#if you've seen this board before then hi. yes it has grown

[polrification]

Alhaitham wtf board v2.5! its 2.5 because I think I have more stuff to add until official v3 but I am not normal and will not let anything rest

images taken from twitter

[luveline]

Hi, me again 🥰

An Eddie/Roan/Reader request:

-I'd still love to see reader dealing with a Roan tantrum. She's just so sweet to reader, and I would just love to see the reader realize Eddie wasn't exaggerating (I mean her dad is a Rockstar so you know she's got a set of pipes for screaming) -I just think it'd be sweet to see reader process it all, try to be patient and Eddie catches them dealing with it and tries not to step in to see how they handles it alone?

baby's first tantrum but r is the baby! tysm for ur request! ♡ fem!reader

Eddie's daughter, Roan, has become dead set on helping. It's extremely sweet and makes very practical sense — one day, she'll have to learn how to cook and clean and help out around the house. But for now she's small, she's clumsy, and you don't want her to get hurt. Especially on your watch.

She doesn't like this at all, unfortunately.

"I want to!" she demands.

She's standing by your hip, vying for the knife in your hand with arms almost long enough to reach. She nearly grabs a hold of the chopping board.

You push it back and frown at her.

"Aw, babe. I'm sorry, it's super dangerous."

Roan glares at you. You're not surprised, exactly. She's not always happy because kids just aren't, her emotions are finicky and undecided as a tightrope walk. You've seen her show off before and Eddie's warned you of her tantrums.

You're not surprised, but certainly not well-equipped.

"I want to do it," she says fiercely.

"Babe," you say again, boggled at her passion, "you gotta give this one a miss."

"Let me do it!"

You start to worry. You can't give her what she wants, she can't handle the knife. She looks like she, in Eddie's words, is about to go nuclear. What if you don't let her and she hates you for it and you become an evil stepmother figure, rather than somebody she really seems to adore?

She leaps for the knife.

You startle and push it all away from her.

"No," you say. Loud with surprise rather than any anger.

Roan scowls at you, drops to the floor, and starts to sob. It's a cruel kind of sobbing, piercing and outraged. She sits on her knees with her hands moving toward her hair and cries. She sounds like a tornado siren. It's terrifying and grating and honestly astounding, too many things, to hear her and watch her explode like this.

You wipe your hands on a rag and sit down on the floor next to her.

She looks at you from under a low brow and cries, "I want to help."

"I can't let you use the knife, sweetheart, it's very dangerous." You offer a hand. She pushes it away. "If you hurt yourself with it it would really upset me. And it would upset your dad, too."

She carries on crying.

"Roan, is there something I can do?" you ask, using a soft and bubbly tone in hopes of enticing her.

She ignores you for a while, and then warbles, "I want to help."

"You can help me, princess," you say firmly, prying one of her hands from her hair. You shuffle closer to her across the linoleum floor to rub at her head where she'd been pulling it. "You can help me with lots of other things. Things that are much more fun."

"I want to do the- the-"

"The chopping?" you finish sympathetically.

"Yes."

"I know." Her hair is very, very soft under your hands. You pet back her curls affectionately, unnerved by her ragged breathing. "I know you want to do the chopping, because you're so lovely and helpful. That's why I think you'll be really good at the squeezing."

She pauses. A very big tear rolls down her cheek. "Squeezing?"

You hum. "Yeah, the squeezing. But I'm not sure, how big are your hands? Can I see them?"

She shows you both of her hands.

You bring your finger the her palm and draw a circle until she's tickled.

"I think they should be big enough, if you want to do it. I..." You wipe her cheeks, an uncomfortable ache in your chest at seeing her upset with you. "I know you want to do the chopping, and one day you'll be all grown up and you can do it. But if you still want to help me now, then I think you'll be the best squeezer ever."

Roan grabs a hold of your elbow with both hands, almost cuddling your arm.

"Do you want a hug, princess?" you murmur.

She goes to stand. You lift her up before she can and bundle her close to your chest, feeling immensely smug with yourself and very affectionate for the small girl in your hands.

"I really-" She shudders with some lingering upset. "Really wanted to help with chopping."

You rub her back. "I know."

She cries for a little while longer. You wonder what it feels like to experience such big emotions in such a tiny body. Her frame shakes with it.

"You're such a good girl, Roan," you praise softly, kissing the top of her head indulgently.

She sits back to look at your face.

You smile tentatively. When she smiles back you give her a better one, relieved that she's happy. Relieved that you seem to have navigated your first Roan tantrum successfully. Still well-liked. And all without Eddie.

Speaking of.

You look up, see a flash of dark hair.

"Hey, hotshot, you can reveal yourself."

Eddie turns the corner into the kitchen like he hadn't been hiding in the hallway. He's beaming, though there's definitely some guilt to be found in it, more when he plops down on the floor beside you both.

"Hey, guys."

"Where've you been?" you ask.

"Oh, you know. Around." He leans down to meet Roan's eyes.

She smiles at him.

"There's my girl." Kisses for everyone. Eddie drops his lips to her cheeks and then your own before helping you both up. "I heard a rumour about squeezing things. Are you gonna help wash the green stuff?"

"The lettuce," you butt in.

"The lettuce," he repeats, forcing a shiver as he picks Roan up from under the armpits and sits her beside the sink.

"This parts important, 'cos otherwise we might be eating bugs for dinner. Think you can do it?" he asks her.

She nods very seriously. Eddie rewards her determination with a colander and the lettuce from the fridge and instructs her to go ham. Soon, the cold faucet is running full pelt and splashing water everywhere, and the two of them are shrieking trying to keep all the lettuce leaves together in the pot.

Eddie catches you laughing and rubs him cold, wet hands in your arm.

"I'm sorry for not helping you," he says over the furious rushing water. "Just wanted to see how you'd do."

"Did I pass?"

"It's not about passing."

He kisses you extremely nicely, cold hands aside. You take it for a pass, whether he thinks of it like that or not.

-

more eddie and roan

[magicbystarlight]

Star Crossed — Prologue

Hux x Reader, Ren x Reader

Summary: Years after leaving behind your life as a Jedi, an unexpected encounter forces you to confront the past you wanted to forget. Divider.

Warnings: 18+, canon-typical violence, sexually explicit scenes later, additional warnings as needed. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 1.1k

Lieutenant Atrox stalks through the halls, his face pulled taut with displeasure. It’s an expression you've grown familiar with in these last three months. You’re on his heels, nonetheless, with a datapad clutched tightly to your chest.

The Lieutenant and yourself had only arrived on board the Finalizer the night before from the Exheres System. He had spent the the time drunk while you spent it combing through three years worth of trade routes, ship manifests, store inventories, and planetary exports. It had been to quell the nagging feeling you’d gotten during a review of the last audit of an inconsequential clothing shop on an inconsequential planet, but it had paid off.

"Please, sir, if you would just listen I can—"

"I don’t have time for your theories. Ren will be here at any moment."

An unnecessary reminder. The headache that plagues you is evidence enough that the Sith had already boarded and subjected some poor soul to the Force. A day early of his expected arrival. Normally, you'd have found sanctuary far from any Force User. Twice before you'd been on the same vessel as Kylo Ren and twice before you'd shoved yourself into a dark corner far, far away. But this is important.

You hope.

"But I found it, sir. There's a bimonthly shipment of polyfibe that—“

“Polyfibe is the most common fabric in the galaxy.”

The hallway ends at two large doors. They open with a whoosh, revealing a room with a long table. It’s thankfully still empty. “It is, but it can’t be made on Sentrena which is where the shipments originate. Or any of the planets in that star system. They don’t have the proper resources or machinery.”

His steps came to a halt with a defeated sigh as the doors shut. “Could it be imported and shipped from there?”

“If they wanted the price quintupled.”

“Some people are stupid with their money.”

“Yes, but,” the datapad lit up as your fingers work deftly to bring up the list, “there’s no inventory of polyfibe or anything made of polyfibe in the shop.”

He takes the offered tablet, eyes roving over the list. His brows scrunch and he shoves it back into your hands. "When is the next shipment?”

“Today.”

“Send a squad to intercept.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

His fingers grip your upper arm, pulling you back harshly as you try to turn. “You better be right about this or you’ll find yourself shoveling shit somewhere for wasting my time.”

A nod in understanding is all you muster before he releases his grip. Scurrying away, the door barely opens in time for you to squeeze through. Or at least, you thought you had before you collided with a solid surface.

With a glance up, you meet the icy gaze of General Armitage Hux. A scowl adorns his face as it has in every hologram you've ever seen of him. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

You can hear the sneer in his voice as you continue past him. "I'll never understand why we use civilians for secretaries."

—

"Chromafiber?"

The hologram of Sergeant Eviena is shaky, but her voice comes through clear. "Yes. It appears they were making suits of it."

You nod, pacing the small, sterile office. “For camouflage. Stealth suits.” Chromafiber is expensive and difficult to work with in unskilled hands. "The best money could buy. Who are they for?"

"They wouldn’t say, but" she reaches into her pocket and produces what appears to be a clothing patch with a familiar, flame-like insignia, "we found a batch of these hidden away."

It’s the worst case scenario. You expected smuggling of some sort, perhaps avoiding taxes or bringing in some other outlawed substance. But they’ve been providing a lethal advantage to the Resistance, possibly for years. “Detain them. Send me every file you find. On the ship, in the shop, on any droid. Everything."

Despite you having no authority to give such commands, Evenia nods. “Yes ma’am.”

The hologram dissolves and you’re left alone once more. You don’t linger to soak in the victory, retracing your steps across the ship to where the meeting had been taking place. It’s been nearly two hours since you left and you've heard nothing on comms about them being finished. By the closed doors and the sweating lower officers waiting just beside them, it’s safe to assume the meeting continued. The pain in your head is dull. A good sign. Perhaps Atrox will be in a decent mood for once.

You wait, leaning against a wall further down a hallway that leads the opposite way of the docks. Two dozen reports have already chimed on your datapad. They’re easy enough to run through the programs you’d created to find key phrases, locations, names, patterns, etc. There’s nothing the programs recognize in them, but names pop out to you as you skim. They’re all common names. Too common.

Fake names designed to be overlooked. You’ll have to consider adding a program to make sure something like this isn’t missed again. You pull information aside as you continue to scroll, letting it drop in a new document for later review. No matter how well they hid their connections, there was always a trace left behind.

A commotion has you looking up. The doors open and the sounds of someone in hysterics floods the corridor. A man backs out of the room, pleading. Only one person inflicts that sort of fear. You don’t have time to flee.

Pain erupts in your skull. Blinding, burning white pushes from every corner. Something cracks. You try to resist, to push back against the Force, but it’s too much, too close, too late. A locked door that had held for more than a decade splinters and explodes beneath the pressure. The pain disapperates, but it’s no relief. Every part of the world around you turns bright and vibrant, connected and overwhelming. A sense suppressed for so long snapped back like a rubberband.

There’s a hand on your face. Green eyes boring into yours. "I love you." Brown Eyes. "Stay with me." Yellow eyes. Blinding red.

Gasping, ragged breaths drag air back into your deprived lungs. Cold seeps through the gloves. Your hands are on the floor. Shattered datapad between them. Black boots behind it.

He sinks to his knees. “You’re alive.” The robotic overlay can’t hide his surprise. Fingers on your chin make you stare into the abyss of a mask. Kylo Ren. But beneath the mask you feel him. A twisted, darker version, but still him. Alive.

Ben Solo is alive.

[thequietesthing]

THE WITCHER SEASON 3 VOLUME I - REVIEW

SPOILERS AHEAD

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

Okay so this season felt different than the previous two, maybe for the best. I am not that into the original witcher lore (books and games) that i’m that fixated on canon events so i’ll just judge what i’ve seen on screen.

Geralt: my darling mr. Cavill you are the brightest light in this show, I don't think that anyone will be able to understand and portrait Gerald better than you. Now said that, I don't think Geralt has been very Geralt-y this season (pls don't kill me for saying this). Yes, he should have changed by the power of love and family but they didn't show it. I assume that this magical transformation, that has started in season 2, should have continued and evolved in the 6 months in which Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri live together, of which we see incredibly little. Yes, the letters (very nice touch btw), yes the nice dinners together and Yen's grovelling but not very much on how this affects Geralt intrinsically. So we end up six months later that he is a mostly changed man, and good for him but I wish we could have seen more of a development. Also this season, now that we have finally placed all of our pieces on the board, inevitably focuses less on Geralt and his moods and adventures and more on the general plotting of the entire cast. Also they didn't give my man enough monsters to hunt (maybe the budget was cut seeing how many actors they had to pay). However I loved when he went to Annika's house and the moment when he recounted his childhood and the relationship with Visenna; I feel that in that moment the true talent and acting ability of Henry came through. I thoroughly enjoyed how uncomfortable he was at the mages ball; he's always so put together and firm that it was extremely funny seeing him a bit out of his depth. Anyway as long as it's played by Henry Cavill, Geralt will be always a 10/10 for me.

Yennefer: Contrary to common opinion I liked Yennefer last season. Yes she was selfish, yes she's willing to sacrifice Ciri and betray Geralt to get her magic back, but people don't seem to understand where she's coming from, and I think that a bit of explanation is given in this first part of the third season, through conversations that she both has with Ciri and Tissaia; this is not the place to write an entire apology of Yennefer but the core is this: to her, before, magic was everything; she was mistreated as a child, she never felt in control of her life, and the only way she found her way out of that was through her magic, of the power that she discovered within herself that helped her to finally stop feeling like a nuisance, to finally matter. Once she meet Ciri and she gets to know her however her priority shifts (as often happens with motherhood) and she finds out that she doesn't care whether she is powerful or not, as long as her child is safe. Now, with this out of the way, I loved Yennefer this season (as always). Anya Chalotra has grown so much into herself and her acting in these three seasons and it shows. Her relationship with Ciri is just beautiful (I was skeptical about it before because of the close age between the actresses but they embodied the mother-daughter bond perfectly), her and Geralt will never not be my favourite (I wish they had more scenes tho) and her and Jaskier are hilarious (also, more scenes pls!); but what I found very fascinating about Yennefer is the relationship she has with the other mages, of which we have always seen stunningly few. I found interesting the accusation Ciri moved to her when they were in that spa(?) to which Yennefer responds that that is the version of herself she "needs" to be around those people (strong, uncaring, playing the centuries old politics game of saying one thing and meaning another), and I really liked that because before Ciri was only "coddled" by witchers who are authentic and never had the need to play politics because they stay well away from them. Digression aside, Yennefer with other mages was really nice to watch, how she plays in the duality of who she is and who she needs to be and how she doesn't trust anyone between her peers, only Tissaia that has assumed a kind of a mother role for her. So, long story short, I love Yen and I always will.

Ciri: this poor girl has been through so much. Everyone wants her and she doesn't know what to do with herself. I felt like in this part of the season things just have been happening to her, rather than her having an active role (being dragged around the whole Continent like a package by a Witcher and a mage certainly didn't help) but it seems so me like her developing story and the general plot are going at two entirely different paces: she's still unsure of what to do, of her magical training, while the rest of the story feels almost like is at it's end and she's still there. Anyway, other than her most obvious relationships (Geralt and Yennefer) I liked her relationship with Jaskier this season; he's very protective of her and they act like he's a young uncle with his niece. Also I liked how her spending a lot of time with Yen and Geralt is starting to filter through her character, as she has become a sassy, brave, curious, know-it-all, but still she sometimes acts impulsively or foolishly as apt for her age.

Jaskier: We see him for more than 3 episodes! I would count this as a win already. I genuinely like Jaskier, I feel like he's always been the most relatable and funny character, and this season is no exception. I think Joey Batey is a comedic genius and his acting, and singing, skills are really unparalleled. I loved his journey with Radovid (who to be honest I didn't like at first, even though he is played by Hugh Skinner), they are very cute, especially their scene before the kiss, I was like awwww. Also Jaskier rivalry with Valdo Marxx is iconic, when they meet on the ship and he has a whole band backing him up and Jaskier only has Geralt and Ciri, it was really funny. Also finally Jaskier gets some well deserved love from Geralt, after 3 seasons he calls him "Jask" ♡.♡ (man, our standards are low)

Anyway, you'll forgive me but I'll give a rapid view of all the other characters because otherwise we'll be here all day.

Francesca's role this season has been practically null, other than making the final alliance with Nilfgaard she's going after Ciri (like everyone) and we did not see any repercussion or regret for the murder of hundreds of babies which had me like... ok.... Fringilla is freaking hilarious but I have also not understand her point in the story for now Cahir goes back to his murderous master after killing his elf friend, but I still like him; I think the actor is jumping through hoops trying to show us the duality of this character and how what he does actually affects him Emhyr, other than scheming and burning family pictures he seems to be doing nothing else (for now) Triss is the smartest in the freaking room, also the only one who cares about those poor girls! Everyone is like Ciri,Ciri all the time and she's like what about those poor vanished girls, I love her, but please don't let her have a romance with Istredd, who still after 3 season is going after that freaking Book of Monoliths; I hope that now that he's found it he will find peace and a good barber Tissaia and Vilgefortz I don't trust either of them, even though at the end of this part we find that is the latter and not Stregobor to have taken the girls, and if I'm honest until that scene I believed that "the woman with the funny voice" was Tissaia; also Vilgefortz is also leading on that poor Lydia... nope don't like the man Philippa Eilhart is a legend, didn't like her at first but she's smart as a whip and I think she's playing Dijkstra like a violin (also if they don't show the creation of the Lodge of Sorceresses I'll riot)

One more thing before I shut up, just a quick thought on the last episode: the idea was very well thought, to switch up the linearity of narration by including some back and forth between before and after as Yennefer and Geralt recount the night's event to each other and us (a bit Ocean's 11 style) but the execution.... I didn't particularly enjoy how it was done; maybe I need to see it again but while the change of camera angles through the same scenes helped (so that except for two moments maybe, we heard the same lines but the cameras were in different positions) it felt very repetitive and stagnant. The only positive thing was the music!! That fucking song is now stuck in my head forever: all is not *thud thud* as it seems *thud thud*, stuck all night in my head, anyway also very appropriate lyrics lol.

Ok, I think I'm done(?) I'm sure I've missed something but if it comes to mind I'll edit it in later

[assexpansion]

His Creation - Blueberry/Tiny

A special request for @shrunkenblueberry

"Ve need to deconstruct before ve reconstruct!" The wiry haired scientist yelled, his square glasses flashing off the glow of the bottle.

The two board members that were paying their rarely seen 'Head of R&D' a surprise visit convened around a nearby counter where a glass container of shimmering blue liquid sat.

"Reconstruct what? Is this "potion" what we've been payin' for?"

The scientist paced to the opposite side of the counter in and gently lifted up the bottle.

"No. Look a little closer. You've been paying for her." He whispered.

One board member raised her eyebrow while the other leaned in, squinting at the darker blue floating speck.

"That looks like... What is this... It can't be..." The board member stuttered, darting his eyes between the speck and the scientist.

"Yes! Ve are looking at ze vorld's smallest human! And my vife!"

"Hi there!" Your tiny voice bubbles out.

20 Years Ago

As you open your eyes, you find yourself floating in a blue solution. You breathe in the liquid like air and look down at your body to see that you are a perfect blue sphere, resembling a ripe blueberry. You try to move, but only your hands and feet stick out from either side of your chubby, round body. You can only uselessly wave and try to kick as you look around. You're in a clear jar in a room, a large room. You realize that you are tiny in comparison to the world outside and are practically immobile. Panic sets in as you try to remember how you got here, but your memories are hazy. You try to scream, but no sound comes out. Suddenly, a face appears above you.

It's a young man, with frizzy hair, amazed eyes, and a gentle smile. He introduces himself in a funny accent, calling himself Mr. Walk, and going on to explain to you that he created you in a lab. You are his creation, a tiny blueberry person grown in a bottle.

Dr. Walk takes care of you, ensuring that the solution you float in is tested regularly and keeps you healthy and juicy. He talks about the outside world and tests your sentience and intelligence. After a week or so, you declare that you're smarter than him and he laughs himself silly. He confides in you, telling you about his experiments and how he has never seen anything as beautiful as you. You can't help but feel a connection with him, despite your circumstances.

One day, Dr. Walk takes you out of the bottle, concerned about a higher than usual level of chemical in your tank. The solution? Juicing. He carefully holds you in his hand and exposes you to the cold but bearable outside air. You feel a rush of excitement and fear as the doctor explains what might happen next. You bite your lip and eagerly agree before his touch becomes more sensual, his fingers exploring every inch of your tiny body. He whispers words of adoration and desire, making you feel wanted and "normal" in a way you never thought possible.

And then, he begins to squeeze you gently. At first, you are scared, but then you realize that it's not painful. In fact, it's quite pleasurable. As he squeezes, your body releases a burst of juice from below you, and you can't help but let out a moan of ecstasy. The sensation is unlike anything you have ever experienced before. You feel your squishy, plump body becoming more and more aroused and respondent to Dr. Walk's touch.

He continues to squeeze you, and you feel yourself building towards a powerful orgasm. He asks you if he's pushing to hard but you demand that he presses you harder. He pinches you from the belly and back, releasing the last, small flood of juice from your moaning, thinner body as you reach the peak of pleasure. It's a sensation that you'd never forget and soon, learn to crave.

Dr. Walk lovingly puts you back in the bottle, and you dreamily float in the solution, feeling empty and content. You realize that despite your small size and unusual appearance, you are loved and desired by this brilliant scientist. And as you drift off to sleep, you can't help but wonder who else you might meet on this tiny, blue planet.

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Video Game DnD Adventure

(This is an idea sprung up randomly where in I had to wonder what may happen if certain video game characters existed in DnD. Not in an isekai way, but as if they were from Faerun or other places in the DnD universe. Featuring Death from the Darksiders series, Nikki from Love Nikki, Kain & Raziel from the Legacy of Kain series, & Alice from the American McGee's Alice franchise. Bare in mind this is a slight DnD interpretation of them. So not everything will be spot on but I will certainly do my best, course some light headcanon may be mixed in as well, you've been warned. If you want more of this do let me know. For now I'm just doing an introduction for funsies. Hope you all enjoy.)

Within Faerun, a lot of dangerous creatures exist. Some are more vicious than a demon. Others are extremely, dangerously intelligent. Some will simply eat you, others kill you, or worse. Death has seen it all, having grown a vast reputation for his capabilities in the slaying of beasts alongside his siblings. Leading them into victory on numerous occasions in the name of their mysterious masters. Rarely when not in service to them however, he takes on other work to pay the bills and all. Normally he'd bring his siblings if he felt is was needed, but this time he was asked to come alone. This much he reread many times on the parchment he'd been given. First asking the local curior of where he'd chosen to live if he had the right place and person. Upon being assured that yes everything was in order, he took it inside. He still struggled to believe what he ultimately saw in the writing. Aside from being told to come alone, he was only given a location and a payment amount.

"This doesn't seem right.", He began to say to himself, "Sure the pay is good, and I don't mind a lone job now and then. But normally I am given at least some details. This seems suspicious, maybe I shouldn't..."

Suddenly he heard a knock on his door, and opened it suspecting the curior to have returned. He was not expecting too much beyond there to have been a mistake as he thought.

"H-hello..*pant*..again..*cough*..sir.", the lad told him in a wheeze.

"Let me guess, mistake after all then?"

"Oh no...it's not that. I just...*huff* *cough*...missed this.", He replied before handing off a long and thin box.

Death took it and handed the young lad a flask, "Eh thank you. Here, for the road. And do try to take it easy."

"Oh thanks sir, and will do. *cough cough* Good day."

"Good day."

Death then shut the door behind him and opened the package to find a board and ouija planchette. He panicked at first and hurried about for something to burn it with, and in. Then something caught his attention, a strange whispering coming from the board. He froze and tried ignoring whilst continuing to search, but eventually the draw on him was too strong and so he went back up to it. Cautiously he touched the planchette upon its surface, and moved it slowly across the board. He only grew more nervous as nothing happened before finally feeling a presence.

He about moved the planchette to goodbye, until he heard a man's voice tell him, "Wait...through this method...you among many were chosen...Search among the ashes."

At a glance, he finally noticed the ash on it obscuring some oval shapes. Carefully he brushed it away and saw an image of himself, and three others that somehow were not burnt. There was also a few burn spots with outlines of where some images seemed to have been.

"I consulted the spirits...seeking gifted individuals...some like you...others not. You and the others have been chosen...So I implore you...come to the noted location..."

"Well, I would be angrier about a spirit invading my home this way but...", Death started to say.

"I am no spirit myself...just a medium like you sir."

Death narrowed his eyes a bit, "And a capable one at that. Especially to get passed my wards unnoticed by me until now. However, I would know what I'm needed for first. So tell me."

"Trapped souls need your help..."

"That's it? That's all you're giving me? Why should I even agree to this?"

"You'll learn more on your own...as is wished for."

Death groaned in annoyance, "Ugh fine then, I'll help you. Now would you kindly leave my home?"

Upon his asking, the presence faded away. He stood for a moment in silence before breathing a sigh of relief. He then took a moment to glance at the board again, taking a closer look at the other unburnt portraits. One was of a young looking girl with a flowery dress, rather unassuming. Another was of a man who looked a bit 'demonic?' 'draconic?', strange indeed but definitely someone capable in some way. The third was a black haired, green eyed girl. She appeared to be the polar opposite of the other girl, but aside from a bloodied blue and white dress with a knife in hand, she looked only somewhat harmless. Well to himself at the very least. Regardless he prepared a sack of his things to bring, the usual odds and ends of dealing with restless or trapped dead, and headed out. The board disappearing just as he walked out his door.

Meanwhile, Kain was met with a similar package. Finding it haphazardly left on his doorstep, clearly the deliverer was in a hurry to leave. He chuckled before bringing it inside, out of a morbid curiosity. The Soul Reaver lightly resonated as he placed it down, somewhat concerning him. He used his necromancy to reach out to the Reaver, to Raziel. Vaguely, he could sense Raziel feeling cautious about the box.

"You're not the only one Raziel, believe me you resonating with it's arrival is indeed strange to me.", Kain responded simply, not expecting to hear any in return.

Kain then opened the box and found a strange ashen board with a planchette. He was unsure of what it was initially, but seeing a portrait of himself and three others among the ash did pique some interest. The first image was a young girl who didn't seem to be a threat, but his experiences had taught him to avoid underestimations. 'I'll reserve my judgements, for now.' The other contained an image of a heavy set man in a skull like mask. 'Now this one looks unsavory, however so do I. So again I'll be careful in my judgments.' The final he glanced at was a girl no older than previous one. This one however, struck him as someone oddly powerful. Her piercing emerald eyes exuded confidence despite the innocent blue and white dress she wore, as bloodied as it was. Even with such a small blade in hand, Kain could tell she was competent with it. 'A competent warrior is often a great one indeed. Rare to see such tainted innocence incarnate. Then again, I suppose I'm one to talk aren't I?'

Kain then huffed under his breath, "What do you think Raziel?"

Once again, nothing was heard. Instead he got a stronger feeling of caution, but yet also curiosity from the blade as well.

"Your curiosity may just be the end of me one of these days. Although, it is rare to see you react to anything like this. So I suppose we can look further into it.", Kain then searched the box again before finding a simple note. On it was a location and a request to come alone, "Huh, well I can't imagine me bringing you would count against me really. You're not exactly...living, so surely not."

Kain felt a brief annoyance that faded as quickly as it came, getting a chuckle from him. Suddenly, a group of new feelings went through Kain's mind one after the other. First there was a sudden twinge of anger mixed with disbelief, then passive aggression, apprehension, caution again, and finally settling down into an acceptance of sorts. Next Kain caught very brief sight of a humanoid shade roaming around his halls. His hand palmed the Reaver as he watched it keenly. It stopped at the board before picking up a quill nearby, and with a dip of ink began writing upon some spare parchment on the table the board now laid upon. Kain settled a bit as the shade suddenly disappeared and glanced upon its writings.

"'You may bring him.', How curious. Is that what was going on then? A discussion between you and...whatever it was that entered here?"

A feeling of affirmation, and Kain simply nodded in understanding. He needed nothing from his home, save the location he needed to reach, and so left with only himself and the Reaver on his back.

Elsewhere, Nikki got home from a day out with friends. Her anthropomorphic cat and friend Momo was complaining as per usual for food. His stubby body hopping about in impatience until he had to adjust his yolk yellow cloak. Nikki giggled softly through the moment, and began searching her pantry and icebox for fish. Eventually finding just that and going outside to grill it. Nikki soon returned inside and placed the plated grilled fish down for Momo before returning to kitchen to make her own meal. Then she heard a simple knock at her door as Momo struggled to hop into his seat. She then opened it to find a young delivery man at the door.

"Hello, is this for me?", she asked him warmly.

"Uh uhm yes ma'am. I only know that it was apparently urgent. You also have other mail. Looks like more letters."

Nikki's eyes lit up, "Must be Mom, and a few others heheh. Thank you, and have a nice day."

"Uh you too.", the boy said before walking away awkwardly.

Nikki smiled before walking inside with her mail. Momo listened intently as she read out the sweet letter of her Mom and the fun filled adventures her sister wrote about. She then finally made herself a meal, and began eating as Momo began inspecting the package. His fish near finished on the plate in front of him.

"Hey Nikki, you forgot one. Did your Mom send it? Is it grilled fish? I'll bet it's grilled fish."

"I don't know Momo. Let's finish eating first ok?", she told him simply.

Momo agreed and sat down beside the package, watching it closely with curiosity. Eventually as Nikki began to put her dishes away, Momo suddenly yelped out. Nikki rushed over to find Momo up his cat tree and the package opened. Sighing softly she walked over to inspect it before finding what scared Momo. An ash covered board with a few pictures on it, including her own. It was kind of creepy, but not as much as the fact that the board looked burnt and yet four of the pictures were somehow untouched. One looked like a girl about her age, with a darker color palette than her. She did like the white and blue dress she wore though, but the blood and knife did seem offputting. She did have to admit though, the woman had some things Nikki struggled to keep hold of. 'I wish I had her confidence, she looks so strong too.' The other two images also held the same confidence and strength of the woman. Two men who looked vastly different from any man she'd seen, even those seemingly among the divine of Miraland. Nikki found them scarier than the woman though. Especially the one who looked like some sort of demon, even if the other's face was hidden by a bone mask. She took the board from the box anyway, and placed it on her table. Ultimately wanting to learn more about what was going on with it.

"Nikki are you crazy?! That thing is just creepy!"

"I know, but this isn't our first time dealing with creepy things."

"We got lucky in Miraland, who knows where THIS might take us!", Momo retorted, stamping his foot.

Nikki sighed again before just touching the board. She felt a sense of urgency come over her, then quickly rushed to the box. Inside was a note with a location on it and request to come alone. From here she felt like something or someone was pleading. She touched the planchette the board came with next and then found herself witnessing the past from what she could tell.

Within the vision was a message to her from a strange man, "Hello Nikki, my name is Balthazar Gabriel. If you're seeing this, then you've recieved the board. I know it must look very concerning, but I've heard quite a lot about you. I must say I'm most impressed with your immense capacity for empathy. The fact you could reach your friend past the clutches of an angered goddess is an incredible feat. Not to mention how quickly you can form bonds with others and your talents in psychometry to better understand those whose designs you wore in Miraland. With these qualities, I believe you'd make a perfect addition to the team. These three may seem intimidating and certainly have their dark sides, but I have no doubt you'll be able to keep things civil. I would tell you more on them, but they both prefer their respective privacy, so I'll leave it to you to learn about them in time. That said, go to the location on the note and all will come to be revealed there. I must also ask you come on your own, as your beloved cat companion Momo would likely not be able to handle what I'm asking of you."

Nikki held her hand to her chest at this before suddenly feeling a sharp pain in her legs. Looking down she sees Momo scratching her and that she's back at home, or rather she never left it. Luckily her leggings took the brunt of Momo's claws and her legs themselves didn't hardly get all that hurt.

"Give back Nikki! Give back Nikki!"

"Momo!"

"Ah! Oh Nikki!", Momo shouts before immediately hugging her, "I'm so sorry! You suddenly went all ghost-like and I could hear a man talking to you. I couldn't do anything! I just wanted you back."

Nikki picks Momo up and hugs him tightly before sitting down on the couch with him. After a bit of comforting he settles down enough for Nikki to explain herself and what happened. Momo is upset about her leaving but agrees he's had his fair share of scary stuff. Home is much safer than that after all. Nikki then calls upon some friends to watch over Momo until she can come home. Upon getting their promises she changes into a more suitable outfit for the trip and heads on her way.

Alice luckily had little incidents after her initial introspective trip in the opera house. Continuing her work there in the backrooms of the backstage area for money. Managing to survive well enough most days. Even using her newfound capabilities to aid those around her. The actors and actresses often being able to release their stress easily with her help somehow. Unfortunately as the show season died down she was forced to consider other options to earn extra money. Sure she still had a job, just wasn't needed as often and her pay reflected that. This day however, one such opportunity finally presented itself. A small package came to the Royal Opera House with her name on it. Upon recieving it, Alice found herself examining it cautiously.

"Another strange package. Wonder if it's the same sender who gave me the portrait of my family whilst I was at Bumby's?", She mused before outstretching a curious hand.

An all too familiar voice soon made itself known, "Curiosity does usually kill the cat you know. Or rather in your case, leads down deep rabbit holes."

"Come to visit again Cheshire?", Alice inquired with a quiet sigh.

To which he chuckled out, "How does one visit that which they cannot leave?"

"Typical. Though I am guessing I have good reason to be cautious if you've shown yourself?"

Cheshire's ears cocked to and fro, "It would do you well, hmhmhm but where's the fun in that? After all your curiosity often brings you to your best self.", ending off the spiel with his usual sly, wide smirk.

Alice simply nodded at this and opened the parcel before her. Inside she found a strange board with lines of ash laid on it. Alongside four photographs somehow untouched by the flames that once burned. Though it also appeared other photos had been burnt completely. Looking at the anomaly more closely, she recognized an old photo of herself from a newspaper. Her eyes narrowed a brief moment before they glanced towards the others. One held the image of a girl no older than herself by the look of it, though her color palette seemed more pastel and frilly like than hers. An otherwise 'normal' girl, also unlike herself. As for the other two images, she couldn't help but question their authenticity. Both were men by what she could tell, yet looked like Wonderland residents to her to a degree. One having a draconic air to him, with only three fingers or perhaps claws on each hand. The other looking particularly odd with a bone mask hiding his face, and eyes like fire that seemed to stare through her. She took the board up to place it on the table the parcel was on, and next found a planchette waiting inside. With a brief glance to Cheshire, she kept going into this latest rabbit hole. Placing the planchette upon the board, to no real fanfare. She turned around to look at Cheshire again before realizing the room around her had shifted. Instead of a storage room with a table, she was greeted by a study like space. Bookshelves aligning the walls, a strange device with a large globe at the center, and in front of it was a man. As he turned to face her, Alice went for the Vorpal Blade, knowing it'd be at her side.

"Do not worry Ms. Liddel, I mean no harm by triggering your abilities."

Her eyes narrowed at him, "It's one thing to do it myself, it's another to be controlled. Tell me who you are, right now."

"I am Balthazar Gabriel, and you are now within my Wonderland, so to speak."

"Why bring me here? You don't seem in need of much help, compared to others that is."

He only smiled warmly, "You are correct, Ms. Liddel. However, there are others in need that your abilities could help save. Trapped souls lost in limbos of their own making. You've saved yourself and do the same for others. I can promise you as well that you'll be well compensated for your time."

"Suppose I agree, how am I to find you?", Alice questioned whilst slowly lowering her guard.

"For that answer, look inside the parcel once more."

She did as he directed, and found a train ticket waiting for her, alongside a map with a circled location and trail leading to it, "Oddly convenient, but generous of you nonetheless."

"If there's anything that makes the trip easier, I'll ensure you recieve it promptly. I hope to see you soon. Do give the others my regards if you'd please as well."

With that he and the scene before her faded away before Alice shut her eyes instinctively. Upon their reopening, she was back in the storage room. Still grasping the ticket she'd been given, though the parcel and board were now unaccounted for. She couldn't be sure of their whereabouts, but chose not to question it for now. Instead she decided to look into this mystery after all. Waiting until her latest shift ended before informing her employer that she'd be away for a time. He surprisingly accepted this, stating he'd recieved a letter telling him that she was required and that he'd be paid for the troubles of being without her. Alice was unsurprised, suspecting this Mr. Gabriel to be behind it. Taking it as is before finally taking her things and heading off to see to this latest job opportunity.

Kain was the first to arrive, and began to wait patiently for the others to come. At first the place was a barren spot for a time. But had some places to hide during the day. Kain had nothing to fear from daylight unlike most of his kin, but being seen was a different story entirely. Better to avoid unneeded conflict with random strangers unrelated to this task. Unless he needed to feed that is. Eventually though, the barren spot was caught up in a strange dust devil like storm before a massive house materialized there. Kain though caught off guard initially, felt Raziel reacting within the Soul Reaver once again.

Suddenly he heard that long since lost voice, "Kain?"

"Raziel?", Kain asked a bit shocked before speaking up again, "How can this be? After all this time?"

"I am as confused as you are. But this is not an unwelcome thing really. It's...nice. Being heard again."

Kain responded in solidarity, "It's nice to be hearing you again. Been far too long Raziel."

"Indeed it has. Someone's headed over, be on guard."

"Always."

[johannestevans]

For A Smile

Also on Ao3. Hendrik/Sylvando. Rated M, 2.3k.

Hendrik doesn't mean to creep up on him.

The Luminary is engrossed in a game with his grandfather, sitting across from him with a battered board laid out between them - when Norberto had walked off, Hendrik had merely thought he was taking in the night air, and thought to follow him down to the water.

He's unclothed.

They're camping partly in the shade of one of the cliffs of the Costa Valor, a freshwater stream coming down to let off into the sea, and Norberto has stripped off his harlequin's tunic to bathe.

Hendrik stares at him, unthinking. His body has changed much, since they were but boys training in the arena - he's grown taller and broader, just as Hendrik has, but there's... more. There's a plumpness to his chest, his pectorals with a softness to them, his pink-brown nipples broad and dark. He isn't a hairy man, not at all, and his hips have a softness to them that Hendrik can trace with his eyes as he watches the water trail down, watches it drip down onto his thighs.

"Am I hogging all the water, honey?" Norberto asks, and Hendrik's gaze flickers up to his face, the smirk on his lips.

"My apologies," Hendrik says reflexively, and bows his head, averting his gaze as Norberto steps out from the water and shakes out his dark hair, beginning to comb it through with his fingers. "I didn't realise you were bathing."

"Nothing you haven't seen before, huh?"

Hendrik's eyes flicker to the other man's, the other knight's, breasts again.

"Well," Norberto says, and shrugs his shoulders surprisingly delicately, for how broad they are. "Most of it you've seen before."

"Your skin looks very soft," Hendrik says. He doesn't know why.

"Oh, it is, honey, it is," Norberto replies, and as Hendrik prepares himself to say something more, to respond, he feels Norberto's warm, strong hand tugging on Hendrik's. He can't breathe as his palm makes contact with Norberto's naked side, the skin supple and yes, soft.

He's so warm.

"Norberto—"

"Please, don't call me that," he says, his voice soft, his eyes pleading. When Hendrik looks into them - were they always so thickly lashed, so lovely? - they're serious, and have a melancholy in them. "My papi, Servantes, everybody else - I didn't want to explain."

"Explain?" Hendrik repeats.

"Sylvando, that's my name. Sylv, Sylva, Sylvando - not Norberto."

"It was the name your father gave you."

"My father gave me lots of things I don't use any longer, baby. Clothes that don't fit me; weapons I don't use; a future I didn't want. That name."

Hendrik bows his head and says, "Forgive me, Sylvando." His hand is remaining where Sylvando placed it: Sylvando's own incredibly soft palm is a warm weight over it. One of his fingers strokes Hendrik's skin.

"You didn't tell him that," Hendrik says. He didn't tell Hendrik, either.

Sylvando looks abashed, if only a little. He steps away from Hendrik to bend and pick up a towel, and Hendrik clenches his fist around the ghost of warmth his naked skin has left against his palm.

"No," Sylvando admits, almost shyly.

Hendrik has known this man for decades, and yet—

Who is he? A stranger.

Hendrik thinks of the many hours he and the boy Sylvando was had spent training under his father's watchful eye, and the many hours more they'd trained alone. Thinks of Sylvando easily cycling through different blades, whips, hand-to-hand techniques. He remembers the first time he'd walked into the stables to find Sylvando atop Gonzales, the two of them clutching at each other, sweat-soaked, naked - he remembers swiftly returning back inside and sitting in silence in his room, working to digest it.

Sylvando had seemed so very nervous afterwards he'd not even teased Hendrik about it, and it had gone unspoken between them.

A tension.

Is he cursed to find that everyone, every training partner, he's known since boyhood should become a total mystery? Jasper first, now Sylvando?

It's not the same and yet, it is.

"Penny for your thoughts, big boy?"

Hendrik clenches his jaw.

Sylvando still hasn't dressed, is sitting back against a stone like a snake - it's a hot night despite the lacking sun; the air is balmy and its humidity is oppressive.

"Why do you speak like you do?" he asks, the words coming out colder than he intends them.

"Oh, honey, I could ask the same."

"I've always spoken like this."

Sylvando sucks his teeth, looking at him wryly. He's sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his hands folded over his knee. His voice has a deeper cadence, loses its theatrical quality, as he meets Hendrik's gaze and rumbles, "Well, aren't you lucky?"

Something in Hendrik goes cold.

"Darling," Sylvando lisps a moment later, relaxing and gesturing with his pretty hands, sliding so easily back into his second skin, "that's the point, hm? You are what you are, what you were since birth. Some of us had to fight a little to get to what we are."

"You fought for this?" Hendrik asks, and he hears the judgement in his own voice, watches one of Sylvando's carefully groomed eyebrows rise.

"Boy, you kept calling me," he says airily. "The boy. To our little friend, the Luminary - Rodrigo's boy. That boy."

"So?"

"So you and I are of an age, honey. What is there between us, a year, two years, at most? Did you really think you'd go on ageing, and I'd be a young slip of a thing forever?"

Hendrik considers this. He had, he realises. He'd never thought of Sylvando grown up.

"I always thought you were so funny," Sylvando says quietly. "Just a handsome man, all carved and strong - I could see it then, you know. You were shorter, but you were so solid. I could see the big statue of a man you were growing into before they carved and put it on display."

Hendrik doesn't know what to say to that, his skin feeling prickly as his mind catches on the one word, handsome. Handsome.

"Look at you," Sylvando says, sounding dreamy. "A big hero, a perfect knight."

"I am in no way perfect," Hendrik says immediately.

Sylvando shrugs again.

Hendrik steps forward, closer, and then closer still, walks until he's standing directly over the flat stone Sylvando reclines on, so that Sylvando is forced to look up at him.

"Why have you... why?" Hendrik asks. 

"Why?" Sylvando repeats, and then laughs softly.

 Hendrik’s skin feels too tight, like armour that’s too small, and he lets out an involuntary noise as Sylvando takes his hands again and this time pulls them to his breasts – they’re both so soft, weighty in his hands. Not as big, proportionally, as a woman’s, maybe, but… Sylvando’s eyes flutter closed.

“Sylvando—”

“Did you ever touch him like this?”

Hendrik feels his brow furrow. “Whom?”

“That boy of yours,” Sylvando says, and when Hendrik doesn’t understand, he adds, “in Heliodor. The other knight, the one you left for Puerto Valor. Jasper, hm?”

Hendrik rips his hands back.

Sylvando sighs and leans forward, his chin coming to lie on his palm. “Yes, that’s what I thought. You talked about him every day, back then.”

Hendrik says nothing.

“I think he’s like me,” says Sylvando.

“A traitor?” Hendrik demands.

“He wanted to be a knight, right? A good one. There was always a catch in the way you talked about him – you always said the two of you were evenly matched when you fought, but where was he? He was back in Heliodor while you got special training. I thought, what’s that about?” Sylvando’s pretty fingers tap his chin. “We saw him a few times around, our little band. He’s pretty, real pretty, all that long air, those eyes, that tiny little waist.” He sighs softly. “Not saying what he did was right – of course it wasn’t, darling. But I think I understand how he got that way.”

“I don’t,” Hendrik growls. “He threw away all that matters. How could he have betrayed his calling, his people, his king, all of Erdrea!?”

Sylvando’s voice doesn’t raise like Hendrik’s has when he adds, “You?”

“What?”

“You. He betrayed you. You forgot that off your list.”

Hendrik’s lip curls into a snarl, and Sylvando goes back to where his clothes are set aside, bending over again. Hendrik stares at the curve of his backside, at the thickness of his thighs, the roundness of his behind.

“Do you miss him?” Sylvando asks. He’s not putting on his clothes, but his rosary.

“No,” says Hendrik.

“Do you miss the man you thought he was?” Sylvando asks unflinchingly, without so much as missing a beat. Hendrik’s never liked to dwell on things he misses, or things that came before. He feels the list will never end, if he starts to voice it or put it to memory.

The pendant on Sylvando’s rosary rests between his perfect breasts.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvando murmurs. “I suppose it occurs to me you might miss the man I was, the man you thought I was gonna be. My papi does, I think – not as much as I thought, as much as I was scared of, but more than maybe I wish.”

“You weren’t a man when last I saw you.”

“I’m not really a man now, either,” Sylvando says. “I don’t think I ever was.”

Hendrik doesn’t know how to respond, to hear it said aloud, to hear it voiced – and not just voiced, not just said, but admitted by Sylvando himself.

“Don Rodrigo still considers you a knight,” Hendrik says, and then adds, “As do I.”

“Oh, you’re such a dear man, aren’t you?” Sylvando asks softly, fiddling with the rosary beads around his neck. “Sooo noble, and not just because you took an oath, eh? It’s ‘cause you care.”

Hendrik looks at the narrowness of Sylvando’s waist compared to his shoulders and his backside. Considers the breadth of his own hands.

“You lay with men,” he says. He stumbles slightly over the words.

“Uh huh,” Sylvando agrees, and he turns his head to look at him, still bent double. “And women, too, sometimes. But mostly men.”

“How?” Hendrik asks.

“Oh, gloriously,” Sylvando tells him. “Wonderfully and pleasurably – I live to put a smile on people’s face, no? It is my sacred oath. Why shouldn’t I make them feel good in bed?”

Hendrik’s cheeks are burning with heat, and he feels like a boy again, frightened and nervous of sex, and pleasure, of all the social rules and layers of etiquette that accompany both the acts and their discussion.

“How about you?” Sylvando asks. “You sleep with other knights, maybe?”

“No.”

“With bunny girls?”

“Ngh. I— No.”

Sylvando’s expression is soft again as he asks, “You sleep with anybody?”

“Not anymore.”

“Jasper?”

“No.”

“But once?”

“Sylvando!”

“I can’t ask?” Sylvando is looking at him with a faint smile on his face, and Hendrik feels as though they’re touching, as though he really is…

“You?” he hears himself ask. It’s just one syllable, but rings in his ears. It’s not the sort of thing that’s proper for a knight of Heliodor to ask about.

“I told you, honey, mostly men.” Hip is cocked, one hand resting on it.

“Your… parade?”

“Them?” Sylvando asks, and then laughs, and then just looks soft, and quiet. “No. I just, um… For people like us, you know, it’s always hard to be. In times of crisis, people make it harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re suspicious, that’s all – people find us suspicious. People kinda let us live, in the circus or in a parade – but a guy like me, a person like me, in a little village? No crowd to blend into, no choreography to learn, no costume to wear? They get used for target practice. There’s a reason I never changed until I left.”

“Who, then?”

“Is this leading up to something, Sir Knight?” Sylvando asks flirtatiously, fluttering his eyelashes. “You wanna share a tent tonight?”

“Do you?”

Sylvando looks back at him, and then says in a quieter, gentler voice, “I don’t know, lover boy. I don’t know if I can put a smile on that face.”

Hendrik doesn’t know himself. He’s never been a man to smile easily – Jasper had commented on it from time to time, even, because he could even where Hendrik couldn’t. He could fake it.

Hendrik closes the distance between them and finds that Sylvando’s often smiling lips are so, so soft.

Sylvando gasps as Hendrik kisses him, and it can’t be from pleasure when Hendrik is so unpractised, when it’s been years since he indulged in a pleasure like this one – he holds Sylvando as delicately as he can, takes care to hold him gently. Sylvando has a need of gentleness, deserves it, after all he’s been through.

He opens his mouth as Hendrik kisses him, invites Hendrik in, and when Hendrik kisses him more deeply, one arm banded around Sylvando’s lower back and the other sliding between his thighs, Sylvando gasps again. Ekes out a tiny, breathless sound.

“I should make you smile, perhaps,” Hendrik says in quiet, serious tones against Sylvando’s mouth when they break apart – the two of them are each breathing heavier, and when he meets Sylvando’s eyes, he sees tears shining in his grey eyes. “Ah,” he says, horrified. “Sylvando—”

“No, no, honey, please,” Sylvando says, voice strained with emotion as he grips hold of Hendrik’s shoulders – tightly, yes, but gently, too. “Don’t stop, that sounds… that sounds nice.”

Hendrik kisses him again, and eases Sylvando back onto the stone to shadow the other knight’s body with his own.

* * *

He does smile, after.

In camp that evening, Sylvando stares into the fire with a faint smile on his face, touches his own cheeks, his eyes faraway and glinting with deep thought.

Hendrik smiles too, albeit to himself.

He makes sure to let Sylvando see.

FIN.

[kiyoominous]

chapter one: the dawn’s flame

masterlist is here! 

blurb: diluc likes you. you like diluc. venti likes the two of you together but doesn't know why no one's done anything about it. well, time to take matters into his own hands. 

pairing: diluc/reader

content: fluff, slight angst (it's just diluc brooding tbh), roman god au (almost)

author's note: i have accidentally written diluc as an absolute loser in this chapter, i'm so sorry fellow diluc lovers!! just a fair warning, the chapters moving forward are going to look like this. half venti-centric. expect cupid!venti 'lore'. 

diluc doesn't care for the rain. he's not an individual who is enamoured by the look, sound and feel of it. he's grown indifferent, as he has become for most things of this world. perhaps a long time ago he loved the rain but those feelings were shelved away years ago. 

but now, as he stands soaked from head to toe underneath the windrise oak tree, he despises the water sinking into his clothes. the fact that you're standing under the tree with him doesn't make it any better. 

"the rain looks pretty bad, huh?" you mutter, hoping to squeeze something of a conversation out of diluc. 

"yes. it looks quite awful." is all he can bring himself to say. 

he's known you for years. he's had at least one sleepover with you and kaeya when times were different, better even. he can list each stray dog you've named in mondstadt city. diluc knows a lot about you and yet he feels embarrassed to be drenched in rain next to you. with you. but how come?

though the young winery owner may have absolutely no clue, venti has every single one. if he were a little more organised, he'd have a board sitting with him atop of his cloud with written evidence connected to one another with red string. a list, even. 

venti knows three things about diluc, one that the red-head does not know himself. 

number one, diluc sells the most exquisite wine in all of teyvat. when his cupid shifts are slow, all venti can ever find himself thinking about besides love is the smooth taste of dawn winery's dandelion wine. its earthy warmth welcomes him at angel's share each time he decides to descend upon the human world. 

number two, diluc is the grumpiest man in all of mondstadt. venti is a somewhat omnipotent god, knowing each person in teyvat on a surface level. he's seen the bright smiles of barbara, the diligence of ningguang, and the charming confidence of kamisato ayato. there are perhaps even more ill-tempered individuals walking the paths of this world but in all of mondstadt, diluc takes first place. 

number three, diluc has feelings for you. if venti ever had to confront diluc about his emotions for you, he could hear diluc saying; 

"if by feelings you mean simply how i view (name), i'd say those feelings are amicable." 

but that wasn't true at all! venti, being the nosy god he is, has peeked from his chaise of clouds every time you've even breathed the same air as diluc. and archons is it a painful sight to see. 

the routine is always the same. the young ragnvindr will sneak glances at you, shuffle on his feet, look at you with a bright fondness that venti has never seen before. there's no doubt that a soft red will dust his cheeks each time you give him a lovely compliment. fortunately, this isn't a one-sided romance that venti will cry about. he sees the gentle smiles you flash at diluc, the way you tuck your hair shyly behind your ears when he says something particularly charming. all of this romantic tension filling the air between the pair of you and yet nothing done about it! 

venti enjoys the pining stage sometimes but he'd be lying if he said this wasn't beyond annoying. if diluc can't use his chess-grade brain to figure out his feelings, then venti was going to do that himself. 

he draws his bow, carefully aiming for diluc's chest. the red-head is still standing stiff under the oak branches, much akin to a wet cat. you look wonderful for someone soaked all over and diluc is just there. 

"this is all i can pay you for all that wine, master diluc." is what venti mutters under his breath before he launches the arrow. 

back on the grounds of teyvat, diluc is shuffling back and forth on the balls of his feet. the clothes on his back feel heavy but somehow, his insides feel heavier. there's a rattling in his chest, something like a quickening heartbeat and what people might call butterflies in one's stomach. and each time your pretty face enters his visage, the rattling becomes even faster. 

"is dawn winery's owner finally opening his heart again?" is all he hears after you bid him farewell within kaeya's peripheral. 

"oh diluc, you're in love with (name)," says lisa whenever she gets the chance. 

even the maids are convinced that diluc feels more than friendly emotions for you. but that couldn't be right, it can't be right. 

diluc's heart is imprisoned behind bars in between the bones of his ribcage. it has been sealed, locked up and put away so that no one gets the chance to approach any closer. there's no chance he can give himself permission to be as vulnerable as he once was with each and every individual that has left his life. that's not to say that diluc feels no love. in fact, he holds so much of it in the palms of his hands. why else would he protect the streets of mondstadt if not for the care and affection he holds for the city and its people? 

perhaps he doesn't believe that love is right there in his incarcerated heart but it is. and it's there for you too. 

"do you have any plans for the rest of the day?" your voice rings through the rain. diluc straightens his back as your melodious tune reaches him. 

"i have some work at the guild that i need to attend to but other than that, no." he takes a long pause to remember how to talk to people. "how about you?" 

"hmm... i have a commission to complete by the end of today and i think that's it." you reply. even though your hair is slick with water, diluc thinks you look divine under the spread of the oak tree. the dull blues of the downpour and the greens of windrise brighten the smile that graces your features. it's the only thing whisking his mind away from soggy clothes and time wasted in the middle of mondstadt. 

diluc muses that he's been staring for too long as he feels a sudden pang hit his chest and an echo of 'you are in love with (name)' in his heart. 

he's in love with you?! 

hmm, perhaps he is. 

"would you like to go out to dinner after your commission?" are the last words he expected to fall out of his mouth. diluc isn't even sure if those are the words he spoke with the way they practically tumbled out of his mouth, eyes widening in shock. 

"of course, anything for my favourite friend in the world!" you agree almost instantaneously. his heart sinks a little as he hears 'favourite friend' but it's definitely better than nothing, that's for sure. 

you were most definitely going to be the death of him. 

up on the showering clouds above, venti is ecstatic, over the moon, joyous. finally, a semblance of movement after years of awkward romantic tension. though he'd prefer to keep this information to himself, he's also relieved that his aim was perfect this time around. if he had missed? well, let's just say that was his last arrow for the week. ehe. 

[vannybarber]

The Prenup: Final Chapter

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

You lied.

You didn't come back the day after. Or the next day. In fact, you stayed at the hotel for almost a week. You didn't stay in the same clothes of course. You went out to buy everything you needed. Clothes, hygiene products, prenatal vitamins. You were the saddest and most ridiculous thing to walk this earth.

Lisa and Scott eventually came over with your permission of course. You couldn't say no to them. You weren't upset with them.

"How've you been, sweetie?" They both look for your answer, trying to read your face.

"To tell you the truth, I actually feel like an asshole. I honestly realize how immature I was. Chris definitely was, but I was stooping to that level myself. But I won't admit to him just yet. I want him to recognize how immature he was too."

It was crazy to even hear it from your own mouth. But you had time to think it over. You recognized how stupid you looked living in a hotel because you couldn't put your immaturity aside.

"Well this might be a shock to you, but I had a talk with him also and it might've did something." You make eye contact with her and your eyebrows jump. Indeed, you were surprised. She continues.

"I know you guys will be able to resolve this. But you need to try. You've have been together too long to let this get in between you two. I think he finally understands." She sets her hand on yours, which was placed in your lap.

He finally understood? You had to see this for yourself. You hoped to everything that she was right. You actually wanted to fix this and he needed to be on board and feel the same way.

It occurred to you after some time that his points were actually valid. It was just the way he came across is all. You were in your own feelings and took it really personal, which was understandable, but you got stubborn. Even though he got a prenup for his own reasons, you felt as if he didn't love you as much as you love him.

This could all be fixed, but he needed to set some boundaries with Megan. He had no choice. Wait till she finds out about the baby. Evidently none of the other Evans' knew about the baby because it was never brought up. You secretly thank Chris for keeping that between you guys, even though he was most likely still upset that you weren't gonna tell him about the baby right away.

You both are grown ass adults and you're having a child together. This bullshit needed to end.

"Oh my gosh this is great !! All my shit talking did some good." Lisa clears her throat at him. "Along with Ma's great advice of course." You just laugh. You loved your family.

"I think I'm ready to see him. Scratch that. I am ready to see him. I want my fianceé back." You smile and grasp your hands together. You don't think you've ever seen them smile so hard.

"Oh yeah we know you're pregnant." You stop smiling and stare at Scott like you've been caught in the cookie jar. "You know Chris can't keep his big mouth shut." Well that's a Gemini for you.

"Now its really important that you solve this. You're bringing another life into the world!" Lisa exclaims. "Plus I'm gonna have another grandbaby!!"

You giggle and shake your head. "Well we need to head over there right now then!"

Little did you know Chris was on the exact same page as you. Down to every line and every word.

He has always been indecisive and this situation really forced him to take some responsibility and rethink his behavior. You had all the reason to feel the way you did, his intentions clearly being missed by you. Whatever they even were.

He also decided that he was going to set Megan straight about his personal life and respecting you. You were his future wife. And now that you're bringing a baby into the world, she definitely needed to be put in check. He can't even believe how he allowed her to disrespect you like this.

Now he only hoped that you'd want to sort this out and forgive him. He needed you no matter what he said. He did make up excuses because your relationship was too good to be true. He's never had a connection like this before. He never allowed it, but clearly it was for a reason because it give you a chance to come in his life and completely change it for the better.

When he had gotten home from visiting you, his feelings were all over the place. Upset that you didn't come back with him and guilty for making you feel the way you did. He just felt like he was doing the right thing because Megan told him to. Deep down inside, he really didn't even want to get the stupid prenup anyway.

"So where's Y/N? Is she okay?" Shanna asked for everyone. They all expected you to come back too. They didn't know you were this stubborn.

"She's alright. She said she wasn't ready to come back just yet. Which I completely understand. But I feel like a failed once again." He slumps on the couch and lies back. "I don't deserve her at all."

"Now Chris, you know what you have. And what you have is good. Better than anything you had before. You two were made for each other. You're a hard head and I know you're not giving up this easily" Lisa says to him, taking a seat to his right.

"You know she's pregnant." He really shouldn't have said that and he knows it, but he can't keep a secret to save his own life. Everyone in the room gasps. "I found the tests in the bathroom. If I didn't go in there and discover them myself, she wasn't planning on telling me yet."

"Well she probably wanted to fix this before adding more on top of it." Scott adds. And he was absolutely correct.

"Well I'm happy for you! But I you still have this going on." Lisa's voice goes from excited to monotone. She's super happy, but she wished this could have been evented at a much better time.

"Well this could've made things better...or worse." Chris throws his NASA cap on the couch angrily.

Carly speaks up.

"You and Scott should go visit her. I doubt she'll turn it down."

"Yeah Ma. We should see where her heads at. Maybe her mind will change with our advice" Scott agrees. He loves you as a sister. Anything threatening that would have to be put to death immediately.

"Guys, I don't know about that. She seemed pretty definite on how she felt." Chris didn't want to make it worse than what it was, but he always found a way to do that anyway.

"Chris come on" Scott drags out. "We have to try."

"Y/N is a smart girl. She knows what she needs to do and it will come to her. I know it'll work out. And when it does, you'll realize your love is inevitable." Lisa smiles knowing she is absolutely right.

Now she just waits for it all to fall in place.

You were currently outside in the driveway of your house. You drove back there in your car with Lisa and Scott behind you. When you arrived, you hopped in her car to discuss how this was going to go.

Looking at the property, you admit missed your place, but you allowed your infantilism to get in the way.

"Okay he's in there, but he doesn't know you're coming back." Scott speaks lowly from the back seat.

"Wait you didn't tell him?" You snap around mystified. Why did they not tell him?

"Because we wanted it to be a surprise. Well I wanted it to be a surprise." He corrects himself when Lisa throws him a look through the rear view mirror.

"Well um okay. Then this just has to play out itself. Hopefully he's happy to see me..?" You were unsure yourself. The little intimate moment you had before he left couldn't dictate how he'd feel now.

"I'm positive he is, but you won't know unless you get up in there. Go ahead! We'll get your stuff," Lisa encourages. You think she's more excited than anyone. You thank her with a kiss on the cheek and high five Scott then head out of the car. You walk up the driveway to the front door. You didn't get the key out your bag so you rang the doorbell.

A few moments, the door is jerked open. You automatically know he didn't even look through the peephole before he opened the door. He needs to stop doing that.

You appear in his vision and he pauses.

"Y/N? Baby?" Incredulity is all in his voice.

"Yes, that is my name." You giggle. "Can I come in?"

"Uh of course! You live here, ya know." He steps back so you can walk inside. Walking through the threshold, you look around the house as if it was foreign to you. For whatever reason, you expected some dramatic changes. One thing that didn't change is his shoes in the middle of the floor. His bad habit.

"Chris what did I say about your shoes in the walkway?" You scold him and move them to the corner with his others. You can't count how many times you've almost fell face first because of his shoes in the way and truthfully, you not watching where you're going.

"Sorry I forget a lot" he says sheepishly with a tiny smile on his face stopping behind you. This makes your corners turn up as well.

You stand facing him and him facing you. Neither of you say anything. You can't tell if it is because you don't know what to say or that you just really missed each other's faces. Before you do speak, Lisa and Scott are inside with your things.

"Oh guys just put that stuff on the couch. Thank you again!" You point to the sofa, absentmindedly moving closer to Chris.

"We need to talk." Turning back to him, you nod. You remember why you're here in the first place. You needed to put an end to this.

"Right. Patio?" You always go out there to have conversations or just to chill with each other. He nods his head and turns to his family.

"We're gonna go outside and talk for a bit. Okay?"

"Oh yes take all the time you need," Lisa exclaims, shooing you both off. Scott is grinning himself. You just smile and walk to the back door onto the patio. Chris follows quickly behind.

Once you both get outside, you sit down. You wouldn't say it was awkward, but there was definitely some tension. You decide to break it.

"I'm really sorry, Chris."

"Baby I'm so sorry."

Guess he wanted to as well. You were about to talk, but he spoke up first.

"I want to apologize first. I was completely wrong here. I was being an asshole and I deserved everything you said to me. And everything Scott said to me as well." He rolls his eyes at that part. You could only imagine the dragging Scott was giving him. "I allowed Megan to disrespect you and that was a dick move. No one should allow their partner to be treated like that. You're were going to my wife and I stooped that low. I'm truly sorry." He searches in your eyes for something to let him know that you forgave him, knew that he was really sorry at least.

You look away about to let the flood come like Noah and the Arc. You've been waiting to hear that for a while and you knew he meant every word. But now it was your turn. Clearing your throat and wiping your eyes, you speak up.

"This isn't completely your fault, baby." You take his hands in yours. "I am also guilty as well. I acted so immature and didn't even truly try to resolve this because I wanted to victimize myself the whole time. Although you were acting like a huge dick, I still played a part. I am so sorry for not planning on telling you about the baby. That was unfair of me. I know that you love me and that I am important to you, so if you still want me to sign the prenup, I'll do it."

Hearing the words come from your mouth surprised you both. He didn't think you'd ever give in and you sure as hell were making sure you wouldn't. But here you are agreeing to it because you love him that much and wanted to make him happy. Your relationship would work so it would never come to be used. You had strong faith in that.

"That's another thing." He shakes his head and you're now confused. "I don't want you to sign a prenup. We're not doing that. I already plan on talking to Megan about it. And I'm going to address her on knowing her place working for me. Since you know that I love you, so fucking much, I don't need to worry about money. Nor a divorce. Like Ma said, we were made for each other and I'll be damned if I let you get away from me."

"So no prenup?" You needed to hear it again.

"No prenup, love." He grins at you, squeezing your hands. You pull from his grip and jump up busting out random dance moves. His mouth is ajar.

"No prenup! Ain't signing no prenup! Lalalalalaaaaa! No prenup!" After your little dance number, you sit back down with no shame. You needed that.

"I'm glad that you finally came to your senses, Christopher. Your mother taught you well" you say in a pompous manner. He just can't help but laugh. You truly were something else.

"We have a little one coming soon and we have to be out best selves for them. Pinky promise each other that we never ever argue and not fix it in a matter of 25 minutes ever again?" He holds out his pinky finger waiting for yours.

"I promise." You wrap yours around his and grin. "So we're good?"

"Well there is one more thing." He stands up and reaches in his pocket. He pulls out your engagement ring and gets on one knee. Just when you had no tears left to cry.

"Y/N, baby, will you be my fianceé again?" You laugh breathlessly and nod your head.

"Yes, you meatball!" He slips the ring back on your finger and you jump in his arms. Almost knocking him over, he grabs your face and kisses you. You wasted zero time kissing him back because you needed it. It had been so long.

Finally pulling away and balancing your breaths like you just ran a 5k, you both make eye contact and burst out into laughter.

"Come on. Let's go tell them." He grabs your hands and you rush inside the house. Heading into the living room you see them both watching with anticipation.

"So?" Scott speaks and they both stand up.

"Guess who's getting married ?!"

HELP-😌 im so proud of myself. i decided to end this with a nice fluff. it was well deserved. i read you guy's comments and it influenced how i wrote it. some of you mentioned immaturity in y/n and that was really valid. and the point about the prenup making sense.

thank you so much for reading. i am honestly so grateful that you guys liked it. i didn't expect it to blow up like it did. im crying now so bye ✌🏽🤧❤

tags:

@mayafatimakhan @attitude-times @shawn-youth @traceyaudette @kyraroseficreblogs33 @radi0active-thoughts @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @ohbarracuda @katelyneannxo @jennamarieee623 @craycraycraic @ilikeurdad @captainson-of-coul @joanne-stan @ilovetheeagles @cristinagronk16 @kelbabyblue @onyourgoddamnleft @jessycatth @misz-adrii @geminievans1 @saltyflowermakertaco @a-moment-captured @harrysthiccthighss @dauntless2022 @allboutdatmarvel @ineedpineapple @illyrianprincess @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @marianas-studyblr @obliviatevamps @thevelvetseries @coffeebooksandfandom @shamelessfangirl-3 @quietmyfearswith @kissme-hs @lvgllre @arabescapr @careless-intuition @lady-x-red @donutloverxo @princess-evans-addict

[kyunisixx]

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth. 

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek. 

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past. 

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors.  All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage. 

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency. 

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him. 

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze. 

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice. 

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept. 

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint. 

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. 

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss. 

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers. 

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break. 

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

.

⭐ writings list ⭐

.

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Five of Pentacles

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | one

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the attack on Jortho, you begin your journey to scower the systems for galactic aid. The Mandalorian takes you aboard his ship temporarily, agreeing to shuttle you to your next destination. You both figure your tenure on the Razor Crest will be short lived... But you've been wrong before.

Word count: 3.8k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood/gore, minor character death (mentioning), mature themes/language, vomiting

Notes: Hi friends. Here we go. Chapter 2... The last paragraph is marked with ///|||///, denoting a change to Mando's POV— his pov will be cropping up now and again, and I have a tendency to play with the timeline/tenses when it does. Enjoy x

You have to think about it. Genuinely.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit, with the Mandalorian looking down at you expectantly, a gloved hand slotted against his belt—postured and waiting.

‘Do you have a way off this skug hole?’

You open your mouth, but no words come out. It snaps closed. You swallow, but the action provides no relief. Your tongue feels too big for the small space it’s trapped in; too swollen, too dust logged— like you could choke on it, if you really tried. Finally, a single syllable frees itself, the weight of it plummeting through your ribs, ricocheting off the bones until it lands in your stomach with a dull, sinking splash.

���No.”

He doesn’t move.

“Do you need to get anything?”

You shake your head, small at first, phantom movements, before stringing together a sentence. “N-No. It’s all gone. Everything I had- it all went up on the shuttle-“

Oh gods, the shuttles.

Your heart seizes, a cold hand like a vice, gripping the bloody organ. You feel green; sickly chartreuse slithering it’s way up your esophagus, poisoning your soft palate. There were pilots on board when the ships blew. Two on each one. That’s four— four people. You knew their names. Knew their home planets. Knew about their families. One had a kid. Fuck. That’s four dead, and you didn’t even think of them— Maker, how could you not have thought about them?— No, fuck, fuck fuck-

It didn’t before but it’s hitting you now, stabbing you right between the eyes, the image of their bodies disintegrating in the blast wave, charring up like coal and carbon. You breathed them in, you realize. Their corpses coat your lungs.

The thought is all it takes.

Your feet move on instinct, scrambling to the side of his gunship where you vomit, bracing yourself against the riveted siding as you hack and sputter, wretching bile and what little broth you’d had for supper to splatter onto the cracked earth. Mercifully you’re hidden enough around the corner that you don’t think the bounty hunter sees, and if he does, he has the curtesy not to say anything.

What a gentleman, you think dryly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

You pant, body beyond spent, chest heaving as you press your scratched palm into the durasteel, the cool metal soothing it’s sting. Moments stretch like this— you doubled over, catching your breath— before you stumble back into view, graceless and encumbered, as if you didn’t just casually throw up down the front of yourself. You stand below him at the bottom of the ramp. He’s still there, a fixed point. Steel boots welded into the steel ramp.

“Uhm, are you-“

You cough, and it’s an ugly, hoarse sound; your throat burns, roughened and raw around the edges, and your nerves are too strung out for polite colloquialisms. You don’t have the energy to play coy and tip toe around the question. You’re fucking tired.

You try again.

“Are you offering me a ride?”

And now it’s his turn to hesitate, almost like he didn’t fully think the proposition through— as if it’s all just dawning on him now.

The Mandalorian didn’t strike you as someone who familiarized himself with answering to anyone— or picking up hitchhikers, for that matter— even if the offer was his to begin with... That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Those words in that order? He meant to give you transport off planet? He wasn’t just… making conversation? Did Mandalorians even do that? Maker, if you’ve read this whole situation wrong, no small thanks to a laser-brain full of mush, you reckon you’d die from embarrassment on the spot where you stood, splotched with soot and puke and blood.

You think he’s going to tell you to shove off— you see his hand balling into a fist at his side— and close the ramp right then and there. Be rid of you. Sluffed, like a flea from a dog.

But he doesn’t. He surprises you both.

“Yes.”

Oh. Oh. Kriff, okay. Think think think-

Your mind reels and you’re rambling now, words ending and beginning in the same breath— steamrolling over yourself.

“Okay, I-I need to go back in to town, just for a—I cant let them think I’m just leaving them like this... Is that okay? I’m sorry, I won’t take long, I promise, I just— they need to know I’m getting help. Is that- uhm, can you wait? Can you wait for me?”

There’s another unreadable pause that makes you want to bury your head in the cold, fallow soil.

The man is looking at you like you’ve grown another kriffing leg, but eventually he grumbles out a noise that sounds like an affirmative, turning on his heel, and disappears into the belly of the ship— leaving you there alone.

Alone.

Pin pricks needle at the nape of your neck and the hair down your arm stands on end.

Alone.

You’re alone for the first time since the attack and suddenly you feel half your size and shrinking smaller still, like atoms collapsing and folding in on themselves until they dematerialize completely—and you along with them. You tell yourself to breath. To fight the bubbles of panic as they burst and pop, dimpling you from the inside out. Breath. Focus, he said. Focus.

You shift your weight from foot to foot, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

The Mandalorian never reemerges.

Well… you guess that was your cue.

///

Staggering back into Jortho is like sleepwalking through a nightmare.

The smoke from the bombing has completely engulfed the lower atmosphere, doming the town in a thick canopy; the sky is blackened, starless, and the moons hover noncommittally like mere suggestions in the dark canvas.

Half the town had been decimated to rubble, and the other half was covered in the shockwave of it’s explosion— caked in grime, windows knocked out, doors splintered open. You almost expected the pieces to have reversed themselves back up, like you’ve seen in holovid special effects—homes rebuilding, fires dousing themselves, air purifying itself from the smog… but they don’t. They remain in shambles.

Time has granted you the unforgiving gift of clarity, and it’s one you’d rather not have been given. You don’t want to see the aftermath without the saccharine filter of shock to cushion you. The town is just as you left it, but somehow worse— worse because you can hear the crying, now. The wailing. You didn’t before with the blood pumping in your ears, deafening you, but you do now. The woeful noises that reverberate over the crackling embers still smoldering, the muffled sobs being choked down behind fractured walls.

Tripping over stray debris, you find Hareem close to where you’d left her, her fuse short hair grey with ash. The blood you smeared from her cheek still clouds her skin there, staining it as it does your fingers that wiped it. She wobbles to her feet and meets you in the middle of the road.

Neither of you speak, not at first. You hold onto her shoulders, and like a pillar of salt, you quake.

You try explaining to her that the communication’s system on your transport freighter had been blown up alongside the town, that you’ve accepted a ride from the bounty hunter and that you’re getting off world to contact the RRM headquarters, that you’d stay if you could but you can’t and you need to call for assistance, for help. You try to tell her that you’d do anything— travel through dimensions, if you could, to undo all of this chaos— if the laws of time allowed it.

You want to go back and pretend today never happened. To unlearn the tremor in your hands as they grip her frame. To unlearn all of this. To unknow. But,

you can’t.

All you can do is move forward. Do the next right thing. Take the next right step.

You’ve explained yourself in circles but it still doesn’t feel like enough. The words feel shallow, like slapping some bacta on a severed limb, and guilt rips through you— your voice torn with it.

“But how can I leave now?” you ask helplessly, eyes skittering around you. “After all- all of this?”

Hareem finds your hands, her spindled fingers encasing your own. A crease engraves her forehead, little lines clustering around her eyes. “You’ve done enough, hm? You go now. Go with that Mandalorian. You can’t shoulder this alone.”

“Har-“

She doesn’t let you say it. The older woman soothes a thumb into the web between your knuckles.

“Make contact. Comm for aid. It will come, but it won’t if you stay here.”

Your shoulders release with a defeated sigh. You know the Balosar’s right— you’re the one who’s told her as much. That’s RRM protocol. In case of emergency, you were to comm in and reconvene with the closest branch to your system to send additional supplies and volunteers to the camp. You know this better than anyone here, and yet this woman, this refugee, was the one aping your mission back to you.

She’s firm. Kind. “You’re just one person.”

Briefly, you wonder if she’s a parent. You think her child would be lucky to have her as their mother-- all of her somber strength. You think you would have been lucky, too.

Maybe things would be different—maybe you’d be different.

You gather yourself, piece by piece, and give her knobby hand a squeeze. You bore into her, determined and unwavering. You need her to understand. “I’m not abandoning you—any of you. I need you to know that, okay? I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I know, my friend,” Hareem says plainly, a sad sort of resolve quieting her tone. She has no fight left, nothing left to give— as empty as her pockets, lint lined and turned out. Barren. “I know.”

///

You weave your way back to the ship, feet padding across the arid landscape. You don’t blink, not even once, eyes crusted open and gaping. You barely remember the trek but somehow you’ve managed it, treading up the ramp, the thuds sounding hollow and foreign to your ear.

“I’m not a taxi service.”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

“Maker almighty,” you gasp, hand coming up to clutch your canary heart, beating fast and frantic. He’s just standing there, waiting, the dimmed lights of the hull glinting off his beskar. It’d only been a few hours, but you had already somehow forgotten how kriffing imposing he was, how ominous. A vacuum in space.

“O-Okay,” you stutter, a twitch in your brow.

“I’ll get you as far as you need to go, but on my terms. I’m not making a special trip— can’t promise you when.”

You nod. You’re not sure what to say. Lamed, all you can do is repeat yourself.

“… Okay.”

“What sector?”

“Bajic,” you start, fiddling with a loose thread poking from your sleeve. “We- uhm, the RRM, we have a branch there, but then—” your throat bobs as you swallow your words, and he gives you an exacting look, tilting his helm subtly. There was no getting around it.

You’re pinned.

“Coruscant. I’ll need to get to Coruscant,” you finish quietly.

Did you just hear him ‘tsk’ under that metal bucket?

“It’ll take a while to get to the Core. Longer than you’d like.”

And here you go, babbling again before you can stop yourself, throwing up defenses, excuses— back pedaling. You’re earnest, and it’s dripping from you. “Listen, if this is too much, I get it. You don’t owe me anything. Really— you don’t have to take me anywhere you don’t want. I-I, honestly, I’m just grateful you even considered it.”

Silence. An endless sea of silence.

No current, no breeze. It feels like you’re stranded in dead water, drowning in it. Again, you hang there on bated breath, just waiting for the man to chuck you from his ship. Not worth the effort. Not worth the fuel.

And again, he surprises you.

He tips his chin, gesturing to the side. “Fresher’s that way. We’ll be up in five.”

You exhale, visibly relieved, and mumble a thank you before shuffling off in the direction he motioned towards. You get one foot through the door before you hear him.

“Dala,”

Your attention snaps to the Mandalorian. There’s that word again—you think he’s called you that before—but there’s something different in his voice now, a lilt you’d not yet heard from him. What is that? Nerves?

“There is… one more thing.”

You cock your head just as a gargled coo comes from somewhere behind him.

///

You look like bantha shit.

Which, considering the events of your evening, should probably go without saying— and yet, the woman staring back at you in the small refresher mirror still manages to startle you.

You’re covered in dirt and cinders and contusions you hadn’t had the luxury to notice before. With the adrenaline retreated from your veins, you finally feel the full scope of your injuries and Maker do they hurt. Your tunic is torn at the collar and the fabric is discolored, pants and boots scuffed and ashen. Your bottom lip is swollen, a split running down the side of it, the seam of which is cracked with dry blood. Your palms are scratched— knuckles, too. There are narrow licks from shrapnel bites nicking your forearm. Twisting your body, you discover a dark bruise already blooming on your shoulder from the initial impact of the blast. You’re stiff and achy all over, and you can practically hear your bones creak and groan with each strained movement.

You turn on the faucet and begin to bend forward before you wince, a sharp pain gripping your skull. Ginger fingers come up to touch the back of your head, patting around tentatively until you find a raised bump and something viscous wetting the strands of your hair. You pull your hand back, inspecting it— more blood, glistening black under the low light.

Your eyes flit back up to your reflection.

You should be scared at this point, you guess. Worried, at the very least, by all of this—by the gore of it, the cuts and marks. But it’s your eyes that frighten you most— they’re hard. Devoid. You don’t recognize them. You’re a stranger.

You blink. She blinks back.

Rust red water eddies in the basin of the sink as you scrub yourself clean. You let out a hiss as the cold stream hits your skin. You count your breaths.

///

Being anywhere on board his ship without the Mandalorian feels wrong. Unnatural. Like you’re a tourist, out of place.

Unsure of where else to go, you find yourself in the cockpit with the bounty hunter, sitting in the seat beside him. Glancing over the knobs and dials and pulsing displays, your focus drifts in and out, posture slumping, lids growing heavy, darkening around the edges of your vision, blurring—

“Try to stay awake.”

With a sharp inhale, your eyes snap open, blinking wildly, and you scoot your hips up higher into the seat. You shoot the back of his helmet an inquisitive look you’re not sure he sees, but he responds to it all the same.

“Could have a concussion.”

“Didn’t know you were a doctor,” you reply, tone low and rolling. Maker above, apparently the final stage of shock was sarcasm. The fact that you thought it wise to damn near sass a Mandalorian on his own ship after he saved your kriffing life...

Stars, maybe it really was a concussion. Brain damage. Had to be.

He doesn’t acknowledge the quip, which you can’t readily blame him for. A quiet beat, red buttons flickering against the dark of the cockpit, and then—

“There’s bacta in the medpack. Might not be much left.”

You’re wide awake now.

Your rebuttal is immediate, bristled even, words escaping before you have a chance to even consider his suggestion. “No— no, thank you, but I’m not taking the last of your supplies. I’ll be fine, you’re- you’re doing enough for me already.” He graces you with another of his grunts, a hush following closely behind it.

Your gaze wanders—it wanders onto him, and you watch him.

Watch as the stars dance across his armor, incandescent and shimmering. Hypnotic, even. Something you hadn’t noticed before catches your eye, and you have to crane your neck to get a good look at it. It’s hard to make out, but you think there’s a symbol on the pauldron adorning his shoulder. You can’t imagine it’s completely cosmetic, seeing as the hem of his cape is frayed and worn (and the fact that being a lethal hunter didn’t really scream ‘needless decoration’), but maybe, if you work up the courage somewhere between here and Coruscant, you’ll ask him about it.

His posture is carved out of stone and he sits like a statue, spine rigid under all that beskar. Fleetingly, you wonder if it’s heavy, if it’s uncomfortable—to carry it with him wherever he goes. But you suppose he’s grown accustom to the weight, wearing it like a second skin.

He’s broad too, you note. Of course he is, you recognized that straight off, but inside the confines of the ship, without the towering Lothal sky as his backdrop, it truly strikes you just how large the Mandalorian is. He engulfs the space around him. Devours it.

You stay like this, entranced, studying the man properly for the first time, allowing the muscles behind your tired eyes to relax on him— until his visor notches up quickly and meets your line of sight in the mirrored pane of the window, catching you in the act.

Kriff.

You avert your eyes, an embarrassed warmth crawling up your neck, suddenly finding a particular panel soldered to the wall incredibly interesting— looking anywhere else but at the faceless stranger you’re saddled with.

The kid gurgles, interrupting the awkwardness, and you’ve never been more grateful for a three pronged toddler in your life.

He’s sitting in the copilot’s seat opposite you, as if the tiny thing is navigating for the Mandalorian, and he’s completely dwarfed by the massive chair. Everything about him juxtaposes the other man. He’s all brown robes and wispy peach fuzz, and he looks almost comically out of place against the interior of the gunship. He’s playing with a shiny metal ball in his lap, and with one small arm, he extends it to you like a gift.

Out of the two of them, the child was a one man welcoming party.

“Is this for me?”

He gives a soft patuu, and your heart nearly bursts. You take it from him gently, and the little guy coos through a babbling grin, cheeks round and impish. “Thank you,” you tell him, all serious-like, and you have to actively suppress the squeal that threatens to break free from you. He glances to the Mandalorian with such a look in those big eyes; its hard to make out, but you think its something close to pride or satisfaction, maybe: Look dad, I shared my toy.

Kriff, this kid is cute. Like, dangerously cute.

You both take each other in like this; your micro expressions, his pruned little forehead, your fleshy form, all soft lines and angles. You’re sure you look just as strange to him and he does to you, especially given the only other lifeform on board he has as reference is coated from head to toe in metal. The child’s gaze snags on a lock of your hair, little teeth peeking through his mouth, eyes glued to it like a metronome as it dangles. You give your head a little shake, strands waving, and he giggles. You skip the ball over the hills of your knuckles, dazzling him momentarily.

“Does he have a name?” You ask, his eyes like black saucers peering curiously at you, and you give him back his toy— an offer he eagerly accepts.

“No.”

“So what do you call him then?”

“Just ‘kid’.”

A beat. “... Do you have a name?”

“Mando.”

“Just ‘Mando’?”

“This is the Way.”

You nod, worrying your cheek absentmindedly as you stare out the transparisteel. This is the Way. You’re not entirely sure what the phrase meant, but you know respect when you hear it— how reverent it sits on his vocal chords— and by the manner of which the man, this Mando, spoke, you can tell there’s more to those words than you know.

And you can appreciate his desire for anonymity; it doesn’t bother you much—you figure you won't be around long enough for it to matter anyways. You don’t know a lot about the Mandalorian people, but you have heard rumors. Everyone had. That’s all they were anymore: rumors and stories. Legends. Just seeing one was rare, and talking to one even rarer. But flying with one and his adorable, green baby? It was… definitely unique, to say the least.

You share more dulled quiet. And although the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable now—you’re settling in to it— it’s not exactly desirable either, but it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t last.

Mando clears his throat, breaking the white noise that’s blanketed the three of them. He doesn’t turn his helmet. He keeps his focus straight ahead. You watch his reflection in the ship’s window and you can’t know for certain, but you think you feel your eyes brush against his, if only for a moment. A unintelligible noise filters through his modulator.

“Do you?”

You grin, a slow smile tugging at your lips.

“Last I checked.”

It’s the first smile he draws from you. The first of many.

///

Despite Mando’s warnings and better judgement, sleeping is exactly what you end up doing. You pass out, hard, stirring only once when an errant beep sounds through the cockpit. You’d fallen asleep right there in the chair, chin tucked into your chest, hair fanned across your cheek, arms wrapped around your waist in a measly attempt to trap your body heat to you. You’ve woken to find the cockpit empty— the ship must be on autopilot, you think— and by the illuminating glow of hyperspace, you spot his medkit, sitting open on the seat across from you and in it, nestled among old wrappings and gauze, a single patch of bacta.

///|||///

That smile.

Din remembers this moment, much later, holding it like a photo in a locket. Private. Secret. He keeps you there, gold plated on a chain, to loop around his memory.

Encircling him. Strangling him.

[roselen-mylady]

the game

"First one to kiss Thor wins." Wanda suggested. Y/n tried to hide her scoff but judging by Nat's elbow in her ribs, she hadn't been successful. "Come on, Y/n!" Wanda groaned, rubbing her forehead in frustration. 

"Oh, you come on! What? Are we going to play 'would you rather' after?" Y/n joked, earning yet another jab from Nat. The two red heads glared at her annoyed but Y/n didn't care as she took a sip of champagne.

Pepper had convinced Tony to hold another party in hopes of boosting the team's morale and while it wasn't the first time he'd done it, the parties were still enjoyable. Y/n couldn't help the enthusiasm and joy that came with drinking, dancing and mingling. Everyone came, at least everyone she knew, along with a hundred other people Tony knew. Even Peter had started to attend the last few parties, granted Tony only made him a frequent attendee once he'd reached 18.

The parties were fun, yes, but still being the drama and excitement addicts they were, Y/n and her closest friends craved the thrill of their little games. They played them at every party. The first was a simple game of truth or dare and the second had been the cliche spin the bottle. But with each gathering their dares and games grew more and more risky. And Y/n loved it. They all did.

But tonight was different.

Tonight was boring.

"You're just upset that Bucky didn't want to make out in the closet with you last time we played." Nat accused. A deep frown settled on Y/n's lips from the stab at her pride but she quickly waved off Nat's insult with a dismissing hand.

"That's because he knew I was drunk off my ass. I didn't really wanna make out with him either, he's my friend. You know what alcohol does to me." She argued, getting a short disbelieving nod from Wanda in return.

"Uh huh. Or maybe cause he knows you're into his best friend." Nat suggested, sipping her own drink with a smirk as she narrowly dodged Y/n's threatening hand. Wanda giggled at the interaction, knowing there was truth behind Nat's words. She had seen into Y/n's mind and her fondness toward Steve practically screamed back at her.

"I'm not into Steve. The man is too self righteous for his own good and you know I'm into bad boys." Y/n shrugged, her attempt at hiding her feelings becoming transparent in her friends' eyes.

Yet before either of them could argue further and perhaps bring up the kiss she almost shared with Steve during spin the bottle, Sam and Bucky arrived. "Who's into bad boys? You've come to the right place ladies, I'm the baddest of them all." Sam flashed a charming smile to which they all rolled their eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but I think Bucky has you beat on bad boys." Y/n challenged, sending a playful wink toward the soldier. Sam gasped, mocking hurt while Bucky rolled his eyes rather unamused with the discussion.

"That's right, weren't you the second shooter in the JFK assassination? That's gotta be as bad as it gets." Nat commented causing a dark flush on Bucky's face. A short flash of guilt appeared on his face but he instantly brushed the comment off deciding not to dig into his cloudy memory for the truth. The second shooter was just a conspiracy theory anyways. But then again, so was the Winter Solider...

"What are you, a cop?" Bucky let out a strained chuckle, bringing his drink to his lips subtly trying to pull himself from the conversation. Y/n offered an apologetic smile and he returned it gratefully before she turned her gaze away.

Despite his closed off nature she'd actually become a sort of friend to Bucky and while at first it was rocky, she rather enjoyed her friendship with him. Through Bucky she heard stories about Steve when they were growing up and she saw another side of him that she wished she'd known.

"You ladies up to another game?" Sam questioned suddenly. Nat nodded sharing a look with Wanda but Y/n's focus had been drawn away. While lost in her thoughts about him, her gaze had drifted to the man of her fantasies and she shamelessly watched as he talked with Tony and another man she didn't care to remember.

He was smiling, a sight that she cherished even if he'd never notice. The blue of his eyes seemed to shine brighter than any fireworks she'd ever seen and her heart skipped a beat just looking at them. His blonde locks had grown out while she had been snapped away but not enough to make him appear drastically changed. In fact she wasn't sure if anyone else had really noticed. Maybe she was just a stalker.

"Well, we were going to play one but Y/n thinks it's not big enough." Wanda replied, giving Y/n a glare as she turned back to the group.

"Well, it wasn't. I feel like everyone's used to our shenanigans so there's no challenge." Y/n shrugged, peering at the others with a bored stare. Sam shook his head, refusing to let the tradition die.

"What did you guys have in mind?" He asked, looking over the three women as they glanced around the party.

"Wanda suggested a competition to see who could kiss Thor first." Nat explained. Bucky scrunched his nose in disdain at the dare, exchanging a exasperated look with Y/n.

"Thor would do anything, if you asked him." Sam sighed, drinking whatever liquor he had requested. Y/n remembered him saying something about woman being attracted to a man who can handle hard liquor but she had chosen to ignore him. Though she did have to admit it must've been hard for him to compete with both of his best friends being able to drink without the effects of the alcohol they consumed.

"That's what I thought! Thor would gladly abide anything if it made us happy. He's too kind for his own good." Y/n playfully rolled her eyes as they looked over to said god. He had slimmed down significantly during his time with the guardians and Y/n could almost swear that there wasn't an ounce of body fat left on the man. His hair had been cut as well, returning to his signature length and his beard had been trimmed down to a reasonable length. In other words, the Asgardian had almost every girl swooning once more.

But Y/n was swooning for another.

The same man she had for years.

"We could make it more of a challenge." Nat proposed. The group turned to her with interested eyes, the only one who hadn't seemed to match their intrigue being a very grumpy Bucky. "We could expand the dare to all Avengers. Unless you guys wanna be pussys and limit it only to men." Nat winked.

Wanda's face flushed at the suggestion and quickly shook her head. "I have a hard enough time kissing the people I've known for years let alone all the new Avengers." She squeaked. Sam chuckled nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, not that you guys are pussys I'm just saying that is a lot of people. That'll take forever. Let's just stick with Avengers pre-snap." Sam's laughter grew at Y/n and Nat's disappointed expressions, having reaped them of the extra challenge they'd been searching for.

"How about this?" He began realizing without a catch the game wouldn't be that much fun for any of them. "You have to get them to kiss you but only using cheesy ass pick up lines." Sam explained, looking rather proud of his game plan.

"What type of kiss?" Y/n questioned suspiciously.

"Any." A buzz of laughter and eagerness flooded over the girls and Y/n smirked knowing she'd been born for this challenge. "Are we all in agreement?" Sam asked looking to each for affirmations. Once everyone was on board they put their hands in the middle, a sort of ritual they had developed as a way to insure everyone's commitment.

But another presence had been added to their usual group and they turned to Bucky to see what he would do. He had never been on the scheming side of the games and usually was a victim but now he had a choice. Though he'd rather be removed from the plan all together he figured he'd might as well get it over with while he still knew what was happening.

"Yeah, alright but I'm not doing make outs. You guys do your lines or whatever, get your kiss, then I'm out." Bucky told them, putting his vibranium arm into the middle along with the rest. With childish grins on their faces they let their hands fall as Sam stepped forward.

"As per tradition, you all start off with a good luck kiss from moi." Sam explained, putting a dramatic hand over his chest as he turned to Wanda. She scoffed at his attempt at charm allowing him to peck her lips with a teasing smirk. Turning to Nat, he hesitated allowing her to quickly kiss him, learning the hard way that coming onto her was an easy way to get a black eye. The smack of her lipstick made Bucky shake his head, his 40s mindset unable to grasp how easily they'd all accepted the concept.

Sam then turned to Y/n, noticing the way she subtly glanced in the direction of Steve as his arm came around her waist. "Looking for someone? Cause your prince charming is right here." Sam flirted earning an eye roll from the woman before him.

"I thought we were supposed to do the crappy pick up lines." Y/n raised a brow, keeping a hand on his chest to get some distance.

"I said cheesy not crappy. I'm offended." He frowned playfully only to have it wiped off his face by the soft peck of her lips. She pulled away just as quick, slipping out of his hold and shaking her head.

"Oh, how will you ever recover?" She replied sarcastically, making the girls laugh quietly beside her. He smirked turning to Bucky.

"Alright, Buck. Let's get this show on the road." Sam announced patting Bucky's shoulder roughly as he urged him forward. Surprisingly Bucky seemed more nervous than he did annoyed so Y/n decided to take the lead this time, stepping closer to the brunette.

Deciding to keep it simple for Bucky's sake she trailed her fingers along his forearm, giving him a gentle smile. "Hey, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back." She spoke smoothly. Sam cackled behind them but Y/n paid no mind instead smiling back at Bucky as he chuckled softly, grateful she hadn't used one of the dirty lines he was sure she had.

Shaking his head he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of her lips. Though he made it seem like he was annoyed by the games he was forced into every party, he found Y/n made them more enjoyable, being one of his only friends.

"Go on. You better win since it's your fault I'm a part of this." He grumbled and Y/n laughed, nodding before running off to claim more lips.

On the other side of the room a certain blonde had caught sight of her, his eyes narrowing slightly in interest as Tony leaned closer to him. "I think Y/n's playing another one of those games. I swear that girl is going to be the death of me. Let's just hope Morgan stays innocent." Tony mumbled, bringing his glass to his lips as he surveyed Steve's expression.

"Yeah." Steve replied dully, his focus directed at the only girl in the room he couldn't keep his eyes off of. Tony smirked knowingly, deciding he'd allow Steve to ignore him just this once.

•••

Y/n had this in the bag.

Thanks to Sam she had a wide range of pick up lines to try out and she planned to use the right one with each.

The first person she recognized in the crowd was T'Challa and she made her way to him slyly, his gaze falling on her as the crowd parted. "Ah, Ms. Y/n. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He questioned, a bit of mistrust in his eyes when he recognized the smirk on her face.

"Just seeing how my favorite pussy cat is." Y/n replied with an innocent shrug. He squinted suspecting her ulterior motives. He'd been to enough of Tony's parties to know that she along with Nat and Wanda usually had some kind of game and while he was entertained by it he also knew he needed to maintain decency being a King.

"He is very happy you're here to make things interesting. He was just telling me about how boring this party was. Also he was telling me he should ask you when you're going to bring Peter to Wakanda, that boy won't get off my back." Shuri spoke up, stepping closer to the pair with a pleased smirk. T'Challa didn't seem to share her amusement but knew most of what she had said was true.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I have to be in Wakanda next week, I'll see if he's free to tag along." Y/n replied, turning her gaze to the spider boy. He still seemed to follow Tony around like a lost puppy but Y/n hoped maybe their field trip to Wakanda would break him out of his shell.

"Would it be wishful thinking if I hoped your visit to our kingdom is the only reason for your presence now?" T'Challa questioned. Shuri and Y/n laughed answering his question. There was another game going on. "What's the challenge now? Let me guess, I should be expecting Ms. Romanoff and Ms. Maximoff next?"

"More than likely. But there's a twist this time." Y/n explained, noticing the bit of curiosity in his eye as she sipped her drink. "If you like my pick up line, you have to give me a kiss."

Shuri giggled next to them excited to hear whatever line Y/n had planned. The young princess was always up for some mischief especially if her brother was the victim and this was what made her adore Y/n so much.

"And what if I don't?"

"I'll just have to try again, I suppose. You know how persistent I am." Y/n winked. T'Challa shook his head, catching sight of Wanda across the room having already collected her kiss from Thor. With a silent sigh, he turned back to Y/n figuring he'd best not hold her up any longer.

"Fine." Y/n smiled, locking eyes with Shuri for a moment before turning back to T'Challa. She stepped forward, the soft click of her heels sending a chill down his spine as she put a hand on his upper arm. Her lips curved into a smile and he braced himself for the line that seemed to bring her so much pride.

"Meow you doin'?" Y/n smirked, her voice smooth as velvet as her eyes stared into his. Laughter erupted from his sister and he turned to her as Y/n burst out into her own fit of giggles.

"I don't get it." T'Challa told them, dumbly trying to use the little bit of context he was given to understand the joke.

"Oh, brother! As soon as we return home we are watching Friends! Now give her a kiss so that she may have a chance at winning!" Shuri spoke through laughs. T'Challa shook his head but lifted Y/n's hand nonetheless and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"I feel cheated." He grumbled but the laughter from both girls was enough to take his mind off the pick up line that went straight over his head.

"Pleasure doing business with you, King T'Challa." Y/n curtsied before turning away to find her next victim, leaving T'Challa and Shuri with entertained smiles.

Next on her list was Bruce Banner, the most lost out of all of the men who had experienced the game. The first time they decided to target just one person, he had been the focus and while he enjoyed Nat's kiss, Y/n and Wanda following in the act seemed to put him in a daze for a week.

"You got T'Challa right off that bat? Sometimes I hate how good you are at this." Nat's voice cut into Y/n's thoughts as the two stood together surveying Bruce.

"There's nothing to it, my friend. Give a line, get a kiss. It's science. Did you already get Clint?" Y/n questioned, trying to see where she was at as far as the competition went.

Nat shook her head softly, glancing over at the other men they'd still needed to kiss. "No. He's not here. He says he wants us to take his retirement seriously so until then he won't be at the parties, I guess." She explained and Y/n nodded quietly. One less guy to convince, she reasoned.

"You know I'll never get used to his transformation thing." Y/n commented, gesturing toward Bruce with a nod. Nat followed her gaze, leaning into Y/n to see past the crowd of people in front of her.

"Yeah, me either." She replied. Y/n's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she glanced at Nat through the corner of her eye but ultimately decided it wasn't something she really desired to question further.

"You better save your best pick up line for Steve." Nat warned, the smile on her lips all too knowing for Y/n's liking. Her mouth ran dry and the familiar rush upon hearing his name coursed through her making her face burn.

"For the last time, I'm not into-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Too bad though. He's been watching you ever since the game started." Nat whispered, turning Y/n's head in his direction with a poke to her chin.

The red on Y/n's face grew darker at the sight of Steve looking back at her, his eyes locking with hers over the rim on his glass. A soft shade of pink settled on his cheeks to match her own and his gaze faltered before returning to the man he'd been talking to.

"Save the best for last." Nat teased softly as Y/n turned back to her. She tried to brush off Nat's words as she stalked off toward Bruce but she couldn't get the image of Steve out of her mind.

Had he ever looked at her like that before? Was she losing her mind?

A long sigh escaped her as she tried desperately to focus on racking her brain for any science puns she had.

"Y/n! Hey, long time no see!" He cheered, pulling her into a side hug. The laughter that bubbled out of her chest was involuntary as she practically disappeared under his good arm.

"It's nice to see you too, Bruce. How's the arm?" Y/n questioned gesturing to the cast that seemed to be permanent on the larger than life limb. Bruce offered a tentative shrug, looking down at it.

"Tony and I aren't sure if it's ever going to heal. He's been looking at the possibility of getting a prosthetic but I don't really mind it. We beat Thanos, that's all that really matters to me." He replied. Y/n smiled kindly at him, putting her hand on the cast as her fingers trailed Steve's signature. She couldn't help the racing of her heart when she realized he'd signed right below her own.

"So, Nat tells me you guys are doing another game. Why do you guys do that anyways? Don't you get embarrassed?" He asked, genuinely interested. Whatever Nat had told him seemed to make him more aware and Y/n found herself open to his questions.

"I don't know. I trust everyone on the team so kissing them isn't a big deal. If anything I think it makes us more open to one another. Not to mention half of us are touch starved and probably need a kiss every so often." She laughed thinking back to her poor Bucky.

Bruce laughed too, "Well, maybe next party you'll find a way to get everyone to play. That'll be a sight." He chuckled imagining everyone competing against one another in some intimate game. Y/n nodded perhaps taking the suggestion maybe a bit too seriously.

"Maybe...I've gotta win this game first though. I'm sure you know the rules." She raised a playful brow and crossed her arms. He nodded remembering Nat's line with a loving smile. "Good. Let's see."

Her hand rose to her chin, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as she thought. Bruce watched with a entertained smile as her eyes lit up before looking back at him.

"Hey, baby. If you were an enzyme I'd be a DNA synthase so I could unzip your genes." She nudged Bruce's side making him laugh.

"That was the worst." He chuckled and Y/n laughed as well, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, but you laughed so..." He nodded wrapping his free arm around her shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head, the most accessible spot from his outrageous height.

"I'm gonna remember that one." Bruce told her, his head bobbing unconsciously as he already began practicing the line in his head. Y/n bowed proudly before disappearing into the crowd once more.

"Who's next?" She mumbled to herself, running her hands along her dress, absentmindedly flatting the bunching in the fabric. The dress had been her favorite, hugging her perfectly as many of the tailored clothes Pepper sent her did. But this one was different.

This one was blue. But not just any blue. It was the same dark navy Steve wore on every mission. A color she found herself buying more often, whether it be on a folder or on a dress. She was almost attracted to it as much as she was to Steve and while it seemed a little silly, it made her happy knowing she could express her hidden feelings through little things such as that. She truly was head over heels but she could never tell him that. She could never risk the rejection she feared she'd be met with if she dared make a move.

So she loved him from afar.

•••

"Oh no. Not pick up lines." Tony groaned next to Steve, his eyes nearly disappearing into the back of his head as he rolled them. Sam chuckled, nodding his head.

"It's true. Everyone is going to get hit on in the most undesired way possible tonight." He grinned, his lips still buzzing from the kisses he'd recieved.

"Yeah, you have bird brain here to thank for that." Bucky grumbled from Steve's left. Sam frowned, glaring at the semi stable hundred year old man.

"That's not what you said when you kissed Y/n." He retorted.

Steve tried to fight the jealousy that boiled in his gut but Bucky had already noticed the frown that reached his best friend's face.

"Only because I want her to win. She's my friend." Bucky explained, hoping his emphasize on 'friend' would put Steve at ease but the super soldier would never truly be at ease unless he had her in his arms.

He'd lost so much over the years including her and now that he had it all back-had her back, it felt wrong that they weren't together like he hoped. But he couldn't just tell her. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if he lost her in a way that no infinity stones could reverse?

"Personally I'm rooting for Wanda. That girl's smile would make you wanna kiss her. Not to mention her mind control stuff." Sam argued, using his hand to mimick Wanda's powers.

"Is this going to happen at every party?" Fury remarked from behind them making them turn to him, some with annoyed glances.

"You're not allowed to say anything about this, 'Mr. Off-Limits'." Sam proclaimed, feeling a tad responsible for keeping Fury out of the games. Especially after what happened last time.

"I won't be forced to partake in childish games like that. Y/n had it coming." Fury explained, any remorse he might've felt long gone.

Steve crossed his arms, his shirt tightening around his arms as he tried to bite his tongue. "You nearly broke her arm." He suddenly spoke up. Sam's suggestive smirk made him regret it instantly but thankfully Sam chose not to say anything.

"Gotta admit. Her resolve is pretty firm. It's actually pretty hot." Sam wiggled a brow at Steve. The poor blonde wanted to curl up and die in shame but Sam wasn't wrong.

Perhaps it was her determination and strong will that had attracted him. They were characteristics he was known for as Captain America but yet somehow her will was more powerful than his own.

It was one of the many things that he had loved her for. And one of the things that kept him going during the five years without her.

"Ugh. Can we please not talk about my niece like this?" Tony groaned, hating the idea of them sexualizing the girl he'd practically raised since she was a teen. Steve agreed, unsure how much longer he'd be able to stand them talking about her.

"Ooo, look. She's onto Thor now." Peter piped up pointing a finger toward Y/n as she made her way to the golden haired god. Yet the warning glare he received from Tony was enough to make him quiet again and he silently sunk back into the crowd behind them.

"I've got too many kids."

•••

"Thor!" Y/n cheered. Upon hearing his name, the Asgardian turned returning her smile with a brilliant grin. The flask in his hand was opened yet there was no flush to his face signaling he was either only mildly buzzed or close to it.

"Lady Y/n. I was beginning to wonder when you'd come around. I do cherish our time together." Thor's smile was kind and radiant but she couldn't help but think there was still one smile that could outshine even that of a god's.

"Oh, you know I'd never miss a kiss from you." Y/n returned the charm, allowing his arm to come around her waist, resting at a comfortable distance from her hips. Thor had been the most accepting of their games and never seemed to go through the confusion that the rest did. Or maybe that was just her.

"I was just telling Valkyrie of your little games. She finds them truly amusing. Perhaps I'll convince you to accept her into the tournament." Thor explained, gesturing the hand holding his flask toward Valkyrie.

"Well, it's not exactly a tournament, just a little fun to keep things interesting. You're welcome to join if you're up for it." Y/n smiled, offering a small nod of acceptance toward the warrior woman.

"A competition among women where men are the victims? Sounds like my kind of crowd." Valkyrie replied, an excited smile landing on her lips as the two woman shared a look of mutual approval.

"Wonderful." Thor praised, the joy in his tone seeming to radiate off of him, infecting Y/n with each passing second she was in his grasp. "Now Lady Wanda spoke of this night's challenge. I believe you have a suggestive comment in which to lift me yes?" He spoke, looking down at Y/n as she began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Yes, Thor. In return for the pick up line, I get a kiss. But only if you enjoy it." She recited the rules earning a heartfelt smile from him in return.

"If it is spoken by you I'm bound to enjoy it." He told her earnestly. There was something in the way he would speak that made a girl's knees weak and while Y/n was able to withstand it better than most, she wondered if he was striving for that reaction from her.

Y/n shook her head at him, giving him a half-hearted glare as she looked up at him. "Alright, here it goes." She warned him, taking his attentive gaze as a confirmation to continue.

"Hey, gorgeous. Was your father a thief? Cause someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes." Before Y/n could even offer a wink or a smirk, thunderous laughter sounded from the man beside her, drawing the attention of everyone around them.

A flush of pink bloomed on her face, slightly embarrassed under the eyes of so many, especially Steve, yet she wasn't able to dwell on it for long as she was swept up into the air. Ever the enthusiast, Thor had excitedly boosted her into the air and spun her before allowing her feet to reach the ground again, a little unsteadily from how fast he'd acted.

"You've certainly lifted me, Lady Y/n." Thor told her, bringing her smile back as she regained her balance. "Are you ready for your kiss now?" He inquired, his hand resting comfortably on her waist as he insured she was still willing to welcome a kiss.

With a small nod she leaned up accepting his lips in a teasing yet modest kiss not unlike the one they'd shared before. They pulled away a moment later, smiling at each other as Thor's hand easily slipped away from her waist.

"I'm afraid I must send you off in order for you to return victorious." Thor said, a hint of reluctance in his tone yet in a taunting way similar to friendly banter.

"And that I shall. I'm the best, you know." Y/n declared. Valkyrie laughed beside her, lifting her own glass toward Y/n in a sort of cheers.

"For now. We'll see next time who's the best." Y/n clinked her empty glass with Valkyrie's nodding respectfully as she made a note to get more champagne.

"May the best woman win." Y/n smirked, oblivious to the eyes on her as she walked off toward the bar.

Part Two

[thejustmaiden]

Jaken = Rin's Dad?

Okay, is this how a daughter treats their so-called father?

Most definitely not.

Rin and Jaken's relationship clearly screams of your typical sibling rivalry punctuated with cute and silly moments of playful bickering.

Yes, Jaken may technically be her main provider, but that doesn't necessarily equate to him being more of a father than Sesshomaru. If anything, he demonstrates more of a brotherly love towards her. As we all know, parents (which Sesshomaru embodies more based on real life patterns and parallels) will leave their older more capable children in charge of looking after their younger brothers and sisters. In this case, that would mean making Jaken responsible for watching over Rin and protecting her if need be. Ah-Un offers protection, too. Think of it as Jaken as the big brother and Ah-Un as the family dog who are babysitting while Sesshomaru as the parent of the household is away at work or taking care of business. I mean, they literally fit that description to a tee and I'm dying at the accuracy of it all! 🤣👌

[Quick! Someone write up a modern au where Sesshomaru finally gets out to have a nice date night but everything goes wrong in the most spectacular way. Like maybe Rin and Jaken catch a ride on Ah-Un to go spy!]

I recently revisited some episodes from The Final Act, and I couldn't believe how many moments like this there were where Rin got after Jaken or when she would "put him in his place" so to speak. Obviously, all of it is mostly harmless. I was only surprised by how often it occurred, not to mention how Jaken would just stand there and take it. Towards a supposed father figure, Rin's behavior is downright unacceptable. There's a certain level of respect a child is expected to show their parents/guardians, and that's just not what I'm witnessing here between them. Like at all.

Rather their dynamic has the nature of some sibling relationships like I mentioned above. So I really wish fans would stop pretending otherwise, because based on what we know of father-daughter relationships- healthy ones at least- they don't appear anything like what Jaken and Rin have. If you could please provide me other examples of where we've seen similar portrayals in fiction or in real life, then perhaps I can get on board.

Look, that doesn't have to mean that because Jaken isn't her father then Sesshomaru must be. They can both be her caretakers without necessarily filling that traditional father role. I'm just saying that if we're going to start assigning titles to characters, let's make sure we are accurate and truthful in our assessments. If you're going to label anyone Rin's dad, then it needs to be Sesshomaru. Jaken doesn't have precedence over him in terms of fatherly attributes, that just wouldn't make sense.

After all, this isn't about what you want to see, this is about what Rin very likely sees. It's safe to assume that she views Sesshomaru more like a father than she does Jaken. She knows she's safe with him (broadly speaking lol) and that he'll come for her no matter what. That sense of security and comfort is what a child seeks and what they should always feel in a parent's presence. She trusts and even idolizes him, just as a young and innocent child tends to do with their parents. At that age, parents are perfect and could do no wrong in their child's eyes. Idk about you, but this describes perfectly how Rin is around Sesshomaru.

Rin adores him and will follow him anywhere- yes, even into danger! That's what the innocence and unconditional love of a child will bring them to do if necessary. Fortunately, at the end of The Final Act we learn Sesshomaru takes Kaede's advice when he realizes that leaving Rin with her in the village is in her best interests. That way she'd be able to lead a more normal and safer life alongside other humans. Remember, Sessrin shippers, that doesn't mean he wasn't still a part of her life and didn't witness her become a young woman over the years right before his very eyes. Therefore, if they eventually do become romantically involved, then most if not all of those gifts had intimate and seductive intentions and it essentially constitutes as child grooming.

I understand from a Sessrin shipper's point of view why it'd be so much easier to claim Jaken as the father. In doing so, they diminish Sesshomaru's role in her upbringing. By refusing to acknowledge the real role he had in helping raise Rin (short periods can be crucial and impressionable too esp. in a child's early years so yes they did assist in raising her not only Kaede), these shippers are better able to justify how their filial-like relationship evolved into a romantic one. So yeah, I get it, if I were a Sessrin shipper I'd probably do the same. It's one of the more plausible arguments available to them, after all. "Let's pin Jaken as the father to fend off antis!" is the best chance they've got, but even so, it's still not good enough. But if you insist Jaken is indeed like a father to Rin, then Sesshomaru is most certainly one too. Who says she can't have two fathers anyway?

The thing is however much you want to deny or downplay what Sesshomaru truly means to Rin and vice versa, nothing will ever change or hide the truth of the matter. Please, stop acting like they're only traveling companions and nothing more. Some of y'all even go so far as to say that they're like strangers. Knowing potentially little about a person is not equal to a lack of love and affection. Making big assumptions such as this to defend your ship is actually doing you more harm than good. Let me elaborate.

According to your reasoning, if that's all Rin ever was to him was a companion and Sesshomaru had no real attachment to her, then what precisely is the basis of your ship? Recall that Adult!Rin doesn't exist yet, thus we have no real idea what she will be like or if she's even alive. So how can you make comments like that but then go on later to say "they have such a unique and unbreakable bond" or "only Rin can be the mother because she's the only human he ever cared for" if all that time spent traveling together didn't amount to much in the first place like you claimed to believe beforehand? Do you see how your rationalizing is confusing?

Contrary to what some of you may think, I'm not just saying all this because I'm an anti and I'm obligated to disagree with you, or whatever other excuse you want to tell yourself. Believe it or not, I'm attempting to give as unbiased and objective of an analysis I can based on widely accepted interpretations of family dynamics, development, and any history we know of.

Of course I respect that at times fans will perceive things differently since that's bound to happen. What's hard for me to wrap my head around however is the unwillingness of some fans- not exclusively Sessrin shippers- to apply basic common sense and sound judgment to their observations and deductions.

Looking at all our facts, then taking the small handful of scenes Sesshomaru and Rin do share together into account, one can logically conclude that their dynamic is akin to one found in a typical parent-child relationship. If you still fail to recognize Sesshomaru as a parent to Rin, then that's fine too. In the end, that won't really change the fact that he'd still take on a role resembling an adult figure overseeing a young child's care and protection. Be it as a vassal, guardian, what have you. Plus, nobody is saying here that Sesshomaru doesn't make mistakes regarding Rin's general well-being, but so do all parents. Overall, I think the majority of us agree that Rin is in good hands. Whether it's in his direct company or in his occasional supervision from his frequent visits to the village.

In other words, it doesn't really matter what exact title you assign him in relation to Rin, as the distribution of power is all inherently the same with any and all adult-child relationships. That bond never changes once you've established it either, seeing as it's a special kind of connection one can only form with a child and a child alone.

I was a teacher for a few years, and speaking from personal experience, you don't need to be a parent, per se, to take on a role of authority in a child's life. I know without a doubt that I could never and will never view any of those kids I taught in a sexual/romantic light later down the road; yes, not even once they become grown-ups who are independent and more than capable of making their own decisions. Those of you who disagree are usually missing the whole point though, because we're not trying to dictate what Adult!Rin can and cannot do like many tend to accuse of us doing. This isn't a question of taking away from her autonomy nor does it fall under "purity culture," which is why people shouldn't continue jumping to these outrageous conclusions and really listen for a change. You're deflecting from the real issue here when you choose to misinterpret what we're saying by ignoring the problem we're actually referring to. You cannot present a valid counter-argument if you persist in twisting our words.

Bottom line: once these kids become old enough to pursue a sexual/romantic relationship, of course they have that right if they're ready. All we're trying to say is you guys ought to stop pushing forward this it's-completely-normal-to-want-to-bang-your-adoptive-dad-since-you're-an-adult-and-can-do-as-you-please agenda and not expect backlash. Ship it if you want, but please stop acting like their romance would be the epitome of a pure and healthy relationship.

Sesshomaru may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but it's foolish to presume he didn't actually care about Rin during their whole time together just because he didn't openly express his feelings until the very end. Surely everybody can comprehend that people handle and process their emotions differently. The way Sesshomaru chooses to is completely valid for the most part, so let's cut him some slack regarding this already.

What I'm trying to get at is that any child whose life you played an influential role in will always be a kid in a lot ways to you even when they're old and wrinkly. Just as they will always picture you as the loved one who guided and protected them when they were most vulnerable and couldn't always fend for themselves. Can't we relate this to children we know personally and apply it accordingly?

Finally, I want to end on this note. Could you kindly take a look at these two images below for a second?

The reason I ask is because of something I recently read that's relevant to the topic. There was this pro-sessrin tweet I saw that stated Rin trying to take care of Sesshomaru when they first met is what a mom would do for a child, which in their opinion, translates to Rin being more like a mother than a daughter if anything.

First off: are you freaking kidding me????

Seriously, so now children aren't allowed to tend to their sick or injured parents?! Parents are apparently superhuman and shouldn't be offered a helping hand from a child, even if they mean well and want to help their parent who's in pain?? Now this Twitter user was mostly being a smartass, but at the same time, it was evident they genuinely thought they offered a valid enough point that warranted no further explanation or clarification.

Secondly, by saying this Sessrin fans don't seem to realize that in actuality they're contradicting themselves and proving the point we've been trying to make all along. Glancing at the first picture and moving down to the second, the role of the one being cared for and the caretaker is reversed. So then by their own logic, Sesshomaru IS in fact like a father to Rin.

What it comes down to is the names you give to the roles these characters play aren't as crucial as the dynamic they share. The specific characteristics of that dynamic are what define the importance of said role, not so much the name in the role itself. So real father or not, Sesshomaru and Rin clearly mean a lot to each other. Close relationships are defined and solidified by the devotion and belonging they have to one another, not solely by the duration of time spent together and their proximity.

Well, that's a wrap! I hope you guys got something outta this blog, and that you enjoyed or found some portions of it interesting. I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject from this fandom, but only engage in conversation if you plan to be respectful. Thank you!

[sparklingchan]

Stray Kids AU

Stray kids in hogwarts

A/N: This was a very, very long pending AU and I'm so glad its turned out so good. I might have added some animals as patronus which are not actually mentioned in the books or movies or even pottermore but bear with me lmao. Also the houses are totally based on my opinion so you're open to disagree but please don't hate on my work :(

1. Bang Chan

House : Gryffindor

Patronus: Kangaroo

Wand : Aspen wood with Phoenix feather core (10 inches)

Favorite subject : Astronomy

Part of the dueling club and the quidditch team.

Born to a muggle mother and a pure blood father, Chan had spent most of his childhood in normal muggle schools,among other muggle children.

At home,though,he was surrounded by magic all the time. The moving pictures,the flying broomsticks ,the talking doormats,his gryffindor parents had a hard time explaining things to him at home.

On the day he received the letter of acceptance from Hogwarts ,his happiness saw no bounds. He spent the next few days imagining his life there,captivated by the stories his father told him.

And when the day arrived,he was more excited than anyone else on the Hogwarts Express to be finally visiting the place he had heard so much about.

During the sorting ceremony,the moment the hat touched Chan's head, it immediately yelled 'Gryffindor !'

By the end of his second year,he was already a seeker in the Gryffindor quidditch team and also an active member of the dueling club.

He was easily liked by teachers and students and his friendly, sweet nature was what made you fall head over heels for the quidditch team captain in your 6th year at Hogwarts.

You two were the same age but you being in Hufflepuff and him being in Gryffindor, you could only admire him from afar.

Having played with him on the same field for years ,it was hard not to admire the brilliant boy from Gryffindor everyone adored.

But you only got to know him properly when you guys ended up at the hospital wing after a tough game of quidditch against each other.

And needless to say,your relationship changed completely from that day onwards.   

2. Lee Minho

House: Slytherin

Patronus: Cat

Wand : Cedar wood with dragon heartstring core (7 inch)

Favorite subject: Defense against the dark arts.

Part of the dueling club.

Born to pure blood parents, Minho had grown up fascinated by magic and the idea of one day being able to use it on his own.

The day he received his acceptance letter, he had danced around the whole house in excitement of going to a place where he'd have no restrictions on magic whatsoever.

And when he finally stepped into the infamous castle,he was spellbound by the beauty of the place and the mystical world surrounding it.

His parents,though both ravenclaw themselves,always knew that Minho would one day be sorted into Slytherin.

And they were absolutely right because the moment the professor put the sorting hat on his head, it said 'Slytherin!' in a thundering voice.

He was a mischievous, witty yet charming person. All the ladies would swoon over him and when he joined the dueling club in his 4th year,his popularity increased even more.

Being from the same house as him,you would often bump into him in the common room or the hallways and just like all his other admirers,you would patiently wait for him to notice you one fine day.

You two were good friends,at the least and you've also noticed that he talked to you more than any other person despite being so famous.

Not wanting to give false hope to yourself ,you denied it everytime people asked you if you two were dating but deep down,you wished you were .

During your 5th year,you got into trouble with the teachers for a small prank you played on those annoying Gryffindor girls, resulting in you not getting your parents' signature for a trip to Hogsmeade.

You were super upset and angry until Minho came into the common room,asking if you wanted to spend the day together since you both were the ' only Slyhterins ' in Hogwarts at that moment .

You agreed, of course, and that turned out to be the best decision of your life.

3. Seo Changbin

House : Hufflepuff

Patronus: Bunny

Wand : Cherry wood with dragon heartstrings core (9 inch)

Favorite subject: Potions

Part of the dueling club and Chess club.

His parents were both muggles who had never known anything about magic or Hogwarts so they were a very confused when their little son started doing things which didn't have any logical explanation behind their occurrences.

When Changbin received the Hogwarts acceptance letter,he was THRILLED.

His parents agreed right away,happy that there was a place where Changbin might meet people like himself and feel more at home than he ever will in the muggle world.

His sorting ceremony was very intresting ,mostly because the hat took so much time choosing between Slytherin and Hufflepuff and finally decided he belonged to the latter.

Changbin had a vibrant aura around him,making it very easy for him to make friends and acquire the teacher's favour.

A smooth talker and quick thinker,Changbin quickly found a place in the dueling club and the chess club.

He was also your best friend since the first time you met him at the Hogwarts Express.

Coming from pure blood parents,you explained everything to him patiently and answered his questions without complaining.

And even though you got sorted into Ravenclaw,your bond with Changbin stayed the same till the 4th year.

For years you had repressed your romantic feelings for him but one fateful night in your 4th year,during Christmas Eve,you ended up spilling out your feelings in front of him.

Needless to say,he was glad that he could finally call you his girlfriend,something he'd wanted to do since the first time he entered the halls of Hogwarts with you by his side.

4. Hwang Hyunjin

House : Gryffindor

Patronus: Llama

Wand: Alder wood with unicorn hair core ( 10 inch)

Favorite subject : Transfiguration

Part of the quidditch team and gobstones club

Born to pure blood parents,Hyunjin had been introduced to magic from a very young age and naturally, he found comfort in it.

It was his birthday when he received the letter of acceptance and instead of the expected reaction of excitement, Hyunjin looked very proud.

The castle walls echoed with the stories his parents told him and it didn't feel like he was going to a boarding school at all ; it felt like he was coming home.

His sorting ceremony too was quick . The moment the hat was put on his head, "Gryffindor " it yelled with pride.

He was very famous among the female students as well as teachers and as years passed by,his popularity only increased.

Although initially he only wanted to join the gobstones club, he ended up trying out for the quidditch team in his 3rd year.

Rejected in his first attempt,he tried out again in his 4th year but this time he had a different reason to try out ; you.

A quiet Hufflepuff with muggle born parents,you had caught Hyunjin's eyes when you were protecting your friends from some bullies.

He had never felt that way about any person before so when he tried to befriend you,he was surprised that you were colder than expected from a Hufflepuff.

Nevertheless, he continued bothering you for a long time and when he heard you were trying out for the quidditch team,he couldn't help himself .

Both of you got in the team and from there on,you and Hyunjin had a wonderful journey together.

5. Han Jisung

House : Slytherin

Patronus: Squirrel

Wand: Ebony wood with Phoenix feather core (7 inch)

Favorite subject: Potions

Part of the quidditch team and school choir

His mother was a pure blood while his father was a muggle, which means Jisung has had the best of both worlds since he was born.

Talkative and chatty,it was very difficult for him to be quiet about the flying utensils and moving pictures in his house,when around his friends.

His reaction to finally getting the letter of acceptance was a mixture of screams,yells and songs.

As his Slytherin mother predicated , he too got sorted into Slytherin almost even before the hat was put on his head.

He tried out for the quidditch in his first year itself and surprisingly,he got into it. By the 5th year,he was a potential leader of the team.

Jisung was also a very keen and creative man who found solace in music which lead him to join the choir in his second year at hogwarts.

Rumored to have been rejected by multiple people, Jisung didn't know that he had secret admirer who would do anything for him -You.

You were in Gryffindor and given the rivalry between your houses,your friends often discouraged you from talking to him so you only ever noticed him from a distance.

But it all changed when he once fell down the stairs of the hallway,and there was no one but you there.

You helped him up and took him to the hospital wing,all whilst he was partly passed out from falling down so many stairs.

When you went to visit him after he had recovered ,he gave you a soft peck on your cheek,thanking you and asked you if you wanted to go on a date with him someday.

And needless to say,you replied with a big yes!

6. Felix Lee

House : Hufflepuff

Patronus: Canary Bird

Wand : Chestnut wood with unicorn hair core (11 inch)

Favorite subject : Herbology

Part of the chess club and charms club

Felix was born to a pure blood father and a half blood mother who were both witty Slytherins back in their day.

When he received his acceptance letter from Hogwarts , his parents took him out on a fancy dinner to celebrate this small yet significant achievement.

Soft spoken and observant,the sorting hat took quite a while to choose between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff but finally ended up choosing the peaceful house of Hufflepuff for an equally peaceful Felix.

His years at Hogwarts were full of adventures, strong friendships and of course,magic.

Having a keen interest in chess ever since he was a child,he joined the chess club in his 2nd year. Never had he seen such big,life size chess pieces and he was more than sure he'd found his place in this huge old castle.

He was exceptionally good at charms spells which led his friends to encourage him to join the charms club and in his 4th year,he decided to finally give it a try too.

You ,too, were exceptionally talented in charms spells and your attention was immediately stolen by the smily boy from Hufflepuff the moment he joined the charms club.

You approached him first ,unusual for a proud ravenclaw like yourself , but you couldn't help yourself around his warm,welcoming aura.

Felix and you befriended each other quickly but both of you knew,deep down in your hearts that there was more to your relationship than just that.

Stolen glances and accidental brushing of hands became intolerable for you. Everyone noticed how you two just fit together ; like puzzle pieces.

You confessed to him first ,the night before your O.W.L exams and you were more than relieved when he told you he felt the same.

From that night on you and Felix have been inseparable and frankly speaking ,you wouldn't have it any other way.

7. Kim Seungmin

House : Ravenclaw

Patronus: Dog

Wand : Alder wood with dragon heartstrings core (11 inch)

Favorite subject : Defense against the dark arts

Part of the school choir and chess club

As one might expect, Seungmin was born to into a family of pure blooded Ravenclaws .

His training in magic started even before he joined Hogwarts and when he was finally given the letter of acceptance, he was filled with confidence and pride.

Obviously, just like every single member of his family tree,he too was sorted out into Ravenclaw ( although the hat was very close to placing him into Slytherin)

He had a burning passion for singing which led him to join the school choir a few months into his first year at Hogwarts.

He didn't have a very huge friend circle ,he liked to stay within his own circle and one would rarely see him going out of his way to make new friends, but you on the other hand were the most famous girl in Ravenclaw.

Desired by many ,envied by some and adored by most ,you were a person who had people to talk to everywhere you go.

People liked being around you,not just because you were friendly and nice but also because hanging out with you would give their social status a huge boost.

But little did they know that as friendly as you appeared in public,you had your heart tightly guarded by high walls. Walls,which you only hoped one person would ever cross ; Seungmin.

Sitting in front the front rows of the classroom or in the dining hall, your eyes would often wander around into the corners where Seungmin would be sitting with his friends,laughing ,eating and enjoying.

Unlike popular belief,you were extremely bad at many things, most important of which was the defense against the dark arts, which coincidentally ( and much to your relief) was Seungmin 's best subject.

Taking the opportunity ,you asked him if he could help you with the subject and although reluctant in the beginning, he agreed to it.

Soon ,you started spending hours in the library with him . Sometimes studying,sometimes just talking. You started missing your social gatherings just to be with him.

You enjoyed his quiet yet honest personality and realised you'd rather have one honest person in your life than hundred liars who pretended to like you.

And when he kissed you late one night in the library ,you knew he too would rather have you than anyone else.

8. Yang Jeongin

House : Gryffindor

Patronus: Fox

Wand : Cherry wood with unicorn hair core (8 inch)

Favorite subject : Herbology

Part of the choir and quidditch team.

Jeongin was born to a Slytherin mother and a Ravenclaw father,both of whom were from pure blood families.

Young and curious, he often found himself intrigued by the magic used by his parents and patiently waited until he could do the same as he grew up.

Receiving his acceptance letter was both a joyous and sad moment for him ; joyous because he'd finally be with people like him,sad because he'd have leave his parents house for most of the year.

Although his parents predicted him to be sorted into either Hufflepuff or Slytherin,they were surprised when the sorting hat yelled 'Gryffindor ! '

Like Seungmin, he too had a passion for music and he soon joined the school choir.

Joining the quidditch team, on the other hand was a result of constant nagging by his father who claimed he was a great player back in his days.

Jeongin didn't expect to get in but he did and that's what led him to you - a curious eyed Hufflepuff who was often bullied for being muggle born.

He would see you running away shyly from your bullies in the hallways but when on the quidditch field,you were a complete monster.

He too had tasted defeat at your hand but he liked it anyway . He liked everything about you.

And when years later,he asked you out on an official date, he reminded you of that defeat and made you promise to never leave his side to compensate for what you had done.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.��

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

[quidfree]

hi! hope you're well and that you're having a good day:) I absolutely adore LMV - I genuinely think it's the best fic I've ever read. anyway, the point of this ask was that I was wondering whether you had any thoughts about sirius as a godfather? like, was he suited for the job, did he actually do a good job... idk, maybe you've answered that question before, in that case, sorry! and ofc don't stress abt answering:))

this is so nice of you ty!!!

ive never talked about dogfather sirius, actually!! what an interesting pair of questions.... i would have to say a qualified yes to both?

was sirius suited for the job: personality-wise, maybe not entirely (raising a child alone in the event of jily deaths would have been Rough, and he’s not exactly a stable parental unit, not to mention he would have spoiled harry rotten), BUT he has the most important prerequisite, which is undying love and loyalty for the potters and for harry, and that means he would have done everything in his power to be a good parent figure to him, which is what really matters, so. not to mention that jily realistically weren’t contemplating he would have to be godfather alone for the majority of harry’s life- with jily around he could have been just The Coolest Godfather Ever instead of harry’s first living parental figure who didn’t treat him like shit.

did he actually do a good job? i would say a resounding yes. bearing in mind he was stuck in azkaban for twelve years (let’s not get into that), we only actively see him godparent harry for three years (plus when he was a baby). obviously baby harry was spoilt v much by his dogfather; what we see of sirius + teen harry also speaks favourably of him, i think. ok, little bit of a rough start what with the unhinged prisoner vibe, but the FIRST thing sirius does when free is go check up on harry- and he keeps tabs via crookshanks etc once at school, knows his interests well enough to send him the firebolt, and he values harry’s opinions enough to not murder peter on the spot despite his thirteen year revenge vendetta. obviously, the fact harry is the spitting image of someone sirius hasnt seen except for in his nightmares for over a decade doesn’t hurt, but he’s just so awkwardly sweet to harry afterwards- when he offers harry to come live with him, expecting him to refuse and completely understanding of it, it’s so endearing (and it always broke my heart how excited they both were about it- i bet sirius was thinking about another time a potter asked to live together). and from the start sirius ALWAYS speaks to harry like a whole person, not a child to be kept in the dark (which, if everyone else had done, looking at you dumbledore...)- the speech he gives him before he escapes is so important for harry to hear, especially from someone who knew his parents. sirius is always so careful to tell harry things about james and lily. now, it’s not that sirius treating harry like an adult would be ideal on its own, and i do think in part the issue is that he skipped his entire childhood and harry looks so much like james, but i also don’t think sirius actually treats harry too much like a grown man, apart from slipups- just like a grown teen. he advises him against threats, tells him the edgy backstories harry SHOULD know (and no other adult ever wants to tell him), looks after him as best he can (HE LIVES IN A CAVE EATING BONES TO LOOK OUT FOR HIM), listens to his teen melodrama. even when he’s fucking up by encouraging harry’s risk-taking i don’t think he’s treating him like an adult- he’s treating him like a *marauder*, because at that age, that’s what he or james would have done; being able to make informed choices is what sirius would have wanted at his age. i don’t think molly or sirius necessarily have the better argument- both make good points; sirius gets what harry wants and molly gets what harry might need even if he doesn’t want it, but that makes perfect sense- molly is an older woman who’s raised seven children, and sirius is in his early thirties and lived with kids for (1) year. james and sirius were order members by age /eighteen/ and sirius was in azkaban at /twenty-one/- he was basically a kid HIMSELF before he got put in the torture prison. i always found it so unfair that literally none of the other adults ever mention the debilitating mental issues he must be suffering from- remember the lifelong PTSD hagrid got from a MONTH there???- and that’s without even mentioning dumbledore’s purposeful exacerbating of them. not to say that mental health excuses poor parenting, but sirius both /isn’t a parent/ and really does very well at filling that role anyways, on the whole, so i think he can be cut some slack for once in his life. harry loves sirius SO MUCH and sirius loves him right back- and sirius teaches him some of the most important lessons in the whole series, even if he himself never managed to learn them- lessons that i really think shape the adult harry becomes, and the kind of lessons his parents might have taught him. so overall i’d give him kudos- and considering the absolute bullshit he’s living through, with james and lily dead, azkaban sucking the light out of him for over a decade, peter running free, and dumbledore QUARANTINING HIM IN THE HOUSE WHERE HIS ABUSIVE DEAD MOTHER IS (?!?!), i would say he does a stellar fucking job.

anyways harry & sirius’ relationship is so important to the series- even the GP was upset when sirius dies in OOTP, largely because everyone could see how bad it hit harry. that scene in dumbledore’s office? oof. they just care about each other so v much and we were robbed of a lifetime of sirius as harry’s absolute fav adult. if sirius had held onto harry that day- if dumbledore hadn’t decided to place him with abusive bigots for a plan which would only pay off by OOTP- i honestly think sirius would have outlived the series. because with harry he’d have been less unhinged by grief, able to testify properly, gotten support from other order members, not gone to azkaban- and with harry he would have had a reason to live. thirteen years of raising harry would have made harry the snarky little fucker he is at his core by age eleven, confident and happy and very good at quidditch indeed; thirteen years would have made sirius as whole as he can get. they would have patched things up with remus. there’d be no OOTP tragedy of errors. sirius would have punched dumbledore at some point. harry would have sent a pic of him and his new friends over week 1 of hogwarts and sirius would have punched through a wall and then calmly strolled over to hogwarts and taken ron’s pet rat over to minerva mcgonnagal, where unspeakable things happened to it. he would have gently butted heads with hermione (but won her over via crookshanks if nothing else) and gotten on very well with ron; snape would barely have been able to be such a dick to him because sirius would have gleefully sent him howlers for every minute of his day until he cracked. lucius on the school board terrorizing the other parents? not on sirius “billionaire heir to the toujours pur line” black’s watch- he’d happily invest even more obnoxious wealth into the school fund to get first call, not to mention lucius’ imperius excuse would not get very far with sirius around. “who’s nicholas flamel? we can’t ask adults- we’d get in trouble with the teachers and our parents are either muggles or wouldn’t know- oh wait nevermind, sirius, who’s nicholas flamel?” no more expelliarmus-ing for four years; harry Trained Duellist By Age 11 more like. dobby the house-elf? oi dobby sirius is family too- now spit it all out, won’t you? chamber of secrets? yeah, sirius knows what that is. parseltongue? yeah, sirius is familiar, and fuck those other kids for being weird to harry about it, does he want to come home for the holidays? weird creepy diary? oh, sirius’ family will have Magicke Moste Evile around somewhere. book 3 is just Harry’s Holiday: The Book because there’s no sirius subplot. you think snape would have dared treat remus the way he does with sirius hovering around paying half his checks? i think the fuck not. you bet your ass they had box seats for the whole of gryffindor house at the Quidditch World Cup. barty crouch? yeah, sirius knows THAT asshole- and remembers his son. catch harry whizzing through all the challenges minus the nerves ahead of time while sirius and remus do half the investigating for him. yule ball? no sweat, just go with ron; that’s what james and sirius would have done. if the maze went the way it goes in the books, “moody” wouldn’t even have been able to drag harry off without sirius intervening. and sirius “ptsd” black would have been The One Person who Got harry’s feelings in OOTP- not to mention sirius Skilled Legilimens black could have coopted that shit from snape and gotten harry up to scratch. sirius-raised-harry would have given umbridge twice as much shit. no kreacher lying here- and harry has sirius’ mirror anyways. so no massive drama in the ministry, and no suicidal recklessness / desperate first taste of freedom on sirius’ part means no veil incident even if they got there. hence book six through seven going Quite Differently. sirius shows up book six to be DADA teacher, why not. him and remus think it’d be funny, and besides he’s petty enough to steal the job from snape. move over firenze, new hot teacher in town. half the books are avoidable.