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x-0ophelia0-x · 5 months

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what we fight for.

pairing: Force sensitive!Reader x Ezra Bridger

warnings: none, it’s fluff

word count: 937

summary: Lothal was beautiful. You were fighting each day to see the sunset and the sunrise was your reward.

authors note: this is my shortest fic but I just live for sunset ff‘s soo I hope you like these scenarios too 😭

and with that the 5th ff of the december special is online!

enjoyyy <33

There was a longing in every single one of us.

A voice deep down, encouraging us to fight for what we think is right.

Fighting for what our lungs breath for

Fighting for what our hearts beat for to keep us alive.

To keep us alive for a single reason.

Not many were able to fight against the empire, let alone survive long enough.

But here you were, two lost souls, victims of the empires cruelty, victims of their ideal way to conquer the galaxy, to control everything.

The Republic failed and the Empire rose.

They were the rulers now, using fear and cruelty to keep everyone under control.

Using their killing machines to while of every trace of the Jedi.

They wanted them to go extinct, erase every single one of them or turn them into their marionettes.

Yes, the galaxy was a dangerous place, especially in times like these.

And what hurt the most was that not everybody was able to fight against these monsters.

You however were found by Kanan when inquisitors chased you down.

You didn’t know yourself that you were force sensitive, hence why you where so surprised when they appeared at your front door.

You declined their offer and made yourself a target for the empire.

Kanan happened to pass by on that day, seeing how they chased you, instantly realizing what was going on.

He decided to take you under his wing, knowing that you’d be safer with him and Hera then alone and defenseless.

And the same happened with Ezra.

Well he wasn’t defenseless considering how he managed to get in here, but he was alone and Kanan couldn’t let go of him after he found out that he was force sensitive too.

With Lothal being his home planet, it held a very special place in his heart and it saddened him to see how much his home was suffering.

So yes.

No matter how peaceful the scenery may seem.

He‘ll always see the brutality of this instead.

And no matter how hard he tried to reject the possibility of a peaceful moment, you were always there to remind him of what he stood for and what he‘s fighting for.

Lothal.

Lothals sun was sinking, declaring the upcoming nighttime.

Ezra and you where sitting on top of some mountain with a perfect view to the landscape.

There was also a loth cat sitting right next to you, it attacked you at first but Ezra used his Jedi tricks to calm him down.

„How’s the lil guy doing?“

„Seems to be fine“

A slight breeze caught your attention as you moved your gaze to the moving grass fields.

„Moments like this.. they’re priceless“

„But rare“

You looked at him as he slowly turned to look at you.

„No matter how peaceful this may seem, Lothal‘s not free, it’s just a matter of time until the empire decides to also destroy this ackre of land“

„Let’s enjoy the view then, even if it’s just for now“

Ezra took a deep breath and the Loth Cat seemed to notice this as it ran to his side.

It made itself comfortable between you two and decided to take a nap.

„It trusts you“

„Mere minutes ago it tried to kill me“

„Yeah.. tried“

„Well, it’s trusting enough to fall asleep between us two, I don’t think that it’ll try anything funny later on“

He moved his gaze from the cat to the sunset.

„You were right“

„Hm?“

Ezra didn’t talk nor did he show you a direction, he just closed his eyes and let the wind play the rest of the game.

The breeze made you realize what he meant.

„You see it too then?“

„I always did“

„How’s that so?“

Didn’t he always tell you to not give in into this delusional moments?

„Lothal was always beautiful, the empire was the one to destroy it.. however“

He opened his eyes and looked directly at the sinking sun.

„I forgot how nice it was to just sit here and watch the grass fields dance as the sun dips down“

„With all the golden hues“

„And the wildlife continuing it‘s life, as carefree as it could be“

„This.. this right here is worthy every battle we went in“

„And every battle we’ll take“

Your hands found one another, holding them as you continued to enjoy the moment.

„This is the place where I feel alive“

„Let’s continue to defend it then“

„Of corse“

„And..“

„And?“

You pointed at the sky which was full of warm colours as the sun went deeper into the horizon.

„See this?“

You then pointed at the sun.

„And this?“

Ezra nodded waiting for you to continue.

„That’s the light.. the fire we‘re fighting for.

We live on to see another day, to experience another sunset and the upcoming sunrise is our award“

„Since when did you become a poet?“

„Ha ha“

You shared a laugh but tried to not disturb the cat.

„Our next mission is tomorrow“

„Let’s give it our best then“

„Okay Master“

„Hey, at least I‘m trying to bring in some athmosphere in here“

„I know and I appreciate it“

„Glad to know jabba“

„Alright then, let’s raise a nonexistent glas to see another sunrise“

„Yes“

You acted as if you were actually raising your glasses and noticed how the time passed, the sun now completely gone and the night ready to settle in.

„This is what we fight for.“

#ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger x y/n #ezra bridger fanfic #ezra bridger #star wars #star wars rebels

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alinefrank · 3 months

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DRAGON EMBRACE || PETER PEVENSIE FIC.

Chapter 1

Masterlist

The place I come from wasn't always like that.

In ancient days, Narnia was known for its magical charms and its palpable joy that floated in the air like stardust. The creatures met around the fire to dance, and the murmur of spells and laughter filled every corner. Everyone lived peacefully with each other, however, in this paradise, where magic and happiness intertwined, an unexpected darkness came just like a relentless storm.

Jadis, an evil and cruel witch transformed this place and extinguished its splendour. The fire lost its brillance, and the spells that previously danced elegantly were extinguished in muffled whispers. The laughter and music vanished and were replaced by a heavy silence that hung in the air.

Today, the beautiful landscapes that our home offered us, are hidden among all the snow that covers them and carry the scars of a broken magic, the shadows that extend through the ancient valleys seem to tell stories of a past that lies buried in oblivion. Narnia, the magical town that once shone with the light of wonder, is now wrapped in deep sadness and an endless winter.

In the golden age of Narnia, there was a kingdom called Drakarionth, the land where dragons danced in the heavens and the blood of the rulers flowed with the nobility of the Targentia. The majestic winged beasts sailed the heavens, their scales reflected the colours of the twilight, and their roars resounded like echoes of ancestral power.

The rulers of Drakarionth were distinguished by their snow-white hair and deep eyes of an intense purple. His lineage was intertwined with the ancient magic of dragons, and his reign was marked by grace and authority that only the connection with these mythical creatures could grant.

In the halls of the palace, the symbols of the dragons were intertwined with the architecture, and the perpetual flames danced on the torches as a bow to the strength and majesty of the dragons. Every corner of the earth breathed the essence of a kingdom governed by the indissoluble bond between men and winged creatures.

However, the dark evil that hovered over Narnia brought with it shadows that eclipsed even the greatness of Drakarionth. The flame of the dragons burned fiercely, hundreds of Narnians went out to fight against the usurper, the knights of Drakarionth, with resplendent armour and banners waving with the dragon's emblem, bravely launched into battle, one of them was my father. However, the darkness that enveloped the malevolent force was deeper than anyone would have imagined.

Despite the fierce resistance of all those warriors, the evil of that witch proved to be implacable. The lands that were previously prosperous were consumed by the shadow, and the echos of the battle resounded like a lament throughout Narnia. The brave knights fell one after the other, and the hope of the kingdom slowly faded.

Finally, in the decisive battle, the king of Drakarionth, Valeryon Targentia, was defeated in front of his brother's eyes, the king had died and the whole town fell into despair. The kingdom, which once shone with splendour, was plunged into deep sadness while the ice took over everything, leaving behind a melancholy echo of what was once a prosperous kingdom.

The Drakarians fled to the Skoveragon valley guided by the only member of the royal family who was still alive, the prince named Aldric Targentia, he guided them to a place where they could live without fear of the witch discovering them, the remaining Narnians took refuge in the forest, away from the witch's castle.

The sound of war left an indelible mark on the collective memory of the people. The echos of weapons and screams still resonate, leaving the community with emotional scars that are difficult to heal. The normality they knew had vanished and had been replaced by a reality transformed by the cruelty of war.

"Rheira!" my father yelled at me, taking me out of the dream in which I had immersed myself, I sell through the window of our home. "Stop looking at nothing and hurry up or we will be late for the meeting with the Blackthorns.

I let out a sigh full of discomfort and rolled my eyes when I heard the tone my father used, I put on my thick cape to protect myself from the cold and walked towards the door.

My father left a beautiful red envelope on the table where he was sitting that he didn't care about and went to my mother to arrange her cape.

"Are you ready?" my mom asked me and I just nodded and settled my hair a little.

We left the house and started walking towards the beautiful cabin of the family that had invited us to dinner.

"Today, Rheira, is a crucial day for your future. It is imperative that you behave at the height of our responsibilities—I clenched my jaw when listening as once again, I was about to receive a sermon about my behaviour.

My face furrowed in a grimace, without fully understanding my father's insistence, I looked at him with confusion because this attitude had been present for a few days—Father, I have always treated Eamon and his family with respect. Why is this insistence on my behaviour?

My father sighed and rubbed his forehead, my mother squeezed his hand as a sign of support and my confusion grew to one more.

"It's not just respect, Rheira. What your father wants to tell you is that you must be kind and show a conciliatory attitude. Every gesture of yours counts—my mother's voice interrupted my father and tried to explain his way of acting to me.

I frowned until we reached the house, as soon as Mrs. Blackthorn opened the door for us, I smiled as sincerely as possible and tried to forget the growing discomfort that was forming in my stomach.

Upon entering the beautiful home of the Blackthorn family, the torches illuminated a huge table richly decorated with a velvet tablecloth and silver plates. The dinner smelled delicious and the fire was crisp in the fireplace making the interior of the house very warm.

The adults gathered in the kitchen and I stood in front of the fire warming my hands, Eamon sat next to me and didn't say a single word, I didn't know what to say so I just turned a little and watched him amicably.

We heard some steps coming hurriedly towards us and when we saw you want them, we saw the other 4 brothers of Eamon who played with wooden swords.

We heard a scream announcing that we were going to the dining room and I quickly went to the table where the places had already been assigned and again I sat next to Eamon which managed to increase my discomfort.

It's not that I dislike him, he's just too shy, his jet black hair and his red cheeks make him look pretty cute, he's tall and very good with the sword, but the poor man can't formulate a sentence when I'm present, in addition to being quite clumsy to ride on horseback.

I sat next to him and at the other end of the table, I saw my father send me a look that seemed to shout "be kind", I smiled at him and turned to the boy who was sitting next to me and with a friendly smile I looked for his gaze.

"Do you want some bread?" I offered him a slice.

He accepted and that made the conversation between the two a little easier.

Finally, when the empty plates were removed and the glasses were filled with wine, my father and Mr. Blackthorn stood up, attracting everyone's attention.

"Today we meet to celebrate more than just a hearty meal. We are here to witness the union of two houses, two lineages that are intertwined in an alliance that will strengthen our people. - My mother took my hand when Mr. Blackthorn began to speak and I felt as if the blood was freezing.

My eyes and Eamon's met in a moment of mutual understanding.

"It is an honour to announce that in three days, Rheira, my beloved daughter, and Eamon, the brave heir of the Blackthorns, will unite their destinies in marriage," my father announced and collided his cup with my mother's and everyone present while applauding and celebrating.

When my father finished speaking everything seemed to become silent and a modest beep appeared in my ears. I felt that my hands began to tremble and I dropped the cup by mistake. The noise made everyone remain silent and look at me.

"I..." I tried to talk but I felt that my dress was crushing me because of how tight it was, the dark colour of the wine had stained it, I tried to clean it with my hands but I couldn't, I placed my right hand on my stomach, I was dizzy and I wanted to vomit - I need to get some air.

I walked away from the table leaving everyone stunned, Eamon tried to hold my hands but I got out and went to the door.

"Rheira!" My mother yelled at me but I just ignored her and ran home.

I ran as fast as I could on the snow until I reached my home, I opened the door and I felt that everything was spinning around, I leaned on the table where we ate and noticed the envelope my father was reading before leaving home.

Tears had begun to run through my cheeks, but my curiosity was greater and I opened the strange envelope, it was a letter, addressed to my father:

“Honourable Aldric Targentia,

I trust that this letter will reach you in good condition and health. We face again the dark threat that requires the dexterity and courage that only Drakarian warriors possess. The end of Jadis is near. At this critical moment, I implore you to gather the most skilful warriors and blacksmiths, those whose swords have resonated with victory and whose anvils have forged the weapons that have defended our lands in the past. The time to raise the swords and hammers again in Defence of our kingdom has come. I trust in his wisdom and the iron determination that has always guided his people. May the banner of justice and the flame of hope burn strong in their hearts as they march towards battle. We are waiting for you at the stone table, to plan our strategies and light the fire of the resistance. That his spirit does not know fear and that his swords are as sharp as the will of his ancestors.

With respect and gratitude, Oreius.

Commander-in-Chief of the Narnian troops"

Anger invaded me and I felt that my teeth would break because of how hard I was squeezing them. The door of my home opened violently and my mother and father appeared, the latter took me by the arm aggressively and made me face it.

"The only thing I asked you was to behave!" his voice resounded throughout our home, my father's purple eyes reflected pure anger.

I let go of his grip and yelled at him with all my strength—I won't get married out of duty, father! I can't accept this—my voice was full of frustration while my hands trembled with rage.

"It's your duty, Rheira. This alliance is vital for the survival of the people. You can't ignore your responsibility—my father's screams would usually have made me tremble, but I was too angry to remain silent.

The room vibrated with the echo of our fight, the words resonating like swords colliding in the heat of the battle.

"And what about my happiness, father?" And what about my choice in this life? I protested, with my eyes calling for determination and with hundreds of tears sliding down my face.

My father, angry, answered with a harsher tone—You will learn to be happy, you will learn to love Eamond.

The tension reached its peak, and I was unable to contain my anger, I shouted with everything I had—I will not allow you to decide my destiny in this way! I won't marry someone I don't love.

My father's face hardened, and his voice resounded with severity—It's your duty, Rheira! You can't disobey!

"My duty," I spit with sarcasm. "My duty is to get married and yours is to die in a war. Is that your duty, father?

My mother, who had stayed away from our hair, approached my father with a face of fear. What is the Aldric girl talking about?

It seemed that from one moment to the next the words had vanished.

"So you not only hide things from me, but also from my mother, very well," I said giving the letter to my mother to read it.

My father tried to explain the situation to my mother before everything got out of control, but she finished reading it and threw the paper on her face.

"You won't leave," she said resolutely.

"It's my duty," my father's eyes avoided my mother's furious gaze.

"I'm not interested in what your duty is," he said, holding his tears. "Your brother died in front of you at the hands of that witch, I won't give him the opportunity to kill you too.

The three of us were silent for a few seconds.

"I'll go," my parents' eyes landed on me.

"You're crazy if you think I'll let you do it," the tone my mother used made me angry again.

"You prefer that I live unhappy in a marriage with someone I don't love, instead of letting me do what I want," I approached and faced her. "You're really hypocritical.

My cheek burned and the dry blow of my mother's hand against my face resounded throughout the home.

"It's very different," he tried to justify himself.

"You will do what we tell you you will do and in 3 days you will be in Dragonlithos marrying Eamond, whether you like it or not," my father spoke again.

The despair I felt inside me I had never experienced, my heart hurt and my head was spinning.

"Why should I get married?" My tears filled my eyes again. "Do I have to be unhappy for the people to stay together?"

But at that precise moment something clicked inside my head.

"You want to marry Eamond so that he is the future leader of the village," I whispered when everything made sense. "When you die, the one who will govern the town will be him and not me who am your daughter, that's why it must be before you go to war!"

In a chilling moment of despair, my father released the most hurtful words of the whole discussion—If you had only been born a man, you wouldn't have to do this. If you had only been a man I would have named you as my successor from the day you were born, but it was not like that and now I cannot make a woman the guide of our people. That's why you will marry Eamond whether you like it or not and you will lead as your mother does, from your home without getting involved in things that do not correspond to you!

My mother covered her mouth and let out a scream that reflected her surprise.

Completely wounded by the cruelty of words, I responded with bitterness and hatred—I'm very sorry not to be what you expected, father. Maybe if you had died in that skin none of this would have happened and you would not be ruining the lives of everyone you know. But I'm never going to be the heir you wanted and I won't side just because I'm a woman!

My father took me by the arm and dragged me to my room. He threw me against my bed and closed the door without saying a single word.

I don't know how many hours passed, the anger I felt in me didn't diminish, I knew what I had to do and it didn't matter what my father or mother thought.

I took a small bag that I used when I went on expeditions with my father and filled it with some dresses, I put on my armour and the sword I had received at 5 as a birthday gift. Once ready, I opened the door with the help of a small knife and went to the front door, Aslan's letter was still on the ground, I picked it up and kept it to get out of there and go for a horse.

I rode my mare and started riding leaving my home and my family behind. I didn't know if I would come back and that caused my already broken heart to break a little more. I would ride north in search of Aslan's camp. I don't know how many days it would take, but if I kept the pace I was carrying maybe I would be there in 3 days.

With the wind caressing my hair and the sun as a witness to my rebellion, advance into the unknown. Leaving behind my father's impositions and the weight of expectations.

The darkness was not terrifying, but it was a mantle that enveloped me in freedom. I closed my eyes for a moment, savouring the sweet feeling of emancipation.

I felt alive, as if every step marked the release of a past version of myself. The first rays of the sun illuminated my path and guided me to a future that would be sculpted by my own decisions.

The snow I stepped on became a map of possibilities, and each breath was a reminder that I was now the owner of my own destiny.

COMMENT, LIKE AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE. LET ME READ YOUR OPINIONS.

#peter pevensie #narnia #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #rhaenyra targaryen #original character #aslan #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #original content #peter Pevensie x reader #alinefrank

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evesaintyves · 2 years

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If Lupin and Tonks had survived the battle do you think their relationship would’ve lasted

i love this question. this isn't something that gets much discussion within the remadora fandom.

i lean toward no. i think lupin and tonks would have had a very difficult time of it after the war for a lot of reasons.

it's hard to say exactly what the political/legal/social landscape would have looked like in the first few years after the battle of hogwarts, but i think it's reasonable to think that even if the legal status of werewolves changed immediately (doubtful), their position in society would be much slower to shift. (it's worth pointing out, because in lupin-centric fics it usually gets glossed over, that it makes sense to be afraid of werewolves! werewolves are dangerous!) so, after the war, lupin is likely still unemployable and kind of a pariah. it's likely that tonks will have lost friends over it, and would be treated differently at work and in any social spaces where people know who her husband is. probably also very difficult for lupin to participate in the public/social aspects of parenting, and school-age teddy is likely to see social fallout from this, too.

those things alone are a huge strain on a relationship, and then there's the fact that lupin is likely to continue agonizing and self-destructing over them. everything he feared their relationship would mean for tonks & teddy is still going to be true. lupin is deeply traumatized and has a ton of maladaptive behaviors toward other people that are clearly evident in canon (manipulativeness, dishonesty, keeping people at a distance, bottling his emotions - and this is the tip of the iceberg that's visible in the books, you can certainly extrapolate a lot more) and i think it's unrealistic to imagine that his epiphany in the last book changed all of this. dude needs therapy, probably a lot of it. being in a relationship with lupin would fucking suck.

meanwhile, tonks is quite young, and canon suggests she has idealistic views about love. she's experienced a huge amount of change in her society, her career and her personal life in a very short time, she's definitely traumatized as well, she's got a baby, she's probably the sole breadwinner, AND she's got all of lupin's issues—psychological and social and health and supernatural issues—to deal with. that is a LOT. sooner or later, once all the big feelings of a new relationship start to die down, staying together is going to be a ton of hard, ugly work for both of them. even healthy partnerships would struggle to survive stuff like this—and i don't think lupin and tonks' relationship seems particularly healthy.

divorce isn't really ever mentioned in hp canon, so who knows what options lupin and tonks would feel like they had, but if they did stay together i feel like they'd be in for some very unhappy times.

i should say, and i think this is evident in my work, that the doomedness of lupin and tonks' relationship is one of my favorite things about it. as much as i like them as characters and feel very real huge feelings about the way things went for them, i wouldn't change the fact that they died, nor do i really enjoy imagining a happy ending for them. the brevity and irony and cruelty and mistakes and regrets and wasted time, and the crater of grief they would have left in the lives of the people who loved them, are all part of what makes their little window of time together fascinating to explore.

that said, don't think it would have been such a tragedy if they made it through the war and broke up. especially if they could still amicably co-parent and move on with their lives. sometimes a relationship is beautiful and special and important and worthwhile, and then it runs its course and ends. most relationships are not lifelong relationships. i don't regret the time i spent with people i used to love, nor do i wish i'd stayed in the relationships that fell apart. sometimes people give each other a few years of love and joy and that's enough. remadora, as a story, is a great reminder to savor what you have, and make peace with the things you don't, because right now might be all there is for you.

#remadora #hp meta #hp headcanon #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #lupin x tonks #remus x tonks #tonks x lupin

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riddler-green · 1 year

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-Milagro Navideño-

Summary: The one where you want to celebrate Christmas with Edward no matter what, even if you have to get him out of Arkham.

a/n: Hello!! I hope you have a very good Christmas and get everything you asked for! I hope you have a great time with your loved ones, anyway, enjoy! And an apology for the spelling mistakes.

Warnings: This fic is darker than what I usually write, with toxic attitudes, graphic violence, and kisses but nothing obscene, fluff!

Words: 3,370.

The darkness of the night seeps into your apartment or rather Edward's apartment, which right now is your happy place as you've tried to survive every day. After all, your boyfriend is no longer with you, he is locked up in that asylum with such dangerous people that it is a miracle that he is still alive.

Does he deserve it? Maybe yes, but still you can't stop looking at him with the same affection, adore him as he always did with you, you didn't care if he deserved it, you just want him back with you, that he be next to you saying his funny riddles to improve your spirit, that he will be with you for lunch in the afternoon and tell you a curious fact that you did not know.

“He was unhinged!” a friend of yours yelled at you with great hate in his words that you cried, of course, he is, he is unhinged but apparently, you absorbed a bit of his madness because whatever happens, it is impossible for you to get over it.

He confessed everything to you a few hours before he was caught, how he softly whispered to you to escape to Blüdhaven so you wouldn't drown, at first you didn't believe him, you just laughed, but when he gave you a backpack packed with what you needed you knew he was talking more than seriously.

You begged him to stay with you, you didn't want him to be alone "Let them lock us both up! But I can't leave you!" you hugged him tightly so he wouldn't escape from your arms.

But he's so smart, isn't he? he convinced you to run away without him, you don't deserve this outcome, even if you told him to run away together, but he shook his head and replied "I've been preparing this so much that it must turn out perfect, I'm a decoy, I'm the bait so they don't solve the riddle in time."

You saw the whole festival of cruelty orchestrated by your Riddler from afar, you didn't know it would be so destructive, when he said it would drown the whole city it wasn't a metaphor.

Things got worse for you, but for Gotham, it's like the Riddler never existed, Batman leading the cleanup of the city happened so fast that in just under a month, the city was as good as new, while you can barely eat or sleep.

Even Batman himself visited you several times, he wanted to meet the partner of the cause of all this disaster, only he and a select group of police know who you are, but there is no proof that you were an accomplice so they left you alone.

But Batman, he had the time to judge you, to get to know you a bit, he interrogated you several times and when he found nothing suspicious, he left without coming back.

They let you see him after so long that you no longer remembered how his voice was heard, you ran at full speed when they called you since he wanted to see you.

Your face was so swollen with tears that they wouldn't stop coming out, it was so unfair to see him, but not touch him, you admired him from the glass and he spoke to you in a corny tone that you almost fainted.

Going back to the present, they only let you see him once a week and it seems torture to see him for an hour, but you're already getting impatient, an hour was no longer enough.

This is why you turned to your boyfriend's entourage, who to your surprise still exists, albeit with less exposure than they had when Edward was still free, you talked to them enough for everyone to start planning their escape of the year.

Edward looked at the landscape of the city from his small window, there was not much he could do locked up in his cell, but he managed to see the decorative pine trees throughout the city and that makes him sadder, today on December 24th and he is still locked up, excluded and forgotten by others. He thinks of you, in a different reality in which he would have escaped with you, all these weeks that he spent without you took their toll, he definitely should have left that day, he stopped looking at the window and sat on his bed, once again taking refuge in his mind, his memories are gold in the moments when he can't even breathe, why does he remember you, come back and remember everything they did together, how he was so happy.

“Nashton! You have visitors!” one of the guards takes him out of his cell carelessly putting handcuffs on his wrists and one around his neck, he dragged him towards the small meeting room, it doesn't matter that the guard's abruptness leaves him bruises, today you visit him making it worth it the treatment they give him every time he goes out.

He enters and sits in the metal chair like every time you come to see him, the metal partition goes up, and the first thing he sees is you with a Christmas hat on “Darling!” he tells you putting his hands on the glass to imagine that he is touching your skin. “Eddie” you greet him by placing your hands in the same part where his hands are, so close and so far from actually touching “Merry Christmas!”.

“Merry Christmas” he smiles but you notice that it doesn't reach his eyes and his tone is not as lively as yours and you understand, he thinks he will spend tonight alone. “How have you been?” He quickly changes the subject with an innocent question “Did you sleep well? Have you eaten yet?”.

You nodded your head very happily “yep! I've slept well” you answer “Actually, lately I've been in a better mood” Edward sees an improvement in you, as you don't look as unkempt as the previous times you visit him, and even though he doesn't spend this day with you as he would like to bite his tongue and ask “really?” he is interested in what you have to say “What makes you so happy, my love?”.

“You” you answer with a playful tone, Edward smiles amused “Me?” he points to himself following up on the tender moment between the two of you.

You don't say anything, instead, you just look at him with great affection, it wasn't too long before the real party started. “Eddie, I brought you something,” you say, putting a not-so-large gift box, with green and red decorations and wrapped with a black ribbon. your boyfriend is instantly impressed by the gift, even when he was free, never someone gave him something, not even when he was little, he could easily burst into tears but he stays strong for you, he doesn't want to worry you.

“You shouldn't have done it,” he comments modestly, still looking at the box. “Well, it's our first Christmas together so I want to give you a detail” you press a small red button placed next to the window that separates them, emitting a noise after a few seconds, a small hatch on the window opens and you pass the gift to Edward but not before touching his hand and shaking it tightly, you sighed with love for the contact and Edward giggles just as happy for the little contact, they didn't last long holding hands, since the gate closed again causing that You frown, they won't even let me hold his hand? you think with disgust.

Edward adjusts his glasses, getting used to doing it in handcuffs. "What is it?" his curiosity consumes him, anything you give him, he would love without a doubt, a puzzle? a book? other glasses? there are millions of possibilities “A bomb?” he jokes, shaking the box a little, you laugh, already used to his strange sense of humor. “You'll have to open it to find out what it is.”

The brown-haired man does not wait a second and rips the decorated paper, removes the tape and opens the box with such excitement, removes the excess confetti placed to fill, and takes out his gift “A Rubik's cube?” he asks in amazement, in his hands, he has a 4x4 Rubik's cube, such an ordinary cube of all the infinity that there is to solve, but that does not stop him being amazed by the gift, the object was fascinated that he did not realize that it began to cry “do you like it?” you looked at his tears coming out of his eyes “It's beautiful, thank you very much” he thanks placing the cube on his chest “It's the best gift in the world”.

“And I'm still missing more presents!” you confess matter-of-factly “What are you talking about? this is enough for me!” Edward assures but you shake your head “You told me you never got presents for Christmas, I can't help but spoil you.”

Your partner dries his tears turning red because of what you said, he turns to the camera placed on one of the walls and is more embarrassed, he always liked how expressive you are when it comes to showing off the relationship, but now it is different, he does not want that others are present in your most intimate moments, it is like stalking his privacy.

"Besides, that cube is special" you speak but with a certain insightful tone of voice "it is unique because it has a meaning that only you can know".

Edward turns to see you with wide eyes, he knows that look you give him, it's the same when you gave him riddles to solve, he opens his mouth but doesn't say anything, he puts his attention on the cube and the light bulb in his head goes on.

“I understand, my love” he answers trying to sound calm “I'll try to solve it as quickly as possible” he takes a closer look at the cube but doesn't find any anomalies.

“Don't worry Eddie” at the nickname Edward smiles looking away from the cube “It's easy to solve, you could easily solve it today” you wink and Edward swallowed, he has no idea what you're planning but he likes it.

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You looked at the man in front of you, with his face painted white and with blue and red details, a full clown makeup, the others next to him had the same pigments put on their faces, the Joker's clowns, you joke in your Mind, at first glance they seemed ridiculous, but you know that you should not underestimate them in the slightest.

He didn't say a word, instead, he made several signals and you nodded, the positions are ready, and everyone is prepared, it was just a matter of the clock striking twelve.

You just hope that everything goes well.

You look at your company next to you, preparing their arsenal, putting more ammunition in backpacks and you look away at the situation, it is clear that what they were going to do was anything but legal, but at this point, you are not interested in the lengths you have reached for Eddie to finally enjoy a Christmas.

You remember the plan again, everything has to be perfect at every step, this day is a great opportunity to make the escape that you have worked so hard to plan, you look up to see the signal in the dark sky as if it were a divine sign projected for criminals to run, honestly, you are not afraid of Arkham guards, or insane prisoners, or even Gotham police. It's that man in the bat suit who put Eddie away from you, is the one that scares you the most.

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When your visit ended, Edward dedicated himself to solving his gift, it took him less than two minutes to see that the cube's mechanisms were broken, and when he disassembled the object he looked at a very small note hidden in the core of the cube, he laughed softly, he solved your riddle and that makes him happier than ever.

He removed the folded sheet from the core and spread it out to read its contents.

/ … . . / -.-- --- ..- / .- - / - .-- . .-.. …- . -….- / --. . - / .-. . .- -.. -.-- /

Oh, how funny you can be, it's like you know him too well to trust him to know that code, it's like he falls in love with you all over again.

He exhales lovingly, it looks like he's in for a fucking Christmas miracle.

Since his discovery he waited patiently in his cell, he didn't know what time it was since he didn't have a watch but based on the sun, it will be dark soon.

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Edward jumped in fright when he heard a loud noise, that of an explosion, he got up to stick to the door, looking through the window at what was happening. It was you, right?

He heard something start to play through the amplifiers in the rooms, a classic Christmas song but he doesn't know its name, he saw the guard on duty running towards the entrance door to the cell section but before he could go any further he collapsed on the floor. A pool of blood formed across his stomach and he screamed in pain, Edward stared at the lying man, he didn't look at him compassionately, this hospital treated him so horribly that he doesn't care about the injured man, forgetting him and going back to Focusing on you, he thought it was going to be a silent escape, not a complete riot to the entire compound, he kept looking at the entrance hoping you would get to him.

“Hahaha!” his cell neighbor laughs, Edward notices it and he can't help but not laugh either, this situation is chaotic, wandering, as unreal as an action movie and that makes him start laughing with the criminal clown he has considered his friend.

“Did you help?” he asks between laughs, he has the intuition that he already knew about this. What else can be done in this situation? The joker in this prison didn't respond for several minutes until he got tired of laughing. “Your darling couldn't do it alone” the joker commented with a raspy voice, Edward tenses up when the clown mentions you, when did you make an alliance with the joker? You impress him more and more.

“Please, please” plead with a murmur sticking his face to the window, when will you arrive?

He heard a noise at the entrance again, someone entered, he look at the person who entered the section, and instead of seeing you he meets himself, a Riddler.

But he knows who's behind that suit, it's you.

Why does Edward know? If you were one of his followers the outfit would be different, but what you're wearing is his outfit, the original outfit he wore when he did all his misdeeds, you're even wearing plastic covering your head, Edward winces at the fact, this is definitely his best Christmas.

“Darling!” yells at you “I am here!” knock on the window calling your attention “Eddie!” you yell back, before approaching his door you grab the body of the wounded guard and drag him towards Edward's cell, you abruptly place his hand on the fingerprint reader and the door opens, the first thing Edward does is jump towards you hugging you.

“God, I missed this,” he said feeling the fabric of his old uniform, you loved every second of the hug but it wasn't the time for that “I missed seeing you too, but we have to go” you remind him already taking him out of his cell section.

He and you ran all over the hospital, everything was completely out of control, there was a fire in various sectors, and the patients were running with happiness fleeing everywhere, Edward could compare it to hell, a memorable hell in which he is winning and escaping.

You led him to some exit stairs, and as he ran he saw other people dressed in unique green uniforms causing havoc, he didn't have a moment to greet them as you rushed him out, he left through a service door and kept running by your side.

Edward could vomit at any moment, he's never had the physical frame to run so fast, and he breathed heavily against a scratchy brick wall.

He only repeats himself happily in his mind <I made it, I made it, I made it> he is free, his escape happened so quickly that he still processes that he is no longer in Arkham, but out in the open.

“That was…” he breathed and exhaled "awesome..." he finished his sentence wiping the sweat with a sleeve of his shirt "Yes, it was agitated," you say, recovering air, you take off your mask, revealing your face and Edward approaches you to kiss you. The two share the kiss with such euphoria, there is no longer something that separates them, unfortunately, the escape is not over yet.

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You drive leisurely on the exit road to Gotham City, a place you probably won't be back from for a long time, the plan worked perfectly, Edddie fell asleep in the passenger seat in a new change, throwing off his striped uniform orange.

You look in one of the rearview mirrors looking for policemen or Batman, but you couldn't find anyone, maybe because they must be so busy taking care of the clown.

But in the meantime, you enjoy the quiet moment, relax with the landscape of the route and listen to classic Christmas carols.

Edward wakes up from his dream, opens his eyes, and watches you driving “Where are we going?” he asks sleepily, wrapping himself up in a soft sheet against the cold “To a place where they won't find us” you answer without taking your eyes off the highway “Go back to sleep Eddie, we haven't reached our destination yet” Edward yawns “Did he follow us?” he asks fearfully.

“No, I took care of that,” you say, “I took all the precautions to cover our tracks.” Edward smiles sleepily to settle back into his sleeping position in his seat, he fully trusts you, so for now he will rest again.

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It's very cold, it's a fact, it's so cold that when you got out of the car you used to escape, the cold air hit you, while Edward's glasses fogged up. “It's pretty,” says your boyfriend, looking at the cabin, already stuck in one of your arms. “It'll be our home for now,” you comment walking towards the entrance, Edward following behind you.

Inside you take off the layers of clothes you were wearing to leave only a thin sweater, Edward sits on one of the sofas and looks around the cabin, he smiles unconsciously when you named this place 'Our home' he never thought he would have someone who would love him it so much to include it in a home.

“I still can't believe it,” Edward starts talking, still sitting up, “Believe what, Eddie?” you question him putting pieces of wood in the fireplace. “That you rescue me” notes the little one a small Christmas pine in the corner of the room, under the pine there were unopened gift bags.

“And let you spend Christmas alone?” a small flame starts to emerge from one of the wooden logs “I don't want you to be alone again” you confess making sure the logs were burning.

You leave the fireplace to sit next to Eddie, already opening your arms to hug him “It won't be easy Eddie” you whisper putting your head on his shoulder “But every second I spend with you I know I did the right thing.”

Edward doesn't know what to say, but he understands that the love you have for him has no limits as much as he loves you, just like that, curled up in your arms, he comes to the conclusion that the best Christmas present he could have been given is staying with you again

“Merry Christmas…” he murmurs with deep affection, contrary to the time he told you in Arkham. “Merry Christmas” you smile closing your eyes, you could die of happiness.

✧˖°. Thank you very much for reading. And again, an apologies for any errors! ✧˖°.

#the riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #dano riddler x reader #feliznavidaddd

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davnittbraes · 11 months

Text

The Fifth Step - Chapter Thirty-Six

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this chapter but series as a whole)

Word Count: 3100

Warnings, etc.: introspection, dangerous situations, a little bit of discrimination, strong emotions I guess?, hints at animal cruelty but NONE GET HURT I PROMISE, some new OCs make an appearance

Notes: Okay I actually split this chapter up into two, because a) there’s there’s only a sort of epilogue left and then this fic is finished 😭😭😭 and b) I only have one more opportunity to torture you guys with a cliffhanger 🤣😉

PS thank you for your patience with me, I needed that extra week to come to terms with this fic being almost complete. The messages and comments I received when I posted I was struggling honestly gave me the boost I needed. Love you babes 🥰

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

The clearing on the dwarf planet is much the same, the only difference being the air is a little cooler, the pale blue foliage lightened to an almost-white, the climate in this part of the world obviously shifting to a cooler season.

It’s just after midday, the sun beaming down into the trees, dappling the forest floor. You take a deep breath, let your lungs fill with the fresh, unfiltered air, a sense of contentment swirling gently under your ribs.

You’d missed this place.

Which is… weird. You don’t miss a lot of places, generally putting them behind you as soon as you take the next step.

But there’s something about this little planet, this forest.

Like there’s something about Savareen, despite your attempt to leave it behind. Like Nevarro.

Those are places where you discovered a part of yourself - no, more like allowed a part of yourself to show.

A part of you that lets other people in.

Lets yourself to be happy.

The kid babbles as he floats to a stop next to you in his pod, big ears perked in interest, those deep, amber eyes watching the breeze flicker through the pale leaves of the trees at the edge of the clearing.

He’s obviously itching to get out and play, roam through the grass and explore the forest floor. You get it, that same itch is tingling in your own fingertips, so rarely do you get to spend time on a planet with a climate this comfortable and a landscape this beautiful.

Reaching out, you gently stroke the curve of one ear in apology, smiling as those big eyes turn to look up at you. “Maybe later, ok, kiddo?”

The kid mumbles softly, a hint of disappointment dragging down the tips of his ears.

Din taps a command on his vambrace, helmet turning as he surveys the tree line with some kind of filter on his visor. “Couple of your friends are here.”

A branch in the nearest tree suddenly dips as if dragged down by a weight, but you can’t see anything at the end of it, the creature camouflaged against the leaves. “Well, hopefully they remember that we are friends.”

The helmet tilts. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The tree branch dips again before springing back into place, and a curl of uncertainty takes hold in the pit of your stomach. “If you’re trying to be reassuring, try harder.”

A pause. “I have faith that if those tree-dwellers decide to murder us, you’ll convince them otherwise.”

You throw him a narrow look as you start toward the trees. “And you call me ‘mir’sheb.’”

His soft huff of laughter makes you smile, remembering the way his eyes - those beautiful eyes - crinkle at the corners when he laughs.

Kriff.

You know that.

You know what his face looks like when he smiles.

You’d never thought… never dared to think you would ever hold that knowledge. Something so sacred.

Well. You never thought you’d get married, either.

Everything is different with you.

Dank farrik, is it ever.

Din walks beside you, strides steady and sure, his aura of quiet confidence emanating from his tall, broad frame. The sunlight plays over his beskar as he passes beneath the trees, flashes of bright and shadow, and a memory surfaces -

A mountain in the Bakuran countryside. A different planet, different trees.

Different you, in a lot of ways.

The same glance of light on armour, same sharp slice of black through silver hiding a gaze so focused you can always feel it, even when it’s hidden.

A gaze you were afraid of, then. But one you now cherish.

One you now love.

So much has changed since that moment. You were afraid - of him, of everything - and alone, so alone you couldn’t even see it, couldn’t know what it was like to not feel solitary, single. Detached.

Everything is different with you.

Now you’re walking beside him, a gentle pulsing thread of connection woven tight around your heart, tying you to him and the little green child beside him.

No longer alone.

Part of them. A family.

An aliit.

The tree-dwellers keep their distance, though the scurrying of tiny clawed feet in the branches above tells you they’re sticking close. You follow your instinct more than anything, picking a path through the trees that feels right more than it does familiar. Din seems to trust you to find the way, so you trust yourself.

Based on what you’d figured out back at Greef’s, the canyon you’d stumbled upon last time you were here is a potential location for Mandalorians trying to stay off the grid. But it doesn’t mean it’s the only one - they could be anywhere on this planet, or not here at all.

A twinge of uncertainty twists your stomach.

What if they are here?

You want to find Din’s people. That, you’re sure of - his loyalty to his people is an important part of who he is, and you know it pains him, not knowing where they are, if they’re safe.

It’s made worse by the guilt he holds over how he left them. He blames himself for their decision to come out of hiding to rescue him and the kid.

Unfounded blame, as far as you’re concerned. They made the choice, he shouldn’t have to carry the weight of the consequences.

But what if they feel differently?

You don’t understand the nuances of his culture - you’re learning, slowly, but still, you’re not Mandalorian.

Maybe… they do blame him.

And if they do, then how will they greet him once he finds them again?

The trees begin to thin out just ahead, and you stop, pointing toward the glimpse of white stone cliffs in the distance peeking through the branches. “That’s the canyon, there.”

Din keys a command on his vambrace, untethering the kid’s pod. “Stay here.”

He starts toward the edge of the forest, long legs eating up the distance, and you have to forcibly pull your focus from admiring the way his cowl flares out from those ridiculously broad shoulders, hem catching in the breeze, giving you glimpses of those strong thighs -

Not the time.

You sweep your gaze through the trees around you, watching his back while he carefully moves into the open area above the canyon, sticking close to trees to avoid the sunlight.

Cautious of giving away his position.

So he’s not sure what to expect if he finds his people, either.

The kid coos softly, a note of concern in his tiny voice, and you give him a reassuring smile. “It’s ok, kiddo. He’ll be safe.”

A sudden skittering above your head yanks your heart into your throat.

Branches tremble as the tree-dwellers who had been following you take off at a sprint, flashes of grey fur showing through the leaves.

Your blaster is in your hand before you can even think about it, instincts flaring out, searching for the source of whatever spooked them -

“Drop the blaster.”

The unfamiliar modulated voice behind you sends a cold rush of fear down your spine.

A flash of light -

Din, at the edge of the trees, standing out in the open.

With another Mandalorian, wearing blue armour.

And holding a blaster, pointed at Din.

Dank farrik.

They’re too far away for you to hear if they’re speaking, but the other Mandalorian gestures in your direction with his blaster, and Din shifts, as if he wants to take a step toward you.

“Drop the blaster.”

The voice behind you speaks again, firmer this time, words clipped with impatience.

A tiny whine drifts up from the pod beside you.

The kid.

Goosebumps ripple over your entire body. Your heart pounds against your ribs so hard it hurts.

Calm. Focus. Control.

Deep breath. Reduce the danger. Keep the kid safe.

Slowly, you flick on your blaster’s safety and let it fall to the ground.

Din does take a step toward you then, and the Mandalorian holding him at blasterpoint shouts something loud enough for you to hear but not quite make out.

It’s not friendly, you can tell that much.

Quiet steps move around from behind you, barely making a sound.

Must be a Mandalorian thing.

He steps into your line of sight, and your gaze flits over the end of his blaster, noting the second blaster at his hip, the two knives in his boots, the row of charges and flashbangs along his belt.

Armed to the teeth. Another Mandalorian thing, apparently.

For a moment your mind blanks, confusion twisting, seeing the familiar shapes of the Mandalorian armour but not familiar at the same time. His armour isn’t bare like Din’s, it’s painted a dark grey, some kind of geometric symbol outlined in gold on his pauldrons.

A clan sigil, like the mudhorn.

The Mandalorian levels his blaster at your head, his voice level and sure. “Don’t move.”

You fight the urge to raise an eyebrow at him. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He stills, as if surprised by your response, but then a movement at the edge of the forest grabs your focus - Din coming toward you, the other Mandalorian close behind him, blaster back in his holster.

Relief floods your chest, quickly dissipating before it can take hold.

There’s still a blaster pointed at you.

The other Mandalorian calls out as they approach, something in Mando’a. The one holding you at blasterpoint responds, but doesn’t move.

Din’s familiar rasp cuts through the shrinking distance, Mando’a words sharp and biting and heavy with threat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, ready to fight or run or whatever it needs to do next.

Protect the kid. Keep him safe.

The moment draws out.

You wait.

Something shifts and the Mandalorian in grey armour moves.

Lowers the blaster to point at the ground.

You release your breath, one you didn’t realize you were holding.

Then Din is there, stepping between you and the other Mandalorians, every line of his frame drawn tight. He doesn’t turn away from them, speaking to you over his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

You pick up your blaster and pitch your voice low, even though the other Mandalorians are still close enough to hear. The tension in the air is so thick it’s feels like even a loud sound would make it snap. “Yes, we’re fine. What’s going on?”

His shoulders shift uncomfortably. “They’re from my covert.”

A little thrill of success runs through you, but something is still off. Why are they acting so defensively, if they know Din?

“They’re demanding that we leave this planet immediately.”

There’s an undertone of hurt in his voice that makes your fists clench at your sides.

After he’s been searching for them for so long, holding so much guilt about how he left them, he finally finds them and they want to send him away?

Anger bubbles up, replacing panic. “Even though you’re one of them?”

The Mandalorian in grey speaks up suddenly. “But you’re not.”

Realization drops in the pit of your stomach.

A million emotions hit you all at once.

You knew it.

You knew this would happen. That his people wouldn’t accept you.

This is what you feared most.

That they would make him choose between his people and you.

Anger shifts to rage, guilt claws at the inside of your chest, helplessness trembles down your back -

The edges of your vision dim, too much -

Calm. Focus. Control.

Ok.

They don’t trust you.

That’s fine, you can understand why. They’re protecting their people, a people broken and scattered across the galaxy.

But Din is one of them. It’s not fair that they’re willing to turn their backs on him just because of you.

You’re not going to let them, if you can help it.

You look at the Mandalorian in grey, forcing your voice to stay steady despite the torrent of emotion still boiling in your veins. “If I returned to the ship, would you at least speak with him?”

Din shifts and you sense what he’s about to say - he’ll reject the idea, you know it - so you reach out, grasp his arm just below his pauldron, the one with his sigil emblazoned on it. A silent plea to let you do this for him.

He stays silent, but you can feel the tension running through him under your hand.

The Mandalorian in blue replies. “This is acceptable.”

You barely have time to process what he said before the one in grey cuts in.

“And the child.”

The chaos of emotion shifts, anger slips out. “Really? He’s a kid, not a threat.”

“Every outsider is a threat.”

Point that blaster at me again and I’ll show you who’s the real threat.

You have to physically bite your tongue from saying that out loud, giving yourself a moment to calm your anger before speaking. “Fine. We’ll both go back to the ship.”

“Not alone. I go with you.”

Dank farrik, you really don’t like this guy. “Fine.”

Din looks back at you. “Tionas -“

“It’s ok.” You squeeze his arm reassuringly. “We’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re done.”

He pauses, and you can feel him warring with himself, the pull of speaking with his people and learning how they fare, reconnecting with those who know that part of him, against wanting to trust you, respect your decision, but worrying for your safety.

You smile at him, a small curve of your lips. “This is what we’ve been searching for, all this time. Go. Me and the kid will be fine. We can handle being stuck with Cranky Pants for a while.”

A sigh vibrates through his modulator, and he turns to face you fully, cupping your face in his hands to hold you steady as he tilts his helmet to rest his forehead against yours. “Be safe. Stay out of trouble.”

Your smile grows, hearing the gentle warning tease. Yeah, it’ll be tough, holding your tongue around the other Mandalorian. “It’s what I do best.”

His huff of laughter isn’t as light as it usually is, but you’ll take it anyway.

He pulls away, looking down at the kid. “You, too.”

The kid babbles back at him, a picture of pure innocence.

Din playfully tweaks the tip of his ear, then turns to face the Mandalorian in grey, that aura of quiet confidence seeping into the air around him. There’s a moment, a pause heavy with meaning, then he speaks, voice low but clear.

“She is my wife, and he is like a son to me. If you hurt them in any way, I will kill you.”

Crikking hells.

Something hot and fiery surges through your body, amplified by the anger still simmering under the surface.

His voice so factual, stating the unshakeable truth.

Staking his claim over you and the kid with a threat to harm should harm come to you.

Pfassk, you would fight the entire galaxy for this man.

The Mandalorian in grey nods once, a stiff motion that tells you he didn’t really want to.

Wrangling your emotions back into line, you grab the rim of the kid’s pod. “Let’s go wait at the ship, buddy.”

A final silent exchange with Din, then you’re turning back the way you came, striding quickly through the trees, guiding the kid’s pod along behind you.

A second set of steps follows you, but you refuse to acknowledge the Mandalorian. If he wants to keep an eye on you, fine, but you’re too furious with how they treated Din to play nice right now.

Thankfully, the Mandalorian doesn’t seem interested in acknowledging you either.

The walk is good for you, tension bleeding out of your muscles with the push and pull of the movement. Still, you’re almost back to the ship by the time you can breathe normally again.

Anger still boils hot through your veins but it’s quiet for now, calmed by the beauty of the forest around you, focused on keeping the kid safe.

You’ll be fine. Just get to the Razor Crest, lock yourself inside and ignore the dark grey wall of infuriating armour.

A familiar skittering above your head makes you glance up, and the kid coos happily as one of the tree-dwellers pops into view, big blue eyes bright against the pale leaves.

There’s a rustle of motion beside you, a flash of metal in a small beam of sunlight coming through the trees -

A blaster -

You shove the kid behind you, whirling to face the Mandalorian.

He’s holding his blaster, but not pointed at you or the kid, up at the -

“Stop!” Your hand flies out but he’s too far away, you can’t -

The tree-dweller scurries away to safety, the blaster lowers.

Points at you.

But you don’t care, anger hot and suffocating in your chest. “What is wrong with you? It’s just an animal, it didn’t do anything.”

The Mandalorian stiffens. “They’re pests. They ruined our supplies when we landed here.”

You scoff. “Then you should have protected them better.”

He takes a step toward you, blaster lowering but still directed at you. “It was all the food we could bring with us. The covert nearly starved.”

“Then you really should have protected them better.”

“You know nothing.” His voice drops to a hiss, cracking through the modulator. “Nothing of what we went through. The lives we lost. Our home, gone. All thanks to your riduur.”

You don’t know what the last word means but you can guess.

Your rage cracks open.

There’s a blur of grey in front of your eyes - you’ve stepped right up to him, in his space, your hand gripping the wrist that’s holding his blaster and pointing it away while your words fly sharp through the air.

“He lost everything, too. His home. His people. Because he did the right thing, rescuing the kid.”

“He took the bounty in the first place. He chose to work for Imperials -“

“For his people. For you.” Throwing his arm away in disgust, you find the gaze behind the black visor. “He went against everything he is to get back beskar that the Empire stole from your people. And he did it again, broke his oath to the Guild to save the kid’s life. So don’t you dare try to say he hasn’t suffered as much as you.”

The kid cries out in distress, a sound that stops your heart, rips your focus away from the Mandalorian.

What -

He’s standing in his pod, looking into the distance, ears drooping.

Your gaze follows his, searching -

There, through the trees -

The sun glancing off durasteel, the Razor Crest -

But why -

A flash of white. Another.

Movement all throughout the clearing, dozens of people.

Your stomach drops. Anger dissolves in a cold rush of fear.

Not just any people.

Stormtroopers.

*****

Mando’a translations

Tionas - question

Riduur - spouse

*****

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#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #mando x you #the world is light embodied #TWILE

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youichi-kuramochi · 1 year

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FIC: landscape after cruelty

by viverella / @youichi-kuramochi Fandom: Genshin Impact Relationship: Zhongli/Xiao Rating: Mature Word count: approx. 8.7k Summary: “I’m thinking of constructing a new abode,” Zhongli says after some consideration, careful enunciation around each syllable like something precious. “Away from Liyue Harbor. Somewhere quiet to retreat to.” He leans an elbow against the tabletop, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, and considers Xiao thoughtfully for a long moment. “Tell me, Xiao. What kind of a place would you like to live in?” (What it takes to build a home.)

written for @zhongxiaoexchange for @/chouriner_ (on twt)

[ READ @ AO3 ]

#genshin impact #zhongli #xiao #zhongxiao #xiaozhong #genshin #genshin fic #*#gi*#fic*#wah surprise!!!! it's me!!!! (the crowd feigns gasps)#I feel like u could tell from the siken quote and the Soft but who knows #anyway channeled every soft bone in my body to write this it's so stupid sweet #like literally rot your teeth sweet lmfao #pls check it out!!!!!!

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thebookworm0001 · 1 year

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21 for the vague angst prompt and for whoever speaks to you most (Solas??) 🥰

Hi I immediately knew what to do with this have a scene set at the end of my post-trespasser long fic after Ellana uses the stolen/gifted power of a forgotten one to win a fight against solas’ army

Also, like, warnings for descriptions of bodies/burns

The destruction across the field was endless. Shattered swords shone in the sun, bright lights against the black, blood-soaked ground. Birds picked at the corpses littered and scattered across the field. Many, his own forces.

He knelt down besides one such body - the ancient, faded lines of vallaslin now stark against the greyed skin. Where it could be seen, at least. Fire had scorched much of their features, melted their fine armor into their flesh. The seams where the metal met tissue were charred, blackened. Even the leather had not escaped the flames. It was curled, cracked, and shrunken into the remains of the elf who had once worn it. It shattered under his touch, exposing the viscus innards of his leg.

Solas covered his face with the edge of his cloak. In part out of grief, in part from the smell. He would never be used to the smell.

“Dread Wolf.” He cringed. He would never be used to the name, either. “We have received the reports.” The messenger hesitated. Solas raised his eyebrows slightly, an invitation to continue. Again, the messenger hesitated. Their eyes shifted to the body beside them, and they rolled their lips. Ah. Solas raised a hand behind them, and walked forward. The messenger turned and let themself be led away from the dead. Still, they did not speak.

“What is it?” The messenger shimmered. Their form losing focus, the edges of the elf they had chosen to appear as becoming blurry. Waves of green and red shadowed them. Fear. But also pity. The deepest of blues, so deep, so rich, they made the depths of the ocean weep circled their feet.

“The Inquisitor.” He pushed past the wave of feelings that seized his chest. Embodied as he was, the reds, pinks, blues, purples, greens would not be seen, not be felt, by his companion. But it would not do for them to tug on the landscape, to bring them elsewhere. Or to summon her here.

“Her forces surprised us. They will not again.”

“Not her forces. Her.” Confusion, yellow and orange and bright. It was not possible. Formidable though she was, no mage alive had this power. None from this broken world, with the fade so far from reach. She would have bled her mana dry to claim even half these lives. A quarter, even. But it did not matter what he believed, what he knew. She had proved to be unlike anything he had expected time and time again, had she not? She had proved him wrong too many times to count. He could not afford to underestimate her. Not with such a show of force.

“Tell the generals we will discuss how to proceed at the sanctuary.”

“Yes, Dread Wolf.” The messenger faded. Gone to the find the leaders of his cells and armies and inform them of their new orders. He turned back to the battlefield and sighed. He had hoped to avoid this carnage. The bloodshed was unnecessary. A cruelty to his people and hers. But he had never truly expected her to lay down her arms, had he? Her tenacity was one of the many things he admired about her. But he had still not thought - no, allowed himself to think that a conflict on this scale was possible. He had been blond because he had wanted to been blind. As he had too many times before.

Once again, he studied the scorched remains of the last of his people. The bodies entombed in their armor, faces frozen in fear and pain. The image of men similarly dead in a forest of graves came to him. The way she had wept not for their fate, but for how she had relished it. He did know this handiwork. But the scale. What had changed? How had she accessed this level of power? He had been purposeful in his removal of any potent enough artifacts. There was nothing left that would give them the resources they needed.

Unless it had not been an artifact.

A faint thrill and terror raced down his spine, and he bowed it to examine the remains more closely. Past the smell of burning flesh and hair, past the soot and ash that coated what char did not, was a faint glimmer.It was her magic, yes, he recognized that now. The faint smell of embrium mixed in with the flames. But there was also something else. Something metallic and cloying. Something he had not encountered since before the world was whole and the false gods sought to consume it whole. His blood went cold.

Oh, love. What have you done to yourself?

#dragon age #solas #solavellan #is it good idk but I knew exactly what this needed to be #my writing #then she put pen to paper #Ellana lavellan

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wandaluvstacos · 7 months

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BRIGHT DAY BLUE DAY CHAPTER 23 IS NOW UP

In the city of Yukiktrum, the hierarchy is clear even when the laws are not: Alphrim rule, betsra serve, and ometki bear young. Claiming a part of the city is easy, but keeping your territory is not, so Alprhim like Chramkut govern with talon and tooth. Maintaining power means control access to ometki, and by selling access to both them and their eggs, Chramkut has turned Themself into a ruthless and wealthy warlord.

Untkra once served as Chramkut’s prime ometki, but that time has passed, and Untkra has been replaced by someone younger. After one failed escape, it was only Untkra’s history with Chramkut that saved them from execution. Untkra knows that getting caught trying again will get them executed, but Unktra is willing to sacrifice everything if it means leaving the conflict-ridden city of Yukiktrum behind. This time, Chramkut’s prime laden ometki wants out, and they’ve begged for Untkra’s help. Untkra is done bearing offspring Untkra will never meet. It’s this way or death.

However, the desert landscape beyond the walls of Yukiktrum is hostile and unknown, and there’s no guarantee that there’s anything out there worth escaping to. What Untkra may not be ready for is what hope lays beyond the dunes, and the redemption that a new home can offer. Yet when another ometki needs saving, Yukiktrum calls Untkra back in what could be Untkra’s most daring rescue yet.

Genre: Sci-Fi

Rating: 18+

T/W: This story is dark in nature, and while nothing explicit is ever shown, there are repeated references to rape (including underage), sexual slavery, and I suppose what equates to child trafficking (is selling eggs considered child trafficking?). There is also violence, murder, drug use, and prejudice/bigotry. This story also contains the trappings of a/b/o. It’s not so closely married to the trope as most a/b/o fics, but it is quite obviously based on it.

Excerpt:

“Untkra, I can handle all variety of horrific stories. I’ve heard nearly everything from new residents. This isn’t for me. This is for you.”

“How would such a thing be for me?” Untkra asked.

“Talking about trauma can help with healing," Bytsklap replied.

“Is that your expert opinion?”

Bytsklap sighed and shifted in their seat, recrossing their legs the other direction. “Are you always this defensive?”

“I can talk about Iktifshaf all day if you want me to, but it wouldn’t be for me. It’d be because you want to hear all the horrid details.”

“You think these sessions are for my own enjoyment?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Bytsklap leaned back in their seat, their gaze pensive, as if they were trying to see Untkra from a different angle. Untkra liked being difficult; they’d never gotten that chance back at the brothel. It felt a bit like payback after everything Alphrim and betsra had put them through.

“My observation about you, Untkra, is that your core belief involves thinking anything anyone does is for their own self-aggrandizement, and all of these little arguments of ours lead back to that, don’t they?”

“A belief founded on plenty of evidence.”

“The evidence you’ve gathered is that from a life lived at a gang-run brothel. Those willing to work and frequent such a place are not a representative sample of the population at large. Does that make sense to you?”

“That gang-run brothel couldn’t exist unless abotskrut allowed it to exist. It’s no secret place. Everyone knew about it. We had one of the largest hatcheries in the city. No one fought to free us. So you can claim that it was only a few villains, but I know better.”

“Yukiktrum is a dangerous place to speak out about any injustice. I’m sure many hated the brothel and hatchery system. Some may have protested but were then imprisoned or executed for doing so. I guarantee you this kind of cruelty did not appear through any public approval process. It was a system put into place by some very powerful Alphrim at the top and then ruthlessly enforced for decades.”

“And what was there before the brothels? I was told ometki were beaten, raped, kidnapped, sold from Alphrim to Alphrim, traded like currency depending on our age and fertility. That was the world before brothels, before the rules and the gangs to enforce them. That was the public approval process.”

“Your version of history is one told to you by those who have something to gain from lying.”

“If it’s not true, then tell me what is.”

#Bright Day Blue Day #a/b/o #omegaverse #original fiction #my writing #update #Patreon

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hearthouses · 1 month

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Landscape after cruelty, 1 + 13

the landscape after cruelty

1) What inspired you to write the fic this way?

It was the only way I could organize my thoughts in a way that made sense, lol. I had to break it down into snapshots because otherwise the overarching themes were too unwieldy and large. If I didn’t come up with the five scene structure, it probably would never be finished. I added the last scene because I wanted some kind of catharsis, which when I wrote it ended up not being very cathartic and actually rather horrifying, but it still became a kind of release that the fic needed, regardless of the actual contents.

13) What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

This was a fic that required me not to be listening to anything, so it doesn’t really have a fic playlist like the rest of my fics, but for you, I will make a mini one that I made in under an hour: link here.

put one of my fic titles in my ask + questions about it

#ladyculebras #replies!#sam x dean #wincest #samdean #fic asks meme

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kiragecko · 1 year

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kedugh

It's normal to favourite Tim and not view Dick & Tim as the best team. Just look at AO3 and RR series fan metas on Tumblr blogs. Plenty of Tim stans seem2 not even like Dick/have a grudge due2 their obtuse reading of the events in RR. Those metas revealed problematic fan expectations normalised by Dixon's Robin. Dick's role in the series was cheer-leader, support & hype man. Post-RR Tim fans took to destroying Dick's rep online & in fics which turned a lot off the duo.

(This was a comment on my response to Tuesday.)

That's kind of what the post is about, yeah. Over the last decade, the fandom idea of Tim has shifted in ways that are hard to reconcile for some older fans. (Like me!)

I don't want to insult or blame younger fans. The whole post was about trying to respect that they have reasons, and to understand those reasons better.

My conclusion was that there are aspects of the Red Robin run that speak to people who have been hurt by their families. They can work through the thoughtlessness, ignorance, and sometimes straight-up cruelty of siblings through Dick prioritizing Damian over Tim.

I'm glad they have that outlet! It's unfortunate that it is incompatible with my desire to explore chosen family and sacrificial love through the same characters, but that doesn't invalidate the meaning they're finding!

There are a lot of Tim fans that I don't follow. There are a lot of Dick fans I don't follow. Sometimes they comment on posts that I'm enjoying and it makes me sad. Sometimes I'm reading a fic on AO3 and suddenly discover I need to nope out. But I can control the circle of people I interact with, so it's not a big deal.

I agree with what you're saying about interpretations of Dick and Tim in fandom. I don't join you in the anger towards other fans that I think I'm hearing.

I haven't seen anything 'problematic' or 'obtuse'. Just stuff I disagree with, or, often, that I can understand but don't resonate with.

(I will agree that Chuck Dixon's Red Robin was a blight upon the landscape . I choose to ignore it. It does not support my preferred interpretations of the characters. Boomerang did not happen, Tim never said he was without sin, and the flirting with Lynx was a nightmare Tim had after watching Selina and Bruce be especially uncomfortable.)

#DICK and TIM #I am fine with other people being wrong #or focusing on things that I don't want to centre #a variety of opinion makes for a healthy fandom!

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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S - Sword

@cilil here is an incredibly stupid Eönwë fic LOL

Words: 700

Characters: Eönwë

Warnings: Nudity?

Eönwë woke up with a start—he had not consciously fallen asleep and consequently found himself in an advanced state of confusion.

Looking around, he took in the scenery; he was no longer in his roost, which also spoke against a normal occurrence of healthy slumber.

Everything around him looked strange and unsettling. Where was he?

“Walk,” a disembodied voice commanded and—without deciding to do so—Eönwë moved forward through a world that seemed only vaguely familiar to him—maybe, he thought dazedly, he was back in Middle-Earth for, even though the trees beside him and the ground beneath him felt vaguely ubiquitous, he could not remember having seen those specific specimens before.

Cool air hit his chest and he forced his eyes down to glimpse his own bare chest. Why and how had he gone somewhere he had never been before without so much as putting on a shirt?

The more he walked through landscapes that made his head spin, the worse the sensation of apprehension, bubbling in his gut, grew.

A thicket of bushes barred his way and he stopped abruptly—how far had he marched and who had chosen the direction?

To his utter shock and dismay, the brave warrior realised with a jolt of unadulterated fear that his body was evidently no longer his own to command.

“Hack the shrubbery down,” the same faint but authoritative voice instructed him.

His arms—bare and gleaming slightly in the unnaturally bright light—rose of their own accord; Eönwë then discovered that he was holding a sword in each hand—neither one was his own and, despite not recognising the weapons, he wielded them expertly to make short work of the offending boscage.

“Where am I?” he thought, puckering his mouth in concentration as he tried to direct that silent thought at the mysterious voice.

“Aren’t you a pretty one?” the voice cooed back, making Eönwë spin slowly on top of the vanquished, botanical foe.

They cannot hear me, the esteemed herald understood, cold anguish now spreading through his system—he had been kidnapped and was the undignified thrall of some creature whose cruelty would put even Melkor to shame.

When he spotted a bird—possibly an eagle—on the horizon, he opened his mouth to call out to Manwë, but he was unable to make his voice obey him. Moreover, as the winged salvation drew nearer, Eönwë discovered that it was but a fleck of colour that was vaguely bird-shaped to instil false hope in his quivering heart.

“Orcs,” the voice he had come to loathe in so short a time squeaked.

This, Eönwë knew. Not waiting for the command he knew would inevitably be given, he charged forward, swinging both the foreign swords effortlessly.

Of course, he would have much preferred to wear his armour and the insignia of his status amongst his peers, but his skill and prowess were not in the least diminished by the absence of appropriate garb.

Slashing through the disorganised troop of foes, he made it to a small rocky outcropping from which he could overlook a vast plain, stretching out endlessly before his weary eyes—he was so far from home and solace and his heart gave a painful twinge.

“Well done, my beautiful boy,” the voice praised. “We’ll make it through this mission and then we can both rest, what say you?”

Eönwë was not sure whether a reply from him was expected or even desired, but he nodded obediently. This was not the first time that he had been sent unexpectedly into a strange and hostile place to achieve the impossible—he had met and bested many a foe and he invariably was unwavering in his loyalty and courage.

He still didn’t know what or where this was, but—at the very least—he had faith that he could make it through the fire and find his way back to a place and a people he knew and loved.

Thus, he lifted his swords—for they were his now—defiantly and went on walking, with an enigmatic voice as his only guide and a tiny loincloth as his only garment—after all, he had seen and survived worse!

@fellowshipofthefics here's another brainfart :)

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #Eönwë #tolkien writing #jrrt #April Alphabet #fotfics april alphabet #fellowshipofthefics #Silm #S #Swords

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heartofspells · 1 year

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15, 18,32, and 37?

Oooookay. This is now my second time trying to answer this. Thank you, tumblr, for eating my answer alkjfajfk

Hello, sweet!

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

I sometimes write in the margins, but I'm more of an occasional underliner/highlighter. Mostly I write whatever notes I want from a book somewhere else, mainly because there might be thoughts I don't want anyone else to see or read, or have them guessing WHY this particular part is important to me. And I never dog-ear. That should be criminal.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

"Sorry," he repeats. "How about we start again, Mr Black?"

Sirius realizes belatedly that he's gaping. He snaps his mouth closed and nods. The man's smile grows.

"I've looked over your file," he says, "along with your scans. I think I've put together a regimen that will be very beneficial if you'll allow me to try?"

Sirius is surprised by the question in the man's tone. Isn't he supposed to be told what he's meant to do? Ordered around until his stubbornness takes over and he eventually searches out someone new? He already feels off kilter, like he's landed on the wrong foot, kicked the ball too early and sent it shooting out of bounds.

"All right," he says slowly. "I'll give it a go, yeah."

The man beams at him happily. "Fantastic," he chirps. His energy is infectious to Sirius, bubbling up something warm inside him. "Well, Mr Black – actually, hang on a tic. I hate the formalities, I'll admit. Care if I call you Sirius instead?"

Sirius blinks again, once more thrown off his footing. "Er…'course, yeah. Hate the Black name, anyhow. I'd ditch it if I could."

"Brilliant!" the man says, grinning brightly, a small, deep chuckle emerging from his throat. "I'm Remus Lupin." He steps forward until he's in front of Sirius, stretching his hand out in offering. "Remus, if you please."

The thing about my writing is that not much changes in the editing phase other than a few minor shifts or adjustments. For the most part, what comes out the first time is what sticks, but I put a lot of thought into important parts before they're even written, which helps. But this scene from Healing Edge is one of the few scenes that I've ever completely changed. In the beginning, when I first had the idea for the fic and started writing, I had this entirely different scene written, a totally different vision for the entire fic. It was meant to be an enemies to lovers tale, but that very clearly changed and it all came down to this one scene.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

My dragonfly, my black-eyed fire, the knives in the kitchen are singing for blood, but we are the crossroads, my little outlaw, and this is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is a tenderness, which is a room, a lover saying Hold me tight, it's getting cold.

This is from Snow and Dirty Rain by Richard Siken and I love it, every single word. It even inspired a fic.

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

Probably terrible things. They'd likely label me as miserable and insanely depressed and suffering from some sort of deep psychosis which is hilarious to me for a lot of different reasons. But really, I'd hope they'd at least look at what I've written and consider me insightful to some extent, firmly tapped into emotions and how people's heads work, and hopefully they'd mildly commend me for talking about those darker aspects of life others try to shy away from and hide in dark corners. Or maybe they'd just think I'm insane.

Send me weird questions if you'd like!

#weird writer questions #ask game #anon asks #ask #answer #lovely anons

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