#this is mostly a bit but i do believe hes the type to ramp up the violent misogny to cover any same sex attraction he may have up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magpie-to-the-morning · 3 years

Text

On Fire from Within

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Tags: Self-Indulgent, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, the helmet comes off, Blindfolds, Sex Pollen, Dirty talk, Mostly in Mando’a, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Din is soft and a mess, and so am I, so much Mando'a because I cannot be stopped, Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Reader is a newish crew member on the Razor Crest. She was helping out on a bounty hunting mission when she got hit with a laced dart at a shady brothel. It's a sex pollen fic lads, you know how this goes!

Read on Ao3

“Fuck,” you swore softly, pulling a small barb from the back of your neck. It’s only a little thing, a geometric pattern of angles and sharp points. Odd for a piece of shrapnel, but surely nothing to worry about. The small wound wouldn’t be worth the Bacta gel. You tossed it away before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

“Everything ok?” Mando stepped away from the controls of the carbonite chamber. You hadn’t realized he was so close, and startled when you heard the question crackling through his modulator.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. That bastard frozen yet?”

“Just about.”

“Good. That place made me want to scrub the inside of my skin.” You’d just finished helping Mando drag a bounty out of a local bar running an illegal “pleasure house.” It certainly hadn’t deserved the name, and you were more than happy to provide an initial distraction so Mando could come in for the kill. (The metaphorical kill, sadly. You would have been happy to leave the owner of that awful establishment a smoking crater on the floor of his bar, but apparently that was “not following the brief” and “wouldn’t bring in as much money for fuel.” Pfft). There had been a little static on the way out, and you assume that’s when you’d picked up that bit of metal. “I’m going to hit the refresher, unless you need it first?”

The bounty hunter shook his head and moved towards the ramp. “No. I’m going to trade in the puck and get us out off this rock. You go ahead.”

You checked the controls of the shower. Again. You’re sweating, and as much as you try, you can’t get the water cold enough to soothe your burning skin. You arch your back, moaning when the stretching movement sends a dart of pleasure straight to your aching cunt. Fuck, why are you such a mess all of a sudden? You slip a hand between your legs and are shocked to discover that you are already dripping wet. You rub the back of your neck and it hits you- that wasn’t shrapnel. It must have been a dart laced with something, and knowing the type of place you were in, you’d bet any amount of credits it was a nasty aphrodisiac. “Those bastards…”

You drag your hands through your hair and take a steadying breath. Ok, you can handle this, pull yourself together… Nice empty ship and a hot shower. Nothing you haven’t done before. You let your hands drift lower, massaging your breast and tweaking an already pert nipple. You’re already so close…

An hour later and you’re sobbing from want. Why can’t you just. Fucking. Come already? You’ve tried everything, every fantasy, every technique or touch, and nothing. You try again, stroking your clit and spiraling towards release before it slips away again, a jolt of pain rebounding through you. “Damn it!”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You freeze. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed, of course Mando is back. What had he heard? “Um, nothing, it’s fine!” You wince at how falsely this rings, even to you.

There’s a pause. “Open the door.”

“… no? I’m not-“

“Open the door. Or I will break it down.”

Shit. You have a second to grab a towel before the door clangs open. Mando is through the door and into the tiny room in an instant, hand on his blaster. He checks all the corners which, takes about 2 seconds, before turning that implacable, visored gaze on you. “What’s going on with you?”

“Jeez, Mando, I-“ you try to bluff your way out of it for a moment before giving it up for lost. Even if you could explain away everything else, you know your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes will give you away. “Fine, just, promise you won’t laugh?”

“Is something funny?”

“No, it really isn’t.” You sigh. “So, I didn’t realize until we got back to the ship, but someone back at that hole in the wall hit me with some kind of dart. I think it was drugged.”

“Show me.”

“I chucked it just before I got on board, but this is where it hit.” You pull your wet hair back to show him the mark on your neck. Mando crosses the floor in one step, and you feel one of his gloved hands steady your shoulder as he takes a closer look. That small touch is enough to drive you wild, and you bite back a groan, leaning into his touch.

“Dank ferrik.” Mando pulls his hands away like he’s been burned, and your cheeks flame again, this time in embarrassment. “There are red marks at the injection site. I’ve, uh.. I’ve seen this before.”

You grit your teeth, finding it easier to talk about when you’re not looking at him. “It hurts, Mando and I can’t make it stop. How long am I going to feel like this?”

“Until it runs its course. Usually, a few hours. And it will get worse.”

You swear again, tears of frustration slipping down your cheeks. Mando stands there for a moment, flexing his hands and looking unsure of what to say. Finally, you hear a deep breath and, “let me help you.”

You startle, sure you’ve heard him wrong. It’s only been a few months since you signed on as his only crew member, a live-in mechanic and occasional extra pair of hands for certain bounties. You’d thought about it, of course. At first you’d seen this as just another short term gig. Some light repair work, the odd stint of standing lookout or patching up his wounds or acting as a distraction for a tricky bounty. The longer you spent with him though, the longer you started to see the man beneath the armor, his dark humor, his unexpected kindness, his tendency to throw himself into harm’s way for the sake of a code you can’t begin to understand. Stars, and that voice… but you knew he would never return those feelings. The idea of him offering himself to you now, out of pity or worse, obligation…

“No.” You move to shoulder past him.

He grabs your wrist. “Look, Y/N, I know I may not be your first choice but-“

You whirl around to glare at him. “Not my- damn it, Mando!” You kick the waste bin in sheer frustration. “I’ve wanted you for weeks and just because I don’t want you to feel cornered into sleeping with me you have the fucking gall-“

“Close your eyes.”

You blink in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Do it. Now.” You shiver at the steel in his voice and comply without another thought.

There’s a soft hiss, and the clang of metal set down on metal. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t… You start in surprise, feeling his leather-clad fingers cup your face and tip your chin up. “Are you sure you want this?”

You laugh, a little shakily, amazed to hear how deep and rough his unmodulated voice still is. “Are you?”

The next thing you know, he’s got you backed up against that wall. You gasp, reaching to pull him closer. His mouth slides over yours, lips warm and surprisingly plush. You deepen the kiss and moan, needing so much more. He responds by reaching down, pulling you up to straddle his waist. Trapped between the wall and a cage of Beskar, you’ve never felt freer. You card your fingers through his hair, marveling at the curls under your hands. Mando gasps, already sounding ragged. “How do you want me?”

You drag your nails down his scalp and lick your way up the column of his throat. You taste salt and pant into his ear, “in the cockpit chair.”

Mando groans. “You have been thinking about this, haven’t you, sweet girl?”

“Less talk. More chair sex.”

He huffs a laugh against your neck and pulls you from the wall, carrying you through the ship like you don’t weigh a thing. You make it through the corridor, with only a few brief stops against walls and doorways. Mando sets you down once you reach the cockpit and you whine at the lack of his touch, but still keep your eyes closed. He kisses your forehead. “Patience, sweet girl.” You give up the last shreds of your dignity and moan, rubbing your thighs together. “Can’t, I need you to touch me now.” You hear a few soft clinks, and realize Mando is removing his armor, piece by piece. Not wanting to be outdone, you toss your towel aside. Your eyes are still shut tight, but you add a hand to cover them, afraid you’ll forget yourself. You may not understand his beliefs, but you are damn sure going to respect them, even now.

There’s startle at a ripping sound, and Mando asking “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Good. Keep your eyes closed.” Mando pulls your hand away, pressing a kiss to your palm before knotting a blindfold around your eyes. You feel yourself pulled down to his lap. You twine your arms around his neck and lower yourself until you’re straddling his hips, grinding as close to him as you can.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

He’s eager to comply, and you shiver as you feel his hands (his hands, not the gloves, stars) skim up your sides. Mando cups the back of your head, drawing you closer as he kisses and licks his way into your mouth. You immediately open your lips to his, stroking his tongue with your own, teasing the roof of his mouth to egg him on. You’re rewarded with a small groan, and Mando palming your left breast. He strokes your nipple with his thumb, rolling and pinching it to make you arch your back. “What else?”

“Maker, that’s so good… talk to me, Mando, don’t stop touching me.”

“Never, mesh’la.” Mando rolls his hips and makes you squirm against him. You can feel his arousal, pressed so close to your own, separated only by the canvas of his trousers. You mewl and buck your hips against him.

“Oh gods, yes…”

Mando chuckles as your breath speeds up. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, going to take such good care of you. Going to make this so good for you.”

He bends his head and sucks one of your nipples into his warm mouth, and you nearly black out. The sheer relief of such a touch when you need it so badly nearly undoes you completely. “Mando…”

“Din.” The word is muffled against your chest, and you have to ask “what?”

He rests his forehead against shoulder. “My name, Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you taste the short name, adding it to what you’ve learned about this man. This capable, dangerous, surprisingly gentle Mandalorian. How can such a hard man be so… This train of thought is interrupted as another wave of desire bowls you over, making you shudder with need and pain. “I need more, Din, please…”

You don’t even need to finish that thought before you feel his rough, calloused fingers drifting down your belly and lower, lower… You lean back to give him easier access, his other arm coming to rest around your waist, holding you up. You gasp when he strokes your folds. “Me’bana? You’re so wet, mesh’la. Is this all for me?” He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly fucking two of his fingers deep inside you, dragging the pads over your G-spot over and over. He’s a quick learner, adapting to touch you harder or softer, quicker or slower, as you gasp and buck your hips. “So good for me, so wet and ready. Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please Din, I’m so close…” you whine.

Din rubs your clit while fucking his fingers into you. He bites down on your earlobe, whispering, “Then come for me, cyare.”

You do. You cry out as you feel yourself coming apart under his hands, your hips thrashing despite you as you moan and call out his name. When you drift back to yourself, you’re grateful for his supporting hold as waves of pleasure continue to roll through you. Din strokes you through all of it, only backing off when your breathing slows and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You exhale slowly, taking stock after that release. “That was… whew…” Now that you have a moment to think clearly again, you can feel your mind spinning up to overthink this. Will you ever be able to look at your employer (partner? friend?) again? Not that you can ever look him in the eye anyway, but what if he’s completely disgusted with you after this? Your racing thoughts pause when you hear what can only be Din sucking your slick from his fingers.

“Maker, you taste as good as I hoped you would.” Thoughts: gone. Brain: empty. There can’t be any room for overthinking when your head is suddenly full of HE THOUGHT ABOUT TASTING ME?! “How do you feel?”

You force yourself to consider this. You can already feel the fire in your core roaring back to life. “Good, but, I can already feel it ramping back up.” You blush. “Not that I didn’t… I totally did, but.. sorry…”

“Shh, k’uur. I get it. Just relax and let me take care of you.” He stands up, depositing you gently in his seat. You only have a moment to wonder at this sudden shift before feeling him kneel down in front of you. Without even thinking about it, you let your legs fall open to him. “That’s it, sweet girl, let me see that pretty pussy.”

If you weren’t already positive you were running a fever, that would have tipped you over the edge. Din runs his hands up your thighs, his breath ghosting over your throbbing core. “Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair.” Is he… praying? You’re past the point of caring, all you want is for him to stop sucking marks into your inner thigh and finally move to where you need him most. You nearly scream when he drags his tongue up your slit. He flattens his tongue against you, humming appreciatively as your roll your hips. He wraps his arms around your thighs suddenly, jerking you closer towards him. “Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar.”

You are glad of the blindfold because you are so far beyond controlling your face. Din’s tongue feels like it is everywhere at once, tonguing your cunt like it was your mouth one second, then laving your clit the next. You curl your toes and howl when he sucks your clit into his mouth and you feel the barest hint of teeth around you. “So close, so close” you chant, reaching down to hold his head right where you need it.

Din releases your clit, licking circles around it instead. “You liked that, didn’t you cyare? Do you like it a little rough?”

You shudder, thrilled to have been caught out so soon. “Gods, yes.”

Din chuckles and you hope you haven’t slipped up by confessing quite so enthusiastically. “Oh this is going to be fun. I am going to ruin you, mesh’la.” He dives back into your pussy, licking and sucking and nipping at your thighs like a wild thing. You whine and arch your back.

“Hold. Still.” Din’s arm clamps over your waist like an iron bar. “How am I supposed to finish you off, if you won’t stop writhing around, you etyc dala?” When you push your luck, trying to squirm free, you feel a sharp slap to your thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me make you come? Or should I leave you here by yourself?”

“No, please, I’ll be good for you I promise!”

“Damn right you will,” he snarls. Without warning, Din shoves two fingers into your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You come in a rush, screaming his name.

You’ve barely come down from that high before chasing your next. While your first orgasm left you with some temporary relief, this one only stokes the fire even higher. You seize Din’s face from where he was resting his cheek against your thigh and pull him to your mouth. Reticence is a distant memory and you devour the taste of yourself from his mouth. When Din leans back and groans from this spectacle, you palm his length, spear-straight and hard as Beskar under your hand. Din shudders underneath you, and you can almost see the effort of restraining himself. You trace the shell of his ear and murmur “Why are you still wearing pants?”

Din rushes to his feet, pulling you from the chair and pushing you up against the nearest wall in one smooth motion. He holds you in place with one arm across your breastbone, panting with effort. “Hang on, I don’t want to rush you.“

You wish you could look at him, to show you the burning desire in your eyes, how much you truly want this. Alas. You settle for dropping to your knees and fumbling blindly with the fastenings of his trousers.

“Dank ferrik…” a muttered oath somewhere above your head. Din reaches down to help you, drawing his cock out. Once again, you wish the blindfold wasn’t necessary. You can feel the velvet-soft skin of him, trace the head of his cock and stroke up and down the length of him, but you wish you could see him. You breathe over him and, holding his shaft to help guide you (and madden him), lick just under the tip of his cock. You run your tongue around the ridge and lick your lips before taking him as far down your throat as you can. Din hisses and unleashes a stream of Basic and that same tongue he’d been speaking earlier. “Fuck… ori jate, ori jate, yes, Y/N. Parer, ke’pare, ah!”

You hum around him, loving the sound of him absolutely losing it. “Too much?” you ask, all innocence.

Din actually growls. “Yes. Don’t stop, please.”

You smile, hoping he can see you amidst his unraveling. You bob your lips over the head of his cock, once, twice, before sliding down the length of him as far as you can take. Din’s fingers tangle in your hair and you can feel him jerking his hips, holding back from fucking your face like he clearly wants to. You pull back again, letting go of his cock with a wet pop. “Don’t hold back, baby, I want all of you.”

This is more than Din can stand. He hauls you roughly to your feet, kissing you with abandon. “Say that again?”

“I want you Din, please. I fucking need you.”

Din grabs one of your legs and holds it over his hip. He teases your entrance while you beg him, rubbing against your folds. You moan in relief when he finally thrusts home, stretching you and dragging against your walls. You rake your nails down his back, biting at his shoulder. “Gods, yes, that’s so fucking good. Don’t hold back. Unh, yes, yes, yes…” He is pounding into you now, setting a brutally quick pace- just like you need. You try to kiss him but you’re getting sloppy and your kiss is more just dragging your open mouth along his jaw, panting as he fucks you. “Din, I’m so close…”

“That’s good, you’re so good at taking this cock aren’t you, mesh’la? Me'copaani? Do you want me to tell you how I’ve fantasized about fucking you over the console almost since you came on board? Do you want to hear how good it feels to be buried in your cunt, with your tight pussy around me? Because it is good, Y/N, and I am going to fucking destroy you.”

You scream his name. “Gods, Din, I’m gonna come!”

He seizes you by the throat, not hard enough to cut off your air but more than enough to let you know who is in charge now. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Come on, cyare, give it to me. Come. Now.”

It’s the full on bounty hunter voice command that slams you over the edge. You come hard, shaking in Din’s arms and soaking his cock. You absolutely would have fallen without him holding you up. He fucks you through it all, and as the aftershocks roll through you, you realize the screaming urgency has finally quieted. You can just about remember talking him through his own release before slipping below the cool depths of unconsciousness.

—

“Y/N? Here, drink this.”

You blink awake and feel a cold glass pressed into your hand. You take a sip. The icy water grounds you, and you take stock of your surroundings. You’re curled up in the captain’s seat, warm under a slightly tattered woolen blanket, or maybe a cloak? It takes you a moment before you realize what else is different. You can see again. “Din?”

“I’m here.” His voice is distant, slightly fuzzed. You look around, seeing him once again hidden beneath the helmet. “How do you feel?”

You’re still restless, like some distant part of you needs to get up and run or fight or fuck, but your limbs are feeling a bit heavier now and it’s easier to breathe. “Better.” You lift the glass again, drinking the rest of the water like you’ve never tasted anything so sweet.

Din lays his hand on your cheek, and you’re relieved to find that at least this bit of him has not been covered up again. “You’re still running a temperature but it feels like it’s easing up.” He takes the empty glass from you, setting it aside before taking your hand and drawing you up. “Come on, let’s get you to your bunk.”

You rise, unsteady on your legs after several rounds of fairly vigorous sex. Din steadies your elbow, guiding you out of the cockpit. “Sick of me already?” You’re aiming for a light tone but you know you missed the mark.

Din turns you to face him and studies you for a moment. “Yeah. Probably going to drop you off on the next planet we hit.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking at your own skeptical face in the reflection of his visor. “Oh yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “No, ner kar’ta.” You couldn’t tell before, but now you’re almost sure he’s smiling. “I think you’re stuck with me for awhile.”

_________________________________

Mando'a Translations mesh'la beautiful

Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair. This is mine. Going to give you my tongue until you scream.

Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar. Delicious, I (am) drunk from you.

Etyc dala dirty girl

Ori jate so good

Parer wait

Ke'pare wait (emphatic)

Me'copaani? What's this?

Ner kar’ta My heart

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x Female Reader #Din Djarin x F!Reader #More reformatting reblogs not new content #May change the banner later too #I'm not as wild about this one #Din Djarin #x reader #Fic #My fic #The Mandalorian #Mandoa

243 notes · View notes

xxwritemeastoryxx · 3 years

Text

Chemical Reaction Chapter 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: No set parings in this one yet

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Mentions of violence but that's canon.

Author’s Note: DO YOU KNOW HOW NERVOUS I AM FOR THIS?!? Even setting this up, I have anxiety building up. I'm ready for my debut into the Marvel fics. I do hope that if you guys enjoy this that you will leave some feedback. Anything helps! I absolutely love Tony and I hope this does him justice.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Y/N L/N knew that when she was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. that there would be moments where things would become chaotic. She knew that there would be moments where she would have to drop whatever it was she was working on to work on something that was being deemed top priority. Her multiple degrees from MIT had proved her to be an asset. Especially when they came across foreign objects that needed to be identified.

Over the last several years while Earth found out just how big the universe was, Y/N was behind the scenes hoping to help by making weapons to help protect the earth with what she was creating. Her projects were always kept under lock and key with the help of Director Nick Fury. He made sure her work was never interrupted and made sure she had everything she needed to create what he asked.

The sound of the lab door sliding open had caught her attention. Her eyes lifted only for a second to see Fury walking in before she looked back down at the computer screen in front of her. The program on the screen helping her to put the missing pieces she needed together.

“I’m expecting a box of my favorite cookies if you’re coming in here while I’m working.” She said, not taking her eyes off the coding. Every few moments she’d adjust the coding to adjust a few things or add coding where needed.

“Already delivered to your house.” Fury said as he walked further into the lab. “Even I know your bite is worse than your bark.”

That caused her to chuckle as her eyes flickering back and forth between him and the screen. Between Y/N and Fury, they had a softer relationship than most agents did with him. Maybe it was that her parents were friends with his family. But Y/N knew that when things meant business, the playful demeanor they had towards each other stopped.

“I’ve got an assignment for you.” He said as he came to a stop just in front of her desk.

“You mean besides this one?” She asked with a raised brow as her fingers typed along a keyboard. The new information she input caused the program to create a visual prototype of the weapon Fury had asked her for.

“For now this one is being put on hold.” Fury’s hands rested on the desk as he watched as Y/N looked up and at him. There was a slight frown on her face that caused Fury to chuckle. “Priorities change, Y/N/N. Including this one. What I need you to work on has been bumped up in priority.”

“This has to do with the mission the Avengers are on, isn’t it?” Y/N knew if she was right, that meant the Avengers had found an unknown source that needed to be identified. Usually, it was Y/N that got called in for those kinds of tasks.

“A Hydra base had a weapon on display, much like the scepter Loki had. But instead of an infinity stone at its center, it is something else. I need you and Stark to identify it.”

Y/N stilled at the name before she rolled her eyes. “We both know Stark and I don’t get along.”

“You two are the only ones that I want working on this.” He said as he stood up straight. “Between his brain and yours, it would save us a lot of time and expedite us destroying it.”

“You mean to study it before figuring out a way to utilize it?” Y/N knew better. She knew how Fury worked. His secret projects Y/N had been a part of from time to time. It was her design that was used for the prototype gun that had been created from pieces of the Destroyer when it came to Earth.

A knowing look formed on Fury’s face and it caused a smirk to pull at Y/N’s lips. He shook his head slightly. “It depends on if it can or cannot be utilized. I want to know why Hydra had it in the first place.”

“And that requires Stark’s help?” She asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I get it.” He said as he tilted his head slightly. “You two have history. But I need the best minds I’ve got working on this.”

“What about Banner?” She asked, trying to get out of it one last time. “I don’t butt heads with Banner.” She was going to take whatever chances to avoid Tony Stark.

Fury eyed her before he turned to walk away from her. Y/N huffed out air as he had begun to do so. That was his answer to her question. He wasn’t going to let her out of this. Y/N should have known. For as many times as she tried to get out of work, Fury always got what he wanted.

“I want another batch!” She called out as she watched him leave. “Preferably the ones your mom makes.”

“Wheels up in an hour L/N.” Fury said as the sliding doors open. “I expect you to be on it.”

_____

“Alright, let's get this down to the lab.” Tony Stark said as he watched as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents began to pull the weapon off of the quinjet as he walked right behind them.

His hands slid against each other as he walked down the ramp, his eyes lingering on the case. The weapon was securely locked within a case to ensure that nothing would happen to it on its journey. He was eager to get started on figuring out what element was powering it. He had seen first hand the energy that came off of it in action.

“Perfect,” Natasha said as she exited out of the quinjet. “Fury just informed me that your new lab partner is already there and waiting for it's arrival."

Tony stopped in his tracks and turned towards Natasha. “Excuse me? There’s a what in my lab?”

“Fury sent someone over.” Natasha said as she came and stood in front of Tony. “Didn't give me a name though. He believes between the two of you, you’ll be able to identify the element faster and get it ready for transport."

Tony’s eyebrow raised. There was only one time he had opened his lab open to someone. And that had been to Bruce Banner. Why Fury decided it was a good time to send someone new in, Tony would never understand.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. who is currently in the lab?” He asked as he looked nowhere in particular. He wanted to know what he was about to walk into.

Miss Y/N L/N is, sir. The A.I said from overhead. She arrived minutes before you did.

“Shit,” Tony muttered under his breath as he looked back over at Natasha. The woman currently had a smirk pulling at her lips. “This is a joke right?”

Natasha laughed as she shrugged. "I'm only passing along the message."

Natasha knew enough about the relationship between Tony and Y/N. They butted heads when it came to almost anything and everything. She enjoyed watching the way Y/N had gotten under his skin any time they were in a room together. If there was one person that could put Tony in his place, it was Y/N.

Tony mumbled under his breath as he began making his way towards the elevator. He could probably avoid her for a few more hours. But knowing Y/N, she'd have things rearranged by the time he made it down there. It was better to face her now than later. It would definitely be worse later.

"Let Y/N know I'll call for backup when she needs it!" Natasha called out just as the elevator doors were closing.

_____

A frustrated sigh passed Y/N’s lips as she looked around the lab. With as many times as Y/N had been there, it had never ceased to amaze her that Tony would have things completely out of place. That included the perfectly neat station that she had left behind since she was becoming a frequent guest.

Pieces of junk had been carelessly tossed on the workstation, causing the items she had left on there to be scattered about. Stains from god knows what had been smeared on a majority of the files she left behind. No doubt things that Tony only looked at before tossing them aside.

They may have gotten on each other’s nerves, But Y/N had tried helping with some of the tech he was working on. While mostly suggestions, she knew that some of them would have upgraded things in a way that would help Tony. But with his stubbornness and ego, she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take any of it into account.

“J.A.R.V.I.S?” She called out as she walked around the workstation. “Does Tony actually need any of this or am I free to dispose of it?”

“Don’t answer that.” Tony said as he walked into the lab. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents close behind him, bringing in the encased weapon. The moment it was placed on a workstation, they left just as quickly as they came. “It is after all my lab and I can place things where I want, and when I want.” He had come to stand a few feet away from Y/N.

Y/N’s eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes stayed on his before a small smirk slowly pulled at her lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

Mr. Stark is not intending to use the items he disposed of on your desk. I believe the term he used was ‘a junk table’.

Y/N watched as Tony’s mouth dropped at the A.I.’s words. He had never once had it work against him and yet, Y/N had managed to do so. “You turned him against me.”

“Not against,” She defended. “I just added a few things to ensure that I’d get the right information instead of you sabotaging me.”

“For the millionth time, that was not sabotage. I ensured everything was fair and square.” Tony rolled his eyes. “When did you even have time to hack into things?”

Y/N bit down on her tongue to keep her from speaking her mind. She should have known better. She should have known that he would simply deny it, just as he had plenty of times before. Instead, she let out a deep breath. “The last time I was here.” She said as she uncrossed her arms and began moving towards the case. “If I’m not mistaken, you were otherwise preoccupied with an overly bubbly blonde. Plus it wasn’t like I corrupted the system in any way. I just need someone on my side from time to time.”

Just as she reached the case and went to open it, Tony’s hand reached hers and stopped her from opening it. She turned to face him, her hand still on the latch. There was a slight glare on Tony’s face. Whether it was from her words or the fact she was attempting to open the case, she’d never know.

“You have no idea what this thing is and you want to just open it, like it’s nothing.” He said never taking his eyes off her.

“That’s what the point of this is.” She shook her head. “All the necessary protocols already came into play the moment the agents left.”

“I highly doubt that.” He said, taking a step back.

“Want to ask? Or should I?” Her fingers tapped on the latch as she watched him. It was a challenge.

The simple words enough to show how much they really trusted the other. While Tony had no idea about the rewrite that Y/N had included in his system, they hadn’t always agreed on things. If anything, they always disagreed with each other ninety-nine percent of the time. That one percent was a mix of giving in to what the other wanted or, Y/N getting her way.

It was as Tony let out a sigh that another smirk began to grow on Y/N’s lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S. are-”

Yeah, it was going to be a long week for the both of them.

All WorksTag (The tag to be notified for everything I write): @xoxo-nikki-xoxo @mrs-jackson-kenner @mizzzpink @amariaamaris

Excelsior Tag(All MCU fics): @hey-there-angels @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione@taylordrunkonwhiskey @old-enough-to-know-better73

Chemical Reaction (For only updates for this story): @frostay

Iron Man Tag (For any and all things Tony): @imgoingtofreakoutnow

If you would like to be added to, or taken off, the taglist, please do so here!

76 notes · View notes

nostuntmanneeded · 3 years

Note

So Seb let all of these hateful memes of his “GF” into his tags for a really long time and then it stopped once she came back stat side. I wanna know what happened there. Did she finally speak up or did his team say stop it doesn’t look good. Since she appeared back in LA I’ve been wondering if they turned real. // This makes sense but l wanna share my two cents as well, I'm almost positive he was asked by his team to stop because it definitely sealed the deal that it was PR that time because he didn't just approve the memes mocking her baits, he was also approving stuff similar to those "blink if you need help" type of memes, and people we're so sure it was PR that time because he was doing it a lot and naturally, people would be curious as to why would he approve such memes and insult his "girlfriend", she shouldn't have to call her own "boyfriend" out for something that insulting and demeaning, any normal partner who respects their significant other wouldn't even think of doing that. He spent a lot of time approving those memes, before even making actual efforts to acknowledge her on social media and if he did stop because she told him to well ain't that funny that she has the audacity to call him out for approving those accurate memes when she won't even take down the posts much less, apologize for it. As for the things that went down in LA, it was already anticipated that they were gonna ramp things up for so many reasons as 1. The one year mark was already approaching by that time and yet people were barely buying their shit and refused to take them seriously 2. They had to make up for the lost time when he was filming Fresh and she was back in Spain and 3. As mentioned, the presumed end was approaching so it was important to up their game. Also, try to keep in mind that the reason mostly as to why it looks more believable now because they changed tactics, because the pap walks obviously weren't working, it did nothing but expose their loopholes so they decided to focus on "public sightings" and social media interactions. Don't you find it at least a bit sketchy that there weren't public sightings of them at all before and so were the interactions and now all of a sudden, we're getting lots of them? It took him months to follow her and another month/s to actually acknowledge her and interact with her. Notice how they were constantly getting papped before and now not a single pap pic? Unless you count that joke from the P&T set. Moreover, if you come to think of it, the tactics only got upgraded but the handling of the stunt was still sloppy, it's predictable and there are way too many apparent patterns like the black and white pictures and weekend stunts and everything is just way too damn predictable, I mean people were even able to predict that she was going to be LA exactly 2 weeks after being in Tulum. The reason for my adamance on believing that this is PR is not because I'm being stubborn or that I refuse to accept the possibility of it being real, I simply can't set aside all these factors and all too telling behavior. ,

Exactly!

There is a good possibility that his team told him to stop. They can't blow their cover, or else the contract is dead and no one gets any benefits.

Alejandra being in L.A. made it more important to cut the approval of tags ridiculing their relationship. And remember how she limited her comments even more to stop the flow of negative comments.

21 notes · View notes

livingcorner · 3 years

Text

12+ Ways to Make $1000 a Month from Your Garden (Year Round!)

They say when you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. Well, I love my garden and given a choice I’d be out there amongst my garden beds day and night. There’s a big difference between gardening and farming though, and while I love my garden I’m not cut out for the life of a farmer.

While bringing in a full-time gardening income is a bit tricky, making a side income from your garden is easier than you’d think.

You're reading: 12+ Ways to Make $1000 a Month from Your Garden (Year Round!)

Most people see gardening as a seasonal endeavor, that starts in the spring and ends in the fall, coming and going each year. Up here in Vermont, our summer growing season is only a sad 100 days or so, and if I confined my efforts to those short months it wouldn’t make for much of a side hustle. I think it’s important to find a way to earn a consistent side income, so I’m providing options for every month of the year (even in a cold climate like ours).

Beyond that, our land is mostly forested, which means the definition of “garden” is a bit loose. We grow mushrooms in the shady spots and tap maple trees in season. We also forage the wild bounty that nature’s garden has provided, meaning that we don’t have to limit our “gardening” to a small tilled section of the yard.

Even if you’re lacking space in a small suburban lot, expanding outside of the traditional garden into local parks, or taking your garden indoors with salad sprouts, closet mushrooms, and seedling trays will allow you to make use of the space you have year-round.

Here are a few options to earn a substantial side income from your garden every season of the year, with ideas for both city and country folk.

(Be sure to check local laws and restrictions before you start with anything, as those vary widely from place to place.)

Winter Garden Income

While you’d think winter would be the slow season for backyard garden income, believe it or not, it’s actually the best time for making money from your garden. You’re generally less busy with planting and weeding, but everyone is stuck inside dreaming of the garden bounty to come.

Indoor Salad Gardening

January is when everyone’s making new years resolutions to live healthier and eat more salads, but it’s a pretty rough time for gardening in most places. If right around the end of the year you plan ahead with an indoor salad gardening setup, you’ll be in the perfect position to market microgreens and sprouts when they’re in high demand.

Local farms around here sell winter micro greens CSA’s and unlike summer shares where they net less than a dollar on a head of lettuce, winter greens command high prices. A small bag of specialty microgreens runs $12 to 15 each. And I really mean a small bag, maybe 3 cups of at most.

The trick is to grow high-quality, specialty greens that get people excited when the grocery store options are minimal. The book Year Round Indoor Salad Gardening is a great resource to get started, and covers all you’d need to know to grow your own greens. At that point, the problem is scaling up and marketing.

Start a Small Backyard Seed Company

You may think you need to be some kind of multi-national to sell seeds, but in reality, customers are looking toward sustainably grown seed for specialty heirloom varieties these days. It doesn’t get much more sustainable than a backyard garden, and buying seed locally ensures that you’ll get varieties perfectly suited to a particular growing region.

Choosing the right crops is key to generating a good income selling seeds. Tomato seed, for example, is very easy to save and a single tomato often has enough seed to supply a dozen seed packets. The flowers are self-contained, and it actually takes work for plant breeders to hybridize a variety, which means they’ll come true to variety even with many different types grown in the same garden.

Most importantly, people get really excited about tomatoes. Ever wonder why 1/3 of any seed catalog seems to be tomato seed? With all that love for tomatoes, customers are liable to drop $5 for a locally grown packet of seeds for a really great variety.

While tomatoes are really easy, there are many varieties that aren’t much harder. You need to know a bit about seed saving, not only harvesting and cleaning the seed, but about how pollination and selection works by variety. Some varieties require a minimum population size to avoid inbreeding in the long term, and all that’s important to know before you get started.

Seed to Seed is generally recognized as the most encyclopedic book on seed saving, covering just about every variety you can imagine. It has great breadth to get you started, but not a whole lot of depth.

The Seed Garden is hands down my favorite seed saving book. It’s well written and covers varieties in great depth. It’s authored by The Seed Savers Exchange which does great work in the field of preserving heirloom varieties.

The Complete Guide to Seed Saving has a lot of stellar reviews, and it’s the next one I’m going to add to my gardening library.

Even in a small town environment here in Rural Vermont, there are about a dozen local seed companies. High Mowing Seed started out really small just down the road from us, and now they’re a big national brand. Milkweed Medicinals sells specialty seed that’s hard to find, and they now sell in all the local coops.

Find your niche and there’s a great income to be made with homegrown seed.

Selling Cuttings

Even easier than saving seed, selling cuttings is an easy way to make a healthy income from your established plants in the winter months. There are a number of varieties, like grapes for example, that need to be cut back or pruned in the winter. Those cuttings are perfect for starting new plants and many gardeners are willing to pay good money for tiny pieces of your established crops.

I just bought 30 elderberry cuttings from Norms Farms at $4 each to propagate at home. Elderberries grow readily from cuttings, and it’s an economical way for me to get a huge bed of them started. Elderberry plants from a nursery cost about $30 each, so I’m happy with the transaction and the seller just made $120 off a tiny box of trimmings.

There are a number of plants that grow well from hardwood cuttings, some like black currants, are as simple as snipping off a tip and sticking it into the ground. Others require a bit more attention and prep work to the cuttings, but they’re still beginner level.

Scion wood, or cuttings from apple trees to be grafted onto rootstock, is similarly lucrative. All you need is a couple of established apple trees of known varieties and you can harvest cuttings for sale.

Usually, each cutting is only a few inches long, so shipping them isn’t a big issue. There’s a marketplace on the seed savers exchange website, and a scion wood cutting sells for about $4 each.

Start by learning a thing or two about plant propagation, first so that you can establish your own cutting beds, and then so you can educate customers on how easy it is to grow plants from cuttings. Try reading Practical Woody Plant Propagation for Nursery Growers to get you started.

Read more: Why Does My Garden Hose Keep Bursting? | GardenAxis.com

A handful of elderberry cuttings that sell for $4 each.

Growing Mushrooms Indoors

Learning to grow mushrooms is a bit different than most standard garden crops, so this one will take some studying for even seasoned gardeners. Still, there’s the potential to grow large crops from a small indoor space year-round.

The book Organic Mushroom Farming and Mycoremediation describes in detail how to set up a back closet, extra nook or spare bathroom to grow mushrooms with minimal time investment (2 hours a week).

He has a great breakdown of costs, inputs, and yields…but in summary, you can make about $100 per week from a small setup that takes up a 4’x4′ footprint. The system scales easily, with minimal extra time investment, meaning you only need slightly more space to increase that to a grand per month.

The best part, they can grow in recycled 5-gallon buckets picked up from restaurants, and they consume waste products like spent coffee grounds, that you can often pick up for free.

If you have access to outdoor space and hardwood logs, growing shiitake mushrooms is also a great place to start for beginners, but outdoors, harvests would be in the warmer months rather than winter.

I don’t know about you, but when I had an office job my co-workers would have loved to buy fresh mushrooms to take home for a fancy Friday night meal.

Spring Garden Income

Spring is when everyone’s mind is dead set on their own gardens, and it’s a great time to capitalize on the surge in interest in all things green.

Selling Dandelions (and other wild weeds)

While countless suburbanites are spraying their lawns trying to eradicate the dandelions, more savvy gardeners are realizing that one person’s weed is another’s delicacy. Dandelions are edible root to shoot, and better yet, they’re also highly medicinal.

Dandelion root tincture sells for about $12 per ounce, and it only takes a root or two per ounce. The spring greens are highly sought after by local food coops, where they sell for $4-5 per bundle. Not bad for a pile of weeds.

Beyond dandelions, there’s all manner of early spring green “weeds” that can command high prices if you know how to identify, harvest and process them. Chickweed is incredibly invasive, but also delicious, and chickweed tincture has plenty of medicinal uses too.

There’s nothing like making a bit of side income from weeding your garden early in the spring. You’ve got to do it anyway, might as well make it pay.

Dandelion roots harvested for homemade tincture.

Growing Spring Ephemerals

An ephemeral is a crop that has a very short season, and it may only be around for a few weeks before the plants go dormant (or unharvestable) for a full year. Ramps, or wild leeks, are a slow-growing ephemeral that’s only around for a few weeks in the spring, but during that time they’re in high demand by both home cooks and fancy chefs. Knowing where to find a good wild patch is hard, but they’re actually remarkably easy to naturalize in your own backyard.

Growing ramps from seeds just requires the right conditions. Moist soil, under the shade of deciduous trees. The more leaf cover the better.

You’re not growing anything else in that much shade, so growing your own ramps is a great way to earn top dollar from an otherwise unproductive patch of land. This is a long-term venture though, as leeks are slow-growing, and they’ll require about 5-7 years before your first harvest, but after that, a well-tended and sustainably harvested patch can last indefinitely.

Fiddleheads are another crop that’s generally wild foraged, but it’s remarkably easy to cultivate. They can actually be pretty invasive, and I spent a long time weeding them out of my garden so I could grow anything else. I just dug them up and tossed them into a heap, and they kept on growing and spreading from there as if nothing happened.

Fiddleheads can be really productive, and they sell for about $20 a pound here in Vermont where they’re common. You might get even better prices somewhere they’re more scarce.

Since they’re productive, fern heads can be pickled to extend their season, so you can market the bumper crop a bit longer.

My daughter holding a harvest of fiddleheads and ramps.

Selling Spring Seedlings

Selling spring veggie seedlings is an obvious choice. Tomato seeds cost about a tenth of a cent each, but a healthy started plant can easily sell for $5. Sure, there’s the cost for potting soil and pots, but the profit margin is still huge on seedling sales.

The trick is, you’re investing your time and energy into starting plants off right, so others don’t have to. This is one of the most lucrative ways to make money from your garden if you invest in the right equipment and can master the process.

A greenhouse, even a small backyard model, is essential for producing seedlings early enough in the season. As for resources to get you started, The New Seed Starter’s Handbook covers everything in detail, including troubleshooting guides if your plants aren’t performing.

Beyond the income from selling seedlings, you’ll also save a boatload by starting your own seeds instead of purchasing starts. That’s one of those penny saved is a penny earned propositions, and any seedlings you don’t sell can just go right into your own garden.

Take a look at the local market this spring, and see if there are any gaps. Do all the tomato seedlings sell out quickly, or is the market flooded? If there’s plenty of other vendors, consider growing something niche like medicinal herbs.

Start a Backyard Nursery

Similar to growing out your own veggie seedlings, starting your own backyard nursery extends the income beyond the busy spring season. If you’re growing perennials, you don’t have to worry about any unsold plants at the end of the year. Just tuck them in for the winter and try to sell them next year.

Propagating plants from cuttings is remarkably easy, and all it takes is a bit of time and patience. Those elderberry cuttings that sold for $4 each (above) as trimmings will sell for $25 to $30 as full-sized potted bushes in a few years. Just the patience, time and space required to grow out the plants pays back in dividends later.

This is actually a big part of our retirement plan, and we’re putting in perennials throughout our land to serve as cutting sources later when we open our nursery. In the meantime, they’re beautiful, and most are edibles like elderberries, so we’re harvesting the fruit for our table while we patiently bide our time to retirement.

Backyard plant nurseries don’t require that much space, as potted plants can be stored fairly close together.

Summer Garden Income

Summer is peak growing season and it’s a great time to earn income from what you’re growing at home. The big farms and CSA operations have the lettuce market cornered, but backyard gardeners can break into the market by offering really novel crops. Start by focusing on high-dollar items and unique crops that get people’s attention.

High Dollar Specialty Crops

You’re never going to compete with the 100 acre organic CSA down the road on most generic crops, but those big operations cant grow everything. They can grow a lot of the staples most families use every day, but backyard gardeners can grow small amounts of truly specialty crops that demand high prices. Here are a few good options:

Husk Cherries – Also known as ground cherries, these plants produce huge crops of sweet pineapple/strawberry flavored fruit. They grow on plants similar to tomatoes, and each bright orange fruit is wrapped in a papery husk. Just one taste and you’ll want more.

Before we were growing our own, I’d buy them for $5 a pint…now I know that each plant can produce more than a gallon of fruit even with neglect. If you hand out samples, these will sell themselves. It also helps if you give people creative ways to use them.

Cucamelons – Also known as mouse melons, these tiny little grape-sized cucumbers taste like a cross between a cucumber and lime. They’re really wonderful fresh out of hand, and they make great pickles or mixed drinks. The cuteness factor means that these sell for about $5 per half-pint.

Berry Pick Your Own

To complement our backyard nursery retirement plans, we’re also planning a pick your own operation. This requires more space than most of the other ideas on this list, but after the initial setup, labor is pretty minimal.

A while back I calculated the rate of return on a raspberry pick your own, and you’d need about 250-row feet to produce $1000 worth of raspberries. For us on 30 acres, that’s a drop in the bucket, but that may be more space than you can devote to any one crop.

Strawberries are similar, in that a plant generally yields about a pound of fruit in a season, and requires 1-row foot. At $4 per pound, you’d need the same amount of row feet as raspberries. The benefit there is, strawberry rows are much more closely spaced so this may be more practical for some.

Read more: 37 Garden Border Ideas To Dress Up Your Landscape Edging

Garden Tours, Tea Times & Classes

Though it’s not my cup of tea, garden tours and country tea times are a good option for flower gardeners. A local nurseryman around here makes a good side income hosting tea time in his home garden, and runs an annual tour of his extensive plantings, along with specialty days for big blooms (like daffodils). Our gardens are more down-to-earth and “homestead” than they are attractive, but many people’s are just the opposite.

All it takes is a few tables, a decent scone recipe, and a few good teapots, and you’re ready to run a weekly afternoon tea time in the garden. Add in tours and maybe a few gardening classes and you’ve got yourself a ready source of income from your own beautiful backyard.

Medicinal Herbs

With the increasing demand for more alternative remedies, there’s never been a better time to grow medicine in your backyard. Locally grown herbs are still hard to find in most areas, but plenty of people are looking for them.

Many medicinal herbs are perennials, which means you plant them once and you can harvest them for years. And the same compounds that make the plants medicinal also make them resistant to deer and insects, which means less maintenance than garden veggies. For the most part, they’re perennial, persistent and more importantly…profitable.

There’s a high demand for medicinal tinctures since they’re ready to use, and our local coop has half an aisle dedicated to them. Tinctures sell for $8 to $12 an ounce, but they only cost about $1 to $2 an ounce, even if you’re buying in the herbs rather than growing them.

Add in another $1 for the tincture bottle, and you’re still making a pretty sizable profit per bottle. Choosing crops that are common and in high demand, like echinacea tincture can help you break into the market.

As you’re just getting started, I’d recommend Backyard Medicine as a way to dip your toe into harvesting and making your own herbal remedies, especially from wild crops. If you’re considering growing herbs for profit I’d highly recommend The Organic Medicinal Herb Farmer: The Ultimate Guide to Producing High-Quality Herbs on a Market Scale. It’s written by farmers that grow just a few towns over from us, and they’ve inspired a lot of people to take up growing medicine for the market.

The Herbal Academy of New England also has a course designed specifically for herbal entrepreneurs. The course walks you through the basics of creating your own brand identity, marketing, sourcing herbal ingredients, manufacturing herbal remedies and creating a business plan around herbs and herbal remedies.

Fall Garden Income

The end of the garden season, fall is generally when the crops come in. In my mind though, it’s one of the more challenging times to make income as a small producer.

There are a lot of products on the market, and it’s hard to stand out. With the holidays right around the corner though, marketing yourself as a niche producer of really unique homegrown gifts can work to your advantage.

Honey & Bee Products

Gardeners need bees and bees need gardeners! Raising honey bees is a great way to support pollinator communities, but with all the challenges that face hives these days, it’s best to be educated before you start. There’s a really great book called Natural Beekeeping: Organic Approaches to Modern Apiculture that covers just about everything you need to know to keep your bees healthy naturally.

In a good year, with our short Vermont growing seasons, bees can produce as much as 100lbs of honey for harvest. The current bulk price at our coop, meaning bring your own container nothing fancy…is $7 per pound. Pre-packaged just in mason jars, honey goes for $10-12 per pound, and considerably more in specialty gift packaging.

Add in things like bee pollen or propolis for medicinal use, or comb honey, and you have yet more high-dollar items to market.

Honey, especially locally sustainably raised honey is in high demand just about everywhere. People are realizing that bees are important to our environment, and many will be happy to pay for local honey just knowing that it means supporting someone who is stewarding such an important resource in their neighborhood.

Apples, Cider and Cider Press Rentals

My doctor has a small apple share side hustle that she runs with her sister, selling harvest shares to neighbors in her spare time. They have a few full-sized apple trees, and each one produces around 100 to 120 pounds of apples per year. These days, conventionally grown supermarket apples are about $3 per pound…and locally grown apples fetch a premium above that.

She sells shares ahead of time and then divides the harvest as each tree comes to bear. Distributing them to shareholders every week or two as each variety ripens over the season.

We have other neighbors who sell fresh cider that they press from their trees, at $12 per gallon. Last year we pressed nearly 80 gallons from our trees, most of which went into hard cider and homemade cider syrup (like maple syrup), but we easily could have sold it instead. Instead of selling our cider, we have a different strategy for earning our income during apple season.

We invested in an efficient double-barrel cider press, with the thought that we can rent it out to other small apple producers. People with one or two trees in their backyard love the novelty of pressing their own cider, and around these parts a press rents for about $50 for the afternoon. Over the course of the season that can really add up…

Year-Round Garden Income

Beyond different things you can do seasonally to earn a few thousand a couple of months a year, there are things you can do year-round to earn a steady income related to your garden.

Garden Blogging

I know, making income from blogging seems too good to be true, but writing about diy, gardening, and self-sufficiency is now my full-time job. Within 6 months of starting this blog, I started making an extra $1000 a month. After 9 months of writing, I was able to quit my day job, and now at 18 months in I bring in more each month than any job I’ve ever had.

The best part? All I do is write about what we’re already doing here in our daily lives, and I spend my days playing in the garden and out foraging in the woods with my kids.

I was inspired to take the leap into blogging when I read the book Make Money Blogging at Any Level by my blogger friend, Victoria at A Modern Homestead. She outlines in detail how to earn a substantial income, even from a very small blog.

She was able to retire her husband and supports her family exclusively with her blog. If you’re considering blogging as a source of income it’s worth the investment. It’s $27 for the book, and I made that back in my first week with my blog following her tips.

She also has a much more comprehensive blogging e-course that takes you through everything you need to know to launch your own profitable blog. It’s a bit more of an investment, but it’s the perfect way for a beginner to learn everything they need to know to launch their blog fast and start earning money.

Garden Micro-Influencer

Making money on Instagram is all the rage these days, and you’d be surprised how many companies are willing to send you free products just for a promise that you’ll post at least 1 picture of it to Instagram with honest feedback. Once you have even a small following, companies will pay you for your time reviewing it (and you still get to keep it for free…)

Looking for a little inspiration? You can always follow along on my Instagram for ideas…

Hopefully, this helps inspire you to turn your gardening passion into a meaningful side hustle. If you have any other ideas, let me know in the comments below.

More Income Inspiration

How to Make a Full-Time Income Off-Grid

8 Ways to Make an Extra $1000 a Month on a Small Homestead

Making Money with Small Scale Maple Sugaring

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/12-ways-to-make-1000-a-month-from-your-garden-year-round/

#livingcornernews

6 notes · View notes

tailorvizsla · 4 years

Text

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship: Chapter 7

Title: Calm Before the Storm Pairing: Paz x f!Reader (finally), mentions of Paz & various characters Word Count: ~10.1k Rating: PG-13 Warnings: References to illness, as well as the fear that someone might hurt themselves (but that’s as heavy as it gets), feelings, Paz With Children

📚 My Master List 📚

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 8 | 9 | 10

❤️❤️❤️ This beautiful moodboard is by the amazing @huliabitch! Thank you so much!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Tags: @hdlynn @ffiiggyy50 @princessbatears @ben-is-a-hoe @oloreaa @andromedanerds @phoenixhalliwell @mandhoelorian @dornish-queen @corrupt-fvcker @kazzilla

[flashback]

Slouching in his chair, Paz stares out at the blue lights zipping by across the windows as they navigate the hyperspace lane. Exhaustion fills him down to the bone, yet he cannot find rest. When they come into range of the communication buoy, he sends a short message ahead to Doctor Shen and asks her to clear the hangar out. She does not ask questions.

In the half hour it takes to get home, Paz gets Zephyr’s things together – he grabs a spare set of clothes and does a quick spot-clean of his armor to get the worst of the filth off. After that, Paz returns to the cockpit and guides the ship into the hangar. The doors are shut and one of the people break off to leave, leaving behind Doctor Shen’s familiar white armor.

He opens the ramp from the cockpit and goes to check on Zephyr. His heart sinks as he steps into the room. The young man is sitting up, arms wrapped loosely around his knees, his glazed-over eyes staring blankly at the far wall. Paz kneels next to the bed, reaching out with a tentative hand. He places it gently onto his shoulder.

“Hey,” Paz says softly. “We’re back.”

Zephyr’s only response is a short nod.

“Doctor Shen is here,” he continues. “I want you to go sit with her for a bit while I deal with all this, alright?”

Another nod. Paz hands him the pile of clothes and sets the armor down next to him. Then he exits, turning the light on and shutting the door to give him privacy. At the bottom of the ladder, he finds Doctor Shen waiting.

“What happened?” Doctor Shen asks urgently.

“Something extremely traumatizing,” Paz says. “I need you to talk to him, just…I need to deal with this. I’m going to set up a cot for him in my room.”

Doctor Shen’s response is cut off by the sound of Zephyr’s feet hitting the top rung of the ladder.

“Hey, vod,” she says. “Let’s head to medical, and we can talk, alright?”

Zephyr turns to look at him. Paz nods encouragingly. Once Zephyr and Doctor Shen have disappeared, he turns his attention to the boxes and promptly decides it can be dealt with later. Right now, he needs to use his hands, to move and to not think. In the main hall, he finds Armorer waiting for him.

“What happened?” she asks as she falls into stride next to him.

“Can we talk somewhere more private?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, of course,” she says.

At his door, Paz types in the code, and lets Armorer in.

“What happened?” Armorer asks.

For the first time in his life, Paz is speechless. He turns to face her and leans his weight against the wall. He had tried to come up with a way to bring it up with Armorer, but now, he has forgotten everything he had wanted to say. He decides to just blurt it out. Well, there is no way to put this delicately, regardless.

“Liam didn’t die on Nevarro. He survived.”

The silence stretches on.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Paz says, his voice just above a whisper.

She understands the unspoken question.

“We never found his body,” Armorer says slowly. “Zeli looked for hours. When she brought back his helmet, I suspected he might have abandoned the Tribe. I did not want Zephyr to try and return to find his buir.”

He lets his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk. One breath in, hold, and let it out slowly. His armor suddenly feels hot and itchy, suffocating him with its weight. His gut twists as he clears the emotion from his throat. Zephyr would have clawed his way back off the ship if he thought there was a chance his buir survived.

“Liam…Liam told us a grenade knocked him out. He said he woke up to a group of bounty hunters taking his helmet off,” Paz says. “He killed them just as Zeli came looking for him.”

“Do you believe he spoke the truth?”

He does not need to consider the veracity of Liam’s claim - deep down, he knows Liam had spoken the truth.

“Yes.”

“He did not abandon the Tribe,” Armorer says. “However, he knew what would happen if he returned. Did he know Zeli would likely be exiled alongside him?”

Paz nods once. He can still see Liam lying on that narrow cot, sick and barely clinging to life. Regret at not having said goodbye to his wife. Self-loathing. Fear. Yet as soon as Zephyr had pressed their foreheads together, it had all dissipated, like a wisp of smoke in a breeze.

“It would not have been just your decision to exile him,” Paz says.

Armorer nods once in confirmation. Like before, it would have been a Tribe vote. Given how high tensions had risen, they would have exiled the two of them on the spot without even thinking it through. Without thinking of the possible ramifications of their decision. Armorer folds her arms under her chest plate, watching him intently. Paz can feel his hands shaking, the adrenaline starting to wear off with the lack of movement.

“Where is Liam now?” she asks, but her tone indicates she knows the answer to that question.

“He was dying when we found him,” Paz says, unable to keep the sorrow from his voice. “He had growths that spread to his vital organs. Beyond what he could afford to pay.”

Armorer nods once more.

“What can I do to help?” she asks.

“Liam hunted until he could not continue,” Paz responds. “We brought his final offering back. I would really appreciate your help in going through it.”

“Of course,” Armorer says. “What about Zephyr?”

“I am getting him set up in the spare room,” Paz says. “I just need to clear it out.”

“I will go get him a cot,” Armorer says. “Do you know his door code?”

“No,” Paz says. “But I can get it from him later.”

Armorer nods and disappears. He starts moving again, losing himself to the repetition of lifting boxes and carrying them into his bedroom, trying to stop himself from thinking. From feeling. When it is completely empty, he takes a moment to breathe. Center himself. Collect his thoughts. Plan the next step.

Be strong for Zephyr, he thinks to himself. Be strong for Tribe. Be strong for those who cannot be.

Paz exits the spare room and glances out at the living space, which doubles as a workspace when he wants to be alone or needs to take his helmet off. Now, as he takes stock of the situation, the cold, harsh reality of the situation seems to sink in. Zephyr has always been such a gentle boy, always feeling deeply, always hurting when others hurt. He is still rash and impulsive, immature in some ways.

He also never had the best coping mechanisms growing up, even with Liam and Zeli’s guidance. He does not think that Zephyr might do something drastic, but Paz refuses to risk it. He unfolds another plastic crate. Balancing it on his hip, he goes from table to table, packing the various blasters and knives away. For the weapons that are still being rebuilt or cleaned, he removes the battery packs. He hides the firing mechanisms in a box and stuffs it behind linens in a cabinet.

In the kitchen, he starts pulling the narrow drawers open, tossing anything sharper than a spoon into the box. From there, he moves to the cabinets over the tiny heating unit. He has a modest collection of alcohol stored away. For a few seconds, he debates on whether to keep it, but then he remembers the bottles littering the clearing near Liam’s home. How many of those were used to self-medicate? To numb himself to the pain? Shaking his head, Paz reaches up and starts emptying the bottles into the sink, even the ones he has never cracked open before.

A tap at the door interrupts him.

“Come in,” he calls out.

Armorer comes in with a bag of linens in her arms. She is followed by Din and Terys. They roll the cot into the spare room and leave without a word. Paz checks the bathroom medkit, but he does not have any painkillers aside from a small packet of aspirin. Paz sends the door code to Zephyr and Doctor Shen, telling them to let themselves in if he is not back by the time they are finished. Once the bedroom door is locked, Armorer accompanies him back to the hangar. They stand in silence for several moments, looking at the boxes filling the cargo bay.

He reaches for the first battered crate and pries the lid off.

“Metal ingots,” Paz says automatically, lifting a bar of crude iron out of the box. “Looks like mostly iron and copper.”

He wheels it out to the main floor. From there, the two of them work quickly, going through the biggest crates first, sorting it into piles for easy moving and storage later. Liam had found several crates worth of raw metal for the Foundry. It was enough to keep their munitions cache stocked for nearly a year. In another crate, they find hard-to-get electrical components. The knives, blasters, ammunition, and explosives are moved off toward the end of the line. He can deal with it later. Much, much later.

They keep the chatter to a minimum as they sort through the smaller crates. It almost seems disrespectful to speak when dealing with a hunter’s final offering to the Tribe. The next few crates are filled with a variety of goods, ranging from rolls of leather to vacuum-sealed bags of spices and dried herbs. They are finally left with two wooden crates, both battered and worn. Paz grabs the crowbar and pries one open. The tool slips out of his fingers and clatters to the floor when he sees the armor within.

The cuirass is badly damaged, the paint worn away in some places and scorched in others. Near the karta bes’kar, the metal has been torn open to reveal the innermost electronic components. The cuisses and bracers are in worse condition. They look like they had been repaired with temporary patches, the silvery marks crisscrossing every surface. He’d been in many fights, all without an armorer to repair his beskar’gam. How had he survived so long?

Underneath the mismatched set of shoulder pieces, he finds Liam’s original right pauldron. It looks nearly pristine, save for the violent gouges where Liam had pried off the clan signet. Finally, at the bottom of the box, Paz finds the clan signet. He reaches for the mangled piece of metal.

“Leave it,” Armorer says, her sharp tone stopping him.

“Armorer?” Paz asks, watching as she reaches into the box. She picks up the signet and runs her thumb along the edge. Then she pockets it with a quiet sigh.

“Liam severed himself from his clan,” Armorer says.

Paz has heard of clans disowning or exiling members, but never the reverse. His gut twists when he considers how desperate Liam must have been to avoid including anyone else in his shame.

“And the rest of his armor?” he dares to ask.

“I will store it with the utmost respect until Zephyr is ready to decide what will be done with it,” Armorer says.

The last box is much smaller, and in even worse condition. Paz almost dreads what he is going to find inside. He lifts the lid and inhales sharply. Row after row of bes’kar ingots glitter up at him in the dull light. He picks one up. No Imp stamp, meaning it came from another source. Third-hand dealer? Battlefield scavengers? Armorer picks up a piece and turns it over in her hands. Then she raps it sharply against her bracer, causing the ingot to sing a familiar, sweet note.

“Pure bes’kar,” she confirms.

Paz picks up one of the heavier bags and opens it. Imperial credits. The next bag contains Calamari Flan. He goes through the satchels, pure ice filling his stomach at the small fortune Liam had sent back. For this kind of money, he had been taking some dangerous bounties, if not outright dealing with spice.

“He could have bought a bacta tank with all this,” Paz says, shaking his head in denial. “Hell, he could have bought ten…”

He trails off Armorer returns the ingot to the crate.

“I think that, in his sorrow, Liam truly believed that his death would redeem him in our eyes,” Armorer says softly. “That this – “ she gestures at the crates neatly organized out in the hangar “ – would make him worthy of our respect. Perhaps, even our forgiveness.”

Paz sits there for a moment, digesting her words. Even when they were young, Liam had always worried about the Tribe. He had always wondered if his offerings were enough to feed them and clothe them. He had always just worried, more than what any sixteen-year-old should have worried in a lifetime.

“I will store the money with Liam’s armor,” she says. “I know Liam said that this is a Tribe offering, but I would like to give Zephyr the opportunity to decide if he will keep a portion for himself.”

As Liam’s only surviving child, Zephyr has the right to keep it all to himself. Paz doubted the young man would want any of the money. He likely would only want his father’s armor, perhaps a bit of the bes’kar to put aside for his own children one day.

With this amount of money coming into the Tribe coffers, Paz knows he should be grateful. They will not need to worry about food or medical supplies for several years at least. Yet, he feels that pang in his chest worsen. Welcoming a Mandalorian warrior back into their ranks would have been a fortune to which no amount of money or bes’kar could ever compare.

If only there had been time, Paz thinks to himself desperately, time for tempers to cool. If only there had been more time.

Looking at the wealth surrounding them, Paz decides he would trade it all away in a heartbeat if it meant Zephyr could spend a few more hours with his buir.

He looks up as Armorer starts to leave.

“Armorer…”

She stops and looks to him.

“Is he…” Paz trails off. She watches. “Would Liam be considered…dar’manda?”

After a few moments, she speaks.

“Even with our strict interpretation of our oaths, we still show leniency to our members,” Armorer says. “Losing ones’ helmet does not make someone dar’manda. It is the willful abandonment of our heritage, our culture, and the Resol’nare that renders one unfit to join in the Manda when we pass on.”

She looks at the crates littering the hangar.

“He gave up everything he knew and loved to ensure his child had a future with us. He hunted to provide for his Tribe to the very end, even when there was no guarantee his offerings would be accepted.”

She lets the silence linger.

“If you are asking my opinion, Paz, then I would not have considered him dar’manda. He helped raise a warrior. He fought like one from the time he donned the helmet until he left us to go march,” Armorer says quietly. “He still had his soul, however much he had disappointed and shamed this Tribe. Would he have been welcomed back here with songs of glory? Certainly not. But with time, I think he could have restored his honor and earned our respect once more.”

Paz nods as an unexpected wave of relief fills him.

“Like many of us, he struggled to adhere to his path. He made terrible mistakes and he tried to rectify them in the only way he knew how – give all he had until the day he had nothing left to give. In the end, Liam was the only person who could decide if he was still a Mandalorian.”

Armorer tilts her head at him. Then she pushes the cart down the ramp. He watches as the little wheels clatter over the uneven seams in the concrete until she disappears. Paz sinks down onto the floor, one knee drawn up toward his chest, the other leg stretched out in front of him. He stares at the floor of the cargo bay, idly cataloguing all the little scraps of detritus that had fallen out of the boxes.

He should be grateful for Liam’s dedication to the hunt. He should be comforted that Liam and Zeli have reunited in the Manda. He should be happy that Zephyr had the opportunity to say goodbye to both his buire. Right now, all he feels is tired and empty, like someone has wrung his entire body out like a wet cloth. Paz lets his head fall back.

No matter how hard he tries to find his inner peace, he cannot stop his thoughts from racing. Is Zephyr okay? Would the kid let him talk to Doctor Shen? Hell, does Zephyr even want to stay with him? Shit. He probably should have asked first. Paz stares at the wall, trying to work up the will to move his body, but the heaviness in his soul weighs him down, threatening to pull him into his despair.

Peering into the hanger, you see that Paz is still sitting on the floor, his bulky blue armor barely visible from here. You don’t know what’s going on, but you know for a fact that the crates he has brought back are not the food and the medical supplies the Tribe is in need of. The others are bunched up behind you, clearly worried for him, so you turn to face them.

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say, volunteering yourself.

“He needs a stiff drink,” someone says. “I got a stash.”

“You di’kut,” you snap at him. “You know he doesn’t drink to cope. Maker, he needs someone with at least half-a-braincell.”

“Hey, it was just a suggestion, Shu’shika.”

“You all go make yourselves useful somewhere else. I hear that Hannah needs help with the kids.”

Predictably, the rest of the Tribe scatters like cockroaches, all hoping to avoid being voluntold into childcare duties. Shaking your head, you turn back to Paz. You gather your wits about yourself and edge into the hangar. Though you know he will not miss your approach, you make sure he can hear you coming. It isn’t until you kneel on the ground next to him that he looks up at you.

“Hey,” he says.

“What do you need?” you ask quietly.

His head falls back against the wall. In that moment, he looks like he has been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Surreptitiously, you glance over his armor and kute. Both are pristine. So Zephyr’s sorrow is not due to seeing combat on his first hunt. Something else had caused the two men this tremendous pain.

“Zephyr’s in medical,” Paz says tiredly.

“There is no force in this galaxy that could get between Doctor Shen and Zephyr,” you say gently. “I’m asking what you need, Paz. How can I help you?”

He looks up.

“Me?” he asks, almost sounding confused.

“Yes, you,” you repeat. “How can I help you bear the burden you carry right now?”

“I…” He trails off. “I don’t know.”

A wry smile crosses your lips, though he cannot see it.

“People don’t ask you that often, do they, hunter?” you whisper to him, your heart breaking cleanly in half for the warrior in front of you.

You wonder if anyone has ever shown him their appreciation for the difficult job he does. Does he view hunting as something he should not be thanked for? That it is something that he is expected to do, without consideration of his needs? How long has it been since anyone last helped him bear his burdens? Your throat tightens. You have been complicit in this – you have not shown him your kindness, nor your appreciation for what he does to care for the Tribe. Your heart burns with regret and sorrow.

You have called this man family, yet you have not taken the time to take care of him.

“No,” Paz says, at long last. “They don’t.” After several long moments, he continues, his voice heavy as lead in your ears. “It isn’t my place…to tell you what happened.”

You make a solemn vow to make sure no one else in this Tribe will ever be so woefully unappreciated again.

“Then tell me this, Paz. How do you feel right now?”

He lets out a mirthless huff of amusement.

“I haven’t failed this miserably at a hunt in almost twenty years.”

You tilt your helmet and frown.

“Was it a failure?”

“I set out for food and medical supplies,” Paz says tiredly. “I came back with none of it. I failed to provide for my Tribe.”

Ah, you think to yourself, that’s what is bothering him. Well, one of the things that are bothering him, at least. You gather your courage. You might have only known him for a few months now, but you have always secretly admired him. His strength. His dedication.

“Paz, do you really think that bringing back the wrong items means you have somehow failed us?” you ask quietly. Before he can answer, you dare to slip your own small hands around his, sandwiching his massive palm between yours. “You are so much more than just a hunter to us.”

He looks down at your hands. For a brief moment, you think he might tell you to let go, but he does not. Instead, his fingers tighten around yours. You have seen how strong those hands are, how easily he handles that massive cannon of his, yet he squeezes you with a gentility that makes your cheeks heat up.

“I know we’ve been Tribe for only a few months now, but in that time, you’ve made yourself our family,” you continue. “From day one, you looked after our children the same way you look after your own. You saw one child shiver in the cold classroom, and that was all it took for you to start waking up early enough to go turn environmental controls on.”

Paz tilts his helmet down, almost…shyly?

“Caring for the children is my job,” he says, his voice a bit gruff.

“By day four, you had every single one of our kids following at your heels,” you say in a faintly teasing tone. When his head tilted down further, you dared to continue, relishing in the warrior’s sweet embarrassment. “Gazing up at you in wide-eyed wonder, begging you to play with them.”

“They’ll do anything for sweets,” Paz muttered. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“Do you think so?” you ask. “You sat your shebs on the floor, let them all pile in around you, and taught them how to tie knots. In all those cables you spent hours organizing.”

“Learning is how a Tribe grows strong,” he counters stubbornly. “It’s my job.”

“On your next hunt, you went and picked out a small toy for each one,” you remind. “It took you so long to pick them out that you missed your return deadline by six hours. Is that part of your job?”

He sighs grumpily. A puff of laughter escapes you in response. He knows he has been caught. You forge on bravely, hoping that he will not think poorly of you for sitting here and spilling your innermost thoughts out to him. But he needs to hear it, you think.

His Tribe came from such dire straits. You do not know much of what they had gone through. Paz had not been forthcoming. All Dezha would say was that the rest of his Tribe was gone, with no presumed survivors. It was no wonder that Paz felt like he had to be responsible for every little thing. In a way, he kind of had been. He had been his peoples’ source of stability and strength, putting aside his own needs and wants to ensure the most precious members of his Tribe could thrive.

“No matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise, you are a respected and trusted figure of authority here. You are a leader, Paz. A teacher and caretaker.” You swallow. “You are dedicated to providing for each and every last person here, but you never ask for anything in return. We basically have to harass you until you tell us what you need. What you want.” He does not look up, nor does he refute your statement. He knows it is true. “We all do our part to ensure we remain strong, but you go above and beyond what is asked of you every single time. No matter what we ask of you, you give us everything you have. And I don’t think you have gotten the same back from us.

He stays quiet as he looks down at your entwined hands.

“That isn’t fair to you,” you whisper.

Then his strong fingers curl a little tighter around yours, sending heat shooting into your cheeks and making your breath hitch a little. Maker, you truly hope he did not hear that. How could holding someone’s hand make you so nervous?

“S-so please don’t ever think you are not doing enough for us, Paz,” you continue, stammering slightly. “Even if…even if we aren’t the best at showing you our gratitude…you are a trusted and cherished member of this Tribe. We care deeply for you.”

“You don’t need to show me your gratitude,” he says a bit gruffly. “This is my job, Shu’shika. Do yours the best you can. And that’ll be enough for me. For all of us.”

He still hasn’t let go of you.

“You do not need to bear this burden alone,” you say. “Let us help you. Let us take care of you, the same way you take care of us. I will – we will always be here to support you, Paz. That is what we do as a Tribe and as a family.”

“Once I can get this taken care of,” he says, gesturing at the piles of crates, “I just…I just need some sleep.”

“I can handle getting everything where it needs to go,” you say, volunteering yourself immediately.

“Can you handle those idiots?” Paz asks, tilting his head toward the doorway. “On a good day, I have to threaten to shoot them a few times before they will listen.”

“They probably enjoy threats of violence,” you say. “I have something more creative in mind.”

Paz lets out a huff of amusement, a low, rich noise that makes you grateful for the helmet on your head, hiding the way you are biting your lip and blushing cherry red.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Regrettably, you let go of his hand and climb to your feet. You lead the way out and make your way to the group of hunters loitering in the hangar. When you draw abreast of the group, you take a few moments to decide which hunter is best suited for which job.

“Terys, I need you to take the munitions to the Armory, please,” you say calmly, watching as his head turns down in your direction. For a brief moment, you wonder if he is going to give you sass, but in the end, he nods.

“Aye, Shu’shika,” he says, going toward the boxes at the end.

“Revala, would you please move the raw ores to the Foundry?” you ask.

“Aye,” she says. She goes off for the cart in the corner.

Your good luck ends there, unfortunately, and some of the others start to file out, clearly ready to ignore your requests.

“Neten, Lyras, I think that the two of you can handle the supplies going to the kitchen,” you say. “Hannah will need some help getting the heavier items moved onto the shelves.”

Lyras comes forward, but Neten turns away.

“Neten, come on,” Lyras says. “We have a job to do.”

“She doesn’t tell me what to do,” Neten scoffs.

All heads turn in your direction at the challenge issued by the much larger hunter.

“Neten, you do not have to do what I ask you to do,” you say calmly. “But let me remind you that I schedule childcare duties around here. If you choose to not help here, your ample amounts of free time will be spent in the nursery for the foreseeable future.”

Neten stares at you, clearly in shock at your threats. You really are not in the mood to fight right now, so you keep your posture as nonconfrontational as possible. Not only that, you’ve managed to leave your knife in your room again, so you have no weapons on your person. Neten then looks at Paz.

“She can’t do that,” Neten says to Paz. “Right? She can’t just decide – “

In that instant, Paz growls and his posture changes, making him look twice as big as he stalks forward. Even though Paz is only a few centimeters taller than Neten, he seems to loom over him, advancing with slow menacing steps until Neten shrinks back into the wall.

“Imagine the hell your life will become if Alor and Armorer find out you are refusing to do your assigned duties,” Paz growls quietly.

Neten decides to try his luck.

“But she has no authority over me,” Neten says, squaring his shoulders and giving you what you assume is a glare. “She can’t tell me what to do – “

Paz lifts his hand and places it on the wall right next to Neten’s audial, leaning in closer. Neten shrinks back against the wall.

“Well, guess what, Neten. I have decided that Shu’shika oversees you from now on. If she tells you to jump, you will do so, and then you will thank her for the privilege,” Paz says, in a soft, silky voice that makes your knees tremble. When Neten splutters indignantly, Paz jabs one finger into his chest plate, silencing his retorts. He continues in a heavy growl, “Do not test me again.”

Wisely, Neten turns his head down in a clear show of his submission. Paz lingers for another second to ensure Neten knows his place. Then Paz backs up a step, and the tension in the room dissipates entirely. In theory, you have always known that Paz’s position as Alor’ad means that he must have ironclad control over the hunters to keep them in line. Up until now, he has never had to prove that he has the biggest brass set in the room, so to speak.

Paz stares at Neten expectantly.

“I will do as I am told,” Neten says grumpily.

“You will do as Shu’shika tells you to do,” Paz corrects.

“I will do as Shu’shika tells me to do,” he repeats, though it sounds positively painful for him to repeat.

“Thank you,” you say politely.

“If any of these idiots so much as breathe in a way that offends you, let me know,” Paz says to you, ensuring everyone can hear him. He stares the crowd down for another moment, “I will come deal with the problem.”

No one dares to move. After a few seconds, Paz stomps off, clearly annoyed. As you watch after him, you realize the hunters are waiting for their orders, so you quickly finish assigning everything as fairly as you can.

For your duties, you grab some cleaning supplies and head into the Desert Lark to begin tidying up. It is not necessary, but you really would like to make things a little easier for Paz. You have a strong suspicion that Paz is going to go back out on a hunt. Given how strongly he believes his worth to the Tribe is tied to his offerings, you are surprised he is not already trying to refuel. Well, the least you can do for him is make it a little easier for him.

After a little subtle snooping, you find that Paz has been held up in medical for some reason or another. You know it has something to do with Zephyr. Your buir always said that every Mandalorian needs to take some time to themselves after enduring something stressful. Some go shooting. Others spar. Others yet meditate. You are not sure which of those would most likely appeal to Paz, but you do know he will neglect his needs to look after Zephyr. Veering off course, you go straight to the kitchen. It is closed for the night, but you figure Hannah won’t mind terribly if you reopen for Zephyr.

You put together a small but nourishing meal for him – a clear broth, hot and lightly spiced, with buttered bread and some pickled vegetables. You make sure to add some cookies from your secret stash of snacks so he can have something sweet to nibble on. For Paz, you grab some standard rations. As much as you would like to make something special for him, you get the feeling he would prefer as much normalcy in his routine as possible so he could focus on Zephyr.

Zephyr had that listless, almost catatonic quality to him, as if Doctor Shen’s hand at his elbow was the only thing keeping him upright. He has always been such a sweet and gentle young man, someone who has always hesitated to bring harm to another, even during sparring. Even though he tries to avoid babysitting duties as much as he can, he does make up for it by doing other chores around the place. Something has hurt him very deeply, and your heart aches for him. When everything is packed away, you send Paz a brief message asking if you can bring some food for the two of them. He agrees and meets you at the door. You hand the bag over to him.

“Thanks,” he says.

“If you or Zeph need anything else, we are here,” you say quietly. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out, vod.”

He glances back over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he says, looking back at you. “I will keep that in mind.”

You nod once and turn back down the hallway, your thoughts slipping away from you. The next morning, you find a small box at your workstation. Frowning to yourself, you pick it up and open it. Inside, nestled in a ragged piece of burlap, you find a tiny carved loth-cat, barely bigger than a strawberry.

There is no note included, but you know it is from Paz. He is the only person who would ever go out of their way to find something so small and beautiful for someone he barely knows. Smiling to yourself, you put the tiny cat back into the protective box. You didn’t even know Paz had been paying attention while you were talking about how much you wanted a pet loth-cat.

Then you nestle the box into your pocket, a strange feeling taking root in you.

[End Flashback]

[Current]

Once your work for the day is complete, you check the time and find you have several hours before dinner. Normally, you would go see what other chores are available to you, but today, you consider doing something else instead. Something self-indulgent. Gnawing on your lower lip, you nervously put your tools away, sorting them into the right boxes and trays. Could you really skip helping the others, just so you can go see Paz? As you close the lid to your toolbox, you happen to look up. You jump a little when you see Armorer standing there.

“Armorer,” you say. “How can I help you?”

“I noticed you had marked your work for the day complete,” Armorer says. “I wanted to ask what plans you had for this evening.”

Ah, she needs help with something. Oh well, you think to yourself. It was a silly thing to think that you could skip for the day to go sneak in a few minutes with Paz. It had been a selfish thing to consider. Though, you do wonder how she had gotten here so quickly.

“I did not plan for anything tonight,” you respond. “Do you need something specific?” You are already reaching for your toolbox, but she cuts you off.

“Dezha was supposed to be helping Paz with the children,” Armorer says in a casual tone. “However, I need his help elsewhere. The children have been unusually unruly this week, and with Paz’s injury…” She trails off deliberately. “Would you be willing to help him?”

“Of course,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth without hesitation. “I would be happy to help. Are we doing language lessons today?”

“No, no specific lessons today,” Armorer says. “We just need the children kept out of the way while the rest of us clean up the hangar.”

“The hangar?” you ask in confusion. “What happened - ?”

“Do not concern yourself with that,” Armorer says in a soothing tone. “Will you please help Paz?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you say, nodding. “I’ll head to the nursery now.”

“Excellent,” Armorer purrs. “I will walk you there.”

The walk to the nursery is a short one. It is past the normal work hours, yet you see no one else lingering in the hallways. Home is strangely empty. It almost unsettles you. Armorer keeps you moving at a brisk pace before she finally directs you into the nursery, physically blocking the doorway behind you. Paz is not wearing his armor – only his suit and padding – while he carries a child under each arm. It looks like he is in the middle of reenacting some science fiction scene in the middle of the toys, one foot poised over a pile of toppled blocks.

“Hey,” Paz says, as he sets the two children down. “What can I help you two with?”

“I need Dezha’s assistance with something,” Armorer says. “I brought Shu’shika as your backup.”

“Shushi!” Ola shrieks, throwing down a wad of wrinkled paper.

The little girl comes barreling over and throws herself at your legs. Immediately, you scoop her up onto your hip and tweak her nose. She has a rainbow of marker ink smears all over her face and arms. As you look at the other children, you see they are in a similar state, and you find yourself hoping that Paz had given them the water soluble markers to draw with.

“Ba’vodu!” Ellyn whines from the floor, “I want to play hunter and prey, please!”

“Sure,” Paz says.

“But your knee, Paz,” you say, coming forward a step.

“That little burn could barely be called an injury,” Paz scoffs. “Bacta took care of it in a few hours.”

Before you can think further on Armorer’s reference to his injury, Ellyn covers her eyes and starts to count. The other children scatter like leaves on the wind, scampering into their hiding spots. Paz looks around. Then at you. He comes to stand behind you. You give him an incredulous look over your shoulder. Tem comes skittering over and climbs up Paz’s leg. He scoops the child up against his chest and holds one finger up in front of his modulator as he sort of crouches behind you.

“Shh!”

You sigh quietly and stand there while Ellyn finishes counting. You are pretty sure there’s more of Paz hanging out from behind you than you actually cover up, considering how much larger he is.

Ellyn gets up and sprints to the other side of the room. She hits the timer and starts to race around the room, ripping the cushions off the couch and turning boxes over. The blood drains from your face as the already messy room becomes an actual disaster. From behind you, you can hear Tem and Paz snickering to themselves. You watch in fascinated horror as Ellyn finds all the children except for Tem and Paz. At this point, you think Paz has cemented himself as an oversized child.

“Tem!” Ellyn shouts. “Ba’vodu Paz! Where are you?”

At that moment, the timer goes off, and Ellyn lets out a noise of frustration. She kicks a stuffed animal out of her way. Paz steps out from behind you. When Ellyn sees them, her big brown eyes go wide with surprise. Then she lets out a scream of frustration.

That’s enough to set Paz and Tem off in a fit of hysterics.

“CHEATER!” Ellyn screams.

“We did not cheat,” Paz counters through his guffaws. “We hid behind Shu’shika.”

“But you can’t do that!” Ellyn wails.

Her lower lip wobbles and she goes off to sulk. Paz sets Tem down and he goes off to the pile of stuffed animals in the corner. You gingerly step through the piles of toys, still incredulous that the child had not noticed Paz hiding behind you. Well, she had probably focused on everything at eye level. And Paz…well, he is well above eye-level for most people in the Tribe.

As you are trying in vain to put some of the toys back where they belong, one of the toddlers comes forward on unsteady legs, holding a book up at you. Taking it, you find that it’s covered in something wet and sticky. When he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, you realize your fingers are covered in snot. A shudder of revulsion creeps up your spine.

“How about a story?” Paz asks the room at large, coming to your rescue.

“Let’s clean up,” you say, “Then we can all sit on the floor together.”

You quickly hand Paz the book and wipe the snot off your hand onto your pants.

“Clean up! Clean up!” Ellyn chants, rolling onto her knees. “Let’s clean up, everybody!”

The other children join in on the chant, organizing the piles of toys into their proper storage containers. You only have to corral the toddlers toward the right boxes a few times, while Paz gathers the drawings into a neat stack. From there, you settle into the chaos quickly. At times, it feels like the children are making a bigger mess than the one they are trying to clean up.

Surreptitiously, you watch Paz. You cannot help but to notice how good he is with the children. His voice is always gentle and patient. When they tackle him for a Paz Pile, he indulges them, playing for a few moments before redirecting them to the monumental task of cleaning up the playroom. The same snot-covered toddler picks up a toy ship and pats Paz on the leg. He crouches and wraps both hands around the boy’s waist.

“Alright, vod’ika,” Paz says gently. “Let’s jump up really high and put the toy away, alright?”

“Ba’vodu!” the boy squeals.

Paz lifts and the boy shrieks in delight. As soon as the others see what Ba’vodu Paz is up to, they go running over with their own toys, clamoring for their turn. Ola is halfway up Paz’s leg by the time you go to offer backup. Slowly, but surely, the room is tidied up and readied for tomorrow. Then Paz takes the book back to the seat. Ola scrambles out of his way before he sinks down.

Paz starts to read, his voice low and soothing. The story is about a beggar and a merchant. You don’t recall the exact plot points, but you do know the moral of the story is to always be kind to those in need. While Paz keeps the children entertained, you go gather up the last few toys and put them away.

Then you grab the broom and start sweeping up the crumpled tissues and candy wrappers. You purse your lips at the amount of candy he had fed them. Ah, well. If strille could be trained with positive reinforcement, so could children. As Paz gets further into the story, the littlest ones start to drift off, and you carefully nestle them onto the sleeping mats.

Ola’s buire are the first to come back for her. She presses her forehead against Paz’s shoulder as she yawns into her fist. Then she pats you on the knee as she stumbles to her parents. She is quickly scooped up and carried away. One by one, or sometimes in twos, the children go home with their parents, until you and Paz are standing alone in the empty nursery. Paz marks his place with a bookmark and puts it away. Then he gets up and stretches out a bit.

“Looks like we’re done with our assigned childcare for tonight,” Paz says. “Thank the Maker.”

“Yes,” you say, almost stammering. “Uh. Childcare.”

He tilts his helmet inquisitively, clearly having picked up on your anxiety. Before you can stop yourself, you speak up.

“Paz, what are you doing tonight?” you ask.

“I don’t have plans,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

“Want to ditch evening chores?”

“You want to ditch evening duties?” he asks, tilting his head the other way. “Shu’shika, people will accuse me of corrupting you.”

You laugh in response.

“I’ve done my fair share of double duties for at least ten years,” you respond. “How about it, Paz? Want to be irresponsible with me?”

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s go before anyone gets any ideas.”

The two of you go to the door. You peer down both ends of the hallway. Near the hangar, you can see people streaming loitering. One of them looks up and immediately turns around, grabbing a box. Weird.

“Okay,” you say to Paz, “Looks like they’re still working in the hangar.”

His hand settles at your waist as he peers down the hallway over your head. When the last person enters the hangar, you grab his hand and pull, leading him away from the others.

“Come on, let’s go,” you whisper to him.

You lead him away from the rest of the Tribe, muffling your laughter, sneaking from shadow to shadow like an oversized pair of misbehaving teenagers. At the main entrance, you find your plans to go pick berries thwarted by an incoming thunderstorm. You let out a noise of disappointment. Paz joins you outside as the wind picks up, the trees dancing and swaying as the pit-pat of rain grows louder. When you shiver, Paz’s hand settles at your waist, and he pulls you closer to him.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck inside,” you sigh to Paz, curling your face toward his shoulder, his torso blocking the worst of the cold.

“We can watch from here,” Paz says.

The first crack of lightning makes you jump, and as if the skies had been waiting for that exact moment, the rain begins to pour down in sheets. You can feel Paz tilt his head down to look at you. Rather than tease you, he runs his fingers against your back comfortingly. That is all it takes for you to melt against your warrior, eyes drifting shut as you dare to wrap your arm around his muscular waist.

When his other arm wraps itself around you, enclosing you in his tender embrace, you surrender immediately, offering no resistance to him. You can no longer deny what your heart has been screaming at you. You love Paz Vizsla. You’ve been in love with him for Maker-only-knows-how-long. As you listen to the steady thumping of his heart, you feel giddy and lightheaded, almost as if you are drunk on his touch alone. Then, his hand rises from your waist, his fingers settling at your jaw, making your breath hitch in your throat. Paz tilts your face up toward his gently. You rise onto your tip-toes to close gap, anticipation making your stomach flutter.

When only a handspan separates you from Paz, you think there could not have been a more perfect moment for this to happen, for you to finally kiss your warrior –

Then, suddenly, the door slams open, bathing the two of you in harsh, bright light. You and Paz freeze in place as the speaker starts to come outside.

“ – figure out how to make it look like there was actually a spill,” Din says, as he steps through the doorway.

When Din notices the intimate embrace you and Paz are sharing, he freezes, one foot in the air, and lets out a noise of pure despair. Dezha peers out after him and he inhales audibly. He grabs Din by the backplate and yanks him back, shutting the door behind them, but the damage has been done.

The warm pleasure that had once filled you is now gone, replaced with the mortification at having been caught in such a compromising position. Your buir would be so disappointed that you were sneaking off with someone and then being stupid enough to get caught trying to rub helmets with him. Your stomach drops straight through your feet. What if that had been Armorer?

“Shu’shika,” Paz says, in that low rumble of his, his hand falling to your waist once more, his intentions clear as day to you.

“What if that had been one of the children?” you ask softly. “What sort of example would we be setting for them?”

He tilts his head in confusion. Keldabe kisses are one of the few ways Mandalorians can show love and affection for each other.

“Paz, I can’t,” you say in a rush, “Not until we’re marr – I mean, not unless – “

You fall silent and exhale in frustration. You take a full step back, regretfully leaving that warm, wonderful place against him that smelled like leather and something woodsy.

“Paz, for my family…it’s not,” you stammer out.

“I will respect the boundaries you set for our relationship,” he says gently. “You do not have to explain anything to me.”

Our relationship? His words make your knees wobble dangerously. You take a deep, calming breath.

“I know I don’t have to, but I would like for you to know,” you say softly. “My family is conservative, Paz. Helmets only come off after the vows are exchanged. Touching each other the way we were…it is…generally discouraged.”

You swallow. Your refusal to engage in a lot of physical acts has made it difficult to find a partner. You hope Paz is willing to wait, but you do not blame him if he wants to move on.

“I know we are both adults, but I…I truly feel something for you, Paz. And I do not want you to be in a position where I might give you the wrong idea,” you stutter out, face flaming with heat. “For my tribe of origin, it’s…considered inappropriate. Not without stating my intentions.”

“…and what are your intentions toward me?” he whispers.

“Paz, I…I cannot give you my body without also giving you my heart,” you whisper, so softly you wonder if he can hear you. “I-I…I would want something permanent between us. Before any of that happens.”

He thinks for a moment.

“Would…Would it be alright if I called you cyar’ika?”

“Y-yes,” you whisper, hardly daring to believe that Paz wants to call you his cyar’ika after what you just told him.

“There’s something I would like to tell you,” he says. “Something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now.”

You nod to encourage him, and he clears his throat, looking away nervously.

“I’m not good with words. I’ve already forgotten half of what I wanted to tell you.”

You laugh a bit breathlessly.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper back. “Speak from your heart, Paz, and you will tell me what I need to hear.”

“I…I ah…feel something for you too,” he says. “For months now, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, all the effort you put into supporting the Tribe.” He clears his throat again, looking away shyly. “I can’t stop thinking about all the tiny things you do for me. The number of times you have stayed up to wait for me to return from a hunt. In case I need help. So, I won’t be alone another night. I have never had the privilege of having someone like you covering my shebs…and for so long, I did not see your devotion to me, the way you show me your affection each and every day.”

He swallows and reaches up with trembling fingers. A wave of tears escapes you as you tilt your face into his touch. Maker, you are falling apart at the seams. If he keeps going like this, you are not going to last long enough for him to get to what he is trying to tell you. His thumb brushes against the curve of your cheek plate, brushing away the tears he seems to know are coursing hot tracks down your cheeks.

“For years now, I’ve been holding off, waiting for the right time, waiting for the right person,” Paz says quietly. “Someone who will make me strong where I am weak. Someone who will allow me to be their strength where they are weak. Someone who will be my equal, here at home and when we hunt. Someone who will help me raise our future warriors.”

Your heart starts to pound so hard you fear Paz will be able to hear it hammering up against your ribs. Then your throat tightens up and you cannot hold the cascade of tears back any longer. They fall freely now. You just barely manage to turn off your modulator in time to hide your choked whimpers, equal measures of fear and hope filling you. Fear that he will turn you down, reject you for your decision to abstain from a physical relationship. Hope that he has come to see you for who you are. Hope that he understands. Hope that he will still want to share his life with you.

“May I hold your hand?” Paz whispers.

You place your shaking hand in his without hesitation, a choked sob escaping you, one that you know he registers. He looks down, staring at your tiny hand in his. His fingers enclose yours firmly, gently. Reverently. He clears his throat.

“When we are together, you fill me with such overwhelming joy and peace. For the first time in my life, I finally feel whole, like you’ve filled a void in my heart that I never even knew was there,” he whispers. “I can’t stop thinking about the loss that consumes me when we are apart. There are times when I am on a hunt and I cannot even sleep because I miss you so much. Every second we are parted, I long to return to your side.”

You nod vigorously, still trying to stifle the stubborn tears coursing down your face. He continues, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

“You have always been the beacon of light that guides me home through the storm, cyar’ika,” he says. He places the flat of your palm against the karta bes’kar embedded in his armor. “One day, I would like to be the same to you.”

With those words, you promptly lose whatever tenuous control you had over your emotional state. You start to sob as you place your free hand over his, and draw closer, pressing your forehead against his chest plate. He draws you into a tentative hug, resting his chin atop your head. As you nestle into that safe place in his arms, you come to a realization that steals the breath from your lungs.

This is where you feel respected, cherished, and loved.

This is where you will raise your future warriors together, as equals.

Here, in his arms, you have finally found your home.

“Cyar’ika, I have always intended for this to be a permanent relationship,” Paz says. “I’ve been talking to Armorer about asking you to accept me in courtship, so I can do this the right way for you. So, I can give you a relationship that honors the paths we have both sworn to walk.”

You sniffle and nod, struggling to stifle your tears long enough to speak. At this point, you don’t care if he knows you are crying – there’s no way you can hide the shaking of your shoulders. Maker, who knew that Paz had such a way with words? You’ve known him for years now, yet you have only now just glimpsed the passion he’s kept locked up so deeply inside himself, hidden from everyone but you. And Maker, you want to feel every bit of the passion he has for you.

There had been just one other before Paz, someone you had loved with all your heart and soul. They had promised themselves to you, promised to wait until it was time to marry, and you had accepted their promise. Within weeks, they were pressuring you for more and more, attempting to convince you to turn away from the promise you made to yourself when you were sixteen. You have always wanted to find love with someone who loved you for your adherence to your faith, for your skills, and for who you are. Someone who would respect your desire to limit physical touch to only kissing, out of respect for your tribe of origin. They had promised you all of that, but it was a lie.

When they had pulled you in for a kiss, you resisted, yet they had forced it on you, their hands falling to grope you. You had ended the relationship on the spot. That unwanted touch had been a blatant violation of your trust in them and their promise to you. It had hurt to lose them, but they had made the choice to violate your boundaries and make you feel unsafe and unloved.

You truly love Paz, in that way that makes you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You are older now, more capable of seeing those warning flags that you had not recognized as a young girl. Paz has only ever been respectful and considerate, not a single inappropriate word or gesture escaping him. He has only ever treated you like an equal. Your heart swells with your love for this man, to the point where you feel you are going to burst with joy.

Now, you find yourself aching and wanting for this man so intensely that it frightens you. And that is why you know you have to hold back – right now, you aren’t sure you have the willpower to stop yourself from giving your kind, gentle warrior anything he might ask you for.

Hearing the way he speaks to you, the gentle tone, the way he asks for your permission to hold your hand and to call you his cyar’ika…you know he will respect you. That he will not ask you for what you cannot give him right now. That he will wait as long as you need.

“Cyar’ika,” he says softly.

You turn your modulator back on.

“Yes, Paz?” you whisper hoarsely.

“Would you…would you be willing…to talk to the Elders?”

“Paz, my answer is yes,” you say. “I will accept courtship with you.”

“You have made me a very happy man, cyar’ika,” he says. “May I give you something?”

Nodding, you take a half step back and sniffle back the tears that spring to your eyes once more. You watch as Paz reaches into his pocket and withdraws something flat and small, pressing it into your hands. As you unwrap it, he speaks, and your face drains when you recognize what he is giving you – his clan signet – and not the one any regular member of the clan would wear. This one is intricately detailed, hand-carved by a master craftsman.

“I know this isn’t a blade, but I just can’t wait any longer, I want to give you something special to me,” he says shyly. “If you are willing, I would like you to become lady of Clan Vizsla. You don’t have to answer right now. Please just think about it, I just…I just want you to have that.”

As you stare down at the signet in your hands, it suddenly feels heavier, and you realize the responsibilities you will have to shoulder if you accept his request. You will be more than his riduur – you will act in his stead when he is away. You will guide the newlyweds in their journeys together. You will be there for the birth of each child to tend to the new buire. You will teach, you will negotiate, and if need be, you will wage war on his behalf. As you look, he shifts nervously again, clearly waiting for you to say something. Swallowing, you square your shoulders and take a deep breath. Looking up at your beloved, you do your best to keep your voice steady. With Paz by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. You will succeed, so long as you have him with you.

“It would be my greatest honor to one day join your clan,” you stutter out, your voice shaking. “As both your wife and lady of the house, I will serve our family with pride and humility.”

Paz exhales shakily, as if he had been holding his breath. You lean in and give him a gentle hug. Paz returns it. The two of you linger for a few minutes before finally parting. You wrap the signet in the cloth and tuck it into the pouch where you keep your tools. Squeezing his hand, you look up at him, giddiness filling you at the thought of standing by his side.

[Bonus Scene]

Din sinks against the wall, pressing his hands into his bucket.

“We worked so hard to get this to happen,” Din groans, “We worked so kriffing hard for this and I fucked it up – “

“Calm down,” Dezha responds. “They haven’t come back inside yet, so that means they’re still talking. There is still hope – “

“What if he was proposing?” Din hisses at Dezha. “What if I fucked up my only brother’s proposal – “

“You said he wants a proper courtship, did you not?” Din snaps.

“Well, yeah,” Din says.

“So, he has to ask if she’s willing to accept courtship before he can ask her to marry him,” Dezha retorts. “You didn’t ruin anything. Calm down. He was probably just kissing her.”

“He said he wouldn’t do anything against the rules,” Din retorts.

“Oh, right,” Dezha says. “Let’s get going before someone comes to investigate. We do not want to spread gossip – “

“Ooh, is Paz kissing Shu’shika?” Jalyn asks in a sing-song tone from the hallway. Then mischievously, “Or is Shu’shika the one kissing Paz, hmm?”

“Jalyn, I will break every bone in your body if you spread lies,” Dezha hisses at him.

“So, no kisses yet?” Jalyn asks. “How much longer are they going to make us wait?”

“Make us wait?” Din asks incredulously.

“I have been getting my offering for the wedding feast ready for a year now,” Jalyn says, turning his nose up haughtily, “My gift will be one they cherish for decades to come.”

“Oh fuck,” Din says, “I need to get a gift – “

“Calm down,” Dezha says. “We are not going to scare either of them from – “

“Ooh, are we talking gifts?” Revala asks from the doorway. “I bought the most beautiful set of baby onesies a few months ago – “

“They aren’t even married yet,” Dezha says incredulously, “They may only wish to bring foundlings into their family – “

“Please,” Revala scoffs, “Have you seen how broody Paz gets around the babies? If that man could carry an infant, I have no doubts we’d be up to our armpits in Vizsla brats.”

“Okay, let’s have this discussion elsewhere,” Dezha says. “If they come back in and find us here, they’ll know we set them up.”

“Paz already suspects we’re trying to help things along,” Din says. “We need to tone it back before he gets mad at us.”

“Listen, we have been dying for a proper wedding,” Jalyn chimes in. “If he proposes tonight, I think Hannah could have the feast ready by tomorrow morning.”

“GET OUT,” Dezha roars, finally losing his patience. “Give them privacy, for kriff’s sake!”

“I wonder if Shu’shika will finally let him have a kiss,” Jalyn muses, as he heads toward the door.

“Jalyn, I will make your life miserable if you tease her,” Dezha warns.

“A little teasing – “ Jalyn begins.

Dezha advances, pressing one finger into the karta bes’kar on Jalyn’s breast plate.

“Do you know what an accordion is, Jalyn?”

“The…the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Jalyn asks, voice tiny with terror.

“Do you?” Dezha hisses.

“Yes,” Jalyn says. “It is a musical instrument from the Far Reaches – “

“Alright,” Dezha says. “If you do anything to make Shu’shika uncomfortable, I will cram one fist down your throat, the other up your arse, and play you like a fucking accordion. Are we clear, shabuir?”

Jalyn’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out. He eventually gathers his senses and nods. Dezha points down the hallway and they move away.

- Di’kut - idiot Buir(e) - parent(s) Resol’nare - 6 tenets of Mandalorian tradition Dar’manda - a state of being soulless, something that traditional Mandalorians fear greatly Riduur - spouse Bes’kar - Mandalorian steel Beskar’gam - Armor Shabuir - jerk, but really strong, not a nice word Shebs - rear Cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart Karta bes’kar - the indentation in the chest plate, lit. iron heart

140 notes · View notes

evakuality · 3 years

Photo

Mia, episode four

1. Hanna staring deep into Mia’s face as she talks = not loosening my conviction they should be together. But either way, I like this little scene. One thing I think Druck does well is translating the ideas of all the russ-stuff from the og into its own thing that makes sense in its own context. These suggestions really are all terrible, though. I’m not at all surprised that Jonas and Matteo are taking the mickey out of it (side note - I missssss themmmmmm). I know I’m seriously anti Alex and so I’m not feeling even remotely charitable, but I really dislike the way he’s walking in all ‘I have a much better idea than you guys’ and acting as if he’s better than them. Plus, then they ended up using it and... ugh. I just... I really hate William and poor Alex is bearing the brunt of that. It’s probably not his fault; I just brought a whole lot of baggage into this viewing.

2. I do love that Leonie is still ‘in charge’ in this way. It’s a nice continuity from s1. And she’s not perfect in any way; a lot of her little mannerisms and the way she acts and speaks from s1 are still here, but she’s mellowed a bit. It’s not as directed and petty; she just likes being in charge and running stuff.

3. Wow a lot is going on in this first clip. Amira is getting her voice heard like a boss here! (sidenote #2: she is stunning in this outfit with this makeup etc). It’s obvious that she’s pretty used to Mia and her very set opinions (a bit like Leonie but she does it in a different way) and knows the only way to get what she/they need is to basically steamroll over every attempt Mia makes at speaking. I like the point that Mia’s principles aren’t as important as the people who wouldn’t be able to pay the larger price. Like, I get it - she’d rather not have anything to do with Alex (me either tbh) but Amira is also right. Excluding him on principle isn’t fair to the bulk of the students. However, ‘he shows up with all his money and his damn poster and now he’s a nice guy?’ - I mean, exactly. Still. There are other considerations and it shouldn’t be black and white.

4. Oh, this walkway/ramp thing again. My beloved setting returns! Honestly, I really really love this school building. It’s got so many little corners and changes and different spaces and this space in particular is used to really good effect. Like rn, Alex has the high ground and while Mia is trying to stand up to him, it’s ineffectual because they’re having to use high angles on her vs low on him. He still has the power. And even when they come together, and there’s a seeming meeting of equals, he’s still got the high ground, even if just barely. And as he walks away with his insufferable smirk, he regains that high ground even more (do I like this plot at all? No, but I do like the film techniques used to explore it). I just really really love the way the camera works in these spaces. Unlike a ‘normal’ school, this one has so much depth and variety even when they reuse the same spaces. None of the times this thing is used is the effect exactly the same even when it seems similar. Hmmmm, now part of me wants to look at every time it’s used and see how it’s done. Somebody stop me.

5. Yikes - I’m only 6 minutes in and I already wrote an essay. Okay, let’s try to be more brief as we continue. Oh. Mia alone and in a nice space with warm tones around her (unlike the other two scenes this episode). I do like these moments when we hang out with our mains and I’m glad we’re starting to get that more with Mia. Very interesting that she chooses to fold and iron her clothes as a reaction to the ‘mega geil’ comments about Alex. Clearly she’s starting to feel out of control about the whole business with Alex and the things he’s saying to her, and this is one way of her reasserting her control. She likes having things under control and we see it coming out in these odd ways now that she’s found something that is out of her control. She clearly gets some peace out of it, but it’s so rigid that you can tell it must be about to crack soon. Nice touch with Hans bringing the comic relief. I love him so much!!

6. Lol, Matteo looks super disgusted by this chirpy conversation about Hans’ affliction. I like that his characterisation is still traceable. He’s not AS low and isolated as he seems in his season (the benefit of perspective I guess), but he’s still slumped and isn’t as engaged in the things around him - here and even with Jonas earlier. It’s just nice to see because I know his season came pretty close after Mia’s so it’s good that it doesn’t seem to come out of nowhere. Continuity - Druck is good at it. Also how uncomfortable he is when the discussion turns to what gay penises look like - clearly he already has some ideas about how himself and equally clearly he doesn’t want to talk about ‘gay’ anything when it might be connected to him. Little does he know, his phone already gave them ideas. But I do like him already being the biggest Hanna/Jonas shipper - like, he’s so determined to make up for his interference that he’s fully trying to interfere again, and it’s a nice segue into ‘why does anyone spend a whole evening stalking someone’ - yeah, we see you Mia. You’re more intrigued by Alex than you care to admit. I enjoy these little seemingly unimportant clips of them just hanging out that actually advance the plot or characterisation.

7. Hanna: Mia, please come to this place to save me from being alone with Jonas. Mia: I’m on my way (despite not wanting to go at all) - are we seriously telling me she’s not at least a little bit in love with Hanna? Seriously. The need to help Hanna out is strong in this one. But also... more mirror reflections, but this time she’s more centered (not entirely but more so) and her whole face is in shot. Things are ‘coming together’ so to speak. And ion hindsight, I can’t even seem to spot Jonas? Is he even there? Was Hanna trying to get Mia there through stealth????

8. Yikes, this thing they’re doing where they say stuff about each other is a bit brutal. Amira’s ones are mostly pretty awful, and targeted at her religion. Very interesting that for the others, they seemed more focused on who they are rather than ‘what’ they are, but it’s not the same for her? Like, I know we explore this a bit in her season but there’s been so much through the whole 2 seasons so far that I feel even more like we lost the opportunity to truly explore that more. RIP the s4 she deserved!

9. I don’t like Alex still (he’s still too arrogant and irritating for me) but I do like the quiet slow way Mia is warming up to him. She doesn’t want to, but you can see her re-evaluating him and starting to recalibrate her thoughts. Like it’s not rushing and he is at least a little more interesting than William and has more charisma so I can see why she would become intrigued once she shifted her perspective. Unlike William, who remained gross through the entire thing.

10. So Mia’s desperate need to be in control and have everything perfect even extends to Alex’s place and his stuff? Considering she still thinks she doesn’t like him, she’s taking a lot of trouble with his space. Suuuuuper awkward alone times here though I do like this shot of Mia exploring Alex’s place and the camera just sort of following along with that and taking in what she sees. Being this tight on her really plays up how ‘tight’ her PoV is and how she’s not seeing outside the bounds of what she wants to see.

11. This is a very very long clip, but there’s something charming about it too. Alex is... hmmmm, not exactly a good guy as yet (he’s still doing some quite douchey things), but he’s starting to open up and be real while still trying to protect some stuff that’s and that’s a lot more believable than William was. I know he was supposed to be like that, too, in a lot of ways, but I never found him convincing. Not the way Alex is. I don’t like him (this is genuinely not a type of guy that appeals to me at all) but I can see why he might win Mia over. Which I never did understand with Noora. We shall see - there are things from later in Noora’s season that fill me with incandescent rage, and if those happen then I can’t warm to Alex properly at all. But for now, I can see why Mia might be won over. Even if I can’t forgive him for the way he treats Kiki and acts like he’s the only one with all the right answers.

Lots of long clips in this one with a whole heap going on. It would have been something to go through this live, I’m sure. I found lots of little moments in this one to like, and I like how Druck has managed the characters and the interactions to make it feel natural. Considering that I really cannot stand the og of this and that one was very long, I think they’re doing a fairly good job of keeping this one engaging and a decent pace even if I still dislike one of the characters.

#druck #mia - episode 4 #wow this got long again #update on feelings about Alex - still don't like him

9 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Cowboy.”

Wanted to try something new. Aliens meet different ways of living. Was trying to really capture the small town farming feel in this one. Granted I grew up in and near places like this but was from the burbs technically, so, lol, hopefully I did it justice.

The sky over Jakar was a light violet purple.

Strings of long striated clouds cut across the sky at intervals looking like the ripples you see on the face of a sand dune. The Sun hadn’t yet risen hiding just below the distant horizon. The air around them was warm, but not tropical, rather moderate.

Standing on the loading ramp to the Harbinger and staring out over the strange moon, they could see for miles and miles onto the unbroken horizon. Under the purple sky, there were no trees or rocks, just acres and acres of evenly spaced crops gently rolling over minute hills and shallow divots in the earth. A gently wind blew up from their front rolling over the ground and bringing with it the cool moist scent of fertile dirt.

The sun inched upwards over the horizon, casting a honeyed yellow glow over an unbroken sea of green. With the engines of the ship off, and not a soul in sight, the scene before them was absolutely silent, almost surreal.

As they watched, a ripple of wind blew up from their right churning the green sea before them into a stormy sea. The plant stalks rolled in waves under the slow push of the wind, which, when it reached them, brought the subtle whisper of leaves brushing over each other.

All together, if they closed their eyes, they could almost imagine the sound of a distant sea.

Both Krill and sunny were riveted to that quiet morning in fascination.

They had never known a thing to be so beautiful, so quiet.

And even though the land was touched by man, the quiet serenity almost had them forgetting that fact.

They stood like that for many minutes, enjoying the silence until a distant sound rose up from the horizon.

Krill craned his neck and Sunny shaded her eyes.

It can in beats of four, a rhythmic thudding of…. something .

They were alerted by the dust cloud, brown tinged purple rising up from the right.

Looking a little longer,they watched as a very strange creature galloped towards them. The animal had four legs, a long snout, a thick neck, and streams of long hair flying from it’s head and rump. THe joints of its front legs faced the wrong direction.

Krill shifted back up the ramp a little ways.

The beats of the animal’s feet grew louder as it got closer, and only then was Krill able to see that, to his shock and dismay, there was a human riding astride it’s back, just casually sitting atop the one ton beast as if it was nothing bouncing up and down with the animal’s jostling movements.

He stared dumbstruck alongside Sunny as the human pulled to a stop gently tugging at the contraption which had been fixed around the animal’s head.

A familiar tawny, and black dog came chasing after her tail wagging, her ears perked.

Waffles skidded to a slow trot and began frantically sniffing through the nearby plot of plants.

Sunny and Krill stepped forward as the human, turned to look at them, restings his hands against his upper thighs as the beast lowered it’s head to sniff at the ground.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Sunny asked the commander.

“A better question is what the hell are you riding.” Krill could already tell this day was going to make him angry, “Aren't you well aware that falling off that thing could kill you, not to mention if it decided to cave your head in with its feet.”

Commander Vir pulled the patterned cloth triangle down from around his face, eyes mostly shadowed by the brim of the very dorky hat he was wearing. The shirt he had on was long sleeve and mid range blue in color with a collar, and matching jeans with a very strange set of heeled boots.

“Forgot you've never seen a horse before.”

He kicked one of his feet up over the top the back of the creature and let himself gently down onto the dirt.

The large animal turned it’s massive head, nudging him in the chest with it’s soft pink snout.

He smiled and rubbed it’s nose.

“A horse?”

“Yes, one of man’s greatest achievements.”

The horse threw its head up and down as if in agreement.

“A knobby kneed dog creature?”

“No a knobby kneed beast of burden, from the back of which humanity conquered the world. He patted it’s neck, “These guys are the reason humanity got as far as it did, at least one fo the reasons.

Krill stared at the ‘horse’ nervously staring into its wide dark eyes, sensing a hint of cunning intelligence that he did not particularly appreciate. Sunny stepped forward a bit, and the horse lifted it’s head, wide nostrils flaring menacingly.

It stepped back, and the commander held firm, “Woah, easy girl. It’s just sunny.”

The horse didn’t seem convinced, and Sunny stayed at a polite distance.

“Commander, I must insist, that beast could kick your head in if agitated.”

“Oh I know. Believe you me I know.”

The horse tossed it’s head.

“Can we get back to the important question of….. What the hell are you wearing?”

He looked down, “This, my fine friend is the historic gear of the Cowboy, and early symbol of the west, your rough and tumble man’s man who lived rough, worked hard, and is, arguably the symbol of human manifest destiny.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

The commander sighed, “Look they were total badasses who rode horses, shot guns, and drank too much.”

“Badasses who wore heels?” Sunny wondered

“Yes, yes they were.”

“And where did you get that outfit exactly?”

He tugged at the shirt rather proudly, “My mother made it for me, you know because that is what she does for a living.”

“Do you often commission really dumb clothing from your mother.” Sunny continued to tease.

“I have an outfit for every major time period from here to to the early Byzantine empire.” He bragged, not that it meant anything.

Her continued teasing was cut off as more noises rose up from the distance, the sound of hooves and the shrill chatter of, what Sunny could only assume was the horses. A larger dust cloud was riding up this time, and as she watched, another group of human came riding down the track. At least three of them riding horseback and wearing outfits much the same as the commander now wore. Though one of them was riding on the front of a strange wooden vehicle pulled by the creatures.

And krill had thought current human technology was primitive.

The two men, and one woman came to a halt just to their side, and looking them over, Krill couldn't help but notice the strange nature of these humans, tanned dark by the sun, their skin tough and calloused, especially about the hands. Though it was early morning they were already covered in dust. One of them touched the brim of his hat upon seeing them and dismounted from his horse walking over to shake the commander’s hand.

“I’m gonna assume your Commander Vir.” He looked around, “Seeing as you’re the only human here.”

“Yes sir.”

His voice was deep, and rather slow with a sort of relaxing quality to it, though there was an edge of steel behind his voice, “Didn’t think you fancy space captains knew how to ride horses.”

“My father worked on one of the farming conglomerates when I was a boy. He made sure we knew how to ride.”

“Smart man.” The old human turned his steely brown eyes on them looking sunny and Krill up and down though he didn’t seem all that surprised. He held out a hand to sunny, “Looks like you’ve got plenty of hands to shake.”

She chirped a laugh and took his hand surprised at how strong he was, how rough his hands were.

Krill received a nod which was more than alright by him. He turned back and motioned to his companions, “Meet, Jack my son, and Liz y daughter. They volunteered to help out with our little problem.”

“Smugglers you were saying.”

“Yes. We think they are some of those Tesraki types using our fields as stop points. Wouldn’t mind it so much if they didn’t keep destroying the product. They tend to land where we plant the pink orbs-” He looked at sunny, “Think they are from your planet. A bitch to get to grow here, we have to cut the soil with imported volcanic ash to get them to grow, and every time those bastards show up we lose a yield.”

His daughter motioned at Sunny and Krill to climb up onto the strange wooden death machine with wheels. At first Krill refused, but sunny grabbed him and hauled him upwards, sitting on one of the wooden benches.

Krill reused to sit.

He could see splinters.

“They aren’t supposed to be in for another few days though.” The two men had mounted their horses and were riding side by side now as the ‘what krill learned to be a cart’ started up, rolling over the uneven ground and threatening to rattle his brains out of his head.

“Doesn’t this thing have shocks.” he moaned

The humans laughed, and the head human turned back to look at him, “Don’t need socks on a wagon…..” He paused, “This one ain’t mch for country livin’”

The commander snorted, “He isn’t much for anything new. Guess you could say he’s a big city surgeon. I don’t think his species has been without automated assistance for the past ten thousand years. But Sunny there probably gets it, her clan was mainly gatherer types.”

“Yeah, I heard about the Drev. Don’t live so differently from us all told.” beside them lines and lines of crops grew up in the distance, a never ending line broken up by nothing more than a distant building rising many stories above the fields. Massive silver constructions in cylinders with pointy tops.

“What are those?” Sunny asked, pointing.

The daughter looked “Those are silos. Once we harvest the produce, all the food goes in there for storage until we sell it.”

“So much food.” Sunny muttered

Krill didn’t like the look of them, they appeared dangerous. Up ahead of them, the dog, waffles seemed to be enjoying herself romping about over the dirt road and through the first few lines of plants her tongue lolling her ears up.

“Your Shepherd seems happy.” The man commented, “Better then being cooped up in a flying tin can.”

“Yeah , she doesn’t get to go outside much these days.”

Looking up into the distance, Krill could just make out a slow break on the horizon. They were trees as far as he could tell, which surprised him since they seemed far to big to be here, as unnatural a species as they were.

“Are those oak trees?” The Captain asked, incredulous.

“That they are, got them imported in one of those massive fraighters. Putting them in the ground was complete bullshit, but they took surprisingly well. We wanted the two to be a bit more cozy.

The closer they got to town the more people they could see. Children ran in and out of the crop lines chasing each other and laughing.

Women carried baskets with them plucking bright red berries from tall growths of plants turning to wave at them as they passed.

Horses loitered, tied up on the sides of the road next to large, elegant houses in a style Krill had never seen before.

“Wow.” The commander muttered, “This is…. Wow.”

The man smiled, “Much as I love earth, you can’t live like this any more. No more small towns. When I heard how cheep they were selling land up here for, I couldn’t resist. Worked for one of those corporations like your father, and that’s when I heard about the deal going on. Come up here, farm the land and get the property for free.” He motioned to the houses and the barns, “Built most of it with our own two hands. Machinery is a bitch to get out here, so most everything we make by ourselves.”

Krill and sunny stared on in complete fascination. The wooden buildings held together by nothing more than sharp metal spikes, still multiple stories tall and with glass windows. What little technology there was was overshadowed by just how provincial everything was. People carrying buckets of water with their own two hands, polishing boots, and sawing off planks of wood with manual blades.

And despite that, how much more difficult everything probably was, they seemed happy. The people themselves were rough, but well put together, tanned skin, and bright eyes over calloused hands and straight backed postures full of confidence and pride. As they rode past they received nothing but friendly smiles and waved greetings.

Adam was practically a pampered, prim little pretty boy in comparison to the rest, and he was a one eyed, peg legged, space captain for intents and purposes.

A pleasantly plump dark skinned woman waved at them from her porch, where she sat in a very strange looking chair, which instead of legs, had skids? And rocked when she shifted her weight. Which seemed to be the intention.

Sunny and Krill raised their hands back, not sure of what else to do.

The man at the front sighed, “Man you can’t live like this anymore, not on earth anyway.”

Commander vir was looking around with an appreciative smile, “it’s like going back in time. Dam…. it’s nice here.”

“Almost makes you want to get your feet back on solid dirt?” The man wondered

The commander laughed, “I don’t think so. Your town is great, but there is nothing like the majesty of waking up and seeing the rings of saturn outside our bedroom window, or a nebulae thousands of light years wide, or stepping out of the ship and just…. Floating weightless like nothing can hold you down ever again.”

The man shuttered, “Can’t imagine.”

“Can’t imagine but can’t forget.”

Adam’s horse tossed it’s head and he patted it on the neck.

The other human shook his head, “Cut from a different mold I guess. I’d like nothing more than an honest day’s work under the sun getting my hands dirty. None of that outer space politics.”

Adam laughed, “I suppose I forget about politics most of the time. Honestly consider myself more of an adventurer discovering new planets and new species bravely going where no man has gone before sort of thing.”

The two of them laughed together.

Krill wondered at the strangeness of humanity. Here were two men, one of them a ship captain venturing into the unknown on one of the most advanced pieces of human technology ever created flying shuttles, talking with aliens and traversing the galaxy, while there was another human a lover of dirt beneath his hands, with no desire to leave his home, or likely even go outside it’s farm’s radius, content with living the same day for the rest of his life, with the same people, building everything with his hands, living without what seemed to be the most basic of human technologies.

And here they were sitting together speaking and laughing.

Getting along despite being so different.

Because humans can just do that.

Humans understand.

#humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #Earth is space Ausralia #earth is a deathworld

524 notes · View notes

jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Summary: More of that Anakin gets stuck in the past and ends up dating Dooku bc my discord enables all my crack treated seriously ideas. Read on AO3.

Qui-Gon supposed that despite their circumstances, he was actually having fun. He had been sent all over the galaxy since his knighting and had hardly spent a minute at the Temple or with his old Master. Going on a mission with him again was refreshing and felt a little bit like coming home, even if Dooku looked about three seconds away from committing a felony.

“Hello, Master,” Qui-Gon greeted easily still, leaning against the entrance of his ship. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I have missed you as well, Padawan,” Dooku replied and immediately marched past Qui-Gon towards the cockpit of the ship.

Qui-Gon only raised a brow as he watched his Master’s back disappear, then he turned to the second Jedi walking up the ramp of his ship. Master Nu smiled warmly at Qui-Gon and, once she had reached him, gave him a quick hug.

“I apologize for his fool manners,” Jocasta said. “The last three weeks have been unpleasant.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “You don’t have to pretend. I know how he can get.”

Dooku was an excellent teacher once he understood that my way or the highway would always result in Qui-Gon picking the highway. They had had their difficulties, Dooku’s approach towards the Force not meshing well with Qui-Gon’s. His general strictness had also not been much to Qui-Gon’s liking. It was good then that Qui-Gon could run off to Anakin to complain about his Master which usually resulted in getting a joined lesson. It had become a bit of a joke between him and his crèchemates that Qui-Gon had two Masters. Some had been jealous of course, Anakin Skywalker didn’t have his own Padawan and he was a skilled Knight, one of the Order’s best combatants, but most had taken it with good fun.

“I think I owe you an apology for not coming here faster, I had to drop Tahl off somewhere else first.”

Jocasta shook her head. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s Anakin for running off with our ship.”

Qui-Gon hadn’t quite wanted to believe it when the report came in. Anakin was protective of the Order, more so than any other Knight it seemed at times. His past was also shrouded in mystery with nobody knowing him before he had shown up at the Temple some odd sixteen years ago. His circle of friend consisted mostly of Dooku’s circle of friends, though Qui-Gon was fairly sure that if they were forced to pick between Anakin and his ever grumpy Master, the decision would be an easy one. Anakin never gave the name of his Master, though he sometimes did quote him, a ridiculously pronounced High Coruscanti accent dropping from his lips. Despite all these secrets, however, Qui-Gon had never been given a reason to doubt Anakin. He was a good man, a good teacher, and a terrifyingly competent Shadow.

Not that Qui-Gon was supposed to know that, but Padawans usually knew what their Masters got up to and Dooku had taken plenty of unofficial missions with Anakin and Jocasta.

“What happened?” Qui-Gon asked once they got seated in the common area of the ship. Dooku was still at the ship’s helm, guiding them Force-knew where.

“We don’t know,” Jocasta replied. “One moment we were exploring the old temple, the next Anakin was on the ground and after…” She put her hands around her cup of tea. “He just took off with the ship. Dooku thinks Anakin had a vision but that look in his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Anakin that angry. I just hope we arrive quick enough before he does anything he regrets.”

After a while, Dooku came out of the cockpit again and told them where they were heading next. His Master cut himself short where usually he could speak quite extensively. It was impossible to ignore how on edge he was. It was no surprise, Qui-Gon could feel himself get nervous as well. The three Jedi had been exploring a Sith Temple. If Anakin had come into contact with anything there, it could have warped his mind, tricked him. There was a reason most Shadows didn’t retire out of their own free will.

“He didn’t disable the tracker of the ship in his hurry,” Dooku said. “I have traced him and set course for one of the lesser-known spaceports on the planet.”

Anakin had a strange preference for smaller ports if he was in a hurry. It didn’t fit with his usual approach towards anything – namely always spring the trap – but to those that knew it, it made him at least somewhat predictable.

“He was here,” Dooku muttered once they were within reach of the port.

They were in the middle of nowhere on some backend Outer Rim planet where the Republic was more myth than reality. Anakin took a lot of missions on the Outer Rim, being invested in the area. It was probably because he was from somewhere around this area. Anakin’s Basic was accented. Not as much as it used to be, as Qui-Gon remembered it from his early childhood, but it was still there.

They landed their ship in the ugliest hanger Qui-Gon had ever seen, it being accompanied by an eerie silence. He got the feeling that he was missing something. There should be staff checking them, asking why they were heading here. Instead, they could just land their ship.

“Careful,” Jocasta muttered.

She too was scanning their surrounding for something unusual. Her hand on his shoulder was calming and Qui-Gon wished he could claim he wasn’t glad for it. He was a Knight, not a child anymore, but the Force felt off, like it was grieving and celebrating at the same time and Qui-Gon didn’t know what to make of it.

Once their ship had landed, they prepared themselves for everything, or so they thought.

When the ramp opened up, they were greeted by an almost empty hander shrouded in darkness. Once it lit up however-

Bodies.

All kinds of species, adults, dead on the ground and obviously cut down by a lightsaber. Qui-Gon thought he was going to be sick.

“Do you think Anakin-“ Qui-Gon began to speak, but didn’t dare continue.

“Come,” Dooku ordered and simply passed the bodies with a determination Qui-Gon wasn’t sure he should admire. As they crossed the empty hanger, Qui-Gon took in more of their surroundings. Besides the dead, he also saw medical equipment, cages and collars-

“Slave traders,” Qui-Gon muttered.

It didn’t make the carnage any better, but it still eased his mind a bit. Anakin hadn’t just gone on a mindless murder spree, turned mad from the Sith Temple. These people weren’t innocents, but they still hadn’t deserved such an ending.

At the very end of the empty hanger stood the ship Anakin had run away in. Dooku typed in the passcode to the ship and pretty much jumped inside as soon as the ship’s ramp allowed it. Qui-Gon hoped that Anakin was alright. He had always had a strong reaction to slavers – but again who could claim they didn’t? – but what they had found here at the docks had been a massacre. Anakin had shown no mercy as he’d slaughtered his way through the traders and that didn’t bode well.

Qui-Gon and Jocasta quickly followed Dooku, their lightsabers not ignited, but ready to jump into battle any second. This was decidedly not where Qui-Gon had imagined they’d end up.

They stepped past the common area which had been used only recently, a pot of cooked food still sitting on the counter, warm still. Jocasta signaled at Qui-Gon to be quiet as they continued on towards the cockpit of the ship.

Dooku, apparently not entirely lost to worry and all the other flickers of emotions Qui-Gon wasn’t privy to, glanced back at the two of them, then signaled that he was going to open the door.

Three. Two. One-

The moment Dooku opened the door, a strong Force push hit them that would have knocked them over had they not been prepared for it.

Qui-Gon caught a glance of golden hair and a gloved arm – it was Anakin alright. He was huddled in the far right corner of the room, wrapped in more blankets than Qui-Gon could count. He was staring at the three of them with wide-eyes, recognition only settling in just that moment.

“Shit,” Anakin cursed into the silence. “You are here.”

Before Qui-Gon or Jocasta could say a thing, Dooku had to say something. Typically for his Master, Dooku immediately began to retort with the sharpness of a blade.

“Yes, we are here after you ditched us in a Force-forsaken Sith temple! Do you have any idea-“

“Don’t shout at me,” Anakin retorted, interrupting Dooku. “You’ll wake her.”

“Wake who?” Qui-Gon asked and sidestepped Jocasta so he could get a better look at Anakin and the bundle of blankets that turned out to be less blanket and more person.

“That’s a child,” Qui-Gon blurted out before he could stop himself.

He felt like a Padawan again at this moment, caught in-between three Masters with no idea what was actually going on.

“Yeah,” Anakin replied and gently ran his fingers through the girl’s brown hair.

She had to be young and was fairly small as well. However, her face was very thin, she looked starved.

“Is that who you left for?” Jocasta asked.

“Yes. I saw what they were doing to her and- I can’t believe I forgot it. I thought that if I just focused on the Jedi, I could fix everything but they- They hurt her. They hurt her and I was nearly too late again.”

“Who is she?” Dooku spoke up again.

Qui-Gon glanced at his Master. He didn’t look so angry anymore, more concerned, and wary.

“What, you haven’t guessed yet?” Anakin sighed. He was so tired, the exhaustion was written all over his face. It reminded Qui-Gon of the times Anakin had knocked at their quarters in the middle of the night, haunted by nightmares he couldn’t speak about. Sometimes Qui-Gon had woken as well and the three of them had just sat on the sofa, a cup of tea in their hands, talking about nothing in particular. Other times Qui-Gon had only noticed that Anakin had come over to their place because the breakfast table was laid in the morning and Anakin already sitting at it, usually wearing one of his Master’s robes.

Qui-Gon didn’t know if Anakin had ever talked to a mind healer about his nightmares. It hadn’t been his place then, a child under Anakin’s care, but somebody should make sure that after all of this, Anakin talked to somebody.

“Her name is Shmi,” Anakin said and once more traced her cheek’s with his flesh hand. “Shmi Skywalker. She would have been my mother someday.”

Qui-Gon froze, thinking he had misheard, but all around them, the Force rang with truth, which he supposed only made things worse. He turned to look at his Master but Dooku didn’t look surprised at all, if anything, he was resigned-

He knew.

#star wars #count dooku #qui gon jinn #Anakin Skywalker #jocasta nu #fanfic #regrets ive had a few

75 notes · View notes

pinehutch · 4 years

Text

Niche Interests

A little while ago, @mia-ugly tagged me to talk about 10 niche interests of mine. I don’t really know what counts as a niche so I’ve been making occasional notes about this over the last week.

The hardest part of this for me is either that I’m not very interesting or more likely, that I’m a generalist. Like, I would give myself a solid B in many, many areas that could be considered “niche” - I love learning.

But here are some things that I can and will reliably nerd out over if someone else brings them up!

1. Curly hair care. I’ve got naturally curly hair and didn’t really know how to look after it until my early twenties. Now I know many things about it, including where to get good curly hair products in Canada. Genuinely, if you have curly hair and want to chat about it you can always message me or send me an ask and I’m happy to try to help. (These days I am really loving Inahsi Naturals and Ecoslay; yes I have drugstore and grocery store recs as well.)

Also, more seriously: I would also encourage any white or other non-Black person who is frustrated with their own curly hair to also spend some time reading on natural hair movement to try to learn about the history and politics of Black hair in particular. If it’s within your means and you’re already buying specialised products for textured hair, I encourage you to to look into Black-owned businesses.

2. Canadian Poetry in English, especially 1960-present. I could narrow this down further but c’mon, how many people genuinely want to hear me go on about those slim volumes that I accumulate? But like, I grew up on my mom’s hand-me-down volumes of Canadian poetry from Confederation to the 1980′s; at age 16 I was co-oping for a prof at the local university as part of building a collected works on a Canadian poet and painter, and clamouring to go to lit conferences; in university I showed up with a good chunk of the curriculum already read; etc. Total nerd.

3. Edible plants of Ontario. I don’t actually forage because I don’t have access to land where I think it’s appropriate for me to, but I grew up on ~80 acres of mixed forest in central Ontario, and my grandfather liked to show us what was safe to eat. I will never turn my nose up at ramps, and I think I may have remembered my dad’s secret morel spot he took us to as kids, to check out next spring. The list of what else is out there is long and still lodged in my brain.

4. Fat acceptance, fat positivity, and a bit about plus-size fashion: in the early-to-mid 2000′s I discovered the fatshionista community on livejournal and it changed my life, which I say without hyperbole. I was looking for tips on finding “cute clothes,” and what I found was a pathway into learning about intersectionality. The people who ran and were highly vocal in that community did a lot of hard work in those years trying to dismantle not only internalized and external fatphobia, but also ableism, racism, and queerphobia. I’ve spent over fifteen years now consciously trying to dismantle fatphobia in myself and in the people around me, as a part of the work. (I’m not as well-grounded in the fashion side of things anymore, but I try sometimes.)

5. History and development of the English language. I’m definitely just an armchair expert, but holy shit do I love this awful language, and how it came to be and continues to become. I minored in linguistics in university, and I used to be able construe Old English on the fly. I believe wholeheartedly in linguistic parity and I don’t mean that English is better than other languages; this is just the one I understand best.

6. (This one is really boring I’m not even going to bold it) public sector procurement law and practice in Canada. It’s not a field I’m in anymore, but I was for a while. How (literally, how, not just on what) do your governments spend your money?

7. Ghost stories, yours and mine. Tell me your spookiest stories, please please please. My favourite thing to do in October is cram my eyeballs full of the entries in the Jezebel scary stories contest, in part because of the conceit that the stories are ‘true.’ I’ve always been interested in the unseen or barely-seen in general, including 20 years with an active interest in modern witchcraft (and a trailing one, still).

Actually, that’s a good segue to

8. Divination, kind of. I’m not an expert or even any kind of practitioner, anymore, but I know a little bit about a lot of different methods and their histories and application. Enough that I could quickly find my way to good research if I wanted to incorporate some of these things in a work of fiction, and I am always keen to listen to other people talk about their experiences and practices.

9. Okay, I didn’t want to admit it but: Dragon Age (all media types). I definitely did not intend to become someone with a high degree of fluency in a fantasy video game world but here’s how it happened: about seven years ago I started experiencing chronic fatigue, joint pain, and stiffness. By February 2014 there were days when I couldn’t walk. I was diagnosed (quite quickly) with rheumatoid arthritis and my immune system and I are still in a bit of a fight about it. On one of those days when I couldn’t leave home, I picked up Dragon Age: Origins and started a playthrough, and it turned out that gaming was exactly the right amount of distracting but not intensive that worked for me when I was in pain, most of the time. But I’ve played the games, read the books, own the encyclopedias and the TTRPG books, have read codices and wikis and reams of meta. My DA fervour is pretty low these days (it’s been six years since a new game came out, after all), but it may yet come back. (What I love about it is mostly to do with characters and setting: it rewards close reading and a historiographical lens.)

The best part about all of this is that I’ve never really been arsed about dragons, as such.

10. (This feels like cheating but) vegetarian food, and the role of meat and animal products in food cultures. (Also, like, the politics and culture of food in general.) First-off, I should say that I’m not a vegan or vegetarian unless you want me to select my entree for your wedding. I don’t eat meat most of the time, but I do eat dairy most days, eggs a few times each week, and eat fish or seafood semi-regularly. I’ve been meat-averse for most of my life, though there are times when I’ve craved it and continue to. As a result, I tend to plan and cook mostly veg meals; it’s just second nature now. I tend to keep a general awareness of how to Make Things From Plants because it’s also just useful knowledge to have - blender ice cream with coconut milk and peanut butter and cocoa powder is just more convenient when it’s 35C outside than cooking custard, you know?

I do think that the plant-based eating movement has a huge, huge problem with classism, ableism, fatphobia, and racism, and so I try to keep my own interest in eating in veg-adjacent ways as an interest for me, not as a cause or goal.

Tagging: @mareebrittenford @taksez @glowcrizzle @thisnewdevilry @19thcenturyfox @kungfulola @horse-badorties @fullcuntact and anyone else that is keen to talk about their niche interests.

#upon reflection I am incredibly boring #also let's talk about music babey!#also modernist lit #also fanworks as a concept #also also also also also #you see my problem!

33 notes · View notes

graffitibible · 4 years

Note

can you. would you just. throw show pony hcs at me :eyes: :heart:

for Reasons i cant get too into the nitty gritty of what show pony’s dealio is since i still have Plans for them, but here are some bits n bobs!

exclusively they/them. still working out where they fall underneath the nonbinary spectrum but a big thembo

embraces ambiguity to the max. everything from their age to their gender is real hard to read at a glance and they like it that way.

also mixed to the point where nothing really jumps out at first glance, which suits them just fine since they love the ambiguity. they have indigenous roots though unfortunately theyre super disconnected from them, like most people who grew up in this particular time period :(

they were born in battery city before it was actually called battery city. that being said they don’t remember anything about that time period since it was only like...a year or so after their birth when it got that official title

they can and will take advantage of the fact that they dont usually need to take their helmet off so a ton of people dont know what they even look like. there are a million rumors that theyre a robot (kobra believed this for months) or that theyve got some gnarly facial scarring they dont like people seeing (as if theyd be ashamed of a thing like that). the fab four have a betting pool over who can get the most absurd rumor to take off. so far jet is in the lead with “top secret bli clone project that went rogue.” does bli even have clone projects. who knows. the zones eat it up.

theyre close with dj hot chimp and the two get each other on a level that not a lot of others do. the number of people who know why this is can be counted on one hand.

gets on like a house on fire with ghoul. from an external perspective people assume they hate each other since they are c o n s t a n t l y giving each other shit but it’s absolutely a mutual thing that they like to play up.

has a fantastic relationship with the girl, they’re like her weird party cousin. the girl + fun ghoul + show pony = someone with half a brain cell please intervene because these chucklefucks will continuously ramp shit up to 11 and none of them have any stopping power

did not get along with jet at first! show pony just wasnt jets “type” in terms of the kinds of people he tends to get along with so he mostly put up with them out of necessity. it took a bit for him to get over this but eventually he got in their corner cause show pony was a big reason behind why the fab four were able to take care of the girl and be on the run simultaneously, since show pony was the connective tissue between the four and dr. death and primarily their source of info/supplies. it took them a while to settle into a groove that worked and some people still assume that they dislike each other, largely because they dont really do a lot of talking whenever theyre working together, but thats because show pony got real good at picking up on jets nonverbal cues, and because jet star is one of the few people who can read ponys expressions and intentions even when theyre wearing a helmet

loyal to a fault but in an almost backhanded way. theyll call you out on your shit to your face but once youve asked them to do something theyll do it with no questions asked.

textbook example of “beware the silly ones.” people who dont know them real well will assume that theyre capricious and shallow, and this is because these people have never seen show pony in a fight. its just as much a defense mechanism as it is an intentional front; show pony likes to be underestimated.

#danger days #show pony #anon #ask #*fabrication #some of this stuff has popped up in pray for disaster already #most of its background stuff tho

80 notes · View notes

aliceslantern · 3 years

Text

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts Fanfic, Epilogue

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Ienzo moves on from Radiant Garden.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Still, Ienzo was sad to see Destiny Islands fade from behind them. It was raining here, too, and despite his initial worry about visibility Riku seemed nonplussed. “I’ve flown through worse,” he said. “Try to relax.”

But it was nearly impossible. The thought of going to the basement had his heart beating hard, a slick anxiety chasing away the joy and freedom he’d felt the past month. Ienzo took slow, deep breaths. After so many days in shorts and sandals, his normal clothes felt constricting, and Riku looked odd in his adventure wear.

The flight was both too long and too short. He’d accumulated a small bag of things in his time there--mostly weather-appropriate clothing--but he’d also brought along a few souvenirs that Kairi had helped him pick in an attempt to placate the others of his absence. And some foodstuffs he couldn’t get here. He couldn’t help it.

The day was clear, though cloudy, when they landed, and, Ienzo noted with a strange irony, when he disembarked it felt cold. He scoffed to himself.

Dilan was standing guard at the entrance. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said dryly. “Wasn’t sure we’d ever see you again. With a bloody tan , too.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Good day, Dilan.”

The castle felt massive and brutal, though Ienzo noted Aeleus had made some more progress with the paint. Though he’d cleaned his bedroom before he left, it smelled a bit dusty. He set down his things.

Procrastinating wasn’t going to help.

Riku squeezed his shoulder. “Ienzo?”

“I’m… I’m alright.” He found himself glad he hadn’t eaten much at breakfast. “Right. If you would just… give me a moment to change.”

“Change?”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “I’ll be right outside.”

Ienzo took a deep breath. Took two. He went over to his wardrobe, took out the black slacks, the white shirt, the sweater vest. The boots, the ascot. With shaking hands he took his lab coat off of its hanger.

The apprentice garb felt heavy on him, and its fit was different; he must’ve gotten more exercise on the islands than he thought. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Right,” he said softly.

Riku appraised him when he came out. “Ready?”

“...As I’ll ever be.”

The walk down to the lab felt long. He realized he hadn’t even checked to see if Even or Ansem would be down there, but when they got down it was empty, the computer asleep, the room in semidarkness. Ienzo didn’t realize he was almost gasping for air until Riku squeezed his shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

Wearily, Ienzo nodded. He approached the keypad. He typed in the default password, and the door slid open.

He wasn’t sure what he expected--darkness rolling out, running at him--but nothing happened. “I don’t smell or sense much,” Riku said. He drew his Keyblade. “Stay close, just in case.”

They walked down the long, long ramp to the second lab door. The air smelled musty, stale, but not much worse than that, the lights flickering unevenly down the hall. Ienzo felt shaky, weak, already choked up. At first he wasn’t sure if he were seeing things, shadows flickering. Riku surveyed the space warily.

He took slow, shaky steps. The offices were all the way at the end of the corridor, past all of the cells. Their doors were open, unoccupied, but the whole place was in disarray; mattresses torn to shreds, gouges taken out of the floors and walls, sinks and toilets ripped from their joints. “You kept people here?” Riku asked, in a neutral voice.

“...Yes.” He swallowed. “It takes some a long time to fall to darkness.” He imagined, not for the first time, how his subjects might have felt. Dazed, terrified, in pain. He did remember them screaming out--either in anger, in fear, or in grief. He remembered himself giving them psychological profiles as a child--some had thought he, too, was a victim and tried to save him, only for their horror to grow that much more when they realized he was apart of it.

The pain he’d inflicted echoed heavily around the room as the memories poured in. Xehanort, or Even, or Dilan gently nudging him to do this, that, or another awful thing. Wanting to do it without their prodding as well. Seeing his family members do so in turn.

“How many?” Riku asked.

Ienzo swallowed. “A little over a hundred. But… what we wrought here… spread across the world--the seeker of darkness’s artificial Heartless--”

Riku rested a hand on his back. “You were a child. If you were anything like me… they used you.”

Somehow Ienzo made it to the office. It was a large space, with filing cabinets to one side, a few computers to another, a printer in the far back. Chemistry supplies, glassware, and a fume hood were to the center right of the back wall. Black-topped worktables were also towards the back, a Bunsen burner left out connected to the gas line. In a lot of ways it looked untouched, like it was that hectic and horrifying day they’d been turned. A coffee cup sat on the table in the center of the room, its contents long evaporated. Papers were still spread across the desk, someone’s old, moldering lab coat on the back of a chair.

Ienzo’s knees gave out.

“Ienzo!” Riku cried.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was all so… casual. Mundane.

This had been his normal. School days spent here, torturing other people, other kids, because he thought it was for the greater good. What were a few sacrifices for knowledge? To understand human nature?

He made an odd, guttural noise. “I’m sorry.” He sounded like a wounded animal. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Ienzo?” Riku knelt next to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Look at me.”

The tile floor was cold and dusty under his hands. He wanted to rip the file cabinets from the walls and destroy everything--

“Look at me.”

Ienzo did so, breathing through his teeth. Despite it all, there was still somehow tenderness in Riku’s eyes.

“Apologizing can’t help them now,” he said. “But what we can do to help is to preserve the memory of who they once were.”

He felt so incredibly heavy. “I killed them.”

“Xehanort and the darkness made you. Weren’t these guys your only family? If you hadn’t listened, what would’ve happened to you?”

“I’d be alone.” His chest hurt. “I’d be an orphan.”

“It was all you knew. What happened to the Zo who forgave himself on the island?”

Ienzo looked down.

“Huh?” he prompted.

“Do you think I deserve forgiveness?”

“Yes. I do. I think you were a victim too. Just like I was one of my Ansem’s.”

Ansem had said the same thing. The pain bled out of him. Riku let him cry, and mourn the person he could’ve been if not for all this. “Alright,” he said at last. “Alright. Alright.”

Riku helped him to his feet and wiped the tear from his face. “Better,” he said gently. “Where are these files?”

“Over… over here.” His knees were still shaky. He pulled open the drawer. “Help me…” He hefted them over to the scanner. “Digitize them. So they never get forgotten.”

“Right. Of course.”

It was a tedious, annoying task, but seeing the images, the people , get uploaded into the system, Ienzo felt something like relief. Once it was all--finally--done, he checked with his phone and the network that the data was safe. “All these years,” he said softly. “We kept the results, the data, but this was all left here to rot.”

“Easier to forget the price that way,” Riku said. “We can do something with this.”

“I’ll talk to the others. See how they feel. But seeing as all this--” He spread his hands, “Is due to my influence… I think I can guilt them all into agreeing.”

“For some reason I don’t think they’ll need much persuading.” Riku kissed him once, lightly. “Are you ready to leave?”

He looked around the room. He noticed a document on the table with his childhood self’s handwriting. He touched it once, turned it over. “I think so,” he said. “I think so.”

---

“Ansem? Can I speak to you?”

The man looked up from his writing desk, startled to be called his name. “Oh, Ienzo, it’s so good to see you,” he said. “I feel as though it’s been ages. You look so wonderfully well. Did you have a good time?”

“I truly did,” he said. “There was a lot I learned. But I’d…” He exhaled. “I realized something.”

Ansem gestured for him to sit in the opposite chair, so he did.

“I recall you telling me I am one of the victims of what happened here,” he said slowly.

“Yes. I believe that is true.”

“Staying with Riku’s family… seeing what type of life he used to have, what I could’ve had… it… so much of it shifted my perspective.” Ienzo cleared his throat and knotted his hands. “I think I’ve started to forgive myself, but moreover… I… I want to do something to honor those we destroyed.”

Ansem’s face slackened a little.

“Riku helped me digitize the personal files of the victims. I feel like… by accepting responsibility openly… we can give the townspeople closure. Ensure their memories aren’t lost. We can’t bring them back, but using what we’ve learned… we can help the people here move forward. Help heal their hearts.” He spoke quickly, not at all encouraged by his expression. “Please, master. This is because of me. I want to do something--even if it is so simple as a memorial.”

A long pause. Ansem tapped the tips of his fingers together. “That is very wise, Ienzo,” he said at last. “I think it’s a good first move. I think myself, and the others, agree heartily.”

He took a deep breath. “Moreover… I think I would like to leave Radiant Garden.”

Ansem’s eyebrows shot up.

“I know it probably seems selfish--” He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. “I have so much to atone for. But being there, in Destiny Islands, I… I just need time, I need time to figure out who I can be, before I’m truly emotionally able to do all the work here that I need to. I’d like to move there and attend university.” He bowed his head and realized he was asking for permission. “I want to heal, and experience normalcy, and in order to do that in any meaningful way I have to leave. The memories are too painful. There’s too much unsaid.”

Ansem smiled kindly. “Ienzo,” he said. “Why are you trying to convince me?”

He looked up.

“I think that would be wonderful for you,” he said. “I always thought you were so young to be weighed down by so much. I’m your father. Of course I’m going to support whatever you think you need.”

“Thank you.”

“I just have to ask…” He chuckled a little. “This isn’t just because of the boy, is it?”

Ienzo blinked. “I do love him, but no,” he said. “I’m not going just to be with him. ...Though that will be a perk.”

“You have no idea how much it soothes me to know you’re beginning to move on,” Ansem said. “For the longest time I felt like I’ve damned you. Whatever I can provide--money, an official letter, name it.”

“I still have to figure it all out. They just barely know of other worlds. How would they deal with an immigrant? I don’t think forged papers would be good enough.”

Ansem sat back. “I seem to recall a good friend of your beloved has sway with the mayor,” he said.

“Kairi,” he said. “I completely forgot.”

“You may want to start there. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to introduce you.”

“...Yes.” Ienzo was dizzy. “Yes. That’s a good place to start.”

---

“You’re what. ” Even’s nostrils flared.

“I’m leaving, Even,” Ienzo said. As much as he’d braced himself for this conversation, he was still not looking forward to Even’s reaction. “I just… I need time. I need space. I need to learn how to be me… and I can’t do that here.”

Even sniffed. “The boy’s been too much influence on you. All of the tenderheartedness, the ideas… Life won’t be easy, Ienzo.”

“But it will be normal,” he said. “I think that’s what I need in order to begin to heal. A… controlled environment. A vacuum.”

This made him soften a little.

“ I need to have control,” he said. “And if I stay here, for now, I’ll only be reminded of when I didn’t have that. It’s not forever. Or maybe it is, that is yet to be determined.”

Even sighed. “I see,” he said. “Ienzo… child… there’s so much I have to do to make up to you, and you’re just leaving ?”

Ienzo smiled. “Then support my decision,” he said. “Moreover, with the phones… it’s not as though I’ll never see you again. And we can still work together, as well. I think… one of the things you can help me do is spearhead the memorial with me.”

Even took a breath.

“I know you want to atone just as much, if not more, than I do. Help me accept their pain, Even, and make sure they don’t get forgotten. And that nothing like this happens again.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” He turned to leave, but Even spoke.

“It is… easy, to get caught up in the guilt and the grief,” he said, “And let it paralyze one. So often I feel as though I’ll never have enough time to even begin mitigating the damage I’ve done to this world.” His green eyes were sharp, reddened at the edges. “My mistakes were mine more than yours were yours. Yet…”

“In the end you chose to give up everything in order to stop Xehanort,” Ienzo said. “You deserve to be here. You deserve life too, Even.”

He chuckled. “You have gotten soft, child,” he said. He squeezed Ienzo’s shoulder. “It suits you. But don’t let go of all that bitterness just yet. Use it. Build your new life just to spite us all.”

Ienzo nodded. “I likely shall.”

Even sighed. “I will miss you,” he said. “But I understand.”

“And I you, I think,” Ienzo said.

“Though if you’re going there we must come up with a way to protect your complexion,” he said, snapping into brightness, though Ienzo saw his eyes watering. “I’ll get to it at once. We can’t have you end up with… moles, or worse, you’re so fair.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, Even.”

“You’ll… you’ll take care of yourself?”

“I will if you will.”

Even smiled.

“Truly, Even, you lecture me for working too hard, yet I’m not sure you sleep.”

A beat, a moment. “Take care, Ienzo,” Even said. “I do hope this new life treats you well.”

He nodded. He nearly left, but acting on impulse, he hugged Even once, quickly. “I’ll be back to collect that sunscreen, I’m sure,” he said. “I’ll see you before I leave.”

“Yes, yes, leaving me with more work, as always.” A smile.

---

The apartment had come pre-furnished, but was cramped. The sink leaked. Most of the microwave buttons did not work, and the electric stove heated unevenly. If Ienzo was not quick to shower in the morning, the other flats in the building used up all the hot water.

It was run-down, but it was his, and he loved it.

Riku groaned a little when he got up. “Why,” was all he said.

“I have to get to work,” Ienzo said. “I told you last night I’d be getting up early and if you wanted decent sleep to go home. I warned you.”

He sighed heavily. “To be fair, after what we did, I didn’t think I could move.”

He rolled his eyes and went to go shower. He’d made it for the hot water, though under the wire. When he came back out to get dressed Riku had pulled the blanket over himself, like a burrito. “Don’t you have class to get ready for?”

“Yes, and if I don’t go now I’ll be late.” Still, he didn’t move.

“The last thing I want is for you to become a ne’er do well on my watch,” he said. He grabbed his apron from the closet door handle.

“ Fine. ” He got up and started putting on his discarded uniform. “As long as I can be the first customer. You’re not going to make me wait outside until open again, are you?”

“The last time I didn’t my manager was unhappy.”

“You are the worst sometimes.”

Ienzo smirked. “You still keep coming back.”

The left the apartment together, down the rickety narrow staircase. The sun was just starting to rise. The days, lately, seemed long; but they were full, and Ienzo no longer dreaded them. He found the keys in his bag and unlocked the cafe’s door. “See you in half an hour,” he said breezily to Riku, who just rolled his eyes and sat at one of the outdoor tables.

Most days he didn’t mind this work. Opening the cafe meant he got out of work early, leaving the day open for his classes, or seeing people, or simply existing in this strange city. It wasn’t forever--he had reason to believe he’d be offered a student research position at university, and that would cover most of his living expenses. Ansem had given him money, but he didn’t want to touch it unless he had to.

Sometimes admittedly if he was having a frustrating day--if customers were awful to him or the espresso machine was on the fritz yet again --Ienzo felt his genius was being wasted being a barista. But most of the time, he liked the work, baking and making coffee the most. It was objective, harmless. I wanted normal, he’d think.

He counted in the drawers, put the breakfast pastries in their displays. Warmed up the machines and made coffee. He’d been promoted to keyholder when the manager saw how efficiently he was able to work, and that meant opening shifts. Sometimes on breaks he’d sit with a book and watch the people go by.

He hadn’t realized life could be gentle.

He saw Riku making faces at him through the window, and though he knew it was unnecessary, Ienzo waited until it was six on the dot to let him in.

“You’re a horrible boyfriend,” Riku said.

“Sure I am. Your usual?”

“You’re bankrupting me.” He placed a note on the counter. He made Riku’s latte and handed him the usual buttered croissant, and before the morning rush, sat with him to have his own breakfast. “So, later,” Riku said. “Couple of us are getting together at Sora’s. You in?”

Ienzo sighed. “I’d love to, but I have to finish that paper. I’ve procrastinated enough.” He seemed to be angling towards a degree in psychology with a minor in literature. He could use this to help people--he was trying to help Sora, who seemed to at least be more willing to open up. It was a start.

“Come anyway.”

“Then I’d have to stay up all night.”

“...Like you haven’t done that before.”

“Anyway, don’t you have a test to study for?”

“So?”

Ienzo sighed. “I’ll come, but I’ll be late.”

Riku leaned over and kissed him. “I should try to grab the ferry. Looks like you’ve got customers.”

---

There were already a few people over at Sora’s by the time Ienzo had done enough schoolwork to justify going. “Oh, you made it!” Sora said.

“And I brought snacks.”

“Yay, snacks!”

“Easy to please, as always,” Ienzo said, and Sora stuck out his tongue.

All of this wasn’t easy, but it was slowly getting easier. Sometimes Ienzo felt he was living a lie, not disclosing his past to everyone he met. As he made true, real friends here, it became apparent that this would be something he had to figure out how to deal with. Darkness still poked out from time to time.

There was some kind of movie playing on TV; Sephie and Tidus were arguing over what to watch. “But this is the good part!” Sephie said.

“I don’t care, it sucks.”

Someone had put on music, an upbeat pop song. Only Riku and Ienzo were of age to drink, but somehow someone had brought some wine. A normal Friday. His phone chimed with a text; a file from Even. Call me. Ienzo sighed and went onto the balcony. “Do I even want to know what time it is for you?” he asked, as prelude.

“This is what we’ve come up with,” Even said. “Can you let me know what you think? If it passes your muster?”

“Even, you know it’s better if these things are symbolic. It’s more meaningful that way.”

“I know, I know, I know, I’ve heard enough from your father.”

“I do look forward to seeing it,” he said. “The notes from the committee were helpful, at least. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Out and about, are you?” Even asked.

“Ah--quite.”

A pause. “You’re eating well, and all that?”

He smiled. “Yes, Even.”

“Because you know I raised you to--”

“I promise I’m getting all my fruits and vegetables.”

“Right. Ah.”

“Go sleep, Even. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“As long as you do.”

He hung up. The moon was full, and it was glinting on the ocean. Ienzo heard the back door slide open. “What are you doing here, all alone?” Riku asked.

“Even called me. He has a new draft of the memorial.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

Ienzo smiled. “It’s alright. I think we’re getting close.”

He offered him a glass of wine, which Ienzo took. “Are you glad you came after all?” he asked him.

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“I just… I dunno. I want to make sure you’re happy.”

“Well, I am.” He chuckled a little. “As much as I can be. It’s just that… sometimes the darkness still… comes out.” They both nightmared, occasionally. Sometimes Ienzo heard Riku cry out in his sleep for Sora or Kairi.

“It… does.”

“Are you happy?”

“As much as I can be.”

Ienzo nudged him. He rested a hand on Riku’s waist.

“I’m just glad to… have time,” Riku said. “I think I’m understanding that… it’s not all gonna get snatched away.”

“Good. I told you as much, though I know why…” He sighed. “Sometimes I still feel like I’m going to wake up in that… stark white castle. But then I wake up with you.”

Riku kissed him. “I can’t wait to figure it all out together.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

The door opened again; Kairi was smirking. “Alright, lovebirds. Do you want to want to play dominoes or what?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ienzo said, “I’m going to wipe the floor with you all.”

“Easy there, killer,” Riku said.

And they went inside, to the rest of their lives.

#give/take #ienzoku #ienzo/riku #ienzo #riku #ansem the wise #even (kingdom hearts)#ienzo is trans

3 notes · View notes