#uncrying

[void-dreaming]

I just got into Demon Slayer and my dumb self went and looked up how it ends

#HOW DO I UNCRY #demon slayer

[nekoprankster218]

Finally binged all of "For the Uncrying" today and damnnnnnnn they should've named it

CounterSide: The Girlies Are Fighting

#counter:side #counterside #counter side #counterside horizon #cs horizon #counterside spoilers #well vague implications that is #for the uncrying #my post #my posts #the devs rlly just wanted to test out their op oc and see how many curbstompings they could squeeze in one story couldn't they? #not complaining tho that was an exciting and intense substream #wish I caught up on the preceding storylines tho so I could've rlly capitalized on the climax #and holy shit when was anyone gonna tell me that Horizon was so cool and badass?! #they rlly put their all in each Mech character don't they #I loved every line of her dialogue! idk if I could ever do her justice in a fanfic tho

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

GUYS THE NEW VIDEO

OH MY GODS I"M GOING TO CRY

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THAT WAS SO GOODDDD!!!!!!!! AHAHACVIUGCSDFHEOFQGFHAIOHASCJBABCKJAIHAJFAOVAIHOAV

#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #UNCRY THESE TEEEAAARRRSSSSS #UNBREAK MY HEAAARRTTTTTTT #screams from the pit #Steam Powered Giraffe #SPG

[actual-changeling]

I think we all should appreciate the fact that it was Crowley who walked away first and not Aziraphale.

Can you imagine? Aziraphale turns around, ready to go, ready to leave, and Crowley knows that this is it—if he steps through that doorway he is GONE.

"Aziraphale," softly, at first, almost inaudible, but he knows he heard it, sees the twitch in his fingers.

"Aziraphale," louder now, and Crowley balls his hands into fists and takes a few steps towards him, almost shaking with bitter, twisted relief when he stops. He does not turn to face him, simply stands on top of the circle rug with tremors running through his shoulders, down his back.

"Aziraphale."

It's a warning, a plea, a 'don't you dare run away from me'. It's 'don't leave me, please'.

"What do you want me to do?" Aziraphale whispers, his voice wet with uncried tears, and he hates all of this, hates the Metatron for showing up, hates Gabriel for getting what THEY should have had, hates Nina and Maggie, hates humanity, hates every single being in heaven and hell.

Six thousand years and this is their reward? This is what they get?

"Say no," he gives back, biting his tongue until he tastes blood, and inches closer. "Tell him you've changed your mind. Stay.

"I can't. I need to try to-"

"They don't care about you, they never fucking have," and oh, he is yelling now, and it is the fury dripping from his words that finally makes Aziraphale face him. "I care about you, I have been right here for six thousand bloody years, angel. By your side, waiting for you to be ready."

"Come with me!" Anger glints in his eyes, steel-blue and burning, almost drowning out the heartbroken desperation.

"If you really think there is anything in this universe that would get me to return to heaven then—then you don't know me. You never have."

Electricity sparks on his skin, red, powerful, urging him to find release, and Crowley feels tears stinging in his eyes, blinking until they roll down his cheeks. It doesn't matter now, does it? He takes a deep breath, tries to channel the good memories, the hope, the last few years of not-really-pretending.

"Then there's nothing more to say," Aziraphale spits, and the worst part is that they both knew it was going to end this way sooner or later.

The distance between them disappears as he catches up with him, leaning in, pressing in, until they are breathing the same air, crying the same tears.

"Aziraphale, if you leave this bookshop I-," his voice breaks, unwilling to give shape to the thought begging to be spoken, "I will not be here when you come back. If you come back. I'm done waiting."

Time freezes, and his eyes widen while his body shakes with the bitter mess of emotions churning in his gut.

"You don't mean that." He doesn't. Someone knows, he does not mean a single word of it, but right now he needs to mean it, needs to believe it, or he will jump head-first into the nearest church and drown himself in holy water.

"Try me," Crowley whispers, and suddenly hands are grabbing his shirt, pulling him in, making the world disappear. Familiar lips silence him, and he kisses back because he needs this to matter or he will regret it for the rest of his sorry existence. Don't leave, he prays into the kiss, wrapping his arms around him, don'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleave.

Don't leave me here alone.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

How would the main 10 skelebros react/comfort y/n from crying?

(undertale)

Undertale Sans - He sits next to you and waits. He doesn't want to force you to talk or hug him, he's just there if you feel like it. He's patient, and lets you calm down taking the time you need. He just wants to be there for you if you feel like talking about what's wrong.

Undertale Papyrus - You're making him anxious. That's five times he's checking on you now. He puts a plaid on you, and serves you tea, and gives you a teddy bear, and food, and chocolate... PLEASE JUST TELL HIM WHAT'S WRONG HE'S PANICKING. He wants to help desperately but he doesn't know why ;w; He doesn't want to pressure you but he's too anxious to not pressure you. He has no idea how to help, he's quite distressed right now.

Underswap Sans - He gives you some space. He's unsure what to do to help and he's not really good with this to begin with. He's just half-hiding behind the couch, glaring at you, uncertain, waiting for you to ask him to come or something lol. Help.

Underswap Papyrus - He comes to the rescue and crushes you into a hug. He gives the best hugs. He waits patiently for you to calm down then starts to make small talk to either get you to talk or divert your attention from what made you cry. If you want to stay like this for the rest of the day, it's fine! He has nothing better to do anyway.

Underfell Sans - He awkwardly comes to pat your back, keeping a safe distance in case you get mad at him so he can retreat fast lol. Man, he has no idea what the hell he's supposed to do. He's not used to people crying in front of him, usually, monsters go to hide when they need to. He's so confused about what he's supposed to do.

Underfell Papyrus - He gives you Doomfanger, who is not too happy about that. He taped "how to uncry a person who's crying" on Google and apparently hugging pets works, so here you go. Doomfanger claws your face because she's mad you're holding her. Now it's worse. Edge is distressed about what to do now that his genius plan didn't work. He's just.... standing there.

Horrortale Sans - He kidnaps you in his hoodie and holds you close, purring lightly to soothe you. He doesn't talk or try to make you talk, he just hugs you close and nuzzles your neck until you have enough. That's ok if enough is in five hours, he's happy when you're happy.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's crying by empathy without any idea why he's crying lol. He's just like that. He's also a nervous wreck and will try a lot of things to make you feel better, but he's hyperventilating and crying doing so, so chances are after a moment you're the one that will need to comfort him lol.

Swapfell Sans - He gives you a paper. Give him name, address, reason why you're crying and he'll take care of it. He is distressed seeing you like this and he's unsure what to do, that's the best he can do to make you feel better lol. You're not sure killing whoever hurts you is going to solve the problem, but you thank him for the initiative.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's clowning around to make you laugh, making a fool of himself and pranking Nox in the house to have a reaction from you. He won't stop before you smile, then he will sit next to you and ask what's wrong.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's in protective mode, growling at everything or everyone trying to get close to you in your moment of weakness. You're stressing him out, can you hurry and stop being sad already? He doesn't like seeing you like this, he's scared someone will take the opportunity of it and he won't allow it.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He hugs you close and brings you into his safety closet so you can both hide from the world and cuddle him until you feel better. He doesn't like seeing you like this, it's stressing him out.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

Reluctant Protector | Din Djarin

Part 2 of 2

Din Djarin x Fem!reader

Summary: After being abandoned as a child, you grew up working for one of the most prolific crime lords in the galaxy in order to survive. It all comes crashing down as a split second decision has the Mandalorian hunting you. As it turns out, your hunter might be the only one who can save you. After all, the lines between predator and prey have always been blurred.

Warnings: angst (what's new), mild language, panic attack, violence, fluff, mentions of human trafficking (brief), Mando being a fool in love, adult themes throughout, happy ending (again, what's new)

A/N: This is part two to the request I mentioned! Once again, got carried away and I kinda love it, hope you love it too!

Part 1

You managed to wrestle off the growing panic attack for close to an hour after Din left.

You sat close to the child, reminding yourself that Din at the very least would not leave the youngling he protected so dearly. When your mind began to doubt even that certainty, you could not stop the flashbacks when they began. The scenes of that night you remembered so well began to torment you. 

Flashes of your father’s last words, of his lies that your innocent being so willingly believed. Flashes of your mother’s absent gaze. Flashes of Vince swooping in to claim you. 

Vince. Din had said it himself, the bounty was at an unbelievably high credit amount by now, and only a fool would keep helping a bounty that could fetch such a high price.  This thought crumbled whatever little strongholds remained on your self control and you shot to your feet, garnering a confused babble from the kid. 

“Stay here,” You breathlessly instructed, touching the blaster at your waist as you stumbled for the hatch. 

You would not be left, not this time. Not again. Not when Din meant so much to you. 

You made sure to close the hatch behind you to protect the youngling within and set off for the city beyond where Din had no doubt ventured to begin his hunt. Your vision was blurred with uncried tears, and your chest was ever so slowly constricting upon your heart and lungs. Your stomach twisted with nausea and breathing became a conscious chore as you grappled for sanity, for reality. You would find him, you decided. You would find him and help him on the hunt.

It was stupid and irrational to anyone else, but you were haunted by ghastly memories and scarred by trauma and it wasn’t stupid to you. All you could manage to think was that it would not happen again. You would not be left again.

Din Djarin

Din trailed his target from afar, his trained eyes tracking the bounty’s every move and interaction. 

After close to an hour and a half, he’d finally managed to banish you from the center of his thoughts and instead focus on the task at hand. But even then, as he waited for the bounty to enter a vulnerable, isolated area where he could confront them, Din could not stop his mind from traipsing to the Vince situation. 

You had been dragging your feet for weeks to come up with a solid plan to confront your old boss, and Din knew that it was because of the way you felt indebted to Vince for raising and protecting you all of those years. You had never mentioned how you’d come into his service, but Din knew well enough that Vince was the father figure in your life. As much as he wanted to let you have time to keep working through that struggle, Din knew that time was running out. The hunt for you was only intensifying, and soon enough the two of you wouldn’t be able to keep up this quiet lifestyle. You’d be on the run, and Din wanted nothing more than for you to be at peace. 

He was so distracted by that thought that he hadn’t even noticed the growing commotion on the street below his perch until the scream of civilians and the crashing of metal and glass caught his attention. Din snapped his gaze down to the street only for his heart to drop straight to the floor.

Because there you were, sprinting as hard as you could away from a hunter with a tracking fob in their grasp. 

Din instantly snapped into action, a nasty curse slipping past his lips as he dropped down from the roof he was crouching on and broke into a run. He cursed you in his head, furious that you’d left the safety of the Crest even when he’d told you not to. 

“Move.” Din growled, shoving past patrons and bystanders as he sprinted after the trailing commotion of you and the bounty hunter. 

Thinking quickly, Din took a shortcut through an alleyway. After scaling the wall at the end of it and dropping at the other side, he managed to emerge just ahead of your frantic escape. Adrenaline tangling with dread in his blood, he managed to grab ahold of your running form just as you sprinted past the alley’s opening. Whipping you inside, he had you pinned against the back wall with a hand at your mouth to silence you before you could even scream. 

The panic in your eyes at the sudden movement lessened as your eyes focused on him, your body pinned snugly between the wall and his beskar-plated chest. This was the closest he had ever been to you, what with no space at all remaining between the two of you. If it were a different circumstance, Din’s mind would be clouded with thoughts of your body so close to his. 

But there was a hunter after you, and for that reason alone Din forced himself to ignore the press of you against him.

Din could hear your voice muffled against his hand, but didn’t pay attention as he pressed closer to hide you and glanced out of the alley just as the bounty hunter jogged past. The hunter looked utterly confused, wondering where their bounty had just disappeared to. 

Before the hunter could think again, Din had released you and rushed them. He grabbed the hunter and dragged them into the alley harsher than he had you, and just as he did, you whipped out your blaster and landed a fatal blow to the hunter’s chest. Din released the hunter, letting their body slump to the ground between the two of you. As a deafening silence settled over the absence of chaos, Din looked up from the hunter and to your trembling form. 

He was furious. 

You had almost gotten yourself captured, and he never would have known until he would have returned to the Crest after the hunt and seen you gone. The very thought had his throat closing in terror, and it was that terror that Din was able to blanket and express as rage to hide the blatant outpouring of how he really felt about you. 

“Vaabir gar ganar a jaro?” Din raged, not even realizing the words were Mando’a until he saw the flash of confusion on your utterly perfect face that was contorted with an emotion Din was too angry to notice. He repeated, “Do you have a death wish?”

“Din, I-” You tried, your voice trembling almost as badly as your body. 

“You could have gotten killed, or worse!” He shouted. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now, and in his horror-driven anger, he still hadn’t noticed. You had never heard him speak this loudly before.

“I-I’m sorry.” Your voice was frail and unsure, so unlike how you usually were, “You left me, and I didn’t…I didn’t know what to do.”

Din stormed forward, grabbing your arm firmly, but nowhere near painfully, “I said I was coming back! Why would you-”

Din’s words died on his tongue. Now that he was touching you, he finally noticed the tremors surging through your body. Like the plug of a drain had been pulled, his rage flooded away and he could no longer conceal the concern he harbored for you. Din examined your face for a moment and took in the faraway, haunted look in those stunning eyes of yours. He saw the way you weren’t fully present in this moment and he realized suddenly that you weren’t just scared, you were in the midst of some sort of panic attack.

“Cyar’ika, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Din’s voice was tender compared to the fury that had bridled it before. “You left me,” You repeated, ever so softly and brokenly, “You left me and I didn’t know if you were going to…going to…”

You couldn’t even get the words out, you were so badly shaken, and it broke something so deeply within Din. Suddenly, he couldn’t care less that you had almost been captured. All Din could think about right now was how to help you, how to bring you back to him. 

In the darkness of the alley, Din brought his hands to your face. His thumbs ran along your tear-streaked cheeks and Din knew that the sight of your tears was one of the most rattling he’d ever encountered. He wished he could mark down every one of them and note where and who they came from so he could hunt them down and make them pay. 

“What’s wrong, cyare? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, sweetheart.”

Your hands grabbed onto Din’s arms as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. To Din, it almost seemed as though you were holding onto him as if your life depended on it.

“You can’t leave me too,” You finally managed to gasp out, your large, panicked eyes rising to meet his through his mask, “You can’t leave me too.”

The very thought of leaving you made his stomach turn and Din instantly let go of you just so he could tug you close to his body. He’d never wanted to take off his armor as badly as right now. He wanted to pull you closer, closer than the beskar allowed. The way you instantly crumbled into him made his heart shatter, and it killed him not to understand why someone so fortified and seemingly unshakable was so utterly terrified. 

“I’m not gonna leave you, cyar’ika,” Din mumbled, rooting one of his hands through your hair to hold you closer to his chest, “I’m not gonna ever leave you.”

In that moment, Din forgot everything else besides what it felt like to have you in his arms. He wished that it could last forever, but he knew that this was only a temporary fix to whatever was happening to you. Besides, the longer you were out here, the more likely it was that another hunter followed a tracking fob here and found you. 

“Come on, let’s get back to the Crest,” Din softly urged, pulling back but not daring to let go of you. Instead, he kept his arm wrapped protectively around your waist as he led you back to the Crest. 

He needed answers. He needed to know what had caused you to be in such distress. 

|||

Your POV

It had been nearly three hours since the incident in the town today. 

In the time that followed, Din had gotten you back to the Crest and launched you immediately off of the planet and into a far corner of the galaxy from Serreno. 

Once he was sure you were far from the planet you’d just been tracked down to, he left the cockpit and settled you onto the cot in your room with a blanket around your shoulders. He left only for a handful of minutes before he was back with a steaming mug of soothing tea. Then, he simply sat down beside you in silence, allowing you to soak in his presence and strength until you felt ready to speak. 

Now, hours past the episode earlier, you finally had worked up the courage to speak to him.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” You mumbled, not being able to meet the Mandalorian’s gaze, “I know I jeopardized all of our safety by leaving and I know I should have listened-”

“Hey, stop that,” Din interrupted, making your rambling instantly stop. You kept your gaze firmly down on your lap and you heard him sigh from beside you, “Look at me, cyar’ika.”

Cyar’ika. You weren’t entirely sure what the word meant in the common tongue, but coming from Din it sent warmth spiraling through you. Din surprised you by gently grabbing your chin and turning your face to meet his. 

“I’m not mad at you. I was just…scared.” 

The rumble of his voice grounded you, and as he dropped his hand from your chin you almost reached out to stop him. 

One vulnerable moment passed by and you sighed deeply, “I was too.”

That was what Din had been waiting for, you could tell by the way his entire body seemed to stiffen. With intrigue that he could not hide well, he tilted his head at you. 

“Why?”

The question jolted through you even though you had known it would be coming. You peered deeply into the depths of his mask that had become a safe haven to you, and you made a choice.

“My parents abandoned me when I was seven years old,” You started. And when the Mandalorian bounty hunter, perhaps the most intimidating person you’d ever met, reached over and took your hand in his, you had the strength to keep speaking.

You told him everything. Afterwards, as you lay staring up at your ceiling that night, you realized just exactly what Din Djarin meant to you. 

And you were finally ready to let go of Vince Hanon.

|||

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

The Mandalorian’s voice rang with uncertainty just as you finished rigging up the comlink with an untraceable chip, just as Vince taught you as a child.

“Have a little faith in me,” You quipped, glancing up at Din as you leaned back in your chair sat across from him with the rigged comlink between you, “I know Vince Hanon better than anyone. It will work.”

Din sighed, resting back in his chair and propping one arm up on the side of it, “As long as that comlink won’t lead him right to us, I guess nothing bad can come of a conversation.”

“I’ve been rigging coms since I was eleven, Mando. This baby is untraceable,” You assured, savoring his low laugh in response. The two of you sat in Peli’s hanger on Tatooine. You had met her only a week ago, and yet she’d taken quickly to you. Already, you felt the familiar ache in your chest every time you had to leave just as you began to make a friend. 

You couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, not right now. So. you sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward, activating the comlink. A series of beeps sounded out as you typed Vince’s connection swiftly into the com and then…silence. 

Silence.

Silence.

And then…

“I have to admit, Prodigy. It took you longer than I originally bet to contact me. I’m impressed.”

As Vince’s voice wafted out of the comlink and stung your ears, you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking apart all over again. In a moment, you had your composure back and leaned forward, feeling the intense gaze of Din all the while.

“What else did you bet on concerning me, Vince? I’m sure you’ve lost more than a few up to this point.” Your voice was sharp and light, and you hoped Vince did not see through the ruse and notice how frantic you really were within.

His laugh barked through the comlink, setting you slightly at ease. At least he wasn’t yelling. Yet. 

“Good to hear you haven’t changed,” Vince mused.

“You’d be surprised,” You bit out. On the other end, Vince hummed in response. 

“Tell me, my prodigy. What is it that pushed you to contact me now, after months of running?”

“It’s just that,” You replied, your heart now ricocheting in your chest. This was it. What came next were the lies, and you hoped and prayed that he would buy them, “I’m tired of running. I want to know what it’s going to take for you to end this, to let all of this stop.”

“Aw, now tell me the truth darling,” Vince tsked, and you nearly lost your cool as you waited in dread-filled anticipation for what he would say next, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that Mandalorian that you’ve had as your guard dog, now would it?”

You made sure to wait a beat to respond, “He left me on Serenno. Now I’m on my own, and I think we both know how long I’ll last like that.”

There was another pause, and your mind was racing with the possibilities of what would happen should he not believe you. 

Vince sounded humored when he finally responded, “He left you. I’m sorry child, but I’m starting to see a pattern here. First your parents, and now your bounty hunter.”

“Watch your mouth, Vince.” Your anger was not forced. 

“Oh, I struck a chord there.” Then he paused again, and laughed suddenly into the silence, “Oh no, please don’t tell me you grew to care for this bounty hunter.”

Suddenly, Din’s gaze on you was burning hot and your heart missed more than one beat. You had to grapple to keep your composure, for it felt almost exposing to have this topic brought up when you knew you wouldn’t have to lie as much.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He left, and now I need to know what it’s going to take for you to end this hunt,” You gritted out. 

“Come back to me, then I’ll call it off.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Not a chance,” You assured, your pulse racing a bit faster, “You’re a businessman, Vince. Let’s make a deal.”

This was it. That was the bait, now you just had to wait and see if he’d take it. 

And if you knew anything about Vince Hanon, you knew that he couldn’t deal over a comlink.

“Tempting,” He pondered, seeming to pause to consider the trap laid before him. You were sure he considered that possibility, that the Mandalorian had not left and you were setting him up, which you were. Luckily for you, Vince Hanon had always underestimated you. 

“Tell you what,” Vince finally decided, making you sit up a bit straighter and look over at Din briefly in anticipation, “Come back to homebase, alone. We’ll talk and see if we can’t come up with something.”

“And how am I supposed to be sure you’re not going to attack me as soon as I do?” I questioned in return.  Vince laughed heartily across the comlink.

“Oh how I’ve missed you, my prodigy,” Vince chuckled, sighing to himself, “We’ll make it a neutral zone. You have my word if I have yours.”

You knew he was lying, but you could lie too.

“Done,” You reply. 

“Good,” Vince purred, his voice making your stomach turn, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I have missed you.”

That was the one part that you could not be sure was a lie or not. 

“See you then,” Was all you said in response before shutting off the comlink and sitting back with a huff of relief. After a brief pause of silence, you glanced up to see Din already looking at you. 

“Told you it would work.”

Din nodded, standing up from his spot across from you, “Now for the hard part.”

The two of you had walked through this plan at least a hundred times in the last week. It was simple. Get access to Vince’s homebase, get him to talk with you, and then, when his guard was down, Din would come in through one of the secret passages only you and Vince knew about and help you end this for good. 

You stood as Din made his way over to you and handed you a small pouch heavy with metal, “Here’s enough credits to get a ship. There’s a shipyard a couple hundred paces from where we’re docked. Get one and head straight for the homebase. I’ll trail you there tomorrow morning.” You accepted the credits gratefully and nodded, “Remember, be careful. Vince will have all of his outposts looking for you. He doesn’t trust me anymore, he’ll be expecting you.”

Din nodded stiffly, “I’ll make sure the kid is safe with Peli before I leave.”

You nodded in return, and the two of you stood there in tense silence for a moment. You both knew what was coming next, and you both knew the risks.

“It’s gonna work. I know it will,” Din assured. You took in a deep breath, your brows drawn in worry as you met his gaze through the dark of his mask. 

“It has to.” You suddenly were slammed with a piercing ache in your chest as you realized this was a goodbye. Even if it was just for now, it scared the hell out of you. 

You didn’t want to leave him.

Without uttering another word, Din stepped forward and tugged you close to him. He seldom hugged anyone, and had only done so once with you when you had completely broken down before him on Serenno. Now here he was, holding you just as close as you were holding him. 

“Thank you,” You breathed, not moving back an inch, “For everything. I could never repay you for all of this.”

“You’re not gonna pay me for helping you. I’m not in this for a profit.” He rumbled, and his voice once again reminded you of what home really was, “If I was, I would’ve turned you in months ago.”

A surprised laugh broke through you and you stepped back, reluctantly pulling yourself out of his arms, “Another joke, this is becoming a new habit.”

“Only for you, cyar’ika.” His voice was like honey to your soul and you were reminded of how addicted you were. 

How in the hell did this happen? When you first met him, he was a hunter and you were his bounty. He then became your reluctant protector, which you could understand enough, but now….Somehow Din Djarin went from a reluctant protector to the one person who made you believe in fate. 

“Be safe, Din.” You instructed as you slowly walked back. 

“You too.”

And then you left, turning around and heading for the shipyard he pointed out. As you did, your heart stayed right there with the beskar-coated Mandalorian. 

His hands were safe, they would protect your heart. Even if he wasn’t aware he had it yet. 

|||

Walking back along Vince’s turf, you realized just how many scars you bore from this place. 

Some were physical, but most were internal. Either way, those scars reminded you of the caution you needed to proceed with and exactly what was at stake. Those scars helped you walk with assurance into the mansion that you had fled from what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“There you are! The lost child finally comes home.” Vince’s voice echoed through the halls of his mansion, making adrenaline spike instantly through your veins. The crime boss walked to meet you in the foyer of the mansion, his lips alight with a smirk but his eyes uneasy. 

“She came alone, sir,” One of the five guards with you reported, before holding up a single blaster gifted to you by Din, “She was armed only with this.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, prodigy?” Vince mused, taking the blaster and examining it for a moment before tossing it aside. The metal guns slid across the polished floor.

“Five guards, is that really necessary Vince?” You inquired, gesturing to the five hulking members of Vince’s crime organization around you. All of them were familiar to you. In fact, you were close friends with most of them before your fallout with Vince. To be on the other side of this was about as unpleasant as you assumed it would be 

“As I said, you are full of surprises. I had to be sure you would hold up the neutral zone,” Your old boss replied, examining you closely for a moment before turning and leading you off into the mansion you knew like the back of your hand, “Come. Let’s find a place to talk.”

Vince led you off into the bulking facility, finally guiding you into the massive conference room where he holds most of his meetings. The room sat near the highest floor of the mansion and jutted out the side, leaving nothing between you and the floor hundreds of feet below except for a solid, metal floor. 

To fully convey the type of business meetings Vince held here, there was a large, circular hole in the middle of the floor near where Vince finally stopped walking. Air roared in through the hole, and you didn’t have to question what it was for. You’d seen Vince use it before when clients were being…less than compliant. The drop was fatal, and there was no one who had ever survived it.

“Now, you wanted to talk so badly. So talk, child.” Vince announced, turning to you with an almost taunting gaze. 

You wasted no time getting to the point, “What is it going to take for you to stop this hunt?”

“Woah now,” Vince chuckled, clasping his hands before himself, “Let’s ease into this. First, I have a question I have just been dying to ask you.”

He took your silence that followed as a sign to continue on, “Just how did you manage to get the Mandalorian bounty hunter to be your loyal guardian?”

“I don’t know why he did it,” You responded truthfully. You left it at that, not wanting to do the ‘small talk’ thing with Vince. 

“I mean, it really is quite interesting. A bounty hunter as respectable as the Mandalorian tracks you down, but instead of cashing in my generous bounty, he helps you evade me. Then again, you always did know how to sweet talk, didn’t you?”

His words bit into you and you absorbed them with as much composure as you could. Surprisingly, you found that they did not hurt you as much as they would have months ago. Vince’s words are beginning to mean less to you with every passing day. 

“Get to the point, Vince.” You drawled out. He is unfazed by your words and continues on his tangent as he often does.

“What really boggles me, though, is that he just left. He didn’t cash in your bounty, he just…left. Why is that?” Vince presses, looking like a cat that has caught a mouse in a trap. You refused to be trapped, though, and didn't cower away. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Vince hummed to himself, his eyes seeming to pierce straight through you, “So you do care for him, then.”

That took you by surprise, but you absorbed it as best as you could. 

“Until he left me,” You admitted, deciding to allow Vince a hint of truth caught in the lies you were spinning, “But I guess you and I both have a habit of caring for people we probably shouldn’t.”

Finally, you were able to catch him by surprise with your biting retort. Even the guards around you seemed to take in a collective, sharp gasp. Vince’s gaze faltered, and you could see the fury he kept well-hidden behind his smirks and calm facade. 

“You wanted to do business, so let’s do business,” He averted, and you took the small victory his avoidance indicated.

“I’ll call the hunt off with one condition. Come back to work for me, and all will be forgiven.” This time, you actually laughed.

“You’re kidding, right?” You retorted, looking at Vince as though he was insane, “I came here to compromise. You want me to work for you again, but I never will. Now, we have to find a common ground. We have to make a deal.”

“I’ve taught you well,” The crime boss admitted. All the while, your mind was split. You knew that Din was somewhere close by right about now, and you would only need to stall for a little while longer before he showed up. 

“What do you propose?” You pushed, needed to continue the conversation to give Din more time to get into the mansion. Vince paused for a long while, and the guards around began to get antsy in the silence. They shifted from foot to foot before finally Vince broke the silence. 

“Here is your deal,” He finally spoke, his eyes lit up with excitement as he surveyed you, “I will give you a test. If you pass, I’ll call off the bounty. I’ll even publicly announce a penalty if anyone still pursues to take or harm you.”

You went to respond when he pressed on, “And you will have your freedom from me.”

This was where you faltered. You knew that Din was close and that soon enough everything you were dealing with Vince would not even matter, but his offer still made you pause. Interested, you couldn’t help but take the bait. 

“What’s the test?” You asked warily.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Vince hummed, shaking his head at you, “You’ll have to take the deal before I tell you.”

That was a dangerous game. You had no idea what his ‘test’ was, and you knew that whatever it was would not be pleasant. But, you were running out of time to stall Vince and you needed to buy Din more time. 

So, you did exactly what he wanted you to do. Din would be here soon anyways, what would the deal really stand for?

“Deal,” You agreed. You watched surprise flicker across Vince’s features. He hadn’t expected you to agree so easily. Looking all too pleased with himself, Vince clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful!” He turned to gesture to two of the five guards surrounding the room, “Please bring in our test.”

The two guards spared you a long glance, and in that glance you noticed a shred of pity. These were people you grew up around, people whose lives you’d saved and who had saved yours. To see them hesitant to do Vince’s bidding made you even more uneasy, but it brought you a shred of hope. If these guards still shared a thread of loyalty to you, maybe they would not kill you if it came to that. 

You were so focused on thinking about your own survival that you didn't even realize the guards were dragging someone, not something, into the conference room until a glint of light on metal caught your eye.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you looked up, because there he was. Your Mandelorian. He was in cuffs, stripped of his weapons, positioned right near the open hole in the floor, and…

A gasp left your lips and before you could register what was happening your eyes were locking with his. Not his mask, with his eyes. They took his helmet off, and now you were looking at Din Djarin’s face. 

You allowed yourself one selfish second of taking in the sheer rugged beauty of his features that nearly knocked you off of your feet before you forced your eyes to train on Vince. If you closed your eyes like you wanted to, it would give away too easily just how deeply you cared for Mando. You didn’t want to shatter his anonymity, but you knew there was no escaping it. That didn’t stop the guilt that shriveled in your gut, or the memory of those piercing brown eyes that was being burned into your brain. 

“What the hell is he doing here?” You asked, masking your sudden, rising panic with feigned anger. Vince looked all too smug as he waltzed over to Din and placed a hand on his beskar-armored shoulder. His face was drawing you in like a magnet, but you forced yourself not to look. Din didn’t choose to do this, to break his code and his way of life, you couldn’t violate him like that. 

No matter how badly you wanted to see his breathtaking face again.

“I caught him on the outskirts of my mansion,” Vince replied, making you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from flinching or showing your terror, “Which is interesting since you just said that he had left you.”

“He did,” You asserted, not fully being able to hide the tremble in your voice, “On Serreno. I don’t know why he’s here.”

Vince laughed at that, “Oh I have a few ideas. Your freedom depends on which one of them is true.”

“What’s the test?” You gritted out, your heart beginning to keep an irregular beat. 

“The test is simple,” Vince announced, walking away from Din who was surrounded by two of the three guards and approaching you, “Prove to me that you do not care for the Mandalorian.”

“What?” you breathed out, growing more and more erratic with each passing moment. Vince just kept on smiling

“Prove to me that he means nothing to you. Prove that he’s not here because he never left you at all and this is all a trap for me. Prove that you do not care for him.” His words were dripping with arrogance, but you knew Vince Hanon well enough to see the truth. His words rang with jealousy. 

Vince could not stand the very thought that you could care for someone who was not him. He wanted to be the only person you truly cared about, he wanted you to love him like a little girl would her father, he wanted you to love him like he loved you. 

But a father would never do this, and this wasn’t love. 

You had always wanted to love Vidar like you saw other children love their parents. You wanted him to be the father you had lost so badly that you were willing to convince yourself that he really cared and that you did too. You both had been lying to yourselves, but it was too late now.

Now, you had to play along and find a way to save the one person you truly cared for.

“How?” You asked, trying to look as calm as you could. Vince seemed surprised by your sudden shift in character and seemed to lower his guard for a moment. He grabbed the blaster the guards had confiscated from you and shoved it into your hands.

“Take this, and shoot your Mandalorian in the head.”

Your world seemed to stop as you simply stared down at the gun in your hands. No longer being able to avoid it, you gave in to your desires and looked up to lock eyes with Din. He was already staring right at you, so as soon as your eyes met, something broke within your gaze so that only Din could see it. 

He was so so handsome, and you realized that they had taken off his helmet not just to allow you to shoot him, but to try and shake you as well. Before you could even turn the blaster on Vince, your boss interrupted, “And don’t even think about shooting me instead. If you do, Mando here will be dead before I can even hit the ground.”

On cue, the two guards who you were raised with lifted their blasters to point at Din from either side. True helplessness welled up in your gut. There was no way out of this. There was no way you could save him without giving yourself up. 

As you raised your blaster to point at Din’s head, you knew you couldn’t do it. Din saw the brief flash of defeat flicker through your gaze, and his features went from nervous to utterly frantic. He didn’t dare say a word, but he shook his head the slightest bit. His intentions were clear.

Do it, Din was practically screaming at you, Kill me. Don’t go back to Vince.

The blaster shook in your hands, and you once again saw the pity on the guards' faces as tears blurred your vision. With every moment that passed, your facade crumbled. It was plain to anyone in the room that you were moments from agreeing to go back to Vince, and Din was growing more and more restless.

“Come on,” Din breathed, so low you could barely hear it. 

Your heart was shattering within your chest and a single tear managed to slip down. That was your tipping point, and you no longer tried to hide the quivering of the blaster in your hands. Din’s gaze was growing desperate the more distraught you became, for he knew exactly what you were going to do to save his life. 

In an act of pure defeat, you dropped the blaster with hot tears already slipping past your defenses. Din struggled slightly against the vice grips the two guards had on him, and it only deepened the crack opening in your chest. When your eyes clashed with his, you knew this was it. 

You looked over to Vince, not able to look at the despair in Din’s gaze. Just as you were about to say you were going to go back to Vince, you noticed the twitch of pure rage across your old boss’s features. There was a flicker of jealousy that quickly followed, and then, quicker than you could stop it, Vince took a step closer to Din.

“Always have to do it myself,” Vince spat, turning to the Mandalorian and kicking him squarely in the chest.

You gasped in horror as Din’s eyes went wide and he stumbled backwards towards the opening in the floor leading to a couple hundred foot drop.

“NO!” You cried out, shoving away from the guards around you and tossing the blaster aside. The only thing you could see was the Mandalorian falling without his jetpack that they no doubt stripped from him.

You sprinted as hard as you could, and before anyone could stop you, you dove and slid across the hard floor. You slowed to stop at the edge of the hole and threw your arm down, managing to latch onto the cuffs bracing Din’s arms just as he fell through. 

The weight of Din snapped you forward towards the hole, and you had just enough time to brace a foot against the lip of the hole as you held fast to your Mandalorian. Your soul-sighing relief at catching him did not last long when his weight held by one of your hands on his cuffs dislocated your shoulder with a sickening crunch.

Your scream of agony echoed through the meeting room, and you managed to pry open your eyes to peer down at Din through the roaring of wind. Your eyes met his as he dangled hundreds of feet above the ground, the only thing keeping him alive being your already-weakening hand secured to his restraints. 

“Din,” You breathed, your tears falling down into the wind. 

The horrifying sound of cracking metal made you snap your attention to his restraints. Under his weight, they were beginning to bend and fail. 

“You gotta let me go,” Din choked out, and more tears fell on cue. You shook your head almost violently, your vision dotting with white amidst the blinding pain. 

“Help him!” You begged, your voice raw and cracking, “Help him, please!”

One of the guards moved to help you, but Vince stopped them with one raised hand, “I will. If you agree to rejoin my organization.”

“No!” Din’s sudden shout, something extremely rare for the Mandalorian, took you by utter surprise, “Don’t. Please.”

More cracking sounded from his restraints, and in a matter of seconds, the metal binding his hands together had begun to snap apart. You had enough time to latch onto one of his wrists just as the restraint integrity failed and snapped apart, but the weight of holding him by one hand only now nearly tore you apart in anguish.

You couldn’t lift him on your own, not with your shoulder in this state. You couldn’t save him, not without damning yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, looking down at the man who had saved your life. 

“Cyar’ika please, don’t do this. Just let me go,” Din pleaded. 

You could tell that he was trying to pry his hand free from yours to make the choice for you, but you held fast to his wrist.

“I can’t.” Your breath was almost lost to the wind, but it was loud enough for Vince and his men when you spoke next.

“I’ll do it, I’ll come back to you! Just help him.” And with that, your fate was sealed. 

The guards sprung into action, darting forward and grabbing onto the Mandalorian and tugging him out of the hole. Relief danced with misery in your chest as you helped drag him fully out. As soon as his body was out, Din slid away from the drop off and tugged your body instantly into his. 

You melted into him, dropping your head into the crook of his neck and savoring the feel of his stubble. One of his arms was wrapped around your back diagonally, holding you impossibly close. With the other, he gently prodded your injured shoulder. You hissed instantly in pain, wincing as his fingers danced across it. 

“I know, darling. I know,” Din murmured, then held you closer as he quickly and expertly relocated your shoulder. Your cry of pain was short and immediately chased with a relief of pressure that made you drop further into him. One of his hands found your jaw and angled your face so your forehead was pressed against his. 

Skin on skin, breaths mingling—it would be heaven if you didn’t know the hell of saying goodbye was on the horizon.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, not caring what the two of you looked like to everyone else in the room with you practically in his lap, “I’m so sorry.”

“None of that,” Din urged, his nose brushing yours, “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

There was such defeat in his tone that it tore you apart. There was so much you hadn’t told him, so much he didn’t know about how you felt about him. You did not have to look around to know that the five guards who were once your family were watching the ordeal with a somber facade.  

“Din-”

“I know,” He whispered, his lips brushing yours and sending electricity crackling through your body. 

You knew Vince was watching your every movement and you knew that if he was jealous before, he’d kill you for this, but you did not care. All you cared about was that the Mandalorian was holding you close and his lips were so close to yours that they almost touched. 

So you leaned forward and pressed a feather light kiss to his lips. 

You wanted more, and you could tell from the way Din almost chased your lips after you pulled away that he did too. You couldn’t, though. Not if you didn’t want Vince to kill him. But that one small, fleeting kiss was enough to ignite you, to strengthen you, to forever rip you apart. A confirmation of what was swirling in your chest and a reminder of what now could never be.

It was Vince Hanon’s voice that broke the silence, but not in the way you expected him to. 

“You love him.” Not a question, a statement. 

The words jolted through you, but you accepted them with a bittersweet ache of your chest. You locked your gaze with the dark brown eyes of the Mandalorian and nodded, “I do.”

Those two words seemed to shatter whatever was left in the depths of those brown eyes. There was a solemn silence that followed your response, and when Vince spoke next, it was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“Take him and go.”

Not daring to hope in the words just uttered, you swiveled around to lock your gaze with the equally broken one of your old boss. Vince Hanon looked down at you and for once, you could see a flicker of the love of a father in his torn eyes. 

“What?” You breathed. Vince swallowed hard and held his jaw tightly. 

“Take him and go,” He repeated, his eyes softening upon the closest thing to a family  that Vince had ever known, “You’re free.”

Not waiting to see if he would change his mind, Mando and you managed to climb to your feet. Instantly, you looked to the nearest guard who looked at you with…happiness. 

“His helmet and jetpack,” You inquire, to which the guard nods and jogs away to go and grab Din’s belongings. The Mandalorian’s hand dropped to grab onto yours and you looked over at him with a bright, uncontrolled smile. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to see his face at the end of this, so you tried to capture every detail. 

“Didn’t I tell you that it was all going to work-”

Your words were cut off sharply by the sound of a blaster followed by the explosion of searing heat through your upper torso. 

Bits of blood and seared flesh splattered across the beskar armor of the Mandalorian as, in the split second of happiness you both had allowed, Vince had changed his mind, and the love in his eyes had melted away as he lowered his smoking blaster. Your sharp groan of pain splintered through the shocked air, and your wide eyes met the petrified, fury-lined gaze of the Mandalorian.

“Y/N,” Din breathed, his arm circling your waist as you collapsed into him, “Y/N stay with me. Stay with me!”

His frantic voice was dulled in your ears as you slipped down to the floor. He followed you, cradling your body into his lap as your organs slowly began to shut down in the shock of the injury. Your breath came in gasps and you couldn’t seem to fill your lungs no matter how hard you tried. You managed to look over to Vince, who stared down at you in furious, jealous determination.

In his eyes you saw the answer to why he’d taken back his word—If I can’t have you, then neither can he.

“Kill the Mandalorian and dispose of the bodies,” Vince ordered flippantly, an ice cold wall slamming down within his mind. 

You clutched Din’s hand tightly, your half-lidded gaze slipping up to his. Not even thinking twice, Din held you close and shielded your body with his. It wouldn’t do much—you were already dying. You were going to die with him in his arms, and you could think of no better way to go. Just as you braced for the blaster shots, you heard the click of metal followed by an astonished gasp. Slowly, Din moved away from you and you heard him release a low, shaking breath. In your half-delirious state, you managed to look over to the source of the commotion. 

There was Vince Hanon, standing in shocked outrage as the five guards he’d just ordered to finish you and Din off now stood with their weapons pointed at Vince.

“Sorry boss,” One bit out, his chin lifted high as he defended you, “This one’s personal.”

At the rollercoaster of grief to panic to relief and back, your body slumped further into Din now that you knew the two of you were safe. 

Well, at least he was.

“Get the med kit!” Din shouted to one of the guards, who readily sped off to the corner of the meeting room and grabbed the bacta kit that was kept there for emergencies. Din looked back to you, running his hand along your hair, “You’re gonna be okay, cyare. You’re gonna make it.”

“Can we go home now?” You breathed, your eyelids growing heavier by the moment. Din nodded, running a finger along your cheek. 

“We’re gonna go home,” He vowed. 

It was his vow that allowed you to blissfully drift into the comfort the darkness brought you. 

|||

Arriving into consciousness was a series of steps. 

You remembered flashes of light and sound and beskar steel all wrapped in darkness and sleep. There were groggy memories of strong hands and whispered vows as you slowly ascended back into the waking world. 

When you finally awoke, you barely felt the pain you’d fallen asleep with.

As you slowly sat up, one hand braced against your barely tender and mostly healed torso, you took in the familiar surroundings of the Crest. With furrowed brows, you glanced around the small cramped room that had been yours during your months with the Mandalorian. 

Din. 

The thought shot you out of your half-awake stupor, your mind sharpening at the chaotic memories that infiltrated it. You and Din had survived. You had escaped Vince and you survived. 

Even though a part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and delay whatever conversation was coming, you forced yourself to stand on wavering feet. Instantly, you could feel the ache of the shoulder you had dislocated and a slight burn of pain where you had been shot.

With more strength than you previously thought you’d have, you stumbled out of your room and into the hull of the ship. The space was empty, but you heard the wafting of a voice from the cockpit above. So, gathering what little strength you had, you managed to make it up the ladder and up into the cockpit. As you swayed to your feet on the solid floor, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Din sitting in the pilot’s chair with the youngling beside him. 

“I don’t know, kid,” You heard him sigh, turning from the child to look out the front of the ship and into the space beyond, “She’s been out for three days. She should be awake soon.”

His voice was unsure, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your beskar-plated protector. The child noticed you before Din could, and his large dark eyes connected on you. The youngling let out an excited squeal and jumped down from his chair, scurrying over to you. 

“Hey kid what are you-”

Din’s voice cut off sharply when he heard your laugh and turned to see you hoisting the small, green child into your arms, “I missed you too, buddy.”

You smiled sweetly down at the youngling who nuzzled into you, melting your heart as you held him close. Even though your gaze was down on the kid, you could feel Din’s burning stare on you. Looking up, you smiled at the sight of that familiar helmet. 

“Morning,” You greeted. When Din slowly stood and said nothing, you gently set down the kid. You saw him take a shuddering breath, almost unnoticeable if he wasn’t the sole focus of your attention. 

“You shouldn’t have come up the ladder, could’ve gotten hurt.” Was all he said. You laughed softly.

“I think a fall from a small ladder would be the least of my injuries right now,” You pointed out. There was a dragging silence that followed, and your smile faded. There was no avoiding the conversation to come, “Din, I’m so sorry. So many things went wrong back there and I-”

Din just shook his head and moved so swiftly that it made your words stutter in shock. Before you could finish your apology, Din was pulling you into him. His grip was firm, but gentle around your injured shoulder. Now that he was touching you, you could feel the tremble of his hands. 

“I almost lost you,” He mumbled. Sudden, hot tears sprung to life in your eyes. 

“I almost lost you,” You reminded, holding him a bit tighter, “How am I alive?”

“Right after the shot, Vince’s guards helped stabilize you with bacta before we could get you to a chamber.”

You nodded, your throat nearly closing up at the thought of Vince’s guards turning on him. Now that your mind was upon the subject, you mumbled against Din’s chest, “And Vince?”

“His guards turned him over to the New Republic on attempted murder charges. They’re bringing the whole organization down.” Din answered, one of his hands stroking your hair.

You thought that hearing those words would burden you with guilt or haunt you with sour memories. But, for the first time since Vince took you in at seven years old, something within you could rest. It was over. The pain, the loneliness, the obligation to serve a man who you felt indebted to—all of it was over. 

Before you could reply, Din swiftly pulled back and slid his hands to cup your cheeks. Your heart missed two separate beats before it settled back into rhythm.

“Next time your life and mine are on the line, let me die.” It was not a suggestion, it was an order. 

“I can’t do that,” You all but whispered. He shook his head vehemently.

“Let. Me. Die. Are we clear?” Din repeated, no room for negotiation in his tone. You held his gaze through the beskar helmet for a long pause before a sad look passed through your gaze. You were transparent, and you knew there was no longer anything you could hide from him. 

“Let’s hope we’re never put in that position again,” Was all you could respond with that would be true. Din just shook his head at you, releasing your face and mumbling something beneath his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘head-strong’.

“If you were in my position, would you not have done the same thing?” You couldn’t stop the question, and even though you hid your curiosity with a scoff, the question burned in your mind. 

Would he? You were almost positive that he would have, but you needed him to say it. You needed to know that you weren’t being delusional in the heat of a chaotic moment. 

You needed to know if what you felt was shared by him.

The question seemed to catch the Mandalorian’s attention and he sighed, reaching up a hand to trace it along your cheekbone, “In a heartbeat. Cyar’ika, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

For a moment, you swore your heart stopped beating. The two of you were dancing around what was at the forefront of both of your minds, but you couldn’t last out much longer. As you stared into the shining beskar of his helmet, you remembered the features of his face. His rugged jaw and kind, brown eyes. You remembered it all. 

“How the hell did we get here?” You breathed, smiling up at Din softly. He let out a slightly trembling breath.

“I don’t know,” Din replied, swiping his thumb across your cheek again before settling his hand under your jaw, “But I think I was made to love you.”

If your heart stuttered before, it gave out completely now. For a moment, the only thing left in the galaxy was you and him and the youngling staring up at the two of you with large, curious eyes. You were where you belonged. Smiling, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the cool metal of his helmet. 

“I love you too,” You whispered, walking past him and settling into the seat beside him. As you did, the youngling walked up and jumped into your lap, making you giggle softly, “Where to, Mando?”

Din, almost seeming dazed, stumbled slightly to his chair and sat heavily. You chuckled at him as he fumbled with the controls for a moment before he cleared his throat and seemed to gain his composure.

“I need to find more of my kind to help with the kid,” Din replied, looking over to the small green child sitting in your lap. 

“Well then,” You sighed contently, strapping yourself into the chair and making sure to secure the child, “Let’s go find them.”

Din reached out a hand and grazed yours with it, holding it for a moment before turning to the control panel and punching coordinates. As you watched him, you knew you could do this forever. 

You still didn’t quite understand what could make two unlikely paths tangle. After all, you never should have met the Mandalorian. And even when you had, he was meant to be your reaper, your reckoning. 

Instead, he had become your everything. 

And if you had to endure your parents’ abandonment a thousand times over just to meet Din Djarin, you would do it with glee. 

Over and over and over again. 

#din djarin #din djarin angst #din djarin oneshot #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #angst #fluff #star wars #din x reader #din djaren #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[suzypfonne]

Crowley is stretched out across the sofa, in the little sitting area at the back of the bookshop. There's a book opened over his eyes, blocking out the blinding lights from above. His sunglasses are folded on the small, wine-glass-littered table beside him. The bell over the bookshop door tinkles.

Without moving, Crowley flatly calls to the intruder, "Shop's closed. We don't have what you're looking for, and we wouldn't sell it to you even if we did."

"Crowley?" a small, familiar voice speaks tentatively into the librichor-drenched room.

The former demon bolts upright, the book falling to the floor, landing miraculously, undamaged. Crowley stares harshly at the beige shape standing in the shadow of the entry way.

"Crowley..." the angel's voice is shaking. All of him is, he fidgets absentmindedly with his ring. He clears his throat and begins, "We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet, a long time..."

"Don't mock me, Aziraphale!"

The angel takes a step forward into the light, and continues, "I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me." He's sobbing.

Crowley stands suddenly and strides quickly across the shop, stopping a few feet short of the angel. "Stop it! You can't do this, Aziraphale! You can't just show up and throw my own words back at me!"

"We're a team, a pair, a set. Matching bookends. And while we have spent our existence pretending that we aren't. I would like to spend..." his voice cracks remembering how utterly broken Crowley had looked the last time he saw him, eyes brimming with uncried tears.

"I can't do this again. I can't hide. I won't! We can't keep doing this... fucking... ineffable dance. It's insane. I'm going insane, Aziraphale. "

Haltingly, Aziraphale resumes, "I would like to spend... whatever life we have left... together. Being an us..." he trails off as he searches Crowley's face, hoping against hope that he's not too late.

Crowley's angry, bowed posture softens. "What?"

"I love you, Crowley. Please, however you'll have me. Boyfriends. Husbands. Wives. Any of them. All of them."

"Aziraphale... Angel...I..."

In the silence that follows, Aziraphale steps closer and closer, narrowing the gap between them. "I love you. In a way that humankind scarcely has the words to describe. Oh, dear boy, I could spend millennia trying and never quite get it right."

"I love you, too, angel. I tried to say it, before. You already had one foot out the door. I-I never thought I'd see you again. I never hoped to hear those words."

"Oh Crowley. My Crowley. How I've missed you. Please, do it again?"

"Do what again?"

"Kiss me? Darling, please, again and again and..." and the angel's lips are stopped with a kiss. A proper kiss.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fix it fic #my brain made me do it #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable lovers #go s2e6 #ineffable fanfic #ineffable ficlet #go ficlet #go fic #aziracrow

[nteabodies]

Quinlan frowned to himself. Obi-Wan had slipped into the dingy old building all alone more than an hour ago and no one had joined him yet.

Unlike the last time, when multiple armed and dangerous individuals had arrived within minutes of each other and he had caught Obi-Wan red-handed planning a slave rebellion with a known terrorist (he ended up helping Obi-Wan instead of reporting him, but it also kickstarted his hobby of Stalking Obi-Wan Whenever He Acted Suspicious).

But back to the situation at hand. He could not sense the force presence of anyone other than Kenobi inside the building, and he was beginning to get worried. The presence of an impatient pubescent teen who had begged to tag along was not helping either.

Perhaps it was time to crash this suspicious activity. He detached himself from the shadows of the alleys, taking Anakin (who had been crouching behind a dumpster) with him.

Quinlan put a finger to his lips before slowly easing the door to the building open, wincing when it let out a loud creak. Then he had to wince again because the apparently soundproof door had masked the song that was blasting throughout the room.

♫ Unbreak my heart ♫

It was a cramped, dingy room with a large table - a panel, Quinlan corrected to himself. It looked strangely similar to the control panel of a starship, but Quinlan could not recognise any of the buttons or levers. They had strange labels like Audio Input 2 and Mic 1 and Gain.

♫ Don't betray me again ♫

Strangest of all were the music players perched on top of the control panel, blasting the unfamiliar BK song.

♫ Undo this hurt you caused when you killed all of them and you– ♫

Where was Obi-Wan?

Quinlan felt a tug on his robes and he looked down at Anakin, who was in turn staring intently at the grimy wall behind the control panel. He squinted. There was an oddly placed transparesteel window looking into the next room, almost opaque with the buildup of dirt and stains. He could somewhat make out Obi-Wan's figure behind the transparesteel.

Obi-Wan was...he was...mouthing along to the lyrics of the BK song? In front of what looked like a professionally set up microphone, complete with a pop filter and headphones.

Wait a second. An unfamiliar BK song? Quinlan prided himself on keeping track of all BK songs to annoy Obi-Wan.

The song wasn't coming from a music player. It was Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was BK. He had been BK this whole time.

Without hesitation, Quinlan burst into the recording studio because it was so ridiculous but it made sense and oh Force he was never gonna let Obi-Wan live this down–

"Uncry these tears, I cried so many nigh– Quinlan! What the kriff are you doing here?"

"Obi-Wan! What language, and with a child present too!" Quinlan made his voice sound as disapproving as possible as he stepped aside and allowed the child in question to be in view.

Obi-Wan blanched as Anakin scowled at Quinlan.

Quinlan smirked.

"I think we both deserve an explanation, don't we, Anakin?"

Obi-Wan let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Can you let me finish recording this song, at least? I want to release BK's next album by next month, and it's not like I'm gonna have time after today what with that mission the Council's assigned me."

"Wait!" Anakin's eyes were as wide as saucers. "You're BK?!"

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands.

#pop star wars au #star wars #obi wan kenobi #quinlan vos #anakin skywalker #fanart #art #I am obsessed with this au

[meiieiri]

WATER’S EDGE EPISODE 2 | sneak peak.

a/n: my beta-reader dead@ass said they’d put laxatives in his food and lock all the nearby washrooms. 🥲 @angstbot2000, you are a genius among men and i love you so much 🫶🏻 anyway, this will *probably* appear soon so 😭

Your hands tremble as you hold your bouquet of white calla lilies and baby’s breaths. Surely you must have gone blind or something or this was all some sick dream, you desperately search the cathedral room with abject horror in your eyes. It couldn’t be…you take an uneasy step toward the witness as your wedding guests whisper amongst themselves, their hearts filled to the brim with condolences for you.

Something in you jeeringly mocks you as if to chide you for living too long in the forest of your fantasy, dodging every pocket of reality’s sunlight as it shines through the many trees you’ve cultivated with your delusions that this…whatever the hell this is…could miraculously work out in the end. That you stood a chance against all the cards that were catastrophically stacked against you, and that he could give you even just a scintilla of respect if it was truly impossible for him to ever learn to love you.

“Suguru,” you clutch the raven-haired prince’s hand as if by him squeezing your hand back, you could miraculously be put together again. “…I-I…” you gulp as you feel the dreaded words lodge deep in your throat, clogging your airways with uncried sobs.

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

“…Where’s Satoru?”

#fic: water’s edge #sneak peak: water’s edge #gojo satoru

[wearepaladin]

I'm making an oath of vengeance paladin (only my second paladin total I think) for a campaign some friends are running so I was wondering if I could get your perspective on that oath. What that oath means, how to uphold the oath, etc.

“The word ‘fury,’ as we use it today, implies chaotic, unfocused frenzy, but the Furies themselves embodied justified anger, stemming from an adamantine moral code. In Homer, they are curses made flesh, released upon those who commit a crime or threaten the natural order. Seneca the Younger calls them ‘they who with awful brows investigate men’s crimes and sift out ancient wrongs.’ In Ovid, they are the chthonic guards of souls judged too wicked for paradise. They are fearsome-looking creatures, unsmiling, uncrying (except, Ovid tells us, when Orpheus plays). They bristle with snakes—in their hair, wreathing their limbs, fastening their garments, held in their hands like whips. They dress in black or blood-red. Sometimes they breathe poison. This grotesque image might seem to be at odds with a righteous heart. But for anyone who might not be blameless, anger with reason and purpose and a will of iron is even more frightening than tumultuous, flailing rage.”

Jess Zimmerman

Essentially this. A proper vengeance Paladin is not an edgy monstrosity, flailing about answering perceived slight, but humans that have been hurt and seen others harmed, and know the need for vengeance as few others do. They exist to destroy those whom existence is desecration, and for them there is only one answer. The oath teaches to be mindful of consequences, to aid and restore what evil has wrought, but for that evil itself, forgiveness is not your choice.

Many oaths are about a form of enlightenment, while this is an oath about justice and being the one to bring it about for those most deserving. You can be the most utterly human and compassionate individual, in fact most who swear this oath are, because this is the only choice for them.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

(hi sorry yes I'm writing this trope again bc no one can stop me. I need Margim hurt/comfort like I need air ok. she's literally everything 2 me. I'm normal about them. I'm sooo normal about the traumatized berserker lady and her soft healer husband <- *lying*)

------

Blades cut, bones crack, orcs and men die screaming.

There is horror in the familiarity of it all, how readily it comes back, the sick feeling in my stomach, the deafening noise, the smell of sulfur and death, little rivers of blood before my feet, dripping from the hands of this monster they call the Executioner of the Pit. There is horror in how, almost, natural it feels to be here. How the life I built for myself in the north now feels so distant now, like a foolish dream, one that I have now awoken from and found myself back in the Pit of Thorzhaf.

At some point, I wake up from that nightmare. It does little to help. Ah, so it’s going to be one of those nights.

I sit up and rub the sleep away from my eyes with shaking hands. I shouldn’t expect to get any more of it now anyway, not when my sleeping mind has seen fit to torment me so every time I close my eyes. The house is mostly black, with only a dim trace of light emanating from the dying embers of the firepit, but I can still see clearly enough that it is my home in Lhan Tarren. I turn to see Celeair sleeping soundly in the bundle of blankets next to me, I’m relieved I did not wake him.

I can hear the rain outside, I try to find it comforting, for there was no rain in Mordor. The sound is usually a boon in quieting those memories, yet I do not think anything will drown them forever. Especially not tonight. 

I take deep, steady breaths, like Celeair told me to, but my heart still thrashes in my chest like a caged animal.

I know I am not in Mordor, I know I know I know, I am safe here, but the memory is so strong now, it drowns out all other sensations. I listen to the rain, I still hear screams. I grip the blanket with white knuckles, trying to feel its softness, but I still feel blades beneath my skin. A low rumbling of thunder becomes the uneasy murmurs of Orodruin, for a moment I can taste ash in the air, feel its heat on my skin.

This isn’t working. Unnamed and irrational terror grips my heart once again, and it will not let go so easily.

I consider waking Celeair. He could help. I want to let him hold me again. I need his soft voice and gentle hands to drive away this… this madness.

But my throat tightens and my hands tremble, my eyes burn with uncried tears. An all too familiar fear seizes my heart now. I could not speak without my voice breaking, I feel weak and pathetic. I cannot let him see me like this. I stand up, quickly and quietly as I can, and head outside. 

The rain pours down in heavy, loud sheets. The cold water shocks my skin as I walk further out. That’s good. Cold is good. It’s far away from Thorzhaf. I lift my face to the black sky and let the water wash over my face, quenching the burning in my eyes. The rain is loud, everything else seems quiet. Finally. I stand there for a long while, letting the rain be the only thing I feel, hear, and think as it soaks through my hair and clothes. I finally feel like I can breathe again.

I do not know how long it's been, but I guess I should head inside soon, although I am reluctant to leave this cold reprieve, everything I came out here to escape is all too likely to come back then. Maybe I can stay out a little longer.

I thought I heard someone say something, that’s odd-

“Margim…?” Celeair’s voice almost makes me jump, how long has he been out here? I see him standing nearby with his cloak drawn tightly around him, straining his eyes to see me in the darkness.

“Yes, I’m here,” I answer quietly, barely being heard over the rain.

“Are you alright?” A rhetorical question, for he already knows that the answer, if not an outright ‘no’, is most certainly not ‘yes’. I think that normally— and I will fully admit my point of reference for ‘normal’ is shaky at best— most people do not stand out in thunderstorms in the middle of the night when they’re having a good time. Suffice to say, I’m in no position to lie to him. But I hesitate, the worry in his eyes fills me with shame. “I… do not know,” I mutter in response.

He steps forward and gently takes my arm in his hands, “let’s go back inside,” he says softly, “I think this rain will do little good for either of us.” he takes a step back towards the door, and I wordlessly follow him back into the house. 

He wastes no time in stoking the firepit and providing it with fresh logs, and soon enough the room is lit up with an inviting orange glow. I stand nearby, half expecting an interrogation as to the reason I was seemingly trying to catch my death of cold, but Celeair asks nothing of me. Instead he just sits down in the small pile of furs near the fire, leaving plenty of room for me beside him. 

“Well, you’re not going to get very dry over there” he looks at me expectantly, but I can still detect concern in his voice. Reluctantly I sit down next to him, the heat from the fire feels soothing, and I try not to let it remind me of anything else.

“...I’m sorry,” I murmur, “I did not mean to wake you.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he says plainly, stretching out his hands to the fire to warm them “Truly, I think being awake is the least of my concerns at the moment.”

“It was only a nightmare, I did not mean to trouble you over it,” I look away from him, ashamed “I just… needed to clear my head.”

“You know, you don’t have to worry about waking me up next time, if you think it could be of any help. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I know… I wanted to but I… I don’t know why I couldn’t," the words come haltingly from me "It’s just… I felt so weak, on the brink of shattering, I couldn’t… I didn’t want you to see me like that.” my brow furrows in frustration, I make it sound like a matter of wounded pride, but that is not what I’m trying to say to him. I am not a prideful woman, I think there is little for me to be proud of. It’s just that Celeair is not a fighter, he knows not how to wield a blade nor has any desire to, so to a large extent he relies on me for protection. I don’t like letting him see me so weak. I want him to feel safe around me, like I can protect him from all harm, but how can he when I cannot even protect myself from myself? When I can be broken by a mere memory? I hate the thought of anyone seeing me in such a state, especially him.

Celeair reaches for my hand and gently holds it, his fingers slotting perfectly between my own. He says nothing, merely offering a simple gesture of comfort as he sits in thoughtful silence.

“In my line of work I see everyone at their lowest,” he says quietly after some thought, “rendered helpless by sickness or injury. I’ve tended to everyone from the common man to the mightiest of warriors, and never thought any less of them for it,” he gives my hand a gentle reassuring squeeze, “because no one is untouchable. You aren’t weak for being hurt.”

“I certainly don’t feel very strong either,” the slight tremble in my voice betrays that fact all too well.

“No one does, not when they’re in this much pain." his thumb gently bushes mine in a soothing motion, "It’s nothing to be ashamed of, especially after everything you’ve lived through.”

I just look on into the fire, not knowing what to say. I know he’s telling the truth, I know he is the last person in the world who would ever think less of me for even a display as pathetic as this, but it still feels pathetic nonetheless.

And, I do not think it’s just that… the thought of allowing myself to be so broken, openly, for someone to see -even someone I trust as much as Celeair- just feels so wrong. Terrifying, actually. Weakness and fear go hand in hand for me, where one is the other follows closely behind. If I am weak I am afraid, weakness meant death in Mordor, and it is an instinct that is not easily unlearned. I know that no harm will come to me here, but my heart never seems to believe it. 

“I am not ashamed, I’m just afraid.” I finally croak out, wishing my voice would not so readily betray the fact that I am on the brink of tears. I swallow hard and squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to bury the sorrow welling up in my eyes. To my credit, after a few shaky breaths, I manage it.

“Is there anything I might do to help?” he asks.

I pause in thought, I don’t know if there’s anything he can do to make this go away, but… “a hug couldn’t hurt,” I reply sheepishly.

Swiftly but gently Celeair puts his arms around my waist and pulls himself close to me. I instinctively return the hug, wrapping my arms tightly around him desperate to feel his warmth.

…and forgetting that my clothes have not yet had time to dry. “Oh. Now I’ve gone and soaked you too…” I mumble apologetically.

“Oh noo, how horrible,” he says with a soft laugh, laying his head on my shoulder as he snuggles closer to me, completely undeterred by my sopping wet clothes “I suppose we’ll simply have to huddle for warmth then, nothing else to be done about it.” I cannot help but smile slightly at his words. It’s a good thing he doesn't mind, because I do not plan to let go of him anytime soon. It's hard to think about much else when I'm holding him like this.

Everything is finally quiet again.

#lotro #lotro oc #Margim #Celeair #sorry other WiPs I got distracted by something else entirely...... again. #whoopsie!

[alienaiver]

shinsou hears the tone of your voice change and looks up from his book from his spot on the couch. you're in the study, on the phone with your parent and the lilt in your voice disappeared in an instant. he strains his ears when you lower your voice - you dont do it because you dont want him to listen; its a mechanism. you cave in on yourself and grow timid in the wake of whatever fury's being unleashed on you this time. he absentmindedly scratches smoofie's ear while closing the book on his lap. you stop speaking in complete sentences and just agree with whatever you're being told and shinsou's heart aches in the way he knows that you're slumped now, the excitement of calling them to tell good news completely washed away.

he gets up and grabs the remote to go into netflix. while it loads he quietly goes to the kitchen to brew you some tea and grab the secret snacks from the cabinet. smoofie follows along curiously, hoping some food might be put in her bowl. it dismays her to learn that she must live another hour without sustenance.

as if planned in timing, you come out of the study the same time that shinsou passes with a tray of tea and snacks. the uncried tears you've been bravely holding back breaches and you sniffle out an apology. he balances the tray in one hand to wrap the other around your shoulder to pull you in and kiss your forehead, "it's okay." he whispers definitively before he tugs lightly to get you to the couch.

he lies down on his side with his arms stretched out, ready to welcome you into the safety of them and you eagerly comply, getting as close as possible, your back to the TV.

without a word he finds howl's moving castle and press play. you hum out a sigh and nuzzle your face into his neck, a silent thank you. he kisses the top of your head before he laughs out, "youre not going to watch?"

"nuh-uh, the sounds are enough."

and they are. its a movie thats always immediately calmed you down. you lodge your leg in between shinsous and he raises his to wrap around your hip, positively encasing you.

you're fast asleep before howl's even found sophie, and shinsou feels a wave of gratitude that he found you and that he's able to provide comfort for you whenever you need it. the tea goes cold but your hearts stays warm and connected.

#idk how long this is. i will mayhaps proofread it tmrw as it is midnight and i just dinisjed sniffling into snøfles fur JSJSJSJSJSJ #needed to Get It Out as they say!!!! havent written in a while so it was nice (despite circumstanxe) to get the inspiration and motivation #making myself smile 🥹🧡🧡🧡 #bnha fluff #shinsou hitoshi fluff #bnha comfort #nohr.bnha #nohr.writing #comfort tag

[bee-bzz]

some Brazilian songs that represent some ppg couples because I think you guys are missing out on Brazilian music and I'd like to share.

(this is gonna be a long post so buckle up)

Blossick

"They tell me: the world is in your hands

I guess I let it go then

no, of course I don't love you

but in trying to forget you I'm already remembering us

and if I remember, don't answer me

I swear I don't love you, I just had too much to drink" - Não Te Amo (don't love you), Jão

"I won't talk about love, no

because I don't like anyone

if one day I did, what a shame

(...)

and I won't talk about your eyes

it makes me say the things that I'm afraid to

because they show me what I didn't want to see

and I won't even mention your mouth

I won't say I love you

after spending so long trying to hide it

and I don't even know what I'm talking about

every time I open up I give you an opening to fuck me up" - NÃO VOU FALAR DE AMOR (won't talk about love), Lagum

"Why did you never love me?

why did you hurt me

pretended, lied, never loved me

I wish I could tell you that I

never felt anything for you

I wish that I could uncry

the tears that already ran

and if it already ran (it'll dry)

and if it already dried (no one saw)

I will send it there, to the bridge that fell

this letter that doesn't say" Carta Que Nao Diz (letter that doesn't say), Mariana Froes, Rodrigo Alarcon, Ana Muller

Butchercup

"I like being immature with you

I like to give myself and get lost

I want to be able to nag you on your every manner

smoking anything, just to entertain myself

I risk my life just to see you

all of our youth runs through our veins

it's just, I'm weak, fragile and stupid

to talk about love

but if it's with you, I'll do it" Imaturo (immature), Jão

"The first time I saw you

something told me

"this is gonna end badly"

on the second time, I had the same impression

but I'm not one to listen

to my intuition

it's like something between chaos and stress

but that kind off messes me up

in a good way

baby, don't make me crazy

because I already am

it's just, there really should be a test

anything, a simulation perhaps

to avoid getting into a trap

instead of a relationship

you tell me you hate my outfit

and I really love your dress

when I have the chance to take it off

you tell me that you love me

and I hate you

in a strange way

because nothing is weirder than loving" - EU TE AMO (I Love You), Lagum

"Tell me you hate me

but say you don't live without me

I'm a plague

miss "no shame" from your garden

you're jealous

but you love to watch me dance" - Bem-Me-Quer (He Loves Me, like from the "he loves me, he loves me not" thing), Rita Lee

Boomubbles

"I made these blues for Bia

but Bia won't come and hear

I won't censor the beauty

it's in her nature

living loose around here

I composed sweet melodies

so she would be moved by them

I rhymed with melancholy

my day-to-day without Bia

but Bia doesn't care" - Blues Pra Bia (Blues for Bia) , Chico Buarque (he's like a father to me)

Note: translating this man's songs is almost sacrilegious. Please go listen yourself to at least feel the vibe a little bit. He's a master of lyricism.

"Whoever sees you walking past me like this

doesn't know what suffering is

having to see you in this way

always so pretty

contemplate the sun of your eyes

losing you in thin air

in the certainty of a love

thinking of myself as nothing

because without your kindness

I feel so alone

I drown myself in loneliness" Anna Júlia, Los Hermanos

"Love of my life

from here until eternity

our destinies were traced since maternity

cruel passion, unbridled

I bring you a thousand stolen roses

so you can forgive all of my lies

and all of my blunders

exaggerated, thrown at your feet

I really am exaggerated

I adore a crafted love" - Exagerado (exaggerated), Cazuza

#Spotify #ppg #powerpuff girls #rowdyruff boys #ppg blossom #ppg brick #ppg boomer #ppg butch #ppg buttercup #ppg bubbles #blossick #butchercup #boomubbles #ppg reds #ppg greens #ppg blues #Brazil #Brazilian music #chico buarque #los hermanos #rita lee #lagum #Jão #cazuza #mariana froes #rodrigo alarcon #ana muller

[actual-changeling]

Crowley screamed for Her when he fell because She wasn't the one who cast him out, she couldn't have been; the love so bright it blinded him whenever he reached for it was real, is real, it has to be.

He did not scream for God or the Almighty, he cried for his Mother, the one who had smiled at him with a tenderness unlike any other and named him Starmaker.

They rushed by him, his stars, when he fell, colourful streaks blurred by the tears in his eyes as the grace defining his every cell left him, scream after scream. Crowley called for Her, seeing blinding white taking shape, and he dared to hope, stretching out an arm right before the flames of hell swallowed him whole.

In his weakest moments, curled up on the concrete of his balcony with his face bared to the sky, he tries to believe that a hand, slender and familiar, had been reaching for him. Tries to believe that She still loves him, that She never left him even though he left Her.

Crowley stretches one hand skywards, watching the stars twinkle between his fingers, and all he has left to offer is a whisper, the same question that ripped him away from everything good, everything light.

"Why?"

Every time, he asks. Every time, all he receives is silence, and then he waits until dawn washes away his creations. Crowley unfurls his wings on those mornings, presses them to cold concrete and metal in a doomed attempt to try and soothe the ever-present burn caught in his feathers.

If he closes his eyes, dizzy with uncried tears and cramping muscles, the morning sun slowly warming on his face, it almost feels like it did back then when he was tumbling through nebulae and constellations; rage and disappointment both so laced with fear they became one and the same.

Sometimes, when the tethers connecting him to hell and earth are two shackles holding him down, he thinks about flying as high as he possibly can just to let go and feel the air rushing through his feathers - so he can pretend there is nothing waiting for him, nothing but stars and more stars, and empty spaces for him to fill.

When he inevitably moves, his wings stiff but momentarily soothed, he remembers that he doesn't need to do anything at all to reclaim that feeling. It is enough to drive too fast with too much fizzling rage only to let himself be broken apart by his longing when Aziraphale is always, always an arm's length away.

Crowley lies on his back, the Bentley cold beneath him, one hand stretched out to the sky, reaching for the stars, reaching for him, his eyes violet, his lips familiar.

Sometimes he still thinks he can see Her reaching for him as his wings wither and his stars burn.

Sometimes he thinks he can see his angel looking back, his tears blinking comets burning up in the atmosphere.

Sometimes he thinks he never stopped falling.

-

edit: now with amazing art by @ghoullerr 💚💚

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #found this in my drafts and spontaneously decided to finish it #kinda tempted to turn this into a full fic #<- they say while pointedly not looking at the mountain of wips behind them

[miseryoforpheus]

ok Guts (spilled)

I am OBSESSED with obsessed

girl I’ve always been? OK POP OFF QUEEN ITS GIVING DOLLY PARTON AND IM LOVING IT

Scared of my guitar? Stunning. stranger? Yessssss queeennnn. I uncried my scared of my guitar tears

So American? AKSKFJDKSKSKKS AHHH LOUISSSSS YAYAYAYAYYAAYAYAY. Look ok I try hard not to ship real people but also…THEY ARE SO CUTE. Anyways the song is GORGEOUS I love it. Also was there like an 80s vibe to it or am I just projecting

#the most boring soap opera #olivia rodrigo #guts olivia rodrigo #spill your guts

[that-angry-noldo]

Alright bribe accepted

My promised Ornendil fic please ❤️

beloved i am SO sorry this took so long! i have written this a while ago but due to Unforseen Canon Detail had to scrap it before reviewing it today and tweaking some things. i hope you enjoy, and sorry it's so short <3

(cw violence, major character death)

-

His head is lifted high. It is all Ornendil can do.

Even as his bones ache from Castamir's torture — even as his heart beats as one of a startled rabbit — even as, back in his cell, his throat spasms and eyes water — Ornendil's head is lifted high.

He fights when he is cornered. Fights when his men are slain, one by one. Fights when he sees them approaching with ropes, fights when they manage to disarm him, growls and screams and fights when they bind him and beat him into the ground.

His head is lifted high.

He spits in Castamir's face when he is brought before him in chains. He snarls and struggles and roares when Castamir brings upon him all his malice, all his evil, all his cruelty.

His head is lifted high.

(And maybe, he does not want to die. Maybe, he hopes, desperately, that his father will ransom him, save him from the terrible suffocating darkness just as he did when Ornendil was but a little boy.

Maybe, all he wants is the release of tears, before he sees his final sunrise, before he's brought before the bloodthirsty mob.

Maybe, he is too alone. Too lonely, torn away from his father, his family, his people.)

His head is lifted high. They bind his hands behind his back, elbow to elbow, wrist to wrist. His head is lifted high. They laugh, and their fist connects with his face, their hands in his hair, cutting it rough and uneven.

His lips are split and bloodied. He grins, despite everything.

His head is lifted high.

They walk him to the gallows.

(Maybe, he wants to struggle. Maybe, he wants to scream and fight, to see his father's banners and yell in triumph.)

His head is lifted high. His voice is raised in a song, bright, loud, and strong.

They beat him. Gag him. Silence him.

He laughs, the sound muted.

His head is lifted high.

His heart beats, faster than a war drum.

They put the rope around his neck.

His eyes burn with uncried tears. The sun rises over him. His head is lifted high. He is trembling.

They kick the stool from under his legs.

Ornendil dies at dawn. They leave his body to the crows.

#ornendil #lotr #silm fic