#the ones people give sometimes that are like. flared crests

[davnittbraes]

The Second Step - Chapter Eight

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4400

Warnings etc: Reader insert, female reader, anxiety, dangerous situations, disgusting amount of fluff, a lil bit of smutty smut

Notes: Ok look. I know. I KNOW. But I promise we’re getting close. I can’t help it that these two are walking, talking advertisements for why people need therapy. They’re doing things on their own time. Also I’m making up some more stuff about SW lore here, once again if it’s not on the wiki it’s mine.

Oh and can we please have some more Fluffy Din? This man has been through so much, just let him giggle once in a while.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

The ship is quiet, the gentle thrum of the hyperdrive a soothing background noise. It’s late, the kid put to bed in his little hammock about an hour ago, leaving you and Mando alone.

Nights like this have become part of the routine these last few weeks, since you’d left Tatooine - the two of you up for a couple hours after the kid goes to sleep, tidying or cleaning or fixing little things, anything to occupy hands while words fall tentatively between you.

Those quiet conversations have mostly centred around the kid or whatever you did that day, whether it was scrub down the hold or make a supply run to some backwater town. Safe topics, perfect for just getting used to speaking openly and honestly with someone else. Something both of you are slowly getting accustomed to.

Sometimes you don’t talk at all. It’s just comfortable silence between you, no pressure to fill it. Those are some of your favourite moments - just you and him, existing, the something between you slowly but steadily growing stronger.

But sometimes, that something flares, pulses and pulls at your skin, woven through with anticipation.

Begs you closer.

Pleads for more.

Ever since the two of you spoke on the streets of Mos Eisley, finally accepting that neither of you truly wanted to walk away from the other, your thoughts have been a tumultuous flurry of anxiety, uncertainty and self-doubt. The entire walk back to the Razor Crest had been a contrast - the cacophony of questions bouncing around your skull, the night quiet and soft around you, the rawness in your chest from intense emotions set free, the reassuring weight of his hand still clasped in yours. The chaos hadn’t calmed in the last few weeks, even with the steadiness of routine setting your days.

And all of it can be boiled down to one question:

What next?

You have no idea what you want from this situation.

Well. Maybe you do, a little bit - you can certainly name the sensation that dips low in your stomach and makes it hard to breathe whenever he’s near. You don’t need to examine that persistent, warm throb in your core, you know exactly what your body is asking for.

You just don’t know how to get there.

Not with him.

The Mandalorian bounty hunter, who touches you with just as much desire as reservation.

Like he’s afraid to give in.

Pfassk. You can relate to that.

There had been moments since you came back to him, just like before. Blips of time where the something between you roared with frustration, the two of you reaching out to touch and feel despite all hesitations. Little moments that repeat in your mind over and over as you go about your days - the glide of well-worn leather down your arm as his hand directs you through a crowd, the smooth chill of his breastplate under your fingertips when you brush by him in the hold.

You’re now familiar with his nearness, the sensation of his tall, broad frame often within reach instead of a safe distance away.

It’s a foreign feeling, this level of comfort. It’s terrifying, it’s exhilarating, it’s…

Irresistible.

You want it.

You want more.

Step by step. Together.

Both of you had said those words. In agreement that whatever this thing was between you, it wouldn’t be forced by one or the other. Learn to trust, to accept. Let down the walls one brick at a time.

But it’s getting harder to pull away, harder for your hand to not linger on his arm and for your gaze not to get lost in that mysterious black void of his visor, thoughts drifting to what might be. Harder to step back and away from his presence.

Harder to resist the urge to step forward instead.

Like tonight. It’s buzzing on the tips of your fingers, along the curve of your neck, the small of your back. Reaching out across the space that divides you, beckoning. You’ve been sitting in silence for the last half hour or so, but you can sense that silence stretching thin under the weight of the pull.

“You’re good with him.”

Mando’s soft voice draws your attention from the kid’s robe that you’re mending - little monster caught it on the corner of a storage shelf while you were playing tag, tore a hole through the back. “Who? The kid?”

“Yes.”

A smile curves your mouth as you straighten out the tear in the cloth. “I just seem to get along with children and animals. Not so much anyone else, though.” You look at him out of the corner of your eye. “With a few exceptions.”

He takes a seat on a storage crate opposite yours, one you pushed against the wall of the hull to support your back while you worked. He’s quiet for a moment, his helmet looking at you straight on with a focus you’ve learned means he’s working up to saying something. You wait him out, smoothing the robe over your lap and starting the stitch, fingers moving deftly - you’ve mended countless such nicks and tears in your lifetime.

“Did you grow up with a lot of children and animals around?”

Your fingers flinch as a tremor of surprise runs through your body, and you pause before you accidentally prick yourself. Your childhood is not one of the safe topics the two of you have restricted yourselves to. But there’s a gentleness in his voice that tells you he won’t press if you don’t want to answer. A few weeks ago you certainly wouldn’t have, survival instincts quickly deflecting the conversation to something safer. But now…

Along with the something, there’s a thread of hesitant trust that’s forming between you and the Mandalorian, pulling tighter and tighter, bringing you closer together.

And instead of pulling back, snapping that thread, you want to let it.

Taking a deep breath, you resume sewing, slipping the point of the needle through the thick woven cloth. “In a sense. What about you?”

You can’t help but glance up at him then, anxiety immediately boiling hot in your stomach. Was that too far? No, he had asked you first. And he would just say he couldn’t answer that, like he’s done before, if he -

“Yes. There were always other children around when I was a small child.” He pauses, fingers flexing on the crate as he grips the edge. “Though that changed when the Mandalorians took me in. There wasn’t many my age.”

“‘Took you in?’” You pause, looking up in surprise. “You weren’t born a Mandalorian?”

The helmet dips a little, like he’s looking at the floor. “When I was a boy, my village was attacked by droids.” The edges of his voice dull, obviously tinged with old memories. “My family was killed, but Mandalorians saved me. I was raised in the Fighting Corps, mostly with others older than me.”

Your hands rest in your lap, sewing forgotten as his words sink through your thoughts, connections clicking into place. “You were a foundling.”

“Yes.”

Like the kid.

Your understanding of the bond between them deepens, sharpens, grows.

A sudden realization makes you sit up straight. “You were a child during the Clone Wars?”

The helmet tilts. “Why do you think that?”

“You said your village was attacked by droids.” Shrugging, you let your gaze drift down to your lap, twining a finger through the loose thread on your needle. “I haven’t heard of many other groups of droids attacking civilians, except the Separatist army. So you were a kid when - oh, you’re much older than I thought.”

His huff of laughter makes you look up in surprise again. He’s leaning back a bit, looking more relaxed than you’d assume given the subject you’re talking about. The knowledge that he’s comfortable telling you about his childhood burns pleasantly in your chest.

Sitting back to mirror his pose, you raise an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Only you would have the nerve to insult a Mandalorian by calling him old.” The words tremble slightly with contained laughter.

Rolling your eyes, you stick the needle through the robe’s fabric to keep it safe and cross your arms over your chest. “I said you’re older than I thought you were. Big difference. But keep this up and I’ll start pointing out every time you stand up to stretch your back when you think I’m not looking.”

He sighs, rolling his shoulders as if chasing a muscle twinge even as he speaks. “I’ll agree with you on one thing, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

As if sensing his back pain, your own lower back starts to ache, the time spent sitting hunched over your sewing despite leaning against the wall quickly catching up with you. “I understand the feeling.”

Silence falls suddenly, thick with expectation. He had talked about his childhood, even pretty much confirmed his age - a quick mental calculation told you he was probably in his early forties. But now you know that about him, and he’s waiting for you to share the same information about yourself - except you can’t, not in the way he wants.

Well, these last few weeks have taught you that he will take whatever you’re willing to give, and not ask for more.

Drawing a deep breath, you let your thoughts flick over memories you usually keep safely locked away. “I moved around a lot as a child, so I didn’t have the chance to really make friends. But I cared for a variety of different animals through the years.”

You smile, gaze slipping away from him and over the nearby storage rack, unfocused as you drift through hazy memories. “Animals are simple, honest - even when they’re clever and try to trick you it’s only driven by a primal need to survive, not greed or cruelty or the desire to control others. Animals accept anyone who is kind to them, regardless of -”

Your throat tightens, the memories suddenly becoming far too clear. Shaking your head slightly, you close your eyes and push them back before looking at Mando again. “They accept people who are kind to them regardless of where that person comes from, or what others might think of them.”

“Not a trait found in many people.” He says the words softly, like he can sense the flare of emotion you just felt.

You snort lightly. “Yeah, well, not many people are kind, either.”

“Not always. But when you find those people, it’s good. Everyone needs a clan, a tribe. It… makes things easier.”

A twinge of sympathy tightens in the pit of your stomach. There’s something he’s not saying, hiding beneath his words, but evident in the slope of his shoulders and the dip of his helmet. “Do you still have that? Other than the kid.”

He sighs, a heavy rush of sound through the modulator. “I’m searching for them. For… whoever is left.”

The exhaustion in his voice makes you want to reach out, comfort him, but you restrain yourself - the distraction of touching each other is still too strong, and this is a sombre conversation, as well as an important one. You settle for gentle encouragement. “I hope you find them.”

He’s quiet for a moment, helmet turning away as the looks at the floor. “I don’t know who I’d be without them. They give me a purpose, an identity.”

His words echo through your thoughts, twisting and turning as you consider them. That doesn’t quite align with your personal philosophy, and you don’t want to insult him but the near-despair in his voice urges you to speak. “You’re more than that, you know.”

The black visor turns back to you sharply, but his frame doesn’t stiffen with insult or offence. You pause, giving him a moment to reply, but he’s silent, waiting. “You’re more than a Mandalorian, or a bounty hunter, or a father to a little green dude.” Smiling, you kick out a booted foot to point in his direction. “You’re not just one of those things, you’re all of them and more. You can stop bounty hunting and take off the helmet but you’ll still be you. That’s your true identity, not titles or clans or even names. Just you.”

He’s still, unmoving, silent. Dank farrik, there you go, saying the wrong thing again. Your anxiety threatens to ramp up and you shove it back down - there’s nothing in his stance that says he’s upset with you. Just give him time, be patient and -

“So take away the namana berry farmer and the animal caretaker and the smuggler. Who are you?”

The question instantly raises your hackles, thoughts automatically pulling up various replies that would lead the conversation away from that subject, and it takes a moment of intense concentration to wrangle them back. This time is different - he’s different, he’s not asking to get information that he can use against you. No, his voice is curious, prodding gently at your defenses with no intent to try to push through them.

Which is good. Because even though you trust him not to betray you, you’re not ready for that yet.

Shrugging one shoulder, you throw him a crooked smile. “Me? Oh, I’m not really sure I know the answer to that yet. I’ll let you know when I find out, though.”

He huffs his laugh, shaking his head once in amusement. “Tionas.”

The word is foreign, you’re not sure what it was, but he didn’t say it with anger so it can’t be a bad thing. “What’s that mean?”

“You say you don’t have the answer.” The smile in his voice is evident, warming his words. “Tionas - in the Mandalorian language, it means a question.”

Warmth floats through the something between you, settling behind your ribs, fluttering along your heartbeat. It’s too close to those emotions you’re still trying to sort through, so you deflect. “You make me sound so mysterious, like one of those characters in the HoloNet dramas that suddenly appear out of nowhere and throw the whole plot off.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen one.”

You stare at him for a long moment, but the blank wall of armour gives you nothing. “I need to get better at being able to tell when you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“What?” You’re probably looking at him like he’s grown an extra head but you can’t stop yourself. “Everyone has seen at least part of an episode. They’re everywhere on the HoloNet, it’s impossible to avoid them even if you wanted to.”

A soft chuckle floats through the modulator, straight to that warmth beneath your ribs, and he shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly.

Ok, well, it’s actually pretty reasonable that this stoic, Mandalorian bounty hunter has never seen a HoloNet drama. But the way that little laugh made your heartbeat race spurs you on.

You sit back, putting your sewing off to the side, and narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t believe you. I think you secretly love them - you’ve watched every episode, probably have posters on the walls of your bunk.”

He scoffs, but it comes out more like a laugh. “You’ve seen my bunk when you’ve put the kid to bed, you know I don’t -”

“You definitely have all the characters’ backstories memorized.” Pretending to ignore his interjection, you keep going, unable to stop a grin from curving your lips as he squirms with uncomfortable amusement. “Pfassk, I bet you’ve even watched all the behind-the-scenes footage, the commentaries, you know all the random facts about the making of -”

“You’re not going to stop, are you -”

“You have a cherished collection of autographs from the cast, which you got from going to all the conventions.” Your own laughter bubbles up, stuttering your speech. “You’ve waited in line for hours to get them and you look at them every night -”

In a flurry of movement he’s suddenly right in front of you, a gloved hand pressed over your mouth muffling your shriek of laughter enough that you can hear his answering chuckle.

You launch yourself upright and twist to get away but he grabs you by the waist with his free arm and your weight shifts, momentum throwing you sideways, sending you both downward.

His instincts catch the motion and he pulls you into his lap as he sits heavily on the crate you were just occupying. Your body vibrates with restrained laughter, a dizzying giddiness zipping through your veins, twitching your limbs as you half-heartedly try to break free of his hold. But his grip is strong, the arm around your waist a solid bar holding you in place, pulled back tight to his chest, and your struggling turns into shifting to get closer to him.

The feel of his broad frame pressed against you, his thighs under yours as your legs are slung sideways over his lap, the heat of his palm through his glove over your mouth - the giddy dizziness builds, spirals through your body, tightens in your stomach and the muscles of your inner thighs.

There’s a light tremble in his breath through the modulator - laughter or something else, you can’t tell - and it adds a rasp to his voice that shoots straight to your core, sparking arousal at the base of your spine. “What is it going to take to make you stop talking about this?”

Sifting through the potential responses, you find some that will turn the conversation down a safer path, a path that pulls you out of his arms and away from him again where the two of you can continue on with your evening as usual.

Your heart pounds heavily against your ribs as you choose a different direction.

A slight tilt of your chin pulls his hand from your mouth - but it doesn’t move it away, that warm leather-clad palm cupping your jaw as you turn your face toward him, looking up at the black visor.

Your voice is soft, breathless with anticipation. “I thought you said my mouth was one of my best features.”

His gloved thumb slowly traces your bottom lip, the leather smooth against tender skin. “I did say that.”

“Did you want to change your opinion?”

A sigh, full of mock defeat. “No.”

It’s right there, that something, hanging in barely-space between you, waiting.

You take hold of it and pull.

Sliding one hand over his and the other around his elbow, you tilt your face into his touch, keeping your gaze fixed on the visor. “Then maybe you should find a better use for it.”

The hitch of his breath through the modulator matches the stumble of your own heartbeat.

His thumb glides over your bottom lip again, this time pressing gently, tugging ever-so-lightly until your lips part. “You have no idea how much I want to.”

“Oh, I think I have some idea.” You flick out your tongue, tasting the worn leather, a sharp, bitter tease of the warmth of him beneath it. “Because I want it, too.”

He groans - crikking hells that’s hot - his fingers flexing along your jaw as if restraining himself from… you don’t know what but you want to find out.

You shift on his lap, one of your legs sliding off to brace a booted foot against the floor, giving you purchase to settle the curve of your ass into the cup of his thighs. His hand on your waist moves to grip your hip firmly and you arch into him, seeking -

The soft sound that chokes through the modulator, blends with your own whimper as your ass presses against the hard length of his cock through his flightsuit. Arousal flares hot over your skin, your core throbbing with need - and what you need is so close, only a few layers of clothing away.

A few layers of clothing and the restraint running through his frame.

Threading your fingers through his hand on your hip, you keep it there while you roll your hips back again, purposefully grinding over the hard length pressed against your ass.

He groans again - pfassk you will never get over that sound, how it sends a flood of heat between your thighs - sliding the hand on your jaw down to cup the back of your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“This.” Dank farrik, your voice barely sounds like your own, high and breathy and squeezing through tight lungs. Need shivers down your midriff and across your hips as you roll your hips back against him again, torn between moving to a position where you can press that hard length where you want it most and pulling away from him for even a second. “I want this. I want you.”

“I can’t - fuck, I -” He chokes off as you let go of his arm to grip the top edge of his breastplate for more leverage, grinding your ass against his cock again.

Through the haze of arousal you can hear it, the frustration and hesitation and self-doubt inking his voice, bleeding through his own desire. Your fingers curl into the cloth of his cowl, seeking him underneath all the layers. “Whatever you can give me. I’ll take it.”

A shudder runs through his entire body and his hand on your hip clenches while his thighs flex, lifting your body as he grinds his clothed cock against the plushness of your ass.

Oh kriff oh pfassk yes -

A hot spike of need shoots through your core, cunt pulsing so hard it pushes a moan from your throat. You’re spiraling upwards and out into the space surrounding you, surrounding him, your body throbbing with that something that’s relentlessly pulling you closer, closer to -

The entire ship suddenly reels, spinning, throwing the two of you back against the wall of the hull.

Pressure cracks along your skin and in your eardrums, the very air itself shuddering with the weight of it, an all-encompassing silence muting everything so completely it’s as if sound never existed.

Everything rushes forward - rocks sharply back - spins to a halt and then alarms are blasting, the ship full of sudden sound and light.

And yet there’s a strange stillness, unsettling.

Wrong.

The two of you leap into movement. Mando runs to the cockpit and your feet taking you straight to his bunk.

The kid get the kid make sure he’s -

The door to the bunk slides open and there - large, amber eyes are blinking at you, tiny clawed hands reaching frantically over the edge of the hammock.

You quickly pull him out, wrapping your arms around him securely, murmuring in one big ear. “It’s ok, kiddo, I’ve got you.”

The ship shudders hard, floor rumbling beneath your feet, enough to throw you off balance. Spinning around, you fall awkwardly onto the bed and hurry to slide back into the nearest corner, bracing yourself against the walls and pulling your knees up to your chest so the kid is tucked safely against your body.

His soft whine hums against the skin right over your pounding heart. “I’ve got you, don’t worry, I won’t let go.”

Pfassk please let it be ok let us be ok where’s Mando -

Another shudder wracks the ship as it reels, jolting with a sharp movement.

The stillness shifts, the alarms cutting off as the engines whir back to life.

Relief washes over your body, but it’s quickly followed by concern.

Mando -

Bootsteps on the ladder send another wave of relief through you, so intense it darkens the corners of your vision as your blood pressures dips sharply.

Then he’s there, his frame filling the doorway and helmet tilting as his takes the two of you in.

The kid coos and squirms to get free of your grasp, so you loosen your arms and help him stumble out of your lap toward Mando. “He’s fine, just a little shaken up, I think.”

Mando picks up the kid, giving him a quick, reassuring squeeze, then shifts him to one arm. His free hand reaches for you, and you take it without hesitating, standing as he pulls you up toward him.

“Are you alright?” His voice is tight with worry, his hand running down your arm as if trying to reassure himself you’re still there.

A sentiment you can understand to - your own hand skims down his side, seeking the solidness of his body under his layers. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

The helmet nods once. “I have to get back to the cockpit. The hyperdrive blew, we’re sublight right now and I need to watch the scanners.”

“Crikking hells, the hyperdrive?” You follow him as he steps away, moving toward the ladder. “Where are we? Anywhere close to a mechanic?”

“We’re only a couple hours away from Junkfort Station.” He climbs the ladder smoothly, kid tucked into the crook of his arm. “Should be able to get it repaired there.”

Then he’s disappearing over the edge of the cockpit entrance, leaving you staring up at the empty space. Your hands grip the ladder so tightly your fingernails dig sharply into your palms. But you don’t notice the tiny pinpricks of pain, you don’t even see the ladder anymore.

Junkfort Station.

A hub for smugglers and other underworldlings to meet, trade and conduct business. It’s a static space station, but there’s nothing static about it other than the fact that it stays in one place. A constant flow of people move through it - none of them honourable and all of them dangerous. There are permanent businesses, of course, smugglers and pirates need repairs and booze and sometimes a place to lie low for a while. But even those businesses are in constant flux, changing with the tide of trade and political power.

Junkfort Station. Uniquely positioned at the crux of four key hyperlanes, with direct or near-direct access to several smuggling routes.

Including the Kessel Run.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against the ladder. 

Calm. Focus. Control.

Deep breath, loosen the tightness in your lungs.

Feel the cold durasteel against your too-warm skin.

Ok. What are your options?

Drifting at sublight through this part of the galaxy, so close to Hutt space, is practically asking to be robbed. The faster the hyperdrive is fixed, the faster you can get back into hyperspace and get out of here.

Your eyes squeeze shut against the flood of anxiety that bubbles up the back of your throat.

There is no other option.

You’re going to Junkfort Station.

*****

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

[47-protons]

G od I love birds philza minecraft is making me do Research for the first time in years

like, research into a hyperfixation. because. recently it’s just been dsmp and there’s?? really nothing to research I just watch videos right. philza “crow father” minecraft my brain is brbrbrbrb

#crows mate for life Angel of Death phil and Goddess of Death kristen is my favorite concept. #also re: moving the preening gland to the nape of the neck I've Checked with veterinary sites and it still makes ornithological sense for it #to be there instead of closer to where it usually is on birds. #because the gland is usually covered with feathers and if you can *see it* then something is probably wrong #so like. mans has hair obviously but maybe he's got like. the downy wicking feathers under the hair? might draw what I mean later idk #y'know like. where you can touch kind of where your hair ends and your neck starts?? like in there under the hair #is where I think the preening gland would be. #because it's symmetrical and the other option would be he's got two and they're behind his ears. which honestly from a character design #standpoint is absolutely delightful i adore it. #the ones people give sometimes that are like. flared crests?? coming out from behind and around the ear?? delightful wonderful i love

[spilledkauffie]

Din Djarin (Mando) xChronicallyill!reader

|| T/W: pain and hospital (medical bay) mention

for anon ♡

Breaks — Din's learned to take it a little bit slower from time to time. Being constantly on the go can be hard on you and when he realises you're lagging behind a bit and you've already said you're fine twice, Din knows it's time to take a break. This applies no matter where you are. When you're out on a planet's surface, he'll either find some shelter for you or he'll make it, no matter what. When you try and tough it out by asking "why are we stopping?" Din just sighs and says in all seriousness "needed a break, I'm not as tough as you." You breathe, relaxed that you're getting a rest, "okay, you're the boss here." and sit next to him, resting yourself against his shoulder. Din says nothing to make you feel like he stopped because of you.

On planet accommodations — Din tries to set up arrangements outside of the Crest when you're on planet. For example, he tries to find Inns more often for you to stay at while he's on a mission on the planet. He's also started to pack more provisions, he's learned that just the bare minimum isn't best for 2 people, so in a way having you around has also helped him prepare more for himself too.

Caring for you — Din is phenomenal at taking care of you. When you start having symptom flares, Din doesn't bombard you with a a ton of questions or freak out because he doesn't understand, he asks calm, direct questions like: "what do you need?" / "where/how can I help?" & "what isn't helping?" (so he can try and minimize flare triggers) Din will do anything he can for you, and that includes backing out of a mission to stay with you. He knows his priorities and you're his number one.

↳ he can be helpful in literally lending a hand, arm or whatever you need for support to make it back to your encampment. He also subtly reminds you of things that will help when you're starting to have a flare or episode, yet he never acts like he knows more about it than you. Din just tries to avoid mentioning the negatives and instead tries to give the positive solution when he can. "I can get your medicine for you, if it'll help," he'll say when he sees you beginning to shut down a little more from the effects.

Medical bays — sometimes you need a check-in, and that usually results in a medical bay requiring you to stay a few days, telling you: “you can’t handle such a fast pace, inconsistent, lifestyle.” Din feels guilty for keeping you on the run all the time, but he’s reminded of your amazing strength when you look the doctor in the eye and say “it’s my life and this is my choice.” Din doesn’t see any need to try and tell you what’s best for you in this case, as he believes that you know you what's best. When you look to him for assurance or an opinion, he's more than willing to give it, but only by invitation from you. (Unless it's an extreme case and he needs to step in and defend / help you)

↳ Din stays as long as he can with you, but he still needs to keep up on the bounty runs, seeing as that's the only means of making some money for him right now. Sometimes, he leaves Grogu with you, if he knows it's going to be a long stay / recovery process for you; he wants you to have some company while he's gone. Other times when you don't have to stay at a medical bay, but you just have to stay in the Crest, Din definitely leaves Grogu with you.

Holograms — Din still wants to take you everywhere with him, so when you can't be there he tries to contact you through his mobile hologram device. Almost always, unless you’re resting, you answer from the Crest or the medical bay. He's gotten one or two strange looks from locals when you ask him to get a little closer to the cute creatures of the planet, but he doesn't care. He wants to see your smile and he'll do whatever it takes to bring a smile to your face.

Wishes he could do more — Din is the type of guy who silently wishes he could do more for you. Since he knows he can't he doesn't go around complaining that he can't help you, he keeps it to himself. Except for the times when you can really tell something's on his mind and when you ask all he says in a voice more hoarse than usual: "are you sure there's nothing more I can do?"

#mando hc #mando hcs #mando headcanons #mando headcanon #mando fluff #chronicallyill!reader #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian headcanons #the mandalorian hc #the mandalorian headcanon #the mandalorian hcs #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x y/n #star wars hc

[aenaxes-moved]

soirée

[cody x gn!reader] sometimes, commander cody, diplomatic duties can be set aside. otherwise known as living, if only for a brief moment, with the golden boy.

warnings: none

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: i just think dancing with cody on a lakefront at sunset would be infinitely nice. and y/n is gender neutral! they could be read as more feminine coded because of their gown and heels but there are no explicit pronouns/gendered references.

"Have you ever danced for a gala, Cody?"

"I can't say I have, senator," Cody responds as the Theelin representatives pass by. Some tenuous balance of concern and mild amusement playing over the arch in his brow, he watches you lift the long hem of your gown to rub at your ankles.

"I would recommend you avoid it if possible," you say, grimacing when your fingers brush over a sure blister come dawn. "Nasty business, dancing."

Were he but a newly made acquaintance, as he had been when he had known you by name and Fox's fond regard alone, he would most certainly be on his highest guard. But after Obi-wan had very inconspicuously assigned him to your escort detail, placing you through a grand total of one assassination attempt and two stolen frigates, he allows himself a sort of relaxed regard that only comes by a bond forged in the belly of a ship under heavy fire.

Camaraderie, he had called it breathlessly as you wiped engine grease from your robes, collapsing against him after you had finally toggled the hyperdrive online.

Friendship, you had countered with the firm clack of your wrench on the helm. You recall with brilliant clarity that his hand had been warm when you had gripped it tight, illuminated the ghostly blue of the streaks of light flooding the viewport.

Comrades were bound to duty; friends, something much more. So he allows himself to stand back at pause to admire how the setting sun gleams over your skin, how your nose scrunches just slightly as you fuss at the sheer inconvenience of your heels, as if you are not as radiant in his eyes as the fading light sparkling and rippling over the water.

"Truly, an unfortunate part of the democratic process, y/n," Cody chuckles.

Without the presence of other senators to demand the formalities of titles and decorum, you watch his shoulders slacken from sharp attention as he calls you by your name. The cool neutrality of his gaze as a soldier softens into a warm amusement meant for a dear friend, and you are happy to bask in its glow despite the groaning ache in your feet.

"If I knew there would be this much dancing in politics, I would have listened to my mother and taken her speeder shop," you groan.

"And deprive the Senate of your voice?" Cody asks, and his smile, as discreet and small as it may be, is irresistible.

"You have to actually convince me, Cody."

"Fair enough. Then, deprive the 212nd of your acquaintance?"

You hum, your fingers suddenly still over your heels as he watches you genuinely contemplate his words.

"Just a bit closer," you prod, a playful gleam in your eye.

"I thought you said you didn't like 'fawning sycophancy,'" Cody snorts. "You and your politician language."

"I don't like groveling politicians. I won't turn down flattery if it is from you, my dear commander," you respond, unable to hide the bright smile high on your lips.

"Then, say you'd taken the speeder shop. Would you deprive me of your acquaintance?" Cody relents with a huff. It's nothing but a puff of breath exhaled soft, but it's a welcome sound close to the rich warmth of his laughter, the sound of the poorly concealed joy glimmering in his deep brown eyes.

"If you help me to a quiet place where I can simply sit for the rest of the evening, I might just tell you if that was enough," you tease, offering your hand to him with a haughty flourish as if you were the queen of Naboo herself and not a common voice of the people of Coruscant. Cody rolls his eyes, breaking into a brief grin that flashes over his expression as brilliant as the sun.

You're already in a bit of a secluded spot a few paces away from the swelling quartet music and bureaucratic chatter, giving you the space to break your level-headed courtesies and poke fun. But more than anything, you simply want time alone with the commander in all the impeccable neatness of his uniform dress. Besides, while you think you make quite a pair—the clean press of his formal whites and the shimmer silk of your ivory gown shimmering in the sunset—the old senatorial farts have little regard for the handsome soldier in your company (and it's, really, their loss).

"Are you suggesting I help you escape from your very important diplomatic duties?" Cody asks, a low gasp light on his lips. How many times have you played this game, knowing damn well that the both of you would much rather die in a firefight than sit through a foggy senator raising toasts? It's become close to second nature, now.

"I absolutely am, commander," you nod firmly. "As I always say, sometimes, commander Cody, diplomatic duties may be set aside. This is one of those dreadful times."

He rolls his eyes again, but this time, he takes your outstretched hand, complete with a low bow as he plays along with your theatrics. You rise, only to wobble on your heels, but Cody is there to gently grasp your arms, ever steady. The consternation that flashes over his eyes for a brief moment is deep, more than simple concern, and while you cannot exactly label what his expression betrays, it sets your heart fluttering in your throat all the same.

What Separatist arguments and militaristic rebukes could not rile in your unflappable calm on the Senate floor, Cody effortlessly awakes. It's his power, you think as you regain your footing. The man spun from gold.

"There's a place over the water by the back of the villa," you say, falling into step beside him as the din of the party recedes behind you. "I think we should find some peace and quiet there."

"So you already had an escape route planned out?" Cody laughs. "I guess you never needed a security detail in the first place."

"Well, 'needed' isn't exactly accurate. Maybe 'strongly preferred?'" you offer, and Cody laughs a bit brighter. It's funny, how you barely feel the ache in your feet as contentment blooms triumphant in your chest.

By the time you sneak past the serving droids, stifling soft laughter when you hide from a few stray representatives, the sun is a slim arc curved over the silvery waters of the lake. In the moments of approaching dusk, you stand far from the treaty talks and ulterior motives before an old gazebo, its curved arches heavy with flowering vines like verdant curtains awaiting your arrival.

You look to Cody with bright eyes and squeeze his hand.

"We only have a few minutes of light left," you say in a hushed, excited whisper as the the purpling darkness of night begins to chase the sunset light. With little but the soft lakefront winds breezing through the blooming pavilion arches, there is no need to whisper. But your time with the commander is a precious, fragile thing, so easily burst by the sudden arrival of your colleagues or his men. A whisper is only a savoring tribute to this rare moment. "Dance with me."

"I thought you said dancing was 'nasty business,'" Cody chuckles.

"With you, a dance is a pleasure," you say, the whispers of laughter on the tip of your tongue.

"All due respect, but this is the first time we've shared a dance y/n," Cody teases as you tug him to duck under the creeping trellis vines and onto the sun-kissed stone of the little pavilion. "What makes you so certain you'll enjoy this one?"

"Dancing at these," you wave your hand with a sigh, "little parties are nasty, only if by virtue of the other senators with whom I am obligated to dance. They see me as a rival or a signatory to be won over or fought, and dance is little but a means to an end. But with you..."

The words fall back on your tongue as Cody emerges from under the low-hanging leaves, immediately awash in the glimmering gold light of the sun. He is a kind of breathtaking awe in the cresting cold of dawn, chin held high and proud. But in the resplendence of the waning sun, as he tugs his gloves from his hands, he is the warm and steadfast comfort of home.

In his relaxed posture and soft, dark eyes lies the kind of beauty that you ascribe to an ancient sun rising from behind a waking planet. A star brimming with ageless wisdom and forgiving light, as the sunlight dances over the commander's even, tawny skin, he is nothing short of life breathed into pure gold.

"With you, even a dance can be something I hold dear," you finish as he catches your wide-eyed wonder with a wry smile.

"Very well, senator," he says, a smooth, diplomatic cadence that's sickly enough for you to laugh. He extends a hand to you with a flourish, and you relish in the pure joy. "May I have this honor?"

"With pleasure," you grin.

Although he claimed to never have danced, Cody fluidly assumes a regal sort of poise, moving your hand to his shoulder and settling his free hand light on the small of your back. You have seen him heft his brothers over his shoulder; you have seen him cast aside his blaster for raw strength; you have seen the firm hand he carries wherever he goes. And yet, he is gentler than ever as you step close and meet his eyes to share a smile.

With a soft inhale, you begin a simple waltz over the warm stone.

For the first few steps, there is form. You quietly nudge him to take your lead, step by step, and he is a diligent student as he follows. But where political waltzes have always kept rigid time, space between your chests and guarded caution to the orchestral suites, you quickly fall into something sweet, unhurried and soft as your steps become slow sways in the fading light.

Wordless, brimming with joy, you are free. Cody lifts your hand above your head, laughing with you as you tiptoe through a spin that gently flares your dress, and a few dizzying turns and careful dips later, you can't help but wonder if Cody's heart is racing as fast as your own.

Too enraptured by his steadfast composure (even with the warmth in his eyes), you do little to mask your surprise when Cody shifts his hand higher up your back and tugs you close, pressing you flush to his chest under the emerging starscape above.

Shock, then saccharine goodness, sweet on your tongue, floods you as you slip your hand from his. After a beat of hesitation, testing, careful, you slowly reach up and rest your arms over Cody's shoulders, waiting for the bashful regret to overtake you when he might gently let you down. (It's unbecoming of you, you think shamefully, no matter how closely you may regard him as a friend.)

But the rejection never comes.

Instead, as the sun slips below the lake horizon, Cody simply fixes you with a soft smile and clasps his hands behind your waist, pulling and keeping you close while he continues to sway with the lake breeze. He does not need to speak for you to know his presence bared to you, not as a soldier or as your guard, but as a humble man to bear witness to the starlight in your eyes.

Heart beating wildly in your throat, you press a bit farther, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. You have all but stopped your lazy waltz, simply swaying in place with the cool night winds fast approaching. In the stillness, you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your ear, a steady, reassuring rhythm that quells the giddy excitement from your chest. Yet you still start when he lifts one hand from your waist to the nape of your neck, raising delightful shivers as he strokes his thumb over your skin.

"Cody," you murmur.

You are certain it is no mistake that when Cody turns towards your voice that he presses close, his lips ghosting over your brow. You are no stranger to his closeness in harrowing blaster battles and narrow escapes from certain death. But this is new, the tenuous gossamer of intimacy not yet shared, as you reach for him and he reaches back.

"Yes, cyar'ika?"

(Cyar'ika? You do not recognize the sound, but it floods heat over your cheeks all the same.)

"My answer. About whether it was enough to choose the Senate over the speeder shop," you begin, reveling in how close Cody stands, cradling you so close that you feel his soft breaths over your skin. "Sometimes I wonder if I would have been happier outside of the politics."

"I hear a 'but,'" Cody muses. But instead of any teasing bite to his words, there is only patience, fond and warm.

"But if I had stayed in the lower levels; if I had never come to the Senate, I would have never left the surface. I would have never come to call a jedi general a friend, nor would I have known your men. I would have never met you. And to meet someone like you..."

You pause, sighing deep as your heart begins to pound anew.

"It is beyond enough."

Upon your last word, you hold your breath close.

You had only intended this to be a part of your teasing game of lighthearted chase with the commander. What was meant to be a quick and breezy escape from the politics of gowns and frivolities (even if you could not deny your affections for the commander) has brought you here, wondering if your words might be a push too far. Truths they may be, but they open you to uncharted waters. And you tremble in the falling night at the vague possibilities and consequence.

"Cyar'ika." Cody's voice, still as the lake stretched behind you, rumbles above your ear. "Do you know what that means, y/n?"

You shake your head slowly against him, only to meet him with eyes wide in surprise when he gently takes your jaw in his hand and tugs you upright.

"It means," he says quietly, sliding his palm from your chin to your cheek. "Sweetheart."

You're too stunned to do anything but blink when you feel his lips on your forehead.

"Darling."

Another touch, this time, pressed to your cheek as your eyes slide shut. You wait, anticipating with blooming wonder the promise of more lingering on his tongue. But when he does not return, you open your eyes, and Cody is waiting for you, dark eyes and soft smile radiant even without the glow of the setting sun.

"Beloved," he says at last, and tips your chin to press one final, dizzyingly gentle kiss to your lips. He may not meet you in vivacious energy, but Cody holds you close, pressing unhurried, luxuriant touches over your skin as you hold tight. His touch is chaste, stolid restraint holding him to only slow, deliberate motions, but you savor every fleeting moment in the evening calm.

When you part, you open your eyes to dusk in its clear, cold darkness, bejeweling the lakefront with scatter of stars high above. Yet all you can see is Cody before you, his soft smile and beating heart glowing brighter than any constellation in the inky black of night, his own radiant sun, spun gold.

Enchanted, you reach one hand up from its place on his shoulder and slowly, trembling, touch one finger to the scar carved around his brow. And he knows that you mean nothing but adoration as you trace the dark ridge of his scar beneath his eye, then lower, over the proud line of his cheek to cradle his jaw in your palm.

"I am only a soldier," Cody murmurs, nuzzling close into your touch. "Cyar'ika," he calls, leaning close to kiss your cheek. "Will you have me all the same?"

The cooling wind rises across the water, brushing stray petals from the trellis vines as your gown flutters around your feet. You wonder if this is what it feels to fly through the aftermath of a supernova, the silence of what was and yet the promise of what might yet be, glittering dust and neon gas diffusing into the ever expanding possibility of the universe. You wonder if this is right where you were always meant to be, aching feet and politics and shared breaths with a simple man with eyes full of light and heart like the sun.

"Only if you will have me," you reply, and the smile that breaks over Cody's lips is brighter than any sunset light you have seen, golden and alive. "Cyar'ika."

#listen to l'autre valse d'amelie if you want to feel extra fuzzy #i think i never know how to properly tag my fics but that's okay #also because i am writing this absolutely plastered #but soft cody warm cody little ball of cody #cody x reader #commander cody x reader #the clone wars x reader #yaej.writes

[mythicamagic]

Funeral Flowers: a Sesskag Oneshot

Summary:  Sesshoumaru knows what Kagome's favourite flower is- because it just so happens Forget-Me-Nots have been filling his throat for months. Hanahaki Disease fic. Sesskag oneshot.

AN: for @drosselmeyerwrites​, who is also a lover of the 'suffering Sesshoumaru' trope. She's been a lovely commenter and wholesome person in the fandom ^^

Warning: body horror elements. This is a Hanahaki Disease fic with a twist on the concept.

Words: 10,000

Rated M

@cookieasylum​ drew an amazing fanart for this fic so please check this fic out on Ao3!

Funeral Flowers

It started as a mere flutter. Sesshoumaru could feel it at the back of his throat: the beginnings of something that tickled and irritated his windpipe- not enough to cause anything serious, but just noticeable. This sensation only worsened with time.

Kagome looked at him like he'd grown a second head after hearing him stifle a certain noise clumsily behind his fingers.

"Huh," she mused, peering closely at him. "I don't think I've ever heard you cough before."

After a few weeks, he'd begun coughing. A little blemish that he could easily hide behind his hand. Sesshoumaru had wanted no one to notice such a shameful thing. An unwilling action, but required in order to clear his airways.

"Hn," peeling long fingers away from his down-turned mouth, he looked away. Kagome shifted bare legs in the glittering water, lounging on some rocks by a river while half-heartedly sunbathing in a tank top and shorts. Golden eyes slid back to the slim, pale stretch of her smooth, toned leg as she swayed it.

"Kind of a human action, isn't it? Do demons even get colds?" her concern only seemed to increase. "You're not sick, are you?"

"No," he huffed, adjusting himself beside her. They kept a respectable distance. 'Friends' was what she called them. Sesshoumaru tried and failed to tear his gaze away from the parting of her thighs as she stretched languidly. "I do not get sick," he added, "such a thing is beneath me."

Kagome slid both arms behind her head to act as a cushion, laying down. "A few years ago you'd have said sitting beside a priestess ankle-deep in a river would be 'beneath' you. Things change."

Sesshoumaru tilted his chin up to regard her haughtily and gave a dignified snort, adjusting his rolled-up hakama pants. "It is beneath me."

Kagome rose a brow, fluttering one hand carelessly in a shooing motion, "go on then. Leave if it's so offensive," she sighed, trying and failing to hide her smile.

No.

His body flared alive at the thought, unsettled. Sesshoumaru bit back another prickling cough, settling for clearing his throat. "You should be the one to leave. This one was here first."

"Wha- no! I got to the river before you!"

"I was referring to age. Bratty mikos should listen to their elders."

Kagome burst out laughing, sitting up to lightly bat his shoulder. "That makes you sound ancient! You're such a dork. No one else knows how much of an absolute dork you are, do they? It's a crying shame."

Sesshoumaru did not know what a 'dork' was, but he assumed it to be something unflattering. He should've been annoyed by it, aggravated. Kagome's playful, happy scent made this notion impossible.

Thin lips twitched at the edges, dragging his heels through the cool current. He couldn't honestly put into words why exactly he'd shown up, following her scent. Logically, he knew he should leave her alone.

They fell into an amicable silence again, one that had been born from months of time spent together. Odd snatches of coincidental meetings had flourished into something more, and they'd begun seeking one another out for company whenever he visited the village. Sometimes she even paid him a visit the Western Stronghold. Any demons who complained about it were silenced by how… determined the miko was to make friends. A force of nature. It had amused him to no end watching ancients tripping over themselves to try to avoid her bad books.

He could also deeply understand those who had taken an immense liking to her.

Kagome was warm and teasing, a rare thing not wholly unwelcome. Her stories of the future were interesting, personality vibrant but down to earth and occasionally sassy. He enjoyed her more than he should, a quiet, snarky male by nature basking in her effortless glow.

"What's your favourite flower?"

He blinked, "this is a question belonging to Rin. I do not expect such fanciful notions from you."

Kagome huffed and flicked her hand to splash some water over his knee. "I can talk about flowers if I want to. Shinto asked me what mine were, so I got to thinking. I'd like to know what yours are too- or do pretty dog demons baring flower crests not have an opinion on them?"

He sniffed, bringing down one leg to create a splash that soaked her side. Kagome let out a yelp. "The Shiragiku flower. "

"Oh you can't be serious!" She giggled. "When I asked what your favourite colour was, you said 'white' of all things. White! That's the absence of colour!"

"This one is aware. You kept rabbiting on about it," he wiped some imaginary lint off one shoulder.

"But still! And now you tell me you like flowers that are infamously used for funerals," blue eyes rolled skyward, glittering with mirth. "Why am I not surprised, Mr Killing Perfection?"

Thin lips lifted into a sneer free of malice. "Very well, Shikon miko. What is your favoured flower?"

Kagome hummed. "Forget-Me-Nots."

Letting out a noise between a huff and a chuckle, he shot her an exasperated look. "And you give me grief over mine. Did you not say that blue was your favoured colour?"

"Hey, Forget-me-Nots can be pink, white or blue! I'm not as predictable in my tastes as some people."

That was most definitely true, he thought flatly. She had moved on from her first love, a Hanyou- only to bond with a Daiyoukai, and then…

And then…

Kagome stood, stretching both arms above her head. Sesshoumaru knew what she'd say before she even said it, wincing and bringing a hand absentmindedly to the base of his throat. It throbbed. Now the ache even seemed to seep lower.

What is this pain in my chest? He wondered. What is this strange sensation?

"I should go."

Sesshoumaru slid tired attention up to her and nodded silently. He would not wish her well.

"Shinto will wonder where I am," she needlessly elaborated.

"Indeed."

Kagome glanced at him and dropped her arms. "What's wrong?"

He thought to tell her, not for the first time. But it was silenced by everything else that had come before. Their history. Their species. Her lack of discernible interest, her new flame. A heavy weight pressed down upon his chest. His shoulder ached.

"Nothing. I am fine."

Dark brows pulled together. Sesshoumaru stood and nudged her away with a single palm on her back that lingered too long. "Go. I am… merely hungry."

"Oh!" a look of relief swept over her face. Kagome laughed, "okay, I'll leave you in peace. Happy hunting!"

Sesshoumaru felt his chest ache and constrict while his expression remained a blank mask. He covertly winced after she'd jogged away to a trail within the forest that would take her back to Kaede's village. She stopped to wave, and he quickly wiped his expression clean again, rendering it neutral.

Kagome smiled gently, her face full of friendly affection. Sesshoumaru regally inclined his head, eyes burning.

Do not go.

She left him alone, hurrying away to see her new flame in complete ignorance.

Sesshoumaru coughed and massaged the base of his throat as soon as she was gone, frowning.

Feeling something stuck to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, he curiously parted his lips and reached behind a sharp tooth to pluck the soft, small thing out.

Damp from saliva, a tiny, pretty blue petal caught his attention, clutched between forefinger and thumb. Sesshoumaru stared. A sense of creeping foreboding slipped into the back of his mind at the discovery.

This did not bode well.

---

His affliction made visits to the village difficult. It was easier in the beginning when he could hide a few coughs and tickles of the throat. Steadily, however, the discomfort increased. Sesshoumaru needed to pick out petals from his mouth every day, and the number of them only grew with frequency. He had to remove the irritating little things every hour now.

"Lord Sesshoumaru has been picking at his teeth a lot lately," he heard Rin whisper to Jaken, pausing mid-brush. She had been tasked with caring for the old miko's horse. "Is it a toothache?"

"Shh! Don't comment on such a thing so loudly, girl! If Lord Sesshoumaru wants to do some teeth maintenance, then he may do so!" Jaken squawked, frowning up at her.

Sesshoumaru cut golden eyes to the sky and turned away.

"Ah, I didn't mean to insult you, Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"You're STILL drawing attention to it!" Jaken griped.

Pointed ears twitched, blocking out their animated voices and tuning into a set of quick footsteps. Sesshoumaru inhaled, wincing as his lungs protested- the scent of citrus, summer and home comforts reaching him long before Kagome appeared from around the side of a hut. She beamed. His heart ached.

"Hey," she called, trotting over.

"Hello, Kagome!" the little girl waved enthusiastically, wobbling.

Steadying Rin atop her wooden perch as she continued brushing the tall horse, Kagome flashed him a knowing look. "You look tense. Is it from being near the stables?" she teased.

Rin gasped, "does Lord Sesshoumaru not like horses?"

"It's their smell, you nitwit!"

Kagome frowned at Jaken, before searching Sesshoumaru's face for answers. Obviously his silence and demeanour was starting to worry her. Taking a breath, he tried to ignore the petals stuck in the gaps of his teeth. He could feel more building, pooling in the back of his throat like thick mucus.

"They are skittish and afraid of this one. It is better to keep distance."

Predictably, Kagome gentled- but surprised him by easing closer. She seized his hand, tugging- and he was helpless to do anything but follow. Heat touched his cheeks.

Kagome walked backwards, maintaining eye contact like the femme fatale she wasn't, shifting her soft touch to grasp the back of his hand, lacing lithe fingers through his. She then forced the Daiyoukai's palm to rest against a warm neck. The horse shifted slightly, tail flicking, yet it did not startle. With Kagome's prompting, Sesshoumaru glided the flat of his calloused palm down the length of its powerful neck, the thin layer of brown fur tickling his skin.

"Maji isn't like other horses, he's calm around demons. He has to be if Kaede is gonna ride him to fight Youkai," her voice glided through his ear canals like melted honey. Kagome hummed, "though she said because of her age that he might be mine soon. Weird, huh? It's like she's prepping me to be the village miko more and more."

"It is not 'weird,' it is expected," he uttered, thrilled at the prolonged touch. How foolish. The heat of her palm felt exquisite, hand clasped intimately around his. "You will make an acceptable village miko."

Blue eyes flitted up to him, smiling. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks, but… sometimes I wonder if-"

"Ah, so this is where you escaped to."

Sesshoumaru stiffened. Kagome ripped her fingers away- tearing open a gaping hole inside him. He quickly stifled a cough, but it was larger this time, throat clogged. His shoulders shook, sweat dotting his brow.

Kagome was busy being scooped up by Shinto, a large male. He dressed well, for a human, a jagged scar running over one eye. A momento from his mercenary days, he'd called it, though he was now reformed.

Kagome laughed and swatted his shoulder, demanding to be put down. Jaken piped up, yelling about indecency. All the while, Sesshoumaru fought not to let anything show. To not let the agony out. The jealousy. The consuming desire to act upon instinct and take what he ached for.

He couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand seeing the male's burly, meaty hands drag over her hips to settle at the base of her spine. Like they belonged there. Sesshoumaru coughed again, drawing away.

Kagome caught the action, turning to him. "Sesshoumaru?"

He hated the concern swimming in her gaze. It would be so much easier to despise her.

"I have lingered too long," he said quietly, trying to mask the rawness of his voice. "This one should be going."

Kagome nodded slowly, "do you want some honey to soothe your throat? It sounds a little-"

"No," he quietly snapped, starting to walk away. Confusion immediately curdled in her scent, and he regretted the lapse in control. Now she'd worry.

Foolishness.

"Lord Sesshoumaru!" Jaken hurriedly ran after him, following his Lord from the village. "Bah, those humans get more presumptuous every day. I don't blame you for leaving in such a hurry," he muttered, keeping up his tangent long after they'd met the treeline of Inuyasha's forest.

Sesshoumaru unexpectedly stopped, slamming claws into tree bark and causing it to splinter.

Jaken yelped, jumping and dropping his staff. "Mi-mi Lord?" bulbous eyes widened upon seeing him stoop over slightly, silver hair obscuring ashen features.

Sesshoumaru's shoulders shook, dry heaving sounds reaching Jaken's hearing. The retainer gasped, watching him cough, gasp and choke. Thick trails of dewy saliva pooled onto the ground. Rasping noises shuddered out from clenched teeth. Trembling claws reached inside his mouth, feeling something at the back of his throat. Grasping it, Sesshoumaru fought not to gag, coughing while removing the thing and looking at it with stinging eyes.

A Forget-me-not flower sat innocently between forefinger and thumb.

Both demons stared. Phlegm soaked petals rested at Sesshoumaru's feet. Jaken stood gravely silent for a while.

"Mi Lord…" he said thinly. "You have fallen prey to something very old…"

"You will not breathe a word about it to anyone," Sesshoumaru coughed, eyes stinging. He straightened and wiped his mouth, collecting himself. He threw the flower aside.

"But-"

"No one, Jaken," Sesshoumaru hissed, molten golden eyes burning. "Or I'll kill you."

Jaken yelped and quickly bowed several times, promising wholeheartedly not to interfere.

"I-I understand! However, if it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could hear out a suggestion?"

Sesshoumaru sneered and started walking again, his breathing slightly hoarse and rasping now, no longer quiet. His lips pressed together, trying to silence himself. It proved painful, and he quickly breathed through his mouth again.

Jaken tentatively continued; "your affliction is something ancient. I know little about it, but I do remember that it's possible to have it removed before it claims your life."

Sesshoumaru stopped, hands curling into fists. Claws scraped palms.

"That will not do, either," came his soft response.

"W-why ever not, milord?! This matter is potentially deadly to demons!"

Sesshoumaru stared ahead unseeingly. He knew of the affliction too. Had recognised what it was immediately. If he removed the flowering bud from within his chest, wiped away all evidence from her from his body, then he'd lose the very thing that had made him catch the illness in the first place.

His feelings for Kagome Higurashi.

"My reasons are my own," Sesshoumaru coughed behind his hand. "I will not die. Do not fuss over trivial matters, Jaken."

His retainer gaped, hurrying after him. Fierce worry painted his features. The infamous and deadly Hanahaki Curse could fell even the strongest of Daiyoukai.

---

It interfered with eating.

Sesshoumaru thankfully did not need to eat too often, but hunger inevitably gnawed its way into his gut. Transformed, he raced through the forest on all fours in a smaller version of his true form. Low-hanging branches lashed at his face. Forget-me-not flowers lodged in his throat conglomerated into a thick mass. They were practically a ball stuck at the back of his mouth. Sesshoumaru managed to ignore it just enough to track the scent of a deer- only to lose it and find a green pheasant within range.

Barely a snack, but it would do.

With a gurgling snarl, Sesshoumaru sprang at some bushes. Squawking with distress, the bird took flight- only to be caught in his jaws. Bringing sharp teeth down elicited a satisfying crunch. The taste of iron filled his parched mouth. Tilting his head back, Sesshoumaru had every intention of swallowing it whole. He'd done so before. The bird was small enough compared to his form. However, this quickly became impossible.

Red eyes widened. The flowers acted as a barrier, preventing food from travelling down his throat.

Spitting out the bird, Sesshoumaru tore into it. He tried again and again, breaking the kill into smaller pieces. He even tried drinking from the river to wash down the flowers. Nothing worked. No food could pass into his stomach.

With a low crooning noise that hissed out between his teeth, Sesshoumaru padded away from his uneaten kill with an agitated flick of his tail.

---

It affected his sleep next.

At his Stronghold in the Western lands, Sesshoumaru set aside his paperwork and retired to bed. Curling into a nest of furs, he stretched out long legs, sprawling on one side.

Only to feel a dull ache thrum from his ribs.

Wincing and setting a hand over the spot, Sesshoumaru frowned. He was unfamiliar with the sensation, however, Kagome had once whined and complained about 'pulling a muscle.' Perhaps the tight, clamping sensation echoed that pain. Deciding to roll over onto his opposite side- he abruptly burst into a coughing fit. The angle had upset his breathing, lungs protesting.

This vicious cycle continued long into the night. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Even laying still made him feel tense and pained. In the end, Sesshoumaru rose from his futon and began running.

Too tired to think, he transformed, relying on instinct to guide him. He whined softly; the ache spreading. He wheezed a little, breathing constrained despite being physically fit.

The inuyoukai sprinted to the outskirts of Kaede's village. Scenting the air, he caught a welcome fragrance on the breeze.

Mate.

Clearing the hillside with a single bound, Sesshoumaru shrank his form even further to that of a regular dog. Sniffing around the outside of a hut, fluffy ears perked. She was not home.

Where?

Following the invisible trail in the air, he padded around the village, passing by unseen by some villagers. Their lack of vigilance disgusted him. What lax security. Stopping at the Monk and Slayer's hut, he listened, hearing a soft humming from within. The sharp tang of blood, vomit, faeces and afterbirth caught his frayed attention.

The Slayer had been pregnant. From the sounds and smells of things, she had given birth and now slept while Kagome remained awake. He could pick up the faint fussing from a young babe.

Sesshoumaru stayed still, listening to the miko gently hum. Slowly, his body weakened, and the inuyoukai lay down outside the hut, resting a weary head atop large paws.

Something stirred from within, the rustle of covers. "Mn... are you alright? Want me to take over?"

"No, I'm fine," Kagome answered in a hushed tone. "He seems completely zonked out, little cutie-pie."

The Slayer paused, "your head. You said it was aching again earlier."

"Heh, Sango! You've just had another baby! Focus on yourself!" her lovely voice tinged with exasperation. "Really, everything is okay. It just hurts from time to time ever since that night with the boar youkai attack. It's no big deal."

"Prolonged headaches and amnesia does not fall under 'no big deal,' Kagome."

Laughing this off breezily, he could hear the shrug in her tone. "I just blank on a few things from the month prior to the attack. I'm sure it wasn't anything important."

Tired lids slid shut, and Sesshoumaru gained some sense of rest while imagining the woman within cradling a newborn pup instead of a gurgling infant. The two women talked some more, lulling him into a false sense of comfort even as his throat thrummed with continuous pain.

---

Breathing was a struggle.

Every inhale became a wheezing, quivering thing. Like crumpled paper that had been smoothed out and squashed too many times. Mucus constantly filled his mouth, senses clogged. His breathing ranged from laboured to a noisy, rasping thing.

He could no longer afford to visit the village. Sesshoumaru took to monitoring Rin from afar whenever he felt the need to check up on her. Needless to say, he avoided Kagome at all costs. The miko was an infamous busy body who would become a nightmare to deal with if she knew of his suffering.

Yes, that was the only reason.

However, on a random day he briefly let his guard down, the unthinkable happened.

Inuyasha found out.

If Sesshoumaru had comprised a list of all the beings he did NOT want to know about his affliction, Inuyasha would be right up there, along with his meddling mother.

Inuyasha stared, watching him with a complicated, horrified look on his gruff features. Shifting, Sesshoumaru stood from where he'd been knelt by a river.

Forget-me-nots floated downstream.

"... What the hell is wrong with you?" were the first words Inuyasha blurted out.

Sesshoumaru wiped his mouth, sneering. "I need not explain myself to you, whelp."

"Keh, if anything warrants a damn explanation, it's barfing up flowers."

He didn't need to hear anymore, turning with the intent to leave. No doubt the fool would talk nonsense, and he had no patience for such things with his current headache. His temples were pounding, throat parched.

"Why don't you just fucking tell her, you coward?"

That certainly caught his attention. Sesshoumaru halted. "What?" he croaked.

"Ya think I'm that ignorant, huh?" Inuyasha rolled his eyes, shoving both hands inside his sleeves. "I know."

"Know what, exactly," silken tones rasped. "You are but an ignorant pup. You were not raised within youkai circles, and so could not possibly understand."

"And whose fault is that?" shaking his head, Inuyasha huffed. "I dunno what crap you're yappin' on about, anyway. I'm talkin' about your secret relationship with Kagome that you had a couple of months ago."

Stiffening, Sesshoumaru felt his bones lock and throat inflame. He swallowed, wincing slightly. He flashed his teeth, "whatever you think you know, it is incorrect. A baseless assumption."

"Bullshit!"

Continuing to walk with every intention of escaping the pending conversation, he stopped dead the second Inuyasha opened his mouth; "I could smell you on her! But that all changed the second she hit her head. Did she forget you or something? You were happy to just abandon her after she stopped being useful for a good time?"

A deafening snarl upset his aching throat, ripping something inside. Blurring through the air impossibly fast, Sesshoumaru snatched up his sibling's throat and slammed him into a tree, causing the trunk to shudder.

"Silence," a blood-curdling rasp hissed out from clenched teeth like boiling steam. Crimson eyes glowed, claws itching to bury into the nuisance's windpipe.

Even while choking, Inuyasha managed to bark out a laugh, grasping a striped wrist. "You really do like her, huh? Never thought I'd see the day, bastard." White ears pulled back flat against his skull. "What's the deal? Just open your mouth and tell Kagome. Then I don't have to smell your pining ass all over the forest while you stalk her."

Burning embers were snuffed out. Sesshoumaru coughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. His shoulder thrummed, aching. "I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"She does not remember," releasing him, the Daiyoukai stepped back. "The miko fell quite quickly for the male who rescued her that night. The fault lies with me that she sustained injury. If she is content with another, I cannot force her gaze to me."

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. However, Kagome seemed happy with their relationship as friends. Guilt, stung pride and other such ugly emotions were all tied up with the incident.

Inuyasha blinked with disbelief, sizing him up. "When the fuck did you get so noble?" Sesshoumaru sneered, glancing away as his brother continued. "And anyway, what does that have to do with you coughing up flowers?"

Since he'd revealed more than intended as it was, Sesshoumaru felt no inclination to divulge extra information. He turned and this time; resolved not to stop walking. "Drop the subject, whelp."

"Maybe I'll tell Kagome about it."

Sesshoumaru did not falter, knowing the fool's game by now. "Do as you please," he dismissed in a wheezing, thin voice, stepping under the cool shade of weeping willow trees and leaving him behind.

---

He did not intend to revisit their old rendezvous point. Sesshoumaru had wanted to put it behind him, to let everything that had happened within the cave fade into obscurity.

The second he stepped foot within the mossy mouth of its opening, however, Kagome's lingering scent fanned over a striped cheek like a breathy exhale.

Long white lashes slid half shut. Hooded golden eyes became hazed. The memory of her salty, sweet taste wrapping around his tongue flooded his senses. Claws twitched, recalling the phantom sensation of full breasts falling into his palms as her back arched exquisitely. Her eyes had darkened into a lush, deep blue.

She'd been memorable, to say the least.

Walking further in, so that he stood fully submerged in their love-nest, Sesshoumaru basked in the illicit scents and breathy whispers he could remember caressing his hearing. It hadn't just been about sex. It never was with her.

Kagome had held his demonic hand without fear and stroked his cheek, murmuring ardently or giggling quietly. She told him things he hadn't thought he'd wanted to know before.

'You're nothing like your father' she'd said easily but with a conviction that made the ageless demon believe her. The notion should've been insulting. His sire had been unbeatable in strength, so of course he should wish to be like him.

Yet Sesshoumaru had never appreciated such compliments. He wished to be unique, bold, powerful, walking an entirely different path. Her words had been strangely welcome.

"And yet here I stand, Father," Sesshoumaru uttered to himself. In love with a mortal. Dying, because of a human woman of all things.

Just like you.

"Sesshoumaru?"

Golden eyes snapped wide open. A wave of elation, dread, guilt and longing washed over him. Every fibre of his being flared to life, muscles stiffening, heart racing. His lungs constricted.

Sesshoumaru swallowed a rasping breath, shifting to face the priestess.

Kagome crept closer, glancing around the cave curiously. "Was just in the forest to collect some things. I thought I sensed you close by. Looks like I was right. What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing," he said softly. His voice sounded fragile these days.

He could tell she was confused, radiating hurt. He hadn't visited in so long. No doubt she'd wondered why. The flowers buried within his windpipe felt heavier in her presence. He cleared his throat.

"Oh," Kagome scuffed a sandal over the dirt-covered floor. "Well... I'm glad I caught you-" she offered a tentative smile. "I've missed talking with you."

Sesshoumaru's insides screamed at him. The marks on his shoulder felt like blistering iron tongues being thrust into his flesh they wailed so loud.

Mate.

"I dunno what's kept you away," Kagome continued talking, making her way out of the cave. He followed, "but you haven't missed much. Rin is progressing nicely with her riding though. I'm not too shabby with that thin sword you gave me either, though Shinto says I need more practice."

That very sent icy needles piercing his skin. Stepping foot outside, Sesshoumaru couldn't stop the abrupt bite in his tone; "why are you here, miko?"

Kagome blinked and glanced at him over one shoulder. She then threaded her fingers behind her back, attention sliding away, voice unreadable.

"Shinto proposed to me."

Sesshoumaru stopped. A profound sense of loss rendered him breathless. He anticipated a coughing fit. Wheezing. Pain. But there was nothing, just him and Kagome standing alone in the silent woods. But she'd be beyond his reach for good soon.

He'd tried. He'd tried hard to forget, as she had. To push all the feelings and words right down from his throat into his chest. Maybe that was how the curse had started.

But he'd have kept the curse for good if it meant lingering in the 'almost' fantasy of them.

Now that illusion would shatter.

The very idea of her belonging to another felt like a wound somewhere inside him that he couldn't locate. The sensation of teeth on his shoulder thrummed, and he coughed, snuffing out the sound behind his hand.

"I didn't really know what to say," Kagome was muttering. "A part of me feels like it's too soon. I wanted to talk to you about it-"

"This one is needed elsewhere," he said in a clipped tone, turning on his heel.

He couldn't be her confidant anymore. Not about this.

"What?"

He began walking, trying to put distance between them. He should've known it wouldn't work as Kagome quickly caught up and planted herself firmly in his way, halting the demon.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" she demanded. "Is it the cough? Are you in so much pain that you can't talk to me?"

Sesshoumaru flashed his teeth in a faint sneer, throat protesting at the extended use of his vocal cords. "is it so unthinkable that for once, I may not have time for you, miko?"

"Yes," Kagome planted both hands on her hips. "Because this isn't an isolated thing. I've hardly seen you all month! And besides that, you're my friend, Sesshoumaru. Friends tell each other things. Remember how you talked about the court and how obnoxious General Kito was to deal with? Things like that. I need to talk to you about this- and clearly, you need to talk to someone about whatever's going on with you. I'm worried about you!"

His heart clenched, and Sesshoumaru bit back a hiss at the stab of pain it caused. Thin breathing rasped and rattled. He raised a hand, urging her aside via a gentle grasp on her shoulder to continue walking.

Kagome's grip was not so gentle as she latched onto his arm.

Frustration abruptly burst in his chest and Sesshoumaru snarled, whirling with the intent of spilling everything to her. Ruin their friendship. Burn everything they'd built and admit his failure to protect her-

-only to cough up a mouthful of blood onto her collarbone.

Kagome yelped in surprise, eyes wide. Touching the wet substance dazedly, horror paled her complexion. She looked up at him with palpable fear.

"S-Sesshoumaru?"

Humiliation stung white-hot and burning into his body. The visceral, blinding sensation of being exposed- of being seen- felt like too much. Too raw. As a demon unused to such things, his first instinct was to remove himself from the situation.

Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hands, putting the length of the clearing between them.

Kagome called his name again with alarm, asking him to wait, but he would not heed her call.

Taking to the skies, he flew fast and erratically, a wobbly figure. Coughing hard and feeling blood clog up his windpipe like mud, Sesshoumaru had no choice but to land not long after.

Within an overcast clearing upriver from Kagome, he steadied himself against a gnarled tree.

"Hah- hah-" he wheezed, doubling over and squeezing stinging eyes shut.

Something suddenly constricted tight around his lungs, around his very ribcage. Bones protested and ached. He gasped for breath, blood leaking from his open mouth to pool on the floor. Forget-me-nots mingled with it, petals stained red.

Jolting and snapping upright, Sesshoumaru arched his back, throwing back his head. A cry escaped him unlike any other. Loud, agonised and roaring in its ferocity tinged with pain.

Stems shot out from within his ribcage, tearing his chest asunder.

---

Her friends made noises of alarm at the sight of Kagome's bloodied clothes, but the miko ignored Sango and Miroku's questions, bypassing them in favour of finding and grabbing Jaken by the scruff of his robes.

"You're going to tell me in 10 words or less what the hell is going on with your lord," she demanded.

Jaken yelped and squinted, hanging from her hold. "Haven't the faintest idea of what you could be alluding to!" he sniffed.

Kagome snarled and bared her teeth, lifting him closer with a menacing expression and gesturing to the red substance marring her priestess robes. "This is HIS blood. He looked awful. Like- like he was dying, Jaken," her voice broke. "Please. I need to know what's happening. He won't tell me what's wrong and I'm scared."

Yellow eyes rounded wider, swallowing the imp's face. He appeared conflicted.

"Kagome!"

Releasing Jaken, Kagome shifted her attention to Inuyasha, who leapt towards her with alarm pinching his gruff features.

Dread dropped low in her stomach. That was never a good sign.

Distant snapping noises like wood being felled reached her ears. From behind the approaching Hanyou within the forest, large vines could be seen shifting and slithering over a portion of the trees.

"What is it?" Miroku gaped. "I sense a demonic aura, but it's distorted."

Kagome shuddered, feeling strange. She recognised that energy. Identified it as easy as breathing.

"Maybe a forest spirit has been disturbed?" Sango guessed, clutching her son a little more protectively.

"It ain't that," Inuyasha dropped from his jump, landing before them. He panted, white hair windswept. Of all people, his gaze landed upon the miko first. "It's Sesshoumaru."

----

Their way became blocked by a thick mass of vines crisscrossing through the forest. It created a wall, preventing any from entering.

"Lord Sesshoumaru must be further in," Miroku observed, leaning to inspect the leaves. "Beyond this 'barrier' I suppose you could call it."

"I wonder what could have happened," Kagome murmured, brows pulling together. "Sesshoumaru doesn't even have nature powers."

"Why on earth did you bring ME along for this?" a high pitched, nasally voice reached their ears. Sango and Inuyasha readily ignored it, while Kagome frowned down at the imp she held by the scruff of his robes.

"Because you're clearly hiding something, and until you come clean, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

His mouth thinned into a stubborn line, glancing away.

Kagome turned her attention back to the vines. Worry took root in her stomach. The memory of the Daiyoukai spitting up blood remained fresh in her mind, evidence of it staining her clothing and plastering it against her skin.

Handing Miroku their son, Sango went first. She swung Hiraikotsu with a seemingly effortless toss- the bone boomerang spiralling, cleaving trees in half but bouncing straight off the vine wall. It didn't so much as leave a dent.

Not wasting another moment, Inuyasha unsheathed Tetsusaiga. Everyone immediately gave him a wide berth, watching as he shook the sword out into a monstrous blade. He swung it back over one shoulder, feet planted far apart- delivering a swift blow downwards with a loud cry.

A burst of power shot out, heading straight for the vines. They made contact, and for a moment Kagome thought the consuming golden light might break through, only for it to fizzle out. The insurmountable wall remained intact.

Inuyasha tried again and again, using different techniques. None of them worked.

Nocking an arrow in her bow, Kagome took aim. Pale pink reiki split forth, coating the arrow while glowing ever more blinding until she set it free.

She held out hope as it shot through the vines, managing to burst through the dense foliage- which repaired itself almost immediately, covering up the hole.

"Nothing appears to be working," Miroku muttered, turning his friends. "Perhaps we should seek advice elsewhere first before trying to continue."

Her friend's voices faded into background noise as Kagome approached the vines. Frowning slightly, she stretched out her senses, using her aura to touch and brush against the barrier. It felt like him.

If that were the case, the wall was of Sesshoumaru's own making, whether he'd consciously chosen to hide away or not. Perhaps they were going about things the wrong way.

Thinking back to Maji and how carefully they'd run their linked hands down his neck, she raised a palm. Gradually easing closer, Kagome set it down gently onto the vines, stroking downwards.

Hearing outcries of alarm as the greenery parted, only for swirling stems to curl about her shoulders- Kagome quickly grabbed Jaken.

"It's okay, guys. Just find a way to follow me in later," she met their startled gazes. "I feel like I need to reach him quickly."

"Kagome, wait!"

Ignoring their protests, Kagome lept into the fray. She welcomed the green vines that wrapped around her, enclosing the miko and wailing kappa securely behind its wall.

---

Mercifully the winding tendrils of vines that moved as though infused with a will of their own allowed her freedom of movement. Kagome climbed through their moving, twisting stems, occasionally losing her footing and having to grasp hold of some.

"Again, I ask; WHY ARE YOU BRINGING ME ALONG WITH YOU?!" Jaken shrieked, clinging to her back and looking around fretfully.

"You know the answer to that. Tell me what you know about Sesshoumaru's situation and I'll let you go," Kagome hummed, shielding her eyes and looking up at sprawling branches above where sunlight streamed through. Maybe she could punt him over the treetops.

"I have sworn not to break my vow of silence on the matter!"

Grinding her teeth, Kagome stopped and reached over her shoulder, tearing him from her back to frown at him. "If your silence ends up hurting him, is it even worth it? Which means more to you; Sesshoumaru's trust or his life?"

Jaken clamped up, thinking about this for a moment. His eyes abruptly filled with tears, "fine! But you had best save me from his wrath once this is over."

Kagome grinned and patted him on the head, continuing to walk. "I promise."

He huffed, "Lord Sesshoumaru is suffering from a curse."

Blue eyes widened, and Kagome set Jaken over her shoulder like she would Shippo. He did not appreciate the gesture as the kit would while she minded swirling vines aside from their path and ducked through. "What kind of curse?"

"How much do you know about youkai mates, foolish mortal?"

At that, she tilted her head, noticing a blue flowering bud among the vines and gently touching it in passing. "Very little. I know they're like married couples. They, uh... make love and bite each other instead of having a wedding ceremony and stuff. That about sum it up?"

"Insolent girl!" Jaken griped, noticing the bud she touched opening up into a flower behind them. "It is far more than that! Their energies synchronise, aura's linking. However, it's quite imperative they both bite one another."

"Or else the mating is incomplete? What's so bad about that?"

"The partner that was bitten will consider them mated and suffer a one-sided attachment. This isn't so terrible if they have the bite mark healed and lose their troublesome feelings towards their mate," he continued with a self-important air. Kagome didn't mind it if it meant getting answers. "But... if they choose to linger in longing and are prevented from completing the mating, then their energies become distorted! Their youki takes on a life of its own as flowers."

"That's what these vines are," Kagome mused. She shifted, a strange, unsettled feeling churning in her gut. "You're implying someone bit Sesshoumaru? He'd never allow someone to do that if he didn't want it- let alone not reciprocate. Besides, if he could remove it, he'd have surely done so."

"I agree this situation is unprecedented! Unthinkable! Besides that, ANY partner resisting Lord Sesshoumaru's advances is unworthy of being his mate! AH-!"

Kagome jolted, feeling a weight lift from her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she gaped and strained to reach Jaken. Vines had wrapped tight around his mid-section, lifting him away.

"Hang on!" she shimmied her bow off her arm, quickly taking aim. Releasing the arrow, she watched as it hit the mark, sailing through a vine and breaking it in two. Jaken yelped, falling, only to be caught by another vine that continued dragging him back the way they'd come.

"J-just leave me!" he wailed. "Go save Lord Sesshoumaru!"

Kagome blinked, strangely touched. Nodding with conviction, she turned and hurriedly continued to make her way through the dense foliage.

---

Her breath caught the second she caught sight of the flowers.

Forget-me-nots littered the area, becoming more frequent the further in she ventured. Soon she practically waded through a sea of blue petals. They hugged trees, peppering logs, the ground beneath her feet, even climbing above to hang from branches. The vast mass of familiar flowers eventually opened out into a huge clearing packed full of them.

And there, at the centre of it all, Kagome finally saw him.

Vines had burst his chest open, putting quivering lungs on full display. To her horror, she witnessed them expanding and deflating with each struggling, wheezing breath. His ribcage had been repurposed for a vase of flowers. Vibrant blue forget-me-nots poked out between his ribs, green stems tightly wrapped around his bones, constricting.

Sesshoumaru's body lay tilted back, face turned upwards to the sky. Glassy eyes were vacant, blood caking his chin. His armour and hankimono lay shattered and torn on the ground. Around him, the stems that had spilt forth from his gut propped up his lifeless form, clearly part of the mass of greenery that had hindered her approach. Kagome covered her mouth, hand shaking. Tears pricked her eyes. Blue veins visibly spread over his flesh, causing her to wonder if the stems had buried beneath his very skin.

This was not Sesshoumaru. It couldn't be.

Choking on nothing, Kagome hurried closer with a thin noise. Reaching his motionless form, her hands hovered uselessly over his decimated chest. She didn't know where to start. How could she even help him?

"Who did this to you?" her voice wobbled. Stinging eyes misted over, running over his body. He looked like a corpse that had been picked clean by crows. His moving lungs moving were the only indication he was even alive.

"Sesshoumaru- I don't know if you can hear me," Kagome tried, reaching out and touching his cheek. It shocked her skin, icy to the touch. "But please- let go of the person who caused this," she said, locating what she assumed was the mating mark upon his shoulder. "No one is worth dying over. You could start over with your mate. Ask them out- anything!" she shuddered, looking at the flowers poking out from his ribs.

"Just don't die! This isn't like you!" Kagome snapped, tears rolling hotly down her cheeks to slide free from her chin. "Fight this! Keep living. T-there's still so much I want to talk to you about."

The tears landed upon pretty blue petals.

Leaning against him slightly, Kagome sobbed. She wondered if she could just reach out and rip the awful things free from inside his chest.

Why Forget-me-nots, anyway? Why not another flower-

The mating mark halted her hand, fingers brushing the stems. It didn't look like an animal bite, nor did it belong to a demon.

Kagome's eyes slowly widened. She had a distinct tooth at the back of her mouth.

The tooth marks looked like a perfect mould of her teeth.

"Was it...me?" she breathed, glancing up at Sesshoumaru's features dazedly. "Those blank spots in my memory. Was I... with you?"

The puzzle pieces slotted into place perfectly. Kagome stared, feeling like a fool for having not noticed. She'd just thought, assumed- he would never look at her like that.

But if the miko cast her memory back and pictured Sesshoumaru's lovely features, his honeyed gaze resting upon her face, half-lidded, lips quirked, face soft and drinking her in- maybe he had been looking at her 'like that' the whole time.

Kagome shook her head, feeling frantic. She latched onto his shoulders.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry! I never meant for this to happen. Why didn't you bite me? Why didn't you TELL me, you stupid demon!" she snapped, cheeks reddening as a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. "All that time we spent together goofing off and talking- and you were suffering in silence? You're so stupid, Sesshoumaru!"

His anguished face did not stir. Kagome mindlessly wiped away the dried blood from his chin with shaky fingers.

"There's no taking this back now," she said quietly, glancing at the bite mark. "So... I guess there's only one thing for it."

It sounded terrible, but Shinto was far from her mind as she lay a hand over her mating mark and began concentrating. When resolving to save someone, Kagome became bullheaded. Sesshoumaru was all she could see as her aura rose out from her body, seeping into his bloodstream via the bite marks.

"You need to wake up," she mumbled, using her free hand to adjust the parting of her white kosode. Sliding it off one shoulder to bare her flesh, Kagome remained heedless of the vines growing and curling around them. They seeped into her ebony hair, twining into the long locks like a lover's hands.

Kagome straddled the Daiyoukai, shuddering a little at being so close to his bare bones. She couldn't have sex with him, obviously, but she suspected it wasn't truly needed to complete the bond. Feeding her energy into his body, she bit her bottom lip. Sweat beaded on her brow.

She began to mumble and pray under her breath.

When her spiritual energy had spread through most his system, Kagome grit her teeth and hoped he'd forgive her. Laying one hand atop his rib-cage directly over his heart, she raised her voice.

"Wake up!"

A pulse of reiki shot out through her palm.

Sesshoumaru jerked beneath her. A ghastly, chocking noise escaped him. His head lolled to the side as he looked at her unseeingly, a trickle of blood welling from the corner of his pale mouth. Kagome quickly wrapped an arm around him, guiding his head to her shoulder.

"Bite down, Sesshoumaru," Kagome whispered fiercely into his ear.

Sharp canines brushed her skin, causing a shiver. Wet flecks of blood accompanied it as he coughed. Whimpering with desperation, the miko curled trembling fingers into silver hair. She pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"Please- I want this." She'd do anything to save him. Besides that, a small, buried part of her felt strangely at peace with the action and its meaning. "Bite down!"

A blood-curdling snarl vibrated out from his open chest. Fangs sank deep into her shoulder. At once, dark, dominating youki burst through her system like a shot of adrenaline. Kagome gasped, back arching. It turned her heart into a burning star. Sesshoumaru's presence filled her until she practically burst at the seams. She distantly understood why youkai had sex before biting each other, reeling from it. The orgasm probably softened the intensity. Completion was something the mind could fathom, a release, the pooling of cum inside her.

This felt overwhelming. He was everywhere. His energy burned and licked, igniting and soothing her body like burning whisky.

Kagome felt the pinpricks of fresh tears in her eyes, overcome with a hurricane of emotions she couldn't quite name. She could feel his weakness. His exhaustion. The part of him tethered to her became a lifeline between them, feeding him the energy he'd lost.

Sesshoumaru's mouth peeled back from her flesh. He panted, sinking back. Kagome caught him about the shoulders, cradling him close.

A wave of tiredness sent her sinking down against him, lashes falling shut as dizziness spun her vision.

The last thing she saw before surrendering to the lure of unconsciousness was a canopy of Forget-me-nots surrounding their weary bodies.

----

Drowsy lids slowly cracked open- wincing at the setting sun's harsh orange light peeking out from between the trees. Golden eyes averted and Sesshoumaru stirred with a dusty rumble.

Something heavy lay over his bare chest. He lifted his head.

Kagome rested against his shoulder, dark hair spilling everywhere. Sesshoumaru stared, feeling he must be dreaming. They were laying within a clearing together, which looked clear, quiet and picturesque.

Squinting, he sat up, adjusting the woman against him. Kagome sank against his side, revealing a gaping hole in his flesh, exposing his rib-cage.

Ah, that's right.

The flowers. The vines spilling forth from his chest as blood asphyxiated him, making breathing impossible.

And Kagome...

The miko had come for him. Saved him.

Sesshoumaru ghosted stiff fingers over his mouth, dragging clawed nails down to the fresh bite mark branding his shoulder. He then shifted Kagome, running an aristocratic nose to similar marks adorning her shoulder- a tongue sliding out to drag over bloodied flesh. She tasted wonderful.

Kagome groaned and wrapped her arms around him tighter, burying her face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Sesshoumaru held her close and revelled in the sensation. However, he soon picked up on the far off shimmer of his barrier enclosing them within their mini safe space. He could sense Inuyasha waiting outside, along with Jaken.

Deciding to lower it, Sesshoumaru rested his lips against the crown of Kagome's head before drawing himself up to stand unsteadily, lifting her into his arms.

When Inuyasha burst into the clearing, leaves scattering and clinging to his thick white hair, he brandished Tetsusaiga, only to lower it with a raised brow.

Sesshoumaru stood clad in his hakama pants, arching a regal brow in return. He approached the hanyou and passed Kagome over wordlessly, ignoring his noise of surprise at the sight of his ribcage.

"It is healing," the demon dismissed.

"Uh, alright," Inuyasha grunted, supporting Kagome. "Should I even ask what the hell happened?"

Sesshoumaru ignored him in favour of looking at the miko. His shoulder ached, and when he drew back his heel with the intention to leave- a fresh wave of discomfort elicited a wince.

Kagome stirred, blue eyes blinking open. She then drew a hand out towards him, "where are you going?"

"This one is..." he trailed off. "I must..."

"No, you don't," she murmured. Patting Inuyasha's shoulder to prompt him to set her down, Kagome flashed her friend a smile. "Thanks for coming for me, but I need to stay with this impossible guy to make sure he heals alright."

Inuyasha eyed the bite mark on her shoulder, nostrils flaring. "You sure?"

Kagome nodded firmly.

"What do ya want me to tell Shinto if he asks where ya are?"

Guilt passed over her face, and blue eyes flicked away, before finding him again. "Just say I'm visiting another village. I need to tell him the truth myself."

Relenting, Inuyasha stepped away, shooting Sesshoumaru a warning look before reluctantly leaving them be again, feeling like the wind had been thoroughly knocked out of his sails.

The Daiyoukai watched her, stunned.

"It's crazy you're even up and walking around in your condition," Kagome rubbed at her forehead, reaching out and seizing frozen fingers. "Come on, let's find a cave to take shelter in for the night."

----

The demon lord stopped and slid unrelenting attention down to her once they reached the mouth of a cave. "What made you choose this place?"

"I dunno, it wasn't far away and it felt familiar," Kagome hummed, meeting his gaze. "Have we... used it before? In the past?"

Golden eyes cracked wider. "You remember?" he asked in a quiet, brittle tone.

She shook her head, "not at all. I just figured it out. Would've been nice if you'd told me," releasing his hand, she wandered inside, finding a bed of furs awaiting them further in, cracks of sunlight streaming in through holes in the rock ceiling. Her cheeks reddened a little, imagination running wild.

"You really scared me back there," she murmured, back turned to him. "I thought you were going to die."

"That is why you completed the mating," Sesshoumaru uttered. To save him, and for no other reason.

A part of him had hoped she'd remembered, but another had immediately recognised the sacrifice she'd made. Kagome was a selfless individual in the face of danger. If Inuyasha were dying, or any of her other friends, he wondered if she'd mate them if it meant saving their lives.

With a benevolence he did not truly feel, Sesshoumaru forced himself to prioritise her comfort. "If this is not something you wish for- there are ways of severing the bond."

"Stop," she grit out, whirling to face him. Flinty blue eyes took his breath away. "Stop lying all the time. I remember valuing your company and opinion because you were always so blunt with me. You never held back your opinions."

"I am not lying, there is a way to sever it."

"But that's not what you want! Damn it- you nearly died because you couldn't open your mouth! Just be honest for once and tell me how you're feeling, Sesshoumaru. What do YOU want?"

Energy lashed at the air, kicking up a breeze that caused dark hair to fly back. Hands closed over the back of her neck, cradling her skull. Lips were shoved against hers, smothering startled breath.

"You," Sesshoumaru breathed in a brief parting, kissing her fiercely again. His mouth slanted ardently over hers, the hint of a fang brushing her lips. "Is it not obvious I cannot abide anything but having you? Foolish woman, it is for your sake I held back. Once you submit, there is no escaping me."

Kagome gaped, unable to keep up with the sheer amount of heated kisses. Her hands settled over his arms, heat igniting her cheeks. She'd never received a kiss like it before and tentatively returned it. A small gasp and accompanying noise from him only confirmed to her how much he wanted it. She could feel the tension in his frame. He was holding back even now.

When he pulled away, she panted, thumb dragging over magenta cheek stripes. "Didn't that feel so much better than burying everything?" she teased weakly. "Even if I'd rejected you, surely that would've been better than regret- than nearly dying."

Sesshoumaru's gaze slid away. He then released a long sigh, clawed hands curling in her hair. "You seemed happy with the mercenary."

"Ex-mercenary," she corrected out of habit, leaning into his touch. "And I was. I like him. But..." Kagome looked at him. Really looked, and somehow it clicked that his face was the only one she wanted to wake up to in the mornings to follow. When had things gotten to that point? Had she wanted this while lazing on the riverbank with him so long ago? Things would've been so much more simple if she'd identified it sooner. If he'd said something.

How foolish they both were.

Stepping closer, she blushed and tilting her head back in order to ghost her lips over a firm jaw. "I like you more."

Power sparked her insides at the ensuing shudder he gave. "Mating entails more than 'liking' one another, miko. Can you deal with my extended company? Being mine?"

Kagome pretended to consider this. "For how long?"

His lips quirked. "Centuries. Possibly thousands of years."

"That's a long time," her eyes danced. "I guess I'm okay with that if you work on your communication skills."

He inclined his head gravely, dipping his nose into her hair and inhaling a lungful. It felt so good to have clear airways again.

"Sesshoumaru, there is something I want to ask you about; Why didn't you bite me? And what happened during that night I lost my memories?"

"I intended to, miko," he said with dark promise. Displeasure curled his lip. "You managed to bite me during climax. I do not think you understood the ramifications of it at the time. I would have reciprocated nonetheless. Unfortunately, my senses- brilliant as they are- sensed a disturbance in the forest. A herd of boar youkai were bolting towards your precious village."

He could scowl all he wanted about it, but Kagome knew of his attachment to Rin. No doubt they'd both wasted no further time in lovemaking and quickly made for the village.

"We fought them, tried to redirect them. You asked me to save a boy that had fallen during the village's impromptu evacuation. Naturally, I did so- but it meant leaving you alone."

Kagome winced. Her hand found the back of her head, remembering waking to a sizable bump and stitches. "They got me, huh?"

"One struck you down," Sesshoumaru uttered with a weary tone. "I did not know where you were, as we had become separated in the chaos. When I eventually found you... the mercenary was nursing your wounds."

"I remember," she said gently. A stab of sympathy clenched her heart. Stroking a hand down his bicep, she sighed. "That must've been awful, to lose me so soon after almost completing the mating. I didn't realise, didn't recall our relationship. I greeted you so casually and didn't get why you were lingering around in his hut."

"The fault is not yours," Sesshoumaru rested large hands possessively on her hips.

Kagome glanced at him, squinting. "Neither is it yours," she pressed her fingers to his lips when he opened his mouth. "Nope! Not yours. I wouldn't have wanted you to prioritise guarding me that night. If you had, that boy you saved might've lost his life. Besides, I can usually take care of myself. They caught me on a bad day."

The two fell into silence. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, resting thin lips against the crown of her head while Kagome leaned carefully against him.

"I find it weird that we've had a whole conversation while you have a massive hole in your chest. At least I can't see your whole ribcage like before. Seems like the skin and muscle are repairing," she mumbled.

"It will heal quickly," he dismissed, palms gliding over her back.

Kagome made a soft noise, basking in his warmth. "It's also weird that this feels so natural to me," she lifted her head, catching his eye. "I might not remember us. Ever. So just... promise me you won't search for my past self in me. I've been through that before."

He swept her down into the furs, covering her form with his own. "Hn, we will live in the present."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she sank into the soft, comforting furs. Her heart fluttered, stomach jumping. "Thank you."

A silver curtain of hair blocked out their surroundings as Kagome pulled him closer, both mindful of his injury. She smiled, searching his gaze and slowly delivering a sweet kiss to his lips.

Sesshoumaru let out a long sigh of relief, their foreheads meeting.

"Hey, on the bright side..." Kagome gave him a cheeky grin. "I get to experience my 'first time' with you again."

Astonishment painted his features. A simmering, darkly satisfied look soon replaced it, transforming his face into something more raw and honest. Kagome accepted his anticipation, his hunger, not dissuading him from it. She endeavoured to encourage even more displays of emotion from him.

"You don't need to hold back," she murmured, accepting his searing kiss. "Tell me everything you've wanted to say to me since losing my memory. I don't mind."

Their energies twined once more, and the miko hooked her leg over his hip to anchor him against her without any seductive intentions. She merely wanted him close, and Sesshoumaru did not argue, burying closer to her the second he healed. Skin met skin, noses brushing.

In the hush that followed, Sesshoumaru took his lips to her ear and began talking.

End

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #Inuyasha #Kagome Higurashi #Sesshoumaru

[boliv-jenta]

Din x reader. Just thoughts on how Din would handle reader's ADHD.

Home

You ask so many questions when you first start travelling with him. At first his answers are short, giving just enough information to qualify as an answer. "You don't talk much." you observe.

"Maybe you just talk too much." he replies.

Once he's used to your company, Din will answer your questions. He marvels at your ability to ask insightful questions, like your brain is making connections that no one else has ever voiced to him.

After a while he starts to notice the times when you don't talk at all. You sit perfectly still, silent, seemingly paying attention to nothing in particular. He worries he's upset you. "Is there something wrong? Did I...did I do something? You're very quiet." You shake your head. "Just thinking, that's all."

When you ask if he's seen something you have misplaced he'll say "I think I saw it..."and tell you where. He never lets on that he goes around the ship noting things you have left or placing them where you will find it again.

Din always checks your equipment before you leave the ship. He doesn't tell you, you only realise when you catch him doing it. Even then he doesn't make a big deal of it.

He notices little things at first. You bunk is messy and you never quite get around to tidying it. But if he asks you to repair anything on the ship, no matter how hard the job is, it's done in no time. The work is perfect and everything is tidied away afterwards.

It seemed like the greater the challenge the more eager you were to throw yourself into it.

Sometimes he catches you deep in thought. A slightly frown on your face or a smile tugging at your lips. When you smile, he likes to imagine you're thinking of him.

The times when you spend hours on your datapad, he'll find a reason to sit near you. Even with the helmet on, you can tell he's reading over your shoulder.

You catch him in the night, after Grogu has woken him, reading about whatever it was you were so engrossed in.

He's happy to listen to you tell him all about your new interests. He'll add his own thoughts now and then, to prove he's interested in what you have to say. He'll even start the conversation just to see your face light up.

When he sees you starting to fidget after being stuck on the ship for too long, he'll make an excuse to land.

When you can't land, he'll put the Crest on auto pilot and asks if you want to spar. He'll add in lots of full body grappling, crashing his weight into you. He's seen how you crave the pressure to comfort you.

When you can't sleep, he'll come and find you, he'll lie and tell you he couldn't sleep either or that the kid had woken him.

Having him there helped calm you. His silent presence helping you to relax your mind. He would sit with you until you both drifted off where you sat.

After a rough couple of weeks, sleep wise, you noticed how tired he was. It wasn't safe for him to be sluggish.

The planet you were on was lush and green. The sun was warming against your skin without being too hot. The area you landed on was deserted. Once the kid was down for a nap you convinced Din to lay in the soft grass and take a nap with you.

You were sure he would have noticed that you shifted closer to him as soon as you thought he was asleep.

You definitely notice that when you woke up one of his hands was flat on the ground between you. The tips of his fingers were millimetres away from your hand. As if he'd reached for you in his sleep.

You would often rest together, as a clan, the kid in his pod, you and Din on the floor. Allowing for more space to be left in between you.

One sleepless night you got up to walk around the ship. As you walked past Din's bunk the hatch slipped open.

Din sat up, sleeping clothes all rumbled, helmet slightly askew. Before he could shuffle out to join you, you began to climb in. Pressing yourself to the wall you lay down while still giving him space. He stilled for a moment before laying back down to sleep.

After a particularly hard hunt, you were exhausted but after washing up and changing for bed you pottered around the ship.

Din wordlessly gripped your elbow, steering you towards his bunk. After you got in, he checked on Grogu before climbing in next to you. "Sleep." was all he said.

Blaster fire rang in the air. Voiced echoed around the town square. Din was amazed at how calm you were, weighing up your opinions before securing an exit path. Some people crumbled in chaos, you thrived in it.

Some days it felt like he could feel the anxiety coming off you in waves. Like it was making his Baskar vibrate. You would wrap your arms around yourself as if the stress was threatening to shake you apart and you need to hold yourself together.

One time, when you looked too tired to hold yourself, he decided to do it for you. Wrapping his arms around you he pulled you tightly to his armoured chest. It only took a moment for you to slump against him.

When your arms came up to wrap around his waist, his hands traveled up to cup your neck and cross your shoulders to cradle you close.

From then on he would hold you when you needed it. Or seek you out when he did.

When temper would flare and you just needed a minute to be angry about something, he wouldn't try to reason with you or offer solutions. He would just let you be mad about it.

Once you were done he would offer a reassuring hug or add his own anger to yours before you moved on.

Unless you were angry at a person then he move to grab his things to head out and make sure they never upset you again. Then you'd have to talk him down.

If your anger was aimed at him, he never held a grudge. He understood that sometimes, in the moment, you would cut him to the quick without meaning to.

He knew you feeling safest with him was a double edged sword. You would let down all your walls. Even the ones keeping your more unpleasant emotions in.

He knew this all too well because he felt the same. You were his safe place. His family. His home.

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fluff #ADHD

[starpollen1998]

Uber Allergic: A Romance - part 1 / ?

I don’t know what it is with me and cars lately.  Maybe because I haven’t driven one in nearly 4 years, or maybe because I had a plot bunny about a hired driver and then couldn’t decide which direction to take it.  So, naturally, I wrote 2 stories. A warning: I have never taken an Uber.  I have used a similar company in the country where I live, so I imagined it would be the same.  Apologies for any mistakes.  Hope you enjoy!

The Ride - Part 1

When I saw him standing on the curb waiting, I couldn’t help but blink. And then swallow hard.  The man was stunning: tall, broad-shouldered, long-limbed, with a perfect jawline and dazzling smile.  His hair was that rare coiff that crested like waves from his head, barely brushing his ears, thick and tawny like a lion. When he dropped into the back seat, I saw his eyes were a stunning shade of blue.

I’ve had attractive men in my car before, sure.  But none quite as mind-blowing as this one.

“Heya, darlin’,” he quipped, firing off a devastating wink at me through the rear view mirror.

“Hi,” I replied, barely able to get that single syllable past the lump in my throat.  I prayed I could focus on the road in front of me and not the Greek-god-incarnate in the back seat.  He was headed across town, a trip that would take us roughly 40 minutes.

We rode in silence for almost a full minute, him tapping away on his cell phone while I gritted my teeth and forced my gaze at the horizon. Occasionally I glanced at the GPS, checking that we were on track.

Then…

“heHH?...”

I couldn’t help it.  My eyes darted up to the rear view mirror.

I watched as Greek-god pinched his nostrils shut, rubbing in hard, tight circles, finishing with a small shake of his head, blue eyes blinking furiously.  Was it my imagination, or did those eyes seem to be getting red?

I kept driving.

Not even a minute later…

“heh-heHH?...”

Once more, my eyes snapped like magnets to the rear view mirror.  My passenger was frozen in classic pre-sneeze expression: eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, lower lip trembling… nostrils flared, the tip of his prominent nose visibly twitching.  His elegant head turned left, then right, and then…

“heght--SHHzzztT!!”

He sneezed - snapping into his elbow at the last second.

“B-... Bless you,” I stammered, sure I was blushing red as a tomato.

But Greek god wasn’t done.

He raised his head, eyes still shut, shoulders bouncing with stuttering hitches.  My eyes were darting between the road ahead and the rear view mirror, terrified that I was either going to rear-end someone … or miss one second of the spectacle in the back seat.  

Then - a red light.

Thank you! I screamed in my mind to whatever higher power was listening.

When I came back to the rear view mirror, his right hand was raised, hovering loosely cupped, nostrils stretching into little round O’s, his upper lip curled back from gleaming white teeth…

“hegt--SCHgtT!!” he snapped down, visibly misting the hand. This time he stayed down, and I could almost see his abs rippling beneath his button-up shirt.  “eegh--SCHHtT… aAH-SCHTch-u!!”

“Bless you,” I barely breathed, glad that this particular red light seemed to be taking a lot longer than usual.

His voice - husky and a little congested - floated up from behind the hand still cupped to his nose.

“... snfll… thanks, darlin’.  … sdrfl…. Don’t suppose you h-have… sdrffl…  any tissues?”

Fumbling, I opened the glove box and pulled out the stack of drive-through napkins I kept stashed away for emergencies.  Usually spilled coffee.  Twisting in my seat, I set the stack on his left knee, fingertips brushing the hard muscles of his thigh.

Peering through the tawny strands of hair that had been knocked loose by the fit, his eyes crinkled with a smile.  “Thanks.”  

An impatient honk made me jump.  Heart pounding, I whipped back around to face the road and eased us forward through the intersection.  His soft chuckle made my ears burn, sure that I was blushing fire-engine red by now.

I heard soft blowing, more wet sniffles, and managed to catch in the mirror when he stretched two KFC napkins between both hands and muffled a wet double: “t’SCHmp--g’SCHHm!”

“Bless you,” I managed, happy when my voice sounded even and calm, even though my hands were gripping the steering wheel hard.

“Darlin’ you don’t… hH!--... have to say that every time… snffl---hHehH!--... l-looks like I m- muhH!-HGK’tSCHHt!... excuse me.  I might be at this a while...”  Taking another napkin from the dwindling stack, he pinched it around his nose and rubbed again in small, fast circles, brows drawing together in concentration.

Grateful for another red light, I stared into the mirror.  My passenger had a fist full of crumpled napkins in one hand, the other pinching and rubbing desperately at increasingly pinkening nostrils.

“Does… this happen often?”

Another husky chuckle, which deteriorated into more hitching breaths and another itchy-sounding sneeze. “hgz’CHHT! … Depends,” he breathed, bringing the knot of used tissues up to dab at his watering eyes.  “Do you have a c-... hHihh!... a cat?”

The Ride - Part 2

 My mouth dropped open, eyes wide.  He saw my expression in the mirror and gave another chuckle.  Swiping a knuckle under his nose, he flashed me a wry grin.  “Well, that explains it.”

 “I’m sorry,” I looked back at him, stricken.

 “Nah, don’t worry about it,” he gave a dismissive shake of his lion’s head.  “You couldn’t know.  heh-GSCHhtu!... And it’s not like there’s a box to tick in the app, or anything. ...snfl…  ‘Driver has pets.’ ...sdrfl … A lot of people do.  Have pets.”

 “I know,” I replied softly, turning the wheel smoothly as we rounded a corner.  “But I can still be sorry that you’re… you know…”  I couldn’t bring myself to say it.  I couldn’t even glance in the mirror.

 But I heard the smile in his voice when he said, “It’s fine.  Really.  It h--hH!  hg’zCHHt!-heh’GZShht!... excuse me.  It happens a lot, actually. snfl.”  

 That did make me glance at the mirror, brows raised in surprise… and interest.  “Really?”

 Greek god had placed the growing pile of used napkins in the seat beside him, frowning down at both his watch and the small stack of napkins still on his leg. The tip of his nose was flushing a tell-tale pink, blue eyes definitely red-rimmed.  He blinked rapidly and sniffled constantly, dabbing at his eyes or wiping at his nose, overall looking the very picture of ‘itchy’ and ‘allergic.’

 “Yeah,” he replied, breath spiraling in preparation for another sneeze… but it left him last-minute, causing him to give a frustrated cough. “I’m allergic to most animals, but you might say I’m… uber allergic to cats.”  Those stunning blue eyes twinkled at me in the mirror, followed by a mischievous wink.

 “Why risk taking an Uber, then?”

 “Well, as cliché as it sounds... my car is in the shop.”

 “Oh?”

 “Yeah, snffll, I got a… hH!--... a recall letter.  Better safe tha-… heh-GSCHt--ahh-GSCHu!... ugh. Apologies.”

 We chatted a little more during the ride, about his job as an IT consultant and my 3 jobs: kindergarten teacher, waitress at Olive Garden, and Uber driver.  By the time we reached his destination I had counted no less than 56 sneezes, nearly always he followed up with ‘excuse me,’ or some other polite apologetic. He had used my entire stash of emergency napkins, and his handsome face was a bleary, blotchy wreck: nose red, eyes puffy, voice croaky and thick with congestion.

 “I’m sorry, again,” I said when we stopped at the curb in front of his building. 

 “Add - agaid - you dod’t have adythig to be sorry for,” he rasped, palming the pile of used tissues and reaching for a few that had fallen to the floor.

 “Oh, I can do that,” I got out in a rush.  “You don’t have to--”

 “Oh, doh,” he chuckled, voice breaking on the second word like a prepubescent.  “I cad take by owd dirty tissues, darlid’.”  Glancing up, he gave me a soft smile.  “You’ve beed padiedt edough about all this.”  Maybe I imagined it, but it looked like he blushed just a little.

 “Well it’s my fault,” I insisted.  

 He opened his mouth to reply, but instead turned and gave a tired-sounding sneeze into his elbow. “H’eISCHt!... gkm, pardod.”

 “Bless you,” I murmured. 

 “You dow, sdrfl, I usually dod’t like it whed people say that…”

 “I’m sor--”

 “But sobehow whed you do,” he glanced back, swiping a knuckle under his nose and giving that same, soft smile.   “I dod’t mide.”

 He exited, leaving me staring after him with a mixture of warmth and confusion.  Definitely one of the most… unusual... rides I’d ever had. 

 Throwing the lever into park, I got out to do my usual check of the interior in case the passenger had left something behind. A flash of white tucked by the seatbelt latch caught my eye.  Thinking Greek god must have missed one of the used napkin wads, I reached for it. 

 And pulled out a business card.

 “C. B. Decker - Sunfire Technology”

 I turned it over.

 “Thanks for the ride...  Have dinner with me sometime?”   

I pulled my head out of the car, staring over my shoulder at his building.  I wasn’t sure, but it looked like someone was standing just inside the glazed doors, watching.  Turning back to the card in my hand, I bit my lip.  It was a violation of my Uber contract if I said yes.  

 But.

 That guy...

 Aw, hell.  I could get by without the income.  Probably.  

Maybe.

 I looked back at the building, and was now sure I could make out his tall silhouette, tawny mane just a bit disheveled.  The figure suddenly bent forward, and I knew. 

 I kept my eyes on the building as I made a show of putting the card into my pocket.  It wasn’t a no.  But it wasn’t a yes.  

 Not yet. 

 As I drove home for the night, my imagination spun out as I deliberated whether or not to accept.  One, he knew I had a cat, was apparently ‘uber’ allergic... and wanted to see me again, anyway.  Two, I had been getting tired of driving 30 hours a week, and maybe I could arrange to suspend my contract.  Or I could quit, and then get rehired if things didn’t work out… or, if they did... 

 I crawled into bed, reaching up to stroke Sheba where she always slept on the second pillow. She made a little mew, flipping her head upside down and curling tighter into a furry ball. 

 As I drifted off to sleep, his delicious sneezes echoed in my dreams…

[crabas-lordes]

Explaining Gen. 4 Mythicals/Legendaries in My Remakes

According to the games/anime:

Mesprit - The Emotion Pokémon, a pure Psychic type, unknown gender, 1′ tall, weighs 0.7 pounds, it sleeps at the bottom of a lake. When it flew, people learned emotions such as sorrow and joy, etc.

Azelf - The Willpower Pokémon, a pure Psychic type, unknown gender, 1′ tall, weighs 0.7 pounds, it sleeps at the bottom of a lake. When it flew, people became able to face all of life’s difficulties.

Uxie - The Knowledge Pokémon, a pure Psychic type, unknown gender, 1′ tall, weighs 0.7 pounds, it sleeps at the bottom of a lake. When it flew, people learned the knowledge needed to solve problems and the quality to spend their life.

Regigigas - The Colossal Pokémon, a pure Normal type, unknown gender, 12′02″ tall, weighs 925.9 pounds, it pulled the continents apart with ropes. It created three images of itself from ice, rock, and steel.

Darkrai - The Pitch-Black Pokémon, a pure Dark type, unknown gender, 4′11″ tall, weighs 111.3 pounds, creates nightmares to anyone or anything nearby. It only comes on moonless nights. 

Cresselia - The Lunar Pokémon, a pure Psychic type, always female, 4′11″ tall, weighs 188.7 pounds, always comes on moon-lit nights. It has great healing techniques and can dispel nightmares.

Phione - The Sea Drifter Pokémon, a pure Water type, unknown gender, 1′04″ tall, weighs 6.8 pounds, it lives in warm ocean waters. It has a flotation sac on its head that allows it to drift and search for food.

Manaphy - The Seafaring Pokémon, a pure Water type, unknown gender, 1′ tall, weighs 3.1 pounds, emerges from the depths of cold oceans. It can bond with any Pokémon on a heart-to-heart level.

Shaymin - The Gratitude Pokémon, a pure Grass type, unknown gender, 8″ - 1′04″ tall, weighs 4.6 - 11.5 pounds, has a Land and Sky form. When gracidea flowers bloom, they change forms to migrate. 

Arceus - The Alpha Pokémon, a pure Normal type, unknown gender, 10′6″ tall, weighs 705.5 pounds, is capable of changing its types. It lives in its own realm, and legends say its egg fell from a vortex, or that it was born before the universe was created with a thousand arms.

Dialga - The Temporal Pokémon, a Steel and Dragon type, unknown gender, 17′09″ tall, weighs 1,505.8 pounds, time flows with every heartbeat. It is viewed as a deity in Sinnoh, and time began to move when it was born.

Palkia - The Spatial Pokémon, a Water and Dragon type, unknown gender, 13′09″ tall, weighs 740.8 pounds, it is viewed as a deity in Sinnoh. Space becomes more stable with every breath it takes. 

Giratina - The Renegade Pokémon, a Ghost and Dragon type, unknown gender, 14′09″ - 22′08″ tall, weighs 1,433 - 1,653.5 pounds, it gazes into our world from the Reverse World. It was banished for its violence.

My takes on Gen. 4 Pokémon for the Remakes:

Mesprit - Mesprit was born from Arceus after the Creation Trio, but during the time water flourished on the planet. Mesprit is female and is the middle child in the Lake Trio. After she bestowed the power of emotion into the hearts of all that naturally lived in the universe, she returned to Sinnoh to sleep at the bottom of Lake Verity. Lake Verity’s powers, due to Mesprit, are capable of making the most apathetic of creatures to feel something.

Azelf - Azelf was born from Arceus after the Creation Trio, but during the time water flourished on the planet. Azelf is female and is the youngest of the Lake Trio. After she bestowed willpower into the minds of all that naturally lived in the universe, she returned to Sinnoh to sleep at the bottom of Lake Valor. Lake Valor’s powers, due to Azelf, are capable of encouraging anyone or anything that comes.

Uxie - Uxie was born from Arceus after the Creation Trio, but during the time water flourished on the planet. Uxie is female and is the oldest of the Lake Trio. After she bestowed her power of knowledge into the minds of all that naturally lived in the universe, she returned to Sinnoh to sleep at the bottom of Lake Acuity. Lake Acuity’s powers, due to Uxie, are capable of helping anyone or anything problem solve in the area.

Regigigas - Regigigas was a titan crafted by Arceus once Groudon crafted the lands and Kyogre forged the waters. Regigigas then crafted its own ropes to pull apart the continents evenly across the world. Regigigas is genderless and parents three titans: one of crystals and ice, stone and minerals, and metal and foreign steel. Regigigas sleeps at the Snowpoint Temple close to Lake Acuity, ready to awaken for its Alpha’s commands. Regigigas now stands at 24′06″ instead, and weighs well over two tons.

Darkrai - Darkrai is the youngest twin of the Lunar Duo. Darkrai is a male. He can chose whether or not to manipulate nightmares to those he believes deserves it, but on nights of new or full moons -- when he’s most active -- he cannot control his projections. He likes to stay at the gardens around Alamos Town in Sinnoh, where he befriended a young blond girl and a deity. He likes the company of his older sister, especially since she dispels his own nightmares. Darkrai now weighs less than 100 pounds.

Cresselia - Cresselia is the oldest of the Lunar Duo. Cresselia is female. The feathers from her lunar wings are often made into rare dream catchers. She can dispel nightmares and manipulate dreams into those that anyone can love. She is most active on waning and cresting moons, and usually stays around Alamos Town in Sinnoh. She often gives Darkrai company to calm him, as she and his human friend are the only ones capable of that. 

Phione - Phione is known as the “Prince of the Sea” and often floats around the warm coasts to eat algae. Phione is a child of Kyogre, and is male. Phione can also travel through rivers and into warmer lakes if its food source becomes scarce.

Manaphy - Manaphy is known as the “Princess of the Sea” and her egg is laid at the center of Samiya. Manaphy is female and is the daughter of Kyogre. Manaphy has the power to empathize with anyone, and its voice is angelic once it starts to sing and vocalize. Because Manaphy is drawn to Samiya, she has a connection to Palkia and Atlantis as a whole. 

Shaymin - There are two Shaymins; a male (Sky form) and a female (Land form). The female spreads pollen and helps flourish gardens for the rare gracidea flowers, as the male keeps watch over the female and protects the gardens from harm. During winter, the female can change form to migrate with the male, and the only way to tell the difference then is by their colors (female is light blue, male is green). The male is the most dangerous, as its Seed Flare can destroy a good portion of a forest if it absorbs enough toxins. 

Arceus - Arceus’s egg fell from another universe through a vortex, and it hatched once the quarks began to form heat in the vast nothingness. Arceus is a male. Vast serpents of darkness became the one-thousand arms he needed to expand the universe. Once he earned the Life Plates, and after he raised the Creation Trio and created what he needed to create, he fell asleep in his own pocket realm. Arceus now stands at 16′07″ and weighs closer to 1,000 pounds.

Dialga - Dialga is the middle child of the Creation Trio and is a male. Dialga keeps track of time and sometimes looks into the past, the alternate past, and the alternate futures. Dialga stays close to Celestial Town, where he is revered the most in Sinnoh. Dialga loves mankind and takes interest in people in general. Dialga is one of the most loyal gods in the Creation Trio, as he gains respect to one of the newer monarchs of Sinnoh after she sacrifices everything to protect her people. Dialga now stands at 29′ tall and weighs closer to two tons.

Palkia - Palkia is the youngest child of the Creation Trio and is a female. Palkia stabilizes the space between realms and dimensions and then comes to rest in Samiya, the sunken temple at the middle of Atlantis. Palkia has deemed the alternate title the “Goddess of the Sea.” Palkia does not tolerate close human contact, nor does she tolerate any humans coming close to Atlantis. She has destroyed ships, subs, and eaten divers that came close to Atlantis, giving that area the nickname of the “Bermuda Triangle.” Palkia sometimes goes to the springs by Alamos Town to soak and to consume berries and the invasive Pyukumukus. At Alamos Town is where Palkia befriended Darkrai and Cresselia, and has grown to tolerate a human girl. Palkia now stands at 27′08″ tall and weighs closer to one ton. Palkia is considered to invoke more fear than Giratina, especially because of her likable taste toward humans.

Giratina - Giratina is the oldest child of the Creation Trio and is a sequential hermaphrodite (male in Altered Form, female in Origin Form). It is the next Alpha after Arceus, and balances the universe from within the Reverse World. It defends Earth the most, as the solar system itself is where its mother sleeps. Giratina finds interest in humans it deems worthy, such as a scientist and the World Champion. A child born in its world now connects it, so Giratina takes the responsibility to raise her as its own. Giratina is a very aggressive fighter, and is extremely intelligent in battle, but it was never banished for its violent appetites. In fact, while Giratina is feared, it is not the most feared in the Creation Trio. It now stands at 32′11″ and weighs closer to two and a half tons. In its Origin Form, it’s now 60′10″ long and weighs up to two tons. Because of its size, it tends to have a ravenous appetite (It usually feeds on radiation, but it will eat other Pokémon to enrich its diet every now and then. It usually eats smaller Pokémon in its Altered Form, but it can take down massive Pokémon -- like a seven-foot Sawsbuck -- in one swallow if its in its Origin Form with little effort). Contrary to popular belief, it doesn’t enjoy the taste of humans.

Reena (Rayna) - Rayna is the true Alpha of this universe, having hatched before Arceus did. She took him in her universe, and helped him expand. She gifted him her eighteen Life Plates after she birthed the Creation Trio, so she can rest, trusting him to do the rest. She sleeps in the core of an orange sun, a sun the Creation Trio stay close to. Those who know Rayna in legend still barely know her name, and call her “Reena.” Because no-one (even those that somewhat know of her) do not know what she looks like, they depict her as a serpent with six feathery wings, as bright as the sun.

Extras that aren’t Pokémon: 

Krishnala  - A Dragon of the Multiverse. It is genderless and expands the space in our universe. It’s intentions are not either evil or good, but because Arceus is not of our universe, it will do anything to eradicate him. Because no-one knows of this god, there is no depiction of it. The only being that knows of it is Rayna.

The Four Keres - These electrical serpents were crafted by Krishnala to hunt down Arceus and the Creation Trio. “Keres” is a name that means “female death demon.” All four Keres are female and take the forms of Arceus and the Creation Trio, mainly to trick the lesser gods and mortals to consume them. Their real forms aren’t known, and very few know of the Keres. One Keres by far roams free, two are in hiding, but one is frozen in the ice caps of Kalos. 

The Three Shadows - The Three Shadows were humans that became absorbed with darkness. This darkness, however, let them be who-ever they wanted to be, and granted them the power to transform into a mighty beast. The Shadows live in Sinnoh, rarely to be seen, but each have been given a name: The Ghost Wolf of Sinnoh, the Thunderbird of the Shadows, and the Great Dragon of Shadowfire. The Thunderbird is revered in old paintings of storms in older villages, and the Ghost Wolf is revered as a great canine that leads the dead on their path. The Great Dragon was seen only once in history, when it rained on Sinnoh’s enemies with purple and black fire, but was never seen again. Their genders are unknown.

Disclaimer: These remakes are for fun and by no means are meant to replace the Pokémon franchise.

*Sorry if there’s some poor grammar, lol, it’s like, 3 AM and I’m tired.

#pokemon #remakes #gen 4 #azelf #mesprit #uxie #regigigas #darkrai #cresselia #phione #manaphy #shaymin #arceus #dialga #palkia #giratina #pokemon oc #pokemon ocs #oc #dragons #shadows #keres #krishnala #rayna #reena #lunar duo #creation trio #lake trio #land form shaymin #sky form shaymin

[pterodactylschreech]

Entangled

(One-shot based on this post)

Lena looks beautiful tonight.

She's all Kara can think about, despite being surrounded by everyone she loves. Her eyes track back every few seconds no matter where she treks in the apartment or how much her family and friends vie for her attention. It's their first game night post-Phantom Zone and post-The Break, as Kara thinks of it. The first time everyone is back together, smiling and laughing and happy, in over a year. And they all want Kara's attention, her presence the glue for the family after her absence.

But all she can think about is Lena.

Lena sitting close on the couch while they play games. Lena passing her the last pot sticker on her plate without thought. Lena standing in the kitchen refilling her wine glass and mingling with Kelly and Brainy, at home among their friends. Kara focuses on her, intent to memorize every single detail of the other women as if she may never see her again. The crinkles by her piercing eyes when she squints in laughter at one of Nia's corny puns. The play of light on her features accentuating the sharp angle of her jaw and the soft curve of her lips. The gentle, bright look she shares with Kara when she catches her looking, a hard won relief radiating out from the woman after months of fighting one another. Kara could practically taste the joy on the air, surrounded by her little family.

Kara hopes that look means everything that her matching expression means: I love you. I'm home again, and I missed you. Hopes beyond all reason that Lena understands and is sending the same message back.

It's been a week since she returned to find Lena unemployed and living at the Tower out of a hastily packed suitcase. A week since she refused to let Lena remain in the cold and impersonal lair and convinced Lena to unofficially move in with her. She wouldn't admit it, not even to Alex, but one of the reasons Kara insisted so strongly was because she couldn't bear to sleep alone. The memories of her nightmares from her childhood after landing on Earth were enough to drench her in fear of the coming nights, the darkness and isolation that pulled her under the waves of terror. It turned out to be the best decision for both of the women as they both suffered and only found peace and reprieve when sleeping next to one another.

And it's been two days since Kara bared her soul to Alex, finally admitting the depth of her feelings for Lena after her sister told her about the decision they had been forced to make: Kara or National City. Her feelings that lay dormant for years due to her fear but surfaced to crush her under their weight during the year spent away from Lena, that grew like ivy through her heart until they covered every inch of her life. Kara sobbed into Alex's shoulder, for time lost and hope and comfort from her one constant through everything. Alex, for her part, seemed decidedly less surprised by Kara's outburst than she had expected. She let Kara expend her tears, then quietly told her it was time for Kara to choose her own happiness first. To put herself before the world and her past and her decades of fear. To tell Lena and let them be happy, together.

So now, Kara sits on her couch, surrounded by family and basking in the warmth of their love and closeness, nervous and fidgeting while she anxiously replays her prepared speech over and over in her head. For one terrifying moment, the whole situation felt excruciatingly familiar and terror spikes through her. Alex lays a hand on her bouncing knee, a distraction and reassurance that all would end well if Kara just trusted herself and Lena.

The night wore on in pleasant company until the group thinned out, pair by pair. Only Alex and Kelly remain on their way out of the apartment. Alex lingers in the doorway to give Kara an extended hug and whisper encouragement in her ear. "Good luck, Kar. Love you." She and Kelly say their last goodbye to Lena, and Kara quietly closes the door for the evening.

After taking a deep, steadying breath, Kara turns back to find Lena tossing empty take-out boxes into the recycling bin and setting their empty glasses in the sink. With her hair in a haphazard bun, Kara's NCU sweatshirt, and her cheeks pink tinged, Lena leaves Kara breathless in the entryway. The domesticity and familiarity of Lena in her clothes, in her home and cleaning up; in her glasses, forgotten after a particularly spot on impersonation during charades and still perched on the bridge of her nose, have Kara dreaming of their possible future. Of games nights and family dinners and quiet nights in that begin and end with Lena by her side.

Kara's tongue darts out to wet her lips and her hands twist together as she moves closer to Lena who has rinsed the glasses and is drying her hands on one of Kara's novelty printed dish towels. When she turns and spots Kara, hovering nearby but without fully approaching, she watches the simple movements of Kara's hands with rapt attention and smiles the same gentle grin from throughout the night. The corners of her mouth turn down slightly when she notices the focused crinkle between Kara's eyes, the unfailing sign she was deep in thought or struggling to vocalize something she found important.

Kara hardly registers the soft padding of Lena's socked feet across the floor until she reaches up to smooth the offending crinkle away with her fingertips. Kara's eyes drop closed at the gentle press, and she exhales a long held breath, focusing entirely on the point of contact and warmth to ground herself in the moment and chase any final doubts away. "Lena," Kara's voice puffs out into the quiet of their closeness. Lena's hand drifts to brush a stray curl behind Kara's ear before answering, matching her reverent tone. "What is it, darling?" Kara's eyes slide open to take in the gaze fixed on her: Lena promising safety and trust trust with nothing but the vulnerability in her eyes and the press of her hand to Kara's chest, just over where her crest materializes. It's enough to set Kara's heart beating wildly in anticipation.

"I need to tell you something. We promised each other, no more secrets. And there's one more thing I need you to know before we try this again. Our friendship, or you know, us."

Kara can see Lena's response to her words and hesitated. Lena's shoulders immediately tensing and her mouth drawing into a tight line, fighting trembling lips. She places her hand over Lena's on her chest to keep her from pulling away preemptively and to draw the strength she needs for what may come next. "Kara, what-?" "Wait, please. It's not bad, well, I don't think so, it's just, um-" Kara stops to regroup her frantic thoughts.

"Just, um, let me say what I need to say. And, if you don't, you know, feel the same or want anything to change, then none of this will matter."

Lena relaxes minutely, squinting at Kara's phrasing in suspicion and confusion. She lets Kara hold her hand in place. Once she feels Lena's tension release enough to prove she's listening, Kara plunges into her speech.

"Lena, you are my best friend. One of the two most important people to me. When we were fighting," Kara sucks in a deep breath at the lingering pain of their separation. "that was one of the hardest years of my life. All this terrible stuff was happening, and my person, the one I go to when everything feels like its falling apart, was gone. You were gone. I could still hear you and see you, but I couldn't have you. You were gone, and it was all my fault."

Hot tears spill free from Kara's eyes. When Lena reaches up to wipe them away, Kara leans heavily into her warm palm.

"Kara, darling, it's okay. We've forgiven each other. You don't need to apologize again."

A soft laugh escapes Kara's lips before she turns her head to press a kiss to Lena's palm. She speaks into Lena's hand, too nervous to see what Lena's reaction will be to her next words.

"I'm not. I'm just being honest. I lied to you for years. Willfully. Cruelly. Because I was selfish and stupid and scared. Rao, I was so scared to lose you. So, I rationalized lying day after day because I knew you'd leave when I told you. I knew the moment I said the words, it was over. No matter what I did or said, I would lose you."

The apartment was silent but for Kara's sniffles and her overflowing words.

"I did lose you." The whisper carries a year's worth of pain and longing.

"But, me being Supergirl isn't the biggest thing I haven't told you."

Lena's sharp inhale draws a fresh panicked round of tears from Kara who holds tighter to Lena's hand on her chest and forges onward quickly.

"You have to understand why I haven't said anything. It's not that I haven't wanted to; it's all I can think about sometimes. Most days now. But I couldn't. How could I- it would've been-" Kara stops and looks at Lena again, to read the expectation and shock flaring behind her green eyes. "I had to be honest about who I am before I could be honest about how I feel."

Lena joins Kara now with the first of her own tears breaking free to run down her cheeks. Kara can hear the quickening pace of her heart and focuses on the sound.

"Lena, I met you, and my whole world changed. You didn't know me during my first year as Supergirl, didn't see the rage that I could barely control or the reckless way I threw myself at every enemy. I struggled. A lot. But you showed me that we aren't bound by our family's sins. That I could hope and change and-" Kara feels the weight of the word on the tip of her tongue, rolls it around in her head another second and tastes the letters as they spill out for Lena to catch or watch shatter on the ground. "love. I met you, and I realized how deeply and fully I can love. I've lost so much, so many people, and I tend to be very protective of the love I share. But, I've learned that, despite what I've lost, the pain and the loneliness, I can love with my entire self. With all of who I am. With my heart, my body, and my soul. All that I am; all that I've experienced and will experience, everything. I can love through it and find strength in those who love me."

It was now Kara's turn to gently brush the fallen tears from Lena's cheek, one hand still holding firmly to Lena's hand on her chest.

"I've been drawn to you from the first day we met and every day after. I've never been able to fight it. Never wanted to, even when we were on opposites sides. I could never quite see through my love for you. Alex used to find it extremely frustrating, but I think she's finally come around."

Their watery laughs mingle together.

"You asked me once if I knew anything about quantum entanglement. I may know more about it than I admitted. And since that day, I haven't been able to think of you in any other way. I love you, but it isn't just that I love you. I am tethered to you, pulled across the universe to orbit you. The true source of my strength. I am entwined with you on a molecular level and in my soul. My parents sent me here to save me and to protect Kal, but something more, something bigger, maybe Rao himself, brought me to you."

Kara carefully absorbs Lena's body language, her stillness and continued silence. She seems to barely be breathing in the wake of the confession. The only sign Kara has that Lena is still listening is the furious pounding of her heartbeat reverberating through Kara's ears. Normally, even moments ago, the steady rhythm calms Kara, so much that she would take to flying over L-Corp during the past year just to hear the familiar sound. But now it leaves her uncertain and nervous. She fills the empty charged air with rambling, too anxious to wait for Lena to resume her normal functioning.

"I understand you might not feel the same, and after everything, I don't blame you. I mean, I did lie and then call you a villain and treat you pretty bad, so yeah." Kara trails off, cringing at the less than stellar stream of words her mouth chose. "So, um, if you don't want anything to change, then it doesn't have to. It won't. We can keep being friends and having game nights and movie nights. And you can obviously stay here as long as you need. I just, um, needed you to know how I feel."

The tide was open, and Kara couldn't find the ability to lock the flood gates on her mouth. Tears begin a fresh descent in the wake of her expelled anxiety.

"And I feel that I love you. That I am in love with you. I am in love with you, Lena."

Salt brines her lips, and her tongue tastes the clinging mineral as it slides out to wet them. Lena remains stoically still in her position pressed to Kara and swimming in her own trickle of tears. Kara notes the slowing of them, the crystalline droplets that drip from her jaw to the floor. She watches Lena's lips part and the quick flicker of her green eyes over Kara's face, landing first on her own blue eyes, then her nose, her cheeks, the scar above her eyebrow, before settling lower on her trembling lips.

She can't stand the limbo, the electric deja vu and mixture of fear and hope.

"Lena, please say something."

In reflection, Kara knows the moment, the span of seconds between her plead and Lena's reaction, only lasted the length of a heartbeat. But in the beat between her words and Lena's movement, Kara felt the weight of every loss she's suffered, every end. And every beginning. Every beautiful Earth sunrise and blossoming friendship. Anticipation swelled painfully behind her ribcage, her heart preparing to drop or soar.

In that moment, Lena held more power over Kara than any amount of Kryptonite ever could. With one second she could either crush Kara beneath one more disappointment and loss, or she could fuel Kara more powerfully than the yellow sun.

Kara's throat tenses with choking tears as she opens her mouth to withdraw every word to ever steal its way past her lips, but Lena blocks any hasty retreat half-formed with her own lips pressing firmly against Kara's. She pushes forward, bumping their noses and pressing her body impossibly closer, their hands still trapped between the mingling beats of their hearts.

Locked and entwined. Entangled over an invisible crest.

When her lips meet Kara's, soft but sure and insistent, Kara's mind blissfully silences but for the rapid fire pleasure of feeling and Lena. The burning desire in her chest spreading through her limbs and begging for more. More skin, more lips, more pressure. More Lena. All around her, flooding her senses until there's nothing left but the two of them.

It's everything and more than she imagined. Her nose fills with nothing but the sweet perfume Lena wears daily, and the lavender undertones of her own conditioner in Lena's hair. For once, the world quiets in Kara's hypersensitive ears, condensed to the sighs escaping Lena's mouth as she leans further into their kiss. And it's the taste that leaves Kara dazed and desperate for the next kiss. The fruity wine clinging to Lena's tongue and the underlying taste that is distinctly Lena. Unlike anything Kara has ever tasted and addictive from the first touch of Lena's tongue to her own.

They remain in their embrace, erasing any space that crept between them during their fighting and time apart. Even after breaking for air and resting their foreheads together, reveling in one another, they stay close. Kara can't fight the broad smile stretching across her face, and she hears Lena's matching grin in her words, reverently whispered in their shared breaths.

"And I love you, Kara. All of you. Always."

AO3 link

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #kara danvers #lena luthor

[tainted-wine]

This ask is referring to this.

(This mini fic feels like it’s all over the place. Just me enjoying some half-assed worldbuilding, I guess. I had to stop it before things got too heated because I promised myself to keep this one sfw and it’s already longer than intended. Like anon suggested, this is a fantasy AU with some Spartan inspiration. I thought it would be amusing if Hawks was the only 300-style warrior, while the rest wore more accurate and convenient armor.)

----------x----------

The avian people.

A winged race known for their impish behavior and irritating ability to swoop in on unfortunate groups and settlements, spreading mischief and fleeing before they can face any consequences. The many troubles they bring has given them a sour reputation among humankind, but the sudden appearance of a lone avian on the outskirts of the country might be enough to change our perspective. Perhaps they are more than devious opportunists…

 The feather moved.

You nearly tripped over your own feet when you noticed the slightest twitch of the red plume attached to the golden chain around your neck, placing a hand on the round curve of your stomach as you tried to balance yourself. Three long months—you prayed to the gods every day for both the life growing in your womb and the safety of its father.

You last saw your husband marching into battle with his head held high along with the rest of his comrades, men that scoffed at his very presence just three years ago, and probably still do, if you were to be honest. But he has earned the entire kingdom’s respect through his recent training, training that you all quickly learned wasn’t necessary.

The soldiers of this country were strong and experienced, there was no doubt about that, but they were also vastly outnumbered by the enemy forces. No matter what the proudest warrior tells you with complete confidence in their skill, numbers do matter in a battle.

The greedy kingdom that sought to rule the strong yet peaceful country you resided in was ruthless—they have taken the heads of several kingdoms’ finest warriors, and the less honorable ones surrendered and now fight under their command. Despite your spouse’s promises and reassurance, despite witnessing his amazing skills in combat firsthand, you still feared that victory was too far out of reach. It shames you to admit that you were already prepared to raise your child by your lonesome.

But then the feather moved again, this time briefly lifting off your chest before falling back down. So you weren’t seeing things.

“Miss! Please be careful!” Your maid rushed into the room when she saw you stumbling, gently holding you up. You were eternally grateful for the work she has put in caring for you and taking up some of your husband’s work. As your child grew and drained more of your energy, an extra pair of hands to take care of the house and errands was greatly appreciated.

You held onto her as you pushed through the sudden pains to reach the door. “He’s here! My necklace! They’ve returned!”

“Ah, finally! Of course they have,” she said calmly now that you weren’t in danger of falling. “I told you there was no need to worry. There are no other warriors in the world like ours,” she paused. “Well, assuming that not all avians are as gifted as your precious Keigo.”

You laughed softly. Keigo did tell you and many others that he was far from the only fighter in his homeland. Even after taking his hand in marriage, he refuses to reveal his reason for leaving his people, choosing to wander a land inhabited by humans who watched him with distrust. You have long since accepted his secretive nature.

Both of you pushed the door open and stepped outside, just in time to hear the bellow of a great horn, the sound traveling outside the city’s walls and up into the hills where your humble house stands. It wasn’t the most convenient location, but Keigo wanted to live on a higher spot, and you didn’t mind catering to his bird-like habits. Besides, waking up to soft breezes and birdsongs was much more pleasant than the bustling city.

Your maid kept a firm hold on your arm as you watched people rush through the streets and toward the gates, ready to welcome the brave men home. Your chest remained tightened. How many survivors were there? ‘It doesn’t matter,’ you selfishly thought. ‘Keigo is there. They won’t admit it, but he was the best out of all of them.’

“Don’t you even think of heading down there,” she was giving you a stern look that a mother would give a naughty child. “You’re still upholding your promise to stay close to home after falling ill so suddenly yesterday. I know you haven’t seen him in three months, but please be patient. You’ll be reunited soon.”

Your brooding may be responsible for the illness and pains that have been striking you more frequently, but frankly, if you were to ever collapse, you’d be more worried about the older woman’s heart than your own wellbeing. “Rest easy, I’m not going anywhere,” you promised her. “Besides, I’m quite certain that he’ll be coming to me very soon.”

“What? What do you mean? They need to answer to the king before they return to their families.”

“Yes, that’s what they’re expected to do...” You trailed off. There was an odd feeling in your gut, and it wasn’t the baby. It looked like everyone in the city has gathered in one giant mass, waiting for their heroes.

And then you saw him.

The gate was slowly opening, but something, someone has launched into the air and over the walls, and your heart lifted just as high. A man with a magnificent pair of crimson wings soared over each and every structure, heading up to the hills.

“Wh-H-He can’t do that! He’s ignoring the royal family’s wishes!” The poor maid was in a panic, but you were too stunned, too elated at the sight of your lover getting closer at an impossible speed.

The people of this kingdom have little exposure to non-human races. The simple sight of him dashing over the city and gracefully landing in front of you never failed to bring stars to your eyes. 

Keigo Takami was already removing his bronze helmet as he approached, shaking out his head of tousled blond locks. You weren’t expecting him to look so presentable upon his return—it looked as if he had time for a decent bath before his final march home.

His bare chest looked mostly unscathed, only a few cuts and small traces of bruises littering his skin. The warriors detested his refusal to wear his chest plate; he claimed that it would only weigh him down during flight. He also rejected their weapons and relied on his own feathers to serve as his spears and swords. They did decide to let him go without a cloak, his wings working well enough as a replacement. The armor on his shins was also added weight, but not enough for him to complain about to the exasperated warriors. He told you himself that the only reason he wears the helmet that obscures his sharp vision, is because he admittedly likes the red crest.

But the one piece of equipment that the small army did not allow Keigo to reject, no matter how many times he whined about its size and weight, was the shield. The shield is his promise to protect not only himself, but the entire line of his fellow comrades in the heat of battle. So he held his tongue and carried the huge monster of bronze and leather, complete with a unique design of a hawk with its wings flared out like a rising phoenix.  

You broke free of the maid’s grasp and rushed over to throw your arms around your beloved wanderer-turned-hero. He dropped his shield and helmet onto the soft earth (you can already hear his comrades screaming in horror) to hug you back gently, mindful of your belly that has grown so much during his time away. You took it all in—his warmth, his scent, the feeling of safety as his wings close around you—how badly you have missed his presence over the months hits you full force when he pulls back to bring you in for a kiss.

Amidst the heat and passion, you can hear the maid’s fumbled words as she excuses herself to head down to the city and welcome the others. You part from him before he steals the last of your breath, gazing into those friendly and playful golden orbs. You wondered how much deadlier those eyes looked when driving his red blades into any unfortunate opponents. His roughened, calloused fingers traced the lone feather hanging on your neck while you caressed his face.

His smooth and silky voice embraced both your ears and heart. “My beautiful bird.”

You never did come up with an affectionate little name for your foreign husband. “Keigo.”

He chuckled. “I hope you weren’t having any doubts while I was gone. No army in the world is going to keep me away from my mate for life.”

Mate. His choice of words was rather…barbarous sometimes. It took some time to adapt to your bed being the nest, or his excited talks of raising his very own flock. “You know that I can’t help but worry.”

“I know you’re strong, love, but don’t let your worry get to our chick,” he reminded you as his wings twitched. There was a serious shift in his face before he knelt down, touching your belly softly as his feathers shook.

Fear began to grip you. “Keigo? Is something wrong with the baby?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, taking another minute to listen carefully before looking up at you with a heartfelt smile. “Babies, love.”

Your eyes narrow…then widen in disbelief. “Twins?”

He nodded along with his flapping wings. “Two tiny hearts...I can feel them. These wings are never wrong.”

You didn’t know it was possible to feel even more joy, but you find yourself pulling him back up for another kiss. Two children to raise with your lover who returned from a war against a seemingly endless army. What did you do to please the gods and receive such a blessing?

“You know,” you said against his lips. “You should be on your way to the castle. The king-”

“Can wait,” he interrupted before attacking your lips with more quick pecks. “I appreciate how much this place has tolerated me. Despite how annoyed you all were the moment I arrived, no one ever forced me out, and I am truly grateful. But don’t think this ‘no good avian’ is going to become some all-noble knight just because he fought a million men to protect his home. I’m just showing my gratitude.”

You laughed into his face. “You really don’t want your reputation as a freeloading trickster to change? The royal family might have an incredible reward for you. For us.”

“Hmm, and what could they have in store for me? Free poultry for as long as I live?”

“Keigo,” you shook your head lightly, trying not to interrupt his lips.

“Too demanding? How about a discount on every purchase for as long as I live? Doesn’t that sound great?” He rubbed your stomach as his kisses trailed down to your jaw. “Don’t you want our chicks to have all the meat they deserve? So that they can grow into powerful birds of prey just like their father?”

His mouth reached your neck, and things were getting more heated than anticipated when his hot mouth closed over the flesh above your pulse. “Ah…” You gasped.

“Want to know what else I’ve been missing?” You can feel the naughty smirk curling against your throat. “I hope your stamina hasn’t lessened, little bird.”

You want to laugh at how he’s thinking about getting intimate already, but the licks against your sensitive skin are making it hard to resist. “Is your crazed lust another avian trait, or is it just you?” Your fingers tangled in his locks, urging him to keep going.

“Mmm, we’re not as anal about suppressing our urges.” A hand cups one of your tender breasts and gives it a soft squeeze. “Before you met me, did you ever expect to fuck your man so many times? Isn’t it liberating?”

The crude word spreads warmth somewhere lower. “We make love, Keigo.”

“Some nights, we do. Those louder and rougher nights, when I have you screaming through those shy hands covering your mouth? We’re fucking.”

Something was poking you down there, and that was your cue to move this indoors. “Clearly you have too much energy left from your glorious battles.” You motioned for him to pick up his gear before walking back to the house. “Now come inside.”

He grinned and licked his lips. “That’s where I always-”

“Keigo.”

#asks #hawks #i might touch this world again sometime #no promises of course

[drabbles-of-writing]

Please gush more about this wings AU thing

aaaAAAAAA sir you’ve opened the floodgates

K so most things are similar to canon? But there’s wings and that’s fun. Luz is just a common lil house sparrow, nothing particularly special about her. Eda, on the other hand, is a whole melting pot. Hybrids between different species are a thing, but the thing is, the hybrid traits show up in color and mannerisms of said bird. Wing shape sticks to only one specific species. Eda got the owl gene, but has a mess of other birds in her, too. She’s got raven (shiny things), cardinal, scarlet tanager, vulture, probably goose, and many others. Lilith was given the raven wing shape, which added to the reason on why she dyed her hair, so she can at least look like a pureblood.

Willow was pretty easy, hummingbirds fit her Aesthetic. But she’s also Buff, and I thought it’d be funny if she was a giant hummingbird, since those bad boys are, as far as I know, bigger than house sparrows. Gus was a little more difficult. I wanted a small bird, but I didn’t know which. Then I looked up the white-breasted nuthatch and found that 1. they are very loud. 2. they will fight bigger birds. So obviously I had to go with that. Gus is babey but he is loud and he will fight. probably a bit of a mix with chickadee or finch in there somewhere, too. A fast bird just seemed to fit Amity. But I wanted a fast but dainty-ish bird, not like a hawk or eagle. She was almost a gyrfalcon, but mutuals thought an american kestrel would fit her better. They are tiny, they are fast, and they are babey. Mattholomule was obvious. Shrikes are assholes. That’s just how it is. Boscha gave off the vibe of a bird of prey who would destroy me. But parrots could also bite my face off without blinking so I went with pretty and deadly. Lovebirds have a color similar to Boscha and also her being a bird with that name was funny so I chose it. Skara as a songbird was obvious, she’s in the bard track after all. So a nightingale was inevitable. Simple feathers, but with a beautiful voice. Viney,,,,,,honestly I just thought of birds that hang around other animals and came up with Oxpecker. She’s also probably a bit of a melting pot with dove, egret, and a couple different starlings. Jerbo is tall. Secretary birds are tall. Enough said. Belos was almost a bearded vulture, but I decided against it. I decided “let’s give him the biggest wings imaginable. simply because I can” so I chose the wandering albatross, the bird with a wingspan of twelve feet. Yeah, they’re thin, but these guys can also fly for a really long time, and idk, I thought the threat of that looked interesting.

In this AU, the rich don’t really,,,,fly. Flying, in the high-class, is seen as too much work. People who don’t fly are seen as powerful because they have better things to do, or they simply have no need for it. This has led to a couple of high-folk simply,,,,,not knowing how to fly. Also a lot of wing muscle issues. The twins can fly, not well, but they can fly. Amity, on the other hand.....can’t. At all. Of course, nobody else knows this. Choosing not to fly is one thing, but not knowing how is a disgrace. 

Luz is a different story. She uses her wings all the time, which helps strengthen them. It’s not just because she flies often, but because she is constantly moving them. She uses them as extra hands to push and pull things, she flaps them excitedly and hovers an inch or two off the ground when excited, she hangs them when she’s tired or sad, she flares them when she’s mad, and she just moves them around when she talks or is showing off something. She simply cannot hold them still. Which is fine for her, since sparrow wings are small and thin, but for Eda, who also moves her wings a lot, it’s a hassle. It’s a common occurrence for something to fall over in the Owl House because neither of these two can hold still.

Also, they have more than just wings. That’s some weak shit right there. They’ve got tails, patches of feathers, can make chirps similar to their species, if their species has crests of feathers or a certain piece of feather(s) that stands out, it shows up. Along with dots of color if it stands out. Peacocks have those three frills on their heads plus faint whites around their eyes, turkeys have those dangly things I’m too lazy to look up the name of, and sometimes the size of the bird affects a person's height. The whole sha bam. It’s hell for Eda, who’s a blend of at least 5 different birds. What surprise will today bring? Who knows!

There’s also of course, accessories and fashion for wings. Jewelry, ribbons, scarves and silk that can be pinned or pierced on wings and sometimes tails. Of course, the rich have the most lavish, but the prettier ones are usually very heavy and weigh down flight near completely. And trying to fly with ribbons or silk around wings is difficult, and can tangle and cause birds to crash. In fact, some types of silk or techniques for fashioning wings are banned or heavily mandated due to the hazards and accidents that occur. Fake feathers are also a thing, usually for those who want their wings to look more grand, hide knives in their wings, or, recently, to hide clipped wings. Binding wings are also a thing, though they are typically only for prisoners or for people with such big/broken wings that they can’t keep them closed properly. These are usually covers that wrap around the entire abdomen to keep the wings shut, but for people who don’t want others to know they need them binded, there are thin strings that stretch across the backs of wings that hold them shut or up at a certain angle. Some people put painful pricks right underneath their scapulars to keep their wings at a regal posture. There are also piercings. Some are rings, some are simply nubs. A common piercing is to piercing the base and tip of the membrane and hang a thin chain between the two. Emperor Belos has a tradition of stabbing hooks through the membrane of prisoners and hanging them by their wings alone before they are to be petrified. 

There’s also a little unofficial tradition with gifting feathers. A person will pluck a feather from their wings (sometimes tails but that’s more uncommon) and give it to someone. The more important the feather, the more you mean to someone. It’s not inherently romantic, it’s more of a way you show you care about someone, but it can be. Scapular (base feathers) and primary feathers are the important ones. They’re the feathers that are the closest to said person or their the feathers that are required for flight, they’re usually shown off with pride when they’re gifted to someone. Often a simple string with the single feather on it, but earrings and bracelets are also used. 

Luz has a necklace each from her friends and family. She has a primary feather from her mother, a primary and scapular feather from Eda, a primary covert from Willow, and a secondary covert from Gus. She would later get a secondary feather from Amity that would eventually be replaced with a primary feather. She keeps them all on one necklace in her room and switches them up every now and again. Sometimes she’ll wear only one feather, sometimes she’ll wear a few, or all at once. There’s no particular pattern, she just wears what she wants to that day. 

The grom note in Enchanting Grom Fright is replaced with Amity wanting to give someone a marginal covert feather (she was going to go with scapular but decided that might be too much). Luz going with her to grom coincides with her gifting a secondary feather to Amity, and Amity gifting the same type back. Amity kept that feather with her at near all-times as a necklace she hides under her shirt. A secondary and primary covert feather from Willow and Gus respectively would soon join Luz’s every now and again.

Luz would also teach Amity how to fly, once she realizes that Amity can’t. Course it’s in secret, nobody can know that Amity Blight can’t fly, but Willow and Gus do show up to help. Thing is, it hurts. Amity has barely used her wings in fourteen years. Her parents always made her hold them at a certain angle and she could barely express herself with them. They were more like large pieces of jewelry than anything. So when first learning to fly, she has to stop after only ten minutes, because her wings hurt. They ache and cramp and she’s convinced it’s too late for her to learn how to fly, her wings simply aren’t used to it. Luz, not one to back out on her word, basically becomes a coach instructor. Once a week she drags Amity off into a clearing where nobody else is and basically chucks her into the sky (stronk wings). And after a while, Amity’s able to go longer while gliding or warming up her wings. Ten minutes becomes fifteen, then twenty, then thirty, and suddenly, she can go over an hour practicing without getting tired. And you better believe she shows off to Willow and Gus. Maybe even Lilith a little bit during training, though that’s mostly on accident. Races, of course, happen a lot. 

I’m already ramblin’ a lot and I do wanna write this eventually, so I’ll stop here for now. But know that there are romantic flights, Amity’s parents do not like the ‘common species,’ wings can be clipped, Eda is not immune to wing injury, and Barcus is trying to avoid all the bird drama, unsuccessfully.

#asks #the owl house #toh #wing au #luz noceda #luz #amity blight #amity #jerbo #viney #eda clawthorne #eda #lilith clawthorne #lilith #willow park #willow #gus porter #gus #emperor belos #belos #mattholomule #skara #boscha #owl #sparrow #kestrel #lovebird #nightingale #raven #hummingbird

[develation]

SCP AU

So @emeraldtrainer1 (Ao3), @writingforfunandbecauseboredom (Ao3), and DarkstarWolf53 (<-Dunno if they have Tumblr) did an SCP AU three-way Convo fic some months ago. I really enjoyed the outline and concept and asked if I could expand on it. With their permission and about a month of research into what the actual SCP Foundation is (and holy cow there is so much, no wonder people are all over this) I've finally managed to get a start on this. There is a decent amount of things that are different from their original Convo (via their permission) but it will basically follow the same storyline that they created. Please go check their Convo out, it's a very long and fun read with a lot of good fluff and Angst mixed in.

I will hopefully be drawing some of my designs soon but for now, writing seems to be the way to go. Here is a link to it on Ao3 -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/33213928/chapters/82464553

I'll also have it below in case you would like to read it on Tumblr instead.

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Error: (The End Of All But Me.) There are too many unworldly traits that spiders have that I couldn't just not give to Error, so I've kind of combined their Puppetmaster concept to my design. He has 4 arms with clawed fingertips, his tail is prehensile and his jaw can split open. He has 5 tongues still, 2 of them are spear-like, and can shoot out and impale victims. The saliva produced under the tips of the barbs on the two tongues can liquidity a prey items insides so he can drink them up (still a clean freak, using the skin as a cup and drinking up any mess leaving a skin bag behind). His other three tongues are prehensile and can extend to an unknown length, they are barbed aswell but do not carry the venomous saliva. Strings wrap along his bones from his eye sockets, which he uses to create a nest atop the ceiling of his cell.

SCP-002's (Apollyon class) cell is a blank room (it ask for a TV later on) that goes up vertically 2 floors. The top half is required to be shrouded in darkness as it likes voids of either white or black. It has filled the darkness of its cell with a nest of strings that it spends all of its time in, even when feeding. It does not attempt to attack staff, when asked why it replied with, "Not yet." Personal have not been able to decipher what it means by that statement. In an interview via speakers and mics within containment cell, it was asked why SCP-002 stares off at seemingly nothing for extended periods of time and never touches the ground. Subject responded with, "Busy." When asked what it was busy doing- "Watching." When asked what it was watching- "The world. Everything." Due to this experience, it can be concluded that 002 can view any place in the world and perhaps beyond via "screens". These "screens" are unviewable to anyone but 002 and 001 as the latter SCP had called them so, hence their given name. SCP-002 has a strange relationship with SCP-001 and it can not be determined if 002 likes or dislikes 001.

Ink created Error on accident. In the beginning, Ink didn't know what he was doing, and the brutality of Earth's natural forces of destruction were uncontrollable. If he wanted to bring life to his chosen planet he needed a way to control the chaos. And so through the storm, a new force was born. And even if Ink didn't create it, he did wish for it.

Error is a ticking time bomb for extinction. He waits and watches until he decides it's time for a "spring cleaning" and starts his work. The Ordovician, Late Devonian, Permian, Triassic, and Cretaceous mass extinctions were all him. He deemed the human race ready for a "cleaning" a long time ago and Ink agreed with him, ready to see and make something new. But Nightmare threatened the both of them by stating that he would make the earth forever inhabitable and they would have to kill him before he stoped his rage. Nightmare fears that if another extinction event were to occur he'd lose his boys.

Ink: (God doesn't care about what's right or what's wrong. God just wants to watch interesting things happen.) His form is always changing, different traits from different animals and organisms he's created. Ink is basically Gaia. Born when Theia crashed into Earth around 4.5 billion years ago, he made everything that ever existed. Since he's made A LOT of organisms he has a ton of favorites and the traits from them are what mostly show up when he mutates. Sometimes it's Kaprosuchus with belonged snout and fangs. Sometimes it's Tylosaurus with its marine reptilian posterior. Sometimes it's Chital Deer and their antlers. More often than not though, his tail has consistently stated having bristle-like hair at the tip of it, which is basically his brush. The concept of paintbrushes is pretty new to him since the human race has been around for a short time compared to other species, so while he does have one, his tail is his broomie. If his next from doesn't have it then he just uses his hands and his blood.

Ink can't be contained. It's that simple, he just can't. He just sticks around because it's interesting and hilarious to see his creations so intelligent but so stupid. (remember how humans are still young in terms of Earth's age, so the fact that they're so smart... on a thought level that could almost match his own is so very interesting to see and watch. even if there ruining his planet.) The SCP foundation just has to let him do his thing and hope that he doesn't override 003's and 004's decision to not have an extinction event.

His cell is basically a mini-ecosystem, with all of his favorite organisms living within whether they are extinct or not. He loves his little sample of the world and it keeps him in his cell for a good amount of time so the foundation let him have it. If any of them even touch what is HIS without permission then he rips them apart and feeds them to the baby Rhamphorhynchus. Don't touch his babies.

...Cross though... he can touch his babies... and Dream... and maybe Error... That's it though!

SCP-001 (Apollyon Class) is a being older than all living things, despite his toddler-like mannerisms. Even more infuriating, within an interview, 001 openly admitted to being the cause of all SCP's and their anomalous effects. It stated that they were all just mistakes and/or experiments, testing the limits of their own abilities. 001's quoted response- "You don't get it do you? I made everything here! All of your little "SCP's" are just of my creation as all of you. Sure there all mistakes but, it just proves my point that it's time to start over again. A clean slate y'know? Pfft- wow you look mad! If it makes you feel any better, I don't like most of them either. They were cool at first but... it's like flicking black paint over a finished painting. Sure, you can try to get over it but eventually, it will just bother you so much that you just can't stand it! Well... I do kinda want some of them to stay... If I could just convince Ru..." -shows evidence to this conclusion. Termination trials were approved by the 05 Council, though have not been able to start since 001's creation of a barrier around its cell, preventing entry of anything that tries to pass.

[Note: Error, Dream, and Nightmare are not included in what Ink views as "mistakes". Y'know when you're trying something new and you don't know what you’re doing, yet it works somehow. That's them, happy accidents. Ink adores them.]

Ink finds the attempt of Termination trials on him to be absolutely hilarious. The fact that humanity's insecurity about their lifespan and control is so great that they'd try to KILL HIM. Amazing. He can't believe he's managed to make the simultaneously best and worst organism ever.

Dream: (When day breaks.)  Again he was accidentally created by Ink’s actions in an intense solar storm. The flare drifting over the earth in combination with Ink’s magic still working to bring life brought him to existence. Dream’s design is almost harpy-like, with beautiful golden, sun-like wings with a small feathery crest atop his skull. Two tail-like feathers sprout from the crest that can rise up and down depending on expression and mood. He also has bird feet and legs, and a tail.

Dream adores all life, his is the warmth and growth of the sun (original form being a ball of light and plasma that literally looks like a mini sun). He is basically like a piece of the sun on earth. His cell is kinda like Ink’s, only in the fact that there are just a couple of animal species. Some deer, birds, and insects mainly. Ink obviously just appeared in his cell one day and made it for him. While Dream could be considered to be a Safe SCP, his ability to damage or completely ruin the planet if inraged prevents that classification.

SCP-003 (Apollyon Class) has proven to be a relatively docile creature. It is elegant in nature (like that of a bird) and shows greater empathy towards all life in general. Unlike SCP’s 001, 002, and 004 who view it as more interesting and admirable, more like a pretty crystal than an actual being with its own consciousness. 003 can not be fully contained and has shown the ability to travel through light rays. Its aura has also shown to be some form of anesthesia, and exposure for prolonged periods causes victims to feel more at peace and calm. 003 does have the capability to travel through the “dreamscape”, what exactly that in tails is unknown.

Dream doesn’t agree with the extinction event thing because the Holocene period hasn’t lasted for nearly as long as it should. On the other hand, he does distaste humanity/monsterkind for all it has done to the planet. Even so, he feels like they deserve more of a chance.

Nightmare: (Does the Black Moon howl?)(Death) Complete with the theme of being Dreams opposite, Nightmare was born from a black moon and the combination of Ink’s magic bringing life to the earth. He isn’t an evil force or anything, just the night to the day. His design is pretty true to OG nightmare, although his legs and feet share the same digitigrade format. His tentacles are more ghostly than slimy and they drip upwards instead of towards the ground. His bones also have a ghost;y wisp to them, but it isn’t that noticeable. Instead of only having a turquoise glint in his magic, there are sparks of purple aswell. (His original form being a black sphere of what looks like smoke).

His cell is basically an entrance to a cave system that Ink had made for him. Inside is a galaxy of crystals and gemstones that glow and sparkle like the night sky. A small stream runs through, the light refracting off of the water, adding to the glow effect. It is a nice calm place for Nightmare to just chill in, his separate own little world.

Nightmare is kind of mysterious, in the realm of Error in which he likes to watch things happen. Just lurking in the shadows, a quiet observer. Though, he wasn’t as fascinated by life as the others. So to prevent his boredom Ink made him a present- Killer. Nightmare hated the little thing at first but it didn’t take too long to grow fond of the little guy. Not too long later Ink pronounced his joy in watching Nightmare sigh in frustration by sending 2 more bundles his way -Dust and Horror- and Nightmare had to threaten Ink to stop before any more joined the fray.

SCP-004 (Apollyon Class) is an entity whose intentions are completely unknown. A mysterious being that chooses to dwell in the cave system 001 made for it. The entity refuses to interact with personal unless in interview. And when it does respond, it does so in riddles and metaphors. It seemingly takes joy asking more questions than the interviewer, turning the conversation in its favor. On such question that has been repeated multiple times - “Does the Black Moon howl?” has puzzled personal. Though 004 states that if answered correctly and explained why, then it will share its secrets with that person and that person only.

004 proves to be uncontainable like its counterparts, able to travel through shadows. SCP’s 012, 032, and 024 seem to be “followers” of 004, and regularly go missing from their cells. Most likely 004’s doing.

[Ink created Killer, Dust, and Horror during the era where dinosaurs were still alive, so they have some traits from them.]

Killer: (War) Was created by Ink for Nightmare to keep him entertained. Killer was born as a baby in Ink’s very hands, a little skeleton with curved blades for hands and digitigrade legs and feet (and little quills on his back). Growing up under Nightmare’s care was an interesting experience, but he thought Kill’s everything he needed to know.

-[SCP-012, Keter]-

Killer is fast, very fast. And he enjoys killing things (what a surprise). He’s pretty much the same cocky boi as always. His more SCP side is that he doesn’t seem to ever feel pain and the black liquid that leaks through his eyes. That can be used as a type of venomous toxin to whatever he pleases.

Dust: (Pestilence) You know Epidexipteryx and Therizinosaurus? Those are Dust hands, long with even longer claws. He can also turn into literal dust, more of a phantom or wraith in nature. He can walk through walls, and turn others to dust and grow himself if he wishes.

He and Horror could be twins since Ink made them both at the same time. Holding his little creations in his arms as they wriggled and whined in confusion at suddenly being alive.

-[SCP-032, Keter]-

Dust is pretty quiet and tame. He has his episodes but he stays pretty much the same as bookwrym’s, writing’s, and Dark’s Dust.

Horror: (Famine) Since Horror is a vent crawler I based his design on that. Horror’s second set of arms are like a praying mantis with an extra joint, hands serrated blades almost like Killer’s. He used to sit in trees and wait for prey to walk underneath him, plucking them from the ground with his long arms and eating them alive.

Same thing when in vents, just waits over the openings and plucks a person off of the ground and into the vent (if personal don’t keep up with his feeding times)

-[SCP-024, Euclid]-

Other than his design Horror is pretty much the same as bookwyrm’s, writing’s, and Dark’s concept.

Outer: [SCP-044, Safe] His stardust makes him have luminescent galaxy and star patterns on his bones. He floats regularly without control over it and can sometimes make other objects float, in rare cases people, aswell. Ink made him a jacket where pieces of its hood and aglets float off like a sort of fluffy foam. The pieces orbit him like planets to a star before joining back, making a continuous cycle.

(And yes writingforFUN, he will still keep his anime sparkling eyelight’s).

Cross: [SCP-00X, Thaumiel] Was created by Dr. X to help contain and terminate Keter SCP’s. Being forced to kill his brother when he turned Keter, not completely in control of his actions. Dr. X’s “programing” making him see his brother no longer as such, just an object to be eliminated. When Cross became uncontrollable Dr. X put wiped his memory without the 05’s or administers permission and an MTF was sent after him that came back empty-handed. Cross was brought back soon enough and had his memory wiped.

They bring him back in as a staff member and that’s when the story kicks off, mostly following bookwyrm’s, writingforFUN, and Dark’s original outline/convo.

(I apologize for any typos)

#undertale au #scp au #writing

[arcxnumvitae]

@dracones continued from here

He had only had the briefest of seconds to prepare himself for whatever Locke would throw at him. Only a few seconds to attempt to throw up the usual shield. Scorn, hatred, contempt, he had long since grown used to such emotions levelled at him, ever since he first dragged himself across the threshold of what would become his home, thoughts screaming with the pain and rejection that he had just faced. Zhaohui knew that he needed to harden his heart against whatever Locke was feeling towards him-- contempt, or even outright hatred for his actions. 

Stupid him, he had grown far too used to the other man’s sweet gestures, grown too soft so quickly when shown even a scrap of kindness. For the first time in years, millennia, Locke had looked at him as if-- as if he were someone who was whole. Not the broken, fragmented mess that he truly was, or the dragon who had brought shame and dishonor to his kind. He hadn’t been “the ill omen” during those nights under the stars, only...Zhaohui. He really was an idiot to have let himself grown comfortable with that. 

The moment red eyes catch the blur of movement towards him, he steeled himself. He may not be able to guard his heart in time, but whatever physical blow Locke decided to give him...well, he would accept it. Physical pain at least, he was old friends with. 

But no real pain came. Instead, the same gentle, familiar touch brushed through his hair, and coupled with the grip that clutched at him, the dragon’s thoughts slowly began to grind to a halt. 

A--a hug? Locke was...hugging him? But why? But there was no denying the firm presence against him, the heat that radiated outwards or the scent of ash that had always followed the other dragon wherever he went. Except now, Locke was shaking. Or maybe that was him, he could no longer tell anymore.

The words the other spoke brushed across his ears, somehow miraculously penetrating the trance-like stupor that the man had seem to fallen into. Each word spoken so plainly and openly, just like Locke, was its own jab to his heart and harkening back to that first moment. Locke, wrapped in his cloak and waiting who knew how long for him, looking up upon his arrival with the light of the sunrise cresting over them, and so simply asking him ‘why didn’t he come that night’. So earnest. So genuine. So good.

Why was he touching him so gently? Why didn’t he hate him?

Silence stretched from the man throughout the entirety of Locke’s words though honestly, he wasn’t certain he would be able to form any words in response even if he had attempted so. Yet, it was those final words, that final declaration, that finally pulled a reaction from the dragon-- the smallest intakes of breath--  as the world seemed to still around him. For a moment, he was certain that he must have heard him incorrectly, he must have. Because there was no way that someone like him could possibly-- with him--.

“L-Locke,” finally Zhaohui managed to croak out the single word, a stunned gaze, pupils slit, meeting his. Panic flared, those sweet touches, the gentle brush across his hand, the endearment that stole his breath away, he was too good for him. Too good too good too good too good-- 

This time it was his hands that moved to clasp the other’s as an insisting light shone in the man’s wide-eyed gaze. “L-Listen to me. Sometimes, what we think we may want does not necessarily mean that it is what is best for us. Or...” his hold tightened, “sometimes we go into something thinking that it may be one thing, but really it isn’t. Or it comes with,” he choked a little on the word, “unexpected caveats.”

It was all very simple, it was the basic commandment that had guided his life-- other people were good, he was not. Maybe once he could have been, but whoever that person had been had died in agony under a weathered roof crying out fruitlessly for his gods. He knew his place in the world, and he knew that where Locke resided was far from it.

“If you thought one thing of me, but then it turned out that another was true--” He would have to watch that kindness dim. If Locke were to one day look upon him with the same eyes that everyone else had, if he had allowed himself to be surrounded with that warmth only to find himself in the cold yet again-- Zhaohui’s voice continued in a devastated whisper, “I would not be able to bear it.”

#dracones #{Zhaohui Threads #PHEW A BEAST OF MY OWN #the hand kisses alone nearly drove Zhaohui insane-- me as well #man #man oh man #there's a /lot/ going on here #but it's all the usual stuff I've talked about with Zhaohui before-- that fear of accepting something that makes him happy just to lose it #and that feeling that he's way too awful a person to be tainting Locke's goodness #all of these gentle touches though my gosh he's going crazy he's going to ~shatter to pieces ~ #long post

[zrtranscripts]

Season 9, Mission 1: Cry For Help

Security breach detected

~

[alarm blares, crowd of soldiers rushes around in response]

GENERAL BAKARI: [over intercom] Dispatch is green, green, green. I repeat, this is General Bakari reporting from guard station 39. Security breach detected on my monitor. Access violation at east loading hangar. Full response dispatch is green, green, green.

[gate slams, crowd noise dissipates, alarm continues, GENERAL BAKARI approaches 555]

Sorry about the din, soldier. Hell of an alarm on the base. I know you're wondering why I asked you here. It's 555, isn't it? That nickname of yours. After your service number, I assume. 639555 is a bit of a mouthful.

I've noticed you're a quiet one, soldier. Always liked that about you. We haven't spoken much, but I haven't forgotten saving your squad from those mountain bandits. You owe me, and everyone says you're the honorable type. I need a favor. I want you to take something to the transmitter tower on the west side of Red Scorpion base. It's a portable data drive. I'll explain more when you're en route.

You know what security's like in the complex, soldier. If anyone gets caught out of place, it's shoot first, shoot second. Neither of us is cleared to access the tower, so this has to be done on the QT. I've set off a fake alarm to keep all the guards busy on the other side of Red Scorpion base. I'd go myself, 555, but I'm an old man with a bad leg, and the fake alert can't last.

I've reviewed your performance logs. You're faster than me. This is essential business, soldier. Trust me, lives are on the line. Head down that corridor toward the west side hangar door. I'll be on your comms set guiding you. We have to be fast, before someone clocks the false alarm. Run!

~

[alarm blares, drone whirs]

GENERAL BAKARI: Don't worry about the camera drone overhead, 555. I've commandeered it so I can follow you. Keep going through the storage bay past the metal crates. [running footsteps] Duck behind the crates, quickly!

FIRST SOLDIER: Three more storage bays to go.

SECOND SOLDIER: [speaks foreign language]

THIRD SOLDIER: Keep those eyes open, people.

GENERAL BAKARI: Six soldiers across the bay from you. Must be a stray patrol in the area. [a soldier whistles, running footsteps fade away] They're moving on. Keep going straight, soldier, quick sharp.

You know, 555, I'd rather not be doing this. Breaking the rules. Before I was here, I was in the UK for a long time. Had children there, of sorts. Jane and Tom. Adopted them after their parents died. I did my best to rear them. There was a lot of trial and error, I admit. They turned out difficult, disruptive. Got me in trouble with a local government, left me needing to flee the country.

This place seemed like the perfect escape. Isolated, secure, nothing unauthorized in or out. A bastion of routine willing to take an old soldier. At least, willing to take one with knowledge of certain UK research programs.

[sighs] It's been a sanctuary. I wish I could leave it undisturbed, but there's something here that needs to get out into the world. The thumb drive I've given you holds an encrypted message. Link it to the base's comm tower and the message will upload and send. The tower's just beyond the west hangar door outside the compound, but once you're there...

[gates rattle shut]

Damn! All the base exits are locking down. New orders from the head of security. The west hangar's been secured, 555. We need an alternative route. Stay calm! There's a fire exit near your position, needs to be locked manually. You can reach it before anyone else. Opens to the wrong part of the base. No choice. Down the stairs on your right, run!

~

[gate rattles open, alarm fades]

GENERAL BAKARI: That's it, soldier, you're out of the main compound and into the open. I've got my drone hovering nearby. Hell of a view, isn't it? Sand stretching off in every direction. It's easy to forget how alone we are out here, just a fence around a few gray buildings, surrounded by miles of empty nothing.

SOLDIER: Over here!

GENERAL BAKARI: Uh-oh.

SOLDIER: This way.

GENERAL BAKARI: That sounds like... Let me check my security feeds. Damn! Using the fire door triggered an automatic fire alert. The base knows someone's active in that area. Patrols are honing in. Look at that big greenhouse on your left, soldier. Guards are coming from that way. Turn right, 555. See the field of solar panels? Damn bright, aren't they? Reflecting sunlight like flares. Head towards them. The glare'll keep anyone from making visual contact. That's it, keep your eyes on the ground. There's dozens of those panels. Get lost in them.

Marvelous things, solar cells. Had to learn their workings to help Thomas with his homework once. Poor boy. Good at taking orders, but could be slow sometimes. Often ran afoul of bullies, needed someone to look after him.

SOLDIER: Triple check the area. Sweep for movement.

GENERAL BAKARI: The guards are searching the area you just left. Two squads. Stay low. If you can sneak across the solar field, the tower is nearby. [exosuits whir] Hell! The troops are using motion trackers. They've detected you. And those are fire team mechs, fully powered exosuits with heavy gun turrets. They're breaking out the anti-zom gear. That's not good.

It's okay, 555. One thing I learned from children: always be ready to improvise. Cut northeast across the solar field toward the stellar observatory. You know, the building that looks like a golf ball on its tee? You can lose the soldiers there. They won't fire on you in the panels. Go!

~

GENERAL BAKARI: That's it, soldier. You're in the observatory foyer. You'll see a steel staircase leading up to a second floor balcony. Take it now. [footsteps on stairs] They won't be able to fit the exosuits through the observatory entrance. You know how strict Red Scorpion base is about protecting equipment. That just leaves the troops on foot. [soldiers shout]

All right, 555. You've crested the stairwell. The troops are crowding through the entrance behind you. Throw a grenade. Aim it for the middle of the stairs. Trust me, do it! [grenade pin clinks, grenade explodes, soldiers scream, stairs shatter] Good job! The explosion scrapped the stairs. The soldiers are scattering. That'll buy time. Head along the balcony through the double doors ahead.

[doors open and close] I've had to pull my drone back, 555. The soldiers might have noticed it. It's funny, most of them don't even know what they're really protecting here, just following orders. You should be in a large domed room with a mounted telescope in the middle. Go to the leftmost control panel and hit the green switches. [switches click] The switches will open up the observatory dome. [walls roll open] Head to the seam where the dome walls are parting.

SOLDIER: Stop them! [other soldiers shout]

GENERAL BAKARI: Damn! The guards found another stairwell. Get right up to the opening, 555, and look down over the edge. You'll see the observatory building beneath you. There's a metal maintenance gantry wrapped around it. Jump down onto the gantry, go! [boots clatter on gantry] You're down, good. The gantry spirals around the building. Follow it to the ground. You'll end up a short way north of the transmitter tower. The soldiers have reached the telescope room. They'll be coming down after you. Get down the gantry, then bolt south. You'll see the tower. Fast as you can, go!

~

GENERAL BAKARI: I've got you on camera, soldier. You're nearly there. See the transmitter up ahead? Looks like a huge radio antenna, doesn't it? You've performed incredibly today, 555. I want you to know this was essential. We are reaching out for help. Red Scorpion base is keeping secrets that must get out.

All right, you're at the tower. There's a touch screen on its base. Plug in the thumb drive, then hit upload. [computer beeps] You're probably wondering where this message is going, 555. I admit I'd rather not be reaching out to the UK, but I don't have anywhere else to turn.

It was my father who first got me into the service. He taught me what it means to be a soldier. You've got to have a code. Country, honor, family, hope. A soldier fights for all these things with whatever means they have. Damn fool wouldn't give up his cigars. Cancer got him, throat and lungs. Pneumonia finished him off. The way he just withered... He wouldn't have been proud. He didn't go out in uniform

[computer beeps] Ah, message uploading. It'll take a few minutes to send. Don't worry, soldier, I have an extraction planned for you. [soldiers shout, fire guns] The guards are catching up. Head to the southeast corner of the perimeter fence, fast as you can. I can get you out from there. Run!

~

GENERAL BAKARI: That's the way, 555. Keep following the barbed wire fence straight forward. I have a lot of respect for you, 555. You do your uniform proud. It means something special, a uniform. My father taught me that. It means being part of a whole greater than yourself, joining others to be strong enough to serve. You've served well, soldier, but I couldn't let them catch you near the transmitter. They might have found the message.

[over intercom] Attention, this is General Bakari, level three security adjunct. Emergency update to follow.

[over headset] I hope you understand, 555. Once the message is broadcast, the drive will wipe the data logs. Your mission is complete, and that's what really matters.

[over intercom] Source of security breach confirmed as soldier 63955, currently at perimeter fence southeast corner. Target is absconding with base secrets.

[alarm blares, soldiers shout]

[over headset] Put the gun down, soldier. You don't want to fight your own. It's okay to run, it'll look more convincing. I know this is a hard pill to swallow, but you're going out a hero. That message could save countless lives. We may not have ended on good terms, especially Janine and me, but I know the De Lucas well. They won't turn down a cry for help when there are innocents at stake.

[over intercom] 63955 is confirmed armed and extremely dangerous. Terminate on sight.

[over headset] That corner's a dead end, 555. Nowhere to go. I salute you, soldier. You've done our countries proud.

[armed patrol approaches]

SOLDIER: Open fire.

[gunfire]

GENERAL BAKARI: [very faint, over intercom] This is Bakari. Target down. Security breach resolved. All troops return to patrol positions. Repeat, return to patrol positions.

AUTOMATED VOICE: Data upload complete. Message tag: to Abel Township. Beginning transmission. Beginning transmission. Beginning transmission...

~

#zombies run #zrs9 #s9m1 #zr transcript #zrs9 spoilers

[harrylee94]

The Tournament - Chapter 2

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: “You doubt my skills, ser?”

“I doubt your attention,” came the reply. “Boys like you don’t deserve the privilege of serving men like me, you should be stepped on, like the dirt you are.”

Notes: I can't believe I wrote this in one day... This never happens, I swear.

Chapter 1

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shall I take care of your horse, ser?" - Cobb

“Stable boy! Come tend my horse!”

Cobb paused in his sweeping, hands curling tighter around the handle of his broom as the voice barged through the stalls and disturbed some of the other inhabitants. He knew that voice. He knew it far better than he’d ever wanted to. It belonged to a so-called knight, one who was of a similar age to himself; Ser Jaonar. Ser Jaonar the Bold, if you believed him, but Cobb didn’t trust a single word out of his mouth.

The knight had been born into money, given the best education it could buy, the best horse, the best armour, and the best stick up his ass. The saying ‘save the rod, spoil the child’ came to mind when you spoke of this man-child. Cobb didn’t believe in corporal punishment, but boy did he wish to whack some sense into that thick, aristocratic blonde head of his. And maybe some manners too while he was at it.

“Stable boy! Don’t make me fetch you!”

‘Boy’. He hadn’t been a boy since he was twelve years old, and even less so when his hair started turning grey decades before its time. However, sometimes he wished he was still a boy, just so he could do more than just grit and bear the humiliation of having to serve this upper class idiot. Well, he could now if he so chose, but then that would mean having to leave and never seeing--

He set the broom aside and headed out of the stall.

“Ah, there you are!” The shining tin can was stood at the door, a familiar smirk on his face as he looked down his nose at him, which was admittedly a little impressive considering he was half a foot shorter than Cobb. “Slacking off again, were you? I’ll have to tell the head groom.”

Cobb bit his tongue. Jaonar threatened this every time, and every time his senior would have to come to him and tell him to try not to antagonise the Lords, like it was his fault this prick decided he was a perfect target to practise being a dick to.

He looked past him to where his squire -- was that a new kid? That had to be the third one in as many months -- was holding the reins to Jaonar’s thoroughbred, head deeply bowed in reverence, respect, or more likely fear. The horse himself, a beautiful chestnut gelding by the name of Parjai, was still saddled, the straps not loosened in any way to give him any comfort, and the bit between his teeth. It only made him detest the primped up lordling more.

“Shall I take care of your horse, ser?” he asked before he could chew through his own cheek.

The knight huffed through his nose with a sneer. “I don’t know if I should trust my steed to a layabout. Who knows what you’ll do to him in your neglect?”

Cobb made a point not to shy away from his gaze; looking away would only confirm the guilt Jaorar wanted to find, and he was not going to let himself be beaten. Bowing was a sign of respect, and this man deserved none. “You doubt my skills, ser?”

“I doubt your attention,” came the reply. “Boys like you don’t deserve the privilege of serving men like me, you should be stepped on, like the dirt you are.” He sighed, as though he was disappointed in the very air he breathed. “Unfortunately, it seems that this is the best this castle can offer though.”

Cobb drew his shoulders back. To insult him was one thing, but to insult their host, the Witch King themself, was something he could not abide. It had been her who had given him his role in the castle after he'd run to the castle for safety, and it was to her that his loyalty lay. This was an unfamiliar target for the knight to take, and it made him feel off-balanced.

“Don’t.”

“No, of course, you’re right,” the knight said, stepping further into the stables at a sedate, leisurely pace. “How could it be her fault when she’s on her deathbed?”

The squire grew tense beside him, ducking her head further as she pressed closer to Parjai’s side.

“If you dare insult our Prince-”

“What will you do, boy? What could you do against me??” Ser Jaonar came to a stop within arm’s reach of him, and Cobb had to clench his fists to his sides to keep himself from punching him in his smug mouth. “What kind of future King doesn’t see to the needs of his people? The ones of import I mean, of course. He’s been neglecting us just as much as his mother has.”

There was a look in his eyes that Cobb didn’t like, one that promised despicable things, and he glared at him.

“Would you like me to pack your things then, ser?” he asked, uncaring of his insubordinate tone or the smirk on his lips. “Perhaps you will find better accommodation to your expectations elsewhere.”

The knight did nothing for a moment, his smile frozen and his eyes cold, and then the sting of a gauntleted hand sliced across his cheek. He stumbled a few steps, tongue tasting blood from a split lip, but he turned back to the knight with his head held high.

Ser Jaonar was sneering at him, his eyes full of disdain and hate. It made Cobb feel a little proud of himself for managing to bring out his true face.

“Know your place boy ,” he spat. “Be glad I don’t step on you now. It would be better than you deserved.” With that he turned around, no doubt trying for an air of superiority, but that was beautifully ruined when he stepped straight into a small pile of shit he’d failed to notice. “Perhaps the crowned Prince would make better choices without all this shit! Girl! We’re leaving.”

The squire bowed even lower than she had been already and scrambled to follow him, leaving Parjai at the door.

Cobb chuckled after them as he headed towards the abandoned horse. He hadn’t had a victory like that in months, and it tasted sweet, even if his jaw stung from the blow. It was worth it.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said softly, brushing his fingers over Parjai’s nose and receiving a lick and firm nuzzle in greeting. “You feel okay? That monster didn’t hurt you again, did he?” He wandered around his flank and loosened the strap for the saddle. Parjai moved from side to side and whickered, a sign of relief if ever he’d seen one, and he could see the marks from where the strap had been pressed too hard against him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

Taking the reins, he led the poor thing towards his stall, stopping outside and tying him to the post so he could clean his hooves without ruining the fresh bed of hay. He removed the saddle, and replaced the bridle with a rope, simply to keep Parjai in place while he carefully scraped the muck from his hooves. Brushing out his coat was soothing for both of them, but seeing the marks still left from the bridle and saddle still had his blood boiling.

It was as he was leaving the stall, heading for the corner where all the brooms and forks were kept after washing the blood from his lip in a bucket of water, that his eyes drifted to the window.

Din Djarin, Prince of Mandalore, looked back at him as he stood atop the parapet, his cloak and hair buffeted by the wind behind him. It made him look like a great hero, someone the bards would write songs of, who children would beg their parents to tell them tales of around the fire, but Cobb could see the weariness in his face, the droop of his shoulders, and he knew that if this were a tale, it would be a tragedy.

In days gone by, the Prince had spoken to him. Not as a superior, like so many of his station would have and did, but as an equal; a peer. In those days he would smile at Cobb's stories and listen to his thoughts, his attention never wavering as he treated this lowly stable hand as well as he would one of the Lords of his kingdom. It made him feel wanted and appreciated, like he was needed, and it had made him strive to be the best he could be.

There were no smiles today though, and if the rumours were true, then smiles were not what he needed. Cobb had lost his own parents young, but he knew the hurt well. He would support his Prince in any way he could, even if it was only from a distance.

He bowed his head to the man he would call king, and watched in awe as the Prince nodded at him in return before turning away.

He stood there, watching as the Prince descended, but soon shook himself from it and continued with his plan. He moved the various handles of shovels and such aside and pulled out the well worn pole from within. It had once been the sturdy handle to one of the shovels, but then the blade had snapped one winter and Cobb repurposed the handle once the shovel had been replaced. The weight of it rivalled that of the sword he had purchased with his savings, a sword that no one knew about, hidden away in the small room he called his own. He couldn't bring such a weapon to the stable, but no one looked twice at the broken handle of a shovel.

He practised with it every day, for hours at a time sometimes, whenever he had the chance. He watched the Knights practice in their yard when he could, and he would try to copy them later. He knew he was doing things wrong, or not right at the very least, but he'd been practicing for years, and the muscles that had once burned in pain were now used to the efforts.

He swung the makeshift weapon in the air a few times, making sure he still knew the weight and balance of it, before pulling out a stack of hay bales. Using the post so close to Parjai after he'd spent the day with Ser Jaonar would scare the poor thing, but the hay would muffle it enough that it would be disguised. That thought alone made his anger flare, and he swung faster and harder, the only sounds he made being ones of exertion so as not to draw attention.

Parjai deserved so much better than that disrespectful, stuck up asshole.

He stopped after an hour, returning to the horses and taking care of their needs. Crest, the Prince's riding horse, tended to enjoy his company and followed him around the stall, even though it meant she got in his way. He spent a lot of time in the silver mare's company, having to take her out for exercise more than the others in his care

He'd been there when she'd been born, just over two years ago, and had watched her bond with her rider from the fences, but as more duties were piled upon the Prince's shoulders the less time he had to train his steed. Cobb had taken care of Crest whenever the Prince could not, but he knew that Din would forever be her master.

Once he had taken care of each of the horses and their stalls cleaned, he returned to his practise swinging the shovel handle in more precise and careful swings rather than just to cool his rage this time, though he did use the embers that were left still smouldering within him to give him strength.

It was only as the sun began to set that he ceased, his body covered in sweat and his chest heaving for breath. His anger was spent, beaten into the depths of the dried hay, and he set the handle aside with a tired huff. Parjai's whinny drew his attention, and he smirked when he saw the horse leaning his head out of his stall.

"You hungry?" he asked and nodded to himself as he heaved the topmost bale into the grate for the gelding to feed from. "Yeah, me too."

Dipping his head into the water trough, he took a few moments to cool down, shaking his head to get rid of the excess water and reached for the next bale of hay.

Just as he touched it, the first bell rang. And then a second joined. And a third.

His blood ran cold.

The Witch King was dead. Mand'alor the Beloved had breathed her last, her mantel to be taken up by her son, and the kingdom would mourn her. Tears were already coming to his eyes for the loss, and for the hurt it must have caused the Prince. It would be a heavy burden to bear, but he could do it. Him and…

The Protector. A new Protector needed to be chosen, and knights from across Mandalore would be vying for the role, including Ser Jaonar. A man like that had the skill, but he lacked in every other area. A man like that could win the position and no one could do anything about it.

Cobb couldn't let that happen.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Mando'a Translations:

Parjai - Victory

Link to Chapter 3

#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #cobb vanth #din djarin #dincobb #sort of #medieval au #fic

[bluejayblueskies]

delphinus

Words: 2.7k Relationship: Jonathan Sims/Peter Lukas Tags: AU - Merpeople, No Fear Entities, Fluff, First Meetings, Kissing, They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan Sims, Mer!Jon Warnings: mild blood and brief mention of biting/eating people

|| Ao3 ||

.

If asked, Peter Lukas would say that he wasn’t lonely, and it would be true. He spent six months of the year—more if he could help it—sailing the white-crested waves of the ocean, away from the sights and sounds of land, the bustle of cities and the chatter of people that grated on his ears like sandpaper. He kept as small a crew as he could manage when he left shore, never more than ten or so pairs of hands to handle the cargo he would carry from port to port. Sometimes, though, he would sail alone, packing enough supplies for several months on his small fishing boat and leaving behind a life that, lonesome as it was, remained as sticky and cloying as mud upon the soles of his boots.

This was one of those times. Three and a half weeks ago, Peter had packed enough supplies for four months, set sail from port, and breathed in the salt of the sea with a relief that was as palpable upon his tongue as the taste of brine. He didn’t particularly enjoy fishing, really, though it was as good a story as any to placate the dockworkers and to keep conversation to a minimum. Still, he was not immune to boredom, and so he often would cast a net over the side of his ship and inspect its contents for anything that might spark his interest (or, on occasion, make a sum of money). More often, though, he simply released the mass of wriggling fish back into the sea and settled for watching the sun dip below the horizon, with only the gentle rocking of the boat to keep him company.

Two and a half weeks ago, Peter had pulled the net over the side of his fishing boat, straining at the weight of it, and found a pair of sharp brown eyes staring back at him.

Peter would deny to his dying breath the shout of surprise he let out at the sight, or the fact that the net immediately slipped from his grasp and hit the deck with a wet smack. The answering sound that came from the net, however—a sort of punched-out gasp, almost akin to a groan—was loud in his ears, because it was a human sound. And it had not come from him.

Quickly, Peter gripped his fisherman’s knife and severed the ropes of the net with practiced ease. And when the fish trapped within began to slide out, flopping across the deck like an undulating carpet of silvers and blues, so did the owner of those brown eyes.

Having been raised on the coast, Peter had grown up hearing stories about the creatures that lurked beneath the white-capped waves of the sea that he spent so many days watching with growing fascination. There were selkies, seals who took the form of man to walk on land and who carried their coats beside them, vulnerable and exposed. There were sirens, whose songs could lure many a sailor to their grave with their beauty and with promises of all that one desired. 

And then there were merfolk, with the tails of fish and the bodies of men and with teeth so sharp they need only brush against skin to break it. Merfolk traveled alone; they were solitary creatures whose wit and cunning could trick the smartest of fishermen and whose taste for human flesh could never be sated. They were bad omens, portents of doom, the dockworkers would whisper. Nobody had ever seen a merfolk and had lived to tell the tale.

And yet here Peter was. The creature glared at him with eyes that were startlingly human, but their tail failed to find purchase on the wooden deck and their hands splayed flat against the wood in an effort to keep themself still. Their skin was a darker brown than the wood beneath them and was dotted with scars of a variety of shapes and sizes, and their hair lay across their shoulders and midway down their back, knotted with seaweed and delicate shells and blue-green threads in an intricate pattern that Peter found his eyes drawn to over and over again. Their tale sat starkly against the silver-blues of the smaller fish, an inky black with iridescent purple markings and triangular fins jutting out at regular intervals. Their gaze upon Peter was piercing, and when Peter allowed their eyes to meet, he found that theirs glowed ever so slightly, like morning light streaming in through a dusty window.

They were breathtaking. And when they bared their teeth at Peter, he was unsurprised to see that they were sharp and pointed, like that of a shark. But they said nothing. So Peter felt it only appropriate that he take the initiative.

“Peter Lukas,” he said, for it would be quite rude not to give the creature something to call him, wouldn’t it? “I don’t suppose you speak English though, do you. Pity.”

The creature’s nose flared with irritation, and in a crisp British accent that mirrored Peter’s own, they said, “The only thing pitiable about this situation is the fact that you think me to be beneath you.”

Peter considered the creature with a growing interest. “Now, that is a surprise. It does make this whole affair considerably easier, though.”

“Affair?” the creature snapped, and though their tone was cutting, there was fear in their eyes, sharp and sudden. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come now,” Peter said jovially. “This is my first time encountering your kind. You’ll forgive me a bit of simple curiosity.”

“I will do no such thing,” the creature said, though their face had softened ever so slightly. After a long moment, the creature said, hesitantly, “Though if… if I did entertain such a thought, I would only do so under the condition that you should let me go once you’ve asked your questions.”

Peter considered this. On the one hand, capturing a merfolk would be sure to earn him a large sum of money, perhaps even a fortune if he found the right buyer. On the other, he found that he quite liked the idea of letting such a creature slip free from the hands of others, leaving him with a secret that was his alone to keep. 

And he couldn’t say that he wasn’t curious. It had always been a flaw of his.

So Peter said, with a small smile, “I believe that can be arranged.”

And so the creature spoke. They spoke of the wide-open sea and what lay beneath, and they spoke of a life of loneliness that had lasted far longer than Peter’s had and would last far, far longer still, and they spoke of the tales the others of their kind had imparted upon them—for though they were alone now, they had not always been. They spoke of myth—of fishermen who ran scared at the first flash of sharp teeth, teeth that only ever tore into the flesh of fish and of seals and that rarely broke the skin of a human, for the meat tasted foul, of freshwater and dirt. And as they spoke of beauty and knowledge and freedom, all things that Peter longed for upon the ocean but could never truly grasp, Peter found himself enraptured with the creature—who, they said, called themself Jon. 

So Peter spoke in return. He spoke of a life on land devoid of happiness and filled instead with the breaths and movements and speech of others, none of which spoke to the rushing waves within him. He spoke of a childhood of absent parents and distant servants and time spent wandering the halls of a house far too large for any one person to live within and the gardens and woods outside it, straying further and further from mahogany furniture and marbled floors until one day he simply did not come back. He spoke of the quiet presence of his crew when he took work transporting cargo and how some days they, too, were too much, and he would retreat to the captain’s quarters and would simply stare at the sea, wishing that it would swallow him whole.

He spoke, and Jon listened, and though Peter was not alone, he felt somehow like he had found what he was looking for. Because Jon was the sea, and they were the rushing of waves, and they were the wide-open sky, and Peter found that he very much did not want them to leave. 

But he had made a promise, and a promise he would keep, because despite all else, Peter was a man of his word. So when the time came, he brought Jon to the edge of his ship and allowed them to slip into the ocean below, swallowed by white-capped waves for a long moment before resurfacing once more, hair fanned out around them in a halo of brown and grey.

“I won’t be heading back to land for quite some time,” Peter found himself saying, hoping that his words carried on the sea air to the water below. From the way that Jon’s face twitched into something like a smile, he knew that they had.

“Is that so?” they said, voice neutral yet undercut with something lighter, anticipatory. “Then perhaps we’ll run across each other again.”

And with that, Jon was gone, swallowed by the sea. Peter indulged himself just a moment longer, watching the surface of the sea fold in on itself again and again, before turning away and returning to the solitary comfort of his ship.

He ignored the itch at the back of his mind, telling him that something was missing, and settled upon the deck, looking up at the stars that had appeared as the sun had set upon the ocean and at the moon that illuminated the water in lovely silvers and indigos. He mapped out the constellations with his eyes, lingering ever so briefly on Delphinus where it lay just against the horizon. And when a glimmer of light caught his eye, the quick flash of a shooting star, Peter found that he could not resist a wish.

.

Peter did run across Jon again, a few days later, a quick flash of purple amongst the waves that resolved itself into bright eyes and a hesitant smile. And then again a few days later, and again, and again, until Jon’s appearance became a daily occurrence and Peter spent more time in their company than he did in solitude. But he found he didn’t mind. Not when Jon told such fascinating stories, speaking of a life far beyond Peter’s comprehension yet one that Peter felt his mind snagging upon, for loneliness and solitude were universal feelings, and of this Jon and he shared a striking commonality. Not when Jon allowed Peter to run his hands along their tail, always in the direction of the scales so as not to cause pain, brushing the edges of the fins with the pads of his fingers and pulling away a sticky moisture not unlike that of an eel. Not when Jon looked at Peter with soft brown eyes, lidless and forever watching yet weightless upon him, so Peter never felt suffocated by their gaze.

And not when Jon finally paused midway through a story involving a shoal of fish and a particularly tenacious selkie, laid their hand upon Peter’s where it rested upon the curve of their tail, and said, “I’d heard stories about humans, you know.”

“Oh?” Peter said, for as much as Jon spoke of the sea, they rarely spoke of what lay beyond it, and when they did, it was brief, a simple necessity more than anything.

Jon simply nodded their affirmation. Then, in a quieter voice, they said, “They said that you were cruel. That you would hunt things you didn’t understand, remove them from the sea and butcher them or sell them or keep them for your own. They said that humans would steal the skin of a selkie and lock it away, rid them of the sea for good and keep them bound to the land and to the one who owned them. My kind, we didn’t- we didn’t have such problems, not really.” They smiled then, a wild, sharp-toothed thing, and said, “We found that a flash of teeth and a bite to the arm or leg would keep humans away effectively enough. I expect that’s where the ‘flesh-eating’ myth came from. It’s for the best, I suppose. It’s better than the alternative, at least.”

“I see,” Peter said. For it was true, wasn’t it? Peter had considered it, once—capturing Jon, selling them to the highest bidder, monetizing their rarity and resting upon his fortune afterward. Even now, the thought tempted him, loath as he was to acknowledge it. But it was just a thought, and though he had limited control over those, his actions were his and his alone. So he continued, “And now? I like to think that I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it.”

Jon’s smile was less sharp then, fondness mixed with exasperation. “I wouldn’t be quite so bold,” they said lightly, humor seeping into their voice. “But perhaps I… I might have gained a new perspective on humanity lately.” A pause. Then: “One- one human in particular, I suppose.”

“Really?” Peter said, feigning ignorance. “And who might that be? Goodness, do I have to be on the lookout for some sort of competition? Jon, you should have warned me, I would have prepared myself.”

Jon scowled, with absolutely no heat behind it, and removed their hand from Peter’s, crossing their arms across their chest sullenly. “I swear, I try to be serious for one moment, and you feel the need to make a joke about it.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Peter said lightly. “You do get such an adorable look when you’re cross with me.”

Jon’s cheeks flushed a faint blue so quickly Peter thought it quite funny indeed, and he didn’t try to hide the small chuckle that escaped him at the sight. “Stop that,” Jon said petulantly. “I am not adorable. I am an apex predator, a fearsome creature of the ocean, a terrifying monster to all of humanity.”

“Right,” Peter said, his bright smile not diminishing in the slightest. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

“Shut up,” Jon said.

Peter raised a single eyebrow. “Make me.”

And so Jon did. They leaned forward with a suddenness that caught Peter off guard, braced their hands on the wooden deck, and kissed him. Peter caught the taste of salt and fish and blood as he pressed into Jon’s mouth and promptly nicked his tongue on the sharp peaks of Jon’s teeth. Jon startled slightly at that and made to pull back, but Peter tangled his hand in Jon’s hair and kept them close, twisting his hand just enough that Jon let out a bitten-off gasp against Peter’s mouth, one that made Peter grin an obscene amount and drew a muttered, “You are insufferable,” from Jon’s mouth.

“I know,” Peter said, and kissed them again. 

And when Jon finally slipped back into the ocean, hair significantly more tangled than when they had arrived—a state for which they had chastised Peter considerably, because It’s going to take me ages to untangle that, Peter, it’s not like I have a hairbrush to work with—Peter felt more at home within himself than he had in years. Perhaps in his entire life.

“Perhaps we’ll run across each other again,” Jon said, a dry amusement in their voice that contrasted starkly with the faint red staining their lips from where Peter had grown careless and gotten his own lip caught in the sharpness of Jon’s teeth, an act which he didn’t regret in the slightest.

“Perhaps,” Peter said, knowing that he had had a taste of the sea and now had no desire to return to the confines of land ever again.

Jon disappeared beneath the waves and Peter returned to his ship, running his tongue over the cut on his lip and tasting the bitter tang of iron and salt that still lingered there. And when, far in the distance, he saw the briefest flash of purple, almost like the wave of a hand, he couldn’t help but laugh.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #JonPeter Week 2021 #jonpeter #my writing #my fic #*holds up mermaid aus* i just think they're neat