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no-droids · 3 years

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gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!! So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read! School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!! As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot. Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider. You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns. The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime. Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip. You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago. On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes. Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it. “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it. Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy. Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you. Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth. “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours. “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids. “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot. You know what? Today is a good day. You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one. The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back. Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates. The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago. The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask. Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes. It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by. Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony. Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color. Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city. As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming. The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete. You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you. Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers. Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops. Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them. You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch. There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself. Good intentions, terrible idea. Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours. It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at. Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language. Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different. It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy. Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it. Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on. There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin. You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession. First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always. Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs. Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions. The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din. No matter the faces, the sights you see. There’s someone juggling. There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts. There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed. Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din. Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you. You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year. You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go. For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second. Why… Why was that scene so vivid? So wistful? You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din. But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation. Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him. Why? You want to travel the galaxy, right? You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over. You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress. So many fucking people here, you know her pain. “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you. “Before anyone knows they’re missing. Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while? You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task. Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be. Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days. The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees. It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word. You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you. The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet. The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?” One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn. Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off. All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult. “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?” The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away. “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second. Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective. Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing. Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will. You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling. It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter. You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens. Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not. Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary. Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was. This is scarily sophisticated. Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you. You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid. You know him with your eyes closed. You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace. Not because you can see it, not really, not directly. But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you. The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room. He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least. But you’re not stupid, you know what this means. You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way. He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down. You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools. “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left. Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows. You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering. Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place. When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily. A purple fruit. She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes. It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors. As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards. It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him. You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it? It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float. It’s just a thing. Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives. Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles. You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time. You don’t know what else you’d call it. Love is the only word. To love, to know. To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group. You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?” You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem. It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together. They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately. Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next. A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!” Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings. “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…” You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn. Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway. “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head. “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it. You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view. And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage. You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze. So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you. Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes. They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown. You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on. All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out. They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything. You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city. It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time. You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen. You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for. Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away… This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes. If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly. Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear. Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time. Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping. Baby. He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion. You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to. You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly. What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over. Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result. What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you? The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear. When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor. You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right. This maybe has a… two percent chance of working? Maybe? Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have? Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead. He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing. Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left. Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear. Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?” A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him. Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner. They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units. Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you. Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid. A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking. Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong. “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you. You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it. She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?” He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice. He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed? The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory. It worked. It worked. You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip. Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze. “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds. “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you. The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you. You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere. In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you. Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you. They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following. It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour. It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes. There was… a moment. Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet—

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be. It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it. Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered. The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear. It was silvery, he’s almost certain. Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color. Everywhere. Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it. Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream. The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would. You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now. You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud. You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though. Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be. Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen. So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it. You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response. There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above. You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself. “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does. “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you. You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is. He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?” You ask after a moment. This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all. “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying. Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly. He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him. “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you. “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum. He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again. Does he not understand? Does he not know what you know? Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him. It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest. And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive. Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t. Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky. It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point. “You’d find me without the helmet. And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick. You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course. That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred. Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight. This is a celebration of life and family. Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching. A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?” He asks softly. He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant. You’re able to hear it in his words. You don’t know why, though. Doesn’t he believe you? Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way. Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all. Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love. This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that? How would the Mandalorians reconcile that? You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face. It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.” For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does. Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you. “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t. Not the way you want him to. And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you? The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest. You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them. All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time. You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?” You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…” Din wants to argue, or at least say it again. He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off. It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?” You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold. How do you fix this problem? How do you convince him to look with you? You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left. “Do you want me to come look for you? It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away. Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay. You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response. You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you. He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again. This must be the end, they saved the best for last. Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you. Maker, it is, isn’t it? Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying. Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways. It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on. “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you. Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children. They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her. “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up. At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you. Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day. You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?” She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention. “Have you been in touch with them? If not, I’m sure you can come back with us. It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here. More danger, but better places to hide. It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense. But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women. He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule. Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses? Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time? No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that. Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end. Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond. Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical. Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it. You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…” Quick, come up with something. You clear your throat. “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them. I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t. You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is. You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them. But with Din, you don’t have any walls. They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since. It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is. Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back. The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out. You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is. You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time. He could be anywhere now. Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view. One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so. Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach. Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy. If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it. These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous. Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong. This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so. It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier. Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet. Why? Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right. What’s he waiting for? You can’t have won. It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!” Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face. “Didn’t mean to scare you! I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there. “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep. Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus. She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din. Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you. You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far. Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards. You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls. What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it. “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently. The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe. As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax. You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance. Breathe. Focus. There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat? You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy. You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now. The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard. It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there. The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there. Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator. Five minutes. You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you. Can you feel him? Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath. Focus on that feeling from earlier. The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards. Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it? Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss. The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual. Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall. It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat. He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back. You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run. Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t. Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass. He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can. The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away. Where’s the kid? How did he get those robes? Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them. It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward. Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster. Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you. Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you. Walk right by… Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing. He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place. The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight. Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away. The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster. It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet. Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door. Where is he? There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them? Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react. Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast. The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him. With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw. When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you. Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone. You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force. He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared. The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall. Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it. He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home. You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is. Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you. Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else. His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it. It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough. The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way. His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet. You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck. You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?” You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling. Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now. It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps. “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?” You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you. Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells…

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment. Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring. It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together. The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago. The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic. Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together. He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work. Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly. You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side. You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl. The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber. He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that. Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside. You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up. It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise. Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that? First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you. It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you. Fuck, what is happening, what is happening? It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in. You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is. You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand. And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does. He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again. Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead. He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source. He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow? You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.” Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip. His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore. What does he want to see? You losing your mind again? Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently. It’s what happens, after all. You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too. He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied. This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat. You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl. Did you miss me?” It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements. You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum? You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now. The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak. If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak? You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out. He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him. It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder. He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation. It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it? That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally. Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder. That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though. It’s deep, purposefully so. His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can. You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp. His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all. You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier. Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you. There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place. You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still. He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm. They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth. “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds. Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough. You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself. But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that. Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light. It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever. He loves you. He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would. You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did. You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that. Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes. He loves you. You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t. He loves you. You’re looking into his eyes right now. You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you. He loves you. Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat. Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker. You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before. You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face. A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you. You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again. Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight. Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him? You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see. His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees. It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars. He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met. Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you. Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away. For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips. “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second. He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw. Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own. “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat. It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed. “What did you do to him? Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long. He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence. He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize. A fucking closet? They’re? Plural? Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him. “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him. His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead. Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.” He kisses your neck so gently. “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is. You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before. “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more. “You did.” Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again. “Did so good. Fought hard, outsmarted me. Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it. His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it. He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful. Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it. Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second. You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but… “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper. Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time. It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips. “Not smart. Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder. His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person. “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants. Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment. He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery. Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting. Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore. Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way. No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown. Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about. A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm. Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children. A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second. The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit. Of course. Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene. In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in. Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you. Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are? You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it. It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine. “It’s just…” Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond. “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit. “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you. All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return. What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms. “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip. “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging. He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet. No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes. “He’s… uh. Not great at sharing. We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing. Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side. They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond. Fuck, he’s a presence. An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse. Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone. Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything. Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded. And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning. He loves you, too. How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not. You love each other. You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him. “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you. Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears. Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye. You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh. A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh. Where the fuck did he go so quick? You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue. He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them. The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over. You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side. You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways. “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any. “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought. “Wait. What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet. “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement. You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.” Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator. Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him. You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him. “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then. You gave it. Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time. You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact. You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle. Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board. Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice. He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky. It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look. He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing. It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice. “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?” You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily. Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them. You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you. His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing? He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well. You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him. He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day. “It ain’t fresh. Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy. He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him. He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well. Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him. It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush. Big man, makes me happy. Strong man, loves me, knows me. Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm. You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you. When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once. “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him. Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave. He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits. Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it. For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be. You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…” You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors. “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic. Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction. Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore. “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner. Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights. It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense. Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything. You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here. “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his. “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do. Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him. At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too. There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner. The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his. You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky. He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less. You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower? You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest. It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

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writing-in-a-chipotle · 3 years

Text

Unbearably Mortal (Part 2)

(Alcina Dimitrescu x gender neutral reader)

Part 1

Words: ~2.5 K

Summary: In which a lot of things happen and none of them are good.

A/N: Hey, y’all! Back at it again with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

“Nope nope nope nope… no way in hell…” You shook your head violently, unable to process what Mary had said. “This is… this is all some sort of elaborate prank, right? You’re messing with me. Yeah.” You swallowed. Your saliva felt like acid.

Mary grimaced. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. This is very much reality.”

“So… what are they then?” You began pacing the floor, anxiety clinging to the pit of your stomach. “You expect me to believe that they’re some sort of weird, blood-sucking vampires?? You must be out of your mind… they don’t exist! They can’t be real!”

Mary stood up and walked over to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. With her blocking your path, you were forced to stop pacing and look at her.

“Listen,” She began, eyes gleaming with fear “I have no need to lie to you. Believe whatever you want to believe, for the only thing on the line right now is your head. Jane and I risked our lives to save you. If we were caught, all of us would have died. So, are you going to freak out and get yourself killed, or are you gonna listen to me?”

You were stunned into silence. Mary was being deathly serious. You nodded shakily.

“Good.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “If you had a mental breakdown and they heard…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to either; the implication was horrifying enough as it was.

“Thank you, by the way,” you sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “you really didn’t have to save me.”

“Honestly, I’m still scared out of my mind,” she admitted breathily, “but I’m glad you’re better now.”

“Thanks.”

She hummed, then pursed her lips. Her frown deepened even more. “Well… now what do we do? The Dimitrescu family is notorious for slaughtering any trespassers they find.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. “Oh no… oh no, no, no…”

You were stuck. You were stuck in a terrifying castle with horrifying, blood-sucking monsters who would gladly turn you into a mangled corpse on their living room floor. You had no way to call for help, and your parents probably didn’t even know what was happening…

Your phone.

You patted your pockets and fished through them. Let’s see: some dirt, a crumpled flight itinerary, your house keys… aha!

“...what’s in the box?” Mary asked, “I don't think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

You blinked. Box? “Oh, this? It’s my phone.” You rotated it slowly in your fingers so she could easily see all its sides. “It’s a bit larger and blockier than your average iPhone because it’s designed to connect directly to the satellite, making it easy to call anyone from anywhere in the world. It cost me a lot of money, but since I was planning on traveling the world after I graduated, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it a few years early.”

Mary gave you a completely confused stare. “What’s an… iPhone? Or a sad-del-light? Did you make those up?”

You frowned, your eyebrow twitching in confusion. “Uh… no? I wouldn’t make anything like this up. You… you truly don’t know what modern technology is like?”

She shook her head. “I’ve… never been outside the village. I have no idea what the rest of the world is like.”

“And you don’t have a phone? Internet? Anything??”

“I’m afraid not,” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, “the Lords don’t allow anyone to leave the village or write letters to the outside world.”

A chill shot up your spine. “That’s… terrifying…”

Mary nodded, then tilted her head, thinking. She pursed her lips and motioned with her finger for you to come closer. You lean your ear to her.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“There are rumors of a girl who escaped the Lord’s wrath,” she began, “apparently, she managed to leave the village unharmed. There was an old hag who used to moan about how her daughter left her for a new life. She sounded half mad, so no one bothered listening to her.”

Your grandmother. She was talking about your grandmother.

And your mom.

This meant that… your mom knew about these crazy monsters? That she let you come here, to a place where you would most likely die? Alone??

Nothing made sense anymore.

You realized you had zoned out of Mary’s story. You shook your head, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” You blinked. Mary was staring at you like you were an idiot. (Which you were, but that’s not the point.)

“I said,” she repeated, “you need to blend in until we can figure out how to escape.”

“That’s… that’s a pretty good idea. And wait….” you repeated her words in your mind. “We? You want to come too?”

“Goddess, it’s like you’re dense or something.” Mary muttered under her breath. “Of course I want to leave! Are you out of your mi-“

“I get it, I get it,” you huffed, interrupting her, “What do we do now?”

“Now,” she folded her arms, “we need to get you a disguise.” She walked over to a tiny dresser in the far corner and pulled out a neatly-folded maid’s uniform. “I hope you’re my size.”

————————

Turns out you weren’t Mary’s size.

You couldn’t help it; your new friend was practically a walking stick. Your shoulders were too broad, your legs too long; but with Mary’s excellent sewing skills, you were able to make it work… sort of.

“Damn, this uniform is itchy,” you complained, scratching at the neckline.

“You’ll grow used to it after a while,” Mary replied. “Now we need to get to work or-“

“We’ll be made into wine. Got it.” You straightened out your sleeves.

She nodded. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you walked quickly and quietly out of the servant’s quarters. Your heart was racing. Every time you turned a corner, you half expected a bloodied monster to jump the both of you and tear out your arteries.

You rounded another bend and nearly walked into Mary. She had stopped suddenly and immediately fled to the side of the hallway, bowing deeply at the corridor. You quickly followed her lead.

The moment you bowed your head, a steady buzzing filled your ears.

Swarms of flies flitted through your vision as they flew down the hall, buzzing excitedly. Maliciously. You don’t know how they managed to convey such emotions, but they seemed…. off.

And then, they changed.

The insects spiraled and spun into a large, buzzing mass, sewing themselves into a completely different form; one with a deep black cloak, ghoulishly pale hands, wild blonde hair…

And blood-stained teeth.

Mary curtsied deeply and you were quick to follow suit. “Good evening, Lady Bela,” she said softly, refusing to look up, “how may we be of service?”

Bela gave a bored wave of her hand. “We’re a bit... short-staffed in the kitchens at the moment,” she drawled, “Mother doesn’t want dinner to be served a second too late. She-” Her eyes fell on you and she stopped dead in her tracks. “You smell familiar, human…” she growled.

Oh no, you were dead, you were dead, you were dead. Cold sweat fell from your neck, and your heart raced. Bela stepped closer to you, brows furrowed and hungry eyes glinting.

“They’re new, Lady Bela,” Maria said quickly.

She raised an immaculate brow. “New, you say?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“... I see.”

It was only a moment before she leaned away, but to you, it felt like hours. The Dimitrescu was a terrifyingly deadly whirlwind, one that seemed to stare directly into your soul… maybe even smell your fear. Bela’s lips twitched, giving you a glimpse of sharp fangs.

“Well then, newcomer,” she hissed, amusement dripping in her voice, “if you’re so eager to serve us, I want you to pour the wine.”

Your heart raced in panic, your hands shaking. Pouring the wine meant seeing these monsters at their most bloodthirsty. It meant you would get caught.

I won’t survive, you thought fearfully.

You quickly dropped into a clumsy curtsy before you forgot yourself. “A-as you wish, Lady Bela,” you choke out.

“Hm… we’ll see, won’t we.” She dissolved into a sea of flies and flew down the hallway and out of sight.

You breathed heavily. Your heart was still going a mile a minute. Before you could say anything, Mary grabbed your arm and tugged you along.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” she hissed. “Not yet.”

You followed her silently to the kitchen. This whole situation was too hard to process… you’d barely been in Romania for a day and you suddenly had to face the reality of your imminent death.

You felt lightheaded. Your vision swam.

“Where are you, draga mea?” A smooth, enchanting voice swirled in your mind. You felt your pulse hammering in your temples. The voice sounded so close, yet so far away. It was familiar and warm… but it was too hard to tell if it meant anything. You were too woozy, too lightheaded…

“It’s time to wake up, darling,” the voice continued dreamily, “Open your eyes for me?”

“...hey… hey!” A familiar voice hissed, “hello? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Mary stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. Once she saw you move, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you alright? You haven’t blinked for the past few minutes, nor have you responded to anything or anyone around you.”

“Yeah, I just…” you swallowed thickly. What was wrong with you? “... I just spaced out.” Mary frowned, giving you a suspicious glance, but didn’t push.

You were in the kitchen. Cooks and maids bustled around in an organized fashion, whispering instructions to each other while slicing, cooking, and plating bright red slabs of meat. You definitely didn’t want to know what kind the Dimitrescu’s were eating tonight.

Someone grabbed your arm and you flinched, turning around. It was one of the older cooks, a salt and pepper haired woman with soot-stained clothes and greasy calloused hands. She shoved a a bottle of wine into your hands so fast, you nearly dropped it. She glowered at you.

“As soon as the meal is served, you pop open the bottle and pour for everyone.” She hurriedly rattled off instructions. “When they finish their drink, pour them another. You do not look at them, you do not touch them or their glasses, you don’t even breathe around them. And for the love of the Goddess: Do. Not. Spill.”

You gulped and nodded. You just had to do your job, then leave. That’s all. You could do this.

Or so you told yourself.

The old woman gave you a quick look, and for a moment it seemed she gave you a twinge of a sympathetic smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced by her signature scowl.

“Alright, we go in three…” she held up three fingers covered in burn scars. One second passed. Then another.

The kitchen maids smoothly entered the dining room in one sweeping motion; a flurry of skirts and iron serving trays. You followed them close behind. The maids placed the trays in front of each Dimitrescu before fleeing to the kitchen single file.

And then it hit you.

You were the only maid who was supposed to stay throughout the entire meal.

Without you even knowing it, Bela had assigned you one of the most dangerous jobs at the castle; one where you had to stay, alone, in the same room as four hungry, bloodthirsty vampires.

You quickly began pouring the wine.

You walked around the massive mahogany table, trying your best not to spill the blood-red drink. You poured for Bela first, and you tried your absolute best not to look her in the eye. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw her grinning.

You moved on to the next Dimitrescu: a redhead with glistening fangs. As you poured, she suddenly hissed. In your surprise, you fumbled the bottle. But you didn’t spill.

The last sister (you assumed all three of them were sisters based on their similar appearances) was a brunette with mischievous eyes. You didn’t mean to look at her… you really didn’t…

Based on her low, rumbling cackle, you knew you were doomed.

The last Dimitrescu, the Lady Dimitrescu, was much different than the other three. She was incredibly tall, with a flowing white dress that fell to her ankles, a wide-brimmed hat…

And pearly-white satin gloves.

Why did that seem so familiar?

You shook your head. You had to stop thinking and just pour the wine! You only had one more glass to fill, after all.

The brunette stuck out her foot, and you went down.

You landed on top of the bottle, and it shattered under you. Glass and wine flew everywhere, piercing your clothes, slicing your skin, staining the rug…

And completely drenching the front of Lady Dimitrescu’s immaculate dress.

The air cracked with electricity. “You...” she hissed, in a stranglely familiar voice.

Before you could even beg for forgiveness, the towering terror of a woman stood from the table and grasped you by the collar before you could even blink.

She growled, breath smelling of blood. “You will pay for your insole-“ her breath hitched. Her death grip on you loosened and faded, till you dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Fearfully, you looked up at her.

Her demeanor had completely changed. Where once stood a cold-hearted monster was a shocked, crying… woman. Tears streaked down her face, dripping from her chin as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t look like a monster, she looked… human.

The lady reached out a gloved hand, then flinched as if burned. She looked lost and confused and sad; unable to process what she was looking at… or rather, who she was looking at.

A chill ran up your spine, fearful tendrils snaking through your system as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

And then, Lady Dimitrescu uttered a single word, barely a whisper at all, and your stomach dropped. Your world spun.

“Y/N?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything you had ever known was completely useless, and your life would end at any moment, you were sure. You felt like crying, you felt like throwing up.

She said your name.

Lady Dimitrescu, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, who couldn’t possibly know who you were, had said your name.

It was too much. There were too many strong emotions, too many near-death experiences in one day. Your body was bloody and exhausted, your energy spent.

You collapsed on the dining room floor, and your vision faded to black.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitriscu x reader #my fic #my writing #gender neutral reader #reader insert #re8 #surprise y’all I love cliffhangers :)#suffer :))))

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emptymasks · 3 years

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I’ve seen a lot about your thoughts on Elisabeth and Tanz der Vampire, and they’ve been really helpful getting into those musicals! But you have a huge list of other musicals that people can get into…

So I was wondering if you had any musicals you hadn’t mentioned in a while that you really like or would like to talk about??? (preferably something from your lists that has a blue heart please?)

Oh if only you knew how long the list of European musicals really is... I however have only seen 9 (if I counted right) and I have a lot more that I still need to watch. Oh also, I only put the blue hearts on any musicals that I was providing multiple links for so people could see which version I reccoment the most highly. If a musical only had one link and didn't have a blue heart it doesn't mean I didn't like it.

I've watched: Mozart das Musical, Elisabeth das Musical, Tanz der Vampire, 3 Musketiers, Mozart L'Opéra Rock, Dracula (the Graz production), Rebecca das Musical, Roméo et Juliette and Schikaneder.

If you enjoyed those two you're likely to enjoy Rebecca! It's written by the same composer/lyricist team as Elisabeth and Mozart (and same lyricist as Tanz der Vampire - though if you're listening to any German musical, original or translated, 90% of the time the lyrics will have been done by Michael Kunze that man is everywhere). The Stuttgart production has my favourite set design of any musical! Well... Actually probably. There are so many big set pieces it's insane, way more than I've seen in some Broadway and West End musicals. You can tell so much work went into it and the visual effects that I won't spoil if you don't know the plot but if you know the plot you know what I mean by the effects at the end are so good and I didn't expect them at all and I freaked out so much the first time I watched it. Jan Ammann as Maxim in the Stuttgart production is the best Maxim. No I won't take any argument. Other actors feel a bit one-dimensional to me, but the way Maxim acts at times comes from trauma and some actors and productions seem to forget that, but Jan really goes for it and his Maxim is a lot more sympathetic and I just want to give him a hug. Pia Douwes as Mrs Danvers, if you've seen her in Elisabeth what more do I need to say, she's amazing. A musical goddess. Her Danny is a bit more wild than some, but she kills it. My favourite video, which I put the blue heart next to, has understudy Christina Patten as Ich/I, but I adore her she's my favourite. She adds some spunk to Ich in act 2 and her voice is so pretty and aaaa. I just love these three actors together in these roles.

Roméo et Juliette is another favourite of mine! It's hard to choose which one to recommend, but it has to be the original 2000/2001 production because of the sweetness and chemistry and voices of Damien Sargue and Cecilia Cara as Romeo and Juliet. They're so pretty and work together so well. The only reason I say it's hard to pick is Mercutio. I adore him, but in the original production they cut out a song they had planned for him and he doesn't really do much at all? In the 2010 revival they gave him two more songs and you care about him so much more and John Eyzen plays such a good Mercutio. So I'd recommend the original but if you want to like Mercutio more, which you should he's amazing, I'd recommend watching at least clips of John's. It's an interesting musical because all productions are non-replica and also change around the order of songs, add or take away characters, all sorts. The Hungarian production is also very popular and I'm sure it's great, I just haven't' gotten around to watching it yet.

Mozart das Musical was the first non-English language musicals I watched so I have a fondness for it, but it's not my favourite. However, I do realise I have forgotten most of the songs and the few I've gone back and listened to are better than I remember.

Dracula isn't super popular and I understand why, I don't love the plot of the Dracula/Mina romance in it, however. I do love this musical because despite how I find the plot lacking, the songs are so good! At least, I love them. And the actors are all doing a great job. And it's one of the few Dracula adaptions to keep Quincy Morris so they get bonus points for that.

Mozart L'Opéra Rock and modern French musicals... This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but they're often more like pop-rock operas now. So if you're not into musicals with that style of music it might not be for you, but I still enjoyed it even though I didn't think I would because of the style of music. Mozart and Salieri's chemistry is very good, Salieri's bisexual crisis song is iconic, actually all of Salieri's songs are iconic.

Schikaneder... eh. I didn't like it that much and I didn't really like any of the songs. There's no English subtitles, but someone sent me the entire English synopsis and I watched it with a German friend so I had double the help of understanding it. Doesn't mean others might not like it, just none of the songs stood out to me and I had no desire to listen to any of them again. It's by Steven Scharwz of Wicked fame and I love Wicked, but I didn't love this.

3 Musketiers!! God it's so underrated and not spoken about within the European musical fandom that I even forget about it and literally forgot to write about it earlier in this post. It's a Dutch musical (though did also have a German production) and it's really good!? Faces you might know are Pia Douwes as Milady de Winter, Stanley Burlseon as Cardinal Richeliu (Netherlands Der Tod in Elisabeth), Henk Poort as Athos (Netherlands Phantom and Jean Valjean). The dialgoue is funny, the songs are good, some of the set pieces have no right to exist in this tiny musical?? They made this giant boat and pelt the actors with rain just for one 5 minute song and then we never see the boat again? And while I recommend the Dutch one because Dutch musicals deserve more love and it has official English subtitles!! Official ones, not fanmade! I have the DVD and it comes with English subtitles (and Dutch and German subtitles) which is so nice. The German version is also good, good cast, Pia came back and Uwe Kroger as Richeliu and omg they rearranged the songs and the German arrangement of Nicht Aus Stein is insane and amazing and frankly iconic.

That's all of the ones I have watched. Next on my list to watch are Rudolf and Notre Dame de Paris, both of which I have listened to some songs from and already love (I've listened to way too much of Notre Dame de Paris and am so in love).

I want to start organising streams where I'll host the musical either by getting the video from Youtube or my own files and anyone who wants to join can come along and watch with us, chat with us if you want or just watch there's no pressure to chat. I thought about doing weekly streams? This would also make me finally watch some of the ones I've been meaning to for ages. But I keep wondering about time zones. I'm in the UK and would want to stream at about 11pm at the latest (11pm BST/GMT+1 as we’re in daylight savings at the moment, if the streams continue past the end of October which would be wild then I’ll make a note of the time change that would be to 11pm GMT), which I know can work for other UK and Europeans, but for any Americans would be in the afternoon. So, I wondered if doing it on a weekend would be better? Then it doesn't matter if it's in the afternoon? Maybe Saturday evenings then? It would either be Saturday evenings UK time or Friday evenings UK time. What do you guys think? If people are down then I'll make a separate post with a list of what we'll be watching each week and if anything happens to me that means I can't stream one week then everything will just get pushed back a week, but I don't see that as likely to happen. And I'll only be streaming those that have English subtitles, so don't worry about not being able to understand anything.

edit: am also open to 10pm bst if others want that, im just trying to think of what time works best for everyone so sorry if 11pm is a little late for europeans, i know 10pm could be a little early for americans. also in case it sounded like these are the only musicals i will be streaming, thats not so, ive got more than just the ones mentioned on this list!

(Tagging some people who I know are or might be interested in streams to see what you think of that plan: @sirona-art @ringwraith100 @tanz-der-trash @smilingwoland @the-weird-dane @witchgaye @ami-fidele @kisstheghouls @looking-4-happiness @ladysapphire928 @sloanedestler @tinywound @persephonaae @phoenixdewinter @uwucoffee @freshbloodandgothicism )

#european musicals #mozart das musical #3 musketiers #dracula the musical #retj #romeo et juliette #mozart l'opera rock #mozart l'opéra rock #musical theatre #musicals #broadway #musicaledit #rebecca das musical #rebecca the musical #answeredasks #non english language musicals

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weirdmarioenemies · 3 years

Photo

Name: F Boy (again)

Debut: Super Mario Land 2: Six Golden Coins

It feels so strange to look back on my very first post for this blog! It’s so... dry! Where’s the passion? Back then I really had no idea what I was doing and was just kind of imitating Mod Chikako hoping nobody would notice... but thanks to all the love this blog has received, I think I can write with a lot more confidence now! Not to get all sappy on the first paragraph, but I really appreciate everyone who reads this blog with all of my heart. And that includes You!

But if I’d known I’d spend several years using the moniker “Mod F Boy”, I probably would’ve put more thought into the name I picked, huh? I’m not even sure I’m a boy anymore! I just thought the name was funny and that was that! But given how indecisive I can be, maybe it’s a good thing it was so spontaneous... Like it or not though, I am more attached to the concept of “F Boy” then I was three and a half years ago, so it’s only fair I give F Boy the post he deserves and write a whole lot more about him!

Believe it or not, F Boy is a fire enemy! A single flame with dot eyes, the classic design they’ve been using since Fire! I’ve expressed love for them in the past, but this little dude is a little different... it isn’t found in a lava or castle stage like you might expect, but the spoooky scaaary stages, AKA Pumpkin Zone! Why’s that?

Enter the hitodama! Literally using the characters for “human soul”, these ghostly wisps of fire from Japanese folklore are probably something you’re familiar with even if you don’t know it! The Litwick Pokémon line, the flames on Jibanyan’s tail, the little flames around the boy from the toilet anime, or even the Embers from Paper Mario... that’s really just a couple of specific examples off the top of my head, but they are in basically anything associated with Japanese ghosts!

Though... all this time I’ve always called them hitodama, but I should probably specify they aren’t the only kind of ghostly fireballs! Onibi (demon fire) are often described similarly, and I’m not totally sure what the difference is! I suppose they would be more demonic hence the name, and probably less of a good idea to get close to. Also, if they're made by fox demons, they’re kitsunebi (fox fire)! Isn’t that neat! But there are no foxes to be found here, so F Boy definitely isn’t that (Unless it stands for Fox Boy...?).

However, you might be more familiar with the concept of will-o’-the-wisps, a similiar kind of legend from Europe- in fact, a whole number of cultures around the world have stories of ghostly lights and flames! There’s two explanations for this, either that it is a misunderstanding caused by some chemical reaction (boring, lame) or that hitodama are real and really exist for real (fun, exciting)! I encourage everyone to go outside with a net and catch as many as they can.

Even though hitodama can be red or orange in some traditional accounts, they’re mostly described as blue and most modern media sticks with that! Which makes it quite weird that F Boy... isn’t! He is a rather fetching orange of course, and without the added context of spooky old Pumpkin Land you wouldn’t be mistaken for thinking he is a lava enemy that just got lost or something!

Now, moving on to a completely different topic, something else that is great about F Boy is his little cheeks. Have you seen them? Here is the picture one more time in case you forgot after all that. He doesn’t have one in the sprite, so isn’t it quite weird to give a fireball enemy such distinct little cheeks? I want to squeeze them, even if they are probably intangible.

And finally, we come to the part we’ve all been waiting for- the name! You were thinking it, I was thinking it, it’s probably the only reason I chose to write about him in the first place! Because F Boy is a funny name for an enemy! I think it’s just quite silly to describe a fireball as a “boy” in the first place, as a term of endearment. It is just a boy! A little guy! He’s not hurting anyone!

But then they add to that name- one letter. That one letter, F. It changes everything. All of a sudden, there’s a question floating in the air- what, pray tell, does the F in F Boy stand for?

If you’ve been following our blog for a while, you might remember we added an addendum to the original F Boy post, saying the mystery had finally been solved- the English version of the Super Mario Bros. Encyclopedia lists his name as Fireball Boy, which is a pretty definitive answer right?

But since then, it’s been more or less exposed that this translation took a bunch of unsourced and conjectural names from the Mario Wiki, leading to something of a controversy and a Mario Wiki page that is essentially just roasting the whole thing! If even the Wiki doesn’t accept this book as an official source, I wonder if there’s any merit to the name Fireball Boy at all! Either way it’s odd how this is the ONLY name they changed... do they know something we don’t? I dunno!

My next evidence to present to the court is something that isn’t really related to F Boy at all! Rather, in Super Paper Mario, the Lava Bubble enemy has a tattle that reads the following:

It's a Lava Bubble. This fiery magma boy loves the heat... Max HP is 1 and Attack is 4. Obviously, it's quite immune to fire... It pops out from below when people approach, so take care when jumping over lava...

Fiery magma boy! The chances of this bit of text being intended as a reference are very very slim, but what if, you see? What if? It’s still a fun coincidence, but what if though??

But of course, my favourite possibility is that it isn’t a word related to fire at all and is actually something completely different! I looked up a list of adjectives beginning with F and I’d like to highlight ones I want F Boy to have. Fabulous! Friendly! Faithful. Fantastic. Fascinating! French? Fresh! Fun, and Funky! Faultless. Fetching. Feminist! Festive. Formidable. All these and more describe the complex soul that is F Boy.

After all is said and done, that is F Boy! Who would’ve thought that a little monochrome fireball enemy from a Game Boy game could have kicked off so many months of writing for this blog? I said in the first paragraph that I would not get too sappy, but now we are in the last one I can be as sappy as I dang well please! This blog has brought me such incredible joy and friendship that you can’t even imagine, and my only hope is that I can convey these feelings to even one person who reads these silly posts. If you are reading this? I hope you have a wonderful day! I hope you have a wonderful life! I hope you never forget to be passionate about the things that really don’t matter at all, because no one else can decide for you what is worth caring about! Mwah! A kiss goodbye. I’m not sure how to end this post.

#mario #mario enemies #f boy #weird mario all-stars #mod f boy

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thebeebi · 3 years

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You will be beautiful.

pairing: Taehyung x reader

warnings: disturbing, violence, yandere theme... can’t tell you much, because then it would not create the wow effect I wanted. ;)

genre: modern, rich boy / poor girl

word count: 4.4k

a/n: it would be better if you eat before reading this hahaha, you’ve been warned! There might be some gram. mistakes. English is not my first language. Enjooooy ♥

...Y/N stopped walking and stood still, hypnotized by Taehyung’s every movement. Something about him was so attractive to her, that she forgot about the outside world. Not only was he handsome and her ideal type, but there was this strange aura around him that made her halt her steps and just adore his visuals. She stared at him so intensively, that even he felt it and looked up from his phone, looking around feeling something weird. He was unsure what it was until he met her gaze. To Y/N, it felt like an eternity when they locked their eyes, but Taehyung swiftly looked back to his phone smirking while whispering silently: “beautiful.”

They were so different. He was one of the most wanted men in the world. Not only he was born with a silver spoon but also his physical features were out of this world. She was just an ordinary girl not very pretty, but also not ugly, a bit of weight to spare. Since childhood, Y/N had several health problems, which resulted in the scale to show three digits of her weight. This caused both others and her, to hate herself. She hated her body until he showed up one day. When she saw him for the first time, her legs started shaking. It was when she was coming out of the university’s areal while complaining to her best friend, Hwasa, about her day and how others made fun of her weight. Y/N thought that once she changes the environment and enrols at university, people would act more mature and the bullying would stop. She hoped people would stop caring about her weight and looks, but nothing changed. As it was a problem at her high school. It was even worse at the university because at lectures she attended there were about 200 people. She felt unwell even if she only had to pass through the lecture hall to find the seat. Usually, when the lecture ended she would go out hearing other people’s whispers or some rude guys shouting rude remarks at her. Elephant. Whale. Roach. It was more than often that she ran out of there with teary eyes without waiting for the lecture to finish. That was the day she met Taehyung. He stood in front of the gate while typing furiously into his phone. Even though he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, Y/N realised she would not have any chance with him. Ever. Hwasa, who was waiting for her, ran towards her bigger friend and started talking about her boring day and what she has to do once she gets home, but Y/N paid no attention to her words. While Hwasa was talking about homework, Y/N stopped walking and stood still, hypnotized by Taehyung’s every movement. Something about him was so attractive to her, that she forgot about the outside world. Not only was he handsome and her ideal type, but there was this strange aura around him that made her halt her steps and just adore his visuals. She stared at him so intensively, that even he felt it and looked up from his phone, looking around feeling something weird. He was unsure what it was until he met her gaze. To Y/N, it felt like an eternity when they locked their eyes, but Taehyung swiftly looked back to his phone smirking while whispering silently: “beautiful.”

“Don’t forget the homework we have to submit due to-“ Hwasa turned to Y/N while explaining the importance of the papers they have to submit, but it was only then that she realised her friend is nowhere close to her. She looked around looking for her friend, but couldn’t find her. “Y/N?” She shouted walking back to the place where she has last seen Y/N. When she recognized a familiar figure, Hwasa waved at her shouting her name once again. When Y/N heard her name, she looked away from the mysterious man and waved back. “Why are you still here, Y/N? Let’s go!“ She said as she started pulling her hand leading them in the direction they were supposed to go. Again. I wanna see him again. As Hwasa tried her best to walk her toward the crossroad, Y/N turned her head towards the man but was surprised when he was already looking at her. Their eyes were locked until the two girls walked around the corner.

“Beautiful,” Taehyung whispered when he looked away from the girl who was staring at him. Unknowingly, the girl was for him the most beautiful human he had ever seen. Her size, face without any scar and for sure she had a perfect body. Her body would be worth it. Taehyung would give her all his attention if he only did not have to deal with the problem in his company. He thought that he would just shortly reply to the stupid texts and look back at the mysterious beauty. He wanted to know her name and everything there is possibly to know, but before he could ask her, Taehyung heard a random girl shouting a name. When he looked up from his phone, Taehyung saw a skinny girl pulling his beauty away from him. “Why are you still here, Y/N? Let’s go!“ Taehyung inhaled deeply as he was trying to smell her fragrance. Y/N. He looked at the girl and saw that girl named Y/N is turning to look at him again until he lost her from sight. Right away, Taehyung pulled out the phone from his leather jacket, which he had designed and sewn up. Dialled his assistant’s number, waiting for him to pick up before giving him information about his beauty. “ XY National University, her name is Y/N,” he considered giving his assistant more information but at the same time he did not know anything else about his goddess, so he decided to just stay still. “Find her,” Taehyung said and ended the call before Mr Kim could say anything. Taehyung no longer cared about his company, nor any problems they were currently in. The only thing he wanted was her, Y/N.

It has been a few days since he met his beauty. Not only did he find out Y/N’s full name, address, amount of money she has on her card, but he finally had something he wanted. Her phone number, so he could call her. Even though he waited for her in front of the university every day, she did not show up, so he started to visit her favourite cafés and library. He tried his best to meet her, but it was like she disappeared. If he hadn’t find out all information about her, he would think she was just a beautiful dream. “So beautiful…” he sighed, while small scalpel was slowly cutting into the leather. Taehyung was in the studio, in which no other living being stepped into. It was a small workroom, in which A´he stored all the stuff for his hobby. He created most of the leather clothes and other stuff he wears in this room. The studio was dark, not only walls were painted to black. Even a sofa, which was near the window, was made of dark green satin and all other furniture was made of dark oak.

“Ring. Ring. Ring.”

Taehyung looked at ID showed on the screen of the phone, while softly stroking the leather which he was trying to straighten up and with disgust, he picked up the phone. “I am listening.“ Taehyung said, when he pressed the green button, making known to his assistant that he is ready to hear everything his assistant has to say. “That girl is at work, sir.” It was all Taehyung needed to hear before leaving all stuff alone running towards the car, wanting to meet his beauty. When he arrived in front of the café she worked at, Taehyung looked in the mirror making sure he looked good for the girl he wanted to meet for the past week. A strange smile appeared on his lips that did not disappear even after leaving his car, walking up to the door of her workplace.

Y/N turned towards the sound of the doorbell that rang that day for the hundredth time. “Welcome,” she said automatically without even looking at the man who just entered. Taking the rug to wipe tables, she sighed. I want my shift the end. I want to go home. She thought as she put the dirty rug to side and took little notepad to write down the orders from the customers. Y/N walked from one table to other asking what people want to order, if everything is alright and had small talks with customers until she got to the darkest corner of the café, which was lit up only by little light chains. “Hello, what would you like to or-“she wanted to ask, but words got stuck in her throat as she was who was sitting in front of her. It’s him! Y/N didn’t know how to react, should she jump around feeling happy or just turn around and run away from there, never coming back again. The latter option was more appealing but she needed the money to survive so she just coughed up, pretending that something was stuck in her throat, not wanting to show a handsome stranger that his presence influenced her. “Sorry about that. What would you like to order?” Taehyung who was amused by her behaviour was trying to read all the little details about her face and just mumbled so she could not hear him: “You.” Y/N thought she heard something, but wasn’t sure because she has been overworking herself lately, so she repeated the question: “Sorry, I did not hear you. What would you like to order?” Taehyung tried his best not to repeat his answer and rather decided to point at the advertised drink on the table. She nodded and went to the bar, so she could make him a black coffee Taehyung ordered. He watched her every move so it was obvious he did not miss her being clumsy. She somehow burned her hand and yanked her hand away from hot steam. That will leave the scar. He thought as looked away from her figure while she started walking towards him. Y/N came closer, preparing to put down the cup of coffee, Taehyung pushed the table which resulted in her spilling the coffee on the table and also somehow managed to stain his pants. As he felt hot liquid touch his tight, he stood up from the chair fast and made a sound that made everyone in the café focus on them. Only then did Y/N realise what was going on. “Gosh! I don’t know how this happened. I am so sorry!” Y/N shouted with teary eyes bowing to the handsome man. That was what Taehyung wanted. To see her being helpless. How perfect she looked when tears were staining her rosy cheeks. Even if Taehyung felt the pain, it was nothing compared to the bliss he felt when she cried. “It is alright, stuff like this happens, right?” he laughed and he softly pushed away your hand from his stained jeans. Y/N runs toward the place where she put the rug she was cleaning tables with and walked toward Taehyung, trying to make things better. Even though Taehyung was disgusted with cloth in her hand, he let her try to wipe away stains. “Sir, I am really sorry. I will do anything to apologize.” That is what Taehyung wanted to hear. He had to bit into his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing. How gullible, just how I wanted. My plan is perfect. He knew what he wanted. He had everything planned. All she had to do was to say yes. “If you want to apologize, then go on a date with me” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly. Why would he want to go on a date with her, if all she did was cause him pain? She was not sure why he would want to go on a date with her. Is he making fun of me? She thought but before she could think of other negative thoughts, Y/N decided to shake them away. “Please, choose something else how I can apologize to you.” She looked at her shoes, not wanting to meet stranger’s eyes knowing that her thoughts must be right and that he is just trying to make fun of her. “Y/N,” said the stranger, but it was all it took for her to look into his eyes. She should not have done that and she was well aware of that. When she met him for the first time, she could not stop staring at him but now? When she is only a few centimetres away from his face? Impossible to look at anything else! “It is the only way to show me how sorry you are,” Taehyung said not breaking the eye contact between them. He knew she would say yes the moment when she did not ask him how he knew her name. He knew everything about her and that was why he knew she would not reject his proposal. “-but I” Y/N tried to find an excuse until Taehyung said calmly “-the only way”. Y/N wanted to find an excuse for not going on a date with him, but Taehyung’s voice stopped her from interrupting again. “My name’s Taehyung, you finish at 6pm, right?” He asked her even though he knew when she finishes. He even knew that whenever she finishes her work for the day, she goes to a small convenience store for two minutes, so she can buy a grape soda in a can. She nodded and added that she will be done in 30 minutes. “I will wait for you.” Taehyung said as he sits down again in the corner of the café.

Time went by and after 45 minutes, Taehyung stood up from the chair, paid for his coffee and walked out of the café. He thought, that he should wait for her outside because otherwise, it would feel like he waited forever. The thought of her leaving without notifying him was so strong that it slowly but surely started to anger him. Where is she? Did she leave just like that? When I meet her, I am going to twist her n-. “I am sorry for being late. I hope you don’t mind.” Y/N said while smiling fixing her hair which was ruffled because of changing her uniform. Taehyung wanted to show how angry he was but decided to hold back not wanting to scare her. “Let’s have dinner at my place. My car is over there.“ He pointed at the yellow sports car. Y/N did not have a good feeling about this sudden invitation to a dinner date, but after all, she caused his inconvenience. Even though he was still a stranger, a very good-looking stranger, she decided to go with a flow forgetting about the warning sign in her head. Rational thinking told her to not go, but her heart wanted more than just a meeting. Not wanting to waste any more time thinking whether it was right or not, she walked towards the opened door of the yellow car and sat down looking around the leather interior which made her consider what kind of leather it was. The inside of the car smelled like her favourite lotion. Meanwhile, Taehyung walked around to get to the driver seat, she softly touched the beige cover of a steering wheel. “This smell is amazing, it reminds me of my body lotion” She giggled and looked at Taehyung who sat down to his seat. He smiled at her and with long fingers stroked the steering wheel. “Every bit of leather you see on my and in my car was sewn by me. It first, I had to remove meat and then I started working with leather in my studio.” Admitted Taehyung and added: “You are right. It smells here as the lotion because I used it. It is the best one on the market.” He looked away from Y/N and silently started the car, so they would arrive sooner to his house.

The ride took about twenty minutes before they arrived at Taehyung’s house, during which Y/N fell asleep. She was awakened to the sound of a door being closed. She wanted to open the door, but Taehyung was faster and opened it for her with a smile on his lips. “I hope you are hungry because I want to prepare something very special. Just for you.” Y/N smiled at him but shook her head. “I am dieting, I can’t eat much nor eat any meat.” Taehyung inhaled sharply and closed the door to the car once Y/N was out. “Then you should make today an exception. I will let you eat the meat of the best quality. It is worth it!” When they entered the house, she stayed silent trying to understand why this wealthy man asked her to dine with him. “This way,” Taehyung said while pointing in the direction of a huge living room. When she followed him and entered the room, he took remote control to switch on the television and put a hand on her shoulder. “I am going to cook, just stay here and relax. Okay?” Before she could say anything, he disappeared from the room.

He made sure Y/N was not following him when he got to narrow hall and looked around once again making sure no one was around him. Before he entered his workroom, he exhaled and nodded while smirking. Beautiful. He started walking towards the fridge, which is in the back, he stopped midway next to the table, on which he left his work earlier. He looked at the unfinished piece of leather and sighed. He touched it the only bit that had a little imperfection and frowned. Even after three days of working on it, he couldn’t get rid of the imperfections. “You could have been so beautiful but this…” Taehyung shook his head and walked to the fridge pulling out the piece of meat which he decided to make for dinner. “At least you will taste good.” He added walking away from his workroom and after exiting it, he stood still waiting for the door to lock automatically before heading to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

It has been an hour already. What is taking him so long? Y/N thought as she started walking around the room for the fifth time already. His entire house was furnished in a minimalistic style that even if she tried to look for any more decoration or picture, she wouldn’t find any. When she was about to walk to the window, Taehyung appeared while announcing that dinner is ready. “Come with me.” He came closer to her and held her hand trying to walk with her to the dining hall with a huge table that has been set up for two. Taehyung smiled at her sweetly and pulled the chair for her to sit down. When she did, he walked across the table and sat down himself. So romantic. She looked at the lit candles but soon enough threw away the thought knowing there would be nothing between them. “I will give you a little test.” Said Taehyung with which he made Y/N focus her attention on him. Even though she was a really shy person, that did not mean she wasn’t competitive. “What test?” Taehyung smirked and added: “I hunted this by myself. Can you guess what kind of meat is this?” Y/N was unsure what kind of test it was, but her growling stomach decided to play along. When Taehyung pointed at her plate, she took a knife and fork and started cutting up the served delicacy. When she put the first bit in her mouth, she was sure she has never tasted this kind of meat before. Pork? No, it was too different from the taste I know. Beef? Maybe, but some special kind. She wasn’t sure, but before she could try more of it, it was all gone. Taehyung was looking at her without paying attention to his plate. “Liked it?” he asked as he noticed she finished her meal. “Yes, I don’t think I have eaten a better meal than this. What was it? My guess is beef, but I am still not sure.” Instead of answering her question, Taehyung smiled and asked her. “What are your hobbies, Y/N?“ Forgetting their previous conversation, she stayed silent for a bit but admitted that no one has ever asked her about her hobbies. “I would say painting, what about yours, Taehyung?” It was the first time she has ever said his name aloud, but he already felt intoxicated with the idea of her screaming his name later on. How beautiful it would sound. He stood up from the table and took wine glass to his hands. “I love working with leather. I think it is the only thing I enjoy in this world.” Taehyung helped her stand up. “Do you want to see my workroom?” Y/N nodded and let him show the way towards the little room no other living human saw but him. When they got to the narrow hall, he pushed her carefully forward making her stand in front of the door which was locked with code. What could be so important, that he keeps it behind the locked door in his own house? Taehyung took her hand in his own and lead her to touch screen. “I will tell you the code, you can type it.” He laughed as she touched the screen that suddenly lit up. “7,” said Taehyung and she repeated. “7,” “7 7 5 5 4 4 4 6 6,” Taehyung revealed the secret passcode as Y/N softly whispered the numbers while pressing them on the screen. She focused her attention on the door as she hears the sound of unlocking. She pushed the door, so it would open but before she looked inside, her gaze met Taehyung’s with a smile.

Taehyung pressed himself on her back while trying to push open the door Y/N tried to open before. When her eyes went from Taehyung to the dark room, with courageous steps she walked in and looked around. His workroom was nothing special. Y/N noticed small fridge, huge and for sure heavy furniture, large table and wide glass case with some strange looking tools. She walked past the table to look closely at the tools, which Taehyung uses for his hobby. Her fast steps slowed down before they completely halted. Why would he keep in his workroom something like this? She thought as she touched the glass of the case. “Why would you need captive bolt stunner? She looked at the gun used for killing animals that were in her opinion too inhumane. “Don’t you like working with leather?” She suddenly felt unwell. Since she was born, she despised people who enjoy hurting animals. “How could you do this to them? Don’t you like animals?” Taehyung looked her amused. “I do, but… who told you I use these tools on animals?” A smile that was there before, is now long gone and so was the inner peace which has Y/N felt before. Through reflection on the glass, she looked into his eyes but she no longer saw the sweet, hot man who she met in front of her university or at the café. “I have to go!” She said after she gulped even though her mouth was dry. She turned around, determined to leave but Taehyung stood before her to block her steps. “Where would you go? You haven’t seen everything yet.” He placed his hand on her shoulders making her turn towards the table. He digs his nails into her shoulders as he pushed her forward. At first, Y/N did not understand what was so important but when she saw the leather on the table, her face turned pale. Is that skin? “Do you see that, Y/N? Do you see the imperfection?” Taehyung pointed at the tattoo. “I didn’t know she had that. Otherwise, I would have never asked her to eat dinner with me. I wouldn’t share with her same delicacy I served you tonight.” She widened her eyes realising what was going on with tears in them. “But I forgive her that she did something so horrible to her skin. At least she tasted nice.” He laughed and held her chin between his thumb and index finger and with that he made her look at him. “You don’t have any tattoo, right?” Her silence changed to heart-breaking cries. When Taehyung did not receive the answer he wanted to hear, he asked again, but this time with more emphasis on the last word. “Right?!” The only thing she could do was nod slowly. “Great! Do you remember the jacket I was wearing when we met for the first time?” He inhaled sharply and continued: “It is worn-out already and I need a new one. When I saw you for the first time and your beautiful huge body, I knew right away that you will make a perfect materia-” “NO!” Y/N shouted trying to push him away but it was all in vain. “I hope you did not expect getting that delicacy without me getting anything in return?” Even if she knew something was up, she wished and prayed that her hunch was not right. “What are you talking about? I don’t get it!” She was confused and not ready to accept reality, but as she heard the door that was before opened automatically locking, she knew it was the end. “You tasted her precious flesh.” His head moved to the direction of the table. What I ate was a human flesh? She was ready to throw it all up as she tried to push her fingers up her throat but Taehyung helps both of her hand. “And since you did not pass my test,” She was not looking at Taehyung, but his eyes were filled with love for her body as he licked his lower lip. “…now you will be another test for another beauty I will meet later on.” As she could not bear what he was saying, Y/N fainted in his arms, but he let her fall on the cold floor. He saw that so many times that it started getting hilarious. “Oh dear Y/N, just as these was Hana and Jennie, from whom I made the cover for seats in my car, there was also Joy from whom I made my jacket. The pity is that Jane had the tattoo on her skin, otherwise I would use her for my new jacket. And now … You are here. And in the future, there will be others who will not pass my test.” He sighed as he walked towards the glass case and pulled out the captive bolt stunner. You will be beautiful.

a/n: I hid something in the code, I wonder if you can decipher it. :)

#bts fics #bts taehyung #bangtan #fanfics #bts smut #taehyung fics #ceo au #taehyung x reader #taehyung scenarios #taehyung angst #yandere bts #bts yandere #you will be beautiful #taehyung fanfic #bts #bts fic #taehyung #smut bts

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7spaceace7 · 3 years

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Ego Holiday Headcanons

Haven’t decided if I’ll make more after this, but here’s some festive headcanons for the Septic boys! (tagging as Yuletube for my submission for the past two missed days, hope that’s alright!)

Henrik Von Schneeplestein

-The host of the Septic Ego Holiday Celebration (est. 2017)

-STRESSED

-If he wasn’t stressed enough by being a doctor (and parent lmao), HE IS NOW

-Getting all the egos together for the holidays and making sure they DON’T kill each other?? Someone give this man an award

-Everyone keeping their limbs would be his only Christmas wish

-He does not get said Christmas wish (see: Robbie)

-Switches up his black coffee for coffee with peppermint creamer

-Chase eventually hooks him on peppermint tea instead, he knows the Doc needs sleep

-Can be found humming along to the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy as he cooks holiday dinner

-Definitely has a “kiss the cook” apron

-Chase crossed out the “the” on it with “zhe” in sharpie

-Day 5, Schneep still hasn’t noticed

-Loves it, but still wears his doctor coat on top of it

-Gets very cold easily, so the fire is always burning

-Has a nutcracker collection

-It’s getting out of hand

Chase Brody

-Holidays are,,, hard for him

-Still sends his kids cards and presents, never actually knowing if they get them or not

-They do, I promise

-Wasn’t originally keen on celebrating with everyone, he has a tendency to self-isolate

-But once he gets there, he’s glad he did

-IMMEDIATELY tackled in a hug from Jackie

-”YOU’RE HERE!! Couldn’t start without you, dude!”

-Everyone else smiles and gives the appropriate hug

-(Anti does not, but no eye roll this time at least)

-Absolutely loves warm apple cider and has a good recipe to make his own

-Favorite Christmas movie is Elf, no I do not take criticism

-Has a soft spot for Mickey’s Once Upon A Christmas though because of his kids

-Holiday puns, you CANNOT get this man to shut up with the puns

- “Where’s Anti?” “Up to SNOW good! There’s SNOW way we can REIN him in now!”

-Once it snows, this boy is sledding down every hill in SIGHT

-Teaches Robbie how to catch snowflakes on his tongue

-Marvin makes him a “World’s Best Dad” sweater

-He totally cries and does not take it off the rest of the season

Jackieboy Man

-Christmas is his favorite holiday

-Good luck getting him to sit still around this time

-Has super strength, so he doesn’t quite have the same “don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself” factor that everyone else does??

-Nearly giving Henrik a heart attack everytime he moves, but make it Festive™

-”Guys it’s snowing!!” “JACKIE GET ZHE FAHK OFF ZHE RAILING”

-Slides down the stairs anyway

-Marvin made him a whole ass “ugly supersuit” instead of just a sweater

-It is a w f u l, but on purpose

-Ofc Jackie adores the shit out of it

-Loves snowball fights!

-Always gets targeted by Anti tho

-Eventually it turns into a snowball war

-Pulls Chase over to tag team him, then discovers Marvin has an alliance with Anti

-They will be here a while

-Time to break out the reindeer-themed boxers

-They go along perfectly with his red and blue sweater-suit

-Eventually able to settle down when it gets dark out, bonus points if there’s hot chocolate involved (courtesy of JJ)

-Don’t forget the marshmallows

-Wants to help everybody out with their plans, always does his best

-Even if his best includes falling off a roof

Marvin the Magnificent

-Made everyone sweaters, even Anti

-Spent too much time on the design parts to make em perfect, so he had to rush getting them all sewn

-Uses his magic to sew like three at once

-December 1st, 12:00am is when the Christmas music starts

-Mariah Carey impressions that slowly get higher as the month goes on

-Performs a “Let It Go” rendition that could rival Idina’s during christmas karaoke night

-Switches his regular mask for his holiday one with snowflakes instead of card suits on it

-The decorating master, with JJ as his apprentice

-Favorite part is designing for the lights outside

-Learned a spell to make it look like it’s snowing inside

-Forgot to learn the spell to make it stop snowing inside

-Ended up just sticking with those paper snowflakes dangling on the ceiling

-Asks Jackie for help with the lights on the roof, not because he can’t easily do it himself, he just knows that Jackie likes to help and this is the one thing he knows he can’t break

-Did not expect Jackie to break himself by falling off the roof instead

-Ends up finishing the lights with his magic anyway (after he untangles his boyfriend from the lights, that is)

-Can and will destroy Jackie during snowball fights just because he can

Jameson Jackson

-THIS BOY oh this boy

-Brings out the classic holiday music and sets it up on the gramophone

-LOVES making up dances to the music

-May be a classic boy, but his guilty pleasure is Michael Buble

-(Robbie calls him bubbles whenever he comes on)

-Goes ALL OUT with the holiday baking

-Cookies of all kinds, homemade gingerbread for the houses, so many pies, even learns how to bake his own bread

-Everyone agrees that his pumpkin bread is the best

-Anti especially loves the cherry pie for “aesthetic purposes”

-Has a whole “Twas the Night Before Christmas” puppet show routine

-His job is making the decorations while Marvin sets them all up, it’s a great dynamic

-Definitely makes those traditional popcorn garlands for the tree

-for some reason puts an orange in his stocking?? The others are confused, but he’s so excited so they just let him do his thing

-Now everyone has oranges in their stockings

-They still don’t know what it means

Antisepticeye

-Die Hard is a Christmas movie, dammit!

- “Grinch Bitch” is what his sweater from Marvin says

-Secretly likes it, but fuck off

-Wears it to sleep every night in Winter

-You know that thing where cats get under Christmas trees and swat at the ornaments? Yeah that’s him

-Loves the white elephant gift game

-Ends up getting a present and it’s a turtle

-His name is knives

-KING OF SNOWBALL FIGHTS

-Fills his snowballs with fake blood so they explode on people

- (at least we hope its fake)

-If it doesn’t snow enough, he is the bitch who throws water balloons instead

-Henrik still has work leading up to Christmas, so Anti listens to him rant when he gets home

-Christmas patients are fuckin crazy and he loves it

-One time fell asleep and woke up with a red nose and antlers

-Chase was never safe after that

-Kept the antlers though, they jingle

-Saved them all from Chase’s puns that day

- “Where’s Anti?” *distant, staticky jingling* “Ah there he is”

Robbie the Zombie

-LIGHTS...pretty lights…

-He loves the lights, and will try to eat them if you’re not careful

-Says they’re static candy

-Doesn’t get cold because he can’t feel it, so he often wanders around in the snow

-One time he came home without his left foot and Schneep nearly had a heart attack

-Turns out it froze in the snow and snapped off his leg

-The Great Foot Search Party of 2020

-Please don’t forget to bundle this boy up before going out

-Anti has knitted him a hat and scarf for just this reason

-Henrik was the Proudest Dad that day

-Totally gets to put the star on the Christmas tree every year

-Marvin levitates him high enough

-Favorite holiday movie is The Polar Express

-One time JJ came out with his signature hot cocoa during the movie scene and Robbie was THRILLED

-Talking almost knocked him over thrilled

-Tries to sing along to holiday music, the lyrics don’t work out much

-Really good at keeping a beat though

-Marvin made him a sweater with bells on it

-Adores the bells, flaps the too long sleeves to make them jingle

Shawn Flynn

-Likes Christmas, but like lowkey

-He’s a toymaker!!! He makes adorable toys for all the egos as their presents from him!!

-Didn’t really have a family to go back to in his days at Joey Drew Studios, so he was used to spending Christmas alone, usually working

-NOT ANYMORE!

-Now he has Too Much Family (but in the good way)

-Absolutely gets nicknamed Scrooge at first, probably because he really likes A Christmas Carol and he’s a grump

-Often can be found being pulled off to dance by the gramophone with JJ

-He’s got two left feet, but JJ doesn’t really care

-If anyone still believes in Santa, even just a little bit, it’s because of him

-Has a giant red sack that he fills up with toys he’s made and/or the ones no one could sell back at the studios and donates them to orphanages

-Usually sticks to his old timey clothes, but when he does wear modern Christmas attire like the sweaters, he has,,,no idea how to match things

-It’s ‘cause he’s red/green colorblind

-once asked why Marvin had “yellow” hair

-JJ makes sure that his decorations have lots of blues so it’s not so much strain on his eyes

#yuletube2020 #yuletube #jse egos #henrik von schneeplestein #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #shawn flynn #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #my writing #prompt list #Headcanons

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moblitberner-bunch · 3 years

Text

Modern AU: Vlogs!

These have been sitting in my drafts for 1,5 year now so I decided to finish them and dedicate these to @quietcelt because she's gonna leave Tumblr soon... Me be sad...

Anka: Doesn’t have her own vlogs, she films Mitabi’s vlogs and comes up with fitness challenges for him to take part in. Posted three ASMR videos in five years and though they do good she forgot about them.

Mitabi: Sports vlog, workout routines, tips and tricks to boost your strength and endurance (How-to-pose-as-a-fitboy-for-instagram-and-get-10000000-likes).

Gustav: Has this online book club vlog in which he discusses and analyses books (and the movie adaptations).

Ian: No vlogs, but meme compilations. Rico is just shaking her head (but watches all of his videos secretly when Ian is asleep.

Rico: No vlogs.

Pixis: Doesn’t know what a vlog is.

Erwin: Tries to vlog his day-in-the-life-vlog but forgets to press ‘start recording’ so his videos are twenty minutes of black screen. Still has many followers on IG because everyone is fangirling in the comment section of his selfies.

Levi: Cleaning up with Levi. Top ten best cleaning products. Tea blends ranked. Cleaning life hacks. The importance of cleaning. Sometimes a workout video no one can keep up with, but everyone watches it to see his abs.

Mike: Full series on how to train every dog in easy and doable steps, from pup tot old doggo, shy or aggressive, with Mikes advice you will have 100% success.

Hanji: Your new favorite online chemistry teacher, will save your grades and your degrees singlehandedly. Considered starting an OnlyFans but the other vets forbade it.

Moblit: Sometimes tutorials on how to draw things, mostly vlogs his experience when visiting museums and galleries, also includes art history information in videos because he actually knows a lot. Don’t get him started on Brunelleschi’s talent, Moblit is a fangirl.

Nanaba: Made a small series in which she talked about childhood abuse and her abusive father, to break stigma and make the topic more discussable. She also told about how she overcame her past. It’s the only series she made but had many many views and loads of positive and supporting comments.

Eld: Challenge/prank videos with Gunther, sometimes family vlog with his wife and mostly his baby girl because he has to share her cuteness with the world. Every milestone is caught on tape.

Gunther: Loves the challenge-vlogs with Eld but hates the pranks. He joins Elds vlogs and balances Elds goofiness with serious and witty remarks. They would be a great duo to do some Buzzfeed Unsolved kinda videos.

Oluo: Life with all his brothers. How to keep them happy, and how to survive being the eldest and coolest of all the kids. Vlogs about taking them to theme parks and fun stuff. Many views because his brothers are hella cute, fucking funny and 7-year-old legends for life already.

Petra: Shows up in Nifa’s video’s. They often go shopping together, and she is basically in all Nifa’s vlogs. A Nifa vlog without Petra would truly confuse the audience by now. They be like: “Why is Petra not in this video?” “Where is Petra?” “Nothing bad happened to Petra right?”

Nifa: Come shopping with me vlogs, make-up tutorials, what’s the latest fashion news. Home deco vlogs. This girl is queen on the internet. She can literally vlog her morning routine with her bed hair and pyjama’s and still would get thousands of likes. The popularity of her vlogs opened the doors for her to design and release her first own clothing line.

Gelgar: Vlogs how he parties with his friends, how many tequilas he can down in 1 minute, the weird drunken antics caught on cam. He has 4 followers.

Mikasa: No vlogs.

Eren: Plays videogames for content, always gets way too aggressive and impatient. He only gets views because of his anger outbursts, gets approximately 10 likes and 1 thumbs down from Jean.

Armin: CrashCourse-like content, vlogs about scientific topics he will explain to make it understandable for the bigger crowd. Also saved a lot of grades and degrees.

Connie: Gameplay, walkthroughs and tutorials, almost professional gamer: he even makes money with it. Gets limited pre-access to games so he can promote the new game releases with his game content.

Jean: Cooks recipes, foodie, meal tutorials and Sasha rates his meals. Sometimes games with Connie.

Sasha: Appears in Jeans vlog and rates his food.

Historia: reaction videos. Rates everyone else’s vlogs. Witty comments. Did the fuck-marry-kill challenge once for the others (snk characters), and the viewers went WILD.

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 5/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The autumn winds heralded more clement weather, carrying the tart scent of peaches and pine in the air. With the balmier weather, everyone in the estate had taken their opportunity to be outdoors. Nanami himself had been dragged out and was walking with everyone who cared to go to the private orchards when at breakfast, the groundskeeper announced that everyone can go peach picking.

He watched from across the table as the object of his attraction visibly lit up, your glorious blue eyes brightening exponentially. You loved peach picking and he loved seeing you all excited over small things. But it turned out to be something of a disappointment when your attention turned to Geto instead of him, inviting him to go with you.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” you asked expectantly, giggling like a little girl when Geto nodded, placing an arm over your shoulder and hugging you to his side while he said, “Anything for my favorite girl.”

My favorite girl. He had to stop himself from being petty and scoffing at the very thought of it. His annoyance was further validated when you generalized your invitation, saying anyone who wished to could come, voiced out by Yuuji who pouted at you and said you should have been inviting him since he loved picking peaches as much as you did.

That was just how it was with you when it comes to Geto. You forget everyone around you the moment he makes an appearance, and it seemed Nanami wasn’t an exception. He could accept that in the past. Ever since, you had been vocal about your preference for the dark-haired man who spoiled you to no end, letting you have your way and without fail made you smile and laugh like you never do with anyone else. When their group would go out, travel or do something else recreational, you’d always be where Geto was, dangling by his arm. You mellowed out with him when you met Yuuji, but the truth is that Geto Suguru is your favorite among your older brother’s friends.

This time, however, he couldn’t rest easy with you interacting that way with said male. If he was being honest, he only agreed to go peach picking after Gojo made him tag along because he wanted to keep a close eye on you. He was also being obvious about it with the way he was trailing you with his eyes every other five seconds, the realization dawning into him when Shoko walked beside him, grinning as she took a long drag from her cigarette.

“If you want to be with her, just do it,” the woman told him, easily reading him as usual. “You look like you’re about to blow your top.”

Nanami just glanced at you, his eyes involuntarily flicking to your familiar figure now circling around Geto as you walked, your hands and arms animatedly making big gestures as you seemingly explained something to him. He felt his temper rise when the male grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap an arm around you, his dark eyes finding Nanami over his shoulder in a sly taunt.

Shoko clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “We all know, Kento.” She glanced behind her where Gojo and Utahime were walking. “Only that white-haired idiot seems to know nothing. Or he pretends not to know.” She sighed. “I can’t blame him though. She used to be this really cute bundle of joy, but look at her now. She’s a grown woman.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. He knew exactly just how much of a woman you have become physically and mentally. What he doesn’t understand was why you weren’t walking with him instead while you’d be sneaking around with him, stealing kisses and hugs from him since the previous day when the pair of you returned from the lake.

At the rehearsal the previous night, you had stuck to him like glue, not that he minded. You purposefully touched him even when everyone was watching, running your fingers over his arm, leaning against him while everyone waited for their turn to practice their part for the ceremony and holding his hand while he sat with you in the garden during breaks, all the while feigning innocence to your actions. You even went to the extent of wrapping an arm around his waist while Gojo was speaking to you. The man, obviously aggravated, narrowed his eyes at you before turning on his heels and leaving.

“God, he’s so frustratingly dumb,” you muttered under breath, watching him leave. Only you had the guts (and right if Nanami was being honest) to call your brother dumb. It somehow made Nanami think that you were really just doing things to get a rise out of Gojo for whatever reason or whatever complex you had with him, but what confused him was that you didn’t stop even if your male clone wasn’t looking.

It was no different at the dinner that followed at the restaurant the family had rented for the night. You purposefully said you forgot something, declaring that you will be riding with Nanami instead, tossing your car keys to Megumi who saluted him while snickering with Nobara. Yuuji, being the most annoying of your three friends, deliberately bumped against him and said, “Make the most of it, Nanamin.”

He would have smacked the boy at the back of his head if the conniving little sprite dragging him around didn’t pull him towards his car. “Wait for them to leave,” you told him as you boarded his car.

“I thought you forgot something.” His lips quirked upwards, already realizing what you were playing at, but before he could say anything more, you grabbed him by the collar, silencing him with your lips. That ended up with you two being half an hour late to dinner after that one kiss turned into a full-on make-out session in his car with you sitting astride his lap while he kissed you stupid.

When both of you finally got to the restaurant, he expected you to let go of him, but you boldly walked with him to your designated seats, holding onto his hand as you led the way. He did not miss the way your parents were looking at the two of you, but he pretended not to notice. Your father was rather approving which was a relief but your mom was just confused. He could just surmise that your friends were in on it when you ended up sitting on the same table, reserving two seats for him and you, further proven when you exchanged high-fives with Nobara who, in turn, winked at Nanami. Of course, he thought, they knew.

You engaged in conversations with your friends for most of the duration of the dinner, but you never failed to smile his way or wink at him when you think no one’s watching. You didn’t ride home with him since he had to drive stupid Gojo after he got too drunk to function and instead drove your car with your pals. You and your friends didn’t come back for another hour, but when you got home, you rifled through the house, loudly asking everyone where he was.

Nanami had to suppress laughter as he crossed the foyer on his way to the stairs and saw how you pushed past Suguru to make your way towards him, latching onto his arm and announcing to everyone that you will walk him to his room cause he might get lost. You had giddily stuck to what you said you’ll do when he noticed how your eyes were bloodshot and you had that odd smile on your face.

“Sweetheart, are you high?” he asked, gently holding you at arm’s length. He already knew the answer to his question when he caught a whiff of weed on your hair. Typically, he’d scold you, but the way you were tittering for no reason was just too adorable for him to handle.

“Don’t be mad,” you said to him, attempting to pout, but you couldn’t in your state. You then started poking his cheek that he eventually had to hold your hands away from him. When you finally stopped laughing, you blinked up at him and said, “I want you to kiss me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice as he pulled you to a side hallway, pushing you against the wall, giving you a peck. You whined loudly. “You call that a kiss?” you complained.

“Be specific, love. How do you want me to kiss you?” he teased, leaning his forehead against yours, trying hard not to laugh as he held you back, preventing you from touching him. He was already aware of how you could easily take the reins and dominate him.

You smirked at him. “Kiss me dumb. Pretty please with a cherry on top, Kento?” You seemed to have discovered that calling him by his given name has become his weakness, and you succeeded because in the next second, he was all over you, prying your mouth open with his tongue as he pressed you against the wall with his body. You submitted to his touches, pulling him closer, your sensuous lips and the sweet flavor of your tongue driving him insane. Before he lost control, he walked you back to your room, defeating the purpose of you walking him to his.

But now, he had to watch you being monopolized by Geto.

He sighed. He could trust Shoko to shed off pretenses for once.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “I know she’s really fond of Suguru, but I can’t help but –” What was it that he felt exactly?

“You’re jealous. It’s natural especially when she was all clingy with you yesterday.” She chuckled. Shoko couldn’t have been more right, but the scene playing out before him was the least of his problems. It ran deeper than just the moment at hand.

Nanami promised to keep it a secret as Geto’s friend although it killed him a thousand times when three years ago, just a week before the time he had to haul you out of a bathtub after your cocaine episode, the male came to him, confiding that he wanted to pursue you romantically.

“Good luck on that,” he remembered telling Geto, feeling that same pang of envy pervading his system, but then the latter said, “It’s just that she said she likes someone else.” He looked at Nanami sharply as if he was angry at him for some reason, but retracted to his easy-going mood. “Forget I said anything. I can’t have her.”

“Why is that?” Nanami asked then.

At that, Geto smiled, sadness crossing his features. “I don’t deserve her.”

At odd to his words three years ago, Geto was as close to you as ever. You’re obviously still very fond of him. Still, Nanami wasn’t sure what the intention was behind Geto’s calculated actions. The man was just as aggravating as you are with your mutual penchant for games and keeping people on their toes.

Shoko stole him back from his reverie. “Just put a label on it already. She likes you, too, you know.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Seriously?” She burst out laughing then. “Men are such dense creatures.”

“That’s offensive.”

“So is your obliviousness.”

“What does that even mean?”

She shook her head, her laughter dissipating. “Talk to her and find out.”

“I saw what you were doing with Kento last night.”

You looked at Geto who was walking beside you, not really knowing how to respond to his observations and settling for twirling the wicker basket you were holding. He flashed you a knowing smile, already used to your behavior when you were puzzling something in your head, caught up in your own bubble.

“I’m not as frustrated about Nanamin as much as I am with Satoru.” You sighed, remembering how your brother just walked away when he saw you holding onto Nanami, annoyed as if he thinks you were just trying to rile him up. “He’s so dense with things like this.”

“You’re one to talk,” Geto stated frankly, snickering at your appalled reaction. “On a more serious note, why?”

Letting up on your scowl, you said, “Well, he’s being a bitch about how I never tell him anything anymore. He asked whether I liked Nanamin and what was going on when I was being very obvious. I kissed the man in front of him, for heaven’s sake.”

“Sweetie, that’s not straightforward at all. You know yourself better than anyone, and seriously, even I get all confused as to whether you’re just messing with everyone, not to mention that you’re so erratic that we just don’t know what to expect from you.” Geto eyed you placatingly, letting you know that he was being earnest.

You easily laugh and smile because of him, but he just as easily offends your by being so brutally straightforward. You’re realizing that now that he was acting more like your older brother, and you knew you couldn’t get offended when you wanted assurance. “I just want to include him all the time but his reactions are so fucking infuriating. He treats me like a kid crushing on his friend if anything.”

“So, why not talk to him about it?”

“I don’t want to sit down and talk to him about it as if I’m asking for permission or approval. I love Satoru to smithereens – don’t tell him that – but he doesn’t get a say about what I want in life especially not where the people I date are concerned especially since he seems to have an aversion to me being attracted to any of you guys ever since I turned twelve.”

Geto chortled. “So you’ve been crushing on Kento since you were a kid?”

You made a face at him, punching him on the arm. “No, idiot. I liked you first.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

You momentarily stopped walking. “Yes, but then I found out what a womanizer you are but I won’t even venture into that. I’m not really fond of martyrdom,” you deadpanned.

Not even hiding his affront, he walked back to your spot and flicked you on the forehead. “I’m very offended you’d say that to me!”

“It’s true though.” You laughed, reaching over to squish his face before walking around him in circles. “If you think I’ll cry over your pretty face, you couldn’t have been more mistaken. Besides, I don’t want to share.”

“Now you’re just being a jerk.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning insult. “I’m hurt, baby.”

“You deserve it for kissing that cheap model wannabe in front of me on your first runway show.”

“My, my. Your tongue’s loose today. Tell me more.”

“I settled for thinking I’ll just steal you from Satoru to be my best friend. Well, that’s before I met Yuuji. I guess I was just really jealous of what you and Satoru had. I wanted everything he had anyway until I realized that’s now how it works and there were things about me he couldn’t have either. Makes it fair.” You chuckled, finally making it in front of him. “Like that personalized plush bear you gave me on my eighteenth birthday. Man, that was huge.”

Laughing with you, he held onto your arm, pulling you close to him, glancing behind him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, still giggling.

“Your boy toy would have killed me with those looks he’d been throwing at my direction since breakfast,” Geto whispered to you, making you look over your shoulder, too. There, you found Nanami, looking so breathtakingly gorgeous with the rakish way his hair had been styled and his chiseled physique outlined by the long-sleeved running top he had on. He’s been dressing more casually recently much to your satisfaction.

“Don’t call him that, He’s not my boy toy.” You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “Sometimes, I have to stop myself from jumping his bones.”

It was Geto’s turn to make a face at you. “Sweetheart, I love you, but don’t say those things to me. Anyway, are you two together now?”

You tensed slightly and shook your head. “That’s up to him.”

“What?” He scoffed. “In case you’re not aware, you’re a prize. Don’t go doing all the work.”

“I know.”

“He should fight for it, too, if he wants you.”

“So Yuuji says.”

“He’s right.” Geto stopped walking, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know I love you right?”

You nodded, poking fun at him. “More than your hoes, I hope.”

He clucked his tongue, rolling his eyes at you. “I’m being serious here. You may think I’m a hedonistic bastard who only thinks about getting laid all the time, but you’re a different story, sweetheart. I treasure you like Satoru does, and if I see something wrong, it’s my duty to tell you.”

Seeing the somber look on his face, your smile dropped. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he began. “Kento is a good man, better than Satoru and I combined to tell you the truth. But when it comes to things like this, he has the tendency to be indecisive.”

Your heart dropped, feeling nervous all of a sudden as your eyes widened in fear at the prospect. “Are you saying he doesn’t like me?”

“Honey, he loves you. I know so.” He snorted. “Bastard can’t even resist you anymore by the looks of it, but trust me when I say he’s going to over-analyze things because there are so many things to consider instead just going for it.”

“You mean Satoru?” you griped.

“One of them anyway.”

“O…kay.” You pouted in perplexity. “How would you advise me to proceed?”

Geto finally let up on the seriousness, bursting out laughing. “The gods are fair, aren’t they?”

Understanding why he was laughing, you punched him on the arm again. “I know I’m dumb at this, but at least try acting like the older, more mature one here. You should be flattered I’m coming to you for shit like this at all.”

Still laughing, he pulled you close and hugged you, planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head. When he was calm enough, he breathed out and squeezed you tighter. “Talk to him and be direct about it.”

You decided to approach Nanami when you spotted him alone under one of the trees, reading a book. The forgotten basket of peaches beside him, only half-filled, was indicative that he forgot about the activity at hand and is in his own world again. You adored his quiet side, the way he kept to himself, unafraid to be alone and always comfortable in his solitude, so much so that you hesitated to disturb him.

Quietly, you stalked towards him, making sure not to make any sudden sounds, but being him, he was immediately able to perceive your presence.

"You have a very dark taste in literature as a child," Nanami spoke when you’re within earshot, sensing your presence.

You frowned, sitting beside him, confused at first but upon seeing your battered copy of "Coraline" sitting on his lap, you understood what he meant. "Where did you find that?"

"In the library." He finally met your gaze, his expressions unfathomable. "I remembered you gushing about it when you first read it."

You nodded in understanding, but couldn't quite keep your mind in the conversation, plagued with thoughts of what Geto told you earlier. He was saying something about your fascination for the horror genre, but you cut him short, saying, "Can I ask you something?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly at the question, his quizzical gaze prompting you to proceed.

"What are we?" you blurted out, your blue eyes quite unable to meet his dark ones. You don't exactly know what was making you behave with such uncertainty. After all the times you had been confident where he was concerned, you were suddenly scared. You didn't fear being rejected by anyone. It has always been the case for you since you’re younger, but you were afraid of not knowing, of not being sure.

Nanami looked at you, deep in thought for a few moments until he finally told you, "That's up to you, isn't it?" His tone had a bite to it.

Unable to place where he was coming from at the moment, you hesitated. You rummaged through your head about what his response to you could imply, frowning when you came up with nothing. "What?" you said, thinking it better to ask.

"You heard me." He shrugged, opening the book to the page he was reading. By the looks of it, he was trying his best to ignore you.

You fought the urge to pose barb at him, too, wanting nothing but to get a straight response from him. "Why is it up to me?" You totally didn't understand, thinking it ought to be a decision the pair of you should make. Wasn’t that how it worked?

Silently cursing at the whole situation, you contemplated on your past relationships. All of them seemed less complicated. They liked you, you liked them. You decide to date, and when things don’t work out, the arrangement is broken off. High school and college boys were irritating to say the least, but you were expecting it to be a lot more straightforward with Nanami because he’s a mature adult. Now it seemed like you were in one of those previous relationships again.

“Elaborate on that,” you prompted him, seriously at a loss.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this another game of yours?"

To say you’re appalled by his odd line of questioning was an understatement. Unable to control your emotions anymore, you stood up. "What are you talking about?" You burst out laughing without mirth. For once, you’re being direct with what you wanted. For once, you weren't playing and yet all you get are questions being thrown at you.

"Go play with Suguru. He seems to enjoy your antics more than anyone," he told you coldly.

"What are you on about?" you demanded from him. “I’m asking you a simple question.”

Nanami flashed you a tired smile. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He also stood up, obviously exasperated. "Look, I honestly don't know what we are. I'm not sure." He sighed when you eyed him in disappointment but that expression turned into icy indifference very quickly.

"You don't know," you repeated, nodding. "Okay. I see how it is."

For the first time in years, you felt stupid, so much so that you felt like tearing all the hair off your scalp. You didn't understand what was wrong with Nanami but so many thoughts ran through your head at the same time. You thought you might have asked too early. You thought maybe you read things between the two of you wrong. On top of all that, you felt so overwhelmed with anger over his response that you couldn't think straight, but you were also afraid of saying anything else in case your inner demon decides to jump out.

Turning away, you started walking away. You heard him call your name but you didn't look back, suppressing the urge to go back to him and instead storming out of the orchard. You didn't understand what the dull ache in your chest meant but you knew you couldn't handle it.

-end of part 5-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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snelbz · 4 years

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What Happens In Vegas... {4}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

My neck had seized up. Pain shot through me as I slowly straightened and blinked the sleep from my eyes. I rubbed at the offending muscles, trying to get them to unlock. “Ow.”

Rhysand took one hand off the steering wheel and reached out, rubbing the back of my neck with strong fingers. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I must have slept funny.” I shuffled up in the seat, taking in our surroundings, trying not to enjoy the neck rub too much. Because of course he was crazy good with his hands. Mr. Magic Fingers coerced my muscles back into some semblance of order with seemingly little effort. I couldn’t be expected to resist. Impossible. So instead I moaned loudly and let him have his way with me

Being barely awake was my only excuse.

The sun was just rising. Tall, shadowy trees rushed by outside. Trying to get out of LA, we’d gotten caught in a traffic jam the likes of which this small town girl had never seen.

For all my good intentions, we hadn’t really talked. We’d stopped and gotten food and gas. The rest of the time, Johnny Cash had played on the stereo and I’d practiced speeches in my head. None of the words made it out of my mouth.

For some reason, I was reluctant to call a halt to our adventure and go off on my own. It had nothing to do with pulling up my big-girl panties and everything to do with how comfortable I’d begun to feel with him. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. Refreshing, even, given the last day’s worth of drama. Being with him on the open road … there was something freeing about it. At around two in the morning, I’d fallen asleep.

“Rhys, where are we?” He gave me a sidelong look, his hand still massaging my muscles. A sign flew past outside. “We’re going to Velaris?”

“That’s where my place is,” he said. “Stop tensing up.”

“Velaris?”

“Yeah. What’ve you got against Velaris?”

“Nothing.” I backpedaled fast, not wanting to appear ungrateful. “It’s just a surprise. I didn’t realize we were leaving town. Velaris. Okay.”

Rhys sighed and pulled off the road. Dust flew and stones pinged off the truck. Cass wouldn’t be pleased. He turned to face me, resting an elbow on the top of the passenger seat, boxing me in.

“Talk to me, friend,” he said.

I opened my mouth and let it all tumble out. “I have a plan. I have some money put away. I was going to go someplace quiet for a couple of weeks until this blew over. You didn’t have to put yourself out like this. I just need to get my stuff from back at the mansion and I can be out of your hair.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Well, we’re here now and I’d like to go check out my place for a couple of days. So why don’t you come with me? Just as friends. No big deal. It’s Friday now, the lawyers said they’d have the new papers sent to us Monday. We’ll sign them. I’ve got a show early next week back in LA. If you want, you can lie low at the house for a few weeks till things calm down. Sound like a plan? We spend the weekend together, then go our separate ways. All sorted.”

It did sound like a solid idea. But still, I deliberated for a second. Apparently, it was a second too long.

“You worried about spending the weekend with me or something? Am I that scary?” His gaze held mine, our faces a bare hand’s breadth apart. Dark hair fell around his perfect face. For a moment I almost forgot to breathe. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Outside a motorcycle roared past then all fell quiet again.

Was he scary? The man had no idea.

“No,” I lied, throwing in some scoff for good measure.

I don’t think he believed me. “Listen, I’m sorry about acting like an asshole back in LA.”

“It’s okay, really, Rhys. This situation would do anyone’s head in.”

“Tell me something,” he said in a low voice. “You remembered getting the tattoo. Has anything else come back to you?”

Reliving my drunken rampage wasn’t somewhere I wanted to go. Not with him. Not with anyone. I was paying the consequences by having my life upended and splashed about on the Internet. “Does this even matter? I mean, isn’t it a bit late to be having this conversation?”

“Guess so.” He shifted back in his seat and put a hand on the wheel. “You need to stretch your legs or anything?”

“A restroom would be great.”

He nodded. “No worries.”

We pulled back out onto the road, and silence ensued for several minutes. He’d turned off the stereo sometime while I slept. The quiet was awkward now and it was all my doing. Guilt sucked first thing in the morning. It probably didn’t improve later in the day, but first up, without even a drop of caffeine to fortify me, it was horrible. He’d been nice to me, trying to talk, and I’d shut him down.

“Most of that night is still a blur,” I said, trying to gently reopen the conversation.

He hummed quietly. Such was the sum total of his response.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to go further. “I remember doing shots at midnight. After that, it’s hazy. I remember the sound of the needle at the tattoo parlor, us laughing, but that’s about it. I’ve never blacked out in my life. It’s scary.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

It was a little late to ask this, but I needed to know. “How did we meet?”

He exhaled hard. “Me and a group of people were leaving to go to another club. One of the girls wasn’t looking where she was going, bumped into a cocktail waitress. Apparently the waitress was new or something and she dropped her tray. Luckily, it was only a couple of empty beer bottles.”

“How did I get involved?”

He darted me a glance, taking his eyes off the road for a moment. “Some of them started giving the poor waitress shit, telling her they were going to get her fired. You just swooped in and handed them their asses.”

My eyes went wide. “I did?”

“Oh, yeah.” He licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling. “Told them they were evil, pretentious, overpriced assholes who should watch where they were walking. You helped the girl pick up the beer bottles and then you insulted my friends some more. It was pretty fucking classic, actually. I can’t remember everything you said. You got pretty creative with the insults by the end.”

I was stunned. “Huh. And you liked me for that?”

He shut his mouth and said nothing. A whole wide world of nothing. Nothing could actually cover a lot of ground when you put that much effort into it.

“What happened next?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Security came over to throw you out. Not like they were gonna argue with the rich kids.”

“No. I guess not.”

Glancing over at me, he added, “You looked panicky, so I got you out of there.”

“You left your friends for me?” I watched him in amazement.

He did a one-shoulder shrug. As if it meant nothing.

“What then?” I asked.

“We took off and had a drink in another bar.”

“I’m surprised you stuck with me.” Stunned was closer.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “You treated me like a normal person. We just talked about everyday stuff. You weren’t angling to get anything out of me. You didn’t act like I was a different fucking species. When you looked at me it felt…”

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “I dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

He was lying. “Yes, you do. And it does.”

He groaned.

I pushed. “Please?”

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shifting around in the driver’s seat all uncomfortable-like. “It felt real, okay? It felt right. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

I sat in stunned silence for a moment. “That’s a good way to explain it.”

Suddenly, he got decidedly smirky. “Plus, I’d never been propositioned quite like that.”

“Yeah. Okay, stop now.” I covered my face with my hands, and he laughed.

“Relax,” he said. “You were very sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Sweet is not a bad thing,” he replied.

He pulled the truck into a gas station, stopping in front of a pump. “Look at me.”

I lowered my fingers. Rhys stared back at me, beautiful face grinning. “You said that you thought I was a really nice guy. And that it would be great if we could go up to your room and have sex and just hang out for a while, if maybe that was something I’d be interested in doing.”

“I have all the moves,” I groaned. There might have been more embarrassing conversations in my life. Doubtful, though. Oh, good God, the thought of me trying out my smooth seduction routine on Rhys. He who had groupies and glamour models throwing themselves at him on a daily basis. If there’d been enough room under the car seat, I’d have hid down there. “What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?” Without taking his gaze off me, he popped the glove box and pulled out a baseball cap.

“This is so mortifying,” I sighed, letting my head fall back against the headset. “Why couldn’t you have forgotten too?”

He just looked at me. The smirk was long gone. For a long moment he held my gaze captive, unsmiling. The air in the car seemed to drop by about fifty degrees.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, fingers fumbling with the seat belt.

His voice was hard again. “Sure.”

I finally managed to unbuckle the stupid thing, heart galloping inside my chest. The conversation had gotten crazy heavy toward the end. It had caught me off guard. Knowing he’d stood up for me in Las Vegas, that he’d chosen me over his friends… It changed things. And it made me wonder what else I needed to know about that night.

“Wait.” He rifled among the collection of sunglasses, pulled out a pair of designer aviator shades, and handed them to me. “You’re famous now too, remember?”

“My butt is.”

He almost smiled. Almost.

He fit the baseball cap to his head and rested an arm on the steering wheel. The tattoo of my name was right there, in all its glory. It was pink around the edges and some of the letters had small scabs on them. I wasn’t the only one permanently marked by that night.

With a sigh, I hurried inside of the gas station, into the restroom. I locked myself inside of the stall and took a deep breath.

A weekend with Rhysand. It wouldn’t be too bad...at least, that’s what I kept telling myself, and every time I did, I debated myself against it. I was nervous and, yes, a little bit scared. Ultimately, I will still uncomfortable with the fact that I was married to a stranger. I was learning more about him every day, but I still didn’t know him, and I’m not sure I would get the chance to when all was said and done.

I mean, did it even matter?

After I saw to the necessities, I was washing my hands, scrubbing at them just to give myself a few minutes more of silence. When I opened the door to the restroom again, though, I was only halfway down the drinks aisle before I had been spotted. A pair of girls, maybe a few years younger than myself, were standing there, their eyes wide.

The sunglasses Rhys had given me were pushed on the top of my head.

Good going, Feyre.

I gave them each an awkward smile and tried to step past them. I was almost to the door, to freedom, when one of them muttered to her, “Do you think that’s her?”

I didn’t turn to let them know I’d heard them, just kept hurrying for the exit.

“I don’t think so. The girl in the pictures was much prettier.”

Ouch.

When I got back, Rhysand was standing by the truck, signing an autograph for a couple of guys, one of whom was busy doing an overly-enthusiastic air guitar performance. Rhys laughed and clapped him on the back and they talked for a couple of minutes more. He was kind, gracious. He stood smiling, chatting with them, until he noticed me hovering nearby. “Thanks, guys. If you could keep this quiet for a couple of days I’d appreciate it, yeah? We could do with a break from the insanity.”

“No worries.” One of the guys turned and grinned at me. “Congratulations. You’re way prettier in person than in your pictures.”

“Thanks.” I awkwardly smiled, not quite knowing what else to do. I preferred these guys to the girls who’d seen me in the gas station.

Rhys winked at me and opened the passenger door for me to hop in. The other man pulled out a cell phone and started snapping pictures. Rhys ignored him and hurried around to the other side of the vehicle. He didn’t speak till we were back out on the road.

“It’s not far now,” he said. “We still going to Velaris?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Cool.”

Hearing Rhys talk about our first meeting had put a new spin on things. That conversation had piqued my curiosity. That he’d chosen me to some degree that night… I don’t think the possibility had occurred to me before. I’d figured we’d both let tequila do the thinking and somehow fallen into this mess together.

I was wrong. There was more to the story. Much more. Rhysand’s reluctance to answer certain questions made me wonder.

I wanted answers. But I needed to tread carefully.

“Is it always like that for you?” I asked. “Being recognized? Having people approach you all the time?” I was hesitant to tell him about the girls I saw in the gas station. I didn’t know how he’d feel about that, or if he’d reprimand me for not utilizing the sunglasses like he’d told me.

“They were fine. The crazies are a worry, but you handle it. It’s part of my job. People like the music, so…”

A bad feeling crept through me. “You did tell me who you were that night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” He gave me a snarky look, his brows bunched up.

My bad feeling crept away, only to be replaced by shame. “Sorry.”

“Feyre, I wanted you to know what the fuck you were getting into. You said you really liked me, but you weren’t that keen on my band.” He fiddled with the stereo, another half smile on his face. Soon some rock song I didn’t know played quietly over the speakers. “You felt pretty bad about it, actually. You kept apologizing over and over. Insisted on buying me a pizza to make up for it.”

“I just prefer country or pop. Or, really, anything that’s not hard rock.”

“Believe me, I know. And stop apologizing. You’re allowed to like whatever the hell you want.”

I nodded and we fell into an awkward silence. Finally, I asked, “Was it a good pizza?”

He gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “It was fine.”

I looked over at him, but his eyes were firmly on the road in front of us. “I wish I remembered.”

He snorted. “There’s a first.”

I don’t know what exactly came over me. Maybe I just wanted to see if I could make him smile. With a knee beneath me I pulled out a length of seat belt, raised myself up, and kissed him quick on the cheek. A surprise attack. His skin was warm and smooth against my lips. The man smelled so much better than he had a right to.

“What was that for?” he asked, shooting me a look out of the corner of his eye.

“For getting me out of my parent’s house and then out of LA. For talking to me about that night.” I shrugged, trying to play it off. “For lots of things.”

A little line appeared above the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “Right. Yeah. No problem.”

His mouth stayed shut and his hand went to his cheek, touching where my lips had been. The looks out of the corner of his eye continued for quite some time. Each one made me wonder a bit more if Rhysand Lunasa was just as scared of me as I was of him. This reaction was even better than a smile.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Velaris was beautiful, that much was certain, and if I thought the mansion in LA was over the top, Rhysand’s house was just as magnificent, but in a more logical sense. It wasn’t as big, but it was very modern, very sleek.

Rhysand climbed out of the cab and walked up to the house, fiddling with a set of keys from his pocket. He opened the front door, then stopped to punch numbers into a security system.

“You coming?” he yelled.

I lingered beside the car, looking up at the magnificent house. Him and me alone. Inside there. Hmm. Waves crashed on the rocks nearby. I swore I could hear the swell of an orchestral accompaniment not too far off in the distance. The place was decidedly atmospheric. And that atmosphere was pure romance.

“What’s the problem?” Rhys came back down the stone path toward me.

“Nothing … I was just-.”

“Good.” He didn’t stop. I didn’t know what was going on until I found myself hanging upside down over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.

“Shit. Rhys!”

“Relax,” he crooned. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear the smirk on his lips.

“You’re going to drop me!” I cried.

“I’m not going to drop you. Stop squirming,” he said, his arm pressing against the back of my legs. “Show some trust.”

“What are you doing?” I battered my hands against the ass of his jeans.

“It’s traditional to carry the bride across the threshold.”

“Not like this,” I laughed.

He patted my butt cheek, the one with his name on it. “Why would we wanna start being conventional now, huh?”

“I thought we were just being friends.”

“This is friendly. You should probably stop grabbing my ass, though, or I’m gonna get the wrong idea about us. Especially after that kiss in the car.”

“I’m not feeling your ass,” I grumbled, and stopped using his butt cheeks for a handhold. Like it was my fault the position left me no alternative but to hold on to his firm butt.

He snorted. “Please, you’re all over me. It’s disgusting.”

I laughed despite myself. “You put me over your shoulder, you idiot. Of course I’m all over you.”

Up the steps we went, then onto the wide wooden patio and into the house. Hardwood floors in a rich brown and moving boxes, lots and lots of moving boxes. I couldn’t see much else.

“This could be a problem,” he said.

“What could be?” I asked, still upside down, my hair obscuring my view.

“Hang on.” Carefully, he righted me, setting my feet on the floor. All the blood rushed from my head and I staggered. He grabbed my elbows, holding me upright.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. What’s the problem?”

I followed his gaze, looking around at the sparse furnishings. “I thought you said you lived here,” I said, as I stepped inside of the foyer and looked around.

Rhysand shut the front door behind me. As I was looking out of the floor-length front windows at the beach beyond, he said, “I haven’t been here in a while. Not much time to come home, you know?”

I nodded, as if I agreed, but I really had no idea. I had no idea what it was like to constantly be on the road, in different cities, in different countries.

To be away from home for months, for years, and having to cope with homesickness.

“I thought there’d be more furniture,” he said.

I turned to look at him. “You’ve never been here before?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Apart from boxes there were more boxes. They were everywhere. We stood in a large central room with a huge stone fireplace set in the far wall. You could roast a whole cow in the thing if you were so inclined. Stairs led to a second floor above and another level below this one. A dining room and open-plan kitchen came next. The place was a combination of floor-to-ceiling glass, neat lines of logs, and gray stonework. The perfect mix of old and new design techniques. It was stunning. But then all the places he lived in seemed to be.

I wondered what he’d make of my and Joey’s tiny bedraggled apartment. A silly thought. As if he’d ever see it.

“At least they got a fridge.” He pulled one of the large stainless steel doors open. Every inch of space inside had been packed with food and beverages. “Excellent.”

“Who are ‘they’?” I asked, following behind him.

“The people that look after the place for me. Friends of mine. I called them, asked them to sort some stuff out for us.” He pulled out a beer and popped the lid. “Cheers.”

I smiled, amused. “For breakfast?”

“I’ve been awake for two days. I want a beer, then I want a bed. Man, I hope they thought to get a bed.” Beer in hand, he ambled back through the kitchen and entryway and up the stairs. I followed, curious.

He pushed open one bedroom door after another. There were four in total and each had its own bathroom because cool, rich people clearly couldn’t share. At the final door at the end of the hall he stopped and sagged with relief. “Thank fuck for that.”

A kingdom of a bed made up with clean, white sheets waited within. And a couple more boxes.

“What’s with all the boxes?” I asked. “Did they only get one bed?”

“Sometimes I buy stuff on my travels. Sometimes people give me stuff. I’ve just been sending it all here for the last few years. Take a look if you want. And yes, there’s only one bed.” He took another swig of beer. “You think I’m made of money?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Says the guy who got Cartier to open so I could pick out a ring.”

“You remember that?” He smiled around the bottle.

“No, I just assumed given what time of night it must have been.” I wandered over to the wall of windows. Such an amazing view.

“You tried to pick some shitty little thing. I couldn’t believe it.” He stared at me, but his gaze was distant.

I winced. “I threw the ring at the lawyers.”

He flinched and studied his shoes. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry. They just made me so mad.”

“Lawyers do that.” He took another swig of the beer. “Cass said you took a swing at him.”

“I missed.”

“Probably for the best. He’s an idiot but he means well.”

“Yeah, he was really nice to me.” Crossing my arms, I checked out the rest of his big bedroom, wandering into the bathroom. The Jacuzzi would have made Cassian’s curl up in shame. The place was sumptuous. Yet again the feeling of not belonging, of not fitting in with the décor, hit me hard.

“That’s some heavy frown, friend,” he said.

I attempted a smile. “I’m just still trying to figure things out. I mean, is that why you took the plunge in Vegas? Because you’re unhappy? And apart from Cassian, you’re surrounded by jerks?”

“Fuck.” His let his head fall back. “Do we have to keep talking about that night?”

I was getting just as frustrated as he was. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t that, okay?”

“Then what?” I pressed.

“We were in Vegas, Feyre. Shit happens.”

I shut my mouth. Ouch.

“I don’t mean…” He wiped a hand across his face. “Fuck. Look, don’t think it was just all drinking and partying and that’s the only reason anything happened. Why we happened. I wouldn’t want you to think that.”

I threw my arms out. It seemed the only proper response. “But that’s what I do think. That’s exactly what I think. That’s the only way this fits together in my head. When a girl like me wakes up married to a guy like you, what else can she possibly think? God, Rhys, look at you. You’re beautiful, rich, and successful. Tamlin was right, this makes no sense.”

He turned on me, face tight. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk yourself down like that.”

I just sighed, shaking my head.

He went on. “I’m serious. Don’t you ever give what that asshole said another thought, understood?”

“Then give me something. Tell me what it was like between us that night.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. “Nah. I don’t want to dredge it all up, you know? Water under the bridge or whatever. I just don’t want you thinking that the whole night was some alcohol-fueled frenzy or something, that’s all. Honestly, you didn’t even seem that drunk most of it.”

“Rhys, you’re hedging. Come on. It’s not fair that you remember and I don’t.”

“No,” he said, his voice hard, cold, in a way I hadn’t heard it. He loomed over me, jaw set. “It’s not fair that I remember and you don’t, Feyre.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going out.” True to his word, he stormed out the door. Heavy footsteps thumped along the hallway and back down the stairs. I stood staring after him.

#snelbz whiv #what happens in vegas #vegas au #feysand #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc

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tonymystarks · 3 years

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You’re the Piano Man

Steve/Tony one-shot inspired by that video of CEvans playing the piano. I wanted the fic, so I wrote the fic.

Steve didn’t spend a lot of time in Tony’s penthouse.

They spent a lot of time on the common floor, with the rest of the Avengers, in the workshop or on Steve's floor. Tony said that was because it felt more home-y than his own floor. So when it was just the two of them, they would go to Steve’s floor. They slept there and ate there, and Steve almost forgot that the penthouse existed.

So when Steve asked Jarvis where Tony was, and Jarvis said the penthouse, Steve was surprised.

“Sir is just gathering a few items from his bedroom; I am sure that he would not mind if you met him there,” Jarvis told Steve.

“Ok, that works. Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve stepped into the elevator and heard it whir to life.

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

Steve thought about what Tony could be grabbing. Most of his clothes have migrated into Steve’s bedroom, and most other things were always kept in the workshop. Steve’s pondering was cut short when the doors to the elevator opened.

As Steve wandered into the penthouse, he realized that he had never really looked around before. The few times he had been there, he had been… preoccupied or something of the sort. So he decided to take his time before making his way to Tony.

The first thing he noticed was the modern design. It was all clean lines and metal; it looked like a museum. Steve saw no personal artifacts anywhere in the living room or hallways. It was quite the juxtaposition to Steve’s warm and full living room. He could understand why Tony wanted to spend his time on Steve’s floor.

The second, more surprising, thing Steve saw was a big object shoved in the corner, in front of the floor to ceiling windows. Steve walked over to it and pulled the cover back.

In front of him sat a beautiful grand piano.

Steve ran his hand along the top of the piano, admiring the shine and quality of it. He went to lift the lid off of the keys and was happy to find that it wasn’t locked. He pressed down on middle C, listening to the resonances of the note. It sounded as if the piano had hardly been used, which doesn’t surprise him. Tony doesn’t strike him as the type to have enough time to sit down and break in a piano.

Steve pulled the bench away from the keys and sat down. He sat his hand on top of the keys and hit foot over the pedal, and began to play.

His fingers flowed over the keys like it hadn’t been years since he had played. The muscle memory was taking over and guiding his hands in a way that surprises him. The soft, muted melody flowed out of the piano, and he closed his eyes and let the music wash over him.

Before long, he stopped, realizing he doesn’t remember what comes next. It's been too long to remember it all.

“I didn’t know that you played.” Steve startled at the voice coming from behind him,

Tony must have snuck in when he was playing, and Steve didn’t hear him. He was sitting on the couch in one of Steve’s sweaters, which was even oversized on him, and a pair of sweatpants. He looked so comfy, which stood out against the modern backdrop.

“Yeah, uh, I learned on this beat-up old piano when I was a kid. I couldn’t do a lot because of the asthma, but I could play the piano. This is so much better than the one I had, though. It’s beautiful,” Steve tried to move on from the topic of his childhood. It wasn’t something that he likes to think about often.

“Well, it is a top of the line Steinway piano.” Tony walked over and sat on the bench next to him.

“Do you play?” Steve questioned as Tony ran his hands over the keys.

“Nah, I could never get into it. My mom would always play for me as a kid; wanted me to be cultured and everything. I liked it when she would play for me, but I couldn’t be bothered to learn it myself. I don’t have the ear to really feel the music, as she liked to say.” Tony sounded a little lost in his memory as he spoke.

“Oh yeah? What did she play for you?”

Tony shot up and walked over to a semi-hidden bookcase. He pulled out a folder and walked back over to Steve.

“This was my favourite piece that she played. Rue des Trois Frères by Fabrizio Paterlini. It was something that she played when my brain wouldn’t slow down.” Tony was holding the sheet music to the song.

“Let me see. I’m not the best at sight-reading, but I’ll see if I can get it.”

“Really? You don’t have to.” Tony looked somewhat shy, sharing this part of his past.

“I would love to.” Steve looked at Tony and smiled; he would do anything to make this man happy.

Tony didn’t say anything and just placed the sheet music down, spreading it out so that Steve was able to see all of it. Steve took a few moments to get himself oriented and looked it over. The music itself wasn’t too complicated, so Steve took a deep breath and began to play.

The melody was sweet and sad at the same time. Steve found himself getting lost in the music as he played. The timbre of the piano and ease of the harmony fit so well together that Steve felt transported.

He could imagine a young Tony sitting at his mother’s side, just as he was sitting at Steve’s, feeling weary from the weight of the world. He could see young Tony taking comfort in this song that his mother played and letting himself forget where he was for a moment. Tony had said that he could never feel the music, but Steve was sure young Tony would feel the music played by his mother’s hands. Steve finds himself lost to that reality as the music continues through him.

The piece is only about two minutes long, and as it draws closer to the end, Steve is brought back to the world.

When he plays the last chord written on the sheet music, Steve looks over at Tony. He finds Tony sitting quite still, eyes closed, with a small smile gracing his face and a single tear rolling down his cheek. They sit in silence for a few moments, neither one wanting to break the magic that has been created. However, after a while, Tony clears his throat.

“Thank you,” is all that Tony says, voice steady but quiet.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Steve turned so that he was facing Tony.

Steve placed a finger under Tony’s chin and tilted his face up. He caught Tony’s eyes and tried to communicate how much he loved him before leaning in to kiss him. The kiss wasn’t heated or full of fire, just every ounce of unconditional love and support they had for each other.

They drew each other in, twisting together like two polyphonic lines of music that form the most beautiful harmony when joined together.

When Steve pulled away and was able to take a deep breath, he remembered why he had come to the penthouse in the first place.

“So doll, what were you doing up here anyway?” Steve asked while a blush formed on Tony’s face.

“Oh, um, right. Ok, don’t make fun of me, but…” Tony stuttered as he walked over the spot on the couch that he had vacated and grabbed a box that Steve hadn’t noticed.

“I’ll try my very hardest.” Steve chuckled a little as he walked over to meet Tony.

“I’m sure you will,” and when Tony opened the box, Steve understands why tony had come up here to collect things.

Inside the box was a pair of what looked to be old birthday cards and other photos. It looked like some from Tony’s childhood and some more recent of the team. He can see that they all hold sentimental value, and Tony probably likes them close, in his home, and this floor is no longer his home. Home was with Steve.

However, one photo did make him try his very hardest.

What caught Steve’s eye and made him want to laugh was a photo of Young Tony, dressed in a Captain America costume, looking happy as can be. Steve reached into the box and pulled it out and couldn’t contain himself.

“You look so cute, sweetheart.” Steve laughed, looking at the face of his disgruntled boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I always looked cute. Come on, get it all out.”

“No, I’m serious; you look adorable. It’s like you knew we were destined to be together.” Steve watched Tony’s face soften as he spoke.

“Maybe I did. I mean, maybe not the whole, dating-falling in love- mind blowing sex- thing.”

“Tony-”

“But I guess I figured that the most amazing genius and the world's best captain had something in common. The universe couldn’t keep that awesome apart, know could it? That would go against the laws of everything good.” Tony had a joking tone to his voice, but Steve knew that words were sincere.

“A true crime against humanity.” Steve pulled Tony into a hug and felt him melt into it.

He felt, more than heard, Tony’s muffled whisper of I love you into his chest, and Steve kisses the crown of his head.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much even the universe knows it,” and then it was Tony’s turn to laugh.

They continued just to hold each other for a while until Tony decided he had something else on his mind.

“Alright, enough of this sappy stuff. I want to see what else you can do, piano man.” Tony was pulling Steve back over to the piano, while Steve raised his eye at the nickname. “Right, you don’t know that song yet. We will put it on the list.”

Tony pushed Steve down on the piano bench and sat down next to him once again.

“Any request?” Steve asked.

“Anything. Something that will make me continue to fall wildly in love with you.” Tony batted his eyelashes while Steve rolled his eyes.

“Let me see what I can do.”

And with that, Steve began to play.

#Steve Rogers #tony stark #stevetony #steve x tony #mcu stony #marvel #MCU fanfiction #My fic #fluff #i write nothing but fluff #stony fic

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Don Rosa: “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros!” or City Slickers 3: The Crystal City

Saludos Amigos, the Ride of the Three Caballeros returns! After some time off to take care of other seasonal commissions and to finally get the life and times fo scrooge mcduck back on a steady pace, everyone’s three favorite chappies in snappy serapes are back for another go round. This time i’ts back to comics one last time as we take a look at “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros: which was the penultimate story from Duck Maestro Don Rosa, and as a result the final one set in present day, as while the next one would have a wraparound segment, it’s a flashback tiding up the one last bit of Scrooge’s past Rosa hadn’t clicked into place yet, and thus we’ll get to that eventually as part of life and times. And honestly it serves as a fittng and satisfying conclusion to Donald’s story.

The geneisis of this one is rather simple in comparison to “The Three Caballeros Ride Again!”. Don Rosa REALLY enjoyed writing TTCRA, wanted to have another adventure with Donaldo and his boys, and given the previous story was a huge hit likely had no trouble convincing his publisher. And since he set the first story in Panchito’s home country of mexico, it only made sense to have the next story in Jose’s home country of Brazil. Adding to it Rosa specifically wanted to avoid using the amazon rainforest this go round, as to him pretty much every story involving Brazil focused on the massive and wonderful rainforest. And while a great setting, Rosa knew there was much more to the country and wanted to show it off. And to his credit.. he’s 100% right as i’ve seen dozens upon dozens of stories set in the rainforest but not nearly as many set ANYWHERE ELSE IN BRAZIL. If their lucky we get to see Rio, but that’s about it. So kudos to Rosa for wanting to display more of a beautiful country and show it had more to offer than merely it’s biggest attraction. As for what treasure they’d be after, the lost city of crystal stuck out to him, having been described in a goverment document that was so degraded when it was found there wasn’t much left to go on and searched for by a famous explorer who was the basis for indiana jones whose name I forgot but we’ll run into his name again later. So yeah not as much setup here and what tiny bit is left can be covered when we get to our villian. So with all that out of the way, let’s ride on!

We open with Scrooge firing Donald and throwing his ass out on the street, berating him for screwing up and then telling him to be back early tommorow to make up for his firing. Then Gladstone literally walks all over him becausae he’s a jackass, and Daisy then shrieks at donald for you know, being stuck on the floor, having messed up the shirt she ironed for him without.. actually you know asking for context, HITTING HIM, then telling him to pick her up for dinner at the ritz.

It’s like this intro was perfectly designed in a lab to piss me off. All three of the characters who on a good day ar excellent but on a bad are outright monsters, at their worst, treating Donald like crap, i.e. the reason to call them monsters, and generally abusing him for flimsy reasons. And again Daisy HIT DONALD. No that’s not right, she shoryukened his ass! She upercutted him! God damn. And her just casually doing that is played for laughs. In a lesser Rosa story this would only get worst and be “oh haw haw”.. instead... to my delighted suprise.. this is all treated seriously. Yeah really. Instead of being treated for laughs like normal, and not being a dark enough work comedically to make it work like say It’s Always Sunny, Donald is seriously depressed, beaten down phsycially and mentlaly and when the boys, who’ve been present for all of this and tried to help him up off the ground, ask why he takes this.. the answer is pretty damn bleak.

Just.. holy shit that’s dark.. and I applaud Rosa for not only recognizing this isn’t always funny, but for actually tackling it. And I will grant Donald being a butt monkey CAN be funny, especially when it’s caused by his own ego. It’s the basis of his entire career. It’s good stuff. My issue has been more that Rosa sometimes dosen’t get that either some aspects have aged poorly, even by the 90′s, and thus dosen’t adjust them or play them more for drama, sprinkling a bit of that in with the comedy. So to see him do that HERE, to acknowledge in some way his own faults and do something with them.. i’m very proud of him and it warms my heart that he could do something like this that shows he could grow and change, even SECONDS from the end of his career, but with no intention of ending his career at that point or even after finishing his next and last story. It just ended up happening that way and as such this story carries even more weight as for all intensive purposes, this is the final tale of Donald Duck for Don Rosa’s Barksian universe. This is the last big tale before whatever triggers Scrooge’s retirement, the last tale he wrote in the here and now. And while not perfect for some reasons we’ll get to from a character perspective? It’s a pretty good note to go out on.

Anyways Donald somehow makes this SADDER by mentoing, when Huey, Dewey or Louie tries to make him smile that he hasn’t smiled in some time before sadly loping off to make their dinner before buying daisy’s.

Yeah... I just.. I need a moment.... Here’s my asistant iwth an important message

Okay i’ve regained my composuer.. and yes I will be shwoing that off at every opportunity. I have generous friends. Now where were we? Ah yes with their uncle in a depression hole, can relate, they figure he needs a nice gift to get him out of it. The boys think he needs friends.. and of course the boys come to mind, though the fact their on the other end of the contient proves a problem.. but Huey, Dewey or Louie has a solution and takes the boys to the Woodchucks because of course they do> Their primary go to for anything is the guide which to be fair contains the entire sum of the world’s knowledge in a guidebook.

So the boys, with the other two likely filled in on the way, plan becomes clear when they stop by Woodchuck HQ and talk to the guy in charge of the badge department, which ahs a fun acronym because of course it does, this is one of Rosa’s faviorite running gags and mine as well.. I just don’t have it in me stamina wise to type the whole thing out. Point is the boys ask that Donald be used as courier for a special shipment of badge’s to Rio. The authority guy is understandably a bit reluctant to give a non-woodchuck this duty, but the boys remind him that in a previous story, not sure if it’s barks or rosa’s, Donald apparently not only found the last remaning pieces of fort duckberg but saved them from the mill. As a result the Fort, which was the original HQ of the woodchucks until Scrooge threw them out, was apparently rebuilt. So the guy in charge is more than willing to not only give donald the duty, but an open ended plain ticket, i.e a vacation. The Nephews do have to guilt him a bit more to get donald a condsensed pamphlet based on the brazil chapter of the guidebook which at this point seems like overkill. Just.. buy him a guidebook boys. IT’s a bit much to ask that a portion of your heavily guarded and protected text be given to your uncle for a vacation and seems like a tad of a stretch but the gag, including the boys getting badges in guilt and convincing, makes it work.

So after the boys set off to telegram the rest of the Cabs, we cut to donald arriving in rio, passing christ the redeemer on the way

The Rio Woodchucks greet donald and take the package for him, giving him new orders to go by cable car to the observation deck atop Sugar Loaf Mountain. This is a real mountain in Brazil and frustrated Rosa because he couldn’t find any pictures of what the station looked like in the 1950′s, despite as he put in his notes having eager fans from the region, researchers and other contacts try to find it, settling for having vintage cable cars pulling into modern stations he got from photos from said contacts. If I hadn’t said it before i’ll say it now the man is a BEAST when it comes to getting things acurate, only bending it if it helsp the story and still making sure his drawings are as accurate as possible. It’s one of Rosa’s most adimirable traits.

Donald took a Donde, some form of streetcar there, hanging on the back and .. uh I have no words for this..

Donald Duck ran into a horse and it farted in his face. Just... why though. This horse naturally is Senior Marteniz, with Panchito currently being thrown out of a cable car for trying to put his horse in there which is fair. What isn’t is people having an issue with his hat. I mean.. people wear hats. I know it’s a bit big for the tight fit of the cable car but still it’s a bit weird to throw a strop about anywhere outside a theater or sports place where he’d be actively obstructing people’s view. And it appears to be the same weirdly crazy asshole.. Imean again the horse thing is resonable but calling it a “crazy hat” I mean yes it’s a big hat.. but ... you you do know mexico exists right? And sombreros? or other cultures at all you weirdly specific douche?

At the top, after a quick and funny hat swap gag, Panchito reveals the triplets called him here.. as did Jose who assuemd it was lovely senorita.. who uppercuts him. And it’s STILL more reasonable to uppercut some rando hitting on you, if not by much, than Daisy’s Domestic Abuse. Anyways the three put things together and Donald realizes via flashback the boys hoped his smile would return and said he’d have help.

Donald, being utterly beaten down by life, apologizes.. but it turns out the boys needed this as much as he did. Jose’s night club career is flopping hard, with his agent unable to get him bookings and Panchito has barely scraped any money together for his ranch dream from last time. It’s a nice touch: That the boys , while having more exciting careers have just as much strife as Donald does and as much problem. It helps make them feel as real as donald, as characters with their own lives and adventures outside of him and their own wants and needs and it really helps the story come alive. Jose however has some suggestions to escape their blues.

But Panchito suggests instead they go for some adventure and go diamond hunting in the plains of brazil, which the two agree to.. and Donald’s a big gung hoe about carving his way through human flesh.. just jesus man.. get a therapist. Your Ducktales counterpart did and he seems mildly well adjusted. So the adventure is on.. and they all toss their hats.. off a mountain. First thing on the provisoins list hats. Before we head on I just wanted to point out even though most of my audience here is likely unaware the movie exists that this Comic honestly reminds me of the 1991 comedy City Slickers starring Billy Crystal, Daniel Stern and Bruno Kirby. If your struggling on the name Daniel Stern, think Marv from Home Alone.

No.. the RIGHT marv. I may not be a huge fan of Home Alone but we respect Daniel sterns in this house. And yes if you didn’t know French Stewart played Marv in one of the sequels now you do. And i’m sorry you know that.

There we go. Right Marv and Wrong Dad from Christmas story. Back on point City Slickers is a terrific comedy I finally saw a few weeks back about three friends all facing mid life crisises, with Billy Crystal being unsatisfied with his career and undsure WHY he does, Daniel Sterns having cheated on his shrewish wife with one of his employees whose also now pregnant, and Bruno Kirby being a ladies man whose faced with the prosepct of settling down, go for a weeks vacation to a cattle drive, as Brunos character tends to set up these trips but this time they actually need it. They encounter cows, assholes and a cowpoke named Curly. It’s pretty good.

But yeah they both feel kinda similar, if with far less drama and crumbling marraiges on the cabs end because you know, this is for children. I’m pretty sure it’s just a concidence but given Rosa’s love of film, even if it’s more 30′s and 40′s films, and how the City Slickers seems right up his alley, I wouldn’t he suprised if he saw it and simply took some slight inspiration from it. Either way the similarity makes me giggle a bit. Again the plots aren’t all the same but the basic setup is about the same, complete with the main character’s family making sure he goes. It’s a bit of a stretch but I thought it was pointing out and while this review is comissioned, how I go about it isn’t so if I want to take a few paragraphs to compare this to an excellent comedy you should defintely see with two underated actors, maybe three i know nothing of bruno kirby other than the man had horse allergies and thus had to take heavy medication every day so good on him, and a lot of fun.

So our premise and pastiche firmly in place, our heroes fly out to the frontier to adventure and Donald even thought ahead on them needing two more mounts and bought them from the local farmer for 100 bucks: It turns out their a llama, who jose takes and an old ox which donald reluctantly takes and wonders how to steer.. which I just got the double pun. Nice touch.

So our heroes head on with Donald expressing suprise they aren’t in the jungle like the movies, Jose correcting him, you get the bit he’s going for. But as they travel Donald not only breaks out the pamphlet but also , once jose mentions finding el dorado, casually mentions he and Scrooge already found it in columbia, and when Jose incrediously mentions that maybe he also already found the lost mines of the incas.. turns out yeah they did that too. Dont’ know if it was a barks or rosa story for either, since I didn’t check that part of Rosa’s notes, but it brings the scene into greatness as the boys not only belivie donald and figure he’s not pulling their legs.. but marvel at his life. And it’s here Donald smiles a bit.. he’s already got his smile back realizing that as miserable as his life can be.. he’s still seen and done things no man, even his globetrotting pals, has sever done before or sense. Found long lost places, solved mysteries and rewrote history.. sometimes literally sometimes in the “found things that changed historical knowledge” sense. Point is.. he realizes he has more to his life than he thought and maybe it isn’t so miserable after all.

Donald also mentions the local waters are filled with stuff and the other Cabs mounts quickly climb on his continuting the gag of the Cabs assuming donald’s some big expert by accident. For me personally it varies in how funny it is, sometimes it’s grating othertimes it’s genuinelly pretty good, your mileage will vary. We then get a page and a half of slapstick with various animals and this gag repeated and it’s eh. Not bad, and there’s a REALLY great visual bit where donald gets squeezed by an anaconda and not only is he comically and tightly squeezeled, but it takes a few panels for it to wear off. Other than that not bad stuff but nothing especially new or really that funny.

Our heroes soon find a pit trap.. and a capybara in said pit trap.. which I also give myself credit for recognizing on sight. Who dosen’t like a good capybara? Their basically a large brazillian rodent if you were curious. Donald asks what can they do and hte boys take it as a secret test of character, and not just donald being kind of lost and decide to help free trapped animals instead of treasure hunt which Donald, much like his entire life, just reacts to with “what what are we doing now?”. But they manage to free the greatful Capybara and we get this inspired bit.

Naturally the sheer confusion of seeing this as well as being confronted with the relaly bizzare nature of his world, i.e. having both a rodent whose an old friend and one that’s clearly just a regular animal causes Donald to fall into the hole. He’s soon found by the natives.. and here we get one of the worst aspects of this story and one I honestly didn’t expect to encounter given Rosa’s research: Calling these indgeinous people’s.. “indians”. Yes really.

We were in 2004 by this point, and even in the cultural cesspool of the early 2000′s, a time where micheal jacksons actions towards children were used for reams of jokes and where R.Kelly got off for the same just because “he makes the good musics”. What i’m saying is even in this time in history, we knew better than to use the term indian and I remember distinctily the term native american being in my text books even at this point as a kid. So Rosa, a world traveled knowledgable adult.. has no excuse for this, not even “It was the 50′s when this was set and they’d used this” as while he had Scrooge being mildly racist in “The Empire Builder from Callisota”, he didn’t you know, have scrooge use the fucking n word or other slurs during the story because you know that’s racist and he knows it’s racist. I’m coming down so hard on him because I expect BETTER. I can, even if it bothers me and I will give out about it, KINDA ignore the daisy stuff because domestic violence against men wasn’t as wellk nown, so while it dosen’t play well and I won’t pretend to enjoy it I can at least understand why rosa thought this was funny when it isn’t> This? The man clearly should know better, should know to use correct terms, and is usually better about this, but just isn’t here and for one of his last stories it’s REALLY depressing to see a man I have a ton of respect for fail this badly. It’s just a small element of hte story but it really sticks out badly and says bad things about an otherwise good man. Even a good man can really fuck up and Don.. honestly really fucked up even when, normally his portryal of indigneous people’s is really good.. and is for the rest of the story. This is just a really bad if really easy to miss bit I feel he deserves some flak over it. He knew better. This story proves he knows better in other ways and knows indgenous people deserve resepect. He just dosen’t show it in his laungauge and it’s disheartaning.

Anyways, the Natives drop donald off with their cheif.. who turns out to not only speak perfect english, but has a rather nice modern setup and clothes. He’s the son of the former cheif whose dad, using a secret crystal city with a rich mine, paid for his son to go get an education in the US and hopefully bring back knowledge for his people. Instead all he learned was to be a greedy selfish asshat who calls his own people “savages”. This is what i’m talking about: While the indian thing is bad and Rosa should feel bad.. the rest of the story does treat these tribal peoples with genuine grace and care, as our main villian is shown as one partly because rather than respect his culture and simply use thenew knowledge of the outside world to help his people by educating them, bringing back new techniques and medcidnes while mixing it with thier old culture, the bastard prince simply wrote them off as savages and used his new learnings to rule them and get them into trapping, a buisness i’ts later made clear at the end of hte story they don’t like and only followed him because he’s their chief. And it dosen’t even come off as them following him as chief because their stupid, mainly just because of tradition and knowing they can’t escape him and he’d just find htem and find some way to cowtow them. The tribe here are innocent victimes forced into a life they don’t want by an asshole who became a colonizer instead of a hero and leader to his people and simply wants to sell them out as soon as possible to fiance a fancy and comfy life for himself. The bad guy here is recycled from Rosa’s pre scrooge work, and works well here and honestly.. is a good villian and a good antagonist, something Rosa struggled with sometimes when not just using what barks made. He’s a chillingly realistic villian: someone who would step on where he came from instead of helping it and again treats these people as simple victims forced to be minons by circumstance and as the end of the story shows, and we’ll get to that, not nearly as stupid or “savage” as this cruel bastard thinks. And naturally being a cruel bastard, Chief, since his name isn’t given, plans to ransom donald as he naturally has no hangups about selling people AND rare animals. Thankfully Donald’s only a prisoner for a bit as Donald’s ox makes a back door and with the help of their mounts the boys free all the trapped animals and escape.. with Senior Martinez accidently taking the Chief’s necklace. Turns out that’s the sigal that signals his right to rule, so he figures if the tribe finds out it’s missing they’ll rightfully dump his ass and tells them to give chase, which the cabs find out about via a wild parrot. It’s better not to ask.

So our heroes head into the wilderness to loose them and find a rocky slope, making their way up to some more plains. They now have both a high vantage, and a place to set up camp so do so. They also found out Martinez took the necklace, and now know why the chief is after them, but Panchito decides to keep it for now till they can figure out what to do with it. SO over the camp fire Donald decides that if they can find this lost mine that the Cheif’s dad used to go to, they won’t need to look for diamonds the hard way and Jose’s skepticism is rebuffed by the fact that Donald’s found plenty of lost cities with scrooge. So donald brings up the legend of the crystal city, with the guy who found it being colonel percy fawceet, and brings up more adventures you get the bit by now. Point is he mentions a crystal arch lighting up at night to ward off intruders.. and sure enough our heroes happen to be right by it, complete with a crystal road that simply had been covered by shale over the years. Donald decides to get some rest and head out in the morning, with a valid explination as to why not to worry about hteir perusers till then: It’s so dark that even if they left a trail, they can’t follow.. which the evil cheif agrees to though he finds the trail they dug up, pointing as an arrow and now realizing his dad’s treasure was real, plans to naturally exploit the hell out of it. So the next morning, bright and early, our heroes have built a raft, and are greatful they looked in first as the waters are stalked with dangerous predatory creatures. How htey haven’t all killed each other, I do not no, but it looks cool so i’ll shut up now. So our heroes leave their mounts behind and head in up the stream via the raft and find the massvie and awe inspiring lost city.. as for why it hasnt’ been found they soon figure out why: THe stream in is dangerous, and jose figures it was delebratly packed with dangerous animals, and thus few would think to go in there, and the only ohter way up is scaling the cliffs it’s build into, but as the cities built into the sides of said cliffs, no one can see it from a distance. It’s a birlliant way to justify just WHY something remained lost and somthing barks is tremendous at. Our heroes soon find though that the canal go deeper and approaches a water fall.. and thus jump off loosing their only way back and thus heading in deeper to see if they can find another way out. Meanwhile the Cheif has found the swamp and recongizes his dad mentoning it and being a greedy jackass, and suddenly realizing that maybe his people won’t want to loot the city their swarn to protect, tells them to guard the Cabs mounts while he goes on ahead.

Our heroes journey deeper into the unknown and after coming across pick axes mine carts and the like find the mines of fear.. lit with crystals and with wall to wall gems. So they’ve sucessful founds the lost minds of ophir, set up by one of king solomon’s realtiives. The actual King Solomons Mines had been found in a barks story, naturally and is also likely the basis for the african mines level in the ducktales game.

Donald being donald.. ends up sitting on a giant anaconda who swallows him whole as he dosen’t realize just how big the thing is when his pals mention it to him, and only escapes through Dumb Luck, as is the duck family way, lighting a match and causing the Anadonda to spit him out and run... unfortunately not only does Panchtio loudley announce he dosen’t have his pistols, The Chief shows up with a gun. Naturally he intends to plunder, because jackass you see, and intends to leave the cabs stranded, with the anaconda picking them off one by one when they inevitibly have to sleep while he’ll come back with inflatable rafts and boats to loot the rest. The cabs bemoan the fact that their fucked.. and then this happens.

So with that Donald FINALLY snaps, tired of taking the world’s shit and determined not to be the looser everyone around him but his boys clearly think he is. Seriously Donald.. dump. her. ass. It’d also tell you to dump gladstone in a shallow ditch but given your love for hacking through human flesh and his luck I don’t want you to impale yourself. So thus.. Donald stops getting polite and starts getting badass.. shouting THAT’S THE LAST STRAW BEFORE.. .. welll...

Bad. Ass. Also who knew Donald was part Kree? Wait .. how though? Questions for later. So as Donald gives the asshole his RICHELY deserved asshole a beat down, the anaconda pops up and grabs the boat.. with Donald STILL fighting the Chief the whole time. Holy shit. If this is your last time writing a character in a lead role what a note to go out on holy jesus. The cabs however show their CLOSE to as badass with Panchito roping the anconda and Jose attacking it once it curls around.. and unlike last time where his umbrella was quickly disarmed, here the Anaconda eats the tip.. only for Jose to expand it and on Panchito’s command, hook the damn thing. I didn’t relaize till writing this up just HOW badass this story’s climax is.. just holy shit this is awesome incarnate.

Donald ends up loosing the fight eventually as asshole whomps him on the head with the gems.. and sends donald flying, destroying the gate regulating the water thanks to freeing the anaconda. As a result asshole escapes.. for about five seconds till he drops over the falls, presumibly to his MUCH deserved death and even if he surivives, likely wont’ for long without anything to defend himself. Goodbye asshole, you were a good villian but you’ll be better tarantula chow.

Our heroes are still stranded.. but Panchito notices the Anadconda escaping and well... he decides to equal donald in badassery. Again..words do not do this justice.

Our heroes disembark, and find that the tribe has been held at bay by the noble steeds, and as I mentioned earlier, and why despite the frequent use of .. that word i’ve said enough already, this story isn’t too bad. The tribe, once free.. are perfectly intellegent and nice, only in the game because of tradition that asshole abused. Their going to head deeper into the valley on the offchance asshole makes it back so he can’t find them. So the tribe is free and seeing the emblem as the symbol of their opressor and not wanting it, they can likely make a new necklace honestly just without the gems, Panchito gets to keep it. So our heroes won, the adventure is over and our heroes head back to rio

In our final scene we get our wrap up with our heroes back in Rio to enjoy what’s left of their vacation.. which given the scope of events only two days of it have passed so far, so it’s nicely implied they have a day or two before Donald has to go back where he can just.. enjoy himself. Have an actual vacation now his soul is whole again. Our heroes went to the authorities, and it turns out the Chief was one of the most infamous trappers in Brazil, and is now again either dead or in no way shape or form easily able to come back into the country.. and when he does, he’ll now have every officer in the country on his ass.So in short he’s pretty fucked and i’m pretty happy about that. Naturally our heroes dont’ get to keep the mines, because well... it belongs ina museum.. or to become a museum and cultural landmark and the boys know and respect that. But Jose and Panchito both still got something out of the deal: for starters they have their confidence back, as seeing tthey could keep up with donald after realizing what a legend their friend is restored their own weary souls. Meanwhile, Jose’s newfound fame as the man who found a new brazilian cultural touchstone means his agent was able to get him booked up for a year, while Panchito , after consulting with the good senior martenez, decided ot keep the broach, and use it to get their ranch. And Donald? What did he find?

Donald found his smile again. He’s found himself again. After letting life beat him to near death, to just a souless shell. he’s found the real Donald. He’s realized that despite Scrooge’s finaical abuses he lives a rich full life. It’s part of why I compared the story to city slickers. While Donald’s life is far worse off than Billys, like him he finds himself again after the rousing adventure. And who knows what his future holds? Given Scrooge’s grave picture, yes Rosa drew that, he probably does marry daisy and work for the old bat.. but maybe now he can fight back, refuse to let htem walk all over him and actually find a healthy relationship with daisy and with his uncle before his uncle finally retires to Goldie’s loving arms. I could be wrong, it could be same as it ever was just he gets angry again.. but I like to think of something better for our boy. A better life and one more fufilled and more happy and one where he finally finds his pot of gold. He may not of found it yet but well.. there’s always another rainbow and he realizes that now just as his uncle did years ago. Donald is finally whole again to find his hapniess and a better life. Maybe with daisy, maybe with scrooge, maybe without them. Probably without Gladstone because he needs to cut that tumor out of his life, but still, he’s found himself and sometimes that’s all you need to find your purpose. So with that warm thought in my head our heroes play us out one last time. Well not for the restrospective obviously but still.

Final Thoughts; While I do prefer the previous story, on going through this again for the review, I did find this story utterly charming and a great way to send off our boys and Donald for Rosa’s work. While again that one word is very unfortunate and Rosa should’ve known better, otherwise the story is pretty imaculate, using history to build a thrilling story with tons of character and a tremendous arc for Donald. And as I said the villian is excellent and overally the story is pretty great. Maybe held back a bit by the racisim, but the rest of the story is so joyous, badass and well crafted, it’s easy enough to override the less savory aspects. Dosen’t mean they didn’t need to be noted it just means this story is magificent and as usual for Rosa’s work I recommend it.

Next time on the Ride of the Three Cablleros: We go to Disney Juinor for Mickey’s Perfecto Day! ..... whelp at least it’s a short one.

And if you’d like to comission your own review, their just five bucks, jsut direct message me, tell me what you’d like, and I will send you the link on my paypal and get to it asap. Thank you so much for reading and have a happy holiday.

#the three caballeros #donald duck #Jose Carioca #panchito pistoles #don rosa #duck comics #the magnificent seven minus 4 cablleros #the 2000's #comics #reviews #scrooge mcduck #daisy duck #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #gladstone gander

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