#where is the flow?? the natural connections? it got left on the ship.

[shap3shifter-witch]

The pain when you can only draw organic creatures well and your favorite character is a robot mf

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober 2023 Day 4 - Cattle Prod

Day 4! Not my best one by far cause this prompt was HARD but I did it! And I think I got some pretty good whump out of it too!

@splinnters tag number four! You're a trooper!

Words: 2.1k

“You won’t get what you’re looking for out of me,” Jay panted, head hung low over his chest. He could feel the blood leaking from the blow he had taken to the head, and he struggled to keep drool from slobbering down his chin. This man was not going to get what he was looking for.

Whoever he was, he must’ve had connections, because Jay couldn’t think of how else he and Cole would’ve been located and kidnapped in the middle of the night.

The man only hummed behind his black mask, putting down the now bloody brass knuckles that he had just used to knock Jay’s ribs in. Every breath made him feel like throwing up, except he had already vomited all over his lap. Jay tried to get a look at whatever other tools were being kept on the table, but it was no use, especially with one eye covered in blood flowing from a gash in his forehead.

“It’s only a matter of time before you talk,” the man said, reaching for another thing on the table. Jay couldn’t see it properly in the darkness of the room, but he heard the low whine of charging electricity as the man flicked a switch on the side of the tool.

He walked towards Jay and into the dim light of the one bulb overhead, and Jay clocked the tool immediately: an electric cattle prod.

Gritting his teeth, Jay knew that this interrogation was about to get even messier, but he couldn’t let his composure slip. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last that he had to endure under harsh conditions, and with any luck this time would be better than the time he spent on the pirates’ ship.

Bright blue electricity arced between the two prongs in a mesmerizing dance that Jay was more than familiar with, and the man had a look of fascination under his mask as he watched. “Pretty, isn’t it? Sometimes I like to hold it just like this and stare, because how could nature ever make something so beautiful?”

“Look in the sky once and a while and you would see it there too,” Jay retorted, his tongue bleeding where he had bit it after letting out a scream earlier.

Snorting, the man turned back to face Jay, and the ninja was suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he was when the prod was shoved right under his nose. He could smell the ozone, a harsh scent in his broken nose, and the light was blinding. “I’d watch your tongue if I were you, blue ninja. We both know that your lightning resistance doesn’t work with vengestone.”

“And?” Jay said, bored. It was a role that he knew how to play. “We both know you don’t have the balls to try it.”

“Oh?” the man asked, wiggling the prod as if it were a toy. “Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

“Always.”

“Then that will be your downfall.”

Jay screamed as the man shoved the prod into his thigh, prongs shoved deep into his skin and sparking rapidly. Electricity ran up and down his leg, frying his nerves and making it feel like someone had doused him in gasoline and set him alight. The pain only lasted for a few seconds, the man pulling the prod away, but Jay’s stomach turned at the smell of burnt flesh left behind.

He cracked his eyes open to assess the damage. It wasn’t a normal cattle prod; standard ones wouldn’t have left behind such a large burn mark, angry and red and swollen on the top of his thigh. Lines snaked out from the injury, lines that he knew all too well: Lichtenburg figures. His leg was tingling, and his fingers couldn’t stop twitching behind his back. All of this felt way too familiar to how it felt using his lightning when he was younger: out of control, wild, untameable, and incredibly painful.

Goddammit, they weren’t going to make this easy for him, were they?

“Where is your master?” the man asked, holding up the prod. Jay’s brain almost short-circuited itself; that’s all they wanted to know? They were looking for Master Wu too?

If they were willing to go this far, to kidnap two of Ninjago’s most powerful heroes out of the shoddy campsite they had made in the middle of the woods, then he couldn’t let them get close to the others or Lloyd, or god forbid Master Wu.

Luckily, he knew jackshit about Master Wu’s location, but that wasn’t what the man wanted to hear.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Jay spat out a hunk of blood onto the floor at the man’s feet.

“Now isn’t the time to be cheeky,” the man chastised. He flicked a switch on the side of the instrument, and Jay watched as the light turned brighter and the arcs grew in size. “Where is Wu?”

“I have no idea where Wu is-” but Jay barely had time to prepare himself before the prod was shoved into his other thigh. The charge was definitely higher, and Jay slammed his eyes shut and screamed, feeling his leg jerk against the restraints. His back arched off of the chair as the man moved the prod, digging it in deeper. Finally pulling it out made Jay slump in exhaustion; only two shocks and he was already on the verge of quitting. He was out of practice.

The man quickly flipped the prod around, slamming the butt of the blunt side into Jay’s temple. “Let’s try this again. Where is Wu?”

His head was spinning, everything around him rotating as if he had spent too much time on a tilt-a-whirl. Blood dripped down from his temple and onto his gi. “I don’t know.”

Clicking his tongue, the man looked disappointed with Jay’s resistance, and Jay watched as he flicked the switch again and again and again. Full power. “I can keep going for as long as it takes for you to crack, lightning ninja. But can you last that long?”

“Are you kidding?” Jay gave a toothy grin, making sure to show off every single one of his blood-stained teeth. His ribs were screaming, his stomach was revolting, and every time he moved his legs he felt like he was going to pass out; but he had never been better. “Bring it on, tough guy. You haven’t even broken into the top five all-time torturers on my list.”

Because all of those spots would be held by the pirates, now and forever.

All his words did was make the man’s face contort in anger, and Jay braced himself as the low whine of the electricity grew louder and louder. This wasn’t going to be good.

He hated being right.

Powerful shock after shock, not just on his legs but on his arms as well. There were a few well-placed points on his chest, but the most painful one by far was when the man stabbed it into the small of Jay’s back, chasing as the blue ninja’s back arched against the restraints. He did actually pass out for a few seconds that time, quickly coming to when the man splashed ice cold water onto his face without any fanfare. It felt good against the bruises, and Jay felt some silent relief when it washed away part of the blood coating his face.

Maybe they were finally done, because the man pulled back and put the prod back on the table. Jay panted heavily, catching his breath, watching as the man picked up a pair of gloves and slid them onto his hands. He made a quick hand motion, and suddenly Jay felt two more pairs of hands on his arms and shoulders to hold him in place.

Jay’s fight or flight instincts kicked in, struggling against their grips and fighting to free himself. The rope binding him dug hard into his wrists, and Jay could feel the rope-burn setting in as he twisted from side to side. His legs wouldn’t budge, and he even tried to flail so that the chair would fall backwards and knock the other two off-balance.

One of them slammed something into the back of his head, dazing him and subduing him long enough to tie a blindfold around his eyes; it was tight enough to make stars swim across his vision,  and he started bucking his head to dislodge it, knock it off, anything to let him see what they were going to do to him.

This was the most violent response they had coaxed out of him so far.

Anxiety churned in his gut, looming large over him and pressing in from the corners of his mind. He had to get free before anything else could happen.

He wasn’t afraid. He was terrified.

“If that’s all it took to start breaking you, then I would’ve called them in so much sooner,” the man mused, and Jay heard the cattle prod even though the tool had been left alone on the table. His eyes darted around, looking for any sort of pinprick of light to give him his bearings. It was far too familiar to the pirate ship.

“Whatever the fuck you want, you’re not getting it,” Jay snarled, but even he could hear the tremor in his voice.

Chuckling, the man grabbed his chin, tilting it up and to the side. Jay grimaced when he felt eyes roving across his face and body; he knew when someone was admiring their handiwork. “So much pain, and for what? To protect your pitiful little master? How are you even sure if he’s alive?”

“Well, he must be if you’re making this big of a deal out of finding him,” Jay quipped, and he grunted when the man gave his chin a harsh shove.

“You better watch your tongue before I decide to cut it out,” the man growled, and Jay hated the way even the image of that happening made him start shaking. He couldn’t afford to show any more weakness in front of these people.

And yet, it only took a snap of his fingers for Jay to start screaming again.

Both of the men holding him had cattle prods of their own, one going for his abused thigh and the other going for his chest. Jay had nowhere to go, as trying to escape one only pushed him farther into the other, and he could feel the tears start to sting at his eyes as they turned the charge up. Before, the man had never kept it on for more than a few seconds, possibly afraid of causing critical damage since he was right; Jay’s resistance wasn’t nearly as powerful with vengestone on.

These men didn’t care about the damage.

Grabbing his chin again, Jay could hear the man snicker at the way his blindfold was changing colors due to his tears. “Ah, there we go. Just the reaction I wanted to see.”

He stroked Jay’s chin with a single finger as the prod in his thigh finally pulled away, but Jay sobbed as he was stabbed right in the small of his back instead. The smell of burning flesh assaulted his nose, and Jay could feel his hands clenching and unclenching as his muscles contracted and loosened and contracted and loosened and it hurt it hurt it hurt—

“Please!” he finally begged. “Please!”

In an instant the electricity was gone, and Jay collapsed in an exhausted heap; the restraints were the only things keeping him from falling onto the ground. He could feel where the skin had rubbed raw against the ropes, tender and bloody and burnt from the prods. Even the light breeze blowing from a vent above him irritated the wounds, but Jay had nothing to cover them with. None of his muscles were working properly, and Jay was paralyzed with something entirely different than fear as a cloth gag was shoved into his mouth and secured.

Looking proud of himself, the man stepped back, and Jay felt sick to his stomach as he realized what he must look like to his captor: a prize, something to be controlled and praised for when it did as it was told.

He was nothing more than livestock to these people, so how fitting that he was tortured with a tool meant to contain them.

“Well,” the man said brightly, “how nice of you to finally beg. Unfortunately, we have other matters we need to attend to. If you’re not going to talk, then maybe your friend will.”

Jay’s eyes widened. Were they talking about Cole?

“Get him up,” the man said, and Jay yelled into his gag when he felt the two men on either side of him haul him to his feet as if he were a sack of potatoes. “We’re going on a little trip. Let’s just hope that for your sake, your friend is more cooperative.”

And the only thing that Jay could do as he was marched out the door, legs shaky and dripping in blood, was hope and pray that Cole could hold out more than he could.

[jojobee2256]

Kid x panther reader part 2

Part 1, Part 3

Couple months later

You growl loudly as another cannonball soaks you to the core. You had been taking a nice nap in the sun when the first cannonball landed in the water next to you and gave you a nice cold wake-up call. To say you were pissed was an understatement, so the crew avoided coming next to you while they moved closer to the marines so as to board. Until then, it was waiting and pacing with growls at every cannonball coming your way.

"Oi kitty! Stop growling at the crew!" You whip around and glare up at Kid, who was standing next to the door to his quarters. You move to him with graceful steps that all felines have by nature.

"That's not my name!" You swat his leg with your tail, knowing you couldn't win a real fight with the man meant no real attacking either. "And I can't help but growl at the fucking cannonballs." You grumble and then with a lower voice you mutter about how nice your nap was.

"Captain! They are in range to board!" You turn to the crew mate who ran up to the two of you, then back at Kid with a gleam in your eye. He chuckles and ruffles the top of your head.

"Well what are you waiting for, kitty? Go get revenge for your ruined cat nap." He smirks as you swat his leg again and rush off to the side of the ship and jump to the enemies, not wanting to wait for the planks to be put down. On board, you begin to bite and claw away at anyone in a uniform. You used arment Haki on your teeth and claws as well so that even the strongest arms and swords would shatter beneath you. Soon, you had to stop though, because the rest of the crew began to fight on the ship, and you didn't hold back well enough to avoid them while still going full force on the marines.  So instead, you make your way down to the bottom of the ship looking for anything pretty to catch your eye.

By the time it began to grow quiet above, you were pissed once again, not a single treasure to add to your pile aside from the usual beli and trinkets such as watches or necklaces. Grumbling around, you made your way to the last room, the captains quarters. You always saved them for last since they seemed to hold the best things. This time, you hoped to find a better mood along with whatever was in there. However, you didn't have too much hope. While you were fighting you don't even remember seeing let alone fighting any marine with a decent fighting level so the captain probably got his title through connections and as the last few ships showed, the weaker the enemy the worse the prize.

You jump on your hind legs to pull the handle down and push the door open. You fall down onto your paws and stalk inside grumpily until you notice an interesting map on the desk, hopefully a treasure map. You begin to purr happily as you saunter towards it. Kidd might stroke your fur again if you find something like this. Maybe even give you a reward. A reward from Kidd, you blush under your fur at where your mind begins to wonder. Snap out of it! He wouldn't want a panther for a mate and certainly not your weak human form either.

Just as you reached the desk the map rested on top of, a jolting pain flies through your side. You spin around to see the captain of the marines swinging down on you for the second time. He must have been hiding in here, waiting to strike down on anyone who entered. This didn't scare you, though. The deep wound on your left side that flowed with your life blood didn't faze you either. No. The only thing in your mind was rage, forget pissed, angry, or mad. You were in complete and utter rage. This man landed such a blow on you and thought he could do it again? He had the nerve to think he could kill you! You growl loudly as you catch the blade in your mouth and shatter it. This lowly-

You lost it.

You roared in rage and pain from the wound he caused, scaring him into falling. You begin to paint the room with a mix of his blood and yours as you tore and throw his body around the room.

??? POV

The crew had just finished killing the rest of the scattered marines and was waiting for you to come out so they could loot the rest of their supplies since you only took things you deemed treasure and not necessities like food. You would always huff when asked why you didn't take any or if it was Kid who asked you would say that if the crew ran out of food you'd just eat the first person to annoy you, which insured that you were always well fed. The crew also knew that if they went down and you were not finding anything, the first person you saw before emerging on deck would most likely end up severely injured.

Just as Kid was beginning to get impatient and thinking of sending down a sacrifice to you, he heard a deafening roar. Now everyone on the crew had heard you growl, purr, and if they were around you when Kid was talking to you, they even heard you speak, but you had never roared. Immediately, Kid and several other crew members ran down below to see what had caused you to do the one thing no one had heard come from your lips. Most went to see what had caused it out of curiosity or worry, but Kid stormed down to kill whatever it was. It didn't matter why you roared, good or bad. He had asked you numerous times to roar for him, but you always replied with 'I don't roar whenever you want' or 'I would kill you if you heard it'. Whatever it was, got you to do one of the two things you never gave in to when Kid asked you to do it. Roar and see your human form.  

When they finally get to the right room, it was easy to tell something had happened before they even open the door because blood was leaking out from the crack under it. This caused all but Kid to hesitate in walking up and opening it. When he did, he was greeted with red splattered across the walls and furniture while you repeatedly stamped on what could only be assumed to be what's left of whoever painted the room. You yourself were covered in the red substance, and when you noticed the movement near the door, you snapped your head around with a low growl.

Your POV

You see Kid standing there with a stunned expression before a large grin broke out on his face.

"So that's why you said you'd kill me. Did the guy piss you off that much, kitty?" You feel your rage fueled high lowering and you huff before turning and looking where the map was. It was soaked through and caused you to growl again. The one good thing in this whole fucking ship and now it's ruined. You stagger slightly due to feeling light headed and dizzy thanks to your aching wound that somehow managed to go unnoticed by your captain. you huff again before walking past the crew, ignoring the bloody mess.

"I'm going to finish my nap. Don't wake me up unless your name is Kid, or you want to end up like the man covering the room." You say as you carefully walk out and onto the deck so that your wound will continue to go unnoticed. Once on deck, you walk weakly over a plank to the ship you called home and towards your favorite spot in the front of the ship to sleep. It had become your space and had a nice array of blankets and pillows along with your satchel of important treasures.

You lost a lot of blood and weren't feeling too good, so you nearly fall into the pillows, ignoring the stare of Killer who had stayed behind to watch the ship. Your last thoughts before falling asleep were how you wanted to kill the man again, as well as praying that no one notices your injury. If they saw you this weak, they may just finish what the marine started and kill you.

You wake up to Kid's voice... again. You wouldn't lie. He gave you a warm feeling when near you. As if you were protected from the world and didn't need to defend yourself, but that didn't stop you from getting annoyed with the attractive alpha male.

"She can clean up after she wakes up! I don't get why you're so upset at her being covered in blood. It's not like she hasn't been covered in it before." Kidd argues to someone. There was only a handful of people who could hold their ground with Kid, so you had a decent idea of who he was arguing with.

"Kid, just think. Why has all the blankets around her become soaked in blood while she is still covered in dry blood? She didn't jump over to the ship. She used a plank, which she never uses, and practically collapsed when she went to sleep." It was silent for a moment as Killer, the one Kid was arguing with, finished explaining. You open your eyes slightly to look at the two of them, still weak from blood loss.

Kid was tense and whipped his head to where you lay on the wet blankets. Your eyes meet for a split second before you avert your eyes. You look to the side instead, but soon Kid's boots are all that you see.

"(Y/N)," you look up at the owner of the boots. "Get up and wash yourself." You hold back a whimper as you try to stand only to get your torso a few inches from where it was laying before falling down with a thump. You then turn your head to the other side so he is out of your view. You hear him let out a low growl of his own before speaking. "Get the fuck up (Y/N)!" You flinch slightly at his tone before sighing.

"I can't. Lost too much blood already." By now, a bunch of crew members had gathered around. "Throw me overboard if you want, I dislike being so weak myself, so I don't expect anyone to deal with it either." You could feel the tension of the crew thanks to the immense anger that radiated off of Kid. You knew you wouldn't be able to hide the wound for long, but you had at least hoped to be healed enough to still fight. That way you would still have a purpose to Kid. Now you were going to die, whether it be by bleeding out or drowning.

"Killer!" Kid suddenly lifts you up as if you were nothing. You sat in his arms like a regular house cat with your injured side facing out. Once again, you were reminded of how strong your captain was, and it made you feel warm inside despite the cold that came with your blood drained body.

"Already gave the order." You look to see several of the crew members running around with medical supplies while the lone doctor gave out instructions. "Doc says the sick bay isn't big enough, so he has a spot on the upper deck getting set up." Kid nods at his first mate and begins to carry you up to where the doctor was waiting. What the hell was going on!

"I won't let you die so easily, kitty." You look up at Kid. His face was hard with determination, yet it softened when he looked down at your confused face. Why would he save the weak?

[veronika-tserber]

Hey!!! How are you? I really love your work and how detailed you are!! I want your opinion on my placement Jupiter: at 0 degrees; in Cancer; in 12th house.

Helloo, I'm great, thank you! How are you? ❤

What a lovely Jupiter you've got!

Sabian Symbol for 0-1° ♋: "On a ship, sailors lower an old flag, and raise a new one."

Gene Key 15 (Dullness->Magnetism->Florescence)

Codon Ring of SEEKING 🗺️🧭

"It is this codon in your genome that initiates your evolutionary journey from being unaware of your true nature to your eventual awakening as an expression of Divine form." - Richard Rudd, "The Gene Keys"

When you aren't in alignment, you feel "DULLNESS": A lack of vitality, hope, and optimism in life. A sense of "boredom", but it's deeper than that - more like emptiness/depression. OR, on the other hand, you could try and distract yourself from feeling this way. Being constantly on the move. Jumping from one thing to another. Lack of commitment and sense of rhythm in life.

When you are in alignment, you feel "MAGNETISM": Being in total flow with the Universe. Serendipity (happy "coincidences happening, left and right!) Being at the right place, at the right time. Attracting a lot of luck and prosperity into your life. Not rushing anything, but also not stagnating. The more you slow down, the luckier you become. Stop and smell the roses. Meditation to slow down those brainwaves! Magnetic presence and energy.

In combination with the meaning of Jupiter at the critical 0 degrees, all of this speaks of a fresh start in regard to your spirituality, faith, and direction in life. A turning point. The constant renewal and reinvention of your attitude and philosophy about life. A journey toward spiritual awakening. Continuous change of your long-term goals. You are the master of your ship. Consulting spiritual forces to help you navigate the sea of life. Tuning into your support system behind the "veil". Accessing the help of spirit guides, ancestors, and angels. You are heavily protected, even if you don't realize it, yet! 👼🏻

Jupiter feels great in Cancer - it happily expands your intuitive and psychic abilities! Go where your gut feeling tells you to go and get in touch with your emotions. Cancer is also related to the Moon (our mother/family), and with this entire degree story, it seems like you are on a journey to let go of many family traditions, beliefs, and attitudes that don't align with your own values! But before that, you need to FIND what those are. Of course, this will be an ongoing process - the 0 degree is like a constant loop of going back to the basics and approaching things with a beginner's mindset.

The 12th house is connected to emigration and going abroad. You could possibly find prosperity and fresh perspectives by emigrating or studying abroad! (Jupiter = higher education)

A lot depends on the aspects (does it make any major exact aspects to your personal planets? Is it challenged by the outer planets, etc...) Additionally, the ruler of your Jupiter - the Moon, will tell you more about the nature of the patterns and conditioning you are asked to let go of. 🧼🧹

I hope that was helpful and not too long! I am not sure how to present these analyses in a more concise way. Any ideas? 😅

- Foxbørn

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ 1

ᴄʜᴀʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ

ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʏ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ?

[cerezawrites]

FFXIV Write 2022 #9 - Yawn

Spoilers for EW - takes place after Tepid, story number 8 for this year, which in turn takes place after 6.0′s ending and before Pandaemonium or the patches.

As Cereza had predicted, getting Gaia out of her room had been exceedingly difficult.  Even with the benefit of food and coffee, the teen was yawning.and barely staying awake, and Ryne wasn’t much better.  Even with the Zun’s help, an amaro ride didn’t seem safe; luckily, a visit to Eulmore had earned her the mayor’s permission to borrow one of the airships, at the cost of the promise to join them for lunch when the errands were over.  

Cereza elected not to ride in the ship itself as it sailed from the Crystarium.  It had space enough, but she thought it safer to patrol the skies; errant Sin Eaters yet flew the skies, and she didn’t want a repeat of the crash landing during the star shower.  Instead, she entrusted the girls to Bec Lug, and the service of a few adventurers she had called in.  Cerigg and Lue-Reeq were on watch with bows, and Traynor was prepared to defend the ship with magics should the need arise.  Giott and Granson sailed as well, but their natures left them more useful on the ground to watch their backs when they landed.  

For her part, Cereza sailed alongside the airship from her manacutter, trying not to think too much about how odd it was that she could call it here.  The culprit for that trick stood on the dashboard of the vehicle, watching the clouds soar.  They’d had their “talking to” with Cereza, and now content with the level of chastisement, had elected to watch the sky as Cereza kept a gaze around them.  

Her eyes drifted back to the airship, and she smiled as she noticed the decorations and trim - work she’d done to help a friend and the city.  A touch of her own handiwork in the ship.  

The skies were fortunately free of threats, and they landed in Nabaath Araeng without issue.  Cereza leapt out of the ‘cutter and went over to the airship, Feo Ul in tow.  Ryne stumbled out, and Cereza helped support her as she got on her feet and walked to the spot where they’d last seen Minfilia.  

Feo Ul flitted around.  “Mmmm… yes yes yes!  I see the touches of her power here.. They match the gift in Ryne - a lovely name by the way - and a bit of something in your own aura, my sapling. Actually a lot of something in you - the aura and that strange seal in your soul….”  

Cereza smiled.  “Her gift.  The Blessing of Light.  The Traveler’s Ward.”  

“Well, whatever it is, it looks like the energies here.”  The red pixie flitted around, leaving sparks for the two to mark the concentrations.  Ryne held her crystal in her hand, tightly, and went to the first puddle of energy.  As she approached, her own aether resonated, and a cloud of energy seemed to glow at the heart of it.  Cereza watched as the energies flowed into Ryne, and felt them align with her own.  As the first resonance completed, Ryne seemed to be a bit more energetic.The process repeated five times, until at last Ryne stood still.  And then, for a brief moment, an outline like an angel seemed to surround her before fading.  She turned to Cereza, and both could feel the change it had wrought.  Even as the full trance faded, Ryne was more vibrant than before.  “It’s done… I’m not sure what I’ll use the extra power for… but I think I’m whole again.”  

Cereza smiled.  “Good.  Then let’s help Gaia, and be done with this.”  

-

The airship landed at the docks in Kholusia, and the team rowed out to the drop point.  Ryne’s energies were obvious, as she helped Gaia down to the shelf under the Tempest.  “The Skimmer won’t be big enough for everyone I’m afraid,” Ryne observed.  

Cereza nodded.  “Luckily, I have an additional option.”  Through her connection to the source, she reached through and drew forth a long brown and black vessel, with massive jets underneath.  “The Lunar Whale.  It’s ability to sail between the star and the moon above is yet untested, but it’s big enough for everyone.”  But only barely… hence why the airship made more sense for the longer flight.”  She nodded at the glowing city in the distance.  “But that’s a short enough ways for this to suffice.”  

The group clambered in, and Cereza’s word proved true.  The vehicle had no true windows, just “monitors,” and no space to boot.  Fortunately, with the speed of the jets propelling them, the journey to Amaurot’s edge went quickly enough.  They disembarked at the elevator going down, but all save the girls and Cereza were in awe at the sight for a long while before they could even move.  Cereza warned them, but there was no real preparing for it.  

Cereza pulled out some glamour prisms, and channeled their images around the team.  “Just to blend in.  And please don’t be offended if they call you children.”  The hunters’ typical garb was replaced by black robes and simple white masks, and Cereza donned the same kind of robe and mask before leading them down to the city.  

A single figure stood waiting at the elevator as it reached the bottom.  The giant shade looked down, and spoke simply, “Hello, my old new friend,” he said in his strange language.  “Ah… but you are not here to catch up, I see.  Logrif’s vessel is hurting?”  

Cereza had to compose herself, the pain of Elpis still raw, but she pushed through.  “I apologize, Hythlodaeus,” she said.  “This is an urgent matter indeed.  But when I am able, I’ll come to join you for that tea.”  

The chief of the bureau of the architect nodded to all of those things, and Cereza explained what they were doing there.  “Ah,’ he said.  “I see… the place you sought would work best for this, yes.  His energies should be strong enough there.”  

-

The illusion in the capitol chamber had long been cleared of fiends, but the fires of the Final Days yet burned in that place.  Luckily, through the weavings within, Cereza was able to guide them to their destination - the point above the star where the Convocation faced the final Blasphemy and, in the distant past, summoned their god.  

Gaia seemed to stir as they reached that place.  Her Ancient memories were never recovered, unlike the other Ascians, but she seemed to remember THIS all the same.  As with Ryne, she took the green crystal and drew upon the wisdom within, and sought the points that provided the strongest energies of Zodiark.  

When she finished, her skin, though still pale, seemed more alive.  Hythlodaeus, who had accompanied them within, nodded.  “That is well.  The damage is repaired.”  

Gaia looked at everyone, and then locked eyes with Ryne, before Ryne jumped at her and embraced her.  Gaia was taken aback by this, but didn’t stop it, and just resigned herself to the embrace.  

-

The others went back to the surface, but Cereza turned around and returned to Amaurot.  She strode the illusion of the ancient world in the garb she had acquired in the past, her hood and mask up to blend in and pay homage to the old ways, and found her way to the meeting place where a single shade awaited her, in the privacy of a small cloister. Though small, she sat in the seat, and removed her hood and mask for her old new friend.  

“That gesture,” he said. “Typically it is a sign of close friendship.”  He wasn’t chastising her, but simply informing her.  

But Cereza smiled. “I know.  And… well.. There’s something you need to know.  I did this intentionally, Hythlodaeus… we’ve met in a way you won’t know because… when he made you, he didn’t remember.”  

The shade’s face was covered, but Cereza could see the surprise.  She could feel the shade’s gaze as well, studying the robe, and the recognition of his own work in it.  “I… see.  Please… tell me this tale, I would know what you have been up to.”  

Cereza nodded, and told her other story.  A trip back in time.  A fateful encounter with Hades and Hythlodaeus as they were back then; the reinforcement of her in the past, his creation of garb, and all else that transpired in their brief friendship - and the memory lost to time, due to the casting of a dangerous magic.  

Hythlodaeus considered her words without judgment, simply listening and taking them in, until her tale finished at the end of the universe, where they gave one final gift to her.  As she ended his part in it, he considered; then the shade reached his hands to his hood and mask, and removed them both.  His visage was perfectly recreated - Cereza had a feeling no other shade here would be that perfect, if they even held such an image under the mask - and Hythlodaeus smiled at her.  

“Your tale is… hard to believe.  But yet you haven’t a reason to lie.  And it lines up with the recollections I DO have, thanks to Hades.  And the robe is proof enough for me.”  He sighed then.  “Still… it’s amazing what you’ve uncovered.  What we never could in our time, and more.”  

Cereza smiled.  “You did so much as well.  I know you’re not him… but you’re all that’s left of him now.  And… one thing I learned was that just because you’re born of creation magic doesn’t mean you can’t be a person.  So… I came here.  Hades is gone now… but you’re here, and I’m here too.  Well… I’m most of Azem, anyways.”  

Hythlodaeus smield, and nodded.  ‘But don’t call yourself that here, please, not with me. Not out of anger or belief it should be a sacred name.  But rather… because that wasn’t your name back then.  You don’t remember, I’m sure.  But you were our friend long before Venat stepped down and elevated you to that seat.  We called you by many names in our time - Hades’ always being more creative - but there was a name we knew you by above all else.”  

Cereza nodded, and waited, as Hythlodaeus formed the word.  “You’re not Azem to me… you’re Apollo.”  

[gunterfan1992]

Interview with James Baxter (the Human)

Guess what, everyone? I just had the pleasure of exchanging emails with James Baxter—that’s right the James Baxter! James is something of a legend in the animation world, and he is known for his beautifully expressive animation style that is able to make even the simplest shape look majestic and full of life. In addition to the myriad movies he has worked on, James also contributed special animation to Adventure Time, working on season five’s “James Baxter the Horse” and season eight’s “Horse and Ball”; not only was the character named after him, but he even got to voice his horse doppelgänger!

And so, without further ado, Mr. James Baxter the Human:

GunterFan: I know that you've recounted it before, but would it be possible to get your take on the 'origin story' of the "James Baxter the Horse" episode. How did it all come together?

James Baxter: Well, Pen and I were in contact with each other while I was working at DreamWorks. I had known about him since he had left CalArts and I had already told him how much I liked Adventure Time, and I had told him that if he ever needed me to do anything to give me a call. I guess he heard me because later he asked me to meet him at a tiny sandwich place that was on Flower St. and Sonora in Burbank (it's called Little Ground now, but I can't remember what it used to be back then). There, he pitched me the idea for the character and he gave me a quick sketch of James Baxter the Horse. I said  yes, absolutely I would love to animate and voice that for you, that sounds amazing. He also reminded me of one of my animation demo lectures that I had done at CalArts when he was a student there. I usually ask for suggestions from the students of what they would like me to animate for them, so they can see the thought process. At that lecture someone yelled out, "Do a horse balancing on a ball!" (it may have been Pen) I guess as a goof, knowing that might be a little tricky for a quick demo. I remember asking for something a little simpler please. I suppose Pen remembered that moment because that's where the idea came from. As far as the actual episode goes, and what happens in it, that's all Pen and his team.

GF: What was the animation process like? How long did it take you to get everything all together?

JB: I saw the storyboard, and they gave me a printed copy of it, as well as some exposure sheets for the shots that the horse was in. I spent a little time working out some different cycles that I could move between, James balancing in place, James turning in a circle etc. I was trying to do cycles that could be reused over and over in different shots to save on work. it was all animated on paper and all the clean up drawings were done by my wife Kendra. Then all those drawings were shipped overseas to the production studio that was doing the rest of the animation for the show, so that they could do the color and compositing. I guess it took us about a month or six weeks, but I was only working on it evenings and weekends.

GF: How much say did you have with regard to the character design? What about key poses? Were you given creative freedom?

JB: I was given a lot of freedom. I just had that one sketch that Pen had drawn, but he had suggested that I give it a more flowing mane and tail. I remember sending a drawing of mine back to the team at Cartoon Network so that they could do a color model for him. As far as key poses went, I just had the boards to go from, which were clear but not super detailed, so I had a lot of freedom to make up the animation as long as I stayed true to the staging and to the length of the shots. By the time i got the exposure sheets the dialogue tracks had already been written on them, which is common practice, so I could animate to the sound.

GF: I love James Baxter (the Horse)'s voice! What inspired the accent and the whinny? What was the recording process like?

JB: I guess the voice is me just trying to be horsey, and a little posh, and British. He only ever says his name (no trouble remembering the lines!), so it's a little hard to really define an accent, but I'm British so that's where I went. My natural accent hovers somewhere over the mid-Atlantic since I've lived in the US for over thirty years. The whinny is just me trying not to cough as I'm trying to make horsey noises! Voice acting is not my talent, but it was a lot of fun, mostly because it was so surreal just saying my own name in different ways for half an hour! They were very nice and patient with me.

GF: I haven't been able to find a lot of info on "Horse and Ball." What was that like? Was it different the second time?

JB: How did you feel returning to the show? Well, I was very pleased to get another chance to do more James Baxter, but there was more footage of him in the second episode and I had less time to do it. That meant that I only animated a few shots of him in that episode, not all of him as I had done in the first one. I would have loved to have done it all, but there just wasn't time. But it was just as fun to animate, especially falling off the ball and the dance at the end.

GF: What has the reception been like on your end? Do folks ever connect your name to the character without realizing that they're both you?

JB: I’ve never had the "Oh, I never knew that James Baxter was a real person" comment face to face, but I've seen it quite a lot in comment sections on YouTube and other places online. I've got to say, it's very gratifying having this amazing alter-ego of me in AT, especially since he's such a benevolent character. I'm glad Pen didn't decide to make him a jerk! All he does is ride around cheering people up, how amazing is that?! It's certainly become a gateway for a whole lot of people to discover me as an artist, not just a cartoon character.

I hope to incorporate all this information into the second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo... one day. Either way, thank you James Baxter for not only agreeing to a little interview, but also making the world a better place!

[centrally-unplanned]

I’ve been playing Tiny Islands again, a randomized tile-placing map builder game where each tiles has rules for how it scores like adjacencies, etc, you know the drill, and I got a particularly good score today (above 70 is rare):

Whenever I play I like to tell myself little stories about how the economies of these worlds function, connected loosely to the scoring system, which on a whim to amuse myself I am going to write out today. So there is little cluster of houses in bottom circled in red, right?

Houses get scores for each unique other adjacent tile, while forests and mountains get points for being next to each other, so....okay, this is a mining town. The sandy beach is a natural harbor lets say, and the waves represent water ideal for fishing, allowing food to be brought in to support the towns (explaining those points). Mountains alone can be mined, but this is pretty pre-industrial tech world; having the forest nearby is a source of lumber, to both build the mines and to feed the furnaces for smelting the product. The miners stay afloat on fish while exporting ore & related products for wealth.

But then what is that church circled in green doing over there? Churches score points for being adjacent to towns, so I say they represent town centers, where you have urban/commercial/cultural industries. The church would logically be near the southern village, right? Well that’s not what the random deck permitted me, so...yes more people live in the south, but to sail north is a one-tile waterway near some mountains...that is probably pretty treacherous waters! The mountains would spill out into crags in the causeway, and could form treacherous winds in the narrow pass. Prob not ideal for large cargo ships. But the north of the island...that has two beaches, natural harbors! And is right next to the big main island. So that church + house, that’s the port & center of commerce; people bring the product overland through the plains on the left to ship out the goods for revenue, leaving the southern town more industrial, working class, while the dense urban living stays in the north.

So what about our other island, circled in blue? That town is huge! 6 houses around a church, huge score bonus there. But the houses themselves don’t have much of anything around them, just a few trees. They do have that one beach though; beaches get points for each “land” border they have, so that is one high-scoring beach. Leaving us a very big town, with very few natural resources, but a great harbor...ah, this is Venice, and Europe is to the northeast. Surely those flatlands provide it some food, but its real source of wealth must be the lands beyond, with the best harbor in the region providing safety to merchant ships and trade goods to the people. Red Town only trades with Blue Town, but Blue Town trades with everyone - that is why its population is so high and so centralized.

Visualizing the flow of goods, we get this then:

A map that hopefully creates a logic for all the point scoring space in the map to be a functioning socioeconomic system. And also a weird ghost island that occasionally daring sailors find themselves called to the shores of in search of treasure and adventure...not that any have ever returned.

TL;DR I am a weirdo and also 10 years old.

[breeeliss]

i heard some people don’t know about the Taang/Kummi theory

So this was originally supposed to be a response to an ask I had gotten about this ATLA theory, but because Read More links on Tumblr asks seem to break once you edit them, I’m reposting so that people can actually see the post lol 

For anyone who wasn’t a part of the Toph x Aang LiveJournal fandom in the early 2000s, buckle up, because this bugged me out as a 13 year old. 

Remember the end of “The Swamp” (Book 2, Episode 4)? We find out the swamp isn’t haunted, Huu was just protecting it the whole time, and then he explains to Katara, Sokka, and Aang why the swamp is so mystical and sacred.

The swamp is just one big banyan grove tree that’s grown out over miles and miles. All the branches and trees they see are connected because they’re one big breathing organism. And that extends to life as well. We’re all living beings. We all share the same roots. We all are from the same tree, even if we don’t act like it. Everything is connected! Cool stuff.

But when Katara asks what her seeing her mother and what Sokka seeing Yue meant, Huu explains that “in the swamp, we see visions of people we lost, people we’ve loved, folks we think are gone, but the swamp tells us they’re not. We’re still connected to them. Time is an illusion, and so is death.” So Katara never really lost her mother and Sokka never really lost Yue because the connections we make in life transcend death and time. They’re not gone. They’re still a part of us. The swamp reminds us of this.

Now, to keep in theme with this, we probably would’ve expected Aang to also see visions of people he’s lost and loved before (Gyatso, the other Airbenders, his culture, etc.)

But for some reason, Aang sees...Toph. Someone he doesn’t know.

Huu doesn’t really give Aang an explanation for this, he sort of just lets Aang figure it out for himself. And what we’re left is “okay well if time is an illusion and this isn’t someone I’ve made a connection with yet, it’s someone I will make a connection with.” We’re made to accept that as viewers, but why was Aang’s vision so different? Was it really just to lead him in the direction of his Earthbending Master so that he can continue on with his destiny?

Or was it because, unbeknownst to Aang, Toph actually was someone that he had loved and lost before? Just not in this life. In another life. A past life. When he wasn’t Aang, but rather Avatar Kuruk, the Southern Water Tribe Avatar that came before Avatar Kyoshi.

✨Basically the theory is that Toph is one of the reincarnations of Ummi, the southern water tribe woman that fell in love with Avatar Kuruk and had her face tragically stolen by Koh, the Face Stealer.✨

Stay with me, because it gets way deeper.

Who are Kuruk and Ummi you ask?

We formally meet Kuruk during “Sozin’s Comet Part 2: The Old Masters” (Book 3, Episode 19) when Aang is appealing to his past lives for wisdom with regard to what to do with Ozai. Kuruk was a “go with the flow” (lmao) Avatar and sort of just let things play out and it seemed to work for him. He met a girl named Ummi, they fell in love, they were gonna get married, cool.  

According to the comic books, Koh I guess was kinda off-put by Kuruk’s arrogance? So as punishment this spirit straight up abducts Ummi on their wedding night and steals her face (ultimately killing her). He blames himself, saying if he’d been more attentive and active he could’ve saved her. He tried to kill Koh out of revenge over it, but could never do so. Koh alludes to this when Aang visits him in “The Siege of the North Part 2″ (Book 1, Episode 20) and shows Aang Ummi’s face. All in all, super tragic.

The Avatar never really “dies.” He’s constantly being reborn. The reason Aang is able to consult his past lives for wisdom is because all of his past lives are him. If the point of the swamp is to get you to understand that death is an illusion, then the swamp understands that the separation between Aang and Kuruk is also an illusion. They’re different people but also the same person all at once. They’re still connected.

So, assuming that Aang was no different from Katara and Sokka and was also seeing people that he’s loved and lost in the past while in the swamp, maybe Toph really is someone he’s met and known before. He just lost and loved her in a past life that neither of them remembers back when they were both completely different people.

But wait, what’s the proof that Ummi is one of Toph’s past lives?

This theory hinges on the assumption that the Avatar isn’t the only one who is capable of being reincarnated. So if you keep with that assumption, there are a few moments highlighted by the theory that connect Toph and Ummi.

The most obvious of which is that Toph is blind. Seeing as how Ummi lost her face when she was a human (and Koh still has it), it would make sense that her future reincarnations would potentially have some kind of loss of their senses attributed to, you know, getting your face ripped off. BUT, another detail that is, in my opinion, a little more interesting is one of Aang’s anxiety nightmares from “Nightmares and Daydreams” (Book 3, Episode 9). Specifically the part of the nightmare where Toph is featured looking like this:

(so creepy ;A;) But why does Toph manifest in Aang’s dream this way, devoid of life and devoid of a face of all things?

This dream that Aang is having is over his anxieties/fears over losing his friends. Sokka, Toph, and Katara all succumb to some sort of horrific end in this dream and Aang is unable to save them. It seems like his anxieties over losing Toph manifested through showing us Toph as a lifeless husk with...no face. Maybe when Aang was having this nightmare, some of the fears and anxieties felt by his previous lives were bleeding in. It would make sense that Kuruk’s greatest anxiety/fear would be losing his loved ones as well, after he failed to protect Ummi from having her face stolen.

And if we assume that Toph actually is Ummi (i.e. a reincarnation that Aang subconsciously remembers), it would make sense that Aang would see Toph standing there in the darkness. Her face stolen. Helpless to save her.

And then in “The Avatar and the Firelord” (Book 3, Episode 6), after learning about Zuko’s lineage and Avatar Roku’s relationship with Sozin, it’s Toph who remarks, “do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?”

It’s interesting that Toph would be the one to ask this. And it’s interesting that Aang is the one that reaches out to hold her hand first and tell him that he doesn’t see why that can’t be possible. Because these connections that transcend lifetimes aren’t limited to just the Avatar. They’re apparent in everyone’s lives, no matter who you are. And the fact that Toph and Aang were able to share that brief moment and give each other that reassurance makes sense if you consider that, several lifetimes ago for them both, they were a lot closer than just mere friends.

And are there other connections between Taang and Kummi?

The theory supports some interesting parallels between Kuruk and Ummi’s relationship and Toph and Aang’s relationship. Kuruk and Aang are very similar in that they both avoided their Avatar duties. Kuruk because of his lackadaisical nature and Aang because he was afraid.

Ummi ultimately ended up being Kuruk’s punishment for not being able break from this passivity and actively pursue his responsibilities as the Avatar. But, by contrast, Toph ended up being Aang’s greatest asset with regard to helping him break from his passivity and learn to face things head on no matter how impossible they may seem.

The Earthbending portion of “Bitter Work” (Book 2, Episode 9) is exclusively about this. Aang is passive by nature, hence why Earthbending is such a hard element for him to master. As Toph so eloquently put: “You had a perform stance, and a perfect form, but when it came right down to it you didn’t have the guts.” The whole episode she’s goading him into being strong and firm. She mercilessly lays into him for not being direct. For being a pushover. For not facing his problems. For not standing up for himself. For being passive. The very thing that was Kuruk’s downfall.

But the pushing works because Toph unlocks something very powerful in him. Toph taught him how to be active. To face his struggles head on. To not flinch before responsibility or danger. That moment where Aang stands up to the moose lion and promises Sokka that he won’t leave him alone (that he will be there to protect him, and he’ll stand staunch in the face of danger) is a really important emotional milestone. It’s a role that’s very different from the one that Katara plays in Aang’s life, but it’s no less important.

Katara has always been someone who cared deeply for Aang’s emotional needs, who understood the reasons why he was afraid, why he wanted to run away, why he wanted to avoid responsibility. But Toph was very much someone who took a much rougher approach to Aang. Because Aang needed it. Because Aang’s inactivity also threatened to be his downfall in this life because it got in the way of him mastering the Earth element. Toph and Aang became a victory instead of a tragedy. Toph wasn’t used as a way to hurt Aang, like Ummi was used to hurt Kuruk. Toph was one of Aang’s greatest sources of strength.

And it was their connection to each other -- their connection that transcended lifetimes -- that brought them back together as friends.

And maybe more if you feel like adding a ship to your repertoire.

[beskarberry]

Star-crossed

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 11

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you."

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9.k oh no

Content warnings: Major angst, nightmares, premonitions, auditory hallucinations, unsavory parental figures, paranoia, domestic disputes, child endangerment, violence. No smut in this one, the only thing getting fucked in this chapter are our feelings.

A/N: This one hurt to write, there were definitely some tears shed while putting this together this so fair warning do not expect this one to end well. :(

High above the metal decking of the engine room, you were elbow deep in an exhaust port, clearing away the slag to replace one of the durasteel plates that had started to warp from the excess heat. You were singing, as you always did when you worked; a vulgar, brassy shanty that was almost louder than the reciprocating scraper in your hands. You spat and wiped a wayward chunk of grease from your mouth, the taste of it oily and burnt. No matter how many times you’d been taught the lesson of ‘keep your mouth closed’ you couldn’t help it. Whenever you worked, you sang.

Raucous as a mudhorn in heat and louder than a full grown krayt, your songs were a favorite of your unit, and the chief of engineering would often come stand a while and listen; though the moment he was caught eavesdropping he would scold you for not working harder. Tough love is what he called it. He was yelling at you now from far below at the base of the hyperdrive engine, and you pushed your goggles up your grime-smeared face to see him.

Bilgerat! Get’cher ass down ‘ere, posthaste!

Yessir!

Now you were standing in front of the chief, though there was another man standing there too. Tall, thin and pale with eyes like a dead fish and a tight, steelset jaw. You didn’t recognize him, but he looked important, his lapel shining with the badge of a high-ranking officer.

You there, girl, sing.

Sir?

Don’t argue with me, child, I heard you from three decks over. Sing.

Being watched made you nervous, but you did as you were ordered. You sang something, maybe everything, either way the stranger watched you, no, judged you, his eyes never leaving your face. The dead-eyed man furrowed his brow and stroked his chin thoughtfully, but you had already stopped watching him, caught in your song, powerless against the siren song that was your own voice.

It always felt so good to let loose, your voice could set your soul free, and yet it also felt like it was pulling something in. Something greater than yourself, flowing through you, connecting you to every living thing that ever was or ever will be. Your boots were firmly stuck aboard the starship called the Wyvern’s Tongue, but your songs carried your heart to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to worlds beyond your durasteel home.

~

The humming is what woke Din up, though he hadn’t slept much through the night anyway, too suspicious of the artifact he had found aboard his ship. Fully armored, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall of the borrowed quarters he had stood guard over his tiny clan, dozing in and out of restless sleep.

He lifted his helmeted head to zero in on the noise you were making. It was one he was familiar with, you often hummed in your sleep, it was something he loved about you. The warm, wavering sound coming from the floor where you had made a nest of quilts for yourself was comforting, but tonight something about it seemed off.

He watched you sleep, noticing the way that your fingers twitched and your legs kicked behind you slightly. It wasn’t like you to be so energetic, so distressed. Clutched to your chest the foundling purred softly, but you didn’t seem to hear him. Your hums turned to whimpers, making the Mandalorian’s blood run cold.

She’s having a nightmare.

She’s perfect. I’ll take her.

But sir, she’s m’best bilgie. How’ll I-

Is that insubordination I hear, Chief Wellers?

N-no Cap’n Forescythe. She’s all yours.

Good. Come along, little sparrow, your talents are being wasted here.

You remember being so scared, looking to your chief for reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Though you’d lived aboard the Wyvern’s Tongue since she had left Corellia’s port you’d never actually met the captain. The starcruiser was well over a thousand meters long and home to hundreds of crewmates, putting bilgerats far below the captain’s sphere of influence. What did he want from you?

Each step you took in your dream you got taller, your strides lengthening as you grew from a gangly teenager to a young woman. You were at the bridge now, being sat in a stiff but comfortable chair. You were taught to relay orders, delegate operations, interpret incoming transmissions and their origins. It was a station high above your birthright, but you were never one to turn down a challenge, and you bullied your way to excellence; much to your captain’s pride.

Captain Forescythe was usually described as a cold, unforgiving man, but he treated you remarkably well for a boat-brat dug up from the scuppers, much to the disdain of his fellow officers. He told you that you were a natural talent, gifted by the Maker with a voice so strong, so beautiful, almost like he revered you for it. Much like the ship's namesake, the Wyvern’s captain lorded over you like treasure, jealousy guarding you like a priceless jewel.

The captain’s precious little pet.

Sing, my little Sparrow.

~

Unable to spectate any longer, Din crawled over to you, brushing an armored hand over your sweat-streaked face. “Mesh’la? Are you alright? Wake up cyare, you’re having a nightmare.”

Wake up.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Once where a beautiful, peaceful world had once been there was now only dust. The Death Star your ship was escorting had succeeded in her mission, and you had been graciously allowed to watch as the mechanical moon obliterated a billion lives as one would exterminate a nest of roaches. Around you your crew cheered, hooray for the Empire! Death to the Resistance! But you couldn’t hear them.

You heard screaming.

Clawing at your ears and squeezing your eyes closed did nothing to make it stop. As if millions of voices were funneling directly into your skull.

You ran. Ran through the labyrinthian hallways, ran as fast as you could to your quarters. Even your blankets would not protect you, the wailing only growing louder.

Murderers! Monsters! You killed us! Why? Why why why!

You ran from your tiny room, backpack slung over your shoulder, filled with what few things you owned. Ran all the way to the hangar. You’d worked on interceptors a thousand times before when your hands were still small, when you could weasel your way into the narrowest of spaces and prove yourself worthy of not getting jettisoned. Knife in hand you unlocked the security protocols easier than picking your teeth, and the hangar fell away beneath you.

Turning back one last time to glance at the artificial home you had known for so long you saw a figure standing there. Was it the captain? Had he come to stop you? Stop his precious Sparrow from flying away?

No. They were blue, flickering in and out of corporeality. Their face took up your entire mindscape now, their features ever changing, like you were looking at more than one face at a time. The eldritch being’s eyes bored through yours, shifting rapidly from those of a man to those of a child to those of an elder, a hundred lives all demanding to be seen at once. Their mouth did not move when it spoke.

“i̴͊̎t̴'s̸̉͋ ̵͋c̸͑ȏ̸̕m̸͐͛i̸̽͘n̷̾͂ǵ̵”

You sucked air like your lungs had never known oxygen, nearly launching the foundling into orbit as you bolted upright. Beskar burdened arms coiled around you the next second, and you stung your knuckles on his armor trying to fight him off in your panic.

“Ger’off’a me! It wasn’t my fault! I’m sorry! Please!”

“Cyare! Stop! You’re having a nightmare, it’s ok I’ve got you!” Battleborne muscles held you tight against a cold plate of steel while you thrashed until you were coherent. Husband. You let your body relax against your oathsworn and wept, deep, heaving sobs that tore your throat apart and crackled your ribs. Soft shushing noises came through Din’s modulator next to your ear, but the cold metal of his armor brought you little comfort.

“I-I’m s-s-sor-ry.” You stuttered into the fabric of his cowl, the roughhewn cloth soaked with tears. Strong fingers carded through your dampish hair, still not dried all the way from your shower only a few hours ago. Din pressed his palm against the back of your head, burying you in the crook of his shoulder where he could protect you from whatever had scared you. The yellowed tips of his gloves bumped against your unburdened ear cuffs with each pass of his hand, but the leather scraping the metal couldn’t drown out the whispers that still oozed from your thoughts.

Why why why why why why...

“It’s alright, cyar’ika, I’m here. Grogu’s here.” Without tearing your eyes away from the safe haven of his cloak you groped blindly for the baby, finding the disheveled youngling and pulling him in tight. “Can you tell me what happened?” Din asked, his modulated voice soft with worry. You shook your head against your partner. “Alright, that’s ok.”

-ỉ̶t'̸͑̋́̂s̸ ̵̝͕̏̀͠͝c̷̬͙̃̽͌̑̊o̷̅͑̓̈́m̴̧͓͈̭̃͂́̽͌͑ǐ̶̓̕n̷̓̋̚g̵͕͙͎͊̀͊̽!̶̑̀-

You gasped and pulled away from your husband’s comfort, eyes wider than moons, pupils shrunken to pinpoints. Gloved hands found your face, cupping your cheeks and trying to get you to look into his hidden honeywells that were searching your eyes. Unblinking, you looked right through him.

“Can you hear that?” You whispered, your voice far, far away.

“Hear what?”

-I̴̭̊̚͘͘T̷́̽̕S̴̔̅̈́ ̸̋C̸̀͋Ỏ̸̉̄͝M̸̐͂I̶N̷̽͗̈̌G̵͓̎̈̊̀͛͘͠!̶!̷̤̏-

“That!” you shrieked, making both your boys jump. You clawed at your ears, though you knew that wouldn’t help, the voices were coming from inside. “I-I have.. I have to go! I have to go now!” You tried to spring up off the floor, but your arm was caught in the iron grip you knew and trusted, keeping you at your knees. “I have to warn Alewyn!”

“Cyar’ika what are you talking about? Warn her about what?”

The phantom voice wailed again, and you doubled over from the force of it, sending a fresh wave of tears down your face. Din was getting scared now, his eyes wide with worry behind the visor, his throat bobbing around dry swallows. You’d never woken up like this before, so distraught and inconsolable, and it was making him feel helpless. He couldn’t put binders on your emotions, grapple with your fears, slay your inner demons.

“Let go!” You roared and flew from his grasp, tripping over your faceplate and the pile of quilts as you blasted out the door, sprinting down the Sunskate’s curving corridors towards the bridge with your foundling stuffed under your arm. Haunting voices chased you through the halls, making you deaf to the armored thunder that was following dutifully behind.

You charged through the bulkhead to the bridge, nearly busting the durasteel door off its hinges when you flew through it, skittering to a halt in front of the viewport. With wild eyes you searched the void, ignoring the concerned questions that were being asked of you. Where is it where is it where is it?! From corner to corner you scanned, locking your red-rimmed eyes on every flicker, every spark.

Nothing.

Nothing for miles.

Slowly you became aware of those around you, the soft leather gloves of your mate pulling on your face and the warm but worried voice of the Sunskate’s captain.

“Cyare?”

“Tra’laar?”

“Patu?”

Your legs gave out under you and you let yourself be caught in the steelbound arms of your husband, the two of you sinking to the floor with the foundling still locked to your chest. Terror replaced itself with scalding embarrassment, making you bury your unblinking eyes in the foundling’s forgiving tummy. Your eyelids wouldn’t close no matter how hard you willed them to, because they knew that somewhere, out there,

Was a dragon.

“What’s wrong with her? Did you do something to upset her?!” Alewyn hissed, becoming defensive of her ill-begotten rescue.

“No! She had a nightmare, I think. Cyar’ika whatever it is, it’s not real. There’s nothing out there, come back to me, please.” Mando’s loving pleas and careful touches went unrecognized, no matter how diligent they were.

What finally drew you back to reality was the gentle pat pat pat of fat baby paws on your face. You turned your wilted gaze to the foundling, the embarrassment of being seen so vulnerable only growing stronger and more painful. “I-I’m s-sorry, Goober, you s-sh-sh-shouldn’t have to see me like-”

Pap.

Baby beans smacked you softly on your forehead and closed his eyes, making you furrow your brow. “What are you- oh.” Your eyes slid closed, and a warm peacefulness breezed through you, exorcising the whispering voices between your ears. You took a deep, somewhat stuttered breath and let go, feeling whatever weird baby magic the foundling possessed flow through you. The night terror faded to the back of your mind, dissipating like mist until it evaporated entirely from your thoughts.

“Thank you…” You whispered, nuzzling the baby’s chubby belly. Heart rate steady and breath even, you leaned back against the man who was still holding you up. Din rested the edge of his helmet on the top of your head and hummed, a low, brassy tone, sounding relieved. Where his hands were wrapped around your sides you felt the slow roll of his palms, warm and protective. “I’m sorry, Mando, Alewyn, I don’t know what came over me...”

“S’all right, missy, t’ain’t the first time I’ve seen someone go wailin’ through the halls. We all have our burdens to bear.” Alewyn combed a dainty hand through your hair, brushing it out of your face. “Good thing them boys’ve gotcha though.” She glanced between the visor of the Mandalorian that was coiled so defensively around you and the little green baby you held so dearly. “I can tell they love ya.”

You nodded sheepishly and let Din help you to your feet, his hands never leaving you lest you waver. Angrily you wiped at the corners of your eyes, trying to cover your shame as the three of you walked back to your room. When the bedroom door closed behind you, you went straight for the porthole window, cautiously searching the stars again.

“What are you looking for?” Din asked hesitantly, “What… what were you dreaming about?”

“Um. I had a dream we were… under attack.” You lied, your eyes still locked to the void. If you could help it, the secrets of your past would someday die with you, though by the sounds of the whispers you had heard not even death could keep its mouth closed.

“Must have been one hell of a nightmare, I’ve never seen you like this. Is there anything I can do for you?” Din the ever-thoughtful asked, draping a quilt over your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from where you had been sleeping on it, the weight of it reassuring on your back. You shook your head. He glanced at the back of one vambrace, “We’re still another hour from the station, why don’t we get our things packed and back on the Crest? Would that be ok?”

It was better than going back to sleep, you didn’t trust your own thoughts not to terrorize you again, and you nodded enthusiastically. Din didn’t allow you to lift a finger while he zoomed around the little room, collecting your armor and laundry and then you, scooping you and the foundling up in his arms.

“Put me down, tinman, I’m not helpless!” you chided with a weak little laugh.

“There’s my girl. Nope, I’m carrying you. Deal with it.”

You sighed in a heavy, mocking tone, covering your face with your mask like a shy child while he proudly tromped back to the hangar to where your immobile home lay. Once you were all lifted up the half-hanging ramp you dropped graclessly onto a crate with a huff. You were beat, but it felt nice to be back in your ship, the familiarity adding to whatever calming effect the foundling had used. The little green terror was drowsy in your arms, spent from using his wild baby powers to vanquish your demons. You kissed his wrinkly little head and swaddled him in the quilt Din had accidentally stolen for you.

Tinman was digging through the larder, looking for something for breakfast and found a pack of biscuits to give you. Though the suspicious item he still carried in his pocket had kept him sleepless, the need to care for his loved ones overrode every other instinct, making him forget it for the time being. You weren’t hungry, if anything you were nauseous from your night terror, but Din was insistent; and you nibbled on a bright blue macaroon, splitting bites with the sleepy baby.

Eventually a soft beeping chimed from the Mandalorian’s vambrace, stationfall in fifteen minutes. Outside the ship you heard a holler, and you strode to the ramp to find Alewyn and Lilah, ready to bid thee farewell.

”Alright, so!” Alewyn exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Here’s the dealy-o. The Sunskate can’t actually… dock with the station. M’good ole dad’s still got hunters on the loose, never know when they’ll turn up, eh?” She laughed. “Your ship’s gonna have’ta dock on’er own, but Lilah’s patchwork should hold ya together long ‘nough for the service droids’ta pick ya up.”

You ignored the loud, audible groan from behind you. “I think we can manage that.” You started to hop down off the ramp, but the spry Togruta was already climbing up into the Crest, barreling you over. Alewyn the Affectionate squeezed your ribs so hard you felt the air leave your lungs, making you grunt ugly. One of her nimble hands disappeared from you into her many secret pockets, then snuck into one of yours, leaving a sizable weight of credits behind. “Wynnie!” you hissed against her montral, “Not again!”

“S’least I can do, since we nearly ripped that old bucket’a shit in half and you spared another spacer from the slab.” She held you out at arms length, bobbling her montrals at you with an arrogant grin. “Take care’a yerself, missy. And you too, Mando! Be good to this woman’n’er son or so help me!” The princess raised a fist at him that turned into an outstretched hand. He shook it hesitantly, but the lavender lady reeled him in, and you giggled at his hover-hands while she squeezed the life out of him.

Lilah helped her wife down from the ramp, and the two of them waved before hefting the ramp closed, sealing you inside with your crew. You dashed up the ladder to the cockpit, looking for a horn to honk but there wasn’t one, giving you another item to add to your mental grocery list. Din followed you up with Grogu in tow, taking his seat in the captain’s chair.

The Sunskate’s hangar jaws slid open slowly, pulling a blue force field over the stretch of stars. Far ahead you could just barely make out the shiny little dot where the station was, glittering just a little brighter than the stars themselves. With the cockpit door tightly sealed, Din carefully started up the old gunship, and on instinct you covered Grogu’s ears to protect him from the inevitable backfire.

The Razor Crest sputtered to life and slowly floated out of the hangar door, relying more on inertia than propulsion to get her towards the station. Out the window you saw the enormous rayship that had carried you here bank away from you, the starlight glittering briefly on her copper-colored belly before her propulsion engines flared back to life, and soon enough she was nothing more than a comet streaking through the void.

Din fussed with the radio transponder, opening up a hailing frequency that would alert the attention of the station droids, and it wasn’t long before a large transport unit was making its way to you. The automatic taxi magnetized itself to the roof of the Crest, easing the strain off of your damaged engines.

A robotic voice beeped through the comms: “THANK YOU FOR CHOS-ING EL-GON AU-TO-MA-TED SER-VI-CES. SMILE-Y FACE. CO-MEN-CING TRANS-PORT TO HAN-GAR SEV-EN-TEEN FOR EV-AL-U-A-TION AND RE-PAIR. HAVE A NICE DAY. SMILE-Y FACE”

Din groaned, his fists creaking on the steering wheel. “Why’s it gotta be droids…”

You shrugged in your chair. “Elgon’s old as dirt, prob’ly older than the Crest. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t anything on it that wasn’t animatronic.”

“Great.”

Ahead of you, the station dominated your viewport, humming with a myriad of activity. A neutral starport, Elgon boasted service to any and all as long as they had coin in their pockets, regardless of their commendations or crimes. You’d been to the old outpost many a time, both on your own and while you still wore a uniform, and excitedly you remembered a particular sweets shop that used to operate in the center.

Your service droid was nearly at the station now, approaching a large closed hangar with the number seventeen painted on it in orange Basic. You playfully kicked at the side of the pilots’ seat where Din’s butt was unguarded by the arm rests. “You excited to get fixed up, bucket boy?”

He nodded, he was ready to get back on the trail towards the last bounty. The thought of hunting again reminded him of the Imp device in his pocket that still mystified him, reigniting buried suspicions. I should ask her about it, maybe she knows what it is. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you while you were showering, or when you were getting ready to sleep, so being the polite riddur he decided he would bring it up with you in the morning.

Din reached into his pocket, closing his fingers around the mechanical spider, ready to pull it into the light when the hangar doors opened.

Revealing a blizzard of white duraplast.

“Oh fuck.” Your collective hearts went through the decking at the sight before you. There, swarming the station proper were dozens of Imperial stormtroopers, their eggheads covering the hangar like dirty snow. “Get down!” you hissed at Din who was already two steps ahead of you, sliding out of the pilots seat and under the dashboard. You tore the faceplate off of your crown and stuffed it into his hands along with Grogu and caged your two boys in with your knees, determined to keep anything mando-factured out of sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Din spat, slamming his fist on the floor. “This station is supposed to be neutral territory! We need to turn around, we can not stay here!”

Under you the Crest swayed gently in the droid’s grasp before being lowered onto a maintenance skiff, the hoversled bouncing slightly from the weight of your ship. Desperately you threw levers and pushed switches, trying to get the Crest to restart, but her engines were long gone, the turbines spinning almost mockingly slow. You weren’t going anywhere.

The comms light lit up on the dashboard with a soft chime, and on reflex you went to answer it when Din grabbed your leg. “Don’t even think about it.”

You made ‘what-choice-do-we-have’ hands at him, “Dude we are fucked unless I answer them, I-I speak their language, I can get us through.”

“Yeah? So do I.” He hissed from the floor, smacking the side of his thigh where his firearm hung.

“-Ksst!- hush! I’m handling this.” You straightened your shoulders and set your jaw straight before flipping on the receiver.

The holoprojector lit up in front of you with a tiny stormtrooper. “Identify yourself.”

“TK number SPW dash seven-zero-four-two, engaged in dogfight planetside and in need of repairs.”

“Why isn’t your ship running a beacon, soldier?”

“It's pre-empire surplus, it doesn’t have one.”

“What are you doing flying around in such a relic?” The stationmaster said with a bite of suspicion.

“...Budget cuts.”

They chuckled. ”No kidding. Alright then, what’s your designation?”

Shit, uh... “Prisoner transport unit.”

“Roger. Stand-by for transportation to engineering bay and prepare for inspection.”

The trooper winked out of existence, and you started to sigh with relief when the hand on your boot yanked you down to the ground.

“Prisoner transport unit?!” He rasped once you were at visor level with him on the floor. “Could you have come up with something else?!”

Unwillingly, your lips curled back and bared your teeth at his hateful tone. “There’s a shitload of guns and a goddamn carbonite freezer down in the hold, we’re not exactly delivering cookies. We need to get you two hidden before we get to the mechanics, come on!”

Din watched you drop through the ladder hatch with his heart in his throat, the fluttering organ violently trying to break out of his ribs. The Maker must think this is hilarious. After everything I’ve done to keep this kid away from the Imps we’re just going to go knocking on their fucking door. Everything was stacked against him. He was tired from lack of sleep, he was scared for the safety of his clan, and to top it all off he was becoming more distrustful of the microchip by the second; the mounting tension he emanated filling the cockpit like carbonite fog.

Maybe it’s a tracking device?

That… might make sense. Elgon station was out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, why else would a shitload of Imps be here if not to capture him and his crew? To take his son? Through the night he had grown suspicious of the item he had found, and a nagging thought had seeded itself in his frontal lobe, one that he refused to give audience.

What if it came from her?

No, that’s stupid. That’s your riddur, she’s obviously not an Imp. He reasoned, slowly soldier-crawling his way to the hatch with his son and your armor in tow. It must have been in the coral already, or come from one of the pirates, maybe they planted it here. But if that’s the case then we’ve been handed right over into a trap. He lept down the ladder with Grogu squashed under his arm, watching you fly around the cabin looking for an acceptable hiding spot for your foundling and a full grown Mandalorian.

Time started to move in slow motion as it usually did for him when he was sizing up quarry. What did her puck say, before I decided not to turn her in? He ran through his mental rolodex, digging for your file. Ex hunter. Guild dissenter. Bribed out of high-profile bounty. Now that he had met the high-profiler for himself he really couldn’t blame you, though it was suspicious that you had returned from the bridge one bounty short after speaking with Alewyn in private.

Alewyn. Princess-turned-pirate, a renegade royal that had made a name for herself literally ripping ships down from the sky. Hunter ships in particular. Awful convenient for her to be right in our line of travel to a station full of Imps out in the middle of fuckall nowhere. He froze, his visor locked to your frantic form. As if…

As if she was waiting for us.

The corners of his lips bared his teeth to no-one behind his visor as the distrust he had sown in his own heart dug its claws in deep. This has been a trap from the beginning! She’s been playing the long con since Tatooine. In his other hand he held your betrothal gift, the beskar faceplate that he had presented to you when you swore your vows. It reflected his own visor back to him, the hazy lighting of the cabin shimmering on the mudhorn embossed on the brow. No… that’s not it… that’s not true, she loves you…

Right…?

Or… so she says. His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you.

He’d caught you so easily on that dirtball of a planet, too easily for a hunter of your stature. You’d practically tossed yourself into the arms of a complete stranger, assumed the role of the child’s caregiver without question. Agreed to marry him after barely a month.

Grogu made a sniffling noise under Din’s arm, gaining both of his buir’s attentions. His nebulous eyes were beginning to moisten, threatening to spill over with tears at any moment. Instantly you ran to your baby’s defense. “Hey buddy boy, what’s wrong?” You carefully took the baby from Din, hugging him to your chest and making the tiniest sob bubble out of his nose. “No no no it’s ok, please don’t cry sweetheart!”

“He’s scared.” Din growled in a manner not at all comforting. You glared at the indomitable mountain of metal, offended that he would use such a tone in front of his own son. “He knows when there’s a threat nearby.” Under you the Crest wobbled slightly, signaling the start of her trek to the engineering bay. Tick tock.

“Fuck! Can you get in a storage crate?” you asked frantically, bouncing Grogu on your hip to get him to quiet down. The baby could sense the mounting anxiety radiating off of his buir, and was getting himself spun up into a fresh panic. His cries devolved into sobs, making the hull echo with despair. “Shh.. it’s ok! Baby boy please, we can’t do this right now!”

“Too obvious.”

“Ok, the sleeping cubby? The lockers? C’mon Mando work with me!”

“They’ll tear this ship apart the second it hits the bay. There’s no hiding. That’s it, we’re done for.” Din tossed up his hands and made some kind of noise in the back of his throat, some kind of strained laugh, the husk of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You knew that sound, it was the sound of acceptance, of defeat.

Like fuck you were giving up. You made to retaliate when something past his shoulder caught your eyes. Expecting you to fight with him he stopped his pacing and glared at you, then followed your eyes to the carbonite freezer. He whipped back around, gawking at you like you’d grown a second head. “Oh fuck no.”

“We are out of options!” you nearly screamed, “I can’t just cuff you, there’s no guarantee that they won't take you and Beans hostage, freezing you would be safer. I-it would only be for an hour or two, tops, just to pass inspection! That thing can unfreeze, right?”

“That is not the point!” Din bellowed, “You are suggesting not only to freeze me but to freeze him as well?” Din jabbed a finger at the baby, a rush of emotions threatening to boil his bucket right off his head. He widened his shoulders, broadening himself so large that he seemed to encompass the entire ship, glossy black eye turning dark and hateful on you. He couldn’t keep his suspicions to himself any longer. “You… has this been your plan all along?”

You balked, “Plan? Plan for what? The hell are you-”

He threw your beskar on the floor and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against the wall opposite the freezer and making Grogu scream out in terror. Mando’s visor took up your entire field of view, reflecting with your own wild eyes. “Your plan to capture us!” He barked, the malice overflowing like an erupting volcano. “You told that Imp that this was a prisoner transport unit. We don’t have any prisoners on this ship unless you’ve had them since the beginning.”

“Are you out of your fucking bucket?!” You spat back at him, “You think I want to put you in carbonite?! Put my son in carbonite?! There’s nowhere else on this ship to hide you!”

“How convenient.” The joints in your shoulders popped from the force he was applying to them, his weight nearly fusing you with the wall.

“You’re hurting me!” Over you the lights began to flicker, though neither of you saw it with your eyes locked on each other; yours filled with pain and anger, his visor pinning you down as if you were quarry.

At the sound of your pain the tension on your shoulder bones eased slightly, but not enough to let you free of the wall. Scalding shame burnt its way across his face, bitter and stinging. He was hurting you, the one thing he swore never to do to you again, the very first oath he had promised.

You chewed the side of your cheek, trying to steady your words. “Din. I love you. I love Grogu! I lied to that Imp to protect you. I don’t want those rotten eggs to have you, how could you even think that of me?”

She lies. One thing that Din knew about you was that you were unquestionably good at was putting on a ruse, able to sweet-talk quarry or lure droids to their deaths. But the way you took to the comms was different, how you were able to use the Imps own terminology against them, even how you spoke to the pirates before you were ‘rescued’ was delivered with flawless diction. It was too perfect, too natural...

As if that was your real voice.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” He growled, digging armored claws into the flesh of your shoulders, making you suck air through your teeth. Defensively you coiled your arms around Grogu, burying his wrinkly little head against your chest where he would be safe from the man you thought you trusted. Fire cascaded out from under Din's helmet, trying to burn you at the stake. “You told me once that I don’t know you.” His helmet tilted like a serpent poising to strike, words dripping with venom. “But I should have known an Imp when I saw one.”

“I am not an Imp!! That’s not who I am any MORE!” Bulbs exploded around you at your words, glass and sparks raining down from above. The strength of your thundering roar broke the delicate machinery in Din’s helmet, causing his audio intake to screech with feedback. Immediately his hands left your shoulders and went to his ears, trying to protect himself from the horrible noise.

The let-up was all the invitation you needed, and you dropped yourself low; catapulting into Din’s chest plate like a linebacker and knocking him into the freezer. You kicked your faceplate between his boots, thrust Grogu into his arms and punched the activator on the wall, tears flowing hotly down your face. As the fog billowed outward Mando wrapped himself around the foundling, as though his impenetrable armor could protect the child from the nightmare of being frozen alive.

Horrified, you watched as the two creatures you loved most were consumed by the mist, leaving a dark block in its wake that bore their likeness. The metal was already ice cold to the touch when you ran your hand over the glaring curve of your husband's visor, and down to the terrified, tear-streaked face of your baby.

Choked sobs tore at the back of your throat, trying to drown you with guilt. I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry my loves, I… I did what I had to do. You weren’t given time to process your grief, nearly jumping out of your skin when plasticast fists rapped on the access door with authoritarian vigor. Composing yourself to the best of your abilities, you stuck your finger down the barrel of your blaster, scraping off the dark residue and smearing it under your eyes to hide your welted cheeks.

Glass crunched under your boots as you made your way through the dismembered cabin to the wall panel, punching the buttons with shaky hands. The ramp chuggered and stopped halfway down, but it was down far enough for you to make visor contact with the platoon of troopers who were demanding your attention. Their armor was clean, freshly moulded and recently polished. These weren’t just the Empire’s soggy leftovers, these were new recruits.

Disgracefully hopping down from the ramp among a scurry of pit droids you puffed up your chest and squared your shoulders as you had seen your partner do whenever he was intimidating quarry. You crossed your arms behind your back in parade rest, watching as a painted trooper strode up to you, his rifle pointed at the floor near your feet.

“Stand aside, we have orders to search this ship.”

“Whose orders?”

“Elgon Station is under the Imperial jurisdiction of Admiral Forescythe, no ships in or out without search.”

You felt all the blood in your body evaporate at the name. Forescythe. Shit balls of hell, that fucking bastard is still alive?!

“Is that really necessary?”

The rifle in his hand rose just slightly. “You got something to hide?”

“No, sir.” you said sweetly, hoping politeness would buy you brownie points.

“Stand aside then.” The trooper barked, gesturing to your ship with the barrel of his rifle. You jumped when the heavy access ramp hit the ground, turning to glare daggers at the droid that had unfastened the damaged hydraulics. The stormtrooper marched past you up the ramp, inspecting the interior of the cabin as he went. As predicted, he nudged the lids of the supply crates open, pointing his gun at any would-be threats. Another pair of eggheads followed inside, rudely stomping through the Crest’s belly like they owned the place.

The painted trooper made loud, gross sniffing noises. “Smells like carbonite in here, your freezer might be leaking, better get that checked out…” He trailed off when he clocked the machine and its contents, taking big strides towards it. “Lookit that, Is that an actual mando? I didn’t even think they were real, I’ve only ever heard stories.” He gestured to you with his gun, “How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked coldly.

“How’d you catch him? And his... weird dog?” The trooper tapped harshly on the solidified metal that covered your foundling's eyeball, making your blood pyroclast through your veins, but you remained composed.

“I’m more dangerous than I look.” You seethed, digging your nails into the skin of your arms behind your back. And you’re about to find out just how fucking dangerous if you don’t back off!

One of the unpainted soldiers piped up. “Do you think this is the one they’ve been looking for? The one the Admiral was talking about?”

“Could be, I’ll radio the Wyvern when it makes stationfall, should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few hours.” Cotton seemed to grow in your mouth at his words, making it impossible to swallow. No, it can't be.

-ī̶̱̩͋t's̴̈̅ ̵̛̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷ŏ̷̐̓͑ṁ̸͌̋̾̕in̵̨͎̩̠̼͂͜g̷͑̔.-

Shut up. The commander jabbed his rifle at you. “I heard someone say that mandos never take their helmets off, we should unfreeze it and see what it looks like.”

“No.” You barked, making the soldiers flinch. Haha. “He’s very dangerous, even under the effects of hibernation sickness he can still be quite lethal.”

“There’s three of us and only one of it.” A rifle was pointed your way, “Thaw it out.”

Like hell. “Alright, then I won’t have to be the one to explain to the Admiral why a Mandalorian is loose in the station, or dead. I’ve heard he’s a reasonable man.”

The three troopers looked at each other with questioning glances, suddenly unsure. That seemed enough to deter them, and you waited while the troopers barked orders at the repair droids, ordering them to get your ship fixed up. A battalion of robots swarmed the Razor Crest inside and out, almost making you thankful Mando wasn’t there to blast them full of holes. The greasy robots would make quick work of the damage, and hopefully have you out of the station before the Wyvern arrived.

The Wyvern. You wanted to curl in a ball and die. Of all the bullshit the galaxy had to offer it had decided that you deserved a double helping of unwanted nostalgia. Not only was the Wyvern’s Tongue still operational she would be bringing with her good old Admiral Forscythe, though last time you saw him he was just a captain.

Your captain.

And he was on his way.

To this station.

To your ship.

To you.

Oh fuck.

Immediately you turned to your partner for reassurance, only to meet his frozen stare. You wanted to release him, let him carry you safely away from this place, but you weren’t out of the woods yet; so you were both going to have to wait. You’d never been frozen, thank the Maker, but you’d heard stories. How being frozen is like being trapped alive, trying to breathe but not being able to move your lungs. Still being conscious but feeling your blood stop in your veins. A living death.

A waking nightmare.

Repair droids swarmed your ship’s interior like a hive of bees, but they were making quick work of the damage and would hopefully be gone soon. Shaky legs carried you back over to the carbonite freezer, and you leaned heavily on the block of frozen metal, stretching your arms around it in an attempted hug. I wish you were here, my love, but it will be over soon.

You pressed a kiss to both of your boy’s faces and slumped to the floor, leaning on the bandoliered boots behind you. Between the wide open ramp and the droids working on the stardrive you were too exposed to unfreeze your family, and the thought of having to wait even a minute longer made the edges of your eyes threaten to spill anew.

Stars above you wanted this to be over. The back of your throat tasted like bile, and the plasma residue smeared under your eyes was starting to burn. You needed to get away, to blast off into space with your boys and put your draconian past behind you before the literal beast reared her ugly head.

But… now he knows. You groaned into your knees, digging claws into your own hair. He knows! You fucking asshat now he knows! Your greatest, vilest secret had been spilled, and you were going to have to find a way to live with the consequences. He... he’ll understand. Bilgerats are practically foundlings, I just need to explain myself better. Yeah! That’s it! I didn’t have the chance to explain myself. He’ll forgive me… right?

Time seemed to crawl, languid and slow, forcing you to wallow in your own guilt. You cautiously eyed the platoons of troopers that would often march past, trying to glare daggers through their shiny white buckets, but they paid you no mind. The hours ticked by, making you more and more anxious by the second. You had no way of knowing how soon the Wyvern would arrive, could be hours, could be minutes. Could be seconds.

-į̶̱̩̄͋ͅt'̶̡̳̰̝̇s̴̈̅ ̵̧̛̺̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷̄͋͛̚oṁ̸͌̋̾́̈́̕͝i̸̇̏-

I’m aware! You snapped at your thoughts, pissed that they were still present long after Grogu had purged them from your mind. I must be going crazy, it’s the guilt. It has to be the guilt. You rubbed at your temples, trying to dispel the mounting tension in your skull. When you opened your eyes a sweeper droid was clearing away the glass shards from the floor, and you cocked your brows at it as it went by. When did the lights burn out?

Eventually the interior repairs were completed to the fullest, and the moment the ramp hydraulics were functional again you slammed the door shut and booked it back to the freezer controls.You turned a pair of knobs on the side of the carbonite block and took a step back. The metal that covered your beloved crewmates turned red, then bright gold, sloughing off in luminous waves.

You jumped to catch Din and the foundling before they hit the ground, his strength lost from the effects of hibernation sickness, nearly causing him to melt onto the floor along with the aurelius sludge pooling at your feet. In your ear you heard both of your boys taking desperate, broken breaths; and you rubbed at Din’s dorsal plate, encouraging him to fill his lungs.

As a unit you sank down to the floor where the child practically rolled into your lap. His enormous eyes were squinty and blinking, making you think that he may be temporarily blinded. “Hey booger, it’s ok, can you hear me?” Grogu made a sad little noise, but that meant he could at least still hear. “There ya go, that’s it, nice’n slow. Y’ok?” The child looked up at you with a twisted expression, then immediately yarked bright blue all over your shirt. “You know what, I deserved that, thanks.”

Din’s modulated cough grated in your ear. “How… long?”

“Couple hours, but the repairs are finished, we can get the fuck outta here now. Are you alright? You gonna barf?” He started to shake his head no, but the shaking might have been his downfall because you felt him start to heave. “Not in the bucket not in the bucket! Come on, up! Heeere we go…” You gently set Grogu down on the floor and bullied yourself up under Din’s arm, dragging him as fast as you could to the fresher. You barely got the beskar out of the way in time for your partner to empty his stomach. “That’s it, let it all out, I gotcha.”

Din hung on to the sides of the fresher like his life depended on it, shaking violently with every hurl, and there wasn’t much else you could do but hold on. He released one armored claw from the side of the fresher to reach back and find you, but when you tried to hold his hand to comfort him he pulled his fingers from your grasp. Again you tried, but this time he didn’t just let go, he pushed you away, and you heard him mumble something into the fresher bowl.

“-..a...tor-”

“What’d you say?”

“Traitor!!!” Din spat, curling back around at you with viciously bared teeth, eyes wild and bloodshot. You backpedaled away from the fuming warrior that was half crawling half leaping towards you, making weak throws that were slowly gaining in strength. “You fucking traitor! I should have known! I should have known from the very fucking start!” You’d never seen him angry without the helmet, and it terrified you. He terrified you.

You put up your hands defensively, backing away from him. “Please! Let me explain! It wasn’t-”

“I don’t listen to Imps!” He swung at you and missed, but his agility was quickly returning. You wouldn’t be so lucky the second time.

“Damn it Din, fucking listen-” Ignoring you, he groped for the gun on his belt, and you were barely able to grab your armor in time from the freezer to block his reckless shots. You crouched over Grogu, using your body and the face plate as a shield against the assaulting Mandalorian. “Din! Stop! Please! You’re going to hurt our son!”

“Our?!” He hissed, snarling around the word. “That is MY son! Get away from him!” Din grabbed the beskar mask and tried to pull it from you, yanking you up from the floor. “MY son does not belong to you, this does not belong to you! Who do you think you are?!”

“Who am I?! I’m your wife!”

He stopped trying to wrestle the lovingly-chosen armor away from you, meeting your eyes with his own darkened gaze. His earthly irises flickered fast between both of your own pupils, searching your face for something, some kind of reminder. A reminder that he loves you. The muscles on the side of his jaw clenched and rippled, chewing on the words he was looking for.

When he spoke his voice was hoarse, but certain, as if there would never be a greater truth than the one he breathed into being.

“No, you’re not.”

The coldness in his tone stabbed icicles in your veins and froze your mouth closed, rendering you speechless. His hateful gaze looked down to the mask still in your hands, twisting into a pained expression. “Did… did this mean anything to you?”

“Din… please…” you begged, you voice barely above a whisper, “It means everything to me, you mean everything to me!” Behind you Grogu was already starting to cry again, making the situation even worse. “I love you! I did what I did to protect you, to protect Grogu! I didn’t want those Imp bastards to take you. Can’t you see that?”

The Mandalorian laughed, miasmatic and sickly, infected with distrust. “Isn’t that just like an Imp, lying right up til the very end.” He let go of the beskar as if it was unclean, then turned swiftly around on his heel, striding to the fresher to grab his helmet from where it had been discarded on the floor. He picked it up and looked into it’s visor, almost like he was debating whether or not he could put it back on. It sank over his head with a hiss of it’s latches, amplifying his dominating presence tenfold.

You pressed on, balling your fists in determination. “It shouldn’t matter who I used to be, just who I am now. I don’t know anything about your past, all I know is who you are now, I know that you are my… ner rid-oor…”

He was on you in a flash. “Don’t make me cut out your lying tongue as well, Mando’a is sacred, I should have never taught it to you.” In one swift motion he grabbed the offensive beskar from your useless fingers and threw it somewhere behind him, the iron clanging ugly against the durasteel decking. He dug behind his chestplate and found the lucky talismans you had given him as a sign of your affection, a sign that he now decided should have been a big red flag, shoving them into your empty hands.

“You have dishonored me.”

The Mandalorian bent to pick the crying youngling up off the floor, carrying him over to the bed you had all shared. He didn’t turn around to face you when he spoke again. “Get out.”

His frigid words had you frozen in place, frozen in time. He’s leaving you. Your mind was racing, your heart flooding with sadness and grief. Words abandoned you, giving you only a whisper of your silver tongue.

“Din.. I-I didn’t have a choi-”

“GET OUT!!!” He ripped your backpack off the wall and flung it at you, making you reel from the impact. The ramp opened behind you, and you were suddenly being shoved out the door, rolling backwards out of the Crest. You scrambled to your feet, clutching the krayt teeth so hard that the edges cut your palms while you banged on the rising wall of steel.

From behind the closing door you heard a sound, faint but desperate, nearly inaudible over your own pounding heartbeat. It sounded distinctly like a baby’s cry.

“Bubu!”

-SLAM!-

The access ramp sealed shut, and a shiny silver dome appeared in the rounded transparisteel viewport where Mando was taking his seat at the controls. Imps began swarming you while the old gunship’s engines flared to life, burning like a newly risen phoenix. Poorly-aimed blaster fire ricocheted off the ship’s hull while her landing gear tucked itself up, and soon the home you had grown to know and love was blasting towards the hangar exit without you.

The Razor Crest slid through the magcon field, the backs of her engines turning bright blue as her stardrive kicked into gear, rocketing her into warp speed just as an enormous star cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, dwarfing the station with her size. As prideful and arrogant as the Empire she sailed for, she took up the starfield with the domineering presence of a ship that had once served as the Death Star’s loyal guard dog.

It could be no other than the Wyvern’s Tongue.

-ȉ̴͗t̴'̴s̶̛̓͝͠ he̷̍̂r̶̔ë̷́.-

If you had a single coherent thought left to your name you would have made a series of snide remarks to the completely useless voice that whispered in your ears. You would have fought back against the stormtroopers that were roughly grabbing you and forcing you down under the barrels of their guns. You would have ran through the station and commandeered one of the other ships that had come in for repairs and blasted off to somewhere, anywhere else.

If you weren’t so grief-stricken, so heart-broken, so lost, you would have hurled literal dragonfire at the man who was approaching you now.

The troop commander spoke first. “Sir, this one allowed the mando to esca-”

“Get her up. Now.” You were hauled back up to your feet, but your eyes stayed on the forcefield that was draped over the stars, just waiting for the Razor to come back around.

To come back for you.

Your view became blocked by a tall, thin man in an Imperial uniform, his lapel shining with an even bigger emblem of authority than the last time you had seen it. His soulless eyes bored right into yours, and you knew instantly by the look on his face that he hadn’t forgotten his favorite communications officer. “Sparrow? Is that you?”

The long abandoned nickname stung like needles in your ears, reeling you violently into the present. The admiral cupped your chin and brought your eyes up, forcing you to see him and stop pretending that he wasn’t real; that he was an apparition brought to life by your wailing night terrors. “It is. My little Sparrow has flown back to me.”

The stormtrooper braved an interruption, “Sir, the mando-”

Admiral Forescythe silenced him with a wave of his hand, “No matter, the universe has brought me something even better than whatever Moff Gideon had been after.” The glare on the Admirals face turned to a sickly smile “Pray tell, little bird, won’t you sing me a song? I’ve so missed your lovely voice.”

You shook your head from his hand and pointed to the electromagnetic cuffs that still hung from the backs of your ears, the last remainder of the beloved faceplate you had been gifted. “Hull breach, tone deaf.” was all the excuse you could muster. A stiff leather glove rose up to brush over the Mandalorian steel, and you fought every animalistic urge to go batshit ballistic, rip the admiral limb from limb.

“What a pity, but at least you can still speak.” He was standing too close now, and the disgust you felt for the man who practically raised you made your flesh boil under his gaze. His gloved hand slid down from your ear and grabbed at the bottom of your jaw, forcing your head to tilt while he inspected the bitemarks Din had put on your neck when he still loved you. “At least you haven’t been lonely, good thing I had you chipped when I did. Shame on you for letting someone defile you in such a manner, were you still on my ship I would have had them jettisoned.”

The Admiral raked his eyes over your disheveled form, from your marked flesh to your blackened eyes and your blue-stained shirt, his face twisting in disgust. “Whatever life you have been living clearly doesn’t suit you, it’s high time you cease this reckless behavior and come back to where you belong.” He bent down and picked your backpack up off the floor where it had fallen, slinging one ratty strap over his neatly-pressed shoulder; then extended a hand to you. “Are you ready to come home now, my little Sparrow?”

You blinked a few times at the question, your heart becoming as cold as stone. Home? The Wyvern was not your home anymore, and the admiral was not your family. But the home you knew, the family you loved was now lightyears away, far far away from where you were now; and they weren’t coming back.

Din wasn’t coming back.

That left only one place left for you to go.

Back... home.

<-Previous Next->

TAG LIST

@mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @kaermorons @ironbabey @theflightytemptressadventure @emesispo @what-iwish-youknew @misscamptl @t3a-bag @poppunkdee @misscamptl @pandastasia @simpingmess @lilychristine01 @inaturenymph @buttercup--bee @blackd0gdesignuk @tanzthompson @transientblueseraph @jasmincita @sunnnygiiirl123 @beskarboobs @doin-stuff @novemberrain221

[windblooms]

zhongli scenario – psycho pass au

inspector!zhongli × gender-neutral reader; 3.3k words, angst & dark content (violence). a document of zhongli’s involvement in sibyl as he becomes an enforcer. swearing, violence, heresy, trauma development – it’s psycho pass, a seinen series. please proceed carefully.

a bright individual in academics and well-respected in his social circle, zhongli was practically guaranteed a fulfilling life by the sibyl system.

his peers often looked up to him as a senior: not only did he study diligently and looked forward to integrating himself into society, but he took it upon himself to be an emotional resource for others. 

others often described him as a warm balance between equitability and empathy.  the word “pragmatic” derived its definition from him, or so was the joke that his friends tossed around.

“ah, you want to sweeten me up, don’t you?”  his laugh can pacify even the most irate of hounds – a siren for the “frenzied”, but of course dulled down, just as all passionate emotions are suppressed in this society. 

but, oh, sibyl.  what will you do to this man?

while zhongli directly benefits from the system – good-natured, charming, and from an established family – it’s only by the system’s choice.  self-autonomy is an illusion when it’s dictated by a hand that only has five fingers and one palm.

they all lead to the same end.

zhongli deludes himself with a restless brain. night after night leading up to his sibyl exam, he busies himself with the news (or at least what’s left of it) and sibyl system statistics instead of studying.  japan is peaceful.  he likes it here, and there’s a life waiting for him.  people anticipate his choices.  he can’t let them down, yet he also can’t help but wonder . . .

division one welcomes him with open arms.  with a crime coefficient of 36.7 and a pretty hue painted like cream vanilla, he is, in nearly every single aspect, a prime candidate for an inspector.

“mister zhongli, are you still working at this hour?”

you speak as if you’re not doing the exact same thing, lurking around the office far from when the lights have been shut off.  but your sincerity is reassuring, and as you hand him a glass of water at his station, he can’t help but smile.

“just some extra work childe left.  i decided to take over for him so he could sleep early.”

“ah.”  hovering around his desk, you shift your weight from one foot to the other like a ship rocked by the waves.  out of the corners of his eyes, zhongli sees you lean your body against his cubicle.  “and you’re sure you’re not making things too easy for him?”

“probably not.”

a muted chuckle from your lips; your shoulders don’t hold the tension they do during the work day.  “hopefully he remembers that you’re giving him extra sleep.  let me know if there’s anything i can do for you.”

“much appreciated,” the inspector replies without a beat in between, irises flickering momentarily back to his screen.  childe had actually finished most of his work; all that was left was filing and labels.  simple stuff, really.  childe could easily complete it in less than 20 minutes in the morning, although zhongli can’t bring himself to admit to you that he’s actively concerned with the beastly enforcer.

“actually, would you allow me to walk with you back to your apartment?  if you’re heading out for the night.”

there’s something in your eyes he can’t quite place the moment his proposition reaches your ears.  you’re set alight by his words, a switch flipped on and a charge igniting your cheeks an enchanting shade of coral – but it doesn’t consume your eyes.  had his proposal been too sudden?  you’re not exactly the closest of coworkers – perhaps he had wrongly assumed that you would be open to spending more time with him, even if just for a walk – and his paperwork is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles to compose an apology for his frankness.

he probably just should’ve focused on finishing childe’s work instead of giving you mixed signals.

“ – i promise, i thought you were preoccupied.  i’d love to be in your company, but i’m not sure how long your filing will take.”

zhongli finds that he can make it 10 minutes instead of 20.

it’s snowing outside; the streets are dark, save for the explosion of lights above in apartment buildings, and the only sounds in the night are of cars revving in the distance.  the chill is hardly noticeable underneath the layers of coats you two wear, and he only recalls that it’s winter when he gazes at his boots crunching in the snow, or when he faces you and puffs of warm breath flow from your lips.

admittedly, he’s not even sure where you live – so he walks alongside you as your companion. 

“beidou got moved to another division, and miss ningguang didn’t disclose why.”  you bite your lip, although zhongli barely catches your ministrations  in the dark lighting.  only occasional overhead street lamps illuminate your path, but you steadily walk forwards as if you don’t need it in the first place.

“i know it’s not my place to question.  i just think that beidou was doing well – it’s odd not seeing her around.”

“i believe there was an announcement earlier last week discussing structural changes in the crime investigation department.  beidou will be fine in divison three.”  zhongli’s reassurances are quiet in the ambiance, a pacifying lull of flowing water to a clear river.  your feet guide you to a left turn.  “i can pass a word to one of my colleagues in division three if you don’t have the time to visit.”

“oh?  i wasn’t aware that you were one for many connections, mister zhongli,” your voice teases his senses, much like your words poke at his penchant for introversion – but of course, negotiation when necessary.  “but you don’t have to go out of your way for me.  i’ll shift around my schedule for her.  you have your own enforcer to take care of, right?”

“that i do.  if it’s acceptable for me to say,” zhongli starts, briefly wondering if his subordinate will pardon the mentions of his name in unofficial business, “childe reminds me of my niece sometimes.  always looking for a distraction, for something engaging . . . which often isn’t the best thing to do at the time.” 

his fingers drift to the pockets of his coat, smoothing down the fabric inside as you continue.  "why don’t you bring her in for work one day?  i’m sure you could arrange something with miss ningguang . . . especially since you’re on her good side.”  

you don’t mention his standing with her out of malice, or with any hint of resentment in your voice.  your observation is matter-of-fact: it’s true, it’s tangible in how ningguang maintains eye contact with zhongli out of everyone else in division briefings, even when disbanding them; how, even just among division officers, her eyes are solely on him.

and of course you’d know this: everyone in the crime investigation bureau has heard about it from the analysts that mow over the security cameras in their spare time.

he exhales into the chilled air, one of admission with a lilt of humility.  the corners of his lips are etched unusually high onto his cheeks.  “ningguang prefers her workspace neat.  i guarantee that if i brought along my niece, she’d tear the place apart.  she might even give childe a hard time.”

“i take it that you’ve seen it first-hand?”

“well, yes.  not that i’d ever mention her behavior to just anyone.”  it’s his turn to chuckle at the thought, although it’s tinged with a hint of . . . dismay.  “but she’s smart.  i doubt you’ll be hearing of her tirades as she learns more about the system.”

your understanding is communicated through silence, yet it’s not unpleasant.  it’s heeding and respectful to his insinuations.  he’s aware that no one discloses much of their personal life – since at the bureau, there’s hardly any time for sentiment – and even much less the inner workings of sibyl.  among some inspectors, it’s a mutual feeling; a slight nag, but it’s also the truth. 

some just prefer avoiding it entirely, and on occasion, it’s also reciprocated.

“mister zho – ”

his wrist-watch screeches in his ear before you can finish uttering his name.  sibyl’s voice is entirely unwelcome on a quiet night such as this, with her magnetic, crisp timbre, and by the parting of your lips, zhongli knows you’re receiving the exact same message he is.  snow no longer conceals the pavement, but instead, numbers and letters.  images, even, of murky colors with three-dimensional graphs and timelines.  

“area stress level abnormal,” sibyl reports in his mind.  “enforcement action requested.”

there is nothing in his hands – there is no dominator to work with, only maps and crime coefficients strung together in zhongli’s head.  but you’re already fumbling for your phone, voice rushing to contact the bureau in the midst of the impromptu warning.  “shepherds to hounds, any available?  asking for immediate assitan – ”

for the second time in a moment, the sounds emitting from your mouth are overtaken by something else: shouting.  zhongli pulls you between two stores as you furiously usher commands to headquarters in the dead of night.  surely an analyst would at least pick up your call, if not another working inspector.

“suspect is in his late twenties.  crime coefficient . . . of 152.7.  do we have any methods of subduction without dominators while we wait for a proper team?”

“no – unless you prefer hand-to-hand incapacitation, or the small stunner.”  he doesn’t have to look at your face to know that you’re grimacing, diligently combing over the information you’re given by sibyl.  “it’s just one man.  he’s been running around for the past ten minutes, and if someone can pick up, it’s a 15 minute drive from the bureau.  he’s only latent.  we can just negotiate with him.”

your gaze catches his out of the corner of his eyes.  it’s dangerous for inspectors to directly involve themselves without dominators, especially without the intervention of enforcers as a preventative measure to not cloud their own crime coefficients.  you’re both vetted in combat as per inspector training, but without dominators as a barrier between barbarism and lawful jurisdiction, not even inspectors are exempt from sibyl’s eyes.

“ – was marked by scanners three blocks down.  approach one at a time?”

zhongli nods without hesitation, opening his watch to change into his inspector attire as you do likewise.  

“meet you there.”

you’re off first, your figure disappearing into the falling snow as the bureau logo on the back of your jacket flutters back at him.  he resumes the call that you left on, ears straining to pick up any sounds at all – from both his communicator and his surroundings.  a minute passes before he himself is off into the streets, running further into the murky blue of the circumference painted before him in his irises. 

out of all the corners he turns, all are empty, save for the occasional scanner.  he matches the data on the drones to the information that’s presented on his watch – except that the radius the two of you split up to search in is smaller than before, more specific.  also, noticeably more inclined to the streets you ran into; the suspect must have been picked up by more overhead scanners.

zhongli practically shoves his watch next to his lips, voice hissing into the mic.  “y/n, are you there?”

a pause, and static silence. 

and you pick up.  “yeah, yeah, i’m here.  got the new info.  think i’m closing in – i hear someone panting.  i’ll send you my position, and then i’ll approach and try to talk.”

“all right.  eta in three minutes.  be careful.”

you don’t reply, only sending him off with an emote through the pop-up display.

he runs as swiftly as he possibly can in two inches of snow the drag from his coat is also inconvenient, so he zips it up before resuming his trek.  another notification message also pops up from the bureau, and he’s reassured professional enforcements.  all he needs to do now is meet up with you. 

vaguely, he begins to make out the sound of two voices to his right, one of them distinctly belonging to you: even in tone, yet strained with cracks.  a momentary thought crosses him: why are your voices raised?  the negotiation must have –

“’ts a sick system!”

“sir, please, i can’t help you unless you try and remain calm.”

“just one time.  one fucking time – ” the presumed suspect’s voice rises louder, harsher, overruling your own.  zhongli picks up his pace.  “you lot can just walk around with your perfect academy scores.  so many options.  but one bad break for us – the regular ones – and we can be disposed of.  there will be a movement, mark my words.  this system is fucked, and so are all of you – ”

something – and the worst part is, zhongli doesn’t know what – audibly snaps, and he hears you scream.

he blows in the scene in time to see you, crumpled at the knees and grappling with the suspect, raising a limp wrist to his neck in a vain attempt to get the stunner off.  but the suspect knows what you’re trying to do – cruelly enables you even, by jerking you by the elbow towards his jugular – as you wheeze, palm against his shoulder in order to push away.

“what’s the matter, huh?  academy didn’t teach you how to fight like in the pits, inspector.”

zhongli charges in before thinking.  he only sees you, hair mangled and clothes torn at the cuffs, and the deranged target before him before all three of you collide together.

the snow does nothing to soften your fall, and after he tumbles to the floor with the suspect, zhongli regrets that he had to resort to such brute measures to get you out of danger; the suspect is much larger than you, and even him with his lithe frame, so it takes all of his strength to keep him pinned down onto the concrete, the snow filtering into the hood of his jacket.  and much like you moments prior, zhongli is wrestling to get the stunner off.

it’s as if he knows – the target knows about their methods, and keeps the face of the watch away from his skin, inhumanly twisting zhongli’s wrist away.  there’s a damaged light in his brown eyes, and zhongli can hear the grating of the man’s teeth as they go back and forth on the ground.

“eta!?”  the inspector nearly bites his tongue as he barks out the question, knee working to hold down the target’s thigh.

“a minute and a half!”

your trembling, staggered steps come up to his side in crunches.  perspiration nearly drips into his eyes despite the frigid air.  it’s so hot, even burning, and he realizes that the sensation isn’t bound to his chest as the suspect continues ranting about sibyl. 

“you don’t even question it!  neither of you have brains of your own.  but we can live!  and without your dogshit ‘justice’!”

your wrist is lifeless, but your watch shines on it as if nothing’s wrong.  the pain on your face extends to your forearm, where he can see forming bruises through the tears in the fabric; with bitten, bloody lips, you lower your wrist to the target’s neck as zhongli subdues him as best he can –

– thrashing like a red herring in a net. 

“bitches to the system.”

the target launches zhongli up and over his body, nearly tossing him to the side as if he were a hefty log, before making another start to you.  senses dulled by the pain oozing through your form, zhongli witnesses as your body crashes to the ground once more.  

you kick and claw at the man on top of you with what you have left, but he doesn’t relent, crushing your form under his body weight as you once again struggle to stun him.

“you’re all going to kneel soon enough.”

zhongli’s knuckles collide with the target’s cheek, just before your neck is encased by grimy, frostbitten fingers.  for the second time, he crashes to the ground with the subject, but this time he doesn’t hesitate to conduct necessary action.

“mister zhongli!  that’s enough, mister zhongli . . . ”

what jolts him from his frenzy isn’t you, but rather the sirens that gradually envelop the alleyway in blue and red. 

beneath him, the target is unconscious.  welts simmer onto his flesh with indents of zhongli’s knuckles, gnarly and ugly, just like the disrupted snow in disarray on the pavement.  his nose is bloodied, and just like your wrist, jerked at an unnatural angle.  the breaths in zhongli’s chest are haggard, like a beast awoken from slumber, in contrast to the target’s muffled inhales.

and his fingers – they’re painted scarlet as well, just like the ink on the target’s face.

“wow.  i never thought you’d make it past 70.  but this thing . . . ”  you’re no where to be seen, probably dragged off by the medics; metal clacks against a hand behind him.  “sorry, but all i’m seeing is 119.”

you’re light-headed once you’re settled into the back of the van.  your inspector jacket (or what’s left of it) is suffocating enough that you request for it to be cut off completely, since you can’t shuffle it off with a broken wrist.  the small back-up team of childe and keqing are fussing around the scene, keqing in particular instructing the retrieval of your heretic of a target.  

zhongli, on the other hand . . .

both hands subdued behind his back, drones escort him off the premise.  he doesn’t have his inspector coat on, and instead, childe approaches you with it in hand.  the white symbol of the merged caduceus and judicial scales is untainted by the dirtied snow it was subject to.

the enforcer’s voice is light, pretty much normal, despite the dire circumstances as he sits adjacent to you, legs hanging off the back of the van.  “you look like you could use a hot shower.”

you don’t humor him – frankly, you don’t have the energy to.  you were practically powerless, inept at fulfilling one simple task.  you think that, if you had been more forceful, zhongli wouldn’t be in the situation he’s in.  keqing wouldn’t listen to you, and maybe you were imaging sympathy in her amethyst irises when you tried – god, you tried – to defend your coworker. 

it’s not fair.

childe tsks, although it’s not out of irritation but more so impatience.  always one for instant gratification, but you’re so desperate to find some ounce of emotion at the sight of his partner being treated so poorly that you feel tears well up in your eyes.

after a minute of silence is when he admits to your sniffling.  although he doesn’t extend comforts, but leaves you to your own devices.

“if he wants to, he can rejoin as an enforcer.  which isn’t the worst option out of the few he’s given.”  the ginger leaps off the back of the van, and makes way for zhongli – but not before giving you some final words as you meet the topaz eyes of the former inspector.

“don’t blame your pretty head about it; he knew what he was getting into.  and at least you can drop the honorifics and just call him zhongli now.  he’s always told me how he wishes it was just that simple with his friends.”

[honkster]

Why the Dream SMP’s way of storytelling is IMPOSSIBLE to recreate in any other medium.

This has been in the back of my mind for the longest time. I think I finally got it.

People have talked about this before, and they’ve put forward some good points, and good for them – most of them are correct. It’s the way the ccs interact with each other, it’s how plot is mixed in with banter, that’s all good! I wanna put more out there.

So you know how you open a book to read, you start a new show, you sit down to watch a movie – that’s all produced by some sort of company, someone who made it specifically for you to enjoy. You expect a certain dramatic flair to it, certain cinematic choices, certain ways of writing, certain camera angles, certain reactions to things. That’s just ingrained expectations of things now.

The DSMP? Doesn’t have that.

The low expectations work very much in its favor. It’s a Minecraft role-playing server with a bunch of famous youtubers/streamers, who are all good friends and have great dynamics with each other. So when you expect “just another Minecraft video” but in stream form, or you watch the videos because there are certain people in them, you don’t expect to be dropped into extreme lore and sensitive topics, realistic situations proposed in game form, a combination of serious stuff and just fun times with friends goofing around – and you’re pleasantly surprised.

We, the fandom, are used to it a bit more now. How excellently they manage to make a serious story in such a “ridiculous” medium, how much it affects us all and gets our creative juices flowing. But even the ccs can’t predict some of the things that happen. And that’s fun.

The whole election ending the way it has? That was on us. And it made some of the most angsty content there has been in the DSMP. People still theorize about the arc and make connections to now – that’s pog!

Fundy being adopted by Eret – that sparked the whole “Fundy just wants a dad – let’s get him some love” thing that made FundyWasTaken and other Fundy+someone ships happen. I see a different person paired with Fundy every week, and somehow, I agree with all of them. I really got into Fundy because of that stream where Eret “slept through the adoption” and Fundy confronted his real dad and spent time with his granddad. That little stream gave us more insight into Fundy’s whole character (Nevermind Fundy showing off his acting skills – you go you funky little fox), but also justifies some of his actions now. DryWaters? Wanting to kill Technoblade? Fucked up reasons, but we still love him.

Phil being broken out of house arrest ahead of time – still made a great stream and Phil agreeing with Techno’s want for revenge – that made us all very happy. The SBI!!! The AE! And that’s also a thing!

That even if we do know or have predicted what’s going to happen, begged it out of the ccs basically, it is still incredibly fun to watch. Where some books/shows/movies fall short and reveal too much and end up being “too predictable”, they’re not fun anymore. I read this somewhere before, that sometimes holding back EVERYTHING from the reader, and relying on shock value to make a good story is just bad. Whereas if you progress the story naturally and let the reader make some predictions of their own and then they end up being right – that’s a lot of serotonin right there. It’s the re-readability that makes it slightly better the second time.

The DSMP takes this concept and fucking yeets with it. Letting fans engage in the story, letting them theorize and then be right, even acknowledging the fanart that was made, just engaging with the community that their roleplay created – that makes it so much more fun. I bet that even if the whole script was revealed to the fandom we would still watch every plot stream. Even if we knew vaguely what happens in the stream, we would tune in and enjoy every second of it. Because the ccs are just that good, we love them that much, we love this plot that much.

Oh and the unpredictability helps too. Tommy in exile was the vague concept of a lot of the streams – it’s taken that and ran with it in a lot of different directions. All quite enjoyable.

Having said all of that… The fact that this type of telling a story is impossible to recreate in any other medium is… kinda saddening? It is incredibly unique, and I’d say has things that not a lot of the people that produce mainstream media would even consider. “Just friends hanging out” – how would that make the script progress? “Engagement with the fandom, even considering their wishes for the characters” – but we’re telling a story here!

The only thing I can think of that would come close to the vibe, would be just a bunch of writer friends coming together, thinking up a universe and general plot, and then each deciding to write a few of their own characters in that universe. When one author focuses on their main characters, the side ones can feel left in the dust, or not fleshed out. The DSMP is just “every character can write their own story”, which takes a lot of the strain from the “main writers”. But the general thing of “just friends hanging out” would be taken away from it. We’re being serious here, why would we change the tone so quick?

With all of that in mind… I kinda wanna make some predictions? And I don’t know if they’re correct, but it’s fun to theorize. See?

1. L’manburg will die.

And not just because Techno has 54 withers. The country is cursed – it definitely is. There is little sentimental value that can be felt for a few flimsy stilts built on top of a crater. It might go out in a blaze of glory, with the withers (Is history repeating itself an interesting enough plot point to recycle a whole arc?), but it might just be forgotten. Yeah there have been some angsty headcanons about how “no one cares about L’manburg anymore, save for two people” and it just gets abandoned, but how about it just becoming irrelevant?

This all comes back to Dream, it always does! His want, need for the server to be “one happy family again”, it just means one thing. He wants the server to return to the peaceful anarchy that it was before L’manburg. No rulers, no factions, no nothing.

That’s never going to happen.

Try as he might, Dream cannot affect that change that L’manburg did to the server. The introduction of a faction, one that can exist without the interference of a higher power – why do you think so many factions have sprouted up since? And it’s not even serious factions a lot of the time, it’s just a few friends deciding to build their bases on a plot of land that they claim is a nation now. L’manburg has changed the mindset of these people, now an alliance with somebody is a political move. An alliance doesn’t exist if it doesn’t have a faction, and that faction can remain neutral for only so long.

Basically, L’manburg introduced the factions mod into the server.

And the fact that every faction now has enough relevance to hold weight in a war also means that every nation on the server is doomed to follow the downfall of L’manburg. Eventually, they will get into a fight they can’t win, go up against the wrong people, anger someone they shouldn’t have. All factions will either be destroyed, or lose relevance, until their creators, residents and such just… move on.

(And really you can go into meta and talk about real governments and compare them, but it’s far more simple than that. The server isn’t built for peace, it isn’t meant to be a relaxing place where you can just vibe, it may have been made for a few friends to play Minecraft together, but it has turned into An Author’s Curse. The curse that follows any kind of story being told – the fact that peace is boring. People watched the first streams of the DSMP because they liked the ccs, and that’s valid. But how many more people tuned in to watch the war streams because there was PLOT and there was CHAOS and there WASN’T CALM PEACE ANYMORE – that’s the curse of every writer. That you can write about someone just living their life drama-free, you can make interesting peace with characters or circumstances, but it’s always leading to one inevitable conclusion – war, drama, because people read that. And at this point, it’s just a predictable outcome. No matter how much you say that you are retired, that you’re done with violence (Technoblade), something will happen that will prove to you that you believed in people too much. No matter how “neutral” you may be in the matter, no matter how much you claim that you have no allegiance (Philza), you will be forced to pick one, because out of all the bad things, you pick the least worst one, the most appealing to you, the one that can benefit your want of revenge.

And I can go on, but this is far too deep for one simple reason – The Author’s Curse is so prevalent here because THERE ARE ABSOLUTELY NO STAKES. It’s a video game – you die? You respawn. Something gets destroyed? You can just rebuild. Sure, you’ll want to kill the person who did wrong to you, but whatever they did wrong can just be replaced, remade, recreated. So why not have wars? Why not cause massive amounts of destruction “for the plot”?

It’s literally a playground. How all authors have their little playground with their characters that they meticulously plan out, the DSMP is that playground for all of these people.

And it’s fun! Sure! I like it! I’m just really skeptical whenever someone in character says that they “just want peace”, “are retired”, “swear off violence”, “are building just a little city for themselves”. Because you can do that, nothing wrong. But eventually, no matter how much you distance yourself from all of the chaos happening, all of the wars, you will return.

Because it is just much more fun.

It’s the curse. A cursed cycle.

And everyone is in it.)

2. The prison.

I don’t have anything on the prison because I don’t have anything on the book. Yeah I’ve done a whole post where I overanalyze what it could be, but it doesn’t make it any clearer. Whatever it is, it’s made out to be a huge plot point, something that can only be revealed when the prison is finished.

Cursed. The prison’s reason for being constructed is the book, but the book is only relevant when the prison is finished. We can only wait, and theorize, as we do.

(My only theory is that the book is information about another op on the server. Or at least something related to op or creative mode. Dream only fears one thing on this server, and that’s Technoblade, so if his one fear is the most skilled player on the server, what else could give him existential fear?)

3. The SBI.

Again, I don’t have anything! Yeah the reunion seems to be going smoothly, one member at a time, but there is already conflict in their beliefs among each other. And all that’s happened is a vague “maybe one day we’ll strike”.

Is history repeating itself an interesting enough plot point to recycle a whole arc?

Is L’manburg’s destruction AGAIN really necessary to hammer home the idea that no one likes that place anymore?

I don’t know. Whatever happens, no one’s in the right. No one’s in the wrong either. They’re all not good people and that’s that on that.

4. The Clingy Duo.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

That’s all.

(Okay seriously? All of these arcs are connected. You know what happens when everything seems to be connected to one another?

A giant, dramatic final showdown between the two opposing sides.

Cause it’s just Chaos vs L’manburg. Those are the sides. People that want L’manburg to exist and people that want it gone. There are no other sides, there isn’t someone who’s like “Well maybe it can exist if we do this and this” cause no one wants to put in anymore effort into this cursed country. The only people were the clingy duo and now they’re separated and everyone is just leaving and Tommy is on the Chaos side like at this point he doesn’t care about L’manburg he just cares about Tubbo but he has to convince Tubbo to leave L’manburg but will Tubbo be convinced but will Tommy even consider leaving L’manburg and breaking free from its curse AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Goddamit.)

5. The Egg?

Dunno shit about it. Like the prison – it seems important, but we’re just not being given enough information. Is it a coincidence that the moment Dream commissioned the prison the Egg popped up? Or are the two directly related?

I don’t know. But as long as someone is finding ways to fight the Egg, that’s fantastic. Bad juju indeed.

6. Oh the Butcher Army want to kill Dream!

Hah.

Okay I’ve seen people make the case that the Army is just a bunch of people with trauma repeating the cycle of ab*se that they went through and yes.

Just yes.

And the fact that no one is actually looking at it that way and no one is there to like.. help them or even help them understand that what they are doing is just irrational, even though their reason for doing it and the result they hope to achieve is YES and the only thing that a lot of the people of the server who want peace should try to go for as well, they cannot stand up to Dream on their own. They just can’t, they will get punted into exile. They need allies, and they need powerful ones, people that have also been wronged by Dream and want him gone.

But the cycle continues, and no one knows where it ends.

(Okay but from a writing perspective? Getting rid of Dream is the end goal. It is the be all end all of all conflict, well… most of it, at least most that’s related to the supposed “good side”, or “the side that’s been most victimized”. But from the same perspective, that side is just… no longer. It has proven that is just as bad, if not worse than the final boss. I have to agree that Techno has to pay for his crimes, even though I like him a lot, but Techno did in fact cause insane damage. Yeah L’manburg rebuilt, yeah Wilbur probably caused more – still he isn’t completely free.

But that’s a discussion on morality more than laws.

L’manburg is doomed to die. Dream is doomed to be fought, and probably won against (simply because he has won far too many times already, you know how everyone seems to hate OP characters…). But the Butcher Army is doomed to fail against Dream. So how does that work?

Welp.

Is history repeating itself and interesting enough plot point to recycle a whole arc?

The answer is no.

I’ve repeated that question three times now, and the answer to it is no. No it is not. L’manburg can be destroyed again, and it can be rebuilt again, but the sentimentality that people feel for it will not remain. The cycle of history ends somewhere, and it’s not too far a fetch that it ends here.

So what happens when Technoblade, Philza and Tommy roll up to L’manburg with withers and a destruction wish, only to be met with a bunch of traumatized children with axes and a death wish?

Well, I’ll spare the details, but from a purely writing standpoint…

The two sides team up.

Think about it – The Butcher Army doesn’t care about Technoblade anymore. They’ve seen that Dream is the one pulling the strings, they know that even if they do care about trying to eliminate Technoblade again, they have to get rid of his strongest ally – Dream. But through their anger, they’ve lost their fear. You should fear Dream, he’s a fuckin op. Techno is correct in not wanting to go against him.

But after Tommy? After seeing the Butcher Army at their lowest, screeching about Dream being the villain?

Will Techno finally go past his thinking of “government is evil, always government is source of problem” and realize that Dream has the most evil government in mind for his rule?

I’m still kinda sad that Techno isn’t making the conclusions he should about Dream. But he’s starting to – and really, the SBI-Butcher Army team up is the most logical thing that could happen.

Watch me be completely wrong or miss something and I’ve got ALL of it wrong. I would love that.)

(Also it’s very funny to me that Dream is literally simping for Techno while he’s just here like “Listen bud I would stab you on sight if you didn’t have creative mode”. Dream KNOWS that Techno can and will kill him given the opportunity. Techno knows that that opportunity may never arise.

It’s a weird type of stalemate, to be sure. But goddamn is it interesting.)

Anyway... if you read through all of this... I could bake you a cookie? Thank you! I like to ramble.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Hello! I hope you're doing okay over there. Are your requests open? If so, could you do a Din x reader with the reader sketching him (the child and their special moments together) when she thinks he isn't looking, but one day he finds the sketchbook? If they're closed just ignore the request but hold on tight to the wishes of good furtune and health ♥ Stay safe!

I’m hanging in there sweet anon and I hope you’re doing okay too (okay but this is so cute omg).

Warnings: It’s really just two dorks and good ole fluff. Some of this is unedited as well

*Reminder that the forum for my taglist is still up and pinned!

__________________________________________ 

If he would turn slightly to the left, you’d be able to get the perfect angle you need to finish the sketch. 

The helmet reflects the glare of the stars, illuminating a bright shine around the top of the beskar and stinging your eyes just a little when you look up at it. You can’t help but do it anyway. The Child is asleep, a day of actually getting to use those little feet of his wore him out - you love the little one, but you and Din have exhausted yourselves keeping up with finding him his home and protecting him at the same time; this peace and quiet right now is highly overdue.

The pencil glides easily against the paper, connecting every line to another, creating another favorite of yours; the perfect piece of art that’s sitting in front of you, unaware of the stacks of sketches that you’ve drawn silently in the whatever corner you can lurk in. To be honest, with as attentive as he is, you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on to you yet. 

You’re so lost in finishing the shades that you don’t notice the Mandalorian turning slightly towards you in his seat. He watches your brows furrow in deep concentration, the light scratching in the air a comfort to him since the months of hearing it. He’s never actually seen any of your drawings, however, and he knows that one day the curiosity will get the better of him and he’ll ask... eventually. 

Truth is he’s not all the sure on why he hasn’t asked you yet, despite the growing and gnawing interest with teeth that grows sharper and longer as more time goes on. And it’s not like you’ve ever brought it up, either. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you - a dance that’s familiar in any language; of scared love and child-like curiosity that seeps into something deeper.

That’s exactly what he’s afraid of. 

It’s in this moment of sensing a pair of eyes on you - the pair of eyes you can’t see, but imagine they must be green, or brown more than anything. For a moment, you’re almost afraid to find out.

With a small intake of air you will your head to tilt up. The visor spins away so quick that it’s almost comical, and you bite your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling in your chest. 

“Din,” you call his name teasingly. “Is there something you wanted?”

It’s almost too hard to hide the laughter when his helmet jolts towards you, like he’s surprised that you called him out on it. 

“I -” You think you hear a gulp through the statics of the vocoder. “- I was... I was just wondering what you were drawing. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity of his apology, and the fact that he was watching you, which has you wondering if this is a reoccurrence you’ve been blind to this entire time.

“It doesn’t,” you voice croaks. “It’s-it’s nothing really. Just the ship, whatever I see throughout the day.” You sit up, still clutching the book to your chest. “I’m going to check on the kid. Call for me if you need anything.”

When the hell did the air get so thick like this? You feel bad, so bad, and a part of you wants to desperately show him this simple thing that he just wants to look at, but... but he’ll know. One look and he’ll know.

“Okay,” the modulator cracks - you wonder what it’s masking right now, what you can’t hear through the robotic statics. “You can rest too while you’re at it. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

You nod and awkwardly wave your departure, climbing down on wobbly legs to the hull and the cot the Child is asleep on; you’re relieved to see that he’s still bundled in his blanket, a peaceful expression gracing his features. 

It’s here you feel the fatigue settling on your shoulders. The dull beating You sigh and settle inside the small space, careful of your weight and making yourself as comfortable as you can get. With the book and pencil still in hand, you decide to finish the little details of his belt. 

***

Mando sighs as thoughts of you plague his mind once more. 

That, and the fact that he needs to sleep at least an hour before the landing at the next destination. 

He keens his ears for any sings of movements down in the hull, but when he hears nothing he climbs down to ladder in quiet, graceful strokes. 

The dim light does absolute injustice to your features in his opinion. It’s the first thing he notices, not the Child is gurgling over your open sketchbook that’s sprawled out on your lap as you sleep. 

“Kriff,” he curses under his breath and rushes as quietly as he can towards the bunk. He tries to keep his eyes averted of the drawings, but he can’t help it, especially when the Child pouts and slaps against the page when his hand clasps around it. 

It’s... well, it’s him. He’s leaning against the wall of what he can tell is the Razor Crest based off the small details you made sure to put in - he really admires that. Down at his feet is the little one, grinning up at him. Beneath the helmet that’s shielded him from the rest of the world for almost all his life, he smiles back; orange caresses the rough paper, imagining that he can actually feel it through the lead and gloves. 

The next page is of a planet he cannot name off the top of his head, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s of home. 

Each page is filled with memories; past and present etched and filled with the kind of skill and warmth that can never be replaced; promises of mystery tied in like a piece of string. Most of them towards the end are of him and the Child. Small moments, mostly, like when he fell asleep with the kid secured to his armored-less chest, and moments when it’s him, sitting in the pilot’s seat or his cape flowing behind him as he walks away to a new bounty or clue to the Child’s powers.

He recognizes them with a deep fondness that makes his head swirl with all types of emotions. Din knows what they mean, but it’s the fear. Yet each drawing - he’s on the one from hours ago - scolds each inch of doubt within him, and in this he finds a type of bravery he’s hasn’t faced much before; it makes it more terrifying to him. 

“I like to draw what makes me happy.”

Your voice startles him from his thoughts. He’s never frozen up like this before - at least long ago - but now it feels like your stare alone is the only thing keeping him grounded to this spot. The doe like expression on your face the guilt that started to creep within his chest dissipates. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he still feels that he needs to apologize. “The kid had it and I... he likes the one where he found that flower.”

You smile widely at that, looking down at the child in question as you sit up. Din silently watches you climb out from the bunk and takes a few steps back to let you lean against the cold interior. 

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” you say; proudly, Din thinks. “And the one where you fell asleep in the pilot’s chair... you were so tired that day and I kept trying to get you to rest and let me take over, but you can be so stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

His chuckle radiates the room, and fuck it, it could radiate the entire galaxy. Yours join in with ease, but it quickly dies down, though not awkwardly or uncomfortably; it feels natural among the countless other laughs you’ve shared over the years. 

“I um - “ you clear your throat nervously, battling with the endless fluttering of butterflies in your stomach and the shakiness in your voice. “- I guess this is a good time to say that I really like you, Din. And I’ve been drawing these sketches of as many of these moments as I can because they’re so precious to me.” You take a deep breath. “Just like the Child is. Just like you are.”

You finish with a light scoff. It’s quiet, you have to pee, and you hope to the Maker above that this isn’t how your journey with Din ends; you should really open your eyes and at least do something if he’s just going to keep standing there. 

“I like you, too.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when those words reach your ears. It feels like your heart just stopped beating, your body frozen, and your thoughts bouncing wildly around like a blaster; that crackled laugh (that you know somehow is soft) brings you back to your body, back to the man standing closer to you know and slowly reaching his hand out. 

You glance at it before tracing your eyes over the worn out boots that’s seen better days, the scratched and scraped armor that you have shared more than enough time cleaning and polishing, the signet that the Mandalorian never fails to honor proudly, even in his own quiet ways; and now the helmet, the t-shaped visor that shields him.  

In this you find no fear. The weight of his hand in yours settles you and the soft link of his pinky with yours brings a stinging to your eyes. 

“I can’t do this alone,” he says. “And I want this to work. The Creed -”

“I know,” you interject quietly. “It’s not always going to be easy. But we got this, just like always, don’t we?”

“At least one of us has to.” 

His heart warms when the loudest snort he’s ever heard you make jolts the Child from his sleep, blinking those big eyes wearily as your muffled laugher continues against your fingers. “You should get some sleep now,” you tell him. “I got this one.”

It feels very natural to lean down and pick the Child up and smile at Din with assurance; he feels the air in his lungs draw out of him until he literally starts to feel breathless, and his lips stretch in a smile - it’s small and shy; hopeful. 

After he makes sure that the hull is closed off and lays his helmet by the plates of his armor (one of the rare times he actually can), settling onto the unforgiving but familiar cot, he imagines you’ll make a fuss about the scar on his nose with a pencil and book in your hands. 

Tags:�� @talesfromtheguild, @absurdthirst, @chews-erotically, @hiwelcometochillys, @legally-a-bastard, @bluengrayfox, @pascaliprincess, @oloreaa, @thisis-theway, @jaynoellef, @ben-is-a-hoe, @hayley-the-comet, @pascalisthepunkest, @kenedyybrooklin, @garrshep, @paintmekala, @marian, @fit-fierce-gamer, @altersw, @hoodedbirdie

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 9

Day 9 - When you write something on your own skin it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well. (Pirates and Sirens AU)

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukeceit, Background Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: Swearing, murder mention, Remus being Remus, semi-detailed leg  and fin injury

–

Those who ran afoul of The Witch’s Serpent rarely lived to tell the tale. Many a foolish young sea-farer - far too inexperienced and overly cocky - had met their end at the hands of the galleon’s captain long before they could even hope to make their mark on the open seas. 

Captain Remus Gaspar was an impulsive, enigma of a man; capable of great feats of bravery and reckless daring do, alongside acts of cold blooded murder and remorseless torture inflicted upon those who crossed him. The sea choked on the bodies of his victims while he and his crew sipped the finest stolen wines with nary a hiccup. The naval officers of the mainland cowered in fear while Remus decimated their trade routes and sent their men to the depths to keep the fish company. In fact, only one man had faced the Captain and lived to see another day, but kept coming back for more. 

Commodore Logan Callows.

Remus would have admired him - in all senses - if not for his fanatic loyalty to the crown and it’s laws. Make no mistake, Remus very much wanted Logan’s head for a bow ornament with every fibre of his mortal being, but outside factors forbade Remus from fatally wounding the man. Namely, Logan’s first mate and closest friend was his brother-in-law, Virgil Giordano. Why did Roman’s soulmate have to be a man who could rival any opponent in a knife fight, despite being the sort to panic over the smallest change in weather conditions? Remus had no goddamn idea what fate was playing at, but he knew for certain that killing Logan would result in having to run from Virgil’s swift and immediate crusade for revenge. And if there’s one thing Remus Gaspar refused to do, it wold be spending his life in hiding.

Remus loved his brother dearly but all the familial loyalty in the world wouldn’t save him from Virgil’s wrath. He’d learned that much from his last encounter with Logan’s ship, The Inquisitor. Too many cocky remarks and attempts to stall while his men pillaged the lower decks of the ship in secret had earned him a close encounter with the business end of Virgil’s dagger. Naturally, the Captain had made things worse by uttering a rather salacious remark for which he was gifted a shiny new slash mark along his cheek.

“As a warning.”, his brother in law had hissed.

When forced to retreat, Remus had lamented the size of their haul at first. Not nearly enough sugar and spices as they’d been hoping for, but a small crate of flintlock pistols ripe for sale more than made up for the loss once they’d been discovered among the spoils. 

Thus we come to the present moment; Captain Remus, sat upon the docks with a bottle of expensive rum, staring out into the ocean blue. His men had been more than happy to give the Captain his space while they spent their time merrily drinking in the local tavern. Once he was sure he was alone, Remus removed his black leather bracer and rolled his white sleeve to stare at the message written upon it. The Captain had seen many an alphabet in his day - either scrawled upon the foreign exports stolen from trading vessels, or within his memories of home, being tutored alongside his twin as children - but Remus had never laid eyes upon the letters that adorned his skin in a shimmering golden cursive.

Naturally, ever since he’d first been written to, Remus had made an effort to search for the script, but the only ‘lead’ he had been given was an old woman selling wares a couple of ports prior who had raved on and on, claiming it to be the language of the sirens. He’d scoffed at the idea and decided it likely wasn’t worth trying to work out in the first place.

Remus had never been one to buy into this whole soulmates arrangement. Even the day Roman had shown him the violet cursive that had appeared like magic, Remus had rolled his eyes and sworn off taking such a thing seriously. After all, acknowledging that kind of thing brought about some rather unpleasant thoughts he would rather not think about. The fierce Captain liked to play remorseless, but in truth, Remus simply knew that life at sea demanded blood, and it was up to him whether it’d be the blood of his enemies, or his crew and himself. But that didn't stop his mind wandering into territories he wished it would stay out of.  How many men lay on the sandy shores of the depths with messages from soulmates unaware of their beloved’s fate? Did severing the connection hurt? Would fate allow those whom he’d unknowingly widowed to love again? Or had he doomed them to a life alone with no one to share such a connection with ever again?

… More rum would be needed it seemed. 

A clattering from the nearby rock shoal drew Remus out from his own mind with a couple of curses leaving the Captain as he knocked over the rum bottle and watched a good portion of it pour away before he could right it again. 

“Son of a bitch!”, he hissed, corking it and casting a glare towards the rockpool where the clattering had come from. Whoever had just cost him a good amount of rum was in for the brawl of their life. Remus threw on his coat and cursed his inebriated steps over the craggy rock face, swearing once again as he nearly rolled his ankle when his boot sunk into an unseen rockpool. He wrenched his leg free and crested the large flat rock in his way. 

The second his eyes could focus, Remus made a mental note to find that old woman on their round trip and apologise. 

Sprawled on it’s side nestled in the sand was an honest to god siren. The Captain was mesmerised by the creature; it’s long golden hair flowed over it’s scaled shoulders and torso, complimented by it’s black and yellow streaked fin-like ears that fluttered angrily each time it hissed. It wasn’t hard to work out why it was so angry. The creature’s left leg fin had been hooked in a rather nasty mess of fishing line and barbed hooks. The Captain had seen the technique used before to ensure a plentiful haul, who knew it could catch such a creature of legend so easily?

Perhaps Remus was succumbing to the creature’s charms, or maybe he was just too drunk already to think things through, but he found himself whistling to the creature to catch it’s attention. The way the creature’s panicked, beautiful eyes met his own momentarily knocked the wind from his chest as he wheezed out, “Need help?”

 It let out a strangled sound and scrambled backwards, only to let out a cry of pain as it’s injured leg dragged along the sand. The Captain dropped down from his rock perch and made his way over,

“Woah there! Unless you want that fin ripped out you should lemme unhook you-”

Despite the excruciating pain it must’ve been in, it still managed to hiss dangerously at Remus in a voice that felt like a million tiny hands groping around in his brain with every syllable,

“Stay back!”

Remus’ halted momentarily, the voice in his head warning him, “Come any closer and I won’t hesitate to eat you alive!”

In spite of any semblance of common sense, Remus impulsively shot a cocky grin the creature’s way, “Kinky!”

The siren wasn’t amused. 

It lunged forward to swipe at Remus, but the Captain caught it’s arm, making sure his grasp wasn’t painful, but firm.

“Watch it, you’re gonna take someone’s eye out! Or maybe these beauties will just gouge a couple chunks outta my face-” 

Remus’ rambling was cut short as he saw the siren’s expression shift from a ferocious snarl to one of immediate fear.

“Please don’t kill me-”, it murmured quietly, slapping it’s free hand over its mouth. It tried to change back to a more aggressive persona but Remus refused to be intimidated,

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you. Now are you gonna be a good lil fishy and let me unhook you?” 

The siren scanned his face with those enchanting eyes once again, scrutinising every inch of Remus before it huffed and turned away from his gaze. The Captain took it as a sign of an indignant ‘do whatever you want’ and sat on the sand next to the siren, already beginning to carefully remove the hooks as best he could. Each wince the creature gave was met with an apology until Remus got the hang of it. 

“.....What’s your name?”, Remus mused to the surprised siren, “Might as well get to know each other, right?”

The creature mumbled something Remus couldn’t understand under it’s breath but relented reluctantly, “My name is Janus. At least, that's how you humans would pronounce it.” 

“It’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Remus.”, the Captain mumbled, too hyper focused on removing the hooks to see the way Janus’ cheeks flushed a dark ochre colour. Once the last hook had come loose, both of them let out a shared sigh of relief; Remus admired his job well done but grew concerned as Janus went to stand up. “Hey, you’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”, he warned, to which Janus scoffed, attempting to hide his emotions once more.

“I’ll be fine, Remus, I’ll heal quickly-”

“The salt water’s gonna sting like a bitch.”, Remus cut in.

Noting the wince Janus gave in response, he continued, “At least let me take you to my ship so I can bandage you up proper-“ 

“No!”, Janus declined fiercely, though he softened right after, letting Remus know it was likely a reflexive reaction, “I apologise. I… I’m rather wary of that kind of thing. Please understand.”

Remus sighed and stood up, taking off his coat to place it around Janus’ shoulders. The siren stiffened, though curiosity got the better of him and he softly touched the warm material. Janus inhaled and immediately was hit with the smell of the garment; a mix of body odour, dried blood, sea salt, and countless food-like smells. Not to mention the reek of old alcohol.

“In the name of Uranus, do you never clean this ornate rag!?”

Remus cackled, taking Janus’ hand to lead him to The Witch’s Serpent, noting that his fingers were webbed. Adorable. 

“Nope! Not since I hauled it off the guy I ran through to get it!”

Janus’ nose crinkled at that yet the siren kept following Remus towards his ship. With a proper glance in the light of the port, Janus piped up, “Oh. That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“What is?”, Remus questioned, making sure no one was aboard yet so he could lift a flustered Janus on deck despite the embarrassed glare he received from the siren.

“I’ve been following your ship for months.”, Janus elaborated, trying to regain his footing on the decks, “With the scraps and bodies you leave behind in your wake, I rarely have to bother hunting for new prey.”

Ah. Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that yet, simply shrugging, “Good to know you’ve been freeloading this whole time.”. 

Once more taking the hand of the siren, Remus led him towards the Captain’s Quarters; the room was just as gilded and ornate as the coat keeping Janus warm, with various trinkets, maps, paintings, and oddities given their own place within the room. Taking the opportunity to snoop around while Remus was rooting around in his desk drawer for bandages, Janus allowed his eyes to lead him on a journey around the room. A telescope, a star map, family photos, animal bones, even a goblet made from a man’s skull connected atop a metal stem, Janus had never seen so many interesting and macabre items. His interest peaked when his gaze landed on a beautiful topaz necklace resting on a book of fairytales.

Janus’ fingers traced the jewellery adoringly. It was rare for such trinkets to end up on the seafloor unless a storm had sent an unfortunate vessel to the depths. Not that Janus was ever lucky enough to get at the spoils; the boisterous captain may be sweet on him, for who knows what reason, but his own kind were never too fond of Janus’ standoffish nature and biting remarks. Of course, Janus didn’t care if he was lonely. He didn’t. Not at all. “You can have it if you want.”

Remus’ voice startled the siren who nearly tripped over the end of the Captain’s large coat. He chuckled and slowly lifted the necklace off the book to carefully let it loop over Janus’ neck.

“It suits you. Really brings out the scales.”, he complimented. Without giving Janus a second to process the act of kindness, Remus led him towards a wooden armchair in front of his desk. He guided Janus to sit down in the chair while Remus sat on the desk itself. To his side was a roll of bandages and a cloth, ‘for the blood trail’ he’d explained, gesturing to the droplets patterning their route. Janus watched the captain remove his bracers and sink to the floor to tend to his wounds. By the gentle way the Captain held and bandaged him, Janus assumed the man had sobered enough for the siren to pose the question,

“Why?”

Remus frowned, looking up to lock eyes with the siren, “Why what?”

“Why’re you...”, being so kind? Treating me so sweetly? Not trying to kill me to sell my skin? “.... treating me like this? You realise I threatened to eat you earlier, right?”

The Captain shrugged, his expression as blank as before, “Yeah. But you didn’t. And you got all fucked up in some moron’s fishing line, so it wasn’t like you posed much of a threat-”

“Exactly.”, Janus interrupted in frustrated confusion in his tone, “My voice is out of practice, if you wanted to, you could’ve slaughtered me for my skin. Any human would be a fool not to. But here you are, treating me like I’m worth more to you alive than dead. Adorning me in such… expensive trinkets.”

Remus’ brow furrowed at that. “For someone who threatened to eat me earlier, I figured you’d practice a little more self preservation.”

The siren scoffed, “I didn’t say I wanted to be slaughtered, I’m merely trying to work out why you wouldn’t take such a chance. Doesn’t your species enjoy monetary gain? Like I said, any human would be a fool to miss such an opportunity- oW!”

Janus fixed Remus a glare as the Captain flicked the abused tip of his leg fin, “First off, yeah, I like money but that's not what I do this shit for. Secondly, most humans think your kind aren’t even real. If I waltzed into town claiming I had siren skin to sell, I’d be run outta town as a conman. Besides, if I’m nice to you, I’ll have an ally in the water, and that's far more valuable to me.”

As he wrapped up the calf area for good, Remus grinned up at the siren, “You’re also really handsome, so that helps.”

Janus’ face crinkled in a flustered surprise, “Remus, I’m part fish-”

“You’re still handsome as fuck.”

“I’m not even using my human glamour-”

“And? You’re hot.”

“I’m literally covered in fish scales-!”

“Still hot!”

Janus couldn’t think of another rebuttal, so Remus counted it as a win for him. He rolled his sleeves to tackle the rest of the injuries when he caught Janus’ eyes tracing the fresh scar on his cheek.

“Wondering how I got this scar?”

“I may be interested.” came the coy reply.

Remus smirked, “You could call it a gift from my brother-in-law. I got a little too up close and personal with his best friend and found up with this beauty. It’s a shame, said bestie’s pretty fun but he’s the biggest pain in my ass since this one time I ate some bad eels-”

“That’s charming,”, Janus interrupted in disgust, “Why don’t you simply dispatch this ‘bestie’ and be done with him?”

“Can’t. If I did that, Virge-”

“Who?”

“My brother-in-law.”

“Ah. Continue.”

“Virge would hunt me down to the ends of the Earth and the last thing I wanna do is trade away my freedom to do whatever the fuck I want.”, he averted his gaze to Janus’ leg and kept bandaging it; whoever had put that line into the ocean had no idea the damage it’d caused to such a beautiful creature. “Besides, if I hurt Virge like that, my brother Roman would be miserable. Even if he probably hates me, some dumb bitch part of me really doesn’t want him to feel like shit just ‘cause I went and upset his soulmate.”

Janus scoffed quietly. It lacked the venom he no doubt intended it to have but the disdain was enough to draw the Captain’s attention. “You humans are far too sentimental. My kind have no qualms treating even close family like scum if we so desire. Even our soulmates it would seem..”

Remus caught the darting glance Janus sent towards his scaled wrist, noting the sigh he suppressed. “.... They’re a damn fool to not want you.”, the Captain murmured thoughtfully as he finally finished the upper shin bandaging. He wiped his brow with the heel of his palm but stopped as he felt smoothe fingers wrap around his wrist. His confusion was answered as the siren bore holes into the sliver of writing on his arm with those mesmerising eyes.

“You’re not the only one having soulmate trouble,”, Remus began answering, “Never really cared much for this shit, but now I got a message, I can’t make heads or tails of it-”

“Help me. I need you.”

Remus locked eyes with Janus, the siren’s own eyes wide with realisation and looking ready to bubble with tears, “That's what it says. It’s in Aquan. I wrote that to my soulmate while I was feeling…. rather vulnerable.”

Unsure of how to react to this turn of events, Remus stood and sat on his desk once more. He was too stunned to reply at first. A million questions swelled and crashed upon the shores of his brain, all fighting to be asked, but Janus beat him to the punch.

“Why did you never write back?”, the hurt in his voice stabbed at the Captain’s heart, “I mean, even if you couldn’t understand me, why didn’t you just...”

Remus wasn’t sure himself. No, that was a lie. He simply never fathomed that the message had been a cry for help. 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”, he began, looking to Janus - no, his soulmate, and asking in return, “What happened?”

Janus sucked in a breath through his teeth, “.... It was a moment of weakness but….. My family had cast me out. Not that it was all too surprising, nor could I stand most of them anyway, but… being left alone to wander by yourself is a rather terrifying thought no matter the situation. I’d reached my breaking point. I felt like I’d been abandoned by my kin entirely. I thought perhaps my soulmate would be there for me. I never imagined you were human.”

“Makes sense. I’m sorry your family sucks ass.”. Eloquent as always. But hey, the snicker that got from the siren was worth it in Remus’ eyes. “And I’m sorry I didn’t write back. But I guess it’s good we finally crossed paths.”

Remus gestured for Janus to join him on the desk, to which the siren accepted the offer, being careful not to catch the coat he was still adorned in on anything on the way up. With his soulmate seated by his side, Remus wrapped an arm around the siren and held him close. Janus gave a lop-sided, fond smile, leaning into the act of comfort and gently resting a hand on Remus’ chest.

“What now then, my Captain?”, Janus’ voice was as soft and sweet as a ripe peach. Remus knew it’d require a lot of explanation where his crew was concerned, but he wasn’t about to let Janus slip away from him. He pressed a kiss to the siren’s temple, relishing the blush that spread over Janus’ cheeks. With a grin, Remus cackled,

“Simple, we make good on this alone time we’ve got ‘til my crew get back!”

--

Sorry this one’s so late TTvTT I miight need some time to finish days 10 and up, but I’ll get things written asap. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom 

[mimiwrites2000]

When I Was Human

a one shot

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

Words count: 3751

* spoilers for chapter 131 and up

Summary:

The boat sailed in the middle of the ocean, trapped within blue from all directions.

On it sat two lost souls, that forgot what it was like to be human.

  Armin told Annie many tales when she was in the crystal, however, there was one story he never got to finish…

Annie asks about it, and Armin finds himself in a swirl of memories of how he was revived four years ago…

He was used to letting it out.

It was natural, as spontaneous as breathing; he would sit down and talk talk talk.

Maybe the first few minutes were awkward, but as soon as the knot in his tongue lessened, he unleashed the avalanche kept captivated in his chest. On and on he went, until all trembling thoughts were spent, his mind left with an unoccupied room, enough for a night with only a nightmare or two.

Back then, he gazed at a heap of a crystal-clear rock, a girl floating within it, trapped in a loop of stillness. In a cold basement he sat, torches fluttered and blazed, but their warmth a marginal drop in a bitterly cold ocean.

But now, he was side by side with that girl, the same one who was frozen for more than four years. Her warmth radiated off her now-lively skin, her hair teased by the ocean-salt breeze. Her eyes open, the blue in them as vibrant as he could remember.

The ship sailed into the vast blue, seagulls as their companion in this journey towards the unknown.

“Have you ever thought… that I was listening all these years?” she asked, side-eyeing him, as she embraced her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.

“I…” he averted his eyes when they caught hers, as much as he desired to never look at anything but her ocean-blue eyes, his cheeks would betray him with a tint of red, he had no control on that, and he hated it when he loses controls, “I… I imagined things…”

“Like what?”

A shaky sigh left him, he wondered how he so easily talked to her for four years, “Sometimes… I thought it was possible that you were listening, but I didn’t let myself think too much about it.”

That was a lie; he did think a lot about it, before he slept, alone in his room, at night.

Her eyes lingered on him for a second, before she swiveled her head, watching the horizon stretching endlessly before them.

“It explains a lot…” she murmured.

Armin’s eyebrows furrowed the tiniest bit, “Explains what?”

“There were times when you stopped talking in the middle of a sentence… I used to think you lost your train of thought, or felt stupid for talking to me, but now… it explains it.”

“Oh…” 

Armin couldn't think of a retort… or maybe he did, he wanted to tell her that he himself couldn’t believe he spent hours talking to her, his own voice echoing back to one pair of ears, no response but the crackling of fire in the inflamed torches.

“I can’t believe you actually wasted hours talking to me,” she said, the corner of her lips up ticked.

Armin snorted, shaking his head.

“But… I can’t find an explanation for one thing,” Annie said, looking at Armin, “you never finished one story.”

“Oh…” He already knew what story she was talking about, “which one?”

“Bertholdt’s”

A rock dropped in Armin’s stomach, he looked away promptly. He tried to swallow, but it was as hard as swallowing his own tongue, which knotted on itself, pressing at the roof of his throat, shallowing his breathing.

“Yeah…” he choked out, giving up on settling his voice.

He didn’t blame Annie for spreading this topic on the table, out and in the open. After all, there was nothing untrue about what she said; he told her tales of when he was six, without jumping over any detail, except for this one tale, that he had a hard and a long time believing.

Armin tried many times to talk about it… but he never dared to finish it.

He tried to avoid this subject even with his closest friends; Mikasa tried countless times to make him open up, but he shut himself away, locking this one exact memory in a metal box at the far corner in his mind, it would crack open after midnights, when he would storm out his room for the closest bathroom, holding himself back from throwing up on the carpets or in the hallways.

The inevitable day of unlocking that box had come, it was no other than Annie Leonhart that had the key to its steel-hard lock.

Armin glanced at her; one look was enough to see the displeasure of bringing up this topic, but the determination of hearing out this tale until the very end.

He took in a deep, slow breath, closing his eyes, trying to decide from where to start.

“I could tell you… my own experience,” Annie said, fidgeting with the rim of her sleeve.

He watched her, and when their eyes met, he nodded once.

“In the Warrior Training Unit… after we were chosen, we are supposed to spend time with the past holders,” Armin furrowed his eyebrows, “it’s been discovered that the deeper the connection between the receiver and the giver, the more memories are transferred.”

Armin nodded, understanding, but then his eyes lit up with a question, “Wouldn’t that make it harder for you? I mean, to eat someone you know well…”

“They did that so we can use their memories to control our titans faster, would save a lot of time.”

“That’s inhumane.”

“When was anything humane? When was I ever a human? When were any of us human?” Annie clenched her fists over her knees.

“Annie-”

“I talked to her only once,” Annie interrupted, raising her hand. She shrugged her shoulders, “as expected, I didn’t see much of her memories, but I was lucky I took control over the Female Titan really quick.”

“I see…” 

“It didn’t make it easier though…”

Armin watched Annie; she didn’t meet his eyes.

Those ocean blue eyes that hid more than any soul’s endurance. An ocean with a far bottom, a limitless hole of mysteries and sorrows. He saw her tale in her eyes, a reflection to her words.

“One moment… I felt… fire…” Annie opened up her fists, mimicking the small, harmless flame of a candle, “last thing I thought was my lungs ruptured, then I woke up in my bed, with a ring on my finger. The next thing I knew, I was a warrior and I had a mission to complete.”

A beat of silence.

A shamed hand scratched Armin’s neck; he used to avoid thinking about how Annie had her powers…

He tried to stop himself from asking, but the question was out his mouth before he could stop it: “Did you gain your memories? The memories of that moment?”

He shouldn’t have asked it, he knew what it was like to have these thoughts stuck in your head, ricocheting against your skull, but you keep them all in, safe inside your shell.

“I did…” she answered, she didn’t seem bothered, or maybe she acted unbothered, “or more like… I saw her last moments… before I ate her…”

She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

“Unless you wanna talk about it,” he answered it.

Annie pressed her lips, she sighed: “I saw myself, my mindless titan form, right before I closed my mouth on her…”

Armin waited patiently for her to finish her sentence.

“It’s… I don’t know how to feel about…” Annie let out an exacerbated breath, annoyed at her feeble speech, “that was the last thing she saw before she died, and that horrific thing, that horrific pain… it was me, I was the reason behind it.”

Armin scooted closer to Annie.

“You would think it gets easier after all the killing I did, but it never did… maybe it’s because…”

“Because what?”

“Because it was the last thing I did when I was a human.”

Armin shivered, hugging himself, rubbing up and down his arms. His bones trembled, because-

“I know exactly what you mean,” he confessed, and it wasn't empathetic, it wasn’t the kind of empty words people exchange for comfort, it was true and honest.

The breeze caressing their skin softly, reminding them of their surroundings, anchoring them to the present, away from the haunting past.

Annie scooted closer to him, until their thighs touched.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he whispered, very close to her ear.

She glanced at his lips, then gazed in his eyes.

Their eyes a mirror of each other, reflecting their deepest fears. A bottomless lake that was pouring out into the other’s. After all, no one knows the depth of the ocean, its shiny, glimmering surface a mere artifice of the perils it conceals.

“I…” Armin started, Annie’s attentiveness motivating him, “Eren told me what happened, and how it happened, right after I woke up.”

Armin found words flowing out his mouth; any restraint from earlier flew with the wind, and the metal, locked box in his mind was shattered open, releasing cuffed thoughts and suffocating emotions, and Annie was there to embrace these haphazard thoughts, tame them, and accept them.

“I didn’t believe Eren, at first, I didn’t want to believe him.”

Annie’s fingers were an inch away from Armin’s.

“The first thing I thought about… was commander Erwin. He died, because of me.”

Armin noticed Annie’s jaw clench; she wanted to say something, but stopped herself.

“The first few weeks were… a blur, I was seeing new things, feeling new things… the only bright side was that… all the scars on my body were gone.”

Annie smiled, a small, fleeting smile, but a smile nonetheless, it faded as fast as it showed.

Armin found himself mirroring that smile, lingering for a few longer seconds, before it faded as well…

“Something was wrong with me, back then… I didn’t understand what it was,” Armin let out a quivering breath, “I started seeing more of Bertholdt’s memories, nothing to benefit the survey corps, but… enough for me to understand the world from his perspective…”

Annie’s fingers touched Armin’s; cold and warm, meeting in the middle.

Armin glanced at Annie’s hand, before he said: “but then… that day… I saw it.”

For a moment, it was only silence. 

Annie’s hand clasped over Armin’s.

“I got the memory of that day back, the day I ate him.”

Annie rested his palm on her own, her other hand rubbing circles on his skin.

“It was different from what Eren told me; we were fighting against him, and I came up with a plan.”

The grip on his hand tightened.

“I was midair, and he let off steam, and all I saw was scorching red and orange,” the heel of his shoes dug deeper into the wooden floor, his toes curling in them.

If he was in the basement, he would’ve stopped at this point, and let the rest of the story captivated within his mind, lingering inside his head all night long until dawn broke.

But this time was different.

Annie was there, right beside him, hair dancing with the wind, skin vibrant and alive, her breath mixing with his, their fingers intertwined.

“And I was burning,” He continued, his own voice unrecognizable, distant and far, as far as the memory felt, yet so close, hovering over his skin. “My skin was aflame,” he looked at his hands, “and I couldn’t breathe, it was impossible to breathe, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t.”

He closed his eyes, took in a shaky, labored inhale: “My skin… it was numb, I was numb, I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew I was dying, I thought of Eren, and the ocean, but I didn’t feel myself, I didn’t feel my body, I couldn’t feel my fingers-” he held out the hand Annie was caressing, swinging it, “I didn’t know- I was- I don’t think it was real- I-I don’t feel like it was real-”

“Armin-”

“But it was,” he hissed, his voice low and choked, back hunched, and his eyes wide open, boring into Annie’s.

Annie put their tangled hands on her lap, all the while holding Armin’s gaze.

“It’s real, it happened, I killed him.”

Bertholdt’s screams echoed inside his mind.

Armin searched in Annie’s eyes, waiting for hate and anger to ignite in them, waiting for her to get up and leave him where he was, hunched on a hopeless ship, on a hopeless mission.

But he saw nothing, only the pressure of her hand on his increasing.

His throat tightening as if an egg clogged it, he attempted to swallow: “An-and then Eren and Mikasa made c-captain” he choked, “captain Levi to use the serum on-on-on me! Annie they gave it to me!” 

Annie’s jaw clenched, she watched Armin’s eyes glistening.

“And I still don’t know how to feel about that,” he flailed his free hand around, shaking his head, “I don’t know if what I’m doing is right or wrong, but I don’t have a choice.”

Armin let out several breaths before he continued: “I can’t stop, I can’t let him down, I can’t let anyone down, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough, and I don’t know what to do.” his voice lowered and was only a whisper at the end.

He looked at their entangled hands; their knuckles white, that’s how tight they were holding each other.

Armin released his hand from Annie’s grip, put his head in his palms, and murmured: “Now I know what was wrong, I know what is wrong with me,” his hands rubbed his cheeks violently, then he froze, as if a thought just popped in his head. He swiveled his head towards Annie and muttered: “I was no longer human, I’m no longer human.”

Annie’s mouth opened and closed several times, words departed her mind, her throat dry, tongue in a knot.

Silence followed, fraught by a blend of wavering anger and long-kept-in sadness. Armin’s shoulders shaking, he gripped his knees, tightening his grasp on them, gritting his teeth together.

Annie’s hand rested on his back, slowly rubbing circles.

They were no longer humans.

Annie eyed Armin, his head tilted, eyes unfocused on an invisible spot on the ground.

They were no longer humans.

That thought didn’t occur to Annie before her mission, or perhaps it did, but she shoved it to the back of her mind, fighting and staying alive always occupying the front porch of her thoughts.

But then she was sent to the island, she met Paradis’s devils, and she questioned her life, since the day she was born.

She liked to think that she was over the ‘I’m no longer human’ dilemma, but the projection of her own life onto Armin’s, the cycle repeating itself, and these thoughts that she shoved away jostled their way in front of her eyes.

“I have two years left,” Annie found herself saying, Armin tensed, “three, if I was lucky.”

The breeze blew softly around them, Annie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, closing her eyes, Armin watched the movement of her fingers.

“You were conscious… all this time,” Armin said.

“I was…” Annie confirmed, “It felt like a long dream…”

“Why didn’t you come out?”

Annie almost snorted, “Why would I?”

“I don’t know…”

“Yes you know, you want to say that I wasted these four years of my already short life don’t you?”

“I… no… I wanted to say that… maybe we could’ve worked it out,” Armin admitted, it was only half the truth.

“That’s you, not everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one is as forgiving as you…” She said, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes, “no one else knows what it feels like to be me, or to be you.”

“Maybe I would’ve convinced them…”

“And then what? Use me as a weapon? Fight on your side?” Annie asked, her tone harsher than she intended to.

But he only looked at her, a sad smile pulled at his lips, he chuckled: “I would’ve run away with you.”

Annie lips parted, she didn’t see that coming, and was out of words.

Armin took her hand, covered it securely with his palms, looking down at her small hand in his relatively bigger ones: “I would’ve ran away with you, we would live some place far away, live for our day.”

His fingers traced spontaneous shapes on the back of her hand, she watched him in silence.

“I wouldn’t think of tomorrow, or yesterday, there would be only today, and tonight…”

Annie looked away. That fairytale life was far from reach, she knew it, and he knew it, but was there harm in dreaming?

“Would that make us human?” he asked, looking in her eyes, leaning closer to her.

No

“Yes,” She answered.

Their foreheads rested against each other, their shuddering breaths mixing. Gazing into each other's eyes. All these words encapsulated for years poured out like an avalanche into the small space between them, all these unspoken thoughts, regrets, tracing around their blue pupils in dark hues, ensnaring them.

A part of them that would never leave them.

Adhering to them for whatever was left of their short lives.

His hand under her chin, lifting it up, his thumb brushing over her bottom lips,

She cupped his cheeks with trembling fingers and hesitant breaths, eyelids fluttering shut.

It was weird, foreign, the invisible strings that pulled her towards him, a magnetic force made her want to stay by his side for as long as she could.

He watched her face for a few moments, her cheeks, a tint of a pink hues blushing them, her closed eyelids. He shivered, and wanted her to open her eyes, he gazed at her for four years, with her eyes closed, frozen midair.

His lips were an inch away from hers.

Armin leaned in, lips touching in the middle, closed-tight, inexperienced lips placing peaks on each other, 

Warm.

Annie thought, his lips were warm, his touch soft, and warmth sheltered her body, from the tip of her toes until the tip of her ears.

He wanted this for so long, to feel her in his arms, her warmth. It would be a lie to say he didn’t dream about the feeling of her lips many times before, imagining what it would be like to press his lips over hers, over and over, soft and warm.

There she was, in his arms, her lips on his, hesitant moves, scared, indecisive.

Fire ignited right where their lips touched.

Armin pulled away, just enough to whisper: “I want to be human again.”

“Me too… me too…” She murmured against his lips, and he shivered.

Her lips, her skin, her scent, drastically different from his fantasies. Years ago, whenever she slithered into his mind, a crystal barrier engulfed his senses, cold with sharp edges, cutting through his skin.

Now, all he felt while moving his jaw against her was warmth warmth warmth.

That warmth intensified, no longer a comforting heat, but a scorching heat that awakened desires in Armin that he long put out. He shifted, not approving of his body’s reaction, uncertain of his rapid breathing, holding back his hands from trailing any further.

Annie wrapped both of her arms around his shoulders, holding him in place.

And he didn’t hold back any longer.

His hands going up and down her back, barely reaching her hips before they go up again. The kisses sloped and their lips barely touched because their movements morphed into frantic touches, striving to touch as much as they could from each other with clothes still a barrier between them.

That was when Annie pulled away, held Armin’s face in her hands, and whispered breathily: “I want to feel human,” her fingers brushed his bangs off his forehead, “just one time, I want to feel human one more time.”

Looking into her eyes, Armin’s thoughts banging in his skull, deafening his surroundings, but he knew what he wanted, he knew that for so long.

He got up, stretched his hand towards her.

With clutched hands, they sought a distance-safe cabin, private from eavesdropping ears and sneaky eyes.

With a click, the door locked, and their hands were all over each other once again, but this time with the comfort of a bed behind their bare backs, and the walls of the cabin to hide behind.

Moans and whispered words, sounds, looks and touches.

Oh how long Armin had waited to feel Annie against his own skin,, he pressed every inch of his skin into hers, sharing the warmth radiating of her body, obliterating the memory of her encapsulated in frozen crystal, in a cold basement.

She was there, beneath him, lively as a human can ever be, squirming with pleasure, letting out incoherent words, his name slipping out of her every now and then.

He wasn’t aware that he was as messy as her, her name like a mantra on his tongue, his limbs shaking and his breathing trembling.

His hands on her body delicate yet firm.

Her breath against his neck erratic yet warm.

And they were lost in time and space, only focused on each other. The walls, the bed, all fading into a blurry unremarkable fog,

They made each other human again.

And then their tears mixed, alongside silent sobs and bursts of pleasure. The heat in the room accumulating with every passing second.

Then they saw stars, their grip on each other tight tight tight as they slumped on each other, holding one another, holding onto that moment.

Breaths calming down, as Armin pulled a blanket over themselves, hiding their lack of modesty. The temperature in the room cooling down...

A distant voice in Annie’s mind whispered:

Human human human…

For the first time in years, she was alive, vulnerable under a blanket with this man who taught her what human meant and felt like…

Her thoughts drifted off, as her eyelids fluttered shut. The last thing she saw was a smile on Armin’s face, as he muttered something… she couldn’t decipher his words, but comfort washed over her body. She nuzzled her head in his chest, placing a kiss over his heartbeat, feeling her own heart pulsates warmth in her veins.

Armin watched Annie falling asleep in his arms, his own eyes fighting against closing. He found himself muttering three words he never imagined he would have the chance to say out loud to her…

 “I love you…”

 When her breaths calmed and quietened, he pulled her closer to him, kissed her head, and joined her in the still, silent sleep, a peaceful moment in their chaotic world, that was engraved in their minds for as long as they lived.

.

.

.

I hope you guys enjoyed this!!

this was a request from an anon on, and this is the first time I ever write a request uwu

I hope it was good enough!!

anyway, with manga ending... too many emotions...

but ANYWAYYYY

I'd love to write more requests, so if u have any, you can leave them in the comments or send me an ask uwu

Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated

thanks so much for reading!!

[helbertinelli]

A Different Hope

Chapter 5 - The End

Leia felt an overwhelming sense of fear grip her as she entered the throne room. She looked around at everything as she had never seen the room before. It was usually her father who had to deal with Palpatine and never her. Leia and Vader stopped by the stairs leading up to the throne. Leia was looking over at Vader, trying to follow his lead in case she had to do anything. She figured he most likely dealt with the Emperor before and he knew what it was expected to do.

"Ah Lord Vader and Princess Organa." Palpatine smiled as he was greeting them. "I gave you a job to do Lord Vader, but I found out you have not been very good to keep to it." The Emperor continued. Leia was switching from looking at Vader and at Palpatine. "Maybe you're overdue for another lesson." He added, his creepy smile still plastered on his face.

Despite being scared of the situation she was in, part of Leia felt good about Vader finally being in trouble for once. Even though it came from the wrong place, there were finally some consequences for him.

As Palpatine readied himself to shoot lightning at Vader, he reacted quickly, igniting his lightsaber and trying to block the Emperor's attack. Leia gasped quietly, stepping back quickly as she was watching in shock the two men going against each other.

"You lied to me about Padme!" Vader growled. "I did not kill her. Our child did not die. I could have been with her instead of doing your bidding all these years." He took one step up the stairs leading to the throne and Palpatine shot another stream of lightning at him that kept him from advancing temporarily. "You knew about everything, didn't you? Why did you send me on this mission? Were you expecting me to kill her too like I did so many others? So you can reveal at the end that she was my daughter?" Vader asked as rage was flowing through his entire body.

Palpatine cackled at his statement. "I have to say I had no idea she was your daughter. But that would have been quite unfortunate for you to experience, Lord Vader." Palpatine pulled Vader's lightsaber out of his hands before resuming the lightning strikes. Vader fell to his knees, screaming in pain as the electricity was frying everything in his suit. "You will learn your place though." Palpatine stood up from the throne, levitating Vader with ease, and he started contorting his mechanical left arm and legs to the point where they were about to fall out of their sockets. As Vader fell to the floor, the lightning resumed and Vader's screams filled the room once more.

"No!" Leia shouted. She was trembling in fear at the sight of Vader being tortured. She hated him, but part of her knew he was not lying about her being his daughter. Just a moment ago he repeated that claim to Palpatine. She knew it had to be true. He was her father. As much as she hated him, she could not just sit by and watch him suffer and do nothing to stop it.

Palpatine laughed again at her plea, stopping his attack on Vader to look over at her. He enjoyed the terror he saw on her face, just as much as he enjoyed the same fear Vader gave off when Palpatine stopped attacking him. Vader was breathing shallowly, his breathing was raspy and sounded even more broken than before. He was relieved that the pain stopped, but he was more worried that Palpatine might hurt Leia for trying to interfere. The Emperor started cackling louder and he resumed his lightning attack on Vader, causing the Sith Lord to cry out in pain once again.

Leia hated this feeling of powerlessness, of feeling nothing but fear and not being able to do anything about it. "Stop!" She screamed. Her shriek was followed by a wave of Force born of her fear and anger at what she was witnessing. It slammed the Emperor back into the throne and it made him lose his concentration for the lightning bolts he was shooting out of his hands.

She looked in shock at what she just did. This was like nothing she had ever experienced before, but somehow it came naturally to her right now. Although the burst of Force was unintentional, she knew it would not be perceived as such. She took deep breaths, keeping her eyes on the body of the Emperor. She did not know what to expect or what will happen if he got up. When the Emperor seemed as if he wouldn't get back up, Leia turned towards Vader to make sure he was still alive.

"Da-..." She started but then screamed in pain. Palpatine was waiting for her to be distracted to get back up and punish her. He shot lightning through her body, laughing hysterically.

"Who knew you really were your father's daughter?" He cackled. "I could teach you to control it. You could be strong. You have so much potential. All you have to do is join me." Palpatine smirked, still torturing her and leaving her unable to respond.

"Nooo!" Vader yelled, his fear of Palpatine turning his attention to his daughter now realized. "You will not take her from me!" Vader growled, clutching Palpatine's throat in a Force choke. He squeezed his fingers together as Palpatine was clawing at his throat and Leia stopped being attacked.

"Leia, go!" Vader pleaded, but she stayed put, frozen in place by fear and pain. Vader continued his choke on Palpatine. Although he was not as powerful as he once was, his desire to save his child from the Emperor filled him with immense strength. In the end, Vader let go of Palpatine once he felt the Emperor's life force gone.

"Leia..." Vader turned to look at her once it was all over. He wanted to say more but his attack on Palpatine along with the torture he just experienced took a great toll on his body and he collapsed next to his daughter.

-- Chapter 6 - Twin Suns

Anakin woke up on the couch of his and Padme's apartment on Coruscant. His head was resting on Padme's lap and Leia, who was about three years-old this time, was sitting on his chest and watching cartoons.

"What happened?" Anakin asked groggily, looking up at his wife, who was playing with his hair.

"You fell asleep watching Bantha Tales with Leia." Padme smiled, pushing Anakin's hair out of his face and running her fingers through it.

Anakin stretched out on the couch, causing Leia to wobble slightly as she was trying to keep her balance on his chest. She looked over at Anakin, frowning at him for disturbing her. He smiled at her reaction.

"I'm sorry, baby." He wrapped his arms around her, sitting up slowly and kissing her cheek. Leia ignored him, her attention dedicated to her cartoons as she started to hum along to the theme song of Bantha Tales. Anakin couldn't help but smile again. Seeing his family together filled his heart with joy.

When Vader woke up from his dream, he found himself aboard his ship. He had new limbs installed and while he was still in pain, it was just the sort that he was forced to deal with everyday. His mask and costume were removed as they both got damaged during Palpatine's torture. He was connected to various machines that ensured he was kept alive and there were droids that were there to assist him.

"Thanks for saving me from the Emperor, Lord Vader." Leia said to him once she noticed he was awake. "We're on your ship, on Alderaan. I reassembled the limbs you've lost. We're even now." She explained dryly. "My father and some other senators are working on a new way to lead the Galaxy now that the Emperor is gone."

Vader listened to her. It hurt him that Leia would not accept him and that he was still Darth Vader in her eyes. He sighed quietly. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. He did not know if she would be willing to listen to it all, but he at least had to try to ask for her forgiveness before anything else.

"Leia... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you all these years, for trusting the Emperor. I'm sorry for what I did to our family. You and Padme deserved so much better." He looked at her, finally through his eyes rather than through the lenses of his mask. He felt his eyes stinging with tears as his words and his heart were filled with regret over everything that he did and over missing out on everything that could have been. His voice was not distorted by his mask anymore and he was glad to use his own voice too to speak to her.

Leia sighed before taking a deep breath and looking over at her father. She wanted to yell at him, to throw his apology right back at him and chew him out about how it will never be enough to make up for all the pain he has caused not just her, but to everyone else in the Galaxy too. She had no more interest in fighting with him, though. His time was over and thanks to him, Palpatine was no more and the Empire was soon to share the same fate as its Emperor. Seeing him without him mask made Leia realize who Vader really was. He was not some threatening Sith Lord anymore. He looked like a regular man, a man who was hurt and sad. She could see parts of his face still resembling Anakin, but mostly she was glad that he looked nothing like the man she knew to be her biological father. That way she could still love Anakin without having to forgive Vader.

"Please forgive me, my daughter." Vader repeated, noticing the pained look on Leia's face. It broke his heart that he was not be able to help her in any way, that he could not take her pain away, that he could not make her happy.

Leia stood up, taking one last look at him before exiting his chamber and his ship.

Vader became overcome with tears as Leia left. He knew he lost her too. He was not certain that he ever had a chance of getting back to her, but he still had a sliver of hope that she would forgive him in the end and they could be a family. That remnant of hope was all gone now, though and his wails filled the ship. He was truly alone now. For the first time in his life, he realized he was truly alone. He had no more family and even Palpatine was gone this time. There was no one left but himself and the few droids that were looking after him.

He shut his eyes, still sobbing loudly when he felt a pair of hands touch his face. He felt someone pressing her forehead to his and her lips onto his. He opened his eyes to look at the woman standing in front of him.

"I'm never letting you go, Ani. You'll always have me." Padme spoke softly, caressing his face.

"She’s gone." He sniffled, drawing quick breaths as he tried to stop himself from crying. "I couldn't fix it, Padme. She hates me." His tears started again at the mention of Leia hating him.

"She'll come around. She is our daughter and deep down she cares about you too. She's headstrong like her father, but she has your kind heart too." Padme wrapped her arms around him when Vader pulled himself loose from the vertical platform where he was reassembled and he fell to his knees. "Leia isn't our only child. She has a twin brother, Luke." He looked up at her when she revealed that last part.

"We had twins?" He asked, his voice trembling. He felt both pain and happiness. Our family would have been so beautiful, he thought to himself. "Where is Luke?" He asked Padme. "Do you think he'll want me in his life? Do you think he'll want to forgive me?"

"Of course he will. And Leia will, too." She reassured, holding her husband in an embrace. "Take her with you, to Luke. He's on Tatooine."

That night, in the Organa household, Leia recounted to Bail the events that happened while Vader was her bodyguard. She had already told him that Vader was the one who killed Palpatine, but she purposefully left out the details of her being related to Vader. Now she decided it was time to tell him everything.

Although Bail knew the story of Leia being the daughter of Anakin who then turned to the dark side and only existed as Darth Vader, he still listened to his daughter tell her story. When she finished talking, Bail pulled her into a hug and placed a kiss onto her forehead. It was now his turn to reveal the rest of her story and tell her the complete story of Anakin and Padme from when he first met them until the moment Leia came home with him and her brother was sent with Obi-Wan to Tatooine.

Leia was surprised to hear she had a brother, a twin nonetheless. She was sad that they had to be separated and while she understood their reasoning for it, she was still not happy that she had to grow apart from her twin brother.

"I need to go find him. He needs to know too." She told her father and Bail agreed with her.

"I cannot come with you, but you can take C-3PO and R2-D2. They will be good traveling companions. And I will make sure you have everything you need." He smiled as Leia threw her arms around him and hugged him.

The next day, Vader showed up to the Organa residence just as Leia was packing for her journey to Tatooine.

"What do you want?" Leia frowned at the sight of him. She threw some more clothes in a suitcase, before walking back to her closet to grab others.

"Leia..." He spoke her name as softly as he could. Saying her name brought him comfort, it reminded him of his time with Padme, of the time when he believed he still could be with her and their children. "I have found out that you have a twin brother, Luke. He's on Tatooine. I need you to come with me to him. Please." He pleaded to her.

She raised her brows in surprise at his new demeanor. Leia stood silent for a while, considering her options. She did not trust Vader still, but she knew he would not try to hurt her. She was not sure how Luke would react to him, though and she decided that Luke should not have to face Vader alone. Leia knew it was probably futile to try to convince Vader not to go after his son, so she decided not to try that. She knew if she left now, he would follow and there is a chance of him finding Luke first, which she did not want happening.

"Fine. I will come with you, but I have some demands." Leia spoke, trying to sound more official than before while she finished packing. Vader nodded in agreement. "My droids will come with me, too. You cannot hurt anyone at all while I am there. I get to talk to Luke alone before you do. And you have to take both of us back to Alderaan after we find him."

"You have my word." Vader promised before taking one look at the droids, the same ones who once belonged to him and his wife.

"Well, then let's not waste any more time." Leia reached to grab her suitcase, but Vader grabbed it for her first. She looked at him, frowning at first, but then decided to let it go and allow him to help her. She walked with him towards his ship, the two droids were following behind them. He made sure to walk slower than usually so that she would not have to struggle to keep up with him, since she was much shorter than him. Leia kept looking over at him while they walked. She thought about many things. She was wondering how the journey will go for the three of them. She was worried Luke might not like her or even want to leave his current home. She knew she most likely would not leave Alderaan if anyone asked her to. She was also worried about Vader and how going to find Luke together will make her see him differently.

"You could pilot." Vader said to her once they got on the ship. He remembered the times when he was a Padawan and the joy it brought him when he was allowed to pilot. He did not know much of what Leia liked, but he figured that her being a Skywalker meant she also liked flying. He loved flying and even Padme was a great pilot even though she did not spend most of her time aboard a ship.

"Me?" She asked, taken by surprise by his request.

"Yes, if you want to."

"I wasn't that great during my practice lessons." She warned, feeling a bit embarrassed to have to admit that to Vader.

"That's not a problem. I'll help if things go bad." He assured.

"Why do you want me to pilot?" She raised her brow, looking at him. She knew he was trying to get close to her, but she also really wanted to fly. It did not happen too often that she had the chance to fly and her last instructor told her she should never be allowed to fly after Leia let the ship spin out of control before crashing it belly-up above the balcony of the Organa home.

"This was originally your mission, so you should fly." Vader answered. She nodded, not willing to tell him that she would have asked R2 or Threepio to pilot instead. She took the pilot seat while Vader sat next to her.

"Okay, R2, give us a course to Tatooine." She asked as the astromech beeped happily and plugged himself in to the ship's controls to chart a course for them. With their coordinates ready, Leia lifted the ship and took off towards Tatooine.

--

Notes:

- I might write one-shots about Leia and Vader’s adventures while on the “road“ to Tatooine. And maybe I’ll write the story where they meet Luke. I have some more ideas of Vader teaching her a bit about the Force and even the two of them talking about the Force. Maybe Leia asking Vader to break some of the promises he’s made to her before the journey. I even thought about writing a funny one where Leia gets a crush on someone they meet and Vader is like “panik!“

- Leia will eventually come to terms that Vader is her dad and that he can change and be good again.

--

Chapter 1 - Her Eyes / Chapter 2 - Dreams

Chapter 3 - Anakin and Padme / Chapter 4 - The Ghosts of Polis Massa

[pazvizslaplasmathrower]

willing shield

din djain x reader / the mandalorian x reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of death, injury, swearing, brief suicidal thoughts, allusions to self harm,

A/N: more indulging emotions and feelings, sorry idk its how im processing things and somehow im not processing anything at all lmao. Please heed the warnings above as the content can be triggering.

*X*

“Are you sure you're okay taking care of him on your own?” Din asked, head tilted to the side.

You rolled your eyes, continuing to let the baby climb all over you like a jungle gym, only when you started to feel him slip did you continue to catch him.

“Of course I can. If I can save your ass from a Krait dragon, I can watch this little one while you're gone.”

He put his hands up in surrender, still eyeing you nervously. “Alright, well, if you need anything or if anything happens, make sure to comm me. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah!” You assured him, “I got this baby thing down.”

Din Djarin nodded and watched as you walked back up the ramp and into the Razor Crest. Part of him wanted to stay and make sure that everything would be fine, though supplies and not to mention funds were now dangerously low. He had no choice but to take a local job on the vast planet of Kashyyyk and hope that it would be over relatively quickly.

It wasn't the baby he was concerned for.

***___***___***

“Alright, don't look at me like that. You're the one that ate you lunch too fast!”

Both you and the Child had found Din's ship to be rather suffocating and decided that fresh air would do you both some good. Nearby was a fast flowing river where there were plenty of fish and shellfish to choose from. But that food fiend gobbled up everything you gave him faster than you could shell the poor creatures.

A little green hand gripped an empty shell and then the baby proceeded to poke you with it.

“One more, okay? I don't want you getting sick.”

His little face was so round and with those pointy ears and wondrous eyes, it was hard to deny him what was requested of you. Plucking another clam from the river bed, you gazed up at the baby, wondering how much he could understand of your speech. The Force flowed through the both of you naturally, but the both of you were untrained and undoubtedly novice so the bond was wild and sometimes unstable. Some days you could feel his emotions quite clearly and other times nothing at all and nearly every day you could feel the baby trying to strengthen the bond. But that was something you  could not allow no matter what.

“This is your last one, so you better savor it.”

Without hesitation the Child seized the food, biting down into it with those little teeth. A dull feeling started to overwhelm, so you decided to dip your feet into the cool water using the sensation as a pleasant distraction, though the peace didn't last very long.

With his meal finished, the little one crawled over to where you were laying and proceeded to tug at the long sleeve of your tunic. You tried to ignore it, closing your eyes and shifting your arms just out of reach. The child would have none of it. He only gave you a small squeak as a warning before biting down hard on your upper arm, his teeth actually piercing the skin, going in as far as they could.

“Hey!” You yelped, jerking up. “Now that was uncalled for!”

He whined in protest, defending his offensive action quite eagerly. Though frustrated, he did have some rather decent reasons, that did not excuse in your mind the bite that was growing rather sore.

“It's for your own good.” The little one crawled into your lap. “You're a stubborn thing, aren't you? I guess you get that from your dad, huh?”

Picking him up, you headed back to the Razor Crest, feeling blood start to lightly soak your tunic sleeve. That feeling was nothing new, just uncomfortable, and it was better to take care of the small wound while you and the baby were the only ones present.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and was spent organizing the few messes on the ship, cleaning weapons, telling stories to the baby and reading over an old tome. It had always been with you for as long as you could remember and contained a plethora of knowledge in regard to your connection to the Force, but the drive to learn what had to be tied to your destiny was fading fast. The sunset had come and gone, leaving you in the hold to read by flashlight, but you had been staring at the same page for hours now, trying to comprehend a single word.

Another dull pulse came from the bite on your arm, in all honesty you had underestimated how much it hurt. Your wore a sleeveless shirt to let the injury get some air, but now that you thought about the hour, it would be wise to don something more in case Din were to come in soon. Carelessly, you tossed the tome aside and  walked over to a storage unit in the hold where the Mandalorian let you keep your things. He had been suspicious at first when your crate contained more than just ordinary items, Din had even asked why you kept such a large amount of medical supplies for one person. Easily, you brushed it off, chalking it up to over preparedness and personal vigilance. He let it go. Still, it unnerved you how Din Djarin had actually gone out of his comfort zone and actually asked you a question.

After slipping on a light jacket, you heard something odd from the outside. It could have been Din but it was too loud to be a lone man and he would never scare you on purpose. Glancing over where the baby was sleeping, you were assured he would be safe in here for a few moments. Wasting no more time, you snatched your Cortosis staff from where it lay by your makeshift hammock and slipped out of the ship. Immediately after shutting the hatch, you dashed to find cover still hearing what was now clearly blaster fire.

Amid the thick of the forest you moved forward until the moonlight shone off the Beskar you had come to know so well. Sprinting as fast as he could came Din Djarin, blaster in hand with his jet pack smoking slightly on his back. Giving up your cover you dashed out immediately covering his back, and you were right to do so. For right on his tail was another armored Mandalorian, though the person was certainly not friendly as they kept firing at you incessantly barely giving you time to block any shot that got too close.

The will to fight was nothing to compared to what it had been years ago, but the world had chipped away at your heart, mind and soul, until there was scarcely anything left. But this was different. Din's life was at stake and the future of the baby waiting for it's father.

“What are you waiting for!?” You screamed trying to keep up with the enemy's fire. “Get back to the ship!”

“Like hell I will! I'm not leaving you here alone!”

Your weapon allowed you to send small blasts in the adversary's direction, but now that they had brought out another blaster, there was little time to aim. This new Mandalorian had their own kriffing jet pack making close combat impossible. The longer Din stalled, the more energy you burned through.

“I got this!” You lied. “Just get back to the kriffing ship! That kid needs you!”

Looking back for only a second proved to be a mistake as you could feel a blaster shot graze the side of your neck, another hitting your upper thigh.

In one final attempt to tell the Mandalorian off, you pleaded with him. “Just go back! Please, Din! You're injured!”

“I'm injured?!” He repeated incredulously. “I'm not going to leave you alone!”

You could feel several more shocks of pain course through your body.

“GET AWAY!” The flesh of your throat burned.

“No! I'm not going to let you die!” Din insisted, trying his best to fire at his pursuer. “You kriffing matter too!”

His words sparked something in you. Not something radiant but something erratic and sudden. Letting out a piercing scream, you struck the ground with your staff and a surge of power burst forth. When the earth shattering pulse subsided, you promptly fell to the ground, the pain of all blaster shots sending you into unconsciousness.

***___***___***

The feeling of something warm is what pulled you back to your senses, touch being absolutely foreign, it was greatly startling. Alarmed, you jerked awkwardly moving your body in the opposite direction of the feeling.

“Hey...” A modulated voice came softly. “Careful there, you'll make it hurt more than it has to.”

“Huh?”

When your eyes could finally focus you looked around to find yourself laying on a mat that had been set up on the durasteel floor of the main hold. Surrounding you was an array of medical supplies, shed armor and bloody bandages and rags. Glancing down at yourself, you found that there was hardly a place that wasn't covered in fresh bandages.

“What...The fight...”

Din, who was now simply in his flight suit sat next to your side. “It was only yesterday,” he began in a somber tone, “Whatever you did, sent that kriffing bastard flying. I'd be surprised if he's still alive.”

For a moment you considered the previous events, feeling a tiny sense of loss, but you were quick to gloss it over.

“Well, I told you I could do it!” You offered a weak smile, but there was no reciprocated upbeat nature to be felt from Din.

“Y/N...I didn't want to leave you with the kid yesterday....”

At this you were slightly miffed. “I took care of the baby fine.”

“That,” he started, “Isn't what I'm talking about. What the hell was that last night?”

There was no aggressiveness in his voice, but a heavy concern which made your throat clench.

“I...I was trying to get you to head back to the ship.”

Din leaned against the wall, clenching his fists. “You...You were hardly putting up a kriffing fight out there, Y/N. If I hadn't let him get the jump on me...Tch, that's not the point. Y/N, something is wrong. I'm not blind.”

“I never said you were.”

“You were fighting with no intention of living.”

It felt like a rock had suddenly been lodged in your throat. All the muscles in your body clenched and the room started to spin. Din could tell his assessment had been correct given the power of your silence, but he certainly did not enjoy being right.

After two empty minutes you let you head fall forward and tears start to drip down to wet your bandages. Running was not a choice, from the little bit that you had moved, everything hurt. But the lightheadedness might have given you a chance to escape had he not kept you from falling back.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Din steadied your swaying body. “You've been out for a while, stay with me.”

He was so warm, and with all the fight drained from your body, the idea of pulling away was still in your mind but you couldn't bring yourself to do it and the Mandalorian could sense this. Relenting, you let yourself fall into him and to your surprise it was like he was expecting you to.

“I was so scared.” The Mandalorian admitted. “You can tell me what's going on...If you want.”

“To tell you the truth, I don't think I even k-know how to. At least for the most p-part.”

You asked how the child was doing, having suddenly remembered him. Din insisted he was fine and just taking his nap before having his evening meal. While you could have just laid there and said nothing, you could feel some words start to build up, and it would be better to let them out of your own volition.

“Y'know you were right, Mando. I...I didn't care if that bastard kriffing killed me. And I guess I don't.”

“Can...Can I ask why?”

“I dunno?” You admitted hoarsely. “I just...there's so much and I just don't care anymore. But I'm too fucking scared to do anything myself. But if someone has the opportunity comes, why fight it? I don't matter.”

Those gloved hands lightly grasped your shoulders, a cool metal helmet just pressed slightly against your head.

“And I guess you saw...everything else.” You sighed. “But don't worry I don't do it anymore, I'm just reckless now I guess.”

Din Djarin's breath hitched, something you noticed right away, that shakiness was unmistakable, telling you that the Mandalorian was crying.

“You matter. You realize that. You have to realize that. Y/N?”

Those words were now gone and you were left with no plan of what else to say.

“I-I don't! I c-can't...” You stammered, cursing yourself silently. “M' just so tired and I don't know what to do...”

He kept in mind your vast collection of injuries, especially the ones you had neglected to tend to. Din held onto your form as tight ad he felt he could, as if his grip slacked, you would vanish entirely.

“Can you try?”

You tensed.

“I'll be with you along the way.” Din added hurriedly. “I'll help as much as you let me. And I know you don't know what to do, but we can find out together, yeah?”

The Mandalorian could feel your shaking cease with time and to his absolute elation, you nodded.

It was the start.