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theomnicode · 1 year

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A true hero

Archive of our own

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Saitama looks at the group in front of him, runs a mental checklist and prepares himself to face the one godly being that has plagued Earth for so long. He gazes at his right fist and realizes...he’s actually scared shitless and can’t do it. That thought shakes him. It’s because he finally found his life actually worth living; he finally has friends, he has co-workers and other people he knows and is familiar with, he has found his soulmate in Genos, he managed to acquire a small cottage in the woods for both of them and Pochi is living with them, he’s now S-rank with good salary so he has a decent income now and if he just defeats this one being who started it all...he could rid the world of monsters forever. A very lofty goal and definitely a doable one with their group. So why can’t he take the leap and ascend to God’s dimension with Blast and his group anymore? Everyone is already waiting for him. For the first time in his life...he's afraid of losing. And losing it all and everything he has worked toward in his relatively short life, which has already felt like an eternity for him. For the first time, he's uncertain if he can actually defeat this enemy. Having finally found everything he sought for, including an insurmountably strong enemy...a long-forgotten feeling has begun to emerge. Fear for his own well-being. Not just for others. “What-if”-scenarios run in circles around his head endlessly and he feels tears prickling the side of his eyes and he blinks them away, frustration and anxiety taking hold. Saitama takes a shaky breath and turns around. He needed to talk to Genos. He asks Blast to give them a bit of space. He watches the sunset and thinks to himself that he needed quite a bit of more courage to actually do this. He quietly snorts at his thoughts as he watches Genos walk quietly towards him, as if beckoned by his less than optimistic thoughts; if he had nothing in this life, throwing it all away for a slim chance of full victory where nothing went wrong and with far less potential points where it could go completely wrong...it would be far, far easier deal… But then again, when has his life ever been easy to deal with? Looking back though, he wouldn't change a single thing. If he had it any easier, then he might not have become the person he was today. A hero.

Saitama turns to the cyborg who has walked to his side. “Genos, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Uncertain thoughts about the future still fly around his head, despite Genos being next to him and radiating strength. Genos always has that air around him and it’s something Saitama needed at this moment.

"What is it, sensei?" Genos questions.

Saitama sighs. He wasn't too sure how Genos would respond to this idea. “Genos...I'm having second thoughts about going.”

Saitama watches as Genos’ eyebrows furrow just slightly, not in anger but genuine confusion. “Why is that?”

Saitama takes a moment to gather himself and everything that’s swirling inside his mind and his own browns furrow into a less hopeful look. He looks away from Genos, into the sunset and the waves of ocean water gently lapping at the cliffside he’s standing on.

“If I’m honest, I’m just...scared, Genos. I'm scared shitless.”

Genos' visage grows concerned, eyes widening in mild alarm but Saitama continues on.

“I’m scared what will happen to me if I go. What if I lose myself again...what if I just...fail again...I don’t want to leave Genos. I want to stay. If I go, can I come back to experience everything as it is? Just do...fun things like watch movies, fish and shop for food and go swimming and-and...gghh…” he holds himself, taking a break from all that rambling, tears prickling the corners of his eyes and threatening to fall.

"What...what will happen to me if I fight that guy? Do I have to become a god to fight him? Something—something so monstrously strong that it shouldn’t walk on this earth anymore?” Saitama hiccups.

Tears start to fall down his face and he sniffs and cries openly now, teeth clenching in grimace. It has become easier to express emotion when Genos is nearby, he has noticed. After everything they've gone through together, everything they’ve experienced together.

He has to get to the bottom of this though. He has to say all the things that bother him, why he’s so scared of fighting god to Genos. Admitting it is so stupidly difficult and his throat keeps clogging, amidst all the tears.

“And yet...and yet…” He breaks down, openly weeping now, “if the heroes run away...who is left to fight?” He tries to gather himself, but the tears won't stop running down the bridge of his nose and he sniffles, trying to draw shaky breaths but utterly fails to do so and only manages to cry and keen and make small noises of distress.

The irony of his own statement is not lost on him.

Fighting God honestly feels like a trap. To trap him and everyone else in the other dimension, die and never see the light of new dawn again. That's why it scares him so much. He wants to see everyone again, feel the rain on his skin, eat food and do other mundane things. And if he just went alone, he would have to become monstrous in strength in order to defeat a thing like that and…there was no coming back from that finality. Even a sneeze would accidentally destroy the planet he lives on if he wasn’t careful.

Genos looks like he’s about to say something, not wanting to see his master in such disarray, but Saitama stops him. “I’m the only one who can fight him, Genos. No one else can. Nobody else can hold him back, he’s far too strong. I have to- I need to fight him...I care for everyone too much…” Saitama balls his hands into fists. “I don't want anyone else to suffer anymore...it has to end.”

“But I'm so scared. What if I become too strong? I want...I just want to live my life Genos, even after this.” He admits amidst more shaky inhales, snot running down his nostrils and his breathing trembles as he tries to steady himself to tell Genos his insecurities. He feels selfish saying all this out loud too; what is one life compared to the millions he could save with his selfless sacrifice?

Genos stands there, golden eyes fixated on him, all quiet and exuding security and it gives him the strength to tell him what is in his own mind. To be brave and face himself.

“I don't want to become a God, I want to be human. But to beat him, I need to become like him don’t I?” Saitama throws that open question in the air and still Genos says nothing, allowing him to ramble on. Still, Saitama can feel Genos’ support on his back, just listening to his rambling.

“I don't want to Genos...I’m so scared, I don’t want to... ghhhh…” he inhales, “I don't want to lose this, I want to come back home. I want to live but if I don't go then who will fight him? I’m the only one who can fight him in the end, I’m the only one who is strong enough…”

Sometimes, he hated being this strong. To be the only one who could beat such insurmountable odds and to have all this pressure stacked against him. He has support from Blast and his group but he’s still just one person.

Saitama closes his eyes, drawing deep breaths. “It hurts Genos. All this suffering. It hurts. I need to do something, he keeps hurting people. But I’m so afraid to go, Genos.”

There, he said his piece. Saitama rubs his eyes, red from far too much crying and tries to clean the snot from his running nose and sniffles. “Thanks for listening, Genos,” he breathes out sincere thanks to his utterly wonderful disciple for letting him vent out all those feelings without judgment.

There is only honest sympathy in Genos' golden eyes when he takes the initiative to walk closer and cradle Saitama in his arms. Despite his hard metal body, his exceedingly gentle hands close Saitama in their tender embrace.

“Saitama sensei, you're so strong and selfless but you're also correct; there is really nobody else who can fight him besides you. That's why I will follow you, always, so I can stay at your side and support you in any way I possibly can.”

Saitama leans behind him and into Genos’ chest for support. Genos is always so warm. Not just his body, but his presence too radiates warmth like a fireplace during cold winter days.

“I wish you didn’t, but I can't force you to stay behind, can I? I just want to keep you safe...I don’t want to lose you too...not again…” Only Genos’ strong presence holding him stops him from breaking down again as he recalls the time when Garou brutally killed Genos. Sometimes he wishes time travel could completely wipe out memories and he blinks to clear his head.

“You don't lose me. You've always protected me from the very beginning with your divine power. Even if you didn’t mean to," Genos states firmly.

That’s true, he did unconsciously protect Genos with his divine power, didn’t he? Always had, ever since he accepted to become his disciple. He didn’t know he had that kind of power, but Genos accepted the deal and Saitama’s power became his power too when he unlocked it.

Genos continues, letting his head fall onto Saitama's shoulder. “Because you need me, that’s why I’m going with you. I want to be with you Saitama-sensei, no matter what, no matter the adversity. I can’t let you go alone,” Genos states, finality in his tone. Genos would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Saitama starts to cry again, clenching his teeth. What Genos said is incredibly touching, that he would be willing to risk his life to go to God’s dimension with him, a place of no return. Rather than live his life anywhere else, safe and sound now that he had avenged his family.

“Thank you Genos…” Saitama says in the most earnest tone he can, a huge weight dropping from his shoulders, holding Genos’ embracing hands in his. Genos was always there for him, just like he was always there for Genos and nothing could ever change that. Not even if he got scared out of his wits.

It feels far, far less scary to take the leap of faith with Genos by his side.

Saitama notices Blast from the corner of his eye, patiently waiting for their exchange to end.

“Are you ready to traverse to God’s dimension now?”

Blast, always the professional. Saitama smiles. “Yes, we're ready now, Blast. Lead the way.”

Blast gives him a tiny, encouraging smile back. “That's the spirit.”

Saitama looks at the ascending, heavenly stairway and thinks to himself: yes, he can do this now. Defeat the final boss and then they can all go home to celebrate.

God awaits them.

#opm #one punch man #saigenos #genosai #my own work #opm god #blast #saitama #genos #heroism #angst

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fluffy-critter · 2 months

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#crosspost #busybee

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angstmachine-rw · 3 months

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My rambling thoughts on what the insides of iterators may be (copy/pasted from the Rain World Discord and written by me)

i'm thinking they have a layer of organic skin that covers most of their body (except for their eyes and antennae). this is why the color on moon and pebbles only fades, doesn't chip. the organics are trying their best to maintain the color. the skin has tiny sensors all over it that allows for the puppet to process and feel temperature, pressure, and pain. there is also some pearl writing/reading tech in their hands, although writing to a pearl takes a lot more energy than reading to it. there is a layer just under the skin which hardens automatically with incoming trauma

under the skin, i'm thinking that they have organic/synthetic muscles that are able to operate almost exclusively under electrical impulse. these muscles are able to be very precise in ideal conditions. if the iterator were to work out the puppet, these muscles are able to strengthen over time. however, normal iterator conditions usually means that they won't have much a need or want to do more than stand or walk. (this detail is partly for my fic :monkdevious: )

then there is the endoskeleton, made from titanium. the main frame of the skeleton is hollow, with wires and repair microbes living in the inside. this allows for mild to moderate damage to be healed over time, although there is only so much that the microbes can do.

in the chest, there is a mini rarefaction cell, meant only for emergencies to keep the puppet functional. the head, of course, has the antennae and eyes, which are mostly mechanical. the head also contains the olfactory sensor, speaker, and central processing unit, although the CPU is dedicated almost entirely to maintaining and processing the condition of the puppet. there is very little actual processing or storage that goes on in the puppet, with the task delegated to the rest of the superstructure.

#rain world #rw spoilers #rw iterator #rw speculation

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dynamic8ball · 11 months

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"The Girl in the Iceberg" synopsis/trailer

Before I introduce to the world of Tumblr and possibly beyond of what I'm about to write, I just wanna say what this "synopsis/trailer" thing is. You all know what a movie or TV show trailer is, right? Well I'm about to (sort of, maybe?) do it for a fanfic that I've been adoring for the past several months. A Legend of Korra fic titled "The Girl in the Iceberg" by RainbowRosieS (I'm not them by the way. I'm just promoting it because I love it so much as a reader) on AO3. Here's a link to it if you just want to skip my ramblings, but I just want to get this out because 1) I love this ongoing fic to death and 2) I could use the exercise for writing 3) I want to do it for fun. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

Republic City, present day.

The hustle and bustle of Republic City is alive and well. Motor vehicles deafen the streets and boulevards; brands such as Satomobile and Cabbage Car making up the majority of the automobile market. Airships float high above the metropolis overseeing the urban landscape. The inner-city's ship yards teem with union dockworkers mooring ships to shore, lifting and transporting crates by hand off incoming ships, evaluating inventory and inspecting ships that prepare for yet another journey.

All this with the ever-growing city skyline sitting still yet tall in the background, unsuspecting of what a mere anthropology major has brought to these shores. She was no ordinary anthropology student: for one she was regarded as an outlier to the profession. Many regard Asami Sato with wariness and skepticism as an up and coming anthropologist, a field, like many others during this time, dominated by the male demographic. Many already know who she is - or better yet, who she is related to. The daughter to automobile magnate, Hiroshi Sato, Asami has grown to develop a passion for the field she studies at Republic City University. A passion, like many other things, she shares with her late mother, Yasuko.

It was unfortunate - tragic, Asami thought - that her mother couldn't be here to share this breakthrough with her. Asami, reservedly, has never been much of a religious person; her beliefs more or less relied on the laws of physics and what has been proven to be possible. But she could only pray that her mother could somehow see this. Her biggest discovery thus far in her young career and still in university.

On the surface, it just looked like a giant iceberg had been dragged all the way from one of the poles from the ship's stern. Asami's calculations proved to have been mostly accurate with how much the ice would melt over the course of their month-long voyage back home from the Southern Water Tribe without losing any precious cargo still frozen within the ice. This trek had been a long time coming; adversity from her skeptical colleagues and university staff, along with many sleepless nights studying numerous sites and artifacts for her expedition as the basis for her master's thesis had all been worth it thus far.

More work was to be done, for sure. The iceberg was to be craned and shipped to a nearby warehouse that her father owned by the docks. Then it would be a matter of time before her team chipped away at the melting ice and discovered more of what lay inside. Back at the South Pole, Asami could already tell roughly what sat inside was a woman in heavy furs surrounded by clubs and spears suspended within the ice along with a canoe and some unidentifiable white form that lay next to the woman.

Asami kept her excitement in check and expectations tempered as she should show respect for the dead and expect mild results and let the subjects of her studies surprise her. Little did Asami know that she was in for a surprise the likes of which hadn't been seen in recorded history and was long forgotten by the world at large. A generational being frozen for millennia and more, lost to time and history. The myth that turned true.

The girl in the iceberg had waited long enough.

__________

The Avatar is a myth. A tale of bygone eras where people possessed the power to control and bend the elements around them like it was an extension of themselves. The Avatar, born with the power to bend the four elements, was thought of as the bridging spirit between the material world and the spirit world.

Today, spirits are nowhere to be found. Bending has become extinct. The Avatar has long since disappeared.

History roughly remembers who some of the few Avatars were, or at least just by name. The last of these Avatars mysteriously vanished off the face of the Earth over 9,000 years ago, leading many through the annals of time to speculate: Was the Avatar cycle broken? Where could they might've gone? Did the Avatar even exist at all?

Bending and the spirits, too, are questioned to have existed. Throughout the centuries, humans have relied more on practical tools instead of hokey superstition. Evolving technology from stone tools to eventually reaching the industrial age. Beliefs and religion have shifted significantly as well through millennia. The most notable religion, the Church of Raava, has followers spanning the globe in millions. Believing Raava is an all seeing and knowing deity, he supposedly grants access to the after life in the spirit world to those who were devout in the church's beliefs, escaping the cycle of reincarnation.

The world itself is mostly the same geographically. New nations have risen and fallen with varying connections to one of each of the four elements. Bloody wars have been waged with clubs, spears, swords up until the invention of the firearm, shaping combat to be more distanced and deadly. The most recent Great War saw the introduction of the machine gun along with chemical weaponry when the world's powers collided in ruthless trench warfare.

Even with that war over, conflict still ravages the Earth Empire in a gruesome civil war. While the United Republic is experiencing relative prosperity since their arms ceased, trouble looms for immigrants fleeing from the Earth Empire civil war as living conditions worsen in Republic City. Aid groups such as the Red Lotus try and offer help to those in need, even when faced with the threat of Amon's separatists. The separatists' focus is forcing anyone who's not a United Republican out, dismantling the concept of the UR as a melting pot of cultures to establish isolationist peace and prosperity between cultures.

Problems and conflicts continue to mount for Republic City and the rest of the world. Resolutions seem to be growing scarcer by the day as millions still suffer. Perhaps the Avatar, master of all four elements, could save them. So much time had past, though, that the world almost looked unrecognizable to Korra. Without an Avatar for the time she was frozen, the world fell out of balance. And though this brave new world looks very bleak, she hasn't lost hope. Especially when her new hope had discovered her frozen in the iceberg and set her free.

Asami Sato didn't know it yet, but the ancient Water Tribe girl she had released was more than a capable warrior, she held the last hope for balance to be restored. And although her bending skills were great, Korra has a lot more to learn about this world before she should reveal herself to anyone. When the time comes, those that have come to know her will believe that Korra can save the world.

Again, here's the link to the story. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

20 chapters are already out with 166,284 words already typed. Updates have been steadily published every Tuesday. If you got an account on AO3, please read it and if you like it, give it a Kudos and leave a comment to the proper author. If no AO3 account, Kudos and comment anyways.

I might do another for other fanfics that I like and enjoy. I've read enough in over a year's time that I could probably rank them in tiers or something that people do, right? Got a ton of LoK fanfic recommendations so go ahead and ask if you want my opinion or whatever.

See yall whenever!

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firesurgestar · 2 years

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👻 💞 🏞 🔺

Favorite Creature (👻): Hm. Not counting Bill because technically a creature. Gobblewonker, I think it looks really neat. Also just, sea monster,,,

Favorite Ship (💞): Mild Ramble incoming, MABCIFICA. OH MY ARCHONS I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Them having matching bracelets that Pacifica got for them. Pacifica standing up for her girlfriend, and the whole shebang. I LOVE IT SO MUCH AAA

Place I want to Go (🏞): Hmmmmm. That's a... good question. From off the top of my head, the library looks like it would be full of good books that are given to small children when they shouldn't be.

Favorite Weirdmageddon Part (🔺️): Keep in mind I've only ever watched GF on Disney+ so it's a little differently for the Weirdmageddon parts. There's like 4. But I gotta say, either Part 1 or part 4. Part 1 gives me,,, Mindscape thoughts. 4 just makes me sad but in a good way.

Also my favorite S2 episode is Sock Opera, I don't care that you didn't ask it you get response anyways

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moonflowcrr · 3 years

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;long distance dinner dates

‏‏‎ ‎ !! masterlist ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

Florence Pugh x f!reader

mild angst? mentions of loneliness but nothing major ♡

➵ pov: you’re on a facetime call w florence while she cooks.

wc ┊ 2200

‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎[ 🕊 ] ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

“

it’s cooking with flo, bitches. ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎„‏‎ ‏‏

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎- - - ┊♡ ┊ - - -‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎

incoming call; flossie 💍

Flossie. Florence. just her name could send your stomach in a flurry of butterflies, and cause the most lovesick grin to split across your face as you’d scramble for your phone. a mad rush of frantic limbs, fumbling fingers and bubbling excitement later, you had swiped open the ringing device- her bright eyes and vibrant ( cheeky ) grin filling the screen.

“ Hi baby! ” she said in the way she did, voice sing-song and sweet, raising at the end. you swear you could feel your heart swell just at the way she said your name, or her version of it. the way her accent wrapped around it like a blanket, you wanted nothing more than to curl yourself inside it and reside there forever.

she was laying on her stomach in the house she was given to stay in while filming ( and momentarily, your heart lurched at the reminder that she was in Ireland and not with you ), hair tousled and clad in a sweater she nicked from you before she left. her hair ( brunette now, instead of her usual blonde ) sat softly around her cheeks, and your fingers twitched with the need to tuck it behind her ears.

“ how was your day? it’s late there now, right? ” she asked, a smile evident in her voice as it pulled you from your daydream of missing her, and you met her eyes through the screen. a chuckle pushed its way past your lips as you felt yourself physically relax. classic Flo and her rambles. “ gah, i’ve been here what? two weeks? i’m already forgetting our own bloody timezone. ” Florence wailed, burying her face in her arms. Billie popped her head up onto the couch and whined, causing Florence to crack a grin and ruffle the dogs velvety ears.

“ it’s been alright. quiet, ” you start, folding in on yourself as to find a comfier position. the house was always colder when Florence was away, sleepier almost. it’s like it would yawn open to welcome her home, and all her light and warmth went with her when she was away. this left you cocooning yourself in all the blankets, pillows and leftover hoodies you could find to make up for her painful absence. ( it was not uncommon to find Billie cuddled up in your lap in instances like this- however Florence had taken the pooch with her this time, leaving you to hold down fort alone. ) “ mostly paperwork. i was able to finish a few more chapters today though, which is good. ”

( there is something irresistible in the way she moves and talks and stares, and it makes you want to crawl through the screen to be beside her, and the strings of your heart pull. it makes you want to watch as a great deal of distance wrinkles into oblivion. ) but she lays and listens and kicks her feet in the air like a child. an image of perfection, you thought; and mindlessly clicked the button to save the picture indefinitely. but.. she’s busy, you know this ( and a part of you writhed in guilt whenever she took time out of her busy schedule to hear about the mundane events of your life ), but when she is here in the way she is, carefree and soft- you feel yourself not caring as much.

“ that’s so wonderful! i’m very proud of you, i know how hard you’ve been working on this novel! at this rate, you’ll have it done in no time super-star! ”

and always the supporter she is. even with all the praise she receives- she’s still your biggest fan and flushes the colour of soft rose whenever you compliment her work. she’s no stranger to dishing out compliments herself- and after all this time you still haven’t grown used to her praise. you still grin and blush and hide your face, but somehow this spurs her on more.

tonight was different though.

tonight you didn’t grin, or blush, or even attempt to hide when she gave her compliments- instead you lamely broke eye contact and gave a small smile. Florence pouted in response, and sat up so fast you were sure her head would’ve snapped off if it weren’t attached to her shoulders.

“ come, hop up love. want to help me cook dinner? ”

your eyes found hers, but she was already up and moving before you had the choice to protest- so instead, you unfurled yourself from your cocoon and padded your way to the kitchen.

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ��‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ [ ♡ ]

it passed like this, heavy nights turned lighter as she would cook for you. usually she would sit you in your shared living room, giving you a blanket and a clear view of her as she worked. she would pour you a glass of your favourite drink, and one for herself, before turning on whatever song she had been jamming to that day and dancing over to you, drink in hand. she would smile, and laugh, and sing off key until you had no choice but to join in. it would start off slow, she wouldn’t push or ask ( you would talk when you were ready and she knew this. until then she could do her best to comfort you and keep you happy ), and the two of you would cook a meal together before sitting down to enjoy it.

however, when she was away that fix was harder to achieve.

the sharp edges of your anxiety pushed past the quilt of protection she would leave in her wake, and eventually the bitter air would nip at your exposed skin.

“ isn’t it like.. 2pm for you? ” you asked, despite following her instructions to pull a variety of vegetables from your fridge.

“ yeah! but, i’m hungry. early supper? ” was her easy response. you knew better, and you knew that she knew that the lie was a white one. reaching off camera momentarily, she pulled back a glass of wine before looking at you seriously. “ have you gotten yourself a drink? you can’t cook unless you’ve gotten yourself a drink. it’s crucial. ”

you simply grinned, and propped her up against the splash-back of your stove before turning to retrieve a bottle of merlot.

“ that’s a rather large glass darling, is it not? ” you call from your place by the liquor cabinet, eyeing her slightly as you rummage for your bottle. “ are you all done with filming then for today? ” but when she didn’t answer, you turned to her fully, a mock look of shock and anger painted in your eyes while a smile danced upon your lips. “ Florence Rose Pugh! are you drinking on the job? ”

she barks out a laugh, and your heart flutters at the sound. “ what? no! not at all! this is.. uh, ” pale hands fumble for an alibi while her laughter gives her away. “ it’s rice wine vinegar! very popular here in Ireland! ”

you simply roll your eyes and give her a knowing look, one that seems to translate ‘ for all your acting abilities, you are a horrible liar ‘

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ [ ♡ ]

“ baby! look! ” Florence cried, making you jump and nearly drop the damn knife you had been using to chop up some mushrooms. you glance up to where you’d rest your phone ( and you have to bite back a grin at the silly dance the girl was doing )

“ it’s like our tomatoes we grow at home! hii~ ” she sang, holding up a vine of tomatoes to her face as she went. ( Florence preached that the best kind of tomatoes to cook with were the ones you grow at home and keep on the vine. something about them being richer in flavour and all that. you would simply nod your head and laugh along at the girl when she had her cooking tangents. “ y/n, my dada taught me well. we are cooking this for my dada! ” ) misty eyes and a soft smile later, you shook the memory from your head instead choosing to gaze upon your faraway lover.

“ isn’t this your fathers recipe? ” you call, beaming as you watch the brunette all but light up at the opportunity to talk about her family. “ it is, yeah!! ish, i guess. i’ve added some stuffs but essentially we’re doing this for my dada! though, he likes to put chopped walnuts on top but, ” she trails off, moving away from the camera to search through one or the overhead cabinets “ i don’t think we have any here. ”

“ here, let me check- ” you start, stretching to look through your own cabinets before freezing. for a brief second it hadn’t occurred to you that the two of you were in different parts of the world, and your heart squeezed when you remembered. it felt almost as if someone had come in and pricked you like a balloon, and you deflated back into the view of the camera, half heartedly stirring the browning vegetables and roughly pawing at your face.

“ i forgot ” you murmur softly, and you don’t have to be looking at her to know that Florence produced her signature pout.

“ oh baby, i know. is this why you’ve been a bit out of sorts tonight? ” Florence asks softly, and any other time she spoke with this level of care and gentleness would have made you weak at the knees- however tonight it simply made the brewing tears hidden behind your eyes spring forward. you give a weak nod as you wiped harshly at the fat tears that rolled down your cheeks.

“ i just miss you, ” a soft, stubborn huff. “ i know you’ve not been gone long but- ” you trail off. it had been a while, technically. Florence had to quarantine for two weeks away from you before she was able to fly over to set, and she had spent another week quarantined there before she was able to start filming. it felt like it had been months since you felt her touch last, when really it had been only five weeks. “ when are you coming home? ” you mutter with a little something like fear and a lot of something like heartbreak in your voice- and for once you wish she wasn’t as clever as she was. Florence can read you like a book, and feels your pain so strongly it was as if it were her own.

you could almost hear the ache in her chest at the sight of seeing you so upset, and the thought alone just makes you cry harder.

“ early october. ” she all but whispers. “ i’ll be home early october. ”

and whatever it was you were about to say, breathless and teary eyed and searching for some solace ( or dangerously afraid of her leaving ) is long forgotten as the timer sounds it’s cry from the oven; perfectly in sync with Florences over in Ireland.

Flo gives you a weak smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes ( and you shudder with want to smooth the crease between her brows ) and ducks down to pull the peppers from the oven. you two don’t bring it up for a while, letting a silent balm ease the open wound. having found some walnuts eventually, you crush them up and scatter them over the dish you had made; stuffed peppers with feta and walnut crumbled atop.

“ this looks wonderful, thank you Flo ” you say with nothing of your previous wet heartache, with something like glee and everything like love. you’re sat now in your living room, Florence in hers on the other side of the world, and you set your phone up across from you. raising your glass in a quiet toast- you feel the ache throb lightly in your chest ( but this time it’s bearable. this time, you don’t feel so alone ) and she mirrors your action with a toothy grin.

“ don’t thank me, chick. this was all you! now eat up before it gets cold ”

Florence is pretty. very pretty. sitting at her dinner table, worlds away from you, you believe that she is a miracle sprung to life. she’s a dream come true. she’s a vision of everything that is good and right in the world. she’s this cheeky, blonde, green eyed, golden haired beauty who tenses and breathes a hearty laugh and you have to avert your eyes when she catches you staring.

“ you alright? ” Florence has a confused smile on her face, big green eyes searching yours for some hint of what’s going on in your mind. even when miles apart, she sends a jolt of electricity through your spine.

beautiful, you think. magnificent, you think.

you almost choke with embarrassment. with undeniable thrill.

idiot, you think. speak! you think.

“ better than alright. ”

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ [ ♡ ]

and in the meantime, you decide, this will be okay. phone calls and virtual dates. at least for a little while.

finding your phone after her gentle voice bid you farewell ( “ goodnight! i’ll talk to you soon! ” she cried as she was ushered out the door, downing the last of her drink while you sat and laughed and watched her slightly tipsy form get taken away to film ), you put together a little post and sent it out for the media to admire. to tear apart. a silent battle cry of; look out world. this ones mine.

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ the post in question ♡

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #cooking with flo #little women #the wonder #wlw #fluff #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #marvel #avengers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #midsommar

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blackspoon99 · 3 years

Text

The Empty Hearse Pt. 4

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Kidnapping, Mortal Danger, Mild Language, Potential Spoilers to Season 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Part 6

Monday – 6:18 pm

You stepped out of the cab, nearly rolling your ankle on the uneven cobblestone. Withholding a slew of curses, you waved to the cabbie and moved to the sidewalk. The cold hit you with a sharp gust of wind. You pulled your coat tighter around you and jogged across the sidewalk. You paused a few feet from the doorway. You gazed up at the windows above Speedy’s. A warm glow shone gently from the living room obscured only by the silhouette of Sherlock playing the violin.

For a moment, you took in the sight, noting the odd silence and the way your breath was visible in the dry cold. For some reason, you felt the need to catalog the moment in your memory. Suddenly, a man bumped into you roughly. You let out an involuntary gasp and turned to watch him walking away. Nice. Not even an apology.

Before you could finish the thought, you felt a hand around your upper arm and a sharp pain in the side of your neck. You reached up to touch your neck, but your arm lost its strength on the way up. The street lamps blurred in your vision. Your sounds of struggle became a low ringing in your ears. Panic shot through you just before you finally lost consciousness.

Monday – 6:45 pm

John walked down Baker Street, on the way to 221B. Mary was right, he had planned on going to see Sherlock. Sometimes the way Mary saw straight through his thoughts and intentions as if they were an open window was only occasionally humiliating. He was still waiting out the sting of embarrassment from the memory of saying “I do not shave for Sherlock Holmes” in a way that wasn’t at all believable.

John knew he could be a proud man, but this self-assessed character flaw apparently wasn’t enough to stop him from seeing his best friend despite everything. It wasn’t even enough to get him to stop thinking about him during his workday. He nearly tore the beard off one of his patients this morning because he thought Sherlock had planned an encore to his acting performance in his clinic. Even in his mind, Sherlock Holmes could be one persistent son of a bitch. Just then, his mobile chimed. He looked down to check his text messages.

Save Souls Now!

John rolled his eyes. Another spam text. Ignore. He stopped reading after the first line and slid his phone back into his pocket.

One step at a time, He told himself as he walked through the front door. He was greeted by the sound of Sherlock’s violin. John hoped Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t hear him come in. He loved the woman, but he really couldn’t handle her excited laughter in this moment. He successfully made it past her door and up the stairs. As usual, the door to 221B was open. He awkwardly cleared his throat and rapped at the door.

Sherlock stopped playing and turned quickly towards the door. A look of surprise flashed across his face

“John?”

John glanced at the floor. “Is this, uhm a bad time?”

“No! No. I was just expecting- never mind.”

“So, what’s all of this then?” John asked, gesturing towards Sherlock’s web of photos and clippings on the wall. He shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“Ah, yes, I suppose you should have a look.” Sherlock crossed over to the wall. “Mycroft has alerted me to an incoming underground terrorist threat. As you can see, I’ve outlined a few potential markers. Just got to see which one … jumps ship first…” Sherlock trailed his sentence off at the end and narrowed his eyes looking at John’s face. “You shaved?”

“Yeah, Mary didn’t like it, and I thought I needed a change—” John knew he was rambling. The situation was decidedly awkward.

“For the best. I like my doctors clean shaven.”

“That’s not something you hear every day.” John cleared his throat again and tried to look deep in thought, studying Sherlock’s case. “None of your markers have moved yet, then?”

“Not yet and we’re running out of time. That’s where you come in Dr. Watson. What do you say? Are you ready to come back to the war?”

Before John could answer, they were interrupted by the opening of the front door and a frantic voice downstairs.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Hudson, I need to get through.”

“Hold on, who are you?”

“I’m Mary, I’m John’s fiancé”

“Oh!” Mrs. Hudson said with a surprised smile “Nice to finally meet you”

“Mary?” John yelled from atop the stairs

“John?”

“Mary, hold on, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“I think someone has y/n,”

“How?”

Mary pushed in between John and Sherlock. She pulled out her phone to show the same text message John had just received minutes earlier.

“Someone sent me this. See, I thought it was just a bible scam but it’s not”

“I think I got that too.” John immediately snatched his phone out of his pocket and read the rest of the text message.

Save Souls Now! Y/n or Jane L/n!

Saint or Sinner? James or John? The more is Less?

“See, it’s a skip code”

A skip code. How could John have messed that up? He had inadvertently ignored his own friend’s ransom note.

“First word and then every third” Sherlock muttered

Save Y/n L/n Saint James The Less

“St. James the Less. It’s a nearby church. Go. Now!” Sherlock yelled forcefully, running down the stairs. If she hadn’t been kidnapped, would she have come for chips anyway? No. relevant. Focus. Sherlock mentally slapped himself as the three of them made it onto the sidewalk outside. “It’s 20 minutes away by car. Did you drive here?” he asked Mary.

“Yes, I did. It’s right there”

Sherlock paced around. “Too slow, too slow.” He wandered straight into the middle of the street.

“Sherlock, what the hell are we waiting for?” John asked, growing impatient.

“This” said Sherlock as he held his hand up to an oncoming motorist.

“No, Sherlock. We can’t all fit.” John said exasperated as he watched Sherlock yell ‘police!’ and climb aboard.

“You’re right, John. Mary?” Sherlock said, extending the other helmet out to Mary. She nodded, tossed John her car keys, and started to climb on.

“You’re joking. You’re leaving me behind?”

“She saw the code, John. I need her to keep up with the messages!” He shouted over his shoulder as they drove off.

“But I’m a bloody doctor!” John shouted after them. “Shit!” he yelled under his breath and raced to Mary’s car.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were awake now. Sort of. Whatever drugs your captors injected into your neck had left you completely incapacitated. You had your eyes as wide open as they could possibly go, but you still couldn’t see. You could barely make out thin slivers of light shining through the walls around you. No, not walls. You felt grass beneath you and smelled fresh pine. You tried to roll over. Nothing. You felt like every muscle in your body was straining but to no avail. With all your breath you tried to cry out. You weren’t sure you even made a sound. All you could hear was the high-pitched ringing that was making your ears bleed.

All your senses were being assaulted all at once. What the hell happened? More importantly, where the hell were you and how were you going to get out of here if you couldn’t move? Your hands were unbound, but they didn’t need to be to immobilize you in your current state. Damn it, how could you let this happen to you?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The GPS said 10 minutes. Not fast enough. Sherlock wracked his brain for the best possible route. He sped through another red light. Sherlock heard car horns and the sound of rubber skidding on pavement behind him but didn’t look back. He struggled to keep his breathing steady.

“Sherlock!” Mary yelled, and held up her phone

Getting warmer. You have about 5 minutes

“I don’t understand. What’s going to happen to her?”

“I don’t know!” yelled Sherlock. He looked to his left. A faster route. He swerved to the left and onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians dove left and right to avoid his path. Sherlock took off down an alley way towards a flight of stairs. “Hang on Mary.” Speeding down the street, Sherlock did everything he could not to lose focus. Moments later, Mary received another text:

Things are really hotting up here. 2 minutes

“Sherlock, hurry!” She yelled

“Damn it” Sherlock cursed. Immediately, he stepped on the gas and swerved right into an alley. He was running out of time to save you. Back on the main road, Sherlock knew even with the fastest possible route, there was barely enough time. He couldn’t lose you now. Not when he’d just managed to see you again. The church was in sight, but Sherlock had no idea where you could be.

Time’s, up Sherlock

“We’re out of time!” Mary yelled frantically

Sherlock looked to his left and saw a bonfire and a man with a torch. A Guy Fawkes Day celebration? “Oh my god.” No. As soon as it hit him, the woodpile went up in flames.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the world around you burned, you felt nothing but raw terror. Though no flames touched your skin, the heat was immediately unbearable. Your eyes stung from the smoke and fumes as tears formed. Of course, now, the drug had worn off enough to let you scream.

Your head felt dizzy. As morbid as it was, you hoped the smoke would take you before the raging fire had the chance. You could have sworn you heard someone yelling your name. Suddenly, a pair of arms tore through the fire and dragged you from the flames. Sherlock. You immediately cried out for him and clung to the lapels of his coat as he pulled you to safety.

You could hear the crowd around you exclaiming in horror with the realization they’d nearly burned you alive. For a moment you just lay there, choking on cold air and struggling to breathe. Sherlock had one arm around you, yelling for the onlookers to stay back. Mary leaned down with her hand over her mouth. “Oh y/n. Thank god”

After a moment, Sherlock brought his arms around you and softly whispered words of comfort. “You’re alright now y/n. It’s okay. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” He let his head hang back towards the sky taking in heavy breaths of relief.

“Thank you, Sherlock” you wheezed out, still clinging to his coat. You finally realized you were safe. Shakily, you sat up, moving your hands to Sherlock’s forearms.

From across the yard, John pushed through people rushing to get to you.

“Move! Out of the way”

Finally, he reached you. “Oh god, y/n.” He kneeled down, eyes scanning over you, looking for any injuries.

“John,” You croaked out, your throat still dry from the smoke.

He then turned his head to Mary. “You okay?”

She nodded with tears streaming down her face.

“Let’s get her the hell out of here,” said John.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait for an update! Hopefully the longer chapter and lack of cliffhanger makes up for it

Taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa

If you want to be added to the taglist, like the post I made about it on my blog

#bbc sherlock #Sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlockxreader #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes x Reader

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peachy-inserts · 4 years

Text

𝕙𝕢 𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕕𝕤

part one ♡ part two (coming soon)

✉︎request: Hcs for Hinata and Kuroo as fathers, please?🥺

✰warnings: none

✎a/n: ahh ty for requesting!! im so sorry but i just.., we dont really write for hinata im so so sorry baby- hes on the masterlist, but we really. just really dont like him. anyways., i added some characters and part two coming soon! i had a little bit of trouble with kuroo, but i hope you enjoy it <3

➳ᴜꜱʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ, ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ, ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ, ɪᴡᴀɪᴢᴜᴍɪ

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

✰ ushijima

He swears that he just KNOWS the gender of your baby before you’ve even had your first ultrasound, and with your third child you’ve just come to accept that he actually, really does know. Or maybe it’s dumb luck, but that never seems to be the case with him and he’s far too sure of himself

Talks to the baby no different from you, asks them for advice knowing they won’t be able to answer, but their little coos and smiles directed towards him are all the help he needs anyways

Sews patches into their play clothes when they’ve become too worn to wear, and teaches them how too! Makes his daughter a hello kitty bag when she says she wants a purse and she uses the leftover fabric to patch his work jeans, which he tore on purpose just because she wanted to put her new skills to use. He wears them out in public and with pride

Okay I know he’s a pro athlete but he’s also a farm boy sorry. Anyways he throws blankets into the back of a pickup truck and takes the kids on a (slow, and careful) ride through the backroads. Could you imagine having a dog back there with them too?? He’d train it to tug on their pants when they lean too far out of the truck and keep them safe

Excellent at putting babies to sleep. He’s kind of confused by them at first, and isn’t really sure what to do with them, but eases up when he sees how easily they drift off to sleep when he tucks them into his chest and pats their back

Doesn’t bring up volleyball to them, but secretly has his fingers crossed that they’ll ask him to play one day; which of course they do, duh, he’s a pro player. As soon as they show even a mild interest in it he’s signing them up for the little league teams and bragging to his teammates

Keeps a photo of the family in his wallet and when he’s away for matches that you can’t make it to often gets caught just staring at it; the team shoots confused looks his way because he’s been looking down at the same photo for 30 minutes straight and smiling softly

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

✰ iwaizumi

Please Iwaizumi with boys is just a role model father. He absolutely adores his little man and drills manners into his head from day one. It’s very important to him that he knows how to treat people with respect and be respected!

The moment he finds out he’s going to be a father he starts planning to build a treehouse. You haven’t even begun to put together a nursery and he’s made several trips to the hardware store and stacked wood in your backyard, and spends the baby’s growing years perfecting it

He buys/sends you flowers on every single Friday, and hasn’t missed one yet. Your little boy catches on and saves up his allowance to buy you some too, because he’s gone with his dad to pick them up plenty of times and knows the way there relative to his walk home from school

He nearly cries with pride, because come on; that’s too cute.

Iwaizumi with a daughter? Different breed. He may not be real but my feelings for him are and I would do ANYTHING for him

He dresses her up in the ugliest frilly little dresses and takes hundreds of photos, and goes to daddy daughter events/dances??!? Bye I’m smitten.

Little league coach!!! Listen he knows and loves sports, just the whole category, so everything his kids wanna sign up for you bet your ass he’s signing himself up for too

And he’s a GREAT coach ugh he always knows how to handle the kids, and given his profession is a bargain deal, they’re super lucky to have him there tbh

The other parents try and flirt with him and he just freezes up and panics because he can’t respond to them like he usually would to people given his kids are involved, so he just starts rambling about how great you are

Takes them to practices he’s needed at sometimes and before bringing them in, practically gives the whole team a death threat. They have fun there, though, and he’s screeching instructions and insults out at them with his kid asleep in his arms

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

✰ bokuto

He cries when he finds out he’s going to be a dad. Big, ugly tears, and crushes you with his hugs. Wastes no time whatsoever in bragging to everyone about how lucky he must be to be having your kids ugh hes a cutie

Also cries when they’re born, and it’s visible in every photo. It’s heartwarming, though, and you’re ecstatic to see just how excited he is. You certainly know you’ve made the right choice

When he’s away for games, he always calls to tell his kids a bedtime story and tell them he loves them. Even if it’s 12pm or 3am for him, he keeps his alarm set to go off for 9pm at home.

When he can’t tell a story because he’ll be in the middle of a game, he begs, BEGS, for someone on the sidelines to answer the incoming facetime call and face the camera towards him. When it’s done and over, he’s handed his phone and it met with their sleeping faces, with an msby flag clutched loosely in their tiny fists

He always makes up for having to travel by taking them out individually so they all feel special, whether it’s for ice cream or to a movie. It’s their choice, and he gives them his undivided attention the entire time

They’re completely spoiled by him, honestly. Their allowance is cut off by you because he’s not even leaving enough for him to buy himself lunch-

Shows up to practice when then they’re born just to show them off, excitedly displaying his blessing to all of his teammates before promptly tucking them away into their carseat and leaving before they can make him stay-

✰ kuroo

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Sends his kids to private school, but makes sure they engage in community activities; he still wants them to have the same neighborhood kid experience that he did rather than being stuck up like their classmates, and will push them towards sports

Carries them around on his shoulders nearly everywhere he goes, when they’re babies always has them strapped to his chest and insists he be the one to hold them when you’re out and can’t use a stroller

Buys EVERY single parenting book he can find. Even the ones in the dollar store bargain bins, and compiles every common suggestion into a spreadsheet. By the time the baby’s born he has 12 pages on every book he’s read, everything he’s learned from it, complete with statistics and a works cited page

Takes classes! Is very nervous and doesn’t really know much about babies so he really wants to just make sure he can’t do anything wrong, and like the nerd he is learns as much as possible

He may as well be a pediatrician at this point tbh

Keeps stuffed animals in the bottom drawer of his desk at work for when he brings them in, and will make a bed where his feet would usually go for them to nap on time so they won’t interfere with your sleeping at home

The dad that is angry that math isn’t done the same way as when he was in school and they both have a whole entire moment at the dining room table

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ziyin · 3 years

Text

[image id: a bright and saturated photo of a classical painting of a blue sky, white clouds, and various angels and other people ascending to heaven. “A SUMMER IN MARIENGARD” is written in a bold white front while a smaller, cursive font saying the same is superimposed over it. “a wip intro” is written under it, in a white font. /end id]

A SUMMER IN MARIENGARD - a wip intro

Sorrow is concealed in gilded palaces, and there’s no escaping it. - Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Double.

GENRE: coming of age | family drama | slice of life | (mild) mystery

STATUS: drafting / outlining

POV: 3rd person past.

THEMES: tradition | generational trauma | the past and its influence | moving on | legacy

CONTENT WARNINGS: unhealthy family dynamics | depictions of abuse | grief | implied violence | emotional manipulation

SYNOPSIS:

Nadine’s vacations are about to epically suck. Stuck at a lavish Bavarian estate with nothing to do and only her strange aristocratic maternal relatives for company, all she hopes for is a quiet, drama-free summer, no easy feat when all your relatives do is try to sabotage each other, your odd, closed-off grandfather glares at portraits all day, and the air permanently crackles under the weight of things unsaid.

Along with her older sister Ilka and her cousins, Nadine discovers a secret that throws all she knew about her family in disarray and threatens to sabotage the fragile peacefulness of her vacations. And as her relatives further sink into self-destruction, can she survive the incoming summer with her sanity intact?

(characters + taglist under the cut)

CHARACTERS:

Nadine Arlt (17 | she/her) — a socially awkward Gymnasium student from Stuttgart, Nadine prefers staying on the sidelines and watch, until the universe conspires her to act.

Ilka Arlt (21 | she/her) — Nadine’s older sister and polar opposite, Ilka sees the upcoming summer as an opportunity to have fun, and she will do anything to achieve that.

Max von Erbe (18 | he/him) — the Arlt sisters’ cousin and heir to the family’s fortune, Max’s smooth image of aristocratic refinement hides deep insecurities that have never fully healed.

Emil von Erbe (22 | he/him) — Max’s cousin, Emil’s poise and practicality has permitted him to navigate the murky waters of his relatives’ relationships, though all he wants is a break and a one-way ticket out of Mariengard.

Anselm von Erbe (19 | he/him) — Emil’s younger brother, Anselm hides his status as the family’s black sheep with outrageous statements and a pathological need for attention.

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-):

@mcximilians, @kitblogsthings, @childhoodlovers, @florraisons, @svpphicwrites, @swordglint, @stormharbors, @x-writes, @akindofmagictoo, @moonhungers, @ryns-ramblings, @palimpsestiism, @alicewestwater, @croctears, @huloglangit, @writing-is-a-martial-art

#atlastracking #projectsquareup #murdereddarlings #writeblr #wip introduction #amwriting #wip: a summer in mariengard #O WRITEBLR GODS PLEASE ACCEPT MY HUMBLE OFFERING!!!! *drops this and runs*

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tiffdawg · 3 years

Text

The Light of Stars | Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

Gif: @bestintheparsec

The Light of Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: M | Warnings: the typical angst and a little smooching, mild language. No spoilers for season two!

Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

A/N: Hi! It's been a while – much longer than I ever intended and for that I apologize. I want to say thank you to you all for reading my story and sticking with me. And to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you have all my love for ever. I really do cherish each and everyone. You all inspire me to keep writing! Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read the latest installment of Jetii, Din, and Baby's (mis)adventures. This chapter is officially the beginning of the end!

Read on AO3

TLOS Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

The last few days were a blur as you cut across the galaxy at lightspeed. Time ceased to exist even as it passed you by, but it was uneventful in the best possible way as you spent what precious time you had left with the Mandalorian and his foundling quietly existing together.

You passed most of your time in the main cabin conversing with Mando. You always talked about your pasts. Never the future. But you considered yourself lucky to have that time with him. He spoke mostly of his youth with the Mandalorians and his early forays into bounty hunting, but occasionally he’d grace you with a story from his childhood. When he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as said his parents' names aloud in decades but still found it within himself to share a treasured memory of them, you’d reached across the small space separating you to twine your fingers with his gloved ones as best you could. The words seemed to come a little easier after that. His life had been so full of sadness that you wondered if the last few weeks together had been an anomaly even with the chaos you’d brought into his life.

Down in the hull after tasteless meals of reconstituted food, you’d spent long hours reading texts from the Jedi holocron aloud to Mando while he disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled every blaster in his weapons locker twice-over. Other times he insisted on continuing your flying lessons but there wasn’t much to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. During the infrequent fuel stops on lonely planets, you’d stretch your legs and find a quiet place to practice with the kid in consolation for long days spent trapped inside the ship.

That day, you’d landed on Mygeeto, a cold, frigid planet a few sectors from your final destination. Mando and the kid seemed unfazed by the icy winds, but you’d had to dig out your old parka just to walk to the closet cantina while the ship refueled. It was also a decently populated planet, big on mining and banking and a hub of trade. You were on the outskirts of a smaller spaceport, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to linger.

The docking bay was crowded with a steady rush of people coming and going earlier that morning. Now, when you stepped into the small, outdated docking bay ahead of the Mandalorian but behind the Child’s hovering carrier, it was deserted. Instantly, your eyes went to the fueling gear still hooked up to the Razor Crest. A quick glance around the bay told you the lone mechanic was nowhere to be seen. Most likely off working on one of the other starships. That meant the three of you were stuck on that icy, crystalline planet for at least a little while longer.

That meant trouble.

“Mando–”

“I know,” he sighed. “I made them back at the cantina. They aren’t with the guild, but they’re definitely hunters.”

“Were you just hoping they wouldn’t follow us back to the ship?”

“I wanted to get you two back to the Crest.” He entered a code on his vambrace and canceled the ship’s security protocols. After the ramp lowered, he closed the baby’s carrier and sent it into the hull of the ship.

“There are six of them,” you said, raising a brow at him, “and they’re right behind us.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the blaster holstered at his hip.

“Gods, you're cocky sometimes,” you retorted. Still, you extracted your lightsaber from your satchel before tossing the bag into the ship. It pained you to think that neither the baby nor Mando would be safe until that ex-Imp was taken care of for good. And even then, you worried about who else might know about the baby. You could only wish that wasn’t fated to be their only existence together. With his visor trained on you, his helmet tilted to the side. You shrugged as you took your place beside him.

“Don’t think I can handle it on my own?”

“I know you could, but you don’t have to,” you assured him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and found him watching you.

“I–”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a noise coming from just beyond the entrance. Both of your heads snapped in that direction, alert and ready for a fight.

When the first blaster shot rang out, Mando returned it with one of his own.

“How many of them are there?” you shouted over the blast that rocked the Razor Crest. You’d mistakenly assumed you’d escaped after you’d fended off the six bounty hunters at the docking bay. The gunship fired back at Mando’s command.

“Down to two,” he answered as he hit a series of switches in rapid fire. He pulled the yoke and the ship took a nosedive through empty space. “Told you that spaceport was too big.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I thought it.

Another hit set off one of the alarms. “Mando!”

“We’re almost to the hyperlane. Once we hit lightspeed, they can’t track us. Just hold on!”

You sighed in relief at the familiar streaks of blue light of hyperspace. Mando’s seat swiveled to face you and the Child. “You alright?” he asked the kid. He chirped happily in response. “I figured.” He turned to you, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “How about you?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You might’ve been a little rattled, but you’d seen worse. “We’re those the Moff’s men? How’d they track us to Mygeeto?”

“They didn’t.” A beat passed as you waited for him to explain. “They were already here. They’re amateurs. Gideon probably distributed fobs throughout the galaxy.”

While you’d gotten a decent glimpse of it on Vrogas Vas, you were beginning to see the severity of his situation. The Empire might’ve fallen years ago, but this former Imp had not. He had the resources and the reach to find the Mandalorian and the Child. And you didn’t like the thought of him taking on the Moff alone. “Mando, can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he responded quickly.

You hesitated, doubting he would think that in a moment. “Will you send a holo to your tribe before you leave for Nevarro.” He straightened up at that, ready to protest. “You’re going to need all of the help you can get.”

“I can’t ask them to put the covert at risk for me. Not again.”

“So you know they would come for you?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice straining around the word.

“Do you think they hold what happened against you? Do you truly believe that any one of them regrets their choice?” He didn’t say anything, but you knew your assumption was right. And you knew his guilt was misplaced. They wouldn’t have welcomed him back, called him their brother, if that was the case. “You have to forgive yourself, Mando.” You unbuckled your safety restraints and kneeled before him. With a hand on the either curved cheek of his helmet, you forced him to look at you. You leveled him with a serious look, but he was unflinching, as still as ever. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“They’re Mandalorians. They would want to fight with you. For you. How do you not see that?”

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he pulled your hands away from his helmet. “I can’t do that for you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you snapped before you stood and left the cabin.

… . …

Drawing his eyes away from the streaks of light bending around the Razor Crest, Din found you still in your seat next to him and the Child carefully cradled to your chest. With matching expressions – eyes closed and lips slightly parted – you both slept peacefully. Din had half a mind to wake you and send you both to your room. Even that makeshift bunk had to be more comfortable than the contorted position you’d maneuvered yourself into in your chair. But as the baby moved in your grasp to snuggle further into you, tiny clawed hands gripping the front of your tunic even as he drooled on it, he hesitated to disturb the scene before him.

Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, Din’s entire universe had narrowed to the two of you. His foundling, of course, was already his primary focus in life. And then you showed up and without even meaning to, the three of you had become a family.

Din had a family.

The realization struck him hard and fast, but quickly faded into something familiar. Something some part of him already knew because of course you were his family.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth as the two of you dozed, bathed in blue starlight, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to miss you. The kid had grown fond of you, to say the absolute least. When he wasn’t toddling after Din or causing trouble, he was attached to your hip. But your days together were numbered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that reality. He was suddenly pulled from deep within his own mind by the quiet beep of an incoming holo. With the flick of a single switch, Greef Karga’s figure, in miniature and cast in static blue light, appeared on the console.

Karga’s booming voice filled the silent cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Mando.”

“I’ve been out of range.”

“While I’m sure your new quest has taken you to the furthest reaches of this galaxy, there are more pressing matters at hand here on Nevarro. Would you care to tell me why Moff Gideon, the man you supposedly killed, is amassing stormtroopers outside my city?” he asked pointedly. “Word is he’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Din sighed. “I’ll be there in a few days. I have something I need to take care of first.”

“Something or someone?” Karga mused lowly with a deep chuckle. Din followed his line of sight. Next to him, you’d woken and leaned forward in your seat just enough for the holocam to pick up your image. You watched the guild leader with interest. “Who might this stunning creature be?”

“End of the week,” Din said curtly before switching off the holo.

“Who was that?” you asked. You spoke softly, mindful of the baby in your hold. Your tired gaze lingered on the spot where Karga’s figure stood a moment ago before drifting to Din.

“No one.”

“Right,” you said with a gentle roll of your eyes. “I heard you mention Nevarro.”

“He’s an old associate.”

“A friend?” you supplied, brows lifting with the question.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, I imagine that means something coming from you.” There was a glint of humor in your eyes but faded into something more serious as you leveled him with a stern look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go there first?” you asked, not for the first time. “You know I’m good in a fight.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped him. You could hold your own, of that he had no doubt. And the thought of having you with him for a few extra days was nothing short of tempting. Still, something told him that was how things were meant to happen. That was the original deal the two of you struck up, after all, and the course was already set. The Crest was less than a day out from the Lah’mu sector. It would be easier on his own heart to stick to it. Surprisingly, your argument from the day before had faded into the background. He’d come to expect more of a fight from you, but you’d rejoined him in the cockpit that morning as if nothing had happened.

He decided it was best not to prompt another argument. He stood and held out a hand to you. “It’s been a long day. You should go to bed.”

You placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet before you gently handed the still-sleeping baby to him. “You should too.”

The kid didn’t so much as stir as Din placed him in his makeshift hammock above his cot. He started to remove his armor, stowing the Beskar for a few hours of much needed reprieve. Lost deep in his own tired mind, he didn’t hear you emerge from the ship’s small refresher.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“That.” He glanced over his shoulder at you just in time to see you gesturing toward the compartment.

“Exactly what it looks like.” That time he heard you move closer to him as you peered around his form.

“You’ve been sleeping here?” you asked incredulously. “I thought there was another bunkroom.”

“No,” Din answered flatly. He couldn’t see why that was an issue – especially at the late hour but the scowl on your face as you moved between him and the compartment told him that you expected a better explanation. “Technically there aren’t any bunkrooms on the Crest. Yours was extra carbonite storage for backlog. I converted it recently because the kid kept trying to crawl in here with me and there’s not exactly enough space for two. I wasn’t taking on any quarries so I figured it would work temporarily.”

“And you gave it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping to brush it off.

“Mando,” you sighed, sounding stuck somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. You pursed your lips as you looked back at the cot. “This the sorriest excuse for a bed I’ve ever seen. I’m not letting you sleep here.”

“Where would you have me sleep?” he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“In your bed,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You could be so stubborn when you wanted. Almost as stubborn as him.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too.” There was a hint of a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

“Last time–”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it was enough to make him forget the rest of his sentence. “I miss having you in my bed.”

A chill shot down his spine and settled low inside him as he watched you scale the ladder that led to your room and left him to follow. Just before you disappeared, you threw a playful insult back at him. “Di’kut.”

His chest deflated as a deep sigh fell from his lips. “Let me guess who taught you that,” he called after you, rolling his eyes at your receding figure. He sealed the small compartment and followed you up.

“You had your chance to teach me nice things in Mando’a,” you retorted. “Now I can insult you seven ways to Scarif!”

“Great,” he muttered with a light laugh.

“To be fair,” you offered when he finally walked into your small bunkroom, “Paz called me an idiot too.”

Din froze at the threshold as a cold fear rushed over him. “He told you his name?” he hissed.

“Yeah.” You said it almost lightly, but Din heard the slight edge undercutting your words. He knew you understood the significance of the act. He could see it in the way you teased your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t ask. He just told me. He said it was okay,” you tried to clarify. “It’s not like I expect you–”

“Do you want to know?” he replied quickly despite not knowing if he was prepared to give it if you said yes. While there were a few select people who knew his name now, he had never shared it with anyone himself. If Vizsla could share his name with someone outside the covert, then so could he. Right?

“Of course I do. I want to know all of you,” you started slowly. You stepped closer to him, gently resting your hands on his last piece of armor. Your eyes followed the path of your fingers as you traced the mended edge of his cuirass. “But I only want what pieces of yourself you want to share with me. I would never ask.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You never ask for anything.”

“I asked you to come to bed with me,” you teased, trying to divert the conversation.

“No. You told me.” You smiled almost shyly and made to move away, but Din reached for your hands and held you in place. “Ask me for something. I’ll give it to you.” You eyed him for a long moment as you considered his request. He could see the thoughts racing in your mind. “Ask me for anything,” he repeated.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“A promise?” His brows furrowed behind the visor.

“Do you remember our last conversation that morning at the covert? Because I haven’t forgotten it.” Neither had Din. He nodded once and you squeezed his hands. “No matter what answers we find on Lah’mu, no matter where your journey takes you and your son next, no matter how many years or decades it’s been since we parted,” you took a deep breath as your voice wavered, “I want you to promise me that you will pursue a life that makes you happy. The both of you. Whatever that may be.”

Din had no response to that. He’d given you permission to ask him for anything and for some godsforsaken reason you asked for his happiness. He was struck, hardly for the first time, by just how much good there was in you. That you could possibly care about him that way even amidst your own turmoil. He would’ve preferred you ask him to call his tribe members for help. “Sweetheart–” he tried to admonish.

“Promise me, you stubborn Mandalorian,” you demanded with a new fire in your eyes. “You said you would give me anything. That’s what I want. If I can’t— If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy.” When he didn’t say anything, you pleaded. “Please, Mando.”

Lifting a hand to the back of your head, he drew you closer to him and gently pressed his helmet to your forehead, kissing you in the only way he could in that moment. “I promise,” Din swore even though that didn’t change the fact that there was only one way he ended up happy.

“Thank you,” you sighed as if he’d given you something you needed. Without parting, your fingers dipped beneath the edge of his cuirass. “May I?” He nodded against you and you pulled just enough to deactivate the magnetic hold. Others had tried to take his armor off in the past, usually by force, but with you it felt like a barrier. Something keeping him from what he really wanted.

As Din laid in the too-small bunk with you, your words echoed in his mind. If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy. With every quiet moment that passed, each one somehow longer than the next, he seemed to move closer to you, and you to him, until you met somewhere in the middle. His forehead knocked against yours again and as your breath ghosted across his face, he fought his overwhelming desire to kiss you. Really kiss you. To show you just how much your care for him affected him. But he remembered what happened the last time you’d tried something like that. It ended with you crying into his chest as he held you through the long night.

He asked anyway. “Can I kiss you?” he rasped.

“I thought you just did, Mandalorian,” you teased.

He rolled you over onto your back, caging you in as he leaned on his elbows to hover above you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped.

Before you could offer some smart retort, he slotted his mouth over yours. Despite his eagerness, he felt clumsy and unpracticed. Considering he’d never kissed anyone before you, he absolutely was. You were the only one he’d ever wanted like this. Based on the breathy little noises you made for him, you didn’t seem to mind his inexperience.

He pressed the weight of his body into yours, pinning you beneath him, until there was no space between you. You were molded to him and him to you in a way that felt natural. It felt right. He was growing accustomed to it even as he knew he shouldn’t. But those moments with you, unmasked and exposed, were too enticing.

Din never said he was a good man.

… . …

In the light of an early morning, you ran through an open field surrounded by a forest of tall evergreens. Soft wild grass cushioned each stride as you sprinted toward the tree line, chasing the fresh, spicy scent. Behind you, someone pursued you at full speed.

No. That wasn’t right.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find not one but two young children sprinting after you, squealing and smiling. Your heart practically burst at the sight of their unbridled joy and a laugh of your own bubbled past your lips. You slowed your pace, giving in to them easily, and two sets of arms wrapped around your legs. You knelt in the dewy grass, rewarding them with snug hugs and kisses on their chubby cheeks, and earning yourself another jubilant round of laughter from them both.

Together, they begged you to chase them next, and unable to deny them anything, you readily agreed. You stood, shooing them off to get a head start. But they wouldn’t run away just yet. Not when they were too distracted by something behind you. Another pair of arms, only much stronger, wrapped around you.

The kids ran off, shouting catch us, dad! A low rumble reverberated through your back as the man behind you laughed at the children’s wild antics. Your eyes fell closed as you leaned into him, deciding you’d follow the children in a moment. Right then all you wanted was to savor his embrace. It felt like the closest thing to home you’d ever known.

You turned your head as if to look over your shoulder and a pair of lips met yours. Even after the kiss ended, you didn’t part. The feel of his smile hovering against your lips was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

“Good morning, Din,” you sighed.

You startled awake with a sharp inhale.

Disoriented and scared, you tried to make sense of what you’d just seen. That dream felt real. Too real. Considering the turn your life had taken in the past few weeks, you had no idea what it was. A remnant of your vision. An offering from the Force. Or just your imagination playing tricks on you. It seems like the closer you get to Lah’mu, the more the Force saw fit to taunt you with that other future.

Your eyes searched the pitch-black room for some sort of sign as to where you were, but you couldn’t see anything. Instead, you felt an arm around your waist, holding you securely.

Mando’s arm.

You were still on the Razor Crest, tucked away in your shared bunk that was too small for the both of you, and he was fast asleep behind you, warm and solid. You felt him shift behind you, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely. Even in sleep that man missed nothing. Mando’s hold on you tightened, pulling you back against his chest.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

“No. Not quite. Just...” You screwed your eyes shut and tried to banish the lingering images, or rather sensations, of that other man from your mind. Mando’s voice cut through your daze as he called your name, drawing you back into the present. “Just strange. It almost felt like another vision.”

“Of your future on Lah’mu?”

“I don’t think so.”

Din shifted closer. “Your other future?”

“Yes,” you offered meekly.

“What do you dream of? With him?” The question hurt and you said nothing for a long time. The more time you spent with Mando and the baby, the more certain you were that you’d made the right choice. A life on Lah’mu as a lonely Jedi master was more appealing than a future with a stranger you could never love. Not when your heart belonged to the man lying next to you. Seeing him amongst his people had only reinforced your conclusion that Mando was not the man in your vision. It was not the way. His way. But you supposed that didn’t matter and you were only making yourself upset for no reason by reminding yourself of the fact. You’d chosen your path. “You can tell me,” he prompted again.

You shook your head and craned your neck to face him even though he couldn’t see you. You were so close your noses brushed, but he made no move to part. “No, I don’t think I can.”

A tension hung between you as you waited for his response. “The offer stands,” he finally replied.

“And I appreciate that.” But all you really wanted was to put that dream out of your mind and forget about it entirely. The man next to you provided the perfect distraction.

You closed that last bit of space between you, letting your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss. His soft, slightly chapped lips matched with yours with aching tenderness. Just like that, with him, you felt safe from all the uncertainties your future held. You decided you could indulge in it just a little while longer. Continue what he’d started the night before.

“Good morning, Mando,” you sighed around a lazy smile when you finally parted.

“Good morning, cyar’ika.”

He sounded happier, and your grin pulled taut and you turned in his arms. Holding his face with your hands, your lips melded with his again. He didn’t start at your touch anymore. He sought it out. With a hand gripping your hip, he pressed you closer.

“I could stay right here,” you murmured your confession against his lips in between hungry kisses, “forever.”

“Fuck, so could I,” he admitted. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted around his words, earning a broken, desperate moan from him.

He let you roll him into his back, and you moved so that you were on top of him, a knee pressing into the thin mattress on either side of him. Your hungry mouths slotted together once more.

You longed to feel his skin against yours again and as his hands slid lower, you thought he was going to free you from your tunic. But then his hands traveled further, past the hemline, over your hips and just kept going until he squeezed the swell of your backside, fingers digging into your fabric covered flesh, and ground your hips down against him. Against something hard.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped into his mouth. He chuckled darkly against your cheek as he did it again. That had no right to feel that good. You’d had your suspicions, but knowing he wanted you like that was a whole new thrill. “Eager this morning?” you asked as you searched for breath.

“You started it,” he said low and teasing while nipping at your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you while I can.” He stilled his movements beneath you. You’d meant it as a joke, but it hurt. You pulled away and rested your head against his chest, letting out a long, slow exhalation as that all-consuming melancholy that seeped into the stolen moment. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s fine,” he ground out. It wasn’t fine. You could hear it in his voice. Even as he moved you off of him with the gentlest touch, you felt the distance growing between you once more. He slipped out of the bunk and you listened to him search for his helmet in the dark, but you sensed him hesitate and he turned back to you, cupping your face between his hands and pressing his lips to yours. There was something about this kiss that felt different. There was a desperate sort of passion that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. You return it with equal fervor, pouring all your love for him into that kiss.

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally parted from you.

“I never know.”

“Know what?”

When he spoke next, his voice came to you filtered through the modulator. “I never know when it will be our last.”

The truth of his words tore through you, leaving you feeling cold as you packed your things and emptied the converted bunkroom of all traces of you.

After descending the Razor Crest’s ramp, your boots hit the soft grass first, sinking slightly into the black soil that covered the planet. A cool, misty air kissed your skin as you stepped away from the safety of the ship. Your eyes scanned the green valley, landing on the small settlement that dotted the landscape.

You felt Mando approach. He stopped a half step behind you, but his presence felt heavy, almost overwhelming, as you tried to focus. Still, you knew he’d wait for your call.

“She’s here,” you announced quietly, voice barely audible over the crashing waves. You peered back at him over your shoulder, finding his dark visor already trained on you. His helmet tilted slightly. Your heart swelled with affection at the familiar, inquisitive movement. You were well beyond chastising yourself for the sentiment, even if it hurt. “And I think she’s close.” You tore your eyes away from him, ignoring the way the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Finding your former master had been your goal for years. Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the two of you were on the same planet. Yet you felt no joy at that momentous fact.

You felt a steady hand rest between your shoulder blades. “I’m right behind you, cyar’ika. Lead the way.”

After a few hours of trekking along the base of the rolling hills at the direction of one talkative settler, you found a lone woman meditating in a grassy field. She faced away from you, but the lavender hair styled in a low chignon and dark flowing robes told you exactly who she was.

“Wait here,” you directed without ever taking your eyes off of her. A familiar hand wrapped around yours, stalling you. “It’ll be okay, Mando, but you have to let go.”

You took another step forward and your hand slipped out of his. When you stopped a few paces away, you hesitated. Even after all the years you’d spent searching for your former master, you never figured out what you wanted to say.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, a flash of violet light cut across your vision. Reacting on instinct, you reached for your lightsaber, blocking the attack at the last moment.

Falling back a step, you grounded yourself before meeting her next strike. A clash of blue and purple plasma sputtered before you. Over the cross of your sabers, you saw her calculating amber eyes flick to the side as she lifted a hand. Daring a glance back, you saw Mando frozen in place, blaster drawn and ready to fire.

The force behind your next attack sent Zarichi reeling.

“You hurt them,” you said through gritted teeth in between parries, “and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

“You don’t have it in you,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I taught you everything.” Her next drive, three strong blows you narrowly managed to counter, landed you flat on your back with her saber at your neck. The slightest move would’ve singed your skin. “And you’re out of practice, padawan.”

Before she could so much disengage her lightsaber, she was thrown across the field by some unseen force. You watched her tumble to the ground in a heap before snapping your head to the kid. He stood next to his father, hand outstretched and eyes closed. “Damn,” you breathed.

Zarichi stood and dusted herself off, eyes locked on the baby at Mando’s side. “How curious,” she assed, with a hint of a laugh. Without another word, she set off back toward the settlement. Sighing, you fell back against the grass.

With the baby clutched to his chest and a hand on his hip, Mando appeared above you. “That’s your master?” He didn’t sound amused.

“What’d you expect?” you asked with a shrug. “She’s a Jedi.”

... . ...

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