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puffkins2000 · 2 years

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*working process* I decided to make a fully revamped version of my original ideas for TS3, especially since so many new programs and whatnot are coming out to enhance the game itself. Amazing creators, programmers, and those who write tutorials help make this possible, and for TS3 to keep going. They are to be thanked profusely! I'm definitely not a programmer, but learning from the tutorials, I'm learning to make tattoos, makeup, and hopefully convert some poses from TS4. ...that is, if all goes well on my end. Trial and error, people---trial and error. I've tried researching a lot of these between different Sims wikis and stuff--but I know not everything is super detailed. :/ Alright, let's get into it. These are personally things I would like to see in my game, mind you. We'll start with the most obvious one. * * * X - TS3 Conversions (( EA preferably; TS1/TS2/TS4/TSM/TSM:P&N/Stories/Castaway/Freeplay/etc. )): ~ Build/buy/CAW (( in-depth TS4 document here -- still working on the others )) ~ CAS (( in-depth TS4 document here -- still working on the others )) ~ Animations ~ Mods/game enhancements/activities/skills/hobbies/new interactions: ~ A mod that changes a "family relation" to another (( ie; cousin, grandparent, uncle, etc. )) in-game. I'm not sure what you call this, but nothing exists for it. I have a pair of (( created )) Sims who are siblings in the game, but they are meant to be cousins. I don't really want to go about and go the freaking long way around for make a pair of sisters who get have kids who are cousins and then kill off said mothers, just to make them cousins, you know? I'd have to do that to ALL my character Sims. >__> I'd like to to go and click NRAAS, select "change family relation", and click on cousin, or whatever other option I want to choose for that particular Sim. Does that make sense? ~ Plopsy App (( to sell items on )) ~ Simstagram (( on phone )) ~ Dating app (( on phone )) ~ Pay bills by phone ~ More activities on computers (( based on TS2/TS4, but other fun stuff as well! )) ~ Pen-pals (( like in TS4 )) with postcards from other worlds ~ TS2 & TS4 TV channels added to the TV (( all videos files under new TV station names )), plus Movies On Demand (( would be amazing for movie night, PLUS a drive-in theatre/movie theatre! )) ~ Better yoga (( with TS4 animations, and maybe some of the TS2 yoga animations--I always loved with they went up on one finger when they peaked the skill )) with children and teens added ~ More outdoor activities, such as: skiing, hiking, jogging, log rolling, ax-throwing, rock-climbing, snowboarding ~ Crank/prank calling for YA/A and older--maybe with certain traits? I feel like childish or inappropriate Sims would do that. Also, maybe with the TS1/TS2 cards, because those were pretty fun. ~ To go with the above; pranks for YA and older Sims, perhaps also based on certain traits (( also basing both cranks/pranks on TS1/TS2/TS4 )). Exactly WHY did older Sims not get a chance to pull pranks? I don't get that. ~ Usable/workable holiday cracker, Lin-Z, space heater, punching bag, roombas, hammock, ear buds ~ Writing in a journal (( based on Sims 2 & Sims 4 )) ~ Programming ~ New skills/activities/craftable/whatever this would be categorized (( based on TS2/TS4/TSM )): cross-stitching, candle making, fabricator, juice fizzing, herbalism, woodworking, invention constructor, flower arranging, blacksmithing, mining, brewing (( I have pirates that would LOVE this )), vacuuming, sword-fighting/dueling ~ A more moveable broom, based on TS4 brooms (( I saw this in a group I'm on on FB--they thought maybe the jetpack would help if said broom was modded )) ~ Hospital/personal Sim: breastfeeding, teens can get acne/zits like in TS2 & use cream for it, more diseases/illnesses (( based on TS2/TS4/TSM )), menstrual for female teen-adult Sims (( I thought there WAS one, but perhaps more improved? )), revamped hospital mod ~ More added places to Woohoo + Teens can "mess around" (( because I like that it sounds better; based on TS2/TS4, locations/objects

included )) ~ Beach/pool stuff: more pool interactions (( like playing Marco Polo! Based on TS2/TS4 )), EVERYONE can build a sandcastle (( whyyyyyyy do kids only get to build stuff? XP )), more sand-related gameplay (( based on TS2/TS4; come on, don't you think my pirates would like to search for buried treasure? XD )) ~ Lutes/Playing Lute (( with TSM music )) ~ Closets ~ TSM denominations (( Peteran & Jacoban )) ~ Turn-ons/Turn-Offs (( based between TS2 and TS4; I miss this )) ~ Hobbies and interests ~ Sims 2 Style Jealousy (( there was a mod made, but it's lost/link gone )) ~ Spa features: facial masks, manicures/pedicures (( something similar to using a tattoo station? )) ~ Pets have jobs (( based on TS2 )) ~ TS4 Style Canning mod ~ A recipe book like how TS4 modders do their custom food (( is that possible? )) ~ New interactions/pie menu options: new dances, a better improved added romance of this mod, more conversation/romance/social/pregnancy options based on TS1/TS2/TS4/TSM and also this mod (( which would go lovely with medieval gameplay--and also my pirates, although they are more modern, lol )), more baby-teen only menu options, more supernatural only menu options ~ Sims wear/change into a towel after showering ~ TS4 collectibles as TS3 collectibles/new found treasures ~ Kids have crushes + one-sided crushes on teen+ Sims ~ Lightsabres ~ Setting a table ~ Toasting Food/Food related: ~ My in-depth document here (( basically EA food/drinks to TS3 as decor or edible for fridge, recipes, cooking/baking, vending machines, food stalls, more plants/vegetation, new herbs, and so forth, similar to this mod )) Careers (( based on Sims 2 and Sims 4 only )) : ~ Archaeology (( I was unsure where to put this one exactly, so career it is! For now. )) ~ Veterinarian ~ Critic/Food Critic ~ Astronaut ~ Law ~ Social Media ~ Jobs for teens only: babysitter, fast food employee, barista ~ Adventurer ~ Oceanography ~ Engineer ~ Entertainer/Comedian ~ Secret Agent NPCs: ~ Bigfoot ~ Santa Claus/Father Winter ~ Sea Monster ~ Social Bunny ~ Mascots: Yamachan, Flower Bunny, the cow from TS2: University, Darby the Dragon, Lobster Larry ~ Caterer ~ Food delivery service ~ Grocery delivery service Animals/pets/creatures (( note: can be functional like the sheep, or just statues, but would prefer the llamas to at least be functional )) : ~ Llamas (( with/without clothing )) ~ Cows (( with/without clothing )) ~ Chickens (( with/without clothing )) ~ Foxes (( with/without clothing )) ~ Bunnies (( with/without clothing )) ~ Growable Cowplant with life states ~ Skunks ~ Penguin ~ Bubalus, Hamster ~ Dust Bunnies Playable Games: ~ Majong ~ Don't Wake The Llama ~ Voidcritter Battle Station ~ Checkers ~ MYSHUNO ~ Kicky Bag ~ Sabacc Vacation Worlds (( small-medium sized/travel-based; they do not have to be huge at all, obviously, as they are meant for vacationing )): ~ Strangerville ~ Sulani ~ Batuu (( not even going to be sorry for this one )) ~ Sixam ~ The Magic Realm ~ Mt.Komorebi ~ Selvadorada ~ Granite Falls ~ Henford-on-Bagley ~ Takemizu Village ~ Twikkii Island ~ Three Lakes (( a better version; the one I've downloaded won't let you add anything to it. *sigh* Otherwise, it's a pretty good world! )) ~ TSM (( or a likeness of )) based world; I'm not sure what it's actually called in the game Lots: ~ Magic Town ~ The Lava Pools ~ Vet Clinic ~ Ancient Ruins ~ Forgotten Grotto ~ Sylvan Glade ~ Plumbob Pictures (( I could see this being all the different sets in one as well )) ~ Jacoban Church and Peteran Monastery (( although, if a TSM world were built, then scratch these )) Other: ~ Bulge slider ~ Topical details overhaul: utilizing the section for more stickable details; eye lights, scars, zits/acne, birthmarks, lip moles, lip corners, freckles, cleavage, etc. (( I'm going to ATTEMPT to do this. )) ~ More tattoo options: more body-wise tattoos; birthmarks, alien markings, cleavage, etc. (( I'm trying to attempt this as well. Might be easier than the topical details--or utilize some of the topical details FOR facial

tattoos as

well. We'll see! Baby

steps, lol. )) ~ New moodlets based on TS4 (( based on the aforementioned new interactions, activities, hobbies, etc. )) ~ New traits: Whale Ate My Parents, Drunkard, Call of the Sea, Dread Pirate, Licentious, Chivalrous, Foodie, Gloomy, Lactose intolerant, Materialistic, Squeamish, Twisted Heart, Understand Baby, Picky Eater ~ TS2/TS4/TSM converted special effects/sounds, as another type of fog emitter? ~ Does anyone make lighting mods anymore? Those were fun! ~ Enayla's skintone converted to TS3 (( her skintones were the BEST in TS2; so fanciful! Someone did manage to convert one, but now it's lost to cyberspace. *sigh* )) ~ MM or semi-realistic male underwear. Why do male Sims have, like, no fun undies? They also lack in sleepwear and swimwear, too. Sorry, but I prefer my males to not look like as if they rolled out of bed. ~ New/other hair appearances; Bride of Frankenstein (( one/two streak[s] on the side of hair )), twisted colours, bangs only option * * * Again, these are things I'd like personally for my game, and I will probably add to this in the future. I do seemingly cater to my pirates quite a bit, too. xD Having said this, I do know of people working or experimenting on some stuff mentioned above, or I have requested certain items to be converted--which I deeply appreciate!--and this list isn't meant to take away from their ideas or anything. Sometimes great minds DO think alike, but some are better at getting it done than others. XD For the majority of my list however, IS based off the Sims franchises.

#The Sims 3 #Sims 3 #TS3 #CC Ideas

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

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Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

‘Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon—Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

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#din djarin x you #din x you #my fic #death and an angel #mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din x reader

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comiiical · 2 years

Text

Wilson Smith

Mutant

Telekinesis, metalogenesis, psionic weaponry, psionic constructs, telepathy. Wilson has the ability to create different pieces of technology through the combination of his ability to create different metal and constructs. He can also create weapons that are as effective as a physical weapon such as guns with infinite ammunition, or others. He can also create vehicles, or modify preexisting ones. He can fly by creating jetpacks, or other forms of displacement technology.

Blacksmith is his alias.

Formerly an X-Man, then a Morlock member, temporarily becoming Apocalypse’s War lackey, and then back to sidelining with Xavier’s ideals, Wilson has had quite the hard path. He was born in a poor house, used his powers to help his parents in scamming the town, until he was forced to endure a beat up for being found out.

When in the morlocks he was trained in close combat fighting.

#→ wilson #reference #blacksmith

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Comic-con.”

You guys wanted something fluffier and lighthearted, so I took a suggestion from a group of the Discord server, and did this with it I hope you guys like, and thank you for the suggestions. “Where are you taking me? And why am I wearing this?”

Adam frowned at her, “Don’t be such a party pooper, I took you to watch MMA last week, and now its my turn to pick the fun activity.”

Sunny held up the glowing weapon --of facsimile of a weapon--, “What is this called again.”

“It’s an energy sword, from a really REALLY old video game.”

“And what are you supposed to be.”

Adam turned to look at her, shaking his head in disappointment, “Sometimes, I am sad for your lack of pop culture education.”

“And whose fault is it for my lack of pop culture education?”

He tapped his chin, “I suppose that is true.”

“To be fair the pop culture you subscribe to is like two thousand years old.” She looked him up and down. He was wearing a spacesuit and a jetpack. This might have been normal for him were it not for the painstaking hours that he had spent painting the thing and applying decals.

Where the standard issue UNSC space - suit ranged anywhere from white to silver to dark blue, this one was in a gaudy combination of white with green and purple highlights with a blue decal on the front embossed with the outline of stylized white wings. Under that, he had taken the time to dye one of the old undersuits purple, and was now wearing the hood to complete ‘the affect’

“Seriously though. What are You?”

He turned to look at her grinning and patted her on the shoulder, “Just wait.”

She sighed and did as told following him out of the underground parking lot and up into the sun. She threw her hand over her face as they came up into the sun, and when she withdrew her hand, she found herself surrounded by hundreds of humans all walking towards the same destination, and all of them were dressed, strangely… she couldn’t tell which ones for sure, because humans always seemed to dress strangely, but something bout this gave her the feeling that these ones were doing it on purpose..

At her side, Adam was grinning.

Following the line of people her eyes traced up to the large, and spacious building just up ahead. The walls were made out of metal and glass paneling, and across their surface scrolling scenes from movies and comic strips flashed.

Off to her side, a man in a blue and red suit, with a big yellow S on the front went floating past, his hover boots giving him the effect as if he were flying, red cape billowing out behind him.

Someone else to their side was walking a rather large brown dog towards the building. It had a teel collar and a couple of painted on black spots, while he was wearing a green shirt and brown pants. He looked like he really needed a haircut.

Sunny tilted her head to better read the letters on the building before her.

J. HAIL CONVENTION HALL

They were just outside the doors when someone ran up to them. THey looked younger, maybe in their teens, dressed with an elaborately colored wig, and strange colorful clothes, “Holy Shit! Your costumes are awesome, Can I get a picture?”

“Hell yeah.” Adam motioned the kid closer, pulling Sunny down beside them so the kid could grab a picture and then turn to look at Sunny, “How did you make it look so real. You look just like the Drev from that movie.”

She stared at him before looking down at herself.

Adam laughed, “It looks real because it IS real.”

The kid stared at them in disbelief, “No way.”

“Yeah she's a real life actual alien.”

Eyes went even wider, I...w...wow.”

Sunny shrugged and waved one of her arms to the kid as Adam dragged her further up the line.

“Here, hold out your hand.” She did as told and he wrapped a small plastic bracelet around her wrist. The letters on the band read VIP

Walking over to the doors they were stopped by a group of people holding up their hands. One of them walked around them, and pointed at Adam’s jetpack, “YOu have a licence for that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

He reached into one of the pockets on his suit and pulled it out to show them. THey looked it over and then nodded, and he grinned. Tey read off some rules before they were suddenly interrupted.

Voices behind them, and Sunny turned.

A group of people walked up, one of them was dressed like a cowboy with a yellow shirt and blue pants, with a brown hat.

Another human in a blow up dinosaur costume pointed at Adam’s uniform,

“And what does that button do.”

Adam grinned, and Sunny watched him with a fond shake of her head as he approached them, putting on some sort of character voice.

“Ill show you.” Looking around to make sure that everyone was clear, he deployed the wings of the jetpack, striped in red and white.

The group oohed and ahhed.

THe cowboy moved forward, “Oh what, these are plastic, he can’t fly.”

“They are a trillium carbonic alloy and I CAN fly.”

“No you can’t”

“Yes I can.”

“Can’t.”

“CAN.”

“Can’t Can’t Can’t.”

“I could fly around this convention center with my eyes closed.”

Sunny just stood there watching them nervously shifting back and forth. She had a feeling that they were arguing, but it also felt very scripted, though how it could be scripted, she didn’t know. They had never seen these people as far as she was concerned.

The other man moved very close, “Ok then my light beer, prove it.”

“Alright then, I will.”

He held out his hands voice growing a bit more serious as he did, “Everyone step back.”

They did as told, and the cowboy was smiling now instead of frowning.

“Adam, is this legal.” Sunny wondered.

He turned to look at her, “Yes, the convention center has its own airspace just for this. I had to sign a waver.” He turned back to the others and ignited the engin on the jetpack kicking off the ground.

His flight was far more controlled than his original flight, and he flew in a fast circle around the area, dropping in with a flip to land before them to the cheering of an amassed crowd.

He pointed at the cowboy, “CAN.”

“That wasn’t flying, that was falling with style.” The man protested though he was grinning even as he walked over to take a picture with Adam.

“Pretty sure that made my day, your costume is awesome. Is this a real spacesuit.”

“You bet it is.”

“Where did you get your hands on one.”

“Oh I have my sources. Did you make your costume?”

“Sewed it myself. The hat and boots I bought though.”

They parted ways with Adam’s new friend and stepped inside the convention center scanning their bracelets as they went in.

“Welcome, Sunny to the biggest nerd convention ever conceived of by man...ComicCon.”

She turned in a wide circle eyes wide at thousands of booths, thousands of people all talking and laughing. He grabbed her hand and dragged hr further inside, “IF your good, I’ll buy you a sword.”

“Nerds want swords?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Of course nerds want swords. Here, lets start over there and movie this way, through the art section first.”

Sunny did as told, following after him.

She never knew Adam being one to spend a lot of money, he had no reason too, but after the first ten minutes she figured out that he was a little bit of a spender when it came to nerdy things. Posters and drawings and other related items.

However, she was surprised to find that they did have leather workers and blacksmiths as they were called, and she did…. In fact… get herself a sword which she recognized from the lord of the rings movie he had made her watch. It was a pretty good sword all things considered as if whoever made it actually knew how to make swords.

They were coming around a corner when they almost ran into another group of people. Adam dropped one of his bags and the other reached down to pick it up. When he stood, Sunny's eyes widened. Blond hair green eyes and an eyepatch, “Sweet Costume!”

She shook herself thinking she had bumped her head or something and was seeing double, but no, when she looked closer she realised that this person couldnt have been more than fifteen or sixteen…. And dressed like Adam.

She looked over at Adam who was standing mouth open eyes wide.

“Can I get a picture!”

Sunny just nodded her head as the kid jumped over next to her and had his friend take it before running off yelling back at her about her amazing costume.

Adam turned to look at Sunny, “Did I just>”

“I think you did.”

He shook himself, “Wow.”

She nodded

After that it started happening more and more.

Adam was everywhere, in all stages of life. They had recreated his uniforms, his flight suits, his space suits. They brought their dogs. There were even gender bent versions of him, blond women wearing eyepatches, brown jackets and jeans making it very clear who they were .

It got even more weird when Sunny started seeing herself.

Small children in costumes made of foam.

People wearing onesies that sort of looked like her, and even one costume that had a woman on stilts for her legs, and a complex system of homemade mechanics to allow her to move around.

Adam stood there mouth open just staring at them.

Sunny laughed at the irony.

He was here as a guest, and no one knew.

If only they had any idea that the real deal was here and dressed like a space ranger from a two thousand year old cartoon.

Sunny tilted her head listening to the announcements which said there would be a “Adam Vir look alike contest going on on the other side of the convention.

She turned to look at Adam and they both began to laugh hysterically. She grabbed his arm. We have to see this.

They wandered over just as the others were filtering in. And there were TONS of them, all dressed like Adam. One stopped next to him, spiky blond hair, clearly dyed for the occasion, wearing a flight suit and aviators.

Adam Tried to avoid eye contact with anyone as they sat down to watch, however no one recognized him, not even close.

They sat, watching the judging.

An adorable little boy with blond hair and a NASA T-shirt won for the younger age bracket.

The jumpsuit wearing kid to their right won for his teenage years.

At the end it was up between two men, one in casual wearing and one in a uniform. The one wearing the uniform had a similar lopsided grin as Adam and she would have chosen him as a dead ringer, and was almost put off when they chose the other man, who was, on the other hand, roguishly handsome.

She snorted, “He looks nothing like you.”

“But he does look like Keith Jenning who played me, so I guess people sort of conflate us as being the same person.”

“This is so unreal.”

They laughed again as they walked away sunny pointing out he probably would have lost the contest if he had tried to enter, and he laughed along with her.

THey were perusing through a booth with a bunch of old vintage movies when another announcement came over the intercom, saying that the cast of Adam’s movie was going to be speaking.”

Adam’s eyes widened, and together they made their way wanting to see what all the fuss was about. There were hundreds of people packed into the large room, and they were only able to get space just along one wall.

Up at the table, he recognized Keith Jenning, Rita. Ortiz, and Adler Handen, the voice actor for Krill and the woman who played Sunny.

Adam leaned back against the wall to watch.

Keith didn’t look anything like Adam at this moment, his hair back to brown like it usually was.

Hands raised in the crowd as questions were shot out, “What was the hardest part of playing Adam Vir?”

Keith laughed and then paused, “I think it might have been the eyepatch. I stubbed my toe like…. What was it Rita, we kept track on set.”

“About 456 times during the course of filming.” She added, and the group of them laughed.

“How accurate is the story to what actually happened?” Someone called out

Adler Handen leaned forward, “You know it was actually pretty accurate because Adam Vir was actually consulting through the whole process, though I think it is glammed up to make him look maybe a little more….”

“Poised.” Rita added, “Ellis gave him a bit of an action hero spin.”

“What is he actually like?”

Keith smiled as did Rita, “He’s hilarious, and kind, and a bit of a clutz I would say.”

Rita laughed, “That is one part of the movie that is inaccurate. I think they should have put it in, but he was like the last man to step onto Proxima B, and when he did he says he actually fell out of the shuttle and landed on his face.”

There was laughter from the crowd.

“Honestly a really modest guy all told.

“He has the personality of a golden retriever…. In a good way obviously.” Rita said

Keith had stood up from his palace at the table and was looking around the crowd for more questions, when his eyes fell on Adam and Sunny not a few rows away leaning against the wall.

The recognition was instantaneous, despite them not having seen for a long time. He pointed his eyes wide, “Adam…. Adam is that you. Sunny?”

The entire crowd turned and thousands of eyes fell on them.

Adam was stuck like a deer in the headlights hands held up.

“No way It IS YOU. Someone grab a chair and get him up here.”

Rita stood in her seat and waved.

Now people were standing to get a good look at them as two security people motioned them up.

Adam was bright red in the face as he was pushed to come on stage. The people looked confused, but when Adam pulled off his hood, and pulled on his eyepatch the entire convention center began cheering.

“Yeah give the man a round of applause.” Keith said pulling out a chair for him to sit on while Rita did the same for Sunny.

Adam shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Nice costume, is that from Toy story?”

Adam shrugged, ‘Yeah, or the Tv show I guess.”

Someone hurried over with another microphone as the crowd below continued to babble and point.

Keith leaned forward, “Did I mention he was a raging nerd. Did you wear the costume to hide or….”

Adam shook his head, “No, I've been coming to the convention since I was a kid.”

There was cheering in the crowd.

Hands were raised high into the air for questions, and Adam blinked a bit red in the face still.

“Is it true what they said about Proxima B?”

Adam smiled, “uh yeah I fell flat on my face, right out the door. You see the movie had a ramp, but a ot of our ships don’t have ramps, they have doors because it would kind of be…. Impractical to have a whole ramp opening up into an airlock. So instead it had a door and stairs. And I got so excited that I missed the second stair and just fell.

“How accurate is the rest of the movie?”

He shrugged, still blushing, “They did make me look a little more… heroic, than I actually am. I mean there is a little known fact among members of the UNSC that doing a warp without a warp dampener like we did on the Enterprise was…. How shall we say… extremely hard on the body. About fifty percent of the men on the bridge peed themselves and passed out.”

There was laugher from the crowd.

“Were you part of the fifty percent?”

He snorted, “ I was nineteen of COURSE I was part of the fifty percent. Captain Kelly had a bladder of Iron though.”

More laughter.

“And when it came to meeting with aliens for the first time, I was so excited that I ran after them right….. Well as it turns out, to the aliens it looked really, really bad. Like they thought I was going to eat them.” More laughter, “We are still trying to repair human/Bran relations five years later because of me.”

More questions.

“What is your funniest story, something that didn’t appear in the movie?”

Adam had to think about it for a minute, “Did I ever tell you about the first time we met Iotins or the Celzex.”

Cheering in the crowd,.

“Ok ok, so The one thing you need to know about Iotins is that they smell good, and I don’t mean your girl’s perfume good, I mean like continental breakfast with bacon and eggs and potatoes and I don’t know what else.” Sunny smiled as she listened to the sound of the crowd’s amusement, “This is the kind of smell that turns you into one of pavlov’s Dogs. Drooling all over yourself stomach grumbling the whole nine. So when we met them for the first time, it was during a GA convention and my men hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was so bad, I drooled all over my uniform and we scared the Iotin council half to death.”

He smiled as the crowd encouraged him into more stories.

“Then of course there is the Celzex, a very war-like race, very honor bound and very easy to offend. And yet they are about a foot tall rainbow colored, fluffy and with adorable pig ears. These guys were designed to be cuddled, and yet, not one human has ever done it for fear of pissing them off since they have weapons that could glass our entire planet.”

He was Animated as he told his stories, and the crowd was animated with him

“Sunny, i have a question.” She lifted her head in surprise, “Is it true you grew up in a stone hut/”

She hummed deep in her chest, “Yes, where else would I have grown up.”

“So you didn’t have electricity?”

She shook her head, “No, why would we need it?”

She answered a few more questions.

And then one young man stood.

“So, I was wondering, you supported the LFIL during their protests.”

Adam shifted nervously in his seat, “I did.”

“And it’s because of you that they are in a probationary state of legality.”

“Yes.”

.”“So I was wondering, considering all that and considering your relationship with Sunny. Have you tow ever thought about dating.” Adam blanched white and you could have heard a pin drop.

Sunny glanced quickly over at adam. A part of her really wanted him to admit it to people, but another part of her-- the bigger part-- knew that doing it here in front of thousands of people would be a disaster. He opened his mouth to stammer out a question but Sunny leaned forward towards her mic.

“You misunderstand Drev courting customs. He would have to be able to beat me in a fight first.

Factions of the room muttered, and Sunny quickly moved the conversation on to more Funny stories.

Adam turned his head towards her with a look of relief.

With her head turned form the cameras she gave him a brief wink before turning back.

They didn’t exactly get to see the rest of the convention as they were waylaid by people wanting autographs and to talk to him. He of course was good natured and answered all their questions with a smile and gave pictures with enthusiasm.

She smiled

He was kind like that.

Thought some worries gnawed at the back of her mind.

People were beginning to suspect, and that could be a big problem for Adam.

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howtohero · 5 years

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Armor

In the heat of a super-battle a lot of stuff gets tossed about. Debris, laser bolts, scathing yo mama jokes. For the invulnerable, the rock monster, the rhinoceros, these things are easy to shrug off. In interviews Rockblock has been known to joke that he often doesn’t notice that the bad guy he was fighting even had a laser pistol until after the battle is over and it comes time to confiscate and catalogue the villain’s equipment. (Apparently Rockblock is specifically made out of laser-resistant rocks for those of you who keep emailing me to ask specifically what kind of rocks he’s made of.) But there are a lot of people who want to do good and who want to save lives but whose bodies aren’t as naturally protected as some of their colleagues. Are these heroes doomed to only being called in when the bad guys are wielding confetti cannons or just aren’t shooting or stabbing anybody for whatever reason? Yes. See you on Tuesday. Send post.

Nah, I’m joking. Go get some armor.

Armor is great because if you’re wearing it you can stroll right into the middle of a firefight and you’ll be totally fine. Plus, everybody in the firefight will be so awed by you and your glorious metal skin that they stop shooting at each other for a second giving you a chance to revel in the moment and strike a pose or something. Or, alternatively, you can take advantage of the brief respite to quickly go and disarm all the bad guys. Armor gives you options.

Assuming you’re not a blacksmith (If you are a blacksmith who wants to fight crime then you don’t really need to read the rest of this post. I feel comfortable deferring to your knowledge on armor on this one. Also, if you read this post I worry that you’ll publicly call me out for being wrong on a lot of the stuff I’m going to say and I do not want that.) or some kind of omni-disciplinary scientist engineer playboy philanthropist you’re going to need to commission somebody to craft your armor for you. There are plenty of notable armorsmiths you can contact, here are the one’s who paid to have their names listed:

Robbie Bobbie: When you want to make bashing a guy’s skull in completely painless, come to Robbie Bobbie’s. All of our armor come with retractable extra fists. (Where they’re located might surprise you!)

Smelton Smith: Smelton Smith’s Smelt&Smithery is the number one place for cutting edge body suits. Our talented armor testers will shoot you with an anti-tank missile on site so you know that our armor is quality tested. If you pay for our extra insurance, you get to keep the armor for free should you die or get horribly maimed during our testing.

Victouria Callouway: Our armour is toup noutch. You’ll never find a moure coumprehensive armour package. Our armours include cup houlders, surround sound sterou, harpououns, proupoulsioun systems, and, of course a tea dispensary. When you need tou proutect yourself, we’re ounly oune call ouway.

Laura Hephaestus: [No relation to the Greek god] when you need to fight hordes of androids or like a handful of confused and lost Spartan warriors, call Hephaestus, it’s not Greek to us.

Sure there are other, possibly better, craftsmen out there (not to mention the actual Hephaestus who actually will agree to build you armor if you can find him and bring him the head of no less than three monsters who he’s leant money to over the past few millennia.) wouldn’t you rather support the kind men and women who support us? I know I would!

When you’re looking to create armor for yourself you need to decide what kind of stuff you want in it. Armor that’s merely for protection is so Middle Ages. We’re better than that now. Our armors can do so much more. The perfect armor will be effective in both defense and combat. It will allow you a certain degree of freedom of movement. You’re no good in a fight if you’re weighed down by too much stuff. Generally speaking, when it comes to power armor, there is an inverse proportion between agility and power. The more powerful a given suit of armor is, the slower it will be and vice versa. So you need to decide what you need more of in a battle. If you’re plenty powerful on your own, or if your combat style relies on your ability to move quickly and fluidly, then you should be fine with compromising your power in favor of sporting a more lightweight suit. Conversely if you’re a completely useless fighter and your strengths lie more in your mind and strategic thinking then you should go for a more powerful suit with a variety of abilities and features that you can use your acute strategist brain to maximize.

Some things that you definitely have in your armor, regardless of how nimble you need to be are some sort of ranged weapon (a blaster, a harpoon launcher, a machine gun, a sling shot), a flight system (jet thrusters, a jetpack, a helicopter propeller that pops out of your helmet), and a built in breathing apparatus (this way you can operate in space and underwater for brief periods of time). Everything also is secondary though by all means, if you can afford it, load that sucker up with all sorts of extras (a sword arm! a drone! launchable tracking devices! magnetic boots! extra limbs! emp blasters! a defibrillator!) if you can imagine it you can do it!

Some armor wearing heroes actually have multiple sets of armor that they can use in different circumstances. This way they’re not weighed down by putting everything they need into a single suit. Plus, having all of those cool suits of armor standing around will make your hideout look absolutely baller. They have armors for fighting bad guys underwater, for flying through space, for winning races, for search and rescue, for fighting monsters, performing first aid, for making documentaries, for Black Friday shopping. If there’s a crisis at hand, you can be sure somebody somewhere has an armor for it.

Amongst different subdivisions of superheroes, armored heroes are among the most creative and innovative. While superhumans and mutants are generally stuck with the powers they started with, only being able to hone and improve the skills and abilities they already have, armored heroes can constantly reinvent themselves and expand their skill sets. There are even (almost definitely) armored hero conventions where shell-sporting-supers get together and swap tips and ideas for more armor advancements. At the last CarapaceCon (that’s what they’re called) Armored Atlas and TK-97 unveiled their latest joint-project, shape-changing mech suits. Past innovations that emerged at CarapaceCons include, collapsible armors, AI that can control armor, and a line of fully modular armors with swappable weapons and pieces. Armored heroes are always innovating and making great strides in both science and the heroic arts.

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sorcererinthestars · 6 years

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i'm feeling Sky Factory with Simple Farmer Geoff and his refusal of accepting/acknowleding his godhood status. he just wants to tend to his chickens but all these other deities keep messing around with his farm.

…. I may or may not have written this while at work. I’ll go back and add italics and shit when I’m at home. This is what happens when my supervisor is out sick.

Hope you enjoy. I was half writing and half going through emails.

——-

Once the world was built, life was easier. When they were just Created from Ryan, just infant Gods in a small little world. letting it spread around below them, life was challenging. Everything was so NEW, so big, so full of wonders and confusion and mistakes. They lost as much as they made, most of the time. It was a land of simplicity - of Ryan, the Creator, God of Machines and the Night, of Gavin, the simple little Sun God who gloried over the littlest ray of light, of Jack, the God of Plants, and Geoff, the God of Livestock. And then of little Jeremy, god of the blacksmith - of molten metal and the fires of the forge and of valiant Michael, god of Mischief, the extra God who hadn’t yet found a home.

How simple life was back then. It was hard work, getting the world to be created from what they could give it, but it was work they all enjoyed (even when Michael meddled).

Ryan surveyed the world they had created now from his throne in the sky, sitting on it and staring out over what they had created. How different life was than back then. Certainly they couldn’t be called ‘simple’ anymore, now that they had discovered the gift of flight and could make minerals with just a wave of their hand. They had tamed Dragons, they had plumbed the depths of the sea for the greatest and biggest varieties of fish. They had summoned an ethereal demon and killed it and made two portals to other dimensions - one that gave them gifts if they offered their own and one that held horrors beyond compare in a fire-world of death. He had behind him a nuclear reactor made by his own two hands, a system of storage that bent the limits of reality, and Gavin had harnessed the power of the sun so brightly that he could basically run the world off of it alone.

As Ryan glanced down, he smiled at the farm. It had grown, their stalwart fellow God refusing to dive deeper into the wonders of the unknown world. Geoff was comfortable in the land that he had discovered. He liked to tend his chickens and they loved him in turn - it was rare to see him without at least one following him around as if he had grain for them in his pockets. Jack had long since discovered how to make a never-ending supply of the stuff - as long as they had power, they had feed for his chickens. And Geoff was content.

Unfortunately for him (and fortunately for the rest of them), his fellow Gods needed something to amuse them when they had basically run out of things to do. Aiming with his bow, Ryan sited down the arrow and studied Geoff along it. He certainly wasn’t going to shoot Geoff - and Gods help him if he fucking killed one of those damn chickens - but it was fun to play. He caught Michael’s eye from the corner of his own and he smirks a bit. Michael is crouched up in the World Tree, next to his famous creation (the Munchdew), looking for all the world like a beastly warrior with his massive bow and hidden by leaves.

And then Michael shoots him a thumbs up, laughs, and lets loose his arrow.

The thing hits the ground a few feet away from Geoff. The man balks, whipping backwards and looking around, but the rest of them had already hid as best they could (for they could fly and Geoff could not). “What the fuck are you guys doing near my chickens?!” he cries, back-peddling and trying to shepard his chickens away from where the arrow was shot. “Watch out, idiots!”

But before he could do anything, Ryan lets loose his own arrow. It lands near Geoff on the other side - safely away from anything with feathers - and he jumps again, howling and shaking his hand. “Just because I don’t have some demon bow pulled from another dimension doesn’t mean you can be RUDE!” he snarls.

Jack, flying by on his dragon, blots out the sun in front of Geoff for a moment. He squawks in anger, letting Michael shoot a few more arrows. Geoff dances to avoid them and his feathered partners-in-crime squawk and take cover of their own. It was fine - Michael and Ryan were extremely good shots by this point. They wouldn’t miss.

Gavin, curious about what was happening now, lands on the throne next to Ryan. “Hey,” he hums, sitting on the edge and letting his feet dangle. “You terrorizing Geoff?”

“Yup,” Ryan smirks. “Poor guy has no idea.” He lets fly another arrow and there’s another flurry of swearing.

“He’s going to kill you,” Gavin comments, laughing anyways. “It’s gonna be fucking funny.”

They watch as Jeremy joins Michael in the World Tree and it’s pretty obvious they’re having a similar conversation. A few more arrows fly down and there’s giggling and then suddenly Jack flies in between where their arrows go. They’re forced to stop or risk hitting Jack or his dragon, neither of which they want to do.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” Jack scolds, but there’s a glint of laughter in his eyes. “Come on, go down and apologize.” He points towards the ground and like scolded kids, Ryan droops and and jumps off the throne, easily flying down to land next to Geoff.

The Simple Farmer looks pissed. Almost as soon as he lands, he’s jabbing at Ryan’s chest, yelling something about how when he said no weapons in the farm, he meant no arrows either, and god help him if that had actually harmed a chicken he would massacre Ryan, potential immortality be damned.

That’s when the B-Team struck. Gavin watched, amused beyond belief, as Michael and Jeremy scurried down from the tree and started grabbing chickens in nets. They snagged all the roosting chickens, the ones that were making something new, and raced away towards the secret passage Ryan had made a few months prior in the World Tree. They did this all with the minimum of giggling and Geoff couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own shouting.

This was going to be bad.

“Alright, alright, Geoff,” Ryan says, hardly holding back a laugh. Gavin’s almost puce, trying to stop himself from exploding into chuckles. Geoff’s eyes slide between the two of them for a moment before his brows furrow. When he turns around, it takes maybe five or ten seconds before the whole fucking world explodes.

“WHERE ARE MY CHICKENS?!”

He whirls on Ryan and before Ryan can move, he’s got his fucking AIOT jammed under Ryan’s chin. It couldn’t do anything - the armor Ryan had on was heavily shielded - but it was the principle of the thing. Geoff looked tremendously distressed. “WhAT DID YOU DO WITH THEM?!”

Blinking, Ryan held up his hands. “Geoff. Geoff, it’s just a joke. Relax….”

“I spent so much time - they were my nesting… my nesting beauties…” he whimpers, turning around and lowering his weapon, just looking broken. Ryan immediately back-peddles, sensing the joke didn’t go over well. Fucking christ, practical jokes should be banned in this corner of their world. “Geoff, they’re fine…”

“Then where are they!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Gavin yelped. “Relax, Geoff.” The Simple Farmer whipped around on him. “I’m so sick of you all playing around on my farm! I have work to do! You’re stopping them from laying! You’re scaring them with your dragons and your…. your jetpacks … and ….”

Michael’s running back out from the tree. Nets are in his hands and Jeremy is hot on his heels. “They’re here. They’re here, Geoff, we’re sorry, really…”

Geoff whirls around to look at them now, but doesn’t make a move until each chicken is carefully taken from the net and put back into their nesting pens. They squawk, looking disgruntled from their treatment, and go back to pecking at seed.

Geoff just narrows his eyes at the other two, then back at Ryan and Gavin, and finally up at Jack who was swooping around on his dragon. “I get it,” he admits. “I’m not as advanced as you. But I like my farm and I like my chickens and you gotta stop messing with it.”

The others look chagrined, giving each other guilty looks. “It’s just for fun, Geoff,” Michael says gently. “We didn’t mean anything by it - we wouldn’t hurt a chicken.”

Geoff blinks and then sighs as Jack lands outside the farm and walks over, looking guilty himself. “We’ll keep the dragons out of your farm and stop messing with you,” he said, and gave them all significant looks. They all chorused their agreement - even Ryan (who had more or less adopted the title of Mischief God from Michael).

And finally Geoff sighs and smiles a bit. “Fine. Good.” It’s awkward for a moment and then he smirks a bit. “You realize now I get to fuck with your stuff, right?”

“Wait…” Michael says, but Geoff’s running off towards the World Tree and indirectly, the Munchdew.

“WAIT…!”

Ah…. Ryan smirks to himself. Just another normal day in their little world.

#hannah does prompts #sky factory au #prompt one!#woohoo!#sorry it's short #work

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characterdevelopmentmakesmenut · 3 years

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So, I've been casually watching The Mandalorian lately, and I honestly like it much more than I expected. My only actual problem so far is that his jetpack thing worked for him right away, even though the blacksmith lady (I forget her name; did she have a name?) said it would take awhile for it to listen to him and work. Minor writing flaw, and easily overlooked compared to most of the show. Unless I missed something and that isn't a writing flaw and actually makes sense. However, if the justification is something like "He's just that good," I will immediately stop watching, never return to the show, and never look at the show in a remotely good light. I'll probably punch my TV, too. For good measure.

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jacksonsdrumstick · 3 years

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Jetpack really is a genius. He found a way to help Dirk in his serious case.

Now the knight finally can train on a dummy. They found it.

Hocus is supposed to have his final exam soon. Turns out that he should take an adventure and travel between different dimensions. Sounds difficult.

But the boy has other plans for this evening.

He wants to make sure that his bride's father wouldn't stand between them.

And that's why you should marry your sims at the churches.

Calliope (the merchant one) is standing on the higher ground than Hocus.

That's why their wedding looks weird.

At least, he got the ring right on her finger.

The officiant doesn't seem to care at all.

Well, this is really strange.

And a very Not Safe For Work thingie.

You're such a dirty boy, Hocus.

Dirk doesn't seem to be impressed. I'm judging by the back of his head. Well, Hocus is uncomfortable too.

#tsm #the sims medieval #sims medieval #tsm the kingdom of Oldgame #jetpack the blacksmith #dirk the knight #hocus the wizard #jade the merchant #sims glitch

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unsung-heroesofmobius · 6 years

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Verse: Sonic with Star Wars Influence Date: 7/8/2018 Full Name: Jerard Kal Pronunciation: (Jeh-rahr Kah-l) Nickname/Alias: Jerard, J Meaning: Jerard was a name he gave himself, but his sur name, Kal, means knife, and it’s the name of his clan Origin: I liked the way Gerard sounded but I wanted to use a different letter. Title: Self-Proclaimed Warlord of Mandalore Pet Name: N/A ID Number: N/A Signature: A bit of a messy scrawl. He doesn’t practice writing much so it’s hard to understand sometimes. Gender: Male Gender Role: Masculine Orientation: Demisexual Real Age: (Biologically 45, Mentally 82, Chronologically 15,000+ due to stasis) Age Appearance: Older hedgehog but physically fit and healthy, albeit shorter than most. Birthday: 41 BBY Deathday: N/A Birthplace: Corellia Astrological Sign: N/A Zodiac Sign: N/A Immediate Family: Somrad Kal (Adoptive Father), Dux Magnum (Friend/Brother), Deix Kal (Adopted Son), Alreidz Kal (Adopted Son) Distant Family: Nareen Magnum, H’Racca, Fate, Suzz Parenting: In the Jedi Temple, it was rather cold and distant. When he joined his adoptive father’s family, he was a very warm, jovial person who was considerate and paid very close attention to Jerard’s needs. Upbringing: Honor, Glory, Integrity, and Compassion were above and beyond the greatest tenants that he was raised with, putting great value in family and loyalty to his word. Infancy: Jerard had a very basic neutral infancy, being taught basics in Jedi Daycare. Childhood: Jerard struggled with his emotional spontaneity in an environment that preached control and discipline, making his childhood very difficult for him as he clashed with the doctrines of the Jedi. Adolescence: It was around this time he ran away from the order to find his own place in the galaxy, finding the Mandalorian people and quickly finding his place among them as his emotions and desires matched extraordinarily well with their values and ethics. These were some of the happiest times of his life. Adulthood: Jerard developed as a leader after his father died, taking up the mantle of leader of the clan and leading them into various wars across the decades, going through emotional highs and lows where he truly developed as a person, suffering as much loss as he did victory. He grew harder, but he never grew cold to those around him. Coming of Age: When Order 66 was executed, the person he loved was slaughtered in front of him, forcing him to confront an even harsher galaxy than he could imagine, growing harsh, distant, and depressed for years, lashing out until being defeated by Darth Vader and realizing how foolish he’d been to dwell on his loss rather than mourn and move on. Evolution: He grew up from a brash young boy to a cunning young man, analyzing situations with more scrutiny and approaching answers from different angles. However, he is not used to mundane life and cannot stay still for too long. Settling down is a challenge for him. Species: Formerly Human, now Mobian Hedgehog Ethnicity: Corellian, Mandalorian Blood Type: O+ Preferred Hand: Ambidextrous Facial Type: Rectangular formerly, now round Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Blonde Hairstyle: Plain short brush back Skin Tone: Fair peach Complexion: Pale and rough Makeup: N/A Body Type: Mesomorph Build: Well-toned muscular arms and legs, not focused on weight training. Height: Formerly 5′2″, now 3′0″ Weight: Formerly 194lbs., now 82lbs. Cup Size: N/A Facial Hair: N/A Shoe Size: 10 Birthmarks/scars: Scars littering his torso from body blows during training, duels, and desperate battles for survival. Distinguishing Features: His hair has two grey stripes going from his forehead to the neck, becoming more prominent as he grew older. Health: Very Healthy Energy: High Energy Memory: Excellent Memory focused on friends, family, and war stories. Senses: Better sense of hearing than any other senses naturally. Allergies: N/A Handicaps: No normal handicaps. Muted Force Sensitivity due to experimentation. Not as strong as it used to be. Medication: N/A Phobias: Loss of Family, Organic Weaponry, Cults and Zealous Religions, Feeling Helpless. Addictions: Alcohol Mental Disorders: N/A Style: Simple casual, leather jacket. Mode of Dress: Tucked in but loose Grooming: Messy and dirty Posture: Proud and straight Gait: Even pace and proud normally. Can fake other gaits if needed. Coordination: Athletic and quick, good reflexes. Habits and Mannerisms: Crosses arms often whenever thinking, tilts head forward and to the right slightly. Raises eyebrow whenever he hears something interesting or concerning. Scent: Slight smell of soot and sweat. Usually a weak scent. Mood: Jovial Attitude: Cocky and open, normally friendly Stability: Low stability. Fakes good stability to assure others he is ok despite not being ok. Expressiveness: Expresses Joy openly. Anger and sadness are hidden. When Happy: Boisterous laughter When Depressed: Isolates himself and stay away from others. When Angry: Grits teeth, some glares, possibly isolates self or, if very angry, attacks the aggressor. Note: These are generalizations. Different situations will create different reactions. Current Residence: Small two bedroom domed home. Community: Kind and open community. Very friendly. Family: Volt (Brother), Speedy (Brother-in-Law), Harmony (Niece), Atlas (Nephew) @projectlightfox @needf0rspeed Friends: Zapper (Astromech and Friend) Enemies: Ultimate (Archnemesis), Ixis Serena (Witch) Bosses: King Elias Followers: Geoffrey St. John Heroes: His father Rivals: N/A Relates to: Volt @projectlightfox, Hark @keepinganimmortalworld Pets/Familiars: N/A Wardrobe: White shirts, khaki shorts, and a leather jacket, or his armor (temperature suit, armor plates, gauntlets, sports shoes, and helmet) Equipment: Disintegrator Pistol, lightsaber, specially forged iron sword, explosives, emp grenades, medical supplies, maps, communicator, and food stuffs. Accessories: N/A Trinkets: Holoprojector with images of his family Funds: 900,000 Rings Home: Simple round domed house with a living room that is open to the kitchen, messy sectional with a wooden coffee table and two windows. Kitchen has marble tops and wooden cabinets with steel sink, oven, stove, and refrigerator. Rooms are simple with wooden nightstands and basic cotton bedsheets. Both have a single window. Neighborhood: Passive friendly people, very open and calm with newcomers. Transportation: Walking for the most part, speeder bike, or jetpack License Plate Number: N/A Collections: N/A Most valuable possession: His armor, not only is it sentimental, it’s impervious to most weaponry on the planet, skyrocketing its value. Prized Possession: His Armor. It’s as important to him culturally as it is sentimental. Lovers: Skalaya (Human Crush/First Love, Now deceased) Marital Status: Single Sex Life: Low to N/A Type: Storge/Agape Turn-Ons: He’s not sure himself, but he appreciates someone who cares for him and he cares for them. Nothing physical. All based on an emotional connection. Turn Offs: Signs of toxicity, disloyalty, infidelity. Position: Switch Plays: N/A Fetishes: N/A Virginity: N/A Element: Earth Occupation: Private Contractor, Blacksmith Work Ethnic: Very Strong Work Ethic. Works hard to get job done well and fast. Rank: N/A Income: Varies depending on work. Usually 10,000 Rings per job. Wealth Status: Upper but lives Middle/Low Experience: Mercenary Work, Blacksmithing, Farming Organizations/Affiliations: Republic of Acorn/Freedom Fighters IQ: 115 Education: Strong Education in various technical fields, such as mechanics, combat, mathematics, tactical skills, and history and culture. School: Formerly Boarding School-like, then Homeschooled Grade: N/A, Pass/Fail System Special Education: Often Fell behind in early school due to lack of understanding of concepts. Social Stereotype: Punk Degrees: N/A Intelligence: Intrapersonal, Linguistic, and Logical Extracurricular Activities: Hunting Religion: None/Mandalorian Culture (Not sure if it should be called Religion or not) Morals: Values Honor, Glory, Integrity, and Family above all else. Killing is ok so long as it is not done in violation of your word. Most crimes are not considered morally wrong in and of themselves as long as the end goal is nobel. Crime Record: If the law exists outside of Mandalorian Culture, it was probably broken in one way or another. Amnesty granted due to previous war record in favor of the New Republic. Motivation: Love, Family, and Glory Priorities: Family First above all else. Philosophy: Justice must triumph over evil and tyranny by any means necessary. Political Party: Liberal-Moderate Etiquette: Normally informal, but will act properly in formal settings due to experience. Culture: Mandalorian culture has many different aspects that value practicality over ceremony. Marriage can be done in a private setting between two people when they speak a specific phrase to each other, and adoption is equally simple. Family is given priority and therefore, the formation of family is streamlined. Funerals are also short and simple, normally consisting of a daily remembrance of the dead rather than a formal ceremony. Influences: It takes a very powerful and respectable person or a grand event to cause Jerard to change in some way or another. Relates to: He relates to Volt due to their shared history of being experimented on. Traditions: Jerard carries all of his Mandalorian traditions with him, from the food to the way he conducts himself and his work ethic. Superstitions: N/A Main Goal: To live a good life with family and to find his place in the world. Minor Goals/Ambitions: Getting rid of Ultimate and doing a good job as a Freedom Fighter. Career: Mercenary Desires: Family, love, and to explore this new galaxy. Wishlist: Some more beskar to forge. (Likely impossible, so he’ll settle for gems.) Accomplishments: He got a family and he’s a mercenary. Greatest Achievement: Helping to win the Yuuzhan Vong War, and going Super to beat down Dark Gaia. Biggest Failure: Failing to save Skalaya. Secrets: Most of the more unsavory things he’s done in the past. He doesn’t let others know what he’s done. Regrets: Accepting jobs that led to the death of innocent people. Worries: He worries about losing who he is, so he holds on even tighter to his past. Best Dream: Being able to have both his families live together happily. Worst Nightmare: Losing everything (Has happened) Best Memories: Teaching and training his kids and the next generation. Worst Memories: Losing control of himself in his emotions, nearly hurting those around him in his rampages. Hobbies/Interests: Hunting and smithing Skills/Talents: Swordsman, Marksman, Tactician Likes: Food, partying, playing, camping, fighting Dislikes: Liars, cowards, awkward silences, zealots Sense of Humor: Gallows and Dad humour Pet Peeves: When someone stutters too often. Superstitions/Beliefs: No Superstitious beliefs. If you live like a good Mandalorian, when you die, your spirit goes to the Mandokarla. Dreams/Nightmares: More nightmares than anything, regarding loss and death. Quirks: He likes to put his feet on furniture. Always seems to have a wry smile at some point. Savvy: Mechanically savvy. Can't understand: Taking away someone’s ability to choose. Closet Hobby: Carving Guilty Pleasure: Those fun little cartoon shows they show on the TV. Strengths: Calm under pressure, determined Flaws: Too Proud, Stubborn, Blunt Perception: It can be cold but there’s always something worth finding. Conflicts: He’s alone in the world, and his culture clashes with everyone else’s on the planet, making it difficult for him to fit in. Instincts: Exploration and action. Lures: Fighting Soft Spot: Kids Cruel Streak: When someone hurts kids, friends, or family. He gets very violent when these happen. Powers/Abilities: Enhanced senses and reflexes, minor electrical prowess, empathic abilities, minor telekinesis. Origin: Born with them Source: Considering the nature of the power, all he needs to do is focus, but it requires more focus for more intensive powers. Ability: He’s trained to improve specific powers more than learning many, so he is more adept at the powers he does normally use, but is very poor at trying new ones. Weaknesses: Using these powers require a certain amount of focus, so breaking his focus will keep him at a normal individual’s level. Immunities: N/A Restrictions: Must Train to maintain or improve these powers. Alternate Forms: Nothing he can do on his own. Extra Anatomy: N/A Favorite Colors: Gold Favorite Animals: Strill Favorite Mythological Creatures: Hydra Favorite Places: Mandalore Favorite Landmarks: Mt. Stormtop Favorite Flavors: Pineapple Favorite Foods: Pizza Favorite Drinks: Ti’haar Favorite Characters: He’s liking that Duo Maxwell character from the TV. Favorite Genre: Action-Adventure Favorite Books: Detective/Mystery Favorite Movies: Action Blockbusters Favorite Games: Character Action Games Favorite Shows: Action or Comedy Favorite Music: Rock, all the Rocks of all kinds. Favorite Bands: Queen, Iron Maiden, Guns and Roses Favorite Songs: His World by Zebrahead, Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns and Roses, Enter Sandman by Metallica Favorite Sports: Football Soccer, Rugby, Hockey, Wrestling, Boxing, MMA, Judo, Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Baseball Favorite Stores: BEARS (Mobian Sears) Favorite Subjects: History, Science, Math Favorite Numbers: 4 Favorite Websites: N/A Favorite Words: Osik, Shebs, Dikut Favorite Quotations: Ke Nu Jurkadir shaa Mando’ade. (Don’t mess with Mandalorians) Least Favorite Colors: Lavender Least Favorite Animals: Ants Least Favorite Mythological Creatures: Cyclops Least Favorite Places: Senates Least Favorite Landmarks: Statues to fake heroes Least Favorite Flavors: Tobacco Least Favorite Foods: Black Licorice Least Favorite Drinks: Sambuca Least Favorite Characters: Trieze Marquis Least Favorite Genre: Romantic Drama Least Favorite Books: Romance Novels Least Favorite Movies: Chick Flicks Least Favorite Games: Bad games Least Favorite Shows: Reality TV Least Favorite Music: Reggaeton Least Favorite Bands: Justin Beaver Least Favorite Songs: Baby by Justin Beaver Least Favorite Sports: Tennis Least Favorite Stores: Victorian’s Secret Least Favorite Subjects: Home Ec Least Favorite Numbers: 3 Least Favorite Websites: N/A Least Favorite Words: Eggman Least Favorite Quotations: “You have to crack a few eggs to make an omelete.” Languages: Basic(English), Mandalorian, Corellian, Huttese, German Accent: American Voice: Even Pitched, errs towards lower pitch sometimes Speech Impediments: N/A Greetings and Farewells: “Su’Cuy Gar!” State of Mind: "I’m doin’ Fine.” Compliment: "Lookin healthy as ever.” Insult: “Your face looks like an ass.” Expletive: “OSIK!” Laughter: A Loud boisterous laugh. Tag Line: “Well-” Signature Quote: “Today’s a good day for someone else to die.” Reputation: Not much, he’s not really in the public eye. First Impressions: Odd, quirky, insane. Stranger Impressions: An absolute nutcase. Friendly Impressions: A Friendly nutcase. Enemy Impressions: Don’t fuck with this nutcase. Familiar Impressions: We love him, but he’s a nutcase. Compliments: He’s a heroic nutcase. Insults: He’s an ass, and a nut. Self-Impression: I’mma boss. MBTI Personality Type: ENFP-A Temperament: Sanguine Enneagram: The Challenger Ego/Superego/Id: Id The Self: The Warrior The Shadow: Selfishness The Anima/Animus: Sophia Persona/Mask: Fortune Role: Rival Fulfillment: Well Significance: He’s had a great impact on current world events. Alignment: Chaotic Good Comparison: Spartan/Viking Symbol: Knife Song: Bad Luck Charm Vice: Pride Virtue: Diligence Defining Moment: When he made the choice to join the Rebel Alliance and become part of something far bigger than just his clan leader. Tropes: He can be stereotypically hot-headed more often than not, getting into fights or confrontations with ease. Originality: His value on family and fatherhood sets him apart from most mercenaries, warlords, or bounty hunters. He is not a lone wolf and hates to be alone too long. One Word: Determined Character Sheet © Character-Resource

#Headcanons #Jerard Kal #Character Sheet #long post

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maniibear · 7 years

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My stony holiday exchange fic! Based on that backsmith outfit saga on AvAc, starring Sam, Nat, T’challa, and Loki :D

Word Count: ~2500 Warnings: None

Steve is not jealous, he’s curious.

It feels like a natural enough reaction to have upon spotting Tony Stark on the Avengers Academy quad, dressed in a pile of leather straps and little else like a…a—

Steve must look as curious as he feels because Tony lifts his chin proudly and exclaims, "I’m a blacksmith!"

And Steve, who by now is past curiosity and well into nosebleed territory at the sight of the outfit to properly think, replies with, “That was my second guess.”

He’s immediately mortified, of course, but if Tony has any opinions about such a forward turn of phrase, he doesn't say. If anything, he seems more excited to share his plans for the new students. “Odin asked me to make some awesome iron armaments for the new recruits!”

Ah. Steve’s met some of these recruits; he likes She-Hulk already, and Thor’s great, despite Loki’s complaints to the contrary. Loki had also said something about Malekith’s elves being vulnerable to iron, so what Tony is doing makes sense. Tony never hesitates to be on the front line every time the Academy comes under threat, and Steve is actually immensely proud of his initiative— right until he catches up to the mention of Odin.

“Did he ask you to wear that outfit?” he asks Tony in what he hopes is a level and reasonable tone. The All-Father is not particularly trustworthy, Steve decides on the spot. Really. Loki might be their resident chaotic evil, but Loki also wears all the motives of a surly megalomanic teenager on his perfectly tailored sleeve. Odin is far too clever for that, which always points to a level of shadiness, in Steve’s opinion.

So, when Tony says, “No,” Steve’s excessively relieved, only to be further distressed when Tony adds. “This is all me.”

“That’s good,” he manages. “I thought I was gonna have to alert the authorities.”

It’s not a total lie; Steve would have done his civic duty and called someone to scrape Odin’s remains off the ground if the answer had been yes.

Tony, unaware that he’d held the life of a god in his clever hands for a moment, just nods and bounces a little excitedly on his feet. “Well, I’ll catch you later, Capsicle,” he says with an ironic little salute. “Gotta go bang these things out.”

Steve, immediately deluged by visions of Tony bent over the anvil, newly exposed muscles straining and glistening in the light of the forge, nods dumbly. “Ok.”

Steve is not jealous, he’s thinking.

It’s been hours since his little run-in with Tony. Since then, he’s been on a mission with Sam, trained with Mockingbird, and even spent some time with Peggy before ending up at Club A for some pool. Steve likes shooting pool because it’s good training to spot ricochet angles, but tonight, he can’t stop thinking about that damn outfit. Did Tony really design it himself? When? And why didn’t Jan object? If anyone, she should have seen how useless it is as a blacksmithing costume. Two crisscrossing leather straps and a whole lot of bare skin weren’t any sort of protection from molten metal and flyaway embers in the forge.

Steve doesn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Sam replies, “Actually, it’s not forging in the traditional sense.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows in a gesture that might have been agreement. Beside her at the bar, T'challa merely takes a long, thoughtful sip of a startlingly neon drink. Sam goes on providing educational reassurance, probably because, Steve suspects, he’s glad they’re talking about something other than training, fighting HYDRA, or all the reasons to not go to work for Fury.

“Asgardian iron ore is pretty easy to craft with just repulsor tech," Sam lines up his pool stick, takes his shot, and stands up triumphantly when the cueballs scatter faithfully in all the right directions. "Its real power comes from enchantment. Or that’s what Amora said, but I dunno, I always feel pretty weird when I’m around her...”

That doesn’t sound quite comforting. If anything, Steve broods more at the thought of Tony now running around with smarmy sorceresses, learning magic, and generally moving further and further beyond Steve’s reach. Asgardians, he thinks uncharitably—actually, maybe just one Asgardian in particular. Odin is a god and King of Asgard, ergo, the Frost Giants were his problem. Steve doesn’t understand why he doesn’t just take care of them with a pointed strategic offensive. Instead, he has to make a production out of the whole thing, and litter campus with bedazzled sky cycles and besaddled wild animals.

Yeah, Steve's seen the armored polar bear. It’s cute, but where's it going to go once winter is over? What would it eat? Did Odin think about that before shoving improbable gifts at Tony? No, the All-Father only thought about himself.

“Cap, you ok?” Sam pokes his elbow. “You look kinda mad.”

“What? No, I’m fine,” Steve assures him even as his own shot fails spectacularly. He eyes Sam as the young man moves around the table.

“Weren’t you saying something about your jetpack needing a fix?” Steve asks casually. “I could take it to Tony for you.”

“Actually, I’m going to fix it myself,” Sam replies with blithe cheer. “I realized I can’t keep relying on Tony for everything.”

“Right,” Steve deflates. Just as he’s about to say something encouraging to his friend, an unholy screeching noise reverberates over the loud music. Steve whirls around and comes face to face with T’challa’s cool, dark eyes. When did he sneak up?

“Excuse me, Captain,” the Prince of Wakanda says smoothly, but the glint of his vibranium claws are flagrant. As are the three deep gouges across Steve’s shield. “It appears your shield requires maintenance. Perhaps Tony Stark can help."

“You know Tony,” Natasha quips when Steve does his best impression of a goldfish out of water. "Tall, dark hair, loves his bots. Who's working in the Ice Palace right now. Alone.”

She gives him a significant look. “Could probably use some company."

Night falls and Steve is still not jealous. Not until he runs into Loki, anyway.

After his usual repartee of insults and vaguely monumental threats, Loki smugly fills Steve in on his latest partnership with Tony to make enchanted weapons.

“It was the All-Father’s idea,” he sniffs. “Between you and me, he could have easily banished the frost giants, but he thinks this fight will create some sort of bond between myself and my fellow students. Joke’s on him: Armor-man and I are already close.”

There’s a…twinge of some sort in Steve’s chest, that’s been getting steadily tighter with every mention of Tony running around with Asgardians, but this is the last straw.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he barks, folding his arms. Loki can easily match him for height, so Steve finds his satisfaction in the way the shadow of his shield looms over the sorcerer.

“It means that when I rule Midgard, I promised Armor-man that he will be the last to fall,” Loki replies breezily, then he smirks and slyly adds. “Say, America-man, are you jealous?”

Steve scowls thunderously. “I—no.” he denies.

“I think perhaps you are,” Loki counters. “And if not of my superior good looks and majestic hair, it must be because I’m working with Tony Stark against the Dark Elves while you are…not.”

Guilt curls around his stomach and Steve folds his arms tighter. “I’m doing other things,” he mutters, wondering why he’s explaining himself to Loki of all people.

“I’m sure you are,” Loki agrees unconvincingly. “But if you’re in between recruitment trips and that infernal dancing, perhaps you should check on Armor-man’s progress. I would do it, but I must see a witch about a bird.”

“You mean, you're going off to scheme with Amora,” Steve accuses. He’s just thinking he should probably keep an eye on those developments when he hears Loki’s next words.

“We don’t need any more weapons, but he keeps making them. I suspect he’s doing it for the compliments.”

“Compliments?” Steve echoes.

Loki rolls his eyes. “Yesterday, the All-Father has deemed Stark as excellent as the dwarves of Nidavellir,” he groans. “And Stark ate it up. Probably because Bumblebee-woman is the only one to praise him otherwise.”

Loki gives him a look that echoes Natasha’s back in Club A. “Go on, America-man, I suspect you'll find him in the Ice Palace.”

“Got it, thanks,” Steve replies. “I mean, I don’t know why you’re helping me, but—“

“Oh, your mortal drama bores me, true,” Loki sighs haughtily. He’s back to his petulantly guarded self again, looking at Steve disdainfully over his shoulder. “But you and Armor-man deserve one joyous holiday before I take over Midgard and you are all annihilated where you stand.”

The Ice Palace is marvelous, there’s no denying. It’s also surprisingly warm and while Steve logically knows it’s not literally made of frozen water, he’s still ridiculously glad he doesn’t have to go inside to find Tony’s workshop. He arrives at the courtyard where the anvil is just in time to watch Tony get distracted by his own flexing biceps, misfire his repulsor, and take a turret clean off its foundation.

Steve grunts loudly as he braces himself against the turret to keep it from falling.

Tony immediately yelps, “Cap!” and rushes over to help. Between them, it takes a bare minute to restabilize the turret back on its foundation and Asgardian enchantments take care of the rest.

“Are you ok?” Tony asks. He lands just a few feet away and glances up so fretfully that Steve feels bad for distressing him. He opens his mouth to assure Tony that he’s fine when Tony cuts him off with another horrified squeak.

“Steve, your shield! What happened?”

Steve winces and glares at the metallic rifts on the shield like they're responsible for dragging Tony’s attention away. “It was T’challa.“

“You got in a fight with Black Panther?!” Tony demands incredulously. His fingers hover disbelievingly over his mouth and Steve wonders if he should feel slighted at Tony’s apparently low assessment of how well he would fare in a fight with the Prince of Wakanda.

“No, I didn’t,” he replies. “We were at Club A and T’challa thought—“ he stops himself before he says something that might demand an even more awkward explanation. “…it wasn’t a fight.”

It takes a moment, but Tony seems to accept it. A strange silence descends, wherein Steve grows a hundred percent more aware of the blacksmith outfit, which is still…the way it is… only now with the added bonus of Tony being all flushed with exertion and tension and...

Steve bites the tip of his tongue, “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Tony grins, abruptly sunny. “I just made a batch of new weapons. Odin says I’m really good!”

And the twinge in Steve’s chest is back. It claws its way out of him sharp as nails, “You don’t need Odin to tell you you’re good, Tony!”

“You want me to say no to street cred on Asgard?” Tony asks, like he’s scandalized at the suggestion. “They love blacksmiths! I mean, I think it’s because they don’t have internet up there, which is tragic, but y’know.”

Tony shrugs, and Steve isn’t stupid--he can see Tony's eyes dim behind that plastered smile. “They can keep their blacksmiths,” he says. “We need you, Tony.”

Tony chuckles, in a heavy kind of way that makes Steve’s heart clench. “No need to flatter me, Capsicle, I’ll take a look at your shield. I got some free time since Falcon just took a raincheck on fixing the jetpack.”

“That’s not—“ Steve starts and grinds to a halt. He returns the shield to his back, scratches and all, and reaches out to touch Tony’s shoulder instead. “It’s not about the shield. Or Sam’s jetpack, Tony, I just want…”

Tony’s brows arch, intrigued, and Steve sighs. He drops his hand from Tony’s shoulder and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m being really bad at this, aren’t I?”

“Maybe,” Tony drawls tentatively. “But hey, you’re kinda perfect at everything else so…”

“Not perfect,” Steve reminds him instinctively, but keeps his voice gentle. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood any further, so he considers his words before speaking again. “You do a lot, Tony. For us, for the Academy—we don’t tell you that enough, but the truth is, I’d miss you if you weren’t with us.”

“You’d miss me,” Tony echoes wondrously.

“I’d miss you like crazy,” Steve affirms. “There wouldn't be Avengers Academy without you; and even if there were, it wouldn’t be half as much fun.”

Tony wears an expression that wants to be pleased, but is not quite, so Steve wastes no time bringing a palm up to cup his face. Now, Tony goes wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but he doesn’t resist—not even when Steve leans in, ever closer until their skin touches. The kiss is awkward and off center, a tentative brush of Steve’s lips against the corner of Tony’s mouth because if he were to be honest, fighting a war is easier than being this vulnerable.

“Oh my god,” Tony breathes when they part.

“Is this OK?” Steve asks softly, still holding on and unwilling to move further away. “Please say it’s OK.”

Tony laughs. It’s barely a whisper above the winter breeze, but it’s genuine. “Oh, it's more than OK,” he says, and Steve doesn’t waste any more time. Their second kiss is less shy; it has more heat and Steve shudders under the wave of want that blooms behind his ribs when he feels Tony clutch at the nape of his neck.

Steve echoes the sentiment of before, “Oh my god,” he shivers at a sharp sensation on his lower lip. “Tony.”

“Cap,” Tony returns, sounding faraway even though Steve can feel him so close. His fingers drag, yearning, down the sweep of Steve’s throat. “Are we…?”

Steve nods. “Yes,” he replies hurriedly. “Anything, whatever you want from me.”

Tony grins. “Good,” he says, and Steve thinks, forget magic. Forget enchantments and iron and armors. If the sunshine delight in Tony's eyes ever turned toward the campus walls, the Frost Giants would be long gone.

“Honestly, it wasn't my intention when I first designed it, but hey, if it bought you running, I'm glad for every strap.”

Steve scoffs. There's no heat behind it; there can't be when it's a bright new day at Avenger's Academy and he's walking along the quad, holding on to Tony's hand like letting go is some unimaginable travesty. “Running is maybe a strong word.”

"No, it isn't," Tony replies happily and leans into Steve as they round the Archives. "Really, you're pretty spry for an older fella."

"Gotta keep up with you somehow," Steve sighs.

"I can't believe you thought Odin made me wear it." Tony snickers, even if Steve can't help but protectively tighten his hold. He's calmed down these days, really--barely any comment about lecherous god-kings and their various underhanded motives.

"You do see the irony in accusing the All-Father of being a shady old perv when your second guess was 'blacksmith', right?"

Steve barely resists choking on his own breath. A high pitched squeak escapes his lips instead.

For his part, Tony taps a quick pitying kiss on Steve's cheek, but gives no quarter. “Because I remember what said you said that time,” he teases. “Come on, Captain my Captain, what was your first guess when you saw what I was wearing?”

#superhusbands #stony #my writing #bymani #cap-im holiday exchange

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