#weirdly hard to track this link down

[janokenmun]

[sunsetschloe]

live for me - natasha romanoff fic

summary: if there's one thing Natasha learned from it all, it was that everyone dies alone. but that's okay, because if you truly lived, if you meant something, anything, to someone, if you found the strength to love through the pain, then you're still living in the memories of the people you loved.

chapter one: clint

Budapest was so much emptier without Natasha. 

The streets of Budapest were still bustling with merchants selling their crafts, calling out to the tourists that traversed the city, looking for the best spots for group selfies.

But Clint wasn't here for relaxation. As soon as he got off the plane, he headed straight to the nearby bus stop, where he got in line to buy a shuttle ticket. The line moved fast, and the couple in front of him left without tickets because of some "currency exchange issue."

"One ticket to Keleti Station." 

"One way?" The man in the booth peered at him over his shades. Clint nodded in response. "2200 forints." 

Clint handed him the bills he had prepared beforehand silently. "In five minutes," the man explained as he slid the ticket to him, and Clint murmured a quiet thank you before he left.

The entire bus ride, he looked out the window at the familiar sights he last saw in 2003. 

Keleti train station was big, and hard to navigate. Nothing compared to Grand Central Terminal, but the signs in Hungarian didn't give much information. He weaved through the crowd, trying to locate the ticket counter.

As a solo archer, he wasn't sure why him being alone felt so...off. 

He boarded his train half an hour later, and they arrived at his destination within twenty minutes.

"We have arrived at Budapest Nyugati Station," a bright voice chirped from the speakers. "To transfer to Deli Station, please exit from the right for metro line 3 or M3, or..." Clint tuned out the station broadcast, drawing his jacket more tightly around his body as he walked briskly from the train tracks.

He still knew these paths by heart.

Towards the end of the exit, he spotted the vent cover they escaped into last time. He was tempted to just open it right there and then, but it was broad daylight, and he didn't want to cause a fiasco by climbing into the air duct in front of all these people. 

He slipped into a hall by the main area, where another vent cover sat on the ceiling. Glancing around anxiously, he scaled the wall, hauling himself into the vent.

The vent was smaller than he remembered. He crawled along awkwardly, occasionally glancing upwards at the little drawings Natasha made, next to their sad attempts of tic-tac-toe to amuse themselves.

He eventually stopped at a turning point of the vent, and started digging through the cracks of their old hideout, where candy wrappers and empty bottles remained. His hand caught on something loose, and he pulled it out, stuffing it into his pocket without a glance.

The vent felt weirdly suffocating.

He crawled forward to the next exit of the vent, opened the cover with a slight squeak that made him wince. Making sure no one passed by the empty hallway, he jumped down quietly, closing the cover with his motion.

He stopped before making it out of the hall and back to the main station, retrieving whatever he found from the pocket of his jeans.

It was a photo of him and Natasha in front of Liberty Square, eyes squinting at the camera. He wasn't sure how he got her to agree to the picture in the first place, but he wasn't about to dwell on it. He found the picture, and it was all that mattered. 

He flipped the photo to reveal a date hastily written on in permanent marker: April 24th, 2003.

"We were so young", he muttered to himself. He turned back to the side with their picture, and inspected their faces. He was smiling broadly, stance relaxed, while Natasha only gave a slight grimace. "I hope you're in a better place now." 

He pocketed the photo with a sigh, and left without looking back.

~

ao3 link if y'all wanna leave some kudos <3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/61978525/chapters/158489269

[writingdungeon]

Hi Smoke I just saw you take requests, does that mean you would be willing to contribute to my Halex agenda?

I don't actually know if I can send a link but I have a favorite fanart as exhibit A: https://www.tumblr.com/sunshinecovey/753258969064210432?source=share

Exhibit B: The fic situation on AO3 is abyssmal. They are always background, always breaking up for one of them to have their gay awakening, and there is soo little actually featuring the two of them in a healthy relationship. Which is all fine on its own but the contrarian in me wants good Halex to exist just because it's so weirdly rare

Exhibit C: Consider. Barbie/Ken (from the show) They're both on the same wavelength of dumb so they get each other when no one else does, and Haley is slightly smarter and translates shit for him. And Haley is high maintenance but Alex will HAPPILY be her maintenance man because he worships her.

Like I feel like he would be the kind of boyfriend to sit and take pictures for her Instagram and he WANTS to because he loves her and its her hobby, and it doesn't hurt that she's gorgeous. And he loves sitting for her fashion shows after she buys new clothes.

I rest my case! (This is such a long ask oh my god sorry lmao)

(Two writers floating down the Halex River) "Don't tell me we are about to go over a waterfall?", "Yep", "Does it have a healthy relationship and mutual understanding at the bottom?", "Most likely.", "Fuck yeah."

Warning it's one am, forgive the sleepy brain, i go honk shoe now

Exhibit A:

Haley sighed dreamily as she watched Alex pull his barbell up into another curl. She had given up on her job and lost track of what rep he was on a while ago, her attention completely absorbed by the way his muscles moved.

Her eyes and mind were transfixed on Alex's pecs and traps, watching as they tensed when he raised the bar to his chest and stretched as he lowered it, resting it on his hips as he took a breath.

She bit her lip gently, watching the sweat roll down his skin, his chest rising and falling deeply but rhythmically. The sight was almost hypnotic, each movement drawing her deeper.

“Earth to Haley.” Haley blinked and looked up from his chest, Alex’s voice pulling her out of her gawking. “What's my count?” Alex asked, somewhat out of breath as he rested the barbell again, his smile tired yet teasing, knowing she wasn't paying attention.

“Yes,” Haley said, laughing softly as Alex rolled his eyes and continued his reps.

“What ya focusing on there, Sunflower?” Alex groaned as he asked, smirking as he held the bar close to his chest.

“Your boobs,” Haley admitted happily, bouncing on his bed slightly, her smirk mirroring his, her eyes once more drawn to his pectorals as they bulged over the bar.

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “You're something else, you know that?”

Haley just grinned wider, her eyes never leaving his muscles. "It's hard when you're… just… so… distracting~.”

Exhibit B:

Alex groaned, burying his face into his hands. “It's not working, Haley…” He shook his head and looked up at Haley, who just smiled sweetly at him.

“Lex, baby. It's working, you just think it's not,” she said gently, cupping his face and rubbing his cheek and ear with her thumb.

“It's not!” Alex whined, leaning into her touch. His eyes fell onto the paper in front of him. “I wrote waist, like you said, but you said it's wrong.”

“No, I said you were close.” Haley scoffed and playfully dropped his head. “You spelled waist correctly, but we are talking about waste,” she explained, trying her hardest not to coo at Alex as he looked at her, mouth open, confused.

“You just… used the same word…” He said slowly, now rubbing his face in frustration.

Haley giggled softly, shaking her head as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “No, I didn’t, Alex.” She kissed his shoulder softly.

“Is this like there, their, and they're?” Alex asked, staring into space like he had been told he was being shipped to war.

Haley chuckled at his dramatic expression and nodded. “Yep, exactly like that. They sound the same but have different meanings and spellings. You’ll get it, I know it.”

Alex sighed, still looking doubtful. “I don’t know, Sunflower…”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, Alex,” Haley said softly, squeezing his thigh. “You’re making progress, and that’s what matters.”

Alex smiled weakly, the frustration slowly melting away. “Thanks, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Haley smiled back, her eyes twinkling. “You’d manage. But, come on, let’s go over it one more time, okay.”

“Fiiiine…” Alex groaned yet smiled as he picked up his pen again.

Exhibit C:

Alex leaned back against the couch, his hands resting in his lap, as he watched Emily talking with her hands as she talked about parrots, having just got one herself. He was trying his best to follow along, but Emily's excitement and technical jargon quickly left him confused.

“Did you know that parrots can have vocabularies of over 1,000 words?” Emily exclaimed, her eyes bright with passion. “They use complex social cues to communicate in ways remarkably similar to humans.”

Alex nodded, even though he was already lost. “Uh, wow, that’s… cool.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Haley stifling a smile. She leaned in closer to him as she translated. “They are super smart and can learn a lot of words. They understand things kinda like we do.”

Emily didn’t miss a beat and continued with her descriptions of parrots. “They mimic sounds with amazing accuracy and even understand the context of certain words. For example, they can ask for specific foods and recognize their owners by voice.”

Alex, struggling to keep up, looked at Haley again. “So, wait, they talk to each other like… us?”

Haley giggled as she responded. “Kinda, It’s like we have a feathered little genius living with us.”

Alex chuckled, looking back to Emilly. “So, if I taught your parrot ‘Go long!’ would it get that I want to play gridball?”

Emily chuckled, shaking her head. “Not really. They would probably just mimic you.”

Alex laughed, his confusion turning into amusement. “That’s still pretty amazing.”

Haley’s eyes twinkled as she subtly translated more of Emily’s complex info dump. Alex felt more engaged, his questions becoming more curious and genuine.

Emily left them for a moment to go fetch some of the enrichment toys she had bought. In the moment of quiet Alex turned to Haley, his gratitude evident.

“Thanks for making her easier to understand,” he whispered, leaning closer.

“Anytime, Lex.” Haley smiled leaning in with him, kissing him softly.

[decadeofjoy-au]

Azure and A.l.: Alternate Adventure(or AAA:AA) part 6

Title: Deadly Dash

(TW: Swearing. Character Death.)

This link has the links to the other parts/other stories:

SETTINGS: The racing halls(first part).

MAIN CHARACTERS: Azure Nilson + A.I.

OCS in this part and their owners.

Azure Nilson-TDOJ

Bolt-TDOJ

A.I.-Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad

Doey The Doughman(Mentioned)

(Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad helped me with A.l's dialogue!)

—————

Azure suddenly stopped at the end of the hall. There! The elevator that A.I. was talking about! Azure set down the oil for a second to give her hands a minor break before picking it back up and stepping on. She let out a hum, feeling the elevator slowly go down when…it stopped. Azure blinked in confusion. While the elevator DID take them down, it only took them down to another course. Azure hesitantly stepped off before looking around. This…place smelt like blood…is he trying to kill her? She looked down at A.I. with a slightly worried expression.

Azure: “Uh…A.I.? Was it supposed to take us…here..?”

A.I.: “…I mean some of them do connect like this for when Bolt felt really sadistic… but to be honest I don’t remember if this one even went all the way down..either way, I don’t hear any feral growls so you should be goo-“

Just as A.I. was about to finish his sentence, Bolt slowly rolled into sight, with a weirdly…crazed look in his eyes, as if he was about to lose his mind. He hit the wall a bit, unable to stop moving due to the wheels he had at the bottom of his paws..When he did hit the wall, his body turned JUST enough to lock eyes on the two. The crazed expression on his face went from 0 to 100 in mere seconds.

Bolt: “What are you two doing here..? This is MY space, MY track. Unless…”

Bolt snarled, his legs shaking as if he were attempting to steady himself for something.

Bolt: “You’re here for a test! Of courseee, why else would you be here!? I saw that little trick you did back there, girl. Hahahaha…, well guess what? I don’t do TRICKS. Not on MY COURSE.”

Azure slowly backed up until her back hit the…wall-? Oh…the elevator went back up… Azure looked down at A.I. before looking back at Bolt. She kept her eyes on bolt as she spoke to A.I..

Azure: “Okay…now..what do we do about that..?”

A.I.: “Uuuuhhhh… maybe just try to not die. I can’t exactly do anything but probably make him angrier …sooooo… you’re kinda on your own. Hope you’re a fast runner.”

Azure: “W-WHAT!? A.I.!-“

Before Azure could finish her sentence, she heard a large bang. It was coming from that psychopathic cat..

Bolt: “Listen here…we’re gonna have a little..race… you and me. If you win, you can go on free!… But if I~ win… let’s just say you wouldnt like it..”

Azure stared at him, her brows furrowing. She gulped and gave a small thumbs up, not wanting to piss off the large car toy. At the sight of her agreement, he let out a laugh and went charging at her, only able to stop himself by having his leg take the impact of hitting the wall. He got right next to her, still having that crazed look in his eyes…

Bolt: “Three. Two. One~…..” … “GO!”

Azure began running as fast as she could. She knows she won’t win this…she knows that she CANT win this…she’s not nearly as fast as Bolt…that thought was proven by how he went flying past her down the hall. She had to think quickly. It’s…not really playing dirty if it’s unfair from the start…right..? Azure gripped onto her cooking oil and plucked the top off before throwing it as hard as she could at the cheetah, hitting him square in the head with it. This caused oil to get all over him while also causing him to go tumbling to the ground which allowed for Azure to run past him. She continued to run, looking back occasionally as he squirmed and attempted to get back up with repeated fails. She went to check if A.I. was still with her before slamming into a wall. Oh- ..she won. She groaned in pain but quickly recovered, brushing off her sweater. When she looked up she saw him…he actually managed to get back up surprisingly..and he looked absolutely pissed, growling lowly at her.

Azure: “…Hey…in my defense…that was unfair from the start..!”

Unfortunately, that comment didn’t seem to calm him down one bit….it actually just made him angrier. Azure didn’t miss him slowly beginning to roll towards her, still growling like a feral animal.

Azure: “…uhh..w-we can go now! Right? That was the deal..”

Bolt continued to snarl and growl, his expression going from crazed to batshit insane.

Azure: “…Uh-….nice kitty?”

Bolt let out a loud roar before charging at her as fast as he could. Azure quickly moved out of the way, causing him to slam into the wall but he didn’t stop..he simply recovered and charged at her again. Azure was confused…he looked as if he was struggling to turn, almost as if he was standing on…oil….the oil she threw at him! It got all over his wheels! That’s why he was moving so weirdly! Of course! Azure looked around before seeing it…a staircase. Time to use that idea from before… Just as Bolt charged at her again, Azure grabbed onto his tail and swung him as hard as she could towards the staircase before suddenly letting go. As he went flying down, he let out a loud shriek. Azure heard him scream until….a loud sickening snap was heard. Her eyes widened. Wait-…is he hurt? Did she just kill him..? No- that wasn’t meant to happen! A.I., told her that he’s survived stuff like that before! How’s this time any different!? She almost couldn’t register what A.I. was saying

A.I.: “Well he’s dead… didn't think you had it in you… to be honest, good riddance.”

Azure quickly ran over to the staircase. Looking down the stairwell, she could clearly see his head snapped the other way around with his neck being bent. She gasped in horror. She fucking killed him…she killed someone. Her eyes widened even more when she saw a clawed hand grab onto his ear before dragging him away.

….

It was silent…for a good few seconds before Azure suddenly screamed.

Azure: “O-OH MY GOD…I KILLED HIM! IM A M-MURDERER!”

A.I.: “!!!-Woah! woah! woah! Calm down, he’s killed way more people and besides, you did it in self defense. It’s not like you WANTED to kill him.”

Azure: “Wh- HES KILLED OTHER PEOPLE!? I thought you all were supposed to be PEACEFUL! I should’ve NEVER left Playcare!!”

A.I.: “..When did I ever say the others were peaceful? You thought Doey pushing someone down a flight of stairs was a funny joke for everyone? …Look not everyone’s nice and people like him are worse than those people. They made people suffer for their own entertainment… …BLEH I don’t like being the voice of reason..I like being the goofy wacky guy with the funny commentary…” … “Oh hey it’s the elevator we need to go down! :D”

Azure stared at him, not moving an inch. It was only after he yelled her name that she got a grip and quickly ran over to the elevator. She was dead silent as it went down… A.I. assumed she wasn’t gonna say anything until she suddenly spoke up.

Azure: “So..he was a murderer…”

A.I.: “Sorry to shatter your worldview, kid… but not everyone’s sunshine, rainbows & lollipops… -not too say there’s nobody good in the world..You’re proof there’s good people. But for every good person there’s a hundred horrible people… like him… again I hate being the reasonable one I’m used to being the unstable wildcard. When did I become a therapist?!?!”

Azure: “…And I killed him..which means…I saved other people a lotta trouble…So…I’m…NOT a bad person..?”

A.I.: “No kid, You’re not. Anyways, that was impressive. Throwing him back down the stairs you two came up from! :D great job! “

Azure: “..Well- it was easy…just get some oil on the wheels and lure him towards a staircase..it really wasn’t too difficult!”

A.I.: “Kid, if it was that easy I’m sure someone else would’ve done it a LONG time ago…” … “Oh hey! what’s that in the corner?”

Azure turned her head to look at the floor. Oh..is that…a sticker machine? Azure slowly walked over to it and picked it up. She then sat down and examined at it. Huh…looks like to still works… She looked at A.I.’s TV before suddenly getting idea. Can probably get her mind off the fact that she kinda just murdered a guy in cold blood too… She pulled out her notebook and began drawing…something? A.I. couldn’t see or tell what she was making… after using whatever supplies she had to make…something..she suddenly tore the page out and used any materials she had on the sticker machine. It took a good…few moments before she suddenly showed him something. Lightning Bolt Sticker with cheetah prints….is that a reference to Bolt? He didn’t even get to speak before she suddenly stuck the sticker to the TV

Azure: “There! Now you don’t look as bland. What do you think..?”

A.I.: “Kid… I don’t usually say things like this… but I love it.”

Azure smiled and picked the TV up again. She then looked down at the Sticker machine before shrugging and picking that up too. Meh..not like anyone was using it. She looked back at A.I. before putting the TV on her back.

Azure: “Great! Maybe I could make you some more if I got any ideas… This may sound messed up but consider it a sort of…victory trophy! For getting rid of the crazy cheetah!”

A.I.: “yeah! That’d be fun. Well the elevators almost there. from there we should take a right and keep going when we get there, I’ll be more specific on where to go from there. Alright kid?”

Azure: “Oh, Alright!”

Azure patiently waited for the elevator to stop moving. To be honest…she was really starting to like A.I.! Hopefully she can make him more stickers in the future.. he seems to really like them!

[magical-awesome-kid]

I have the BEST most DUMBEST AU for Pokémon Legends Arceus.

The Arc Phone Has Internet AU.

Dawn/Akari finds the widget for the Internet DEEP in the folders. Arceus tried to uninstall it, but he couldn’t get it off because Perfect Design or whatever, so he just hid it. Akari pulls up the Internet and it’s in-time with how long she’s been gone in the future (let’s say she’s gone six months at this point? So she’s got the news page for six months after she disappeared).

And who’s on the news page? Her.

Now, for the sake of this story, Dawn’s memories are a little scrambled. Not to Ingo’s extent, but things were still missing. She couldn’t remember her first name - Dawn - but she remembered her middle name - Hikari. She goes down the Internet rabbit hole and not only finds every news article about Champion (Champion! How could she forget? Her Pokémon worked so hard for that!) but also finds her Wikipedia page, which is full to the brim not only of pictures and notes but also incorrect info (this, weirdly enough, jogs her memories as she goes to correct it).

Then she realizes Oh. Oh shit. I can contact mom and Barry and Lucas and the League!

And she does. The phone and texting apps won’t go through, but all her social media still work. Not wanting to cause total chaos, she DMs everyone she feels needs to know.

It’s chaos. She’s balancing 40 conversations with various entities and then SOMEONE posts a link and says “I made a secure discord for all of this plus we can video call” (it was probably Volkner).

As the chaos is ensuing, Akari sends one picture of herself in Jubilife Village, and she happens to catch Ingo in the background.

And then someone sends it back with a big circle on Ingo and is like “IS THAT INGO?!?”

And Dawn is like “OMG I forgot Ingo said he was from the future! Do you all know who he is?”

Dawn’s thread is flooded with news articles and wikipedias on Nimbasa’s subway system and the bosses there.

She pulls over Ingo and, after explaining what a phone is, he’s scrolling like a mad man.

It’s not like an instant snap back. Everything sounds so right and familiar. It’s not until Dawn gets a video call from the Unova League does it start to take hold.

Emmet, who has spent the last three years hoping, praying that his brother was out there, who was trying to cope but still held hope, who refused to do a funeral, even a symbolic one, because his brother couldn’t be officially ruled as dearly departed yet, is bawling into the line with Elesa and all their Pokémon (it’s clear in the background that they’re in one of the conference rooms of the Nimbasa Gym to get everyone into the shot).

Ingo ends up recovering a lot faster now. Talking over things with Emmet or Elesa or Drayden or just about anyone in his past life makes it solid, gives him a ring to hang on to, and he gets back on track. He’s still forgetful sometimes, but he doesn’t feel like he’s lost everything precious anymore. Because Ingo doesn’t have an Arc Phone (they’re still unsure how it happens to him, but some of the international police, who have experience with missing memories, suggest Ultra Wormholes), they just have Ingo and Hikari be a relative hunting pair. Ingo enjoys talking about his memories with anyone just to make them more whole, but Dawn is the only one who understands. Dawn is relieved to have an adult just… understand and be there to help her (she’s been through a ton for her age and she’s def cried to Ingo about how her “pokemon adventure” has turned out). They’re also trying to avoid a space-time paradox what with their future knowledge.

Hisui falls in line with Sinnoh time, but Unova is many time zones away. A nearly 12 hour time difference. Ingo doesn’t care. He’s always been an early riser, so he calls in the wee hours of the morning, when it’s dinner time in Nimbasa, and he shares breakfast while they eat dinner and talks for at least an hour. He promises to be prompt the next day, and it no longer feels so far away, his home.

Dawn always checks in with her mom and everyone in the later evening. Her mom is one call, Barry and Lucas another, League messages and specific requests from Cynthia and Various Professors to document the past and see about bringing some DNA samples back to the future (fossil resurrection is a very common thing after all). She’s almost begging Cylene and Komodo to give her other work so she can say she’s busy not screwing up the timeline.

When a plan is in place to get them back to the future - Professor Oak mentions his own adventure with Celebi and believes she’ll be easiest to find and convince to help - Ingo and Dawn take their time thanking everyone and getting to say good bye. It seems rather bittersweet going home…

But Rei follows them.

Rei, who has always had a sharp eye for these things, points out what he’s learned about the Strange Device that Akari has and that he’s heard her arguing with no one a few times in her lodgings (she blushes at the implication of how loud she was). Deciding Fuck It Being Here Has Already Fucked The Timeline, she plops the phone in Rei’s hands just as Celebi arrives at their pick up point. She explains that the phone must always be kept on him and, if it starts ringing, click the green button. She disappears with Celebi, leaving Rei confused.

Rei uses the phone over the next day, just trying to figure more out. He catches onto the photography feature immediately, realizing why Laventon loves pictures so much. It’s such a great way to document things.

And then, almost exactly 24 hours after Hikari and Ingo left with a strange Pokémon, the phone rings.

Rei hesitantly answers.

Dawn is there with Ingo. They’re in a strange room with strange people and Pokémon, but it’s like looking into a little window to another world.

(It is, in a way).

Dawn explains what’s going on and, after swearing Rei not to totally spill the beans (they approve a list of people that could know - The Professor, the Clan Leaders, maybe Cylene in time) they catch up on all that’s happened. The man who refuses to get his feet off Ingo’s lap is Emmet, his (annoying) twin brother, that’s Dawn’s excitable best friend Barry and her newfound cousin Lucas, her mom, Ingo’s best friend Elesa, and SO MANY Pokémon in the background. When Rei asks, Lucas has to shut Dawn up from revealing too much about the future.

Rei swears to try to keep out of Hisui history via the Internet, but he does look up more ‘modern’ stories and discoveries. In turn, Rei goes across the region and beyond to explore his own world. Dawn and Ingo learn how the modern world works once more.

So yeah. The Arc Phone Has Internet AU.

[legendaryrooftopscene]

well, i thought about a seanwhite and gramblack Color Rush AU and i'm going to make it everyone else's problem.

Black and White's names are even more fitting in this world, because they're both Monos

As if being twins wasn't enough, as if the empathy link wasn't enough, they're also Monos and this makes things much more painful for them in childhood

Black makes White promise that neither of them will find their Probes, and if they do, their bond will always come first

Just like the twin that hurt too much to speak of in Russia, White never tells anyone he's a Mono

On his return to Thailand, things go as they do in canon and he decides to impersonate Black and infiltrate the gang

Todd gave him background on the members of the gang but neglected to mention one very important fact:

Gram is Black's Probe

When Gram throws an arm around White in the university, he also has a hand at his back to catch him in a faint

"Weird," Gram comments, poking White's cheek. "You didn't Color Rush much at all. It's been a couple days since I saw you. There's usually some kind of reaction."

White tries very hard not to have a panic attack and adds "learn how to fake a Color Rush" to his list of things he has to keep track of

Later, at the garage, Sean pulls White close to him by the back the neck, bringing his arm back to throw a punch, but he never gets the chance, because colors like he's never seen spin through White's eyes, and he collapses in Sean's arms

Baffled, Sean carries White down to the main floor and calls for Gumpa.

"Can a Mono's Probe change?" he asks. "Black just Rushed for me."

Sean is confused and feels weirdly protective of Black now. If he's really Black's Probe (he can't be, it's always been Gram) then he's responsible for allowing Black to see all the colors of the world

He hates the idea

He hates that he doesn't completely hate the idea as the days pass and this new version of Black looks at him with wonder and awe after every Color Rush

He hates that he loves explaining the differences between different colors and Black's hushed whispers repeating each new color

He loves to let Black kiss him till their lips are red, suck blue bruises into his skin, and let Black name the colors they create together

Gram, on the other hand.... Gram is fucking heartbroken

The best part of his life was being Black's Probe

And now Sean's stolen that from him

Worse, it seems that Black doesn't even care. All he cares about his new Probe, the colors Sean introduces him to

(Colors Gram had already explained to Black before)

(Colors that meant something to the both of them, but now meant more to Black when they came from Sean)

He feels like the world is off-kilter until the moment Black walks in on him and Eugene hugging and locks eyes with Gram. The indifference melts away and the Color Rush starts and Gram rushes to catch Black's crumpling form and he thinks "it's better. It's finally better."

Meanwhile, Sean figures out the truth quicker, after Black doesn't Rush for him when they meet at the bridge. His eyes are wrong, his words are wrong, his kiss is wrong.

Then he gets saved by the boy who broke his heart and when he finally looks Sean in the face after tending to his bullet wound, the colors are there in his eyes and Sean breathes for the first time all day.

All this time, Black had felt like a different person to him because he was a different person. The person he fell in love with was identical to Black, but someone else entirely. Someone special to him. Someone he was special to. And he would always be able to tell the difference. All he needed to do was look for the colors in his eyes.

[onyxbird]

There's No Such Thing as a Free Lunch (But Sometimes It's My Treat)

Summary: It was clearly labeled as his, and it probably wasn't poison. …Eh, Martin had better things to do than worry about the provenance of free food.

Someone has started leaving packed lunches for Martin, and he's not sure who or why. The food is certainly good, though. Five times the mysterious lunches appear, and one time he actually talks to his benefactor. (Lethal Weapon (2016), AO3 link for fic)

1. Monday

When the first brown paper bag appeared on Martin's desk, he was a little puzzled. Still, they'd been running flat-out on this case since 9 am, so unless it was literally a bomb or a severed hand or something, he really did not have the energy to care.

It was a sandwich.

Two sandwiches, actually, and a little bag of dried apricots.

He stared blankly at the ziploc bag in his hand for a long moment. He picked up the paper bag again to check for any indication of who it belonged to: “Martin.”

…The bag definitely hadn't been there when he stopped at his desk this morning, so it wasn't that he'd dissociated so hard over the weekend that he'd grocery shopped and packed a lunch without remembering. Besides, that wasn't his handwriting.

“Finally decided to upgrade from vending machine fare?” Cahill's voice sounded amused, but she wore a decidedly pleased smile. Hmm. She was surprised, so this wasn't some weirdly direct new therapy strategy, then. She didn't need to know he had no idea what was going on.

He considered the sandwich again as Cahill walked on.

It was clearly labeled as his, and it probably wasn't poison. …Eh, he had better things to do than worry about the provenance of free food.

The sandwiches were peanut butter and jelly, and Martin did not die.

2. Tuesday

Another bag was sitting on his desk when he arrived the next morning.

It contained almonds, grapes, a container of cheese, pepperoni, and crackers, and a brownie.

Martin glanced around the room, but no one seemed to be paying any attention. His name was clearly written on this one, too.

He ate the brownie and saved the rest for lunch.

3. Wednesday

He was vaguely disappointed when there was no bag on his desk the next morning.

Tracking down leads for the latest case took the entire morning and more. By the time they made it back to the station, it was almost 2 pm, and Roger had been moaning about how hungry he was for over an hour.

There was still no bag on his desk.

He wasn't really even sure why he was so disappointed. The lunch-bag fairy was apparently a two-day only deal, but that was better than he had any reason to expect.

He grabbed a few items from the vending machine, as per usual, and tried to forget about yesterday's brownie.

…

The station was nearly deserted when he ducked into the breakroom one last time before leaving, but Martin wasn't quite the last hold-out plugging away at the case—Scorsese was sitting at the table, his head propped on one hand and an energy-drink can in the other, looking like a zombie.

He frowned blearily as Martin plugged his coins into the vending machine and tried to decide between cheese puffs and M&Ms. Or both. This was his dinner, after all.

“…Did you forget you left your lunch in the fridge?”

Martin's nearly-made decision evaporated from his brain. “Huh?”

“Your lunch,” said Scorsese. “It's still in the fridge.”

The fact that Martin hadn't brought a lunch was on the tip of his tongue, but…

He opened the fridge. Sure enough, a brown bag labeled “Martin” sat on the middle shelf. A peek inside revealed another two sandwiches and bag of carrot sticks.

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problem,” said Scorsese. He chugged the remainder of his energy drink.

Martin headed towards the door.

“Your money's still in the vending machine,” noted Scorsese.

Martin flashed him a crooked smile. “Right.” He punched the buttons for the M&Ms, and snagged them out of the dispenser. “Guess I'd better get out of here before I forget where I left my head.”

Scorsese snorted. “Yeah. Me, too.”

4. Thursday

There was, again, no bag on Martin's desk the next morning, but there was one in the fridge.

He delved into it eagerly while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

Turkey sandwiches today, with tomato, avocado, and plenty of mustard. More carrot sticks, and a lemon bar.

The case sucked, but a bad day with a lemon bar was certainly an improvement over a bad day without one.

5. Friday

The bag was on his desk again, and the first thing he pulled out was a thermos.

Martin pondered it with some concern. All of the wrappings previously had been disposable.

He supposed if the lunch-bag fairy was able to access his desk to leave lunches, they must also be able to get in and retrieve stuff (which, in hindsight, he probably should have reported to Avery by now), but… was he intended to wash it? And when did they come? It was almost the weekend.

He set the thermos down and continued his exploration. Crackers, some cherry tomatoes, another lemon bar, and a note.

“Since my husband is clearly not going to remember to ask you: Please come join me for coffee [a note scribbled in the margin added 'and coffee cake'] tomorrow (Saturday) morning. Recently got a 'Texas chili' recipe that I'd like to pick your brain about. Anytime after 9am is fine. –Trish (P.S. Bring the thermos with you.)”

+1 Saturday

Martin sheepishly knocked on the Murtaughs' door at 9 am, thermos in hand. Trish welcomed him in with a smile, reclaiming the thermos and pointing him to a seat. Roger and the teens were out for the day, she explained.

It took Martin no more than halfway through his first, generous slice of rich cinnamon coffee cake to dissect all the ways in which the purported “Texas” chili recipe was anything but. (“Barely even qualifies as 'chili,'” he grumbled, eliciting a snort of laughter from Trish.)

It took a few more bites to finally dredge up the will to broach the other topic on his mind. His eyes stayed on the surface of the coffee in his mug, as if it were likely to do something dangerous if left unsupervised. “So you're the one who's been leaving lunch for me all week?”

There was a pause.

“Well, I sent it in with Roger. …What did he say when he gave it to you?”

Martin hesitated.

“Martin.” Trish's face brooked no argument.

“Well… he didn't exactly say anything. I just found it on my desk. Or in the fridge.”

Trish dropped her face into her hand. “I swear I am going to kill that man someday.” She pointed a finger at Martin. “That is a figure of speech, and not an admission of guilt.”

By the time Martin left in mid-afternoon, he'd been drafted as a prep cook to assist with multiple batches of meals to stock the freezer, fueled by helping to polish off several of the remaining lemon bars.

He also had another coffee date with Trish scheduled for the next week.

As price for a week's worth of lunches went, he was definitely coming out ahead.

[jackrrabbit]

open season thirsts [3/?] /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Request: my darling sara dm’d me this request for halloween-themed dabi creeping on poor innocent reader <3

@printhes ily for getting me to make a halloween playlist in fucking september. your mind unparalleled. this is just a drabble but i’ll consider continuing it for real halloween…

Tags/warnings: stalking, mentions of alcohol/drinking, drugging, angel costume ok ok

everything seems a little more spooky on halloween.

your mouth tastes like cranberry juice and white rum and bacardi breezers and you wonder if it stained your lips red. the halloween party you were at was fun, but you shouldn’t’ve had that fourth drink…and you shouldn’t’ve said you’d walk home alone. it’s cold. you didn’t bring a jacket because you thought it would ‘ruin the outfit’, or something—and hey, 5-hours-ago-you has a point. this year you decided you were going to be an angel for halloween, and you don’t own anything that fits over the wings.

still. damn it, why didn’t you bring something to change into? sure, you’re probably not the only pretty girl stumbling down the sidewalk in a too-short costume and too-high heels past midnight on october 31st, but the stretch of pavement you’re walking down is weirdly deserted. no fellow post-party walk-of-shamers, no random teens in ribcage t-shirts smoking in huddles, not even the perpetual annoying men who seem to think yelling about your tits as you pass by should be taken as a compliment.

you don’t know this area of the city well—you took the bus here, and by the time you left the party the buses weren’t running anymore. according to google maps your place is less than a mile away, but everything around here looks unfamiliar. chain link fences, brick walls, rows of iron grating covering closed storefronts. you pass a club you’ve never heard of and hear a snatch of the music pumping from inside—‘this is halloween’, the marilyn manson version. so stereotypical...the clubs have to stick to the theme, right? they played this song at your friend’s party too, and now it’s going to be stuck in your head for weeks.

but the music’s fading into the background now, and the only thing you can hear is the clickclickclick of your shoes against the concrete and the buzzing of the streetlights overhead. mist is hanging low and thick in the air, seeping through the thin satin of your slip and lifting cold sweat onto your skin. the dark feels darker than usual. you check your phone for the dozenth time since you started walking…

no signal.

that’s weird, isn’t it? the neighborhood you’re passing through has gotten steadily more residential than urban, but it’s not like you’re in the middle of nowhere. you stop dead, hold up your phone and turn in a tight circle, trying to coax out a few bars of data.

nothing. damn it. well, you know you have to keep walking in this direction for a while. hopefully if you go far enough, you’ll get somewhere you recognize. you take a step forward, making for the next orange halo from the streetlight at the end of the block.

god, it’s so quiet. shouldn’t there be—like, a dog barking or something? a couple yelling at each other, crappy teen music from a house party, some kids snickering to each other while they TP their principal’s house—something. it’s halloween, for fuck’s sake. it shouldn’t be this quiet. it’s making you imagine things…

…like another set of footsteps behind yours.

click. the heel of your strappy white pump hits the sidewalk. click. you take another step. thud.

you’re imagining things. you stop in your tracks again and twist around to look behind you. there’s no one there, just the blue-black expanse of sidewalk disappearing between the trees. you’re just imagining it.

you start humming. just to have something to listen to that isn’t your shoes and your own nervous breath. as predicted, that fucking song is stuck in your head, so you start murmuring the lyrics quietly.

“come with us and you will see—“

keep going. keep walking. the house next to you is decorated like a 9-year-old’s halloween fantasy—big inflatable jack-o-lanterns lit from the inside, plastic bats hung on strings over the stairs, cotton batting stretched out to look like cobwebs. there’s even a hunched-over witch mannequin sitting on the porch swing with an empty bowl in its hands, the kind of thing you’re sure would bust out a terrifying animatronic cackle if a kid got too close. the next house has foam gravestones sticking out of the yard. the next house has gigantic purple-striped stuffed spiders twined into the trees near the entrance, and the next house—

“—scream in the dead of night—“

the light overhead flickers.

someone’s behind you.

you heard it for sure this time. footsteps, not yours. and the sound of someone flicking a lighter on. you’re not sure why that knowledge makes you shiver—weren’t you wondering why the hell no one else was on this street just a few minutes ago?—but you pick up the pace, almost skipping in the direction of the next light down the block.

don’t look back, you think. maybe you’re still imagining it, maybe the atmosphere is getting to you and you’re nervous for no reason. keep singing. “—everybody’s—everybody’s waiting for the next surprise—“

someone laughs—low, a man, mocking—but don’t think about that. your heart is beating like crazy, fuck, you’re an idiot, who walks home alone on halloween while dressed like the sluttiest angel since lucifer? damn it—your little white slip is riding up on your thighs and you smooth it down with cold damp palms. you can’t run in these shoes, not really, but you want to. he’s probably just passing by. he probably thinks you’re an idiot for running away. you’re being really rude, it’s really—you’re panting—

you hit the circle of light and the rush of adrenaline from being able to see around you makes you pause, turn involuntarily behind you to look for him. but once again, there’s nothing there. maybe you really were dreaming it up. maybe you’re too tired or you’re drunk or maybe you’re losing it.

either way, it’s time to call a damn uber. no more walking in the dark in a nightdress and fluffy white wings. you shrug your phone back out of your purse to check if you have signal yet—one bar, but the map isn’t loading. it feels quiet again and you realized you must’ve stopped singing so you pick up where you left off while you twist around again seeking a better connection. “something’s coming…no, what is it? something’s waiting now to pounce and how you’ll—“

“scream?”

weight on your shoulders. you whip toward the yellow streetlight and he’s in front of it. he’s dressed up, you think dazedly, he’s dressed up for halloween—dark eyes dark hair all those piercings and his face—but then your brain catches up and you try, you try to scream, except a hand is folding something over your mouth and pinching your nose shut and he’s squeezing around the grip you have on your phone until the pain is unbearable and you have to drop it—

you hear it hit the ground. your phone. it probably cracked. but you can’t look, can’t check, can’t bend down. how are you supposed to? a man, a man has you, he has you. the cigarette hanging out of his mouth glows blue and then a cloud of bitter smoke hisses out into your eyes.

his face. god, that has to be a costume, it has to. you need to breathe but he’s holding a damp rag over your mouth like some movie villain but you need to breathe. you shove a fist into the hard muscle of his torso and nothing happens. could you kick him? your legs feel shaky.

you make a whimpering sound and the corner of his mouth curls up into a smile. “are you trying to fight?”

your lungs are screaming. you need oxygen, your head is starting to spin. air rushes into your lungs before you even realize you’ve taken a breath and it tastes wet and warm and sickly sweet. he adjusts his grip so he’s holding you more securely, ready to lift you up when you fall. feels warm against him. you’re already getting dizzy but you shake your head, push weakly against the dark fabric of his shirt.

“save your strength, angel,” he laughs softly. one of those horribly scarred hands cups the side of your face where you’re staring up at him and he pinches your cheek. “…you’re gonna need it.”

[no-droids]

Promise Me (It’s Yours)

Part Eleven of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: OMFG might be the first chapter of rough day to not need any warnings, can you believe it?? I mean of course there’s language, a splash of smut, and just the briefest reference to suicide, but pretty PG-13 this time my guys I apologize

A/N: I’m sorry I know people show up for the smut but I was feeling soft in this Taco Bell parking lot so here this is, I hope y’all like it.  I guarantee none of the math is correct but please go with it

***

You jerk awake to the sound of whimpers.

It’s late.  The bonfire is nothing more than glowing coals, and your back is resting against a scratchy log instead of a long, comfortable chest.  You blink rapidly, trying to figure out where that noise is comi—

The kid.  Fussy in his crib, his gasps starting to turn into quiet sobs.

“Hey,” you murmur, aiming for soft and comforting, but the sleep sits right in the middle of your vocal cords and splits your voice in half, making you sound like an exhausted demon.  Weirdly enough, it seems to chill him out (did a demon actually teach him how to choke people without touching them?) and you sit up to blearily look around.  Where’s Din?  “Where’s—” you rub your eyes and squint around once more, “—where’d your dad go, bug?”

The clearing is bare.  The field is, too—no path, excluding the one you three made on the hike here.  Nothing in the distant forest, and the black duffel bag sits somewhere near your feet.

Alright, no worries, maybe he just… went to take a leak or something.  Really… oddly far away.  That’s fine.  Sometimes humans have to do that—maybe he has a.  A shy bladder.  Or something.  You’re totally fine.  The kid blinks back at you through equally tired eyes, his head tilting as he seems to be taking cues from you right now in the absence of his father.  You both should just try to go back to sleep…

Or you can wait up for him.  That sounds like a better plan.  Don’t panic, just trust him.  Give him the benefit of the doubt, it’s the least you can do.

You take a second to look around again, still coming up empty.  It’s dark out, but the moon is suspended high in the sky.  The fire doesn’t even give off much light anymore, just dying embers.  Your eyes scan the ground again, catching on the black bag at your feet.

Was that there when you went to sleep?  No, the last person who had it was Din, and he was sitting over there, in front of the boulder behind the kid’s shield.

You blink down at the stationary bag for a few more seconds, studying it like it’ll spill all of its secrets if you glare hard enough, but then something sparks in your memory.  Something odd, something you only noticed for a second last night.  There was a red light that reflected off Din’s helmet when he reached into the bag for food earlier, wasn’t there?

You think back on it, try to isolate the hazy memory.  If it was a laser sight, you would’ve recognized the bright beam and panicked, but you didn’t.  It was unfocused, dim.  Flashing.

Had… had Din brought a tracking fob with him from the Crest?  But why?

Maker, it’s like your mind knows it should speed up but it’s still too stupid to actually do it.  You should… you should check the bag, right?  Just in case… you don’t know.  You’re being ridiculous.

You reach out to catch the dark bag nonetheless and then unzip it, rifling through it for a particular item you figure should be in here somewhere.  Food, food, more food…

Somewhere…

—It’s not here.  No tracking fob here.  No red light to be seen of.

Had you been imagining it?

No, you determine after a second.  No, because you remember thinking it was odd—you specifically noticed it, clearly recognized it but didn’t contemplate too much into it at the time.

Alright, no worries, maybe he… maybe he went on a quick little hunt while you were both sleeping.  He must’ve gone back to the ship to grab his armor and guns and then set off.  That’s fine, there’s more food in the bag.  He said he’d be here when you woke up, which most likely means morning.  Right?

Cool.  Cool cool cool, you can wait until morning.  You can just settle back down against the log right here and find a comfortable position—there we go—and just wait for the sunrise, wait for the inevitable return of your missing party member.  Party leader, arguably.  He’ll come back, he always does.

Your body begins to relax, even though something still seems… strange about this.  Like there’s something important you’re still missing.

… The field is bare.

You instantly sit up and turn back to study it in the moonlight, study the single path you left on your way here.  You remember hiking at least… a grand total of two hours to get here from the Crest, maybe?  Granted, you took quite the detour, but that just means he would’ve carved a distinct, new path on his way back—

Would he… would he really go on a hunt without going back to the ship first?  Would Mando truly venture out—without telling you—to go collect a quarry without any weapon on him whatsoever?  Any piece of armor besides a helmet?

Does that seem right to you?

Fuck, you suddenly feel wide awake, and the baby starts gasping out troubled cries again.  You push yourself up to your feet and stumble around the dying flames to go comfort him, dropping to your knees next to the reflective sphere.  Your head stays on a constant swivel as you quiet him, brushing the pad of your thumb along his wrinkled forehead and shushing him as you keep looking out at the breezy field of grass, trying to see if you missed anything.  

Fuck, maybe you’re just overreacting.  What direction is the ship?  Which way did you…?  You think back, trying to piece together limited information of what you can remember about today.  Glancing back down at the log you slept on and then the path leading away from the clearing, rapidfire calculations start going off in your head.  No, you realize after a second of frantic thought—no, the sun would’ve—if you walked…

Eventually, you’re able to pinpoint a general idea of where the ship should be, and if you’re right, then he definitely would’ve left a new path to get back to it.  You don’t like this.  It’s out of character for him.  It sits too weird with you, and the kid rarely starts crying unless something is bothering him.

Alright, alright, don’t panic.  Din is a professional.  He must’ve left on purpose—you would’ve woken up if there was any sort of struggle, or even just an exchange.  Odds are, he grabbed the tracking fob and just… went to go get the quarry.  

Without waking you.  Without telling you.  Without bringing anything else with him.  No armor.  No guns.  Just the fob.

Some strange sense of dread begins to fill you, one that feels all the worse when there’s no clear explanation for it.  You won’t pretend like you’re an expert, but to a Mandalorian, that seems like it could be considered suicidal, wouldn’t it?  What reason would he have to do this?

The field continues to wave, undisturbed, in all surrounding directions except one.  You look over at the clearing leading to the dark forest, the treetops too thick to let anything but traces of crystal moonlight through.  If he left… he’ll have gone that way.  The only direction that wouldn’t leave a path.

Okay.  So there's a decision that needs to be made.  You can either stay here, in the middle of this wide open field until the sun comes up, and hopefully he comes back by then.  Or… you could.  Go check if something went wrong.

The forest is gorgeous from here, you can see that.  Thick treetops, drifting gently in the breeze, steady and quiet and picturesque.  Admittedly, you can also see a haunting, looming nightmare of darkness warning you to stay away from whatever it’s hiding.  This is an unfamiliar planet.  You know it’s safe, this is the most isolated sector and Din said practically no crime happens here, but.  He also said he’d be here when you woke up.

Hang on, wait.  Something catches in your peripheral.  There—right on the other side of the kid’s crib, you see—

A glove.

… He left the glove.  Whether on purpose or by accident, Din left his glove.  The one connected to the vambrace, the one that houses all his controls.  

The one that houses the comm link.

The piece of armor is already in your trembling fingers before you realize you even went to grab it.  Anxiety, stress, dread—you don’t know which weighs on you heavier while you slowly rotate it in your hands, trying to understand what’s happening right now.  He left his emergency communicator.  The only chance you have at contacting him unless he decides to come back.

Panic suddenly constricts in your chest, and you make your decision blindly.  The kid continues to squeak out little whimpers as your arm sinks down into the leather and you pull the gauntlet up almost to your elbow, flexing your fingers inside the fabric and feeling your heart beating in your throat.  The controls are fairly basic, it doesn’t take much time to figure out which button he synced with the hovering sphere, which command he uses to lock the two locations together.

“Chill out, kiddo,” you whisper, doing your best to calm your own raging uncertainty.  Conviction is key, you think.  You made your decision.  Not wanting to waste any more time in case something went awry, you sling the bag over your shoulder and set off in the direction of the trees, feeling… woefully underprepared for whatever may potentially face you.

The forest is quiet as you finally make your way past the first few trees marking its beginning, or end, and you need a second to blink and adjust your vision.  It’s dark—if you thought it was dark when you awoke, it’s nothing compared to this.  The treetops are thick and barely allow any moonlight to pass through their dense leaves whatsoever, just bits and pieces scattered here or there.  There’s no path, no trail, just nature.  Fallen logs, moss, rock and boulder formations you have to avoid.

You shush your agitated ward again, wanting to control yourself because you’re getting the kid worked up into baby battle mode with no visible threats to see.  He reads energies—he’s capable when he wants to be, when he deems the situation fit.  Right now he’s quieted somewhat but he’s still on high alert, recycling your inner panic outwards until you feel the air shifting around you, an… unexplainable phenomena you can’t even describe properly.

Well, you figure.  If anything, he’s far more dangerous than any weapon Din typically carries with him.  You tend to forget, most of the time.  He’s never hurt you, no matter how boisterous the tantrums sometimes are, and you find yourself very rarely thinking of him as anything other than an innocent, helpless baby you’re tasked with protecting.  Though it appears that most of the time, he’s been the one protecting you.

What are you saying?  There’s no need for protection right now, you’re simply searching for your absent ally.  You’re not being brave—no matter how quickly your heart is beating or how much your hands are sweating, you’re not being brave because bravery implies facing something you fear.  You have nothing to fear, it’s nothing more than an abandoned forest.  A backdrop for your endeavor.

Though… though now that you think about it, this setting looks eerily similar to one you’ll have seared into your memory forever.  The forest on Corellia.

You will the thought away with a frantic shake of your head.  Naboo is safe, Naboo is safe—it’s not like Corellia.  It’s not crawling with people desperate for food and credits, desperate enough to resort to kidnapping and slave trade.  Naboo will economically prosper no matter what threat befalls the galaxy, its industry comes from tourism and resorting.

You stop for a second, needing a breather.  Just for a second.  You haven’t been walking more than fifteen minutes but the terrain makes your feet hurt.  Sure, there are clearings between trees and the ground isn’t complete overflowing with obstacles, but they’re still present.  The scattered rocks dig in under your shoes and some of the bushes you pass by have sharp leaves or thorns—but it’s the sprawling root systems that prove to be the worst.  They crawl across the ground like they can’t decide whether they want to be part of it or not, and more than once you stub your toe on a hidden tube arching a few inches out of the mossy soil.

A part of you almost has to remind yourself that you’re here because you’re looking for somebody, rather than being trapped here trying to evade something.  The adrenaline and fear are starting to get the best of you, make you too antsy, warp your senses.  You’re deep in the forest now, but not enough to feel the wind disappear yet—you can still hear it rattling around above you, leaves slapping against each other, branches creaking as they tower over you.  You almost wish it were quiet.  You don’t feel comforted by the breeze anymore, it doesn’t feel like an ever present reassurance as much as it does a burden that masks the noises you could otherwise be hearing.  The snapping of twigs that could potentially be there.  The crunching of leaves under feet that aren’t your own.

So.  You should probably admit now that this was actually a horrendous idea.  Because you’re fucking stupid for not realizing this earlier, but.  Din ventured into this hellscape to find a quarry, did he not?

A… wanted criminal.

Shit.  What the fuck.  That’s a hell of a fucking thing to register this late, isn’t it?

You can turn around, you figure.  You can turn around right now and head back to the campsite—actually, that sounds like a great idea.  You should do that.

You spin around and begin retracing your steps… which, you figure out about five minutes later, is an impossible feat.  None of your surroundings look familiar—or shit, maybe it all looks familiar.  Like… trees.  And fucking rocks.  Trying to distinguish landmarks is almost impossible now, and there’s no way to tell which direction you’re going with no visibility overhead, no celestial body to guide you.

You don’t immediately panic, not until you (quite literally) stumble upon a small stream of water flowing through some stones under your feet.

Well, okay.  That’s not good.  Okay, well, no, you suppose that could be good.  It’s water—it’s a landmark, sure, the tiniest little landmark you've ever seen, but that’s exactly the problem.  You’ve never seen it before.  Which means you’re most definitely not going in the right direction.

At this point, the only option you have is to turn around again.  Maybe you can unintentionally make the same series of stupid mistakes once more to start you right at the beginning.  The kid is still glancing around in his cradle, making sure no harm comes to your useless ass, but then you freeze when you begin to hear something in the distance.  

It’s an unfamiliar sound—a deafening one, even from this far away.  Long and echoing, a giant chorus of… something.  Something you’ve never heard before, something you can’t place.

Your heart is thundering as you walk closer to the source of it, moving slowly and cautiously forwards and having no clue what it could possibly be.  It doesn’t seem to amplify much as you travel closer, which means it must be a ways away still.  It’s terrifying nonetheless—the anticipation, how sweaty your hands are, the way you’re very aware of the muscles in your stomach for some reason.

The baby coos softly at your side, but the suddenness of the gentle noise nearly makes you jump out of your skin.  You gasp and look down at him for the first time in what feels like ages, clutching at your chest, but then—

—then footsteps rush you from behind and something grabs at your shirt.

You react completely on instinct, your body nearly throbbing with adrenaline as you whip around and launch a mean jab aimed at the dark silhouette behind you.  It slams directly into his solar plexus hard enough to bend him in half and ripple through your whole arm with the blowback.  Your other fist pulls back and instantly goes for him again, but he just barely manages to jerk his arm up and block it in time—

And thank the Maker he does.  Because you were just an inch shy from colliding your knuckles against the side of his head in your wild stage of panic.  The one currently covered in devastatingly strong, shiny metal, the helmet just barely visible in the dark forest.

It’s like it doesn’t even register with you—you’re already going to hit him again when Din’s hand hooks around your arm and he yanks you forwards.  Your body slams into his and then he’s wrapping himself around you and holding suffocatingly tight.  Everything inside you still wants to struggle against him, gasping into his shoulder as your heart continues to gallop with terror no matter what your logic tells you.  But he holds harder than steel and the sound of his voice eventually returns to you after a moment, repeating harsh words at you through a familiar vocal filter.

“—me, it’s me, it’s me, I’m right here, stop it, stop it, stop—”

You blink desperately against black fabric, letting the familiar scent, touch, and embrace bring you back down again.  He’s so solid—has such a strong hold on you, absolutely no give to be found, and the devastatingly tight embrace manages to quickly settle you.

But he doesn’t wait long.  As soon as you stop fighting him, he releases you in favor of grabbing your shoulders and shoving you out at arm’s length, frantically jerking the helmet up and down your body and twisting you back and forth while he looks.  Your arms dangle with the inspection and you readily let him move you around like a rag doll, not having enough sense to register anything beyond safe.  You’re safe.  Everything seems to exist in a box right now, far away and yet compact at the same time.  The visor snaps back up to your face and you blink dazedly up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately tell him, voice pitched high and awkward, “woah, hah—whew, ahah—I’m sorry, I-I’m just—“

His fingers hook at your chin and he pulls it up, tilting your head back and forth, allowing the small patch of moonlight beaming through the treetops to catch the water in your eyes.  It glints in shameless betrayal, and you try unsuccessfully to blink it away despite the damage already being done.  Din drops his arm and you lower your chin without the platform propping it up.

“You just—you just—” you gasp out, delayed relief suddenly filling you and making your voice wobble dangerously, “—y-you went on a hunt but you left your armor.  You left your guns, you left everything.  I didn’t know—what could’ve happened, I—why’d you do that?  W-Why—why didn’t you t-tell m—”

He wraps his hand behind your head and pulls you into his chest once more, not saying a single word.  This hug is just as tight as before, just in a different way.  He still uses it as a way to calm you and it still squeezes the air from your body, but this one doesn’t feel like it’s entirely for your benefit anymore.

It takes you a few more seconds to realize his hands are trembling.

You go to pull back, but he tightens, anchoring you to him.  “What’s—” you gasp against the fabric covering his shoulder, “—what’s wrong?  Are you okay?  Where’s the quarry?  What’s—what’s making that sound?  Are we safe?”

Din takes slow, shallow breaths, and you hear it almost too well with your ear shoved against his body.  Little by little, he loosens his grip on you.  Both of you are still panting by the time you’re able to wrench back and look up at him.

Bare, shaky hands push your hair back away from your face, eventually coming to rest framing both of your cheeks.  They’re warm and strong where his fingers wrap around the bend of your jaw, securing you in place, and when he speaks, he sounds like he’s been through hell and back.

“Don’t ever,” Din whispers brokenly, tugging a little bit to make sure you’re listening.  “Don’t ever—ever run away from me like that.  Ever again.  Understand?”

You stare up at him, wide-eyed and dumb, unmoving.  Is that what he thinks?  That you were trying to… to run away from him?

“I—I wasn’t running,” you immediately stutter out, blinking rapidly at him and trying not to let the confusion show on your face.  “I’d never run—I-I told you I wouldn’t—” 

“I came back and you were gone,” he breathes, his quivering thumbs brushing along the height of your cheekbones.  “I—my kid, he was gone, everything was gone, I-I…”  The helmet shakes back and forth the slightest bit, and then he drops his grip to clamp down on your shoulders, clearing the fragile turmoil from his throat and hardening his tone.  “Listen, you can’t do that—you can’t take my kid and just… just disappear like that, please, promise me you won’t do that agai—”

“You disappeared,” you accuse with a whisper, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you.

“Promise me,” he urges, shaking you enough to make your head bobble just slightly, and the quiet plead of his voice through the modulator compels you to acquiesce without a second thought.

“I promise I won’t disappear,” you vow to him, unwavering and earnest.  “Now promise you won’t, either.”

Din stares at you for a moment, his body tense and completely stationary.  He’s still breathing heavy though, his chest rising and falling hard enough for you to count.  One, two, three…   Seven.  Seven whole breaths, before he finally responds.

“I promise,” he eventually declares, before taking a step forward and crowding you, pulling your shoulders in and slowly tilting his helmet down until it rests against your forehead.  The cool metal feels like ice on your burning skin—but you ignore it and allow him to get as close as he can possibly be, to hold you tight and keep you there.  “I promise,” he goes on, “that if you ever—that if something ever happens to you two, and you just… just vanish on me like that again—then I’d—I’d…”

And then his next words steal the air from your lungs, wipe your head clear of any thoughts whatsoever—the hushed, vehement sincerity in his voice.  Yet… calm.  Certain, composed, and with purpose.  Almost as if he could only get you to understand one thing, then he would want it to be this.

“Then I’d tear this whole galaxy apart to find you,” he tells you quietly, tightening his hands on your arms and swearing an oath to you.  “Both.  Both of you.  I’d—I’d never stop.  I’d rain hell.  Tell me you understand.”

“I… I understand,” you finally murmur, and Din quickly pulls you to his chest and wraps himself around you once more without another word.  His fingers tangle in your hair and encourage you to rest your face in the crook of his neck, so you do.  Even though his helmet jabs uncomfortably at your cheek like this, you do your best to just settle down and breathe him in, bring your hands up to rub at his back and wait for his heart rate to slow.

Eventually it does.  It seems like it takes ages, but eventually he's able to unwind his large stature from around you, letting you have a bit more of your own space.  He doesn’t take his hands off you, though—his palm drags down your elbow and catches your bare hand in his, gently tugging.

“Let’s go,” he says quietly, beginning to lead you… somewhere.  Probably out of the forest and back to the ship, but you don’t question it and completely forget about the low rumbling still echoing in the distance.  You follow directly behind him and away from the mysterious sound, the fingers of your right hand still laced with his left, knowing there are far more important questions to be asked.

“Din,” you whisper, but he doesn’t need anymore prompting.

“I thought I’d be quick enough,” he admits, pulling you along by your hand.  “It’s barely been a couple hours.”

You stay silent and focus on your feet, letting him go at his own pace.  More than once he plays bodyguard, standing in front of wickedly sharp branches while you and the kid pass, and there’s never anything said beyond a quiet ‘thank you’ every time he does it.

“I’ve…” he says after a while.  “I’ve been doing this job for awhile.  And there are things… things you learn.  Quick.  Ways to predict people, ways to get in their heads.  Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry.  Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people.  Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring.  But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists.  The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.  Watch your feet.”

You blink and stumble over a hidden root nonetheless, trying to keep up both physically and mentally.  Din tightens his grip and catches you by your elbow.

“This one was like you,” he goes on, pulling you up and leading you forward once more.  “Wasn’t trying to run.  Just wanted to spend his last few months hiding out on the most beautiful place in the galaxy before he got caught.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?  Why’d you go in the middle of the night?”  You whisper, not upset anymore.  Just trying to understand.  “You couldn’t have waited until morning?”  But Din just shrugs.

“I didn’t want to remind you.”  His sentence is short and stunted, yet serves to answer all three of your questions without providing any information beyond that, the unspoken sentiment barreling forth and smashing into you full force.  He didn’t want to remind you.  He wanted to leave while you were asleep and then return before you woke up, never letting you remember that responsibilities exist beyond this gorgeous planet for the time being.

You’re a bit shocked, to be honest.  In hindsight, though, you suppose it makes sense.  Din was the one who navigated to this sector, kept the bag out of your reach the whole day.  If the kid had decided to wake up just an hour or two later, he would’ve been back by then, and you would’ve never known any different.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, and a wave tiredness suddenly grips you.  Fuck.  Too much thinking.  “The quarry went willingly, they always do when their last wish is to chase down a pretty landscape.  Nice guy.  Found him camped out by a giant—”

Din suddenly goes oddly quiet, and you’re too exhausted to push it.  You’re starting to drag a little bit.  You woke up in blind panic and have been on edge ever since, and now that you know things are okay, your body just wants more sleep.  The trees blur as you keep moving forward, zoning out and knowing you likely have another few miles of walking before you’re back.

You almost trip over him.  You don’t even notice he’s there until you nearly run into him.  In your defense, the only visible part of him is his helmet; the clothing is too dark under the thick treetops to see anything else.  Still, it takes you a second, and you blink down at Din’s crouched figure in front of you, blocking your intended path.

“Up,” he turns to mutter over his shoulder when you ultimately fail to comprehend.

…There’s no way.

Hesitantly, you lift one of your knees to his side and feel his arm firmly hook under it.  Emboldened, you lean down until your forearm can wrap around the front of him, and then you do a stupid little bunny hop along the curve of his spine.  Din easily catches your other leg before rising up.

He bounces you higher on his back once he’s upright, and you’re automatically resting your chin on his shoulder and clinging to him, your heart filling with butterflies as he begins trudging forward.

It’s… oddly comfortable.  As long as you keep your arms wrapped tight around his chest, you can bury your face into him and drift in and out.  He goes out of his way to keep you as level as you can possibly be, trying to soften his steps so your jaw doesn’t bounce on top of him while he steps over fallen logs and ducks to avoid low hanging leaves.

Later—you’re not sure how long it’s been, his voice comes through the modulator, ringing with your ear pressed against the helmet no matter how quiet he tries to be.  

“How’d you know I went on a hunt?”  He asks, and there’s a soft reservation in his tone, as if he doesn’t really want to speak but needs to ask you anyways.

“Mmm?”  You slur into the fabric stretching over his shoulder, probably drooling on it a bit, too.  “Hmm?”

His voice increases marginally in volume, but still maintains a gentle undertone that lulls you into relaxing deeper.  “You knew I left to look for the quarry—how?”

“Fob,” you tell him tiredly, not having much energy to spare the words.  “Wasn’t in the bag.”

You’re too out of it at this point, it takes a moment to realize Din has abruptly slowed down.  “How’d you know there was a tracking—”

“You’re… reflective?”  You ask, though you don’t really know why you’re asking.  “S’to your detriment.  Sometimes.”

That seems to stun him somewhat, halting him in place for the time being.  The biggest response it gets from you is the tiniest little eyebrow twitch inwards, wondering why the steady movements of your transportation seems to have temporarily stalled.  “How’d you know I left my armor?”

“Hmm?”  You ask again, not really hearing him.

“Hey, stay awake for a second,” he bounces you and you groggily mutter something under your breath that even you can’t comprehend.  Din glosses over it while you blink your eyes open.  “Tell me how you knew.  You didn’t go back to the Crest.”

You drag your head off his shoulder and squint around, looking around at the edge of the forest and the flowing grass beyond and trying to think with your stupid, tired brain, really needing to focus on the question.  “…No?”

The curiosity in his voice can’t be masked, not by him nor the filter through which it’s processed.  “So how did you know I left my armor on it?”

“You would’ve left a trail,” you shrug. “The grass is tall.”

“I could’ve just taken the path we made earlier,” he eventually proposes, still completely motionless in the middle of the relatively sparse number of trees leading to it.  “Gone back to the ship exactly the way we came.”

“Y’could’ve,” you admit with a yawn. “But the ship is that way,” you lazily raise your arm and point a good fifty or so degrees to the left, and Din follows his own outstretched gauntlet you’re still sporting around your hand with the visor.

“I’m impressed,” he finally says, shifting you on his back but perfectly content to keep his feet rooted to the spot.  “I didn’t think you had a good sense of direction.  You know where the Crest is on this planet but not when we were on Canto Bight.”

You snort a laugh.  No, no you have no such thing—you got lost as fuck in this forest.  A good sense of direction counts as a solid survival skill, and you’d say you still very much lack most of those.  Besides pulling water out of thin air, you can’t claim to know much of anything at all in that department.

“Mmm.  No, that was just—“ you shake your head.  “Y’know, jus’ some… panicked?  Math?  That’s all.”

“Panicked…” Din repeats slowly, “…math.”

You nod, frustrated that he’s still not moving, clearly waiting for you to explain your rapid, chaotic thought process from earlier.  Still, you do your best for him, trying not to slur your words too much.  “We… walked towards the sun this morning to get to the field.  I remember, because your shiny ass was blinding me the entire time, what must’ve been like.  A whole fucking hour?  At least.  And… and then we walked a little less to get here, forty-five minutes probably, then me ‘n the kid watched the sunset leaning up against that one log, which was at a solid angle—little more than fifty degrees to the right from the path.  You could’ve retraced your steps from earlier if you really wanted to, but taking the shortcut would’ve shaved off about...” you snuggle your face into his shoulder deeper for a moment and think really hard about it.  “Thirty minutes?  Or an hour round trip.  Give or take, since the kid slowed us down.”

He still doesn’t move, and you huff quietly, feeling like you’re on top of a stubborn blurg that just can’t be fucking bothered.  Should you squeeze your legs around his middle?  Will that work?

“You… went on a hunt, sweet girl,” Din finally says, bluntly, after way too long of a pause.  He sounds vaguely impressed for reasons beyond that of your comprehension right now.  “In your own little… panicked way.  How does it feel?”

“Unsuccessful,” you breathe, burying your forehead into his shoulder once more and blinking your eyes shut.  Too much thinking, too much thinking.  You need to sleep.

“You were on the right track,” he hums, bouncing you up and setting off again, and you can’t help yourself.  It’s completely involuntary, tumbles out of your mouth without thought.

“Craziest bounty hunter in the guild,” you slur, and Din doesn’t give you even a shred of the laughs that deserves.

“I should make you walk just for that,” he threatens instead, though he does no such thing.  He just keeps leaning forward in a position that can’t be comfortable for him and lets you fall asleep on his back, holding you tight to his body as he finally breaks out of the last trees and continues hiking through the familiar field to go back home.

***

You rouse twice.  Once, when hands allow your legs to slowly slide down a firm body and settle on solid metal.  He spins around to catch you before you can collapse, and then slowly eases your exhausted body down to the floor.

A bare hand cradles the back of your head until that finally settles down, too.

The second time, you can’t quite be sure of.  One of those moments where you’re barely conscious, drifting to the point where everything around you could be part of your dreamscape, where you can’t trust your own ears or mind to differentiate between what is real and what isn’t.  All you’d need is a single person telling you this didn’t actually happen and you’d accept it without question.

Pacing.  Quiet footsteps moving back and forth across the floor as you sleep, pausing every once in a while to stand in front of your slumbering figure.  Something unintelligible is mumbled as he walks away, the hollow thunk of boots clambering up a ladder.  Engines rumble to life under your ear, and gravity gently pushes you deeper against the flat metal supporting your body.

The footsteps soon return and start to pace around once more.

***

“Hey,” a quiet voice murmurs, your shoulder rocking back and forth slightly.  “Wake up.”

You blink your eyes open to a familiar visor looking down at you, his hand quickly leaving your shoulder and brushing a gloved thumb across your cheekbone when he sees you’re awake.  “Mm?  Din?  Wha’s—” you glance around you at the dark hull of the Razor Crest, before blinking your tired gaze back to him, “—s’going on?  Wha’ time s’it?”

“Late,” he whispers.  “We’re in the air.  I had to wait until the kid was asleep, but I want… I want you to see something.”

“What is it?”  Still blinking blearily, you sit up, but then Din grabs your hands and keeps your momentum going until you’re slowly dragged to your feet.  What you do when you’re standing upright doesn’t really qualify as standing or upright—you just sag against him with exhaustion as he wraps his forearms around your lower back, keeping you pressed tight against him as your ankles drag uselessly against the ground.

“Use your feet,” he reminds you quietly, and you harumph in a grumpy response.  Maker, you want to go back to sleep.  You’re sure you tell him as much, but he just shushes you and encourages you to hold yourself up, letting go while you steady yourself but hovering his palms a few inches away from your arms just in case.  “I want you to put my helmet on.”

“Excuse me?”  You ask him, swaying slightly and rubbing one of your eyes, not feeling amused.  “Is this some kind of… power trip?  Or something?  Because you’ve spent the last few days literally beating me up, I’d assume that would be enough for y—”

“I let you beat me up,” he grumbles under his breath.  “How are you ever gonna take a punch if it hurts you that bad to just throw one, sweet girl?”

“I’ll punch first,” you respond groggily, trying to move forwards so you can lean on him again, but being stopped by a firm grip on your shoulders.

“I know you will,” he mutters, letting go after a second to brush your hair away from your squinty eyes.  “Listen, I want you to put my helmet on, okay?”

You nuzzle your head into his leather palm and hum, giving it some thought.  “Are you gonna… turn on the light thingie?”  You clarify, not being able to remember what the setting is called, and he nods.

“Yes,” he tells you very seriously.  “There’s a… stars, a ‘noise thingie’ that I’ll turn on, too.  You won’t be able to see or hear for a little bit—you’ll have to trust me.”

“Is this for sex?”  You blurt as soon as the thought occurs to you, and Din sighs heavily, letting his head drop to his chest in exasperation.  “Like some sort of a… sensory deprivation thing?  Because if so, I can like—I mean I can get into it.”

“If I say yes, will you put it on?”  He tries, and.  Well, that question shouldn’t wake you up nearly as much as it does.  You blink at him, actually registering the sight of the mirrored visor this time.  Your gaze drops to see he’s back in full beskar regalia, his body looking even larger and broader with it on.

“Oh,” you say quite suddenly, remembering the question.  “Oh.  Shit yeah, I will.”

He shakes his head.  You’re getting better and better at reading him—becoming more fluent in helmet, one could say—and this head shake says he can’t believe he’s actually surprised that worked.  “It’s not for sex,” he tells you immediately, deadpanning the delivery even more than he typically would.  “Will you still put it on?”

You look at him blankly, wondering why this is even happening.  He said you’re in the air right now, and there’s… something he wants you to see?  Whatever this is, it’s spur of the moment.  Something he felt the need to wake you up for, but likely won’t push if you decline.

“Yeah,” you nod, “'course I will.”

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up slightly in the dim hull so he can watch.  Since they already want to do so regardless of the gentle command, your lids readily dip shut and you wait patiently as his touch leaves you for a moment.

You’re already sagging a bit by the time one of his hands returns to your cheek, and then plush lips press gently to yours.  The sigh you give him is completely involuntary—aching and quiet and longing as you let it go right in his mouth, your expression narrowing with concentration.

But he’s quick.  He leans back before either of you can get lost in it and reminds you with a gorgeous, rumbling baritone, “You’ll have to trust me.”

You nod in confirmation and soon his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head.  This is the second time around he’s done this—and you suppose if you couple that with your still lazy demeanor, the silent darkness that comes along with it doesn’t bother you as much as it did a few months ago.  The padding still grips your cheeks and you still feel disconnected from your surroundings—even more so now than the last time he put it on you—but it’s welcoming, in a way.  Giving you a reason to cling to him and tilt your head with the unfamiliar weight, breathing slow and easy while isolated in your own little pitch black world.

Oh Maker, you could probably fall asleep again just like this, so long as he keeps holding you up.  But Din has other plans, clearly.  He eases you backwards, continues to walk you back and back and back some more, and you have no problem just going with it.  He’s strong, taking almost all of your weight and somehow instinctively knowing how to hold you so that you’re fully supported no matter how you’re positioned.  He shifts you to one arm at one point, does something with his free hand that you can’t really figure out but aren’t really bothered by either.

He guides you both a few more steps backwards, and you start to wonder how long the hull actually is.  But then he suddenly grabs you tight—tight enough to make your eyes pop open to the black void in front of you and panic slightly, before he tilts you back even more and suddenly the ground is dropping out from under your feet, the air rushing silently around your entire body.

Okay, now you full-on panic.

He doesn’t let go, thank the stars, even when you scramble up to straddle and cling to him, heart clanging hard against your sternum at his fucking audacity.  The jet pack?  Are there just no fucking rules anymore?

Sure enough, the thrusters kick in and he’s good enough with the phoenix to counteract the gravity shift as much as possible, making it a gradual thing instead of a rapid change in motion.  You’re almost confident you would’ve slipped out of his grip and gone slamming to the ground had he not done the preventative maneuver.

Regardless, you’re gonna fucking kill him.  You’re going to murder Mando and get your own bounty puck, one with your name on it.  It won’t end well; everyone after you will have a personal vendetta considering you offed one of their own.  If you survive the confrontation then you’ll likely get taken to mine spice somewhere for the rest of your miserable life, probably Kessel—that is, assuming he doesn’t kill you first, within the next however many minutes.

And oh, he seems like he takes his sweet fucking time, hauling your fuming, decapitated ass along on a late night joyride.  Every second he continues to allow you to fly in blind, deaf isolation is another butt whooping you’re vowing to give him, and it pisses you off even more that you can’t even express your righteous fury because you can’t let go of him.  You’re a parasite in midair, clinging to his metal body while he slowly descends, navigating you both down until you feel his boots finally meet solid ground.

You carefully reach for the ground with one foot and try to feel it with your tippie toes just in case he’s somehow tricking you, until Din drops you down and your feet mercifully meet dirt.  As soon as you find your balance, you shove an open palm against the metal of his chestplate in anger and Din quickly catches your wrist, the beskar shaking slightly under your hand like he found the whole thing rather humorous.

You don’t have much time to fuss.  He spins you around and then his hands settle on your shoulders, and for some reason… you only notice it now.  The fabric covering your torso and legs is gradually becoming damp for some reason.  You can’t feel any real splashes of water—no raindrops or anything, but it gets worse and worse the longer he holds you steady in front of him.

His hands eventually drag down your arms and elbows, until they’re catching your wrists and slowly pulling both of them up.  Din cradles the backs of your hands as he presses your palms against the cold metal helmet around your head, and then he gradually begins to pull it up, and—

—Loud.

You stop for a second.

… Tears spring up.

Din keeps pulling.

What starts out as a dull hiss continuously amplifies as the beskar slowly lifts, growing louder and louder in volume until it’s a deafening, violent, thunderous roar.

Yet still, you don’t open your eyes.  You just… listen to it.  Let the sound of it fill your heart, the same sound you caught earlier in the forest but now amplified exponentially, almost surrounding you with reverberating white noise.  Your whole body is practically drenched in water by the time you finally open your eyes and blink through the heavy mist.

He said no oceans, and he was right.  It isn’t an ocean—it’s… something so unbelievably beautiful that you don’t even have a name for it.  You don’t want one, not really.  There isn’t a name that would be good enough.  It’s easily—by and far, in your measley handful of decades of existence—the most majestic thing you’ve ever seen.  A gigantic, enormous cliff dwarfs you on three sides, with tens of thousands of tons of water arcing over their sharp edges and plunging into the rocky lake below.  

The cloud of droplets ricocheting from the base of the jaw dropping cascade is massive in and of itself—easily taking up a good quarter of your field of view even from this distance away.  The shore sits close enough but the spectacle is still somewhat distant, remaining an untouchable heaven, a gorgeous lake separating you from it and rippling with waves that settle to lap at the sand.

The rest of the setting comes later, after you’re able to process the main event.  You’re in the middle of the forest from before—familiar colossal trees wrap around the shoreline and vibrant shrubbery blankets the edges of the falling water, evergreen and fed by a constant nourishing mist.  The sun is also beginning to come up.  You can’t see it yet, but you can see the way the sky is starting to gradient itself from a starry midnight blue to pale lavender, the first rays beginning to peak over the treetops.

You feel yourself take a few, slow steps forward, but leather catches your hand from behind and gives it a firm squeeze before you can move completely out of reach.  You don’t even have to look back at him to know what it means.  The sentiment transfers seamlessly—be careful, he says, before dropping it and letting you continue forth.

Reaching the shore brings even more beauty to a backdrop you didn’t think could get any better.  You have to carefully step over—oh, heavens—small, transparent crystals tinted every color you can imagine to reach the water, sparkling under the gently lapping waves.  They’re like thin, flat shards of glass, and you know that if the sound of the falling water wasn’t so deafening, you’d probably be able to hear the muted crunching noise they make shattering under your boots with every cautious step.  Jagged edges and multicolored powder is all that’s left in your wake, no matter how careful you try to be.

You almost don’t want to move since they’re so delicate and everywhere, probably blanketing the entire floor of the lake, but you push forward with purpose until you’re just close enough to squat down and dip your fingers into the cool water.  It’s crystal clear and reflects the lightening sky with every gentle ripple and disturbance.  You study the pieces of glass as the repetitive waves distort their shape, the colorful shards turning to smooth, round pebbles the closer they are to the water.  A large green one catches your eye—circular and comparatively tiny, but standing out amongst all the rest.

You pluck it from the shore and let the almost perfectly round emerald sphere roll around in your palm, scanning the shallow water once more.  Then, ah—there, you reach out and grab a slightly larger, heavier, unassuming brown one that you have to hold up to the gradually rising sun to see its sparkle.  It’s got harder edges and feels rougher in your hand but you like it that way.  You like that there’s a bit of a warm amber at its center when the light hits it right.

Perfect.  Taking another moment to study your choices, you eventually end up finding a gorgeous, slightly pearlescent piece that sits just between the size of the other two in your collection.  It’s tinted a pale, off-white amongst a sea of color and there’s something gentle about it that speaks to you, something that feels right about the gradual sloping curves and how it sits in your palm.

Carefully pocketing the three pieces of fragile glass and rising up, you glance back to see Din standing there, helmet on once more and frozen right where you last left him.

He looks… awkward, almost.  Holding his hands behind his back, all his weight shifted to one foot while the other twists back and forth against the ground just slightly.  Nervous, for some reason.  Feeling unsure of his place.  The posture tugs at your heartstrings, as well as the spectacular gesture, and you soon make your way back to him.

“Where did you… where did you find this!?”  You have to yell over the rushing water once you get close enough.  “I didn’t see anything on the navcomp—”

“—wasn’t—navcomp—” he replies, barely just loud enough for you to hear.  You miss most of it, but you’re able to piece together the gist based on what little you can catch.  “—quarry—isolated sector—uncharted.”

Uncharted.  It’s uncharted, the navcomp wouldn’t register it.  Untouched by millennia of progress.  Plenty of people have probably seen it before, but apparently none of them have ever told anybody about it.  The universe is vast but it’s also old—it’s unbelievable that cartographers have plotted almost the entire galaxy but they still missed something like this.

The roar of the marvel is so deafening, it takes you a moment to realize he’s still speaking

“—nobody—yet—it—” he nods the helmet out at the spectacular landmark, “—it’s yours—you want—”

“My what!?”  You bellow, but he doesn’t clarify or add anything new.  He just spins you around again, extending his arm out over your shoulder to point at the breathtaking view and then dropping his helmet down next to your ear.

“Yours,” Din repeats firmly, resolutely.  Nothing more to be said.

You’re not sure if you’re crying yet, there’s too much water in the air to tell.  All you can do is just instinctively lean all your weight back into his chest and let his arms lace around your body, and you have to blink the droplets away as they start to trail down your forehead and into your eyes.  He keeps you like that until the rising sun begins to reflect off the cloud of mist at the rocky base of the monument, scattering light in all directions and splitting it into a beautiful spectrum that reflects every color.

You wonder if Din can see it.  You wonder if there’s a filter on his helmet that isn’t infrared or night vision, where a computer isn’t constantly alerting him to movement or sudden changes in atmospheric pressure.  Just… pure, unobstructed, visible light.  You know there’s probably all sorts of tracking measures programmed in, you know he can zoom and spot a sniper from a vast distance—you know he sees things you don’t.  Things you won’t ever see.  But you also hope the visor isn’t shaded too dark—you hope there’s a setting that works like a one way mirror, if only so that he can also see the beauty of this planet the same exact way you can.

You eventually turn in his arms and take one small step away from him just so you can look at him, and sure enough, the visor is tilted up towards the natural beauty.  Your eyes study every inch of him as if you’ve never seen him before, as if he may as well have taken the helmet off right in front of you.  This is thoughtful.  It’s so fucking thoughtful of him.  For being such a mystery, this right here… this is soul bearing.  It’s not an ocean, it’s a million times better than one and the fact that he not only remembered you telling him something like that, but he actually flew you out here to see it.  It makes your chest ache with an unknown feeling, one you still have trouble recognizing.  It settles down right in the softest part of you, makes your mouth open and give it a four letter name.

You say it so softly, confess it knowing he’s not looking, knowing he’d never be able to hear above the sound of the cascading rapids crashing against the rocks below.  You can’t hear it either, but you can feel it.  The way the word lilts off your tongue, the simple truth in it that’s impossible to hide from any longer.

He glances back at you, before doing a double take.  Gently, Din pushes at your shoulder and urges you to face forward again, to take all of it in while you still can, and yet.

All you can see is him.

His head slowly turns back down to face you, and your eyes keep shamelessly scanning every bit of him, watching the mist droplets chase each other down the reflective metallic curves and contours of his helmet.  Din slowly leans in, carefully eases his arm under yours and wraps tight around your lower back to bring you closer to his side.  You sigh and press up against him, your palm creeping up the damp fabric wrapped around his throat.  The visor doesn’t leave you, even when your temple comes to rest against his pauldron.  No, he just allows the smooth metal covering his forehead to gently touch yours for a moment and hold there.  Both of you tucked away in the middle of a hidden paradise, standing in front of a gorgeous monument crafted by the hands of the Maker himself.  

And, like the two starry eyed idiots you are, neither one of you can seem to look away from the other.

You mouth a silent thank you to him, hoping he can read the heartfelt candor from your lips.  Something tells you your message was received, because his grip tightens.  As if in slow motion, his whole body lazily drops down just enough to scoop you up with an arm hooked under your knees—before Din suddenly rockets upwards.

You squeal and cling tight to his shoulders as he lifts you up higher, and higher—he slowly rises across the considerable length of the lake and closer to the falling water.  You’re already beyond drenched but as he gradually approaches the base of the falling water, it starts raining down and splashing you in buckets.

Once he’s near enough to the powerful, arcing column pouring over the long rocky edge, Din carefully spins around and hovers until his back faces it, which means you can hide your nose and mouth from the splashes against the armor shielding his shoulder.  He slowly rises up the length of the natural landmark and lets you watch the rushing water up close behind the safety of his body, sacrificing his own view so that yours can be all the better.

Eventually the falling waves break and you look down at the broad, gorgeous rapids flowing out towards you, the sun casting its dawning light over their foaming peaks.  Din spins around and you adjust yourself accordingly against his chest, knowing you’ll never have a view like this again.  He flies low along the river and you can see the colorful glass sparkling through the strong, yet completely transparent current.  Soon he levels out and you cling tight to him, burying your face in the soaking wet fabric of the cowl wrapped around his neck and sighing, unable to recall a time you’ve ever been happier.  It swells in your heart and warms your entire body even as it’s drenched in cool water, and you wonder again how he could’ve ever thought you were running from him.  How could he ever think you’d run from him when all he’s ever done is give you wings?

***

The Crest hurdles through hyperspace while Din silently removes his armor and then strips you both of your sopping wet clothes.  You remember your glass souvenirs at the very last second and carefully remove them from your pockets despite your closed eyes, reaching out to hand them to Din without looking.  His palm catches the pebbles with the quiet sound of them clinking together, and you feel him pause for a second, probably studying them as he cradles them in the dim, single fluorescent light he left on.

You feel him leave you momentarily, hear him gently set them down someplace safe without a word.  When he comes back and his warm arms snake around you once more, he lowers you down to the blankets and then proceeds to make the softest love to you he knows how on the floor of his ship.  

A small part of you wishes you were still on Naboo, but somehow.  Somehow, despite the dead quiet hull, it’s better than anything you can remember.

His naked body presses tight to yours, his mouth always open and tasting wherever you’ll let him venture, never letting you forget for a single second that he’s just as bare and exposed as you are.  Your hands take full advantage, feeling everything.  The strong, rippling muscles of his back as he props himself over you, the soft hair curling at his nape, the length of his spine shielding you from the rest of the ship, allowing you the opportunity to pretend you’re somewhere else if you really tried.  If you tried, you could convince yourself you’ve got a mattress beneath you instead of a blanket draped over hard steel.  You could convince yourself your eyes are open while he kisses you, despite knowing it’ll never be allowed.

But… you don’t.  You don’t need to.  There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

And then at one point, his mouth is between your legs and you see a flash of his forehead on complete accident.

To see it on any other person would be nothing, it would mean absolutely nothing.  It’s not like it somehow makes him anymore recognizable to you—plenty of people share the same exact features, you still wouldn’t know him out of a trillion different faces.  He could walk right by you and you’d never know.  Technically, it’s not even his face—it’s just a small fragment of it.  But to you, the quickest glimpse of dark, wavy locks curtaining over the smooth, golden skin just below his hairline… it means everything to you.  You sear it into your memory, right alongside the sight of crystalline water roaring over an enormous cliff edge.

You never tell him you saw.  He never finds out.

[ltcolonelcarter]

Heyo, it’s me !!!

I’m literally DYING to learn your top soundtrack list, the conversations we’ve had have given me nothing but absolute satisfaction and I’m looking forward to having more material to yell about 👀<333 please go WILD it can get ad long as you want I’ll read it and listen to it ALL

STRIKE UP THE BAND (PART ONE OF FOUR)

let me preface this by saying I have so damn many favourites that I will inevitably forget MANY of them. I'm coasting purely on ✨vibes✨ here. this will be chaos.

elias -- person of interest / ramin djawadi i tried not to put this one first. i truly did. it is INEVITABLE. now I've linked other tracks by djawadi before bc I am physically incapable of not loving his work, but THIS ONE MAKES ME WANNA BREAK BRICKS OVER MY HEAD. the scene was glorious, and the music perfectly captures it. the scene is a massive spoiler for s1 so if that's not your jam then go careful. the harsher strings at 1:20, and the build to the 2min mark?? I'm BREAKING STUFF. i'm not sure if my attachment started with the music or the scene or a combination but I don't care to detangle them, to be quite frank, i'm happy going absolutely insane forever over it a kind word and a friendly face -- the sandman / david buckley i'm cackling a lil at myself bc of COURSE there had to be something from sandman here. i'm nothing if not predictable. and of course I had to pick death's theme. we're going to pointedly ignore the fact i'm in love with her and focus INSTEAD on how beautifully soft her theme is, how gentle and warm, how serene. I always know a piece of music is special when I have to pause what i'm watching to process what I've heard, and this was that. the scene let the music take centre stage too, which I find is remarkably rare, and i appreciate it so much. its sentiment is crying, but not as mourning, as the deepest, most heartfelt love. it's bittersweet grief. a sad parting with someone beloved. i'm not crying you're crying last man standing -- the order: 1886 / jason graves OHOHOHOH THIS ONE. okay so IF you do end up playing this game, I need to know. this is from the final scene and let me tell you when I say it HURTS i mean it HURTS. the start is lovely, matches the rest of the score with some tremulous notes to show the conflict--a little of galahad's theme in there too, but then the low stuff starts, and internally i am SCREAMING bc i know that's coming. this game annoyed so many people for being short but it was an incredible, short window into a rich and dark world full of tension and war, and at the two minute mark you feel it come back down to the people. it narrows its cope back down to the emotional core of the piece and i will never forgive them for making me watch this scene and hear this music and feel inevitability the way they made me feel it.

beyond the horizon -- a plague tale: innocence / olivier derivière time for that ORGAN MUSIC NOW I could link half of this score, to be honest, and several of its tracks (+related ones) are in my honourable mentions list, so I don't overload this one. this slow progression in this one absolutely floors me every time. the heartbeat type percussion at two minutes is strong enough to rip my heart from my chest. the vocals that join a minute later sound as I leave my body. this track is a slow and weary march towards a terrifying, eclipsed future, bright sun blocked by the obstacles between the present and safety. it's putting one foot in front of the other anyway, and holding out a shaking hand for the people that walk with you. if i never hear this performed live at dusk in the bleak autumn, candlelight teasing and chasing the shadows...sigh i'm going to stop waxing poetic whatever comes -- horizon: forbidden west / oleska lozowchuk i have a weirdly hard time picking a favourite track from horizon, both forbidden west and zero dawn, because they all blend together--not in a bland kind of way, in a way that makes it feel like a place, not a sound. this one is a track I keep coming back to because it's so so lovely. aloy's theme interwoven with the main game theme...the machine theme....I'm back there right now........

[polaris-the-north-star]

guys ep 54 spoilers yes i know entame hasnt subbed it yet

very long post warning

before you ask, i saw the episode live yesterday :) yugipedia discord server (#spoiler section) was very helpful and provided a link (jkjk i was lurking they just posted one anyway)

also side note i dont understand japanese so dont ask me for a translation :D take this with a grain of salt

what i understood was manabu acting weirdly, that being an actual act, yuna challenges him and uh

so she has a sevens road knockoff series called 'celeb rose', which is funny because in a questionable dream i had yuna played a rose deck similar to aki's.

off track, manabu knocks yuna back so hard she hallucinates or something and sees elemental versions of her or something seriously referencing the 6 goha siblings from SEVENS and confirms that yuna is past yuo and not anyone else yay.

also, the water one says tsuna so that's hilarious

so we get a flashback of aitsu/that guy/yuga/whatever you want to call him making the card processor so yay ig teeny tiny plot hole filled

manabu has a maximum because PHASER WHY ARE YOU JUST HANDING OUT MAXIMUMS LIKE HOT POTATOES WHY

friendly reminder that aitsu could've just pulled out flagship or any other maximum (looking at you, yggdrago) and beaten ryugu into the dirt and we wouldn't've had this entire arc

yuna loses because that's what she gets for going first- anyway

yuna gets fucking carded(yeh i stopped censoring ikik) by the otes relic because WHY THE HELL NOT and thats the end of the episode now bye

jk NEXT EPISODE: asaka and yuamu fight for presidency like trump and biden and totally forget aitsu and yuna got obliterated by a weird stone thing that sorta looks like ryugu's earrings upside down and turned into cards that they WONT SHOW US WHAT THE CARD IS THEY SHOW US THE BACK OF THE FUCKING CARD AND THATS IT AND-

bye ig

(edit: oh crap i forgot to tag oof)

(other edit: was scrolling thru old discord posts and found a buncha people arguing about yuga's harem and i'm both questioning existence and laughing my head off)

(other other edit: lemme quote "the whole list is incorrect. yuga gets no hoes. absolutely zero")

[airplanned]

Hello.  In this Ted Talk, I will discuss how the Barbarian Armor in Breath of the Wild is problematic AF.

Let's start with the word "Barbarian."  This is a term invented by the ancient Greeks to describe anyone who didn't speak Greek or was not a Greek citizen.  It was a dichotomy: you were either Greek or a barbarian.  It seemed, to them, that every non-Greek speaker was just saying, "Bar bar bar bar."  So, it's super offensive.  I'm sure you can think of at least one modern equivalent of a term based on how a caricature of a culture speaks their native language. 

When the Roman Empire came along, they started using the term pretty specifically to mean non-Roman tribes.  Big stand outs here are the Imazighen (who you might know as the Berbers with the same root as barbarian), along with the Gauls and the Celts, all of whom gave the Romans a lot of grief.  Julius Caesar himself wrote a whole book about his war against the Barbarian Gauls.  (It's usually assigned as reading in Latin 2.)

In modern usage, the term has expanded out again to any group that is "other" or "barbaric," but it still focuses in on tribal and indigenous groups and has the connotation of being overly violent, cruel, or merciless.  It is an offensive term equating difference to cruelty.

So let's get back to this armor.  From the neck down, it's Celtic inspired.  They were known for their body paint and furs.  This tracks with the word "barbarian" used as the Romans would use it.  So just with the name and the look of two pieces, this armor is already othering an indigenous tribe with a connotation of cruelty.

The color text for the chest armor and leg wrappings reads, "once worn by the warriors of an ancient warlike tribe from the Faron region. The war paint bolsters your fighting spirit and raises your attack power."

Yiiikes.

Let's dig into why that's a yikes from me.  "An ancient warlike tribe."  1. This moves it from subtext and coding to textual.  This armor belonged to an indigenous group in Hyrule. 

2. "Warlike."  This is the start of the dehumanizing language we're going to see.  It's a common tool of oppressive, colonialist regimes.  "Warlike" implies that they are more violent than even the colonizers coming into their homeland and oppressing them.  It implies that they are more focused on battle than art and science.  It leads to "They are dangerous and need to be reigned in for the colonizer's safety," because they might kill our proper young men or assault our proper young women or steal our proper young children.  And/or "They are uncivilized and the colonizers will teach them how to better themselves."  There’s a level of implied naivete there--that they just don’t know how to do better. If we go back to our Celtic example, historically multiple oppressive groups had epic battles with them, and they were described as "warlike."  In fact, the Celts fought so hard that Caesar was pushed back, and later, after his death, Hadrian gave up and built a wall, saying that that was as far as the empire went and there was just no possible way to push further into their territory.  But now we (enlightened people of the 21st century) think of Celtic culture as having intricate art and music and language.  We know this "warlike" moniker is propoganda born of fear and frustration and propagated throughout the empire.  Think of the cultures that you've heard described as "warlike."  Do you believe they really are?  Or do you think this is a narrative constructed by an oppressor for the purpose of villainizing them?

Other examples of dehumanizing language: "feral," "primitive," "crude," "savage," "wild."  Also things like "child-like" can infantalize and deny the maturity, intelligence, and decision making skills of an adult.  This ties back to the naivete again--the idea that these children need to be guided.

3. "from the Faron region."  Now, you may recall that the three pieces of the armor set are found in the three labyrinths.  Weirdly, none of these are in Faron.  This is where we learn the name of the "warlike culture from Faron": the Zonai.  (Why is it called the Barbarian armor and not the Zonai armor?  Hmmmmmmm.) Zonai ruins are found all over the map, in all sorts of environments.  So why is Nintendo saying they're specifically from Faron?  It's because cultures who live in rainforests are typically indigenous and typically people of color.  There's a common thing here where colonizers judge forest-dwelling groups for not colonizing the forest.  Tear it down and build houses out of bricks! Tear it down and have a field of wheat!  Tear it down and have a field of cattle!  The colonizers’ idea was that if they weren’t “working” the land in the way the Europeans could identify, then they didn’t “own” the land and it was up for taking. Dove-tailing with this, we have colonizers’ constant judgements that their way of doing things is the only "proper" way, and all others ways are wrong.  So where does Nintendo say this fictional indigenous tribe is from?  Clearly, the jungle even though they have a labyrinth next to a snow field and in the middle of the sea, and they have ruins in a forest right next to the Lost Woods.  But no.  They're indigenous, and Nintendo really needs that to hit home.

Now at this point, we need to get into how the helm piece with a skull is not a Celtic thing.  And the Zonai ruins are not Celtic inspired at all.  They're inspired more by Aztec ruins.  This matches a bit better with the jungle habitat.  But now we've gained a level of problematic issues, because suddenly we're not talking about a white indigenous group and Link doing some Braveheart cosplay.  Now we're talking about people of color.  We're talking about demonizing people with the the dual identities of being indigenous and non-white.  Think of it this way: a lot of people have an easier time accepting "the Celts weren't warlike," than accepting "the Aztecs weren't warlike."  My saying this isn’t a judgement against people who struggle here.  We inhabit a colonialst society where this narrative that indigenous people deserve their oppression is pressed more heavily on non-white groups.

So let's look at the color text for the Barbarian Helm, because it's slightly different from the other two: "A helmet once worn by the warriors of an ancient warlike tribe from the Faron region. Wearing it draws out your inner animal, increasing your strength and battle prowess."

4. "Inner Animal."  (big sigh) Now we're comparing indigenous people to animals.  This tactic has been used to oppress and belittle since colonization began. Nothing is more dehumanizing than implying that someone is not a human.  To this day, you can hear groups compared to apes and monkeys.  It's absurdly offensive.

This instance is explicit. But there are subtler ways that equating an oppressed culture to an animal sneaks into language.  Words describing someone's features as ape-like or rat-like.  Words describing someone's movements as cat-like or dog-like.  Words describing the way people talk as grunting or barking or howling.

So I guess Nintendo didn't consider that indigenous people who encounter this oppressive language every day until it grinds and wears would play their game and have to hear it yet again.  I guess they didn't think about how by using this language, they were perpetuating a dehumanizing narrative that unknowing people would pick up and continue to use. 

Language has meaning.

*

Edit: I am a white dude.  I speak from no authority.  I just spend a lot of time thinking about language and connotations and hating on colonialism (and I took a lot of Latin, if you can’t tell).  It’s not my intention to talk over anyone.

[mueritos]

For the uhhhhh “Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game” 4 and 9?

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

omg well definitely sidon from BOTW, I love him so much but sometimes fitting his entire body into an image or as much of it as possible is really difficult because of the size difference he has with most characters, so it can be pretty hard coming up with ways to envision him in pieces

9. What are your file name conventions

hehe i no longer do ughh 1 and ughh 2 i usually try to actually name the files i am planning on posting to patreon so that when i offer them as downloads theyre easy for my patrons to track down in their own downloads, but it used to be a lot of "lol" or "lol again" or "link is running" or "i hate myself" LMFAO

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 17

TW: Mention of rape

Words Count: 1.9k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 18

[Jimin, 4:35PM] Be ready for formal dinner at 7.

You received the text three hours ago. And that’s why you’re here now standing in front of the mirror as you take one last look of yourself. It doesn’t take long for you to get ready. You don’t have much knowledge in make ups anyway. So you just lightly put anything on.

To be honest, you don’t want to go. You haven’t talk to Jimin since last two days and he didn’t come home as well.

But who are you to say no. It’s one of your contract clause with him to accompany your husband in all functions as and when needed.

You look at yourself in the mirror, feeling somehow estranged at your own reflection. You’re wearing a V neck long burgundy satin dress that Taehyung gave you when he dropped by this evening.

When you head downstairs afterwards, you see your husband with his back on you, speaking to his bodyguards. Their eyes travel to you, informing Jimin of your presence. He turns towards you and you almost stop in your tracks.

He’s dressed in immaculate black suit which you assume is Valentino as well to match yours, his hair tousled to the back, he looks so handsome you feel your heart racing as you take his appearance. You had to remind yourself you both aren’t in speaking terms.

Jimin on the other hand, has his gaze on you for only a fleeting second until he looks everywhere else except you.

The ride in the car is exceptionally quiet as well. Jimin only speaks when he informs you that the function is held by Jaehyun, his cousin’s family.

When you arrive, Jimin got out first and offers you his hand automatically since there are tons of photographers and people from medias.

You realize the function is held at a huge mansion you assume is owned by Jaehyun’s family. Jimin leads you through the long porches towards a garden that’s been well decorated with beautiful lights, tables in white linen clothes and all kinds of flowers hanging on every nook and corner.

The function turns out to be a charity event collaborated with UNICEF you’re pretty sure is only part of their CSR responsibility. Everything goes by in almost a blur, with you sitting silently most of the time and zoning out, clapping only when you hear others.

Everyone is dressed stunningly in all their suits and long evening gown and everyone seems to know each other, you note. Well obviously since this is a family event with close family members and friends which you feel nothing like you’re part of it at all. Your fingers find your wedding ring on your chest, grasping it tight.

Even your husband has been completely ignoring you, talking animatedly to someone beside him. The main event is now done with most items being auctioned off, so you tug Jimin’s sleeve a little to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Most people are getting up for a slow waltz but Jimin doesn’t seem to have any plan for it so you just quietly slip yourself out of the garden and find your way to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, you reapply lipstick that is barely gone at all and fix your dress that barely needs fixing at all.

Once you’re done, you find your way out and heads back to the garden. Or so you thought.

Walking mindlessly, you somehow reach the end of the stony pathway and that’s when you start to panic.

At the same time, you suddenly got the eerie feeling of being watched. Hearts pounding, you turn around, searching for the source of your unease. But there’s nothing, except darkness.

Perhaps you’re just being paranoid.

You retreat using the same path but weirdly, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. It’s eerily quiet and you can almost hear everything since the music playing at the garden sounds like a hum now from the distance.

As if on cue, you hear little footsteps shuffling from behind you. Yet when you turn, there’s nothing but darkness.

Getting even more freaked out now, you start to walk even quicker. Throwing side glances everywhere, at one point you start to run as fast as the heels would allow you.

Too busy craning your head around, you don’t see a figure in front of you. You let out a scream when your vision turns black as your body crashes against the solid figure.

“Hey- hey Y/N calm down-“ the voice is familiar. But it does little to calm your anxiety. “It’s me, Jaehyun.”

You lean back to take a good look and realize it really is Jaehyun. Unknowingly, you let out a sigh of relief. “Ah- it’s you-“ you say, though body still trembling and heart still racing.

Jaehyun’s gaze drop down to match yours. “You okay? Were you lost?”

“Uh yeah- I just thought-“ you glance once again behind you, “nevermind.” Only now do you realize that Jaehyun has his arms around your waist to support you so you quickly step out of his arms. You forgot that you aren’t in friendly terms with him.

Jaehyun seems to notice your change of demeanor and sees you trying to jerk away. He drops his hand instantly, probably not wanting to give the wrong signal to you. “Hey. I was looking for you just now.” He smiles and if it wasn’t for his personality, you’d probably swoon at his dimpled smile. He starts to walk and you follow his pace beside him.

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologize for last time, you know. That was really rude of me. Please forgive me.” He stops in his track and you look at him to see that he’s staring intently at you. His eyes tells you that he’s being genuine so you just nod. You’d probably nod anyway even if you don’t forgive him. Plus, he saved you from getting lost.

You both arrive at the end of the stony pathway but it isn’t dark like the one you found just now. Instead, it’s just dimly lit and deserted but the bushes and flowers are all well trimmed. You place your hand on the English style white fence in front of you as you stare out the grassy meadow. You honestly believe there’s no end to the open darkness you briefly wonder how rich Jaehyun’s family must be to have such huge estate.

The two of you exchange conversations and you end up laughing hard on several occasions. Now that you’re having conversations with him, you realize he isn’t so bad.

“So, how’s married life?” Jaehyun asks as he leans on his elbow on the fence, body facing towards you.

“Don’t you think the question’s a bit late?” You smile in amusement.

He chuckles. “I suppose it is. But hey, don’t blame me. Blame your husband instead. He loves to keep you hidden.”

“In the dark,” you mutter under your own breath.

“You know,” he starts as he stares out into the open darkness as well. “I think the both of you really look good together.”

You smile a sad smile though you’re pretty sure Jaehyun can’t see you. “Why do you say that?” You don’t think Jimin and you had put that good of a performance for people to see you both that way.

“I’ve known Jimin since we were child. He’s.. not the friendliest person, sorry not sorry.”

You let out a soft chuckle. There’s no denying that.

“He’s a very self sustained guy. Very smart, never needing any help ever since we were kids, not even me. He’s always clear of what he wants and would never stop in anyway to get what he wants. No matter how or who he hurt in the process. I learnt the hard way when I was seven.” He lets out a small laugh that somehow sounds sad.

“And.. why are you telling me this?” You look at him.

He looks at you too and his face serious, all trace of playfulness disappears. “I just want you to be careful.” He says carefully. “And also.. perhaps because I want to steal something of his..” he says that as he eyes you with unreadable expression but it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You look away quickly as the atmosphere becomes awkward. “I- I don’t think I’d ever want or wish for anything else if I have a land this big.” You try to joke.

He laughs. “Is he not making you happy?” He suddenly asks, face turning serious again.

“W-why would you say that?”

“Because if he is, firstly he probably wouldn’t leave you all alone here in the cold.” He adds while grinning when he sees you shivering slightly. You don’t realize as Jaehyun tries to step closer towards you.

You shake your head slowly. “It doesn’t really matter how he treats me.”

“Why wouldn’t it? Because if he doesn’t..”

Suddenly, he swivels your petite body and crashes his own body against yours as he pull you into a hug. You crumble slightly in utter shock, falling back and you wince as your back pressed against the fence.

“Jaehyun what are you-“ You struggle and try to push him off of you. At that moment, your eyes flicker ahead and sees Jimin over Jaehyun’s shoulder, standing a few metres away from the both of you, staring at the scene in front of him.

You struggle again against Jaehyun but for a moment, you stare in lost at your husband.

For a brief second, you think of standing there in another man’s embrace just to see your husband’s reaction.

Just to see his feelings towards you.

To see if he feels something. Anything.

You just desperately want to see an inch of his thought.

He finally takes a few strides, “What the fuck you two think you’re doing?”

Jaehyun definitely heard him but he surely takes his time to release you before turning to face Jimin.

“Do you want to be seen hugging my own fucking cousin in the tabloid?” He snaps at you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin. She’s not at fault. I was the one who initiated everything.” Jaehyun says.

“Yeah whatever.” Your husband doesn’t even look at him. Instead, he reaches for you and pulls you close to him. His hands find its way to hold your waist firmly. Possesively.

“I was looking for you.” He says very gently. And then very tenderly, he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

You realize that this is the first time Jimin’s ever done anything intimate towards you in public.

And he does it in the eyes of Jaehyun.

Suddenly it dawns to you that he’s just marking his territory.

He’s showing that you’re his property.

“Come, let’s go home.” He says softly and nods curtly to his cousin before dragging you away by the waist.

You could only take a look at Jaehyun very briefly before being whisked away by your husband and finds him smiling in amusement.

The car ride on the way home is almost as awkward as when you got to the event early this evening.

It’s mostly filled in silence until your husband speaks up.

“I’m sorry.. About.. you know.” He says quietly. He’s trying to apologize for almost raping you. The memory almost brings fresh tears in your eyes. You still remember vividly how terrified you were.

“I’m really sorry.” He says again when you remain silent.

You don’t really trust yourself to say anything so you reach over for his hand and gives it a brief, gentle squeeze to let you know that you forgive him.

You think that a twisted part of you will always forgive him. Even if he didn’t apologise.

A/N: the stupid me just found out I didnt write the trigger warning for previous chapter. I’m sorry 😭

Anyway, things had been pretty tough because of pandemic. I was on contract basis for my job until June last year but was not renewed and I’ve been searching for jobs ever since but unfortunately wasnt able to land a permanent one. Writing had been a form of escape for me and I’m sincerely doing it out of love. But if, if you guys love my story and may wanna support me, you can drop a visit and buy me a coffee here! Thank you so much ❤️

Link to Chapter 18

Posted on 210507 9:00PM

[scrawnytreedemon]

Zelink for the ship bingo? :0 any game!

OH GOD, THIS IS?? Gonna be a doozy. Buckle in.

SkSw:

WW-PH: Link/Tetra:

Spirit Tracks(in theory! I haven't seen the game yet, can't speak personally):

Nearly all other instances:

RIGHT! getting onto individual analysis,

1, SkSw: By far my favourite of the bunch, and a longtime delight. Whether you construe their relationship as romantic or not, doesn't matter-- They've got such a wonderful arc of trust and unbreakable love. Zelda starts off incredibly worried for Link, constantly fretting and deeply unsure of his abilities. She steps in to defend him, willing to go up against Big Boys like Groose to do so. As the game progresses, however, and Link grows, in strength and in character, Zelda, and everyone else for the matter, put more trust in him-- By the end of the game, they're on equal footing, and, oh god, oh man, I'm gonna crybhfgjfhdgkjdjd--

2, WW-PH: Nothing to say except, tough girl, sweet boy? Phuck yeah!

Jokes aside, Link and Tetra's arc is also one of trust and vulnerability, but from a different angle. Tetra's a hard-as-nails, independent, morally dubious young girl who's landed herself as captain of a ship full of Big Boys, and sees Link as little more than a useful, if rather weak coincidence she can use to her advantage. However, as the pair grow,(really as Link grows and Tetra is thrown out onto the sidelines as her royal heritage is revealed and she's forced to take on a 'princess' role, one that notably feminises her and lightens her skin), again there's that theme of growth of trust! They take down Ganondorf together, build a new Hyrule together, and isn't that just what dreams are made of?

3, Spirit Tracks: Nothing much to say, other than the dynamic looks super sweet, and there's an interesting play with gender and presentation on Zelda's end? Love it to bits, 12/10.

Now... Onto the potatoes of this, I think. Get your gravy.

This... There's going to be more objective analysis and criticism, obviously, but alot of this is also going to be deeply coloured by my own personal experiences of heteronormativity and alienation. This isn't a commentary on anyone else's enjoyment of the dynamic-- I hope I've made that clear --But, just... I guess I should get to it.

Link and Zelda,

Zelink.

As one anon put it, the vanilla icecream of shipping.

Mild, sweet,

And incredibly heteronormative.

The Golden Relationship; the one toted by fans and Nintendo alike as "the ship".

Everything else, anyone else, is a deviation. It slots neatly into the expected hero-damsel dynamic that we've had, since, well, the beginning of time, almost. It's almost as dust of the earth as it gets. The issue for me being... They don't spend time much, really. Link is barely characterised half the time as little more than a slightly lackadaisical vessel for the player, and Zelda is a sort of guiding light; a dignified keeper of the plot, Righteous Guardian of Hyrule--

The culmination of all Hyrule presents itself as: wise, smart, beautiful, dainty but compitent, ready to lead a charge should need be... but rarely unruly. Rarely ever. Always right.

Obviously, it goes without saying how Breath of the Wild's iteration of this duo changes it up immensely. Zelda is a far more flawed, and in her attempt to put on a strong face, a far more emotionally vulnerable character than any of her gentle predecessors could ever hope to be. While this pairing and her character fail to hit that particular sweet spot in me, it's deeply intriguing, and I hope, perhaps vainly, that they'll develop her and her relationship with Link even more in the sequel-- Honestly, when it comes to this? An equality between her and Link is, I think, what would be best. A mutual understanding; vulnerability.

I think that's what puts me off from Zelink, on the whole. Link is bound to her, by destiny, by guidance, ever-performing his knightly duties, and Zelda is bound to him for strength, for protection. There's little emotional substance, half the time, save for small, precious moments, many with another face, because it's a dynamic inherently dependent on the war-- On danger.

It's all impartial, situational. There's nothing personal here.

And if that were it, if this were truly explored from that angle(as it is, to an extent, in BotW), then I think I'd like that-- Especially if it weren't romantic, I feel.

But that's not the vibe we're told to get: not from the fans... not from Nintendo.

Nintendo tends to be largely neutral on certain matters, such as pairings-- Honest to god, for the best, in my opinion-- But Zelink is that one blind spot where that ethos falls away. Here, Nintendo expects us to see it as some grand, destiny-bound romance, I feel,

And the pre-Skyward Sword manga, from what I know, cements this best.

It's why, quite frankly, I don't care for the idea of it being canon. Genuinely.

It undermines what little weight Ganondorf via Demise had on all of this, this horrific cycle of blood, pain and despair, always bracing for the next wave, of the sisyphian climb of this civilisation, and turns it all into a grand goddess' love for a boy bound to her by fate and destiny manifest.

I hate that.

For something like this, something where no one has any choice, where greatness is thrusted upon them, this endless state of being used that Skyward Sword even condemned, to be seen as good.

To get onto personal experience, before this blog, and this "persona," as it were, I used to have an art account where I largely posted TLoZ, frequented by my family. My very Christian, somewhat socially-conservative family. I would perform straightness, in the form of either pushing aside or pursuing M/F romance, because I was extremely uneasy about the types of conversations anything otherwise would arouse.

This was at a time where I wasn't even sure if I was bisexual, let alone divergent in my gender, so I felt a constant pressure to tamp it down and keep it out of the spotlight, relegating my explorations via art to DMs with the friends I'd make.

Here, on Tumblr, where peppy-queerness is the status quo, there's this tendency to gloss over unpleasant things and make them soft; sweet.

I think I've talked enough at length why that alienates me.

So, yeah... I guess, Zelink on a wider scale kinda just, sums up my unease about the often hegemonic status-quo of shipping, and on the whole I'm just kinda eh about it all.

Again, I think it should be very clear that this is not a reflection on my opinions of people who create Zelink content, who are attached to these characters. That sort of weirdly-tribalistic thinking is awful, and only brings about needless conflict-- Early 2000s-2010s kinda shit, y'feel me?

I hope this all made sense, kinda. I've just got... alot of feelings.

[rallamajoop]

How (not) to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan (and other things I cannot believe I spent so much time tracking down for a throwaway joke in a Witcher slash-fic)

Buried in chapter 4 of my fic Something Nice is a joke which, as much as it amused me, no-one else is going to get unless I explain it. So here we go.

For the last few people in this fandom who haven't heard yet: The Witcher 3's vampire-language is Etruscan. To my knowledge, there's never been an official statement from CDPR to confirm this, but the evidence (ie. that basically all the vampire vocab can be found in online Etruscan sources) seems pretty solid. To explain why this made me go oooooh that's so NEAT, we need a little context.

Context!

The Etruscans (in my admittedly far-from-expert understanding) were a people who lived in Italy back before the Romans got around to conquering-slash-assimilating the rest of the peninsula, and the language they spoke is one of the most frustratingly mysterious of the ancient world. Most dead languages are at least related to something modern linguists have a decent handle on, but Etruscan seems to have been related to almost nothing else spoken – it may even have pre-Indo-European roots (a whoooole other tangent I am in no way qualified to cover).

Surprisingly, we do owe our modern Latin alphabet in part to the Etruscans, since the earliest Roman alphabets were adapted from the Etruscan (who got it from the Greeks, who got it from from the Phoneticians, and so on). The Etruscans may even be the reason we're stuck with so many weirdly redundant K-sounds (not only K and C, but X and Q, which are really just 'ks' and 'kw' with an overblown sense of superiority).

But being able to sound out every surplus K-word from an Etruscan inscription isn't much help nowadays when there are no surviving Etruscan dictionaries to tell us what it actually means – not even a decent Etruscan Rosetta stone to give us a push-start. So while modern linguists may rattle off Ancient Greek fluently or puzzle out Egyptian hieroglyphs from thousands of years before the Etruscans even had an alphabet, the Etruscan vocabulary available to us nowadays remains embarrassingly limited. Bits have been figured out from context or thanks to loanword exchanges with their neighbours (plenty of ancient Greeks and Romans certainly spoke Etruscan, even if they failed to write it down), but a lot is still as mysterious to the experts as it would be to you and me.

So why to I love the idea of using Etruscan as the Witcher’s vampire-language so much? Basically, if you want a language that will sound both old and reliably alien to anyone listening to it – be they the mainstream English-speaking market or the original Polish-language audience – Etruscan is a damn good call. You're not going to have much vocabulary to draw from, but it's not like there's a lot of vampire-chatter in the game anyway. It's a cool little easter egg for fans nerdy enough to try and figure out what they're saying.

Translations and Sources

You aren’t going to find a lot of great Etruscan language sources on the web – few of the easily-discovered online sources on Etruscan vocab appear to have been updated within the last ten years, and lord knows how consistent some of these are with current scholarship (let alone how sure linguists can be about anything with a task like this). All the same, have some links you may find useful:

Etruscology – Brief, but more readable than most

Lexicons.ru Etruscan Glossary – Probably one of the best collections of many terms in one place

Maravot.com Etruscan Language pages – Hard to navigate, but gosh there are a lot of vocab here I have not seen elsewhere

Old, Tripod-hosted Etruscan Glossary – I think these are mostly just the same terms from the Lexicons page, but in harder-to-use format

Etruscan word search – Decent, but not the most extensive vocab

Introduction to the Etruscan Language – Looks to be from Maravot.com, but in pdf format

Paleoglot.com’s Etruscan tag – Blog by an actual linguist who regularly discusses Etruscan material, and who even created their own translation applet! – which was, unfortunately, in flash, and is thus no longer usable. (There is a certain irony that even the tools available online to help you understand Etruscan are written in a language that is now no longer supported or understood by any modern browser.)

Not that translating what’s in the game is going to be easy, oh no. Take, for example, the oh-god-please-don't-kill-me ceremonial greeting Geralt has to offer to the Unseen Elder to survive that meeting – "Eclthi, lautni ama".

'Eclthi' is apparently a "demonstrative (locative)" (’here’, ‘there’, etc). "Lautni" is trickier – it means a freed slave, but may also imply a familial relationship or a client of sorts, while the root “lautn” apparently designates simply “possession.” House slaves in the ancient world were often considered part of the family, and freed slaves were an important class in many ancient cultures, who often maintained relationships with their former masters, so you can see the internal logic, but what sense was the Witcher using it in? It’s hard to know.

"Ama" is possibly worse – most translations seem to have taken it as "to be", but sometimes also “to love”, or even "now" or  "meanwhile." Then you hit the question of Etruscan grammar, and I have no idea where I’d even start. So, with a little creativity, you could probably translate that phrase as anything from "take this and consider me a friend" to "meanwhile, this is family" to "a demonstration of love from your slave." I mean, you've got the same general theme going there regardless, but there's a lot of ambiguity in the inflection.

For what it's worth, I feel garasham's translation efforts are easily the most convincing I've seen – they have the above line as “Here I am a slave / a friend / kindred” FWIW. (Mind you, given the wiki doesn't even try to do more than offer you one possible meaning for each word, there's not exactly much competition out there).

So, bringing this all back to that fic and how to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan...

I've already gone to the web's Etruscan dictionaries once while I was writing Forget-Me-Not, seeking inspiration for a 'real' name for "the Queen of the Night" from the first Witcher game. Neither 'queen' or 'night' got me far, but the Etruscans did apparently have a goddess of the moon called 'Aritimi, Artume or Artames', which worked pretty well. If anything it's almost too close to the better-known Greek goddess Artimis, who was obviously a relative (ancient cultures bleed into each other even when they're not bleeding all over each other, nothing new there), but I'm not going to be picky.

However, being a) a giant nerd, who b) writes a lot of smut, and c) is no more mature deep down inside than the rest of us, I couldn't resist seeing if I could find some slightly more obscene vocabulary. Did the Etruscans have a word for, say, 'fuck'?

Alas, if they did (and I mean, they totally did, c'mon), the web wouldn't tell me about it. Nor could I find much else relating to sex or genitalia (male or female), or even a decent word for 'thrust'.

On the flipside, there were a couple of different terms meaning 'plough'. And anyone who's played – well, any of the games, but especially Witcher 2 – would probably realise exactly why that filled me with so much glee.

Speaking of which, here, have a picture which is in no way related:

The fact that the various Etruscan terms meaning ‘plough’ could also apparently be translated as things like “to worship“ or “to act through movement, including ritual acts,” or that an important mythological figure was “a prophetic child who sprang from a freshly plowed furrow” was in no way discouraging.

The word I ultimately picked was 'esari'. Admittedly, variations on the prefix ‘ar-’/‘ara-’/’aras’ were much more consistently attested to throughout the various online Etruscan dictionaries as ‘terms meaning plow’, but figuring out how to convert an Etruscan prefix into a satisfying word is officially where even my enthusiasm for all this nonsense gives out. Esari was, by comparison, already a much more solid-sounding term, so let’s go with that.

Why go to all this trouble anyway? Well, the honest answer is “entirely for my own amusement”, but the nominal excuse comes right back to “so I could give Regis and Geralt this little exchange during a sex scene.”

"Unless you have any particular objection," said Regis, moving to straddle Geralt's body, "I thought we might engage in some esari... hm, what was the equivalent term in your language again?" The vampire leaned in close to Geralt's ear as he made a show of remembering his answer, "Ah, yes—I thought I'd fuck you."

Never let anyone tell you you never learnt anything from porn!