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witchybitchycrybaby · 1 year

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Pairing: the Mandalorian x OC

Summary: Din is touch starved, more than he knew

Genre: Pure fluff

Word count: 4k

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It was hard to say how long Lisbeth Cardin had been a member of Razor Crest crew. She once was Madalorian's bounty; the client never told him why he wanted the girl, and Mando didn't bother asking either. It was against his rules.

He found her on Naboo. She didn't even flinch when he appeared at her door as if she knew perfectly well that in the end he would come for her. When the man showed her the hologram with her photo on it, along with the bounty on her head, she just smiled sadly and held her hands out in front of her, ready to get arrested. She gave up; she didn't fight with him nor said a word. All she did was what he told her to do. And this shocked him to his very core. Why, for the God's sake, didn't she even try to resist him? So he asked about it when they were already on his ship in the cockpit while showing her where she can sit.

"Well, you're a Mandalorian after all," She said carefully, following his movements as he was taking his seat at the controls. "And I can't even shoot well. So if the gossips and stories are true, I don't stand the slightest chance fighting with you".

She had a nice voice. Gentle. If she was reading a book out loud, Din would listen to her, just for her voice and this alone, forgetting about the whole galaxy. She didn't sound like she was talking to a man who soon will hand her over to... he couldn't really tell to whom. She was talking without a hint of fear or disgust. Like under all this armor was someone who was just doing their job.

"Everyone is trying to get their freedom back" He answered quietly. He wasn't looking at her, he was busy getting the ship onto the air. Lisbeth thought he would add something, anything, but all she met was silence. With her hands still in handcuffs she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and sighed.

"Usually when you want to get it back, you still have something to fight for".

~*~

Din Djarrin handed the girl to the client on some small, unimportant planet; he didn't even bother to remember its name. Not that he would ever come back here anyway.

He got a great reward, more than it was settled because the client was in rather good humor. It didn't even cross Mandalorian's mind to complain about it.

Before he left, he dared to glance at the girl for the last time. She was tall, almost as tall as he was. Dark hair covered her face like a curtain, and he just now realized how long they were. Lisbeth turned her head towards him meeting his eyes, which were protected by beskar helm, with hers dark like a night sky. For a little while he felt like the girl could see right through the black visor, straight into his eyes. She blinked and again turned her head, looking away from him, and the tearing feeling left him immediately.

But for that, he felt... sorry. For the first time in his life. He felt sorry for her, and he didn't even know who she was. That girl was his mission, and he completed it so now he should go and forget about all of it. Then why his disobedient insides twisted with nerves? What will happen to her? Had he brought her here for certain death? He couldn't stop thinking about it even when he was wandering through a small village buying some food on his way to his ship. Maybe he was just tired? Or sick? He shook his head while he was getting on the ship. He closed the hatch behind him and, just in case, decided to get some sleep before the flight.

~*~

He was standing in a clearing. The grass was tall there, it almost reached to his waist. Wildflowers grew everywhere; delicate violets and yellows mingled with each other in a jungle of green.

Mandalorian wasn't wearing any part of his armor, not even a helmet. He started to panic. They will see him. Someone will come here any minute and will see his face. And his creed... On the stars! He just broke his most important principle... He took off the helmet and now... now he won't be able to put it on again. Unworthy. He will no longer be able to name himself a Mandalorian, not anymore. It was the end, the end of everything...

But this Din from the dream was calm. Warm rays of sun shone on his face. He felt free, as if no threat mattered anymore, as if this particular clearing suddenly became the center of the universe.

He hadn't even flinched when he felt her hands covering his eyes. The warmth of her feminine body on his back as she clung to him with her whole being. She was here, safe, with him.

"Guess who?"

He knew this voice. It has always echoed in his head, in reality, and in his dreams. He could listen to her for hours, and he would never get bored.

Din knew who she was, of course he knew. She was everything. No one had meant that much to him before, not as much as his wife.

She leaned her head just a little and hid her face in the crook of his neck. Her warm breath tickled his sensitive, velvety-soft skin. He felt so good like he finally found himself a home. For the first time in ages he knew that someone was waiting for him, taking care of him, loving him. He thought he'd die if he lost her.

He laced his covered with tiny scars fingers with hers, lowered their hands to the height of his heart, and squeezed tightly. The girl smiled, and he felt her lips curving into an arch. Mandalorian already wanted to turn around and finally see her, lock her in his arms and never let go, but she was faster. Her lips mercilessly slow touched his skin where his pulse raged in a tender kiss. A wave of heat poured over him and his blood rushed in his ears. He wanted, he needed to feel her more and more. The girl laughed sonorously as he began to turn to face her, but all his gaze met was... nothing. She wasn't there, vanished into thin air.

Only her laughter continued to echo in the air.

~*~

He woke up abruptly, the girl's voice still in his ears. He was breathing fast, practically panting as if he'd run many kilometers.

The touch of her fingers on his face, on his ungloved hands, and her lips on his skin engraved in his mind and even now, surrounded by metal walls of his ship, he felt this phantom proximity as if it was real, as if she was standing right next to him.

The sound of metal screeching against the metal when he leaned his head against the wall filled the room. He was almost sure that the woman from his dream and the girl he'd brought on this planet a few hours earlier were one and the same person. Just why was he dreaming about her? This has never happened before. Besides, him taking off any part of his armor near any living person was absolutely impossible. What could possibly lead him to break for her his rules and everything he believed in?

He was shaken off by a loud knock on the ship's hatch. Mandalorian took a few deep breaths and went to open the ship, his hand hovering above the blaster.

Outside he saw her.

Her dark hair was a mess bigger than he remembered, like she'd run to him - to his ship. He couldn't move as the girl threw the handcuffs to his feet, the very same he'd previously handcuffed her hands with. Din stood rooted to the ground and watched as she climbed the ramp. As she approached him, he could see more and more details: her cheeks were bright red, and her chest rose and fell rapidly but at a steady pace. There was a shy smile on her lips and those blue eyes looking at him were bright and wide. He had that feeling again, that she could see through the beskar straight into his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" He gasped and prayed that his voice wouldn't sound as nervous as he felt.

"You brought me here" She panted. "I don't know how can I come back home."

Mandalorian had never been so happy that no one could see his face. She wanted to come back home... But the only thing he managed to do was to blink helplessly, he thought this mouth was half open too. He knew he had to say something to break the awkward silence. He cleared his throat so quietly and softly that he couldn't be heard through the helmet.

"That's not my problem. I'm not coming back on Naboo."

In his own ears he sounded harsh and rough. Not exactly how he'd planned it, but he thought maybe that was how he would get rid of her.

"I don't have to come back on Naboo," She said quickly, took a step closer to him and Din thought he stopped breathing. "I can stay on any other planet. I just... I need to get out of here."

"The client?"

"He won't look for me anymore" She shook her head. That shy smile faded and was replaced by a sincere and broad one. It was like she knew perfectly well he would let her stay. "Nor for you."

All of a sudden a thought struck him. Would his dream look like this if she hadn't vanished into thin air? Would she look at him with those big bright eyes? Would she smile only for him to see? And maybe...

"Lisbeth".

"What?" He rasped weakly and only then did he notice her outstretched hand.

"My name" She giggled and Din thought he was going to fall. Had he caught a cold somewhere? Or got sick? "I'm Lisbeth".

"Why do you assume I'm going to let you come with me?"

He'll be damned! He knew nothing about this girl after all. In addition, he wasn't feeling well. Technically speaking, he had nothing to lose anyway. It was his ship, he knew it as the back of his hand. And even if she wanted to fight with him, however, something told him she wouldn't do it, he would beat her.

Lisbeth's smile began to break and her hand started to drop to her side. It was just an impulse, but strong enough for Mando to reach for her hand and squeeze it. The girl immediately gave him her beaming smile once again.

"Never mind, forget about it. I'm going to Nevarro, you'll find a ship on Naboo there. And... you ran away. Do you finally have something to fight for?"

"Now I do".

~*~

Lisbeth didn't leave when they landed on Nevarro. Nor on the next planet. Nor at any other.

Mando offered her a job, which she accepted. She knew a little about mechanics which he appreciated because he needed hands to work. Later he found out that she hadn't lied about her poor shooting skills. When she almost shot him by accident, he took the blaster from her and instead gave her a beskar knife.

From someone Din Djarrin could barely tolerate, the girl quickly became someone he learned to trust. She didn't know much about other Mandalorians, how they thought or what was important to them, but she wanted to know more about him. So when she asked, he answered all of her questions. In those moments she would usually listen carefully and start nodding her head; the man was certain that she hadn't even been aware of this tick.

Lisbeth never questioned his behavior; it didn't bother her that he spoke so little or that he sometimes became too much obsessed with his targets. And she'd never mentioned the armor, not even by one word. It was almost like all this cold metal didn't exist in her eyes. Each and every time whenever she glanced at or spoke to him, she showed him that she sees the man underneath all this steel.

Mandalorian still had those dreams. Sometimes every day, sometimes he didn't dream of her for weeks. He always stood with his back to her, and she never let him see her. He could define it down to the second when the girl would embrace him with her loving arms and when she'd say "guess who?", he knew it all by heart. Sometimes delicate kisses turned into quiet "I love you". Both, no matter how often he felt or heard them, every single time had the same effect: he wanted more and more. From time to time a thought crossed his mind that maybe he wanted more than he could bear.

Until finally one day when they returned to Nevarro after catching another one of Mando's bounties, something changed. They both got used to this little habit: if Lisbeth needed anything or just wanted to get his attention without saying a word, she just had to tap his armor with her fingers. He got used to it more than he expected, but it was easier, and he hadn't even noticed that her fingers more and more often were choosing unarmored parts of his body: elbows, forearms, hands and knees.

However, what surprised him was not at all that he simply didn't notice. It also wasn't that he was actually waiting for her warm touches, which he could clearly feel through the fabric of his clothes. He was surprised that she herself initiated it all. It was bright as the sun that Lisbeth needed this simplest human contact, but Din wasn't really good at... showing affection and returning it to her as she tried to deepen whatever was between them. He would never dare to touch her, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Din".

"Hmm?"

He didn't have to turn to know where she was. She rested her elbows on the headrest of the pilot's seat as they flew through hyperspace, her face resting on her hands centimeters from his. If he turned his head, he'd probably lose his breath again for a moment, looking into her wonderful eyes.

"Don't you think too intensely sometimes?"

"What do you mean?"

"What- Och, come on" She laughed and bent just a little, so he could catch her eye. "You just zoned out for a good five minutes. A moment longer and you'd fry your brain".

"I still don't know what are you talking about. I always do that when I pilot and somehow you never had a problem with it".

"Yeah, I know" Lisbeth started straightening herself. She put her hands on his shoulders, the fingertips almost unnoticeably brushing his bare skin where the beskar ended. Almost. "But now I'm bored. Very bored".

He inhaled sharply and stiffened. Maybe it wasn't a real and proper touch, but he could feel a shiver running through his body.

"I'm so sorry" She panicked, suddenly taking her hands away. "I didn't notice that... I really didn't want to".

Mando let out slowly the held air and looked at the girl. She was biting her lower lip and pressing her hands to her chest as if she'd done something wrong.

"It's not... You don't have to... It's alright."

For a moment that seemed to be an eternity, she just stood there in front of him; she did not speak, did not move even a millimeter. He, too, was sitting in his seat, not daring to make any movement. He was afraid that if he did, Lisbeth would disappear, and that was the last thing he wanted. Finally, she knelt and placed her hands on his knees. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she reached for his right hand.

"May I?"

She couldn't know where his eyes were, and yet she was staring right at them. Her dark ones, so trusting and full of something he couldn't quite name. She held his hand in hers, perfectly smooth and warm, like she held her whole world. Some part of him screamed that if he touched her, he would destroy her innocence and delicacy. That he was a killer, mercenary, he took the lives of so many beings that he couldn't even count them. How could she even bear his touch on herself?

But then Lisbeth stroked the back of his hand reassuringly and it was slowly killing him. Din's fingers burned and begged to feel it for real, her skin on his. The girl didn't do anything else; her eyes were still waiting for his answer, a sign that allowed her to continue.

Finally, he nodded, and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen appeared on her lips. He still couldn't believe it was meant only for him to see, but he'd do everything, everything, to keep her smiling at him like that.

Lisbeth looked down, but only for a short moment to see where his glove ended. Her fingers slowly, as if she didn't want to scare and startle him, removed the cloth from his hand.

Suddenly he ran out of air. He felt everything inside of him going mad with sheer panic. If it had not been her, he'd rather die than take off that damn glove. Those rare moments when he took off his armor were... intimate, nearly sacred. And she knew it because she did nothing else after that; she just let his hand rest on the cool beskar on his thigh.

"Din".

He heard his name as if he were underwater. He was drowning and there was nobody to help him. But she kept repeating that one word over and over like a prayer. As the Mandalorian slowly returned to himself, he focused on her, she was his lifeboat. She was still on her knees, her hands resting in his lap, but her beautiful, stunning face was all he could see. Her curious eyes were filled with desperation and uncertainty.

"Din, I swear to whatever I can, I will do nothing to upset you or make you uncomfortable. I will not cross any boundaries, I promise. I just want... I want to... Feel you."

He felt dizzy and thought if he hadn't already been sitting, he would have fallen to his knees. She was waiting for him. She didn't rush him, didn't throw him into deep water, but let him catch his breath. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had spoken to him that way, like he didn't wreak havoc wherever he went, like he was worth that little affection.

He moved his trembling hand closer to her and when his fingertips touched hers, a shiver ran down his body. A bit as if he had been kicked by electricity, but in this case, it didn't bother him.

"Lisbeth" He whispered so softly that he wasn't even sure she could hear him. But she tilted her head slightly, which meant she indeed heard. "Please..."

He begged for something for the first time in his life. But had it even mattered, if all he wanted was to have her in his arms and hold her as close as possible? It was torture; she was right there, he could feel the heat of her body on his, and yet he made no move to reach for her, not that he could.

The girl smiled again, this time shyly and gently, and took his hand in hers. His whole life narrowed down to this second: to her warm hands, to their touch and to the blush that appeared on her cheeks as she ran her thumb over his bare skin. Then it felt as if the entire galaxy had stopped and there was only Razor Crest and the two of them. His heart was beating like crazy in his chest, and he hoped Lisbeth couldn't hear it. He had to remember to breathe as his lungs begged for oxygen.

"Is everything alright?"

Her quiet voice snapped him out of his thoughts and brought him back to her. He might as well give her his heart on a silver plate right now and tell her to do whatever she wants with it.

"Why are you asking?"

"No reason." She shrugged, and the fingers of her other hand began unthinkingly tracing every scar on his hand. Not even the slightest line adorning his skin was left without her touch. Din didn't care about them before, they were part of his profession, but now he wondered... what she thought of them. Wasn't she scared? Disgusted? But all worries were dissipated because her touch was like medicine, as if she could make them disappear under her fingers. "I just wanted to make sure that you're still alive under that armor".

How could she even think about something like that? Mandalorian has never felt so good before, so alive.

"And you?"

"Am I alive?" She raised her eyebrows and smiled even wider.

"No. Are you alright, too?".

And then Lisbeth Cardin did something that made her win his whole being, his heart and his soul. She tilted her head back and just like that... she laughed. Loud and honest. Just like in his dreams, but it was an even more wonderful sound. If he hadn't been so used to it, now he wouldn't know what to do with himself. It paralyzed him and all he could do was listen to her voice.

The girl looked back at him again and shifted her hand. He began to panic, he didn't want to end this for anything in the world. But she just intertwined their fingers and squeezed tightly.

"You don't have the slightest idea of how glad I am that you found me, Din Djarrin".

How could he expect that those words could cause such a reaction in him? That in one second he would just blink helplessly and in another he would reach out to finally get her in his arms? Lisbeth was still laughing, a bit quieter when she straddled him and threw her arms around his neck. Mando quickly removed the leather glove from his left hand as well and, tossing it somewhere on the floor, he placed it on the small of her back. Then he hesitantly brought his hand close to her face. He wanted so much to feel her under his fingers, yet somewhere in the back of his head he still had that intrusive thought saying: what if she doesn't want it? But Lisbeth surprised him once again, for as soon as his hand was close enough, she tilted her head and snuggled into it.

This time it was not electricity but fire that poured through his veins. His fingers traced the shape of her jaw, cheekbones, the soft curve of her brows and nose, and when he finally reached her mouth he hesitated for a moment. But then he touched her full, rosy lips and his whole body begged for him to take those fingers, put off his damn helmet instead and kiss her already. He didn't do it though, he was too lost in her warm, soft skin and her fingers caressing the back of his neck. When he ran his thumb over her lower lip, Lisbeth trembled slightly, almost unnoticeably placing a kiss on his fingertips. Almost.

Driven by a rapid impulse, with his hand still on her face, he rested his forehead against hers. The girl didn't even flinch as the cold metal touched her skin. Instead, she just clung to the Mandalorian even tighter.

Holding her, Din felt like he had found his home. That no matter where he was, she would be waiting for him. That her soothing arms would always be stretched out just for him. And though he wanted to do so many things to her, feel her much, much more, hugging her in the cockpit, in his pilot chair was still enough.

#din djarin #fluff #fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x original character #din djarin x female oc #oc #star wars #mutual pinning #english is not my first language

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wolfraven80 · 1 year

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7, 8, 37 for the Fire Emblem thing :D

7. Who’s your favorite character?

Edelgard. I love her every bit as much as I did Seth when I was young. I love how complex and nuanced her backstory is and how it gives her a really good (and potentially convincing) reason to act as an antagonist in the plot. And I loved getting to join her and take part in the fantasy of overturning an unjust system and burning it all down. I also love the contrasting aspects of her personality—the cold outer shell she has as emperor but how she opens up in all the scene she has with Byleth and how you can see that under all that armour she's built up to distance herself from her emotions, she's still just a girl.

8. Least favorite lord/protagonist?

Please no one kill me for this but very specifically Feral!Dimitri. I can't stand him in the second half of the game when he's off his rocker. Edelgard and Dimitri represent opposite polarities—control and loss of control. Both lose their families in traumatic ways but Edelgard cuts herself off from her emotions while Dimitri becomes overwhelmed by his. I have a temper, so the idea of losing control—that's scary. Dimitri in his feral state is cruel; the scene where he tortures Randolph is just so upsetting to me. Being cruel and so out of control that you harm people is a personal nightmare so I just cannot deal with that storyline. Claude's political manipulations and Edelgard's extreme methods don't upset me in the same way because those are fantasies to me; they're not situations I could ever imagine being in. But Dimitri hits too close to home.

37. What’s a weird theory or headcanon you have?

I don't have a lot of headcanons per se; I usually try to stick very close to canon. I guess for 3H it's that Byleth could/should be able to turn into a dragon since the children of the goddess all can and since she has the crest stone and Sothis's shouldn't she be able to as well?

For Sacred Stones, though, one thing that always bothered me was how the game's prologue says there's been hundreds of years of peace. But then we're also told King Fado is a warrior king and all their knights seem to have lots of battle experience-- so who've they been fighting? In some of my fics I had to invent something to make this sort of sloppy worldbuilding make sense so I had this backstory about a group of mages from Carcino leading an uprising in the northern part of Renais.

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weabooweedwitch · 1 month

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My sister woke up acting insane again today, i mean literally waking up and complaining we were wasting too many garbage bags and using that as an excuse to eacalate a fight, even texting us after we left after demanding we hurry and leave OUR OWN APARTMENT, rushes us back when we were just sitting at a park playing Pokemon and getting food, and one of the worst things?

she's been holding us hostage over THE HEAT. Something medically is wrong with her (not saying that as an insult, it's a fact, shes had a concussion before and maybe it damaged her ability to regulate her body temperature, or its her medicine, or something else) and we are both freezing and she says she's sweating and now she just insults us and says we're getting hot because we're high and fat and it's like. GIRL WE LITERALLY HAVE THERMOSTATS FOR OUR REPTILES CONFIRMING HOW COLD IT IS IN HERE

My poor crested gecko is having to live at his NIGHTTIME TEMPERATURE 24/7 because my physically aggressive sister is literally turning the heat off every single time we try and turn it on??? We arent allowed to control the heat in our own apartment and she doesnt even pay bills here???? Our floors are ICE COLD and she can't even feel it and says we're just imagining it??? AND insulting us???

Mom asks her to turn the heat own, the dial for which is under mom's desk, and my sister says for my mom to do it, while currently sitting at said desk, not moving

Just every day, she deliberately seeks out conflict? She starts getting better and then she starts talking to her, who even knows if he's her ex or what, and starts acting crazy

Yesterday she started an argument over the tiktok ban and said we were pro government censorship and all this other dumb bs and her and I went at it and what did she say? Turns to our mom, "someday you're gonna wake up and she's gonna have a knife in her throat"

Yeah well. While I was out with my mom today I suddenly realized she had an entire childhood of violent shit and spent a good chunk of time reminding mom what some of those things were. She's been wild for so many years we both have literally forgotten so much and when we sit down and talk about it we get depressed because she's. Literally still the same. And worse now.

Literally since we got home, we haven't even talked to her, been around her, she waits until we get home and suddenly, she's on the phone with a shelter, suddenly she "feels unsafe" despite the fact I've never physically threatened her and she's attacked me physically several times

And she's also just. I post on this blog but I'm anonymous and she'll literally share things about our family on her public Facebook because she's such an attention seeker she doesn't mind having her full name attached to her like.... starting high school level drama with the girlfriends of boys she used to date. Even our mom told me today she's been fucking embarrassed that her coworkers are gonna see all the embarrassing childish stuff my sister posts

All this girl can do is drink, do drugs, eat hot chip and lie 💀 please stay at the shelter, PLEASE

#family drama

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corrupt-fvcker · 4 years

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Good Grief (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

Good Grief ( Din Djarin x fem!Reader )

Warning: angst!angst!angst!, sweet ‘n fluffy ending

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s Note: inspired by bastille's song good grief as well as this one sad poem my sister read to me a while ago that i just can't remember the name of. i originally wrote this as a din x ofc but i didn’t like it as much.

Nothing would ever be the same. His absence like a lost limb; a supposed constant, something you relied on — but now it's missing. He's missing. And it still catches you off guard, making your heart stutter tightly in your chest with the shock of it, sharp like twisting a rusty knife. You are no longer sure of which pain was worse — the piercing shock of what happened or the longing ache of what never will.

You can still hear his voice echoing in the caves of your mind, urging you to take the Child and run. Asking you to leave him behind, granting him his wish of a warrior's death even if that meant leaving you in return.

Perhaps it was selfish, but you had refused to leave him for death. Because Din Djarin was not the Grim Reaper's to take. He was Mando, your Mando. The father of your adopted green child that ate frogs and almost killed Cara with some sort of fucking magic because he thought she was hurting his dad. The Mandalorian that removed his layers of beskar so that you could feel something new, something other than cold cuffs around your wrists and the incessant emptiness that had hollowed out your chest all those years ago. The man that trusted you with his entire life despite your reputation of being dishonest and greedy. Din Djarin, who you loved even though you’re reluctant and too stubborn to ever mutter the three words that always caught in your throat whenever you looked at him.

And you selfishly didn't want to lose him.

You didn't want to feel yourself missing him whenever you heard his favorite song on the radio -- an old tune by some one-hit-wonder that had been popular decades ago. You’d always catch Din tapping his foot to the beat when it played in dingy cantinas despite claiming that he didn't like music because it was just orchestrated excess noise. And maybe that was true with all the other songs in the galaxy, but this one particular song managed to seep through the thick layers of beskar and sneak into Din's ears. But if he left you, you could only grow to hate the song, dreading to hear it because you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from instinctively turning your head to flash a teasing grin where he would've been standing, tapping his foot along.

But more than you could ever hate a song, you’d hate yourself. For allowing someone to hold such a firm grasp around your heart when you know that they could be ripped away from you at any moment, surely taking your heart along with them. But most of all, you’d hate yourself for not being enough — fast enough to save him, brave enough to give him the final goodbye he wholly deserves.

He had collapsed, lying helplessly on top of a table that only Cara was strong enough to lay him on. You couldn't see the blood but you could smell it, flooding and then suffocating your senses until your head spun and you felt yourself stifling back a sob until a coarse lump lodged in you throat.

"This is the Way," he told you, choking through the phrase as his visor steadily focused on you after you insisted on removing his helmet so that his head wound could be treated. And you could feel a shred of dignity wither and welt as the words left your quivering, chapped lips. You knew just as well as Din what it meant to break such an oath, you knew how deeply Din was devoted to the Creed. Din was a Mandalorian, he was before he met you on Arvala-7 on the vapor farm. When he had met you all that time ago, he had intended to die a Mandalorian and some things just never change.

Your muscles had turned to stone as you stared down at him, your lips parted but no air filling your restricting lungs. You didn't need to remove his helmet to know that he was gazing up at you through the black visor, memorizing every curve, freckle, blush, and blemish of your face because he had the feeling that this was going to be the very last time he would ever have the pleasure of admiring your beauty for a long while.

Tell him, the voice in your mind prodded, tearing through your dazed state.

You blinked, your wide eyes lining with tears that threatened to spill over. A shaky breath hissing through your clenched teeth as you unwillingly cried, salty droplets streaking down your soot and blood dusted cheeks before dropping off the edge of your jaw.

Din's heart tightened. In all the time he's known you, he's never once seen you cry. You shed no tears even when a blaster bolt had hit you directly in your torso, stumbling to the ground and seething with pain. Your eyes were dry from the point the plasma struck you up until Din was spraying a thick layer of bacta over the wound. He had thought it was strange that you had never cried, wondering if you just bottled up your emotions until you are in the privacy of the 'fresher or if you had a weird anti-crying medical condition that you didn’t like to talk about. All Din knew was that he never wanted to see you cry — but now you’re bawling and it was because of him.

Words strangled through thick and heavy sobs, your hands lifting to press against your eyes, rubbing at the tears, and blocking your vision. "What's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it?"

His chest deflates.

You hear him call your name, though between the thrumming of your heart and the crackling fire surrounding the two of you, his voice sounds distant.

The cracked leather of his hand startles you as it brushes against the soft skin of your wrist before seizing your trembling hands. His grip is strong and firm, his thumb stroking the lines of your palm as if he was trying to determine your future so he could promise you that you’d be okay. Even though you knew you wouldn't be.

And as you clasp your other hand over his, holding him in place, the painful lump solidifies in your throat and blocks of any words that your mind is desperately trying to push through your paling lips.

"You need to go," Din told you, giving your hand a squeeze that was supposed to be reassuring but only made your chest rack with another pathetic sob.

Now or never.

"Din," you mutter in a broken voice, savoring his name on your tongue like it was your last meal. His helmet tilts slightly, his grasp on your hand tightening as he awaits you to say your goodbye. Because even though you are dreading the three words that you could only ever think quietly in your own mind, Din was praying for them because he wanted so desperately to know. He would've told you if he surely wasn't going to die, it would only be cruel to tell you now.

You swallow thickly, the lump strangling you. You pause, forcing yourself to kriffing breathe before squeezing your eyes shut tightly, focusing on the feeling of his hand.

You choked. "Thank you."

It's like the entire world— the entire universe stops. Halting as Din gives your hand one last final squeeze and nodding because he too would forever be grateful to have stumbled across someone as beautiful as you on Arvala-7. He'd forever be thankful for you for being so easy to love.

And then you left, stumbling through the kicked open grate without daring to turn to look over her shoulder, leaving the only man you could ever love behind in thick clouds of smoke.

Your mind is broken, all you knew was that you had to get to Cara and Karga.

You’re sprinting faster than you’ve ever in your life, tears streaming down your face as you race through the tunnels.

Karga and Cara lower their raised weapons when you round the corner of the tunnel, your usual mischievous and calculating eyes bloodshot and burning.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, deafening loud as your footsteps falter and you nearly fall flat on your face if it wasn't for Cara's strong arms that caught you. You’re still sobbing, uncontrollably and you can't fucking hear or see now because the tears are so damn thick and your heartbeat is so loud.

In the distance, hidden in the thick and constant thrumming of your heart, you can hear Cara calling your name. Her voice was fainter than a whisper, despite Cara nearly yelling in your numb face as she shakes your trembling form. But every word Cara spoke slipped through your ears, your thoughts on Din who was now only a memory that would involuntarily fade in time.

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

Din and probably the Child. Your weird little family that you had accidentally found was gone. Like it was never there to begin with. Leaving you with nothing but the sweet memories that would surely turn painful.

You didn't know how long you were in Cara's arms, losing all control of your senses and your words. You don’t remember when but you’re suddenly begging Cara to help you, grabbing at the arms that are pulling you into former-shock trooper. Pleading through your tears, asking over and over again like a chanting of a prayer to help you. Save you from this misery and put you in your place. Show you what you need to do because there's nothing else that you want to do.

You’re about to ask Cara to just put a bolt between your eyes — because nothing is worth it if you had to suffer through such emptiness for the rest of your life — when you are yanked from Cara's embrace, too numb to yelp or fight back as two strong arms heave you into a solid chest.

Tears are still streaming down your face unable to care to stop them, not that you could have if you even wanted to. Your mind too hazy to fully understand the blur of it all. Din's arms wrapped around your waist and the Child cradled by IG-11.

Your world had been torn away from you so quickly that when it all snapped back into place you were still stumbling, the sudden shift of everything knocking you over again.

"Cyar'ika?"

You’re suddenly back on the Razor Crest, you’re still in Din's arms but everything else is different. You’re no longer on Nevarro, on another planet that you don’t remember the name of. The Child wasn't in the arms of droid but rather tucked away in his pod sound asleep. Din isn't wearing any armor, not even his helmet, the two of you basked in the safety of darkness as you laid in your shared cramped cot. You’re not crying and you no longer feel the blinding numbness of grief, but rather an aching pull of guilt.

Din calls out to you again, propping himself up on an elbow with a small grunt so that he can tilt your chin to face him. You can't see him in this degree of darkness, and luckily he can't see the look of pain etched in your features.

"What's wrong?" His voice is familiar and solid, grounding.

You don’t answer, not even willing to give him the simplicity of a dismissive "it's nothing."

Din puffs out a small breath through his nose, fanning faintly over your face. You close your eyes, focusing on the comforting warmth that radiates off his bare body like a furnace. You don’t want him to pry because you knows that no good could come from it. You feel too guilty to face him, but yet you are still too cowardly to admit your feelings. You’re not sure that it's rejection that you fear but rather the spoken acknowledgment of your attachment to him. Because once you speak of your love and the words are out in the open, the universe is free to rip your love away from you.

He leans forward, his nose brushing against yours delicately as he rests his forehead atop of yours. The action was stabilizing, pushing your broken pieces together and sealing them back in place. But you felt intoxicatingly lost in his touch, his skin invitingly warm yet you knew that if you allowed herself to touch him you’d completely lose it.

"Kal Viinir'ika," Din coos, running the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheek as his fingers weave through your hair. Blade Runner — a title given to you by mercenaries and bounty hunters because you are fast on your feet and even faster with your swords, but you had never been too fond of it. But then you met Din and he had somehow managed to turn it into a teasing nickname that you grew to adore when it came from his mouth in his native tongue.

His nose grazes your nose before he presses it into your cheek, kissing you purposefully on the corner of your lips. "Please talk to me."

And his words shatter you, breaking you into a million pieces so that you are too far gone to repair. The lump in your throat is firm and strong, scaring you of what your voice might sound like in his ears.

"I'm sorry." It comes out as pathetic as you had expected, barely a whisper and wavering, you aren’t even sure that Din heard you.

Din's eyebrows draw together, lifting his head up and gazing down at you blindly. "For what?"

He doesn't know why you’re practically shaking in your small bed, you had seemed more than fine a few moments ago. You had fallen asleep in the cockpit and Din had somehow managed to carry you down to bed without waking you.

"For being a coward," you replied weakly, your eyes screwed shut to keep yourself from crying. You refused to cry in front of him for a second time.

Din would've laughed if he didn't hear the unadulterated pain and sincerity in your voice.

"What?" Din scoffed, cupping your face in his warm hand. He was confused and a little hurt that you’d even try to speak that way about yourself. "Cyar'ika, what's the meaning of this?"

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"I couldn't say goodbye," you murmured, your throat aching as your muscles restrained a sob from racking through your form. Your whole body was shivering, Din's warmth unable to break through your unforgiving emotions bottled in your chest. "You were dying, and I couldn't say it."

And then it clicked, the mixed puzzle of Din's brain coming together in an instant as the words stumbling from your lips. All of it made perfect sense. How you wouldn't look at him in the eyes for days after you’d left Nevarro. The way you would practically hide from him, not wanting to touch him or speak to him, closing yourself off from him to keep yourself safe — maybe to keep both of you safe. He had initially thought you were just pissed at him for some reason that he must've missed, but this, this made sense.

"You're not a coward," Din assures, brushing his fingers through the wisps of hair that framed your face. He can feel your gaze on him, burning through his silhouette like a beam of plasma. He kisses you softly on her cheek, his facial hair prickling your soft skin. "You're the bravest person I know."

You shake your head, ripping his words to shreds. "I couldn't say it."

A heavy breath swells in Din's chest, pressing himself a little closer to your trembling form. "Then tell me now, cyar'ika. I'm here, I'm alive, so tell me now."

Your body stiffens, your muscles tightening at the thought. Why does it have to be so hard?

"I can't."

Din huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Yes, you can, Kal Viinir'ika."

It should've been simple, it was three simple words that carried great weight. You had never spoken them before, the only times they were spoken to you ended with you running off. You didn't do love. Love was dangerous, it would kill you.

"Tell me," Din urges, pressing his lips delicately against yours like he was wary that you might shatter if he applied too much pressure.

Fuck.

It hurt that he was so sweet to you, it hurt to know that you were denying the one thing that he deserved to know.

Din Djarin deserved to know that he was loved unconditionally and completely by you.

You swallowed thickly, praying that the words don't get caught in your throat because you suddenly feel like you might die if you lose him and never got the chance to tell him.

Din hummed, waiting patiently for you to speak.

You quickly wondered if anyone had ever told him before.

I love you. You think it, questioning if those words were even ones you deserved to speak. Probably not.

Din nudges you softly. "Cyar'ika—"

"I love you."

Your blood runs cold and you feels like the entire universe freezes over, trapping you in this insufferable moment of vulnerability. And you wait for the urge to flee to take you, or for it to instead seize Din, but neither of you move.

"You love me?"

The question hurts a lot more than it should.

You nod, not knowing whether your voice would work if you tried speaking. Your silence followed by an eternity of nothing except for an uncomfortable tension that makes you beg that Din does something, anything. Tell you to leave, storm out of the room, kriffing shoot her— absolutely anything.

And thank the Maker, he moves. His thumb brushing against your plush bottom lip, applying the smallest amount of pressure before dipping his head forward. His kiss strange, almost out of character, but it sets you on fire nonetheless. It wasn't the first kiss you’ve shared and you prayed that it wouldn't be the last.

His lips are desperate, pouring every flicker of affection and adoration out of his body and into yours, filling you with his love. It's intensely carnal, yet almost too sweet for you to comprehend that it's Din Djarin kissing you.

Then he's pulling away, ripping his lips away from you painfully and sudden, gazing down at you half in a daze as you whimper at the loss of his warmth. You crave his affection.

"Cyar'ika." Not even the darkness can hide Din's grin, his forehead resting atop yours as an airy chuckle shakes through his chest. It's heavenly. You relish in the sound of his rare blissful laughter, wishing to bask in the warmth that fills your chest as it echoes in your ears. And for the first time in your life, you feel nothing but peace.

His deep baritone voice is lifted from a mixture of relief and bliss.

"I love you too."

━ ━ ━ ━

so... this is no edited, hehe... i’ll tryyyyyy to edit tomorrow but i always forget. i originally wrote this in third person but i changed it so there might be some weird sentences. i’ll proof read tomorrow. pinky promise :D

Also, quick PSA, if you ever find that my “reader” isn’t a true reader insert (i mean if i have description about the reader that may not fit everyone), please tell me. i want all of my readers to feel welcomed.

translations: Cyar'ika = darling, beloved, sweetheart Kal Viinir'ika = Blade Runner

#the mandalorian #my writing #corrupt-fvcker #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #self insert #reader insert #angst #fluff

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pheita · 3 years

Text

New Home New Trouble Part 9

This story has some heavy topics such as miscarriage, sudden infant death, oppression of various minorities, poltergeist-like spirits, and domestic violence.

Tagging @ashen-crest @adie-dee @abalonetea @cometworks @viskafrer @vivian-is-writing @kainablue @contes-de-rheio @writingamongther0ses

While Arritit and Liriel investigated the matter in detail, Ylva and Mithelia had left again until they were needed. Thus, the house became a little quieter, given the unstoppable noise. Looking for some quiet and time to think, Lyran had hidden in the bedroom and was now lying on his back like a bug, staring at the ceiling. The knock on the door startled him. "Yes?" The door opened just a little and Arritit slipped in. The very fact that she was acting so secretive was a red flag. "Are you all right?" "What do you think?" He turned his head around to face her. With a worried look, she sat down next to him. "You don't look well. Your steward's tale has intensified something." "Reinforced is more like it," he sighed, pulling himself up so he was sitting as well. "How long has it been?" "I don't know. I think it's been building up." Arritit hummed with a nod. Carefully, she put an arm around his shoulder and looked at him seriously. "You know why you're so sensitive to it, don't you?" "I've had a fear ever since I got the idea yesterday that they're not evil spirits." "Sojan told me that you're the only one in the house who can sleep, albeit very fitfully." Lyran smirked a little. "Of course he worries, the great brooder." "You know how he is."

The slight laugh in her voice lightened the mood a little. "Do you really think it's related to both our families being so sensitive to the realm of souls?" "It's the most obvious explanation. I would prefer to have Simajen here. I don't trust the Yonsoul." Lyran's head went to the side. Questioningly, he looked at her. A serious expression was the reaction. He himself did not yet know what to make of Liriel. "The other woman, Ylva?" She frowned trying to remember the name. "Yes, Ylva is her name," Lyran confirmed. Slowly, things were getting more convoluted than he would have liked. "She's as strong as I am, without the involuntary amplifier from Father." "Fuck. And she wasn't trained by anyone." "Exactly that. I don't understand why they didn't look for another demon to take her in. She's got a hell of a way to go if she's going to get this under control." Lyran bit his lower lip. There was no way to tell if Ylva would even want to learn. "She's only half-demon. Memory demon as well, but she meant a different clan than my father." There was silence for a breath, and then Arritit laughed out. "She explained that right away?" Her reaction made Lyran laugh as well. "She did. As normal as she seemed earlier, she's apparently only when she can fight, or is pissed off. Both Sojan and Niat, as well as I, have managed to make her blush several times." Laughing, Arritit fell against him. "Fuck, that girl is gold. She probably doesn't have a particularly good record with relationships." "If she had any at all as one of the Free..." "This just gets better and better," Arritit snorted, "A half-demon in the Free. Fuck, I need a drink. I can't warp my head around this." "What's so funny here?" Sojan entered the bedroom with a question, but apparently he had caught the last part of their conversation, as he was smirking. Arritit beckoned him over. "Simply the point that Ylva is as sweet as she is dangerous." "So I'm not imagining it. Good to know." "Imagining what?" wondered Lyran. He had an idea, but he wanted to be sure. "I'm not sure if it's because of you, Niat, or me, but Ylva seems to have a soft spot for one of us." Still smirking, he came over. Arritit tried to get her laughter under control. "How cute, you guys have an admirer." Sojan just gave her a look and sat down on the other side of Lyran, kissing him on the cheek. "Are you starting to feel better?" "Thanks to Ari's involuntary encouragement." "I was glad to do that." Arritit gave him a quick squeeze, then grinned wickedly. "But speaking of cute and dangerous. What's the deal with the elf?" "I don't know what you mean," Sojan replied far too quickly, even for Lyran. "You really don't?" probed Arritit. She had leaned forward a little and looked at Sojan piercingly. "Absolutely not." The failed attempt to feign cluelessness caused Lyran to burst out laughing. "Even Lyran doesn't buy it. So? Sojan? Kvesmen? My dearest brother? You know I'll figure it out somehow." The way Arritit batted her eyelashes at that didn't help the fit of laughter, but Sojan's very flimsy attempt to play dumb crumbled instead. "I don't know what you think...", Sojan now deflected. "What I'm thinking?" repeated Arritit, chuckling, "I'm thinking you two are carrying on the nice acquaintance from the Spring Festival a few years earlier. I mean, be honest. You two sleep on both sides of the bed, are open, and as far as I know have always let each other share the bed. Or allowed the other to. So, am I right or am I right?" "You're expressing yourself formally?" laughed Sojan. "I thought I'd give it a try. You know, being a nobleman's sister-in-law and all." Lyran just shook his head. Slowly he managed to get the laughing fit under control. "And I was expecting you to be short and direct." Arritit shrugged his shoulders. "I might as well have asked if either of you was fucking Niat, since you're both into women, too, and I know that at the Spring Festival you spent the whole night together." "Ah, there's the Ari we know and love," Sojan commented, "But how do you know it was all night?" "I have

my sources." Her grin was enough for both Lyran and Sojan to stop asking. Before Arritit could claim an answer, there was another knock at the door. "Come in!" shouted Lyran, who had finally managed to pull himself together. Hedanro opened the door, stopped short, and then smirked. "I see Nisma Arritit has already found you." "She has. Thank you, Hedanro," Arritit confirmed with a smile. "I don't think this many people have been in the house since your mother's youth, Nismo." Hedanro's laugh made it clear that no one in Lyran's family had ever cared what something might look like to outsiders. "I remember some of my great-uncle's comments about that," he said. "Those were still the comments that were suitable for a boy's ears, too." Hedanro bowed slightly with a wink and left. "Am I the only one who's just trying to figure out what he meant by that?" asked Sojan in wonder. "I have a hunch." Lyran looked thoughtfully toward the library. "Did you?" probed Arritit. "In the library, in a hidden corner, there are some diaries. From my parents, from my great uncle, my grandmother and who knows who else. So far, I've only browsed through them and got stuck here and there. It seems we're carrying on a time-honored tradition here." "And which one?" laughed Sojan at the explanation. Lyran raised his hands and began counting off on them. "1. Only by public appearance the members of this family were monogamous. Apparently, the frequent mixing in of orc and demon blood ensured that family units were normal after their example." "Look at that," Arritit teased him. He just rolled his eyes, but Sojan's grin also told him that the siblings agreed for once. "Then 2. When there were no guests in the house, and as long as there were no small children, everyone ate together in the kitchen, no matter what their status." Sojan's nod said it explained a lot for him. "And not to forget: Third, the tendency to discuss family matters in the bedroom." Having reached that point, Lyran had to laugh. The others joined in. Arritit dropped her head on his shoulder. "Who would have thought our families would be so similar." "Ari!" The way Sojan became unexpectedly serious made Lyran curious. He shifted so that he was looking directly at Arritit. "Dearest jat'kvesmen..." Laughing, she waved it off. "All three are things that were common in our house, too. But when guests came, then we had a pompous feast. You had to show how we were well off, after all." "That doesn't really surprise me," Lyran shook his head in amusement, but then became serious again, "But you still haven't explained why you don't trust the Yonsoul." Arritit pinched her lips together in disapproval and took a deep breath. "She's apparently forgotten that demons have better hearing. I was within earshot of her talking to Ylva. She told the poor thing more or less directly that she wanted her to be there as a battery because she already suspected it would be difficult. She's taking advantage of Ylva if you ask me. I went after Ylva as she stomped off in a huff. It took me almost half an hour to calm her down and get her to at least consider my offer that I could show her how to use her magic." "Wonderful, more problems...", Sojan commented cynically. Lyran couldn't sum it up any better than that.

#writblr #writing #sojan #halloween special #part 9 #mlm #poly triad #fantasy

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msbluebell · 5 years

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Hello, I'm the same anon talking about the Captured AU. Sorry about that, I'm not accusing you of making Edelgard a Yandere when I sent the ask, I may come off as oversimplifying Edelgard's character with that but the Captured AU where Edelgard amplified her controlling tendencies just... gave off that impression to me, so, again, I apologize. And part of me can't see Edelgard doing that, as much as I'm aware that it's an AU, since even if her methods are questionable, she still gave (1/2)

the rest of the Eagles a choice to whether or not they will fight with her or not. And even in non-Black eagles routes, she gave Petra a choice to whether or not she will help her if you recruit Petra. So even with all her controlling tendencies, I was on the belief that Edelgard still gave people a choice, no matter how little they might be. Edelgard's methods are NOT okay, but I just can't see her having her controlling tendencies amplified like the AU did. (2/2)Listen, I’m not mad at you. You’re allowed to not like something, and you’e allowed to criticize something, and you’re allowed to even think actively bad things about something.

You and I? We don’t agree on Edelgard’s character and that’s the bare bones of it.

I’m really, really, tired of trying to defend my view on Edelgard, or this stupid AU I made that got me so much hate from different anons (not you, I assume). I don’t even like her character, so it’s exhausting to keep repeating my views of her over and over. So, right here, right now, I’m using your argument less to argue about my AU, and more to put my final foot down on my feelings on Edelgard, what I think she’d do, and how I feel about her. So sorry about that.

I completely, totally, undeniably believe Edelgard absolutely would lock up Byleth in a tower for five years if given the option. That’s not even something I questioned when writing this AU. I think she’s ruthless enough to do it, I think she’s got the sense of compassion to want to do it, and I think she has the moral self-superiority to think she’s right for doing so.

This is the girl that was staged a bandit attack in order to assassinate her two fellow House Leaders, both of whom are underage like her. This is the girl that blackmailed Lorenz into siding with the Empire, this is the girl that is invading all of Fodlan in order to tear down the system and rebuild it the way she thinks is right, this is the girl that used Bernadetta as bait in a trap on Gronder Field in every route not Black Eagles. This is the girl that is possibly blackmailing Ferdinand. Her willingness to commit atrocities in the name of her ambition is what gets the other three factions of the game to paint her as evil. And, eespite loathing the methods of TWSITD, she is shown to actively aid them with their experiments by collecting Crest Stones for them to use to turn innocents into Demonic Beasts with her assault on the Holy Tomb. She also explicitly gave them the Death Knight, who then helps them kidnap Flayn for more experiments. She obsessed with control to the point that it’s listed in her bio, and the only time she lets up on any of these qualities is when Byleth is actively playing her morality pet in the Crimson Flower Route.

And that’s not even going into the fact that she justifies all these actions by the ��I Did What I Had To Do” logic.

So, yes, with all the criticism you may think I hate her.

No.

I dislike her, but I understand and appreciate that she’s also a kind, compassionate, woman that is actively trying to make her homeland a better play the only way she knows how. She’s working on only half the actual facts, much like Dimitri, and like him she’s attacking the wrong people because she came to a wrong conclusion based on only half given facts. She legitimately does believe that playing the tyrant now is going to save a lot of people in the future, and it’s a genuine character flaw of hers that she overlooks the now in the name of the future. She is completely right about the corruption of the crest system and the need to reform, as well as the issues with the Church.

But I’m getting off topic.

I believe, based on both her ruthlessness and her compassion, that she would lock someone up in order to save them from the war.But BBell, you say, locking someone up like that isn’t compassionate at all, it’s torture.

Yes, person who just said that, I agree with you. By basic human decency standards. But you clearly have no idea how we treat prisoners of war. Even in modern day. And, yes, Byleth is a war prisoner first, as I have tried and failed to remind everyone over the course of this AU.

And, my lovelies, being a POW sucks hard, but I bet it sucked harder in an age before crossbows.

Edelgard, in this AU in particular, thinks she is saving Byleth’s life by keeping her a POW. And, on top of that, she’s keeping Byleth fed, in a nice room, with comfortable beds, nice clothes, entertainment. Compared to a wet, cramp, dirty cell with rats that eat you, no toilet, no bed, and no light I bet this prison seems like one of those fancy rich people prisons that are nicer than my apartment. Not only that, Byleth is getting company every day. (I do admit I decided that the room needs a window, just one that’s kinda like a skylight where it’s way too high up to reach). In Edelgard’s mind, she’s saving Byleth’s life and keeping them comfortable until the war is over. That’s downright compassionate right there. Horrifying to us though.

The thing about this AU that everyone seems to forget is that Byleth loving Edelgard was not the end goal for the woman. Yes, she does want Byleth on her side and thinks she can convince them one day, but actively controlling them and making them love her isn’t the point. The point is to keep this person she’s canonically obsessed with from dying in the war.

I didn’t say this clearly the first time around because I wanted people to come up with their own reasons and endings for this AU, but in my head once this war is over and Edelgard rules everything, Byleth is free to go so long as she isn’t planning a riot or rebellion or assassination. Granted, I personally wouldn’t want someone that could incite a rebellion running around free, so house arrest in a manor or something is more likely, but the tower won’t be necessary after the war.

That’s how I saw it, anyway.

I don’t care if other people want it to be different. I don’t care if they make Edelgard a Yandere. I don’t care if they make Byleth a twenty foot dragon. I don’t care if they don’t keep it as canonically aligned as possible like I tried to do at first before more and more ask bombed my doorstep and this whole thing swelled way beyond my original prompt and got lost somewhere. I don’t care if this is a good horror story for people, or a story they hate, or a good yandere bait story. I don’t care if people have Edelgard obsessed to the point where she never lets Byleth out, because, you know what? I’m sure they have their own logical reasoning for why she would do that. I can’t personally see it. I know Anon personally can’t see it because that’s where this whole mess of me trying to defend my thoughts on a stupid AU I wrote that got me a lot of grief from much meaner Anons came from.

It’s just a dumb AU, guys, do want you want with it. Block it, hate it, love it, write it. Write a billion spin-offs. Make Rhea the one locking people in towers. Make Claude do it. I don’t care if you somehow make Jeralt a zombie and have him capture Edelgard in a tower at this point.You wanna know something? I’d write how I most logically think that very Zombie Jeralt prompt would happen if someone sent it. And I think that’s the problem. Maybe I’m trying to hard to logic out all this stuff I don’t think will happen. Because I don’t back down from the asks, even when I think there’s no way it could happen I tackle it. Maybe that’s why everything is swelling so much beyond my control, and I got three Anons (not counting you, Anon from this ask) that have harassed me about this.I’m going to turn off Anon Asks if I get one more hate comment btw. Check mate to that particular Anon if they’re reading this. Call me a cunt to my face so I can block you, coward.

Anyway, I got off point again. You disagree with me, Respectful Anon that disagrees with my AU, and I disagree with you. I’m not mad about the yandere comment, I was just defensive. Here’s my feelings on everything. You probably disagree with them. That’s great! I don’t wanna live in a world where people blindly agree with me! I’m sure you even have a great counter argument that I’ll read, and then can’t do anything about because this AU is bigger than me and also I might still disagree.And that’s it, that’s my whole defense of myself in this AU. Have a nice day.

#fe3h #Captured AU #Captive AU

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