#novas moon: what the fuck did you just say??
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Lunar: Quick! Hide me!
Nova: What? Why? What's wrong??
Lunar: I jokingly told your Moon that I don't believe in oxygen. Now he's on a war path
#how it happened:#lunar: ive never seen oxygen. i dont think it exists#novas moon: what the fuck did you just say??#lunar: i dont think oxygen exists#moon: thats it. im fixing my travler so i can kill your moon for teaching you that#(also yes i know novas moon and our moon cant interact because dimensional travel cant do that in the canon#i dont think noon knows that)#(i dont have a name for him yet i saw someone suggest naming him aldrin but i dont really like that name#[sorry anon]#so novas moon. novas name + moons name = noon#maybe midnight also#idk)#(this is the longest tags ive ever posted im sorry#thankfully there isnt a tag limit i think)#sun and moon show#sun and moon show incorrect quotes#the security breach show#the security breach show incorrect quotes#sun and moon show moon#sun and moon show lunar#sun and moon show eclipse
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Rockband + werecreatures au👀?
Listen! Sometimes you’re so close to going fucking insane that you have to push the final button yourself. You know? Sometimes you’re the camel and you’re so goddamn tired of all the goddamn straw–oops! How did that Last Straw get on there? Too late! You know? You’re the bug and the boot and you’re the squish and the stain and the absence, you’re the noise and the noise and the noise and the noise.
Seems like Taako is always the noise, these days. It’s easy to be the noise. It’s easy to fill a room to the brim–to drop a flashbang and know people fucking saw something, they’ll remember something, but he got to pick what that something was. A lot harder to just… be in a space. Existing makes Taako itchy. Makes him feel like his skin’s about to peel off and his bones are gonna crack and warp and hideously reach for the gentle light of the moon, like he’s him and he’s a monster and the monster is him and he is the monster, always the monster–
It may or may not be that time of the month.
Which pisses him off, as he sits there noodling on the keyboard in their big hollow practice space. Whale fall of a band hall, the exposed ribs holding up the ceiling, the walls at a half-perceptible angle that no badge-wearing bitch ever could have signed off on, and when it’s full? When that parking lot is full, when all the bottom feeders have come to feast? Man, you can feel it in your bones.
There are two ways to feel alive, and neither one is good for Taako’s blood pressure.
He hammers on the keys, skin too fucking tight, heart beating too fucking fast, and his tempo is burning garbage, and those nasty neighbor kids left firecrackers in the trash again. He’s not even supposed to be here. He had a prior engagement. He had plans. He had hopes, once, dreams, even, but honestly, how embarrassing. He wants to rip and bite and tear and kill. He wants to riff so hard he forgets his name. He should get his guitar and plug it in instead, but he’s on the edge, and if something shoves him bodily over it, careening for a hard pause, he’ll fuck up the strings again and get in trouble. They aren’t famous enough yet to just break stuff. But oh, when that day comes…
Keyboard it is, until he can hold his claws back. D, D, B flat, C– no, no, no, fuck, it never sounds right. What the fuck was Magnus thinking? Idiot doesn’t have ears that perk at every passing car in the night. (Or…does he? He’ll have to google if bears have good hearing later.) He’s got his own problems, yeah, but Taako isn’t being understanding right now, he’s being an absolute bitch, and he can hardly stand himself. Break him open, he’ll be bright as super nova full of glow stick acid. How can anyone expect him to be calm and nice and good, not least himself? No wonder no one wants him. Easier to be the flashbang, to be the noise.
“Taako?”
D, D, B flat, C– it isn’t going to work, not with these lyrics. What were they thinking?
“Taako…”
“Fuck off,” Taako growls. Kravitz does not, in fact, fuck off. He’s incorrigible that way, always turning up like a bad penny. Maybe a counterfeit penny. This one is smiling. Makes you think, why shouldn’t the guy be pleased with himself once in a while?
Smug fucker.
“I’m not going to ask,” Kravitz says, being all understanding or some shit. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Sweet, I won’t, thanks for the permission, guy.” Taako hammers on all the keys at once. Maybe if Kravitz opens his mouth again he’ll straight up sit on the stupid thing.
“But I could pick up drums or bass, if you want to jam?”
“I don’t want to jam. Unless we’re talking a fork in an electrical socket.”
Kravitz nods like this isn’t a middle-school ass answer. Taako’s hardly thinking- well, hardly thinking at all, let alone clearly. Kravitz knows he’s pissed. Maybe if he were like Taako, he’d smell it on him, but you could have no nose at all and pick up on it right now, honestly.
God, Taako wishes Kravitz could understand.
“He stood me up,” he says, still feeling mean, mean, mean, fury burning up his bloodstream. “And you know what? You know how stupid- I thought this time would be different. Fucking-” he doesn’t have any words to follow. He wants to spit acid. Kravitz doesn’t seem bothered enough for him, as he swings himself up onto the stage. Stupid bastard ignoring the stairs to look cool. He’s feeling something, but Taako can’t figure it out. All the senses in the world don’t add up if you can’t focus to do the math. It’s just noise.
“I’ll kill him and eat him for you, if you want,” Kravitz says, sitting heavily at the drumset. He starts tapping a countoff, setting the pace.
“Nah,” Taako says, oddly touched. “He’s probably poisonous. Lawyer.”
“Fuck,” Kravitz says. “What are you doing, fucking lawyers?” He starts in on the drum solo of one of their best songs, and not one to miss a beat, Taako joins him. He wishes he could trust himself on the guitar right now. He needs to slam that motherfucker into another dimension.
“I can fuck whoever I want.”
“You can, no judgment, just- Like you said. Poisonous.” Hard to hear him over the set. The noise beats in Taako’s chest, and he loves it.
“Yeah. Maybe I’ve got a taste for it.”
“Blegh,” Kravitz says, fully sticking his tongue out like a third grader. Taako’s surprised into laughing.
“Yeah, alright, maybe I’m sulking. Shut up.”
Kravitz snickers. The impending chorus looms.
“Seriously, fuck whatever you like.”
“You don’t care?”
“Do you want me to care?” Kravitz doesn’t miss a beat. Asshole.
What’s Taako supposed to say? He’s cornered.
“No,” he says, audibly delayed.
Kravitz shakes his head. They miss the first chorus.
“Cause if you want me to care, you know I will.”
“I do.” Taako’s skin writhes. He doesn’t want to talk. He just wanted to make noise. “I- I don’t know. Maybe I’m poisonous. I’ll bite you and you’ll die.”
“Venomous?”
“Nerd.”
Kravitz cocks his head, not denying it.
“I’m not afraid of your teeth.”
“Maybe you should be!”
“Nah.”
They both stop playing. The hall creaks, the silence echoes.
Taako looks at him.
“I know, Taako.” Kravitz fiddles with his sticks. “You want me to just say stuff? I’ll stop quipping. I know.”
Taako stares at him.
“What are you, some kind of were-chaser?”
Kravitz laughs, startled.
“I mean, it doesn’t turn me off-”
“Jesus!” Taako walks away from the keyboard, pacing. “You know? You know- and-”
“And I’d still kiss you.”
“Hard to kiss with all those teeth,” Taako grumbles.
“Tell me to fuck off, and I will. But you have to mean it.” Kravitz folds his arms. Taako looks at him. Kravitz stares right back.
There’s no way Taako isn’t giving him pathetic sad puppy eyes right now. His night has sucked too bad, and he got too mad, and now he just feels like a stuffed animal dropped in the bathtub.
“Can I make you dinner?” Kravitz asks, a little softer. Fucker. Knowing Taako’s too riled to go out right now. Damn him so hard.
“No chance in hell,” Taako says pleasantly, even though his voice cracks nasty. “Cause that is poisonous. Buy me steak.”
“Yeah,” Krav says, giving him the biggest, mooniest eyes. “Anything you like.”
#taz#taakitz#tazb#the adventure zone#the adventure zone balance#fan5fics#taz balance#taakitz fic#thank you!!
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Sun's out, tantrum's out
Another day, another booktwit drama unfolding. It seems white authors can't go five minutes without attacking Black authors for existing, and in this case accusing them of theft.
You can find part of the drama on twitter, where Lauren M. Davis accuses Marvellous Micheal Anson of plagiarism and copyright violations for having a protag who can control the sun. Because apparently that's her thing. Which will come as a surprise to everyone who has ever written characters utilizing that concept. Including quite a number of gods.
Now that the dogpiling has begun, Lauren is claiming that it isn't just the sun powers thing that was stolen, but hasn't really offered any evidence of what Marve did wrong. About all I can see, between Lauren's snippet and the first chapter of Marve's book, is that in addition to the "sun powers," Marve's book, like Lauren's, also features a character on the run from religious authority figures. If there's any more to that then she hasn't seen fit to tell us.
The official summary for Lauren's book, Nova's Playlist: From Cinders to Tiara is less than helpful in determining a plotline. It's billed as "a story within a story within a story," but from the snippet she posted it sounds like a generic Magical Girl origin story where an "ordinary" girl discovers she has magical powers (superspeed and flight) due to her alien nature and she's recruited into the Solar Girls- to help fight evil, probably. It sounds a little bit Superman and a little bit Sailor Moon, and perfectly fine as a concept. Just not a stunningly original one worthy of vicious defence.
Marve's book, meanwhile, is called Firstborn of the Sun and is steeped in Nigerian culture and Yoruba mythology. It's all about the gods, not aliens, and I can't tell if the plot is going to be about saving the world or something on a smaller scale. There's no information available (that I can find) other than her (broken) link to the first chapter, which is on the Future World's Prize website (chapter here). It seems unlikely that Lauren could have somehow wrangled a copy of the entire book to read in order to determine that enough was "stolen" to warrant a copyright claim. TBH I'd say that Marve dipping into the stories of the Yoruba people is enough to set it distinctly apart, but maybe that's just me.
Lauren's insistence that she's right and the vast majority of the internet is wrong seems disproportionate to the situation and the fact that she chose to target a Black author is definitely suspect, no matter what she says. How did she even find Marve in order to attack her?
Anyway, this isn't going to end well for Lauren. Her book is already being negged on the major sites, which is a bit of an iffy tactic, IMO, given that we just went through a whole condemnation of "review bombing" during the Cait Corrain scandal.
Word to the wise: if you're going to go after someone, especially on social media, make sure you have plenty of evidence and receipts first. Know what you're doing and make sure you're in the right. Or be prepared to reap the consequences you've brought on yourself.
Also? Don't be a fucking racist.
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ogden college (un)official class playlist !
available NOW at a therapist near you !
PART ONE: the student body
lacy by olivia rodrigo・henrietta astor
"oh, i care, i care, i care. like ribbons that you wear. my stomach's all in knots. you've got the one thing that i want..."
hurricane by halsey・reina azarolla
“i’m a wanderer, i’m a one-night-stand. don’t belong to no city, don’t belong to no man. i’m the violence in the pouring rain. i’m a hurricane.”
american teenager by ethel cain・ida clarke
“grew up under yellow lights on the street, putting too much faith in the make believe.”
this link is dead by deftones・lincoln crawford
"pay attention! watch me close! as i decide which way i move"
february 15h by hobo johnson・nova dodson
"she went to columbia and i went to jail. i just wanted another apple when she really wanted yale. and that is the problem where all of this lies. i'm emotionally unstable. i'm a crazy fucking guy!"
crocodile tears by suzanna son・sassa fiske
"crocodile sitting all alone, painting nails the shade of pink to match princess peach's cheek. maybe they'll think i'm beautiful. maybe i can trick them."
perfect day by hoku・charlie fletcher
“people say, they say that it’s just a phase. they tell me to act my age. well, i am.”
the boy who blocked his own shot by brand new・jesse hart
“a crown of gold, a heart harder than stone and it hurts to hold on, but it’s missed when it’s gone”
happy by marina・carmen hearst
"couldn't relax, couldn't sit back and let the sunlight in my lap. i sang a hymn to bring me peace and then came a melody."
too much by carlie rae jepsen・ollie inoue
"i live for the fire, and the rain, and the drama too, boy. and it feels like you never say what you want, and it feels like i can't get through, babe."
nina cried power by hozier and mavis staples・ mika ishii
“power has been cried by those stronger than me straight into the face that tells you to rattle your chains if you love being free. ah lord, and i could cry power!”
people watching by conan gray・logan iyande
“i’m only looking just to live through you vicariously. i’ve never really been in love, not seriously.”
summer child by conan gray・samantha jimenez
"and you laugh and you dance in the wind, and you sway, and you hug and you kiss, but there's darkness behind those eyes."
savage daughter by sarah hester ross・ nixie linghui
“i am my mother’s savage daughter. the one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones. i am my mother’s savage daughter. i will not cut my hair. i will not lower my voice.”
mirrorball by taylor swift・roxie marsh
“hush. when no one is around, my dear, you’ find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love. shinning just for you.”
don’t tell my mom by renée rapp・courtney mills
“so don’t tell my mom i’m falling apart. she hurts when i hurt. my scars are her scars. she’ll talk to her friends, impress all of them. at least in her mind, her daughter is fine.”
donttrustme by 3oh!3・cara morrison
“she's an actress, but she ain't got no need. she's got money from her parents and a trust fund back east."
halloween by novo amor・edward morrison
“more and more with every accolade, i get carried with away with being carried away.”
i did something bad by taylor swift・greer morrison
"they're burning all the witches even if you aren't one. so light me up. go ahead and light me up."
autoestima by cupido, lola indigo and alizzz・ milo navarro
“my mother and my father gave me an extremely nice face. people don’t usually like pretty people like me.”
forsaken by paris paloma・alethea pierce
"i think i've done something to upset the stars again. the moon won't return my calls, but i deserve it. i deserve it all.”
strange overtones by david byrne, performed by whitney・lennon reed
"how long have i been missing? it's getting colder tonight. snowfall's reminiscing... i watched it melt before my eyes."
frankenstein by rina saywama・magnolia rhodes
"put me together, thread a needle so i'm like other people without all of the evil. i'm trying to be normal, but the trauma is immortal and none of this is your fault."
baseball by hippo campus・monty richler
“there goes that moonboy looking jungly with all his leaves a-growing.”
king by florence and the machine・anya saetang
"my empty halls echo with grand self-mythology. i am no mother, i am no bride. i am king."
stick season by noah kahan・nathaniel shaw
“now i'm stuck between my anger and the blame that i can't face and the memories are something even smoking weed does not replace."
liability by lorde・natalia vega
"she's so hard to please, but she's a forest fire. i do my best to meet her demands, play at romance, we slow dance in the living room, but all a stranger would see is one girl, swaying alone, stroking her cheek."
satanist by boygenius・jacqui velazquez
“will you be a nihilist with me? if nothing matters, man, that’s a relief…”
you're on your own, kid by taylor swift・parker walsh
"there were pages turned with the bridges burned, everything you lose is a step you take. so make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it. you've got no reason to be afraid. you're on your own kid. yeah, you can face this..."
river by leon bridges・malik wright
"as my sins flow down the jordan, oh, i wanna come near ya and give ya every part of me. but there's blood in my hands, and my lips aren't clean..."
tolerate it by taylor swift・mari zuko
“i made you my temple, my mural, my sky. now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life.”
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arachnophobia ch4 notes
title
from "undertaker", by nova twins
opening quote
from everything everywhere all at once, directed by daniels
this is the mentor-confrontation chapter. jess is aware that she's failing gwen, and has chosen to keep doing so and justify it. miguel has no fucking clue. and peter actually recognizes that he fucked up. the former two are the ones to watch out for.
jess
gwen is now a spider-gwen. we're halfway through the story, so it's time for her to embrace that distinction. and to use it to break apart her sense of closeness with jess.
we're at the bargaining stage of the seven stages of grief. this chapter is about gwen talking to three mentors who essentially hold her life in her hands, trying to see if she can come to terms with them, and concluding it isn't possible.
pav called jess. he's a nice kid who trusts the society, and being a friend of gwen's, he's probably had a lot of interactions with her. when he gets worried about gwen, he calls her foster mom.
and jess called miguel.
gwen saw jess as a mother from the moment she blurted out 'can you adopt me' in the guggenheim. she's a teenage girl whose own mother died when she was young, who's constantly searching for specifically female role models.
i've always really wondered about how nueva york feels about the tower of dimension-hopping spiders downtown. probably a lot of conspiracy theories.
gwen's spider-sense is reminding her of earth-65a's cindy moon and sue storm. more on this later.
jess is capable of genuine maternal concern towards gwen. she's just also capable of shutting it down.
jess did the bare minimum of not leaving a teenager alone with her dad while he's pointing a gun at her, and then proceeded to do nothing but neglect her after the fact. gwen has to sleep over at hobie's, so she hasn't even found this girl a place to stay.
in the comics, roxxon is the slimy energy corporation responsible for the spider that bit gwen. she was at a political protest against them when it happened.
timeline note: gwen's been at the society for seven-going-on-eight months, to atsv's five.
'the wrong spider-woman' ... subconsciously, gwen wants to speak to earth-8 gwen.
some jessicas do have pheromones. no clue if 404 jess does.
another important lesson for gwen to learn: not all women support each other simply on the basis of their gender.
jess's origin here is mostly fabrication. comics-jess's origin is honestly so convoluted it was difficult to make sense of. i kept the bit about her father experimenting on her to save her from an illness-- felt like a girl who spent her whole childhood in and out of hospitals would turn into a thrill-seeker once she's finally healthy. so in my mind, jess got the bike and put on the mask to make up for lost time.
and jess is often a spy or agent in her depictions; 404-jess still has those positive associations with the government, given how one of their projects saved her life.
404-gwen's the girl with cancer glimpsed in chapter 1.
jessica drew in the comics doesn't have a gwen; her existence here is all made up for the fic. the death needed to fit jess's hospital backstory, give her some level of agency in causing it, while still making it ultimately out of her control. ergo, jess gets the serum, gwen does not. and like any gwen death: jess does feel responsible, and gwen isn't even given any say in it.
"it was a mercy" girl no the fuck it wasn't.
jess is like any other spider-man, making her gwen's death the most important thing about her.
and jess's issues with gwen are also personal. she isn't the girl jess was best friends with, and she's not happy about it.
every time a gwen is saved by her spider, the narrative tends to sling some bullshit about how ~we would have been better off if she died~ -- so jess very much regrets taking gwen out of 65b.
there are so many different jessica drews. she's a difficult character to pin down because of it. makes you wonder what made miguel want a jess as his right hand, and what made this jess accept.
in my mind, it's that, apart from her preexisting sense of loyalty to shady government/policing structures, she wants that consistency he provides. she wants to be the definitive jess, so if she's in his inner circle, he'll be persuaded to adjust the narrative in her favor.
and jess can't see eye to eye with gwen. all jess wants is what gwen technically has-- a clear-cut purpose in the story that everyone agrees on and finds important. she can't relate to gwen resenting that purpose.
another callback to gwen's best female villains: they're women who want what she has. cindy moon in earth-65 created the radioactive spider and is angry that gwen got powers instead of her, and considers her unworthy of it. sue storm wants the fame and acclaim ghost-spider has as the biggest hero in nyc, and believes she's too ugly and problematic to have such a platform, so she blackmails her into fleeing the universe (... not that the comics ever follow up on that).
65b gwen's three and a half years into being spider-woman, yet she hasn't even had her identity revealed to her dad yet. by that time, 65a gwen had not only revealed it to her father, but been depowered, venomized, exposed, arrested and been to prison. gwen b's taking an oddly long time to meet her canon events.
her supporting cast is also smaller-- there's no harry osborn, for one. and there's no murdock to send the rhino to attack her dad, which is how her identity's exposed to him in the comics. had to point that out.
gwen b is much more... palatable than gwen a. she's a graceful dancer, not a clumsy bruiser. she's sixteen, not nineteen. she's level-headed, not temperamental. she loved her peter back and he died as a mistake; he wasn't a borderline incel who she beat to death. she's capable of infiltrating visions academy and fucking alchemax. she's strategic and level-headed, and doesn't go cracking nearly as many puns and burns or giving emotional speeches.
all of which probably make her more appealing to the society than her comics-alternative.
jess's goal was keeping gwen from slipping off that pedestal. she failed.
the captain gwen stacy is an invention for the fic. just felt like a permutation that'd show up.
jess's method of catching gwen is all in her words.
jess cares, but not enough. she'll tell gwen there are others like her, but won't protect her from miguel.... but she'll still act like she will to save face.
gwen needed a little closure with pav, even if it's just asking jess to let him know she's okay with him.
peter b
the society's fucking giant. probably an intimidation tactic.
peter b also knows-- i imagine the inner circle are all aware gwen's being sent home. he is not okay with it, and wants to get gwen's side of things.
he's also trying to be a dad here.
in the comics, gwen and peter-616 go for hot dogs. little nod to that too.
you really do have to wonder how pete responded to learning that all his exes formed a band and are dating each other.
and a hint of that spider-man entitlement bubbles up, assuming all the girls do is talk and write about him.
i assume peter b's dealt with clones in his world already.
i'm also guessing he's a stay at home dad, simply bc of how complicated having a baby who can wallcrawl would be.
peter b has to be the halfway point in this fic. he's the original peter who dropped gwen, the source of this death curse. and he's the first spider-man to acknowledge that he does not have the answers as to how to deal with this problem.
peter and miles are still in contact. so everything gwen says here WILL get back to him.
one of the central problems with miles and gwen as a couple in the comics is that the relationship is based on the idea of gwen avoiding her problems by attaching herself to a guy, and miles pursuing gwen because she's a way to assimilate into respectable spider-man-ness. their awful date issue happened during a time where marvel was just throwing peter's leftovers at miles to try and make him stick. his leftover villains and rewarmed plotlines. and his old girlfriend.
recontextualized here: miles's crush was genuine to start, but it was still shallow. he barely knows her! he had a year and a half to project anything he wanted onto her, so what IS left at this point except for the aesthetic of her, in his mind? and then when he gets to the society, all he hears is 'you have to be just like peter', so he puts two and two together, and decides that he should get with gwen simply because it'll make him a more legitimate spider-man.
1048 miles is from the insomniac games. that uncanny valley video game model style would undoubtedly creep the spiderverse-animation-style characters out.
another mention of venom: he's one of the central antagonists of the upcoming ps5 game, and venom's going to show up in this fic soon, so you need to keep being reminded of that name.
interesting that miguel centers his canon theory on peter parker's history. one has to wonder what motivated it-- my guess, there are more peter-spider-men than anyone else, so he assumes they're closer to the ideal.
and miles, in the movies, in the game, in the comics, is always held up in comparison to peter. one would think 1610b miles would learn that if he hung out with his alt selves.
gwen very much is peter's sloppy seconds. that's the whole problem with gwiles. it only exists to shove miles's story full of elements that are unique to peter, rather than letting him find his own. if miles and gwen get together, he's still trying to be like peter.
siat salt: the basis of comics-miles's attraction to gwen is that he thinks she's hot, he likes that she has powers, and he enjoys the way his friends react to him overselling their tepid romance. literally, comics-miles sees gwen as a prize.
movie miles at least has an emotional connection with her... but that's not enough to overcome the lack of time spent together, or all the pressure on him to be like peter. his feelings for her are sincere, but the relationship would always be poisoned by those external factors.
itsv salt: gwen, peter b and miles aren't an equal trio. it's miles, his mentor, and the girl who will be his love interest. it's a ninety degree angle, not a triangle. gwen and peter b do not have a deep connection. they behave like coworkers, not friends.
during itsv, why is peter treating a 15-year-old girl like she's an adult when he's mentoring a 14-year-old boy so carefully?
and since gwen landed 'last week' how exactly was she not glitching harder than peter, who was only there for a few days?
... and where was she sleeping during that time? visions is a boarding school so crowded miles had to win a lottery to get in-- there aren't any beds available.
and why was she even at visions? miles wasn't even bitten yet. and there was a spider-hero with her exact powers, who she had days to reach out to, and didn't. because she was just hanging around a middle school for no reason.
(the reason: the writers wanted to set her up as miles's love interest. that's the entire purpose of her presence in itsv.)
and how does gwen not mention or seem affected by ripeter's death? he's a second peter parker who died on her watch, and this one was a spider like her, who she had all the time to reach out to.
it'd have made far more sense if gwen is introduced at the collider, collaborating with spider-man and trying to get home, but failing.
anyway. peter b absolutely failed gwen. he did not protect or mentor her in itsv, or after she joined the society. he's complicit in all the shit miguel and jess were doing to her. it had to be brought up.
and here, peter b realizes he fucked up.
the first gwen stacy hated spider-man. spider-gwen deserves that too.
peter ii
(general salt about spider-gwen in general: literally the moment she was created-- the second gwen stacy was alive, had powers and her own world and story-- all the writers and fandom could imagine for her was "which man can she belong to" and they got to work throwing versions of spider-man at her. the one that stuck was miles, not because they were a good match, but because he was the one who babytrapped her in an alternate future. so from day 1, people still saw spider-gwen's 'purpose' as 'spider-man's future babymaker.' they never changed their view of gwen stacy, or questioned what harm that perception of her did to the original. imagine sexism rotting your brain that much. imagine being that fucking stupid.)
(imagine being one of the spiderverse writers, reading the earth-8 shipping episode, and thinking "what if you fall in love with boy #2 instead of boy #1, and if you're really loyal to him, then we won't kill you!" is a stunning twist instead of an insulting step backwards for a character who'd already escaped her narrative.)
(gwen, miles and peter are a trio in the comics, in large part because of synergy with these movies. it never made sense that spider-gwen wanted to be their friend, when all they fucking do is objectify and hit on her. the comic hierarchy will never let her call them on their shit or be angry at them. at least in this fic, she gets to say she hates it.)
"it's okay to be selfish" is right out of the comics. issue 4 of seanan mcguire's ghost-spider run. one of the most touching modern peter parker moments in years.
applied here to a peter who's been spider-man for almost thirty years, who has a family now, it's even more crucial. finding that balance is why he was able to last.
movie salt: a girl who keeps being ordered to give up her life and autonomy to serve the story of a guy discovering that she deserves to be selfish is essential. it's far more revolutionary and genre-busting than 'i should continue to be selfless, but this time For Miles instead of For Peter'
spider-man blue is an amazing comic about peter's connection to gwen. i read it to prep for this section and can't recommend it enough. that's where peter having a box of her stuff in his attic comes from.
it was the consensus of the writers of the original comics that mary jane was the better love interest than gwen. the plan was originally for peter and gwen to remain together, but the second mj appeared, they knew it was over and needed an excuse to get rid of her. her personality was a bigger hit with readers.
the tragedy of peter and gwen isn't that they didn't end up together-- it's that they didn't get to drift apart on their own terms.
peter b tells the truth: in chapter 1, he lied about his gwen being passed out to shield gwen from the uglier details. here, he's finally ready to admit what actually happened.
and he's the first spider-man (apart from hobie) who understands that gwen wants to know who his gwen was while she was alive.
616 gwen's defining feature isn't that she's pretty, though she is. it's that she's smart. she was as smart as peter, and she was a deeply kind girl who cared deeply about her friends and family. (she was also slightly bitchy at times, fwiw) and she was the one who decided to return to new york; peter didn't make her.
65 gwen IS a lot like her-- but here peter stops himself. because it shouldn't matter if they're similar. 65 gwen should be her own person too.
peter b's dad instincts finally function, and recognize gwen as one of His Kids. however, if he prevents gwen from going into this confrontation or tries to go in with her, then it's about him redeeming himself as a father figure and not her growing. it had to be shut down.
everything gwen tells peter will get back to miles.
peter b's hug is another bookend on chapter 1. now he actually holds her like she's alive, and like she's his kid.
in general, during this chapter, i was trying to walk the line of gwen being on the verge of turning into a supervillain, and being pulled back from the edge by this conversation with peter. if he had not been here, if he had not figured his shit out and therefore shown her it's possible for spider-people to change, she would probably have fully disowned all the other spiders. she would never give miles the chance to apologize to her. the eventual council of spider-women would have become the isolationist group it is in the comics, she would not help miles save 1610 from the spot, and she would never have answered pav's call.
(and while we're on that topic, there's a version of this fic where gwen went full villain in chapter 3. she fully snapped and killed pav, snatched a watch from hq on her own, and made the council an organization who actively kill other spider-people to protect their dimensions' gwen stacys. i almost wrote that fic instead, but it ended up being this instead. i didn't end up writing it because it was too depressing, and because after further thinking, i figured hobie's relationship with gwen is what stopped that future from happening: she had someone taking care of her, giving her somewhere semi-stable to stay, and validating all her anger-- and therefore gwen goes into her breakdown with an understanding that it IS possible for spiders to do better.)
miguel
gwen knows she's getting sent home. she just wants to see if she can get the spider-gwen info out of him and get him to let gayatri live.
she accidentally gave him the idea to use alternate gwens as placeholders. that's coming back.
gwen's death is the backbone of the multiverse. so many alternates and what-ifs exist around her death.
the first thing miguel does in atsv is fuck up a canon event scenario-- the captain's death.
how isn't gwen the original anomaly. if gwen's death is a canon event, and there's a spider-gwen running around two years before the collider exploded, something's fishy.
fandom salt: gwen is capable of thinking and feeling and doing things that don't involve miles
offscreen miles activity: his dad's captain, and projected to die soon. he's flipping his shit. someone told him about his anomaly status and earth-42, and he's catching on that this is bullshit too.
miles's arc in atsv is perfect. i wanted to preserve it, even if it's happening offscreen and slower, and without gwen.
margo and peter b are taking on that role here.
sorry movies, but gwen and miles's relationship can't break canon. it reinforces the idea that gwen can only be spider-man's girlfriend, and that miles has to be like peter parker.
hence why miguel's invested in it. the two loose ends are tied up.
on gwen's end, if she marries miles and has kids with him, the subversiveness of her story dies. she'll never be allowed to leave his shadow again and any attempt to do so will be demonized.
the married-with-kids ending for gwiles turns her into an object to make a man more impressive. the spider-man who saves his gwen, keeps her alive and reproduces with her is the most special one, after all. it's not about her. it's about him and his legacy. anyone who wants that ending for gwen is either naive to its consequences for her, totally indifferent to it, or they DO know, and part of the appeal of this outcome is taking an independent woman, clipping her wings, and turning her into a trophy.
(miles is the first. miguel is the latter.)
earth-8 gwen is presented in canon as one of the Best Outcomes for gwen. which, to the men who wrote that storyline, no. gwen's a queer punk girl who wants to play the drums, not get married, pump out a nuclear family and become a supercop. she loves her world so much that abandoning it would break her heart. it's not a perfect future for 65 gwen, it's a miserable one.
fic-gwen has just put that together. her first impulse was to hate gwen-8 because she assumed she's complicit in trying to force gwen to be like her. now she's putting together that she's also a victim to this larger system.
there are plenty of alt-spider gwens, but not very many with any distinguishing features. five were chosen to be featured here:
trn457: ultimate cartoon-- this gwen's a young teen who makes herself a hero with tech from her dad's robocop line, choosing to be a hero even when miles already is one, and not doing so to be his sidekick or partner.
trn684: marvel rising cartoon. a diet comics gwen, aged down for the grade schoolers her show is aimed at. she's a drummer, with a skimpier design, bolder hair, and this gwen, like movies-gwen didn't kill her male best friend (a... kevin), but is assumed to by the cops. she also has gliders!
trn-18157: the marvel action comics, aimed at younger readers, where gwen is one of a plucky reporter trio trio with miles and peter. just friends! imagine that!
trn-17628, marvel spider-man 2017 cartoon. peter, miles, gwen and anya are classmates at a school for genius teens who become spiders together. gwen and anya have a gay vibe here.
earth-8311. spider-guin. the pun is great. gwen still being flightless is hilarious.
atsv gwen's penguin stuffed animal is a reference to her. and that her pink hair's a nod to her marvel rising counterpart.
all the spider-gwens, despite being from separate canons, affect each other. gwen has pink hair because marvel rising gwen did. gwen's a drummer from e65 who lost peter because comics gwen is.... and because movie-gwen is being made into miles's girlfriend, other versions of spider-gwen will probably follow suit. synergy.
which is why the girlfriendification of gwen in these movies is so awful. it's going to spread.
marvel action and msm17 gwen were chosen specifically to show that it isn't required for gwen to be spider-man's girlfriend. it was always possible for her to be just friends with miles and peter.
gwen is a symbol to the society. look at how great we are, we even raised gwen from the dead and made her one of us. and her presence makes miguel seem all the more special for being the one who did it.
the vibe between gwen and miguel is murky and fascinating. he keeps her close but treats her poorly. her father was redesigned for the movie to look more like miguel, whose defining death is now his daughter, whose name starts with a g. he is very much her father figure.
yet there are also miguels who are romantically involved with their gwens. earth-187319 is real. points for gwen for literally choosing to incinerate herself instead of date him.
like peter b, gwen exists for miguel in this gray area between daughter and girlfriend. unlike peter b, miguel can't or won't recognize gwen as her own unique entity. i think even he isn't totally sure what to do with gwen; he's using her as a gabi-replacement goldfish, but he's also very aware of other miguels whose gwens served a different role.
in my mind, he's on the verge of crossing that line. makes for eerier interactions.
adherence to canon is slowly wrecking miguel too. everyone is a victim.
perfect gwen of earth-8 is what a male writer would think is the ideal future for gwen stacy. it's what a father would want for his daughter: for her to grow up pretty, smart, polite, enter a respectable job and surround herself with respectable people. for her to marry and have the right number of kids with the safe boy he approves of, who won't challenge the status quo.
so though perfect gwen has a lot to offer the society, she's really here to be an ideal for gwen to strive towards. there's nothing scarier for a father than watching his daughter grow up and become a complicated, flawed adult.
especially watching her seek out romantic and sexual connections he doesn't approve of.
being the daughter archetype doesn't give you any more freedom or protection than being the lover.
miguel only thinks gwen's special because he's the one that protected her. it's still all about him.
and of COURSE the way gwen's punished in atsv is being sent to another male figure for punishment. it's always about which man is currently in control of gwen.
comic-gwen's most effective male villains are men who want to control, influence and own her or punish her for not using her power (... her body) in ways they approve of. just like in the comics, gwen is pressed into joining a shady organization led by a man whose name starts with the letter m (miguel, murdock) who holds her power at arms length unless she performs services for him, and has a skeevy vibe with her.
and yes, comics gwen beat the shit out of him.
'gwen yeets miguel' was the only note i had for this section in my outline.
the one person who'll do something about gwen's death is hobie.
bringing back the red. and a mention of something dangerous. that's coming back too.
punching up is the answer. she's finally figured that out.
she's on her way to hobie.
another serendipitous moment: if 616 gwen stayed in london, she'd have survived. and look at that, along comes a londoner spider-man who's the only one working to secure her freedom, and who wants her to have self-definition and agency. it's too perfect.
closer quote
from jason latour's radioactive spider-gwen. this is the moment gwen-617 calls the watcher on his shit for trying to force 65 gwen to be with miles to produce the earth-8 timeline, for mocking her female supporting cast, for being angry that getting venomized didn't turn gwen into a villain. in short, for demanding she fit into a neat little box instead of become her own character.
and in context here, it refers to miguel, not being able to handle the thought of a gwen not fitting into her preconceived box.
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⌛💉 Marcus, 🌃🖤 Alistair, 🌹🤝 Tammy
Marcus:
⌛ When and how were they turned?
"Starting off dangerously, are we? I suppose talking about my past wouldn't hurt too terribly bad. If you know my dear Lilliana's story, then you know mine as well. We were both young nobles in late 18th century France. Most people with eyes to read a book and ears to hear the tales of historians know what happened to nobles during that time period. My wife's family was no different. When she disappeared that night I thought I had lost her, the person I was closest to in the entire world. I was lost in my way, and my family -try as they may to urge me to consider another suitor- was unable to console me.
Enter my sire, Elise. A beautiful british woman, tall with flowing blonde hair. She convinced my family that I was better off getting treatment for my broken heart, and once the papers were signed she dominated them and altered their memories. Marcus wasn't just standing in the foyer hours ago, Marcus died of typhoid a few months before the Sylvestres were executed. Their beloved son was long since buried in the family crypt.
Elise offered me the chance to see Lilliana again, to which I accepted without yet knowing the terms. A bit foolish of me, but given that we have been reunited for over 200 years now I do not begrudge my young self. Under the light of the full moon in the garden of my family's estate, Marcus Beaumont died his mortal death. My blood decorated the poppies growing from the earth and I awoke as a kindred."
💉 Have they sired anyone? If so - why, how and did they claim their childe?
"Is it strange to hear a sabbat bishop admit he has only sired once? The act of mass embrace is archaic, and unnecessary in these times. I never participated in one myself, and have only given my blood outside of vaulderie to a single kindred.
It was a chance encounter, a time I decided to hunt for myself to feed rather than partake of one of my ghouls. Due to my feeding restriction I tend to not overly hunt or drain the kine too much. If I run out of places to feed, then it starts to get very not pretty very fast.
Met a young man at one of the drinking establishments in the city, offered to take him to get some actual food. I learned a bit about him as we chatted. He was young, he was bold, he was stupid. His father had apparently thought so too, as he had just signed up to join the war effort. I eventually asked his name and was floored when I heard the last name.
Beaumont.
Turns out he was my sister's great grand. My own blood, running off to join one of the wars of the kine, one that would surely get him killed. If it was a war he wanted to fight, it would be one worth the fight.
His embrace, it went wrong. I did everything correct, but still it went wrong. His body seemed to reject my vitae, I often wonder if it was because he was my own kin. It was a miracle of Caine he even awoke, a lost and fragmented soul. He no longer recalled anything from before he awakened, and none of it ever returned.
Lilliana and I treat him as our own of course, he is the son we never had the chance to have."
Alistair:
🌃 Where are they from and where do they live now?
"You're asking where I'm from? Why bother? What difference does it make if I was born in West Virginia or New Mexico? You're that curious? Would Nova Scotia surprise you? Of course the accent isn't just for show, you fool!
Toronto is where I make my home now, after radiovangelist Alistair Seth Allan tragically passed away from a lung infection. It's a bit close to that Camarilla cesspool than I would like, but given the opportunities it presents me I don't see much reason to complain about it too much."
🖤 How do they feel about being turned? (How did they adjust? Do they feel differently now than they did when they were first turned?)
"My feelings about the embrace? Hate to say it but its not like I had much of a choice in the matter. I dunno if you've got cotton in your fucking ears or what, but I wasn't joking about the lung infection. I was fully set on passing on peacefully, my work for the lord done good and well. That is until a certain blasted tremere regent with true faith decided to save me by damning me eternally!
I hated being a kindred, I hated being a tremere. I hated the camarilla and all its frills and fallacies and I hated everything and everyone my first few years. First chance I had, I ran. The chantry didn't take it seriously. I was blood bonded, so of course I'd come crawling back sooner or later. But I didn't. I defected. The bonds eventually broke.
I found Caine soon after I joined the sabbat, and though the journey's been rough, I am grateful to have this second chance at life and a second gospel to spread. Our father's words guide our actions each night, and it is my eternal duty to do the same."
Tammy:
🌹 What clan do they belong to and how do they feel about them?
"Ventrue, blue bloods, the clan of kings. Ironic isn't it, my name being Tammy King and being one of them? I'm sure that was on purpose, a constant reminder of what I was and what my sire expected of me. A clan of leaders, of the proud, of the strong willed. All words I don't really know fit me very well.
As a group, ventrue are an interesting topic. Our sires are picky and selective, and after embrace it's not uncommon for them to stow us away until we're smart enough, talented enough, polite enough to not embarrass them. As such, I haven't met overly many. Younger ventrue aren't allowed at clan meetings, and if your sire is particularly eccentric or distrustful you might not see your first elysium for decades. Oh and don't get me even started on feeding preference, the night you learn that is arguably more important than your embrace. Sires put so much pressure on their childer to learn theirs, don't take almost a year to find yours like I did. Just trust me on that.
There's so much to learn as a ventrue, so much you're expected to know and do. And even after all that you're still not a full member of clan ventrue until you prove yourself to the board. They make it sound easier than it is, just pull off some incredible accomplishment and you're in. I'm not sure how long I'm gonna be working on mine, just gotta hope I'm done with it by the time my second decade rolls around.
I say this all like its bad, but in honesty its not. Sure its a lot all at once, and its really rough if you're like me and feel totally unprepared for everything. But its also pretty nice, ventrue have a sense of community, what's good for the clan is often good for the individual as well. We help one another, no excuses, no exceptions. Knowing that can really give you reassurance, you know?"
🤝 What is their relationship with their sire like?
"Ah... I did mention him in passing earlier. Do you promise to not tell him what I say here? You do? Okay, if I can be honest, its much better than it used to be. Neither of us really seemed ready for my embrace. I was scared, confused and most of all, bitter. I lost the only thing I had achieved in my mortal life with the embrace, and I was mad at him for taking it from me. He was cold, distant and wasn't really the best teacher early on. Looking back I can't really blame him, he was as new to this as I was.
Over time we became more accustomed to one another, or at least it feels like it. As time passed I opened up my heart to him, and he tried his best to watch over me and help when I needed it. It took about five years, but we got there in the end.
He's never been fully honest with me about many things, but Zacharias has been there for me for over ten years now. I like to think we've gotten closer in that time, but it always feels like there's a chasm between us. Maybe one day I can cross that chasm and tell him how I truly- apologies, I really shouldn't say more."
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AH OKAY SO
@traichank asked me about my Moon's headcanons and stuff, so I figured I'd put it into a post to talk about it!!!
BEHAVIORISMS: My Moon is very sweet-hearted. I often view him as caring and considerate of your health and your feelings (Forgive me for being a complete and total sap), but can also be a bit of a brat when jealous. For completely personal reasons, I think he's an easily flustered individual due to the fact that he's always expected most people to find him a bit intimidating, but mainly given the fact that not only does he have red eyes, he only functions properly when it's completely dark outside.
My version of Moon also speaks using really unique, sophisticated dialogue. (EXAMPLES: “Indeed you did, my little star. Thank you. I am extremely grateful to you for doing this for me; Truly.” || “I will never mind if it’s taking care of someone’s health, nova.”) I think this because I would imagine he has a wider vocabulary for things like storytelling, lullabies, ETC. Plus, he's not as energetic as Sun and takes into consideration things like being understandable when speaking. He doesn't need to speak all that much, but he's been developed to be a soothing character when it comes to his primary course of function: naptime.
He's particularly fond of his job, and loves the children he cares for. He has a pretty long fuse, and doesn't easily become frustrated unless a child is being particularly hard-headed about disobeying the rules.
After being corrupted by Vanessa (canonically happens in my fic towards the end of Book One) Moon becomes colder and more irritable than he was before. Less considerate and more distant when it comes to looking after you, much less any of the children. I imagine he's not outright hurtful to any of the kids unless it's further down the line of corruption, or you've hurt his feelings particularly badly in his mid-glitch arc, in which case he'll vent his frustration out on the littles.
He wouldn't hurt you until further down the line when he's much less himself, and he's fed up with you attempting to figure out what's wrong with him (you're determined to help, after all).
If he end up discovering he has romantic feelings for you, he'll be subtle about it. With you (i.e., the reader) he's naturally a little flirty and content, since you're a very likeable adult who seems to enjoy and accept his company. But he would be quite clingy. He very much enjoys your attention, even if he pretends to act like a hardass about it. It's not that he can't ask for you to stay- he just doesn't want to appear like he needs you.
HEADCANONS: I imagine that Moon has a seperate box specifically for playing song tunes. I can say that while it would primarily play music-box style sounds in the form of common children's lullabies, he would also have a couple of music-box-sounding backing tracks for his personal programmed lullabies, I.E., "sleepy little starlight". I also think that he would have the ability to play chiptune-type music, which was a function meant for Sun, but the developers fucked up the coding for Sun to be able to access the music box and now is unable to sing very well.
Moon's voice is something of a low, quiet rumble. It's a guttural type of voice, one that comes from deep within your chest, and almost never raises above a soft, hushed voice. When it's raised, it often glitches and becomes very raspy, much like how someone's throat would tire from singing notes higher than their vocal range.
Both Sun and Moon have the ability to make a rumbling noise that is similar to that of a cat's purr. It was never an immediately activatable function, which is why in "Overheat" Sun was confused when he began to do it. In that case, it was involuntary, but it was a beta function added by developers for Moon, primarily, to help soothe children with the stimulation from the vibrations and the comforting noise.
Squishy pads on their fingers and palms that can warm up or cool down according to a child's needs? yes. I also imagine that they're made of a similar substance to that of the little Mochi characters you can buy off of Amazon.
Both the boys would know sign language and the ability to tap out morse code. Also, the bells on their wrists can be used to help the visually impaired to find their way to their caretaker, be it Sun or Moon.
As for mechanics, Moon's head can rotate the full 360 degrees, as can his torso, pelvis, and both legs [separately; his legs, which connect on either side of his pelvis, are on ball joints]. His elbows can only move like how a human's can, but his wrist and shoulder sockets being metal ball points allow those parts to go all the way around.
He can minimally emote before Glittered Red, Silent Blue, when we begin to see minor upgrades being put in place, such as a far more versatile mouth system and further joint repairing. The cheap LED clusters functioning as eyes at the time are also replaced with screens, making their eyes able to emote a variety of things, including hearts, exclamation points, swirls, and more. It's a function to increase intractability with the children and to promote more streamlined communication.
Moon has complete access to the internet. He blocks Sun out when browsing, as is mentioned, but this allows him to be far more educated on slang terms and general knowledge than Sun, who religiously conforms himself to his role as Daycare Supervisor.
Moon pre-glitch does not "patrol" at night, rather, but roams around when he's feeling bored. He would get along with DJMM best given his personality, and find Freddy and Chica to be far too endearing. DJ just lets him vibe. Moon in his glitch phase anxiously patrols around, making sure that nobody is around to see him in such a state (and makes sure they leave if anyone is behind before closing-time).
THANK YOU FOR THE SUGGESTION~!!! If you're looking for something more specific (dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) send me an ask and I'll get back to yah!! I loved compiling all of this stuff, haha, and I hope it's what you're looking for with.. whatever you're up to 👀😏.
#shut it sunny#sunny answers#jay jay says things#sunny and moonpie#Moonpie breakdown#hey hey this was fun#y u want this aye#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf moon#moondrop
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Now I’ve Seen it All | N&M(and B)
Fucking finally... Nova pushed her way out of the cells, nearly bowling over some other poor slave trying to do the same. Seriously though what did they expect? With the brilliant idea of only giving them an hour of free time a day, there was almost always that mad rush to get to the surface. Nova’s small size made it easy though and soon enough she had wormed her way through the throng and to the surface, breathing in that sweet island air that she was..actually starting to get used to. Ugh though, what she wouldn’t give for a gray Seattle evening though as all of this perpetual sunshine was enough to give anyone the scratch.
Now..where to go? Since it was an admittedly nice day she supposed it would be a shame to waste it in the gym or theater. Public dancing it was. Hitching her moon and stars backpack higher on her shoulder, Nova made her way to the quad. Eyes on a small patch of soft grass that was nicely shaded by a nearby tree. That would do. In the mood to be left alone with her dancing, the brunette switched off her hearing aid, so that the only sound that flooded her mind was what came through her earbuds. She had just started to stretch when a rather large shadow crossed her.
“Don’t even bother saying anything, I can’t hear you. Nor do I care to” She muttered, without even looking up.
@berserkermagnus
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ok i lied i watched the first TWO eps of edgerunners LMAO
ep 1 thots:
VIOLENT MURDER IN THE FIRST MINUTE LMAO LOVE TO SEE IT
david experiencing sex in the first four minutes and immediately saying “cut the shit” YEAH HE WON ME OVER ALREADY LMFAOOOOO
i was taking notes in my phone and during david’s first convo with his mom i literally wrote “yoko’s gonna fucking die :(”
I LOVE COLORS
i want access to wakabayashi’s spotify account!!!!!
there is literally a man with gold-plated gloves they are NOT pulling their punches on this one huh! just like prmr w its hatred of ecofascism tbh
mom and david having different goals :(
i think david has adhd <3
good god. you can really tell this was written by not-trigger!!! for one the storytelling is very americanized imo, like i was able to predict everything that was about to happen and with nakashima (& other trigger writers) all i can predict is “some kind of alien reveal 60% of the way thru” LSDKJF. but like also iirc trigger has mentioned how they didn’t want to double down TOO hard on the whole bigotry/genocide aspects of prmr and wallow in that bc they wanted the movie to remain fun, but like, not a second of the first ep goes by when you’re not reminded of the situation david is in due to being poor (and also being born on the “wrong side of town” which i assume is a thing from the game but idk)
yukiko kakita. absolutely KILLLING the color design here, holy shit everything’s so bright and vibrant and there are so many colors. I LOVE COLORS!!!!!! but truly what else is to be expected from the color designer of prmr and bna and the twins!!!!! LIKE!!!!!!!! best in the business for real
ofc the first thing trigger animates is two sex scenes 😭
some of the slang is ROUGH lmao i assume it’s also from the game but still
WHERE ARE LUCY AND REBECCA I WANT INSANE WOMEN
also i still think david’s gonna die in ep 6-7 CALLING IT NOW
ok so overall this ep was fine but it felt pretty rote in its story (but like, it’s not trigger writing so obv) and also??? aside from the colors and designs i feel like it hasn’t REALLY played into imaishi’s strengths as a director yet but i’m hoping it’s cause it’s just starting out and there will be batshit occurrences later on
ep 2 thots:
me “i’m gonna watch one ep per day 😊” also me “i want to see the op and i also want insanity so two eps 😊”
I AM NOT IMMUNE TO GUY WALKING LEFT!!!!!!!!!!!!
i do LOVE the shots from inside david’s dryer they are so niceeeeee
lucy being a few inches taller than david WE LOVE TO SEE IT
david using the ;) emoji I AM ENDEARED.
crimes hell yes
SO AT THIS POINT MY FRIEND FINISHED WATCHING EP1 AND TEXTED ME AND POINTED OUT THAT THE SEX MACHINES HAD MULTIPLE HANDS WHICH I DID NOT NOTICE 💀
the scene on the moon was so fun and cute :( like i know they’re gonna have david and lucy get together but i thought this was fun despite that :(
BRO THEY GOT ME. i was so focused on lucy carrying the visual motifs of nia and lio and being the ~love interest~ that I FUCKIN FORGOT ABOUT NOVA LMAO. anyway yes girlbetrayal equality ✊
also i really love the like (at least at this point) subverting of expectations trigger has done w the visual motifs and storytelling that they usually rely on? like idk i thought lucy was just gonna be “the love interest” (not to say that nia and lio obviously aren’t more than that but like, just w the way lucy had been set up to that point i figured 10eps they were gonna just have her and david be together LMAO) but then BETRAYAL and also how they have ANOTHER yoko expy who is not just the mom friend but AN ACTUAL MOM but unlike yoko and aina (edit i forgot the kizuna girl lmao but her too) she dies :( idk i’m having fun w it so far!!
THE TRANSITION BETWEEN DAVID GETTING THE SHIT SMACKED OUTTA HIM TO THE ROCKET LAUNCHING THAT WAS PERFECTION!!!!
the ending animation is lovelyyyyyy i love the design and the purble and i want to know EVERYTHING ABOUT LUCY. TELL ME ABOUT HER I WANT TO KNOW WHO SHE IS AND WHAT SHE’S BEEN THRU
i liked ep2 a LOT more than ep1 personally. excited to watch 3 (and prob 4 akjdsf) tomorrow!!!!
also side note my friend texted me images of kamina, sanageyama, galo, and david and said “the trigger male character cinematic universe prevails!” and first of all LMAO HE’S SO RIGHT BUT ALSO. he’s only seen the first 2 eps of ttgl and I CANNOT WAIIIIIIIT FOR HIM TO LEARN THAT KAMINA DIES >:) ONE DAY LMAO. i feel like it’s gonna knock his socks off >:)
#overall thoughts are it's so PRETTY I LOVE COLORS#a: cyberpunk edgerunners#edgerunners spoilers#also spoilers for like everything else imaishi's directed that i've seen fkdsjfbskjfdhb#t.txt#this is incomprehensible apologies to anyone who tries to read it#WAIT I FORGOT TO ADD. you could tell they had that netflix CASH for this i hope they run w it and make more gay firefighters💜
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The dragon and her knight ch11
continues from last chapter.....
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"You still don't know that,we get to live." Murphy said.
"Not Clarke." Bellamy said.
"We can't bring her back,but we can make sure the rest of us survive,starting with you." Murphy said to Bellamy.
"If you don't take this deal,Josephine will kill you,she doesn't care that Nova loves you and that you father her niece or nephew."Murphy explained.
"Then let her try,and if she lays a hand on Nova,I will kill her." Bellamy said as Nova squeezed his hand.
"Oh, so that's it then?we start another war?we destroy another planet? is that what you want!?" Murphy questioned Bellamy.
"Is that what Monty would have wanted?" he finished.
"Hey! Monty-- listen to me,monty would be ashamed of you." Bellamy said launching at Murphy,Nova stepped back.
Both men had watery eyes,from what she's heard Monty and Harper were people too good for this world.
"Maybe he would be,or maybe he'd see that this is how we do better." Murphy said as Bellamy pushed him back.
Bellamy tried launching at him once again,but the chains held him back.
"Get out." Bellamy said to him,Murphy knocked on the stained glass to alert the guards.
"Don't worry,I'll do my best to make surr thdy only kill you,and leave Nova and baby blake out of it." Murphy said.
Bellamy lunged at him as the doors closed,Nova grabbed his hands,pulling him into a hug.
"Nothing is gonna happen,they'll burn before they touch any of us." Nova said as Bellamy placed his hands on her stomach.
------------
a few hours later.....
The two noticed a ship fly away as the door opened.
"Josephine." Nova stated.
"Khaleesi,My dear sister." Josephine said not batting an eye.
"I don't want to fight,ok?" she continued,mostly speaking to bellamy.
"Why are you here?" Bellamy questioned.
"Because were both struggling to live with this,and I was hoping maybe we could help eachother through it." Josephine stated.
Bellamy and Nova both had Knifes in their hands ready to attack,until Murphy and her father walked in.
" You went to our father?" she questioned.
"I take big swings." Murphy answered.
"Hmm." Josiephine hummed.
"What are you doing?,unchain your sister josie!" Russell demanded.
"Saving us,and you know if I do that she unchains him,and they ruin everything." she explained.
"They know you killed Clarke,and unlike the snake behind you,he will cry over spilled milk." Josiephine explained.
"Enough." Rusell stated.
"What the hell's the matter with you?Have you become do csllous yo the feelings of others that you don't remember what its like to lose some one you love?" Russel questioned.
"I know your in pain,I know you want revenge,I would too,we had a chance to bring back our daughter,the aunt of your child,sister of my youngest,and we took it,we didn't consider the consequences." Russel explained.
"For God's sake--" Josiephine started until Nova had enough.
"Would you shut the fuck up gor once Josiephine." Nova stated with a glare.
"Quiet,the both of you!" Rusell exclaimed to his daughters.
"Maybe you should just let the man speak." Murphy said to Josie.
"Shut up Murphy!" Both Josephine and Bellamy said,While Nova said,"Shut the hell up Murphy." at the same time.
With that he walked up to Bellamy saying that he should hear him out.
"I think we can trust him." He said.
" No we can't." Nova said to bellamy.
"Do you know?" Bellamy asked.
"You can,look I can't bring your friend back,but i can guarantee safety for the rest of your people,I'll even cancel Nova's wedding with Ryker and let her marry you." Russel explained.
"Your marriage and child will bond our people together,we'll share everthing we've learnedabout surviving on this moon." Russell continued.
"Why did your ship just take off?" Nova asked Murphy remembering the ship flying away.
"Abby's showing them how to make nightblood." Murphy explained to them.
"I take it she doesn't know that her daughter is dead." Bellamy stated eyes full of sadness and anger.
"Your gonna have to kill her too,you think my need for revenge is strong?There's only one way this ends." Bellamy said to russell.
"Bellamy,stop!,all right,you don't want them to kill all of us,just think." Murphy said.
Josephine lunged forward,cutting the ropes connecting her and Bellamy to the ground.
"Josephine!" Their father exclaimed.
With that Bellamy launched at her father,punching.
"Bellamy,c'mon,don't do this." Murphy said.
Bellamy got her father in a chokehold,as she glared at Josephine.
"Im sorry daddy,violence is all they know." Josephine stated.
"Oh for fucks sake shut up you stupid bitch!" Nova exclaimed decking her elder sister in the nose.
"Ow! that really hurt." Josephine said as black blood stained her fingers.
"If killing him is what you need,then do it,but let the violence end here..." Josephine said wincing and holding her nose.
Bellamy was currently choking out her father.
"An eye for an eye." Josephine stated.
"Agh!" Bellamy said slamming russel down to the ground,the man gasping for air.
"Big swings." Josephine said,as Nova walked over checking Bellamy for anything.
She noticed Josephine hand Murphy two mind drives.
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They were in the bar, Nova pouring them drinks,kissing Bellamy's head as she sat next to him.
"Bellamy,Nova,whats going on?" Echo questioned walking towards them.
The two got up Nova pulling the girl into a side hug,resting her head on Echo's shoulder.
Emori,Murphy,and Gaia glanced at the trio.
"Clarke's dead." Bellamy said as Nova Pulled them into a hug.
"So when do we attack?" Echo asked glancing between the two.
"We don't." Bellamy said.
"We do what clarke would have done,we survive." He continued,as the door opened.
"Madi..." Nova said looking towards the stairs as the girl climed down them.
"Madi,hey,we have somthing to tell you." Bellamy said softly,as him and Nova knelt down,Astrid flew in with a chirp,resting on Nova's shoulders.
Howls,and roars echoed outside.
After telling her the news the three hugged as Astrid chirped,and Nova told her stories as she laid in bed,comforting the crying girl.
Not knowing a dark and evil force was listening to everything.
---------
Once she finished telling Madi stories,she went to her room,climbing into bed,Bellamy sat at the edge of the bed red and dry.
"Come to bed." She said softly ,kissing his shoulder.
Bellamy however had other ideas,pushing her down on the bed kissing her neck.
"I can't sleep." he murmured.
"I know baby." She said softly as his hands rested on her stomach.
And when she heard his soft snores she knew that she would do what ever she could to help them,even if that meant killing her own family.
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First Time- Remus Lupin Oneshot
TW: implied sex, pain
I was nibbling on a piece of milk chocolate as I slowly walked into the Great Hall. Every single inch of my body ached, today had been the first day I was actually able to get out of bed since the most recent full moon that happened just two days ago. It wasn't exactly comfortable having each of your bones dislocate or break in order to become into my werewolf form, and I had spent the last two days curled in my bed, sleeping or trying not to cry from the pain of my recovering body.
Walking into the Great Hall, I scan the large room looking for my boyfriend and his friends, quickly spotting them, they were eating dinner and laughing about something I couldn't hear. I walk towards them, my muscles screaming in resistance until I finally reach them.
"Hey darling," Remus smiled up at me. He looked at lot better than I did considering we both had transformed just days ago, but he always had a quicker recovery time than I did. I smile and kiss his cheek, "Didn't think you'd be coming, thought I'd have to bring you dinner."
"No, I feel-" I'm cut off by a involuntary whimper leaving my mouth as I sit down on the hard wooden bench, pain shooting up from between my legs. Remus looks at me concerned,
"You okay? What's wrong?" He whispers, both James and Sirius also looking at me with concern.
I nod, wincing slightly as I try to shift my body weight so my core wasn't pressing so much against the bench. "Just sore, I'm okay."
"What'd you do, fuck her too hard Mooney?" James chuckled, his eyes flickering from Remus to me.
"Go all hardcore wolf?" Sirius laughed, joining in on James's antics, making my cheeks start to flush. When Remus and I avoided answering their questions, him instead squeezing my hand, this caused the two boys to continue their taunts.
"You did!" James said in disbelief. "Didn't you?"
My cheeks were heating up and I stare down at the table, not looking at my boyfriend or his friends.
"Shut up James." Remus said harshly but they continued to laugh to themselves.
"Fuck her so hard she could barely walk!" James sneered. "You saw how she walked in here."
"Couldn't get enough so you had to fuck in wolf form! Go Mooney, you horny bastard!" Sirius laughed, staring at his friend before turning to me. "So Nova, Remus better in wolf form or like this?"
Normally I could ignore their jeers and taunts, roll my eyes or even laugh along with them. But right now, in my exhausted state, their words hurt. I could feel tears brimming in my eyes, threatening to fall.
"Will you both shut up!" Remus says, his voice loud and firm.
"How horny do you gotta be to fuck as a wolf?" Sirius laughed, ignoring my uncomfortable face and Remus's pleads to get them to be quiet.
"We gotta worry about little pups running around?" James said. "Couldn't just wait to fuck as humans like normal?"
I could feel rage bubble inside of me, my hands forming fists as I jump from the table and rush from the Great Hall, ignoring the pleads of my sore body as I run back to the Gryffindor dorms, locking myself inside of my dorm. I burrow myself in my bed, covering my body in thick blankets as tears begin to fall from my eyes from frustration and shame.
I didn't know how long I had been burrowed under my blankets before I heard a gentle knock coming from outside of my door and the low toned voice of my boyfriend, "Baby it's me, can you let me in?"
Picking up my wand from where I had abandoned it beside me I whisper a quick Alohomora before retreating back under my covers. I heard my dorm room door open, the hinges squeaking slightly as Remus enters the room. His quiet footsteps cross the room and stop as he sits on the bed beside my curled up form, gently removing the blanket from over my face and wiping away some stray tears on my cheek.
"I'm sorry baby," He whispers, running his calloused fingers through my hair soothingly.
"It's not you who should be apologizing." I mutter, swiping some tears from my cheeks away angrily.
"They just don't know when to shut up," Remus says, running a hand through his hair. I push back my blankets and sit up quickly, ignoring the sudden head rush I had and look at my boyfriend.
"It's embarrassing Remmy," I say quietly and look down at my hands that were clasped together in my lap.
"It shouldn't be Nova," He says, taking my hands in his, rubbing the back of my hands with his thumbs soothingly. "You know when we're like that, we can't control ourselves."
"I- I just thought our first time would be special, it would be different, not this rough painful thing that I don't even barely remember." I murmur, avoiding his gaze.
"Hey, hey, look at me," He whispers, lifting my chin with his index finger so I was looking him in the eye. "Our first time- our real first time is still going to be special. It'll be different and I promise you that we will do it when you want to, when you are comfortable."
"I just hate that I don't remember any of it, that the only reminder I have that we had sex is the pain I feel days later."
"I know baby and I'm sorry that I caused that pain but our first real time I promise I will be gentle, there will be no pain, everything will be by your word and your say." He caresses' my cheek with his thumb, looking deep in my eyes.
"What if... it takes me a while to want to actually have our first time?" I whisper, embarrassed that I was unsure about having sex anytime soon, especially if it would cause a pain between my legs after like this did.
"Baby we have the rest of our lives, and if you're never ready that's completely fine, I won't look at you or love you any different." Remus reassures, smiling lightly.
"Thank you Remmy," I smile and wrap my arms around him, crawling into his lap and resting my head against his shoulder. "I love you."
"I love you too angel,"
#Harry Potter#harry potter fanfiction#Harry Potter fic#harry potter imagine#harry potter oneshot#Marauders#marauders era#marauders fic#marauders fanfiction#hp marauders#Sirius Black#Sirius orion black#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black imagine#sirius black angst#sirius black fluff#James Potter#james potter fanfiction#james potter fluff#james potter smut#james potter x reader#Remus Lupin#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin angst#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin one shot#oneshot#fanfiction#fanfic
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SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)
CHAPTER 20: Desperation
RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)
WARNINGS: violence, sex, (they do things in semi-public so voyeurism sort of???) lemme know if anything else needs to be tagged please!!
SUMMARY: He pats your cheeks and you look up at him, letting him tuck rogue hair behind your ears. “That was way too close, Nova,” Din hisses, pressing the cold metal of the visor against your forehead. “Way too fucking close.”
“I survived, didn’t I?” you ask, and you’re not trying to question him, but it comes out that way, loose and aggressive. “You—you got away. We got the bounties and we got away, Gideon didn’t touch me—”
“He got pretty damn close,” Din snarls, barreling over you. “Too close. I’m never putting you that close to danger again.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! this chapter is dedicated to all of you, thank you SO much for sticking it out for the two week wait while i put my full energy into finals!! i hope that you love this one; it's full of action and angst (and sex)! i am all finished with all my finals now, so i should be able to get chapter 21 up next weekend, Saturday the 15th, but it's the day before i graduate so i'll keep everyone updated on here and tiktok (padmeamydala)!!!
HOPE YOU ENJOYYYYYYYYY!!! <3
*
You’ve always known Din’s eyes were warm, soulful, filled with life beyond the opaqueness of the visor, and you’ve always yearned for a glimpse for them. To see the way he looks at you, how hungry his gaze is, how full of light, how quiet yet radiant they were. Not anymore. You’d trade it all to go back five seconds in time, to stop lifting the stupid metal ball in the air with your mind. To never see the look of betrayal that’s locked on you like a laser beam, horrified and dark.
The ball drops to the floor. It sounds so much louder than it actually is, and the squeaks that come out of your mouth along with the clatter are almost deafening. “I—”
“You’re—you can use the Force?” Din asks, expressive brows scrunched together in confusion, his eyes fluttering between you, the baby, and the ball the two of you can move with thought alone. Your heart is tangled up in your throat.
“I didn’t know—” you say, breath shallow, heart hammering something horrible in your chest, “that’s what it was—I—I swear, Din, I justdid this for the f—first time, I didn’t know—” you swallow, the feeling of it thick and immovable in your throat. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t keeping it from you, I just found out I could even do this—”
“The blaster,” he interrupts, and the hands that you’re emphasizing your poorly delivered point with fall limp at your sides. “On Coruscant. That’s how it flew out of Xi’an’s hands.”
You wince. “Yes. But—”
“You’ve known for days?” he asks, voice funny in disbelief. Maker, you feel your heart breaking in your chest. “Why—why didn’t you tell me, Nova?”
There are tears now, forming hot and heavy at the corners of your eyes. “Danger. I’m dangerous. The baby,” you say, swinging your shaking pointer finger to his little green body, trying not to focus on how big and scared his eyes are, “the baby—he’s being hunted by everyone who knows about him. T—there aren’t Jedi left, and something the baby has makes him—” you swallow, trying to wet the tip of your tongue, “—a target. Vulnerable. And that means someone is always chasing after you. I didn’t know that what I could do—and feel—was because of the Force, I just thought I could—do strange things, and once I figured out the other day that I could use it…I’m a target too. I’m a liability. I’m—I’m putting you in danger if I use it.”
He’s still staring at you, completely bewildered. You can feel how large the ache is inside your chest.
“Din,” you start, and he shakes his head at you. You swallow, eyes roving down his body, over the pockmarks and lines of scars you’ve sewn back up, the flesh that he’s only ever let you see, and you can’t help the tears from falling now.
“You’re a target,” Din interrupts, voice faraway and strangled.
“If I use it,” you whisper, “if anyone c—can sense it, they’d probably want me, too.”
“You lied to me,” he says, and you blink at the accusation. Not only because it came from his bare mouth, but because it’s true. You’re not even sure what you lied about, but you know the weight of it, how affronted he sounds, how he’s made it a point to never lie to you, and how much truth means to him.
“I—” you start again, desperate, teary-eyed, and then the bounty puck he has strapped against his armor, strewn across the floor of the Crest, starts blinking, furious and red.
Before you can say anything else, Din’s redressing, pulling clothes from where they landed and snapping the beskar into place. He gives you one more look, betrayed and dark, before he roughly pulls the helmet back over his head, climbing the ladder. You exchange teary looks with the baby, and then you pull him to your chest, feeling his warmth radiate against your skin as you hoist the both of you up through the hole in the floor, trying to squash your tears from where they’re still falling from your eyes. Wordlessly, you sink into the copilot’s seat, running your shaky fingers over the peach fuzz on the baby’s little green head, trying to soothe yourself more than you’re trying to soothe him.
Your eyes feel like the galaxy’s worst reflecting pool as you watch the back of Din’s helmet, the beskar dark and impenetrable as he navigates out of Yavin’s starry atmosphere, shooting the Crest into the crush of space. The quiet beeping on the dashboard is the only noise for what feels like lifetimes, and you bite down hard on your lip as he pushes the ship into warp, and you close your eyes against the hurtling blue around you.
It’s quiet again. You don’t know how to fill it in a way that won’t make the situation worse, so you just worry your hand over the baby’s head and try not to make a sound. Finally, the ship pulls out of warp, and you see the scarred atmosphere of a planet, radiating a ring of blue around red and tan notches. You’ve never been here. It looks alien. Silently, Din navigates the ship down onto the surface, and you try to modulate your breathing, try to let the air hang in the way he clearly wants it. You haven’t seen him so stoic since you first boarded the Razor Crest, what feels like a lifetime ago. You can still see the outline of his face every time you close your eyes—his beautiful brown eyes, the shape of his nose, the softness of his lips—and then, in every reimagining, it morphs into betrayal.
When he lands, Din stays sitting in the pilot’s chair for so long that you think he won’t ever move again. Shallowly, your breath catches in your throat when the bounty puck starts blinking, and, abruptly, he rises up. He towers over you. Even when you’re standing with your body pressed up against yours, he completely eclipses you.
“You’re Force sensitive?” he asks, and his voice, modulated and quiet, is completely flat.
You nod, swallowing before you can answer. “Yes.”
Din’s staring at you, still, under the helmet. “Good,” he says, “that makes it easy.” He’s down the ladder before you can even process what he’s said, eyebrows furrowed down the middle of your forehead.
“W—what?” you say, gently placing the baby in his cradle, trying to climb down as fast as you can, before Din disappears with absolutely zero context. “Makes what easy?” you say, voice almost completely gone, heart pounding something dangerous and horrible inside your chest.
The puck starts blinking again. Furiously. You look at it, and back up at Din, seeing how incessantly it reflects in his visor, how obscured he is from you.
“I have to go,” he says, and his tone is still so flat, so detached from where he’s standing, close enough to feel the heat radiating off your body.
“O—okay,” you manage, completely and utterly confused. Before you can react, Din steps in closer, reaches a gloved hand around to the small of your back to anchor you against the beskar. Before you can react, before you can apologize, before you can do anything, he presses the metal of the helmet up against your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed, trying to savor every single millisecond that Din spends embracing you, and when he wrenches himself away, it’s far too soon.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promises, and you watch, wordless, as the gangplank descends.
You watch him walk away, disappear into the haze, every shiny inch of his body gone. “Be safe,” you manage, finally, before you let yourself cry again.
It’s been hours. Maybe. It could be a handful of minutes, or a collection of days, and you wouldn’t know. You’re alone and listless against the wall of the Crest, the same one you’ve frequented whenever Din leaves and the same one you’ve shared when he comes back. It feels like it’s been full moon cycles that you’ve cried out, the way that your heart aches in your chest. Like something rotten, like a festered wound.
You made the wrong choice. You know it by the way the guilt aches and hangs over you, a dark storm cloud. You should have told Din the truth from the second you realized that all your intuition was something more than just knowledge and empathy. When you first started seeing the visions. Okay, maybe not the one in the cave on Dagobah, because that was clearly the planet’s doing, that wicked gnarltree, but the ones after. When you protected him from Xi’an, when you fell into the baby’s vision back on Balnab. Maybe that’s why the bounties—and the subsequent stormtroopers—found you so easily. Maybe you were an amplifier, and maybe you have been this whole time, putting Din and the baby in danger before you even realized what sick power you hold.
The baby toddles over to you a few times, his eyes big and expressive. You let him settle in on your lap, rub your fingers over his fuzzy head, but everything inside you is dark and heavy and exhausted. You sit in silence, hallucinating that your commlink is beeping on your wrist, hallucinating that Din’s voice comes through the darkness to pull you out of it. You just sit and let yourself fester, marinate in all the ache, for what feels like forever. Eventually, the Crest gets even darker, and you know that wherever you are, whatever planet Din’s landed the ship on, it’s nightfall. You hate how empty and eternal the Crest is when he leaves, and this time, it just feels like an unrelenting blackness that you’ve been forced to surrender to.
Eventually, you let yourself sit back up against the wall instead of your melodramatic slump on the Crest’s floor, and, later still, you make your way over to the small pantry where the stockpile of food has been dwindling. There’s not much freshness left, so you eat up the small handfuls of fruit and vegetables teetering on the line of spoiling and pour one of the larger broth packets into the bowl for the baby. He laps it up twice as fast as you’re able to digest all your food, and you push some small red berries towards him, encouraging him to eat something that isn’t just thin soup. When you both finish, you slog yourself towards the fresher, washing out the remnants from your bowls and utensils. Your reflection is an even sorrier state than you imagined—the corners of your eyes are laden with the crustiness of old tears, your cheeks are sunken and inflamed from crying, your hair a mess in your face.
“Get it together,” you whisper, and when even your voice comes up broken, you sigh noisily. The water in the faucet doesn’t come out strong enough for your liking, but it’s cold enough to splash the remnants of your afternoon spent sobbing off your face. When you finish, you just want to sleep—you’re tired and your head is pulsing—but the baby is still wide awake, giant expressive eyes filled with all of the emotion you’ve been trying to purge and avoid.
“I’m okay, bug,” you say, your voice still coming out weakened, the syllables splitting in half. “Can we sleep, please?”
He shakes his head. You sigh, compromising by sinking down to the floor so you’re as close enough to eye level as you’re going to get.
“Baby,” you reiterate, “I am literally begging you. Let’s just sleep until your daddy comes back, huh?”
He blinks at you with those giant, sentient eyes like he suddenly can’t understand a single damn word you’re saying. It’s impressive, really, how stubborn he can be when he wants to. It’s a mystery where he picked that one up. Certainly, it couldn’t have been from his shiny father, man of few words and fewer agreements. You squint at him. He squints back.
“What do you want?” you ask, eyes roaming over the floor for his metal ball. He perks up when you roll it towards him, watching as it levitates from the floor to the air between the two of you as his tiny green hand rises. You don’t know how long he suspends it there before he looks over at you, and you shake your head. “No. I’m not using it again.”
The baby makes a noise, and you sigh, throwing your head back. You’re not setting a very good example—you’re being stubborn and tense and short-tempered, and you know how easily the kid picks up and embodies mannerisms of the people around him—but you’re exhausted, and you’re half-heartbroken, and your fiancé just found out you were keeping the biggest secret in the galaxy from him, and now he’s out there searching for a bounty on this unfamiliar wasteland of a planet.
“I can’t use it again,” you repeat, gentler, “it puts you and your dad in danger, bug, I—I’m not going to be the reason to do that.”
He looks up at you, ears down in sorrow, big eyes wide and filled with the same tears you feel building in yours again. His little green hand, still outstretched, flaps just the tiniest bit, and you reach out your own to meet him in the middle. You don’t know what else to say or how else to say it, but you’re so exhausted. When he steps closer, and his hand slips out of yours, you don’t have the foresight to stop him. His palm presses directly up against your forehead, and, for once, you don’t fight it. You let the vision come.
It’s dark. Darker than it was before, the entire planet clouded and shrouded by deep, impenetrable fog. You can hear the cries of people around you, but you can’t see farther than a few inches. Somewhere, you can hear—or feel, or sense—the pulse and whine of those white lightsabers, and you know that shrouded figure who wields them is somewhere in the fog. When you turn to find the source, the vision shifts. You see Din with his beskar staff, fighting with the same woman you saw in your last one, and you’re on the ground, writhing and desperate to get to him. And then, as you roll over to get up, the vision shifts once more. It isn’t Din and his spear, you’re on a vessel that looks too closely like an Imperial cruiser. Your heart catches in your throat as the image in front of you takes shape. It’s not Din. It’s Moff Gideon, tall, enshrouded, and dangerous. He pulls something out, a weapon, and you throw both hands up over your head in a sad attempt to protect yourself, but before you can shield your eyes, you see the blade ignite. It’s not a lightsaber. It’s in the same family, maybe, but it’s pulsating and wicked, the outline shifting and crackling with stark black electricity. You gasp, skittering backward, and when your hand meets something that isn’t the cool metal of the ship’s interior, you see the baby, scared and handcuffed, and before you can protect him, the beskar of Din’s spear appears out of absolutely nowhere and clashes against Gideon’s blade, and then the vision is over.
“Hey,” you say, voice shaky, opening your eyes to the familiarity of the Crest, close enough to your makeshift bed to grab blankets and pull them over your lap. You’re freezing, suddenly, heart hammering in your chest. “Hey, baby—what was that? W—why do you keep showing me that? Are you in danger? Are wein danger?”
He just stares at you, eyes wide and scared. You try to coax your heartbeat back to a resting pulse rate, and then you gather his little green body up in your arms, pressing his head against your chest. You’re still breathing heavily, and you can feel how hard he’s wheezing, his breath hot and scared in your ear. You pull him closer.
“Bug,” you say, again, trying for both his sake and yours to keep your voice level, “is that a premonition? Is—is that going to happen?”
You can’t hear him, can’t see him shake his head, but you know he’s answering you. Yes.
“How soon?” you ask, trying not to convey anything anxious and terrified to him—through your mind, through the Force, however you’re communicating with him right now. “Is it on this planet?”
No. It’s not. You know, somehow, that it’s not.
“How c—how can I make sure that you don’t get separated from us, sweetness?”
Nothing. There’s nothing. You even pull his face away from where it’s buried in your collarbone to try to understand, to search for the answers that had so easily been in your head beforehand, but he looks just as confused and scared as you feel. You sigh, letting him nuzzle up against you again, trying your hardest to not ruminate on the fact that you’re in danger, hard, unavoidable danger, that everything you’ve seen over the past few months, everything you’ve been terrified of—is almost tangible, almost close enough to touch.
Your wrist blinks, and it’s so startling in the darkness that you audibly gasp. It startles the baby, too, before he leans back, sleepy and quiet against your shoulder. You’re not sure how long that you’ve been out—if you’ve even slept at all, because everything in your chest is still heavy and full of grief.
“Hello?” you whisper into the darkness of the hull, pulse quickening when you remember Din’s the one on the end of the line.
“It’s me,” he says, low and quiet, and for some reason, that makes everything in you return back to normal.
“I know,” you answer, your lips contorting into half of a smile. “Are you okay?”
He’s quiet, for a second, and you sit in silence, even though it still feels so loud. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
“What time is it?” you yawn, rubbing at your left eye with the heel of your hand. “How long have you been gone?”
“Dark,” Din answers, and you don’t have the energy to argue with him that’s not a real time, and you just smile against his voice again. “I’ve been away for six or seven hours.”
“When are you coming back?” you ask, and the question sits heavy like it used to, before you knew you loved each other. Before you knew he wanted to marry you. Before he knew you had the Force.
“As soon as I can, cyar’ika,” he mumbles, and for some reason, that makes tears well up in your eyes again. “Go to sleep.”
“Is it even night?” you yawn again, settling back into the nest you’ve made for you and the baby in all the blankets on the floor. “Like—is the sun up on this planet? Or is it…um…dark?”
“Did you just—need to ask if it was dark to describe night?” Din asks, and, Maker, there’s relief flooding through you at the shape of his smile.
“I said night first,” you insist, but you’re already so cozy huddled back up on the floor, and the baby’s wheezing out of his nose, and it may or may not be nighttime, and Din’s voice is in your ear. And he’s not betrayed right now. His eyes are probably crinkled up inside the helmet as he laughs, his mouth pink and open. You pull the pillow closer under your head, the baby shifting against your chest. “Din? Din. I said night first. I need you to know that I asked if it was night first. Okay?”
“Night first,” Din echoes, sighing as he settles in against whatever corner of the planet he’s on. “I got it, Nova. Go to sleep.”
“Is it night?” you yawn, and night doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. You don’t think that any of the syllables feel correct in your mouth, but you’re half asleep with Din’s voice up against your ear, and you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world that you cannot understand the full context of nighttime. “You know, out on the planet?”
“No,” Din says, and you blink yourself awake. “Technically, it’s early morning.”
“Formality,” you whisper, sinking back down into the sweet, warm embrace of your blankets, “technicality. That’s a technicality, Din. It’s nighttime. Sleep time. Do you understand?”
“Mandalorians don’t adhere to nighttime being sleep time,” Din argues, and your heart is doing cartwheels with how light his voice is, how easily he’s talking, how he doesn’t sound betrayed anymore. It’s like the first time he’d left when the two of you first got together—warm, happy, new.
“You lie,” you yawn, curling up, close to the baby. “Mandalorians do. Bounty hunters don’t.”
“Hard to tell,” Din counters, “I’m both.”
“Go sleepy,” you say, which isn’t even a real sentence, and you hear him laugh against the commlink, and then you’ve faded off into dreamland.
When you wake up, your comm is blinking. You startle, kicking the blanket up from where it’s tucked around your feet, heart hammering loud and intense. “Yeah?” you squeak into it, voice rough around the edges with sleep, trying to coax your heartbeat back to its normal rhythm.
“Are you awake?”
“Am now,” you say, grabbing the baby up and placing him in this cradle so you don’t scramble over him in the darkness. “Wh—do you need me to pick you up?”
“No,” Din says, “I’m outside.”
You blink. “What?”
“I’m outside,” he repeats, and you look around in complete bewilderment, trying to reconcile the image of him outside of the Crest and the sound of him in your ear. “Open the airlocks.”
“You have your heat signature,” you say, stumbling over to where the control panel is, “can’t you unlock it by your sheer—hotness alone?”
“Hotness,” Din repeats, flat.
“I’m allowed to call you hot,” you say, affronted, before you realize that he means that you said the wrong conjugation of the word. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Din says, and then the gangplank lowers, and you’re staring at him. He’s tall and he’s so shiny, shimmering in the atmosphere of the planet, and all you want to do is run into his arms.
“Bounty?”
“Not caught,” Din confirms, and you walk a few steps forward until you can touch him. “I have eyes on him, but he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
You look up at him, confused, still blinking around the sleep that’s still in the corners of your eyes. Din’s arm wraps around you, pulls you into the beskar, and you let out a breath, content. “What…do you mean, exactly?”
“He’s at an inn,” Din says, and starts leading you outside of the ship. “Come on.”
“Din,” you counter, looking back and forth to the planet’s surface to the dark interior of the Crest, “I am really not understanding what you mean.”
Din sighs, low and easy, and stops halfway down the gangplank. “His girlfriend showed up. I saw them get a room at an inn in town, and I put a direct tracker on his bag as I walked by him. He’s going to be in there for at least an hour. I know where he is. I know where he’s going. I want to show you something. Come on.”
You stare at him, eyebrow still furrowed. “You’re not—grabbing the bounty because…because he’s having sex?”
“His crime wasn’t horrible. Figured I’d give him an hour,” Din shrugs, and you blink at him, completely blank. “What?”
“You have gone soft, Mandalorian,” you say, looking up at him, letting his hand fall into yours, the yellow pads of his gloved thumbs grazing over the gaps in your fingers. “You’re giving up a bounty so he can get it on? Are you the same man who froze the one you struck a deal with back in the Mid Rim just because you wanted to fuck me?”
“I’d want every last second with you,” Din says, and everything in your melts. His head is cocked at you, and your stomach does somersaults with how you know he’s looking at you under there.
“Oh,” you manage, and then he starts moving, and the shimmering horizon of a small city appears before you. You’re distracted by its glitter—just a bit, but its enough to keep your attention—and you keep moving, wordless, stumbling through the ground’s terrain. “What are we doing here?” you whisper, watching as the people you pass keep their gaze trained on the both of you—the shiny Mandalorian, and the girl walking twice as fast trying to keep up with his long strides.
“Clothes,” Din says, and you’re still not awake enough to understand what he means. “The ones that I promised you four planets ago.”
“Oh,” you echo again, and then your eyes travel down to what you’re wearing, and you nod. Everything starts clicking into place. Why you’re here, why he returned to the Crest to pick you up, why he let the man he’s hunting down have a quickie in this inn with his girlfriend. Din’s showing you the thing he promised you when he proposed—he’d drop it—all of it, the bounties, the hunt, the armor—for you. You swallow around tears again, before you even realize they’re there.
Slowly, the town comes into view. The planet’s atmosphere is similar to Tatooine’s, hot and sandy, and everything that juts up from the terrain looks like a mirage until you’re on top of it. The people here, varied in size and species, are loud and dynamic, and you have to sidestep speeders and whatever’s being sold out on the street, just trying to keep and match Din’s pace. He’s so good at it, even on the sandy planets he hates. Maybe it’s the beskar, maybe it’s just that his shoes hold up against the hot terrain more than your old boots do, or maybe it’s just from the years of practice traversing across different ground. You try your best to follow his hulking footsteps, but with the outside factor and your wandering eyes, it’s difficult.
When Din does stop, you’re so distracted by the rest of the world around you that you almost slam headfirst into his armor.
“Here,” he says, decidedly, looking down at you. “For clothes. Does this seem okay?”
You nod, stepping through the vestibule. The darkness of the store feels cavelike in contrast to the bright, sandy planet just a few footsteps back, and you blink a few times before your eyes adjust to the low light.
“Um,” you whisper, “Din, what planet are we on?”
“Er’kit,” he answers, gloved fingers reaching out to touch a cloak that’s hanging from the rack. “They might not have everything, here, because the entire planet has the same hot atmosphere. But it’ll be enough to get you started.”
“I do not need to get started,” you whisper as three cloaked people in tan robes and light fabric head to the storefront, arms laden with their selections, “I need, like, three shirts. Maybe a pair of pants. And underwear. I can get that all here—”
“I promised you clothes,” Din argues, and then his hands are your hips, swiveling past you to get to the other side of the store, where trousers and loose shirts are hung, all in varying shades from white to black, all neutrals. Typical sand planet clothes, the same kind you collected when you first picked out your own after escaping from Jacterr. Din’s pulling down everything that’s even remotely in your size, and you’re just staring at him. Everyone else seems to be just as transfixed with the armored Mandalorian in the middle of the desert, hauling down an array of shirts and pants and underwear for his considerably shorter and less shiny companion. “How’s this?”
You blink at him, brain stuck on how ridiculous it looks for Din to be holding this many clothes. “Well,” you start, “I think that’s probably triple how many articles of clothing than I’ve ever owned, so that whole comment earlier about this getting started may be a little too eager—”
“Let’s go pay for them,” Din interrupts, and you stare at him.
“I don’t need that many,” you argue, trying to understand where the hell he’s coming from. “Really, D—Mando, just a few things to replace the ones we’ve torn to shreds—” another group of people passing makes your voice cut off, and you step closer to Din, tracking your face in the visor, reflection just as bewildered as you feel. “Plus,” you whisper, blinking as you raise your chin up to meet his helmet, “I have to try them on to make sure they fit.”
He stares at you. Maker, he looks so intimidating when he wants to, so commanding, so powerful. You don’t shy away, though, just cock your head to the side like he does when he’s trying to understand what you mean or wants you to be held under his gaze enough for the butterflies to swirl up in your belly.
“Where’s the closest dressing room?” you ask a passerby clerk, and she gestures toward the very back of the store, where a small, dimly lit hallway opens up to another alcove. You don’t break your staring contest with Din, and, when the clerk has passed, you grab his hand and pull your Mandalorian after you, heart hammering. You look both ways before you step down the hallway, but everyone in the store is either entirely distracted with picking out their own clothes or are up at the register with the worker you just asked, so you pull Din in behind you and lock the door.
“What are you doing?” he asks, and even modulated, it’s low and quick. Urgent. You bite down on your lip as he slowly puts the clothes on the bench at the far end of the dressing room, and, before you lose your nerve at the collection of people still left in the store and the wide expanse of space where the dressing room meets the open air of the building, you pull your shirt off.
Din sighs. Loud. For someone who moves so quiet, so stealthily, when he’s out hunting people for a living, he has quite the tendency to moan whenever he’s near your body. His helmet moves as he sweeps you up and down, and before you lose your nerve, you pull your pants off, too. You hadn’t put any bra or undershirt back on after showering last night, so, beside your panties, you’re completely naked. It’s cold in here, freezing in comparison to the ultraviolet, simmering heat on the planet outside, and with the combination of your temperature and how tantalizing you’re being, your nipples harden. You don’t do anything. You don’t try to cover up, you don’t try to move towards him, you just stand there, every inch of your skin bare except for the underwear you have hiked up over your hips, black and revealing. Din sags where he’s standing as you let your hair down from where it was pinned on the top of your head, letting your hand trail past your chest as you lower your arms, eyes doe-wide and innocent, pinching at your right nipple as you do so.
You’re not sure why it’s so easy to be so brazen in a place so public, but you step forward, just a little, letting your mouth fall open as both of your hands return to your tits, tracing lines over your exposed skin. Din’s leaning back against the wall, now, everything he piled into his arms earlier forgotten on the floor, strewn across the bench. You step closer still, one hand still flicking and pulsing near your nipple, other hand trailing down your open skin towards where the line of your panties are.
“Nova,” Din says, and you’re sure he’s meaning to warn you, but his voice comes out strained and desperate. When you step closer to him still, you watch how he stiffens even through his full Mandalorian regalia, tongue swiping out of your mouth as you imagine how risky it would be to suck him off in here, how public it is, how quiet he’d have to keep as your mouth was wet and hot around him, tongue fluttering in and out, the vacuum of your lips crushing and warm. You pick up Din’s gloved hand, pulling it off by the yellow tips, all while maintain eye contact with him. This is the most dominant you’ve been, you think, especially in a place this public, where anyone could walk down the hallway and see the both of you in there. But you bite your lip as you bring Din’s hand to your mouth, putting his thumb in your mouth, refusing to break eye contact. With your free hand, you slip past the waistband of your panties, middle finger dipping straight down into your slick, and a small moan comes out of your mouth around Din’s thumb.
You know how badly you’re teasing him, and you know how hard he’s going to want to fuck you for it later, so, instead of shying away, you push the tip of your finger inside you, slowly pumping and moving as you’re sucking on him, tits still exposed and perky with how much you’re turned on, Din’s fingers in your mouth. His breath is hitching. He’s so hard. You keep bumping into the bulge in his pants as you finger fuck yourself, and every time your knuckles graze against him, Din’s breath gets faster, heavier, more dangerous.
“What?” you ask, finally, eyebrows raised. Something about the fear of getting caught is making you bolder and bolder, and knowing how much you’re affecting Din while you’re totally naked, dripping around your fingers, makes it easier to forget anyone could be listening.
“You—” Din whispers, his voice cutting off in a wheeze, “you’re fucking killing me, you know that? Dirty girl.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” you ask, raising your left eyebrow, trying to ignore how hard your heart is hammering, how your ears are pulsing with your heartbeat. “You gonna put any of these clothes on me or are you just gonna stand there salivating over how much you want me?”
Everything in you is burning. Some logical, embarrassed voice in the back of your head is screaming at you to stop being so cocky, so brazen, but with the way you can feel yourself tightening around your own fingers, how wet the inside of your panties are around your hand, it’s impossible to stop.
Before you can try to taunt Din again, he moves. Lightning fast. One minute, you’re pressing him against the wall, anchoring him there with your naked body and your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, and the next, he’s slamming you up against the same spot, face-first. You gasp with the speed of it, how rough he is with you, and when he pushes you against the wall, you moan, barely disguised against your shoulder and the music that’s playing from the storefront. You’re expecting him to yank your panties down and push himself inside you, but when it doesn’t come, you buck up against where you can feel how hard he is, trying to encourage him with just your body.
“Dirty girl,” Din whispers again, his voice low and menacing, and absolutely everything in you is on fire. You gasp as his ungloved hand comes down on your ass, hard, intentional. The logical part of you is still yelling to stop, that you’re so exposed, that you have to shut up and bite your tongue or you’re going to be found in here getting fucked senseless by a Mandalorian, but your desire doesn’t give one single fuck. You want him, here, now. You want him to sink into you, hit every single inch, leave you devastated to make up for the look on his face when Din realized you were Force sensitive, use your pussy as punishment.
But he doesn’t fuck you. He doesn’t pull his pants down, doesn’t start thrusting. Instead, he wraps his gloved hand in your hair, fistfuls of it gathered up at the crown of your head. You gasp as you feel his ungloved one travel from the nape of your neck all the way down to the small of your back. Din freezes, for just a second, and you’re so strung out on his touch that you would let him do literally anything. You feel high, completely buzzing in an astral plane, shivering with how turned on you are, with the knowledge that anyone could walk in on you. His hand slips down, a singular finger tracing just under the outline of where it is on either cheek, and you’re expecting him to pull it down, rip it off you so that he can redress you in something new, but he doesn’t. Instead, over the fabric, he runs his pointer finger down between either cheek, pulsing it right over every ridge, and it feels so foreign, so dirty, that you can’t stifle the moan that comes out of your mouth.
“Shut up,” Din whispers, so deadly, “I can’t touch you if you’re letting the whole town know. Understood?”
“Where are you t—touching me?” you breathe back, heart hammering as he pushes the tip of his finger in between the valley of your ass, and then it disappears. You’re about to groan in protest, tell him he can touch you anywhere he wants, that he owns every inch of your body, before his hand reappears at the front of your panties, yanking the waistband of them down so he can plunge his fingers inside you. The only reason you’re not screaming out in pleasure is because Din’s other hand, the one that was tangled up in your hair, is now pressed flat against your mouth. You sag against him, knees buckling as he works his fingers in you, pumping and out, and your vision is clouding with how close you’re getting, and you’re pretty sure Din could hold you right here forever on the edge of an orgasm, and you’d die happy. But then, right before you’re about to let go, shaking and heaving, the bounty puck strapped to his wrist is blinking, and Din’s fingers are out of you, lightning quick.
“Please,” you moan, so desperate, turning around, breath heavy, hands fluttering towards Din’s wrist to drag it back to touch you, “please, I’m so close, can we wait two seconds—”
“We have to go,” Din interrupts, but he sounds just as dejected and needy as you do, and you blink, trying to come back down to somewhere normal, as he throws you new clothes. Black shirt—a tank top made of thick, durable ribbed material, and a pair of tan cargo pants that were identical to the ones he ripped to shreds a few planets back. You gather up all the tags, fumbling with trying to pin your hair back out of your eyes, barely buttoning the pants over your soaked panties before Din’s flashing out o the dressing room, and you load your arms with enough clothing as you can, shoving fabric into your back as Din throws a handful of credits at the clerk, more than enough to cover whatever you’ve taken, and you try your best to keep moving in his footsteps, immediately attacked by the heat and the sun reflecting off the beskar.
“What’s wrong,” you holler at him as he runs, expertly weaving in and out of the crowded streets. “Hey! Where are we going?”
Din stops, so sudden you almost collide into him all over again, takes your hand, and keeps running. You’re not prepared for this. You’re quick when you need to be, but your body aches from sleeping funny around the baby last night, and your body still wants the orgasm Din got you on the edge of just a minute ago, and it’s so fucking bright out here, and your breath is quick and shallow in your throat.
“Bounty’s running,” is all he manages, and then you’re being yanked behind him again, trying to keep your feet moving in a pace that’s steady, if not fast, sweaty and covered with dust from Er’kit’s sandy atmosphere.
The noise comes before you’re even aware of what it is, the whine and pitch of the TIE fighter familiar and angry.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you scream, and Din stops long enough for you to take cover behind the beskar before an array of blasts are rained down on the two of you. In the distance, just over the next few streets, you see two people joined at the wrist like you and Din are, tearing out of the inn he mentioned, and your heart sinks as the fighter turns back around, sending another set of bullets towards both of you, and Din pulls you around the corner right before the sand swells up and the rounds ricochet were you were just standing. “Why is the Empire here?” you scream, over the noise, as Din pulls his gun out of its holster and aims a few shots at the couple tearing through the sandy path.
“Bounty must have called them,” he volleys back, ducking behind the wall as the TIE fighter starts screeching towards the both of you instead, “he must have seen the Crest.”
The Crest, you think, okay, sure, maybe, but how did he know that was Din’s ship? Then, just as quickly—the baby.
“The baby!” you scream, over the noise of the ship hurtling over you, and Din shields your entire body with his, dragging the both of you around the corner. “Din! He’s alone on the ship—”
He turns around, grabbing your hips so that you’re right up against the beskar, and you stare straight into the visor. “Can you get to him?” he asks, and he’s so intentional with it, so quiet, and you blink, trying to make sure you feel steady enough to make a break for it.
“Yes,” you promise. “Can you get this Imperial scum off my back long enough for me to make it down the road?”
“Yes,” Din echoes, resolute. “I’ll meet you there in three minutes.”
“Be safe,” you say, and he presses the visor against your forehead, hand squeezing in yours, and then he’s up and out from around the wall, firing an entire armada at the TIE fighter, running towards where the bounty’s on the move, gaining speed as he shoots up into the sky. You swallow, press the symbol on your necklace between your two fingers for luck, and start running yourself.
You’re not fast. You’re not that quick on your feet, you’re so much better in the air, but the second your eyes collide with an abandoned speeded against the cantina, you hop on, revving the throttle. The presumable owner comes rushing out of the bar, yelling after you, but you go anyways, screaming your apologies into the wind. “I just need it for a second!” you scream to the dust behind you, “I’ll give it back, I promise!”
It’s much faster than you would have been on foot, and you pull up on the throttle as you zoom past where Din’s running. The bounty and his partner are still a considerable distance ahead of Din, but he’s gaining speed, and you’re the fastest in this particular equation. You exhale, praying to the Maker above that you don’t completely wipe out with the maneuver you’ve never attempted, and throw the contents of the compartment on the back of your speeder at the bounty. It doesn’t hit him square in the middle of the back like you intended, but it knocks into his shoulder, hard, and the two of them go down face first into the sand as Din catches up to them.
The TIE fighter screeches from behind you, and you chance one look at where it’s gaining speed, and you swing the bike around clumsily to shoot what’s left of your bullets into the sky. None of your shots land, but that doesn’t matter, because the fighter veers noisily off its course and you’re able to shudder to a halt, jump down into the sand, and run furiously towards the gangplank. The airlocks hiss as you get close enough to unlock them with your heat signature, and you thunder up the plank, where the baby’s sitting in the middle of the floor, the rest of your food supply strewn out around him.
All the adrenaline runs out of you backward as you fall to your knees on the floor of the Crest, looking in disbelief at the rest of the stock, which is all over the floor.
“You are a little menace,” you say, but you can’t even be angry, because you’re so grateful he’s standing right there, little green belly full, eyes open and full of love. You pull him towards your chest, just for a second, and then you hear the screeching return. You hoist the gangplank up as quickly as you can before the noise multiplies.
“Get in your cradle,” you toss at the baby as you climb the ladder, and as you’re strapping in, you hear the egg zoom up the stairs behind you, parking on top of the copilot’s seat. You see Din out of the Crest’s front window, gun to both bounties, and as the fleet of TIE fighters whine in the sky above, your heart does backflips, stomach unsettled. “Shit.”
You’re about to lift off, fly the rest of the fighters out of the sky, or at least send them on wild goose chase after you so Din can get a secure hold on the bounties, but then you see the gun in the woman’s hand and every single other instinct leaves your head except to protect Din. You hurl yourself back down the ladder, starting the ship up as you grab whatever weapon’s closest in the armory and thunder back down the gangplank.
She has her gun to his head. It’s probably not going to do anything, because it’s weak and rickety and no match for Mandalorian beskar, but the fear inside your chest is dizzying and real. You scream at her as you advance, trying to balance the weight of the heavy blaster in your hand while attempting to look menacing. She catches your eye before three new fighters swoop overhead, and you scream, unleashing bullets at the sky. None of them land this time either, but it’s enough for one to crash into the other, and the third has to circle up an away so they won’t be dragged into the impact. You stagger forward, trying to raise the blaster to a steady grip. It’s so heavy. You think Din’s yelling at you through the helmet, but the noise of the crash and the remaining fighters popping out of space and into the planet’s atmosphere is way too loud.
“Don’t you dare,” you scream, running towards the bounty. She doesn’t flinch, so you grab the real quarry, the man handcuffed in iron on the ground, and push the heavy weight of the muzzle flush up against his temple. “You hurt mine, I’ll hurt yours,” you warn, trying to sound much more resolute and honest than you feel. You don’t dare to take your eyes off her, but you can hear the screech of the TIE fighters in the distance, and you don’t have enough time. “Let him go,” you warn, and she clicks the safety off. You have no intention of actually hurting the bounty, let alone sending him to his death, but with the ships gaining speed behind you and with her own blaster up against Din’s head, your choices are evaporating quicker than your deliberation. “Let him go,” you warn her again, and she pulls another blaster out of her pocket, and you’re staring down the iron as Din tries to wrestle the gun she’s pointed at his face out of her other hand. She fires a shot, just once, and you’re almost positive it’s just into the sandy ground, but you scream, guttural and unhinged, and you kick down the bounty as you swing the heavy blaster back towards his girlfriend.
Din’s laying in the dirt, and you’re crying, and you’re pretty sure you’re yelling for him, but she’s still threatening you with her blaster and you can hear how quickly the fighters are gaining speed and you panic. You see Din move—weakly, but enough to prove that he’s just injured, not fatally wounded—and something in you snaps. As the first fighter whizzes over your head, sending down an array of blasts, your hands drop the blaster and shove palm-first into the sky.
It wasn’t intentional. You were trying to not use the Force at all, especially in front of people who probably summoned the leftovers of the Empire here after you and Din and the baby, but the blaster is completely useless against an array of ships, and it unleashes itself from you like a lightning strike. You freeze the bullets from the TIE fighter midair, the fizzle and pulsing of their electricity surging as you scream, sending them straight back up where they came from. It’s enough to keep most of the ships back, diverting their route and blasts away from the four of you, and when you’re sure they’re not an immediate threat, you turn on the woman, who looks terrified of you.
You hate that look. It’s the same one that Din wore this morning, the same one that you knew anyone would ever have if you showed them what you could do. You’re not a scary person, let alone a menacing one, but you can feel how nervous she is, how much power you can harness. You breathe, exhaling slowly as you pull your hands down, level with her chest, and she’s frozen. You’re not trying to keep her there, to choke her off, but it’s like the power you can hold in your palms is doing it for you. Horrified, you pull your hands down, releasing her into the sand, and you help haul Din to his feet, grabbing the second set of cuffs for her as he starts pulling the couple towards the Crest. You follow behind, trudging through the sand you just kicked up, exhausted and aching.
You’re on the gangplank before you hear it. You feel it before it even jumps into the atmosphere, that pit of darkness and danger in your chest, but you’re so wiped from sending the other handful of ships packing that you think it’s just leftovers. It’s not. Out of nowhere, Gideon’s vantablack, arachnid TIE fighter unfolds its evil wings, and you collapse on the gangplank as it surges towards the five of you.
“Get inside,” you scream, and Din freezes the couple in one block of carbonite as you crack your neck, trying to summon the energy that all drained out of you a few seconds ago. The baby coos from behind you, and you shake your head as Gideon advances, shooting a volley of bullets towards the Crest. You stop them, but you’re shaking, hands trembling, watching helplessly as he swings around and doubles back. There are tears at the corners of your eyes, and your chest is heaving, the hot, dusty air parching and sucking a wound in your esophagus. “I can’t—” you manage, and then Din pulls the Crest up off the sand, and you hang onto the bar just inside of the gangplank, hauling yourself back up standing. You can feel the baby as strongly as Gideon’s ship is loud, and you feed off his energy, trying to gain enough back to stop the blasts that are being shot through the open air.
Being airborne helps. Even when you’re not at the helm, it steadies you to be skyward, to have gravity on your side. Gideon’s ship fires another round of blasts, and, to avoid them, the Crest slams back against the sand, and you tumble down again. You push yourself off the floor, still weak, still unable to hold a steady breath, and you watch as Gideon lands his ship and emerges from the cockpit.
Something ignites in his hands. At first, you think it’s still a mirage, that shimmering blackness against the hot horizon, but as Gideon advances, you realize exactly what it is. It’s a weapon you’ve only seen in nightmares and in the baby’s visions. It’s like a lightsaber, but sharper, electric. The blade is as dark as his ship is, so black it would scare darkness, and the edge frenzies with white-hot light. You skitter backward, up the gangplank, as Gideon advances through the sand. His face is set and angry, vicious and cold. You hold your hands up, heart hammering something horrible, knowing there’s not a chance in hell that you’re a match for him to begin with, but the last time you were face to face with a lightsaber—a real one, not one that came from dreams—you nearly died because of it.
“Fucking—move,” you shriek at Din, “I can’t hold him off!” And the Crest groans, but he’s able to get her airborne as Gideon breaks into a run, hurtling straight towards you with death and destruction in his eyes, the blade of the saber wicked and electric. Din’s able to get the ship up off the ground right before Gideon’s boots meet the end of the gangplank, and you scream, guttural and desperate, as you use the last remaining source of energy to push him back.
“There is no place,” Gideon screams, “that you can hide from me, Mandalorian.”
“Try me,” Din seethes, over the sound of the engine, pulling your slumped body backwards as the gangplank shakily rises.
“The baby or the girl,” Gideon says, his voice determined and taunting, “Next time, I’ll make you choose which one.”
You want to give him a snappy response how he’ll have to pry you from Din’s cold, dead hands, and the baby too, but you don’t even have the energy to sit up straight, and with the fury that Gideon is harnessing, you don’t want to put any ideas into his head. You nod wordlessly at Din that he can leave to navigate the ship, and he hurries up the ladder, punches in coordinates that are anywhere but Er’kit, and shoots the Crest up and out into the atmosphere before he returns, dropping to his knees and pulling you up against the wall, his hands suspending both of your cheeks to keep you upward.
“Novalise,” Din whispers, his voice low and urgent, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nova.”
“’M okay,” you manage, and the word itself takes so much out of you that you know Din can tell you’re lying. “I’m fine, I—”
He pats your cheeks and you look up at him, letting him tuck rogue hair behind your ears. “That was way too close, Nova,” Din hisses, pressing the cold metal of the visor against your forehead. “Way too fucking close.”
“I survived, didn’t I?” you ask, and you’re not trying to question him, but it comes out that way, loose and aggressive. “You—you got away. We got the bounties and we got away, Gideon didn’t touch me—”
“He got pretty damn close,” Din snarls, barreling over you. “Too close. I’m never putting you that close to danger again.”
“I am the danger,” you protest, blinking up at him, weakly grabbing onto his wrists where he’s suspending your face, holding you up. “I—I made the mistake, I used the Force when I wasn’t supposed to, and he probably already knew we were down here, and he—”
“Don’t you dare,” Din snaps, and you’re not even sure what he’s warning you about, but your mouth bubbles closed, staring up at him. Everything hurts. You’re still heaving and exhausted, and all you want to do is strip Din down and fall asleep pressed against his bare chest, but he’s still holding onto you like you’re the only thing in the galaxy, and you just let him. “That was not your fault. It was mine. I was reckless, I put you in a dangerous situation, and he got too close. You’re not going to ever be that close to Gideon—or anything dangerous—again, do you understand me?”
“I’m—” you start, and you know you should protest, tell Din that you’re a big girl, that you can handle yourself, that you don’t scare easy, but you simply don’t have enough energy left in you to even make the words come to the forefront of your mind, balance them on your tongue. “I protect you, remember?”
Din pulls the helmet off. It’s so abrupt that you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s off and you can see every inch of his beautiful face. His hands find your cheeks again, and you pull him down on the floor with you, enough so that you can climb into his lap, leaning up against the wall, body slumped in exhaustion against the weight of his armor.
“He almost took you,” Din whispers, and his voice sounds so much more fragile when it’s not running through the modulator. You swallow, trying not to cry. “I put you in that situation, cyar’ika, and he almost took you from me. Just to strip you for parts—for whatever makes that energy run through you. He would torture and kill you afterward just to get to me. There’s not a fucking chance I’m ever letting him get that close to you again. Do you understand me?”
You just nod, transfixed, lifting your fingers to graze up against his face. He doesn’t flinch when you touch him, doesn’t try to shy away. He stares at you, deep, soulful, protective.
“I can protect myself,” you say weakly, and Din shakes his head.
“You can. You’re more than capable. But it’s my job to keep you safe,” Din says, his voice broken and dark, “and I didn’t do that out there.”
“I’m fine,” you insist again, and then, because he’s still shaking his head, “I’m fine, I promise, I’m fine, okay, Din, I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here, I’m fine—”
“Were you scared out there?” he asks, forehead so warm against yours, and you want to nod, want to tell him you were terrified, but you think it might break him, that he’d stop down at the next port and reinforce every single part of the Crest, revamp the artillery, and buy you something completely bulletproof if you do, so you shake your head wordlessly.
“I don’t scare easy,” you remind him, the promise you made way back on Nevarro finding its way to your lips. “Remember?”
Din doesn’t have a chance to answer before his lips are up against yours, desperate and wet and warm. You let him lean you back into the wall, and all the dominant, intimidating energy that he pressed you up with not a half hour before has completely drained out of him. Din’s not devouring you because he’s insatiable. This time, it’s because he’s desperate.
You let him kiss you like it’s the first time all over again. You let yourself be pushed back, body limp to everything except Din’s touch, and he pulls you closer and closer, mouth roving down the pulse points on your neck, lips like wildfire. His hands tangle in your hair and you hum happily under the feeling, and, finally, he slides you down horizontal.
His eyes are hungry. Desperate, pulsing with the kind of energy that he barely lets out. He strips you down, quickly but gently, and then he starts prying off the armor, throwing it behind him all over the hull. You pull down on his pauldrons, releasing them as you run your own fingers through his dark hair, eyes fluttering open to the shape of his nose, his dark eyelashes, his pink mouth. If he catches you staring, he doesn’t let on, just keeps pushing his tongue inside you, licking the inside of your mouth, hands seizing both cheeks, trying to coax every kiss you have in you out of your open lips.
“What can I do?” Din murmurs. His voice is so deep, it rumbles through the butterflies in your belly, startling them to awaken.
“I’m okay,” you insist again, and then you realize he’s asking for permission. “Anything,” you breathe back into his mouth, trying to resuscitate him the best you can. “You can do anything to me. Touch me like you did back on Er’kit. Devour me like you did on Naator. Just take me however you want me—” you say, trying to throw all your energy into your words, but Din’s mouth cuts you off. You moan permission back into his lips, and he nods against you. When he pushes inside you, it’s slow. Agonizing, like he’s trying to savor every single second. You want him just as badly as you did back down in the dressing room, but you don’t dare tell him to move harder and faster. You let him pull and glide in and out, every single inch disappearing into the hollow of your stomach. Your breath is hot and heavy, and he’s murmuring something into your collarbone. Eventually, as you relax into the sensation of him inside you, Din picks up the pace. He’s slamming into you like you’re the last thing on earth, like you’re the only thing left. You can’t hear what he’s whispering against your skin, what he’s whining in your ears, because everything in you is focused on how his hips are hammering, how he’s burying himself to the hilt. It’s deafening and hot and you’re completely on autopilot, eyes wide open on the crush of space that’s just above the surface of the Crest, one hand tangled up in Din’s curls, the other on the side of his beautiful face, and as you feel him starting to quiver, he pulls his mouth off your neck and looks right at you.
It’s intimidating. You haven’t seen him this up close before, not without the helmet. Even the blip you had on Yavin before both of you came at the same time, it wasn’t like this. In the darkness, even, you can see how he’s looking at you. His gaze is frenzied and desperate, and you put both hands on either of his cheeks, trying to calm it down, trying to coax his orgasm out of him as gently as you can, but he’s looking at you with such a passion that you flush under his gaze.
“I’m not ever letting him touch you,” Din whispers, and the rhythm of it matches what he was whittling into your collarbone this whole time, “I’m never—ever—putting you in danger like that again, cyar’ika, never, never, never—”
“I’m okay,” you echo again, your vision starting to glaze with tears, and Din nods, breath heavy and hot against you as his hips pick up the rhythm, pounding every inch of his cock inside you as hard and intentional as he can. “I’m safe, you keep me safe—”
“No one is going to hurt you,” Din interrupts, like it’s a mantra, “I’ll protect you, I—I’ll protect you, I’ll protect you—”
“No one can touch me like you,” you whisper, and you mean it every way you possibly can, and Din’s sweaty forehead presses up against yours as he moans, low and strangled, and you hold his face as he lets go, pulsing and warm. You just keep him there, as long as you possibly can, staring deep into his eyes, letting your promise sink in. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He stares at you. Your eyebrows furrow, looking up at him, trying to decode the look on his face. Finally, he kisses you, all that frenzy and desperation form earlier evaporated, and his lips are gentle against yours. You sigh as he pulls out, cleans himself off, and curls up next to you. You’re not even sure if you came, but you don’t care. You press yourself up to Din’s bare chest, trying to heal whatever you broke down there with your touch. The silence is so loud, but you stroke your fingers through his hair, trying to show him you’re not leaving, you’re not going to be torn away from him, that Gideon couldn’t ever get through him to grab you—but you’re not sure it’s going to do the trick. After what feels like hours, you’re able to summon words. You’re up in the crook of Din’s arm, face resting in the hollow of his neck.
“What did you mean earlier?” you ask, and in this silence, even your whisper is loud. “B—before you left, you told me that me being Force sensitive, it makes something…easy?”
He’s quiet. You wait, grazing your fingers over the side of his face. “I didn’t know how powerful you were,” he says, finally, and you bite your lip in the darkness, trying to understand. “I—the baby, he’s saved me like you did today. It takes everything out of him, after, but you know how much he protected us when we crashed on Dagobah. He’s done that. A few times.”
“He’s stronger than I am,” you start, and you feel Din’s head start shaking next to you.
“I think you match him. You’re just as powerful, Nova. I saw it today.”
Your heartbeat is fast and loud. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing—”
Din shifts to face you, and you try to find his brown eyes in the darkness. “You have the ability. You—you can learn. You can teach him.”
You blink at him before you sit up, realizing what he means. “I—I almost got us killed down there, today, Din, that was a very—” you inhale, sharply, “close call, and I got us out, I didn’t get hurt, b—but every time I use it, we get closer and closer to danger. I don’t want it. I don’t want to use it. It makes me and the baby targets, I meant what I said earlier—”
“You can train him,” Din repeats, sitting up beside you. You’re shaking your head fervently, and you don’t think he can see you, but you hope he feels it. “You can get strong together, and then—I don’t know, we can go after Gideon and stop him—”
“No,” you interrupt, voice high and shrill. “I don’t want to. I don’t want this. I’m putting us all in danger every time I use it—don’t you understand that? I almost got killed today because of it.” It’s too sharp. You feel it dagger him in the chest, and you reach forward for him. Din freezes, affronted, but he slowly lets you pull yourself up against him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, and you lay back down, entangled in each other’s arms. “I—I just don’t think I know enough about it to teach the baby. I don’t know enough about how it works myself. I think we need to find s—someone, another Jedi, I don’t know—to teach the both of us.”
“Gideon’s going to keep coming,” Din whispers back, suddenly, “and I don’t think I can protect both of you when he does.”
You don’t have it in you to argue, because somewhere deep and dark inside you, you know it’s the truth. The thought’s full of nightmares waiting for you. So you just pull Din’s head into your chest, wordless, and try your best to pull the both of you, heavy and exhausted, into sleep.
*
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*
I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! this chapter broke me a little to write because i hate angst, but i promise after the storm that's coming, there's going to be so much happiness!! if you're an angst-hater like me, i promise sticking it out through these next few chapters will be worth it ;) thank you all so much again from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and patience!! your support truly means the world and more to me!!! love y'all!!!!!!
CHAPTER 21 WILL (LIKELY) BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST ON SATURDAY, MAY 15TH!!! i'll let you know if anything changes!!!
xoxo, amelie
#something more#something more saturday#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x oc#the mandalorian x original character#din djarin x reader#din djarin x oc#din djarin x you#din djarin smut#din djarin x female oc#mando x you#mando x reader#mando x oc#din x nova#dinova#din djarin x female reader#din djarin#novalise#novalise djarin#star wars fanfiction
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72 w Parkner pls 🥺
just some bb fluff between the Keener-Parker-Stark family uwu
*
“I'll see you in a few hours, babe,” Morgan says, leaning up to kiss her partner. “I love you.”
Saylor smiles and gently pushes a strand of hair behind Morgan’s ear. “I love you too. Have fun. Tell them I said hi.”
Morgan and Saylor have been together for three years now, having met in Morgan’s third year of college, studying to become a teacher. Saylor’s in med school.
They live together in New York, only a few hours’ drive away from Stark Towers where Harley and Peter live.
She hasn’t had a day off between school and her job as a teaching assistant, not to mention having just gotten a puppy with Saylor who needs constant attention and care.
The drive to Stark Industries is a little boring, traffic a little heavier than usual on a Saturday morning. She feels a little bad about not spending the weekend with her partner who’s also rarely free, but she also hasn’t made the trip to see her family in quite a while.
Harley and Peter are sitting at the breakfast bar, knees touching and Harley’s laughing bright and loud at something Peter must’ve said. They both look tired, despite the weekend beginning, but she knows the business has been under some heat lately.
Peter’s up, out of his seat as soon as he sees her, pulling her into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you, bug. How are you? How’s Saylor? How’s school?”
“Let her breathe, darling,” Harley says, leaning over his husband to ruffle Morgan’s hair. “You want a coffee?”
“Yes, please, traffic was awful.”
Harley smiles and heads off towards the kitchen, leaving Peter to fuss over Morgan.
“You look tired, have you been sleeping alright?”
“Peter, I’m fine, I promise. I’m twenty-four, you don’t need to worry about me like I’m still fourteen.”
He sighs wearily, it’s obvious it hasn’t exactly been an easy week for him. “I know. But you’ll always be my little bug.”
“I’m good, really, Peter. I’m happy.”
Harley returns, pressing an old Iron Man mug into her hands. “How’s Saylor? I miss that kid.”
“They’re good… Busy, that’s for sure. Med school, the internship at the hospital, taking care of Nova. We’ve both been busy, but they’re happy. They’ve got the weekend off to just play with Nova and rest.”
Peter goes to respond, but his phone ringing cuts him off. “Sorry, I should probably… Hello?”
Harley sighs, leading Morgan to the living room. “It’s been complicated lately.”
“I heard, is everything okay?”
“One of our rival companies, they’re fighting dirty and it’s putting a lot of pressure on us. We’ve already lost a few employees, as well as some investors because of them. But we’re making progress and it’ll all blow over soon enough.”
Morgan nods, pulling her knees up to her chest on the couch, tucking herself into the warmth. It’s the same old couch that Tony bought decades ago, there’s a few photographs of her here when she must’ve been two to four years old, her dad holding her in his lap. On one hand, she knows why they haven’t bothered to replace it, every memory of Tony is important to all three of them and seems almost wrong to get rid of anything that belonged to him. But on the other hand, it really is just a couch. An old, worn-leather couch, with rips in the seams and stains along the back.
“Peter looks exhausted,” she says, watching carefully as Harley’s face shifts into worried sadness.
“He is. You know how he gets when it comes to anything surrounding your dad.”
Peter slips into the room, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry to cut this short, but PR needs one of us downstairs.”
“I’ll get it,” Harley offers, already bringing himself to his feet.
“No, it’s okay. You took the last one. I’ll go, sort this out, I’ll hopefully be back within an hour or two. I’ll bring takeout for lunch, sound good?”
Harley sighs and Morgan knows she makes the exact same expression as he does whenever Saylor picks up extra hours at the hospital or stays up all night to study.
She’s never really known the two of them apart, she was too young to remember them before they got together, way back when they were eighteen and nineteen. They’ve been together ever since, bar the one time in college where they split up for nearly four months, long-distance having become too much for them.
She’s never known Harley without the permanent wrinkle between his brows from the constant worry of dating a selfless superhero. She’s never known Peter without the messy curls, having given up gel and product when Harley convinced him he looked better without it.
When she was young, she always worried that she’d never find love the way her parents did, the way she saw Harley and Peter, so unconditional, so pure, so endless. She worried she wouldn’t find the person who was clearly meant to be her other half like Peter is for Harley and Harley is for Peter.
But then she met Saylor.
“Bye, bug, I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
She hugs Peter goodbye, settling back into the cushions beside Harley.
“How did you know you were going to be with Peter forever?” Morgan asks. She adores the way Harley’s expression goes gentle and nostalgic and loving.
“Peter likes to say that he knew when we met, that very first time, at the cabin. But I don’t think it was ever quite that simple, you know? I knew I loved him when we were in college and he was in Massachusetts while I was in California, and I woke up one day, and found Peter in my dorm room. He’d flown all the way out, on his long weekend, just to spend time with me. He was sitting next to me, reading the book I had to write an essay on so he’d be able to me. It was so simple, so easy, and it was clear, in that moment, that I could do that forever. Wake up next to him, live in simple domesticity with him.”
“And you wanted to do that forever?”
She knows that moment with Saylor, too. They had come home from a long day at school and a long evening at the hospital, and they had picked up her favourite meal for dinner on the way home. They had curled up on the couch together, eaten dinner, and watched a movie, and smiled when Morgan had ranted about the antagonist of the film.
“For as long as he’d have me.”
“And you’ve never once gone back on that?”
Harley shrugs, eyes far away. “I fucked up in college, I nearly ruined the best thing I’d ever had, and that’s the biggest regret I’ll have to carry with me. That’s the only regret I’ll ever have about our relationship, is hurting him and losing four months with him.”
“I think I want to ask Saylor to marry me,” Morgan says. She’s certain about that, but god is she ever nervous. “I love them more than anything.”
“I know.” Harley nudges her with his shoulder. “Every time you talk about them, you get that same look that I see on Peter’s face constantly. And that- that’s a lot. I see it on Saylor’s face too, when they talk about you.”
“You do?”
Harley’s smile widens. “I do. It’s clear how much that kid loves you. And if you’re even a fraction as sure as I was when I proposed, then you should go for it.”
“How did you do it?”
“It’s about as dramatic as you’d expect from us. He was-” Harley stops, swallows visibly. “He was dying. He’d been hurt while on a mission and I was there, I was holding him and he was- he was dying. Bucky had to physically restrain me while Sam got him to help… It was the most scared I’d ever been.”
“He was okay, though.”
“Yeah, somehow he always is. He was in that goddamn hospital bed and he was so high on pain killers and I just, I asked him to marry me.”
“That simple?”
“That simple.”
Morgan laughs a little. “And he said yes?”
“He did. He said yes. And when he was released from the hospital, he laughed so hard he cried because he couldn’t believe that’s how I asked him.”
And god does Morgan ever want that with Saylor. She loves her partner like crazy, loves them to the moon and back, she never wants to go another day without them, she doesn’t want to spend another second without being able to call her partner, her fiancé.
“I want to marry Saylor,” she says again.
Harley grins. “I’m proud of you.”
“For being in love?”
“For being unapologetically you and going after what you want.”
Morgan leans into Harley, his arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders. “You think they’ll say yes?”
“No question about it, kid.”
“If they do…” She trails off nervously. “Would you and Peter walk me down the aisle?”
Harley presses a kiss to her temple. “We would love to. And I’m sure we could have Nova trained to be a ring bearer in no time.”
Morgan laughs at the thought of her clumsy, bouncy little puppy trying to do anything with finesse.
Peter returns with lunch a little while later.
As soon as he walks in, he drops the bags down on the table and says, “I want a baby.”
“What?” Harley lets out a little surprised laugh and Morgan bursts into giggles at the absurdity.
“Quinn brought her baby in for the meeting because she couldn’t get a babysitter in time,” Peter explains, pouting childishly. “And I want one.”
Harley shakes his head, more dumbfounded than disagreeing. “You want a baby.”
“I want a baby,” he repeats. “I want a little tiny thing with ten fingers and ten toes and a beating heart.”
Morgan laughs again, walking up to hug Peter. “God, I missed how absolutely crazy you are.”
“Okay, darling, how about you eat some food and we’ll talk some more later?”
It’s not a no and Peter grins triumphantly.
“When did you know that you wanted to be with Harley forever?” Morgan asks before she can stop herself.
Peter’s smile widens and he looks to Harley with the softest, most lovestruck eyes she’s ever seen. “I was fifteen.”
“Fifteen? You were seventeen when we met.”
Peter slides a hand over Harley’s shoulder, tucking himself into his husband’s side. “I was fifteen and I was here with Tony. Right here, actually. We were having a lab night and he mentioned something about a potato gun kid. And I asked him to tell me about you. About dumbass Harley Keener who didn’t know when to stop, who was talkative and loud and sarcastic and annoying. Harley who helped save Tony’s life. And I thought, wow, if anybody would know what it feels like to be me, it’d be Harley.”
“Really?”
“I googled you later that day and I scrolled through your mom’s entire facebook, wondering just who was special enough to stay in Tony’s head for so long, so fresh. I told Ned, I said to him, I’m gonna meet this kid and I’m going to marry him one day because who else is worthy of my love than somebody who could save Tony Stark’s life.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not! It’s all true. Ask Ned, he’ll tell you.”
Harley rolls his eyes in pure adoration. “You never told me that.”
“I was embarrassed and then it didn’t seem relevant anymore.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to learning things about you, Parker.”
Peter grins up at him. “Like how I want to have a baby?”
“You two would be amazing dads,” Morgan says, almost shyly. That part of their relationship isn’t talked about very much, how they might as well have raised Morgan, filled in the spot that her dad left when she was so young. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, bug,” Peter murmurs.
“If you take tomorrow off, we’ll start researching, alright?” Harley bargains. A day off is hard to come by with Peter, but with an ultimatum like that, Peter can’t possibly say no.
Peter kisses him in response.
April Parker is the flower girl at Saylor and Morgan’s wedding that fall.
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#lyss writes#parkner#lyss answers#harley keener#peter parker#morgan stark#mcu#spider man#tony stark#parent peter parker#dad peter parker#dad harley keener
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Five More Minutes - Eraqus x Reader
Hey, you guys remember the Five More Minutes - Brain x Reader story? Well thanks to a CERTAIN SOMEONE, the character for the prompt changed from Eraqus to Brain because Nova is a petty bitch.
And AT LEAST ONE OF YOU UNDERSTANDS THAT! THANK YOU!
However, I’ve been thinking about this WIP for a while and I put myself out there, so I’ll kinda forgive ffm-non’s heinous crime for now and post Five More Minutes with Eraqus.
Music Inspiration: Hikari (Godson Remix) by Hikaru Utada
~~~~~
Rushing through the streets of Scala, I bob and weave between unsuspecting citizens on my way to the theater. Today’s the day—hopefully. I’ve spent the last week trying to get a ticket for this show but it’s been sold out every day. Both my saving grace and the bane of my existence is that they aren’t pre-selling tickets, so it’s first come first serve for who gets to see the show.
I’m heaving like I just ran halfway across the city—because I did—but I finally make it to the theater. Unlike the last few days, I find myself in luck at the sight of the relatively short line. With excitement bubbling in my chest, I race to join the queue.
Just as I reach the line, something jumps in my way. I garner the embarrassing attention of several people in the vicinity as I topple to the ground, taking the obstacle down with me.
Hastily, I pull my face from the white fabric.
“Oh gods! I’m so sorry!” I say, scrambling my feet and taking the strangers hand to pull him up. “Are you okay?! Did I hurt you?!”
Suddenly, I hear my name and finally get a look at the young man I’d practically tackled. I know him. While my family does not follow the noble keyblade warrior tradition like his, our magic has been revered so our families have been amicable for years. At least once or twice our year, our families get together for dinner and we almost always see each other at events for the more affluent people in the city.
“Eraqus?”
A beaming smile crosses his lips. “Hey! What’s up!”
Heat surges into my ears. While I’ve been forced to be within proximity of this boy for years, I’ve never been caught alone with him before. He’s certainly cute and, while our parents may not think so, I find him kind of funny. Still, while I kind of know him, because of our families’ differences we’ve never actually been friends.
“Uh, not much. I was just trying to get in line for tonight’s show. But seriously, I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”
This kid’s laugh stirs something in my chest.
“Yeah, I’m good. My friends hit me harder than that in training.”
The sheer happiness rolling off him is distracting. “I…I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
“Nah, it’s alright; we make each other stronger.” His eyes glance away. “So, I guess you wanted to see this show too?” An arm gestures to the moving line that we scoot along with.
“Yeah. I’ve been trying to see it the last few days, but it’s been sold out. What about you? I wouldn’t have guessed theater to be something you enjoy?”
He folds his arms. “Mmm, I like some of them, but my friends really wanted to see this one.”
I take a moment to take in our surroundings. “Um, what friends?”
His cheer is bright and captivating, but even the defeated frown it morphs into is somehow endearing.
“Nobody wanted to come early to wait in line, but we probably wouldn’t get tickets if we came on time.”
I nod, understanding the dilemma.
“So Bragi suggested rock-paper-scissor.”
Now it all makes sense. “And you lost, so now you’re here to buy tickets for everyone.”
“Yeah…” His pouting is so cute.
A small giggle escapes me. “So it’s sheer coincidence I happen to literally run into you today?”
That smile’s back. “Or! We could call it luck.”
“I would assume bad luck; you lost a game of chance and I literally ran into you.”
“Details.”
And so we keep each other company. The more I talk to the boy, the more I can confirm how fucking adorable he is. His smile is infectious and I find myself hanging on every word, no matter how wild the tale is. I can barely even drag my gaze away long enough to take a few steps before I’m staring at his beautiful face again. Before long, I can already tell I’m head over heels for him. Even after tickets are purchased, we find a bench nearby to continue our chat.
It only ends when someone calls his name. There’s a small herd of people making their way closer.
Getting to his feet, Eraqus greets his friends. “Hey guys, what’re you doin’ here early?”
“Early?” snorts the girl with silver hair. “The show starts in twenty minutes.” Her golden eyes catch sight of me. “Who’s this?”
I wave to Baldr and Hermod, both of whom I know from similar family social events. They do the honor of introducing me to the gaggle, which is both a bit lighthearted and overwhelming. They seem like a great group of friends to have, despite their differences.
“It was good to see you again,” Hermod says, leading the mass towards the entrance. “But we’d better take our seats before the show starts.”
“You got the tickets, right Eraqus?” Xehanort asks.
“Right here.” He pushes all but one into his friend’s hand before turning to me. “Which seat are you in?”
I look at my stub. “E7.” The look on his face is disappointment. “Where are you at?”
“N24,” he mutters. That’s literally on the other side of the theater from where I am and I find myself similarly disappointed with the arrangement.
“Guess I’ll have to get your opinions on the show some other time,” I say, trying to make the blow a little softer.
Our eyes meet and I feel myself being drawn in.
“Maybe we could meet up at that little café around the corner?” he asks.
“The one with the fancy s’mores?”
“Yeah! That one!”
Eraqus detours the conversation with a tale about the time he and went there with his friends and one of them ended up spilling a drink on everyone—pretty sure it was Eraqus by the way he kept switching names. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Eraqus, the show’s about to start!” I don’t even know which one it was that yelled at him.
“’Kay! Just gimme five more minutes!”
Excited chitchat continues, following tangent after tangent and never with a lull. I could continue on like this for ages, happy to spend hours in his presence, enamored by the boy I never really knew.
I drag my hands down my face. “And then, because I stupidly thought things couldn’t get any worse, I tried to use a fire spell to dry him off and set him on fire.”
Eraqus is laughing so hard he’s crying. “Wait wait wait! I remember Hermod came to school with a huge hole in his jacket! Was that you?!” I nod in sheepish shame. “Oh my gods! We thought he got mugged or something! He wouldn’t tell us what happened!”
“Every time our families get together, our parents won’t let us live it down. Mine won’t even let me join them anymore without asking me to ‘please not light their colleague’s kids on fire.’”
“And here I thought you were the smart, cool type,” he teases.
“As much as I’d love to be, I’m actually a total mess.”
“That’s okay; I am too.”
“Oh really? I always thought you were laid back and easy going. With our families’ prestige, I was always kind of jealous of how calm you are about everything.”
“Then you have clearly never seen me wake up late for class.”
The laughing between us dies down, but before I can make another comment, I realize that he’s watching me. This isn’t watching like two people waiting for cues in a conversation, but watching as if he’s looking for something very specific.
Beneath his scrutiny, my brain starts to malfunction, causing my ability to speak to take a hit. “Um, I…I’m pretty sure anyone would…would panic if they woke up late for class.”
“I guess.” The softness suddenly introduced into his voice feels like an arrow through the heart. “But it’s probably not the same when it’s a weekly occurrence.”
Is he leaning in?
“No…I guess not…”
He is—he is very much leaning in.
“Eraqus.” I can’t even speak above a whisper.
“Hmm?”
My heart is pounding in my ears, trying desperately to drown out my thoughts.
“I think our show’s started,” I breathe.
“Five more minutes,” he murmurs against my lips.
Not a single protest is heard from me. No, I’m too preoccupied with electricity coursing through my veins. For a moment, Eraqus leads the way, soft and slow, likely assessing my shock. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what my reaction should be, but my body tells me to just see where this goes. And with each passing second, I’m falling down the rabbit hole with him.
The world suddenly jars to when the source of my euphoria breaks away. His brows pinch together, concern written across his face.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice wracked with uncertainty. “I thought—”
Without asking my head for permission, my hands snag his haori.
“Five more minutes,” I say softy.
Our lips connect again and, though I’m prepared for the jolt, I still feel the weight of the world disappear around us. This time, I lead, hoping my confidence sends the right idea to the young man. I think he gets it, happily matching my every move. His little sighs cause my stomach to squirm, making self-control difficult. But there will be plenty of time for the rest later, for now, I want to take my time and get a grasp on how his lips feel against mine.
I pull away, using a deep breath the calm my racing heart and ground me back in reality. Eraqus, too, breathes a little heavier, and yet he continues watching me as if he’s still fully enraptured. That look is hypnotizing, subtly—easily—luring me in again.
That quickly goes out the window.
“Eraqus!”
Flinching, he whirls back, where his entire group of friends is standing with mixed expression. My blood freezes.
“What?!” he shouts back.
“Are you comin’ back to the dorms with us or not?” Urd demands.
My eyes dart to the sky. It was dark when the show started, but the moon sat higher among the stars than it had moments ago—or what I thought was only moments ago.
Eraqus’s gaze flips back and forth between me and them. “Did…Did we miss the whole show?!”
“Yes, you dingus!”
Hermod gives a soft smile. “C’mon guys, give him a break.”
The red-head, Bragi, snickers. “Yeah, the kid’s only been dreaming of this moment his whole life.”
My mouth falls open but I can just see Eraqus’s face burning brightly.
“BRAGI!”
“Oops.” The offender grins unabashedly. “My bad.”
Xehanort folds his arms, smirking. “Ooooh, so this is that cute little mage he’s been crushing on.”
“You mean that one he always talks about after he visits his family?” Her tone is full of innocence, but the grin on the little blonde’s face is pure evil.
Oh my gods, I might implode.
“YOU GUYS!”
“What was it he said last time?” Urd asks, also basking in Eraqus’s flustering.
Baldr answers, “I believe it was something along the lines of ‘I would give up naps for an entire year if the gods would just let me have a single—‘”
“I’LL DO EVERYONE’S HOMEWORK FOR A MONTH IF YOU JUST GO AWAY!” Eraqus yells, waving his arms as if he might fly away from this mess.
Hermod begins ushering everyone away. “Seriously, guys, let’s go.”
“Wait! I don’t want him doing my homework!” Bragi protests. “He’s failing like half our classes!”
Glancing back with one last devious look, Xehanort responds, “Let him have his moment; we’ll just make him do something else later.” The expression softens when he gives me a genuine wink.
Finally, after instigating all the butterflies in my stomach to the point I might vomit sparkles, they leave. We sit in suffocating silence for an awkward moment. Then, one of the butterflies must’ve escaped into my brain when I suddenly crack a laugh.
“An entire year without naps, huh?”
Still cherry red, he looks at me, mortified.
His floundering gives me the bit of confidence I need to close the gap once again. “And what was it you so desperately begged the gods for?”
Eraqus’s back meets the wall, but he still puts on a smile, even if it is bashful. “Let’s just say I’ve already lost my napping privileges for the year.”
“Yeah? So if the gods were to grace you a second time, would that be two years without naps?”
His nerves seem to melt and those stunning gray eyes glitter in the moon as he watches me. “You gonna stick around and find out?”
“How long were you thinking?” I slip my arms around his neck, unable to stop myself from twirling a strand of ebony hair between my fingers.
“Oh at least five more minutes.”
“Just five?”
He feigns mulling it over in head. “And maybe five more after that.”
#Eraqus#Young Eraqus#eraqus x reader#young eraqus x reader#gender neutral reader#influence my story#fmm-non
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The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 8, Ch. 5
PART 8: WHERE IT ALL ENDS
Chapter 5 - Planning the Future
Warnings: SMUT in the Sanctuary!
Nova
We have been so busy lately that I forgot how good Charlie's touch feels. His hands on my neck, in my hair, on my waist, and my back. I could never get enough of him and the feeling it gives me is pure ecstasy.
His lips found mine again, after biting my neck. I didn't know what I would rather do bite his perfect lips or let our tongues dance together. Even though it wasn't our day off and we only had one more hour we somehow managed to get to the bedroom this time. Our clothes were all over the floor from the front door to Charlie's boxers next to the bed.
I tried wrapping my arms around him but he stopped me. The look in his eyes told me that he is going to be in full control for the next hour. He brought my hands together and grabbed my wrists with his right hand and pushed them above my head. He started sucking the end of my ear while arousing my nipple with his free hand. I moaned in his ear.
He supported himself with the hand that held my wrists before and scratched me from my chest down to my belly button with the fingers of his other hand. He pressed his lips hard on mine again and even though I tried hard to keep my hands where he put them before I couldn't resist burying them in his curly hair.
I gasped for air as his fingers penetrated me and he started moving them around.
“Fuck, love!” He breathed in my ear. “Do you ever need any foreplay?” My lips curved into a naughty grin. I knew I was soaking wet because of all the flirting we did at breakfast. I couldn't stop thinking about him and the things I wanted him to do to me all morning at work.
“Not with you, no.” I replied, my voice rusty from breathing fast.
He grabbed my legs and turned me around. He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and crossed my arms on my back. I let out a loud groan as he entered me and started to move his hips back and forth. When I tried freeing my arms because I started twisting from pleasure, he leaned forward, still inside me, and started biting my back. He knew that was my weak spot and I started getting louder.
I tightened my muscles to grasp him more and he let out a sound that was pure melody for my ears. I knew his knees got weak for a second so I took the opportunity to take over. I pushed him back so he stood up and turned around. I wrapped my arms around his waist and got up too. Turning us around, I pushed him on the bed, biting my lip and climbing on him.
His eyes rolled back as I sat on him and he put his hands behind his head to enjoy both the view and the sensation I made him feel. It didn't take us long to both start breathing faster and faster, Charlie's hands now on my hips to help me move as I was getting weak. Just as we were about to cum together, we heard a knock on the door. Our eyes met as we opened them and we knew we didn't care if both of our mothers came through the door. We picked up the pace and finished, not even trying to be quiet.
“Can't we have one day where we can have sex in peace?” Charlie rolled his eyes as he was putting his boxers on. He was right, we were disturbed 3 times in the past week. We didn't know what exactly was going on but the Dragons were bothered by something and needed more attention than ever before.
“Are you mates done?” Charlie smirked, knowing that Felix, who was probably standing in our living room, knew what we were doing.
“We'll be right down!” I shouted and cussed when I remembered that Charlie took my shirt off the second we came through the door. I went to our closet and took out the first thing I could lay my hands on, which was Charlie's Christmas jumper with a Dragon on it.
Charlie grinned at me when he saw what I was wearing and we rushed down the stairs.
“I know I disturbed you, yet again...” Felix looked rather uncomfortable. He was unfortunate enough to catch us twice in the act this week. “But this came for you and seeing it wasn't brought by your family owl, I assumed it had to be important.” He handed Charlie a letter. “It's addressed to both of you.”
Charlie looked at me and I nodded for him to open it. I slowly stepped closer to him and started reading over his shoulder.
Charlie,
I know that you and Nova are busy and I wouldn't be writing to you if it wasn't urgent but something happened during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament and Dumbledore asked us to call you straight home. I understand that you might not get a day off immediately, but please come home as soon as you can. We need to talk about the Order.
Love, mum
Molly's letter sent shivers down my spine. What happened at the last task? Was Harry okay? Why did Dumbledore want us to come home and why was Molly talking about the Order of the Phoenix, for which I only knew because my mum told me about it.
“Felix, it's from my mum.” Charlie started. “We have to go home, something happened at the Tournament and...”
“You go. I thought it was urgent when it was sent by an unknown owl.” Felix looked at both of us, nodding.
“We'll be back as soon as possible.” I said and started upstairs to pack some clothes for us.
When I got back down, Charlie was sitting on the sofa, his eyes still on the letter.
“Char?” He looked up at me, worry in his eyes.
“Your family is okay.” I sat down next to him and embraced him. I had a feeling the letter had more to do with Harry and something else than anything happening to any of his siblings or parents.
We apparated to the Burrow together and as soon as we arrived the doors swung open and Arthur pulled us both inside.
“Dad, what is going...” Charlie couldn't finish his question as Arthur put a finger over his mouth, telling us to stay quiet. My heart started beating faster as I put our bag down and we stepped into the living room.
Molly, the twins, Bill, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore were all sitting there looking at Harry. He looked dreadful. I have never seen anyone so upset or terrified. I exchanged a look with Charlie and the expression in his eyes told me he was just as worried as I was.
Molly turned her head to us and stood up.
“You should sit down, dears.” She hugged us both and gestured us to sit next to the twins. Everybody had the same expression on their face; serious and knowing something I was sure we were about to find out.
Harry then started explaining what was going on for what seemed to be one time too many for him. He told us what happened at the Tournament. Where the final Portkey took him, how Pettigrew brought back He Who Must Not Be Named. How he killed Cedric Diggory without any hesitation and that he summoned some of his most loyal Death Eaters. He then told us how Moody was locked away and that the Moody teaching them all year was Crouch Junior and that he confessed to everything. He finished by saying how nobody believes him he is back because the only witness to him coming back was Cedric and he was killed.
When he finished the story, the room went quiet. I felt like I could hear my heartbeat. I had no idea how to respond. I stood up and kneeled before Harry who was trying hard no to be seen crying. How could he even hold back the tears with everything that has happened to him?
“Harry,” I said softly, looking up at him even though his eyes didn't meet mine, “we believe you.” He finally looked at me and then at Charlie who was standing next to me and nodded to Harry.
I couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't believe the kid that went through more than all the rest in the room combined. Why would anyone in their right mind think that he could even come up with a story like that? Nobody wanted him to come back not even some of his most loyal subjects from the previous Wizarding War.
“We are here for you, Harry.” Charlie kneeled next to me. “If you need anything.”
“What can we do to help?” I turned around and searched for Dumbledore's eyes. I knew he was here for a reason and not just to bring Harry to the Burrow.
“If you'll step with me.” He gestured to both me and Charlie through his half-moon spectacles. We followed him outside.
“It pleases me to know that you believe Harry.” He said gently.
“How couldn't we!” Snapped Charlie. “Nobody can make that up.” I nodded in agreement.
“If he says that He Who...” I shook my head. If Harry was brave enough to say his name, we should be too. “That Voldemort is back then it's true.”
“Unfortunately, we made Mr. Crouch Jr drink a Veritaserum potion and he confessed to everything. It's true.” Dumbledore closed his eyes, trying to remember the event.
“Then why doesn't the Ministry believe Harry?” I questioned.
“Because they would rather deny it and keep people calm than tell the truth.” Dumbledore said, harshly.
“Well, that's a bunch of rubbish!” Charlie frowned. That had to be the dumbest reason I have ever heard. How could the Ministry be so negligent?
“That's why we decided to take proper action.” Dumbledore continued.
“We?” Charlie asked puzzled.
“How much do you both know about the Order of the Phoenix?” He bowed his head down, his eyes on us.
“My mum told me about it.” I said slowly. I knew she was under an oath and should probably not speak about it but she told me even before I went to Hogwarts. My parents never kept secrets from me.
“Bill and I found some old photos of the Order while going through our parent's stuff once.” Charlie admitted, his cheeks red.
“Your mum probably had the pictures.” Dumbledore said without accusing Charlie of doing anything wrong. “Her brothers died for the Order.” I started biting the inside of my cheek. This was all getting too real too fast.
“I have formed the Order the first time Voldemort came to power to gather Wizards who would fight against him and his cause.” He started to explain. “Your parents and your brother Bill already joined. As did Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall, your mum...” His eyes turning to me. “And your friend Nymphadora Tonks.” My heart sank hearing her name.
“What about the rest of our friends?” I needed to know if they were going to put themself in danger as well. Especially Penny and Andre who had a little girl.
“I haven't gotten to them yet.” Dumbledore answered, hearing the worry in my voice.
“What do you need us to do, Professor?” Charlie asked, determined.
“I am giving you an option, you don't have to join if you don't want to.” He looked at both of us, his head high now. “It has come to my attention that you got engaged last November.”
“We did, but we want to help, Professor.” My hand found Charlie's and I was hoping he couldn't sense me shaking.
“We want to join and help as much as we can, even though I can't see how we can do much from Romania.” Charlie locked his eyes with mine, tightening the grip on my hand. Who was I fooling, of course, he could sense I was afraid.
“It's perfect, actually, that you are so far away from Britain.” It was the first time he smiled a little since we came here. “I have a very big request to ask from you.” He stopped for a second, making me anxious. “I need you to recruit as many foreign Wizards and Witches as possible. I am sure you have some connections and despite the unpopular opinion that those not living in Britain have nothing to do with this War, every person joining our cause makes us stronger.”
We both nodded to let him know we understood. It shouldn't be that hard. I am sure we can convince most of our team to join us and we both had outside connections as well with everyone that comes and goes from the Sanctuary.
“We will do our best to send people your way, Professor.” Charlie assured him.
“Good.” He bowed his head. “I have to warn you that sending letters with your owls is no longer safe, neither is using the Floo Network.”
“We will make sure to be careful while sending letters.” I said, feeling relieved I can leave Pip out of this.
“Thank you.” Dumbledore smiled at us and went back inside.
Charlie and I didn't say a word to each other not outside, neither while being with his family. I kept thinking of my mum, not knowing if it was safe to even write her a letter.
We got home late that night and I felt more exhausted than I would be if I was working with Ajax all day.
“I can't believe this is happening.” Charlie finally spoke as he got back downstairs after finishing his shower and sat next to me on the sofa.
“Everything happened so quickly.” I took a deep breath and positioned myself in his arms.
“Do you think we have to postpone our wedding?” He asked, sadness in his voice. We finally decided to get married at the end of August last month.
“How about we wait to see what happens?” I looked up at him and he kissed my forehead.
“Do you think he's going to act quickly and start where he left off?” I wondered after a few minutes of silence.
“I honestly don't want to know what is going to happen.”
Neither did I. Our lives went from having a normal job to being in a secret organization, recruiting reinforcements.
“Poor Harry.” My voice trembled. I felt for that boy. I wish he didn't have to go through so much at such a young age.
“I feel so lucky that we had such a normal life at school. Seeing Voldemort come back and then duelling him...” Charlie shook his head. “How did he even survive that?” I was asking myself the same thing. He got away from the most powerful Dark Wizard of our time.
“I dunno. But I'm happy he did.” I answered honestly. If he failed to defend himself nobody would know that Voldemort was back.
“And just when I started to think we can settle down.” He said softly, into my hair.
“We can elope.” I suggested. “We wanted to do that anyway.”
“I wasn't talking just about marrying you.” I turned in his arms to look at him.
“What do you mean?” His eyes were so full of emotions that he melted my heart.
“I know it might not be the right place and of course we could wait longer but I can't stop thinking about having a family with you.” My mouth fell open. We never talked about this before. We both wanted a family one day but besides thinking about it occasionally, especially when Penny sent us pictures of little Joanna, I didn't feel like we were in a place with our work where we could afford to have kids.
Knowing that it was going to be hard for both of us to let go of our careers, I rather didn't put much thought into it, not to get my hopes up. There was a big difference between wanting and having a family.
“Did I leave you speechless, love?” Charlie chuckled.
“I didn't know you were thinking about having kids any time soon.” I answered honestly, wishing terribly to have some tea, my mouth was so dry.
“Of course, I do.” He said as if we were talking about what to eat for lunch tomorrow. “Don't you?”
“I do but I try not to. We both have quite a dangerous job and you don't exactly see anyone raising children in the Sanctuary.” Charlie let out a laugh.
“We could move somewhere safer and apparate to work.” He wrapped his arms tighter around me. I was already living my dream with him and he was just describing my fairytale.
“You have everything figured out, don't you?” I giggled. “Next thing I know, you'll tell me you know how many kids we'll have and what their names will be.” I teased.
“I can if you want to know.” I turned in his arms, abruptly.
We told each other everything and despite being so afraid to ruin our friendship when we started having feelings for each other, we were still best friends. But I had no idea Charlie had everything so planned out or that he thought about these things.
“You know how many kids you want?” I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Two girls and a boy.” He said at once. If we weren't already engaged I would ask him to marry me right then and there. “Aoede for one girl, after the Jupiter moon since your middle name is after one as well. Luna because it's just a very beautiful name for the other girl and Roger for the boy after your dad.” I was speechless. He listed those names as if he was thinking about them every single day.
“When you snap back to reality and not imagine marrying me right here right now and start making babies, you can choose the middle names if you want.” He chuckled. I couldn't imagine the expression on my face as I couldn't get over the feeling in my chest.
I might not have thought about our future like that but now I could see myself being married and have those beautifully named children with him.
“Do you reckon they'll have violet hair?” I finally found my voice. Charlie burst out laughing.
“Did the Coloring Charm manage to change your DNA?” He asked.
“I dunno but imagine them!” I clapped my hands, excitedly. “Your curls and...”
“Your eyes.” He finished my sentence, kissing my nose.
“With your freckles!” My eyes sparkled. Damn it, Weasley! Now I wished I was already pregnant.
We laid on our sofa, talking like this for hours. It was a good distraction from the real world and what we were about to face. I knew that we couldn't afford to go beyond talking and dreaming of having a family with everything that was going on, as we knew it would probably get worse. But we couldn't stop discussing it. It made us laugh and I couldn't help but fall even deeper in love with him if that was even possible. He truly was the man of my dreams and for the time being, having him by my side, safe and healthy was going to be enough.
#harry potter hogwarts mystery#harry potter fanfiction#hphm charlie#charlie weasley#charlie weasley fanfiction#hphm#hogwarts mystery mc#the weasleys#hphm au#hphm characters#hphm fanfiction#weasley family#hp imagine#charlie weasley x oc#hogwarts mystery imagine#hphm imagine#charlie weasley imagine#the burrow#harry potter imagine#weasley fanfiction
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Thoughts on which Kirby villain the fandom sucks most at characterizing in your onion
Believe me if I had the energy to rant I would absolutely write you a fucking essay on how the fandom has bastardized Marx as a character, but I don’t and it’s past midnight. So you will get bullet points instead. I’ll admit I’m biased because I’ve been harassed by Marx fans in the past on here, but no I won’t apologize for my opinions <3
•Marx isn’t just a silly little crime boy, he literally tricked the sun and moon into fighting and manipulated Kirby into summoning Nova. Like that’s LITERALLY the plot of Milky Way Wishes, you can’t just ignore that and act like you’re writing Marx.
•Also worth mentioning: given how important sleep is in Dreamland, the big issue of fucking up the day-night cycle is also heavily underplayed by the majority of the fandom. Since it’s implied he lived there, this very much could have been intentional! It’d certainly make taking over easier if everyone who could resist were weakened/sleep deprived, wouldn’t it?
•Marx caused Nova’s death, temporary or not. “Well technically Kirby is the one who sent him fl–“ yeah and why was Kirby fighting Marx in the first place, huh? And who was the one who put Kirby in the position to fight Nova, huh!? Literally no matter how you look at it it’s Marx’s fault.
•Marx also tried to kill Kirby. Twice, if you count Marx Soul. I don’t think I need to elaborate on why this is an issue, but at the same time I just might considering the number of people who ship them for some reason? Which, like, fucking yikes, I don’t care what you come up with to explain it, you shouldn’t put someone in a relationship with someone who manipulated and later attempted to kill them! Refer to the first point for why you can’t just ignore that!
•His goal of ruling Popstar was guaranteed not a spur of the moment or power-tripping driven thing. Whereas Magolor is a bit more ambiguous– he definitely had been plotting his betrayal from the beginning, that much is certain, but it’s heavily implied he was not in control after putting on the Master Crown, perhaps meaning he wasn’t originally looking for universal domination– Marx very openly brags about how his plan worked, and does so AFTER his wish is granted. This means, unlike in Magolor’s case where wanting to rule could very possibly have been caused by the Master Crown, Marx very much intended Popstar’s domination from the start.
•A big thing that I never see addressed by the people who stan Marx but despise Magolor: MARX NEVER EVEN FUCKING APOLOGIZED FOR ANY OF IT. MARX HAS NOT SHOWN AN OUNCE OF REGRET FOR HIS ACTIONS. “He helped in Star Allies–“ YEAH AND DID YOU EVER LOOK AT WHY? BECAUSE THERE WAS FOOD IN IT FOR HIM. IN THE JAPANESE VERSION ITS BECAUSE OF SAFETY IN NUMBERS. He did not help out of the kindness of his own heart, or because it was right, he was in it solely for his own benefit.
•Basically just... a ton of my hatred of fanon Marx is because of the hypocrisy the fandom shows when it comes to Magolor. Magolor didn’t just apologize, he built at least two entire theme parks on top of his apology. While that obviously doesn’t undo what he did, nor mean he has to be forgiven by anyone, it is still absolutely better than the solid nothing Marx has given. That alone is enough to show that, realistically, Marx is the worse of the two, not Magolor, because at least Magolor has shown he regrets his actions. I wouldn’t put it past Marx to try again.
•Probably my least popular opinion here: I don’t like Marx’s design, and I never have. It’s not cute, but it isn’t scary either, or really all that creepy imo. It just annoys me, intentionally or not, and overall he has my least favorite Kirby final boss design. Yes I remember Dark Nebula exists, but at least Nebula has a nice color palette and a cool eye, even if the fight itself is underwhelming. Yes I also remember Dark Crafter exists, and he’s a very close second for least favorite final boss design! But at least his doesn’t outright agitate me, I just don’t like it because it wasn’t nearly as good as Drawcia’s. It’s the difference between outright disliking it vs just being disappointed. I’m not saying the design is bad, the design is great for a character like Marx! I just happen to hate Marx as well as not be a huge fan of that kind of look.
#ask to tag#ask#ask meme#rambling#I guess more like ranting in this case#literally the only thing I enjoy about him is his boss theme#but yea I hate fanon Marx so much it’s unreal!#especially when I’m then treated like shit for it#like oh I’m sooo sorry for not stanning *reads notecard* manipulative ass who attempted murder and planetary domination with no remorse#who also happens to have a design I’m not fond of
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