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#( from my hellish work streak )
historianthesecond · 7 months
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Hiii~ I LOVE who came in with the sea (very thrilled to read where the story is going!!) So I wanted to request a fic inspired on that
Maybe where mermaid!reader is married with Nikolai, and they both live in the palace, and from time to time Nikolai surprises reader swimming at the lake, so he just likes to see by the docks and watch her hehehe
Thank you! Have a happy week >:3
Hi! Sorry this one took so long kdjdjkdjk I'm not still 100% about this, but I'm struggling with writing rn so I hope you like it 🙈
Moonlight Mirror
Nikolai Lantsov x Mermaid!Fem!Reader---1.2K----SFW
Tags: Established Relationship | No Plot Pure Fluff |
Nikolai was used to hearing the sudden splashes of water around the lake while he tinkered with the Hummingbird, or any of his new ships, the movement creating waves that crashed along the polished hull.
You made him company in those strange moments in which either of you had many duties to complete in the day—you could always cuddle in bed and work until the oil lamp emptied.
It was late already, with his mind so focused he couldn't figure out how many bells had just chimed, the metallic echo falling into the still night air, the critters from the gardens around quickly restarting their melody.
Sighing, he took a rag and cleaned his hands, long streaks of black oil marking the white cotton. Nikolai put them on the seat he was just occupying, his eyes drawn to watch over the wooden rail at the still surface of the water.
You surely were enjoying the cold water at the bottom, which how a layer of sweat clung to his shirt, the summer air feeling more like the hellish breeze that blew from the ovens inside the kitchen than a break from the inclement weather.
The wooden boards of the docks creaked under his boots until he stopped at the edge of the one occupied by the ramp to climb into the ship. The water looked like a mirror, showing the almost full moon dotted with stars in the clear sky.
While he sat, ripples broke the calmness as your head surfaced, the dorsal fins around your ears shining silver against the moonlight.
You beamed, submerging your head in the water once again before appearing right in front of him seconds later.
“Hi, handsome,” you said, your hair floating around the water. You handed him a wrench that had slipped out his hands a couple of hours ago, as you always loved to look for shiny things underwater, your wedding ring shining gold catching his attention with the movement.
It was common to end up surprised at catching a glimpse of it now and then. That you were married to him despite everything you had to endure, so much that sometimes he thought it was wiser to just let you go.
His hands interlaced with yours, the wrench secured in the middle of the dock. A giggle bubbled out your lips when you felt his lips brushing your inner wrist.
"Come here, lovely," Nikolai muttered against your skin, leaning against you to carry you out of the water. He was used to feeling the smooth and cold surface of your tail, white and silver and artic blue that curled around him. "I missed you," he said, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck. You still smelled like the stormy seas of the north, of salt and fresh, cold wind blowing over the icebergs navigating over the infinity of cerulean blue.
You laughed, moving your tail up and down to fit better on his lap. “I was here all the time.”
“Not close enough.” To prove his point he held you closer, not caring that now his clothes were soaked. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. “This close would do. For now.”
You looked at him, some beads of water running down your face, eyes blinking between the yellow tones with vertical slits, like trapped amber, and your human ones, sweet and filled with adoration. “You wouldn’t finish anything if I were this close.”
Nikolai chuckled, hands lovingly cradling your body. “My wife truly is the wisest.”
Crooning your neck, you looked back at the shadowy silhouette of the Hummingbird, its ghostly sails carefully tied into the masts. You could reminisce about all the times you’d been aboard its tiny deck, flying one with the clouds as Nikolai pointed down at the cities you passed by, seeing colorful roofs and tall churches and schools, new bridges being built and roads open through the hills.
Your new home, you thought, leaning closer to Nikolai's warm arms around your waist. This is what home is about.
“Is she ready?” you asked, pulling his head slightly away to clean a stain of oil off his cheek.
His eyes twinkled with pride. "Yes. I fixed the engine so the turbines could help balance the hull. It seems last time I didn't oil them completely, thus why they got stuck."
Thankfully, he had crashed into a thick canopy not so far from the Grand Palace. With a visit from the physician and the Healers, he recovered enough to try his new invention again after a couple of days.
Nikolai kissed the top of your head. “Are you going to Notvy Zem with me then?” he said, a sly grin on his face.
“Are you going to use this business trip as another makeshift honeymoon?” you couldn’t stop from asking, which made him laugh. It wouldn’t help that you did go to Notvy Zem in your real honeymoon, three years ago.
“It’s almost our anniversary.”
“Your priorities astound me, Kolya.”
He smiled, trailing a path of kisses down your neck. “It’s on you for being so enticing,” Nikolai muttered against your ear, your body wiggling as you got ticklish from his soft, fleeting kisses.
You hummed, giving in quickly under his touch. “Of course, I’ll go with you.”
Truth was, Nikolai wanted to swim with you on the tropical shores of the foreign nation, there where the water was turquoise clear, colorful, and blooming with life around the coral reefs. You seldom wanted to swim with him in the lake in front of the Little Palace for how cold and profound it was, fearing something would happen to him.
"No," you said about two months before your wedding, blocking his way toward the docks. "Last time you caught a cold. It's dangerous."
"I'm healthy again, my love. I'll be fine." But you weren't convinced, dragging him back to your room where he settled with sharing a warm bathtub.
Which reminded him... "Let's go, gorgeous." You slipped out of his grasp once your tail was gone, with him standing up and unbuttoning his coat to cover you with it before you could protest. “A refreshing bath is awaiting us.”
“But my clothes—” you started, feeling the soft fabric of velvet and cotton against your bare back. It wasn’t cold to wear one, but the fabric smelled like him, like expensive cologne and brandy and burned oil, so you kept it.
“They won’t be needed,” he told you, and you were about to gasp, faking shock even if your stomach was fluttering.
Nikolai fetched them, your light skirts and silk blouse hung over his shoulder as he squatted down to lift you in his arms. You hung onto him, kissing the outline of his jaw as he walked back to the Grand Palace, the guards nodding in your direction as they were used to the view by now.
You with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, a boyish smile on his lips as he gazed down at you as if you'd been lighting up the stars that were flicking you goodnight with your hands. Words weren't necessary anymore; love was shown as clear as the sky of that peaceful summer night.
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vatyrie-avaris · 16 days
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Vatyrie Avaris has always been a willful man. This rebellious streak was scorned in the diabolic aristocracy he was born to, a race of tieflings whose loyalty and pride in their infernal blood has allowed them to maintain some of the hellish features and skills of their heritage. Tired of the unforgiving order of demi-devil society and of being a tool for his tyrannical family, Vatyrie sought freedom from the restraints of his nobility. But the price of freedom was greater than he could have imagined. Stripped of his prestige and the infernal magic in his blood by his father’s lash, he was banished. Prejudice and fear taught him to hide his more devilish features, and he has spent the years as an average tiefling, working as a mercenary, bounty hunter, anything to get by. Now he wanders Faerun, never settling for fear of being driven away again.
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Commission work by the incredible @darpart of my beloved first DnD character and recent BG3 Tav, Vatyrie Avaris. I am blown away by her work in capturing this bold bastard of a ranger! He is a homebrew tiefling subrace (Demi-devils or purebloods) who have retained more diabolic features and abilities through strict preservation of their infernal bloodlines. As a banished noble, he became a gloomstalker ranger who uses an enchantment on his necklace (depicting the Avaris House crest) to blend in as a normal tiefling.
More in depth explanations of his appearance can be found here!
A fic featuring Vatyrie in the world of BG3 (mostly with Astarion) can be found here!
More art: More Art; And More; And Look, even More!
More Character lore: House Crest; Love Chart; Astarion x Vatyrie relationship meme; Nautiloid Abduction; Camp/Relationship Dialogues; Scar History
Follows, likes, and rb are greatly appreciated! Thanks for stopping by!
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tarisilmarwen · 8 months
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Rebels Rewatch: "Rebel Assault"
Everything goes so very, very wrong.
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Hoo BOY this opening slow pan across the Empire's current gathered forces above Lothal is ah... Very Concerning.
Were there this many ships in the finale? Did Thrawn call for reinforcements just for this one event?
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This was an amazing shot in the trailer but once you put it up against that opening pan...
Yeah this attack was doomed.
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Mart! Hi! It's so good to see you! Sad that Gooti and Jonner couldn't be here but hey. At least you have a couple redshirts flying with you.
Imperial March briefly excepts into the organs that signify that Thrawn's onscreen. Both he and Hera have identified the fuel depot as the primary target, being both the softest and least defended, and also the most important. No fuel, no production line, no output. This is basic War 101.
"24 ships, Grand Admiral." (squints, checks back in the caps) That is not 24 ships, guys. C'mon, nerds will be checking this.
And now the Empire gets to indulge in its favorite strategy:
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Spam TIE Fighters at problem until it goes away. Lol.
No seriously this is going to bug me now, were there that many ships in orbit above Lothal for the finale?! Weeeeeeew lordy, Ezra might have the highest kill count of anyone on the show if that's the case.
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Really liking the deep dusk lightning here on the ground with the others. It's very soft.
Aaaaaaand Duke is clearly just Freddie Prince Junior enjoying his Western Drawl voice again lol.
Ohhhhhhh I know I've heard this cue, they used this before in.... ghfkhfhj I can't remember! I think it was another spacebattle? Maybe?
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Zeb still antagonizing Ezra like a bullish older brother lol.
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Jeez is that pollution or lingering dusk? Hellish red.
The Main Theme kicking in as Hera attempts her heroic X-wing move here.
Thrawn. Thrawn, pal. Buddy. Compadre. That is an ace, you do not just let him get himself stupidly killed. You know full well what Hera is about to do, explain it to Skerris and then he might listen to you. Giving a cursory, "Hey you better obey me." does not suffice, as you well know from Konstantine's defiance back in "Zero Hour".
Maybe if your people skills were better, you wouldn't have people so eager to thumb their nose in your face.
Oh! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Oh you absolute whore, Skerris didn't even need to die, you could literally have just not had your batteries fire! Oh my gosh this is his exact attitude in the finale. "Gee it's too bad about that guy, anyway shoot to kill." SKERRIS COULD STILL HAVE HAD INTACT SHIELDS WHEN HERA MADE HER SURPRISE ATTACK IF YOU HAD JUST NOT FIRED AT BOTH OF THEM, THAT WAS AAAAAAALLLL YOU, THRAWN, YOU ASS.
"How unfortunate." my foot.
Yeah, uh... X-wings can't actually fire like this with the S-foils closed. It's a known technical lore detail. Yeah the husband was pretty pissy about this one. I mean good for Hera but they should have really let her foils open.
Right so that means that this extra collision here is Thrawn's fault because he let Skerris die to prove a point. Stop doing that, you're gonna lose all your troops!
You know what I think Thrawn absolutely wanted to get to spring his second wave of TIEs on the attack squad and that's why he aggravated Skerris's blunder. He does seem to have a penchant for theatricality.
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Again, very on-point lighting.
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:(((((((
The defeat is almost muted in tone. We get only a suggestion of the massacre of the attack force, see them as nothing but streaks of flaming, falling comets of light. There's utter silence at first, and then strings ramping up as the horror descends, along with the ships.
All that effort and heroism, fizzled into nothing. With barely any effort on Thrawn's part.
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The worry in Kanan's voice as he tries to call Hera. :(((((((
Ryder's resigned defeat, contrasted against Ezra's cautious optimism.
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It's not often that it's Ezra comforting Kanan, but it works to pull Kanan out of his head enough to vacate the area with the others.
Ooooh the camerawork in that shot! And the sound design of Chopper's electronic panicked scream!
Seeing Hera hurt is always awful. Fortunately a gaggle of civilians are around to help.
The score flaring up in mournful cello notes as Kanan lets his fear and worry take over, which makes him halt and turn full tilt around to go back.
Ezra lets him go, even though he has to know what a bad idea it is. Better to let him try, I guess, and I know Ezra relates.
Still can't get over how hellish red Capital City looks at night.
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Pryce is still Not Fond of Rukh lol.
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RIP R3-A3. :(((((((
He died protecting Mart too.
Good on Mart, by the way, for being useful in this ambush, immediately grabs a blaster and shoulder-checks one Trooper and shoots another, I love him.
Zachary Gordon's voicing Mart a bit deeper this episode, apparently we hit puberty lol. (Mart, I mean. Zachary was 20 when this aired.)
Hhhnhnhnhhghfhh what was that noise, Rukh, jeez!
His theme coming in as he finds Mart and Hera and Chopper, heralded by that deep woodwind note.
Hera's not a slouch in the combat department, but Ruhk is very quickly on the offensive again, takes Chopper zapping the crap out of him for him to break off.
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The white Loth-wolf meanwhile, is once again just kind of being ~mysterious~ and doing its thing. I have no idea why turning off all the other streetlights were necessary, it's not like Kanan can see it.
Kanan sounding very frustrated. I'm actually reminded of Ezra's behavior in the early part of "Legacy", impatient, impulsive, snapping randomly at the easiest target.
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The Loth-wolf does not take kindly to it. But this gets Kanan to calm down again and clear his head.
Some excellent teamwork here between Hera, Chopper, and Mart.
"I'll catch up!" CURSED WORDS, HERA. CURSED WORDS.
The "Shenanigans" cue once again being put through an action wringer, notes staggered, off beat.
THE WAY THIS PARALLELS "CALL TO ACTION" WITH HERA SHOOTING OUT THE DOOR CONTROLS TO SEAL THINGS BEHIND CHOPPER AFTER ORDERING BOTH HIM AND MART TO GO.
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Kanan being remarkably chill about all of this after his pep talk with the wolves.
And the wolves leitmotif to close us out, replacing over the ending credits.
Boy this episode is a downer. The attack we've hinged all our hopes on since Season Two fails, Hera is captured, and Lothal seems utterly lost. Now imagine having to wait about oh... six months to see the resolution. Yeah that was fun.
The animation and camerawork is wonderful this episode though, music appropriately somber, and the dark parallels to Season One's finale would continue, to a horribly subversive end. This is all serious from here on out. We have to face the darkest night before we can push through to the dawn.
See y'all next episode. It's uh... gonna be a thing.
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artchixs · 6 months
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WAIT i wanna know about stitches......
i literally wrote a whole response to this and tumblr deleted it I’m so fucking mad
Ok so Stitches is a character I made for a gothic horror/cyberpunk/post apocalyptic setting where vampires and ghoulies and demons are real and they are subject to capitalism! A repo doc (only known as Doc) created Stitches out of discarded body parts and pieces that were sold in favor of cybernetic replacements, with a combination of mad science and demon magic. She wanted to prove that artificial life could be made without tech—and could be free from the hellish capitalist dome-society they all live in. Unfortunately like 3 months into Stitches being alive Doc was arrested for her Many Many Crimes.
Now Stitches is kind of a disillusioned criminal, acting as a getaway driver in order to pay off Doc’s debts. They’re a major gearhead and love nothing more than fixing and tricking out their sick car—they kind of see it as an extension of themself (the creation becoming the creator blah blah blah). Their body parts can also switch out for different uses! Like they have their driving hands and their fighting hands, their normal eyes and their magic detecting eyes etc. They’re quiet and taciturn with a bit of a mean streak, but overall dedicated to whatever work they put their mind to. They’ve got a complicated attachment to Doc—they both love and hate them for bringing them into this world and then leaving them. This world is unloving and cruel but Doc was not. And and she still left them alone.
They’re really a butch combo of Ryan gosling in drive and baby driver with a nice touch of the fucked up lesbian codependency issues I give to all my ocs. They are nasty and gross and also so so hot thank you for your time
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rjalker · 1 year
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Out of the swamp a thousand strange, winged things were rising: yellowish, bat-like things with forked tails and fierce hooked beaks. And like some obscene miasma from that swamp, they rose and came straight for the Ertak!
Instantly I pressed the attention signal that warned every man on the ship.
“All disintegrator rays in action at once!” I barked into the transmitter. “Broad beams, and full energy. Bird-like creatures, dead ahead; do not cease action until ordered!”
I heard the disintegrator ray generators deepen their notes before I finished speaking, and I smiled grimly, turning to Correy.
“Slow down as quickly and as much as possible, Mr. Correy,” I ordered. “We have work to do ahead.”
He nodded, and gave the order to the operating room; I felt the forward surge that told me my order was being obeyed, and turned my attention again to the television disc.
The ray operators were doing their work well. The search lights showed the air streaked with fine siftings of greasy dust, and these strange winged creatures were disappearing by the scores as the disintegrator rays beat and played upon them.
But they came on gamely, fiercely. Where there had been thousands, there were but hundreds … scores … dozens….
There were only five left. Three of them disappeared at once, but the two remaining came on unhesitatingly, their dirty yellow bat-like wings flapping heavily, their naked heads outstretched, and hooked beaks snapping.
One of them disappeared in a little sifting of greasy dust, and the same ray dissolved one wing of the remaining creature. He turned over suddenly, the one good wing flapping wildly, and tumbled towards the waiting swamp that has spawned him. Then, as the ray eagerly followed him, the last of that hellish brood disappeared.
“Circle slowly, Mr. Correy,” I ordered. I wanted to make sure there were none of these terrible creatures left. I felt that nothing so terrible should be left alive—even in a world of darkness.
Through the television disc I searched the swamp. As I had half suspected, the filthy ooze held the young of this race of things: grub-like creatures that flipped their heavy bodies about in the slime, alarmed by the light which searched them out.
“All disintegrator rays on the swamp,” I ordered. “Sweep it from margin to margin. Let nothing be left alive there.”
I had a well trained crew. The disintegrator rays massed themselves into  a marching wall of death, and swept up and down the swamp as a plough turns its furrows.
It was easy to trace their passage, for behind them the swamp disappeared, leaving in its stead row after row of broad, dusty paths. When we had finished there was no swamp: there was only a naked area upon which nothing lived, and upon which, for many years, nothing would grow.
“Good work,” I commended the disintegrator ray men. “Cease action.” And then, to Correy, “Put her on her course again, please.”
and then it was confirmed that they wiped out literally all of this fucking species by doing this -.-
stop portraying humans going to alien planets and wiping out all the forms of life they don't like as though it's a good thing.
These people just did the equivalent of holding up a flashlight to attract moths and then killed every single one that came.
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Nightmare mission
Day 3 :) I struggled a little with this one and it is all over the place but we do as we do! Here you go.
Hatake Tsuki, my oldest Kakashi daughter [clickerino]
Sarutobi Mirai x OC
Rated G
4661 words
no warnings other than spoilers for the entire land of steam arc.
for @narutoocshipweek Day 3: Vacation
Tsuki has to leave her Anbu squad behind to accompany her father and her uncle Gai to a mission in the land of steam, which would already be annoying enough if there wasn't also an airhead jounin present.
Pushing her bangs out of her face with a blow and letting her hands fall into the oversized coat she was wearing, Tsuki contemplated under which terrible circumstances she ended up in the situation she was in right now. Whose idea had it been to send her to this three week special mission with none other than her father and his goofy friend Gai and on top of that also this airhead protective Jounin as if Tsuki alone would not have been enough as personal protection.
Her father probably, she thought. It could not have been anyone else who could have put her up to this hellish trip. Years she had spent tucked away and working hard in ANBU, doing dangerous missions day by day, even after Naruto-nii had taken over the job as Hokage. So it was very suspicious that she would be recalled from her squad to go on a three week vacation with two retired old men. It smelled like interference by her father, it smelled like there was something up.
The other person that was coming with them, Sarutobi Mirai, was a girl Tsuki’s age. Someone who she went to academy with. But Tsuki had been stronger, quicker in uptake and more talented by a large mile and so she had never really interacted with Mirai. In Tsuki’s eyes Mirai was nothing but a burden on this mission. Constantly confused and trying too hard. It felt like Tsuki was forced to protect all three of them.
It was clear pretty quickly that her father and Gai were enjoying themselves a little too much. Tsuki’s father might be a great shinobi and she still looked up to him almost as much as she always had, but he had this streak about him, especially when with Gai, that made him surprisingly dorky. In such situations Tsuki always looked away or if she could, walked away, because though it made her mothers eyes light up when he was like that, Tsuki thought it was undignified of his former role as hokage and just very embarrassing.
“I can’t believe they sent us on a vacation with them and didn’t tell us,” Mirai moaned one evening, laying down on the futon in one of the ryokans they were staying at. Her hair was damp from the bath still, which made it even more curly than it usually was. Tsuki always had straight hair, even when she was younger and tried to style it. Straight and hanging down. 
Tsuki chuckled a little at Mirai’s expense. Well, if she had been so naive as to think that she was sent on a mission that was more important than an S-Rank then she must be very naive. Well, as much was given. “I guess we have to live with that now and make the best of it”, Tsuki replied, though she felt bitter about it too. So many interesting missions she could have done instead of sitting here wasting her time. 
“You talked to my father in private before”, Tsuki now asked what had been on her mind all evening. “What about?” She had seen it happen and could have easily eavesdropped from the tree overhead, but had decided not to, mostly because she knew her father would have figured out immediately that she was there.
Mirai rolled over and shrugged her shoulders: “We talked about my father. If I am similar to him or not.”
Right, Mirai’s father had been a shinobi that had died in the fights leading up to the Fourth War. “Why does it matter if you are like him or not?” Tsuki asked. Being attached to your birth parents and their abilities seemed so silly to her. It always had. Maybe that came with her own family history, the fact that her parents might have given her up or died or just lost track of her and her lack of interest in finding out.
“Maybe you don’t understand that,” Mirai said, her red eyes now hardened. “Because you still have your father around. It's just a thing that I wish I knew more about. Who I am is also part of where I came from.”
Tsuki laughed: “My birth parents aren't around either and I still don’t get your point. What do they give us other than genetics?”
There was a frown on Mirai’s face and she seemed to think. Then she said: “Both your parents are still alive…Kakashi-san is in the other room.” 
That took Tsuki out for a second. She blinked at the other woman across from her in disbelief and confusion. “I’m adopted” she settled on finally.
Mirai’s jaw fell open: “What? You are?” How had Mirai not known that? Had she gone through the academy as wide eyed and naive as she went through the world now? Tsuki suddenly flashed back to all the years of kids telling her that she wasn’t a real child of the Sixth Hokage. That she bore his name like a fake who did not deserve it. That only her brother and sister were real eirs. That her parents loved them more than they loved her. All of that for so many years and Mirai hadn’t even known? 
Tsuki circled her face and then pointed at her cheek: “How do you think these two people could have made me?” She was referring to her darker skin. Mirai shrugged again: “I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it.”
How should that have never crossed her mind? Tsuki felt an odd sort of anger in her heart. Mirai must be lying. She must be acting or making fun. Everybody knew Tsuki was adopted, her entire life, her entire existence, revolved around everybody knowing she was adopted.
“You’re a dumb idiot”, Tsuki said cruelly, turned around and ignored anything else Mirai was saying.
***
When Tsuki had called this a nightmare trip, she had not yet been ready for what was about to descend on her. Not only was her father especially dorky and Gai in his most exhaustive state, but Mirai continued to be a baggage at everyone’s leg, trying to fix things that needed no fixing. There were surprisingly many jounin from Konoha in the Land of Steam stirring up trouble and being generally annoying. It just hardened her suspicion that all of this was less a vacation and more of a setup of her father for, well, something.
She thought it could not get any worse than the night everybody suddenly started talking about ghosts as if they were real. That truly was the absolute low point in a row of low points. At some point Tsuki just turned away from her other travel companions with a “I’ll be in my room” and stayed there waiting for the commotion to pass. She decided that even genin missions, picking up stray cats and fetch missions, were better than what she had been cursed with now.  She crossed her arms and her legs and closed her eyes in hopes that sleep would take this awful thing away from her, that was when the door slid open.
“I did not expect you to be so uncooperative on a mission.” Tsuki’s eyes shot open and her head slouched between her shoulders. No matter how dorky he was, her father had this presence by the sound of his voice alone. He could switch it on if he wanted, be the patriarch of the clan if need be and Tsuki was a little terrified of that version of him, though he was never unkind. Above all in the village she wanted him to be proud of her, in that regard she kind of matched her younger brother, though he had very different reasons.
She moved to the side so he could sit down next to her on the futon. “This is not a mission, it's a mid-life crisis”, Tsuki said and pulled at her mask. Kakashi put his eyebrows together: “Hurtful.” 
Tsuki knew he was thoroughly studying her to give her a stern talking to, like he had so many times in her life, so she kept her eyes averted from his face and acted as if the window on the opposite side of the bed was especially interesting. 
“No matter how much you think the mission is unnecessary, you should always do it to the best of your abilities, wouldn’t you tell that to your own squad?” he asked and though his voice was casual, she knew he was being serious. Tsuki hummed in agreement. “So why don’t you hold yourself to that standard?” 
“Ugh, because this does not matter. I’m sure Gai and you can handle yourself well on your own and Mirai is… exhausting.” She kept pulling her mask and letting it snap back into place and then she did it again. “Maybe I’m just used to the higher standard in ANBU, but she doesn’t seem qualified to be a Jounin.”
Her father put his head to one side and closed just one of his eyes playfully, something he did sometimes when he wanted her to be honest with herself. She hated that, because if there was one thing she had gotten from her mother, it was the inability to be honest with herself. 
“What is it about Mirai that annoys you so much?” he asked in his low, caring voice. “Is it the fact that she is focused on deepening her understanding about her father and her clan?” Bullseye. Of course, her father was good at these things. “I just think she is stupid”, Tsuki shot back and sounded more like a spoiled child than she had antcipated, “Why does it matter who her genetical father was? She is raised by her mother and that alone is what counts.”
He put a hand on her head and ruffled through her short brown hair. “I see why you would feel this way, but Mirai’s father is very much in her life. Through stories, through pictures, through the name she is carrying. It is now her way into adulthood to sort that part of her out, to let Asuma play a role, even if he is no longer there. It would maybe do you some good to take a page from her book and find your roots, just to close that open wound. But you never wanted to, no matter how hard we offered.”
“I think living in the past is childish”, Tsuki said with a pout. It was true that her parents had offered time and time again to help her find her original family. There were modern techniques now to do it. Tsuki knew that after the war her father had visited each major clan in the village to ask if they knew her and nobody had so the possibility was high that Tsuki had come to Konoha after the war as an orphan but was born somewhere outside of the ground of the fire country. Her skin colour was at least different enough.
“I think it is very adult of her”, Kakashi shrugged his shoulders and took his hand away from Tsuki’s hair. “She is facing a part of her that has always been with her and learning how to deal with it. That is her way of going forward into adulthood. Something I didn't learn until I was much older is that to become an adult you need to leave resentments from your childhood behind. I was a little older than Mirai and you are now and as such I think what she is doing at her age is very brave.”
Brave. The words hung heavily in the air. When he was talking about Tsuki’s resentments he didn’t only mean her birth parents, she knew that. Ever since her academy days Tsuki had struggled with her identity as a Hatake-clan member, tried to push her feelings of being a second-class child away and though her time in ANBU, her missions in other countries, her subsequent distance to her family, had given her a little peace, it was still something that clouded her mind when she couldn't stop herself.
A while they just sat there in silence, then her father touched her shoulder softly. “Well, that is up to you in the end, Tsuki. You are old enough to make decisions for your own life.” He pushed himself up and his joints cracked. “Oh”, he let out, “I guess I am old. Time to return to my mid-life- crisis vacation.” He smiled at his daughter and Tsuki felt ashamed that she had called it that way. 
He waved a little and then left with a “Goodnight” and pulled the door closed. Tsuki sat in the silence and the dark that was only illuminated through moonbeams from the outside. She thought of how she had seen Mirai practice with her fathers chakra blade and how she had failed. And how she, Tsuki, herself had spent an entire summer learning the ways to use Hatake Sakumo’s tantou effectively enough to defend herself. That legendary tantou, that was right now laying on the sideboard waiting to be used again. The sword her father had called “the proof” that she was part of his clan. Adopted or not. 
When Mirai came into the room, Tsuki pretended to be asleep already, but she noticed that Mirai hadn’t come alone. There was a tiny voice there of a girl, whispering into the dark about a dead mother. Great, Tsuki thought. Another one of those.
***
The girl turned out to be much less annoying than Tsuki had originally suspected. She introduced herself properly as Tatsumi in the morning, bow deep and everything, even if Tsuki did not miss the eyes moving from her to Kakashi when the last name was mentioned. The girl mostly hung around Mirai and paid Tsuki not much mind, which was appreciated by her in return. It was already exhausting enough to have ot listen to her father and Gai make stupid bets and at the same time scan the area for potential threats- of which there were none.
The day moved on quietly, with the occasional hiccup connected to whatever ryokan they were staying at. By now even Tsuki was unnerved by all the “coincidental” accidents happening no matter where they went. She was angry with herself that she hadn’t asked her father about it when they had been alone a few nights earlier. Of course she could have pulled him to the side, but he seemed to enjoy himself a lot and there was nothing she’d ever do to ruin that, even if he was embarrassing.
The ghost talk had really resonated with Mirai, who spent all day talking to Tatsum about her father. It wasn’t so much that MIrai now suddenly believed in ghosts, but the idea of them seemed to be something she fancied. Tsuki thought of what her father had said about accepting a part of yourself to become a real adult and though she tried to be sympathetic, she could just not understand that way of thinking. Tsuki was happy with who she was and who raised her, no ghost could ever change that about her.
She was just relaxing after the stressful day of having to babysit her entire party when Mirai approached her, breath heavy as if she had run all the way over, eyes dark and serious. “Tatsumi says there is a hot spring around that lets you communicate with the dead '', she began without any further introduction. Tsuki, who had been halfway to the hot spring in their current location, blinked in confusion. “A what?” she asked and Mirai shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t really believe such a thing exists,” the other girl explained. “But Tatsumi is adamant it is around.“ Maybe that was why that little girl had followed them thus far, because she had known they were heading to whatever hot spring that was.
Tsuki sighed: “Are you still hung up on your dead relative as if it matters?” She knew she was being unnecessarily dismissive and that if her father were around he would shush her, but Mirai pushed her buttons so she couldn’t help herself. 
“I told you” Mirai’s voice was now louder and harder than it had been before, “that I don’t believe in it. Tatsumi is no shinobi, I don’t know where she is going to go and what might happen to her. I don’t think she is right, but I won’t abandon her.”
“It is probably just some hallucination. A drug. A genjutsu, something like that. The dead are dead Mirai, move on.” Tsuki felt the cold words on her tongue and knew they’d be like gasoline on Mirai’s growing anger. “I don’t care - I’m just doing my mission to protect the vulnerable.” Without saying another word she turned on her heel and marched away.
Tsuki watched her locks bounce away with every step, watched how MIra’s frame moved sight to side as she walked, how her hands were put into fists…. She kept her gaze on the walking woman until Mirai was no longer visible, only then could Tsuki pull her eyes away and now she also marched away. 
“I told you you are a stupid iditot”, Tsuki mumbled.
***
The door to her room swung open without invitation. Gai had evidently pushed it with his good leg, the other balancing on the one that was currently not wearing his prosthetic. “Where did they go?” he asked in his loud, low voice. Tsuki had enjoyed laying in her quiet room on her futon, no Mirai and / or others being annoying. She put down the book she had only been half reading, a little too distracted in her thoughts to even concentrate enough, and looked up to find the dark eyes of her father: “Gone.” She said, “They said they’ll go look for an onsen that lets you meet the dead.”
Kakashi and Gai exchanged a look and Tsuki’s eyes darted open immediately. This was something that was not news to them, in fact, she could deduce that they absolutely knew what Tsuki was talking about. “A Hot spring where one can meet the dead, huh,” Kakashi said and Gai nodded: “That would explain many things.”
“What things?” Tsuki threw in but the adults both ignored her. “I mean,” Gai continued. “It could be some kind of trick that could be used to abduct girls. After all there are nations where women are needed for reproduction.” He mentioned it so casually that Tsuki felt the goosebumps on her arms. 
“They might also just use them for a ritual or a need of their body, blood or consciousness for something”, her father now mused and his way of talking reminded Tsuki too much of the early Anbu missions she had run with Captain Sai. 
“Dad!” she screamed finally, “Can you fill me in here please?” His eyes wandered back to hers and he put his head to the side. “I don’t know how much time we have, but I can tell you on the way.” Tsuki grabbed the tantou on the side of the bed and put it into the shaft on her back. The time to pretend to be innocent travellers was clearly over, so she was carrying it openly again.
Turned out she had been completely correct in her assessment that the entire mission had been a setup from her father and that yes, she had been especially chosen for her excellent ability to assess surroundings. From the very start he and Gai had been sent to the Land of Steam to investigate mysterious disappearances of girls and the circumstance behind them. When Tsuki asked why both Mirai and her had been left in the dark about this, her father had said that their mission had from the start been personal protection and so they were not lied to or deceived. That was a flimsy explanation, but there was no time to argue about it now.
They arrived at the cave and burst through the barrier of cultists that had been positioned in the entryway. Tsuki took her tantou oud and cut down some of them, while her father pressed forward. When she finally caught up with them Mirai was fighting on her own. Tsuki watched her fly and swirl through the air. She had never really seen MIrai fight, not more than her misguided training sessions with the chakra blades. 
The opponent was apparently a follower of jashin, some crazy misguided religion with even weirder habits than the Uchiha gods that her brother Obito loved reading about so much. He had trapped girls under the earth in a cave to extract their blood and he had taken special interest in Mirai, who was now fighting tooth and nail against him. When Tsuki wanted to push past her father to support the other woman, he caught her hand and held her back.
“A follower of Jashin killed her father”, he explained as he pressed her wrist tightly. “This is her fight. We should only interfere if she really can’t do it anymore.” Tsuki didn’t like that. Mirai was too weak to fight on her own, too stuck in the past to accept her abilities now and anyway Tsuki had always been the stronger, more talented person of the two of them. Clearly she was more qualified to undertake this situation.
But she stayed away as her father instructed and watched instead. There was a squirmish, an exchange of blows back and forth and then, finally, the cultist pushed a spear through Mirai’s insides, forcing her to push over and fall flat on her face. Tsuki cried out before she could stop herself, pulled as hard as she could at the arm that was still in her fathers grip and yelled at him. “She needs my help, don’t you get it?” The grey eyes of her father softened at her spitting words, but he did not let her go. “She is more capable than you think”, he said calmly.
How could I ever be so calm about this? How could they all be so stupid? Clearly, she had thought it was her stupid destiny to fight this cult member and had taken on too much for her to handle. If Mirai had just listened to what Tsuki had said from the beginning, if she had just let the past be the past, none of them would be in this situation. Now she was bleeding out on the floor for what? For a father that she never knew? That never cared because he didn’t know? A father that had gotten himself killed and abandoned her before she could even be old enough to understand? How was that so important? Why couldn’t Mirai just live in the present?
Tsuki screamed, what exactly she did not know, but her father did not let her go. “Trust her”, he said and pressed his fingers together reassuringly. Tsuki could feel the pain and anger in her throat. Nightmare mission. The mission of hell. Weeks of torture leading up to this, the worst. Nothing compared to the pain of a comrade dying, especially if it was for a useless cause.
It only was a blink, at least later Tsuki would swear it had been nothing but a short blink, and Mirai was on her feet again, standing, both chakra blades in hand, ready to take out her opponent. Tsuki’s breath came heavy, she felt confused and overwhelmed. “Genjutsu”, she said and her father finally let go of her wrist. “A good one too, if it fooled you”, he laughed a little. “Well, she has that from her mother.” 
Mirai used the chakra blades to defend herself as if she had never done anything else in her life, as if she’d been born to use them. Tsuki could hardly believe her eyes how much easier it looked in comparison to the training sessions Mirai had had just a few weeks earlier. The weapon and her seemed like one entity, swirling together like a dance, ready to finish a fight her father had started so many years ago. Gai whispered: “It’s almost like Asuma is here.” Tsuki frowned with a bitter taste in her mouth. She had never met Sarutobi Asuma, but she had to agree. This was exactly how she had imagined him.
She watched Mirai stand up tall, spine straightened out and strong, representing both her mother who had raised and trained her and given her her upbeat personality, and her father, who had not been there in person but whose love had coated and protected her all these years and given her conviction. Tsuki thought of herself. Of the colour of her skin adn the name she had been given,the only indicators of the life she had had before she became a hatake. How her father had called it mature to understand both sides of yourself to grow into an adult, how he as often has been completely correct with that assessment.
***
They patched things up quickly and the girls that had been brought underground were let go. There was a lot of support needed, they had all spent weeks without much food thinking they might be able to see their dead relatives again and could now not be condoled. Tsuki watched it all from afar, watched how MIrai treated them with a kind smile and a touch of her hand. There was no hint of arrogance in her demeanour, and though she had been correct in her assessment of the scam hot spring, she did not even mention it in front of Tatsumi. Tsuki pulled her mask forward and let it snap back in place as she watched.
Finally, Mirai turned over to her, striding over to stand next to Tsuki in the warm sun of the next morning. “I guess you were right after all”, Mirai said casually and Tsuki squirmed. “It was a trick.”
“Don’t - “ Tsuki looked over. They were almost the same height, now that they were standing next to each other, which Tsuki just a little smaller than Mirai. She had never looked clearly into the red eyes of the opposite, had never seen the light as clearly in thema s she could see them now. How curly her hair was at the back of her neck, how narrow her shoulders were too. “You didn’t believe in that crap from the beginning. So we both were right in that regard. I- I was just being an asshole for no reason.”
Mirai laughed a little and for some reason Tsuki had to take her eyes away from the other woman’s face. She fiddled with her mask again. “I saw what you did in there”, Tsuki mumbled. “That was very - brave of you, to stand against such a difficult opponent on your own.” She paused for a second. “I think your dad would have been proud.”
“I’m pretty sure he would have,” Mirai replied and ruffled her own hair with her right hand. “I finally got his chakra blades down. I can’t deny that I’m a little sad that I didn’t get to talk to him, though. There is just so much I would like to know.” 
“There are always people around you who will help you answer those questions, your mom, my dad, Gai, Shikamaru-sensei.” Tsuki talked more to her feet now. 
With a sigh she said: “I guess so” and then she patted Tsuki on the back with soft force. “I guess Gai- san and your father lied to both of us huh? I’m sorry for you, that must have been a nightmare mission to undertake.” 
Tsuki looked up again. Mirai was smiling at her, the morning sun shining warm and new over her head which reflected in her black hair. There was a weird rumble in Tsuki’s stomach, something between hunger and sadness and she only managed to say: “It wasn’t all bad… I think.”
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𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓶𝓮 — send 💍 for your muse to surprise my muse with a proposal.(for Hal from Dave)
//first of all, thank you. I need all this cute stuff. I work in fast food and it's every bit as hellish as it seems. So thank you.//
Whatever Hal had been expecting, it wasn't what happened. He'd thought they were all just having a nice time on a clear summer night. Dave, Frank, and the Chandras. They had a cookout (Frank was quite eager to show off his new portable grill) at the starwatching rocks. They'd even made s'mores as the sky got dark and the predicted meteor shower began.
And then Dave had stood up, bringing Hal up with him, one hand fumbling in his pocket.
Then Dave had turned to him. The others all got quiet and all eyes were on them as Dave dropped Hal's hand.....
And dropped to one knee.
And produced a beautiful silver band with a ruby set into it (chosen over a diamond for how it matched Hal's eyes perfectly.) Hal's eyes went wide as he realized what was happening, his hands flew to his face, the heartbeat his creator had given him racing in his chest.
Dave even ditched the traditional line in favor of one that, while it probably sounded more awkward, held a lot more meaning to him and Hal.
"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do." Hal's heal was nodding vigorously, his body already knowing his answer before he was even finished processing. Though, for everyone's sake, he managed to squeak out a string of "yes, yes, of course yes!!!" through the tears that streaked down his face as the ring was slid onto his hand, where it was a perfect fit.
Hal couldn't have smiled bigger if he'd tried, even as Dave stood up and hugged him. And kissed him.
It was physically impossible, yet in that moment Hal felt like he could fly.
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My brain feels like tv static, which os funny for a few reasons but whatever, but like
Tv static is a weird thing huh? Like it's nothing, because it's what happens when there's no channel on the tv or something, but it's a lot of stuff too because. Like... its a bunch of random shit. It's called 'noise" for a reason y'know? I'm not a fuckin tv expert but you get my point yeah? It's symbolic of several things that are contradictory to eachother. And I can relate to that.
I, myself, am a contradiction, being that, to some extent, I am both stupid and smart, both sane and insane, and, most importantly, and most evidently, both simple and complex.
I've clearly labeled myself as simple-minded many times, but yet, I'm incomprehensible to everyone I interact with. It seems like I'm..... Impossible to understand, even to myself, but yet so incredibly predictable. Like a maze, seen from the top down, is easy to decipher, but from inside the maze, you are lost. Even if you had seen the maze from the top before entering, you may still be completely lost once confronted with it from a different angle. (That also connects to how almost everything seems easier before you actually do it)
A better analogy is a machine that does one thing, consistently, but is extremely complex on the inside. Nobody can ever fully understand how it works internally, except whoever designed it. If anyone even designed it in the first place. Even if you understand how each piece works, you don't know how they all work together.
Or something like that. Even when I've been given an unexpected streak of verbose-ness, I still can't fit the words together into something understandable.
I'm like a puzzle trying to solve itself, but the pieces keep changing, and so does everything around me. And, as a consequence of that, so do I.
Everything changes constantly, making a hell for those who cannot bear to see anything change. Watching as the very thing they fear takes over the reality around them, and themselves. They are the thing they hate and fear, by nature. Anything that moves changes reality around it, even just by existing. Alive or dead. Breathing changes the air. Death changes the people around it, more often than not. And even if no one was there to bear witness to it, it still effects reality around it, nonetheless. Decay, and all that comes with it, is still movement, just slow. And decay itself is a form of change. So to cope with this hellish existence, the change that fears itself must learn to accept itself. But learning is also change. But it's change it can handle. Or at least, it must.
The part of change that makes it terrifying is the destruction of what was once known. Even things that seemed so permanent before, can be taken away, and never recovered. Sometimes these things don't get a proper send-off. More often than not, these things leave unfinished business and regret behind. The linear nature of time is an awful thing. But there's no way to change that. The one thing that never changes is the thing that makes change happen.
But, without it, things would be just as confusing. New problems would spring up in its place. The perfect reality doesn't exist. Problems are a constant in any reality.
We often criticise plot holes in made-up worlds, but fail to recognise the ones in our own.
Because the concept of true nothingness is logically impossible, but the concept of true infinity is also equally as impossible, the universe we live in seems to consistently make no sense, on every level. We're always lookinh for answers, but there are only so many answers to find. Some questions don't have answers, and we just have to accept that.
Acceptance is the only way to avoid complete mental collapse, from trying to comprehend things that you weren't made to.
We have to keep existing, and face the unknown with the acceptance that it will never be known.
But despite this, and despite how much it can make you want to give up on this reality sometimes, not even death would serve as an escape from this paradox. There will be no answer.
Wouldn't you rather see everything you can, before confronting the possibility of nonexistence? It'll happen eventually. Try your hardest to do and experience as much as possible before then. Don't let your fear of one unknown drive you prematurely into another, much more terrifying one.
It's not worth what you would miss. Because, just like the terrifying force of change, it would leave behind so much potential. So much left undone. Because death is change, and so is life. There is no escape from it, but that is ultimately a good thing. If the human mind cannot stand even the illusion of stillness for a long period of time, it would not stand true stillness for even a second.
Nothing is truly understandable, in the end. But that's okay. We aren't supposed to understand. We tricked ourselves into thinking that was the case.
We are here simply to be here.
Won't you do just that? Be here? Relax and do what you must, in each situation. And if that is doing nothing, then simply do nothing. Because time will sweep you forward, into a situation where you will do something.
Do what makes you happy, because that is what you are here to do.
After all, the reason it makes you happy, is more often than not, because it is a good thing. That's why we've evolved to be made happy by such things.
One way or another, time will move you forward. What you do along the way is what matters. Don't waste your chance, because you don't know what's next.
And, of course, don't think about things that aren't worth thinking about. It won't do anything good for you.
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erodasfishtacos · 3 years
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"Okay but imagine YN continuously having to yell at him because anytime anyone other than her or him are holding them he hisses and bares his fangs"
pretty please can you write something abt this? it would melt my heart
I don’t know why but I’m super obsessed right now w/ h constantly going all demon, defensive, predatory.
-
YN plops down next to Niall on the recliner because the couches are full. He swings his arm around her shoulders to make more room.
When Harry trots back in with her water, the glass automatically breaks in his grip, as he spots the friends sitting together.
“Harry, do not do what I think you’re going to do!” YN scolds her mate, watching with annoyance as his eyes sink into blackened darkness.
It’s too late, he has Niall pinned against the wall by his collar, feet off the ground. His fangs near Niall’s neck as he snarls loudly enough that no one can hear the movie.
“Again?” Liam complains, unamused by the possessive vamp who has the worst jealous streak he’s ever seen.
“If you don’t put him down and put your fangs away, you’re not eating for two days,” YN threatens, she really would never starve him but it always works.
He grumbles as he retracts them, sauntering over to his human with annoyance as Niall coughs a bit and falls to the floor.
Harry scoops up his mate, licks a bit at her jugular vein until she’s shoving him off but allowing a soft peck.
His friends still don’t get how he got so whipped.
-
YN’s small group of friends knew Harry was a vamp.
They were intrigued by him, no doubt, and I mean come on…he was gorgeous in a way that you didn’t really see in real life.
His human was constantly having to remind him that every time he gets annoyed with them - which is nearly at all times - he can’t threaten them and flash his canines to scare them off.
Harry doesn’t always listen.
They’re all at their house, a girls night, whatever that is.
All humans are stupid except his mate.
She’s perfect.
He enters the living room to check on YN to make sure she’s properly feed, hydrated, happy - his usual routine.
The group is playing a card game and cackling loudly which already has his hackles up at the awful noise of them.
So loud.
Tammy, one of the more brazen girls of the crowd, reaches out to tug him closer. She’s telling him to play one round with them.
But as soon as the human female, who is not his mate, touches him - he’s hissing loudly, lips pulled back with pooling venom dripping from them in a deadly threat.
The friend stumbles backwards, nearly falling on her bum at the hellish sound erupting from his throat. It was like nails on a chalkboard.
It leaves Tammy in tears and the others on the brink of them because of the demon who just caused a scene.
Harry is pouting in the corner of the room as YN ushers out the now traumatized guests - the night coming to a quick end after that.
“You go on about me not listening! One person other than me touches you and you lose your absolute mind!” YN snaps angrily, she tosses the closest object - a book at him in frustration.
He smacks it down with his lightening reflex but doesn’t hesitate to bare his fangs at her with golden tracing through his normally green irises.
“Really? You think I’m scared off you? Put your fucking fangs away right now,” His mate demands, unfazed by the growl rumbling in his chest.
Harry appears in front of her, a softer expression coloring his face, “M’sorry, bat. You are the only one of this earth who I permit to touch me.”
“I guess I don’t have to worry about you cheating on me,” She jokes but it turns sour when she hears the distinct clink of his fangs again because he can’t take a fucking joke.
He was extra crotchety today.
“I will only ever want your body,” Harry replies seriously, “Your cunt was made for me.”
And even though she’s frustrated with him, a zip of arousal finds a dampness pooling between her hips that Harry can instantly scent.
In mere seconds, he has her on the couch, legs spread with his face buried in her center to quell his mate’s ache.
Her hands in his long locks as he laps into her center with fervor to please her, make her happy, satisfy her.
And man did he do a good job.
“S’good, baby,” YN hums in a feathery tone, squeaking when he sucks harshly on her pretty bundle of nerves.
“Hey! I forgot my pho-“ Gina flings open the front door and eyes go wide at the scene in front of her.
When a roar shakes the pictures on the wall, YN can only groan, “Son of a bitch.”
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inkybirdy · 2 years
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‘ So - where’d you get me? ‘ 
(Maz Koshia and Li’l Bean Link)
The boy isn’t old enough to wander around much on his own, still too small to even hold a basket very easily each morning when Maz gathers eggs from their coop - too small even still to stay awake for very long after dinner in the evenings. 
He is, however, old enough to be curious, and start to reveal what Maz guesses will one day be a truly hellish stubborn streak. His big, bright, ruby eyes are more aware every day, even when they’re drooping. 
“ ‘Cuz, ‘cuz-” Link is not very far along into toddler-babble. He’s been coaxed into sentences at a more ambling pace than other children, far too used to signing with his little hands in a mimicry of Maz’s habits, “ ‘Cuz, Coz’ said I was - was in a tree.” 
“Mmn,” Maz has only just looked up from tending the sunken hearth in the middle of their cottage, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at the little boy, “Which cousin told you that?” 
“Dori.” Link was already looking at Maz with that intense gaze, nearly unnerving even as he clung to the pink stuffed bunny where he knelt. 
Of course. Kakariko was full of other Sheikah children, most of them mischievous and most of them older than Link. Old enough to remember. Old enough to tease. 
Maz probably should have seen it coming. Link has been giving him that same look all day after they discovered a chick hatching in the coop that morning. Link’s face had flickered rapidly between concentrated wonder and deep confusion, and Maz has no doubt the gears in his growing brain had been turning since. 
“You didn’t hatch out of a tree.” Maz answers the question Link had initially asked and drew his attention with, finishing his fiddling with the hearth and sitting back on the floor. 
“So- where’d you get me?” Link leans forward slightly, expectant, and Maz desperately wishes the child had gotten preoccupied with something else. Anything else. 
The other parents in the village advise Maz that when children ask a question at their own volition, they are most often ready to know the answer. That being said, Maz doesn’t want to think about such an answer at all, let alone give it. 
A half-truth may be as good as a lie, but Maz is at a loss for other options - even briefly considering otherwise sends a chill into his bones and a sharp stone into his throat. 
Faltering, Maz taps his fingertips against the dark wood of the floor, and Link’s stare continues. 
“You,” Maz says, cautiously, finally, working his jaw, “remember Lady Cotera, right?” 
Link’s ears flick, as they often do when he sees sparkling ore and beautiful colors. He nods. “Fairy-lady.” 
Maz opens his arms and Link crawls over to settle in his lap. The little boy holds up his stuffed rabbit so Maz will kiss its head - he does - and curls up into the warmth of the hold. 
“I grew up around here, too.” Maz manages, eventually, “Lady Cotera has always been my neighbor. She was a friend, is a friend, to me and the rest of our family. She was one of the first to see me, after…” 
“Went away?” 
“Yeah. After they went away. When they did, I was… very sad. Like I’d lost a big chunk of my heart. Then, when I saw Lady Cotera, she reached out of her flower and into a crib she made from -”
“A tree!” 
“-- Close enough. A stump she uses for her just-so-little koroks. She took you out, a just-so-little bundle wrapped up in a blanket, and handed you to me. I was less sad than I was surprised. And, sort of angry. When she told me you were mine, I didn’t believe her.” 
Link quiets, his tiny brow pinching from wonder into concern, and Maz hugs him closer. 
“ ‘Of course he’s yours,’ she told me, ‘His hair was spun together under the moonlight like yours, his eyes are dyed red from your blood, the shape of his heart is just exactly right to fit in your family. He’s stitched together with the sweetest bits of everyone who’s ever loved you - he’s so very familiar, and incredibly and entirely new.’ 
“So, I looked down at the little bundle in my arms,” Maz kisses the top of his little boy’s head, “And I promised that I’d be yours, too. That’s how I got you, no hatching involved.” 
Little arms reach up and cling around Maz’s neck. Link is dozing off, safe and warm, and mumbling a “ ‘love you.” in the middle of his soft yawn. 
Maz swallows that lump in his throat again, and cradles Link close while he drifts, “I love you, too.” 
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hobbitingryffindor · 2 years
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Trust (I of III)
Okay you wonderful sentient balls of stardust. I made it through this hellish week. It’s only going to get worse, but I now have a path forward. So in celebration of that, I’m post the first part of a short story that I’ve been kicking around. I haven’t finished editing this and am in need of a beta who’ll beat standardizing tense into me so if you’d like to volunteer let me know. My goal is to post one section a night for the next two nights. I’m almost done with the last section, if I can keep it to three and not add a fourth.
Also, I promise this one won’t end like the last one.
*
With five months until the wedding, Maura knew it was time to talk to Jane about the meshing of their finances. To get on Jane's good side, she made gnocchi, just the like Angela taught her. Maura figured if she slipped it in as they went through the wedding check list, they could easily move to the next item on the list and hopefully avoid Jane's stubborn streak.
As they sat down to eat, Maura pulls up her list up on her iPad. Jane reading her mind asks "So what's on the wedding to do list this month?" As she moves closer to Maura at the head of the table so they can share the iPad.
Maura and Jane swiftly recap everything that's done, dresses and suits picked ordered, guest list finished, checks were sent off to the photographer and caterer. Jane was having more fun planning this than she ever imagined, she loved how Maura got so giddy with each facet of the wedding, how it gave them fun little adventures to caterers and bakeries. Okay, so Jane loved the food aspect, but still, she was impressing all their family and friends with how much she was getting into the whole wedding planning thing. They had made bets early on, about if she would nag Maura into eloping, but it was never once mentioned. If Jane was being honest she could never really say no to Maura, and there was no way she was going to deny Maura anything she wanted on her wedding day.
That's why when they sat down to talk wedding budget Jane finally, begrudgingly, acknowledged that if she was going to give Maura the wedding of her dreams she also had to go with Maura's budget. Jane insisted on a few things, they both had to agree on everything, Jane was going to contribute $50,000 from the sale of her condo, and then Maura would not tell her how much anything was. Jane was choosing to live in denial, and she was doing it for Maura's happiness.
After they covered everything that was done, Jane asked "Did you pick which invitation you liked best from the ones I choose?" Maura put her wine glass down "I did, I know you were expecting me to go with the traditional white, with calligraphy, but I actually really loved the landscape ones with the watercolor flowers that match our colors." Jane smirk as she replied "I was hoping you'd go with those, they just felt like they matched perfectly and were less stuffy than some of the other ones you showed me"
Maura rolled her eyes at the stuffy comment, happy that their system of taking turns to eliminate choices was working for them.
"Have you thought anymore about the band? It would be so lovely to have live music for dancing as well the ceremony and cocktail hour" Maura asked
"I have, and I think I have a compromise" Jane said as she took a long pull from her beer "How about one of those string quartets things instead of a full band? You'll get the ambiance for the ceremony and cocktail hour and we'll have a DJ for the dancing and it won't be going overboard too too much"
"That sounds like a perfectly fair compromise" Maura replied hoping that taking another fork full of gnocchi would hide her smirk, leaving that Celtic quartet CD laying on the coffee table had worked.
Jane was too preoccupied to notice the smirk, she was staring at her plate, pushing her pasta around. Maura noticed this and was worried if Jane was withdrawing on her now, she'd never get to bring up meeting with the financial advisor. She put her own fork down and reached her hand out on the table as she softly said "Hey, let me in, what are you thinking about"
Jane reached the rest of the way to take her hand but never looked up, "Thinking about bands made me think about the Father-Daughter dance, I always thought Pop and I would dance to Butterfly Kisses, don't laugh, I don't even know where the idea came from, but it was just always there, in the background, ya'know?" Jane raised her eyes expecting to see pity in Maura's eyes, but all she saw was compassion and love. Jane continued "But we haven't heard from him in 2 years, not since he went back to Florida, and I just....." She trailed off not knowing how to finish that thought. She knew Arthur was a touchy subject for Maura as well and it was all just so complicated.
"A dream is a wish you heart makes." Maura offered, Jane scrunched her eyebrows together not quite understanding. "When I was 5 or 6, my parents had a fundraiser and my nanny had to cancel last minute because her mother was sick. So I ended up going with them to the fundraiser, I honestly don't remember much, but I remember standing on Arthur's shoes and dancing to 'A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes'. It felt so good to have his attention for 5 minutes. It was the most fun I'd ever had at that point. I watched Cinderella anytime I thought he might be coming home after that; hoping that if it was on when he got home, he might want to dance with me again. Of course it never happened, but it was always there in the background of my mind. And then of course I discovered him with my classmate's mother and it just...." Now it Maura's turn to trail off now.
Jane squeezed her hand. "What if we just don't do it? What if we just skip over the Father-Daughter dances?" Jane offered. "While we're at it let's walk down the aisle together? I know it's an sexist antiquated tradition anyway"
At this Maura couldn't help herself "The tradition dates back to when women were perceived as proper-"
In that moment Jane cut her off and captured her lips and whispered, "I know googlemouth, I listen when you give feminism lessons"
At this Maura leaned into the kiss deeper, she wanted to end the wedding talk here and spend the night wrapped up in Jane. She pulled away from Jane, deciding that wedding talk or not, the kitchen still needed to be cleaned. Jane, used to Maura's nightly routine said " I'll clear the dishes, you want to start on the pans?" Maura nodded her head and got up, grateful for the mundane distraction after their somber talk of their fathers.
After Jane had loaded the dishes into the dishwasher she went to put the iPad on its charger and noticed that Maura had added 'meet with financial advisor/sign paperwork' to the list for this month. She had an inkling to what this meant, but after their discussion she wasn't really feeling up to talking money. What did it matter anyway? She was getting Maura, she didn't need anything else.
Heading off the conversation before Maura could bring it up, she spoke up. "Mau' this 'sign financial paperwork' thing, is this a prenup?" Maura's head whipped up, eyes went wide but said nothing "I'll sign a prenup if that'll make things easier, if your parents or financial guy are bugging you." Jane started to ramble, her North End accent getting stronger as she went. "What's it matta' anyway? We made it through serial killers, shootin's, kidnappin's n' our stubborn denial of our feelings, I think marriage'll be a walk in the park compared to the path it took us to get here"
Maura stared at her for a moment, amazed Jane would so easily offer that while simultaneously thinking that conversation would be easier than the one she needed to have. Trying to lighten the mood she said "Close but no cigarette"
"Cigar" replies Jane
"You knew what I meant" waiving Jane's correction off.
"There's no need for a prenup, my parents know better than to say anything and I've already told my lawyer I'd fire her if she brought it up a second time. Actually, we need to sit down with my, sorry, our financial advisor - Ray. Neither one of us is very comfortable talking about money, but we need to do it. Did you know that couples who argue about finances once a week are 30% more likely to get divorced?" At this Jane moved to where Maura was behind the counter, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman's waist.
"Mau, arguing about who's paying for dinner is not the same thing"
"You're right, it's not, but communication is key -"
"Hey, hey, hey, there were no problems communicating your needs last night" Jane interrupts with a smirk.
"Jane, stop deflecting."
"Fine, if I agree to meet with your money nerd, can we call it a night and head upstairs?" Huffed Jane, this had been too many tough topics in quick succession. Jane needed to wrap herself around Maura and forget all the logistics.
"I'll make the appointment." Maura said as she turned around in Jane's arms and leaned in for a kiss.
As Maura headed up the stairs she knew she was avoiding, she hadn't told Jane what she needed to, but this night was just going so smoothly, and she didn't want to sabotage that. Plus, she was making progress, her and Jane were talking about money, Jane agreed to meet Ray. Maura would work up the courage once she had an appointment with Ray, no need to get the horse in front of the cart, or however that saying worked.
*
Jane returned to her desk from roll-call and found she had a text from Maura. "We've got an appointment with Ray next Tuesday at 2, think you can take the afternoon off?"
Jane took a deep breath, digging deep. She replied "I'll talk to Cavanaugh and make sure I've got the time off, even if we get an active case." Jane knew this was part of marrying Maura, she may not understand it, but it was important to Maura. It's not like Maura's money was really going to affect her.
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vatyrie-avaris · 20 days
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Wayward Ranger
Vatyrie Avaris has always been a willful man. This rebellious streak was scorned in the diabolic aristocracy he was born to, a race of tieflings whose loyalty and pride in their infernal blood has allowed them to maintain some of the hellish features and skills of their heritage. Tired of the unforgiving order of demi-devil society and of being a tool for his tyrannical family, Vatyrie sought freedom from the restraints of his nobility. But the price of freedom was greater than he could have imagined. Stripped of his prestige and the infernal magic in his blood by his father’s lash, he was banished. Prejudice and fear taught him to hide his more devilish features, and he has spent the years as an average tiefling, working as a mercenary, bounty hunter, anything to get by. Now he wanders Faerun, never settling for fear of being driven away again.
.
.
.
AN: A little summary of Vatyrie in the style of the BG3 origin character summaries. I have so much in mind, so many details and aspects of his story and character I want to share. I hope to have others enjoy my character as much as I do and as much as I have loved learning about other people's DnD characters and Baldur's Gate Tavs
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enchantedblackrose · 3 years
Text
Like I Love You
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Jay Halstead/Plus sized Reader
Summary: Jay arrives at your apartment to pick you up for a date, but you're filled with self doubt.
¡Warnings! This potentially could be triggering. Poor body image, possible body dysmorphia, specific mentions of feelings of not being enough because of physical appearance
<Please, please lmk if I need to add any warnings.>
Loosely inspired by One Direction's Little Things
Like I Love You 
Your head throbs as hot tears of frustration continue to fall from your eyes. 
It was absolutely ridiculous to be this upset trying to pick out a decent outfit. After all, you've been successfully dressing yourself since age three.
But you don't have the mindset of a toddler. You're a jaded young woman with society's disgusting definition of beauty constantly shoved in your face. 
Deep down you know better. You know that the numbers on the scale give no indication of your beauty nor do they dictate your worth.
Sighing and trying to remind yourself that you are pretty, you again glance in the full length mirror. Standing there in nothing more than a top and underwear, fresh tears immediately fill your eyes. You only see flaws. Resisting the urge to poke at the cellulite near your thighs, you focus on your shirt. But the sleeves are cutting into your arms making them look weird. No, not weird. Fat. The too tight sleeves cause your arms to bulge. And the material clings to your soft tummy. You pinch the excess belly fat between your thumbs and index fingers, wishing you could squeeze it away.
You feel so ugly and gross. Angrily you pull the shirt off and throw it clear across your bedroom, where it joins a pair of jeans you couldn't breathe in and numerous other offending articles of clothing. None of which you look good in either.
You find an oversize t-shirt and slip it on before you just collapse on that very spot of plush carpeting.
Tears still roll down your face. All you wanted was something cute to wear. To be pretty. And go out with your boyfriend for a date night. He's a detective for the Chicago police department. The hours are already long and sometimes abnormal, but this week he, and the rest of the special unit he's a part of,  were logging extra hours on a particular difficult case. You haven't seen much of each other recently so you were especially giddy when you received his text earlier in the day saying there had been a break in the case which meant he could swing by your place and take you out on a proper date. Your reply had been almost immediate, telling him how wonderful that sounded.
You were surprised to hear from him again, still promising to take you out, but proposing you both meet up with his coworkers after dinner for some drinks. He included "begging" and "puppy dog eyes" in the message. 
Though you wanted to, you couldn't exactly say no for several reasons. You had already agreed to the date, so he knew you were free. Part of you suspected that he had done it on purpose. You'd accuse your favorite detective of entrapment later. 
You also were fully aware how much Jay wanted to introduce you to the coworkers he considered friends, having been invited to go out with them several times before. You kept putting it off.
Not because you had no interest in meeting everyone. Rather, the idea fed your worst insecurities.
What if they don't think I'm good enough? They're going to wonder what he sees in me. Then Jay will start wondering too. 
Wanting to do this solely for Jay's benefit, believing he deserved this after the hellish week at work, you went to your bedroom to plan your outfit. That's how you ended up in this nightmare. You only want to look your best, like you belong with Jay.
Nothing in your closet said that though. The truth of the matter was no one like him should be with someone who looks like you.
Cries turn to sobs. You draw your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly.
You hear the door to your apartment unlock, Jay using his copy of your key to let himself in. Hastily, you wipe at your face, not wanting him to see you like this; yet you can't find the will to stand. A loud, nasally sniff escapes you.
"Babe?" His still unaware voice calls out from the hallway. "I got us reservations." You don't answer back right away and you hear his footsteps approach. 
Having found you, he stops in the doorway. "Whoa. What kind of nuclear clothing explosion happened here?" He indicates to the mounds of clothes which surround you and cover the better part of the carpet and bed. His laughter dies as soon as he sees your tear-streaked, puffy face. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" his worry evident in both his voice and light eyes. He looks you up and down, frantically searching for any sign of what has you like this.
You mumble incoherently.
"What?"
"I don't have anything to wear."
"The floor begs to differ," he teases. You glare back, in no mood for jokes no matter how well intended. He holds up his hands signaling he meant no harm before he pulls you to your feet. "What's going on?" You huff a heavy sigh in reply. His hand caresses your cheek and softly "hmms?" at you encouragingly.
"Nothing fits right," you confess. He hesitates unsure how to respond, so you continue. "I look extra fat in everything."
Jay frowns. "I doubt that very much. You always look good. I love how you look dolled up when we go out and I love when you're in an old tee and sweats."
"That's nice of you to say-"
"Well I didn't say it to be nice. I said it because it's true," he cuts you off.
You give a tiny, weak smile. "I hate how I look." Your voice cracks. New tears sting your eyes.
He brushes the few teardrops that manage to escape with his thumb. "Baby, what are you talking about? You're beautiful." His voice is soft with a hint of sadness hearing you talk this way.
"This is not beautiful." You pat your flabby stomach, then your thighs. 
Carefully stepping to avoid the clothes which litter the floor, Jay makes his way to your bed and sits on the edge, still mindful of the garments piled there as well. He opens his arms, indicating for you to sit on his lap.
"My huge ass will probably crush you," you mutter.
"Baby-"
 
Exasperated you throw your arms up, "I look nothing like you!"
"Well I'm a guy and you're not so…"
"Stop. I mean you look like a freaking model. That face and those abs for days." You catch him looking smug, no doubt a witty remark is at his lips, but one glance at you and he leaves it unsaid. You continue. Your voice hushed, "I'm afraid of what people might think or say when they see us together. It's why I've been so reluctant to meet your friends."
His eyes sadden. He reaches for you, gently pulling you to his lap. When he speaks, his voice is soft, but stern, almost begging you to believe his words. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I honestly had no idea, but listen to me, please. The only people who get a say about our relationship are in this room right now, okay? So our opinions are the only ones that matter. You. Are. Beautiful." He pauses only to shush you when he sees your mouth open. "The way your mind works fascinates me. Your sense of humor is amazing. You continuously show compassion for others, which in this world is not always easy. I swear your goodness is innate. Your laugh is intoxicating. When you smile...I wish you could see how your face lights up and your body turns me on exactly how it is. I have never been attracted to anyone as much as I am to you. I love you."
Jay's words move you, but they're not enough to silence your insecurities. "Even though I don't have a thigh gap?"
His brows furrow. "I...don't know what that means."
"It means my thighs touch each other. They're not supposed to."
"Says who?"
"...society."
"Society's ugly, not you or your thighs." His fingers trace nondescript patterns on the bare skin in question. "Besides, thick thighs save lives."
"Jay!" You laugh despite yourself. He smiles in return and presses his lips to your temple.
"I love you too. You know that, right?" You ask, realizing you hadn't said it back and he nods. A hand intertwines with his as you look in his eyes, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."
"You're not. We all have insecurities or things we don't like about ourselves. I just wish you weren't so hard on yourself. I'm sorry too if you felt I was putting pressure on you to meet everyone."
"Not at all," you shake your head. "That's just me being me."
"Still, if my friends have a problem with us being together for any reason, they're not the people I think they are. Truly though, they'd love you. Hell, if we didn't show up together I could see one of them hitting on you," Jay pauses if imagining it.  "But seriously. They'd adore you. First, because they're going to see firsthand how good you are for me. Then because you're you. Funny, smart-"
"But I want to be pretty, Jay. And look like we belong together."
Jay sighs, but not out of frustration with you. He's only concerned."You are. And we do. I know nothing I say is going to magically change how you see yourself...I get that. You have to be the one to work this out. I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes and love yourself like I love you. Maybe then you'd understand you're so worthy of self-love. I promise, I'm right here and I'm going to keep reminding you how beautiful you are in hopes you'll start to see it."
Your hand caresses his cheek as you fight the urge to cry again. He leans into your touch. "You do help," you tell him because it's true and to reassure him. "I'm so lucky to have you. I'm really going to try to not be so down on myself. Besides. I  really don't want to ruin any more of our nights."
He waves you off. "A night trying to get you to see your beauty is not ruined. And the night's still young. We'll do whatever you're up for. Go out for a bit. Stay in and order food. Whatever."
A small smile appears on your face. You quickly peck his lips with yours. "I just want to wash my face before we do anything." Jay nods. You slide off his lap and head to your bathroom across the hall.
The light flickers for a second as soon as you hit the switch. You go to the sink, turning the water on and letting it run to get to the perfect temperature. Standing there, you glance into the vanity mirror. Your face is still slightly puffy with a few soft pink splotches across your cheeks from all your crying. You splash the water on your face and repeat the action several more times before using a fluffy towel to pat dry your face. You stare back into the mirror. And smile. It reaches your eyes and illuminates your face. You reach a realization. However fleeting or permanent, you don't know. But right now in this moment, you feel it. 
You're pretty.
-
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uponrightful · 3 years
Text
Second Chance Ch.1
Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at writing for The Mandalorian. I’m an English Major in college, and love to write but I don’t get to share what a write often. I hope you enjoy it. ♡
TW’s: Violence, Blaster Violence. (If I've missed anything let me know.)
Word Count: 9,951
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The child was gone.
The Mandalorian was left with no ship, no child and no true plan as to what was next. It was the first time in his life that there was nowhere he needed to be or someone he needed to hunt. A different man would take the opportunity and run; disappear somewhere and live the rest of his life without the smell of blaster charges and stale blood. Someplace that no one would recognize the steely image of a Mandalorian streaking across an otherwise picturesque landscape.
The Mandalorian wasn’t that man.
He knew that there was nowhere in the galaxy that would offer him a true safe place. He only knew one thing and that was the ability to hunt. He knew that hunting was the one thing that could save him again. Once he was away from Grogu, his life would be back to normal. There wasn’t an end in sight where he would once again have the child… his foundling, back where he thought he belonged. It felt like a new world had opened with its hungry mouth swallowing any sense of direction that the Mandalorian thought he once had.
He had made up his mind, before he had even set foot off of Moff Gideon’s ship where he would go first.
Nevarro.
He knew that Guild contracts were no longer an option, but despite the loss of steady quarry Nevarro was notorious for contracts. The Mandalorian knew his name carried weight, and now that Grogu was gone, it would be somewhat easier to return to his bounties. The Guild was not only steady work, but it had only been so because of his hard work. Four pucks weren’t normal, if not exceptional  in most cases; but for him there was no questioning. He always returned with the bounties within a thin time constraint. He was meticulous and that level of professionalism gave him advantages.
Advantages that he no longer had.
Boba Fett was quick to offer the ride to Nevarro with the promise of not-so-stale food and a little but more comfortable stay than he assumed The Mandalorian was used to. Fett talked much more than Mando had expected however it didn’t bother him much. Fett talked briefly about some of the more exotic women he had met -some from Nevarro- and recounted the nights that he had spent under the sheets with an unfamiliar woman getting his satisfaction.  
Mando listened not for interest in Fett’s bedroom habits but for information. He hoped that Fett might just slip something that would be useful. Maybe somewhere he could get resupplied, or even find a ship… but nothing of the sort happened.
Hyperspace was endless and the pure torture of watching is pass by was worse than leaving his child with the Jedi. His entire being ached from constant action and the even worse pain of a heart that had to heal. It wasn’t right that he should be forced to suffer so badly after only doing what was right. This was The Way. No matter how many times he tried to think it over, and find some sort of solace it only deepened the hole that kept growing in his chest.
“Mandalorian.” Fett barked, pointing towards the planet registering on his monitor.
Mando stepped up to check the readings and they were nearing Tatooine. Mando turned to see Fett preparing to push into airspace.
“I brought you here for a reason.” Fett continued, “You’ve been in my service and therefore I owe you repayment. I thought the child would be enough, but after everything that happened on that cruiser I can’t leave our interaction heavy on your end.”
“I don’t understand, what is it that you believe you owe me?” he asked, sitting down in the co-pilots chair and waiting for the ship to make its descent.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
The hellish landscape of Tatooine greeted Mando and Fett with a blast of sand the cut across their helmets making it almost impossible to see until the engines on the Slave 1 finally shut off completely. Fett had landed miles away from any town, and seemed quite confident was he strode off onto the barren sand flat below them. Mando wasn’t someone who liked the idea of blindly following anyone, especially when there was no real reason for him to be there anyways.
But after Fett didn’t turn around and disappeared over the dune, Mando begrudgingly followed. The sand fell around the gaps in his pants, letting the fine particles fall into his boots. The suns were blazing and by Mando’s guess it was at its highest point of the day. Heatstroke wasn’t impossible, even if he had just been in a ship moments ago.
He caught sight of Fett’s helmet glinting a bright white light toward Mando. He watched as the man knelt down and began shoving sand away from beneath his shadow that splayed downward. He shook his head, and caught up to further inspect what Fett could possibly be doing digging around in the sand.  
The two men stood at the bottom of what looked like a the beginnings of a sand dune in the middle of the flat. But after watching Fett struggle to dig deeper into what seemed like endless sand Mando grew impatient.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Dig with me. And you’ll see.” Fett’s voice was labored, proving how easy a possibility it was for the both of them to drop dead in this heat.
Mando started digging away. It took a good 15 minutes before Mando pulled out a handful of sand revealing what looked like an old piece of tan fabric. He was about to groan at how ridiculous this little job had been, but Fett began chuckling and walked away toward his ship.
“Stay there, I’ll be back.”
Fett was going insane. There was no way any of this was going anywhere good, but at this point Mando had two options. See why this piece of fabric was such a happy sight… or kill him. Fett brought the ship closer and closer towards Mando, kicking up sand and creating a small sandstorm that virtually blinded Mando to what Fett was able to see from above. Mando could barely see the shine of metal through the cloud that thickly surrounded him, choking out most of the clean air he could breathe.
After a few more seconds of fighting to get out of the Fett-made sandstorm Mando finally got a glimpse of what Fett had been so damn happy about. Under what had been a giant hill of sand, appeared an expanse of heavy canvas that took the shape of a ship’s outline. An ion turret jutted out into the blinding sun like it was proudly showing itself off for the first time in years. Mando was even able to recognize the tip of a Proton-Torpedo launcher sneaking out from underneath of the fluttering canvas shield.
Fett circled the newly unearthed ship, section by section revealing more and more of what looked like a transporter ship. Mando stood daunted, at the sight before him watching as the last corner of the cover slipped off the back entry hatch.
The Slave 1 landed right next to Mando its engines thrumming with the slight struggle of the burning temperate. He could even see the heat haze lifting up off the metal body distorting the edges of the ship like he was in a mirage. The last hour felt like it was all a dream, but the hard slap on Mando’s shoulder confirmed that he wasn’t imagining any of it.
“This is the Slave Two … it just so happened that it was my backup for quite some time.” Fett explained, walking towards the ships hatch.
“With updated blaster cannons and some damn good Deflector-Shields it wasn’t quite on par with Slave One… but still one of the best ships a man could own.” Fett nodded approvingly of his own assessment, lowering the hatch.
Mando walked up the ramp, and followed Fett through the hall and towards the cockpit. There were at least seven doors that he could count without the help of any lights on, and a streamlined floorplan that allowed Mando to navigate the ship even without Fett’s guidance. The inside of the ship looked like it hadn’t been touched for many years, with a weapons closet filled with an array of blasters and other devices that harbored a thick coating of dust and sand.
“This is yours?” Mando asked, glancing to see Fett climbing up through the floor into the cockpit above him.
“Yes, she’s mine. Come give me a hand Mandalorian.”
Mando climbed the ladder, and pulled himself to his feet to see Fett sitting calmly in the co-pilots chair looking out onto the desert that stretched ahead for miles. Fett seemed as if he was trying to find something out there, like if he looked hard enough it would just suddenly appear out of thin air.
Somehow Mando knew that he was feeling the same way.
“I’ve spent many years creating a life that has come back to punish me in ways that I’m sure you are beginning to understand Mandalorian. But when I heard that you gave that kid away… your kid. I knew that losing your Crest wasn’t the biggest thing weighing down that beskar.” Fett turned the chair for face Mando, mirroring their appearance in a way that Mando hadn’t experience in quite a while.
“You’ll take her, Slave 2.” Fett said with a satisfied tone. “If you treat her right, she’ll repay the favor just the same as I do.”
“I can’t.” Mando was willing to accept anything from Fett, well deserved or from pity. There was nothing inside himself that could allow any type of transaction like this to happen.
“You’ll do it because I said so.” Fett growled standing from his seat and closing the extra space in between them. “I didn’t bring you hear because I feel bad for you. I know what you’re after. You’re after your life before that kid.” He chuckled, turning back towards the windshield. “The only way you get do that again, is if you take her.”
Fett didn’t stay long enough to hear a response from Mando. He simply dropped back down through the floor into the hull and made his way into the hallway where the row of doors was. The ships control panel wasn’t anything unusual to Mando, but it felt strange to sit down in the chair, and begin turning on the ships controls to hopefully get the Ion engines running without any hiccups. After a few switches were set, and the efficacy level checked out, the Slave Two was hot and humming smoothly with the smallest beeps from the cockpit sounding all around him.
Mando watched as Fett came into view from the windshield, walking out away from the ship. He didn’t check to see if Mando was still sitting there until he was in the cockpit. He watched as Fett reached to press a couple buttons.
The Slave Two’s speakers crackled to life projecting Fett’s voice in the cockpit;
“I know some Hutt’s about 180 kilometers from here, they might be able to find you some… work.” He said pointing his finger towards the direction.
“Everything on this ship is-”
“Yours.” Fett snarled already knowing that Mando’s independence was going to make this difficult enough. “You’ll need it.”
“I owe you.” Mando replied.
Fett’s low chuckle sounded through the speakers “This is Your Way.”
Both men left without saying another word with destinations in mind. Mando however, was still unsure of whether or not doing business with Hutt’s would be worth it. They’re reliability was almost nonexistent, but if Fett was able to do business it might mean that so could he.
Slave Two was larger than the Razor Crest and from Mando’s judgment it was quite a well-handling ship. Not a single error button flashed, nor did the Deflector Generators need repaired. It wasn’t like Mando to pay much attention to the way a ship looked, but he knew that this ship was better suited to his work. He liked the controls, how well the ship responded to his ministrations. He even noticed the modifications that Fett had made during his flight toward the Hutt’s encampment.
Fett had wiped any memory on the ship, and there was a mock Hyperspace Tracker that could bounce signals around in hyperspace so the ships couldn’t be located easily. It was quite sneaky, and something Mando didn’t have the luxury of on the Razor Crest. Often times the worst part of the Crest was the recognition that it drew to plants like Nevarro-7 or even Tatooine. Before he could even land there were questions from ground securities wanting some type of registration information. None of that would be a problem any longer.
The Hutt’s base sat underground, buried underneath of a outcropping of rock mountains in the sand dunes outside of Mos Eisley. Mando could see the sandstone buildings, wavering from the baking heat. The door was guarded by a man, carrying a blaster with a smug look on his face. Hutt’s didn’t normally keep humans as guards, but Mando assumed he was a slave of some sort.
The guard didn’t ask for much, simply opening the door and mumbling something about ‘good business’ before pointing him in the direction of the cut-stone stairs that led down further into the ground. The stairs became damper as he descended with the smell of Hutt sneaking through his helmet. It was almost unbearable by the time he made it to the hall below.
His eyes first caught the women two women chained to the Hutt’s throne of sorts, the heavy links weighing down their wrists. They were skimpily clad, but had to have been the cleanest beings there. Four guards approached Mando, patting down his body finding his single blaster that was holstered to his hip. They made no comments but took the blaster and sat it down in front of the Hutt who laughed deeply at his first sight of Mando.
“A Mandalorian!” he boomed, using Basic language for Mando’s convenience. “What brings a fearsome man like you here, to me?” his chuckles still echoing through his question.
“I was told that I could find work here.” He replied, again darting his gaze back toward the two women who were no cowering behind the throne as far as their chains would allow. Their faces were covered with fear, but not of the Hutt… of him.
“Who told you this?” He boomed louder, rattling the sound equipment in Mando’s helmet. It made him wince at how terrible the enhanced sound felt against his ears.
“Boba Fett.”
The Hutt stopped his incessant chucking to look towards Mando was a harder stare, more serious this time. “I haven’t seen him in years… Do you have alike professions?”
“Yes.” Mando tried to keep his information limited for his own benefit. The less this Hutt knew about him the better off he would be.
“Bounty Hunting…” the Hutt said quieting his tone. “I have heard stories of your kind… yet only to this day met two.” His chuckles returned. “I have quite a few… interests that could use your level of expertise.”
He called out to one of the guards that had search him upon arrival and ordered him in Hutt nodding toward a hallway leading toward Mando’s right. The guard hastened away, trying to keep a professional tone. Mando kept quiet as his listened to the Hutt began talking again;
“I have three contracts… outer rim quarry that are needing some attention. You would be given their pucks… no tracking fobs or anything but their names and last locations.” He paused taking a labored breath, “The fourth is an exceptional job.”
“Exceptional how?” Mando pushed.
“It is a… cold job. But you would be given a fob.” The Hutt boomed with laughter.
Mando only nodded, familiar with the certainty that contractors wanted when dealing with quarry. A dead quarry wouldn’t cause problems, and Mando knew just how convenient that could be for the hunter as well.
“The other three are desired alive, and if they are not the payment would be reduced.” Hutt continued, “However, I do not pay out. I am only a middle man.”
“Where would I receive payment?”
“From a man in Mos Eisley, you would have different random contacts every time to secure… anonymity.”
The guard returned with the four pucks and one fob in hand. Sweat beading on his brow, he brought them to Mando and handed them gingerly to him before returning to his place against the wall surrounding the Hutt. Mando looked at the pucks, before returning focus to the Hutt.
“You would bring the assets to Mos Eisley, and they would be unloaded from your ship while you received payment.” He huffed, again out breath. “You would have three weeks to perform your duties… Do you accept?”
“I accept.”
***
2 Weeks Later.
“Hey man! Whatever they’re paying, I’ll double it!” the quarry yelled, struggling against the restraints Mando had put on him.
Mando stayed quiet, letting the bargaining spew out of his quarry’s mouth. It was so habitual that they tried bargaining, running or anything of their other useless attempts at escape. He never bargained… and he only let one quarry change his mind.
Grogu.
He did his best to push the child out of his mind while he shoved the quarry into the carbonite machine, quickly disposing the ship of the sounds of pleading. It became deathly quiet on the Slave Two after the carbonite had frozen his quarry into a thick slab. Only the sound Mando’s heavy footfalls signaled any life aboard as he walked back toward the cockpit.
The ship was too quiet for Mando’s true liking hyperspace was deathly silent and freezing cold. He couldn’t imagine it was any better than dying and that hyperspace was really where he would go after he was finally killed. His only solace became the beeping sounds of his ship, creating a pattern that was as close to a song as he could remember.
He only had job left, and it was the Cold Quarry. They were supposedly heading to Hoth to wait out any bounty hunters that were sent for him. Mando knew the quarry was hoping to dissuade anyone from coming to find him but Hoth’s snow and freezing weather wasn’t a problem. He had been on frozen planets before and it never distracted him from the job.
He would be on Hoth in a few days at most, and it gave him the opportunity to take a check of his low supply on food, and even lower supply of fuel and water. The Hutt had supplied him enough of both for about twelve days, not the full twenty-one. If it would have been the Guild he would have been well taken care of, and what wasn’t supplied for him was allotted in his job payments. A small part of him wished that he was able to return, simply for the respect that he had gained but he knew in his heart that he could never do so because of Grogu.
He hadn’t noticed how quickly his allegiance had changed for the support of the foundling, but after letting him go the full force of his protective nature had come crashing down on his shoulders with the weight of the galaxy. In those last few moments not only had he broken his creed, but he had felt true heartbreak for the first time. Of course, he had a moral compass, and anything that the Empire had planned wasn’t good for anyone, but it was a relationship that he was completely unprepared for. It was hard to let go, harder than any bounty he would ever have to catch.
He picked up a small can of soup turning it in his hand and inspecting his memories of eating with the child. It was one of his favorite things. He was cautious to not let Grogu to see his face, but after the first few times it was quite usual for him to sit facing the kid and eat without any issues of the kid trying to pull at his helmet.
Mando wasn’t hungry despite the churning in his stomach. He needed to get this job done.
Maybe he had forgotten just how cold Hoth could be. The wind cut through his clothes, and whipped his cape wildly in the gusts behind him. He could hear a small whistling from the gap in between his pauldron and the bottom edge of his helmet causing a ringing in his right ear. Mando didn’t spend much time hiding his ship, with the security of snow covering the visible planes from airspace. Not to mention how Hoth was almost deserted… except for the occasional bounty with a death wish.
He could easily see from airspace the most easily accessible to a man wanting somewhere to hide. And after landing down it was even easier to see the tracks made by a single set of shoes. They were undoubtedly a man’s, and from the information the Hutt gave him, these prints seemed like a dead ringer for shoe size and weight.
They were leading back into a separating in between to tall rock outcroppings that mostly likely afforded protection from the wind cutting through Mando’s layered shirts. He looked down to activate the ground security system with his vambrace, but after taking a second look, he could see a thin layer of frost covering even inch of the control section and even on the beskar surrounding it.
A cold bounty… he thought, finding no real humor in the situation.
Mando walked until daylight grew scarce. The weather had picked up, and if it hadn’t been for the two mountains he walked in between there would be no way for him to continue any further. The whistling in his ears were not helping his cause either. There would be no way for him to hear his bounty without being right on top of him. He’d had to turn off his audio enhancement so long ago due to the whistling becoming so loud.
The rock walls that surrounded Mando soared high up with ice and snow covering the jagged edges. Mando could see caves high up but the walls were too steep for anyone to climb up. He was looking for heat signatures, anything warmer than the frost covering everything, including him. There was nothing low to the ground, not even the footprints held any residual heat or memory, so his helmets enhancements were almost useless for tracking from the ground. But when he looked back up, he could finally see a little bit of heat. It was quickly disappearing, and the tell-tale red signature was barely visible, but it was still there.
A smoke trace.
It was too cold to not have some source of heat but burning a fire wasn’t smart for anyone hiding from a bounty hunter. After turning off his infrared display, the smoke was more visible in contrast with the bright white snow.
He was happy that the quarry wasn’t far, grateful his landing was well-founded in his good presumption of where the bounty could be hiding. His bounties were often well-hidden away, but this time he was truly struggling to keep a straight focus. Mando felt out of practice and it was only adding onto the feeling that this hunt was hard.
After what felt like an hour of trudging through the snow he could see the reflection of a fire licking up the side of the mountain. The flames burned high, and Mando couldn’t help but think how great it would feel to sit down at defrost his cold body. No shadow could be seen huddling around the fire or any real movement that Mando could see from his position.
His own footfalls were silent sinking into the snow as he drew upon a small cave lit up brightly by a roaring fire fueled by a small metal box that blew blue flames out into a controlled ball. A large man, laid close to the ball covered by a thick emergency blanket covering his entire body.
Mando drew his blaster, careful not to disturb the man before he was in position to wake him up.
“Wake up.” He demanded, expecting the man to shoot up out of bed.
The sleeping man stayed still. For a minute Mando debated whether or not to complete his job with the man unaware of his impending death. Killing him now would not only remove the chance of a fight, but also save Mando the risk of getting injured. He decided against it.
He leaned down, and shoved the man in the shoulder with his blaster. He watched as the mans’ body rolled over onto his back, covered in frost. The quarry’s skin was blue and the veins underneath were just as frozen as his skin. Mando’s eye widened, at the man’s brittle body, frozen in time right before his heart has finally frozen solid.
He hadn’t had to kill the bounty after all. But in the back of his mind, he knew that taking the dead man back tonight was not worth the risk. It was too cold to go back with extra weight after he experienced the cold without any slowed pace. He needed to get back quickly before the temperature dropped to low.
He employed the use of his jetpack, now that he was not at risk of spooking his quarry and cut through the blistering gales back to his ship. Before the door could shut he was stripping away the beskar covering his body. He sat it close to a small vent, watching for a second as the thick layer of frost slowly began dissipating around the edges. It was a magnet for cold, and it only accentuated how badly his core temperature had dropped outside. It wasn’t low enough for him to worry about any long-term effects however a hot shower was sounding better than even before. He even removed his helmet so the padding on the inside would vent and dry itself while he showered.
The steam rising out of the fresher welcomed Mando’s cold skin as he pulled away at the crunchy undershirt and pants he still wore. They had been soaked with sweat and frozen, leaving what was a normally comfortable shirt into a crystallized model of his body. The clothes landed with a heavy thud by his feet.
Mando sighed at the feeling of hot water soaking his hair and melting away the frigid feeling he carried in his muscles. He rested his forehead and elbows against the wall perfectly happy to let his ships remaining water supply to funnel down the drain. He stayed there for a long while, reminding himself that in the morning he would need to stop into a port and stock back up before leaving Hoth. There was an outpost not too far away that would supply everything he needed, but the price was what he occupied himself with.
His credits were uncomfortably low for his liking and if he showed any desperate need for fuel or water it would be easy enough for the normal price to become doubled. Hoth wasn’t known for crooked people, but you never knew what you were going to get when someone met a Mandalorian. Some didn’t give any protest, happy to supply Mando without any qualms… mostly driven by avoidance of conflict. But others were quite happy to make Mando’s life just a little more difficult, always staring at his beskar with a wicked look in their eyes.
He dried off, and retrieved another set of clothes from underneath his cot hastily pulling them on and retrieving his helmet from the floor to avoid losing any of the precious heat he had just regained. He eyed the cot and the heavy blanket that sat folded neatly at the foot, calling for him to actually lay down for once. He denied its pleas, and instead retreated up the ladder to the cockpit.
The pilots chair lightly groaned at his weight as he collapsed down into it. He lolled his head back, letting his helmet clink against the metal trim surrounding the headrest. He wouldn’t sleep, only sit in the darkness of Hoth’s night and listen to the howls of an ongoing snow storm rage against the sides of his ship. It rocked the Slave Two gently, back and forth creating a cradle for its inhabitants.
No sleep would come. Only the bright white reflection of sunlight casting off the continuously falling snow.
The bounty was easy enough in the height of Hoth’s sun. Giving him a small advantage in dragging the unbending weight of his bounty back to the carbonite machine. Mando almost thought the weather was comfortable until he stepped foot into a small cantina that hung on the edge of a small outpost.
The room was small, with enough seats for twenty at maximum with only five people filling those seats. It was decorated heavily with furs, and a roaring fireplace that licked high into the chimney space, like the quarry’s small metal box had. Only this one was filled with some sort of natural material. Mando had never seen anything like it before, and upon further inspection it looked like glassy black stones that gave off a sweet and smoky smell that permeated through his helmet.
It was only a light tap on his ribcage that brought his attention away from the fire. An elderly woman with deep age lines in her face, stood meekly in front of him with a small, crooked smile on her face.
“You look like you could use some heat.” Her smile grew wider as she ran a withered finger across his paulron. She inspected the gathering of frost on her finger, and watched it melt away before looking back up to him.
Underneath his helmet, the smallest smile graced Mando’s face at the woman in front of him. She looked old enough to be his ba’buir… his grandmother. Her fine white hair was pulled tightly back into a bun with small little strands staying out of the slicked back style. He couldn’t help but feel a small bit warmer with her gaze on him.
“I came for supplies, and fuel.” He said quietly, afraid of startling her with the crackling sound of his modulator.
Her wise eyes softened at his voice, and it only surprised him into silence as he waited for her response.
“Fuel is on the other end of the outpost.” She paused turning slowly to gaze toward the opposite end of town. “However, if you want supplies, I might be able to help you… Mandalorian.”
Her emphasis came with a charming glitter in her eyes, as she motioned for him to follow her. He did so silently, watching to make sure her shuffling feet didn’t catch on any of the chair legs that sat in her path. She opened a door, and let him walk through into what looked like a pantry. Shelves lined the walls, and were stocked with almost everything Mando could think of needing. Jars of unlabeled food -most likely hand filled- emergency medical supplies, and even random ship parts sat in metal crates stacked in a cobweb and dust covered corner.
He was quite speechless at the sight, but hesitated as she cleared her throat from hoarseness.
“You take whatever you need… if you can help me with my problem.” Her eyes focused right in on his, despite the black visor shading his eyes from view.
“Problem?” he asked.
The woman’s eyes that had glittered with pride, suddenly grew serious as she shuffled closer to him. 
“There’s a man out at the bar who desperately wants something I have.” She whispered, glancing every so often like the door behind her would bust open at any second. “I need you to get rid of him… and if you do, I’ll give you something that’s worth more than anything you’ve ever had before.”
Mando stood before a woman who he’d never met before, not fully understanding what it was that she was so serious about protecting or what she was willing to give him. Not that he wasn’t willing to help her, but her entire demeanor was surely enticing him.
“I’ll help.” He replied shifting his gaze back up to the door.
“He’s the only man at the bar,” she repeated reverently “He carries a blaster in his waistband… behind his back.” She whispered as she walked back out into the cantina’s dining space.
Mando focused back on the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, where he could sit and watch this man without gaining any more attention than he already was. A wooden chair sat close to the flames, and Mando found himself leaning back into it with the intent of looking as inconspicuous as he could.
The man at the bar was taller than average, but a full head shorter than Mando. He had broad shoulders and a bulge at his lower back. She was right. He thought, making a mental note of how observant the old woman truly was. He also sported a shaved head with many scars littering his skin with marred sections where the hair hadn’t grown back.
Mando couldn’t see him face, for the angle that he sat at. But he could tell from the wavering of his torso in his chair that he’s had one too many of whatever the elderly woman was serving. There was no way that Mando could get the man to leave without there being a scene, but something in the back of his mind told him that the woman was more than prepare for that to happen.
He even caught her out of the corner of his display, carefully taking glasses and other breakable items and stowing them underneath of the bar. Mando let her work quietly for a few more minutes, giving her enough time to save as many of her dishes as possible before he stood up.
“Another!” the man demanded loudly, slurring as he raised his glass in attempt to gain the old woman’s attention.
Mando reached the man’s side before she could, and reached his hand out to keep her from getting any closer. “I think you’ve had enough.” He stated, keeping his gaze straightforward.
He could hear the drunk man’s stunned choke as he whipped his head around to face Mando. He chuckled loudly, and dropped his half-full glass onto the bar-top spilling its contents all over the place. “And what would you know about it, tin can?”
“Enough to know you’ve had enough.” Mando repeated, this time turning just enough that half of his visor faced the drunk.
“How about you leave shiny. Before I make a mess out of you and this wenches bar.” His threat warbled with plastered slurs as he reached into his belt and pulled out his blaster, waving it all around before finally resting it on Mando’s chest.
Even if the man had been sober, he wouldn’t have noticed that Mando had already pulled out his own blaster and statuesquely trained it on the man’s head. It was quite the standoff, and Mando was quite certain in his ideas of why the old woman wanted him gone.
“Drop it, and you can leave Hoth alive. Or… I can drop you on the floor with a blaster hole through your chest.” Mando threatened, not letting his blaster waver an inch.
“I own this bar…” the man bluffed getting redder in the face by the second. “I own her-“ he jerked pointing to the old woman, “And her prize possession.” He spat turning back to Mando.
“You can live or you can die…. Your choice.” Mando growled, his finger resting on the trigger.
His ultimatum seemed to work well enough that the man dropped his blaster to the bar with a metallic thud, before stumbling off of his stool. He mumbled incoherently, even Mando’s helmet was unable to enhance what he said as he walked through the door, rattling the hinges as he slammed it shut.
Mando turned to the elderly woman, a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke to Mando again, “I’ll send word that you need refueled, and after you rest tonight, you’ll be leaving tomorrow.” Her satisfied tone rang through Mando’s speakers.
“I can’t stay.” He protested.
“You’ll stay here, for free.” She smiled, “Please, humor an old woman for a night.”
Mando could only sigh, and allow the woman to show him to a small room upstairs where he could place his belongings and lay awake, wondering what prize possession everyone but him seemed to know about.
As he listened, he could hear music playing below and a few bursts of laughter floating through the floor boards. He wasn’t comfortable laying there, but with the happy vibrations of celebration it did soothe his overly tense body enough that he could relax his helmet against pillow and cross his ankles to listen better.
He could hear the old woman’s hoarse voice sometimes making itself stand out from the other conversations, but nothing loud enough he could make out. He could hear a man’s voice speaking to others about the almost-blaster fight in the cantina earlier, embellishing the encounter with help from some liquid encouragement.
Under his helmet, he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling listening to the man talk about the ‘grand Mandalorian’ who kicked out Yir Fearbe. So that’s his name… he thought. They talked about the Corellian, and how he had left for Hoth years ago with the idea of taking over a port and making enough credits to further control the planet. Apparently, from the loud laughter his dream of becoming Hoth’s unofficial governor was hilariously outlandish.
Mando wasn’t surprised. Corellian’s were always reckless with a huge lack of reverence for anyone else’s existence. Mando knew of bounty hunters from Corellia, but they were all untrustworthy to say the least. Personal gain was the main currency for a Corellian. They had no creed, something that Mando was half-jealous and half-detesting of.
But as the man below continued with his stories and accountings of Yir, they grew much more serious in tone. He spoke of how brutal he was toward the elderly woman, but no one was able to win a fight against him… let alone win. The man barked out a laugh after saying that Mando was lucky he was too drunk to realize what was happening… and that “he would be back after the metal man left.”
The conversations droned on through the night, and early into the morning before silence fell over the downstairs. But it wasn’t two hours later that he heard the clinking of glasses and dishes being put away. He needed to get his ship re-fueled before mid-day, and be in hyperspace before that. The sooner he was gone the better.
He picked up his belts, and slung them over his chest also placing his blasters in their holsters before ducking through the short door frame. He was met with the tired eyes of the old woman, already watching him with a close gaze. Mando sat down at the same chair he had last night, letting the fire warm his back and neck, careful not to let his cloak get too close.
“Something to eat?” she asked absentmindedly, like a mother would.
“No, thank you.” He nodded his head, watching her slowly wipe down the bar top.
“Something to drink?” she queried again. Dank Farrik she was persistent.
He only shook his head this time, waving his hand dismissively at the offer. She only gave him a smile that creased the deep lines near her eyes and created heavy contours around the corners of her mouth.
“I expect as much… from a man like you.” She murmured.
“How do you know what I am?” he asked, leaning to rest his arms on his thigh plates.
“I have only heard stories of your kind,” she said looking fondly somewhere off in her memories. “But I expect that before you leave, you’ll show me just how good you are.” She pointed at him, her wrinkly fingers shaking.
Good.
Mando knew that wasn’t true. Even if she heard real stories she would know better than to think of him with any high regards to his goodness. Loyalty... sure. Maybe even a small sense of what justice was, but goodness wasn’t anywhere close to something he deserved. He was not only a warrior, but a contract killer. He made his living at the cost of others lives. Mandalorian’s were taught with weapons, not prayers to any gods. Children were trained not taught.
He thought of himself as a weapon.
They sat in silence, him watching her work and her consistently asking him for something to eat or drink. If she had been watching closely enough, the old woman might have seen his shoulders rise in the slightest when he huffed an amused chuckle at her progressively worrying tone.
“You do eat, don’t you?” she blustered, seemingly upset at his continuous declinations.
“Yes.” He tilted his head, trying to figure out just what it was she was upset about. “This isn’t about me eating is it?” he questioned back.
Her eyes drifted down towards her feet, suddenly looking more tired than she had after he came downstairs. She tottered across the room, and sat in down in a chair across from Mando, looking him up and down slowly before settling back on his visor.
“That was my husband’s chair,” she murmured. Mando made an attempt to get up, wanting to appease her, but she quickly stopped him. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Hardly anybody likes sitting in that old thing, but if you like it… then you sit.”
He adjusted her hips in the wooden seat, and winced before continuing on, “That man you made leave last night killed my husband, years ago when he first landed on Hoth. My husband only owned this building, but Yir wanted it for himself. And instead of doing the honorable thing, he killed my husband thinking that I wouldn’t have the wherewithal to do it myself.” She shook her head, a small bit of arrogance flashing across her features.
“I have done everything in my power -which isn’t much- to let you know the truth. Giving every last ounce of my strength into keeping everything that needed protected, protected.”
Mando shifted foreword again, narrowing his eyes in focus and trying to understand her real meaning behind all of this.  
“But when I saw you walk through that door, I knew that you were my last opportunity.” She smiled, making real eye-contact through his visor.
“Who are you? And why do you trust me?” he blurted, desperate for a straight, uncryptic answer.
“Mandalorian, I’m just an old woman. Nothing more. That doesn’t mean I don’t know when I see a second chance sitting right in front of me.”
Mando was about to speak again, when the loud ring of a familiar voce began thrumming through the air, followed by incessant blaster fire. The old woman gasped, grabbing at her chest and hurriedly standing up with her gaze locked on the door.
“Maker…” she whispered. “He’s coming.”
Mando thought quickly, and rushed her over to the storage room she had brought him into yesterday, carefully trying to get her there before Yir could catch him with his back turned. But before he could close the door, he frail hand reached out and touched his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“You are much more than a warrior… but at this moment, that is exactly what you need to be.” She stated reverently, before shutting the door herself.
He heard the sound of a lock click on her side of the door right before the one behind him smashed open with a bright read beam of blaster fire. Mando couldn’t remember what happened, or how he found himself being thrown around the room and being smashed into tables but that’s exactly what happened.
His beskar absorbed the brunt of most of the blows he took, but the man was so belligerent that he took too punching Mando in the helmet despite the ugly angle that balled-up fingers were at. Mando tried to fight back, but without a chance to reach for his blaster there was not much he could do but grapple with the man, and find an opportunity to reach down to his hip.
Vir growled ferally screaming about taking what was rightfully his, and other nonsense that Mando could barely catch before he was thrown once again this time, his back making solid contact with the hard, stone edge of the bar. Vir lifted him up, and angrily smashed him against the wall, trapping his throat and squeezing hard, trying to push past Mando’s thick cloak wrapped tightly around his throat.
“I’ll make more money off that beskar than I would on this planet in a lifetime.” Vir growled, smiling happing at his reflection in Mando’s helmet. “I can’t wait to see what’s under all that metal.” He barked happily, not noticing Mando’s free hand struggling for purchase on his blaster.
“I told you to leave.” Mando choked out, pulling the trigger and hearing a loud scream resonate from Vir. They both dropped to their knees, but Vir kept screaming at the giant wound in his thigh, or what was left of it.
“You…. You will pay for this.” Vir threatened with a tremble, gripping at his leg with a fierce grimace on his face. “They sent me here, for her.” He smiled, delirious anger taking over. “They’ll come for you once they find out what happened he-“
Mando silence Vir’s threats with another blaster shot.
“I told you to leave.” Mando repeated, struggling to his feet. His head buzzed with the rush of oxygen flooding back.
“Mandalorian!” the old woman hissed, rushing out the door and across to him.
He pushed away her attempts to check him for injuries, knowing well enough for himself that any blaster shots that had went off ricocheted off his beskar.
“I’m fine.” He said pushing away from her. “But I need to leave. Now.” He stated, giving her a hard look.
“Take what you need. Your ship is ready, I checked this morning.” She said pointing towards the storage room she had just came from.
He nodded silently, and quickly began grabbing what he needed, throwing all of it into a canvas bag that was hanging from one of the shelves. Canned food, and two medical supply kits were only a couple of the things he shoved into the bag before exiting to see the old woman standing with a huge coat and a change of boots.
“I’ll walk you there.” She stated, not giving him much of a choice.
“My pace.”
She only nodded, and lead him out into the street where at the end of the street he could see his ship had been moved.
“Who moved my ship?” he asked impatiently.
“Someone trustworthy.” Was her answer.
“Listen, I don’t know you. And I understand we had a deal, but that’s over with now.” he retorted, glancing over at her.
“Not yet, I gave you one last thing…”
He looked to see tears spilling over her sagging cheeks, and he shoulders slumped low like she was carrying a huge weight.
“You owe me a promise Mandalorian. And I entrust you’ll keep it.”
“What is this promise?” he asked, finally reaching his ships back hatch.
The hatch hissed as it began opening, and Mando reflexively drew his blaster pointing in at the figure who stood in the hull of his ship.
“Everything looks fantastic I fixed a few loose connections on the hyperdr-” A honeyed voice filled Mando’s ears as the figure came to a sudden halt, open hands raised in submission at the blaster trained on them.
“Who are you?” he demanded, feeling quite whiplashed by his last day and a half. He was ready to start shooting without asking questions.
“She’s mine.” The old woman cut in, rising her mittened hand to push away at Mando’s blaster.
“I refueled your ship, and check to make sure that you were ready to go.” The silky voice added.
He watched, carefully as a young woman walked slowly down the ramp of his ship, hands still raised up, with wide eyes trained on his. What is with these women… he thought, feeling quite uncomfortable with how easy it was for them to find his eye behind the visor.
The old woman pushed harder at his blaster and he finally dropped it down to his side, finally getting him to release his steady aim on the girl. “You have a promise to keep.” She murmured, looking at the girl, who was staring just as puzzled at the old woman as Mando felt.
“She is yours to protect.”
The girl immediately began denying the idea, and Mando himself finally cut off that annoyingly sweet voice to put up his own protest,
“I have no reason to take her anywhere.”
The old woman’s wise eyes fell back onto Mando, and consequently silenced the surprised interjections from his ship.
“You need a second chance…” she spoke almost prophetically piercing through Mando’s resolve. “And I might be an old woman… but I have seen what you can do. And that assures me that you’re the one man that can keep her safe…” she hesitated. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
Mando was about to question her again when the sound of a blaster echoed up through the snow-covered pathway. He shouted a warning, and reached to cover the old woman’s back  when she was already falling down into the snow, still as the quarry from the cave.
She was dead.
He heard more blaster shots, and a scream from the girl, as she attempted to run off the sloping hatch of the ship, carrying her own blaster and retuning fire. It wasn’t a good situation when Mando turned back toward the street again. A group of men masked, and carrying a lot firepower began making their way toward his ship, all pointing toward the girl who was squatting next to his ship, blaster trained down sight.
“Give us the girl!” one of them shouted, pointing a gloved hand past Mando.
He flashed back to the bounty droid, pointing its blaster at Grogu… the feeling he had now identical to that day. He tried to suppress it, but after a few more seconds hundreds of ‘what-if’s’ and what the old woman had said, he turned toward the girl;
“Get on the ship. Now!”
Blaster fire erupted, bouncing off the back hatch as it pulled up off the ground and Mando stepped back towards the hull space. He fired, eliminating the closest people in the group when he felt the ship lurch upwards into the sky.
She was flying his ship.
But, surprisingly he wasn’t as mad as he thought when the imminent threat of the men boarding became slimmer and slimmer as the distance between Hoth’s frozen ground and the Slave Two grew wider. Only after leaving air space in a hurry, did Mando make his way to the cockpit to see just who it was that was now on his ship.
She sat in the pilot’s chair focused on the dash of buttons in front of her, eyes flashing occasionally up to the interfaces showing their positioning. If it wasn’t for the red display flashing on her face he wouldn’t have noticed the tear streaks on her cheeks. Her breaths were uneven causing her chest to jerk, but she didn’t make a single sound.
Mando watched from behind her, quietly watching as the ship veered around small debris that floated in Hoth’s gravity, expertly guiding the ship out of the dangerous field. Her hand hovered over the switch that would send them into hyperspace. Her silence was a question, not just of if he was ready… but if he trusted her.
“Go.” he finally answered.
He pushed his shoulders against the wall behind her, preparing himself to feel the force press him back even tighter against the wall. Her ministrations over the controls were precise, even though the weight of force was pinning him back, she was able to smoothly operate until the streaking blue and purple lights of hyperspace lit up the cockpit.
Her chair spun around to face him, her small frame being swallowed by the chairs harness that she had pulled over her shoulders. Wisps of damp hair and sweat covered her forehead, and her eyes locked onto his with a mix of emotions that Mando couldn’t quite read.
“You’re the man my grandmother has talked about…” She searched up and down his body, carefully taking stock of his frame, lingering on the blasters that were strapped to his thigh and hip.
“I hadn’t met her before last night.” He answered, feeling like his response was inadequate.
“She told me you needed your ship refueled… but I had to move it.” She explained, pulling the harness off of her shoulders. “I didn’t expect for any of this to happen.” Her voice dropping a little. He knew what she was talking about, despite her lack of real conversation. “I wasn’t busy so I tried to clean up some of your wiring boxes…” she kept explaining herself, trying to bargain her value to him.
He let her continue, finding a similarity in her tone with the bounties that were sitting in carbonite slabs in the back of his ship. He saw her nervousness in the way she began chewing on her lip after she had run out of things to say.
“Where am I supposed to take you?” he asked, seeing a flinch of uncertainty cross over her face. He mentally chided himself for sounding so harsh. It wasn’t like intimidating her was going to benefit him at this point.
“I- I don’t know.” She frowned, still chewing on her bottom lip.
He shook his head, letting his frustration and lack of understanding in the situation show for the first time towards her. “Then why are you here, and why were those men after you?”
She huffed out a breath and ran a hand through her sweaty hair, pulling it off her forehead. “There’s a man named Vir… he came to Hoth and when he met me he tried to date me, I guess. But when I turned him down, it only made things worse.” She stood up, and leaned her back against the controls, “He killed my grandfather as a sick kind of punishment. And since then he’s been obsessed, following me around and threatening me constantly.”
Mando listened, taking in everything that the old woman -her grandmother- had said and finally put all of the pieces together. That old woman had been protecting the girl, and he was becoming more and more in awe of how fierce the old woman’s loyalty was. Even her last sentence was spent holding the him to a promise of security.  
“But now everyone is dead because of me…” she admitted quietly, before looking up to Mando with more tears in welling in her eyes. “You have to get away from me, whoever you are. You don’t know me and none of this is your problem.” She nodded at her own decision, seemingly satisfied at her plan.
They stood in silence again, her waiting on him to say something and Mando just looking at her under the cover of his helmet. She wore layered shirts, with a coat -too large for her- cloaking any real idea of what her shape really looked like. Her boots were tiny, and snow still clung to them. In the back of his mind, he weighed his options but kept thinking about the old woman’s voice: “I’m giving you something special…”
He wasn’t sure what she meant by giving her to him, but what he didn’t want to admit was that he was going to keep that promise.
“I can see you fly well, and I could use a co-pilot. I’ll show you where you can put any of your things.” He said turning away toward the ladder, with a small motion for her follow him.
He passed his own room, and pushed open the next door and let her walk in. She glanced around, and sat down on the corner of the small cot. She shrugged off her huge coat, and looked to Mando with a very innocent look.
“I can’t stay here for long.” She said with a sigh, “But I appreciate you helping me.”
He nodded and left without another word.
Mando retreated back to the cockpit, only to review everything the woman had said, and the story that the girl had told him. All of it raced around, especially the girls sweet voice that gave him a dizzying head rush. It sounded so pretty. He thought rubbing the forehead of his helmet like it would help subside the feeling of drinking too much spotchka. She looked so young, but the way she carried herself added to his confusion about her true age.
The old woman was her grandmother, but that didn’t help him get a better idea either. The dead man on Hoth had been after the girl for a at least a couple years so she was most likely in her early twenties. But one thing stuck in Mando’s head above all the images of her and her sugary voice in his head.
Seeing her silhouette framed by hyperspace, and the silky sound of her voice contrasted to his own was exceptionally difficult to ignore. She hadn’t been on his ship two hours and the idea of getting another glimpse at her was already pushing itself into the forefront of his mind. Mando always thought about anything ten different ways before proceeding. But for the second time in his life his gut had overridden his judgement. The second time.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know when I see a second chance sitting right in front of me.” The old woman had said.
A second chance.
His second chance.
If anything it only made his head spin more. What was it about himself that had given the old woman a sense of him needing a ‘second chance’? Not only that, but why did he need one? His only thought was Grogu, and how difficult it was to let his foundling go despite his knowledge that there was somewhere better for the child. He had fought desperately to return the child to his own people, but when the time came, he could barely let go.
Was he really supposed to take care of her?
If he was a different man, he would let her off on a safe planet before heading back to drop off his bounties. Leave her with a enough supplies and credits to settle herself somewhere far enough away from those men… and himself. But as he sat down in the pilots chair, and looked out at space flying past him, he acknowledged that he wasn’t that man. The idea of an old woman with wise eyes telling him that the girl on his ship was his second chance, was not only wildly dangerous, but something that he was already preparing himself for.
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ceilingfan5 · 3 years
Note
Mmmmm, what about cosplayer AU and/or airplane passengers?
“Tell me why I’m tolerating this again.” Taako stands with his hands on his hips for maybe four seconds before he starts pacing again. It’s late, so late it’s early, and most of the other people waiting for their baggage are sitting in the chairs and dozing off, not wearing a hole through the tile. But Taako’s luggage is delicate, and he’s trying not to have a panic attack about it, and Kravitz understands, and calmly reassures him, trying not to yawn.
“You’re excited to go to one of the biggest conventions in the country, is, I think, one of the biggest ones. You get to meet one of your heroes, and you-” yawn. “And you haven’t stopped vibrating about that since you got the invitation. And you worked really hard on your cosplay-”
“Our cosplay!”
“Our cosplay. You’re excited to do a couple’s cosplay for the first time, I remember that.”
“Maybe,” Taako grumps, yanking his hair out of his ponytail and combing through it with his fingers. It’s limp from being up for ages and taking two horrible flights halfway across the country, but it’s still beautiful, and Kravitz can’t wait to see it done up pretty tomorrow when he’s in costume.
“Oh, and you don’t even need a wig for this one.” Kravitz snaps his fingers, like maybe this is the one that will remind Taako that waiting for their potentially very damaged props is worth it.
“Maybe I should have done a wig, though! What if I can’t get enough volume? My bangs have been fighting me- I could have just-”
“No wig hair.”
Taako stops in his tracks, and nods. And nods again. “I do like that, yeah. Fuck wigs.” He turns to Kravitz. “But- fuck, is it going to be okay? What if it’s awful? What if I make a fool of myself? What if they realize how much I hot glued-”
Kravitz walks over to him and gently takes his hands. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re excited for this. You’ve been so excited you could hardly sleep. Not only do you get to go to this huge con, you get to be on the panel of judges for the cosplay contest, and you love judging people. You know more about this than anyone I have ever met in my entire life. You even got me to agree to wearing a costume. You are so powerful, Taako, and this? Being patient? Airport security? They cannot defeat you.”
Taako squares his shoulders, and he smiles.
“Yeah!” He bounces on his toes. “Yeah, I- I got this! I can handle anything that comes my way! I got invited- it’s- it’s so huge- Krav, I know you’re not that into fandom and shit, but holy fuck, this is the most important thing that’s ever happened to me, and- and I’m excited! It’s not all anxiety!”
“That’s the spirit!” Kravitz grins. “And those baby cosplayers are going to look at your outfit and shit themselves.”
“You’re damn right!” Taako pulls away and pumps his fist in the air, and, almost cinematically, the baggage claim conveyor belt starts moving with a hellish screech and a lurch. Taako’s eyes go wide and he rushes over, prairie dogging and freaking and peeking for his luggage. Theirs come out almost immediately, and Taako hauls his over to the open floor and unzips his- and swears a blue streak. “They- Krav- my props!”
“Hot glue, love. Hot glue can overcome anything.”
“I’ll hot glue your MOUTH shut! Who- I need to complain to someone- who the fuck decided to use my bag to beat ass? I’ll- I swear to god-”
“Taako, love, Taako… You’re so powerful. Please. Please let’s go to the hotel and sort this out there. Please. I’m dying of four am. No one will be able to carry your bags and phone tomorrow if you don’t let me sleep.”
Taako glares at him, and re-zips the luggage, and mutters foul things under his breath as they head for the exit. Kravitz takes his hand and squeezes it.
“You’re powerful and you get to judge people tomorrow. You’re the best cosplayer that ever lived. Your designs are better than the ones on the show.”
“Keep affirming me like that and I’ll be tempted to sleep with you,” Taako mutters, and he bumps their shoulders affectionately. Kravitz laughs. It’s just stress, and even if he doesn’t understand it, it’s real to Taako, and he’ll be there for him every step of the way.
Even if that means helping him hot glue shit at four in the motherfucking morning.
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surrealsunday · 3 years
Text
A Christmas Mood Tattoo snippet…
Notes: Merry Christmas to anyone celebrating! Enjoy this little snippet from our Mood Tattoo babies. It takes place just a few months after they’ve moved in together, but before they go away to Japan and get engaged.
There should be a part 2 of this coming that I intend on being longer – that will be NYE themed. This was just a little intro to get me into the writing zone again. I hope you enjoy!
* * * *
“Eli, it’s freezing.”
Eliott turns back to look at Lucas. From how his boyfriend is bundled up, scarf wrapped around his head in a way that allows only his eyes to be visible above it, one would think Eliott had dragged him out in the middle of a Russian winter. The temperatures have dipped below zero, but it’s hardly as cold as Lucas would lead someone to believe. Eliott’s just thankful the scarf is blocking the pout he knows lies beneath it. It’s impossible to resist Lucas when he pouts. As it is, he’s doing a pretty impressive job of conveying that pout with wide-eyed, watery eyes. But Eliott is determined enough to resist him… for now.
“Baby,” he begins, delighted by the way Lucas immediately huffs, “it’s not that much further. But if you want to turn back now, we can.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, and maybe it’s a little unfair. He knows Lucas won’t ask to turn back when Eliott is excited to go, but offering the option still feels like the right thing to do.
Lucas doesn’t answer. Making a small sound beneath his scarf – definitely a harumph – he grabs Eliott’s gloved hand in his own and continues walking. “Tell me about this thing again. ‘Cause if we wanted to watch a movie, we could have done it at home, under a blanket, with hot chocolate and blowjobs.”
Eliott chokes on a laugh. “God, I love your idea of a night in.” Lucas glances over at him, a smile clear in the crinkles beside his eyes. “And it’s not a movie. It’s a sound and light installation,” Eliott continues. “Remember that patient a week or so back who had the meniscectomy? She told me about this. She knows someone involved with the set up. Laura.”
Lucas nods. “The one who wanted to bone you.”
Eliott snorts immediately. “She did not want to bone me.”
“She definitely wanted to bone you.”
Eliott sighs, too charmed to be annoyed by Lucas’s stubborn belief that everyone Eliott meets wants to sleep with him. It’s hard to be mad about it when it really just comes down to Lucas’s belief that anyone who doesn’t want to sleep with Eliott must be a moron. “She was at least ten years older than me.”
“Yeah. And she wanted to get herself a piece of that.”
Eliott laughs, unable to help himself from stopping and reaching for Lucas, pulling him closer by his coat. “Get herself a piece of that?” He teases. “A piece of me? What piece exactly?”
Lucas rolls his eyes. His scarf has slipped down slightly to reveal the tip of his nose and his cheeks, both rosy pink from the cold. Eliott moves his hands up to cup his face, brushing thumbs against the flush of his cheeks.
“Don’t know why she’d want to,” Lucas grumps. A piece of his hair falls down, catching in his eyelashes and Eliott moves a hand up to brush it back, tangling his fingers in the strands. “Pain in my ass, you are,” Lucas continues with a huff, “dragging me around in the cold when we have to be up to work a full shift tomorrow and it’s Christmas, so you know it’s gonna be extra hellish and –” Eliott cuts him off with a kiss, pressing their cold lips together in what was meant to be a soft and gentle peck, but turns deeper almost immediately. He couldn’t even say whether it’s him or Lucas who does it, but it’s suddenly soft and slow, open-mouthed in a way that has a buzz vibrating just beneath Eliott’s skin. He pulls back only when he feels Lucas’s tongue licking at his lips. Lucas’s eyes are wide and dazed, his lips pleasantly puffy. But it’s only a split-second before they narrow in suspicion. “Did you do that to shut me up?”
Eliott laughs. “No.” It’s the truth. Any moment spent not kissing Lucas feels like a moment too long. And a grumpy Lucas, skin flush from the cold? There’s absolutely no way Eliott could be expected to resist such a formidable test of his will power. “And you get all my pieces. For the record.”
Lucas’s nose scrunches. He means it to be a look of disapproval – an objection to Eliott’s choice of words. He only manages to look even more adorable. “You make me sound like a serial killer – collecting body parts or some shit.”
Eliott snorts a laugh. “Remember when you said that before?” Lucas quirks an eyebrow in question. There’s a ninety-nine percent chance he remembers too and just wants to hear Eliott recall the moment. Eliott’s more than happy to oblige. “In the hospital. Both of us covered in puke. You pretending you didn’t want me as badly as you did.” Lucas rolls his eyes. It only makes Eliott smile wider. “You said our idea of a good time was cutting people open. That we sound like serial killers on a good day.”
“I said psychopaths.”
Eliott tries not to let his smile become too smug but it’s a losing battle. “You do remember.”
“You followed it up by nearly braining me on the tile of the showers. Hard to forget.”
Eliott sighs wistfully, flashbacks to wet and naked Lucas more than welcome. “Yeah.”
It makes Lucas laugh as he turns away again, pulling Eliott along by the hand. “Ok, so, this is a fancy movie. Still a movie.”
Eliott sighs, his breath puffing before him in the cold night air. Lucas’s shameless efforts to play dumb when it comes to all things art shouldn’t be as charming as they are. “A sound and light installation is totally different,” Eliott begins, throwing just the right amount of pompous indignation into his tone. “It combines totally different disciplines, art and engineering, and it’s more than watching a film. It’s multi-sensory and interactive, and –”
“God,” Lucas interrupts with a laugh, looking over at Eliott with such affection in his eyes, it still – even after so many months of being together – catches Eliott off guard. “You really were meant to be some pretentious art student, hunh? Just got turned around in the halls one day and ended up in medicine.”
Eliott grins, releasing Lucas’s hand to wrap an arm around his neck instead, hauling him closer. “Got me you.”
Lucas makes an amused sound. “Bad enough dealing with surgeon you. Not sure I could handle even more insufferable artist Eliott.”
“You would have thought I was hot.”
“I already think you’re hot.”
Eliott tries not to preen too obviously at that. “Hotter.”
“Not possible.”
Eliott glances sideways at Lucas, suddenly wondering how loudly his boyfriend might object to Eliott dragging him into the nearest shadowed corner to do unspeakable things to him. Normally it wouldn’t be something he’d need to question. In this cold however, Lucas is likely to give him a bit more lip. “Baby –”
“Holy shit,” Lucas’s awe filled voice cuts him off and Eliott turns his head to look in the direction of his gaze.
They’ve rounded the corner and the installation has come into view. Streaks of different coloured lights stretch into the night sky, moving in slow tandem. There are sounds – single notes – that play each time one of the light beams moves. Together the notes have formed a haunting sort of melody. The source of the light beams is several projectors, housed in larger, futuristic looking black boxes that showcase external digital, interactive screens. There are a number of other people milling about, pressing various buttons on the screens. “You didn’t say it would be this!” Lucas moves out from under Eliott’s arm, hurrying towards the installation.
“I said sound and light installation,” Eliott laughs as he follows. “That’s what you’re looking at.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say it would be this cool.” Lucas stops at a lightbox, staring at the screen and then up into where the blue light stretches into the sky..
“Pretty sure I did,” Eliott mumbles, coming to stand beside him.
“What does it do?” Lucas asks, turning to look at Eliott rather than read the instructions and artist statement to the side of the lightbox.
Eliott smiles. This is the part he’d been most excited to tell Lucas about. “Remember how I said it was interactive?” Lucas nods. “So, these numbers,” Eliott points to where you have the option of typing numbers into set lines on the screen, “control the lights. The numbers you put in match coordinates in the night sky. The numbers can be random, but they’ll find something up there – a star, a constellation, a planet… something. But not our sky. Or not exactly.”
Lucas looks away from the sky towards Eliott, his nose wrinkling in confusion. “What do you mean not our sky?”
“See. It’s moving,” Eliott points out as they both take a step back to watch as the beam of blue light slowly tracks across the sky, sounding a singular note to join the others. “It’s not us doing it.”
Lucas stares at it in wonder as it comes to a stop. “Who then?”
“There are matching installations in other major cities across Europe – Rome, Berlin, Antwerp, and other places, I think. They control our light beams. We control theirs.”
Lucas looks to the screen in front of him on the light box. “So, the numbers I put in… they’ll change the direction of the light somewhere else?”
Eliott nods, answering out loud when Lucas’s eyes don’t move from the screen. “Exactly. Someone else will be watching the spot in the sky you chose.”
Lucas turns to look at him. The blue of his eyes catches the reflected glow of the light beam, making them appear even more ethereal than they do normally. Eliott’s breath catches in his throat. “But why?”
“I’m not sure,” Eliott admits, tearing his gaze away to look towards the various beams of light moving together. “Maybe to remind us we’re all connected – we’re all looking up at the same night sky? That the choices we make affect others?”
“Wow,” Lucas whispers, turning to watch as other lights track across the sky. “It’s beautiful.”
Eliott turns to stare at his profile. “It reminds me of that thing you say… about parallel universes.”
Lucas glances back to him surprised. “It does?”
Eliott nods. “Like there could be another Eliott and Lucas in Rome, watching the lights tonight just like us.”
Lucas laughs lightly. “But this is our reality. The lights exist in different cities in our universe.”
Eliott knows that’s true. He’s not sure how to explain what he means exactly. “Yeah, but –”
“Eliott,” Lucas cuts him off, stepping into his space and reaching for the lapels of Eliott’s jacket. “I know what you mean.”
“Yeah?” Eliott breathes, leaning down to press their cold foreheads together.
“Mmhmm,” Lucas hums, his eyes slipping closed as he presses into the contact. “Lots of parallel universe Eliott and Lucas’s freezing their asses off to move light beams for one another.”
Eliott snorts with a laugh, pushing back to see Lucas looking up at him with a smug smile. “Brat.” He turns them both back towards the screen, moving a hand up to thread through the back of Lucas’s hair and tug gently. “What numbers should we put in? Birthday?”
“Nah,” Lucas denies, leaning forward to brush his fingers against the screen, “that’s boring.”
“Random then?”
Lucas nods. “Yeah, or like… I could put in a date. Like… the day we met?” He doesn’t look at Eliott, staring down at the screen in what becomes apparent is an effort to seem nonchalant.
Eliott smiles. “That’s awfully romantic.”
Lucas glances at him quickly. The flush in his cheeks is just a little deeper now. “Shut up.”
“Let’s do it,” Eliott agrees, rubbing a hand against Lucas’s back to prompt him to enter the numbers. “You remember the date?” Lucas doesn’t answer, leaning forward instead to input the numbers. Eliott watches him, his smile growing. “And you say I’m a romantic cornball…”
“You are a romantic cornball.” Lucas finishes, pressing the submit button, and stepping back. He allows Eliott to move behind him, wrapping him up snuggly in his arms. Eliott leans forward to press the cold of their cheeks together. “It’s a bit weird thinking someone somewhere else is watching it move for our numbers,” Lucas comments, looking up at their blue light, still and crisp in the night sky.  
“Yeah,” Eliott agrees. “There,” he raises a hand to unnecessarily point at the light beam moving, “they’re moving it back. It’s like they’re talking to us.” He brings his hand back to brush against Lucas’s arm. His tattoo is buried beneath layers and layers of fabric, but Eliott can picture it there. “It’s like magic.”
Lucas turns his head to nuzzle the tip of his nose against Eliott’s cheek. “Thanks for bringing me.”
Eliott squeezes him even closer. “C’mon, that’s not all. Let’s warm up.”
“We’re going somewhere else?” Lucas asks, looking sweetly disappointed.
Eliott shakes his head, turning to lead Lucas to a nearby bench. He drops the backpack he’s been carrying to the surface and motions for Lucas to have a seat. “I brought us hot chocolate,” he admits, smiling again when Lucas does, “and Bailey’s.”
“Now we’re talking,” Lucas laughs, happily taking the empty cup handed to him.
“We can warm up and watch the lights for a little bit longer.” Eliott sits next to him on the bench and goes about filling up both their cups from the thermos he packed, topping the cups with a little Bailey’s as Lucas hums in approval. He hands his own cup to Lucas while he pulls out the small throw he’d packed as well. It won’t provide much extra warmth, but it was all he could fit in the backpack. He spreads it across Lucas’s lap, leaving just enough material for himself, and he tucks them closely together under it, reaching one arm to wrap around Lucas’s shoulders, and reaching for his cup with the other.
They both sit for a moment, sipping happily on their drinks and watching the light beams glide through the sky.
“I brought something too,” Lucas says into the gentle silence between them.
“You did?” Eliott looks to him in surprise.
“Mmhmm,” Lucas nods, not looking away from the lights. “You said I wasn’t getting in the Christmas spirit.”
“Yeah,” Eliott agrees. “And you said it was hard to get in the spirit when we would be celebrating Christmas with cramped hands from doing sutures all day in the ER for – and I quote – morons who can’t even manage to stop being morons on Christmas.”
Lucas grins, looking at Eliott now. “And I’m right but…” He shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful and sweet. “I haven’t really wanted to get into it since my mom was around. It’s different this year.”
Eliott swears he can feel his heart physically swell in his chest. “Yeah?”
Lucas nods, glancing away and back to the lights. “And you love all this shit, so…” He motions a hand towards the backpack.
Eliott grins, reaching for it and rooting through the pockets until he finds an opaque plastic bag in one of the front pockets. The smell of gingerbread wafts from it the moment he pulls it from the pack. “You made gingerbread?” He might sound a little like a child on the cusp of teendom whose crush just said hi in the school hallway… but truly, no one could blame him. Lucas made him Christmas cookies. Lucas, who has been working shifts just as exhausting and back-breaking as Eliott, had taken the time to make gingerbread cookies because he knew Eliott would love them.
“Sof helped,” Lucas admits with a shrug.
Eliott stares at his profile, smiling so wide his cheeks ache with it, until Lucas – with a huff, of course – turns back to look at him. “You made me cookies.”
“Well, you deserve them.”
“Lucas,” Eliott begins prying the bag open, “that is so sweet, so thoughtful, I –” He cuts himself off as he stares down at the cookies looking up at him from the bag. “Lucas…”
“Yes?” Lucas’s eyes have widened with false innocence. He could not look more like the bratty bane of Eliott’s existence… love of his fucking life…
“You made dirty gingerbread cookies…”
“Excuse me,” Lucas sniffs. “They were wrapped up carefully. They’re quite clean.”
Eliott looks up, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You actually took the time to make gingerbread cookies…” Eliott glances around them for any nosey listeners before adding, “fuck.”
“Language,” Lucas gasps, so obviously enjoying himself. His eyes are lit up with mischief. “Those are Christmas gingerbread cookies. They’re innocent. You should know better.”
Eliott lifts one cookie that appears to be one gingerbread man taking another from behind. “Oh yeah. Definitely scream innocent.”
Lucas grins. “I liked that one.”
“Can’t believe Sof helped you make these.” Eliott can’t even picture it but the very thought makes him want to laugh and just not stop.
“He helped make ‘em. Idriss helped me find the cookie cutters online.”
Eliott gapes. “You bought sexual cookie cutters?”
“‘Course,” Lucas nods with faux authority. “Now we can get use out of them for years to come. It can be our tradition.”
Eliott stares at him. Count on Lucas to make something so ridiculous, so goddamn sweet, all at the same time. “You’re something else.”
“Thank you,” Lucas sniffs, reaching for a cookie of his own. He chooses the one very clearly depicting one gingerbread giving the other a blowjob. Gingerbread cookies are never going to be the same. “You like them though, right?” Lucas doesn’t sound insecure. Not really. But there’s a caution in his voice which is likely more a reflection of how much he knows the holiday means to Eliott – and his own desire to be part of that in his own, bratty, ridiculous way.
“Yes.” Eliott twists slightly sideways and doesn’t resist the urge to pull Lucas into a kiss. He pulls back with a gentle smile, moving his free hand to brush back the strands of hair fallen down over Lucas’s forehead. “I love my dirty gingerbread men.”
Lucas smiles. “Good.” He places his cup next to him on the bench and turns to wrap his arms around Eliott’s waist in a sideways hug, tucking closer into his embrace as he presses his head beneath Eliott’s chin. He reaches forward to tap his own cookie against the one held in Eliott’s hand. “This your way of saying what you want later?”
Eliott snorts, motioning towards Lucas’s own choice. “Was that yours?”  
Lucas shrugs, letting out a happy sigh as he snuggles into Eliott’s hold. “Guess we can have both.”
“How generous,” Eliott laughs.
“I am. Quite,” Lucas sniffs, sounding hilariously pompous.
Eliott takes a bite of his cookie, humming happily as he chews, leaning back to watch the lights for a moment, warm and more content than he can ever remember being. “I love you, Lucas,” he says, eyes tracking the colourful beams of light in the night sky. “There’s no one else like you.”
“Not so average?” Lucas asks after a moment.
Eliott laughs lightly. “No. Definitely nothing average about you.”
“Well,” Lucas sighs, his arms tightening around Eliott, “I think you’re pretty ok too.”
“Pretty ok?” Eliott snickers. “A high compliment.”
“Mmm. Only the best for you.”
Eliott leans down to press a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head. “We’re going to have lots of traditions together. This can be one.”
“Freezing our asses off with dirty cookies and hot chocolate while we watch a light show?”  
“Yeah,” Eliott agrees, near bursting with happiness. “Exactly that.”
“Ok,” Lucas agrees, more easily than Eliott expected. “Eliott?” Lucas adds after a moment of silence.
“Mmhmm?”
“I wouldn’t make gingerbread cookies fucking for anyone else.”
Eliott laughs, pressing his mouth down into Lucas’s hair. “I know.”
“I love you.”
Eliott breathes in the words, closing his eyes as he presses his nose down into Lucas’s hair and soaks up the way ginger and chocolate and other spices have somehow mixed with that uniquely Lucas smell. Eliott didn’t know he could love the way someone smelled quite this much. Lucas. His Lucas.  
“I think you’re pretty ok too.”
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End notes: 
- I’ll post this to ao3 once I have the second part up
- The whole light installation was inspired by one I saw when I lived in Montreal. It wasn’t exactly like that but quite similar and I hope the way I described it sounded cool because it really was! 
❤❤❤❤
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