means to escape.

“Ajax!”

The man in question lifted his electric-charged spear high into the air and plunged it deep into the frozen ground which cracked from the force of the impact. A blinding light illuminated the sky as jagged lightning flashed across the dark grey clouds making your skin tingle and your hair raise. The following thunder was so deafening it made your ears ring. But it led to the desired outcome.

The bang shook the piles of snow which had accumulated on the top of the cliffs and it came crashing down over you. As the avalanche loomed over you, threatening to bury everyone and everything in its wake alive, you reached for your delusion.

“Frozen heart,” you muttered.

Frost blue light shone down on you both as the dome of ice encased the eye of the storm, cutting you off from the outside world, the quietness almost startling in contrast to the chaos before. The calmness was cut short, however, when a deep groan and a heavy thud cut through the fragile peace of the moment.

“Ajax!” There was more desperation in your voice this time as you rushed to his side, ignoring the pain in your knees as you threw yourself next to him. “Hey, it's okay. It'll be alright, look at me, love.”

You gingerly reached up to peel off the mask exposing one of his eyes from where it had cracked. After you slowly pulled it off, your ringed hand rested on his cheek as you committed all his features to memory, as if you hadn't done so a million times before.

“Let me see you, too.” Even in the quiet, it was hard to make out his low words as his shaky hand reached up to free you from the mask covering your eyes. “I knew it… you're actually an angel…in the form of a human…Too bad I won't be going to heaven.”

“Bold of you to assume I'll be going anywhere you're not. After all, I fell madly in love with you the first time we met. So passionate and determined, can you blame me?” You reciprocated the love-filled gaze he gifted you with as you thumbed away the blood seeping from a cut under his eye. “Besides, I don't think they'd want me back anyway.”

His weak chuckle morphed into a sickly cough and your heart clenched at the sound. You fought hard to keep the serene smile on your face but you were powerless against the tears rolling down your chin and dripping onto his skin.

His ocean eyes drifted down towards your stomach where the silver of the dagger gleamed mockingly against the crimson underneath. You took his hand in yours and wrapped it around the handle, slowly pulling the blood-stained blade out of your body. With the last strength left in you, you tried your hardest not to wince at the stinging pain which fogged up your brain. After throwing the offending weapon as far away from you as possible, you pressed your linked hands to your sticky belly as you lowered your head.

“I'm sorry you couldn't experience all the wonders this world has to offer. Please don't hold it against us, my dear. Mommy and Daddy love you so, so much.”

“I'm sorry, darling,” he whispered. “I promised to protect this family and yet I—You—”

“Don't apologise, my love. If I could go back and do it all over again, I'd choose this family over everything, again and again. I have no regrets.” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “You've worked so hard and I'm so proud of you. It's time to rest now. I'll be here when you wake up.”

“No matter what's to come, I'll find you both and we can be a family…the three of us,” he coughed.

“I'll be waiting for you, then.” All energy drained from your body as you laid with your head on his chest, listening to the faintest heartbeat dwindle like a candle in a storm, images of what could've been clouding your mind.

“I love you, Ajax.”

But as you closed your eyes, you could only hear the hollow howling of the wind.

[huneekrispee]

Where is my lover?

Pairing: c!Dreamwastaken x gn!Reader

Summary: Living outside the Dream SMP, far from the war and chaos, Dream was able to find comfort in you. One day, he leaves, promising to come back to you. It's been months, now you're left wondering... where is my lover?

Warnings: cursing, use of dream's real name, spoilers for the Dream SMP Finale, tiny bit of fluff at the start, angst

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been watching Attack on Titan recently, and the song 'Call Your Name' has me in the feels :( Sorry for being away for so long :( School has been an ass to me, I hope you enjoy it!! -Hunee <3

Also! Please don't mind the pronouns in the song! This is a gender-neutral fic, I merely just wrote the song lyrics as they are :)

She lost her brother a month ago

His picture on the wall

And it reminds me

When she brings me coffee... her smile

I wish I could be with her until my last day

In the forest, a cottage lays peacefully in a secluded meadow near a running stream. The tall trees lay their shadows onto the grassy floor, leaving marks from the sun. Water solemnly runs along, moving to its next destination through the stream. Grass rustles and a soft sigh is heard.

Stretching his arms above his head, a man clad in green slowly sits up, emerald eyes darting around. He yawns. "(Y/N)!" He's now standing up, searching for his lover. Dream's hand reaches down to grab his mask left abandoned on the grass, quickly putting it on.

Preparing his sword, his hand on the hilt, Dream slowly steps toward the cottage. He rests a hand on the door, waiting for something, anything.

A scream is heard.

He now slams the door open, netherite blade on full display, ready to attack. Looking around, he notices no one but (Y/N) in the cozy home, with a kettle on the ground next to them. Lowering his guard, sighing with relief, he sheathes his sword once more, walking over to his distraught partner.

"Are you alright?" Removing his mask, he takes their hands in his. Dream looks at them. (Y/N) looks down, taking their hurt hand out of his. Sighing, Dream quickly leads them over to the sink, running the tap. "What happened?" The coldness of the water helped soothe the burn. "I just, accidentally burnt myself with the kettle. It's okay, I'll live, Clay."

The man remained silent. The only sound heard in the cottage was the running tap water. After treating the burn on their hand, Dream leads (Y/N) to the chair on the side of the room. "You. Sit. I'll finish doing whatever you were doing. You just sit there and take it easy, you just burnt your hand." Bending down to their height, Dream stands face to face with (Y/N). He narrows his eyes slightly. He was always like this. Whenever (Y/N) got hurt in any sort of way, Dream was always on it, almost suffocating them with his overwhelming protectiveness.

They sighed, avoiding his eyes. "I- I was just... I just wanted to make you a coffee this morning. I know you're going to be busy later, so I wanted to make sure that you were energized for your work." Fiddling with their bandaged hand, (Y/N) smiled gently. "I see how you're always so dedicated to the stuff you do, and I wanted to return the favor, even if it's just a cup of coffee."

Dream's eyes softened. It was true, he was dedicated to his work. Running an SMP was hard, especially with some people interfering with his plans recently. He had plans to take power over the server again. Finding and taking everything his people were attached to was difficult, but at least he had (Y/N) to come home to. It was all for them. It was worth the hard work and pain just to see (Y/N) smile at him, showing him their love.

"It's okay. Thank you for wanting to do that, but you don't have to." Running his hand up to their cheek, he smiled. "I do all of my work for you, to help make a safe place for you. Once I sort out the rebellious people, I promise, I'll come back to you, and we can live together in my SMP." (Y/N) gazed up at him, looking into his eyes. They smiled, beaming at the idea.

"Alright! I promise I'll wait for you! I'll always wait for you. I love you, Clay."

"I love you too. I promise I will come back to you. Always."

He would do anything to see that smile on their face all the time.

She said she gave all her love to me

We dreamt a new life

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

It had been two days. Two days since Dream had left. (Y/N) had since then tended to the flowers and read a few books Dream had gotten them from a faraway village.

'I wonder what he's doing now?' Looking up at the sky, (Y/N)'s mind began to wander. What was dream doing right now? Maybe he was still on his way back to his SMP? Or maybe he was trading with villagers for resources?

They smiled. Dream had been one of (Y/N)'s lifelong friends turned partner. They had met when (Y/N) used to live in a village as a child. (Y/N) was nine and Clay was ten. Dream had gotten into a rough fight with two skeletons and a zombie. He was stumbling around, trying to find help for his injuries.

That was when (Y/N) appeared. Hearing the boy's cries, they ran out of their family home, taking Dream into the house to be treated, screaming for their parents to help him.

They had grown up together as best friends after that. Meeting George and Sapnap, the group loved to go on little adventures together and play their favourite game: manhunt. Dream would always insist on running, with George and Sapnap chasing after him. Sometimes, (Y/N) would join them, but they quite enjoyed seeing the trio panic during the game. It was fun.

A couple years ago, Dream visited (Y/N), saying that he was starting up his own SMP, a place where he and his friends could have fun and just be themselves all the time. The two of them spend hours in (Y/N)'s room, talking about their big plans and ideas for the SMP. Dream wanted to build a cottage near a stream, and live there peacefully with (Y/N). They were shocked, Dream wanted to live with them? "Why?" They asked.

"Well, because of... I'll just show you."

That was the day Clay had kissed (Y/N) for the first time.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

A month had passed. Nothing from Dream. Usually, he'd send a message through on their server communicator, asking how they were and informing them of his journey and new discoveries. But that didn't happen, not this time.

It was hard. Clay had been such a big part of their life that sometimes they found it hard not to worry about him. They knew he was strong, he could take down armies of people, but everyone had their limit.

Raising the iron hoe, (Y/N) swung down, making way for the new seeds of crops that would grow over the next few months. Wiping their forehead with their sleeve, they sighed.

All they wanted was for Dream to be safe, and for him to come back home once he finished his business in the SMP.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Heavy pants of breath echoed throughout the underground bunker. He was panicking. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

The plan was to kill Tubbo and make Tommy give him his disks.

It all went to shit when Punz showed up with backup, showing the people of his SMP that had turned against him fully.

"W-woah! Okay! Tommy, calm down!"

The blonde boy didn't listen, hands gripping the axe of peace and lifting it high above his head.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you Dream, right here, right now."

Dream silently gulped. For once, his plan failed. It backfired on him and blew up in his face. 'Sorry (Y/N). Guess I'm not coming back tonight.' He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted to be back in the cottage near the stream, sitting with his lover.

His green eyes darted around to everyone in the room. They looked disgusted, some disappointed, others angry. He knew this would never change. He would never get his SMP back. They hated him. Wanted him gone.

"Does Y/N know you're like this?"

His breath hitched. Eyes went wide.

Sapnap had stepped forward, sword out, pointing it threatening at Dream. "Do they know just how bad you are? How corrupt you've become?!" He was yelling at this point. Sapnap was upset as well. It was hard to believe that his best friend would do all of these bad things, it hurt to betray him, but he had to do what was right.

"S-stop. Stop talking about them."

For once, Dream was vulnerable. He hated it. He was always so soft when it came to them. When it came to (Y/N). Sapnap knew that. He had seen it when they were together, how happy dream was when he was with them, following them around like a lost puppy, longing for their love. It went both ways, (Y/N) was the same.

"Who the fuck is- Nevermind. Dream. Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't-"

"Tommy stop." Sapnap stepped in again. "This is important to not just me but for another person as well." Tommy stepped back, axe still prepared to lash out just in case. Tommy kept muttering to himself, something about a green bastard.

"Dream. Where is (Y/N)? You said they would join the SMP with us, but they're not here, nobody has seen them, probably besides you. You said that they changed their mind about the SMP, or was that a lie too?"

Dream gulped, words caught in his throat.

"Tell me, you bastard! Where is (Y/N) and do they know?!"

"No. They don't know. All I wanted to do was protect them from something I knew would happen. The wars, the chaos of the SMP. They didn't need to be a part of that. I didn't want them to get hurt."

It was almost like a plea. Dream's voice was quiet like he didn't want them to hear what he was saying. Sapnap stepped back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. He was also upset, he hadn't seen (Y/N) in years, not since before the SMP started.

Tommy finally stepped forward.

"Now. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Dream."

"I can bring people back to life. I can bring Wilbur back."

I said I gave all my love to you

We dreamt a new house

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

Three months. It had been three long months without him. (Y/N) would spend every other night crying in their bed, missing him. They missed everything about him. No messages from him on their communicator. No death messages about him either.

They had never thought that three months could feel so long.

Surely he was busy doing stuff that would mean the world was safer for them. That's what he always said. He said that he worked for them and that he promised that they could settle down and make a new cottage near a different stream, closer to the SMP.

He said he needed to dig out the rebellious people and make his SMP a better place.

All (Y/N) could hope for was that he was safe and doing okay.

We don't know what is wrong tonight

Everybody's got no place to hide

No one's left and there's no one to go on

All I know is my life is gone

Dream was not feeling safe and right now he was feeling anything but okay.

Tommy had just broken his mask. Split down the middle, from the axe of peace.

He didn't want anyone to see his face, no one but (Y/N) and the people who had already seen it before he started wearing the mask.

His mask was his safe haven. A facade he could hide behind. With it gone, there was now no place for him to hide.

All he had done was tell Tommy that he could bring people back to life. When he mentioned Wilbur, Tommy seemed shocked, but then he seemed to come back to his senses after remembering what Wilbur was like before he died.

He went crazy. Insane. All because of Dream and his stupid motives. He only fueled Wilbur's change, encouraging him to blow Manburg up after Jschlatt took over. Thank God for Karl destroying the button the first time. The second attempt was successful and sealed Wilbur's fate as a psychotic, destroyed ex-president swayed by the masked man into committing destruction.

Tommy was angry at that. At the fact that Dream would even think about bringing back Wilbur.

Enraged, he brought the axe down onto Dream's cowering figure.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

Sitting up, (Y/N) slowly looked around the room. It was the same as always; no Dream insight. They woke up every day with a feeling of hope that they would turn around and see Dream at the door, back from his trip.

The situation was too much. (Y/N)'s breaths quickened, eyes blurring up with tears, the salty water slowly dripping down the sides of their cheeks. They let out a dry laugh, bringing up their sweater paw hands to their face, wiping the tears.

They stared at the sleeve of the hoodie they had on. It was green.

It was his.

He always left a spare here, just in case.

It always came in handy when (Y/N) missed him.

They sighed, flopping back down onto the bed, curling into themselves and the hoodie. It smelt like him. He always smelt like a run through the forest, with a hint of saltwater and citrus.

It was comforting.

He was comforting.

The tears wouldn't stop. Every time (Y/N) wiped them away, fresh ones would keep coming. Where was he? Was he okay? It was all they could think about.

(Y/N) hugged themselves, hoping to recreate a hug like his. It didn't work. It never worked.

Nothing could ever compare to his hugs.

Still sobbing, (Y/N) cried themselves back to sleep, despite it being morning.

Not like they had any motivation to do anything without the assurance of him being okay anyways.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Beep.

(Y/N)'s communicator went off.

Dream was slain by Tommyinnit.

[wordsnstuff]

Hi, so I've finished a short story, a first draft you could say, but there are still some kinks in it that I want to iron out. What is stopping me is that it seems just such a huge job, I wouldn't know where to start. And so I keep making excuses. (Chances are I'll use this as an escuse as well, that I'll wait until I hear your answer.) Any tips on where to start?

Procrastination & The Editing Stage...

Procrastination is typically a symptom of anxiety and perfectionism. Before you ask how you solve the problem, you should figure out why you’re having it in the first place. This is an immensely helpful practice in the long run. Ask yourself why you’re so anxious to start examining your own work and test various possible exercises that could soothe this anxiety long enough to get started. 

Editing is understandably very intimidating. It’s daunting to have to sit down and actively look for flaws (or as I like to say, room for improvement) in your own work. Writing is a practice in vulnerability sometimes editing can feel like critiquing your own emotions. In order to edit well, you have to detach from your own connection to the content and view it objectively. If you’re having trouble with this, I recommend putting literal distance between yourself and the writing. 

Let it sit physically and mentally away from you for a few months and then come back to it with fresh eyes and preferably a second project in the foreground of your writing time. This will allow you to see it as a story rather than a part of you, and therefore you will find it easier to criticize. 

I have a few posts and tips that touch on the subject of procrastination and approaching work you’re intimidated by that expand upon the topic:

Stop Getting Too Attached When Writing

Healthy Forms of Motivation

How To Have A Productive Mindset

How To Fall In Love With Writing

Writing Through Mental Health Struggles

 Dear Writers Who Are Hesitant To Start Writing

“All First Drafts Are Crap” -- My Thoughts

Getting Back To Writing After A Long Hiatus

Why “Burnout” Is Oay - The Creative Cycle

Wanting To Finish A Story You’ve Fallen Out of Love With

How To Use Beta-Reader Feedback

How To Actually Get Writing Done

Writing On A Schedule

Coming Back To A Story After A Break

Coming Back To A Story You’ve Grown Since

How To Prevent Getting Stuck

Sticking To A Story (Working on Multiple Projects)

Writing Your Way Through The Plot Fog

Get Back Into The Stride of Writing

When you are finally ready to start editing, perhaps a few of these resources may be helpful to you:

Step-By-Step : Editing Your Own Writing

Improving Flow In Writing

Constructive Criticism : How To Give & Receive

How To Make A Scene More Heartfelt

How To Perfect The Tone

Editing & Proofreading Cheat Sheet

A Guide To Tension & Suspense

What To Change Draft-By-Draft

Dialogue Punctuation

Finding And Fixing Plot Holes

On Underwriting

Denoting Flashbacks

Ultimate Guide To Symbolism

Expanding Scenes

Naming Stories

Tips on Descriptions

Tips on Balancing Development

Tips on Connecting Chapters

Tips On Dialogue

Using Vocabulary

Balancing Detail & Development

Showing Vs Telling

Writing The Middle of Your Story

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

If you enjoy my blog and wish for it to continue being updated frequently and for me to continue putting my energy toward answering your questions, please consider Buying Me A Coffee, or pledging your support on Patreon, where I offer early access and exclusive benefits for only $5/month.

[angeloroki]

something more — s. todoroki

you wanted to stop this relationship of friends with benefits, with shoto. before your feelings towards him destroyed you.

— character ; aged up!shoto todoroki x gn!reader

— request ; @tyunsworld angst college au where shoto and yn used to be friends with benefits but yn is trying to stol this fwb but shoto refuses (no smut pls just some indications)

— genre ; angst, au college

— warnings ; suggestive content, curses

— a/n ; i decided to change the ending a bit, i hope it's ok for you and that you like it anyway :)

you were sitting on your bed, in the room you shared with your roommate. she wasn't there, gone to her weekly dance class.

every thursday and tuesday, at 6pm until 8pm sharp. your friend was very punctual, and that suited you perfectly.

because usually, at that time, during those two short hours that you shoto would come and spend some time with you in that room.

it was never anything serious, just a good time that the two of you would give each other. kisses that were worthless, soft caresses yet devoid of feeling, sighs and i love you's that were deprived of love echoed and echoed between the walls of the university room.

it had started only 6 months ago, at a mutual friend's party. todoroki was the rich boy in business school. classy, elegant, handsome, and a smooth talker, he had absolutely every girl on campus at his feet.

so, you could say you were slightly surprised when you saw him accost you in the kitchen, where you were trying to relax a bit. you had hooked up, the discussion was not forced, one thing led to another - and especially under the effect of the euphoria felt at the very moment - you had ended up in bed together. you could remember that it was the best sex of your life. and yet you had had quite a few.

a bitter taste stuck in your mouth.

the day after that night, he had found your number and offered to continue. nothing serious of course, just something where you would both enjoy each other. no empty feelings. he had used a phrase,... friends with benefits, that's the term he had used.

stupidly, you didn't hesitate. because after all, you were young, and you needed to unwind with classes and all. and it's not like you could fall in love with a guy like that.

only you were so wrong.

you slowly came out of your thoughts to look at the time. 6:01 p.m. Your friend had gone out ten minutes ago, so Shoto should be back any minute.

a sigh escaped your lips at the scenario that was about to unfold.

and yet you were the only one to blame, or rather your stupid heart. or maybe your stupid ease of attachment to people who couldn't care less about you.

you lay down and stared at the ceiling.

you knew his weaknesses, what he liked to do on a sunday afternoon, the things that made him angry, just as you knew every inch of his body.

and how the fuck could you not fall in love with him?

a salty taste comes to your lips, tears. you bite your upper lip, silently. and yet you knew it wouldn't be mutual. and it never would be. because he was simply shoto todoroki.

« you spend a lot of time with that boy, what's his name again ? your roommate yells at you from the bathroom. is there something going on between you or something ? »

the heat came flooding in on your cheeks.

« no... no! it's just that we have mutual friends, that's all. »

« yeah sure ! but be careful though, he's known to break hearts this guy [..]. »

that talk you had three months ago echoed ironically in your head. breaking hearts. and yours, by the way.

you go over the plan in your head. before things get hot, you tell him. all at once, well almost all. you just tell him you want out of this relationship.

and so you say everything without pauses, at the risk of crying in front of him. the best thing is that you remain insensitive.

someone knocked on the door. 6:12 pm, he's here.

« y/n, it's me. » he said in his deep voice, which always made you shiver.

you got up and opened the door for him. a small smile lit up his usually stoic face. as you spent more time together, shoto had managed to get more and more comfortable with you, and that could only warm your heart.

« sorry for the delay, the traffic was heavy. »

he went to sit on your bed after taking off his shoes. a worried expression grew on his face when he saw that you said nothing.

« if you're tired, we can meet again next week. i know it's tiring with exams right now. » he said in a kind voice.

could he stop being an angel, just thirty seconds, you said to yourself silently. in just a few steps, you crossed the room and placed a long passionate kiss on his lips, and it was with great pleasure that you felt him respond with the same ardor. you had to feel it one more time before you put an end to this whole mess.

his lips tasted minty, and they were angelically sweet. addictive, that's what his kisses were like. you felt his tongue asking for permission to find yours. and for a few seconds, a feverish waltz settled between your two mouths.

you felt as if long hours had already passed. and you still wanted more to be added, or for time to stand still. but you wouldn't let him go.

and yet.

you shifted from him. he was a mess, his hair untidy from your hands that had to find a support, his face was a dark red.

a small laugh escaped his lips.

« what's this ? a goodbye kiss ? »

you looked away from him. and that's how he understood.

« what ? tell me something. »

« i want to stop this. I'm not interested in our evenings together anymore. »

you didn't need to see him to understand that he was sad now.

« did i do something wrong ? »

his hand came to yours, its warmth melting you.

« no, not at all. i just want to stop this. »

you knew him now, and you knew he'd try to figure out what the problem was. you just needed him to be angry with you, so your feelings for him, the first to be touched, could surely fade. at least you hoped so.

« it's gotten boring with you. you faced him, your gaze now cold. i've grown tired of you, so find someone else to satisfy you. »

his eyes reflected a melancholy that you had never seen in him before.

« y/n, i didn't stay 6 months with you just for sex... i like talking to you. »

your heart skipped a beat. of course, shoto, as a friend.

« that's not my case, todoroki. you were a good lay in bed, and you helped me forget the stress of college. but that's over now, get your shoes and get out. »

despite your command, he didn't make a move. his eyes analyzed you carefully, before his sigh echoed in the room.

« you found someone, didn't you ? you thought you could hear a little regret in his voice, but why ? sorry, i won't bother you anymore then. i'm happy for you. »

he got up and walked to the entrance, where his shoes were.

« i- no... »

how could he not see that you only had eyes for him ? that the other people who were just accosting you, were immediately raked ? a sincere anger went through your body now. you were angry at him now that he didn't notice your love for him.

« i love you. » you said in a quiet voice.

you saw him stop, his back was to you. fuck, that wasn't part of the plan.

« i don't want to see you anymore because i love you. because i know it will never be reciprocated. so please leave. »

he turned around just enough for you to meet his eyes, full of sorrow. a stranger might have thought it was you who had just broken his heart. or maybe you had really broken it ? you'll never know.

« no, y/n. i can try, we can try. it doesn't have to end like this. you're not like the others, i don't want to let you go. »

« i know you can't love me like i love you. don't make promises to me. »

« but i don't want to leave yo- »

the fact that he refused to leave you, to end the relationship, only gave you false hope.

« get the fuck out ! »

your sudden irritation startled him slightly. but he knew you were right.

« i-... i'm sorry y/n.- »

« stop apologizing, it's not your fault. »

« i wish it had ended differently. »

and silently he left your room, leaving you alone with your tears.

your old discussion with your roommate came back to you

« [...] he's known to break hearts this guy. but i have to admit that he's charming, anyway i care too much about my heart and my feelings to make love to him. » said your friend from the bathroom.

« i don't fall so easily, f/n. and stop it, you sound like my parents. you say laughing. »

i wish you would have told me i love you too, shoto todoroki.

[dreamsister81]

Happy anniversary Grace! Released August 23, 1994 📷 Merri Cyr

What were you aiming to achieve musically when you went in to record Grace and are you happy with the results?

Just to express, just to make a record of pure expression. Am I happy? Well...well, it's uh, it...Grace...a record that you make is something that changes and shifts and I am something that changes and shifts and I'm gonna have to really be a mature human being and say against all my sensibilities, yes, I'm pleased but I'm horribly self critical. I'm horrible. So sometimes I'll just say "oh this is the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen in my life, blah, blah, blah," but I won't...I mean, but because Mickey and Matt and Michael are on it, I can't really say that 'cause they do...I'm so proud of them. It's alright, you know, it's alright, I just can't wait til the next one. I can make a better record than Grace.-interview in Paris for Rock Rush, September 22, 1994

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The next album will probably be more joyful but this time, it was impossible...You can be cute, funny, generous, there's always the danger of a break-up in a love relationship. No one is safe. Grace, this is the album of a jealous, poor guy who just got dumped."-Les Inrockuptibles, October, 1994

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"I know the next album will be a very different kind of work—even more direct than Grace, but bigger in scope. If people were confounded by the range of the first album, they'll probably run to it as a safe haven in light of what's to come.

"I can see it now—'The amazing, beautiful disaster pastiche of Grace is totally lost in Buckley's newest work.' We haven't started recording it yet and already I'm bored with the reviews."-Now magazine, 27 Oct, 1994

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I mean, I hope people don't get too attached...no, that's impossible...hope the media and the wheels that turn don't get too attached to Grace. 'Cause you know, it's out and you know, I just want to make another one and another one and we've grown so much already, we've completely mashed that album into the ground.

Is what you're saying is you don't want them to want you to do another album like Grace? Because the next one will be different?

No, no, no, no...I mean just like...uh, yeah,you know...I don't know, what is it? I just...

You know how sometimes the company will say "oh that one was so good, so do it again"?

Nah, the company is like the least of my problems actually in that respect 'cause they know everything's growing and the people I deal with are very happy and pleased as they say in the music biz. They know where I'm coming from but it's just like in another interview...um, we've evolved, and we'll keep on evolving, I mean like radically. Like radically. And Grace is, Grace is just a completely different work unto itself, it's a box where I put things in my past that have made made my past live, in a box, away.

So you're done with certain things?

Yeah, in a way. But on to new things. It doesn't mean that I'll completely eskew, or astew, or get rid of, whatever that word is, get rid of the old things, it's just that I like the present so much.

How do you feel when you listen to those tunes and how they were recorded?

Sometimes we can't listen to 'em and sometimes we're totally in love with 'em-WDET, October 31, 1994

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The New York Times has called "Grace" the best debut record to come along since Tracy Chapman's in 1988. "I can't listen to it anymore," said Buckley, 26. "The songs have changed. I like it, but it is sort of like looking at baby pictures."-Salt Lake Tribune, November 10, 1994

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What about Grace? So many people, at least in France, the press is all unanimous, your records are selling, it's a masterpiece...what do you think about it now?

'Massively beautiful album'...somebody gave us a rush of a commercial, that was supposed to go out on the TV and I hope it doesn't make it: 'Grace, it's unanimous, blah, blah, blah...' Not that's bad, but it's just a first album and we've really grown since then and it just doesn't make sense that it seems to have this kind of impact, commercially. The people who really...you know, like...I don't know, I'm sick of magazines, I can't even buy them anymore, just tired of 'em, they don't say anything. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm whining, and maybe I am, but it's just...it's boring man, I'd rather go to the gig. Now there'll be people who will come out with something else and people will say 'obviously lacking the splenderous chaos of Grace, this new album falls short...' I can hear the reviews already and I'm totally bored. I hope that people just calm down really. Actually our fans are pretty normal, they're pretty cool, they're pretty calm about the whole thing. But the media seems to...you know, the media, the rock critics they've lambasted plenty of brilliant friends of mine which just shows me they have no taste whatsoever, and usually in most cases. Just totally destroyed people who've made great work. And then this comes along and 'this obviously is the thing,' how am I supposed to trust that? I can only trust my friends, and my band, and the people that come.-interview for Top Live in Paris, February 15, 1995

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Praise has been especially glowing in England, where the respected pop monthly Mojo named "Grace" the album of the year and Q magazine hailed it as "an enthralling, endlessly playable piece of work...the missing link between (Van Morrison's) 'Astral Weeks' and (Nirvana's) 'Nevermind.' Isn't Buckley flattered? "Of course I am," he says, shifting in his chair as if annoyed at himself for admitting it. "At the same time, I'm not 'Grace.' That album is like a brick onto itself. It's like a coffin that I put certain feelings and observations in so that they can be capsulized forever. I wanted to put them there so I would be free to move on.-Los Angeles Times, February 19, 1995

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“I just thought it should link this album to my past a little,” he said at the time. “Grace is like...a lot of this stuff ... I don't know how to describe it to you...It's just a bunch of things about my life that I wanted to put in a coffin and bury forever so I could get on with things.

"On the outside of that you can say that I find great joy in the things that are sad. That's the way emotions are in people. They fall down on you and there's no way to get out, except to go through it. There's no way you can control it, there's no essay you can write to answer yourself out of it. It just soaks you like the rain. There's nothing you can do. Then it's gone and then another comes around. But tears are not all I deal with. I'll leave that to the next album.”-Juice, February, 1996

[joel-millerr]

What’s Your Favorite Color?

Chapter Seven of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Summary: reader is stuck on the Crest with Mando and the kid. what should be an uneventful trip turns into something that changes everyone on board.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, praise kink(?), aftercare, depictions of death, mentions of mental illness (even though the reader doesn’t explicitly say it--it’s more implied), slight spit play?

A/N: ok so this might be the dirtiest thing I've written but I'm just so proud of where this story is going and I hope you guys enjoy. also, the entire chapter takes place on the crest, and it’s one day :)

also big shoutout to @eznova​ who helped me with this chapter. LOVE U

--

I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.

That eerie reminder echoes over and over in your mind as you wake up from one of the best nights of your life. It’s hard to control the stupid, shit-eating grin plastered on your face as you lie in Mando’s cot. You’re alone, but his scent—a delicious mix of soap and musk, fill your nostrils and if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can imagine him laying right next to you, wrapping strong, tree trunk sizes arms around you and placing chaste kisses all over your skin.

You couldn’t have planned falling for Mando so deeply and so quickly as you have, mainly considering that you haven’t known each other for very long, but you know damn well that if given the opportunity, you’d do everything over again.

Stars, you don’t even know what his name is.

What is his first name?

Should you ask him? You don’t want to come off imposing, and there’s a part of you that wants to wait until he chooses to share that information with you, rather than try to wrestle it out of him, but he’s shrouded in mystery, and that just reels you in even more. You really want to pick his brain, figure out what makes him him, but you don’t know if you’ll ever get that chance. There’s the possibility though, that after last night, he’ll be more vulnerable around you. Maybe you’ll both be more vulnerable and inclined to share each other’s pasts. After all, you’ve been pretty intimate with each other.

When you finally decide it’s probably time for you to get out of bed and face the potential awkwardness that could happen between you and Mando, the door to the cubby hole hisses open, with neither the kid nor Mando in sight. Your feet touch down on the cold ship’s floor, and you slip into your boots. Once on your feet, you feel an ache at the apex of your thighs. It stings and you have to basically have to walk with your thighs spread apart in order to ease some of the uncomfortableness between your legs. Every move you make is a reminder of the night before. You can even feel him inside you, stretching your walls to hug him perfectly. Kriff, you’re already wet and you only just woke up.

Hoping a sanisteam will wipe away the crude thoughts from your barely conscious mind, you take to the fresher and wake yourself up with a brisk rinse. Once you’re out and throw on yesterday clothes—you make a mental note to wash your only other garments, you’re about to head up to the cockpit when you hear Mando’s voice. Stopping at the ladder, you listen in on what he’s saying.

“…but you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” His’s voice goes quiet for a moment. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too…powerful. Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

It’s a damn shame how last night you had heard his true voice for the first time, unmodulated but still as deep and rough as it sounds with the distortion of his helmet, and probably won’t be privy to it for a while. You wish you could hear him, like really hear him, naked and untapped again but even if you don’t, it’ll just make last night even more significant.

You hear the Child coo in response before hearing Mando’s cadence again. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do.” There’s a brief pause. “You understand that, right?”

For the first time, you detect some sadness in Mando’s tone. Like he’s trying to reassure not only the kid but also himself that he needs to go through with this, that even though there might be a part of him that doesn’t want to let the Child go, in the end he has no choice in the matter. It tugs at your heartstrings. The Mandalorian, a seasoned warrior, a survivor, a bounty hunter—at war with himself and his own feelings.

You can’t help but feel guilty as well. Ahsoka had warned you that one day, you too would have to make a choice but after last night… It’s no longer as clear-cut as you initially thought it would be. Had this come to you even just six months ago, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. You’d make the choice of being a Jedi, and forgo all attachments and dedicate your life to the Order. It wouldn’t be hard for you to set all your feelings aside—you’ve had many years of practice on that subject, but now things are completely upside down. It’s territory you’ve never been in before and Maker, that terrifies you. The longer you journey with the Mandalorian, the more you become weaved together like vines wrapping themselves around a duracrete structure. Similar to the ancient temples on Naboo, tightening and gripping in every nook and cranny until it’s impossible to separate one without destroying the other.

When you reach the floor of the cockpit, you watch Mando sit ever still in the pilot’s chair, with Grogu seated to his right. Your boots hitting the ground as you walk alerts the Child, his ears twitching in your direction and he giggles excitedly, holding that little durasteel ball in his hands.

“Morning,” you announce as you plop down in the seat to Mando’s left. Grogu peers at you with big eyes and makes grabby hands at you, so lean over and bring him into your lap.

“How long until we reach Coruscant?”

“A day or two,” he answers curtly, keeping his visor glued to the blues of hyperspace through the transparisteel.

“Oh, okay. Looks like we’ll have time to kill then.”

Mando rises from his seat, turns his body to you for just a moment before announcing his leave. “Does your blaster need cleaning?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He offers you a quick dip of the helmet before leaving the cockpit in one swift movement and heading down the ladder. Your eyebrows pull together as you stare at the empty doorway to the little room you and the Child are still seated in. Looking down at him, you whisper, “Why do I get the feeling he’s avoiding me?”

Grogu bats his eyes at you before gently sucking on the ball still firmly gripped in his claws. It’ll always amaze you how attached he is to that sphere. You might never know why it’s so important to him but then again, you suppose that it’s a secret between him and his caregiver.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind of his,” you confess—not necessarily to Grogu, but since he’s the only one around, you feel almost compelled to spew your concerns and confusions about everything that’s happened.

“What do we do, little guy? I suppose since you’ve had training, you’ll probably want to be found by a Jedi, right?”

Grogu mumbles something at you and for just a second, you think he might understand you.

“And you’re okay with leaving him?”

He coos almost sadly, and you can hear your heart shattering. This little creature has grown such an attachment to Mando. It’s exactly what Ahsoka said—Mando’s basically his father and truthfully, if your parents were still alive, you couldn’t imagine leaving them to join a group that shuns on attachments. It would take a strength that you couldn’t muster to pull yourself away from them, not after knowing the kind of pain of having to live without them.

“I’m scared, Grogu. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really paying attention, too busy staring at the little ball in his hands. It’s okay, though. It’s enough just for you to express your concerns aloud. Your mind can get cluttered if you think about everything all at once. The moments you convey your thoughts verbally, it forces you to focus on what you’re actually saying, rather than all the hypotheticals that bounce around in your head.

“Should I go down there?”

Again, Grogu says nothing, he doesn’t even look up at you. Eyeing where Mando sat just minutes ago, you feel like a teenager. You’re both adults, you can’t just tiptoe around each other, it’s not like there are many places to hide on the Crest, anyway. If he won’t come to you, you’ll just have to go to him.

Holding Grogu close to your chest, you take to the ladder and head down, being mindful not to accidentally hit his head on the rungs. Just as you reach the hull, you notice Mando facing one of the crates, his blaster completely taken apart, wiping the coil with a dirty rag. Placing Grogu in the bunk to your left, you lean on another crate and watch Mando dissect his weapon and clean every little bit of residue off his gun.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mando asks, back still turned to you.

“It’s fine, kinda aches a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answer, transfixed at the way Mando meticulously cleans his weapons. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat. The sound reminds you of the mind-altering grunts he made the night before when he was balls deep inside you, causing you to rub your thighs together at the memory. That sanisteam was supposed to get of these filthy thoughts.

It becomes suddenly very awkward in the hull and you get the feeling that you might be lingering. He clears his throat a few times but says nothing. There may not come another time where you could try to learn more about Mando, so now seems like right time. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you muster up the strength to finally ask him, “You were born on Mandalore?” Keeping your eyes down, staring at your feet because you just don’t have the nerve to look at him.

“No, Aq Vetina.”

“Oh… I thought—”

“I was a foundling.”

“Like Grogu.”

“Yes,” he answers deep in his throat.

It suddenly makes sense why Mando saved him from the Empire, and why Grogu’s still in his care. He sees himself in the Child. He sees the vulnerability, the childlike innocence and he understands that he is responsible for this little baby, at least until you find a Jedi that is.

“Do all Mandalorians hide their faces?” You ask curiously.

There’s not much that you know about Mandalorians. The few things you do know about them is that they’re almost impossible to find due to the Empire nearly wiping them all out, and that they’re some of the best—if not the best warriors in the galaxy. Given the fact that Mando hasn’t removed his helmet once since you’ve been around (until last night), you can assume he take his Creed very seriously, and can’t help but wonder if the Child has been fortunate to catching a glimpse of his face.

“No,” he answers methodically.

Already feeling like you’re pushing the limits of how many questions you can ask before he finally decides to shut you down and stops being so forthcoming, the genuine curiosity is sadly too strong for you to pull back. It’s not like you’ve ever had this much time around someone so secretive and mysterious as Mando, and there’s just too many pieces to this puzzle that you want to so desperately put together.

“So, why do you do it?”

“This is the—” he begins, but a chuff of air slips through your lips before he can finish speaking. “What?” He asks annoyingly, turning his body around to face you.

“I don’t know…” Your hands motion around you in an effort to find the right words. “I mean you did take off your helmet in front of me last night.”

“I did.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“So, is the rule that you can’t take off the helmet or that you can’t show your face? Because there is a difference between the two.”

This must catch him off guard because Mando stays silent for a ridiculously long time. The two possibilities are that he’s considering what you’re saying—which you’re beginning to doubt, or he thinks you’re totally out of line and is choosing to ignore you. You have this bad habit of being pretty blunt and somewhat insensitive with the way you express yourself and that’s caused you some issues with others in the past, but it’s always gotten the results you wanted. Honestly, someone like Mando will probably have tough skin, so you’re pretty sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.

“When did this become an interrogation about what I choose and choose not to do?” He grumbles, resting his hands on his utility belt.

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re choosing…” you mumble under your breath, kicking the ground and keeping your eyes to the floor.

“What did you say?” He asks defensively, squaring his shoulders and then taking a step forward. Out of habit, you lean back further against the crate.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” you clarify, using the bottom of your foot to kick off the crate, and straightening your back. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re kinda stuck with each other for who knows how long, so we should take this time to get to know each other, don’t you think?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you rest your hands on your hips, waiting for him to either deflect or finally let his guard down and talk like two normal adults.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Your jaw literally drops, completely dumbfounded. It during moments like this that you so desperately wish you could see what his facial expression is. Why does he continuously try to keep a distance between himself and every living thing in the galaxy? Is he scared of being vulnerable around someone else? That his reputation as a hardened Mandalorian warrior would be compromised if he so much as shared a tiny bit of information with you? Does he think a Mandalorian would come and strike him down for having his own opinion about his Creed? That questioning the only thing he knew since he was a child would be considered sacrilegious?

It’s pretty silly how worked up you’re getting right now, but the way Mando dismisses you, it stirs up that anger inside you that is so hard to control. He’s always pushing your buttons, just as you push his—only this time, you simply wanted to know a little more about him. Is that too much to ask for?

Do you continue to press him?

Do you let it go?

Announcing your defeat by drawling out a sigh, your hands drop to your sides, looking down at the ground because you can’t be bothered to look at him in the visor anymore. “All right, well I’m going to head up to the cockpit and um…” You try to come up with a quick excuse to leave the room as it’s becoming more and more awkward with each passing second, but unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You result to turning on your heel and climbing up the ladder without another word, not bothering to wait and see if Mando comes up with something to say before you disappear.

Once you reach the doorway, the blues of hyperspace nearly blind you, and your hand comes up to give shade to your eyes as they adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You’ll need to find something to keep your mind occupied until you enter Coruscant airspace, because you’ll quite frankly drive yourself insane not doing anything, so you walk over to the control panel in front of Mando’s chair and begin running some diagnostics to see at what capacity the hyperdrive is operating at, see if there’s any leakage that you could fix inside the ship and any little thing that might need some maintenance. After running a few tests, you realize that unfortunately, Peli had fixed pretty much every little issue with the ship, so there really is nothing to fix in order to keep yourself busy.

Fuck.

Feeling defeated, you fall back onto your bum and sit on the cold floor, back leaning against one of the walls, resting your right arm on one of the passenger seats. You’ve always hated silence. With nothing to distract yourself with, your mind always ends up wandering, overanalyzing every little minute detail of your life, meticulously going over each moment in time and thinking of all the ways you could have done something different, how the choices you made were wrong, how things would be better off if you did x instead of y. It gnaws at you, until the only thing you feel like you can do to stop the voices inside your mind is to scream and lash out, causing pain to yourself and everyone around you.

Is this the work of the Dark Side or is it just your unstable mind?

Is it both—working together and tearing you apart from the inside out? Slowly picking your brain apart, section by section, nerve ending by nerve ending until all that’s left of you is the worthlessness of your existence, a make-up of atoms and tissue that can’t be controlled or understood?

Stars, you’re doing it again.

You can feel your mind retreating deeper and deeper into itself, wanting to disappear from all of this. Making yourself as small as you can, you pull your knees close to your chest, head dropping down between them while your palms rub the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and clenching so hard you think you might end up ripping some right out of your head.

The harder you pull, the more anxious you become. Heartrate picking up steadily and the lump in your throat growing in size, it’s as if the space around you is screaming, that everything is spinning, which could explain all this anxiety you suddenly feel when in reality, it’s all just in your head. The cockpit is dead silent, there isn’t even the slightest sound coming from down in the hull. Everything is deafeningly still and yet you feel it’s all too loud, and you just want to scream. Scream until you feel your vocal cords explode or until there’s no air left in your lungs. Your body no longer feels like it’s yours, and instead it’s as if you’re just living inside of it, watching everything happen around you but not having any actual control over it.

Fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuck fuck

Being so wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t even hear Mando coming up the ladder. You don’t hear his heavy boots clanking against durasteel. You don’t even hear him speaking to you. All you feel is a presence and when you finally lull your head back and peek through heavy lids, you see Mando—on his fucking knees, trying to comfort you. One of his hands hovering over your figure like he’s not sure whether to touch you or not.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks as softly as he possibly can. It comes out smooth like honey but still sitting at a low register through his helmet.

“I’m fine,” you answer curtly, no longer feeling particularly chatty.

He sighs deep in his throat, and you can tell he wants to ask you again, maybe hoping he’ll get the truth this time, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a step back and sits down on the chair opposite the one you’re closest to and stays as silent as a statue. While normally you appreciate the company, right now you want to be left alone, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave. So, you stay where you are, both acting like the other isn’t there.

As time ebbs on, your breathing has slows down. Mando being there—despite not saying anything, has you distracted. Your mind’s starting to settle on what’s going on at the present time, rather than all the thoughts that clawed at you just minutes ago. Without even realizing it, he’s helped you significantly.

“How old are you?”

Taken aback by his sudden engagement in conversation, you lean into the wall behind you and feel your shoulders touch the cold durasteel.

“Sorry?” you ask, pulling your eyebrows closely together. This might be the first time he’s ever asked you something personal. When Mando asks a question, it’s usually because he’s searching for clarification, not because he’s genuinely curious.

“How old are you?” He repeats.

You tell him your age and he hums in his throat.

“What about you?”

Something like a chuckle emits from his helmet before answering. “Older than you.”

That’s as close to an actual answer as you’ll get from him.

Okay, since you’re back to asking trivial questions about each other, “Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Fun?” He echoes.

“Yeah. Like, what do you do for enjoyment?”

He stays silent for much longer than you expected. Maker, does he not know how to have fun? Maybe it’s the way you worded the question?

“What brings you pleasure?”

His head turns to you and cocks ever so slowly to the side. It’s impossible to hide the annoyance on your face. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest, a chuff of air releases from your nostrils.

“Forget it.”

“I…don’t know,” he answers somewhat defeatedly. The idea that Mando doesn’t know what having fun is comes as quite a shock to you. Even though you didn’t have much knowledge on Mandalorians, you didn’t expect that they were unable to have fun.

“Okay, forget that question. What’s your favorite color?”

“Who has a favorite color?”

“People, Mando. People have favorite colors.”

“I don’t.” Letting out a gentle laugh, you use the palms of your hands to push against the floor and rise off the ground, slipping into the chair you were leaning on previously. Turning your body in the direction of the Mandalorian sitting across from you, you sit cross legged.

“There isn’t a color that you gravitate towards? One you look at and think, ‘I like that’?”

“I suppose I never thought of it.”

He’s been missing out on so much. How he’s been going through life without having these mundane preferences or opinions on things is…almost unfathomable. Every person you’ve ever met has had these frivolous details that made them different, giving you an insight into their personalities but Mando has no preference on anything. He just…exists.

“I’m assuming you have one?” he asks through the modulator.

“Yellow,” you begin to say. “But not a flashy kind of yellow, more like a dusty, pale yellow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is that your favorite color?”

“I don’t know, Mando,” you answer with a smile on your face. “I just like how it looks. It’s warm and inviting.”

“Hmmm.”

“I guess… It reminds me of the sun. Back home, the sun would shine so bright, and it was so big. I used to stare at it even though my mother warned me not do that.”

He doesn’t say anything more but given that this might be the longest casual conversation you two have ever had, it’s quite the improvement from just saying a couple words to each other.

“Why do you always wear your armor?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We’re in hyperspace right now and you’re geared up for battle. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable always wearing your armor? Isn’t it heavy?”

“It is heavy.”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together, your lips press into a thin line, unamused by Mando dancing around your question.

“Are… Are you not even allowed to at least take off your armor in front of another person?”

“I never thought about it. I’m usually alone so it makes sense to keep it on; in case.”

“In case what? We’re not going to get attacked in hyperspace.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Seriously, Mando. You need to loosen up a bit.”

“I do not need to ‘loosen up’. I’m fine,” he says, a hint of derision in his voice.

“Says the guy in full body armor all the time.”

“It’s practical.”

“Oh, it’s practical,” you mock, a grin creeping up on your lips.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re fucking someone?” You remark, eyebrow raised.

The visor burns into you. He’s definitely caught off guard by your brass question. Your lips curl into a sly smile, your tongue darting across your bottom lip.

“No one’s complained about it.”

Oh.

It’s kind of silly how angry that statement makes you. Okay, not necessarily angry but it definitely stirs something deep inside you. It’s clear by the way he fucked you last night that you weren’t his first—he’s obviously experienced in that area. However, you can’t help the way your jaw clenches at the thought of someone else crying out his name while he fucks them senseless.

You’re mine.

Thighs rubbing together as you remember Mando’s confession from last night, it’s quickly replaced by the thought of him saying that to someone else. Has he said that to anyone else? Are you reading into this too much? What if the only reason he said it was because it was in the heat of the moment? People say things during intimacy that they don’t necessarily mean… You’re definitely overthinking things, right?

“What are you thinking?” He beckons, voice hitting that part inside of you that nearly has you fucking moaning on the spot. How can a voice be so intoxicating? It’s not even his true voice, it’s distorted and cuts up like static but it has you nearly soaked in your seat.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

He doesn’t.

“You’re quiet and from what I can tell, your heat signature’s gone up.”

Your what? “My heat sig—? No, your helmet must be malfunctioning.”

“Oh,” he rises from his seat slowly, squaring his shoulders as he does but doesn’t take a step towards you. He stays painstaking still, visor never once breaking away from you. “Is that right?”

Stars. Your heartbeat is picking up, palms starting to sweat, and your throat is beginning to close up. Your eyes maintain their gaze, trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. It’s childish, really—always attempting to have even the slightest amount of authority over whatever situation you’re put in with Mando because you never actually have any control. He may fool you into thinking you do, but at the end of the day, Mando is always the one in control.

“Your heat signature is burning up, pretty girl,” he taunts.

Kriff, this is not going the way you want it to go. You can’t be the only one looking foolish right now. If he wants to play the game, you can play it too, and you’ll make damn sure you play it better.

Looking him up and down trying to pinpoint any indication that he may not be as calm and collected as he’s playing off, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants. As your vision pierces into him, you notice him shift his weight slightly, his hands balled tightly into fists by his sides.

“Why so tense, Mando?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh,” you echo his words from just minutes ago. Slowly slipping out of the chair, you stand to face him, squaring your shoulders. Pleasure heats up deep in your stomach, travelling down to the apex of your thighs, reminding you of how sore you actually are. “Is that right?”

“Stop that,” he warns. You got him.

“Not doing anything,” your voice sounding as innocent as you can while your eyes convey the opposite. You want him to know that you won’t give in so easily.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Do—” he starts but quickly composes himself. Craning his neck, his next words drip out of him slowly. “Drive me crazy.”

“Any of your other friends ever drive you crazy?”

Okay, that was a low blow, but you can’t shake the thought from your mind. For Maker’s sake, you’re an adult. Obviously he’s had lovers before, why is this so hard for you to accept? It’s not like you guys are together, you’re simply stuck with each other for the time being. Not only that, but you’ve had your fair share of men. He doesn’t seem to be jealous about that.

I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you.

“Mmm, are you… jealous?”

“Maker, no.” Lie.

“Then why are your cheeks red?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkfuck

Why does your face always have to give you away? You can play sabacc with the best deadpan expression in the galaxy, but right now you can’t even hide your resentment. How is Mando able to get under your skin and expose your every emotion, every thought? He pulls it out of you and basically presents it to you on a fucking platter.

“Because you annoy the shit out of me.”

“Your body is telling me otherwise.”

“Stop cheating! I can’t read your body heat, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to play fair.”

All right, if this is how he wants to play, you’ll just have to be bolder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through parted lips, your left foot moves forward, taking one big stride towards Mando, stopping just inches from his breastplate. You can practically feel his own heat vibrating off of him. His fists tighten even more, and you swear you can hear his breathing quicken, cutting up in the helmet.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Mando.”

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Stars, the air is getting thick, you’re all but drunk on this feeling. Your undergarments are stuck to your pussy, drenched with slick, waiting for someone to make the first move. The blood is pounding in your ears, but you try to maintain the best stony stare you can muster. This is a fight you’re not willing to lose. You bite down on your bottom lip, staring into the ‘T’ of his helmet through hooded lids. His chest pushes out slightly and his head angles to the side, just enough for you to see the underneath of his jaw. There’s some stubble poking out from the bottom of his helmet, and you lick your lips at the sight. Wanting to put your lips to his jawline and trail wet kisses along it, gently sucking at his skin. Maker, you might end up losing this if you don’t compose yourself.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice hoarse and low.

“For you to lose,” your answer is honest. You want him to break down and give in, just to give you the slightest bit of power.

Mando lets out this sound, a joyful sound you’ve only heard once or twice before but it nearly throws you for a loop. Hearing him laugh, even if it’s quick and low, fills you up with the greatest amount of delight. To see someone who’s always stoic and serious let out a sound of pure pleasure, it makes up for all the times he purposely chooses to get under your skin. All the moments he infuriates you, it all goes away with the sound of his laugh.

At this moment, you’re grateful that his face is covered because you definitely would have crushed your lips together by now. His helmet actually works to your advantage, holding you back from doing the one thing you would have otherwise done by now.

“I’m not touching you,” he whispers. It sounds less like a statement to you and more like a reminder to himself. He’s fighting his urges just as much as you are, but you will continue to fight this until he breaks, he has to break.

“Then don’t.”

All of sudden, you both hear a disturbance coming from the hull. The kid must be getting into trouble down there.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell him, choosing not to wait for Mando to say anything in return before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit. Fighting the urge to take one last look at him before disappearing down the rungs, you head down to the hull and see Grogu rummaging through the various crates placed around the Crest. Once he sees you, he shows you a big toothy grin and runs straight for you, arms stretched out. You bend down and pick him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Hey, kiddo. What trouble are you getting yourself into down here?”

Grogu babbles something at you and you smile in return. A small grumble, something like an animal growling, comes from the baby’s stomach and his ears droop down.

“Hungry, little guy? Let’s see what we got for you.”

Walking down the hull with the kid in your arms, you stop at the small closest Mando keeps his ration packs. There aren’t many packs left, just enough to hold all three of you down until you land on Coruscant. After that, you’ll need to buy some more packs. Grabbing one of the packages and a bowl from one of the shelves, you prop the kid on one of the smaller crates and begin emptying the contents of the pack in the durasteel dish.

It’s a dark green looking blob. Quite frankly, you hate ration packs. They always look like food that’s been mashed together into a jelly bar and even despite the fact that once you add water to it so that it actually looks like food, just the sight of it in its raw form is enough to ruin your appetite. The kid doesn’t care about all that though; he’d eat anything you give him. Back on Sorgan, you had seen him eat a frog whole—just swallowed it without even a second thought. It was impressive and yet totally gross at the same time.

Leaving him on the box momentarily, you walk over to the sink in the privy and let a few droplets of water touch the blob in the bowl. Within seconds, the bar transforms into a small bread roll. It’ll hopefully be enough to tie him down for a few hours.

Passing by the ladder, you call out to Mando. “Hey, I’m about to feed the kid. Do you want to come down for a meal?”

“Not hungry. Thank you,” you hear him answer. He never eats with you two. Given that he needs to take off his helmet in order to feed himself, he chooses to wait until you’re both asleep or nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop you from asking each time. Part of it is so that he feels included but mostly you hope that one day he’ll choose to sit with you both. One day, you think to yourself.

When you hand the bowl over to Grogu gently, he takes it with both hands and begins eating the bread like it’s the first meal he’s ever had. Your brows pull tightly together as you watch him devour his food. For such a small creature, he sure eats like a bantha. He could probably eat for a whole day without stopping to catch his breath.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how strong this little guy is. He’s so tiny and somehow, he possesses a power stronger than you could ever really understand. This is the same kid that saved Mando’s life from a mudhorn. This is the kid that swallowed a whole frog that was half his size. A child this small is somehow a Jedi.

Once he’s done eating, he peers up at you with big, black eyes and coos at you.

“Nah, I’m not hungry right now, kid,” you answer as if you understand what he’s saying to you. Then again…maybe you can understand him.

Ahsoka said she and Grogu could feel each other’s thoughts. You should be able to do the same, right? Granted you have no training in the matter, but you were able to communicate with him once, surely you could do it again.

Your hand reaches out to him and you hook a finger around his hand. He grips around your index and squeezes you tenderly. Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what he could be thinking, what he might be trying to tell you. At first, you don’t hear or see anything—just darkness. A part of you wants to give up, nothing that it was worth a shot anyway, but you choose to press on. Focusing hard on Grogu, you relax the tension in your shoulders and take a deep breath, exhaling through your lips.

By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind…

A woman’s voice fills your mind, but you can’t make out any of her features. Focus, you tell yourself.

You are as its father.

A Mandalorian. She looks different than Mando. Her helmet looks to be made of gold, with horns erecting from the very top. Her armor appeared to be different as well. Unlike Mando’s shiny, chrome beskar, her cuirass is a reddish brown and instead of a cape, she wears a fur coat on her back. Immediately, you got the impression she’s a warrior of her own nature, just as cunning as Mando, but in a swifter, more agile way, unlike Mando’s brash style of battle.

Just as the moment appeared, it vanished, filling your mind with images of sand dunes. Suddenly, you’re back in Mos Eisley. Only this time, you’re much younger, playing on the outskirts of the city with Tye.

--

“Tye, I’m tired,” you whine out to him. He’s running around the sand, punting a ball at you and then taking it away when you opt not to kick it back to him.

“Oh come on, we have to head back soon anyway. Just a little bit longer.”

It’s hard to hide your disappointment. Really, you just want to be inside. Today is such a blazingly hot day, and water is at its peak in scarcity. Most folks will be inside all day, avoiding the scorching heat. Less time outdoors means less water consumed, but Tye never listens to what he’s told. He does whatever he wants and drags you along with him and unfortunately, you have a hard time saying no to him, so you’re almost always roped into his shenanigans.

“Tyyyyyyye,” you drawl out. “I want to go inside! It’s too hot!”

Just as you say that a giant spacecraft enters the atmosphere, covering the entire surrounding area in shadows. You look up at the giant structure in awe. You’ve never seen a spacecraft so grand before, jaw dropping as you watch two smaller vessels appear from the hovering fortress above your heads. They drop down a little less than a click away. By now, Tye is at your side, both of you watching men in white uniforms exit the ships, charging towards your direction. An immediate fear washes over you, grabbing Tye’s wrist and running to hide behind a nearby moisture vaporator. Your heart is racing, and you feel Tye’s own panic coursing through your veins.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He whispers, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I don’t know…”

The men pass you by, not even taking a second to look around them. Their heads stay glued to what’s in front of them, hands gripping onto giant guns you’ve never seen before. Just as fast as they came, they disappear into the city. Screams and shrieks suddenly break out. People scatter, running out of the city walls in mass hysteria. Your legs itch to run, to find your parents, but Tye senses your urgency and grabs your forearm.

“We have to stay.”

“But—”

He whispers your name. “We don’t know who those people are. We’re safer here.”

Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the screams of the villagers echo through the city walls, causing you to wince. Tye wraps his arms around you, and you embrace each other, weeping silently in each other’s arms, praying to the Maker that these soldiers leave. The sound of Tye repeating, “It’s okay. We’re okay,” echoing in your mind.

It’s only when the sun begins to set that the town becomes quiet. The spacecrafts are gone, leaving no trace that they were even here. Your eyes are swollen from the tears, and you feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Body still shaking, burning off adrenaline and fear. Standing up is difficult, your knees are buckling but the need to see your parents is stronger than the quaking of your legs. You wake Tye up by shaking his shoulder gently.

“They’re gone. We have to head back.”

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. At first it doesn’t seem like he fully understands you, but when he looks up and doesn’t see the ship from before, he all but jumps up, dusting the sand off his clothes and charging right into the city.

“Tye! Wait up!” You shout after him, but he doesn’t relent. Taking large strides, you attempt to catch up with him, running past weeping elders, hysterical children, and what appears to be dead bodies all around you. Your mind doesn’t allow you to process what you’re seeing, you’re just too focused on catching up with Tye and then finding your parents.

His name being called in the distance stops him dead in his tracks.

“Mama! Papa!” He cries out, pivoting around in hopes to see someone he knows. When you finally manage to catch up to him, his mother appears from the shadows, tears streaming down her face. From the faint streetlights, her cheeks are dark red, and her eyes are just as swollen as you assume yours are.

“Sweetheart!” She shouts as she races to you both, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you until the air is all but knocked out of your lungs. It hurts, but you hold on to her anyway, feeling her warm, motherly touch.

“Where’s Papa?” He asks in the crook of his mother’s neck. Tye’s voice is hoarse from crying and yelling, and she attempts to soothe him by gently shushing him.

“It’s okay, son. We’re okay.”

“I have to get home,” you say, pulling away from her grip.

“Honey…”

The look on her face… you’ll never forget it. Tears welling up in her eyes, her jaw slacking because she wants to say something but not knowing how to say it. The pain you see in her green eyes, it’s like she’s just watched a loved one die right in front of her. Fear and anguish hit you in waves, crashing down on you more aggressively with every second that goes by.

“No…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a step away from her, her arm reaches out to you.

“Sweetie…” she tries again.

Shaking your head in panic, you turn on your heel in one swift movement and disappear down one of the quieter streets and make for your home. As you race in the direction of your dwelling, your heart bangs against your ribcage, tears flying down your cheeks. You can’t even see where you’re going due to the water in your eyes, but you keep trekking on. Nothing’s going to stop you. Throat unbearably tight, you can barely let in little breaths as you turn the corner to where you live.

When you reach the street, you stop so suddenly that you almost tumble down on the ground, somehow managing to catch yourself at the last moment, your breathing ridiculously erratic. There’s a horde of adults crowding the front door to where you live. Your feet carry you to them at a painstakingly slow pace. Blood pounding in your ears, you can barely make out what anyone is saying. When someone finally catches sight of you, they rush towards you, dropping down to their knees to meet your eye level.

“Sweetie, we can’t let you go in there.”

“But t-t-that’s my h-ho-me,” you manage to say through shaky breaths.

“I know, but we ca—”

You push passed them before they can finish speaking and dart passed several other people trying to stop you until you squeeze through the half-open door into your house, pressing a button on the control panel by the doorway. The door hisses shut.

There’s only a bit of light offered inside. To your left, you see the table you’d sit at with your parents for supper. The chairs are tucked neatly under the table. You’re not sure if the banging you hear is from someone outside trying to get in, or if it’s your heart thumping against your chest but it doesn’t deter you from searching for your parents.

As you continue to scan the area, there’s a couple of cups lying around on the counter, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Relief begins to settle in but is rapidly replaced by sheer terror when you finally shift your head to the right. Then, you see them.

Your parents lying face down on the floor.

“No!” You cry out, running to them and dropping to your knees to hover over their bodies.

There’s a blaster sized hole in your father’s back, heat still steaming off his wound. Your screams could be heard from the other end of the city, clutching onto their lifeless bodies as you beg for them to wake up.

“Please, wake up. Mama, Papa. P-please!”

Someone pulls you off of them, wrapping their arms around your torso. Your arms flail around, clawing and scratching at whoever’s holding onto you. “Let me go! My parents! Let me go!” Your voice is shrill and hoarse, becoming more hysterical, but they never let go. Your parents become smaller and smaller as you’re carried away from them. The last thing you remember is seeing the door to your home whoosh shut…

Your body jolts, and you’re not on Tatooine, anymore. You’re on the Razor Crest. Grogu sits just a foot away from you, peering up at your shivering body. Somehow, you exposed a memory you had sworn to never remember. After that day, you locked that memory up in a part of your brain and shut it off, choosing never to think about it again. The pain was too much for you to handle. Instead of facing your pain, you always chose to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist. Once again, compartmentalizing your trauma and locking it away for good.

Grogu fusses and when you look down to him, his eyes begin to flutter. Poor thing gets so sleepy whenever he messes with the Force. You pick him up and hold him close to your chest, making your way to Mando’s bunk. As you pass the ladder, the kid fusses and makes grabby hands for the ladder.

“You want Mando?” You ask him, and Grogu babbles in response.

Climbing the ladder with him in your arms is a bit difficult, but you’re able to get to the top without too much of a struggle.

“He wants to be with you,” you tell him.

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. Extending his arms out to you, you hand Grogu over to him and your hands briefly touch. The brushing of your hands suddenly reminds you of the game you were in the middle of playing just before the kid decided to explore the cargo hold.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Turning on your heel, you head down the ladder quickly. How is it that over the course of just a few hours, you could go through so much emotional turmoil? Honestly, you haven’t even been awake for that long, but you’re already wanting to take a nap.

Fuck it, there’s nothing else to go in this hunk of metal, and Mando’s probably busy with the kid, so you decide to let your body rest. Crawling into the little cubby hole and shutting the door closed, you close your eyes and hope your body will allow you some peace of mind.

--

You’re reminded of why you hate naps so much when you wake up. Instead of feeling refreshed, you always end up feeling much worse. First off, you always wake up in a cold sweat and feeling super groggy. Quite frankly, it does the exact opposite of what you hoped a nap would do. Secondly? Mando’s cot is unbearably hard. It shouldn’t be considered a bed; it resembles more like duracrete than anything else. As much as you like finally being able to sleep not sitting up in that kriffing passenger chair, this is another struggle of its own.

Pushing the button on the control panel by the door, it opens with a swift motion. The first thing you clock is that the Crest’s lights are almost all out, making it damn near impossible for you to even see your hand in front of your face. How in the hell is Mando able to walk around here not being able to see a single thing? The second thing you notice is the sound of running water. He must be taking a sanisteam.

To think that just on the other side of that wall, he’s naked and wet? If it were anybody else, you’d strip out of your clothes and join them, but things aren’t that simple with Mando. There are boundaries you wouldn’t dare cross unless he gives you his consent. Rather than frustrate you, it entices you even more. It keeps you wanting more and more, especially because he can’t just give you everything you want, whenever you want. No, you have to work for it.

Realizing that now you’re basically just standing outside the fresher like a creep, you head up to the cockpit in search of the kid. Just like you suspected, he’s sound asleep in one of the passengers’ chairs, wrapped up in what looks to be Mando’s cape. The thought of Mando taking off his cape to wrap Grogu up makes you stupidly giddy.

Treading carefully as to not make any noise to wake him up, you tiptoe back to the ladder and shut the cockpit door, your feet barely touching the rungs as you descend back down to the hull.

Something in your stomach growls, and you’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Kriff, has it really been that long since your last meal? You head over to the pantry where the packs are kept, extending your arms out in front of you so you don’t bang into anything on your way there, and grab the first pack your hand touches, not having a preference as to what you’ll be eating today—tonight? You don’t even know what time of the day it is. Time in hyperspace can be difficult to keep track of. The only way you’d know what time it is is if you checked the control panel back up in the cockpit and right now, it’s just not worth the trip.

The pack itself feels sloshy in your hands; it’s probably some kind soup. Reaching into the closet again, your hand searches for a bowl to put your meal in.

Mando will be out of the fresher at any moment now, given that the water’s been turned off for a minute or two. The door to the fresher wooshes open and out of reflex, you shut your eyes but are quickly reminded that the hull is so faintly lit that even with your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see him, but just to be safe, you announce your presence.

“I heard you,” is all you hear back.

“Can you turn the lights on a little bit more? I can barely see a thing and I really don’t feel like dropping my soup all over your ship.”

He doesn’t answer but within seconds the Crest transforms from a dark abyss to a twinkling, starry night. Not unlike the ones you’d spend hours staring at with Tye in the sand dunes during your teenage years.

Your head spins to your left, selfishly hoping to catch a sight of Mando, and Maker do your eyes latch onto him.

He’s not wearing a shirt, first of all. This is the most of his skin that you’ve ever seen before. The warm lights flickering off his back accentuates the curves of his muscles, concaving in certain areas and then protruding in others, outlining every bit of toned tissue. You can vaguely make out a few water droplets trailing down his golden skin, and it’s seriously taking all the self-control you have not to close the gap between you both and lick them off his back. An ache begins to build in the apex of your thighs, and you start to rub your legs together in an effort to alleviate some of the heat stirring inside you. Still wearing the kriffing helmet, though.

The second thing you notice is the vast amount of scarring on his skin. Each scar representing a different battle. You could probably lay him flat on his stomach, and his back would appear like a visual biography of his life, each mark giving you an understanding into his past, and the tests and trials he’s had to overcome over the years.

What were you trying to do, again?

Food.

You need food.

“Do you—” you squeak. Pull yourself together. Clearing your throat in hopes your tone will go back down to its normal octave, you repeat yourself. “Do you want any soup?”

“No t—” he begins to say but you cut him off before he can finish. You knew he’d say he wasn’t hungry.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes stay glued to the bowl in front of you. You’re certain that if you so much as looked at him again, you’d forget about the damned soup and pounce on him like loth cat.

“No.”

“Then you’re eating.”

Taking a second bowl from the shelf, you divide the soup evenly between both cups and begin making your way over to Mando, keeping your head down in the off chance he’s still not wearing a shirt, you don’t want to seem like you’re gawking at him.

“You can look,” he clarifies, noting the way you refuse to look up from ground.

When your eyes finally shift from the ground to look at him, he’s now wearing a black long-sleeved tunic that hugs his figure in ways that should be illegal. Your jaw is practically hanging and swallowing the lump in your throat causes a sound somewhere close to a moan to expel from your mouth, but you’re quick enough to stifle it with a cough.

As you hand him the bowl of soup, you’re feeling incredibly shy for some reason, your hand extending out and trembling as he takes it from you.

“I’ll eat in the cockpit to give you some privacy,” you tell him as you put your hand on the railing.

“No,” he says immediately, grabbing your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay.”

Lips curling upwards into a smile, you end up biting down on your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing and growing as you replay that in your mind.

Stay.

Moving away from the ladder, Mando pulls out one of the smaller crates and seats himself down on it. As you begin to look around for another box you could sit on yourself, he watches you closely.

“You can sit here, if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

Once you’re seated, you begin to take small sips of your soup. Mando reaches over to where his vambrace is—scattered somewhere on another crate and presses a button on it. The Crest’s lights fade even more, leaving you both in almost complete darkness.

A muffled hiss fills the air, and you hear beskar touch the durasteel ground. You eat in silence for a few minutes, hearing only each other’s sips as you continue to fill your bellies with food. It’s incredibly domestic. A Mandalorian and a…well you’re not really sure what you should label yourself as, but you’ll stick with smuggler for now; the two of you eating together like an actual couple—even if that’s far from what your relationship actually is.

“No amour?” You decide to ask, trying to make a bit of small talk in the pitch-black abyss.

“Someone told me I had to ‘loosen up’,” he jests, knocking his elbow against your arm. Maker, you’ll never get tired of hearing that unmodulated voice of his. Something as simple of a voice shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. For a man who kills for a living, he speaks with such a gentle intonation.

It’s such a juxtaposition, really. In full body armor, Mando is definitely one of the most feared hunters in the galaxy. He’ll kill if something threatens his life or the kid’s life. Impossible to read, impossible to predict. But right now? He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. No helmet, no amour. His guard is as down as you’ve ever seen and is willing himself to be naked with you, even if he’s still fully clothed. How you were able to find yourself in this situation is something you might never be able to fully understand, but it is truly the greatest gift you could have ever been given.

“I’m sorry about before,” you whispers, feeling guilty about how you approached the question about his helmet. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about your Creed.”

It’s not fair for you to come down so hard on him. You might not understand why he chooses to live his life with such restrictions, but it really isn’t any of your business.

“It’s fine.”

You still feel angry with yourself for acting the way you did, but if Mando says it’s fine, the last thing you’ll do is continue your self-loathing and make him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Taking the last sip of soup and feeling satisfied with your meal, you push yourself to your feet. “Are you finished?” you ask him.

“Yes, thank you.”

You search aimlessly in the dark for a moment in search of his dish and accidentally knock the bowl right out of his hand, hearing it tumble on the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse, dropping to your knees in search for it. While frantically searching for the dish, you feel his hand caress the small of your back, sending shivers through your spine.

You’re starting to feel pretty flustered, the fact that you’re both in the darkness doesn’t help. There’s no way of anticipating what could happen and that’s exhilarating and unnerving. Of course, you eventually find the bowl and Mando’s hand disappears from your back once you get back on your feet.

Walking over to the pantry where the ration packs are, you place the bowls on the shelf, making a mental reminder to wash them later. Just as you’re about to turn around and head back to where you think Mando is, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Two hands grip onto either side of your hips and he presses his body against yours, pushing you right up against the little closet. A moan escapes your lips without even realizing it, and you can feel his hot breath tickle the crook of your neck.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all fucking day,” he growls in your ear.

Holy Maker, the heat in your stomach is somehow already becoming too much. You’re basically panting, the blood in your ears is almost deafening.

“I’ve been watching the way you’re walking. Did I hurt you? Do you still feel me?”

“Stars,” you breathe out.

Mando presses his lips to your skin, sending shockwaves through your entire core. You can feel his stubble prick your neck and it’s everything you didn’t know you craved. It feels deliciously rough.

Your hands brace themselves against the door, it’s the only way you can keep yourself upright. Knees already buckling, feeling the heat pooling from your cunt and drenching your underwear with slick. One of his hands begin to trail away from your hip and trace the waistband to your trousers. Instead of teasing you though, his hand wastes no time pushing passed your pants and panties, finding his way down to your cunt and cupping it with such force you jerk forwards, groaning as his hand finds your clit.

“Already so wet for me.”

Fingers leaving your bud, he slides them between your folds, gathering your slick on his calloused fingertips and then he’s shoving a thick finger deep inside you. His free hand flies to your throat, applying slight pressure with his thumb and index on that sweet spot underneath your jawline.

“Fuck,” you cry out brokenly. It doesn’t fill you up nearly as much as his cock does, but the way he moves inside of you, hitting that spot inside you no one has ever touched, marking it as his, causes you to see fucking stars.

Mando nips at your neck, alternating between sloppy kisses and bites hard enough to cause bruises, you can already feel an orgasm stirring inside you. You clench around his digit, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

“Are you already close?” He mutters in between kisses and nibbles.

“Shit, fuck I-I think so.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of his soft, damp locks and pulling hard, causing Mando to groan in your ear and buck his hips into yours. You can feel the outline of his rock-hard rock against your ass, and you grind into him, feeling his length burrow between your cheeks. You’re so close to your climax already.

Without missing a beat, he pulls out of you and his hand disappears from between your thighs.

“W-why?”

Grabbing your hips, he flips you around to face him.

“Up,” he instructs.

You linger there for a moment, unsure of what he’s asking you to do. When you don’t move, his hands grab onto your waist and lift you off the ground without so much of a groan. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms cross around the back of his neck, your head leaning on his shoulder. He walks over to the little bunk in the corner of the hull and lowers you onto the mattress gently, being mindful not to hit your head on the small doorway.

Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, the thrill of not being able to see him at all and not having a clue as to what he’ll do next, it’s incredibly sensual. Your legs unwrap themselves from his waist and dangle off the edge of the cot. His hands trail up to the waistband of your pants and tugs them down off your ass. Lifting your hips up to help him, he takes them—along with your underwear, off and you hear them thump to the floor.

Hands returning to your skin, he hooks thems under your calves and lifts them up so your bent at the knees, feet resting on the edge of the bunk.

The anticipation is getting to you. He continues to take his agonizingly sweet time running the tips of fingers on your naked skin, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to form on your skin. Lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulders, he peppers kisses from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh and repeats the same taunt with the other leg. Both of them now resting on his shoulders, he drops to his knees in front of you. Suddenly feeling nervous, you try to close your legs and end up squeezing his head by accident.

“Shit, sorry,” you whisper, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Shhh,” he hushes, placing a large hand on your sternum and pushing you back down on the cot gingerly, and then his lips are on your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites all over your inner thighs, slowly getting closer to your throbbing pussy but never getting close enough to relieve the pressure building.

“Mando, please,” you whimper.

“Do I have to gag you?”

Shit… How is he able to make that sound so fucking hot?

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?” His voice is gentle but commanding.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.”

His tongue glides over your clit and there’s no controlling the moan that rips through you. Pulling away immediately, Mando stands up and presses his body into yours, his mouth merely inches away from yours, his large hand cupping just underneath your jaw.

“What did I say, pretty girl?”

You can feel his hot breath on your lips. If you just moved even the littlest bit forward, your lips would meet his. Licking your lips, you wrench your eyes shut to keep you from closing the gap.

“To be quiet,” you manage to say through ragged breaths.

“So be quiet,” he hisses, feeling his teeth sink into your bottom lip for just a second and then his weight is off you, returning to your thighs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned over his shoulders. Now, he wastes no time lapping you up, flicking your clit with his tongue with such a mind-blowing rhythm you have to throw your arm over your mouth and bite down on your skin to keep from making any noise. Mando never relents, developing the perfect torture. He plays with your bud then practically shoves his entire fucking face in your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you as far as it can go. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble up to the surface, threatening to burst. It’s all too much, your body starts to shake from the sensations.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Dropping your arm to your side, your voice hoarse from stifling all your cries, you’re somehow able to find the strength to say, “I’m gonna come.”

“No,” is all he answers.

No?

“W-w-what?”

“Hold it,” he says hastily, then continues his assault on your pussy.

How in kriffing hell are you supposed to hold it? You’re basically already there and he’s denying you it. You can’t hold on; you can’t stop it.

“I c-can’t,” you confess.

And then he stops. His tongue leaves you, his hands leave your skin, and you’re left there on the bed, legs hanging off the cot, chest heaving from being so fucking close and then being denied at the very last second.

“What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly, a hint of anger but mostly disappointment in your tone.

You hear him make a noise and then something wet trickles down your clit down to your entrance. It’s…sticky and warm. Did he just spit on you?

Lifting your legs back up and letting your feet balance on the very edge of the bunk, his cock rubs against you, angling the tip of himself to slide between your folds, mixing your slick, his spit and precome all over his length and you. Mando continues to tease you, lining himself up with your entrance but never sheathing himself inside you. It’s driving you fucking insane, even angling your hips whenever he does, hoping he’ll lose his self-control and plunge into you, but it only spurs him on. He knows how much it’s annoying you and he’s fucking thriving on it.

“If you don’t start fucking me soon…” you warn.

Mando actually laughs at you, like this is all a big joke to him. Anger begins to mix with your arousal, this is maddening. Why won’t he just fuck you already?

All of a sudden, he slams into you with so much power, you actually slide up the cot, and you wail feeling so fucking full and tight, your cry filling the small space you’re in. You’re still sore from the night before and feeling him stretch your walls again is almost unbearable, but it feels too fucking good. You’ll take every fucking inch of him without a single complaint. Then, just as your pussy begins to acclimate to him, he pulls out, hiking your shirt up just enough for him to grab onto your naked waist and pulling you back down closer to him.

“Mando!”

He leans over you once again, a hand cradles the back of your head while his thumb rubs your cheek tenderly. “If this gets to be too much, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you nod.

“Words.”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Good.”

Thrusting his hips against you, his cock continues to grind along your slit, making you dizzy from both the lack of touch and the taunting of his cock against you.

“Maker, you’re so fucking wet. You sure you didn’t come?”

Words aren’t something you’re capable of forming so you’re stuck resorting to answering him with broken sobs. Practically writhing from all the overstimulation and lack of, from him toying with you, the pressure in your cunt actually fucking hurts, you’re nearly begging for some release. Adding onto the fact that you can’t see a fucking thing, it heightens all your other senses. They compensate for your lack of vision; everything feels so much more intense than you ever could have imagined.

No one could ever drive you to the brink of madness and pull you back in at the last second. No one could possibly make you feel so satisfied yet deprived. You’re convinced you’ve traveled the galaxy in search of him, that your soul was missing a piece so small, you didn’t even know it was missing until Mando filled that void. He’s etched into your skin, your bones, your veins. Every nerve ending tissue has been electrified by this enigma of a man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those who’d try to come between him and his clan.

Kriff, you’re drained already. He hasn’t even begun to fuck you, but waves of exhaustion are coming over you. Mando’s still fucking teasing you, only ever prodding the tip of himself inside you and then pulling away before he can truly fill you up.

He said if this became too much for you to handle, all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop. You’re starting to consider it; you don’t think you can handle much more of the slow torture he’s inflicting.

Just as your jaw slackens, he slams into you in a sift motion, fully immersing himself inside your swollen walls.

“Fuck!” You pant out, wrenching your eyes shut and feeling tears trinkle down your cheeks. Mando doesn’t move one bit, just sits inside you like he’s waiting for you to adjust yourself to the size of him.

“Shit, you’re tight. Gonna train that pretty cunt of yours to mold to my cock,” he grits out. Big hands hold you down by the waist, and he ever so slooooowly eases out of you only to ram into you again, all the way to the hilt. You’re seeing stars, every move, every thrust bringing you closer to euphoria. The only thing your mind can process is how fucking amazing it feels to be clenched around his cock. It’s mind bending, it’s intoxicating, you’ll never get used to the way he fucking tortures you.

He develops a downright brutal pace, pulling out just enough for his tip to pierce your walls and then pounding into you, growling every time he touches your cervix. Once he’s fully immersed inside you, he bucks his hips and practically jackhammers his cock inside you. A sheen of sweat covering both your bodies causes the sound of skin slapping against skin to sound so wet and fucking obscene. Still pounding into you, Mando’s hands leave your waist to grab under your thighs, lifting them up to hang off his shoulders. Pushing down on the backs of your thighs, he practically bends you in half at the knees, an arm on either side of your head, and then begins a pace so fast and brutal, you’re sure you’ll be sore for weeks. The spot he’s hitting right now is one you didn’t think was even possible. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, you can’t even make a goddamn sound. Your throat is bone dry, and whatever pathetic sounds that escape you are barely audible and breathless.

“Stars, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters in your ear, and then he’s sucking at your neck, bruising the skin.

Mouth agape, you’re so fucking close to coming, a part of you doesn’t even want to tell him how close you are in case he stops. You don’t think you could physically handle it if he denied you again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how much fucking noise your little cunt is making?”

On a normal day, Mando says as little as possible, giving you a quick sentence in response or even a one-word answer, but when he’s balls deep inside you, he can’t seem to shut up. He turns into a blabbering mess, offering you praise after praise like it’s a fucking prayer. Mando makes a note of everything. He comments on your gushing pussy, how your walls clench around him as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, how no one will ever touch you again.

How you’re his.

And you? You can barely throw two words together. You’re on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Is this what being on spice is like? Feeling a sense of euphoria that hits you wave after wave, each one stronger and more intense than the last, teetering the line between sanity and insanity.

“…mine,” you hear him snarl. Reality doesn’t even feel real anymore, you can barely make out what he’s saying to you.

Something like a whimper slips through your parted lips.

“Now, come for me.”

He barely finishes speaking before your orgasm tears right through you. It begins deep inside you and is quickly shattering the earth around you. Crying out so loud Mando has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds expelling from your lips. He continues to pound into your pussy, riding out the ripples of your climax, not relenting even for one moment. There isn’t any fucking air in your lungs—Mando’s weight is still pressing you into the cot and your climax is so strong, your chest is way passed heaving now.

You’ll be chasing this high for the rest of your life, the feeling of Mando unleashing his feral instincts on you, and you just helplessly letting him take control of you—it’s unlike anything you ever could have imagined.

“Good girl,” he praises. When you don’t immediately answer, still in a haze from the mind-shattering orgasm that just expelled out of you, Mando stills, cupping your face with his hand and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part, and your brain desperately tries to find any word that might help him understand that you’re okay and also anything but okay. Only being able to breathe in quick, sharp breaths, Mando places a kiss on your jaw and repeats in the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard him speak, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking your head frantically, you attempt to moisten your throat by swallowing, and it gives you enough to answer, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He reiterates.

“No,” you croak.

“Are you sure?” Stars, how can he be so relentless in the way he fucks you and switch into a nurturer so quickly?

“Mmm. Please f-fuck me,” you mewl against him.

His cock twitches at your plea, and he obliges. In an effort to help you climb down from the overstimulation, he eases in and out of you at a deliciously hard, but slow pace, and then he does something you couldn’t have been prepared for. Your lips are slightly parted, letting in little bursts of air to help calm your breathing, and suddenly, you feel wet, soft lips clash onto yours. Instinctively, you yelp into his mouth from the unexpected touch, but you quickly acclimate to it, feeling your lips move on his. It’s a little awkward at first, you get the impression Mando hasn’t kissed many people in his life, because your teeth end up clashing together a few times. He fucking giggles into your mouth and you all but melt into the cot. His tongue slips passed your lips and meets yours and you can taste yourself and broth on his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, pressing your lips even deeper on his. Mando moans low in his throat and you can feel the vibrations ripple in your own mouth.

He makes to pull away, but you keep his lips locked on yours, using your hands to keep him where you want him. He gives in without hesitation, letting you take control of the kiss as he continues to ram into you. The dreams you’ve had of this moment, the moment you’d feel his mouth on yours doesn’t even come close to the feeling of it happening to you right now. It all makes sense now. Every kiss you’ve had previously was just practice for this. It was all just preparing you for this defining moment, the moment you’d finally be able to break through Mando’s heavily guarded walls. Every smack of your lips, every flick your tongues, every broken moan in each other’s throats, they’re all just feats breaking down the duracrete barrier that he’s forced himself to build over the years.

Bodies intertwined, every part of yourselves wrapped up in the other, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and you suppose that’s how this is was always supposed to be. Each of you were missing the same piece— the inability to be perceived as anything but a person of strong will. Believing that vulnerability was a weakness, instead of something that should be treasured, and without knowing it, your paths crossed and challenged every part of your identity.

Foundling, Mandalorian, bounty hunter, father.

Orphan, mechanic, smuggler, Jedi.

Those shouldn’t mix together as perfectly as they do, but stars, does it feel like everything finally makes sense.

A second orgasm begins to brew in your stomach, but you don’t dare pull away from Mando’s lips. You’ll never pull away until he forces himself off of you.

He leaves your lips for just a moment, panting and his own chest heaving against yours. “Maker, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Shhh,” Tugging desperately at his hair, you close the small gap between you and slosh your mouths together. You both whimper brokenly on each other’s lips, and Mando slams into you three more times before his hips still, feeling his cock pump his seed into your soaking pussy. Just as he begins to come, your second climax reaches its peak and crashes into you. His hands are back on your waist, digging his fingernails into your skin. Whatever moans you both cry out are muffled by each other’s’ mouths, catching the sound and swallowing it, burying it deep inside one another.

When you come start to come down from your climaxes, Mando drops his head to the crook of your neck, burying his face into your skin and pressing sloppy, chaste kisses right where your jaw meets your neck.

“I—” You attempt to speak, but your vocal cords are so raw, it hurts even just making a sound. You’re still practically bent in half, and your legs are burning up. Resorting to stir around hoping he’ll get the message, Mando pulls off of you, using both his hands to very gently bring them down his shoulders, one by one, once again giving each of your inner thighs some tender pecks. Pulling out of you, his come seeps out of your completely worn out slit. He peppers a few kisses along your waist, and then you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Where—” You begin to say, making to slowly prop yourself on your elbows.

“I’m still here,” he assures you.

You can hear him moving things around, and you seriously wish there was some kind of light allowing you to see what he’s doing but given that your eyes have gotten used to being in complete darkness, you’re sure you’d be blinded by even the smallest amount of light right now.

A few minutes go by and then you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you down the cot. Once he feels like your head won’t hit the top of the bunk, he lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around your back, and in turn you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you for a couple steps and then brings you down onto what you expect will be the cold ground. Instead, you feel cotton on your back as he lowers you down.

“Where did you—?”

“I have a couple of extra capes in case one gets too battered,” he says, answering your question before you can finish asking it.

As soon as your head touches the ground, you feel your eyelids shut, exhaustion overpowering you. Turning over on your side and hiking up one of your legs up so that your knee lines up with your chest, you don’t even care that your own slick and his seed is practically dripping down your legs. You don’t care that you’re still naked from the waist down. The only thing you care about is falling asleep, preferably in Mando’s arms.

“Don’t sleep yet. Need to clean you up,”

“Mmm,” you protest. “Later.”

Mando chuckles lightly and then he’s wiping the slick off your legs and entrance with what feels like… a pair of trousers.

“Are you using my pants to clean that up?”

“It’s the first thing I grabbed. I’ll wash it.”

“Mmm, you better,” you mumble into your arm.

Now, you’re starting to slip in and out of consciousness, fatigue taking you over. Mando rummages around the hull for a bit longer, and then joins you on the floor, throwing what you assume is another cape, over your half naked body. You don’t even have the energy to move your body over towards his, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re both still close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin.

“Hey, Mando?”

“Yes?”

“I won.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes after that, and you’re on the verge of falling asleep when his velvety smooth voice breaks through the silence of the Crest.

“Blue,” his voice is low and barely audible.

“Mmm?” You mumble, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I…like the color blue.”

Okay, now that puts a stupid, hazy smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular shade of blue? Bright… dark?” You may be barely conscious, but you hang onto every word he says.

“I guess… dark.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Why do you like that color?”

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s about to confess something to you that he hasn’t told anyone else. As if in this very moment, he’s about to give himself to you completely. “The Mandalorians that saved me from that battle droid in my village. Their armor was blue.”

Mando doesn’t elaborate any further, but he doesn’t have to. Feeling your heart tighten in your chest, you imagine what a young Mando must have been feeling when that droid pointed its guns at him. How he must have been utterly terrified and convinced that he was about to die. And then to be saved at the last moment. Seeing these warriors in blue armor coming to rescue him, to save his village from an even worse massacre. They were his saviors, it only makes sense that after all these years, that color would bring him solace and comfort.

It’s quite ironic, actually. Blues have the reputation of representing sadness or pain and you too have been accustomed to associating blue with your own trauma, and then here comes Mando.

The color symbolizes the exact opposite of what its known for. To him, it brings relief and reminds him of being saved; representing the beginning of a new life that he’s exemplified through and through. It’s a beautiful confession, and you’ll forever be searching for him in all the shades of blue that the galaxy has to offer.

Two opposites.

Yellow and blue.

One representing happiness and light. The other representing sadness and melancholy. Blend those two together and you create the fiercest of combinations. A beautiful balance of both extremes.

And when you think about it, what color does blue and yellow make?