#the starry explosion from the eye is so good

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 14

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn

cw ; mentions of scars (edit: im a fucking idiot i forgot they talk abt scars at the start of the chapter) and like… brief dottore mention, so u know it’s icky. also u guys will be mad at me.

notes ; AHHH!!!!! I LIVE!!!!! oh gosh so many hectic life events lately….. i hadnt been able to get my hands on this dang chapter for so long

anyhow, i was planning to publish this one early like a day or two ago with a reference to an arlecchino voiceline that was THEN a leak and not out yet, so i’m glad i waited and developed this one just a little more LOL

also good luck with everyone’s arle pulls!!! (better luck than mine i hope ;w;) just like childe and the reader at some point, WANTERS WILL BE HAVERS ‼️

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“agh— be more gentle!”

“i’ll be more gentle if you stop flinching away. you’re a war machine who can turn into an abyssal beast, withstand how draining it is to use it, hold your ground against a champion duelist but you can’t handle a little cotton ball soaked in alcohol?”

“well there’s no adrenaline anymore to remedy this sting, now, is there?”

it’s almost comically reminiscent of your meeting with childe back in zapolyarny palace, where he got himself hurt just to come tell you that he was to leave for liyue— feels like it was ages ago. childe leans against the elegant marble counter of your hotel room’s bathroom, pile of bloodied cottons and tissues piling by his hands, while you clean the fresh wounds he’s just acquired from clorinde.

from how much he flinches and hisses, the wounds almost seem grave… but they’re no more than a few scratches, slashes and bruises. after his witty remark, you can only attribute his absurd resilience during battle to the mentioned adrenaline— otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as he has with those reactions of his.

“so did you get what you wanted from that spar? how was it in comparison to your other tries?”

childe pauses thoughtfully and proceeds to pout.

“…i think she was still holding back. i need another spar.”

“gh-! are you kidding?! childe tartaglia ajax, i am not letting you resplit the forehead i just fixed up anytime soon.”

he sighs melancholy like a grounded child, but nods in agreement anyhow. childe’s eyes remain downward, he mindlessly fiddles with the hem of your shirt as he awaits patiently for you to finish tending to his wounds. once you finish, you scan him up and down to certify that you’ve taken care of everything, until your gaze is caught by his scars.

his war medals.

he’s got an insurmountable amount of them scattered all over his body and not one is like the other— some are large lashes most likely caused by weapons like axes or claymores; some are finer lines caused by swords or daggers; a few of them even look like different types of burns, likely the work of varied elemental catalysts; and some look like small stars or circles, probably the result of arrows or the tips of polearms.

the inches of his skin that his scars don’t cover are littered with the tiniest specs of freckles… ones you’ve barely had the privilege to see over the years as a result of living in eternally cold lands. it’s only been since you’ve both been to warmer regions like liyue, inazuma and now fontaine that you’ve began to notice them.

and you’ve found that the intricate, graceful tapestry that childe’s scars and freckles weave is… gorgeous.

it’s so uniquely mesmerizing that you nearly struggle to find a worthy comparison within words or the world around you. the closest one would be to a starry sky— you imagine that his freckles become the stars that remain stationary and furthest away in the night sky, small and bountiful, while his scars are the shooting stars that flash by in a vivid explosion of light.

it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

you’ve realized that you’re less afraid to admit this to yourself now. perhaps spending so much constant time with childe after such a while of misencounters and diverging schedules, has made you become more comfortable around him— to the point where you barely minded him childishly playing with the hem of your shirt. it feels fine, domestic even… almost in the same way that a coup—

“hey, why’re you staring so hard? am i not gonna make it, doc?”

you flinch as you’re snapped away from your train of thought, taking in how childe’s eyes flicker worriedly over your face. unfortunately, your mind isn’t freed from the grasp of your thoughts of… admiration and your gaze quickly flies over his scars once again. the delicacy of the moment, unexpectedly, fuels you with enough confidence to raise forward a hand that lightly grazes a particularly eye-catching gash on childe’s neck— the stretched healed skin ever so slightly bumping against your digits.

“nothing… j’st looking at your scars.” you answer absentmindedly.

beneath your hand, you feel his adam’s apple raise in a hearty gulp. next, childe inhales deeply and exhales a shuddered breath, as if an attempt to ground himself.

“what about ‘em?” he whispers expectantly.

“i like them.”

it’s as if you’ve gotten the liquid courage of a drink while being entirely sober, you’re surprised that you’ve done so much as let yourself say that out loud. though perhaps… that bewilderment might just be your downfall— within the thought, you notice just how close you and childe stand before each other. he leans against the bathroom counter in only the deep red undershirt of his uniform, eyes laser-guided onto your every move while you’re only a hair’s length away from him. his absurd height doesn’t help the moment either, as he’s forced to hunch over and his figure arches forward into you— it’s suffocating.

you can’t allow yourself to crumble and panic right now, it would absolutely destroy you for the rest of your life, so you opt to breathe deeply. childe watches intently as you do and returns it with his own deep sigh, one that you feel hit your face warmly the moment it leaves his lips and so it further capitalizes on just how obscenely close the two of you are— to the point where you breathe each other’s air.

childe’s piercing azure eyes move from matching your own to slightly further down on your face…

to your lips.

“yeah?” he mumbles in the most delicate tone possible, it’s not like you’re too far to hear anyway.

it’s an inexplicable magnetic pull that brings you the smidgenmost closer to him, it has to be so. it must be that same pull that brings you to look at his mouth— plump and pink, likely still store from the split at the corner of his bottom lip. and there’s no other possibility other than that damned magnet as to why your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, childe’s shyly snaking around your waist in response.

you don’t feel like you’re in a bathroom in a hotel room in fontaine anymore, you don’t feel like the seconds pass anymore. it’s a pocket between space and time that has enveloped the two of you, away from everything else.

and there’s nothing in this world left to do other than to lean just a breath closer to each other… just a little more and—

knock knock knock knock!

you flinch away faster than lightning, heart thudding ironically like thunder. childe also seems to have been entirely spooked by the knocks on the bedroom door and he pretends to bring his hand up to scratch something on his face, but you know very well he means to hide his glaringly flushed face— you know that because you do the very same, only you briskly step away to open the door instead.

outside the room, two fontainian officers greet you, though they seemingly go wide eyed for just a brief second as if you’re not who they expect to answer.

“forgive me, friend, this is… mr. tartaglia’s room, is it not?” one inquires.

you frown in suspicion, and you plan to not directly confirm the question as to pry exactly what business two policemen would have with childe. unfortunately, the devil decides to announce it himself by coming up behind you, arms crossed defensively.

“and what might be the problem, officer?” childe asks pointedly.

both officers simultaneously eye the two of you, the blushing idiots opening the door together, and proceed to share a knowing look. the first officer sighs while the second clears his throat awkwardly.

“we apologize for… intruding so abruptly but— mr. tartaglia, you are currently being suspected of being the culprit behind the serial disappearances of young women case. for the time being, you are under arrest and must face trial at the opera epiclese to make your case.”

…what.

“what?”

coincidentally, both you and childe exclaim at the same time— though, childe’s tone is rather condescendingly skeptical while yours is laced with pure, unadulterated shock.

the harbinger scoffs. “well, i can very confidently tell you right now that i didn’t do it.”

yeah, great way to clear any and all suspicion, man.

frustratedly pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to help you process the last five seconds, you sigh.

“i-i think what he means to say, officer, is that it’s not plausible for him to even be a suspect in this case. i mean— if i remember correctly, doesn’t that case extend for over twenty years? we’ve only been in fontaine for a few weeks! you can check our travel tickets, they’re dated. plus, we haven’t done anything even remotely disruptive while we’ve been here, both of us have multiple reliable alibi’s regarding our whereabouts over the past few days, and—“

the officer puts up a dismissive hand, effectively interrupting you. “please, leave this for the iudex to hear.”

a metallic jingling catches your attention and you see that the second policeman wordlessly produces handcuffs from his tool belt, the panic bubbles in your throat even further. childe’s shoulders visibly tense and it’s clear that he’s intent on fighting back— with once again lighting fast reflexes, you put a hand on his shoulder and throw him a warning look as a means to discreetly impede him. childe sighs frustratedly but ceases anyhow, allowing himself to be guided out of the room. out of pure illogical desperation, you chase after.

“don’t say anything hostile or stupid until we find you a lawyer! i promise you i’ll be right behind!” you call out as the three are at the other end of the hallway and catch a final look from childe, the emotion behind it is indescribable.

your chest feels overwhelmingly tight.

—

who knew such a resplendent room could be so suffocating.

it feels as though you’ve been waiting for an eternity and the intended comfort of the opera eplicese’s waiting room only serves to unnerve you more. the most important person in your life has just been abruptly accused of being a serial kidnapper and you’re supposed to indulge in sickeningly sweet pastries and tasteless tea? it’s almost derogatory.

your leg has become sore from how much it bounces restlessly, your nail plates scratchy from how much you fidget with them, all the paper napkins on the table sloppily folded into failed paper stars. none of it helps.

you can’t even decide what to worry about, all of it swirls and spirals in your head like a rumbling tornado. is he okay? are the officers treating him well? who will defend him? will he go to prison? for how long? when in the tsaritsa’s name will arlecchino retur—

the door slams open and you jump, partially with the abruptness of it and out of sheer panic to get some news on the situation. your heart starts palpitating again and it takes everything within your willpower to seem more put together in front of the knave.

“s-so?” you ask with an uncontrollable shake in voice.

“it’s invariable, childe must face trial and defend himself. we can only count on the factuality that he is innocent and the oratrice will say accordingly.”

you sigh, at least… whatever in the archons’ name constitutes that machine is infallible.

“the trial starts in five minutes.” arlecchino adds curtly.

you nod and allow yourself to take a deep, grounding breathe before standing up to leave the waiting room. as your hand reaches out to the doorknob, there is a firm grip on your shoulder. you turn ever so slightly to find a pointy-nailed, stark black hand holding you back— another moment to analyze the hand reveals to you that… that’s her skin. black.

a chill runs down your spine.

“allow me, for a moment, to ask a selfish question in exchange for a selfish answer, sargeant.” she stands, voice dark and menacing. “as an asset of the doctor’s… do you share his ideals?”

the question takes you off-guard but it also… doesn’t. you’re not an idiot— you’ve heard of dottore’s letters to the house of the hearth suggesting the, err.. ‘rejects’ be sent to his custody so he can further his experiments. you remember how utterly appalled you were when you first came across the information. if the knave truly cares about the children in her orphanage, it’s no wonder how tightly she grips your shoulder, sharp nails just a breath away from breaking skin.

and so she asks you selfishly, a question not of loyalty but of morality.

dottore’s face flashes before your eyes and your hand subconsciously tightens into a fist, expression hardening.

“if his life were in my hands, i’d crush it in a heartbeat.” you whisper bitterly.

the grip releases you and it’s as if air is easier to breathe after that. arlecchino wordlessly steps ahead to open the door for you and gestures for you to leave first, expression neutral as if nothing had happened.

the courtroom looks like no courtroom at all, rather you feel as though you’re about to watch an opera in a grand theater— the rumors about fontaine seem to be true after all. in the rows of cushy seats, people whisper and gossip endlessly until you find yourself a seat and the booming sound of a gavel being struck echoes through the court, all sound ceases.

“court is now in session for the case of serial disappearances of young women, today we will hear both the prosecution and defense’s arguments regarding mr. tartaglia of the fatui’s alleged involvement.”

a baritone voice echoes through the silent courtroom, the direction it rings out from reveals a white-haired man in proper blue robes, sitting in a balcony that floats above the courtroom’s stage. you recognize him as the iudex, the chief justice, monsieur neuvillette. his tone is elegant and intellectual, with complete considerate professionalism—- its cadence almost reminds you of zhongli in a sense. but that’s not all that reminds you of zhongli… you can’t quite put your finger on it though.

what follows is merely formal introductions from the prosecution and the defense and you take the opportunity to become distracted and ponder over just how catastrophic your morning had turned out. it all happened so quickly too— one second you were… ah… canoodling with childe and the next he was being escorted out the room by law enforcement. had you been cursed by the gods? would they be so cruel as to make every peaceful moment in your life just merely bedding for the next major inconvenience? would they be so frustratingly taunting as to let you get that close to the one you have feelings for only to rip you two away from each other right afterwards?

“it would appear i must repeat my question, mr. tartaglia.” neuvillette says firmly, catch your attention and breaking you from your daze.

“do you accept the charge that you are the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case?”

“to be perfectly honest, i don’t understand your country’s complicated court systems, or the reason why i’m being charged with something i’ve never even heard of.” the harbinger answers bluntly.

“however, i did hear that people who have been charged can choose to participate in a duel to clear their name— is that right? in that case, as long as i accept the charge, i can have an all out fight with that champion duelist clorinde, right?”

…

how can the supposed love of your life be this stupid?

“when i privately sparred with her last time, she was obviously holding back… real disappointing.”

“hey, don’t you understand? you’re currently the prime suspect for a major case! this isn’t the place for you to be looking for fights.” a female voice calls out from the balcony directly above where you seat— while you can’t see who it is, you can only assume from the bossiness of her tone that it’s lady furina herself, the hydro archon.

“oh? sounds like the hydro archon wants to lecture me on the ways of the opera house…” childe taunts. “then why don’t you duel me too? i’m the kind of students that learns best in the heat of battle.”

you’ll kill him, oh you’ll kill this idiot one day… does he want to rot in prison for the rest of his days? this time you truly cannot hold yourself back from subconsciously standing up in panic, limbs urging to get up there and try to amend the situation yourself by arguing like a normal, sane person— but the judging stares of the other spectators hinder you glued to your seat out of sheer embarrassment.

“alas, it would appear that communication with the defendant is going poorly, and we have made very little progress.” neuvillette intervenes. “in that case, let me explain everything from the very beginning again. the goal of this trial is to determine the culprit behind the serial disappearances case—“

“that case had nothing to do with him! you’ve got the wrong man!”

huh? …who said that? did that not come out of your own mouth? seems like something you’d blur out… instead it comes from a flamboyantly dressed blonde woman who bursts into the courtroom at that very second. to you, she nearly seemed angelic in the moment.

“miss navia, this is the second time you’ve interrupted the court proceedings. i only tolerated your behavior last time because you were able to provide the court with a key eyewitness. but that was exception rather than standard court protocol— i can very well charge you with contempt of court for your interjections.”

“oh please, did you ever think i had any respect for this place’s pointless theatrics?” navia scoffs.

“we can put aside that discussion for now, i’m not here to argue with you. i’m here to charge the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case. and if my charges prove true, the tartaglia here will be proven innocent by default, correct?”

neuvillette proceeds to dismiss childe from the stand to make way for navia and allows him to seat in the audience and you feel like you should owe this lady your life. childe’s eyes scan through the seats and when he spots you, he visibly lights up and beelines to the seat next to yours.

“challenging the hydro archon? really?” you whisper playfully.

childe contains himself not to laugh loudly. “can’t say it wasn’t worth the shot.”

it’s as if a wordless conversation settles between the two of you, silent glances and deep sighs that express the mutual hopefulness for a good outcome of this trial. after a solid few seconds of staring at each other like fools, childe’s gaze drops down, you follow it to see his gloved palm sat in the armrest between the two of you— it faces outward in an invitation. your hand joins his without thought and the second your skin registers the warmth that radiates from his hold, it’s like an electric shock runs through your veins. one so buzzing that makes you two simultaneously face away from each other to hide your burning cheeks.

you’d like to pretend that you’re paying attention to the trial, but the ever so gentle squeezes childe hand gives yours periodically seem to take up all of your focus and cause it to short circuit. suddenly, there’s another burst of the courtroom’s doors and there stand the traveler and paimon, because of course they’re somehow also involved in this.

“naviaaa, we’re back!” paimon calls out.

“as expected of my partner! i just knew you’d come back in the nick of time!”

“just how often do you intend to flout the rules of this court…” neuvillette mutters disappointedly.

the traveler’s appearance contributes new evidence towards navia’s favor, who expertly disperses all of the oppositions statements. the culprit is revealed to be a man by the name of vacher, who was intent on bringing back his dear vigneire to the point where he began dissolving innocent young women with primordial seawater. as overtly ridiculous as fontaine’s spectacle culture seemed to be, you couldn’t say that watching this trial play out wasn’t extremely entertaining.

but speaking of innocent…

“at this point, the verdict of this trial is clear. with mr. marcel’s conviction, the charges against mr. tartaglia no longer hold any basis.”

you giddily look over at childe, who seems as aloof as someone who didn’t worry for a second. your fingertips tingle with excitement and you can feel the stress evaporate off your shoulders in real time. neuvillette summarizes the entire case once more and submits the verdict to the oratrice— the machine hums loudly and flashes a blinding blue, producing an envelope finally confirming his guilty status. much to unspoken disappointment, childe lets go of your hand to stand with his chest proudly puffed up.

“well now, hasn’t this been the most delicious piece of drama? the villain has been caught, justice has been served, pas wrongs have been righted and it’s a bit ol happy ending… since it’s been such a great show, i’ll just let the false accusations against me slide. either way, i’ve still got some business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me—“

the harbinger looks back to offer you his hand once more and you happily take it before childe begins to lead you two out of the room. unfortunately, the guards at the doors of the courtroom remain unmoving as they block the doors and you frown in confusion.

“please wait just one moment, mr. tartaglia.” says the iudex.

“oh, what now? none of this has anything to do with me.” childe groans.

“according to court protocol, since this trial was initiated due to a charge against you, a verdict must also be made regarding the initial charge before the trial can conclude.”

you sigh out of selfish frustration, but opt to respect the proceedings anyhow— it’s not like the verdict will change now. childe, on the other hand, voices his annoyance like a petulant kid.

“please respect the laws of fontaine. this has always been the rule.”

“it’s fine, we’ll just have to wait here a few little seconds more.” you whisper to childe coaxingly.

he sighs. “alright alright, but this has been a lot of hassle. all i need is to stand over there, right? let’s just get this over with…”

“through evidence presented in the public trial that was just held, it has been established that mr. tartaglia has no direct connection to the serial disappearances case. the guilty party has been established and thus, it is logical to suppose mr. tartaglia is innocent of the charges.”

the machine whirrs once more, stirring some curiosity within you as to what exactly makes it tick or give accurate verdicts at all. as the envelope reaches the chief justice’s hands, he seems to stutter for a moment as he reads it. neuvillette’s ever so stoic face falls slightly into a vexed frown and he hums in confusion.

“according to the judgment of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, mr. tartaglia is— guilty.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

[beastren]

5 Character Associations ft. Nimh, Lir, and Tenanye because I felt like it hehe

tagged by @themanwhomadeamonster TY TY

Nimh

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

The satisfaction in working hard to help others

Brushing your fingers through grass and dew in the early morning

The comfort brought by soft pelt bedding

Panic in seeing a loved one injured and fighting hard to reach them in time

Mild frustration that's always quick to bubble to the surface

COLOURS:

SCENTS:

Newly wet dirt

A sweet, earthy herb, like basil

Well-seasoned roasted potatoes

Campfire smoke clinging to the skin

Baby animals

OBJECTS:

A small satchel of dried berries and meat for snacking

A handy, versatile dagger

Well-stocked supply of ferrystones for ease of travel

Overflowing amounts of goblin horns and apples from her habit of picking up everything

A tiger's eye gem from her parents she carries for good luck

BODY LANGUAGE:

Lips pressed tightly into a pout

An empty, unintentional glare, that seems to pass through you

A lopsided smile that overtakes her face before she can realize

Sitting slouched, with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands

Wincing as she cleans wounds, regardless if they're her own

AESTHETICS:

SONGS:

Kingfisher - Joanna Newsom

I can hold your hand baby - the brilliant green

Arms I Know So Well - Emma Ruth Rundle

Know the Way - Grimes

After You Left - Susanne Sundfor

Lir

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

The peace of hearing crickets chirp on a starry summer night

Fulfillment in time spent with those you love

The joy and stress of exploring a new place for the first time

Devotion so strong it hurts

Threads starting to tear on the knee of a well-loved pair of pants

COLOURS:

SCENTS:

The smell from a vine after you've picked a berry

Cinnamon bark

Palms tinged with leather and metal from wielding equipment

Sun-dried clothes

Wet fur

OBJECTS:

A small leather-bound journal filled with light brown paper

A sewing kit gifted to him by Nimh, so she could teach him

A stock of harspud roborant to replenish his stamina

A few vials of salubrious drought to heal others

His favorite pair of simplistic boots

BODY LANGUAGE:

Arms waving at his sides to catch his balance

A smile so wide his eyes nearly close

Exhausted flopping onto the bed after a long day

Shaking rainwater off of his fur

Gentle but calloused hands using his strength to catch fallen allies

AESTHETICS:

SONGS:

Under Your Thumb - The Vaccines

Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier

Dear John - Susanne Sundfor

Man's Road - America

All I've Got To Say - The Last Unicorn OST

Tenanye

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

Being submerged in water so placid, it almost feels like nothing

Being so proficient at a task that you can do it on autopilot

The transition from scales to feathers on a bird's body

Possessiveness over the only person who has ever understood you

Deep grief and rage like an abyss in your chest

COLOURS:

SCENTS:

The heady smell of old blood

The subtle but sharp nothingness of the night sky

A delicate, slightly otherworldly jasmine perfume

Trampled grass

Frozen-cold mountain air that stings your nose

OBJECTS:

A bottle of spring water

A deep red, smooth polished bow, accompanied by a quiver full of explosive arrows

Leather chaps, made to match a friend

A bundle of corpse nettle

Several ornate keys and moonbeam gems, allowing access to any room on bitterblack isle

BODY LANGUAGE:

An unsettling stillness, with something brewing just beneath the surface

Quick to unsheathe her daggers, and even quicker to step into the shadows to stalk her enemy

Soothing the wounds on both her and her lover after sparring

Proud, proper posture

Long, spindly fingers flitting down a lock of dark, wavy hair

AESTHETICS:

SONGS:

Carrion Comfort - aeseaes

Out of A Black Cloud Came A Bird - Ruby Throat

Mothering Silence - Rockettothesky

Lust - Tori Amos

Black Widow - Susanne Sundfor

[brewed-pangolin]

When did you realize you'd fallen hard for Soap? And did it hit you like a ton of bricks?

A ton of bricks you ask? How 'bout an entire city block?

Excuse me while I go on a Soap thirsting tirade...

With gifs included, cuz that's how we're doing it!

It happened literally the first time I played the game. I'm already a sucker for a Scottish accent, so I was hooked with the first words that flew out of Soap's mouth.

The first act was really good and I was super focused on the gameplay, but it didn't give me a lot of time to really listen to the interactions between Soap and Ghost.

Then this shit happened...

The fucking growl....

Then the banter with Ghost started....

This is also when we finally get a good view of Soap. And they had the audacity to make him look absolutely gorgeous with the most beautiful blue eyes....(it's really all Neil Ellice's fault)

Oooohhhhh no. Oh fuck me, this isn't happening. Keep it together, keep it together!

Cartel Protection, Close Air, Hardpoint. Yeah, I'm falling hard for this man. And Johhny being all pissed off that they have Hassan and are forced to release him? Yup, I'm diggin an Angry Soap (gives me so many ideas)

But El Sin Nombre, when he takes the risk to get interrogated by Las Almas. What!? I think I just broke my knee caps from hitting the ground so hard.

Dark Water was fantastic, and Soap being all doughy, starry eyed at the rigs explosion made my heart melt. Into a thirsty puddle of course.

I was barely keeping my fucking composure, then Alone just had to come in and rear its backstabbing little head...

First of all......YOU DARE FUCKING HURT SOAP!

The banter with Ghost, the ridiculous jokes, "steamin bloody Jesus", "Hells fuckin bells", and the fucking Gaelic..."away n' bile yer heid".....

But the trigger to my demise into dust and rubble was a little nugget near the end of Alejandro's rescue...

"Ka-freakin boom, baby"

That's it. Game over. Put a fork in me. Call the morgue. RIP me.

I just gave into the Soap thirst. Drank it like I had found an oasis while lost for an eternity in the desert.

Then I remembered a little place called Tumblr, and thought to myself..."Hmmm, I wonder if anyone else feels the same way I do?" And here we are.

This is probably way more than what you had asked for, but y'know what? I had so much fun with it. And that's what this and my blog are all about. Cuz if it ain't fun, then what's the point in doin' it?!

Thank you all very much for embracing the Soap Thirst Tirade and I bid you all adieu! And as always, much love 💛

[lisxdumbr]

LIS!! I was about to come here to cry about yuuta bcs i missed him this is a great opportunity qwq

the question itself is whats your thoughts on how the others in the cast would react to yuutas shift in personality!! its not the exact term i would use to describe his recent doings but ig thats how it would seem from outside so

just. im actually such a sucker for outside povs it always gives such nice perspective for characters its one of my favorites <3 i also love him so its a great mashup i would say

-🌟

HELLOOO STARRY. thank you for always saving me in these cases <3 both of us miss him, good timing then.

THIS ended up being long, looong as always. I'm sorry I can't help it, but I hope you enjoy.

“Yuutakun Yuutakun, what have you become..?” thoughts

Replying to your question. hmmm, I think it depends on the person. Undead were definitely the beta testers already, alongside Hinata.

Let's see, Yuta used to be perceived as "one of the twins" just like that. And the twins were perceived as poor and miserable by all the yumenosaki students after Setsubun. You know how Mika says that it's "his duty to look after them" because it's a collective agreement in yumenosaki? As for the people close to him, I think they've always perceived him as a calm but cheery person except when it comes to Hinata. Everyone who has been 5 minutes talking to him should be able to notice that there's always this little pinch of boiling rage when something has to do with Hinata.

Now, as for the recent.. meltdown and explosion of personality, we have three phases. Entering the darkness (sandstorm), walking that dark tunel without hopes of finding the exit (mirage), finding the exit and being able to see outside's light again (love letter).

Many characters experienced a phase of it already, we could even claim that everything started in nightclub and everything, but that was just a brief moment. A brief taste that Rinne offered him so that he could see the world through his eyes.

I think Yuta is very conflicted himself, that's why he keeps deprecating and carrying burdens (please take him to therapy I am begging) BUT OK, moving to what's important, what's everyone reaction to this? how do they feel?

Starting with undead in sandstorm, we saw them raging and confused about his actions. Specifically Koga who was a step away from throwing hands. I believe Rei is the most important key in all this, since he felt hurt more than anything else. I believe Rei not only felt betrayed but felt like he did something wrong, since y'know, he 'raised' the twins in yumenosaki. This idea is further expressed in Love Letter, where he finally understands that Yuu is just.. changing, but that he isn't alone.

Speaking of, Hinata is devastated. Hinata has lived that change right before his eyes and he's absolutely terrified that he will loose Yuta. I spoke about this in my little liveblog of Love Letter when it dropped, but the twins are in a very unstable place. For Yuta to be happy, he needs to separate himself from Hinata, but this is exactly what will end up hurting Hinata, so now Yuta is growing while his brother is sinking in depressive thoughts all over again (at least Wataru helped a bit with that and thank god).

We see a couple more characters who witness the process. Shinobu? Absolutely terrified too. Shinobu, despite being Yuta's best friend, knows little to nothing about his true self, his true feelings. Seeing his friend get corrupted by those emotions scares him and also hurts a lot. He said it in Mirage even, he just wants Yuta to open up and trust him and understand that he isn't alone, but again, Yuta was in a blinded state of mind in which the pain overcame him and didn't listen at all.

I believe. the only person who took this positively has been Rinne. Rinne is. very very proud of him. Rinne is happy that his advice was able to reach him. He took the father figure that Rei previously had and embraced it. Rinne, despite his personality, truly cares about the ones he loves, so I think it's pretty normal that he feels proud and tries to help Yuta in his journey, specially when he sees himself reflected on him (yeahh read hotlimit).

ANYWAY. I would love to see Sora's opinion though, I'd love to see if his color has changed though I know that if it did, Hinata is going to cry and I do not want that.. but ! He's growing, I'm very proud of him.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

I posted 1,773 times in 2022

That's 1,144 more posts than 2021!

132 posts created (7%)

1,641 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@softguarnere

@latibvles

@emmythespacecowgirl

@mccall-muffin

@hbowardaily

I tagged 1,767 of my posts in 2022

#omgg - 410 posts

#bob - 187 posts

#band of brothers - 164 posts

#daww - 103 posts

#reminders - 102 posts

#nature - 96 posts

#oooh - 91 posts

#hbo war - 86 posts

#relatable tbh - 86 posts

#joe liebgott - 83 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and i find the pov of this so interesting bc for parts of it it's like seeing 2 ppl fall in love thru the eyes of the ppl around them 🥺💖

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Starry the Musical: Vincent Van Gogh (1/4)

"The sight of the starry night makes me dream"

31 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#4

And to celebrate the end of Pride Month, the Duffer brothers have generously revamped a new version of homophobia just for us 🥴

43 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#3

Starry the Musical: Theo Van Gogh (4/4)

"You've carried me more than you'll ever know..."

45 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

#2

Fire On Fire: Chapter 1

(Ch. 2)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: With WWII raging across the European Theatre, OSS agent Alix "Pyro" Martinelli and paratrooper Joe Liebgott are forced to navigate their star-crossed romance at the worst possible time. With the knowledge that one or both of them could end up dead before the war's end, will their secret love survive the horrors that await them or break under the pressure? Simultaneously, as he prepares to send her into enemy territory, first-time case officer/handler Lewis Nixon struggles to shoulder the ever-present fear that the agent he's come to see as his little sister may not make it back alive.

A/N: Here it is!! Y'all know the drill lol, everything BoB is strictly based on the miniseries & my own headcanons, not the real-life ppl. Also pls be nice to me, this is the first thing I've written since like 2018-2019. It'll get better hopefully lol. (And yes, I'm making y'all wait for that coveted first interaction between Lieb x Alix lol bc I'm evil) 💖

See the full post

47 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Beside You (Ron Speirs x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )

A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆

When your tears are spent

On your last pretense

And your tired eyes refuse to close

And sleep in your defense

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed. 

The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view. 

It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in. 

From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there. 

It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end. 

Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.

When it's in your spine

Like you've walked for miles

And the only thing you want is just to

Be still for a while

But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high. 

 Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t. 

You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.

Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself. 

“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged. 

But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys. 

See the full post

60 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[beauty-styles-2023]

Sparkle and Shine: 50 Stunning 4th of July Nail Designs to Celebrate American Independence in Style

As the summer heat rises and the scent of barbecues fills the air, there's no mistaking that the 4th of July is just around the corner. This quintessential American holiday is a time for celebration, reflection, and of course, showing off your patriotic spirit. What better way to express your love for the red, white, and blue than with some eye-catching 4th of July nails?

In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore 50 unique and creative nail designs that will make your fingers pop with patriotic pride. From subtle and sophisticated to bold and glamorous, we've got something for every style and skill level. So grab your nail polish, put on your favorite summer playlist, and let's dive into the world of 4th of July nail art!

Why 4th of July Nails Matter:

Before we jump into the designs, let's take a moment to appreciate why 4th of July nails are more than just a fun fashion statement. They're a form of self-expression, a conversation starter, and a way to show your appreciation for the freedoms we enjoy as Americans. Whether you're attending a backyard barbecue, watching fireworks, or simply enjoying a day off work, your patriotic nails will be a constant reminder of the spirit of independence that this holiday represents.

Preparation Tips for Perfect 4th of July Nails:

Start with a clean slate: Remove any old polish and give your nails a good cleaning.

Shape up: File your nails to your desired shape - square, round, or almond.

Moisturize: Apply cuticle oil to keep your nails and surrounding skin healthy.

Base coat: Always use a base coat to protect your nails and help the polish adhere better.

Gather supplies: Make sure you have red, white, and blue polishes, as well as any additional tools you might need (e.g., striping tape, dotting tools, stickers).

Now, let's dive into our 50 stunning 4th of July nail designs!

Classic Stars and Stripes:

Paint alternating nails in red and white

Use blue polish and a thin brush to create stripes on the white nails

Add white stars to the blue stripes using a dotting tool

Fireworks Explosion:

Apply a dark blue base to all nails

Use white, red, and light blue polishes to create firework bursts

Add glitter topcoat for extra sparkle

American Flag Accent:

Paint four nails in solid red or white

Create a miniature American flag on your ring finger

Patriotic Ombre:

Start with a white base

Use a makeup sponge to blend red and blue polish for a gradient effect

Glitter Bomb:

Apply red, white, and blue glitter polishes to different nails

Use a clear topcoat to smooth the surface

Liberty Bell Silhouette:

Paint nails in a pale blue

Use black polish to create a Liberty Bell silhouette on one nail

Stars and Stripes Forever:

Alternate red and white stripes on each nail

Add blue stars using a stamping plate or stickers

Patriotic French Tip:

Apply a clear or nude base

Create French tips using red, white, and blue polishes

Uncle Sam Hat:

Paint nails white

Create a miniature Uncle Sam hat on one nail using red and blue polish

Statue of Liberty:

Use a light green or teal as a base

Paint a silhouette of the Statue of Liberty on one nail

Red, White, and Blue Marble:

Create a water marble effect using red, white, and blue polishes

Patriotic Polka Dots:

Apply a white base

Use dotting tools to create red and blue polka dots

American Eagle:

Paint nails in navy blue

Create an American eagle silhouette on one nail using white polish

Declaration of Independence:

Use a beige or parchment-colored base

Write snippets of the Declaration in tiny script on one or two nails

Starry Night:

Apply a dark blue base

Use white polish to create a scattering of stars

Patriotic Plaid:

Create a plaid pattern using red, white, and blue striping tape

Firework Flowers:

Paint nails red or blue

Create white firework-inspired flowers using a dotting tool

Stars and Stripes Gradient:

Create a gradient from red to white to blue

Add star stickers or stamped stars

Patriotic Chevron:

Use striping tape to create chevron patterns in red, white, and blue

American Landmarks:

Paint miniature versions of famous American landmarks on each nail

Flag Waves:

Create a waving flag effect using curved lines of red and white

Add a blue corner with white stars

Patriotic Leopard Print:

Create a leopard print pattern using red, white, and blue instead of traditional colors

Glitter Stripes:

Alternate stripes of red, white, and blue glitter polishes

Patriotic Negative Space:

Use nail vinyls to create geometric shapes in red, white, and blue, leaving some natural nail showing

American Patchwork:

Create a patchwork effect using different patriotic patterns on each nail

Firework Splatter:

Use a straw to blow small splatters of red, white, and blue polish onto a white base

Uncle Sam's Beard:

Paint nails blue

Create a white beard texture on one nail, with a red stripe for the mouth

Patriotic Tie-Dye:

Use a tie-dye technique with red, white, and blue polishes

Stars and Stripes Skittlette:

Do a different patriotic design on each nail for a mismatched look

Lady Liberty's Torch:

Paint nails in a copper or bronze shade

Create a flame design on one nail to represent the torch

Patriotic Aztec:

Use red, white, and blue to create an Aztec-inspired pattern

4th of July Confetti:

Apply a clear base

Use red, white, and blue glitter or confetti polish for a festive look

American Flag Hearts:

Paint nails white

Create heart shapes filled with tiny American flags

Firework Burst Accent:

Paint most nails in solid colors

Create an elaborate firework burst on one accent nail

Star-Spangled Glitter Gradient:

Create a glitter gradient using red, white, and blue glitters over a white base

Patriotic Stripes and Stars:

Alternate red and white striped nails with solid blue nails decorated with white stars

American Bandana:

Recreate a bandana pattern using red, white, and blue

Patriotic Watercolor:

Use a watercolor technique to blend red, white, and blue for a soft, artistic look

Statue of Liberty Crown:

Paint nails in a minty green

Create a golden crown design on one nail

Red, White, and Blue Swirls:

Use a marbling technique to create swirls of red, white, and blue

Patriotic Tribal:

Create tribal-inspired patterns using red, white, and blue

Star-Spangled Stamps:

Use nail stamps to create intricate star patterns in red, white, and blue

Patriotic Ombre with Fireworks:

Create a red to white to blue ombre

Add gold firework designs on top

American Flag Accent with Matte Finish:

Paint most nails in matte red or blue

Create a matte American flag design on one nail

Patriotic Geometric:

Use striping tape to create geometric patterns in red, white, and blue

Stars and Stripes Cutout:

Use nail vinyls to create star and stripe cutouts over a white base

Red, White, and Blue Foil:

Apply foil in patriotic colors for a metallic, festive look

Patriotic Newspaper Print:

Create a newspaper print effect using black polish, then add red and blue accents

Firework Starburst:

Paint nails dark blue

Create starburst designs in white, then add red glitter for a firework effect

American Popsicle:

Paint nails to look like red, white, and blue popsicles

Maintaining Your 4th of July Nails:

Now that you've created your perfect patriotic manicure, you'll want to keep it looking fresh for as long as possible. Here are some tips to maintain your 4th of July nails:

Apply a quality top coat: This will protect your design and add shine.

Reapply top coat every few days: This refreshes the shine and extends the life of your manicure.

Wear gloves: When doing dishes or cleaning to protect your nails from water and harsh chemicals.

Moisturize: Keep your hands and cuticles well-moisturized to prevent chipping.

Be gentle: Avoid using your nails as tools to prevent chipping and peeling.

DIY vs. Professional 4th of July Nails:

While many of these designs can be done at home with a little practice and patience, some of the more intricate patterns might be best left to the professionals. If you're not confident in your nail art skills, consider visiting a salon for your 4th of July manicure. Many nail technicians offer special holiday designs and can create custom looks tailored to your preferences.

However, don't be afraid to try your hand at some of the simpler designs. With practice, you might surprise yourself with your nail art abilities!

4th of July Nail Care Tips:

Remember, beautiful nails start with healthy nails. Here are some tips to keep your nails in top condition:

Stay hydrated: Drink plenty of water to keep your nails (and the rest of you) hydrated.

Eat a balanced diet: Nutrients like biotin, vitamin E, and protein contribute to nail health.

Don't bite or pick: This can damage your nails and the surrounding skin.

Use acetone-free nail polish remover: This is less drying for your nails and cuticles.

Give your nails a break: If you frequently wear polish, give your nails some polish-free time to breathe.

Incorporating 4th of July Nails into Your Overall Look:

Your patriotic nails can be the perfect finishing touch to your 4th of July outfit. Here are some ideas to coordinate your nails with your look:

Classic Americana: Pair your stars and stripes nails with a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and red accessories.

Beachy Vibes: If you're celebrating at the beach, match your firework-inspired nails with a red swimsuit and blue cover-up.

Backyard BBQ: Complement your American flag accent nails with a gingham dress and denim jacket.

Fireworks Viewing: Your glitter bomb nails will sparkle alongside a little black dress and patriotic jewelry.

Remember, the key is to have fun with your look while showing your American spirit!

The History Behind 4th of July Celebrations:

As you're admiring your festive nails, take a moment to reflect on the history behind this important American holiday. The 4th of July, also known as Independence Day, commemorates the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. This historic document declared the 13 American colonies' independence from Great Britain and its king.

The first 4th of July celebrations included concerts, bonfires, parades, and the firing of cannons and muskets. Over time, the holiday evolved to include the traditions we know today, such as barbecues, picnics, and fireworks displays. By incorporating patriotic nail art into your celebration, you're participating in a modern expression of a centuries-old tradition of national pride.

Your 4th of July nails are more than just a fun fashion statement – they're a way to express your creativity, show your patriotic spirit, and participate in a beloved American tradition. Whether you opt for classic stars and stripes, dazzling fireworks, or a subtle nod to Lady Liberty, your festive nails are sure to be a hit at any Independence Day celebration.

Remember, the most important thing is to have fun with your nail art. Don't be afraid to mix and match ideas or come up with your own unique designs. After all, creativity and individuality are quintessentially American traits!

So gather your red, white, and blue polishes, put on some patriotic tunes, and let your imagination run wild. With these 50 stunning 4th of July nail designs, you're sure to find the perfect look to celebrate American independence in style. Happy polishing, and happy 4th of July!

[nella16]

His Partner In Eternity | Collector x OC

Ch19: Perfectionist

Through the galaxy, through all of those stars, a house, the four siblings belonged in, without their youngest, through outsiders, there was a long-term belief that he was dead

Only the four siblings of Archivists knew the truth, and they had no place to say it

If so, their eldest, the stickler of perfection, Estoile , will perish for the next thousands of years ....

Estoile's POV:

The archives room, my archives, everything from books, keys, limbs, my long-standing duty pursue the ones who stand before me

everyday, hour, minute, second and its parts, the eternity, everyone is completely fine, so am I ...

Laying my back at the bed, I feel nothing, no tiredness, good reason for traveling through the galaxy non stop

Turning my head slightly, eying at her, the daughter of the most shamed Titans, this miserable, poor eternal being, pursued by a forced bloodthirstieness

The Titan who fell for Collector

A devastated, confusing feelings at first, when no one witnessing, he was her hellfire

But slowly, the hellfire began to fade, only for her new desire to be holding him between her arms, to have a connection, to her gaze at him, always knowing he would be there

And then, those children made their connection by the name of " partners "

Huh ... Collector...

Collector, Collector, Collector ... Collector

Why would you do this to me?

Do you have any idea how would they react if ....

A sigh escaped my lips, if I lost him, if I lost them ... I'll be back .. a tiny nothingness of a soul

I put a hand on that cage, a cage, made especially for you, my dear child

It wouldn't be that harsh if you came willingly ... Collector wouldn't be broken

Thanks to you .... I can see your fangs are digged into his soul, his little starry soul, those tears of his ... it breaks me more than the explosion

You've devoured him, Chalent ...

... Before his son, it's your turn

The hellfire you feared will be brought to live

.... I'll shield him, I'll shield us ... I'll if I have to rise the isles' seas ...

Just when you come back, safe and sound, Starshine ... I ask for one thing

The only thing that I have asked from them ... to have you all

End of Estoile's POV

His red eyes radiated as they roamed, little shining stars, shining through the darkness of his room

Estoile got up to sit, touching his arms, the scars, a curse in his blood, if his starry blood boiled, he'll get rotten, even at the slightest of things

" I'll do it ... " he shakily murmured, desperately trying to get himself together, " ... I'll make everyone right ... perfect "

The direction was simple, get the Titans, bring Collector back home ...

" I didn't endure all of this for nothing ... why can't you understand ... Colly? "

Wet drops stained his face, putting his hands on his head, his deraÀnged eyes turned to the floating cage, where he put Chalent, where the Titaness now is nothing but a doll, with another cage in her head " what did you do ...? "

He picked the cage, trying his best not to break it " what did you do to him, Titan? why does he want you so badly? why do you act like you never wanted any harm on him? as if he wasn't your hellfire? ... my poor, baby brother ... "

" Est? " Solar & Lunar's sudden voices startled him, quickly he put the cage on his bed, wiping away his tears before turning to his siblings

" What is it? " he put a smile, with his usual calm expression as always

The twins shared a look, before turning back to him " are you sure you want to handle it alone? " Lunar asked calmly, stepped closer to his eldest brother " as close as you get, as rotten as you ... get scarred "

Estoile sighed, wrapping his arms around the twins, hugging them tightly " I appreciate your worries, but we all know who decided to put him there in the first place ... "

He looked down to them, his smile grew warmer, quietly comforting the twins " I managed to consume it many, many times, this it no different "

" ... He would be upset, right? "

" I'm afraid so ... but sooner or later, he'll get better, .. "

In the middle of their conversation, Filos, too tiny to be noticed, was watching down at the door

" Alas you ... " he spat faintly, mostly out of disappointment

Filos's POV:

Quickly, I floated to under his bed ...

I know, I know ....

Chalent sure was scornful, distant little grim, but still, she didn't lay a one, hurtful finger on Collector!

Actually, she was polite enough to not even interact with him, while having such thoughts ...

Hellfire sure is a perfect way to describe that confusion of yours, Chalent ...

[chorusfm]

Broadway Calls – Coming After You

Music has a funny way of finding us, doesn’t it? So when I got wind of the Oregon punk rock band, Broadway Calls, and their latest EP, Coming After You, I was taken back by just how good the music pouring out the speakers was. This slick, 4-song EP was recently pressed on a 7″ vinyl via Red Scare Industries, and is a pleasing blend of great punk rock riffing paired with sing-a-long moments that are sure to make you feel rejuvenated about the current punk scene. The set was produced by Scott Goodrich, and puts a bright spotlight on the band’s songwriting improvements. Broadway Calls are Coming After You, and you should embrace it. Lead single, “Coming After You” sets the tone for the overall EP with some crunchy guitar riffs paired with smooth vocals from the frontman Ty Vaughn. The lyrics in the second verse of, “You made a fortune, while we lost our heads / You disapprove of violence while we’re fresh out of space for the dead / I nailed the punchline / Did you get the joke? / I hope the night you get it, I hope you laugh so hard you choke,” are pointed, but the melodic approach to the song make for a memorable opening statement. “A Little Shake” continues down the path of energetic punk rock, with a sound that fits somewhere between Gob, Social Distortion, and The Explosion. The back-half of the EP launches into “Dead Before I Hit the Ground” that features a great chorus, and a killer bass line courtesy of Adam Willis. Drummer Josh Baird’s steady hand behind the kit lends himself well to the band’s overall development, while Vaughn’s rip-roaring guitar solo is legendary. The final track of “Dreamin'” is the shortest in the set, but is a nice starry-eyed ballad, as Vaughn admits, “Practice eye contact / Never been good at that / You got me dreamin’ wide awake.” It plays out like a Nimrod-era Green Day song that ties a nice bow on the artistic statement that Broadway Calls have made on Coming After You. Punk rock isn’t rocket science, but this talented band makes it look effortless and hell of a lot of fun. --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/reviews/broadway-calls-coming-after-you/

[rabbitechoes]

wanted to post more over here and had the idea to do lil reviews for albums from years past. i'm gonna try to post a review for this series, as the name suggests, every thursday!! to kick things off we're taking a look at one of the greatest live albums of all time, LCD Soundsystem's The Long Goodbye! also feel free to follow me on rate your music and twitter <3

The Long Goodbye: LCD Soundsystem Live at Madison Square Garden - LCD Soundsystem

◇ release year: 2014 (recorded 2011) ◇ genres: dance-punk, indietronica, alternative dance

With LCD Soundsystem going on tour in a few months and a new album reportedly in the works, listening to The Long Goodbye in 2024 can be a bit awkward. This show in New York's Madison Square Garden was billed as their last. A year prior, the band had released This is Happening, an album that received rapturous acclaim from critics and one that frontman James Murphy prefaced by saying it would "be the last one." It seemed that after multiple critically acclaimed records, Murphy was beginning to lose interest in the project and decided to stop while they were ahead. Of course, it's never over until it's over, but The Long Goodbye acts as a damn good send-off.

You can experience this show in two forms. One being the concert film and the other being the live album released for Record Store Day in 2014. For the sake of this review, I'll mainly focus on the live album.

Across the over three-hour runtime, Murphy and crew provide a more than comprehensive look into the band's relatively short, but extremely fruitful discography. Very few stones are left unturned. The band rips through cuts from their debut, Sound of Silver, This is Happening, and even a detour into Murphy's 45:33 piece which he created for Nike. This can make it a little daunting for newcomers to their work, but I seriously doubt anyone would start that journey with The Long Goodbye.

The band opened the show with three incredible renditions of tracks from their then-most recent album. "Dance Yrself Clean" was the perfect way to start with the slow build into the explosive climaxes of the song. That moment when "part two" of the track kicks in and you hear the crowd just explode is one of the most magical moments ever put to record. It's insane how well these tracks work in a live setting too. Everything feels grander, everything has a bit more bite. The beat on "I Can Change" just feels so much bigger here than in the studio. Made even grander because you can feel the energy of the crowd at every moment. They're hooked onto every moment, they know they're experiencing something special.

From there, the band goes through material from their first two records. I love this little stretch of the show, they're locking in, especially on these versions of "Get Innocuous!" and "All My Friends." The ending of the latter acts as a perfect "end credits" kind of moment until you realize there's still so much more to go. Next, the band dives into the 45:33 portion of the show. They sound like they're having so much fun here, especially when they dive into the groovy "You Can't Hide / Shame on You" which leads directly into the title track from Sound of Silver. Just a great moment and so, so much fun. The off-kilter jam that is "Freak Out / Starry Eyes" closes this portion and the band continues to not miss a step. Jumping right into "Us v Them" which features an incredible bassline. The band starts bringing out some guests here, namely Arcade Fire who make an appearance on "North American Scum." Murphy would go on to produce some tracks for their album Reflektor a few years after. Their cover of Alan Vega's "Bye Bye Bayou" might be the closest the show gets to a "lull", but it's still a fun time.

Until the end, it's pretty much all killer, no filler. They enter a groove from "You Wanted a Hit" onward. I'm probably also biased because this section features some of my all-time favorites. The previously mentioned "You Wanted a Hit", "Tribulations", "Someone Great", and "Home" just to name a few. I adore these songs and the versions of them from this show might be definitive for me. Especially "Tribulations" which never fails to make me dance around a little bit. "Someone Great" sounds a bit different from its studio counterpart. It's a bit darker sounding and I think it works very well. I think it might be Murphy's best moment as a lyricist. The home stretch begins with "Home" as Murphy begins the song by thanking the audience "for supporting this weird thing." A very heartfelt moment delivered before one of the bookends of This is Happening. That callback to the "ah ahhhhh ah ahhh's" of "Dance Yrself Clean" gives me chills on both the studio and live versions of this track. From there, we go into "All I Want" which is another one of my favorites. The sweeping synths come alive in this version. The penultimate track here is a cover of Harry Nilsson's "Jump Into the Fire." A very inconsequential number, but you can tell the band is having a good time. Before leading into the final track, the band plays a version of the Twin Peaks theme while Murphy thanks everyone in the crowd. A really sweet moment.

The show ends with an unbelievably great version of "New York, I Love You but You're Bringing Me Down." There is so much love packed into this version with Murphy bantering with the audience about how "this is his last long pause" in the song, showing that he almost doesn't want it to end. When the drums kick in alongside the piano things really get going. So many moments in this song give me chills. The closest thing I can relate those moments to is the beginning of "I Loves You, Porgy" from Nina Simone's live album In Concert. Even when you're not there in Madison Square Garden, or Carnegie Hall in Nina's case, you can feel everything. Just an indescribable feeling. It's the perfect way to close out this show and, at the time, the story of LCD Soundsystem. The Long Goodbye is one of the most comprehensive live albums/concerts ever. It covers pretty much every aspect of the band's catalog at the time and the band rarely ever gets lost in the process. Of course, the band would return years later, but that doesn't undercut how special The Long Goodbye is at all.

listen here: Apple Music Spotify Bandcamp (not available) SoundCloud YouTube watch here: LCD Soundsystem. Live at Madison Square Garden, 2011. Part 1

LCD Soundsystem. Live at Madison Square Garden, 2011. Part 2 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ thanks for reading

[goldemas1244]

Happy Birthday

- A MLBB fanfic (Ship: Zhask X Yve) -

Based on (but not entirely accurately) a prompt posted on Instagram by writing.prompt.s:

Sidenote: @sentinelpri you are my favourite fic writer (despite my inactivity with your works for a while now) and I respect you. You have become the basis of one part of my writing style. So here, if I may, I'd like to request that you read and review this fic. I know you don't know who these guys are but I hope the writing's good enough that it covers that aspect even minutely. Thank you!

---.---.---.---.---

Her lithe fingers grazed the edge of the forlorn portal as she gazed out into outer space. It didn't belong to her, yet she recognised its signature, begging her to pass through. But for whatever reason, she could only guess.

Perhaps Zhask had decided to finally give up the chase and end it all. That would be morally convenient for her. One small step for peace, one giant leap for the reparation of the equilibrium.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a melancholic undertone stifling itself through the vacuum of space and time. Unlike the smooth and polished portals her archnemesis frequently built, this one had a sort of rag to it. Perhaps it wasn't his? Oh no, it definitely was his, there was no denying the signature circadian hum-buzz.

Her gut twinged with all the experience of a hunter, telling her that she should come prepared. Prepared for what, she couldn't say, so she went with an ambush. After all, Zhask was as well-maintained in his conquests as he was in his retreats, was he not?

Checking herself to make sure she was at least presentable enough for the capture of the King of the Swarm, Yve stepped through the portal as it closed behind her.

The empty void of space was cold, colder than the freezing tundra she came from. Yet it was a familiar cold, a cold she embraced with pleasure, for it was her one true home aside from Mithlora.

Attentively, she studied her surroundings. She was in quite a faraway galaxy from Bima Sakti, with floating geological masses of history astray all around her. As the faraway stars littered her vision with light, she noticed familiar inscriptions in the masses, and recognised that these were the ruins of Kastiya.

Kastiya. She remembered how and why that planet was destroyed. Zhask had been a large-scale criminal then, but the explosion of his planet's core had brought him to an all-time dead-or-alive status. Sometimes she regretted coming up with the idea.

One other thing she took note of was that, to her surprise, she was alone. No stray nightmaric spawn come to devour her, no Kastiyan King to give her cranial damage via Domorey, no colour, no life. Everything was a drab, burnt out sight save for the starry skyline.

Attuning her other senses, she studied the pitiless wrecks until at last she sensed a vibration in the space-time continuum. Melancholic in tone, it had a desperation to it. Quite unlike Zhask but still....

Ever alert, the Astrowarden inched closer to the source of the vibration. It wasn't long before she came upon a sight most... intimate?

There was Zhask, sans staff and consecutively Domorey, sitting on a chunk of space rock, stroking one of his little swarm-children lovingly. His eyes seemed glazed in thought. His voice could be heard, albeit in the faintest of tones, softly whispering out what she could only assume to be a Kastiyan folk song of some sort. It rhymed and it had a melody to it, which, much to her chagrin, she fell in love with.

The King of the Swarm. The Planes Dominator. The Ruthless Invader. Alone.

Yve knew it wasn't a smart decision but she drew closer towards the hulking mass of blue and red as if magnetised by a seventh sense. Now out in the very open, she was vulnerable, but aside from what she had heard and seen prior, Zhask didn't even acknowledge her. Her shoulders relaxed. If this was a trigger for a space-beartrap, it was at least a beginner's machination.

She was only but a few feet away from her archenemy when he ended his reverie, tilting his head upwards to look at her. Unwavering in his eye contact, he patted a soft patch of dried grassland beside him, a sort of motioning for Yve to come and sit. Unfamiliar with this custom of friendship, she hesitated, but penultimately cast her resistance aside and sat next to him.

His breathing was shallowed and, as Yve, ever perceiving, took a closer look at him, she could tell that he'd been here a while. At this point, his affection towards his little spawn had ceased, leaving it bewildered and looking back up at its master in expectation of more. In exchange, he cupped the little thing in his hands and brought it closer to his thorax in an embrace.

"So, Yve?" he began, tilting his head to the side as if to warrant curiosity. "What brings a Mithlorian like you here to Kastiya? Or, well, what remains of it."

Yve was taken aback by the question. Small talk? This was very unlike the enemy she had grown to hate with all her heart. Still, she wasn't in want of generous courtesy and replied in a monotonous tone, "I saw your unclosed portal."

Zhask chuckled, a slight baritone fondness in its echolocation. "Correction: 'your' unclosed portal." Then, after a moment's silence, "It was meant for you, Yve."

"But why exactly did you waste your 'precious' energy on such an unnecessary thing?" Yve questioned, unwavering. "You know you could've just told me to meet you up here and I would fly off to catch you and turn you in. How did you even create a portal under our ever watchful gaze?"

"Well for starters," Zhask began, raising up a finger, "I didn't want to burden you with using up yours. And second of all, every portal a Kastiyan has ever made contains a riskier sub-portal space they can use instead. This one is untraceable, even by the most skilful of hunters. It's how I managed to escape you on Utapau that time."

Yve gently smiled under her mask, remembering how she had absolutely demolished that bastard that time. And she would've killed him too had it not been for a random laser bolt distracting her. Damned battle droids. He'd escaped without the slightest effort, and she had sulked through three galaxies because of it.

Silence passed between the two and for a moment it seemed as if the equilibrium of the universe was in peace.

Eventually, Zhask broke the silence.

"It's my birthday today."

Yve's eyes widened underneath her mask. Zhask's birthday was something she had never considered in all their years of chasing and escaping.

"I'd invited all my friends and family," he continued, hand outstretched as he gestured towards the rubble that lay before them. "But they... haven't arrived as of yet." His head lowered as if in a sort of defeat. "I'll still be waiting though. Sure, they haven't shown up in years now but I'll wait."

The little spawn he was holding began to chirrup as if it could sense the pain in its master's heart. Yve could too; it tremored like an earthquake in her ears. For once in her life she felt sorry for Zhask.

She looked towards the unsightly masses of matter and rock attempting to picture how Kastiya once looked, how things were before it all. She understood once that Zhask was a criminal to be destroyed for the sake of the equilibrium, but now, ever so suddenly, she had a sense that perhaps it didn't have to be that way. An equilibrium could be fixed, she logically reckoned, and with the power of such a being as Zhask on its reparation it would make things much smoother.

But his aura was unfavourable for such commentary so she turned to ask him how things were before the conquests, in hopes that he could spill a thing or two to satiate her innate curiosity and, perhaps also, to cheer himself up.

"Before?" Zhask perked up a little at the mere mention of the word. "Well, before, we were prosperous. We had technology unmatched by any being, power unimaginable by mere mortals, intellect and strength that would put a god to shame."

Yve took note of how his eyes lit up.

"But we were animals as well. Of course, we ARE insects, and you've seen how their natural world is. Indeed, some of our tribes were peaceful and lived with kindred spirits. But mine own was a dominator's kind, with souls as hardened as rocks. It was the natural order. Especially during the mating season."

Zhask let loose a chuckle, and for a moment Yve felt butterflies fluttering in her cheeks.

"Unfortunately, I wasn't as hard as the rest of my kind." Zhask's eyes dropped to his spawn, beginning to stroke it again as if it was an idle animation of his. "I was softer, much more... caring, dependant even, towards my environment. I never much fit in. I could only count one or two friends I'd ever had. Nobody really wanted anything to do with a soft Beetle."

Yve shifted her focus some; this was getting into personal territory.

"I had different hobbies and interests compared to the other members of my tribe. This ensured that I had a bit more of a strict upbringing compared to the others. In a while, all I was was gone, and the monster you see before you now was born."

Yve remained silent, listening to this recollection with the utmost patience. Nevermore had she been as patient as this. It was almost cathartic.

"I... never really wanted to hurt anybody. But I had to maintain an image somehow. Kindness was never our forte. But strength was and so I did what my parents before me, and so theirs before, did."

"You conquered planets," Yve piped in at last. Her inquiry sparked a withered sigh from her companion and a pang of guilt surged through her veins.

"Yes, I did. As the Earth's practice of hunting for sport 'til extinction, so did we with planets. We took on their survivors as slaves. My upbringing ensured I was a selfish, cruel, and uncaring sadist.... If younger me had seen it with my own two eyes, he would've shuddered in fear and disgust at what he'd become."

He stared at the chittering spawn in his hands and brought it up to his face, nuzzling it with affection. Yve didn't want to believe it, but perhaps it was true that this insect could tear up. Moreso proven as he hitched.

She didn't know what else to do. Her mind had gone blank and all thoughts of violence had faded as the dying of a star. What was she to say? To do?

"And now I have to do it," Zhask stammered, tightening his grip on the now silent chitterer. "I have to do it. What's been done to the others has now been done to mine. I have to ensure...." He dared not finish his sentence.

He feared he'd say the wrong things and get himself offed.

Luckily, Yve had begun to understand. "You have to ensure your people survive," she continued. "You're the king, and per your growth, it was the only proper way you knew how. And you can't think of any other way."

She inched closer to him. Her ears were bursting with the rapid rhythms of his heartbeat, her senses filled with an equilibrium she herself had never even experienced prior. Then she took the little spawn in her hands and softly stroked it as Zhask did.

To feel the coldness of his little pet pulled from him yet the warmth emanating from his adversary pulling him in was familiar. But not this way. It made him feel colder than he already was and he shifted in his seat.

But the little thing chirruped with a new kind of fondness Zhask hadn't heard from any one of them in a long while. Turning his head to look at it, his eyes met with those of Yve.

And for the first time in a long, long time, he began to cry.

Yve shook to her very core. She'd never had to comfort someone, especially since part of their grief was her own causing. But she had to do something, so she did what anybody did best.

She held him the best she could. One arm slung over his shoulder, the other still holding the spawn close between them. It was an awkward hug, but it was one of her very few and she knew Zhask shared that sentiment as well.

Upheavals of inexistent air escaped his lungs with every whimpering breath he took. His head lowered to rest on one of Yve's shoulders. His hands gripped her arms tightly, begging her never to let go of him, never to leave.

Yve felt his claws dig into her flesh but she didn't mind. For a moment they shared their pain, even if she'd never told him any of hers. But she knew he felt it too, and he did.

It wasn't after a long while that they released their hold on each other. Zhask pulled his knees up to his thorax whilst Yve knelt on hers. She put a hand on his shoulder, still cradling the little chitterer.

"Zhask," she began, eyes steady on him, voice as crystal as ever. "I'm sorry for what's happened to you. But that doesn't mean you're entirely forgiven for what you've done. You understand that don't you?"

Zhask lowered his head.

"But that doesn't mean you're broken forever, for I'll fix a deal with you." Yve took her hand off his shoulder and reached into one of her pockets, a resolve quickly forming in her mind. "You'll still have to fix the equilibrium you've damaged... and if you do then I promise, in the name of the Mithlorians, we'll help you in turn."

Zhask couldn't believe his ears. Was he... pardoned? In a sense it seemed he was.

He lifted his head in disbelief. Just what Yve wanted.

As such, she pulled out a small purple crystal from her pocket. "This is a Mithlorian heirloom," she stated. "A gift one should forever cherish. It is made of one of the innermost crystals of our realm. It is a sign of an unbreakable alliance, loyalty to the furthest extent. To receive it, is to receive our protection, in return of yourself."

She motioned for Zhask to hold out his hand, which he shakily did. "Today, on the day of your birth, you are reborn. Forevermore, you are now no longer the King of the Swarm, nor will you be the Planes Dominator."

And she placed the precious gemstone in his hand. "From now on, if you accept," she continued shakily, "you shall be Zhask, the embodiment of endurance, Herald of Redemption. You shall bring balance to the equilibrium once more and prevent it from ever falling to the wrong hands."

Yve began to stand and Zhask himself to kneel.

"If you would accept, Zhask."

The critter in her arm now jumped down onto the rock, an excited glimmer in its optic as Yve placed both her hands on his.

"To be... a Mithlorian."

Zhask could only choke out a strangled mewl. To receive such an honour, such a fresh start, it seemed all too good to be true.

And yet, a realisation popped into his head.

"Are you... proposing to me?"

"It is an uncommon Mithlorian tradition to betroth ourselves to our foes worthy of change, but a tradition nonetheless," Yve explained. "Two generations back, and many more farther, I have seen examples and they're still with us, guardians of the cosmos. Never have they brought upon failure, and always they have brought balance. Thus I may ask you, Zhask, on this well-fated day, to be one with me. To be one with us."

Zhask's eyes lit up unlike ever before. "Yve," he started, "ever since you first determined to hunt me down, ever since you first dared to attack me, I knew that one day I'd be caught. And on that day I swore that when such a day happened, I should confess no matter the peril."

He gripped Yve's hands tighter as he continued, slowly coming to his feet. "And today you have ensnared me. Thus, as Zhask, King of the Kastiyans, or what's left of them, I accept your proposal, and I hope that this pact we seal transcends farther than the reaches of the universe."

"Then arise, my champion, my honour, my king, for we both, in essence, were of the same wish at one point. Arise, and be one with mine, and with the equilibrium, in permanance."

And he arose to his full height. His chest puffed out with pride, he was a figurehead of confidence. His eyes once soaked with tears now beamed with love and adoration.

Repositioning his hands so their fingers were now interlocked, he began to pull his bride-to-be closer into an embrace.

And the crystal she had given him began to emanate a shimmer of light.

They both took notice of this and watched as it gleamed a bright and serene blue, seeping into both their very veins, straight to their hearts. And all at once, they both had been altered.

Where once was a mask now revealed a beauteous face, bright twilight eyes accentuated by violet lips. And where once was a beast of blue and red now stood a figura of blue and white, formed of the constellation of Cancer. In shock and awe, they both pulled apart from each other, eyes transfixed on what changes, mostly on Zhask, were produced.

And they both fell deeper in love with one another, as if their rivalry had never existed.

"Yve..."

"Zhask..."

Lest we forget about the little bug on the ground, indeed I do have to mention that it had stayed silent the entire time, its one optic too excited to process what had occured. Too in awe, it just sat there, watching the scene unfold as you and I.

Zhask held out his hand to Yve. As she held it, he knelt and kissed it with a tenderness he had never exhibited before. It was a fresh start, a new life, a partner for the first time in his life.

"This was the best birthday I'd ever had," he quipped, amused. "The best gift as well." He stood and held her in his arms; she chuckled and rested her head on his thorax.

All of a sudden, the little spawn chirped out a rhythmic beat and they pulled their eyes away from each other.

Before them came a rift in space-time. And from this rift, came a blinding flash of bright white light.

"Zhask," said Yve with a large smile on her face, "I think it's time we meet your in-laws."

And as the portal beckoned, so too did they follow, with the little spawn trailing behind.

-FIN-

[catedunlapgodu]

drunken admissions

it's tech tuesday!! thank you all so so much for the love on my last fic, it truly means the world <3

drunken admissions [gif by proadhog]

pairing: tech x female reader

summary: a boisterous night at 79’s leads you to admit more than you intended. based on this iconic post.

rating: 14+ (SFW)

warnings: alcohol consumption, competitive drinking, sexual innuendos, 1 bad pun?, insecure tech

word count: 3k

“You know that I’m right.”

Crosshair leaned back in the grimy booth, a smirk settling on his face as he arrogantly slid a toothpick across his lips. A disgruntled huff released from your lips as you struck the palms of your hands against the round table.

“You are not! Hunter, tell Crosshair — since he is clearly not listening to me — that Wrecker and I could easily outdrink the both of you.”

The Batch — minus Tech who insisted on staying back to work on an improvement that would save fuel consumption on the Havoc Marauder by ⅕ — had found themselves in the ever-bustling 79’s. As a weapons engineer for the Grand Army of the Republic, you had become incredibly close with Clone Force 99 thanks to Wrecker’s affinity for all things explosive. The loud atmosphere, coupled with the already-slightly-inebriated bodies of the four of you, resulted in an argument starting over whether or not yourself and Wrecker could beat Hunter and Crosshair in a drinking game. This being the first time that you had drank with the squad (minus the one individual who you had particularly wanted to see), you wanted to prove you had the guts — or, more specifically, the liver — to keep up with them. In spite of your normally shy character, the mug of spotchka you had recently finished spurred a competitive desire within you.

“No can do, doll. I try not to make a habit of lying,” Hunter snickered as he downed the rest of his drink, maintaining a conceited amount of eye contact the entire time.

“Wrecker!” You exclaimed as his colossal figure approached the table with yet another round of drinks. “Tell your brothers that you and I could easily outdrink them.”

Wrecker let out a bellowing laugh as he slid into the booth next to you, shaking the table as he adjusted himself. “Uh, yeah we could!” He shouted as he pounded a large hand on your back. “We challenge you to a game of Starship Race!”

Hunter shared a knowing glance with Crosshair before placing a pint of prow in front of each individual, the bitter smell immediately spreading through the air. You scrunched your nose instinctively before quickly swallowing in an attempt to hide your expression. Crosshair’s shriek-hawk eyes, however, noticed immediately. “Already flinching, cyar’ika? You’re not off to a good start,” he chuckled.

“Trust me,” you scoffed, cracking your knuckles in an attempt to look more intimidating. “By the time we are through, you are going to wish you never challenged us to this bet.”

~

After six rounds of Starship Race, you were certain 79’s was on a carousel track. Cadmium yellow and neon pink lights streaked across your vision, casting the boys in a radiant glow. Any patron walking past your boisterous table was nothing more than a smudge as your starry eyes danced around the cantina. Wrecker’s deafening laugh interrupted your daze before it morphed into a belch; the clone then pointed a thick finger at Hunter’s face. “That’s three rounds for us and three rounds for you! We need a tiebreaker!”

“I don’t think Y/N can handle a tiebreaker,” Hunter leisurely stated, each word requiring deliberate thought to piece together.

“Nuh-uh! You’re just comin’ up with excuses because you can’t handle one yourself'' you slurred, the heat on your cheeks rising as you haphazardly threw an arm around Wrecker and gestured to your teammate. “We’re not quitters!”

“It’s your funeral,” Crosshair shrugged, a stifled hiccup becoming his sentences’ punctuation. He then let out a snort before commenting to the vod, “Meh shi Tech kar'taylir pehea iviin'yc val ru'lis pirur.”

The table erupted in laughter, except for yourself who hastily looked between the faces of the three brothers in a desperate attempt to find meaning for Crosshair’s comment. “What did you say? All I could understand was ‘Tech.’ Oh... Tech… I miss Tech so much,” you whined as you slumped down in the booth like a child denied Barnaban mist-pudding. At the mention of his name, your thoughts drifted to the astute soldier who had stolen your heart. Being the liaison engineer for the Kaminoans, you had been paired with Tech and his exceptional mind for any and all tasks that required meticulous attention. In the beginning, the two of you held a strictly professional relationship, rarely deviating from speaking about the given assignment. However, as time progressed, you realized Tech showed genuine interest in your rambles on the most efficient thermodynamic release structures for mullinine-encased explosives. And, of course, you returned the favour whenever you could, listening to whatever hyperfixation captivated his mind. His mindful intelligence had made you smitten. Had you been sober, you would have never admitted such intimate feelings to the Batch; with the fire of the prow burning in your stomach, any filter you previously held was completely dissipated. Looks of curiosity grew on the vod’s faces.

“Don’t you think he’s so… cute when he rambles and he does the… the-” You paused your statement as you looked wide-eyed around the table before raising an index finger in the air and waving it slightly. “The-the finger thing. You know? When he goes ‘Technically’ and then says something really smart? And his goggles, oh, don’t even get me started on his goggles...”

In your inebriated babble, you failed to notice how the three men had become wide-eyed themselves. Wrecker looked like an excited porg, mouth agape as he stared at you while you continued to monologue about Tech’s features. Crosshair’s eyebrows had raised slightly as he leaned his forearms against the table, relishing in the humour of your drunken vulnerability. The sergeant of the group had a smug grin on his face, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched your arms wildly flail as you spoke. Little did you know, Tech had already shared his own infatuation with you with his brothers. Not of his own volition, of course, but because Hunter — and his occasionally untoward heightened senses — was legitimately concerned with how fast Tech’s heart would beat around you. When he finally confronted Tech about it in the cockpit of the Marauder — not to mention, in front of the other Batch members — the usually loquacious individual suddenly became aphonic. It took a raucous comment from Wrecker (“Oh, Tech’s got it bad!”) before the academic began to stammer about how it was “perfectly natural, even healthy, to experience such feelings of allure” and that the boys should have “no concern about… about it interfering with missions as a woman of her disposition would never reciprocate such feelings.”

If only he knew.

“And he’s so broad with such a teeny, tiny little waist!” You giggled, the apples of your cheeks sore from smiling at the thought of Tech. “How does that even work? And- and you know what’s not teeny though?” A laugh bubbled as you made eye contact with Hunter. “His cod-”

“That’s enough!” Hunter quickly interjected in an effort to salvage any dignity you had left. Wrecker and Crosshair howled with laughter as you pouted your lips and indignantly blew air out of your nose. With the prow removing any feelings of shame, you felt offended by Hunter interrupting your monologue. “The game’s a tie. We’re going back to the ship.”

~

The four drunken individuals stumbled back through the hazy streets of Coruscant to the Marauder; one of your arms was wrapped around Wrecker’s sturdy frame as the pair of you incoherently bantered. Thankfully, the Havoc Marauder was in a dock close to the cantina; had it been any farther, you would’ve needed to be carried. It sat proudly in the mist of the night; the cool, bright glow of the light from the windows welcoming the crew back.

“Alright, Y/N. Careful, now.” Hunter instructed as he lowered the ramp and slowly made his way into the door frame.

You rolled your eyes and tossed your free arm in a nonchalant manner. “Pfft, I’ve walked before, Hunt.”

Your foot caught on the first ledge of the ramp. Wrecker let out a snort as you released a small yelp before he caught you. Crosshair scoffed as you slowly regained your balance; he slung your other arm around his shoulders, sandwiching yourself between the two men. Your head rolled to one side as you batted your eyelashes and commented in a sing-songy voice. “Thank you.”

The silver-haired sniper shook his head as he bit down harder on his toothpick in an effort to suppress a smirk. When the three of you finally — and miraculously — maneuvered to the entrance without any injury, the pungent smell and warmth of the ship welcomed you.

“Hey! Hey, you know? Since 79’s is so popular with clones, they should make a cocktail called the Mango Fett!” You giggled at your own terrible joke, expectantly looking between Wrecker and Crosshair for a reaction. Your posture continued to slump as you swayed back and forth to a nonsensical tune you had begun to hum. Hunter raised the ramp and set his pack down as Tech walked towards you from the cockpit, head buried in his datapad. Before he could even raise his head to look at you, much less welcome the group back, Crosshair removed your arm from his shoulders and gently pushed you in Tech’s direction.

“Well, here’s your precious princess,” he teased.

“My- oh,” Tech’s eyes grew wide behind his goggles as you began to fall towards him. Intuitively, he leaped forward and wrapped his arms around your upper half, nearly dropping his dear datapad in the process. Laughter continued to bubble out of your lips like fizzbrew as you looked up at him, your chin now resting against his chest and your arms now tightly fixed around his waist. The clone frantically looked at his three brothers in surprise, his palms already becoming clammy at the sudden close contact.

“Hi Tech,” you purred.

“I- she’s not m-my- what did you all do? What did you let her do?” Tech stuttered, stunned at how the clever and courteous engineer he once knew was now bumbling against him. Although attempting to form a coherent thought, he was becoming increasingly distracted as you hummed against his chest and began to absentmindedly trace a finger along his back. His three brothers stifled their laughter.

“We went to 79’s. She wanted to play Starship Race. We obliged,” Crosshair candidly responded as he leaned against the durasteel wall next to him, trying to casually disguise his inebriation.

“Yeah, we played six rounds!” Wrecker chided in as he began to take off his pauldrons, stumbling towards the sleeping pods as he removed his armor with Crosshair following close behind.

“We could have gone for another, but someone couldn’t stop talking about how much they missed you,” Hunter glanced down at your flopped figure before giving a proud smirk to his brother and heading towards the fresher. Tech tried to call after him; for elaboration, for advice, for something, but the words never came out. As quickly as his squad had returned, they had gone their separate ways.

For the first time, he was left alone with the only girl he had ever had feelings for, and she was a complete and utter intoxicated mess.

Tech paused and gathered his thoughts as you continued to sway and hum against him. You pressed your nose against him and inhaled deeply, admiring his warm, cedarwood smell. You shamelessly let out a sigh against his tall, sturdy figure. Tech gulped and slightly shifted his feet.

“Uh- Y/N? It would be wise for you to lay down,” he managed to utter, gently tapping the back of your head to get your attention.

“But I’m so comfy right here,” you quietly retorted as you tightened your arms around him. Tech’s breath hitched at your comment and you could feel his heart pound harder in his chest. Before Tech could form a response, your eyes wandered behind you.

“Oh! I want to see what you did with the ship!” In a wave of drunken energy, you released his waist and dashed past him towards the cockpit.

“Y/N!” Tech whisper-shouted, freezing for a moment before deciding it would be better to not leave you to your own devices. You scurried underneath the control panel, staring up at the mess of wires and flashing lights with a mischievous grin on your face. “Y/N, I- You know- Please get out from under there.”

You pouted and crossed your arms, looking up at him. “Don’t you want to tell me all about your ship?” You cooed, biting your lip. “You can even come lay down right next to me.”

It was devilish, really, seeing how easily you could silence the talkative man. How easily you could make his jaw tense, his fist clench, his mouth water.

“Cyar’ika, you do not mean what you are saying. You are inebriated and-”

“What does that mean?” You interrupted, your energetic wave now crashing and instinctively drawing you back to Tech. You crawled out from under the panel and wandered back towards him, grabbing his waist once again for balance and leaning your head against his shoulder as he hesitantly held your arms for balance. You nuzzled your nose against the bare skin of his neck as Tech adjusted his grip to prevent you from falling. “Crosshair called me that in 7-”

“Crosshair called you that?” He interjected.

“Sarcastically,” you said, smiling at Tech’s sudden protectiveness. “But what does it mean?”

Tech had not considered the possibility that you would be so curious in your current state. He knew calling you a pet-name such as that brought on the possibility of you remembering it the next morning, but with your seductive comments, it slipped out entirely unintentionally. Of course, he could lie and tell you it meant friend, but that created a new problem. You could call a friend cyar’ika in the future and they would get the wrong idea, or, even worse, you could think that Crosshair did not view you as a member of the squad.

Tech sighed. “It means darling.”

Your head popped off of his shoulder as you excitedly bounced on your toes. Tech’s term of endearment, which you took as an implicit admission of his feelings, created a second-wind of vigor. You grabbed either side of his face with your hands, savoring the structure of his cheekbones and jawline. His eyes nearly matched the size of his goggles as a dumbstruck expression painted his face. “You called me darling? Oh, darling! Oh, my sweetheart, my beau, my Tech.”

A flush of mixed emotions rushed through him as your eyes looked deep into his own. Oh, how he had dreamt of hearing these very expressions every night. How he thought of the striking curve of your lips wrapping around every word, the lyrical terms of endearment coming off of your tongue meant only for him. He could not, however, take these terms in good faith in your current state.

“Y/N, please. You are not in control right now. You do not mean what you are saying. I will take you to lie down and-”

“Tech!” You whined, running your hands down his arms before lacing your fingers with his own. You looked down for a moment, letting out a deep breath in preparation for your impending profession. “I may be slightly inebriated, but I do mean what I say. From the moment we met, I absolutely adored you. Your intelligence and considerate temperament is so… so grounding in this ever-changing galaxy. Or, I suppose in my current state it would be more accurate to say sobering. Despite the poignant smell of the Havoc Marauder, you are such a breath of fresh air.”

Tech let out a gentle laugh as he bashfully looked at his feet. You released one hand to gently guide his chin upwards so that his eyes would once again meet yours. “I am sorry that I only found the fortitude to say this in the form of liquid courage, but I feel that without it, our introverted personalities would have never made the leap. Honestly, Hunter would have sooner said something to you than I would have. He threatened to do so a few times.”

Tech’s raised an eyebrow in lack of understanding before he raised them both in realization.

Hunter could hear your heartbeat, too.

“Now, cyar’ika, do you believe me?” You giggled, spending extra care to pronounce the Mando’a word correctly.

Suddenly, Tech engulfed you in his tall, sturdy stature, one arm wrapping around your torso as the other went around your shoulders. His hand pressed against the nape of your neck and his fingers entangled in your hair before he guided your head back against his toned chest. You felt his chin rest against the top of your head as he let out a sigh of relief and melted into your touch.

“I believe you, darling, and I feel compelled to tell you all the ways in which I, too, feel utterly enamored by you. However, I would prefer to do that after you have had a good sleep.” The soldier, who was normally the epitome of composure, allowed his intimate words to flow freely. You beamed at his statement, smiling into the fabric of his blacks. You couldn’t tell if the warmth in your core was from absolute adoration or undiluted alcohol.

Probably a good mix of both.

“But Tech,” you whimpered, trying your best to give him puffer-pig eyes. “There’s no way I can walk back to the sleeping pods by myself.”

Tech gave you a knowing smirk, aware that you could easily manage your way but desired to be carried instead. In a swift motion, he lifted you in a bridal carry pose and walked to the other end of the ship. The other three members of the vod were already fast asleep, peacefully curled up into their respective pods. Tech gently placed you down in his own, accepting that he would curl up in the pilot’s chair for the night. He pulled the blanket back before gently draping it over your figure; as you adjusted your head on the pillow, Tech was solicitous in lightly brushing your hair out of your face.

“Goodnight, Tech,” you murmured, looking up into his warm brown eyes as sleep began to overcome you.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

~

Rough Mando’a Translation(s):

“Meh shi Tech kar'taylir pehea iviin'yc val ru'lis pirur” = “If only Tech knew how fast she could swallow”

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 24:

You groaned, rolling over to grab your dinging phone off the nightstand. 

Rubbing at your eyes, you sat up against your headboard, breathing deeply. As it turns out, a highly emotional day like the one you had yesterday could really tire a person out. It was so tiring in fact that you had collapsed almost the second you fell into bed last night. You had been pretty much dead to the world since. 

Opening your phone, you nearly rolled your eyes at the text waiting for you.

You scoffed. He sure was petulant today, wasn’t he?

He began typing again, but deleted his words.

Now, you were a little nervous. You weren’t being clingy- right? Sure, you really wanted nothing more than to see him again, and sort of felt that maybe you were entitled to that considering he was your soulmate, but maybe the feeling wasn’t mutual?

Who were you kidding, he might have texted you but that didn’t mean he liked you as much as you liked him. This was Bakugou after all, and even if he somehow did, he’d rather chew his own leg off than admit it. 

You read through the texts again, hoping and praying that you didn’t sound too desperate. It was another few minutes before he responded again. With an answer that really did absolutely nothing to quell your fears. 

You blinked owlishly at his reply, before sending him a quick “okay”. 

Bakugou always seemed to know when you were overthinking things- and, on one hand, it was annoying because he never understood that him and his dismissive words were the cause, but, on the other hand, it was nice. To finally feel understood for once. And to finally talk to someone who’s responses, when he tried, were intentionally made so blunt that you couldn’t possibly misunderstand them.

Sighing, you pulled your tired body out of bed and headed for the shower. Apparently your plans, which had originally consisted of being lazy the entire afternoon, were suddenly changing. Not that you were complaining though.

--/--

Stepping out of the cab, you noticed the crowd once again swarming the front of the hospital. The horde of people almost seemed to be moving as one mass, pushing and pulsing against the security guards standing at the entrance. There were a lot of people covered in Dynamite merch and face paint, even little kids dressed up like Bakugou and feigning explosions as they played.

 It seemed that Bakugou’s heroic deed had put him back in the public’s favor and now they all had gathered in a show of support- and while you could appreciate that as a symbol of community, you selfishly sort of wished they’d leave so visiting him would be less of a spectacle. 

You realized suddenly that more of this was definitely going to be in your future; the crowds of screaming people and adoring, over-excited fans. Your soulmate was a pro-hero after all, and quite possibly the loudest man you’d ever met- you should’ve known a quiet life wasn’t going to be an option. 

As it stood now, you had almost no idea how you were going to make it through the massive throng of bodies- and, even if you did somehow push to the front, how you were going to convince the guards to let you through at that point.

“Excuse me!” A young girl suddenly grabbed your arm, tiny fingers clasping around your wrist. “Do you know how to get in! I need to get in!”

You were blindsided, stopped in your tracks and held down by the girl. She was young, but not much younger than you- if you had to guess, she was 17 or 18, with bright eyes and a strong grip that surprised you. This, her, was certainly not what you expected out of today.

“I- why do you need to get in so badly?”

“Bakugou!” She exclaims, eyes glazed over starry and adoring. She thrusts out her other wrist, presenting you with a poorly drawn tattoo. “See? I’m his soulmate!” 

Your stomach drops, and for a second you nearly believe it- but then you snap out of it, and all you can think about is how strange the situation is. She was young, so obviously young, and so clearly charmed by your soulmate’s hero persona. You thought it was a little funny- if she knew Bakugou like you did, you were almost sure she wouldn’t be as delighted with him. 

You weren’t sure how to respond. The immature, prideful part of you wanted to scoff and shake her hands off of you- to tell her just how foolish she looked talking to his actual soulmate. But, then again, you weren’t sure you could say anything about that at all. In all the research you’d done on him, you hadn’t seen a single mention of a soulmate- he never talked about it, never let anyone see even a hint of your name tattooed on him. Maybe he wanted to hide it for the sake of his career? Or, worse, was embarrassed of it?

“H-his soulmate, huh?” You stutter out, unsurely. 

“Yep! So that’s why I need to get in there so bad! To make sure he’s okay!” She rambles. “So, will you help me get in?”

“Y/n! Y/n L/n!” You hear a familiar voice yell, and when you look towards the sound, all you see is a flash of red hair and hands waving emphatically.

Kirishima. Thank god.

“I’ve gotta go.” You shake the girl’s hand off, slightly jostling her with the force.   “I’m so sorry!” 

You hardly recognize the disappointed look in her eyes before your arm is grabbed once again- but this time by a security guard as he leads you to the front. The guard deposits you at the entrance, just a few feet from where Kirishima is waiting for you.

“Sorry about that.” The red-head chuckles nervously, opening the door up for you. “I uh- I woulda said something earlier, but I couldn’t see you to point out for a guard. It’s totally my bad!”

“No, it’s good, you’re good.” You reassure him, following him as he leads you to the stairwell from yesterday. “Thanks for saving me. I was pretty overwhelmed.”

“Yeah. It can get pretty crazy out there- not as crazy as Bakugou, though! You shoulda totally seen him screamin’ and yelling at the window when you walked up. He was super pissed.”

“Sounds like him.” You can’t help but smile. “Doesn’t surprise me at all.” 

“Yeah.” Kirishima nods. “Who was that girl- you know her?”

Your silence and the uneasy expression that rolls across your face must give it away- he almost immediately pales.

“Oh! Yeah- sorry, none of my business, right?” Kirishima turns to face you, stopping at the step above you for a moment and throwing out placating hands. “It’s totally cool, don’t feel obligated or anything, I was just curious! Sorry for prying though, that wasn’t manly of me at all.”

You almost couldn’t believe Kirishima was such close friends with Bakugou- he seemed like the total opposite of your soulmate.

“No! It’s fine- I wasn’t offended or anything. Just,” You paused, looking at you feet as they climbed higher. “She wanted me to help her get in. To Bakugou. Said she was his soulmate.” 

Kirishima turns around again, his feet nearly catching on the step as his mouth drops open. “She said that? To you! That’s insane!”

“Yep.” You nod, slightly breathless and you finally reached the fourth floor. You let out a small chuckle as you continued down the hallway. “She was young though- definitely a fan, so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t really want to crush her dreams in front of all of those people.”

“Man, that’s good. She’d probably be super upset, right? Good job!” He throws you an enthusiastic thumbs up, all shark teeth and bright eyes. “Still though- I shoulda guessed it was somethin’ crazy like that. You looked totally freaked out back there!” 

“Did I really?”

“Mhm,” He nods, finally stopping in front of Bakugou’s door. “I- uh, I better stay out here. He’ll be real mad if I let anyone else through. Especially if you’re in there.” 

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” You push the handle open, turning back for just a moment. “Nice to see you, though. Thanks again for the save, Kirishima!” 

When you enter the room, you’re surprised to find Bakugou, grumpy and sitting in a chair next to the window. And not in his hospital bed resting- where you’re almost 100% sure he should be. He’s clad in a weird combination of hospital pants and his own sweatshirt- it only serves to make him look even more petulant as he sits with his pinched expression.

“You seemed real buddy-buddy with Shitty Hair.” He grumbles, but there’s a smile beginning to tug at his lips as you near. “You think he’s better than me or some shit?”

“Oh- yeah. Loads. Loads better actually.” You joke, taking the vacant seat next to him. When you turn to look at him, he’s already glaring at you. “Oh calm down, grumpy, I was joking. Box dye and bandanas aren’t really my thing.”

Bakugou laughs. “He’s been pullin’ that shit since high school. Kinda losin’ all hope he’ll ever be cool.”

“Hey- don’t be mean! Maybe he’s just an extra-late bloomer, you never know.” You sigh, fixing him with a serious stare. “Now, though, we should really move onto more pressing matters.”

“Which are?”

“You in one of these chairs, and not in a hospital bed!” You near shrieked. “Which- by the way, I looked it up- four stories is 40 feet! You fell 40 fuckin’ feet and you’re not in a hospital bed, right now!” 

Bakugou just rolls his eyes, fixing his gaze on the window once more. “Stop your freakin’ out already, woman, I’ll be fine. I’m already healed from all the big injuries anyway- so just shut the fuck up about it already.” 

“The big injuries- what about the small ones? Bakugou! 40 feet! Do you know how much that is! I feel like you’re not taking this seriously enough!” 

“Who cares.” He shrugs, settling into his seat with a slight wince. “Didn’t fuckin’ kill me, so who cares.” 

“Me! You idiot! How many times do have to make this clear to you!” 

Bakugou just looks at you, eyes widening as he breath catches. He looks genuinely and plainly shocked- easily the most expressive you’d seen him be aside from rolling in pure anger.

“I already told you, you fuckin’ asshole, that I like you and care about you! So of course I’m happy that you’re not dead, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about the small stuff!” You emphasized, sighing as you run an errant hand through your hair. “And I can see you’re still fucking hurt, so of course I’m going to freak out when you’re not in a hospital bed- like you should be, and you’re not sitting there resting- like you should be! Who the hell even helped you up? Why the fuck would they ev-”

“Shut up already. I get it.” He mumbles, and when you look at him his cheeks are bright red and he’s biting his knuckle. His eyes are alive though- bright and simmering and so very, very red. “I got up myself. Don’t go blamin’ anyone else for it.” 

“God. Of fucking course you did! You know- you make yourself really hard to care for, right?” 

“I know.”

“And it’s just like- I do it anyway, you know! And get shit-all nothing but anxiety and still choose to do it anyway! You’re so fucking frustrating!”

“I know.”

You turn to look at him, but he’s already looking at you, something soft and pleased growing at the edge of his lips. 

“No! Don’t just sit there and start smiling.” You huff, pointing an emphatic finger at his stupid smiling face. “I’m mad at you and you need to go back to bed so don’t just fuckin’ smile at me!” 

“I get it.”

“No, obviously, you dont! Because you’re not getting up! So, c’mon,” You stand from your chair, offering a hand. “Let me help you.”

Bakugou just looks at your hand, glares at it, and stands by himself. You can see the strain plainly on his face- how the action winds him and how it sends pain shooting through his battered body. When you look at his eyes though, all you can see is resolute stubbornness. With great effort, and even greater determination, Bakugou manages to hobble over to the wall, dropping against it. His shoulders hit first, and then he’s rolling all of his weight back onto them.

You were stunned- not that he chose to do it, because of course he chose to, but mostly that he’d succeeded. You’d seen a clip of his fall, it was playing on the news before you’d left your house, and it looked nasty. When he hit the ground, all of his limbs were so mangled and impact alone knocked him out clean. The injuries he still had, broken bones and cracked ribs, at the very least, must’ve still been causing him great pain- and yet he surpassed those with sheer force of will alone. It would’ve impressed you; if seeing him in so much pain didn’t make you so sad.

“That didn’t look comfortable. I really think you need crutches, angry man.” You point to the bed. “Or you could just go lay back down, like you’re supposed to, and we could forget this whole argument.”

“No thanks. Done bein’ fucking fussed over. The only reason I haven’t left yet is because there’s people everywhere.” 

“And because you’re not supposed to, remember?”

“No. It’s good now. Nurse said I could.” He says, groaning when you stare back at him entirely unimpressed. He points to a bundle of papers and medication on the bed. “Look, gave me all the discharge instructions and everything. I’m not fucking lying.”

You walk over, flipping quickly through the packet of instructions. Bakugou wasn’t lying- he really was approved for discharge apparently, albeit under very specific instructions for not over-exerting himself. Which he was obviously doing so great at so far. 

Sighing, you folded the papers and placed them in the bag with all of his medicine. Regardless of what he wanted, you were going to make sure he took care of himself. And that included, taking all of the medication and performing the physical therapy outlined on the papers.

“Alright, then. Guess we’re going, after all.” You clap your hands together in finality, before grabbing the bag of medication. “I still think you need crutches though.”

You look him up and down, eyes zeroing in on the way he was huddled against the wall. All his weight was in his shoulders, and in any other situation, you might’ve thought it was an effortlessly cool pose- but not here. Not in this hospital room with him dressed in weird clinical sweats and a childish expression.

“I’m not getting crutches. Lame as shit.”

“Are you kidding me? Your body is literally beat to hell- who cares about how cool you look right now?”

Bakugou just nods toward the window, and you peer down to see the crowd from earlier still gathered below. It seemed like cameras and reporters had also joined, and they were making a worrying amount of headway to the door, pushing against security impatiently. It looked entirely overwhelming, if you were honest.

“If I leave with crutches,” He starts. “Then I gotta hear about that shit for fuckin’ weeks.”

“Are you serious?” You ask appalled. “You’re obviously injured! What the hell are they even gonna s-“

Bakugou just hits you with a pointed stare, and it stops you in your tracks.

He’s right. Any weakness- even crutches when injured- would read bad for his career. It would shatter the illusion people had of him. Of his infallibility and limitless strength.

“It’ll draw too much fuckin’ attention,” He elaborates, pulling the hood over his head. “No shitty sweatshirt could help me then.”

“Wait, that’s your disguise for sneaking out? A sweatshirt?”

Bakugou just nods, suddenly pulling the hood up and over his head. It flattens his wild hair against his forehead, and you nearly squeal. He looks adorable- although still very much like himself. You weren’t so sure this disguise would cut it, but you were pretty much out of other options. It would have to make do.

“Yeah. Okay. I get it, put the hood back down.” You pause, trying your hardest to think of another solution. “How about a wheelchair?”

Bakugou just looks even more offended- like your last request was a front to his very dignity. Hell, knowing him as you did, you figured it probably was.

“Yeah, fine, I get it, angry man- no wheelchair.” You sigh. “At least let me help you then? I mean, it looks like you need something at least.”

“No. I fuckin’ don’t.” He refuses hotly, shifting his weight agitatedly against the wall. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, you should’ve expected him to be difficult about this. It seemed that appearing weak was his greatest fear; you thought that was a little ironic- that his biggest weakness was weakness itself.

“Seriously- please. You look like you’re about to keel over where you stand, Bakugou!”

“I told you not to fuckin’ call me that, anymore.” He retorts angrily, but you watch him wince when he moves too much. “And I told you, I’m fine. So just shut the hell up about it already.”

You watch him for another moment, taking careful stock of the way he leans back on his shoulders and curls his arms around his sides. You didn’t ask him specifically- but you’re sure now, Bakugou’s at least got broken ribs- among many other broken and sprained things probably.

Fine, if he won’t readily accept your help, than you’ll just have to goad him into admitting his own failure.

“Hmm, sure, then step away from the wall then, hot shot.”

He’s quiet, but you watch as his eyebrows pinch and his cheeks redden.

“Why? Stop bein’ fuckin’ weird! I’m just standing for a second, leave me the hell alone, shitty woman.”

You just shake your head. It almost disgusts you how much rolling fondness smothers what should’ve definitely been annoyance.

“So, you’re telling me,” You start, walking a little closer to him. “That if you stepped away from this wall right now- that you wouldn’t immediately fold in half like a lawn chair?”

“No!”

“Okay. So do it then, pop rocks. C’mon. Let’s see.”

“I’m- I’m not just gonna fuckin’ do something just because you goddamn told me too!”

“Not even if it’s a challenge?” You tease, nearing him even more. You’re just a few measly feet away now, staring defiantly up at petulant red eyes. “Because it is- a challenge. I bet you that you can’t do it.”

“Fuck you.” He grits out, but then he’s pushing off his shoulders and standing straight. “See? That’ll teach ya to run your stupid mouth about shit you don’t know dick about.”

“Hmm, good words, Katsuki- expressive, even. We’ll see how long you last.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see his jaw clenched down; his shoulder’s strung tightly, the slight twitch in his calves. Katsuki isn’t going to stay upright for much longer.

You move before you even recognize it, sidling up to him and ducking under his arm.

“What are you- Stop! Get the hell away!” He barks harshly, but stands in place, not really doing much other than flushing violently. “It’s- I don’t need your fuckin’ help!”

“No, Katsuki, chill out- stop,” You laugh, rearranging his heavy arm over your shoulder. “If we’re doing this then I’m going to help you!”

“Lemme go! I’ll fuckin’ crush you, I don’t need your help!”

“Okay, yes, fine, maybe you don’t need it, but it would make me feel a whole lot better if you accepted it,” You huff, your hand wrapped tight around his wrist. “And you won’t crush me- I’m a big girl, I promise I’ll be fine. So just stop being stubborn- for me? Please?”

He growls, rolling his eyes to the ceiling- but then he’s shuffling closer to you and shaking his head. If you thought his arm was heavy before, you were sorely mistaken- when Katsuki finally surrenders, the solid weight of all his muscles nearly takes you out. You stumble for a moment before regaining your balance.

“Idiot. Thought you said you could handle it?” Katsuki looks down at you, smirking slightly before once again rolling his eyes. “Now, c’mon, fuckin’ get on with it, sunshine.”

You resist the sudden slight urge to nudge his ribs, or let him collapse to the ground- this was your idea, and you wouldn’t let your child of a soulmate talk you out of helping him.

“So, I was thinking-“ You begin to shuffle with him, slightly breathless. “We sneak out the back. Or something. There’s a crowd outside.”

“Already established that, several times, fuckin’ ages ago, dipshit- and of fuckin’ course there is. It’s me.”

“Oh my god, this is not the time for your ego!” You groan, but still keep a steady pace as you begin, towards the door. “Speaking of, though, one of your fangirls told me somethin’ real interesting on the way in, though.”

“Christ. What?”

“Apparently, she’s your soul mate.” You laugh, shallowly, trying to project a confidence you couldn’t feel. “C’mon, Katsuki, you should’ve told me! Total dick move that I had to find out from her!”

He scoffs, patting your shoulder with the hand strung across it. “You fuckin’ tell her off or somethin’?”

“Nope. I told her that I think you guys would make a really cute couple!”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“No- of course not.” You say stopping in front of the door for a quick break. You suddenly weren’t sure whether you could really do this or not. “I didn’t say much of anything, really, didn’t know if I could.”

“Hah?” He looks down at you funny, red eyes squinting. “Fuck’s that mean?”

“You know, your career? Didn’t wanna say anything just in case.”

“Incase’a what?”

“I- I don’t know,” You stutter, suddenly feeling insecure. You focus your eyes on the tiles beneath your feet so you don’t have to look at his eyes. Eyes that you can feel boring into the side of your head. “Just in case, you know?”

“No. I fuckin’ don’t.” He says, mild irritation coloring his voice from above you. “Stop thinking so goddamn much, I can’t fuckin’ keep up- just tell me what you’re all worked up over.”

“It’s-“ You sigh, ringing your hands together anxiously. “You’re- you’re not embarrassed, right? Because, I know I shouldn’t have done this but I was looking you up again, and I just- I didn’t see anything about you having a soulmate? Anywhere? Ever? Do you just not want people to know or- because that’s totally fine, you know, like I get it, you’ve got this super big career outside of me and I’m totally fine if you just wanna like not say anything to anyone or lik-“

“Idiot. Stop thinking so much.” Bakugou tilts his head towards the ceiling. “I’m not fuckin’ embarrassed of you.”

“T-then why?” You ask hesitantly, while staring at your feet. You’re not sure if it’s the jarring movement as he rearranges his weight or your racing heart, but either way you’re feeling sick. “Actually- you know what, it’s fine, forget I even said anything. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, just nods and stays silent. Then he looks down at you, at the way you won’t meet his eyes, and he groans.

“Fuckin- fine. God, you always make me say the most embarrassing shit.” He gripes, flushing slightly as you finally look up at him. “It’s not because of any of that stupid shit. It’s- I fuckin’, ugh, I didn’t want somebody else findin’ you or whatever before I did.”

“What? Find me? Who?”

“God, you’re fuckin’ dense.” He scoffs, but when you look up he’s still smiling lazily down at you. “People. Media. Fuckin’ villians probably too.”

“Holy shit.”

“Chill out. I kept fuckin’ quiet so you don’t gotta worry about that now. Besides-“ He turns his head away, cheeks flushing slightly. “I’d blast all those fuckin’ weaklings to hell if they tried anything now. So don’t get all anxious about it or whatever.”

You just look down at your feet, smiling at his words but still feeling unsure nonetheless. You understood- for sure, but that didn’t mean the weight of all these consequences was easy to bear.

“Now can we go? Are we done worryin’ about stupid shit?” He asks lightly, jostling you slightly. “Got more important things to do.” 

You nod, opening the door just to watch Kirishima stumble backwards.

“Oi- shitty hair! What’re you leanin’ against my door like that for?”

“Oh! Hey guys!” He greets cheerfully, before taking stock of the situation. He tilts his head. “You guys leaving?”

“Obviously.” Bakugou scoffs, but then he’s leaning in toward his friend, dropping his other hand heavy on the red-head’s shoulder. “Need ya to distract anyone who walks up here though. Gonna leave the other way and go out the fuckin’ back.” 

“Oh- yeah, okay! Got it, man! You sure you should be leaving though?”

“That’s what I said.” You interrupt, glaring Bakugou into silence as he tries to speak. “But he insisted- and I’ve got all his meds and instructions so I think we’ll be alright. Maybe. If we’re lucky.”

“Don’t just fuckin’ talk about me like I’m not standin’ right here, shitty woman!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so difficult all the time!” You retorted. “Now, you can handle it from here, right Kirishima? We really could use your help.”

“Yep! Totally got this! You guys go on ahead, I’ll stand guard right here!” He flashes a bright smile at you, before pointing down the hall. “There’s a staff elevator just down there. You should use that- it’ll probably be way faster. Good luck!” 

You just nod, smiling brightly at him as you pull Bakugou in that direction.

“Oi- not so fuckin’ fast!” He shouts, stumbling slightly.

“Keep your voice down, angry man! Everyone’s gonna know it’s you!”

“How the fuck is my voice gonna give it away?” He says, while simultaneously screaming like a banshee in the middle of an otherwise quiet hallway.

“Like that! So keep it down, good fucking lord.” You grumble, a breath of relief leaving your mouth as you finally near the elevator. You push the button, sighing as the doors open.

Bakugou shuffles away from you, leaning against the back wall and staring moodily at you as you press the button. The elevator surges downward, and after a minute or so the doors began to open again. You shouldered his arm once more looking up to see him pulling the hood of the sweatshirt farther down his face. He looked adorable and you couldn’t keep yourself from staring.

“Oi- fuck you lookin’ at, woman?”

“Nothing.” You laughed. “Now, c’mon, we’ve still got a ways to go.”

Sneaking Bakugou out was no easy affair to begin with, and he certainly didn’t help whatsoever. His frame was just too large and too heavy, and there was no possible way he could be quiet, especially considering his thundering steps, even when he wasn’t screaming. He seemed to attract attention no matter where he was or what he was doing. People were starting to stare as you booked it towards the back exit- you needed to move. And quick.

“Jesus christ,” You huffed, breathless and slightly irritated. You point at his stomach as you pull him along. “I know you’re hurt, but could you at least try and engage those core muscles you so obviously have?”

“You said you’d be fuckin’ fine, sunshine.”

“God, you’re difficult.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes at the sight of his amused little half-smile. “You think this is funny don’t you?”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but when you look up at him, there’s still that small smile edging at his lips. He seems to hold it, even through his grunts of obvious pain.

“Wow, of course you do. Immature, angry, loud man.”

“Who says I’m fuckin’ loud?” He asks hotly, pulling his shoulders in as you both shimmy through the, admittedly, small back door. “I’m not fucking loud!”

“God, you’re screaming right now! Do you even hear yourself?” You wince, but feel relieved as you help him hobble to the curb. “How’s a taxi sound, pop rocks?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. I hate it. Don’t do it again.” He grumbles. “But it’s fine- whatever, I don’t care.” 

“Great.”

You raise your hand up, nearly crying in relief when a taxi rolls up to the curb. When you help Bakugou in, and slide in the seat next to him, you’re almost overcome with satisfaction. Sneaking him out was one of the most difficult tasks you thought you’d ever taken on- both physically and mentally, and god, were you glad it was over.

--/--

As it turns out, explosive personalities don’t always lend themselves to explosive environments.

Bakugou’s apartment was clean, tidy, nearly spotless when you helped him walk in. It surprised you, truly, but he didn’t let you sit on that thought for long. He brushed you off, hobbling slowly down a long hallway without a word. It takes a few minutes, but Bakugou enters the room at the end and slams the door shut behind him.

Oh- What exactly were you supposed to do now?

In reality your fingers were itching to open drawers and rifle through cabinets, and just generally snoop but you, of course, knew better. So you instead chose to read through the instruction papers and medications once more- just to busy yourself and maybe see if there was anyway you could help him. Since, apparently, Bakugou was not keen on asking you for assistance himself.

You hear the door open again, and Bakugou comes unsteadily down the hallway, nearly collapsing when he reaches his couch. He’s dressed in new sweats, and he turns to look at you.

“Fuck you doin’ over there?”

“Meds, angry man.” You say, doling out the few necessary pills from a bottle. “Where’s your glasses?”

“You don’t have to fuckin’ do that.”

“What- you’re gonna force yourself to get up again?” You ask him, unimpressed. “You’re hurt, so just please let me help you. At least with this.”

He nods tightly, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Glasses are in the cabinet behind ya.”

You nod, filling a glass of water for him and walking the medication over. Watching as he took it, you weren’t exactly sure what to do now. So you just sort of hovered next to the couch, arms around your stomach anxiously.

“What’re you doing- sit the fuck down already, idiot.” He pats the seat next to him. “Stop being weird. Freaks me the hell out.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You laughed. “Just didn’t wanna assume- in case you wanted me to leave or something.”

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I wanted you to leave. Dumbass.” He reaches over, flicking your forehead lightly. “Your stupid thoughts are clogging up the air. Stop it.”

“Hey!” You whine, rubbing at your forehead. “Not nice, angry man! I’ll let it go this time, but try it again and I promise you’ll really be hurting.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

He settles further into the couch, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. The mid-day sun floods through the window, hitting the column of his throat, and casting him in gold. You think he’s beautiful then. Far more beautiful than anyone else you’d ever known.

“Yeah, sorry.” You breathe out, suddenly a little nervous by your close proximity to him. “Think those’ll probably make you a little sleepy.”

“Fuckin’ stellar.”

“Don’t sound so grumpy- it’s just a nap. And besides, you should probably be taking one anyway.”

“It’s not that.” He peeks an eye open, lazily rolling his head to catch your gaze. “You hungry?”

“No- I’m good. Are you?” You ask suddenly. “I can totally get you something? Or make you something? What do you have here? What do you want?”

“Jesus, sunshine. Slow the fuck down.” He breathes, turning his head back to the ceiling with a small, fond, smile. He sighs sleepily. “I’m good. Just wanted to ask ya.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He mumbles something, but you don’t quite catch onto it. It’s quiet for a few moments, before his breathing is starting to slow. Your surprised at just how tired he seems to be, but then again, he was taking some pretty strong pain meds. As it stands now, he seemed minutes from falling asleep, and you were worried about the strain he was putting on his neck.

“Hey- you shouldn’t fall asleep like that.” You touch his shoulder lightly, fingers just barely brushing the fabric of his shirt. “Lay down, I’ll get up.”

Bakugou just opens his eyes, only glancing at you for a moment before he closes them again. Then he’s tipping over, a flurry of heavy limbs and awkward weight hitting your lap. When you look down at him, his eyes are squeezed tightly closed and he’s blushing wildly. He kicks his feet up off the floor, and settles in, quickly becoming deadweight across your thighs.

“O-oh.” You say, breathless. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Mhm. Now shut the fuck up, I’m tryin’ to sleep.” 

“Yeah.” 

You’re winded, short of breath and flushing bright red from his actions; but still, you find you absolutely can’t help yourself. So, with shaking breaths, you’re carding fingers through his hair before you can think better of it. 

When you look down at him, Bakugou’s only gone brighter red, but he’s smiling too. He stills, before suddenly peaking one eye open.

“Wake me up for dinner, alright, idiot?”

You nod and then he’s closing his eyes again, chest rising and falling slowly. He’s asleep and dead to the world in just a few minutes, but you can’t stop staring.

You knew you liked him- liked him a lot, as a person, not just a soulmate. You liked his weird brand of humor and his insults and death threats. You liked his masked concern and blunt words, you were even strangely fond of his yelling- but you weren’t prepared for just how much those feelings would amplify when he was so close. He was close, and warm, and breathing under your fingertips and you liked him so much. More than you’d ever liked anything or anyone else in your entire life. 

You were stricken, absolutely smitten, and there was nothing you could do about it. Or even wanted to really. So you just stared, eyes tracking his calm features as you worked careful fingers through his soft hair.

You understood now- why so many of your peers had told you they were jealous. Why they had all sighed dreamily when you told them, before immediately wishing to be you. Having a soulmate was inexplicable completeness and undeniable purpose- it was finality and new beginnings all in one.

You understood now, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

//-//

ee soz this took so long!! no excuses lmao i just stupidly started playin genshin and holy shIT was that bad for my productivity ahahaha

hope u enjoy my lovelies!!!!

[nikethestatue]

Ngl, I was kinda disappointed by the lack of smut and maybe this is just ridiculously wishful thinking but I want to believe that sjm's saving the smut for elriel, cuz we know they're the sexiest couple in prythian. If the bonus chapter was anything to go by, all of us will be sweating (I personally preferred the scene in the bonus to literally all the spice in acosf,, maybe except for the solstice night scene)

I was ..... surprised?

Considering what we've been led to believe I expected much more. Not that I was particularly disappointed, because what SJM did with Quinlar in terms of smut was terrible. It was the least sexiest sex scenes that I recall reading. Compared to Quinlar's scenes, Nessian was peak literature and exquisite erotica! :) There was only one sex scene which was enjoyable and it was the couple that was not Quinlar.

At this point, I really don't know what SJM is going to do with Elriel, sex-wise. I haven't read a well-balanced book from her yet, where there is enough of interesting, inventive and passionate smut and also an interesting story.

I think ACOMAF was good, but we had to wait 55 chapters! But it had lots of sexual tension and different scenes (in Hewn City, at the inn) that drove the point home and kept you hungry.

I personally like slow burn, so I am okay to wait, but I also am really fed up with the whole starry explosions, and golden light and ribbons of silver, and ethereal music playing for every time anyone has sex. When this happened with Quinlar, I rolled my eyes. Let's just have passionate sex, that's not annoyingly formulaic -- he goes down on her, she goes down on him, penetration.

It's time to do better.

Elriel have such a unique set up it could be very interesting--that dynamic of theirs. Do I fear that SJM is going to screw it up? Absolutely.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 30: Something More

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: “I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i am literally sitting here, emotional, crying as i write this. this has been the journey of a lifetime. i hope you all love this last chapter, and i hope it gives you that something more that Nova and Din found together. this last chapter, this grand finale, it's dedicated to every single one of you. thank you for being my readers, supporters, and friends. i hope this ending is everything you've dreamed. more notes, as always, are at the end. <3

*

A year ago, almost to the day, if you’ve counted correctly, you crash landed on Nevarro and the entirety of the rest of your life shifted somewhere huge and cosmic. You’ve always been a believer—in something bigger, something great, something more—but the second you met Din, and then the baby…well, everything seemed to just click into place. From Nevarro’s molten surface, to Bespin’s back alleys, to the excursions into the Mid Rim, to falling in love on Naator, to saying yes to the most romantic proposal on Yavin, to heartbreak and back on Dantooine, to all of the lives you’ve lost and the ones you’ve lived, all the way straight back into the Rebel Alliance, to losing your kid and your fiancé and then somehow coming out on top of it, ready to unite the remainder of the Jedi and the people of Mandalore and every single Rebel you know to pull off the greatest eradication of evil since the Death Star blew, you genuinely and sincerely can’t imagine your life being any other way.

And when you look over to the man you love, his helmet off, every contour of his gorgeous face in your full view, it makes your heart ache in your chest. Not in the way it did when you stumbled and drowned in the losses along the journey, not the way it did when he left you to protect you back on Dantooine, but in a way that feels just as huge and cosmic as the last year has been. You know war is on the horizon. You know there’s so many battles out there left to fight, and to hopefully win. You’ve come a hell of a way since being bounty hunter and babysitter, respectively. And all of it, every second, you think was worth it to get to this moment.

Because you’re not only about to be the wife of the king of Mandalore, you’re not only about to spearhead an entirely revitalized Rebel Alliance to take down the evil the Empire left over in the shadows, but you’re about to do all of it after meeting Luke Skywalker. And there’s something just as starry and explosive about your old life meeting your new one, just as bright, just as shiny.

Din’s quiet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety and everything in between, but you’re trying to stay calm. Mandalore is a serene orb on the horizon, and you watch it through the blinking mirrors on Kicker’s dashboard as you slowly coast through the stars. Everything out here, when you’re not in warp, feels like everything is drawing towards something more. Not an ending. Never an ending. But there’s something poignant in each dazzling ball of gaseous light, as if this journey is a transformation.

“Where’s your head?” Din asks, lowly, and the spark in his voice is enough to break you out of your reverie.

“On you,” you answer, immediately, flashing a wide smile towards him, “as always, my big brave Mand’alor boyfriend.”

Din winces, just a little, but you can see the small beginnings of a smile etched into his face, a reflection of yours. “That one doesn’t seem as catchy.”

You laugh, throwing your head back, your loose hair dancing down your spine. You feel the way his eyes roam over you—not just hungry, not just with desperation—but with ease. So much has changed, and yet this, right here, the two of you in the cockpit, heading into the stars, this is so familiar you could do it in your sleep.

“Give me time,” you answer, finally, grinning back over at him, “I’ll come up with something better.”

Din’s quiet, and you turn your attention back to the space around you. It’s quiet out here. Peaceful, even though so much of the galaxy is rife with stress and there’s evil lurking out there in the shadows you and the rest of the team have to yank back into the light. And you know this is just the beginning—that the last time the Empire won, it took almost twenty full years to defeat them, and even longer to put anything right—but knowing you’re moving forward, you’re secretly married with the leader of a planet, you have an entire squadron of people caught from all haphazard places in the galaxy, and that your family’s going to be reunited in a matter of days, feels like you’re coming home in a way you haven’t felt in years.

“Nova,” Din starts, and then falls back into his silence. You glance back at him. The muted interior of Kicker reflects back onto the beskar, makes it look like it’s camouflaged. If it were anyone else, if you didn’t know him as intently as you do, you’d be on edge with Din disappearing into the ship. But you can feel his steady heartbeat, you know he’s right behind you, and, more than anything, he’s yours. Nothing about him scares you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. “Do—do you really think we can pull this off?”

You sigh, flicking the switch so Kicker goes into autopilot, and then you slowly turn around him in your chair so you can face Din in yours. “Yes,” you say, gently, conviction seeping into your voice. “Yes, I think we can pull this off. You’re going to be the best leader Mandalore’s ever had, I’m going to work with the Alliance, we’re going to get our kid back, and we’re going to eradicate the First Order, whoever and wherever they are. We’re going to pull it all off, Din,” you continue, earnestly, leaning forward in your seat, holding his gorgeous gaze. “It’s not going to be easy. It’s not going to be quick. But we’re going to do it.”

Din holds your eyes. There’s something strange behind his own. “How are you so optimistic, even after everything?”

You blink, hand finding the Rebel insignia around your neck, fingers pressing down against the smoothness of the metal. You swallow. It holds heavier against your throat than your mother’s did, but something about the beskar carving makes it feel totally indestructible. A small beacon of fortification. Something to bring you out to sea and back to shore again. “Like I told Gideon,” you say, finally, “I have hope.”

He’s quiet. You are, too. Eventually, Din leans forward, hand linking with yours, meeting you right in the middle. “Don’t lose that.”

You shoot a small, guarded smile back at him. “I held onto it even when I thought you abandoned me back on Dantooine. I think I can keep this part of me alive forever, and I think it’s strong enough to keep it alive in you, too.”

Din stares at you. “I need you to know,” he starts, voice low and urgent, “that I’m so sorry. For leaving you. For not including you in my decisions. For—” he cuts himself off, inhaling sharply, “for breaking your trust. I messed up. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it. All I can promise you,” he continues, hand tightening its grip in yours, “is that I’m never going to do it again.”

You look at him. There’s still that burning pyre in your chest, that fear that he’s going to disappear and not come back, that some sort of fate will lightning strike between the two of you, but the anger that lived there for so long has completely dissipated. You love him. You take a shaky breath, holding up your left hand. The beskar encircling your ring finger glints in Kicker’s low light. “I believe you,” you say, finally, laying it all bare. You inhale, biting down on your lower lip. “That’s what this is all about,” you continue, wriggling your fingers, “right? I know you,” you say, leaning closer, hair falling over your shoulder. His eyes track the movement of it, free, unencumbered. “I love you,” you continue, nodding slightly. “And I trust you. So I believe you.”

Din inhales. “Nova,” he starts, “do—do you ever think you’ll forgive me for leaving you back on Dantooine—”

And then he’s cut off, because Kicker starts screaming. It’s not the same warbled screech that haunted the comm back on Khubeaie, not that desperate kind of wailing. She’s warning you, you realize, as you let your hand drop out of Din’s and whirl back around to man the controls yourself. Din reacts almost completely in sync, but you saw the spark of ache in his eyes before he finished asking his question. Your stomach flips over.

Something’s failing. You know that. You’re not sure why, but the ship starts flickering and sinking, even when you’re supposedly moving on a full fuel tank, and even while you know you fixed all the major issues before you left Mandalore. Bo-Katan had even given the ship a very begrudging once-over, and you know her seal of approval is very hard to come by. Frustrated, you press all the right buttons, trying to calculate what exactly the issue is.

Your comm blinks. “Come in,” a voice rings, and for a second, everything floods into fight-or-flight. You’re running completely on adrenaline, still high from saying your wedding vows the night before, and you haven’t had more than one consecutive night of good sleep in months. Quickly, you flash your eyes on Din. “Come in,” the voice on the other end of the line says again, and it’s urgent enough for you to raise your wrist to your mouth, make you speak.

“Who am I speaking to—”

“Your ship’s haunted.”

You stare into the comm, back at Din, and then into your comm again, as if any of this will somehow crystallize the absolute nonsense that’s ringing in your ears. “What?” you say, still thinking you’re losing it, and then, before you can do anything else, you hear blaring on the other line.

“Not haunted,” another voice says, tiredly, and it’s not until Slave I pops out of warp that you realize you’re talking to Boba and Fennec. “Ships don’t get haunted,” she continues, “you just didn’t fix your disabled comm system when we first scrambled your signal. That’s the issue.”

You squint. You can’t see her, of course, everything about the ship is covered in tinted windows, but you want Fennec Shand to feel the full force of your disapproval and confusion. “You scrambled my signal? But that was days before—”

“Had to get a hold of you somehow,” the other voice says, and you exhale, shaking your head. “That was her doing. Not mine. The ship’s comm system is, for lack of a better term, haunted. Land on this planet.”

“We have to go to Hoth,” you protest, halfheartedly. “That was the plan.”

You can hear the wry smile in Boba Fett’s voice. “Oh, they won’t like me on Hoth, Rebel.”

You raise your eyebrow over at Din. By the way his helmet’s cocked, you know he’s laughing under there. “Too bad,” you shoot back, flipping switches on the dashboard as Din’s plugging in the coordinates to the ice giant nearby, “they’re gonna have to deal with it, because you’re with me.”

With a relatively boring flight and endless grumbling from Boba Fett, the two of your ships touch down on Hoth. It makes your stomach flip over. Everything in you is still buzzing—all that emotional resonance, all that fluttery anxiety of standing on the precipice of something more—and you can barely hear Din as he slips his helmet back on and gestures you to slide down the ladder after him. You feel alive. Dazzlingly, excitedly so.

Everyone complains about the cold. It assaults all of you the second the gangplanks are lowered, but there’s something so warm inside of you that you barely feel the bite of the chill. You flash a big smile at Wedge and the various members of the New Rogue Squadron as they greet you at the thermalock door, the warm breeze that greets you the second you step into the light downright summery compared to the ice.

“Did you talk to Luke?” Wedge asks, his voice low and complicated, as he leads your ragtag group to the control room. You don’t know why he’s whispering, but you follow suit.

“All I got from his last hologram,” you sigh, rubbing your icy fingers together, “is that he wants to see me in person.”

Wedge raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

You glance back over at him, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “Yeah. Was that not what he told you?”

Wedge chews on his bottom lip. “He didn’t really say much of anything,” he admits as you round the last corner, “just that he needed to speak with you, as soon as possible, and that it was important. I’m not used to him being so secretive.”

You shoot him a small smile. “Is that unlike him?”

Wedge’s expression is wry, but his eyes sparkle. “The Luke Skywalker I know could talk to an empty moon for years before he realized there’s no one talking back.”

A grin breaks across your face. As Wedge walks around to his usual command spot on the other side of the holotable, you bite back your smile and stand at yours, feeling a very strange sense of pride as your unlikely team lines up behind you. Din is fully armored, but the set of his shoulders is much more relaxed than the last time he was there. Boba, especially with his newly refurbished armor, sticks out like a sore thumb. The generals across from you are defensive, not taking their eyes off of him for a second. Fennec doesn’t look like she belongs, either, but you have a very strong feeling that Fennec Shand doesn’t belong to anything except the chaos she craves. Still, there’s a determined set to her face that shows you she’s on your side. Mixed in with the rest of the semicircle are Cara and Karga, who don’t exactly blend in, but wear the same proverbial colors of the rest of the people at the table.

“New Rogue Squadron,” Wedge starts, his eyes dancing all over everyone stationed at the holotable, “meet our newcomers.”

“We’ve met,” one general says, disapprovingly, looking Boba Fett up and down.

Wedge lets Boba step forward menacingly for exactly two seconds before he steps forward, just an inch, and retakes command. “Refamiliarize yourself, then. We’re all on the same side here. We are,” he cuts himself off, lowering his voice, looking straight at you, “all on the same side here, right?”

You nod. “Who here wants the Empire eradicated for good?” Everyone’s hands go up. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Fennec, the only one in the room that doesn’t have her hand in the air. “Fennec?”

She looks back at you, her eyes alive, a reflecting pool. “I like to be on the winning team.”

“Well,” you level, “here, you certainly are.”

She cracks a grin, and then her hand extends in a perfect line above her head. “I have a feeling,” she says, tongue snaking out and wetting her bottom lip, “that you don’t break promises often.”

“She doesn’t,” Din chimes in from behind you. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, and you look back at Wedge, turning back over command.

“Alright then,” Wedge says, leaning forward, bracing each hand on the glimmering edge of the table, “let’s get started.”

The two of you talk first. You recount a very abridged version of the events, starting from when you and Din left Hoth last, all the way up to everything that happened on Mandalore. You glaze over the more unsavory bits back on Cantonica, only wincing slightly when you smooth over the fight in the back alley, the way that you were close to death. You can still smell that creep’s breath if you focus too hard on the memory, so you think instead of the way Din plunged the Darksaber into his chest. You bridge the gap by introducing Cara and Karga to the rest of the group huddled around the table, talking about your reunion on Nevarro, and how they were tracking down ex-convicts and members in the Guild, respectively, to uncover any new information on the Order. You finish, warily, with Gideon’s final statements, how he promised you the Order was going to come and take anyone with power they could manipulate for their own, how his eyes glinted when he told you that all Jedi would either be eradicated or turned into weapons. Finally, you close with his death, Bo-Katan’s measured rage, the battle over the Darksaber that chose Din again and made both of you basically royalty. Wedge’s face shifts as you tell him the last bit, your eyes very focused on his and not anyone else’s. You know that being associated with the current Mand’alor puts even more of a target on your back than it did when you were simply an exiled Rebel and bounty hunter, but you keep your chin up. You don’t care about the royalty aspect of it, don’t love the idea of being in charge of other people, especially after fighting for so long to be your own autonomous being. But you like the idea that Din is the rightful leader, and there’s not a chance in hell anyone—especially not the First Order—is going to take that from him.

You turn it over to Wedge, who’s still looking strangely at you. It’s not judgment. It’s not questioning. It takes about halfway through his opening remarks for you to classify it as pride. You step back as he talks, hiding a small smile.

“We have our work cut out for us,” he sighs, and you tune back in. “None of this is going to be easy. I’m going to ask you all one last time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a flurry of orange against the stark, cool interior of the base, “if you want out, this is where you leave. No hard feelings. But it needs to be now.”

No one moves an inch. Not a single general. Not Cara or Karga. Not Boba or Fennec, who both seem to be much more involved with this idea than they showed at first glance. Behind you, Din steps just an inch closer, and you feel your body filling up with warmth in his close proximity.

“That’s what I thought,” Wedge says, that smile of pride etched into his face again. “Here’s what we’ve found out. There isn’t a lot of information on anything related to the empire left, save for libraries and research archives, and of course, the lived experiences of everyone in this room,” He pauses, bringing up an image on the holotable. You see the flickering images of both Death Stars, and you hide a small shiver at how impending and filled with doom they look, even on this imitation of a screen. “We knocked both of these out,” Wedge continues, pointing at the rotating stars. “We made extra care to do it the second time,” he says, gesturing at the bigger and more reinforced of the two, “and then we tried to eradicate every single building plan the Empire had stashed away. I can’t promise that schematics didn’t survive, because I think there were parts of their regime that were a lot smarter than others. But we’ve made it our major effort over the last few years to put in as many annoying and massive roadblocks as we possibly can so that nothing can rise from the ashes. And yet,” he sighs, bringing up an image of Gideon on the screen, “this Order survived.”

“What makes you think they didn’t start after the Empire was eradicated?” Din asks, which causes more of the generals to mutter to one another.

“Because—” Wedge starts.

“I’ve seen this before,” you interrupt, gently. “Almost everyone associated with the Alliance did, too. I wasn’t alive when Darth Vader rose to power, but it didn’t just happen out of nowhere. It was calculated. It was planned. There was a large league of evil hiding under the surface, they were just good at hiding it. We wouldn’t have any idea that the Order exists now, except everyone we’ve fought has huge egos and can’t stop shouting it from the rooftops.” You glance back at Wedge. “I’m sorry. I cut you off.”

“You hit the nail on the head,” Wedge says, approvingly, giving you a quick nod. “With Gideon dead, it’s easy to think that most of the evil that’s terrorized the Outer Rim is gone, or—well, at least dormant. But that’s not the truth. They’re strategic in their darkness because they won’t survive without it.”

“Do we know exactly who we’re dealing with?” Cara asks, stepping forward. You watch as her strong, full figure fills the frame of the holotable. Everyone’s eyes are on her. “With Gideon dead, we don’t have much to go on.”

“I know,” you agree tiredly, dragging a hand over your face. “That—that was not the plan. But in that moment, it was what had to be done,” you amend, chancing a look back at Din. “No. There’s no new figurehead that we know of. From my experience—our experience—though, they wanted Grogu and me for a reason. It wasn’t to use our Force sensitivity as a weapon, like we had originally thought. They experimented on the baby when they took him,” you say, voice shaking a little, “and extracted something from his blood. Midichlorians. I don’t know, exactly, what they are or how they work. I’m a little new to the Jedi thing. But I know they have something to do with how we harness our energy, whatever it is that makes the Force up. Back on Cantonica, the people who tried to grab us insinuated using us—or our power—as weapons wasn’t their current mission, but it would be. And then when we spoke to Gideon back on Mandalore, he said the same thing. But his motivation may not have been the same.” You swallow. “He was scared,” you say, slowly. “Of them. The First Order. He admitted it. He was never in charge. He was a pawn, the same way they want to make us.” You stare at his rotating image on the table, tinted blue. You hate it. Even in this mugshot, he looks smug. It’s an expression that you know won’t go away for a long time after his death. “Whatever’s out there,” you finish, quiet, “it’s big, and it’s coming. We need to be ready. Because when it does, we’re going to have to give them everything we’ve got.”

“Well said,” Wedge says, looking around the room. “Anyone else got an update?”

A few of the other members of the Alliance step forward, confirming and denying a flurry of half-baked theories. Cara fills the rest of you in on what she’s learned from the people that are out of the prison system, which is really a whole lot of nothing. Most of the more dangerous criminals with the heinous crimes are still in prison, and those who have gotten out want to life a quiet, peaceful life. She talks about the refinery explosion back on Morak, the way she knows a few spots of Empire sympathizers, but other than surface-level information, she hasn’t gotten deep into any of her contacts. Karga and the Guild is the same. You can feel the way Din’s eyes are boring into him, the measured way he’s scrutinizing his face. Karga’s slippery, but he’s never posed a real threat, and there’s a kindness to him you wouldn’t expect in a bounty hunter.

Then again, you just secretly married one of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy, and under all that beskar, there’s nothing but a heart of gold.

You smile, hiding the grin under guise of your hand stroking your lip. As if he can read your mind, Din steps so that the plate of beskar on his thigh bumps up against the back of yours. Even through your pants, you can feel how cold it is, how unyielding. How different it is than the man who wears it. The rest of the Alliance turn in small bits and pieces of information. Wedge uses the holotable to input everything, to keep as both map and record. You stare as it projects more and more of blue data. If you unfocus your eyes, it looks like stars.

Eventually, the conversation dies down. “One more time,” Wedge calls out, “do we have anything else to update, or shall we divide and conquer before our next rendezvous?”

Again, no one speaks. The slowly cartographed map projecting up from the table stands as proof that even without a ton of information, you’re starting a long and valiant fight. You feel fortified on that alone. Wedge dismisses everyone, and then you hear a modulated voice behind you.

“Actually,” Din says, his voice rough through the modulator, “I have something.”

Wedge raises his eyebrow, nodding to encourage Din to continue.

“I…” he starts tiredly, sighing, “am the ruler of Mandalore now. I didn’t want it, nor did I ever ask for it, but it’s a responsibility I have to deal with. But I made a promise to Nova,” he continues, knocking his knee slightly against yours. To the outside eye, it doesn’t look like he’s moved at all, but you know it happened. “And I’m going to follow her. I’m in this fight as much as the rest of you are, now, and that’s not changing. So, I would like to move the Rebel base to Mandalore,” Din finishes, finally, to a mixed crowd.

“Mandalore,” the older general says, gruffly, “is not ours to claim. They don’t take kindly to strangers of our kind.”

“I know that’s the history,” Din answers evenly, “but it’s going to be different now. This…this First Order, they don’t seem to only be after Rebels. If we’re not careful and strategic about the way we fight back, they might slip through the cracks. I think cracking down on another fascist regime is something that the Rebels and the people of Mandalore could agree on.”

“I beg to differ,” Wedge says, but his voice is light. “Listen, we’ve been base-hopping since before the first Death Star was blown to bits. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a ton of us left. I don’t know if relocation is the smartest idea, not right now.”

You can feel Din’s anger underneath the suit. It’s not directed at Wedge, but the complication of accidentally becoming the ruler of an entire planet isn’t easily dissolved.

“What if we don’t move the base?” you step in. “What if we kept the order of operations on Hoth, but we have a small squadron of people who work out of Mandalore so we keep in touch? The commute is short,” you continue, bringing up the distance between the two planets on the table, “and scattering our protection across the Outer Rim is probably smart, anyway.” You look from Din to Wedge. Everyone else is quiet. “None of this is ideal,” you press on, slightly worried about the tension floating up around everyone in the room, “but I think we’ve more than proven that we’re on the same team, and that we’re going to fight like hell. If the First Order emerges from more than just these shadows,” you continue, chancing a glance around the rest of the room, “then we revaluate where the base is. But right now, I think we should focus on communication instead of relocation.”

“Fine by me,” Wedge answers, easily, and you feel the rest of the anxiety in the room lessen. “Does that work for you?”

Din turns to you. You nod, just once, pleading through your eyes alone. Finally, he gives a swift nod, agreeing without saying a word of contempt or assurance. You smile over at Wedge, nodding again.

“Then the rest of you are dismissed,” Wedge says, with a note of finality. Murmurs fill the room as people start flowing outside of the doors. He looks over at Boba, who, like Cara, Fennec, and Karga, haven’t moved an inch. “You’re really in this?” There’s something complicated in his voice. You can’t quite place it. “You’re not going to try to sabotage us? Or take any of us out?”

Boba steps forward. If you weren’t well-trained in Mandalorian body language, you’d take his commanding presence as a threat. Wedge bends his knees a little, lifting his chin. “I’m not a bounty hunter anymore,” he answers, voice low and smooth. “I’m just a simple man, trying to make his own way in this galaxy.”

You can tell from Wedge’s expression that he doesn’t trust a single word out of Boba Fett’s mouth. “If you won’t cause any harm to us,” he continues, “can you promise me that you’d say the same for Luke Skywalker?”

Boba crosses his arms. Wedge stands taller. “I want to knock Skywalker into that Sarlacc pit and come out in one piece,” he says, and even though his voice is even, it’s not filled with the malice it was when you first met him on Khubeaie. “I don’t care if he lives or dies. I just assume that he’s integral to this whole…eradication of the First Order. So until they’re dead and gone, I won’t touch a pretty blonde hair on his head. Afterward?” He pauses, as if to seriously ponder it. “I can’t promise you what I’ll do next.”

Wedge regards him. Because you’ve known him practically your whole life, you can see his tell of fear. It lives on, like a little flame beyond the blackness in his eyes. Finally, he nods. “That’s fair.”

Boba nods, relaxes his stance. He turns to you. “We’ll keep searching,” he promises, and you flash him a quick smile. Fennec nods, confirming his words. “We do still have unfinished business on Tatooine. But send us a hologram when you’re about to be coronated,” he continues, turning to Din. You can hear the wry humor hidden in his voice, “I want to see the look on the Kryze girl’s face when you’re officially Mand’alor.”

You want to placate Din by telling Boba that they’ve firmly agreed to a truce, but Din doesn’t rush to explain any of this to the other Mandalorian. “You got it,” he says, easily, and then the two of them are gone, heading back to where Slave I is parked. You look over at Cara, whose arms are still exposed in this icy room. She’s not even shivering. You think maybe she’s the only person in the galaxy who could literally intimidate cold and dissuade it from touching her. Karga, on the other hand, is practically turning blue. He’s swaddled up in furs and a very fancy jacket, and yet, you can hear his teeth chattering. “Back to Nevarro for us,” he says, his voice a lot more strained than usual. “We’ll keep looking, too. I know this isn’t going to be easy,” he continues, turning his gaze to you, “but we don’t give up.”

“Ever,” Cara enunciates, knocking her shoulder into Din’s, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Really. You’re in good hands,” she finishes, dropping her voice an octave, glancing up at Din.

“Oh,” you say, grinning brazenly, “I know.”

She flashes you another smile before the two of them depart the briefing room, too, and you’re left with Din and Wedge. You look back at your old friend, and you still see that vaguely disguised concern in his eyes. For a few moments, no one speaks. You exhale through your mouth and watch as the cold lights it up into frozen air.

“What did Luke say?” Wedge asks again. His voice is urgent. “When he sent you that second hologram?”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “He just—he told me that he needed to speak with me, and that when I saw you next, you’d give me the coordinates of where to meet him. That’s it.” Wedge inhales, his breath slightly shaky. “Wedge, what—?”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Wedge finally says. “There’s this…sadness to him, now, this quiet. When I first met Luke, he talked my ear off for three days before I was able to get a word in edgewise. He whined. He was oppositional. More than anything, he had the biggest heart of almost anyone else I’ve ever known.” His eyes meet yours. “You give him a run for his money, though, rebel girl. We—the last time I was…with him,” he continues, guarded. You have a feeling that he’s intentionally censoring himself, but you don’t push it. You know the way his face lights up whenever Luke is mentioned. And you haven’t met him yet, but you’d be more than willing to bet that Luke feels the same away about Wedge. “The last time we were together,” Wedge continues, “he…he told me that he was going to try and rebuild the Jedi Order, that he wanted to locate all of the sacred texts and find anyone else out there. To create a sense of community. Then he basically disappeared. I had to get to him through Leia, which wasn’t an easy feat, either, and she finally told me he was off on a planet none of us had never heard of before.” Wedge sighs. Something in you sparked when he mentioned Leia, and you’re trying your very hardest to keep your cool, because if there’s anyone in the Alliance you hold in higher regard than Luke Skywalker, it’s his twin sister. “When he contacted me again, he just seemed…heavy. Haunted,” Wedge amends, “and urgent. Like he’s running out of time.”

You stare at Wedge until his eyes find yours again. “I’ll help him,” you say, gently, stepping forward. “I don’t know what he wants from me. I only know him from stories. But whatever it is, I’m here to help. Okay?”

Wedge sighs. “Okay.” He looks back between you and Din, and then the small, easy smile he regularly sports flits across his face. “He’s on Ahch-To. In the Unknown Regions. He wants you to meet him there, and he wants the two of you to come alone.”

“That,” Din finally says, breaking his silence, “will not be a problem.”

Wedge smiles up at him, too. “I like you,” he says, gently slapping Din’s forearm. “Stay alive and don’t let this one go, Mandalorian.”

“Trust me,” Din assures him, as Wedge pulls the data drive from the holotable so that the two of you can keep a copy of everything in your journey to Luke and back to Mandalore, “those are my two top priorities.”

Hoth is cold. Space is colder. Usually, by the time you’re out in the stars, it’s impossible to feel empty and chilled, but you’re hurtling through warp to the Unknown Regions, and there’s something so dark and desolate about this corner of the galaxy. It’s ancient, from what you can tell, and largely abandoned. Something here is bringing you an odd sense of quiet, but mostly, you feel that haunted, desperate feeling associated with the lurking, looming threat of the First Order, and you’re trying your best to ignore it.

Din rises up out of his seat and stands beside you. He dangles both of his hands into your line of sight, and you gently undo his gloves, letting them drop to the floor. His fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt and start pressing on where the ache has blossomed and hardened. “You carry all of your stress here,” he murmurs, digging his thumbs into the knots that line your shoulders.

“Hard to feel stressed,” you hum happily, “when you’re doing this.”

He tips your head back. You stare upside down into the visor, and then his hands disappear from your shoulders to pull the helmet off. You hide your small sigh under the noise of the hiss that his mask makes, and when you’re face to face, something kickstarts like a drum in your chest.

You’ll never get tired of seeing Din’s face. Not now, not ever. It’s complicated and etched with so much worry, but when he looks at you, everything has quieted. It’s just the two of you, the crush of space, and the promise of being a real family on the horizon. It makes everything in you swell and burst like a eager tide against the shoreline. “I love you,” you whisper, and he strokes his thumb over your cheek.

He smiles. It’s such a rare thing, that genuine smile. It shines on long after it’s left his face. “Ni kar’tayl su,” he agrees, and then, so softly you may have imagined it, “Novalise.”

When he comes in for a kiss, he spins your chair around so fast that you don’t even have enough air in your legs. He kneels down so that his face is level with yours, knocking his forehead gently against his. You wrap both of your arms up and around his neck, staring into his deep, brown, expressive eyes as he holds both of your cheeks with the palms of his large hands, breathing in his scent of cleanness and metal and smoke and, still, cinnamon.

“Do you remember,” he starts, his voice thick, “when we…we first met, and I asked you how old you were?”

You nod, quietly, feeling his hair brush up against yours. “Yeah,” you say, softly. You can feel your heart beating quickly in the left side of your chest.

“That,” Din sighs, “was a year ago today.”

You look up at him, startled. “You counted?”

He nods, still with his forehead against yours. “You’re not twenty-five anymore,” he says, quietly, “and I didn’t get you a birthday gift.”

You smile, pulling away, only slightly, so you can see his eyes. “We have been a little busy,” you say, grinning. “I think I can forgive you on that one.”

He meets your gaze, low and intense. “Can you?” Din asks, and as you’re registering the weight of the words of forgiveness, he’s taking off your pants. There’s something desperate and hungry in his eyes as he works them off of you, dragging his bare hands up and over your thighs. You gasp with the lightness of his touch, and when his mouth moves up in between your legs, you think his tongue can work miracles. Huge ones. Devastating ones. You’re pretty sure Din’s mouth alone could bring about galaxy-wide peace, except you don’t want it anywhere except for buried in your pussy.

You let out a strangled moan, low and wet, and right as his tongue starts furiously circling your clit, Kicker starts fucking hollering.

You could kill her. You love her, the home you’ve made in her, how she’s kept you safe, but right now, if ships could be strangled, you would absolutely throttle her. Sighing, you wrench your pants back up over your hips.

“I’m not done,” Din warns, and the image of him wiping the slick off of his lips replays in the back of your mind as you try to yank your attention back to your screeching ship.

“What’s wrong?” you mutter, checking through the laundry list of flips and switches and buttons, trying to figure out why Kicker’s on high alert. It takes a second, but then you see it—black TIE fighters, wicked and sharp, arachnid and blending into the crush of space. “Shit,” you murmur under your breath, strapping yourself back in. Before you can warn Din to do the same, lightning-quick, he bolts his safety belt. You crack your neck back and forth, shaking your fingers free of the cold cabin interior and any leftover jitters you’re still feeling from Din’s mouth on you.

“Where did they come from?” Din asks, and you recognize that his voice is modulated, his helmet back on in a flash. “We’re in the middle of nowhere—”

“Warp,” you call back, as the first one fires. It’s not their stereotypical light blast—something about it is just as dark and insidious as their ships are. You escape it, but narrowly, and you yank Kicker up to evade the shot. “Every time. Every single time. How the hell,” you call back at him, firing off a few rounds of your own, “do they find us this easily?”

“Well,” Din answers, over the noise, “your ship isn’t exactly the most inconspicuous, even with the modifications—”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, barrel rolling over on yourself, evading another blast. It careens into some debris of a nearby asteroid field, and you wince as it collides. “Do you think it’s because they know that Gideon’s dead?” The word feels heavy in your mouth. You gulp, setting everything to stun, dropping some of your height so that you can avoid the new shots they’re volleying at you.

“How could they?” Din yells back, and then a blast hits Kicker. You scream with the impact, loud and uncontrolled, as it drains your shields. You can’t tell how bad the damage is, but nothing is burning or smoking, even though Kicker’s screeching at you again. You’re almost positive she’s a sentient being, at this point, because she’s always so humanoid in her reactions. You grunt, hauling the ship as far right as you can get, blasting one of the three fighters with your own artillery. “I’m going to arm the cannon,” Din says, and you don’t have time to tell him that the defense system at the back of Kicker is a mess of wires and buttons, and that you’re not even sure if the rear artillery works, before he’s gone in a flash.

It turns out, the rear artillery does work. It’s no masterclass in shooting, but Din knows his way around his weapons, even ones he’s never used before. You’re exhausted, but you yank Kicker up and over, avoiding another blast. You stare at the fighters as they whiz around you. There’s a darkness to them that you don’t entirely understand, but when they start shooting again, you’ve had enough. You hate killing. You still carry the tally marks of the lives you’ve ended deep inside your chest. You know all of them by heart. But you’re willing to let these people take a few punches with Kicker’s best cannons, because you’ve had enough of them trying to take everything you love away from you for what feels like the millionth time.

“Up!” Din yells from the back of the ship, and you take every single atom of strength you have last in your body to wrench all of the thrusters upward, careening Kicker dizzily into the mess of the stars above. The fighters follow you, lightning quick. Din shoots, hard and heavy, with what feels like all the ammo left on the ship, but then you’re out and the one right on your tail shoots another blast. Everything in Kicker shakes, screams, and then slowly starts to power down. You can feel her sliding into sleep.

“Not like this,” you mutter, furious, flipping every switch you can think of, trying to make it the right way up so you can recalibrate your defense, if you have any left, or at least punch in new coordinates so you won’t die out here, lost in the crush of space. That same, awful feeling that filled you when you crash landed on Dagobah is running through you again. The last thing you think before you start moving is how horrible and lonely your parents’ deaths must have been when they were spinning to their terrible, fiery end.

The fighter closest to you fires again. You unbuckle. If you’re going to die like that, out here in the middle of nowhere in the Outer Rim, you’re going to get to your secret husband first and you’re going to tell him that you love him, that you don’t want to die alone, and that after this, after everything, of course you forgive him.

But you don’t have a chance. You slide across the floor, and scramble towards the ladder, and you can hear the uncharacteristic noise coming from Din down in the hull, and then everything quiets. It’s not possible. It can’t be.

A single X-wing comes out of nowhere. You stop your struggle to get downstairs. You forget everything else. Your jaw drops as your eyes track the ship. You know it before you see him. You know it because literally everything in you is shaking and screaming, every single last part of you that harnesses the Force is kaleidoscoping in the shape of Luke Skywalker, but you watch, stunned into complete silence, as he delivers three blasts, knocking each fighter down into space. You watch their trails dizzy down to nothing as everything filters back in. Din hurls himself up the ladder, promptly crashes into you, and then you’re both tangled up on the floor together.

“Nova,” Din mutters.

“That’s—” you stop, blinking, trying to take the image in, still, everything locked on the X-Wing you can see out of the starboard window, jabbing at the shape of his ship with a shaky finger, “that’s—Luke Skywalker—”

“Kicker is failing,” Din says, patiently, and then, not nearly as patiently, he grabs your face. “Hey! You either need to get her down on the nearest planet or I will, but either way, I’m not dying out here.”

“Not dying. Right,” you say, dazed, and then the adrenaline kicks back in. “Um—” you get up, heaving yourself back to a standing position with all the weight you can on the heels of your hands. You throw yourself back into the pilot’s chair. Kicker is screaming. Your comm blinks, and you raise it, still not entirely aware of what you’re doing. “Hello?”

“You need to help me ground your starfighter,” the voice warbles across the intercom, and you choke back a sob. It’s him. It’s him. You have absolutely no idea what he means, but General Luke Skywalker is talking to you. “Your kid told me he did it before.”

You squint. “My kid—?”

And then, like the sound of a million tiny, glorious bells ringing all at once, you hear Grogu’s laugh. You choke back a sob. Din’s hand finds your knee, clenches it in something that feels an awful lot like relief.

“It’s too big for us to do it alone,” Luke’s voice rings through again, “you need to use the Force.”

And, holy Maker and all the stars above, you do.

It’s not easy. You have no idea how Grogu did this alone, especially since the Crest was so much larger and clunkier than Kicker, but you let Din pilot the controls as you work with Luke and Grogu to bring the ship down as easily as you can to the closest planet. It’s not the most populated place, and you have no idea what the terrain will be like, but you put everything out of your mind except for getting to the ground in one piece.

Kicker isn’t in the best shape when you ground her, but she’s alive and, like her namesake, still kicking. You’re going to need more fuel, and definitely some repairs on the starboard side, but you’re on the ground and alive. You disembark down the gangplank, shivering even in your Rebellion-issued parka, because this ice giant is just as frozen and formidable as Hoth is, and even vaster. Din looks completely untouched in his usual beskar, but he grabs and releases his hand as Luke Skywalker’s X-wing soars through the cloud cover, touching down a good distance away from your ship. Everything in you is alive and anxious, your heart beating out an intense staccato rhythm inside your ribcage. You know this isn’t a trick, that this is really Luke, that he has Grogu, that everything you’ve been working toward for the last year is meeting you face to face, but it’s still making your knees buckle under the weight of it. When you see him moving down the ladder, you can’t help yourself, running straight towards the ship. Luke turns around, and you skid to a stop in the snow, staring at him. When he shifts, you can see Grogu safely nestled in his robes, and you choke back a small sob.

The second your child sees you, he starts crying. You do, too. The chill freezes the tears on your face, but you don’t care, and you’re running again. Grogu stretches out his tiny green arms toward you. You vaguely register that Luke Skywalker has a smile on his face, but the only thing you’re focused on at all is Grogu, and when you pick him up, he smiles at you, sniffling, latching his small body against yours as tight as he possibly can.

“I missed you, bug,” you whisper. Your words are whisked away by the howling wind, but you don’t even care. You know he can hear it. “I missed you so much.”

He warbles, and you hold him even tighter, tipping your forehead against his tiny, wrinkled green one. Din catches up to the two of you, and you turn around, beaming, eagerly passing the baby to his dad. Grogu throws himself against Din’s armor, with zero regard to how cold the beskar is, happy to simply share in his warmth.

You’re still crying. Ugly sobbing, really, slobber all over your face, and you drag the sleeve of your jacket across your nose, hoping that it’ll amend some of your tears and the remnants it left behind.

“He’s missed you for a long time,” Luke’s voice rings out, and you turn around. You stare at him. He has a warm, big smile on his face, an unencumbered one, which is in high demand these days. His blue eyes are kind and endearing, and he tracks Grogu’s movements with great care. You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar, trying to dream up any words to string together to express your gratitude. “I’m—”

“General Skywalker,” you interrupt in a rush, wincing. “M—Master Skywalker. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

He smiles at you. “You can just call me Luke.”

You nod profusely. You have the strange feeling that you’re meeting royalty, and you don’t know what to do with your hands. “I—I’m Nova. Novalise. But you can call me Nova.”

His gaze drifts from your face to Din and the baby. He nods once at Din, and you can tell there’s something yearning behind his kind eyes. Luke looks back at you. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” he continues, stepping toward you. “I’ve seen you. In visions. In the baby’s head.”

You nod, swallowing. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

The wind howls. You shiver, feeling your nose turn red from the chill. Luke shakes a bit, too, which seems notoriously human from someone so legendary, before you remember he grew up on a desert planet and probably has zero resistance to the cold. He takes another step toward you. “How long have you been having premonitions?”

You blink at him. “How did you—?”

Luke offers a tired smile. “I can sense them in you,” he answers, gently. “You’ve been in mine. I can only assume you’ve seen me in yours. When did they start?”

“A few months ago,” you answer, honestly, sifting your weight more evenly between your feet. “I’ve always thought I was tapped into…something else. Something more. But this was different. It showed up in dreams, then the baby would show me his, then I started having them of my own. Sometimes, they’re clear, like before we met Ahsoka Tano. Sometimes, though, they’re vivid and completely nonsensical. You started showing up in them recently,” you tack on, faintly, “both how you look now and…what seems to be you much older. I can’t make sense of them.”

Luke tilts his head a fraction of an inch. “Have you ever met anyone else like you besides Grogu?” He offers up another small smile. “Or me?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say, earnestly, “no, it’s just…the three of us. Have you?”

The expression on his face changes, shifting enough for you to categorize the difference. “My nephew,” he answers, but there’s something slightly off about his voice. “I train him, sometimes, too. But he also has these visions, these—premonitions. For a long time, I was the only other Jedi I knew, and I just thought that was normal. I’ve been researching, and those types of premonitions aren’t the typical vision.”

You stare at him. “What—what are we seeing?”

“The future,” Luke says, grimly. “I think. I don’t know if it’s set in stone. But there’s this darkness coming. I know you’ve felt it. Wedge told me about your visions, but he didn’t need to.” His eyes search over your face. “I can see it. You’re like me, Nova.”

Despite everything, you grin back at him. “I can think of worse people to be like. Lucky me.”

And then you see it. What Wedge was talking about. A conflicted darkness flitters across Luke’s face, and then he does his best to absolve it. He does look so much older than you were imagining him to be—not by much, because he’s only a handful of years older than you are—but his eyes are haunted with an emptiness that comes with accumulated loss. And if he’s right, there’s more to come. Din steps in closer, carrying the baby. Grogu coos, and the youthful smile that Wedge talks about spreads across Luke’s face when he looks at the kid.

“I wanted to meet you,” Luke says, finally, turning his attention back to you, “because I wanted to see it in your eyes. The Force. I wanted to show you that…you’re strong, and you’re unique, and that can very easily make you a weapon. I’m here to tell you,” he continues, leaning in, “that you can choose not to be.”

You nod, locking eyes with him. “I’m a Jedi,” you say, slightly winded, but strong. “Or at least, I’m going to be. I’m not going to let the First Order take me.”

He blinks. “You know about the First Order?”

You nod again, then slowly shake your head. “No,” you admit, finally. “Nothing really beyond their name and their plans to use us as their weapon.”

Luke studies you carefully. “I thought—I was naïve, when I first started. I thought that turning my father back to the light and letting him kill the Emperor would end things. I was wrong. There’s more to come,” he says, gravely, looking out at the barren wasteland of the planet you’re on, “and I don’t think what died fully stayed dead.”

The familiar words rush over you, seizing in your diaphragm. “What did you just say—”

And then you’re cut off by the screech of TIE fighters. You flinch, grabbing the Darksaber off of Din’s belt, unsheathing the blade. There’s five of them. Luke, immediately, unholsters his own lightsaber, a piercing green. You’re captivated by it, by the determined set of his young face. He just looks like an expert. You take stock of his fighting stance, adjusting your legs to match his position. When the first blasts come, you brandish the Darksaber in front of you, sizzling away their attack. They swoop and soar around you. You hear the impact when one hits the beskar, Din knocked to the ground.

“Hey!” you call, running over to him, dropping the saber down by your side as Luke jumps and slices at the arachnid ships in the air. Your heart is in your throat. You didn’t see the hit, but you heard him fall, and frenzied worry is burning in your chest.

“I’m fine,” Din says, gruffly, “Fine, I promise. Go be a Jedi.”

You stare at him. He nods, wrapping Grogu up in his cloak, letting his tiny hands soar out in the open. Tiredly, the baby drags down one of the ships. More artillery is fired, and you pull Din and Grogu beyond a large shoal of ice, trying to avoid the blasts.

“Go be a Jedi,” Din repeats, and you shake your head. The fighters are so aggressive in their assault, but you watch as the swoop and soar around Luke, barely shooting anything in his direction. They want Din, you realize, like a lightning bolt in your chest, they want to attack Din and the baby because they’re after you. “Nova—”

“They’re trying to kill you,” you say, grabbing either side of the helmet as more blasts shake free some of the ice above your heads. “I’m supposed to be here—”

Before you can do anything, Din wrenches the helmet off. You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to shield his face from the low, swooping fighters above your heads. “No—”

He kisses you. Full force. His lips are so much warmer than yours are, his tongue gentle and slithering into your mouth. You lean into the kiss, grabbing at him with everything you can, and then he’s pulled himself away. “I meant it when I asked you,” Din whispered urgently, “do you think you can forgive me for leaving you?”

Your heart is pounding. You can feel your eyes fill with tears. “Yes. But what are you—”

“Good,” Din answers, shoving the helmet back down, “then you can forgive me twice.”

And then he’s running, with Grogu in his arms, making a beeline straight for Kicker. You scream, but the sound gets ripped away in the wind. Terrified, you stare at Luke, who makes eye contact with you and extends his left palm, focusing on the first TIE fighter. You sheath the saber and run towards him, focusing all of your energy on the one that’s after Din. For what feels like forever, you stand back-to-back with Luke Skywalker, fighting off the evil surrounding you with nothing but the Force and each other. It feels huge in a way you can’t quantify, and even though you’re terrified with what Din’s doing, you don’t take your focus off the fighter for a second. When he’s back up the gangplank in Kicker, you help Luke tank the biggest one in the shoals of ice.

Two of them are grounded. You heave a heavy breath, trying to catch air in your lungs, and then the other three are delivering an array of artillery in your direction.

“Don’t let them touch my ship!” you scream, and Luke nods. You pull the Darksaber off of your belt, and swing it at the fighter that soars overhead, searing off their blasts.

“Nova!” Luke shouts back, and you turn to watch the holster of his green lightsaber fly through the air. Seamlessly, you grab it. The blade ignites immediately in your hand.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you yell, and Luke twists around to stand by your side. You watch him as the three remaining fighters soar in above the two of you again, heart pounding.

Luke gives you a small smile. “What you’re meant to,” he answers easily, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to the three skeletal fighters in front of the both of you, “be a Jedi.”

You close your own eyes. Two people spill out of the fighters you’ve grounded, and you let Luke shoulder the three in the sky as you run, determined, towards the two men running angrily towards you. One of them lunges for you. You use the green blade to scare him off, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, just roars at you and tries to tackle you down to the ice.

“No you don’t,” you seethe, swiping the saber at his arm. It barely cuts anything, but the burn of it makes him howl. “You don’t get to have me.”

The other one is huge, menacing, built. You stare up at him, trying to only portray strength, not showing him a sliver of weakness, but when he comes for you, he’s vicious. This one’s smarter. He brought his blaster with him, and the bolts that he fires off are lethal and dangerous.

“You have no idea what you’re up against, little girl,” he smirks, and then, lightning quick, his hand closes around your throat. You’re not even sure how it happened, because you were brandishing Luke’s blade, and you’re much faster than the large figure in front of you, but the light behind your eyes starts to fade as he lifts you into the cold air, choking you out. “I’m not going to kill you,” he whispers, a horrible grin on his face, “what we’ll do will make you wish you were dead.”

You gasp, feeling the black spots in your vision slowly pinprick. You can barely see Luke. You don’t know where Din and Grogu went in Kicker. You can still hear the jeering of the soaring TIE fighters, and you know there’s only one thing left to do. You close your eyes, let everything run out of you backward, and then offer one, singular word to the universe.

Help.

Your consciousness fades back in. The man holding you drops you to the ground, and you wheeze and retch, trying to pull all of it back, stumbling away from his grip. It takes you a second to register what’s happening. Kicker comes out of nowhere, Din fires a series of blasts to the remaining fighters, Luke takes his lightsaber back to strike down both of the men, and above them all, Grogu has his eyes closed, his ears pushed back, and his little hands up in the air, using all of his tiny powerful body to Force choke the man who tried to throttle you.

You love him. Maker, you love him, so much. You cry up to him in relief, and the second he hears your voice, he stops, leaving the thug unconscious. Din uses up the rest of the artillery to blow the remaining fighters to bits, and then he grounds the ship.

The man, strangled, warbles out, “the First Order won’t forget this.”

Luke, icily, rises one eyebrow and his right hand, coaxing the man into a faint. “Neither,” he says, coolly, even after he’s sure the other guy’s out, “will we.”

“Thank you,” you say, warmly, rocketing the baby up in your arms. “Thank you, thank you—”

“His idea,” Din says, and you look up at him, both irritated and relieved. “I’m sorry I—”

“You,” you say, voice shaking, “are not forgiven.” But you jump on him as well, wrapping your arms around the cold beskar of his shoulders. “But thank you,” you whisper, in a voice so quiet that you know only he can hear it.

“This isn’t the end,” Luke says, behind you, and he tosses the Darksaber over to you. Din catches it midair with a singular hand. “This is just the beginning.”

“I’m not tired,” you say, exhausted, holding out his saber in your hand. “Thank you. For everything, thank you.”

“No. You hang onto that,” Luke says, finally. He has a strange expression in his eyes. “Keep the lightsaber. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again, soon enough.”

Grogu, nestled up in your arms, stares up at you. You know, even wordless, what his huge eyes are asking. “Can we—” you start, voice shaking, “can—can Grogu come back to Mandalore with us for a few days?”

You wait with bated breath. Luke nods, meeting your eyes. “When you bring him back to Ahch-To,” he agrees, the ghost of a smile sparking up his face again, “bring my lightsaber with you. I’ll teach you a few things.”

You nod, profusely. Luke nods at the both of you, and right as he’s turning to go back to his X-wing, you find the rest of your question from earlier.

“What did you mean?” you call out, after him. “When you said what died didn’t stay dead?”

Luke’s eyes are haunted with something you don’t entirely understand. “Evil has a way of rising again,” he says, finally, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if the people I killed find a way to come back.”

It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “The people you killed?”

He looks at you. You know what he means. The Emperor, or at the very least, the horrible people who surrounded him. You swallow, trying to regulate your breath. “What—what can we do?”

Luke glances from Din to the baby to you. “Be a Jedi,” he repeats, his voice faraway. “I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, watching him, dazed, walk back to his ship.

“And Nova,” Luke continues, bracing himself on the ladder, “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” you whisper, watching as the X-wing disappears into the cloud cover, staring at the trails as they evaporate, as you hold the only tangible proof in the form of his lightsaber that Luke Skywalker was ever here at all.

The trip back to Mandalore is probably as cold as the one here, but you don’t even notice. You have the baby in your lap again, and all of the warmth in the whole galaxy is sitting here with you, green, adorable, and alive. The three of you spend the entirety of the trek cuddled up together, and when you finally land on the planet, you’re exhausted but safe. Your legs hurt from running, your scar aches from the residual cold, but you barely notice them. They’re such small hurts in comparison to all the good nestled safely in your arms.

Grogu, as always, is exhausted from using the Force to ground your ship and choking out the guy trying to do the same to you, and he falls asleep in your arms before you make your way back to the suite that Bo-Katan gifted the two fo you the last time you were here. You lay him down in the tiny bassinet in the adjoined room, his little snores just as quiet and angelic as they were the last time you heard him.

Your heart, still ran over from all the danger you’ve spent the last year fighting off, is full. You walk into the fresher, staring at your reflection. You’re positively disheveled, your clothes dirty and torn, your hair hanging half out of the braid you tied it in multiple planets ago, but that smile on your face is still lighting up even the darkest parts of your eyes. You stare at yourself, running your fingers across your lips, taking in every single inch of yourself. You don’t look like a normal twenty-six-year-old. You certainly don’t look like royalty. But you look like you. Nova, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim. Nova, wife, mother, Rebel. Nova, yourself.

That alone makes the grin stretch even wider. Din walks into the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror, wrapping his big arms around your waist, letting his helmeted face rest on your shoulder blades.

“You are,” he sighs, “so beautiful.”

“I’m a mess,” you insist, giggling.

“Beautiful,” Din repeats, and when you tentatively hook your fingers under the rim of his helmet, he lets you gently pull it off. You stare at every sinch of his handsome, rugged face in the mirror, your eyes roaming over the valleys of his lips, the mountain of his nose, his gorgeous brown eyes that hold the stars.

“You are, too,” you whisper, faintly, and then he’s turning you around, his strong hands on your hips.

“I never finished giving you your birthday present,” Din murmurs, and he starts pulling his worn gloves away from his fingers. You watch as he lets them drop to the floor, breath hitching in your throat. “Do you think you could let me do that, cyar’ika?”

You nod, breathless. When he strips you down, you’re expecting to be perched on the cold metal of the sink as his mouth returns, again and again, between your thighs, but his warm, rough hands hook underneath your thighs and he carries you out of the fresher.

Din lays you down on the bed. He’s still fully clothed side from his helmet, and for what feels like an eternity, you just stare into his eyes, thanking the Maker and all the stars above that you’re the one that gets to know him like this, that he trust you to look at his face, that you broke down on Nevarro all those months ago.

And when Din dives between your thighs again, you know he’s thanking everything in the universe for the same exact things.

His mouth is an omen, a prayer, a miracle. You’ve never been particularly religious, but he makes you want to be. You can feel the way he’s opening you up, letting no part of you go untouched or untasted. You sigh, moaning loudly into the soft flesh of your arm, trying to stifle the animalistic noises he’s evoking. When his tongue finally, finally finds your clit, you can feel what he’s spelling. First it’s mine, then it’s your name, and then it’s I love you. You gasp. You could recognize it anywhere, even in the dark, and still, your pulse is absolutely racing.

“Din,” you start, strangled, “fuck—I’m—I’m gonna—”

He pulls his mouth away from you, an obscene smacking noise filling the rest of the room. “Good,” he enunciates, and then his tongue is back on you.

You’re pretty sure you see heaven. Your fingers knot tightly in his gorgeous dark hair, whimpering as he coaxes another orgasm out of you, then another, then another. Your legs are shaking, and you’re infinitely grateful that he carried you out here instead of trying to eat you on the edge of the sink, because you wouldn’t have been able to stay standing. You swallow, gasping harder and harder as his mouth pulls off your pussy and roves up your stomach, decorating your scar with the sweetest kisses, pawing gently at your tits before his mouth licks love bites into the underside, above your nipples, in the middle of your chest. You think that if he asked, you’d let Din plant hickeys literally anywhere he wanted, to put his claim on you, to prove that he’s yours. When his mouth meet yours again, it’s like you’ve died and come back to life.

You can taste yourself on Din’s lips, salty sweet. He licks into your mouth. “Taste so good,” he croons, mouth dropping to the pulse point behind your ear. You shudder as he teases you with his mouth, two fingers dipping in your slick and then pushing inside of you. You clench and moan around him, and faintly, you hear him moan about how tight you are before the rush of another orgasm rips into you and everything goes starry and skyward.

Finally, you come back to your sense, reeling. “Din,” you try again, but his name comes out in a breathless puff of air. You’re writhing under his touch, every inch of you alive and his. You feel electric.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he grunts out, and you don’t even have time to try to bargain for a taste of his cock, to touch him, to put your mouth in places that’ll make him feel as good as you do. For a second, he pulls you up so you can wrap your mouth around him, but the second he thrusts into your throat, he’s gone. “Not gonna last,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your loose hair, “I have to fuck you now, cyar’ika.”

Your eyes roll back. “If—if you must,” you manage, but your voice is so thick and laden with lust that the joke doesn’t deliver. Din uses the head to rub against you a few times before he goes in, teasing your swollen clit before he pushes everything inside of you.

It’s everything. He’s not gentle, this time, which is exactly what you wanted. You don’t think you could see straight for days if he tried to pound you with ease. You want to be absolutely annihilated, to have the breath taken out of you. Wordlessly, Din does just that. He fucks into you hungrily, without remorse. You’re both moaning. His lips press up into your ear, but you can’t even recognize what he’s saying as he fucks everything out of you. Eventually, his words register-feel so good, my sweet thing, fuck, Nova—and you cry out as you clench down around him for what feels like the hundredth time. Din plants a singular kiss against your lips, moans, and whispers, “that’s it, sweet girl,” and then both of you are sent to the stars at the same time, gasping, moaning, screaming, like you’re colliding stars, like you belong to nothing but each other. It’s everything. It’s huge. It’s that something more you’ve always felt, that cosmic connection, that dual astral projection. For what feels like hours, you lay together, breathing in each other’s air, satisfied and happy.

Both of you end up in the shower, although you can’t remember either one of you asking to move towards the fresher. You let Din drag the soap over your sore shoulders, cleaning between your legs, frothing the suds in your hair. You don’t know when he had the time or the energy to do it, but he got that lavender soap you love, and the scent fills up the place with steam.

You do the same, wordlessly, dragging his soap over his broad shoulders, across his toned stomach, down both of his legs. You kiss Din as he presses his lips against yours, over and over again, and when you leave the shower, you’re both inches from sleep, happy, exhausted.

The bed is so much more comfortable than the one on Kicker. You sink into it, completely naked, shifting as close to Din as you possibly can. It’s dark in here, but you’re close to the window, and you see the foreign shapes of the buildings of Mandalore, and everything filters back in.

“Did you ever believe,” you whisper, not even sure if Din is still awake, “that when we met, we would end up both being Rebels and the leaders of a whole planet?”

“No,” he answers, immediately, his voice muffled against the back of your neck. “Not a chance in hell.”

You grin, into the darkness. “And now?”

“Now,” Din sighs, pulling you closer, “I truly can’t imagine our lives being any other way.”

You nod, in silent agreement. The night beckons you in closer and closer, and you let yourself fall onto the edge of sleep, heart full, eyes closed, exactly where you’re supposed to be. When you drift off to dreamland, you hear Din whisper he loves you, and you replay the words over and over in the back of your mind until they forge a promise stronger than the one living on your ring finger, content, together, on the precipice of something more.

Morning comes quickly, and it comes with Grogu jumping on the bed and waking both of you up with his abnormally loud cooing. You wake first, not even sure how the little guy found his way up on top of a bed that’s easily five times his height, but you pull him into the nest of sheets and blankets you and Din made in your sleep. When he wakes up, it’s slowly, and you touch your fingertips over to his face, tracing lines of love into his skin.

“Good morning, Mand’alor,” you say, and Din’s eyes open slowly.

“Not yet,” he answers, voice flat. You look over at where Bo-Katan must have left your outfits while you were gone on Hoth. His is typical—the Mandalorian beskar he’s been wearing for as long as you’ve known him, but with a neutral blue cloak to replace all that black. Your dress is gorgeous. You didn’t even know if you would have anything new for the ceremony, because all you’re doing is standing there, but you have to admit, Bo-Katan went above and beyond with this one. The color of the dress is shimmering, a dark navy blue that’s almost completely black. The fabric hugs the top half of your shoulders, and as the dress flows down the rest of your body, the blueness lightens into the same color Din’s cloak is made of. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, rivaled only with Yavin’s sunsets and Naator’s pink skies, and when you put it on, you feel like a princess. It’s not practical, but it’s also functional, and as you interrogate the chair full of things Bo-Katan brought you, you find a matching garter, shimmering in the same impossible way the dress does, embroidered with twin silver stars. When you slip it on, the lightsaber Luke’s letting you hang onto fits perfectly, flush against your legs. There’s a small slit trailing up the dress, so hidden by the starry, shimmering fabric that no one would catch it if they weren’t looking for it, and you grin as you put it on, thanking the Maker above for the Mandalorians being so effective in their aesthetic.

“Holy fuck,” you hear behind you, and you turn around. Din’s only in his underclothes, the tiniest bit of his belly peeking out from under his new tunic, and he’s staring at you.

“Bo-Katan,” you say, shyly, taking stock of his shocked face, “does not miss.”

Din walks toward you, taking in every inch of your shimmering dress, mouth slightly ajar. “No,” he murmurs, and then he’s striding towards you, holding your face in his hands, his lips feverish and frenzied against yours. “She certainly does not.”

“Neither do you,” you whisper, dazed, touching your lips, staring at him as he shoulders the cloak. “You look—”

“Strange,” he mutters, checking out his reflection critically.

“Amazing,” you correct, walking closer. The two of you look like royalty—outfitted in all the blue bells and whistles that Mandalore has to offer, standing tall in all that silver regalia—and when Grogu tugs at the bottom of your dress, you lift him into your arms, adjusting his own blue outfit. You don’t look like a rebel and a bounty hunter and their strange baby. You look like a family, a real one, and something else. You look like you belong here.

When Bo-Katan meets you at the door, she looks equally as regal. Her eyes roam over Din’s helmeted face with slight disdain, but she looks at you like she sees stars, and when her gaze flits over to Din again, her expression has molded into something that faintly rings out excitement.

“Are you ready?” she asks, leading the three of you down the staircase at the back of the quarters. You can tell by the shift in architecture that you’re heading straight for the throne room, and your heartbeat is knocking itself dizzy. Everything feels alive and electric, that buzzing of something more loud in your ears. You know this isn’t the ending. You know that by all accounts, that this is truly a beginning—you’re about to be married to the new leader of Mandalore, you have an entire shadowy fascist regime to beat, you know practically nothing about being a Jedi—but everything that started when you crash landed on Nevarro all those years before feels like it’s settling cosmically into place. Your breathing is quick and shallow as you hear your heels click against the empty hall, trying to take everything in, and before you know it, you’re at the door.

Bo-Katan looks at you and Din. “Everyone’s in there,” she says, and her voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it. “They’re likely not going to be happy with this. But I’m going to go out first, and I’m going to introduce you and…” she looks over at you, and then back to Din, “and then you three will come in.”

Din nods.

“Are you ready?” Bo-Katan asks again, and there’s no greed in her voice. She’s not wanting for him to fail. You watch as she stands up straighter, and you notice the same color cloak flowing out from all of her beskar. You don’t know if you fully like her, yet, but you trust her, and you know that’s far more valuable in a situation like this. She offers you the tiniest of smiles. You return it, tenfold.

Din nods again, and then opens his mouth to speak. His voice is calm through the modulator, calmer than you would have expected. “Yes,” he says, finally, “yes, I’m ready.”

Bo-Katan nods at both of you, catches your eye one last time, and then shoulders herself through the double doors. The cheering and noise of the whole planet filters through the wide doorway, and then they click closed, leaving you and Din and Grogu together with nothing but each other.

“We can still run for it, you know,” you whisper, trying to shake the jitters out of your voice. “Think about it. We could disappear back on Yavin. Or Naator. That tiny little village. Pink skies, beautiful yellow trees.”

Din looks over at you, and you know you’re looking straight into his eyes under the visor. Your heart is beating so fast. “You made a promise to me, cyar’ika,” he says, “that you won’t run.”

You grin back at him. “True. I did say that. But I meant it in the context that I was never going to run from you. I never promised I wouldn’t run with you.”

“That’s quite the loophole.”

“I’m good,” you say, giggling, “and smart. I have like ten thousand contingency plans.”

“Well,” Din says, facing back to stare at the doors, reaching his gloved hand out to meet yours, “you don’t need them here.”

You look at him. “We’re gonna pull it off,” you repeat, trying to make your promise shine just as bright as all the ones he’s given you. “All of it. You are going to be the greatest leader that Mandalore has ever known. Grogu,” you continue, looking down at your adorable, green child nestled safely in your arms, “is going to become a Jedi.”

Din turns to you again. “And you?”

You smile. “Maybe both. I contain multitudes.”

Din laughs, and the noise is so light and so free that it makes every single inch of you melt. You beam up at him. “You certainly do,” he says, quietly, and then, after what seems like a moment of deliberation, he lifts his fingers and pulls his helmet off. He doesn’t look relaxed, but he doesn’t look particularly fearful, either.

“Are you sure?” you ask, breathless, as he brings his helmet all the way off, staring back at the double doors that Bo-Katan disappeared through a minute ago. You can only faintly hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s nearing the time when the three of you—your strange, wonderful little family—have to meet her in there.

He nods. “We’re both done running,” he sighs, his voice thick with resolve, “and I’m done with hiding.”

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you. Ni kar’tayl su, darasuum.”

“Forever, Nova,” Din whispers back. He turns to face you one last time. You stare into his eyes, that warm, eternal state of brown, and as he moves closer to you, his hands around your waist, you don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even to blink. Not even for a second. You just stare, drinking in every single inch of his gorgeous face, knowing that you know him. It pulses and burns inside you like a shared, glorious star. “This is the beginning, you know.”

“I know,” you repeat, softly, feeling as his hand gently strokes over your perfect hair. There’s a headband as part of your outfit, made out of glittering spikes of beskar, and when Din touches his hand to it, it feels like a crown. “We’re going to change the world. Stop the order. Bring peace and good things, and then when we’re done, we can retire knowing we made all of this better for the rest of the galaxy. And then,” you inhale, staring into his eyes, “we’re going to have a real wedding. Flowers. Grogu presenting our rings. Boba Fett marrying us.”

“Absolutely not,” Din cuts you off, but you can hear the lilt in his voice. “Cara or nothing.”

You grin back. “Deal.”

“And where are we retiring?” There’s a tiny sparkle of humor hidden in his voice.

“We’ll have homes on all our favorite planets,” you decide, “but we can live on the ship for good, if you like.”

“No,” Din says, his voice faraway, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “When I make our next home with you, it’s going to be permanent.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Nova—”

“We’re ready,” you assure him, stepping closer, tipping your head back. “I’m ready. Are you?”

After a moment, Din nods. The way he’s holding you—protective, possessive, wholly yours—it makes everything fade out. For a moment, a dazzling, fleeting moment, everything else fades out. You see the two of you on Nevarro the first time, the way his hands felt when he was patching your wounds, all the promises you both made and broke back on Dantooine, the vows to each other on Naator, the proposal on Yavin, every single time you’ve saved each other, which is now an even tally, standing together at the Rebel base, standing together through the darkness, through the light, still standing together here. You love him. With all of your heart, you love him, and you know it’ll last even longer than forever. There’s war coming, but for now, you’re with your husband and your baby, about to step into the next phase of saving the world. And after everything, after all of that, you know the perfect thing to say before moving through those gilded double doors.

“I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”

And as Bo-Katan opens the double doors, you lean into your embrace, everything rushing back to the present, the entire galaxy evaporating and colliding at once. You hear the crowd in the throne room. You don’t know what’s coming next. But, you think, as you prepare to move forward, as long as you’re doing it with Din and Grogu, you’ll be okay.

So, regardless of the open door waiting for the rest of your lives in front of you, you slide your hand down Din’s face, lean into his kiss, and whisper that you forgive him.

*

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I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED IT!!!! writing this has been the adventure of a lifetime. it's given me peace, solace, happiness, giddiness, and, most importantly, all of you. thank you all endlessly for coming along on this journey with me. i love each and every one of you with all of my heart. thank you for supporting me and my story, for leaving incredible comments and analysis, for being my friends, and for jumping off this crazy cliff with me. SM turned into the story i was always meaning to write when introduced Nova as her whole character, and your love for her has filled my soul up with so much joy. thank you, endlessly, for coming along this ride with me. i know this isn't a "real" ending, and that not every single little plotline was tied up in a neat little bow, but i hope you'll forgive me because i have PLANS for the sequel. give me a month or so to get writing and planning, and the next installment in the SM series will be up as soon as possible!!!! as always, i'll give ya all the updates on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) when writing starts!

you are all so important to me. thank you for reading, thank you for loving my words, and thank you for seeing this through with me.

onward and upward; the next adventure awaits!!!

all my love always,

amelie

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Unusual Way - Loki x Reader - Words: 3,294 (including song lyrics)

A/N: Reader is Silver Shadow. However, this doesn't follow the same 'first meeting/falling in love' sequence as "Hurting Each Other".

Loki and you were best friends and had been for about 2 years now since he moved into the tower. It all started the day he'd moved in while you were out on a mission and no one had the brilliant idea to tell you that you were now sharing your floor with someone.

~ 2 Years Ago~

So there you were, exhausted and dirty from the fight, looking forward to a nice hot shower. You'd already taken off your cape in the elevator and as you got off and walked down the hallway to your bedroom, you started to pull at the zipper of your jacket.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting you to be so forward."

"Who's there?" You yelled, not recognizing the voice that spoke to you. You whipped around, trying to see who it was that was speaking.

"Hello," A man suddenly said, appearing directly in front of you. You throw a quick punch but your hand goes right through him and he disappears. "Over here!" He exclaims, waving to you from a few steps away. You quickly draw one of your knives and throw it at him. Again it goes right through him.

"I said, who are you?" You demand, not having had a chance to get a good look at his face yet.

"Tsk tsk," He says, appearing once more, a few feet now away from you. "So impatient." As he talks you focus on the vase setting on the hallway table behind him and start drawing it towards you. If you time it just right, you can either hit him or, if he's not there again, stop it in time before it hits you. "I am Loki, of Asgard! And I am burdened wi-OW!" He yells as the vase hits his head. "Will anyone ever let me finish that thought?"

“Loki?” You screeched. “What are you doing here? Do the others know?” You asked, rushing up to the admittedly handsome man. Even during his attack on New York you couldn’t help but go a little starry-eyed at his presence.

“I am here to help. I,” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head again. “I’m here to work with you and your little team.” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh! Well, I, uh, sorry about that," You stuttered, gesturing to his head. "Here, let me fix that." You reached up and touched the back of his head gently.

"Thank you," He replied with a small smile.

"Let's start over," You grinned. "Hi, I'm Y/N. I guess I'm your new floormate." He grinned back, still surprised by your kindness.

"Yeah, I guess you are."

~ 6 Months Later ~

"C'mon, Y/N!" Loki yelled down the hallway. "The pairs' free dance is about to begin!" You ran out of the bathroom, socks sliding on the hardwoods.

"Woah!" You exclaimed, sliding, or rather bodyslamming, into him. He of course caught you easily, being used to this occurrence, and laughed. A few minutes later you were both sitting on the couch with a rather large bowl of popcorn between you. "Those twizzles were completely out of sync. That's going to ruin their score."

"Perhaps," he commented, tossing another buttery snack in his mouth. "But their lifts have been perfect unlike the other couples." You shrugged and continued watching. You found yourself shivering, however, as you continued watching the programs.

"Has the thermostat gone down?" You asked. Loki got up and checked.

"No, are you cold?" He, of course, didn't notice any difference since he was, not only a Frost Giant, but also wearing a lovely sweater, you thought.

"Yeah, must be the ice," You joked, nodding at the television. You eyed his soft, grey sweater once again and decided that, even though it looked absolutely stunning on him, you needed it more.

"Um, would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater?" You asked nervously. He looked mildly surprised but quickly pulled it off and handed it to you. "Thanks," You said quietly. The past couple weeks you'd realized you had developed a minor crush on your new best friend. You didn't say anything, however, for fear of ruining said friendship. "It smells like you," You chuckled, pulling the jumper close around you. Loki blushed brightly and apologized.

"Sorry, so sorry. I can-I can get a new one from the wash." He went to get up, face still flushed in embarrassment.

"Loki, it's fine," You replied, stopping him. "I don't mind. Thank you for lending it to me." He smiled sweetly at you in reply.

"You're welcome. After all, what are friends for?"

~ 1 Year Later ~

"He's too pretty for his own good, Nat!" you complained, throwing quick punches at your sparring partner.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if he knew what's good for him, he would be so perfect all the time!" You blocked three punches and landed one of your own. "If he doesn't I might have to take matters into my own hands."

"Meaning you'll finally ask him out instead of driving us all crazy pining over him like you have been for the past year and a half or so?" She retorted with a smirk, flipping you to the ground and pinning your arms behind you. You groaned and rolled out from under her, standing and holding your hands up in defeat.

"No! Of course not! It means I'd have to ugly him up a little." Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Like you'd ever have the guts! C'mon! Be honest with yourself! You liked him since New York. Just put on your big-girl pants and tell him! And if you can't find yours, I can lend you mine," She teased, playfully slapping your butt.

"Watch it, Widow!" you snapped. "I'm going to the conference room if it's not in use. I don't want to be disturbed, ok?"

"Fine, just let me know all the juicy details when you finally have the guts to go back to your floor, ok?" You rolled your eyes and walked out.

"Finally alone," you sighed, tossing your gym bag in a chair and slumping down in another. "FRIDAY?”

"Yes, Miss Y/N?" The AI replied.

"Please shut the blinds and lock the door. Emergency override only."

"Yes, Miss." You closed your eyes, tears threatening to slip through.

"FRIDAY, shuffle Linda Eder from my library."

"Of course," The AI replied. When I Look In Your Eyes started playing and you leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes and tuning out the rest of the world. You were so focused on your music and trying to figure out your own feelings that you didn't hear the door open. The next song started and you chuckled humorlessly.

"This one's for you," You said to yourself, thinking of your best friend. You sang along as Unusual Way played.

“In a very unusual way, one time I needed you

In a very unusual way, you were my friend

Maybe it lasted a day, maybe it lasted an hour

But somehow it will never end

In a very unusual way, I think I'm in love with you

In a very unusual way, I want to cry

Something inside me goes weak, something inside me surrenders

And you're the reason why, you're the reason why

You don't know what you do to me

Don't have a clue

You can't tell what it's like to be me

Looking at you

It scares me so that I can hardly speak...

In a very unusual way, I owe what I am to you

Though at times it appears I won't stay, I never go

Special to me in my life, since the first day that I met you

How could I ever forget you, once you had touched my soul

In a very unusual way...

You made me whole”

When you finished you thought you heard a noise behind you but when you turned around there was no one there. You shrugged it off as your own overactive imagination and got up, gathering your stuff. When you got back upstairs, you found Loki in the kitchen. "Thought you might like some lunch," He explained.

"Oh, thanks," You replied, sitting down and letting him serve you. After a few minutes of silent eating you decided you needed to say something. "Loki, I-"

"Y/N, I-" You both laughed, having spoken at the same time.

"You first," You both said. Laughing again, you shook your head and motioned for him to go on.

"Y/N, I must confess something. I-" He paused, taking a deep breath. "I wasn't going to say anything because I was afraid of how you'd respond but," He chuckled nervously. "I believe I've fallen in love."

"Oh!" You gasped. You set down your fork, losing your appetite quickly. "So who's the lucky lady? Do I know her?" You asked, taking a sip of water trying to look casual.

"Yes you do," He replied, smirking. "She's very beautiful and talented. She's kind and helpful to everyone. And most importantly she-"

BZZT BZZT

"Uh, sorry," you said, looking at your ringing phone. "I should take this. It's Steve." Loki looked upset but nodded. "Hello?"

"Y/N? We've got a problem. Is Loki with you?"

"Uh, yeah, he is. Cap, what's wrong?" Loki got up and moved closer to listen in on the conversation.

"We just got intel on a new Hydra base. This one's different though. They have too many defensive procedures in place for us to just attack. We need someone on the inside. That's where you and Loki come in."

"You're sending us to work undercover in a base?!" You screeched.

"Yes, pack a few things and be on the helicarrier in an hour. I'll finish briefing you then."

Working on the inside was, of course, much harder than you'd expected. Thankfully no one here knew you from your actual Hydra days so that made it easier. You just hadn't expected being separated from Loki for so long. Especially after your interrupted conversation, you wanted to talk to him again. Steve assured you, though, it would be a quick mission and you could get back to your normal life within a few weeks.

~ 6 Months Later ~

"You have exactly 2 minutes to get out before this whole place blows, you got that?" Cap yelled through your comms. The mission had gotten complicated and had extended to 6 Months for you both. But now you and Loki had apparently collected enough info for Cap and the others to finally come and blow it all open. Although, none of you had expected a literal explosion. You grabbed the last of the information you needed and booked it out of there. Once you made it into the clearing where the others had regrouped, you looked around frantically as Cap took a head count. "Loki's not out yet!"

"What!" You exclaimed. "There's only 30 seconds!" Suddenly your comms crackled to life.

"Found...girl…trapped," Loki said. The static made it impossible to understand the sentence fully but you understood what he meant.

"Loki! Get out!" Steve yelled.

"I'm going in," You said. Steve yelled to stop you but you were too quick. You teleported in and found the two, trying to shelter themselves in a corner. "Loki!"

"Y/N?" He exclaimed, turning to see you. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to rescue you, you idiot! Now hold on." You reached out and grabbed Loki's and the girl's hands and teleported out just as the building exploded. Cap immediately went to help the girl, leading her back to the helicarrier.

"So," Loki said, looking at your hand still gripping his. You impulsively gave him a hug, the thought that you could have lost him starting to sink in. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," You replied, pulling away quickly. "I just-"

"Loki! Y/N! C'mon!" Cap called out. You were interrupted once more but ran to the helicarrier and rode back home in silence. When you landed back at the tower, you rushed to your bedroom and flung yourself on the bed face first.

"I need a life," You groaned. You heard Loki calling out for you so you rushed into the bathroom and quickly turned on the shower hoping that he would think you were in there and leave. Once you didn't hear him anymore you decided it actually was a good idea to take a shower so you adjusted the temperature and got in. A few minutes later you found yourself lost in the magical world of shower thoughts. Not wanting to get upset again, you decided on music. "FRIDAY, shuffle my library," You said.

"Right away," It replied. As you were dressing a few songs later, Unusual Way started playing and you thought back to the day you'd left for the mission. You sang along sadly, once again thinking of the man you loved who, apparently, loved someone else.

"You don't know what you do to me

Don't have a clue

You can't tell what it's like to be me

Looking at you"

You opened your door to go to the kitchen and Loki stumbled in. "Were you leaning on the door?"

"Maybe," He admitted, blushing. You stared at him, gesturing for him to explain. FRIDAY paused your music since you were talking and he glanced up at the ceiling. "I wanted to talk to you but I heard the shower start so I was going to leave but then I heard you singing and-"

"I don't like performing," You snapped, quite embarrassed that he'd heard you singing that song especially.

"But I want to hear you sing. Especially that song, you sing it so beautifully."

"How would you know? You heard me through a door," You scoffed. Pushing past him you walked out into the hallway, pulling your door shut behind you.

"Not six months ago I didn't." That stopped you in your tracks. Spinning around on your heel you marched back up to him.

"You heard me when?"

"In the conference room, the day we left for the mission. I'd gone to watch you practice and see if maybe you wanted to practice with me a little but Natasha said you'd left already. She told me where you were and that you didn't want to be disturbed but," He chuckled softly. "Has that ever stopped me?" You laughed and shook your head. "Well, I heard you singing and I decided to leave you be."

"Oh well, thanks I guess," You said, smiling softly, still embarrassed but not as mad anymore.

"May I ask, who were you singing to?"

"What do you mean?"

"When the song started you said 'this one's for you'. Who did you have in mind?"

"Oh," You said, surprised. You blushed brightly and shook your head. "Just someone I care for very much I suppose."

"You suppose?" He teased.

"Ok! I do care about him! Geez! You're as bad as Nat sometimes!" He laughed loudly and you could help but smile wider. You loved when he laughed like that, a real laugh that reached his eyes and filled the room. As you walked into the kitchen and sat down at the counter together, you quickly remembered your conversation at lunch that day though and frowned. "Unfortunately I don't think he quite thinks of me the same way."

"Why's that?" He asked, brows furrowing.

"I am quite sure he has his eyes on another girl."

"Is it the Captain?"

"Oh goodness no!" You immediately replied. "No, definitely not." His eyes suddenly lost their joy and he seemed almost scared to ask his next question. He got up and went to the window, putting quite a bit of space between you.

"Is it my brother?" He asked quietly.

"No! No no no! Never!" You exclaimed. You actually shuddered at the mental image. Realizing what needed to be done you teleported yourself in front of him with your back to the window. He startled and jumped back quickly. You smirked and stepped closer. "I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not a fan of blond's."

"Perhaps Banner then?" He stammered, trying to come up with an idea. You could not believe how clueless he could be.

"What? Ew! No!" You pretended to gag. "I like someone more fun, more mischievous," You grinned.

"Misch-oh," He breathed, finally figuring it out. You looked away, feeling embarrassment set in again. "Well, Y/N, I-"

"Look, I know you were trying to tell me before we left that you're in love and I couldn't be happier for you and I wish you all the best but I just needed you to know, ok?" You cried.

"But Y/N! You don't-"

"I'm sorry," You said, trying to run past him to lock yourself up in your room.

"Not so fast," He said, grabbing your arm.

"Wha-" You were cut off by a pair of lips meeting yours. He quickly pulled away, grinning like mad.

"You don't know what I've been trying and wanting to tell you! The girl I love is you, Y/N! I love you!"

"Me?" You squeaked, smiling giddily. He nodded and you laughed. "I cannot believe it. We've been idiots haven't we?"

"Most certainly," He agreed. He gave you another quick kiss and looked in your eyes. "I think I've loved you since we met but you know when I fell in love with you?"

"When?"

"When you borrowed that grey sweater and never gave it back." You gasped, eyes widening in surprise.

"I didn't realize I never returned it!"

"Oh sure! You wear it all the time!"

"I do no-oh," You paused, thinking about your closet. "Maybe I do," You chuckled. "Well, I actually liked you from the first time I saw you."

"When I scared you coming off the elevator?"

"No, 2012," You whispered. Loki stared at you, quite surprised. "I knew what you were doing was wrong but," You sat down on the couch, having wandered into the living area. "Somehow I understood you."

"Y/N, I don't know what to say. I, well, I was a very different man then and-"

"And you were pretty," You deadpanned.

"Ah, so my irresistible charms strike again." You both laughed and he sat beside you. "Y/N, I think we've been fooling ourselves for far too long. Now, you love me, right?"

"Yes!" You said emphatically.

"And I love you, right?"

"I sure hope so!" He grinned and you wondered where this was going. He stood up and took your hand in his.

"Well then, I should wish to officially court you if that should please you and have your approval," He said, bowing slightly.

"I accept," You replied immediately. You stood up and gave him a big hug. "Oh, Loki, thank you."

"You're welcome, my love. But I hope you know what this means."

"What?" You asked, pulling away just in time to see his smirk.

"It means you're no longer allowed to hog the popcorn bowl on skate night!"

"No," You retorted. "It means that as your girlfriend I can now officially tell you to get your own!" He gasped, playing offended.

"Why! I'm wounded!" He cried, holding his hand over his heart.

"Does this help?" You teased, placing your hand there instead.

"No," He smirked. "But this might," He said, pulling you in for another kiss. "I will never tire of that."

"Nor I," You sighed contentedly. "But we must stop for now."

"Why?"

"It's skate night and I need to get the popcorn ready!"

"Go sit down," He smiled. "I'll get it ready."

"Aw! How sweet!" You squealed. "Alrighty then." You walked back to the couch as settled in. "Loki, dear?" You called out towards the kitchen.

"Yes, darling?"

"Remember, 2 bowls!"

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

@lokislittlesigyn

@darkacademicfrom2021

@lokiwhxre

@loki-laufeyson965

@eclipsedplanet

Marvel (all characters) Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@whatafuckingdumbass

@ladylulu143

@lokislittlesigyn

@gaitwae

@mysticunicorn7

@kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay

@thoughts-and-lovely-illusions

@for-hearthand-home

@lokistoriesblog

[barbariccia]

it’s time to talk about Hydaelyn.

i’ve been sat on this theory for a long time - i’m pretty sure i didn’t come up with the original idea myself, but the more i think about it the more it makes sense to me. i’m not sure HOW it’ll come into play in the story, necessarily, but the new year’s eve poem posted last night has me rubbing my chin even more. so:

Hydaelyn exists under Silvertear Lake and i won’t hear no for an answer.

(please note there'll be spoilers for 5.0.)

we have known since 1.0 that there’s Something Under Silvertear. admittedly, in 1.0 it was likely just Midgardsormr, because the times have been a-changing and while the dev team has done a truly admirable job at building on what lore remained from the 1.X days, they couldn’t and didn’t keep everything intact. i do not at any point consider this a downside, just something worth noting!

the Garleans, headed by Gaius van Baelsar (acting under solus-selch’s orders), after the invasion and successful annexing of Ala Mhigo, pushed into Mor Dhona as the next part of their “invade Eorzea” project as a central location that would make continued pushes into the land easy. not only that, but Mor Dhona is noted as being (and has been since 1.X) the center of aetherial connections in Eorzea, if not the whole world, though Eorzea is particularly topped up with aether compared to other landmasses. Cid Garlond in his 1.X iteration suggests that Mor Dhona is where aether returns to rejoin the Lifestream. Quote:

Cid nan Garlond: All aether would - should pass through Silvertear Lake upon returning to the Land, but it now appears that something is bending the energy's course - drawing it away.

in 1.X, Nael van Darnus was originally drawing Dalamud down to fall on this area, where Castrum Novum (now Castrum Centri in ARR and beyond) was built, until adventurers put a stop to that and the transmitter was relocated to Coerthas, where the Rivenroad was ripped from. I’ll accept it as a happy coincidence - the castra was built in this area, it makes sense for plot events to happen there - but it does strike me as interesting, especially where the parallel between the Garlean’s Meteor Project and the original Meteor from FFVII is concerned. Sephiroth wasn’t just calling down a giant slab of asteroid for shiggles; he was doing it specifically to create a wound in the Planet that would require an immense amount of energy to heal that he could siphon off of and become a god. If XIV’s Meteor had hit (and not hatched like an egg), a similar thing might have happened.

And there’s no better place to call a lot of aether to the fore than somewhere entirely rich in it. Almost like there’s a great being in that area dependent on aether that directs the Lifestream through itself to preserve not only itself, but all life on the planet.

The second the Garleans got too close to the lake, Middy burst out with a whole host of Dravanians and the Battle of Silvertear Skies began (and ended with Dravanian victory at great cost). This sequence from 1.X is notable as being one of those things that has to have been changed from ARR onwards considering what we now know about primal summoning (they weren’t just ‘let loose’ into the world, they’ve been actively taught to certain peoples (though why only ‘now’ and not ‘before, too’ is still up in the air)) - not to mention we know that the Echo started manifesting after the battle, too, almost as though something felt like it was in danger and needed thralls (1) to protect itself - but Middy came out to protect something. He’d been known as the great protector of Silvertear Lake for a very long time, since he first appeared to the source. Quote The Rising Chorus, from patch 2.5:

Minfilia: [...] an unlikely ally came to Eorzea's aid that day─Midgardsormr, legendary guardian of Silvertear Falls, burst forth from beneath the waters of the lake and led a host of dragons against the Garlean airships overhead.

Minfilia:  Midgardsormr was once worshipped as the guardian deity of Silvertear Falls [...]

Minfilia: One of the ancient myths regarding Silvertear Falls states that when the waters came into existence, so too did the great wyrm. Althyk and Nymeia, Brother Time and Sister Fate, decreed that Midgardsormr ever watch over the source, from which all water─and magic─was said to flow.   I wonder... What if this was the covenant of which he spoke, and 'twas not the gods with whom he treated, but Hydaelyn Herself? 

minfy and ourselves can only guess as to the nature of the covenant forged between hydaelyn and midgardsormr. Following the Omega questline, we know that Midgardsormr fled the Dragonstar with his seven eggs to get away from Omega, crossing the vast expanse of space at great cost to his own personal strength. We don’t know at what time Midgardsormr appeared to the Source - whether it was before, during, or after the time of the 13th Reflection being turned into the Void as we know it - but it would have been post-Sundering of the Ancient world, considering he was able to make a pact with Hydaelyn at all (2) (not to mention there’s no dragons on the First; if there were dragons everywhere we’d know they were reflections of the First Brood! i’m still angy there’s no Azdaja and Vrtra. fucking PLEASE squenix i’m DYING for info on them).

(1) this is a good a place as any to mention that in 1.X, Minfilia - then known as Ascilia - witnessed the Battle of Silvertear Falls with her father Warburton and her Echo awoke a few years later. interesting to think that the primal that tempered Ascilia in potential desperation would later scour her clean and use her for its own purposes, though i know this wasn’t intentional from the devs at all as a plot-point.

(2) the nature of Hydaelyn and Zodiark’s battle makes me doubt that there was much time between Her summoning and the Sundering of the world

There’s an interview from 2014/15 with Koji Fox where he notes, quote,"There's a presence [at Silvertear]. It wasn't just Midgardsormr there, it was more of a force[...]". There’s definitely something there that isn’t just the dragons. Something big. It’s Hydaelyn!!! It has to be. (highlights in the excerpt mine.)

My interpretation of this event is that Midgardsormr agreed to protect the physical ‘body’ of Hydaelyn in exchange for the safety of his eggs - the First Brood - which is what he’s been doing for potentially upwards of 10,000 years. The battle at Silvertear is pretty explosive otherwise for what’s effectively a non-event. There might not have been dragons in Gyr Abania, or in Ilsabard, or Othard or anywhere else they’ve been pushing into - but there’s never been any indication of the dragons being particularly territorial. The Dravanians shared their space with proto-Ishgardians back in the day, and their issues with the elezen of the Source was due to some choice eye-vorage, not encroaching on lands like the sahagin and kobolds.

As for Hydaelyn’s physical form - well, it’s known that Zodiark has a physical form which was sealed directly into the moon. The true moon, known to us colloquially as Menphina (3) (is there another name for it? i haven’t seen anything). It stands to reason that Hydaelyn has a physical form as well, then, hidden away somewhere safe, because as we known, primals can be defeated and their essences scattered to return back to the Lifesteam.

(3) Hey, it’s worth noting here that Menphina, the Lover (whose divine stone is parked right where Haurchefant’s grave is) is said to be the younger sister of Azeyma, the Warden! and boy, while we’re thinking about the misremembered names of the Convocation coming back as names of gods in modern day, what significance does that have?

The Antitower: In all of creation, what greater mystery could there be than the fate of this very star? To sound the deepest depths, to study the aetherial sea itself─for these purposes and more was the Antitower built. Abandoned by her Sharlayan caretakers following the exodus, it has since been overrun by the magical guardians they left behind. Yet were one blessed with Her gift to brave these dangers and descend to the furthest reaches─to hear, feel, and think at the heart of this world─what would they find?

(emphasis mine.)

in the cutscenes following the Antitower, we meet Hydaelyn in the aetherial sea, and Her mouthpiece, the Word of the Mother. and by using the Antitower, something specifically Sharlayan-built, no less. I’d be very interested to know if you can reach the aetherial sea from only the Forelands, where that dungeon is, or from anywhere. I’m gonna make a stab at anywhere.

It’s been brought to my attention that in the cutscenes post-Antitower, Hydaelyn mentions in the quest The Word of the Mother (patch 3.2), and Ardbert echoes later in Shadows of the First (patch 3.4) that “across ten and three were [we] then divided, reflections of the source, each possessed of a shard”, which seems to imply that not only the people of the world and Zodiark, but also Hydaelyn Herself was sundered and became weaker in so doing. which is FANTASTICALLY interesting, all things considered! maybe She wasn’t just becoming weak (and finding it harder to take mouthpieces and the like) because of the land’s aether being drained by primals (and other sources).

The just-released (as of time of writing) New Year’s Eve poem makes me think that the “last chapter of this story” might relate back to this in some way.

[EN]

Our progeny may never know Wherefore we look unto the sky Nor why we dig for truth below; We bear their scorn or watch them die.

[FR]

With our mouths closed, we pile stone upon stone, To form a staircase leading to the lands of knowledge, As well as another pointing to the heavens of existence. Our children will remember it, no matter how angry they are.

[GR]

Committed to our silent office We seek wisdom in the deep earth. Put tomorrow in starry hands, Sung by children's lamentations.

[JP]

By staying silent and saying naught, we will not accumulate the crystals(?) (4) To gain knowledge, we climb into the earth, To survive, we climb to into the heavens. Even if our progeny resent us, it is all for their sake.

(4) 石 meaning stone rather than ‘crystals’, 水晶 meaning ‘crystal’ (and used in the JP title of the Crystal Exarch).

*** translations from THIS reddit post and THIS tweet for the EU and JP translations of the poem, respectively.

something something 6.0 is looking more likely to be Sharlayan than anywhere else, something something big tower something something learn stuff from within the earth. c’moooon, i wanna go beat some answers out of crystal mom. walk freeeee indeed.

Getting away from the poems again and back to Stuff On The Source, we can take a look at the First, a much more pristine reflection of the Source due to having no Calamities happen to it ever. The Source (not to be confused with the Source), the equivalent of Silvertear, is being presided over by none other than... Bismarck, a member of the fae (and BOY i’d like to know more about whaleboi in this world!!!!), in exactly the same position Midgardsormr is, presumably protecting something of equal importance. Having said that, I don’t know if by splitting the world, Hydaelyn also split Herself.

Having said that, there’s an environmental anomaly in that area. Fly out to Bismarck’s (5) nose, and then dive under the waves. There’s a crystal formation coming out of the ground that can’t be found anywhere else on the First - there is nothing else similar to this formation - that has patches of light emitting from bits of it. A friend of mine noted that the way it seems to be coming through in only this location is almost cancerous in origin - that is to say, uncontained and Wrong in some manner, more complex than we have words or knowledge of. The only way you can interact with these crystals is in the level 78 mining levequest Crystal Meds, which notes that you can yank salt crystals out of that formation... but it seems a little too suspect to leave as ‘just salt’.

(5) Speaking of Bismarck, from that earlier interview with Koji Fox, he also has this to say, which... what else have you been hiding in plain sight... (highlights again mine.)

Or the Crystarium’s just going around seasoning their meals with primal mama, who knows.

Eep, this post got away from me. Anyway, i’m not really sure what to DO with any of this information. as many of my friends know i’ve been harping on about this for years at this point, and i’m not the best at speculation and guessing accurately where stories end up going - but it feels more right than ever to talk about it now after that poem was release.

hells, maybe they’ll give us another tower. say... a tower of bab-il, to take us to the moon? 6.0 FFIV expansion pretty please??