#yes i have been reading my own old fanfiction again

[margarethelstone-2]

[angel-of-the-moons]

Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

[hismourningflower]

YOU'RE NOT HER | genshin impact fanfiction. zhongli x gn!reader — heavy angst, hanahaki disease, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood & gagging (almost vomit), death, ‘unrequited’ love

idle chatter. this is a reupload from my old blog so if you want to argue that i'm stealing, i'm literally robbing myself <3 library waiting list. @lovingluxury @dumbificat @starryshinyskies @ryuryuryuyurboat @ainescribe @bfjax @soleillunne @sangoqueenkoko

aventurine's addition. "alexi, darling, don't forget to link 'you should have been her' for the readers. it is the infamous second part, after all."

oh that man, that gorgeous, benevolent man you’d fell in love with all those moons ago; with dark hair that fades into a glowing orange, resemblant of the sunset and his own geo vision. you had fell in love, yes - you thought he had too. the thought crosses your mind whenever he’s not by your side, not within your grasp like he usually is. typically, the man was serving his job at the wangsheng funeral parlour as a consultant.

you grimace when the tight feeling in your ribcage suffocates you. it’s getting stronger as time goes on, knocking the breath right out of your lungs and leaving you hacking up blood into a white handkerchief. zhongli had expressed no ends of concern about the situation when he’d find the bloodied handkerchiefs scattered around your shared home, ushering you to doctor baizhu as soon as possible.

you had begged baizhu not to utter a word of your condition to zhongli. he returned your pleads with a sorrowful look.

how could your love be so unrequited? had you been the only one true to your word this whole time? the mere thought stings at your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you shakily wash the dishes. zhongli isn’t home, not for a few more hours. he said he had business to attend to - that meant it wasn’t work related. was he cheating? you shake the sour thought away from your head, scowling.

you wonder if the oh-so-wise man could ever read the wrinkles appearing on your skin, aging you with every passing concern that you don’t voice aloud, with every day that goes by where you’re suffocating from the inside out. he never mentions it, perhaps he simply does not care. you feel the knot in your throat, sickening as you gag and splutter into the soapy water of the sink. you keep gagging, the knot doesn’t budge and you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of nausea.

your body grows tired. you slip down to your knees, banging elbows and other limp limbs against kitchen cabinets as you go down. finally, with one last cough, the knot exits your mouth. it falls to the wood floorboards beneath you, slimy and covered in blood but undoubtedly recognised as a glaze lily. its petals are shut, you understand that there is no music, no lullaby to be heard to lull the glaze lily to bloom. it’s an ancient flower, one you always used to admire before this curse laid upon you.

the front door to your house opens, keys jingling in a specific man’s gloved hands as he enters. you hurry to throw the glaze lily out of the kitchen window, submerging your hands in the sink once more as the metallic taste of blood and lingering aftermath of a floral tang swarms your mouth. you hold your breath, hoping you didn’t have the appearance of someone who had just coughed up a flower so violently.

a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, suddenly you’re hit with the faint smell of aged wine and familiar scent of freshly dug earth. you smile at the thought, leaning back into his chest despite the pain tearing at your lungs and the burning sensation left behind in your throat.

“you’ve been coughing again—” zhongli’s voice reverberates close to your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin and your eyes raise from the dirty water to your reflection in the kitchen window, where zhongli’s warm amber eyes are staring at you so deeply.

“it’s okay, my love, i promise,” you lie through your teeth, hoping the man sincerely couldn’t read through you the way he used to, “this time it was a smaller amount than the last…”

you try to sound cheerful in your approach to the topic, careful to maintain that personality he’d apparently fell in love with one day in liyue harbour. zhongli makes a noise - is he doubting you? you watch as a gloved hand raises, nearing your face before his thumb wipes gently at a trickle of blood leading from the corner of your lips.

“i’ll speak to doctor baizhu in the morning,” zhongli states firmly, you almost bite back the words that taste bitter about him ‘caring’ for you, “perhaps you need a higher dose of your medication.”

the medication in question surely had been a ruse to fool the man, though you did not expect it to have worked. changsheng had uttered that you could not leave the bubu pharmacy without some form of medication, it’d look absurd in the eyes of the wangsheng funeral parlour consultant. in agreement, baizhu had qiqi mix violetgrass powder with sugar - the instructions were simple, mix it into the hot tea you’d drink with zhongli every evening.

it was sweet, not at all bitter and the scent of violetgrass made it bearable. apparently the inclusion of herbal properties was enough to fool your dearest partner or so you thought.

—

it’s hard to understand the fine line between a lie and a truth when the past few months, you’d been dating a man for someone whomst he was not. it was a struggle to understand the situation but it kept you up for endless nights, counting stars and tending to the numerous flora you’d planted in the garden underneath the moonlight - courtesy of your friend the traveler for appearing with so many countless seeds of blooms from across teyvat.

yet as you sit on the grass, staring at the pile of dead - and dying - glaze lilies you had acquired, the stars twinkling endlessly above you, you understood why he’d done it. he was judicious, hoping to protect you from his past yet keep you as his future. the thought made that pain in your chest tighten. you let out a futile whimper into the quiet night.

as you ponder zhongli’s status as liyue’s archon - the geo archon of all people, you begin to question your previous doubts. your breaths become struggled, your chest heaving as you lay on your back for some relief. trembling fingertips brush amongst blades of grass, hoping for a distraction as tears spill down your cheeks.

liyue is a beautiful country with vast mountains and yellowed plains that seem to stretch endlessly. its civilisation had become fruitful at the expense of liyue harbor, bustling with trade and the thing your partner had appeared to love the most; contracts. he has every right to be proud of the nation liyue had built to this day, despite claiming that he’d ultimately retired - “the people can do without me, they’ve proved that much.”

blood trickles from your mouth but it’s not gentle, it’s a rush, like a waterfall as it spills down the sides of your face and pools on the grass below you. it’s littered in an array of blue and white petals, matching that of glaze lilies - a flower you’d grown to hate. you struggle to get oxygen into your lungs with the rising level of blood that doesn’t dissipate from your parted lips, suffocating you as you try to no ends to breathe through your nose.

that is, if there was room in your lungs for such oxygen. twists and turns of branches and roots that climb to the walls of your organs, painting them with glaze lilies and filling them with fallen petals every time a flower wilts from the unreasonable conditions inside your body.

you’re proud of liyue; the magnificent, beautiful nation of geo that you got to experience in all of its glory. zhongli often times referred to liyue with feminine pronouns and as the light dies from your eyes and your chest ceases to rise, you can only think one thing with your last dying breath.

you’re not her.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | reblogs appreciated | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[kindagayfish]

I am also very obsessed with Babygirl Vash lol how about the classic sharing a bed trope with Vash? It can be swf or not! We just need more imagines of him!

Vash and sharing the bed trope

A/N: YES SHARING THE BED TROPE I LOVE IT SO MUCH HDJBSFHKSBFHKDBGHJB especially when its with bb girl vash *swoon* I’ve seen quite a few of these scenarios already but there will never be enough to satisfy me. I made this one sfw cause I really just wanted to write some fluff. Also, I finished the OG Trigun and I see some differences between OG Vash and Stampede Vash. I’ll be writing for the Stampede characters unless specified otherwise. We just haven’t seen him flirt with anyone yet, while in the OG he was very much a Chad lol. So sorry for the quality, and for taking so long. I haven’t written fanfiction in a LONG TIME. Seriously it’s been years but it feels nice to do it again. But how do people write these so quickly like damn.

Contains: fluff, Gender-neutral reader, And not really proof-read cause we die like men out here.

When you open your eyes again, it’s still dark. Your mouth cracks open in a yawn and you slowly become aware of someone pressed up against your back. 

Oh. Oh that’s right.

It had been an exhaustingly long day trekking through the desert, and an even longer evening trying to find a place to stay the night. You have no idea what possessed every abled body in Noman's Land to travel to the same town as you, but every room in the dusty motel next to the bar was taken. Even the porch swing had some poor soul wrapped up in his coat for the night.

You and Vash were about to call it and take turns sleeping in a nearby alley, when an old woman took pity on you and offered up her spare room. You were so excited to sleep in a real bed that you didn’t even think to ask about the size of the space.

It wasn’t until the both of you had finally gotten into the tiny, very much intended for one person or two people squished very close together bed, that you realized how incredibly awkward the whole situation is.

“Hey-”

“WELL GOODNIGHT” You had blurted out, turning so that your back was to Vash, hiding your flustered expression. He is a little too good at reading your face sometimes, and you didn’t need him asking questions.

He replied with a quiet goodnight, feeling him shift away as well.

Now, Vash’s breath is hot on the back of your neck as he snores lightly, his spiky hair tickling your skin. Sometime in the night, his arms found their way around your middle and pulled you flush against his chest, securing you in place.

This particular scenario had been one you’ve played in your head on loop anytime the two of you had slept close to one another. It’s like a dream come true. And any other time, you would have nestled back into his hold and fell back asleep, hoping that this action was intentional; but instead, you silently curse yourself for chugging a whole gallon of water after arriving in town. Because my god you have to pee.

He stirs slightly when you shift, hugging you closer and burying his face into your shoulder. You feel yourself growing hot as he lets out a content sigh, lips ghosting over your skin. It quickly becomes clear that you’re not escaping without waking him.

“Vash…” You whisper his name softly, not wanting to alarm him. “Vash?”

“Hmm?” he hums, breathing in deeply. Vash lifts his head and loosens his grip slightly. You take this opportunity to turn and meet his eyes. They’re droopy with sleep, blinking a bit. He gives you a lazy smile before whispering, “hi.”

“Uh hi.” Your heart rate picks up at the sight before you, and you swallow hard. “Could you um…”

“Hm?” It takes a moment for him to register the kind of position you are in. “Oh. OH SORRY.” Vash squeaks with wide eyes, releasing you quickly with a growing blush on his face. Getting out of the bed in a hurry as an attempt to hide your own flustered state, you almost miss the deflated look he gives when you’re no longer next to him. 

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah yeah. Just ya know…bathroom.”

“Right right.”

You quietly make your way to the bathroom, making sure not to wake your host who slept soundly in the room next to yours. Part of you wanted to rush to get back, feeling chilly after leaving the warm bed and Vash’s arms. You hide your burning face in your hands as his smile flashes in your mind.

He’s just so…ATTRACTIVE. Ever since you realized you had fallen for him, it has been increasingly harder to hide your feelings. Any time he touches you (which is a considerable amount when running from danger) has your brain short-circuiting and your stomach doing flips. Sometimes you can’t help but wonder if Vash is really this oblivious, or if he is ignoring it to save you both the embarrassment of a rejection. Either way, you aren’t sure if you’re ready to face the truth just yet.

Maybe if I take long enough he’ll fall back asleep and it won’t have to be weird.

After a considerable amount of time pacing the bathroom, you finally make the short walk back to the spare bedroom.

To your slight disappointment, Vash is asleep by the time you slip back into the bed next to him. His face is calm, a stark contrast to the way his brows furrow together during an intense confrontation, and you take a moment to admire his face in the moonlight. You brush a few hairs back from his forehead and immediately freeze when his eyes flutter open.

“Hi” he whispers a second time.

Pulling your hand back, you feel your face grow hot again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you twice.”

“It’s okay: Vash replies, smiling softly.

You continue to stare at each other, both unsure of what to say next. It’s subtle, but you start to see a blush creep up Vash’s neck and reach the tips of his ears.

“Um” Vash is the one to break the silence, reaching for you. “Can I…?”

“Yes” you answer immediately, scooting your body closer to his.

“Does that make this weird?”

You let out a laugh. "You just caught me watching you sleep and you think this is weird?"

“Fair enough" Vash laughs with you. "But are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh okay good” He breathes out a sigh in relief, pulling you completely into him. Feeling his body relax against yours, you tuck your head up under his chin, ear pressed against his chest. You swear his heart is pounding as intensely as your own.

“So warm” Vash mumbles into your hair. You let out a content hum, allowing sleep to overtake you once more.

BONUS

Some general headcanons:

Man sleeps like a ROCK with you

Very used to having to wake up and jet at any moment so I assume he’s a light sleeper. But with you next to him? His body finally allows him to get those good Zs.

Clingy af

Good luck escaping Vash’s arms in the middle of the night. Once he has latched on, you won’t be free until morning.

Will 110% snore lightly in your ear

mumbles in his sleep too. Usually you can’t make out what he is saying though.

Loves any cuddling positions, but his FAVORITES are any where you are the one holding him.

Vash always wants you to play with his hair. Legit will turn to putty in your hands if you scratch his scalp.

Sometimes will even nuzzle into your shoulder to get you to do it because he’s too embarrassed to ask

If you need some extra comforting at night, maybe you had a nightmare or something particularly scary happened that day, he will lay you on his chest and softly hum/sing until you fall asleep. (I honestly think Vash would have a really nice singing voice)

Usually the last one to fall asleep, and the first one to wake up. He really enjoys the quiet moments with you. It’s the way you softly smile at him in the dawning sunlight that makes him forget that he’s a wanted man.

[destinygoldenstar]

I want to talk about THIS scene from the episode "The Forgotten Element" in Season 4

This was the scene that spawned many Evil Kai AU fanfictions.

(And like... I get it)

As a kid, I was always jaw dropped by this scene, but I didn't understand this scene too much.

Like, what was the point of this Evil Kai AU if it was for a minute and it was resolved so quickly?

They were building this up the entire episode and even before it, so was that all for nothing? Did it not mean anything? What was the point of this anyway?

And then it clicked with me WHY that was.

The problem was that I was only focusing on what's present in the moment and not all around it.

In the moment itself, Kai is holding the staff, it holds too much power, it corrupts him and spills all of is bottled up negative emotions about destiny and the Green Ninja, how he feels about it all being wrong, that he was somehow 'not good enough' compared to a child, and how he should've been the one with all the power all the glory and all the abilities in is veins.

"You had all the power, now it's my turn!"

"Nothing that I don't already feel!"

"I should've been the Green Ninja!"

That's straight up TELLING.

And it makes sense. Kai wanted to be the Green Ninja more than anyone ever since he heard of that prophecy. Ever since he was told he was the Master of Fire by Wu he went from 'do everything for Nya and be a parent' to 'I can be special and worthy in a way I couldn't ever see in myself'. And then it all turned out to be for nothing, Kai being 'special' was all a lie, and the prophecy went to this bratty kid that Kai was tasked to babysit. Then Lloyd would proceed to be very well recognized and Kai was just... the forgotten member that nobody understands the motives of. 'You wanted to take the place of someone who did something sacrificially heroic? How dare you. SELFISH.'

BUT WE ALL KNOW THAT.

This all sounds like a villain origin story that would happen in the season, right?

The build up is all there. The bottled up emotions. Skylor's influence. Chen taunting him in this episode about it and getting into his head about his parents, something that is VERY PERSONAL to Kai.

So if it ended up being just ONE MOMENT and that's it, then this was all for nothing, right?

NO.

Why? Because that's not what this aspect of the episode is about at all.

This was all NOT build up to Kai becoming a villain.

This was about Kai REJECTING that villainous side of him.

He's been 'on the villain's side' at the start of the episode when Chen decided not to enslave him.

Another motif of this episode is what gets said over and over again in the B plot of the episode, that being the prison escape from the Noodle Factory. "The power of positive thinking"

Kai is learning this as well, but it's his own personal battle to come to that. Part of being positive is being positive about yourself.

He's been scolded for being selfish constantly. Again, how dare he want to take someone's place, someone who was better than him in every way and they all knew it. These people are oblivious, they can't read his mind, they're misinterpreting his words, and for some reason nobody apologizes for that.

We've seen him be insecure of his own abilities. When he feels like he can't do something, he goes 'If only I had this ability'. An example being the Digiverse.

Part of the lesson there was that he had to allow himself to have the power he needed to get out of a tight spot. As an old fashion and a devoted brother, makes sense why he'd struggle with this.

And then when Chen gets in his head, it's the same thing again, he's selfish and he wants the power and that's all he cares about.

Everyone is saying you're selfish, therefore it must be true.

And this is the first time Kai ever actually CALLS THE PERSON OUT for accusing him of being one dimensionally selfish.

Yes he falters back when Chen mentions his parents, but that's still a notable step. (And he would continue to call out their accusations in Possession)

The episode consists of Kai being on the villain's side and playing the role of the deceiver. Him being smart by playing the emotions of Chen and Skylor rather than be a logical thinker. (WOW. An episode that doesn't make Kai dumb and instead makes him smart in a way that fits his character. That is sad how rare that's shown anymore.)

And to do that he had to convince everyone that he was on the villain's side and that he has turned.

So THIS moment is not build up to Kai becoming a villain truly, it's a test on this own side of him that he must acknowledge exists. How this way of thinking isn't healthy, it's petty, it's not worth it, and he shouldn't be lingering on something when he himself is capable of so much.

And then NO ONE EVER TALKS ABOUT HOW KAI WAS THE ONE WHO BROKE THE STAFF AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT.

He could just grab the staff again and be corrupted again, and that's it. But HERE, there is no one paying attention to him to tell him what to do.

Which means this is all Kai's choice.

This is Kai CHOOSING to REJECT that villain inside him, and instead proceed to a more positive outlook, one that would benefit everyone.

That's countering all the selfish accusations more than anything else.

As a kid I was confused as to why there wasn't a scene where Kai acknowledged what happened when he was corrupted and how you go from that to 'Kai wants to protect Lloyd'

Him breaking the staff IS that scene. (It's just so fast that it's hard to see on a first couple viewings) He NEVER wants to see himself as that corrupted figure again, and is willingly choosing what role he wants to play now. That's the transition there from that Kai to Possession Kai. (Possession Kai = Best Kai)

This is one of my favorite episodes of the show because of how much justice was done here in so many ways.

[ynisreal]

wires (1) - michael afton x reader

author´s note: i posted this on AO3 and thought, since i read a LOT of fanfiction in here as well, why not post here too? soooo here is my lil contribuition :D summary: A reader-insert in which you work as a security guard at Sister Location and you start to feel a little too drawn to the night security guard. Or Michael has already been scooped and can't get out of the establishment, becoming the night security guard. So the only entertainment he has is the cute daytime security guard who is a bit clumsy.

Chapter One

Since the incident that ended Michael's life, he hasn't been able to leave the same place where death found him. Fazbear Sister Location has become his home, not so comfortable, but it works for him. Michael knows that he won't be able to live a normal life in the state he's in, purple and ever-falling skin, exposed bones and black eyes. No longer alive. The animatronics who did this to him, including his sister, decided to let his body decompose in an alley, and he had no choice but to crawl to the place where he took his last breath.

He didn't blame his sister, far from it, he knew she was trying to protect herself and couldn't recognize her own brother's face. Imagine being so blinded by anger and fear that you can't recognize your sibling. Well, he knows he can blame the shitty father they both had for recent events. That was already a relief in his chest. Michael already carried a lot of guilt in his heart, he didn't need any more of it.

The days were monotonous. Henry came to visit one day or another, always with clothes in hand and a few items from Mike's place to comfort the undead. Michael was grateful for Henry, knowing that the poor man was still struggling with the grief of his own daughter, so he helped Michael in any way he could, welcoming him like the child he had lost. They talked, Henry hoping that he could build something to help Michael live normally again, which they both knew was unlikely. There was no going back, he had lost his life, now a ghost in his own rotting body.

Michael was now in charge of the establishment, forever a security guard who worked night and day shifts. Every hour of his day was spent walking the corridors, watching the same movies on the old television Henry had installed for him, cleaning the same toilets and reading any book or magazine he could find in the staff room.

"The other employees of the company are beginning to question why this establishment is still empty," Henry continues. Michael, who had been lost in his thoughts, returned to paying attention to what his father's former friend was saying. "Apparently, they want to start a bigger project on this site, and they need the place intact, so they're pressing to have a security guard here for when the construction company comes."

Oh yes, Michael wasn't officially the security guard. He was only officially dead.

"Create a false identity for me and I can take care of security," Michael shrugged, looking at the older man in front of him, "The establishment would be under observation all hours of the day, after all, I can't get out of here," he tried to make a joke, but neither he nor Henry seemed to find it funny.

"What about when the staff arrive to redesign the place during the day? Are you going to serve them little cups of coffee and cookies looking like that?" Henry says dryly. Ouch, that pained Michael. He knows what he was suggesting was a bit insane, the day shift would be impossible to avoid being spotted.

"Okay, so you're going to put a security guard on the day shift, and what about me? Am I going to beg him not to tell the others about me?" Michael replies in the same way, a little frustrated that the solution was so simple and yet so impossible at the same time: he just had to get out of here.

"No," Henry replies, "You stay hidden."

Michael doesn't answer the older man. He knows Henry is right, but it's so unfair to go through what he's been through and have to live in hiding. In the same shadows that those who killed him live in. His whole life was built on injustice, the death of his brother, the constant running away from his father, the terror the poor children suffered, his own death and what came after it. Injustice was no stranger to Michael, so he accepts what his reality will become in the coming days. Spending the day hiding in the small back room, locked up like an animal, until night comes and he is able to roam not so freely around the establishment where he died.

Great.

Henry gave Michael one last hug, saying he would be back in the next few days to bring the younger man some comfort items, promising to bring him some interesting new movies or books. Honestly, Henry knows that no movie or book would improve the situation of the man he considered his own son, but he had to play with the pieces he had.

The next two days passed in the same way as the others, Henry visiting, mopping the same floors, watching the same movies and reading the same magazines. On the third day, Henry had warned him that the new security guard would be arriving at 6 o'clock in the morning. She was apparently a woman a little younger than Mike, desperate to find a job to help support her younger sister. Henry described you as a sweet, quiet woman, who certainly won't bring any more problems into Michael's life. Mike sighed in relief.

The day began with Michael quickly locking the door to the room he was in. It was a spare back room used to store the remains of the animatronics that had escaped and other old things from other establishments, making it spacious enough for him to put a mattress on the floor and the small television that Henry had installed. Genuinely, it was the best Michael could ask for in this situation.

He hears you entering the main hall, the little-used doors making a loud noise down the corridors. He also hears that the sound of the doors startles you, causing you to let out a nervous yelp, which puts a small smile on Michael's face. If you are that easily frightened, perhaps it wasn't the best option to work in a place with a reputation as dirty and shady as Fazbear Entertainment's establishments.

You really had been startled by the loud noise from the doors, not expecting a noise assault at this time of the morning. It's 6 a.m. and you've barely slept, a little bit spooked by the rumors your little sister told you when you revealed where you were going to work. She was only 10, but she didn't seem to be afraid of anything, creating a hard shell after so many years of watching you deal with the difficulties of studying, working and looking after her at the same time. Your sister looked up to you, and wanted to help you in any way she could, so she didn't seem like a child at times. Some nights you were relieved that she was so mature, but soon you regretted it, feeling ignorant for not having been able to give her a normal childhood.

Your father threw your mother out of the house when he found out about her constant lovers, which led to you being thrown out too. You had nothing to do with what your mother did, you were just a child, which is why you loathe your father to this day. Your mother wasn't much help either, getting pregnant with your little sister a short time later, by a random man she met in the bar. She didn't make an effort to look after you or your sister, so it didn't surprise you to wake up one day and see her goodbye note with lunch money inside.

You walk through the main hall impressed by how clean it was. Oh well, the last security guard must have constantly cleaned everything. You think as you reach for the switch to turn on the lights, already reaching for the map you'd been given during your interview, explaining each room and what you had to do during your shift. It consisted of looking at the cameras to prevent intruders, keeping an eye on the employees who were going to redesign the establishment and locking the doors when either they or you leave, so that the night security guard could take over the next shift.

However, after looking at the clean and tidy state in which the last security guard left the corridors and rooms, you felt guilty for not keeping them clean too, wanting to maintain the hard work he had put in. As you sat down in the chair in the control room, you turned on the monitors to watch the cameras and wait for the architects who had said they would arrive today, placing a small napkin under your coffee cup to avoid staining the wood of the table. You´re welcome, last security.

The first few hours of your workday pass quietly, even a little tediously, as you stare at the screens in front of you, feeling your eyes burn at the image of empty corridors and stages just as blank. The sweet man who had interviewed you had told you about the transfer of the animatronics, but unfortunately for him, you had learned from a young age to spot when older people were lying to you. Whether it was intuition or pure coincidence, you had realized that he wasn't telling you the real reason why there were no animatronics on stage at the moment, and, combined with your sister's stories, you found yourself a little wary, not taking your eyes off the monitors.

"We're here, Y/n, open up here," you were startled by the sudden voice coming from the radio the company had given you, recognizing that it was the architects who had arrived on the scene. "Okay, I'll be right there," you reply almost immediately, getting up to walk to the main hall. The architects had already gone up the elevator and were standing behind the main door, waiting for you to unlock it.

"Wow, that door makes a loud fucking noise," the man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase said when you opened the doors, his voice sounding frantic. You flinched at the sound of such a rude voice ruining the silence you'd been in for hours. He was accompanied by a shorter woman, who was in more casual clothes and carrying too many materials for her small arms to hold. "You must be the new security guard," the architect in the suit looked at you, his tone not at all inviting.

"Yes, my name is-" you stop your sentence when you see that he hasn't waited for your answer, and instead started walking down the hall with a small notebook now in hand, leaving the briefcase at your feet.

You allow your mouth to drop into an expression of surprise, looking down at the briefcase at your foot, waiting to be picked up in your arms. "Sorry, Mr. Noah had a bad day," the woman in front of you says, a nervous smile on her face, trying to make up for what her boss was doing, "My name is Alice." She tries to extend her hand to greet you, but some of the materials she was holding fall to the floor.

You bend down to pick up what had fallen and the briefcase that was still on your feet. "My name is Y/n," you reply, still incredulous at the whole situation, helping Alice carry the materials and the briefcase, realizing how difficult it was to keep everything in just two hands. Wow, this woman has been carrying this around all day?. Alice starts to follow her boss, Noah, when she hears him call out, a little annoyed that his things had fallen. You had no choice but to follow her, going after the man who was so caught up in his own ego to notice his own actions.

You showed the map to both of them, taking them to the rooms they wanted to see. The two of them worked in a frustrating dynamic, with Noah constantly making observations and critiques of the establishment's architecture, coming up with ideas for the new attraction and who they should call in to help with the redesign, and Alice writing down every word that came out of the rude man's big mouth. You grew increasingly tired of the architect's voice, already exhausted from going back and forth to the hall where they had left the materials to bring some item he needed.

Noah seemed satisfied with his ideas when it started to get dark, as he finally shut up and, without warning, started walking towards the exit of Ballora's Gallery, calling Alice to follow him. Once again, you had no choice but to go after them both, the stress and tiredness already getting to you, but relieved that they seemed to be leaving. You open the doors for both of them, returning the small nod and smile that Alice gave you before disappearing into the elevator.

When you lock the door, you pull up the sleeves of your uniform to check the time. It was 5 o'clock in the afternoon, one hour before your workday ended and that of the night security guard would begin. A tired sigh escapes your lips as you quickly close your eyes, imagining your warm bed and the plate of food waiting for you at home. Man, I just want this first day to be over. You've been on your nerves all day, with Noah's absurdly annoying voice and your fear of the stories you've heard, your body going rigid every time you heard some strange noise.

Your legs practically carry you into the control room, dumping you into the chair, feeling the relief of letting your leg muscles rest from having stood too long watching Alice and Noah work. You adjusted your spine to rest against the back of the uncomfortable chair, prepared to spend the final hour letting the monitor screens burn your retina once again. But your body seemed to have another idea: as soon as you leaned your head against the palm of your hand, your eyes began to feel heavy, and with every second that passed, they felt heavier and heavier. At some point, you blinked and didn't open your eyes again, letting your head fall into your own arms and falling asleep on the control desk.

It's already 6 o'clock, why hasn't she left yet? Michael wondered when he didn't hear your footsteps or the doors closing. He had learned your name today, Y/n, several times hearing a female voice, which sounded like one of the employees who had visited today, call you by it. Alice and Noah were the employees. The constant "Yes, Mr. Noah" in a shy, nervous tone still burned his ears. It felt strange to hear so much commotion in the place he had lived quietly for a while, at least he liked your voice. Michael could hear your brief explanations of the features of each room, a really sweet voice like Henry had described. You spoke politely, even though your tone seemed irritated when you answered the arrogant man, you still expressed yourself calmly and with good manners.

Michael kept wondering how you managed to behave so calmly even though there was clear irritation in your voice. He was always the opposite, letting his emotions get the better of him, getting into unnecessary fights as a teenager, and not improving much as a young adult. His investigation with Henry helped him create a focus in his life after his brother's death and his father's crimes, centering his anger and violence on avenging those who had suffered at the hands of his father. So if it were him in your shoes today, Noah would probably have left the establishment with more than a black eye.

It was close to 6:30 and he still hadn't heard any sign of your departure. Michael immediately began to worry: Had the animatronics come back? Had you hurt yourself on an exposed wire? Had you gotten lost in a random room? As the minutes ticked by, Michael's worries grew louder and louder; he genuinely couldn't bear another death on his hands due to carelessness or negligence. With anxiety almost making him deaf, once again letting his emotions take over his consciousness, Michael tucks the "Security" vest into his hoodie, pulling the hood over his head, and opens the door of the room where he was hiding. He had to make sure you were all right, not wanting another person to die for this miserable franchise. You were almost his age and your sister was waiting for you at home, so you needed to be okay.

Michael walked quickly through the corridors that he had memorized in his mind, heading for the control room, knowing that the security guards were tasked with looking at the same monitors he already looked at. To his surprise, you weren't dead or lost, in fact, you were asleep. Little sighs escaped your lips, showing how tiring your first day had been, which made Michael smile slightly. How he missed being able to meet up with other people, only having Henry's company. And he was grateful that this lack of contact was broken by the sight of you lying on the control desk, a few strands of hair scattered over the controls, leaving your face visible to Michael's eyes. You were beautiful, Michael noticed, young and pretty, some features tired by the probable weight of looking after your sister alone. Perhaps in another life, he would have asked for your number in a bar or asked you out on a date. In another life, he wouldn't be cursed by his father's crimes and still alive. This last thought seemed to wake Michael from his daydream, and he quietly stepped away from the chair, going to hide behind the shadows that the corridors were creating, not wanting to be seen.

"Good night," he says in a loud, hoarse tone. This seems to surprise you, as you stand up wide-eyed and in a defensive position, letting a small yelp come out of your mouth. You rub your eyes, your tiredness immediately leaving your body to answer whoever was calling you. Your eyes scan the control room, finding no one, until your gaze meets the tall figure at the door. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his hood hid his face and his hands were in his pockets. You couldn't make out who he was or any trace of him, only the silhouette of a stranger in the shadows. From his voice and what the shadows let you see of his body, he seemed to be about your age, his shoulders broad and the sleeves of his jacket a little too tight around his biceps.

"Your shift is over," the man's shadow speaks again. You roll up the sleeves of your uniform to look at the time. Shit, it's almost 7 o'clock at night. Your eyes widen and your cheeks turn red, embarrassed at being caught sleeping on the job. Michael had to hold back the smile that wanted to grow, finding your reaction incredibly cute. You really were very beautiful, it was nice to see someone so beautiful after so long looking only at the floorboards and the cleaning products. If this was the last time he would have human contact, he was more than satisfied.

"Shit, I'm so sorry-" You quickly say, collecting your things from the table and tossing them rapidly into your backpack, which was leaning against the corner of the room. "I'm leaving, I'm really sorry," you repeated as you slipped the straps over your shoulders and walked towards the door. Michael sank a little further into the shadows, letting you pass him and start walking towards the front door. Although your steps were quick, you noticed as you passed him the difference in height that was made, the man had a remarkable presence, being much taller than you, with wide arms and a thick voice. You blushed a little more.

Michael wanted to follow you, take you to the door and extend the moment a little longer, not wanting the first human contact he had after such a long time to be so brief. He wanted more time to engrave your face. But he didn't follow you, he didn't want to risk being seen. He wasn't expecting you to suddenly stop in your tracks, turning your body towards him, with a shy smile on your face.

"Hm, good evening and good work..." You waited for the man in the shadows to respond with his name. Michael let his eyes wander down your body, the security uniform fitting your curves beautifully. Thank you for this last gift, whatever entity is up there listening to me.

"Michael," he replied, his voice a little less dry, a smile invisible to you taking over the man's features. You really wouldn't be any trouble for him, as Henry had said.

You crack a smile, raising your hand to wave goodbye to the night security guard.

"Y/n," you respond.

[thealogie]

I'm sorry but I'm about to treat your ask box like a confessional.

You kind of deserve it, though, because due to your Sherlock rewatch posts I've been forced to remember that 1. Sherlock is a show that exists and 2. that I wrote Sherlock fanfic when I was 13... about SHERLOCK and MOLLY.

In my defence, I was a deeply deeply deeply repressed bisexual who hadn't realized it yet - so all of the obvious and insane gay stuff between Sherlock and John just completely sailed over my head. Also propaganda worked really well on me as a child - so basically I was the ideal viewer for Moftiss lol. There'd be scenes where people mistook Sherlock and John for a couple and I'd go 'huh that's kind of strange that keeps happening' but then it would be played off as a joke and I'd go 'oh yes of course, silly me! Gay people only exist as the punchline! Sherlock and John would NEVER be interested in each other that way. I can't believe anyone would ever think that haha.'

Flash forward to 2017. I'm 17 years old. I've kissed other women by now and have had my brain chemistry rewritten by copious amounts of slash fanfiction. Still young, but wiser to the ways of the world than I once was. The last time I watched Sherlock, I had been 14 years old. Sherlock season 4 airs. I watch it with my mom. It's so bad my brain immediately initiates a trauma response and wipes all memory of Sherlock away. This continues for years. The only times I remember Sherlock exists is whenever I joyfully watch hbomerguy's Sherlock Is Garbage video while I'm knitting or painting or something. Also whenever I have to type in a password for an account I made when I was 13 - because my go-to password was 'SHERLOCKED' back then, unfortunately.

Flash forward to now. I'm 24 years old. And I start seeing your posts about Sherlock. Like a sleeper agent, it awakens something in me. Yesterday, I spent a perfectly good Saturday - one I could have spent doing literally anything else - reading Johnlock fanfiction. I am suddenly re experiencing the show through new eyes, seeing all the queerbait I never did before. Getting hate-crimed on the daily. I'm thinking about Sherlock at work, at my adult fucking job. I'm watching scenes from the show on youtube in my office, quickly and guiltily clicking away whenever a coworker comes to chat. I am considering doing my own rewatch. I am realizing for the first time that John and Sherlock were literally in love. It's the only lens through which you can view the show and still have it be somewhat enjoyable. They literally put Mary in a wedding dress shooting Sherlock in his mind palace on TV. I feel like I'm having a religious experience, I feel like I'm insane, I feel like I'm 13 again. This is all vaguely November 5th-ish for me lol.

Anyway. I just thought you should know the impact your rewatch is having on the population. Sorry for the novel in your inbox. I've been desperately trying to find my old Sherlock x Molly fanfic to read for the lols but I think I deleted it off ffnet. I am both having the time of my life while also desperately hoping I forget Sherlock ever existed again soon. So, basically - thank you/curse you for this.

This is perhaps the best ask I’ve ever received?? I converted a sherlolly shipper in the year 2023? Listen I’d never wish a season 4 rewatch on anyone but I would highly recommend watching s1-2 and the wedding episode for a truly out of body experience. I felt more strongly about this show/ship than any other in my life and it was STILL worse than I remembered

[officialstrawhat]

Hello! This is my first One Piece Fanfiction, But I hope you like it! I'm currently about to start the Zou Arc so if I get something wrong sorry :P

Gif is not mine.

Trafalgar D. Law x Fem!Reader

Chapter List

Summary:

After King Riku is dethroned, Doflamingo takes you under his wing and asks you to follow only one strict rule, "do not leave the palace alone". However, your sense of adventure is too great.

Law had only one thing in mind... Revenge. And you seemed like the best way to do that.

Warnings: Dark themes, manipulation, death, murder, creepy doffy

Word Count: 1.2K

The Rose of Dressrosa

Chapter 1

The sun shone brightly on the kingdom of Dressrosa. In the Market Square, flamenco dancers and musicians entertained the crowd as children weaved and played between shoppers and vendors. There on the furthest corner suite was flower shop. It hadn't been there long and at first glance one could mistake it as one of the many flower boutiques on the island. But the word around town was that it sold the best bouquets on the island. 

“Would you happen to have any red carnations?” An old woman asked the owner of the shop. 

The florist smiled kindly, “Of course one moment ma'am”. She moved to the doorway pushing away a satin curtain that covered the entryway to see a young girl no older than ten sitting on the counter reading a book. Tales of Grand Adventures the title read. Next to her rests a long trough planter full of rich soil. 

“Y/N” the woman called, causing the girl to look up from the pages of her book.

“Yes Mama?” you say politely.

“A nice lady wants some of those pretty red flowers you like. Can you make me a bouquet sweet girl?”

“Yes mama” you nod excitedly, knowing exactly what to do. You raise your arms up, placing them in front of your chest palms facing outward. “Grow,” You say, eyes closed.

In the pot something began to grow. In a matter of no time red carnations in full bloom sprouted in the container.

“Good work my love,” Your Mother says proudly as she begins to snip the stems out of the soil and prepares it for the customer.

When your mother is done she makes her way back to the front and you naturally follow. 

“Thank you, we’re all so lucky to have you,” the old lady says, “You do such good work, your flowers are always the freshest in town.”

“You're welcome,” your mother says, taking the berry being held out for her.

“Come again,” You say as the customer leaves the shop.

You watch your mother place the money into the box underneath the store counter. 

“We’re just a few months away from getting our own home.” she smiled and grabbed your hands, “All thanks to you my sweet girl.”

You smile at the amazing woman in front of you. Things got hard after your father left, not that you remember, but your mother went hungry most nights to make sure you were fed. And there were some nights when you both did… 

So hungry in fact that when you found a strange-looking fruit you couldn't help but eat it. It was the miracle you both needed. It had granted you the power to grow any type of plant you wanted. As long as there was soil you could grow anything. Your mother dragged herself out of the mud and started to sell the pretty flowers that would sprout around you. Once she had enough berry she managed to buy passage to the prosperous island of Dressrosa. Here she rented a corner store with a tiny one-bedroom apartment upstairs.

“A home with a garden?” You ask excitedly. 

Smiling, your mother embraced you, “A home with whatever you want.”

In her arms you hugged her back tightly. It was a hug you would later wish had lasted much longer.

---

Night fell and you slept soundly in your mother's arms until screams in the streets could be heard outside. 

“Mama,” you shook the woman awake.

“What's wrong?” she said groggily, but her question was answered when a sudden crashing sound could be heard. “Wait here my darling.” 

Quickly she put her slippers and robe on and rushed to the staircase

“But-” you tried to follow.

“Please darling, it’ll be okay, mama just has to see what's wrong.”And with that, she left you…

The screams however did not stop, in fact, they seemed to be growing louder. After what seemed like forever you had had enough. You found your slippers and robe and ventured downstairs to go outside. From the shop windows what you saw was much worse than anything you could have possibly imagined. 

Fire, there was an actual fire that danced on rooftops, people who you recognize were laying in the street unmoving in puddles that were the color of your favorite flowers. Men in uniform wielding dangerous weapons caused chaos and struck down anyone in their path mercilessly. 

“NO! PLEASE! I have a child!” you heard, causing your head to spin to the left.

The Royal Guard's face looked torn but that didn't stop his blade from swinging down on the poor defenseless woman. 

It happened in slow motion for you. Her scream seemed so far away. The way she fell… it wasnt real it couldn't be real. 

"MAMA!" You shriek, tears fill your eyes, and blur your surroundings.   

“Get out of the way girl or you’ll be next,” she heard the slayer warn frantically. 

At his words anger to the likes of which you never felt before filled your body, your vision turned red. The guard swung his sword but the blade never made it to you, in fact, everyone within a thousand feet dropped to the ground unconscious. Allowing you to run to your mother's body to sob into her bloodied robe. 

Up on the rooftop of the flower shop Donquixote Doflamingo watched you, this little speck of a thing, had managed to knock out at least thirty of his puppets. This girl's Haki was strong. Just his luck to come across someone in this stupid kingdom who with some training actually had the potential to be of use. 

He smiled and jumped off the roof in front of you and the corpse of your mother. 

As if it was a reflex you place your palms away from your chest and create a shield of thick spiked plants to barricade yourself and your mother from the unknown threat. The Young Master’s smile widened, you were a devil fruit user as well. And not just any fruit, this was the Grow-Grow Fruit. Now this was definitely a rarity. And in theory, if brought to its full potential…

The thought made him smirk.

“I saw what happened, child. No need to fear me,” he said in a soothing voice. 

Upon hearing this you debated on dropping the barricade but before you could decide the voice spoke again, “Please let me help you and your mother.” 

At this you let a few branches of cacti deteriorate making slits in your barrier allowing you to see the man who spoke. He looked strange, you had never seen anyone like him before. He was large, with spiky blond hair, and donned a pink feather coat.

“You poor girl, allow me to take you and your mother to a safe place.” he could see the distrust in your eyes, then added, “Before more of the king's guard shows up.”

This made your heart clench. He was right, chaos still reigned around them. Your eyes flitted over to the storefront to see the stucco from your former home catching fire. Looking back at the strange man your mind was made up. The prickly plants browned and decayed around you until they were flat on the ground. 

Doflamingo was proud of himself for being able to conceal his smirk, as he bent down to carry the pathetic dead woman in his arms. “Follow me girl, I’ll take you to a safe place where we can lay your mother to rest. 

You wiped away a few tears and did as you were told. Walking away from everything you once knew.

Next Chapter

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 17

A/N: This is a heavy one! I channeled my own feelings heavily near the end and I have no regrets. I said what I said. But there is also an inordinate amount of fluff, so…. Do with that what you will. We’re coming up on the end. 😔 Just a handful of chapters left. But don’t worry! I still have allllll sorts of shenanigans planned for these three in the sequels that will follow shortly, so we won’t be without them for long. 😁 I can’t believe we’ve come this far! 🥹 I’m so sorry this chapter took me so long, I was avoiding it because…. Well…. You’ll see. (Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.)

(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes to the end of episode 2x6/14, The Tragedy.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a. Show dialogue, so spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Lots of angst. Tears. Some canon divergence that has been planned from day one. And I’ve been told to add “emotional damage” as a warning by my beta. 😂🤣 (I’ve read over this so many times, but I’m sure I’ve missed something in the typo department. Any mistakes are my own.)

Word count: 15,303 (I said what I said.)

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for your endless hours helping me over goodness knows how long since I started this, for going over the probably 75 iterations of this chapter this past week alone, and for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

You woke up on the Crest, stretching as much as you could in the tiny bunk compartment. The lights were set to dim, giving you just enough light to see in the small area. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw you were alone, no beskar to keep you company. A quick look up showed the hammock empty as well. 

Furrowing your brows, you pushed up onto your palms, leaning on them heavily as you tried to fully wake up. Wiggling your fingers, you smiled, the plush feel of the new bed roll beneath you bringing back thoughts of a grumbling Din lugging it onto the Crest before you left Coruscant a little over a day ago. 

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” He mumbled, pulling the old mat out as he threw the new one into the bunk, the soft thud it made on impact an anticlimactic end to his brief tantrum.

“You did,” hands on your hips, you mused quietly with a nod, watching as he slit the straps keeping it bound tight with a knife he kept in his boot.

“Now what do we do with the….” Turning, Din sighed when he found Grogu sitting on the old bed roll, cooing happily. “….old one.”

“Is it really such a bad thing that the Crest has a little more padding?” You asked carefully, leaning toward him slightly. The tilt of his helmet was not amused. “I mean, we do have some bumpy landings….”

Din simply stared at you for a long moment, in which you tried not to break, a smile fighting desperately to crawl up your face and reflect in his visor. In the end, you won, when he turned away before you cracked, stomping up the ladder and into the cockpit.

Scooping up the child, you began that way as well. “Come on, kid. We have places to go.” The engines roared to life. “Jedi to meet.” You set him on the floor of the cockpit when you were high enough on the ladder before pulling yourself the rest of the way up. “Seeing stones to…. See.”

Din snorted. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“What?” You plopped into your seat, watching the child scramble up into his.

“Very eloquently put.”

You scoffed. “I’d like to see you do better.”

“When the time comes, I will.”

“No, now.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’m not going after that. ‘Seeing stone to…. See.’ Come on.” He shook his head in amusement, going about the rest of the take off sequence.

“It's because you're afraid. Can’t top that, can you?” Smiling smugly, you fastened the safety belt.

“It’s only up from here,” he mused quietly, making you freeze and glare at the back of his head as he began to lift the ship up off the ground.

Grogu giggled from his seat, letting out a squeal as he clapped his hands. 

“I feel ganged up on,” you grumbled, slumping back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Then have better jokes.”

Narrowing your eyes at the back of his helmet, you could just see his shoulders shaking gently from suppressed laughter. “Watch it, Tin Can.”

Making your way to the ladder leading to the cockpit, you smiled at the muted sound of Din’s voice drifting down through the hatch, Grogu’s soft coos dotted here and there.

Pausing at the bottom, one hand resting on a rung by your head, you waited and listened.

“Grogu.” Din’s modulated voice was the lightest you’d heard in a while. It lilted slightly like he was almost playing with the child.

The kid must have looked up, making Din chuckle before another moment passed and he said the name again with even more mirth to his tone. “Grogu?”

Another soft laugh came from the Mandalorian, Grogu babbling softly for a moment before Din started in again. “Give me the ball.” The kid made a sound of refusal, the rustling of fabric telling you he twisted away, pulling it from his guardian. “Grogu, give me the ball. Come on.” In the silence that followed, a quiet, pleased grunt came from Din when Grogu must have handed it to him. You could clearly picture the man in beskar holding it up teasingly just out of the kids reach. Suppressing a chuckle with a roll of your eyes, but unable to stop the smirk crawling up your face, you leaned your temple against the back of your hand on the ladder rung. “Okay, here we go. You can have it, just like before. Grogu, come on. You can have it. Come on.” A moment of silence before a louder, almost excited, “Dank farrik!”

Your eyes went wide, the child letting out a startled squawk, and you started to scramble up the ladder, stopping below the lip of the hatch, just out of sight, when Din began to backtrack. “Hey, no. I’m not mad at you. You did good.” He sighed heavily, his voice quieting. “I just…. When the nice lady said you had training, I just….” 

When he sighed again, you climbed the last few rungs to peek over the edge of the opening, watching the scene unfold. 

Din was looking at Grogu from the pilot’s chair, gently handing him back his silver ball from where it sat in the child’s lap. “You’re very special, kid. We’re gonna find that place you belong and they’re gonna take real good care of you.” 

As he slowly turned back to look out the viewport, you smiled sadly. It wasn’t what he had said, it’s what he hadn’t. The implied meaning behind his words of the kid belonging anywhere other than with him…. And that he truly believed it, too. At least on some level. No matter how many times you told him the kid looked at him like he was the world, whatever was speaking right now was louder, and the voice Din ended up listening to in the end. You wanted to wrap that voice up with your whipcord and throw it out the back of the ship on the next backwater planet you landed on. You could do that now. Din had finally showed you how it worked.

“This is Tython,” he went on, obviously avoiding the subject. You set your forehead against the back of your hand on the top rung of the ladder, listening as he continued. “That’s where we’re gonna try and find you a Jedi. But you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” Lifting up just enough to watch them again, you saw the child looking up at Din curiously, still fumbling his ball distractedly as he listened. The Mandalorian was still looking out the viewport pointedly, keeping his face forward, his shoulders tense. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too powerful. Don’t you wanna learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

That made your gut sink. You knew he needed a real Jedi, which you were not, but it still stung every time. You’d meditated with the kid, bonded, had conversations of sorts, and the thought of that just…. Going away…. Hurt. Swiping at an unexpected tear as it fell, you turned your attention back on your two favorite beings in the galaxy.

“I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do. You understand, right?”

Making your presence known by taking the last few rungs of the ladder with heavy footfalls, you climbed the rest of the way up into the cockpit, watching as Din’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but his head sat up straighter. Stepping up behind his chair, you set a hand on his shoulder.

Keeping your voice soft, you smiled fondly down at him as you spoke. “Who are you trying to convince, him or yourself?”

He didn’t answer.

Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, you changed the subject. “Did you get any sleep?”

Din nodded. “I did.”

“How much? We haven’t been flying that long….”

After a moment of silence he finally said, “Enough.”

Sensing the exchange between him and Grogu still hanging over his head, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to rest on his chestplate, and setting your chin on his pauldron. Turning to look at him as best you could this close, you spoke lowly close to his ear. “Well, I slept great. Thank you for the new bed roll.”

He nodded, but you felt him relaxing under your touch, so you went on. “I appreciate you, you know that, right?” His head turned just slightly to try and look at you, but you were too close, so he took a hand off the controls and brought it up to gently grab your wrists, slowly moving his thumb back and forth in absent patterns on your skin. 

“Whatever ends up happening with the kid, will be because of you, Din.” His thumb slowed for a second before resuming its pace. “You got him out, you’ve taken care of him, he’s learned from you. Already. No matter how powerful.”

You went to stand up, but his grip on your wrists tightened, holding you to him. Smiling, you cinched your arms a little bit tighter as you sighed, turning your face more into his neck.

“No matter what happens with him, whatever he becomes…. It will all be because of you. It all comes back to you.”

Xxx

Scrubbing at you vambrace, you sat in the main hull, the dull beeps of the Crest as it orbited Tython the only sound.

Grogu had decided that a particularly messy ration pack was his next victim, and when you’d tried to wrestle it out of his grip, the sludge had poured down the beskar protecting your forearm. Clambering down the ladder, you’d dashed to the refresher to rinse your glove of the goo, hanging it on a hook to let the leather dry. 

Now you sighed as you got back to your feet from the crate you were perched atop, trudging back into the refresher and slouching over the sink as you rinsed the metal off as best you could, wiping it down thoroughly with a cloth you’d found in a toolbox near the crate and dampened with water. 

“Everything come off?”

You startled at the voice, shooting up straight to your full height, your head thumping on a low hanging cabinet in the cramped space.

Rubbing it with a wince, you glared at your beskar companion’s reflection in the mirror as he leaned on the door frame easily, arms crossed over his chest as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t do that,” you hissed. “How many times do I have to-”

“At least a few more,” he mumbled in amusement, shifting his weight as he adjusted where his shoulder leaned into the frame. “Everything-”

“Yeah, it’s all coming off,” you groused, turning your attention back to scrub at the vambrace with extra vengeance. “At least it wasn’t something with jogan fruit in it. Then I would have to paint these,” you teased, smirking. “Have you ever met a purple Mando?”

“There’s a first for everything,” he shrugged, his voice easy, almost lazy.

“Hmmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him in amusement. “But then I wouldn’t match you. How would that make you feel?” Grabbing the scarf Vanth had given you on Tatooine out of your back pocket to dry off the armor, you turned to face Din, a smirk climbing your face. “Admit it. You like people knowing we’re-”

“We’re what?” He cut in, angling his head down to hold your gaze as you stepped up as close to him as you could, the rest of him as still as a statue.

Looking up into his visor, you tilted your head slightly, the smile not going anywhere as you whispered, “You know.”

“I do,” he agreed, nodding before tilting his head to the side to match yours and holding your gaze again. “Do you?”

Eyes flitting back and forth on his visor, head hinged back to keep looking at him, you paused. “A group.”

“A…. A group,” he repeated after a moment, hesitantly, something sarcastic in his voice.

“Yeah. Right?”

Gently shaking his head at you after a moment, he pushed off the frame and turned back toward the hatch.

Grabbing your glove, you followed after him. “What?”

“This isn’t working for me,” he said with a sigh.

“Well maybe you aren’t working for me.”

Din rounded on you, staring at you for a long moment before he grabbed your wrist, spinning you into the ladder up to the cockpit, and crowding you into the bars until you had nowhere to go; nowhere to look but up at him, your head angled back until it thumped lightly on one of the rungs.

“Is that so?”

Leaning your head further back so you could look down your nose at him, you narrowed your eyes. “Maybe it is. Why don’t you try and find out, oh wise and brilliant Mandalorian?”

“Mmmmm….” The sound vibrated from his chest and into yours, sending a pleasant hum just under your skin from your head down to your toes. “Why do you make everything so….”

“Interesting?”

“Difficult.” His left hand came to rest on your hip, sliding around to rest on your lower back, his right still clutching the ladder up by your head, his grip adjusting slightly making the leather of his glove creak in protest.

You laughed softly. “Because otherwise our lives would be very boring,” you teased, reaching out to place your palm on his chest plate, slowly moving it up to wind into his cowl like you always did. Still gripping your vambrace and glove in your left hand, that arm snaked around his neck to pull him closer by your forearm.

When his forehead softly came to rest against yours, you both sighed, shoulders relaxing as your bodies deflated slightly, melting into the other’s warmth. The hand by your head came to rest on you cheek but quickly wound around behind your neck, threading into your hair.

“I came down here to tell you we’re about to start the landing procedure,” his voice was tight, like he really wanted to be saying something else. “But you distracted me.”

You chuckled softly. “So sorry.”

He tugged your hair gently, leaning back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Behave.”

Eyes dancing across the T of his visor, you felt the smile climbing back onto your face. “Of course.”

“I’m serious. This is for the kid. He needs- We need to find his kind.”

The rigidity was coming back into his shoulders, so you tossed the vambrace and glove to the floor, pulling his attention down toward them. He began to ask what you were doing when you placed both hands on the sides of his helmet and made him focus back on you. 

“Din. Listen to me. He’s going to be okay. You are going to be okay. This will work.”

He only nodded, a small sigh leaving his chest when you pulled his head back to yours, settling your foreheads together once again.

“Just breathe. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

His arms around your back and neck pulled you tighter.

“I’m always right. Remember?”

He snorted out a laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Now come on, I left the kid alone in the cockpit before you distracted me. I’m surprised the ship is still in orbit and not careening toward the surface already.”

Xxx

Speeding over the surface of the planet, you watched the green of shrubs and towering red rocks whizz by. 

“Looks deserted,” you mumbled, surveying the vast sea of nothingness. If this had once been a sacred place for Jedi, it was long, long ago. Long enough for an age to grow over, covering everything in layers of dust, for plants to spread and conceal any remnants of life. “Sort of reminds me of Arvala-7.”

“Better for us,” Din mused softly, pointing at a distant mountain as the Crest approached. “Looks like that’s the magic rock I’m supposed to take you to down there.”

Grogu looked through one of the lower set windows as the ship flew over, letting out a lilting sound of awe that made you smile.

“Sorry, buddy. I can’t land on the top. Too small. Looks like we’re gonna have to travel the last stretch with the windows down.”

“With the….”

“Jet pack.”

Leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, eyes on the profile of his visor, unamused, you stared as he turned to look at you before fiddling with the panel at his side. After a moment you mumbled, “How you still have a cape is beyond me. It should have been incinerated by your jet pack or an angry Jawa long ago.”

“It’s woven with beskar thread.”

Hesitation filled the air, a quiet pause in the conversation before you asked, “Really?” It was just absurd enough that a small part of you believed him. Very small. 

Din turned to look at you fully, his voice flat and heavily sarcastic as he tucked his chin to his chest, peering at you through the top of his visor. “What do you think?”

Realization dawned on you faster than a fathier, your face melting into annoyance. “I think you’re a pain in my ass.”

Spinning back to face the viewport with a flourish, his hands in the air after an exaggerated shove against his thighs as if it took all his effort before they came to rest softly back on the control panel, his head tilted just so. “Well good, because that’s what I was going for.”

Glaring at the back of his head, you sunk further into your chair with a huff. “Just get this ship on the ground so I can roll my eyes and walk dramatically away from you as nature intended.”

With a flick of a switch, he’d turned on autopilot, the landing sequence beginning on its own. Din turned back to face you again with another small flourish, spinning in his chair just slightly before stopping himself with his other hand, making you smile softly. It reminded you of the kid. “You’re not going to go up there with us?”

Shaking your head, you sat up straight in your chair again, stretching as you started talking. “No, I need to clean up some things here on the ship.” Relaxing back into the seat, you tucked your legs up close to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, and setting your chin on your knees while you went on. “Some old crates of rations expired and need to be tossed before they go rancid. They’ll either start to smell or the kid will eat one and he’ll get sick and that will smell.” Din chuckled at the sour expression on your face. “I don’t like either option.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. I can turn on the camera in my helmet and you can watch on the holopad. Stay in communication on our comms.”

That made you sit up straighter just a bit. “You have a camera….? What can’t your armor do?”

He huffed in amusement. “Well, without me in it, it’s useless.” As he sat back in his chair, one hand propped on his thigh, the other lazily on the arm rest, hand dangling off the end without a care, you snorted a laugh as you noticed his chest puff up a bit. 

Your head lolled to the side, temple resting against your left knee. “Why did I ask?”

Din simply glossed over your jab, shifting his weight slightly. “So we’ll wait. You take care of the crates, then-”

“No, Din.” Picking your head up to look at him straight on, you lowered your feet to the floor and sat forward, bracing your elbows on your knees and resting a hand on his knee. “Like you said, the kid needs this. I’m fine. I also wanted to check on something on the ship.”

That got his attention. He sat up straighter, his chest deflating as he mimicked your posture, leaning closer to you. “Check on what? She’s running just fine since Nevarro.”

You looked down to the side, patting his knee twice before tentatively explaining, “When they were doing the repairs, you were eating the fruit and I was turned around…. I saw one of them acting…. Shady. I completely forgot about it in everything that happened after, but I want to check out the panels I saw them working on and just give it a once over. Make sure we’re not going to explode on our seventy fifth jump to hyperspace or something.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s fine, but go ahead. Those mechanics were probably just nervous to be working on my ship. I made a…. Let’s just say a name for myself last time I left Nevarro.”

With a huff of laughter you leaned back in your chair, looking at him with a lazy tilt of your head. “So I heard.”

Din groaned as he once again mirrored you, leaning back in his chair, his head hitting the rest with a thump. “What did Karga tell you?”

“Nothing. You did.”

His visor snapped down to meet your cocked brow in question. “I did?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Yeah, it was one of the first things after I got on the Crest. You don’t remember?”

He sighed as his head lolled back against the chair again. “I’ve told you a lot of things. I guess it’s gotten lost in the mountain of others.”

That made you pause. “Do you not tell other people these things?”

Din spun back around to face the console. “I don’t tell other people much of anything.”

“Neither do I.”

“Patu.” Din looked over his right shoulder at the kid, shaking his head gently after a moment. You smiled as you looked at the little green face staring back with wide eyes. It was clear what he had meant. Neither do I.

Xxx

You unloaded boxes while Din flew the kid up to the top  of the hill with the structure. Looking at the holo projection as Grogu screeched with glee, you saw Din’s visor angle down to the little green ward in his arms, the widest grin you’d ever seen on his face. 

Carrying the holopad with you down the ramp and toward the hatch the workers had been stationed under on Nevarro, you felt a matching smile climbing your face at the infectious joy radiating off the kid. 

After you set the pad near the landing gear of the ship on the ground, you pried the panel off and gave it a cursory glance for anything out of place.

“Hey, Din? Is there supposed to be a coupling by that bundle of wires closest to the landing gear?”

“No?” He answered after a moment. “Keep the panel open, I’ll be right there to look-”

You stood up straight. “No! No. Take care of the kid, I’ve got this.” Right? Right. It was just a patch job, something they used because they ran out of the necessary parts. “All you would do is take it off and look at it, and that’s all I’m going to do.”

“What if it explodes? I have armor-”

Sputtering, you stopped that train of thought immediately. “It’s not going to explode, stop it. Go.”

Din sighed. “Okay. But be careful.”

“I will. I’ll remove it then set it over with the crates I offloaded. They are way across the clearing. One of them broke when I lifted it and they are definitely bad already.” A shudder ran down your spine as you remembered the rancid smell of the expired packets. Pushing it as far away as you could in favor of more pleasant thoughts, you focused back on the device in your hand. Well, maybe not more pleasant, you thought with a grimace. “That way if it explodes or anything, it’ll be as far away from the Crest as possible.”

“What color was it?”

If Din could see your face right now, he’d make some joke about the comical twist of confusion screwing up your features. Is he asking about the ration packs? “What?”

“The coupling. What color?”

Oh. Of course. Why would he be asking about the- You shook your head. “Metal, like the rest of the interior of the ship.”

He huffed. “No, the light. The blinking light on the top.”

You froze. Staring at the light as it blinked lazily, you began to sweat and swallowed roughly. You hadn't mentioned that. “It went between red and green alternating.” Looking up and across the field at the crates of expired rations longingly, you wished for five minutes ago when the world was simpler, the worst problem to deal with some stinky food.

“Dank farrik!” Din’s voice hissed over the holopad, making you wince before it lowered back down to nothing but business. “Was it ever blue?”

Looking down to the part in your hand, your stomach sank as it flashed blue in your palm. “Yeah.”

Din sighed. “It’s a tracker.” You faintly registered what he was saying, but the word tracker kept echoing around your head on a loop, almost in tandem with the blinking of its light. “It’s not going to explode or anything, at least it shouldn’t, but it still wouldn’t hurt to get it as far away from the ship as possible. I’ll look at it when I come back down.”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “What does the blue light mean, Din?” You couldn’t stop staring at the small offending tattletale in your palm.

“Red’s recording location, green is receiving signal, blue is…. sending.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. Great. “So it’s still active.”

Din hesitated before sighing. “Yes.”

“Osik!” Eyes shut tight, you went to clench your fingers around the device in aggravation, but thought better of it at the last second, stretching them out instead as far as possible while you glared at the device. You wanted to throw it across the clearing. “Should I step on it or something-” (“Shit!”)

“No!” He cut you off before lowering his voice. “No. We don’t want whoever it is to know we’re on to them.” Oh, but I do. Let them sweat a little bit. Let everyone know you don’t mess with- “Hopefully we can trace it back to whoever is getting the signal.”

You tried not to let your mind wander, but you couldn’t help it. Once it started, it was a rapid fire trail down the list of names. Endless possibilities of- But one in particular stood out. One sounded more likely than the rest…. “Din, what if it’s-”

“No,” he said again. “Don’t even start. There’s no way Gideon…. No.” The jet pack powered down. “I’m here. We’ll talk about it later. Just get it as far away from the ship as possible for now in case I’m wrong and it is some sort of explosive-”

“I’d almost prefer that at this point.” You hadn’t meant to interrupt him, but your mind was short circuiting right now, watching the loop of blinking lights repeat every few seconds. Red. Green. Blue. Red. Green. Blue. Red…. And the cycle repeated. Again. And again. And again. 

Din laughed softly.

Screwing your eyes shut, the colors still flashed behind your eyelids. Red. Green. Blue…. “Plus you’re almost always wrong, so….”

The laugh melted into a soft growl.

Looking down to the holopad, you saw the camera pan around the mountaintop, a large circular stone in the middle of several taller stones. Whispers started to fill your mind. Nothing menacing, or sinister this time, but just gentle…. Nudges.

A sense of calm, of peace came over you, and the flashing of the tracker suddenly seemed trivial, the flicker of its light no longer a looming omen, but merely another happening in the day.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Din mumbled. “Does this look Jedi to you?”

You snorted as the whispers faded. “Don’t look at me, I just learned how to jump.” Not wanting to walk across the wide expanse of the valley, you looked at the tracker in disdain before floating it across the clearing, setting it delicately on top of one of the crates before you grabbed another crate and the holopad and headed back up the ramp of the Crest. “But just out of curiosity, what exactly makes something look…. Jedi…. to you?”

Din grunted.

The grin on your face kept climbing. “I’m only asking, because, you know…. I mean, you’re surrounded by it, really, so…. The kid…. Me, kind of…. Ahsoka.”

“What do you want me to say?” He sounded exasperated but amused.

Setting the crate down near the opening of the ramp with a huff, you stood up straight, turning back to the holopad with a smirk. “Well you haven’t said laser swords, so I guess that’s a good place to start.” The last crate was at the bottom of the ramp, and you made your way down to it leisurely. 

Din grumbled, changing the subject. “I guess you sit right here.” The camera went out of focus as he shuffled the kid onto the top of the large stone in the center before taking a few steps back, the picture clearing back up quickly. You smiled at the sight of tiny Grogu on the large pedestal. “Okay. Here we go.”

Staring at the projection intently, you waited, but not even a voice entered your mind. Only silence stretched on as the kid tilted his head fondly at Din, cooing softly.

“This is the seeing stone, are you…. Seeing anything?”

With a roll of your eyes, you set the holopad on top of the box before picking it up by the handles with a grunt, and trudging up the ramp. “And you got after me earlier….” Making your way back up the ramp before setting your load down with a thud, you grabbed the holopad off the crate and collapsed to the floor, legs spread out lazily in front of you as you tipped your head back into the shade of the hull and out of the sun, laughing softly at Din’s response.

“Don’t start.” He walked around the large orb Grogu sat upon, his visor panning up and down as he surveyed for any clue. “Or are they supposed to see you? Maybe there’s some kind of control or something.“

A butterfly flew by, the child reaching for it with a soft squeal.

Din sighed, the tilt of the camera telling you his weight had shifted, his head cocking to the side in aggrivation. “Oh, come on, kid. Ahsoka told me all I had to do was get you here and you’d do the rest.”

Grogu looked poised to respond, but all three of your attentions were pulled to the sky when a ship flew over, beginning a landing pattern, circling lower and lower. 

You were on your feet before you’d fully processed the decision to do so, everything spinning slightly from the speed with which you’d moved. Bracing a hand on the frame of the opening of the Crest, trying to keep the world from spinning any faster, you peered up toward the incoming ship, squinting against the bright sunlight. There was no particular aura around it, nothing menacing, but also nothing safe…. It was just blank. And that was almost more concerning. 

Turning your attention back up toward the mountain top where the other two members of your clan were still investigating, you saw the shiny glint of your Mandalorian come into view on the ledge nearest to the Crest, looking down at the new visitors.

Din ran to the edge of the clearing, his visor turning down toward you, voice clear and calculating over the holopad. “Stay on the ship. We’re coming down.” With a few quick steps he was back in front of Grogu. “Time’s up, kid. We gotta get out of here.”

You saw a pillar of light shoot into the air, continuing high into the sky. Looking down to the holopad, you saw from Din’s perspective the beam of light was actually an energy field protecting the child, emanating from the stone. In the center Grogu sat in a perfect meditation pose, and the corner of your mouth twitched up. You’d been working with him on that.

The whispers were back, swirling around you, soft, kind, inviting, but above it all rose Din’s calm voice, “We don’t have time for this. We got to get….”

Before you could stop him, he tried to reach through the force field, the energy throwing him back across the mountaintop.

“Din!” You took a few steps forward, even though he was all the way up there, out of your reach.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he huffed as he got to his feet, turning back to face the light. “Hey! Snap out of it, kid!”

If the Mandalorian was one thing, he was persistent. “Din, that’s not going to work! It’s-”

“We got to get out of here!” Was your end of the conversation muted? With an aggravated huff you pushed that thought aside. Now wasn’t the time, he was just worried about the kid, you would be, too. You were. But you understood more than he did, the workings of the Force and other things, and that helped put you at ease, whereas he was fighting blind.

The child was at peace, one with the Force emanating from the stone, and you knew so long as he was there, he was safe. Nature would not abandon those it was reaching out to so intimately.

Din’s helmet swiveled to see a heat signature exiting the new ship where it had landed before turning back to the kid. “I’ll see if I can buy you some time. Can you please hurry up?”

As Din began to climb down the mountain, you started up the ramp toward the weapons locker. “I just have to grab another blaster, then I’m on-”

“No,” Din interrupted. “Stay.”

You paused, hands on the handles of the locker, completely frozen in place. So he did hear you. Good. Then he would hear exactly how low your voice dropped as you ground out, “Excuse me?”

“Until we know what’s going on. The kid is safe in that…. Thing, the ship is the next best thing for you until we know more about whoever this is. Probably whoever tracked us.” He sounded beyond exasperated. This was beyond his wits end, Force barriers and ancient temples, but he was trying.

You hesitated. “Keep your comms on. I’m staying on the ship only because we might need a quick get away.”

He was smiling, you could hear it. “Fine. But I’m turning the camera off. Runs down the charge-”

“Are you sure you aren’t a droid?” The locker doors squeaked as you opened them.

He hesitated only a moment, his voice low and unamused. “What?” The projection went dark, but the sound was still clear as ever, now coming from the comm on your belt.

Surveying your options, you grinned. “Nothing. Just trying to change the subject.”

Before he could respond, the sounds of blaster fire rang through the comms. Of course this is right after he cut the live feed. Shoving the holopad somewhere in the back of the weapons locker, you reached blindly for the nearest weapon. When you looked down and realized what it was, you smirked, slinging it across your shoulders. This’ll do.

“I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.” The voice was new to you and yet…. Something in the back of your head stood on alert at the sound. It wasn’t bad, it was just something…. Like an old friend had suddenly come back and stood in the next room discussing the weather. Mundane but comforting. Something about it pulling just at the edge of your memory….

“Are you Jedi?” Why does he assume Jedi after two seconds? You really needed to sit down with Din and have a Force Basics class, or something. “Or are you after the child?”

“I’m here for the armor.” That voice…. That niggling in the back of your mind wouldn’t be silenced. You knew this person. Somehow, in some lifetime, you’d crossed paths, maybe for only a moment, but it had been enough that your memory had decided to log it away for future use.

“If you want my armor, you’ll have to peel it off my dead body.” Rolling your eyes at Din’s reply, you double checked your weapons on your belt, freezing at the newcomer’s next reply.

“I don’t want your armor. I want my armor that you got from Cobb Vanth back on Tatooine. It belongs to me.”

Your head was spinning. That voice. It was older, gruffer than the last time you’d heard it, all those years ago on Coruscant. It couldn’t be….

“Are you Mandalorian?”

“I’m a simple man making his way through the galaxy. Like my father before me.”

Suddenly you were twelve years old again, the feeling of beskar stopping you like a wall of durasteel in the middle of the street slamming into you full force. Screwing your eyes shut, you leaned into the feeling. The voices all swelled at once, whispering indistinctly in one loud cacophony. No words in particular stood out until one repeated over and over. 

Run.

Run.

Run!

As your eyes flew open, the conversation between the two men came back into focus, the newcomer issuing a threat. 

“….I have a sharpshooter up on that ridge with a locked scope that will unload by the time my body hits the ground.”

Your feet began moving before you could think twice.

Din’s voice was dangerously low. “I’m the one wearing beskar. As soon as I see that muzzle flash, you’re both dead.”

The other man sounded amused. “I didn’t mean she was going to shoot you. My friend’s locked onto that little companion of yours up on the henge.”

You’d never moved so fast in your life.

A female voice came over the comm. “And if you remember, I don’t miss.”

“Fennec?” The shock in Din’s voice was not missed by you.

“You have a keen ear, Mando.”

They were just around the corner.

“You point that gun away from the kid or I’ll drop you both where you stand.” You heard his whistling birds engage and knew things would be winding down soon. Whether by choice or by violence, that was anyone’s guess.

“And if he doesn’t, I don’t miss, either.” All three heads snapped to you as you walked up from behind Din with your blaster drawn, aimed at the man, a second in your other hand pointed at the woman you guessed to be Fennec, and the rifle you’d stolen from the guard on Corvus slung across your shoulders and resting snugly on your back.

Looks were exchanged in the silence, Din shifting his weight slightly, but you saw his shoulders relax when you took a step closer to him.

The strange man looked resigned. “Let’s all put down our weapons, have a chat. There’s no need for bloodshed.”

Din gestured to the sniper with his blaster. “Tell her to drop the gun.”

“Tell her to drop hers,” Fennec fired back, letting out a soft huff after the man shot her a look. “Please.”

“After you put down the jet pack,” the man amended.

Din hesitated. “Same time.”

Despite saying ‘same time’, he waited until they were disarmed and off the child before he even reached for his jet pack. As everyone set their respective offending items down, you lowered your weapons, holstering them at your sides as you slid up next to Din.

“What are you doing here?” He mumbled, turning his face away from them as he set the jet pack against a large stone.

“It seemed like you might need some help.” Glancing over to the two strangers where they now stood across from you, you stood up taller. The man watched you with a critical eye as Fennec moved easily across the ledge she had been on toward her companion. “Looks like I was right.”

“I had it handled,” he groused, looking at you. “I told you to-”

Your face snapped over to peer into his visor, your reflection in the T doing nothing to dull the fire in your eyes as it blazed. “Din, so help me, you mention me staying on the ship one more time right now, I will throw you back there myself from here,” you hissed lowly, so the others wouldn’t hear. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your voice, speaking as evenly as possible. “I can sense the kid, he is perfectly fine right now, safe, and where I need to be is here with you, so just….”

“Okay,” he agreed softly, nodding once at you before turning to the newcomers as Fennec finally made it off the ledge she’d been perched on.

Looking at the man for the first time, really looking, you tried to picture him a little bit shorter, a few years younger, that armor on the ship in much better shape…. Maybe if you squinted it would fit…. A name drifted in from their conversation, Boba Fett, and you tried to apply it to your memories of the armor. You studied his face as the three of them continued to exchange words, long jagged scars criss crossing his bald head; they looked painful. Finally something he said brought you back to the conversation at hand.

“I want my armor back.”

Din sounded exasperated at this point, and you wanted to smile. Everything about him was tired and the weight of it was starting to show. “It goes against the Mandalorian Creed.”

“The armor was given to my father, Jango, by your forebears. In exchange, I guarantee the safety of the child, as well as your own.” Boba looked at you, something in his eyes sparking as they fell to study your vambraces, then the mudhorn on your weapons at your waist before rising back to hold your steady gaze. “And that of your riduur.” (“Partner.”)

Before you could even think to respond, Fennec began.

“The bounty on your little friend has risen significantly. You can buy ten suits of armor for the price on its head.”

You’d had enough. “It is a he, and he has a name.”

She tilted her head at you in a small nod, a smirk starting up her face. “My apologies.”

Boba glossed over the small hiccup and circled back to the matter at hand. “I’d say we’re offering a fair deal under the circumstances.”

A ship suddenly flew overhead, low enough to mean intent, but high enough to keep its allegiance hidden, drawing all of your attention up to follow it before snapping into action.

Din met your gaze, his head tilting to the side just slightly before a small smile was crawling up your face. “I know. Go. I’ll be on the ship.” You reached out, giving his hand a squeeze as he gave you a quick nod, and you went separate ways, him up toward the child, and you to the Crest. 

Pulling up short, you turned around, calling for him to stop. “Mando!” He skidded on the loose dirt, almost losing his footing before he recovered and turned to face you, his head once again tilted in question. Lugging his heavy jet pack up from where it rested on the ground, you took a few steps toward him before giving up and pushing it to him with an unseen force. “Don’t forget this.”

It landed against his chest just hard enough to earn an ‘oomph!’ on impact, his arms closing around it to keep it from falling. He nodded, lifting it to attach at his back before turning and flying up to the top of the hill.

You watched him go for only a moment, shaking your head fondly before turning toward the Crest once again.

Boba and Fennec scrambled the opposite way, but didn’t seem to be running away, just to a better vantage point. Deciding to trust them, you continued on to the ship.

Dashing up the ramp, you made it up right before the ramp lowered on the new ship, the voices of stormtroopers filling the clearing as heavy boot falls descended, thudding across the dusty surface of the planet. You hated it. It felt tainted. They shouldn’t be here. This was sacred ground, a special place, once a great temple….

Looking down to make sure your comm was clicked off so they wouldn’t know you were here, you startled when the troopers began dropping rapidly, blaster fire filling the air. Glancing around the corner you’d ducked behind, you saw Fennec perched halfway up the hill, picking them off one by one. Boba was nowhere to be found, but you knew he was close by. You could sense him.

And that’s when you knew.

He felt the same as when you ran into him in the streets of the Uscru district back home, something you didn’t understand at the time, but you did now. A sense of something broken, something healing, something safe, and something entirely good. Yes, he had shadows, dark places you could clearly see, but so did everyone. At his base, he was a good man, and you’d somehow run smack into him again.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. I wish the universe would quit trying to prove a point so loudly.

Boba popped out from behind a rock right beside Fennec and for some reason, that made you smile. You knew he was there. He gestured to her and she nodded before they moved further down the hill.

If you didn’t have Din and a tiny little ward counting on you, you’d join them. But something inside told you to lay low. At least for now.

You watched Boba reappear like a shadow, slinking around the rocks as if he’d lived here all his life. He took out troopers left and right with the staff that had been strapped to his back. Your eyes were wide as you saw it shatter helmets with each hit.

Your attention was pulled away by an explosion, finding some troopers set up near the base of the hill launching explosives toward Fennec. She was still doing okay, but was having a harder time maintaining fire, ducking behind rocks to try and avoid the flying pieces of gravel. Her fire suddenly stuttered, and you saw her pause, following her line of sight, and you froze.

You didn’t know what it was, but you knew it was big. A trooper swung a massive gun on a stand toward her and opened fire as she scrambled away further up the hill. It’s shots came in rapid succession, hardly any pause between them as they turned the landscape into one giant curtain of sparks and smoke. It followed her as she ran along a ridgeline, something amusing tickling you that even with this massive weapon, they still couldn’t hit the broadside of a hillside. A small wave of relief washed over you as she finally ducked behind a large rock to hide from the blasts.

They kept pelting it with fire, launching their explosives at the rock in an attempt to dislodge it or her, whichever crumbled first, and you saw the rock begin to wiggle after an impact. An idea came into your head, and you saw Fennec disappear behind the boulder, so you reached out to see if maybe you could catch a glimpse and see if you were on the same page. You were.

From there it wasn’t hard to stay connected to her, almost seeing through her eyes as you enacted your plan. 

As she braced her feet on the rock and pushed, grunting a “One,” you gave a little nudge yourself, but it barely budged.

She tried again, “Two,” and this time when you pushed a little harder, you saw it wobble forward.

Knitting your eyebrows, you focused on the large gun, causing it to jam. You gave one last push with Fennec’s shouted, “Three!” as she put everything she had into a final shove with her feet, sending the rock careening down the hill. Refocusing your efforts, you tried to guide it as best you could so it hit the most stormtroopers on the way down, including the massive gun at the bottom.

Only one was left, he had an orange shoulder marker indicating he was in change, but just as quickly as he issued orders to anyone left standing, Boba tapped him on the shoulder with his staff, making him turn only to have his feet swept from under him, his armor soon in pieces as he lay motionless at Boba’s feet.

He turned to look at the Crest, and you could feel his longing. Flipping your comm back on in case things took a turn, you stepped into the light. Stepping into the wide opening of the lowered ramp, you crossed your arms over your chest. He closed the distance between you quickly but cautiously. Standing at the bottom of the ramp, he fastened his staff onto his back as he peered up at you.

"I've come for what's mine."

"Well all of this is mine, buddy." You gestured to the interior of the ship behind you with a jerk of your head before aiming your vambrace at him, your flame thrower whirring to life as you held your ground. “I appreciate you protecting the kid, but I still don’t really know you, so just back off. Step away from our home.” He took a step toward you, holding his hands up in surrender when your vambrace whirred faster with a flick of your wrist. “Like I said, everything that’s in here is ours, so-”

"Not that." He pointed at the set of green Mandalorian armor you’d gotten from Vanth where it hung on the wall behind you.

Lowering your vambrace slightly, you looked at him with wide eyes as another wave of that familiarity washed over you. "It's you?"

He looked truly confused. "Me?"

"You." Lowering your arm fully, you stepped closer to him. “It’s really you.”

"Uh-oh." Lifting his hands still in surrender higher for a moment, he set one on your shoulder lightly as he maneuvered slowly around you, cautiously. "What do I owe you?"

Turning to keep him in your sights, you shook your head. "No, I-"

Boba stopped, turning to face you fully, both of you at the top of the ramp, with his arms hanging easily at his sides. "If Fennec ever wronged you, I can assure you she's a changed person now. We're working on-"

You laughed. "No! It's you! Nau ki’bas’ika." Something in you marveled at how those words had sounded so foreign back then, but now…. Now they flew off your tongue as if you’d known them your whole life. The little strings around your heart that bound your clan of three together cinched ever so slightly tighter, which you didn’t even think was possible. Every time it happened, it took your breath away. Every added knot one more confirmation in a long line of things that you were where you were supposed to be. (“Little light bug.”)

Understanding dawned on his features, something soft coming over his eyes. “Te ad'ika...?” He smiled. "My, how you've grown." (“The little one.”) 

Din’s voice crackled over your comm. He sounded panicked, and it pulled you right back to the moment at hand. He never sounded panicked. "Do you have eyes?! I can't see them! The kid! He's-"

Looking up at Boba, you gestured down the ramp. "I have to-" 

He didn’t even let you finish, gesturing you down the ramp with a nod of his head. "Go."

As you ran toward the beam of light protecting the kid, you’d never felt like the world had moved more slowly. You were moving as fast as you could, practically floating above the ground, defying the laws of physics as you pleaded with the Force to give you the boost needed to make it in time. Please. They were your family. Not like this.

It was a loop in your head as you closed in on the mountaintop, not even out of breath.

Please, not like this. 

But for all your physical speed, the world around you seemed to move by in sluggish streaks of blurry colors. Nothing was in focus except the ridge you were trying to reach. Nothing else mattered except for that ridge. More specifically, what was on it. As your jaw set in determination, you leaned into your sprint, pushing even harder to reach the top as soon as possible.

You faintly registered another ship coming in to land by the other, the sounds of blaster fire picking back up again down below as you crested the top, finally seeing Din and the child for the first time in what felt like hours. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Din was laying on the ground, so you helped him to his feet.

“What’s going on? Did you fall?” A cursory glance from head to toe didn’t show any major injuries or cause for alarm, but then again, the beskar would probably hide most things. You reached out to rest your hand on his upper arm, but he didn’t even look at you.

He turned to face Grogu, completely ignoring your question. “That’s it, kid. We got to get out of here!”

Din began trying to push through the barrier again, grunting and struggling as he ignored your protests.

“Stop it! Din, no, it’s not- You’re just going to-”

He bounced back like he’d been launched, shaking his hands almost as if he’d been burned or shocked. 

“It’s not going to work,” you finally concluded, unable to help your grin as he rolled his head to glare at you before looking off the edge of the mountain to the ships down below, pressing something on the side of his helmet. 

Turning back to Grogu, he huffed. “Okay, I’m gonna protect you.” He said it like it was his choice, like there were other options, and a wall of Force energy wasn’t dictating this whole situation for him. You had to look away so he wouldn’t see your smile. “Just stay there. I’ll be back soon.”

Following where he had been looking down the edge of the rocky terrain, you saw Fennec begin to take more heavy fire. “Din, go help her! They offered to help keep the kid safe, and if we get out of here, we’re going to need that help. Now go!”

He nodded. “Stay with him. Please?”

You couldn’t help the small smile. “Where else would I be?”

Din nodded again, a short, relieved sigh letting his shoulders relax slightly. “Keep your comm on.”

You nodded in confirmation before gesturing him down the mountainside. Once he was gone, you turned to look at Grogu. The Force wall evaporated, leaving the kid in a dazed state as he blinked drowsy eyes and breathed heavily, falling to the side to curl into a little ball, instantly asleep. 

Opting to leave him be, since you didn’t really understand giant seeing stones and their way of doing things, you kept watch at the edge, eyes watching down below and ears tuned in to the child behind you.

Din and Fennec fought back to back until an explosion rocked the earth near them, sending troopers flying. Not again, you thought. You began to look around for a rock you could launch down the hillside without tiring yourself out too much, when you noticed a flash of green armor, and you grinned.

When Boba sent rockets flying out of a piece on his knee, you picked up your comm. “I finally found something your armor doesn’t do.”

Din grumbled in response, making your smile grow.

The troopers began to run away after just a few well placed attacks from Boba, and your grin turned into a smug smirk when you saw him twirl his gun like Din had on Corvus.

Your comm crackled before Din’s voice came back over. “At least he can do that properly.”

This time you grumbled.

As the ships took off with all the troopers piled back in them, you made a last second decision after looking at a sleeping Grogu once more. He’d wake up starving. Now that the coast was clear, you were just going to grab a ration pack and hurry back up to be there when he woke up.

Jogging down the hill, you were quick to dash up the ramp of the Crest, grabbing a ration pack before turning to head back up. You paused when your comm went off.

"Mesh'la?"

The connection was staticky, and you could barely make out his one word as you began to walk forward again. "On the ship. I'II be out in a second…. Just had to get the-"

The comms went out with a wave of static, making Din turn to look at the Crest, pressing the button for his comm on the side of his helmet once, twice, but nothing worked.

"Mesh'la?" He tried quietly, knowing you couldn't hear. Before he could push it a third time, a laser bolt shot down from the sky, streaking toward the Crest faster than he could comprehend. "Mesh'la!"

Xxx

Din POV

Everything moved in slow motion, the path of the bolt streaking through the sky something he wanted to look away from but didn't dare to even blink.

Before he could take even two steps closer to his ship, the bolt hit its mark, exploding in a cloud of flames and debris.

The glow illuminated the sky behind the Crest, casting the ship in an eerie glow, the ping of rocks landing on the roof of the ship like rain music to his ears.

He was moving before he had even fully processed what had happened. All he knew was you were somewhere over there, somewhere near the danger, somewhere that was supposed to be safe.

No matter what happened, how he tried, the people in his life seemed to pay for being a part of it. First his parents, then countless others he’d tuned out over the years, telling himself it was easier if he just didn’t have people in his life in the first place. And that was true. It was so much easier not worrying about the kid. Not worrying about you. If both of you were safe. Warm. Fed. Happy. 

But it was also so much emptier.

That was a life he wasn’t willing to go back to. Not now. Not after so many months of days filled with…. Just filled. Even in moments of silence, of nothing, of sleep, it was so much more, so much better than anything before. And he wasn’t willing to go back. Not if he couldn’t go back to you.

He slid on his knees on the grass the last few feet to where you laid on the ground at the bottom of the ramp, the wind knocked out of you. You moaned softly, trying to push up onto your elbows. Din maneuvered so he was behind you, letting you lean on him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so?” You grimaced. “What happened?”

“They shot the tracker. Why were you on the ship?”

“I came down for a ration pack for the kid, he’s gonna be wiped out after-” Your eyes went wide and you snapped them up to look at his visor straight on. “The kid!”

Xxx

Normal POV

Once again running faster than you thought you ever could, you leapt across the tops of the stones on the mountainside like they were stairs, charging ahead of the others. Landing on the top, you skidded on the dusty stone before closing the last few steps to the seeing stone, turning to put your back to Grogu, your saber already drawn and ignited, ready.

Above you, four black humanoid shapes came into view, coming straight for the kid. They landed in a circle around him, and you realized they were droids.

“Hey, grease breath, think again,” you said firmly, pulling back to swing your saber, but the one closest to you grabbed your wrist, jerking you to the side and off balance, making you stumble. Your saber slipped from your hand, skittering away from you as the droid flung you the opposite direction.

You tried to reach out with the Force and stop them, but the world started spinning, the explosion and your exertion finally catching up with you, and all you could do was watch with your hand reaching toward him as Grogu sat up wide eyed. He looked at you, a wave of calm washing over you like a breath of fresh air, and it took everything in you not to cry. Even in moments where he was in danger, he was trying to help you not be scared.

Everything blurred through unshed tears as the droid snatched him, all four taking back off into the sky just as Din and Fennec crested the top of the mountain.

“They’ve got the baby,” Fennec said into a comm, and you smiled. At least now she was calling him a baby. “Don’t let them get away!”

“Stop him. I don’t want the child hurt.” Din’s voice was deceiving my calm, but you knew better. This day was catching up with him fast. If you felt like this, you could only imagine how he felt. It was just him and the kid before you even came into the picture. If anything were ever to get to a Din, this would be it.

After that you let yourself collapse back on the ground, exhaustion catching up with you. With your eyes closed you weren’t sure, but you heard footsteps come closer to you, and you assumed it was Din. The soft groan he let out as he knelt beside you confirmed it, and in better circumstances, you’d smile, make a joke about it.

But these aren’t better circumstances.

The kid is gone.

Grogu is gone.

Opening your eyes as Din helped maneuver you into a seated position like down by the ramp, you put your hand on his wrist, stopping his movements. “I’m sorry.” You could only just barely whisper.

“What?”

Looking up to hold his gaze, you felt the tears finally fall. “I’m so sorry, Di- Mando.” Your eyes flitted over to Fennec briefly, confirming she was close enough to hear, but she was trying hard not to, looking down at the ground as she stood patiently to the side.

“Hey,” Din pulled your attention back to him. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was.” Your voice quivered without your permission. Swallowing in an attempt to clear it away, your eyes darted over every inch of his visor, searching for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “If I had just stayed up here, not gone for the stupid snack-” Shutting your eyes tight, you saw Grogu even in the darkness, his wide eyes staring at you as he offered you that last wave of peace, and a fresh wave of grief replaced all the good.

Din didn’t let you finish the thought. “He would have wanted that-”

You didn’t let him comfort you, either. Eyes flying open, you stared at him with brows raised incredulously. “-or let them knock my saber out of my hand-”

He really wasn’t going to let you win. “You’d just been in an explosion-”

“Stop trying to make this okay!” You yelled, eyes screwed shut. Then, quieter, “It’s not okay.”

“It’s also not your fault.” Din matched your quiet tone, his voice calm and collected, and you didn’t know how. 

You opened your eyes to glare at him. “It’s not yours.”

“Nope.” Knitting your eyebrows, you tilted your head at him. He eased back on his haunches with a soft groan, moving you gently into a more comfortable position. “I blame Gideon.”

You rolled your eyes before huffing out a laugh. “Well, duh.”

Laughing softly, you closed your eyes again when his forehead came to rest softly against yours. The kid still appeared with every blink, but it was quickly becoming comforting again instead of the heavy weight still on your chest. You’d make this right. Not for yourself, but for Grogu who deserved everything good and kind in this galaxy. And for Din, who deserved everything…. Just everything. You’d make this right for them.

“Whatever ends up happening with the kid, will be because of you, mesh’la,” Din echoed your words to him from back on the ship earlier today. “You’ve fed him, you’ve taken care of him, he’s learned from you. Already. No matter how powerful.” Silent tears raced down your cheeks as he continued to repeat what you’d said. “He’s going to be okay. And it will all be because of you. It all comes back to you.”

Xxx

Staring at the crater that almost was the Crest, smoke tendrils curling into the air, you crossed your arms over your chest as you surveyed the scene.

“It could have been so much worse.” Your voice was barely a mumble, your words barely legible. “They could have gotten the ship. If I hadn’t…. That tracker.” Breath caught in your chest, you tried to calm yourself with a deep, shuddering breath. “They could have gotten you.” Turning to face Din, your eyes wide, you swallowed roughly as you pushed that thought away. Clearing your throat, you found a strength to your voice somehow, small though it was. “I’m just glad you and the kid weren’t in there. I know…. I know he’s gone, and we’re gonna get him back, Din, don’t worry, but….” You shook your head as you looked back at the crater. “It could have been so much worse.”

Din gently dug into the little bag on his belt, your eyes following his almost hesitant movements. He sighed as he slowly pulled out the smallest red flower on a long thin stem. “He…. The kid.” He cleared his throat. “Grogu picked this at the top of the hill, and I think…. I think it was for you.”

Blinking a few times you stared at the small bud. “W-wha…” you cleared your own throat. “What makes you think that?”

“Whenever he’s picked up stuff for you before, the rocks and that beetle on Arvala-7…. He makes a certain noise, well a series of noises that I think is his way of saying your name. It’s always the same. He says it when you tuck him in at night, too.”

You stared at his visor, your voice small as you tried not to let the tears fall. “That’s what that babbling is?” You reached for the flower, taking it delicately with a small smile, your voice smaller still. “My name?” Twisting the fragile stem along your fingertips, you brought it up to smell it, the sweet scent making your lips turn down slightly as your thoughts turned back to the kid. “It’s never sounded more beautiful.”

You turned toward the Crest behind you, looking up at the ship that had seen better days in an attempt to hide your face, swiping blatantly at the tears silently tracking down your face with the palm of your hand. 

The ship had not been damaged directly, but flying gravel had ricocheted, denting spots on the hull and causing a few panels to dangle, hanging on by a wire or a single bolt clinging for dear life. 

“She just doesn’t want to give up the ghost, does she,” you mused quietly, a small smile turning up your features as you surveyed the tattered walls that had become your home. 

Din loomed close behind you, just far enough to technically count as space. But close enough that when you took a deep, steadying breath, you felt a wall of beskar firmly press into your spine.

A soft huff of laughter left his modulator close to your ear as he too tilted his head back to take in the damage. “She hasn’t failed me yet.” His voice somehow got closer. “A lot like someone else I know.”

You smiled, a truly joyful thing, but it quickly melted into something morose, turning down rapidly as new tears raced down your cheeks to join the others. As you tilted your head down into your hands, you felt warm arms come around you from behind, the cold press of beskar against the thin layer of dirt and sweat on your skin doing something to ground you that you weren’t expecting.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into your hands. “I’m not like this. I don’t cry. This isn’t-” Lifting your head quickly, your hands coming to rest on his forearms that rested across your chest, you sniffed away the emotions as best you could when you felt the sharp edge of his helmet come to rest on your shoulder. The contrast of the warmth of his body heat under the flight suit where his chin settled in at the curve of your neck, and the cool touch of beskar once again doing something to distract you as his helmet came to rest against your temple with a sigh. “This isn’t me.”

“It’s okay if it is,” rumbled softly into your very bones.

“No.” You swiped at tears angrily again, keeping one hand on his arms before returning the other as well. “He needs me to be strong. You- I need me to be-”

“Mesh’la….”

A stuttering breath caught in your chest as you willed the emotions building again to just try and surface one more time. You dared them. “He’s gone, Din.” A deep breath. “He’s gone.”

Arms wound tighter around you, the press of beskar against your temple more firm, so much so you had to tilt your head to the side to accommodate the pressure. Suddenly you were being turned until your forehead was against his, your hands lost in his cowl as they clutched for a semblance of something familiar. Soft “I know”s and mumbled promises of returns and revenge never ceasing as strong armor clad arms pulled you tighter into himself, every hard line of beskar a welcome familiarity that helped ground you once again. 

Sniffling pitifully, you tucked your face further into his cowl to hide. “I’ll be fine. Thank you. I….” Taking a few steadying breaths, you willed your nerves to still. They didn’t listen, but something in you did, and you found the strength to look up into his visor again. “Go talk to Boba and Shand. Figure out the plan. I’ll be over in a minute. Gonna….” Clearing your throat as you released your grip on his cowl, smoothing the fabric as you focused on it instead, you took another deep breath and continued. “Gonna evaluate the damage, see what we need to do to get out of here in one piece. I assume we’ll take her to Peli’s?” Drawing back, hands moving to your hips, you began to study the ship again, tucking the flower from Grogu into your belt. “I’ll make sure we can at least limp there.”

Din hesitated, weight shifting gently from side to side as he studied you.

“Go.” Motioning him on with a jut of your chin toward your new companions, you tried your best grin you could muster. “Just need time.”

He nodded, turning on his heel and walking around to the other side of the Crest, looking over his shoulder back your way only once.

You made it until he was just around the corner, but just barely. As soon as he was, you dropped. On your haunches, clutching your knees close to your chest, silent sobs wracked your body. You bit your hand when stronger ones threatened to take over.

You’d failed.

He was gone.

You weren’t enough.

Shut up!

Tears of sadness quickly turned to anger and the abruptness of it should have flagged something in the back of your mind, but it didn’t. Instead, you just let it roil, let it grow, as it was the only thing that seemed to make the tears stop. You’d always been told anger festered, but this just felt powerful. This felt like a strength you needed right now, and it was what brought you back to your feet, dried your tears, and brought your head back up high.

As you worked your way around the ship, one thought alone consumed your mind. Gideon was gonna pay.

Din was speaking as you came up to the group. “Then that armor belongs to you.” His voice was softer than it had been earlier, and had an undertone of respect. He glanced to the side to look at you, doing a double take, and you wondered why until you caught your reflection in his visor and saw the obvious evidence you’d been crying. 

Quickly swiping at your cheek with the back of your glove, you shrugged at him as he tilted his head in question. “I’m fine.”

Boba blessedly circled back to the subject they had been on when you walked up, like he had before. “I appreciate its return.”

With a sigh, Din turned his focus back on the other Mandalorian. “Then our deal is complete.”

Boba heaved a matching sigh, and it almost made you smile. Maybe it was a Mandalorian trait after all. “Not quite.”

You arched your brow. “What do you mean?” 

“We agreed in exchange for the return of my armor, we will ensure the safety of the child.”

Din turned his head just slightly to look at you before speaking quietly. “The child’s gone.”

Surprisingly you felt nothing but a twinge of sadness, and that was for Din. The overwhelming feeling that surged through you was anger, and normally it would have had you scrambling for some sort of control, but this time…. This time it only made you smile.

Boba mistook your grin for understanding of his plan and returned your grin before explaining to Din, “Until he is returned to you safely, we are in your debt.”

Din looked at Fennec, and when she nodded in confirmation, he turned toward you.

The words on the tip of your tongue beg to come out. Don’t look at me, I’m the reason he got taken. But you tamp that voice down, you know it’s not true. “Sounds like a plan,” you said instead, hands resting on your hips.

You turned back to survey the Crest once again as they made finer details to the plan, and you only vaguely registered something about following to Tatooine after some minor repairs.

Voices began to swell in your mind, whispers, trying to offer calming things and peace, but you pushed them away. Where were they when the kid was being taken? Shutting your eyes tight, you tried to ignore them, tamp them down, but they swelled even louder, causing the anger in your gut to grow suddenly.

“Mesh’la?”

The voices stopped abruptly for the first time since you’d started hearing them, almost like they’d been strangled, cut off, and you sighed happily.

“Mesh’la, you okay?” A gloved hand gently on your elbow pulled your attention back to the present, making your eyes go wide. These new feelings surrounding you were ones you’d tried to push away time and time again, but now…. Now they fed you, kept you standing under the weight of this massive burden. And that was something to analyze at another time.

“Never better.” You looked up into his visor with a small smile. “So where do we start to get the old girl back in the stars?”

Xxx

The cockpit was silent, aside from the soft whir of hyperspace and the beeps of various instruments.

Staring out the viewport from your seat, you startled when Din finally spoke. “I’m sorry we aren’t going somewhere with fireflies like we had planned.”

You pulled your attention over to where he sat in the captain's seat, finding him staring at Grogu’s empty copilot’s chair. Letting your eyes fall to the empty seat yourself, a single tear racing down your cheek, you smiled fondly. “It’s okay. We’ll make it there eventually.” More silence filled the space until you continued even more quietly. “I’d rather go when the kid can see them, too, anyway. Who knows? Maybe he’d eat some, no matter how hard we tried to keep him from doing so, and he would start to glow.”

A soft chuckle passed the vocoder before his head hung at a broken angle, still staring at the chair as a distinct sniff sounded. He shook his head gently before his chin fell to his chest, his shoulders shaking in silent tears.

“Din….” You were about to unclick your safety belt and go to him when the alarm alerting that the ship was about to drop out of hyperspace sounded. 

It was like a switch flipped. He sat up straight. His shoulders rolled back, his head lifted high, and his breathing evened out as he spun around to start taking over the controls necessary as the view through the transparisteel faded from the swirl of hyperspace to the dotted maze of space. The only sign something was wrong was the one deep shuddering breath he took before he cleared his throat, a wet, affected sound, before he finally spoke to you again. “We’re here.”

Xxx 

When the ramp dropped down to the dusty earth of hangar 3-5, the prattle of pit droids immediately started in. 

You took one step down toward the wave of heat washing over you when you were stopped with a hand around your wrist. Turning, you came face to visor with Din. Arching your brow in question, you waited for him to explain, finally asking an exasperated but quiet, “What?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Shaking your head, eyes closed as you scoffed lightly, you began to turn back toward the ramp again. “Din-” But his grip pulled you to a stop again, making your eyes fly open and look down at his hand around yours.

“Stop.” There were so many layers to his single word. You knew he didn’t just mean trying to go down the ramp. He meant blaming yourself. He meant whatever was simmering under your skin since Tython. He meant a multitude of things. Stepping up closer to you, Din tilted his head down to keep his gaze on you, his voice going lower still, almost as broken as you felt. “Just stop.”

Your eyes refused to stay open at that point, fighting back a wave of emotions threatening to make themselves known through tears. Your lower lip trembled in its effort to seal the feelings in, broken things wanting to tumble from you in strings of illegible sentences. “I-”

“No.” He crowded you back against the wall, once again pressing into you, less in an effort to ground you, but more for his benefit this time, his hands cradling the sides of your neck and winding into your hair as he tilted your head back to look into his visor as he went on. “This is his fault. Gideon did this. And he’s the one we’re going after. The kid is smart, he knows it wasn’t- hey, open your eyes.”

Looking up at him through a new swirl of tears, you cursed the swell of emotions and steeled yourself to make it through this conversation. 

“There she is,” he said around a smile, his thumb coming to wipe away a stray tear off the apple of your cheek, your brows furrowing at the sensation. His gloves were off.

“When did you-”

He pushed a button on his vambrace, and the ramp started to close, making you do a double take, one of the pit droids squealing as it scrambled to get out of the way.

“What? Din, we need to-”

As the ramp sealed, he pushed another button, setting the interior of the ship into total darkness. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, your stomach doing something stupid as you tried to get your brain to catch up with the rest of your body that apparently knew what was happening already. 

After the hiss of his helmet disengaging ended, and a soft thump sounded beside you on the floor, you took a sharp breath in when you felt bare skin come to rest on your forehead. Hairs that stuck out much too long at the sides and the front, long overdue for a trim, tickled your eyelids. A warm breath fanned across your face as he took quick breaths in and out, seemingly lost in the surrealness of the moment like you.

When his fingers found their way back to the sides of your neck, winding their way into your hair once again, you couldn’t help the soft groan you let out, or the renewed one when the puff of air from his chuckle danced across your face.

Din hinged your head back to look up at him once again, even though in the total darkness you could only see the phantom of your imagination.

“Come back to me,” he mumbled, forehead still firmly against yours, his words painting warm breaths across your skin a convincing argument.

“I’m right here.” Your hands snaked up each of his arms, wrapping loosely around his wrists as his fingers slid further into your hair.

He huffed gently. “No, you’re a million miles away.”

“You don’t-”

“Don’t say I don’t understand,” he growled lowly. “Get that out of your head.” After a few shallow breaths, he sighed. “I lost him, too.”

“I was right there, Din-”

“So was I.”

“I left him alone.”

He stepped closer into you, your spine sealing along the wall. “So did I.”

“No, you left him with me.”

Din took a breath like he was going to say something, but stopped short, letting it out on a sigh. “We were both standing right there when he was taken, mesh’la. Those droids would have gotten him regardless. Gideon has been watching us and tracking us, he hasn’t been playing fair.”

“Right. He’s been tracking the ship. You know what else?”

“Mesh’la….” He warned.

“Me. He’s been tracking me. Because of that bounty.” Your hands were in his cowl and you went to push him away but as soon as you started to, you pulled him closer still. Crumbling into the material, your face began to fall, but he pushed it back with his thumbs on your cheeks. “Don’t you see? No matter how you look at this, it all comes back to me.”

A long moment passed before Din spoke softly. “If that’s the case, then it all really started with me.” You blinked up at him, despite not being able to see him. “You have the bounty because of me. He is on the run because of me. Gideon is pissed because of me. It all comes back to me.”

“Din, no. No, you can’t think like that. It’s not-”

“But you can?”

Your mouth snapped shut, hands moving from his wrists to around his neck and into his hair. “You’re so infuriating, you know that?”

His soft huff of laughter painted your skin in warm shades of joy, comfort tinging the entire scene at the seams.

When you speak again, your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and much breathier than you had intended. “Why’d you take your gloves off?”

Din’s thumbs traced over your cheeks once again, drawing lazy circles as you felt his lips turn up into a smile where he had tucked his face near your temple. “Needed to feel you. Know you’re here.” He let out a long breath into your hair before mumbling, “I think you needed it, too.”

“And your helmet?”

His face pulled away from yours, soon coming back in the form of his forehead on yours, as his words ghosted over your lips. “That? Now that was just for me.”

“Oh really?” You smirked. 

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, and you could feel his face scrunching up as he grinned once again, all of his features a mere breath away from yours.

“What exactly did you want to get out of it?” You teased, tugging on his cowl.

“Well-” he began, but was cut off by a rhythmic tapping on the hull of the Crest.

A faint, “Mando?” pierced through the darkness, Peli’s voice cutting through the moment like a bantha in a china shop. 

Din let out a heavy sigh against your face, groaning in annoyance, chuckling when you couldn’t contain a giggle. “Someday,” he promised.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you teased with a tug on his cowl with one hand before pushing him away.

He groaned as he knelt down to pick up his helmet, letting it seal with a hiss before he turned the lights back on, and lowering the ramp once again. He took a single step down the ramp before stopping when you grabbed his wrist. Continuing down until you wove your fingers with his, you pulled him forward to walk down the ramp with you, hand in hand. Looking over your shoulder with a smile, you mumbled a quiet, “Someday,” only for him.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little family!” Peli singsonged, arms held out in welcome. Her expression fell slightly after a moment. “Where’s bright eyes?”

The sound of a second ship coming in to land in the hangar pulled your attention upwards, Peli’s immediate confusion and irritation moving her over toward Boba’s ship touching down a few yards away. “I’m sorry. This is a private hangar. You’re going to have to-”

“Peli.” She turned to you, brows raised in question. “They’re with us.”

“What?” Her voice had gone squeaky in confusion.

Not letting go of Din’s hand, you held out your free hand toward her, gesturing her over as Boba and Fennec came down the ramp of his ship. “Come sit with me for a minute.”

“What’s going on?” She walked over quickly. “You’re scaring me.”

Sitting at an overcrowded table covered in parts from at least seven different types of ships, you set Din’s hand on your shoulder as he stood close behind you, reaching both of your hands across the table to take Peli’s hand in yours. “I’m going to tell you something and I need you to keep calm for me.”

She nodded. “I can do that.”

Din squeezed your shoulder. “The kid was kidnapped.”

“What?!” She tried to get to her feet but was yanked back down when you wouldn’t release her hand and she had to sit back down, staring at you with wide eyes.

“It’s okay! We’re gonna get him back.”

“Of course you are!” She said firmly, nodding. “When do we leave?”

You smiled at your friend, tears coming for a whole new reason this time. “No, Peli. We need you to stay here.”

“Like kriff! I can’t shoot hardly worth a damn, and I don’t really know how in the bantha diddle I’m going to help, but dank farrik, we have to get the kid.”

All you could do was blink at her. If you did anything it would be in amusement at her fierce use of bantha diddle. 

Din finally came to the rescue. “The person who took him put a tracker on the Crest.” Her eyes flamed as they darted to the ship, and you truly feared for Gideon in that moment. “I need to store it here until this is resolved, keep it off the radar. If she hadn’t seen the tracker and taken it off, the ship would be a pile of debris right now.” Din tilted his head toward you, and Peli turned owlish eyes on you that turned soft in understanding. “Can you sweep it for any more trackers, and house it until-”

“Done.” She held up her free hand, waving off the topic, it was already decided in her mind.

“She also needs a once over. The debris of the explosion did a number-”

“Already being taken care of.” She tilted her head toward her pit droids already well into repairs on the hull of the ship. 

As you stared at the large gunship that had become like a home for your little clan of three, you smiled sadly, your voice barely a thing to be heard. “It’s lonely on the Crest without the kid.” Turning to look up at Din to your left, your smile, though still sad, grew just a little. “There's just so many ration packs without him here." The gentle shake of the Mandalorian’s head was encouragement enough to go on. "I miss going to the markets every hour of the day to top up.” Looking back at the ship, you chuckled sadly. “He’d eat a whole bantha if you let him.”

Peli’s hand flipped in your grip, squeezing your hand. “We’ll get the little womp rat back, don’t worry. Mando’s on it.” She did a double take when she saw Boba over your shoulder. “Apparently two Mando’s are on it.” Boba took his helmet off and Peli’s eyes went wide, darting between Din and the new Mandalorian several times before landing on you. “I think my brain just exploded.”

Xxx

As Din picked a few select things to take with him from the Crest, you fiddled with your vambraces, sitting on a crate a few feet behind him.

“So you sent a message?”

He nodded, pulling the beskar spear from the weapons locker and twirling it once with a flourish before attaching it at his back somehow. 

Studying him with narrowed eyes to try and understand how, he turned to face you, pushing a button on his vambrace to close the locker.

“Not taking the Amban?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t think you’ll run into any Jawas?”

He grunted in annoyance.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you mused softly, watching him as you buffed your left vambrace with a cloth in your right hand.

“Just thinking,” he hummed.

“About?” You asked after he didn’t go on.

“What to do if Cara won’t help us get Mayfeld out of prison. If Mayfeld won’t flip and help us. If the plan goes, well…. According to plan,” you groaned, “but then we find Gideon and then something goes wrong. If the kid is…. Is already….”

Getting to your feet, cloth and vambraces forgotten, you closed the distance between you, your hand instantly cupping the side of his helmet in your palm to keep his visor on you. “He’s fine, Din.”

“You don’t know. Gideon could have-”

“No. I know, Din. I can feel him. We’re connected, remember?” He let out a short bewildered huff of air. “He’s alright. More than alright. I keep getting surges of….” You smiled, eyes studying the wall behind Din for a moment before coming back to the T of his visor. “Trouble.”

“Then he’s not fine. What do you-”

“No, not that he’s in trouble. He’s causing it.”

Din snorted. “Trouble, huh?” Something proud and smug in his voice.

You nodded. “Along with glee and…. Mischief.” Your face fell into your palm as Din chuckled. “It’ll be a miracle if we get there and the ship isn’t a total wreck floating through space.”

“That would make our jobs much easier,” Din mused quietly, laughter painting his words.

“I’d much prefer Gideon alive.”

Din tilted his head at you in question. “Why?”

Making your way down the ramp, you didn’t bother turning around as you answered, “I have a few things I need to say to his face.”

Xxx

Tags to come!

[wrengrif]

Are we ready? It's Time...

For more GOOD OMENS WILD META.

I have been chewing on this one for awhile. Like, really ruminating on it. Probably because it's so far-reaching. For me, for others. It's a matter of the Journey From The Final Fifteen.

I will openly admit it, when I first came off the Final Fifteen, sometime in August/September (yeah, I was so worried about Season 2 I didn't watch it for a month after it came out and I realized I was right to do so.). I was, and still am, heartbroken. I was angry, despairing and wondering what the point of an ending like that was. I was angry at Neil Gaiman, I was angry at all the creators behind Good Omens. I was angry at Aziraphale, first, and then after about five minutes, I was angry at Crowley too.

Note, I was never mad at David Tennant or Michael Sheen. I respected their acting choices so much in the Final Fifteen. It was beautiful. It ripped my soul out through my chest. They are both brilliant. I know everyone has their favorite GO counterparts - they are mine.

Then a funny thing happened. A few weeks passed. I started fumbling around Good Omens Tumblr again. I'd been a big contributor during Detroit: Become Human (of which I am still a HUGE FAN, god I love that game.), and until Good Omens 2 came out, I was on the side of Good Omens fandom. Reading, mostly, but at the time I was very deep into my Wangxian fixation (haaaaah, I say, like I have ever left it. My dream AU is Aziraphale and Crowley in the Sunshot Campaign, causing trouble with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.). That changed after Final Fifteen. Now I was hurt, I was looking for comfort. I was looking for my fellow fans.

Clearly, I found you, you gorgeous bastards (saying nothing about your moms, unless you want me to). I started to read more meta, started having my own thoughts and carefully posting them. Reading fanfiction, and ... becoming less angry. Stepping back, to really look at the story. I was swallowing content like Aziraphale swallowed ox ribs. In the midst of this, I realized this wasn't The End of Good Omens, but merely the second part of a Trilogy. I'm a writer, I know what the second part of a trilogy is. It's where your heart breaks, it's the cliffhanger episode. I stopped being mad, and started loving the craft. I started to actually look at the scenes instead of just watching.

With that, I started to realize I had been missing so much. I realized I had been wrong, about a lot of things. My perspectives, and thoughts changed. Aziraphale wasn't at fault, he was a victim of the situation as much as Crowley was. Crowley left the bookshop, but he never left Aziraphale. He waited. He's still waiting. As more time passed, the more my thoughts evolved. Changed, formed anew, and I felt better for it. I decided to be hopeful about the whole thing. Yes, it was bad now, but there were enough signs and easter eggs to say this wasn't the ending we were going to get.

I healed, in short. I forgave. I'm waiting for our next chapter, because I know this story isn't done, not by a long shot. I'm waiting to see how our heroes will cope.

Rather like, I think, Aziraphale and Crowley will. The initial pain is going to fade, the anger, the feeling of rejection (whereas they will some day realize neither one of them were in fact, rejected.). The longing is going to kick in. They're going to miss one another more than they will ever be angry. There's going to be moments of grace, of forgiveness, partnered with sadness. What I think we forget, sometimes, is that Aziraphale and Crowley are 6000 years old. They've fought before. They'll fight again. With the fullness of time though, they'll come back to one another. They'll talk again.

Right now though, they've had time. Time to hopefully process (I really, really hope Aziraphale has had SOME time to process), time let the anger fade a little. Maybe not enough time - some of us here still need time - but enough to let them wonder ... is it really over? Maybe to realize, no. No it's not.

Time doesn't heal all wounds, but time does allow you to find equilibrium. I hope time will do the same for our angel and our demon. I know time helped me. I hope time will help us all.

[ogsherlockholmes]

Since all the Sherlock Holmes stories are in the public domain, here is a list of things, both from the canon and not, that I believe should be included in the adaptations which I’ve invented in my head and should be real. 

(To preface: I know there are adaptations which include some of these, but I’m still limited so I haven’t seen many which do. Also, these aren’t just my own ideas, a lot of people have said them too.)

-Sherlock respecting women (obvious)

-Sherlock respecting most people in general apart from the rich antagonists or police.

-Watson actually being smart (he’s a doctor, yes in the Victorian era, but they did have some medical knowledge)

-Irene Adler being... Irene Adler. Not sexy dominatrix no-purpose-other-than-to-flirt-with-Sherlock.

-Not straight Sherlock.

-Not straight Watson.

-I would say Johnlock but I know some people see Sherlock as more aroace so I want it to be more inclusive. But. Maybe one Johnlock adaptation. As long as he’s not flirting with Irene Adler I’m happy. 

-Garridebs. 

-Actually exploring the drug addiction as more than a quirk or a joke. Like, at the end of The Sign of Four, it was so depressing how Sherlock spoke about it.

-More detectives other than Lestrade. I have nothing against Lestrade personally, but there are so many other detectives. May I suggest my guy Stanley Hopkins?

-Sherlock being Sherlock. Like, doing stuff like lying on the floor to investigate footprints or laughing when the clients are stupid or humming to music. Instead of being... like everyone else (*restraining from pointing at Henry Cavill’s Holmes).

-Autistic Sherlock. Not just implied (*glares at BBCSherlock*) but actually confirmed. (Yes, this is difficult since I don’t think autism was diagnosed in the Victorian times, but if Sherlock can survive the Reichenbach fall, he can be autistic.)

-ADHD as well.

-Sherlock and Watson going to concerts (that’s literally so cute, it should be obligatory that every adaptation includes it). 

-An adaptation of The Blue Carbuncle. It’s just a Christmas goose chase really but I love it.

-Mary Morstan not being Watson’s wife. She’s so much better without him, I’m sorry. 

-Female characters that win, or ones that are not there to be flirted with (*squints at every Adler adaptation*). I’m not just talking about her though, I mean other women, like the one who killed Charles Augustus Milverton (she’s iconic).

-Garridebs x2

-The thing about Sherlock reading horror stories and knowing every detail.

-Trans Sherlock. Again, difficult with the Victorian thing, but we can move past that.

-A female Sherlock. 

-A female Watson.

-Actually make them all women just to enrage every misogynistic Holmes fan.

-Exploring Watson’s PTSD. I mean, he was a soldier. Alone in London. Having no purpose in life. Injured from the war. That can’t be ignored. 

-Sherlock meeting an alien. I have no idea why I thought of that, but I think I saw that there was a story (obviously not by ACD) about that. I don’t know, I think it would be funny. (”Good God, Holmes, what on Earth is that?” “I don’t know, my dear Watson, but it seems to be breathing fire on Mrs Hudson’s plants.”)

-Housekeeper Sherlock. According to Sherlock, his housekeeping skills are underappreciated. 

-Sherlock retiring to the countryside to be a beekeeper. Please, he’s getting old and he’s been running around London for over a century.

Please add more, we have an opportunity to be creative here. It’s like fanfiction but to the extreme.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

[accidentalshifter]

Vampire Diaries/Originals-verse [Dawn Misplaced] DR:

⚜️ TW: My Mikaelsons are a ✨️ problem ✨️ and how they behave (or don't) will probably be unpredictable. Blood, sex, death, abuse, violence, & dark themes. I don't condone any of their actions, I'm just documenting them for science.

*Some things from previous posts might be reiterated upon in this one. Y'all this is super TLDR, be warned.

It's impossible to talk about this DR without talking about the unfinished fanfiction that sprang into my brain last year and refused to die; "Dawn Misplaced". After watching half a season of the Originals & relating heavily to the Mikaelson's generational trauma/cycles, this plot bunny appeared, assuring me that I should totally sin against the canon & create an alternate universe before I watched all of the source material...

So, William Webb and his adopted daughter Zoey St. Claire (Webb) was born. My OC had so much of myself inside of her that she was technically a self-insert or in shifting theory, a DR self. And William, now that I think hard about it, is probably a representation of my own generational trauma that I saw playing out in the show. Ahh, apologies for reading too much into that. Anyways!

Keep in mind that I had only watched season one and two of the Originals (and half of the first season of Vampire Diaries) before Zoey self-insert brain rot took full effect. Little did I know that many of my plot ideas for Dawn Misplaced ended up being explored by TVD in season three/four via Alaric Saltzman and The 5. (It was a trip watching those episodes for the first time recently with a friend) Like Alaric, William was a vampire hunter forced into action by tragedy & succumbed to the dark obsession inside of him that urged him to kill vampires at all costs. There's only one real difference between Alaric and William's slaying methods; killing innocent kids. Alaric at least had some sort reasonable criteria for who he'd murder. William Webb, on the other hand, was willing to slaughter a whole damn orphanage if it meant putting a stake in the vampire menace forever.

Zoey St. Claire was one of the seven children who managed to survive William's slaughter. Although, he insists it was a "necessary evil" for his experiment to work. You see, he'd run across a very old book that his ancestor, Will Webb (the first) had written, documenting a ritual meant to create a super slayer. A living weapon. Just as strong, fast, invulnerable to compulsion, and able to withstand a beating from a vampire. But was more intended for the sole purpose of killing The Originals. Yes, my DR self is fighting her intense instinct to murder her neighbors. (Are you getting that FNAF vibe? William Webb=TVD Purple Guy).

Basically, it's the Missing Children Incident all over again.

My super slayer idea was real close if not the same as "The Five." Of course, I'll never know because all Dawn Misplaced ended up being was this:

As I mentioned in previous posts, the waking dreams started with that simple plot bunny and did not stop. Growing a life all their own despite my best efforts to starve it, uproot it, and purge it from my memories. I've written other fanfics before, abandoning them when I eventually lost my muse, but this one? Like a vampire, refuses to die.

Half a year is a long ass time to keep having intrusive minishifts, so. My friend in fandom crime suggested I should give into my delulu and start yanking back on the tugs. Even if it is just all in my head.

Now, I'm not new to shifting practices. Since my childhood days locked in a bedroom, I've been super good at dissociating & exploring different realities within my dreamworld. But that's just it isn't it? This DR isn't really mine. Sure, the Dawn Misplaced elements of it are. Will and Zoey are. The rest of it, though? It's built upon a foundation I didn't lay. It's a sum total of the books, the TV series, & all of the dreamers who've dreamt of the Mikaelsons. Of course it's resistant to scripting and has a life of its own. I'm only one singular drop in a pond.

It's like...

So, while I can't control what the characters will do or the scenarios that'll unfold once I begin shifting to [Dawn Misplaced DR], I can control how I choose to react. I'll have to be more cunning than the plot. The only thing I seem to do okay with is "I'm back in my CR" and (recently) which location I get dropped into. Mystic Falls or The French Quarter. Idk, maybe I'm just a bad shifter even if I've been doing it for a while...

I'm going to have to be more stubborn than the sum total of the fandom itself.

*Using the Taglock Method has been helping me somewhat in focusing.

However, here's the scripts that I HOPE I can get to work:

⚜️ While in DR, I share the strengths & skills of Zoey St. Claire (Webb) as a slayer.

⚜️ Using Taglock Method bound to an epoxy ring I wear both in my CR and DR, I can eject myself from the DR when taking off the ring and enter it when wearing the ring. (This one seems to work)

⚜️ All houses owned by William Webb are a safe spot. (This one should work because it cooperates with TVD/Originals canon)

⚜️ Retain memories of CR self while in DR. (As long as I'm doing awake daydreaming, I seem to be able to do that)

...And what about an s/o, you say? 🫠 I think I've got bigger fish to fry. I'm not going to try and force anything to happen if it even does. After all, I'm no Elena Gilbert! Trying to date in the "real world" is already hard enough...

Additional BONUS LORE for DM that may or may not become relevant because my DR is an unruly child and it was only just ideas I'd casually thrown around in my brain for the fanfic:

⚜️ William Webb (the first) was an exorcist priest for the Vatican. His journals document the various "demonic spirits" he expelled and eventually spiraled into unhinged ranting. On the surface, at least. William Webb (the later) was able to decipher the super slayer ritual from these journals with the help of a witch probably.

⚜️ Either William Webb (the first or the later) was ex-communicated by the church for his inappropriate use of witchcraft against "the demonic spirits." He's become a boogeyman (much like Mikael) with a bad reputation that has preceded him and casts a shadow on all the Webbs.

⚜️ TVD/Originals seems to have werewolves and vampires, vengeful ghosts, witches, and hybrids. Along with doppelgangers & magic miracle babies. But what I noticed it doesn't have is angels. The seedling concept for my DR's super slayers are humans possessed by the blood & flesh of the archangel they were forced by William Webb to eat. Kind of have a zombie vibe to them, huh??? Can you tell I probably have religious trauma, LOL?

⚜️ William Webb's descendants eventually made their way to the new world during the time the Originals were in New Orleans and mingled within the same circles. The Webbs later settled down in Mystic Falls working as textile merchants of European fashions. You kinda gotta do what you can when you stop benefiting from the Roman Catholic church.

⚜️ While not technically a "founding family," the Webbs do possess a spot on the Mystic Falls council. For once, the shadow of their ancestor's legend pays off big time for them. Especially in a town plagued by real "demonic spirits." Originally, I thought the Webbs were ex-communicated from the town council but my first controlled shift (yesterday) into my DR revealed that wasn't the case. See what I mean by the DR choosing which bonus lore it wants to validate?

⚜️ In TVD/Originals it's mentioned that each and every supernatural creature in Universe must have a set of strengths/weaknesses. I had originally planned that my super slayers were disabled by sulfur, solar eclipses, and had a tendency to "go corrupt" if they broke an angelic virtue. However, what an angelic virtue is is open to interpretation. It likely is similar to what Dark!Alaric was.

⚜️ Elijah Mikaelson and a descendant of Will Webb knew each other. Elijah was interested in the journals of William Webb (the first) for whatever reason. Intrigue, maybe? Or maybe something more serious than that...

⚜️ The most recent William Webb (the later) hid his super slayer project from the Mystic Falls council. The majority of them, at least. I'm almost certain that if he told anybody at all, it was probably John Gilbert. Hell, given John's attitude and medical knowledge, he might've been in on it with William.

⚜️ William Webb (the later) raised the seven surviving kids to be hunting machines. Zoey is the last one standing who didn't corrupt & chose to turn her back on William at the age of 15, emancipating herself (legally) as soon as she could to live a "normal life." D.M. was going to take place after William's untimely death where Zoey St. Claire must return to Mystic Falls to settle her father's accounts and do something with the property she has now inherited.

⚜️ Zoey has vague, fleeting memories of her childhood in Mystic Falls. She (alongside her 6 other "siblings") only experienced a couple of years living there "peacefully" in the Webb estate before William took them on the road to hunt. Zoey was homeschooled much like the Umbrella Academy kids. It's nebulous at best whether Zoey (or the 6 other kids) ever met Elena in their childhood much less any other character living in Mystic Falls.

⚜️ Unlike her six siblings, Zoey never took to slaying vampires half as fervently as William wanted her to and rejected his doctrine soon after witnessing the corruption of the eldest of her siblings during a vampire hunt. Being a deserter earned her no points from Will or the rest of the Webb family. She is now more likely to sympathize with vampires than side with hunters despite her awkward position of being the last remaining Webb, having to be present for council meetings for as long as she is stuck in Mystic Falls settling Will's legal accounts, estates, & the things he left her in his will.

Some last, finalizing thoughts on this TLDR, DR Intro before I start actually documenting my shifts...

In my last post, I said it was all real. Shifting is real and it's really happening. Somewhere. And that somewhere is inside of me as well as outside of me as an objective reality all its own. Theoretically.

I wanna add a "yes, and" to this theory for the preservation of what little sanity I have left...

Yes, it's all real. And I'm pretty sure the thing that forged this pull, this...link...to the TVD & Originals-verse was/is my shitty childhood. I see a lot of my own family trauma inside the story of the Mikaelsons and the Salvatores. I think that by exploring this link and allowing it to show me things, the adventure I plan to embark on might give me an opportunity to reflect on my wounds. Maybe even heal...

If it's all real, then confronting my DR-self's trauma could help me find closure with my CR-self's trauma as well. And if I get to have anything from this experience, I'd like it to be healing.

It's a good thing I'm a vampire slayer then, right?

[sirilush]

☆Sweet☆

♡Akutagawa x GN!Reader♡

♡Oneshot♡

Warnings: possible bad grammer/writing, You/Your being used to address reader, Slight angst (?) But has fluff at the end, implied injures, bandages, casts, possible OOC Akutagawa, and definitely not proofread.

This takes place right after the end of season 1. This can be read as platonically or romantically.

A/N: This is my first one-shot I'm posting ever on my tumbler. It's probably wattpad material since I don't think I'm the greatest at writing stories to be completely honest. I haven't written all that much, probably the last time I wrote a fanfiction was like when I was in middle school. I was also writing this at midnight, so it's most likely pretty bland. I mostly wrote this since I had an idea in my mind in the middle of the night, and I just went for it.

♤♤♤

Annoying birds could be heard chirping this bright morning and the high-pitched beating from a heart monitor, too. It was not usual to hear each morning to many, but it has become too familiar in your daily routine.

The sickly white bedsheets blended with Akutagawa's complexion, as he lay on an uncomfortable-looking bed. He was wrapped with bandages, and you could have sworn that he would be able to beat the infamous bandaged wasting machine from the Armed Detective Agency. It has been a few days since Akutagawa came to be here. And only a couple of days before he had awoken. Yet he hasn’t said a thing, not even to the nurses that had been nursing him back to health. Nor to you, who have been coming to visit every morning and every night.

It wasn’t uncommon for Akutagawa to not speak to his fellow peers, but something to you felt off about his silence. It was like he had something on his mind, yet he dared not say what it was. Although recently, there had been some progress, even though his only responses were groans and annoyed huffs.

Another day of you sitting on the chair beside the port mafia’s black dog. He still doesn't dare to speak up or take any action to look at you. He just stares at the wall in thought, as his mind goes into turmoil. His mind went to his last confrontation with the weretiger that happened not so long ago. Even he couldn’t deny what he had felt. Once Atsushi brought his final blow to Akutagawa, he felt like he failed again. He failed again to take down Atsushi. He failed to live up to Dazai’s expectations. And he failed himself. He was foolish and weak. At least, that is what Akutagawa told himself.

Even though he thought he was secretive about his own emotions, you could read him like a book sometimes. Not all the time, but that face he made as he looked at that boring old wall that had chipped paint across it, could tell you all you needed to know.

“You look a little more sour than yesterday.” You leaned your elbow on the armrest of the dingy chair you sat on. Your hand prompts up your head as your gaze meets the side of the pale man's cheek. “And I thought yesterday was already sour enough.”

Akutagawa rolls his eyes in annoyance. You always had the weirdest ways of explaining his emotions. If he could, he would slap his hand to his forehead if he had the energy to. Yet again, he stayed quiet as you rambled about.

“How have you been so far? Feeling any better recently?”

No answer.

“Can you shake your head yes or no? If it’s easier for you…”

Yet again, no answer. It seems like he was completely absorbed in his own thoughts. It looks like another day of him not speaking to you, or anyone for that matter. Even if Dazai came into this room right now to give him praise, Akutagawa won’t even acknowledge his mentor's presence.

You let out a small sigh as you realized there will probably be no progress for today with Akutagawa. You reached into your bag, bringing out a small box, placing it on the side table nearest to his bed.

“I got something for you. I don’t know if you would like it, since I’m not sure how they taste… Make sure to not let the nurses know I snuck it in, okay?”

He gave you no reaction to the sudden gift, maybe he was still stuck in his mind. So you gave up for today, of finally being able to talk to the man. You got up and headed to the infirmary door, but not before looking back, hoping that maybe, just maybe he would say something to you. Just something, anything, even if it was just one word.

But yet still nothing.

“I’ll come back later to check up on you. Don’t try anything while I’m gone, okay?”

Still no answer. You then left the infirmary, carefully closing the door as you headed out.

As you left, Akutagawa finally looked somewhere other than the wall in front of him. First, he looked at the door you left through, and then his gaze went to the box that sat on the bedside table. With his one free hand that wasn’t in a stiff cast. He reached over and picked up the small box. He shook it a bit, to hear rumbling inside like there were small little pieces jumping around. As he opened it up, it was small pieces of lightly coated sugar figs inside.

He took one out of the container and popped it into his mouth.

“...It’s sweet…”

He mumbled out while taking another small fig peice out of the small box.

♤♤♤

A/N: If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Idk if this was any good, and if you have any constructive criticism, I would like to hear it. I definitely want to improve on my writing skills and make some small fanfics every now and then.

[rustingcat]

tagged by @inkedroplets who tagged me in a few things now, and I forgot to answer some of them. Shame on me, but thanks for the tag, darling:)

1. What sort of content do you create, and what is the thing you’ve made that you’re most proud of?

I started with art, then began writing, then started animating, and recently uploaded a fanvid 😅

I'm proud of them all because they are all part of the progress 😌

2. What fandom(s) do you create for?

Supergirl. I'm counting my Sadie/Saskia vid as supercorp.

3. What is your current favourite ship (or brotp if you prefer), and how controversial is it?

Supercorp. And apparently a lot of people don't like them because they hated supergirl? (At least according to tumblr tags in polls. But those people also accuse them of being too straight...)

4. For your answer to question 3, are they canon?

They are in my heart. Also, I feel that their last conversation was as close to canon as they could get.

5. What was your first fandom, and how old were you?

I was deep into Harry Potter for a long while in my life. That's what got me into fanfiction and tumblr. I still have a sweet spot for what it represented to me in my childhood and the stuff I took away from it despite the actions of some extreme lady.

6. What is your most unhinged fandom creation to date?

My Twilight Au fic 🤣

Was written as a parody, but somehow ended up being way too wholesome.

The power of pasta is my one crack fic, so there's also that.

7. Do you remember what started you off creating fandom content, and if so, what was it?

I was an avid consumer for years, but it was all thanks to the Supergirl fandom that I dared to try and create something. I was in the process of coming out and accepting myself for who I am, which, despite being in a very open and accepting environment and family, was really hard on me. Both the show, and especially the fandom, were what helped me not only to come out but also to see it in a positive light. It made me understand the meaning of pride, and I am forever grateful for that. That's why I decided to dedicate my time to creating stuff myself as thanks to this amazing community and to do my best to keep it active.♥️

8. Do you let people you know in real life see your fandom creations?

Some, yes. I have a few friends who know I write, but had not read any of my stuff. I have a few I share my art with, though.

9. How do you feel about fanworks of fanworks? Has anyone ever made something based on a thing you made?

Someone wrote a fic based on my art a while ago, and I'm still excited about it!

10. What feeling do you most often try to evoke with your creations?

Depends on the content. Each piece has its own purpose. I try to aim for fluff, but I've been told I accidentally write a lot of angst... oops?

11. Has someone ever paid your work a compliment (in any form) that has stuck with you, and what was it?

I'm always excited when fandom friends tell me they like my stuff. Or just anyone in general. It just warms my heart.

12. What’s your favourite thing someone else has made that you’ve seen in the last 24 hours (and link it if you can find it again!)

Have you read the most recent space log update? It's pretty cool...

13. Give a small sneak preview of something you’re working on right now (eg a couple of sentences of fic from a WIP, a gif set theme, a small piece of a larger picture, whatever you feel happy to share)

"Alex, you're saying that as if we're not literally standing at the entrance of a school for fairies." Kara said as she rested her hand on the handle of her large blue suitcase.

"Fair point."

"It is ridiculous, isn't it? Like, fairy collage, it just sounds so…"

"Bizarre?" Alex raised an eyebrow as a small chuckle escaped her lips.

Kara sheepishly nodded.

"Well, yes. Very. But that's our lives now, I suppose," Alex shrugged and shoved her hands in her jeans's pockets.

"You mean my life. You're going to badass school for ass kicking," Kara teased her sister.

Because apparently I'm not done making AUs based on questionable IPs.

And a bit of my card game AU:

Lena was the one to drag Andea to sneak out of school for a change. Only unlike her best friend, Lena didn't drag her out to a party or to drink alcohol, but instead to the local game shop where she could learn more about that mysterious game. Andrea wasn't as excited as her, but reluctantly agreed (if only to get out of trigonometry class). Fight for Justice, while being a bit too cheesy, Lena couldn't deny the strange allure of the name. She was fascinated to learn the different ways the game could change from moment to moment, the various objectives one can approach to win the game, and she couldn't help but absolutely adore the art on each and every card.

14. Have you ever seen/read anything made by the person who tagged you? If so, what was it and what was your favourite thing about it? (pick a favourite if there are several)

Rich girl with issues is a masterpiece, and you should all go read it!

15. Do you leave comments on fandom works, and if so how would you describe your comment style?

I try to always comment, and especially on stuff I like. I don't think I have a specific style tho😅

16. How many works in progress do you currently have? Will you finish them all?

I have about 12 that I actively started, but more that are in the concept phase. Ideally, I'll finish them all eventually.

17. what’s the longest it’s ever taken you to finish a fandom project?

It's been almost 2 years since I started The Art Of The Game. I'm close to the end, but it's been a while...

18. Describe the thing you made most recently in a way that is technically true, but also completely misleading. Link the thing if it’s published!

The hottest new trailer for the film we all have been waiting for;)

19. Do you ever engage with fanworks for a fandom you’re not in? Which one(s) and how did you get into it?

I feel like a foreigner when I see stuff from other fandoms, and I usually don't know enough about it to interact with it.

20. Recommend a fan work from your fandom to your followers

@awaitingrain has some really amazing artwork with adorable chibi designs! I'd recommend checking out her stuff!

Suggested tag list, but there are no rules here, follow your heart.

@eqt-95 @fazedlight @autisticlenaluthor @snowydragonscave @missluthorwillseeyounow @luthordamnvers have fun;)

[velvet-games]

I went out to see the northern lights today.

I didn’t want to at first; honestly, I’ve been a little depressed lately, and even the idea of getting out of bed to brush my teeth sounds exhausting, so actually going out and walking around outside sounded like Hell.

But I remembered my regret from missing the recent eclipse, and that, along with my mother’s incessant nagging, was just enough to get me to pull on a pair of too-tight jeans and a giant black coat and hop onto the car.

There ended up being no walking. We drove to a park only to find it blocked off and went to a nearby lake instead. My mom opened the car’s roof (a feature we have probably used once prior to today) and she asked if I wanted to sit on top. An old childhood desire to climb on things with dubious levels of safety came up, and I immediately shimmied myself out of the small opening. Not my most daring venture, sure, but still just as fun as I remembered.

There were no northern lights. But I looked up at the sky and realized I could probably lie down to get a better look at the stars. It was a little awkward; I didn’t want too much of my body on the glass part of the roof, which meant I was far back enough that my head followed the downward slope of the car and had to tilt away from the little part near the back that pokes up. It felt a little dangerous. I held onto the railing on my left.

I looked for a while, and I finally realized why people wrote so many scenes of pretentious dialogue set under a night sky; it really does pull that mood out of you. I’ve looked at the stars before, obviously, but I’d never just lied down to stare at them.

I looked at the stars and had those pretentious thoughts. I was reminded of a conversation I’d had the week before with my journalism advisor, about how strange it was that some religious people felt like they were the center of the universe, or maybe how strange it was that we emphatically did not. I imagined for a moment that the night sky was made for me, that the Big Dipper (which I was finally able to identify without the help of guidelines for the first time) was arranged specifically so I could see it. It was surprisingly easy, and maybe a little beautiful.

But I like when I look at the moon, like really see it, and feel small instead of special. I like looking at it and realizing that an impossible number of miles away, there is a giant ball of rock held together by a warp in space-time that does not care about me at all. That beyond that, there are even more incredible things that I will never see up close. I like forgetting myself, forgetting judgement, and just being aware of the vast, incomprehensible network of celestial beings that exist. I started thinking of the stars that way, and wondered why anyone would look at what I saw and hope that they were being watched rather than realizing that they weren’t.

I also had a less pretentious thought about a fanfiction I’d read earlier in the day. In it, Lucifer—yes, from the Bible—created the stars. I thought about what that meant. I thought about the implications of the devil creating the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I thought about how Heaven’s clouds might cover them out of spite sometimes.

Part of me laughed at myself, imagined how I would make fun of my own words if they were in a comic book with a pretty painting of the sky, but another part of myself told me to just enjoy the thoughts. Again, I’ve been depressed lately. Maybe the stars helping me forget myself was what I needed.

I started thinking again, but I was broken out of my reverie by the car shaking. My brother had brought ice cream, and he shoved a cup of it in my face. It was half melted, chocolate and vanilla hugging each other, but I actually like melty ice cream. I enjoyed the sweetness as I looked at the surface of the lake. There were no northern lights.

I looked up at the stars again, and there was the Big Dipper, still clear as day. The star at the base of the handle was a little dimmer than the rest.