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carousel-crows · 1 year

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15. "No, I won the bet, you have to do it."

yes. Doomsday, ily (platonic and respectful)

Prompt #15: "No, I won the bet, you have to do it."

———

Mav was so sure that he was going to win. And honestly, it was laughable.

———

The bet was very straightforward: Ice and Mav against Slider and Goose. A game of beach volleyball. Whoever gets to 20 first wins. The losers´ punishment would be revealed after the game.

At this point, they were tied. They were all sweaty and panting. And it was very hard to focus.

Ice looked stunning. Playing shirtless, wearing only shorts that really showed off his ass. His tanned skin was glistening in the sun, aviators blocking out the sun. His hair was like spun gold.

The volley had started while Mav was admiring his teammate. He didn't notice until the ball dropped into the sand front of him. Goose and Slider cheered, high fiving and mocking Ice and Mav, who blushed furiously.

“Mav, are you okay? You look a little dazed. And flushed.”

“Yeah, Ice. Just tired.”

Ice didn't seem to hear him. “Sit down, I’ll bring you a water.”

Mav started to argue, but was silenced by a look from Ice. “Nope. sit your ass down. I wasn't requesting.” Ice sounded stern, but there was not bite behind it.

So Mav sat down where he was in the warm sand. The sun was starting to set, coloring everything golden. It was peaceful and comforting in a way.

“Mav?” Mav scowled at Goose, who laughed. “Oh, man. You blew it.”

———

“Y'all lost.” Slider’s singsong tortured Ice. His friend and RIO loved to beat the ever-competitive Iceman. Ice just glared and grabbed four water bottles.

“If you try to set Mav and I up, I'm going to lock you and Goose in a broom closet for a week.”

Slider blushed, but persisted. “It'll be fine. I promise it's nothing too bad.”

Tom threw a water at Ron, then laughed when he got smacked in the face. The bottles were cold from sitting in the cooler all afternoon. Most of the ice cubes had melted, but the water was still refreshing. He opened his, took a drink, then trotted over to Pete, who was still sitting on the sandy court. Goose was sitting with him, and they seemed to just be watching the sunset.

He looked so peaceful.

He tossed a water to Nick before plopping himself down next to Pete to hand him his.

“Thank you, Tom.”

“Anytime.”

Slider sauntered over, evil smirk on his face. Oh no.

“Alright, losers. Ready for the punishment?”

Mav groaned. “Just get it over with.”

Goose chuckles. “Tell the poor sops their cost.”

“Y'all have to bunk for a month.”

Ice shot a death glare at Ron. “That's against the rules, though.”

Goose tsked. “Not true.”

“What do you mean?” Mav sounded worried.

“We cleared it with Viper.” The son of a bitch.

Ice steeled himself for the next month.

———

“Goose, please. I can't do it.”

“No, I won the bet, you have to do it."

“But I’ll die of embarrassment. He's too pretty.”

“Oh my god, do not start confessing your love of him to me. Just tell the bastard you love him and make out or some shit.¨

¨Make out with who?¨ Mav had never wanted to hear Tom´s lovely voice less.

¨No one! Don't worry about it!¨

Tom´s face went from curious to collected in a millisecond. ¨Need help with that box?¨

Mav tried to hide his embarrassment with a cocky grin. ¨Nah, hotshot. Show me the way home.¨

Oh god, why did he say that?

Tom only froze for a moment before turning on his heel. ¨Bunks are this way.¨

Mav scrambled to his feet, grabbed the box, and followed. He only turned to plead with Goose, but that quickly died when he saw Nick barely stifling laughter.

———

The switch was surprisingly seamless. Pete and Tom adjustled way quicker than expected. They actually started to talk to each other. Soon they were living in sync, knowing each other’s schedule by heart.

They never switched back.

Goose and Mav sat on Goose's bunk, chatting. “Mav, how ya doing with Mr. Perfect?”

“Oh, Tom? He's the best. We went out for drinks together last night, and he let me give him a ride on the bike. He's so cool, Nick.”

“Dang, he must really love you if he got on the death trap.”

Mav froze. “What?”

“I said, he's gotta love you if he went anywhere near your bike.”

“You think he loves me back?”

“Ice? Of course he does. Even a blind man could see that. Sli tells me that you're basically all he talks about. At first it was complaining, now it's practically a proposal.”

Little did they know that Tom was walking past at that exact moment. He stilled by the door, listening.

“Ice is too good for me. Charlie was. Ice, he's so much better than I am. Not just as a pilot — as a person, too. Besides, he's probably going steady with some good looking chick. I don't think he's into guys.”

Ice almost stomped in at that. He listened to Goose anyway.

“Mav, I'm telling you this once, so listen up: You aren't a bad pilot because you're dangerous. You're not a bad person because you don't know how to express your emotions. And I know for a fact that Iceman isn't going steady with anyone, but he wants you. He is head over heels in love with you.”

“I don't know—”

Ice cracks and turns into the room. “He's right. I am so desperately in love with you, Pete Mitchell.”

Maverick sits, frozen in place. Ice crosses the room in two strides and grabs Mav’s hand. “I love you, Maverick.”

Pete snaps out of his stupor and smiles softly. “You do?” He stares at Ice, eyes searching.

“Come with me.” And he does.

———

He takes Mav down to the beach. The same one that the bet had been made and lost. The bet that brought them together, whether they wanted it or not. They sit in the sand, letting the saltwater chill their now-bare feet, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Mav sat in between Tom’s legs, leaning against his chest.

“Ice?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you really love me?”

Tom scoffed and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Of course I do.”

“Are you sure?” He turned to see Ice better, who was admiring how the fading light enhanced Pete's features. “Because of you aren't sure—”

Ice silenced him with a gentle, chaste kiss. Mav melted almost immediately. The world seemed to stop. Languid, quiet, soft. Ice smiled into the kiss.

After an eternity, they were forced back into the world where oxygen was required. Tom studied him lovingly. The way his green eyes glittered, how his crooked smile softened to something more genuine.

“I guess losing did help, for once.” Tom chuckled.

“Pete laughed. “Not that we'll ever tell them that.”

“Oh, never. Slider can barely fit into his helmet as it is. He doesn't need a bigger head.”

“Ain't that the truth.”

“Just as true as my love for you, Darling.”

Maverick would not admit his love for the nickname until many years later in his wedding vows.

———

as always, make sure y'all drink some water and sleep! love y'all

#icemav #tom iceman kazansky x pete maverick mitchell #iceman x maverick #maverick x iceman #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #top gun 1986

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pinksilvace · 11 months

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Did you see How to Train your Dragon is getting a live action remake???

Alas... yes.

Iirc some of the folks that worked on the animated films (writer, director, and composer???) are returning for this project. It would be really neat if they did a more direct adaptation of the books, but I sincerely doubt that, all things considered, which raises the question: WHY???

Granted, there are aspects of the second and third films I don't like; the villains, especially, could stand to be fleshed out. Maybe going live action will encourage the creative team to push for a PG-13 rating or a more serious tone overall. Going live action will allow the dragons to have more consistent designs/textures (I'm partial to the grittiness of them in the first film) and the precedent of the animated films will allow more opportunities for foreshadowing. It would be fun to see some of the characters from the various television shows, especially Heather and Dagur. There are so many directions in which this world can be expanded.

THAT SAID, there are a few immediate problems I can imagine:

A lesser suspension of disbelief. This one is pretty self-explanatory; fantastical stuff just works better in animated form with the technology used in the film industry today. If the actors and dragons can really sell the performance, that would be fantastic, but it still won't feel as seamless as it does in animation.

Eternal comparison. Again, self-explanatory; it would take a miracle for the live action films to exist within their own bubble. Maybe the director doesn't want them to. Adding onto that,

Nostalgia. There's a decent chance that this project is just a way to continue profiting off of the franchise. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, but if that's all it does, it'll be immensely disappointing. The presence of some of the creative team hopefully hints toward this being a product of passion, but only time will tell.

Bland design. This is probably the thing I'm most worried about. The world of Berk and the Barbaric Archipelago have been established as colorful places bursting with life. Each dragon design is distinct - enough that they stretch the definition of what a single species can evolve into. It seems to be a trend in live action to make things toned down for the sake of "realism," and in this case, I'm especially concerned about the dragons losing the strong shape language of their animated counterparts. Actually, you know what? Everything in this franchise is dripping with shape language - even the main characters. Oh, gosh, the characters will all lose their shape languages unless the costume department is allowed to go wild (as they SHOULD). Color is a different matter entirely. I'm almost certain that the live action films will be less saturated than the animated ones, and there's definitely a reasonable degree to this, but knowing that the premise of this story is a low fantasy set at least 600 years ago, there's a non-zero chance that everything will be gray, brown, and maroon.

The most baffling thing, however, is the fact that the HTTYD films are being remade in the first place. The third one came out in 2019. The first film, dated as the graphics are compared to those of the other two, is an absolute masterpiece. While I have more (hopefully not misplaced) hope for these films than any of The Mouse's live action remakes, they just don't feel necessary. Not yet, anyway, and as much as I would love animated remakes instead, I can't imagine such a thing ever happening. Hopefully, the creative team uses this as an opportunity to fix the prior films' problems (or make new plots in this world entirely!) and not just as another leap for money.

#ask #httyd #alack! you've discovered my can of worms!#httyd was my first ever fixation and I watched Riders/Defenders of Berk and RTTE as they came out so I have Thoughts about this #I even convinced myself and my bestie that dragons were real at one point #played school of dragons in its prime back in the days before Heather was alchemist #I completed the wii game several times #my family still makes fun of me for my old habit of singing about dragons in the shower #and now that I'm grown and crafty and trans and have daddy issues I realize that I'm just Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III himself #it would explain why I always had a crush on Astrid. and then on Heather #anyways

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #remus sanders

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thebougieway · 2 years

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Updated Natural Everyday Makeup Routine

Over the months, my makeup routine has changed drastically. These changes have made my makeup appear flawless & airbrushed, the exact look I was going for. I get tons of compliments on my makeup, & you can too if you follow along.

PREP & PRIME:

To prep my face for my makeup routine, I first moisturize with my Pond's cream. I use the original blue top one for dry skin, since it is getting a little cold, this is the perfect cream for dry skin girls like myself

Once my face is moisturized, I let that sit for a moment just to soak all the moisture in then I prime with the SmashBox Photo Finish Smooth & Blur primer, this is great for smoothing out those pores and getting that airbrushed finish underneath your makeup

FACE:

Starting with my eyebrows, I use this powder that I received in a Boxycharm some months ago, but I'm pretty sure you can find it once you search it. It's called Brow Makeover Kit by Brow Bar by Reema & I love this powder brow palette. I use the medium palette because I am brown-skinned & I don't like my brows to be extremely dark. The palette can be a little dry so I like to spray the color that I'm using for my brows with a little setting spay, then proceed to fill in my brows to my preferred desire using a Morphe eyebrow brush.

Moving on to my foundation, I recently just switched from liquid to cream & I'm in LOVE. Best decision ever. Cream is just more easier to blend and gives me an airbrushed flawless look without making it seem like I have hella makeup on. I didn't really know how to shop for cream foundation, so a Sephora employee helped me & my first choice was going to be the Hourglass Cosmetics Vanish Seamless Finish Foundation Stick in the shade Sable because it matched perfectly, it literally went on as butter and dissolved into my skin, but of course they were sold out, so I went with the Makeup Forever Ultra HD Stick Foundation and it matches just as well. I love it.

Once my foundation is on, I conceal under my eyes, Cupid's bow, & nose with the TooFaced Born this Way concealer in the shade Chai with a beauty blender.

After my dark circles are concealed (LOL), I set everything with the Laura Mercier Translucent setting powder in the shade Translucent Honey, I didn't really want to get the lightest shade because I didn't want my face t be extremely "bright" when baking, & I didn't want to get the darkest shade because I wanted my face to have some light to it to make it seem as if I'm "awake", so the Honey shade is the perfect mix in between.

My makeup routine is pretty simple, I don't contour mainly because my face is pretty slim and I'd probably look like a skeleton if I were to, & because I don't really have the skills to perfect a perfect contour as well 🤣, so I definitely skip that step and go straight to my highlight with the Becca Cosmetics Pressed Highlighter in Champagne Pop which they discontinued the Becca Cosmetics line so RIP to her.

After the highlighter is on, I go ahead and set my face with my Charlotte Tilbury Airbrush Flawless Setting Spray, WHICH I'M OBSESSED WITH. The packaging does not lie when they say: "Stay all day, Party all night".

LIPS:

Now we all know, lips are always the finishing touches in a girl's makeup routine & I typically go for a nude lipstick with a little gloss combo.

As a brown-skinned girl, who would I be if I didn't line my lips with a brown liner first (if you know, you know) & I don't use anything special, just the Sephora brand lipliner in the shade "Molasses"

For lipstick, I have 2 favorite nude lipsticks that are the perfect nude for my skin color, & are moisturizing. Those lipsticks would be Milani Matte Lipstick in the shade "Matte Nude" & Soap & Glory Sexy MotherPucker Lipstick in the shade "Super Nude"

As stated, I like to put a little gloss on the finishing touches and my go-to lipgloss for that would be Victoria's Secret "Candy Baby", literally the best sheer pink lipgloss there is.

That is all for my updated natural everyday makeup routine, I hope you all enjoyed this read.

xoxo, MissJaiDior

#makeup #lifestyle #eveyday #natural makeup

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demonslayedher · 3 years

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Dream Analysis of Mugen Ressha

Spoilers for the movie, while it does not depart from the plot of the manga, they made adaptational choices which I may refer to within.

While Enmu has control over what kind of dream his victims see, ultimately, he would have no way of knowing all of the details of his victims' lives, so we can assume that he is prompting his victims to fill in a lot of the details themselves. These are the worlds they surround themselves with consciously, but their untouchable unconscious spaces say just as much.

I've said some of this before, but these dream sequences give us so much to say about Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kyojuro, and Tanjiro.

Into the dream: Did that "Rengoku-aniki" thing really happen???? It's animated like a fever dream (or drawn like a typical Gotouge-being-Gotouge panel), but both the movie and the manga leave this inconclusive. It can be interpreted two ways: 1. The two other demons were there all along as decoys, set to appear only when Enmu's blood technique slowly started to take effect so that they'd let their guard down. In this way, we'd know that the boys had a true way of witnessing Kyojuro's prowess and a true bonding moment, thereby making his death hit all the harder later. This would also mean that one of the cars was totally unusable for passengers, and many of the passengers were already thoroughly spooked before falling into sleep. It would also imply that they were all super excited, thoroughly relieved, returned to their seats, and then just passed out.

2. The moment the tickets were clipped, Enmu's very, very, very realistic dreams took immediate effect, but he still needed time before it took effect enough that their guards would go down. If this is the case, then it implies the following: 1. Enmu's illusions can be shared 2. Everyone syncs extremely well together to have all been sucked in by the same illusion (it's possible it was only Tanjiro's, but since we get in everyone's heads a little in this part, I believe they all experienced the same thing). Reacting in ways so true to how they would in waking like, they learned as much about each other as truthfully as they would have if they were fighting while awake. 3. The "Rengoku-aniki" thing is the moment they're falling into a deeper stage of sleep, when any bizarre thing will make sense. They've lost any sense of holding back and are embracing the emotions as they hit them. Even if that was all a dream, the bond formed was very real. But then, as they fall deep, they fall into their own headspaces. Inosuke: I love how bombastic this dream is. It moves at a very fast pace, and everything revolves around Inosuke. He is physically much larger than Ponjiro, Chuuitsu, and Pyonko, who clearly follow him as their leader, the most powerful person in this cave exploring world full of wonder and excitement. True to life, these underlings can at times be frustrating or stupid, but there is no one else Inosuke would rather have at his side to take on a hugely impressive foe. It's a relatively simplistic world, what Inosuke really cares about is his place in it, and who is there.

Taking it a step deeper, he should not be able to manifest in his self-conscious space, but Gotouge attributes his and Zenitsu's ability to do this and protect their cores from intruders to their strong senses of self. What's telling is that his subconscious space is practically identical to his conscious dream space; like there is no breakage between one stage of reality and the next. In its Zen-like simplicity Inosuke's mind is never at odds with itself, its interpretation of reality is fluid and seamless. However, being at this deeper state brings us to a deeper state of self actualization, with Inosuke manifesting closer to the ideal beast he views himself as.

Now, with Inosuke being so fully invested in what he sees as reality, he's still got a carry-over effect from dream after waking up, which one could interpret as not having fully shaken the effects of Enmu's blood technique. After all, Zenitsu simply never broke out of it, Tanjiro had to kill himself in his dreams each time to fully snap out of it, and Kyojuro was the only one powerful enough to have broken through its effects through his own willpower. When Tanjiro says the train is a demon, he buzzes with "I was right!" (a conviction that only got stronger in his dream), and Inosuke's declarations of being the boss and Tanjiro being his underling are indignantly plentiful and he fully believes what he is saying every time he brings it up, even if he's aware that he's no longer in the cave exploring dream. But, given that Inosuke is so at peace with his own version of reality, it's also just as likely that his conviction of being The Boss was also only compounded by the dream, and all that dream did was give him a more fun setting in which to play around in. But, what was so fun about the dream, what made him sleep-giggle with pleasure, was that everyone else was finally getting with the program and recognizing him as the boss, as they should. Finally. It's so frustrating in real life that he has to keep reminding them to get it right. Get it, Santaro?? GOOD. Zenitsu: What I love here is the contrast between subconscious and conscious space. Both of them have the same theme melody, but played in very, very different ways. They also both play with the same core desire in very different ways as well. Is it so much to ask that he can just spend some time alone with the girl he loves?? If we jump straight to the pitch black unconscious space, he specifies to the intruder that only Nezuko is allowed there. Not just girls in general, not a close friend like Tanjiro, only the one girl he loves, and even then, you'd have to love someone a lot to invite them into the deepest, darkest corners of your soul. And it is a very, very, very, very dark corner. Zenitsu's spent most of his life building that dark, pessimistic personality, compounded by the treatment he's always received throughout his life and what he believes about himself at his core. He's ugly and depraved there, and very defensive. Because he holds himself in such darkness, that makes him desire the bright, happy, completely idealistic world of his conscious dream world. It's rich with detail and warm and he knows it well, that places is the first place he ever felt someone have hope for him; it's Jiichan's home, that sunny place with delicious peaches and full of clovers and lush greenery and a charming stream. Of course he'd want to show it all to Nezuko, she deserves to see such a happy, pretty place! And, while the world is idealized and happy, Nezuko is e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y cute and actually wants to hang out with him too. She's willing no hold his hand, none of the girls who dated (read: used) Zenitsu in the past were ever willing to hold his hand. He even gets to show her that he can be cool, and she likes it!! She looks him in the eyes and is totally honest about enjoying his company!!

He just wants someone to want him back. He wants to belong in the sunshine too. So, even if he had it in him to wake up from Enmu's blood technique, who can blame him for staying there? (You know, besides Tanjiro, who has been desperately screaming for them all to wake up and help him protect the passengers. Zzzzz, five more minutes, Tanjiro, zzzzzzz----) Kyojuro: This... isn't really a happy dream. Kyojuro has accepted a lot of sad parts of his reality so wholeheartedly that he doesn't seek the comfort of a dream in which his mother is still alive, or a dream in which his father is proud of him. Instead, what Kyojuro was looking for was the chance to go back and say more to Senjuro. This implies that on the real day he knelt in that room, while his father faced away and read the book* while Kyojuro told him all about how he defeated Lower Moon Two and became a Pillar, and was met with his father's heartbreakingly unenthusiastic reply, he later went outside and...

...didn't say any words of comfort to Senjuro.

This regret, that he didn't do more for his brother whom he knew was hurting in his own silent ways this whole time, was what sat most bothersomely in Kyojuro's otherwise peacefully self-assured psyche (or fired-up psyche, if you go by his subconscious space) . It makes sense that in his dying wishes, the first thing he requests is that Tanjiro do this in his stead. *Speaking of that book, Kyojuro had forgotten about it until his memories pulled together to create the details of the dream, which was why he thought to mention it to Tanjiro later. This shows that Enmu is not an architect of people's dreams, he only sets them in motion. How believable they are depends on each victim. (Totally unrelated, I love the design of the Rengoku estate's garden??? It's primarily evergreen and unflowering trees, meaning it stays relatively steadfast throughout the year, a garden designed in samurai villa taste. Plus the details of the house also fit really well, I think??? Would need to review research of buke-yashiki architecture to say more.) Tanjiro: ...*deep breath* This boy really, really wants to go home. Like, the climax of the movie is amazing and all, but it's the scenes with Tanjiro's family that make me cry. Ugh, where do I start. Enmu probably just grabs on to whatever thread of a desire a person has, and then he just tugs on it and says "this way, let's go really far in this direction, show me where it goes, hmm, okay, nice, lovely. Have fun here, I've now seen enough to write my own angsty version for later." So... so I'm just going to work backwards a moment. Enmu screwed up here, thinking he could really read the depth of Tanjiro's family and his feelings for them. He thought he could make a convincing version of these "characters" cry and shove Tanjiro around and speak meanly to him and make him feel shame. And the cut to that dream, OH MY GOSH, truly horrific sound and color change. But Tanjiro's sees through it so fast that he wakes up immediately and uses that anger at how Enmu wrote them to cut off his "head." You screwed up, Enmu, you blew it, maybe other people would very so blown down by the shock that they wouldn't question how unreal that dream sequence is, but Tanjiro has honed his fighting spirit so much that it's been nagging him even throughout his happy dream. And he really, really, really wants to stay in that happy dream. Like, even though he's on guard at the beginning, so much so that he only focuses on the familiar feeling of a demon being around and does not notice the familiar landscape AT ALL. But the moment Hanako and Shigeru step in, convincingly made from Tanjiro's memories and unedited by Enmu, Tanjiro throws that all away in an instant. As he says when he's trying, after trying and trying and trying to rip himself away from the dream, he was never even supposed to had left this world. He was never supposed to had touched anything like a sword, they were all supposed to stay there together, living their simple life. If things hadn't gone wrong that one night. Tanjiro cares deeply about his mission, he's adopted his training deeply, he has serious desire to improve, which is why his subconsciously keeps trying to call himself back to reality, but it's so hard, because this is where he wants to be, and it's even harder because it feels so real. It's a little peeve of mine when families with lots of little siblings are written to be too angelic and idealistic, and there is some of that with the "let's make sembei, yaaaay" scene, but... but that's actually pretty true. I'm giving myself away with how close this hits to home, but it's a dynamic in a lot of large families, especially large families pretty happy to stay to themselves and people who live the same sort of conservative, traditional lifestyle, to foster in the older siblings some pride in taking care of the little ones and helping create that happy world for them, even if taking care of little kids can be rough. It's not to say that things are always happy and fluffy, they're not, and that's not to say even

happy kids don't resent being in a large family sometimes. But there's plenty of moments in daily life, especially in the presence of small children, that you get swept up into a sillier, happy, caretaker side of yourself, and since you all grow up with these silly moments together, you're going to naturally fall into into some silly, scripted-feeling moments of "then I'll be in charge of eating the sembei!" "no faaaaair!". So, I'll give the sembei scene a pass because that IS a moment that happens in years of moments with the same posse of kiddos around you all the time. But it's also so striking to me how each of Tanjiro's siblings, however idealized, has their own personality. The traits are so subtle but consistent and Tanjiro knows all of them. They pick up on things about each other, they grow realistically annoyed and surprised and concerned and scared like they would if they were real instead of only Tanjiro's memories of them. Those kids feel so real to me, even if they are annoyingly overidealized in some parts as Tanjiro is letting himself get swept away. And just when he's managing to part from it to go face reality, Enmu makes more attack: he brings in Nezuko, trying to make it feel like there's no point in Tanjiro running at all. She's fine. There's nothing left for him to fight for. Everything's fine. And all over again, Tanjiro just stops. He KNOWS it's not real, but he's hurting so much to hear her voice again that he just sto-o-o-o-ps. And his desire to stay with the others catches up to him all over again, and he's tempted all over again to stay, EVEN KNOWING IT'S NOT REAL and there are very, very, very pressing matters to attend to. Even if it was all a little happy and idealized, more than anything, it felt like life always did. It's telling that when Tanjiro finally, FINALLY pulls away from that that time, he doesn't look back, and the family stops chasing him. This is Tanjiro accepting reality, however much it hurts. He's already had a couple years to accept this, but it was all overwhelming to get such a vivid taste of it again.

Tanjiro wants to do well to his organization and honor Urokodaki's training and avenge the fallen and prevent anyone else from being hurt and see an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and make Nezuko human again, but more than anything, he wants that simple life. And it's so, so heartwarming that at the end of the manga, he gets it.

It's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He never wanted a life with a sword, but he's been working so hard at it anyway.

#my heart is broken and it's Kamado Tanjiro's fault #KnY Fandom Theories and Meta #Mugen Ressha Hen #Kamado Tanjiro #Kamado Tanjirou #Agatsuma Zenitsu #Hashibira Inosuke #Rengoku Kyoujurou #Rengoku Kyojuro

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Winter Court Wedding

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: This has been in my head for a few days and I had to get it out of my head so I could write other stuff XD

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,356 words... yup it ran away from me again. This one pretends Tamlin isn’t a terrible person so we get Rhys instead 😉 @itscheybaby

^^^^^

“Rhysand?” I called through the town house.

“Yes?” His voice was coming from the kitchen.

I went downstairs, holding the box I’d found in our room. “What’s this for?” I asked, indicating the heavy fur-lined black cloak with silver embroidery of the moon and stars up the sides.

“Can’t I give you a gift just because I want to?” His smirk was almost too casual for me to believe him.

“You know I prefer coats in Velaris,” I replied. “So there’s something going on.”

He sighed, wings drooping. “Alright. You caught me,” he muttered. “We’re going to the Winter Court.”

“What for?”

“Kallias and Vivane’s wedding.”

“Didn’t they get married like an hour after he got back from Under the Mountain?”

Rhysand folded his arms, tucking his wings against his back a little tighter. “Yes,” he said carefully, “but they’re hosting a formal reception for their court, as well as for the other High Lords. I’m sure Kallias doesn’t actually want to invite us, or any of the other High Lords for that matter, but Mor and Vivane are really good friends and I don’t think he wants to harm that relationship.”

“So Mor’s coming with us, then?”

“Unfortunately, no. She has to put out a fire in the Court of Nightmares.”

“Literal or figurative?”

“Figurative. Keir is pitching fits again.”

“Ah. Same old, same old, then.”

“Pretty much.”

I decided to change the subject.

“So, the cloak is to keep me warm in the Winter Court climate, I’m assuming.”

“Yes. Hopefully without damaging your dress. Sometimes your coats rumple the skirts. While we’re in Velaris—and anywhere in the Night Court that’s not the Court of Nightmares, really—I don’t mind. But you know what we look like to the other courts. The image we present.”

Wealthy, dangerous, ruthless, powerful Night Court High Fae. Immaculate and pristine. Never even a hair out of place. Always in control of every situation. The High Lord who always got what he wanted, his thunderstorm of a High Lady by his side. Nary a trace of the Illyrian half-breed with self-worth issues and the Autumn Court runaway who’d never belonged anywhere.

“I know,” I said.

Rhys approached me and pulled the cloak out of its small box. “Besides,” he said, slinging it around me, “it does look rather fetching on you.” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to my neck.

“Charmer,” I teased.

He laughed. “I could say the same about you.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I missed you, while you were… gone.”

Even though he insisted he was fine, I still did my best not to mention Under the Mountain. The secrets he’d been forced to keep, the things he’d been forced to do to keep me and the rest of the Night Court safe. We talked about it when he needed to, and I would always be there for him, but I didn’t need to force the past forty-nine years on him.

Rhys put his arms around my waist under the cloak and buried his nose in my hair. “I missed you too.”

“So when do we leave for the Winter Court?”

He knew I was changing the subject away from what I didn’t want to bring up, but he let me. “Tomorrow. We may stay overnight, we may not.”

“Shame Mor’s not coming with.”

“Agreed. She’d love to see Viviane again.”

“We’ll find some way to reunite them. How about that?”

“I think it sounds delightful. We’ll put them in a sound-proof room so we don’t have to hear them squealing into the late hours of the night.” His sarcasm was not lost on me. I chuckled. We swayed in place for a bit. “Let’s go get prepared for tomorrow, darling,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

—

I already miss the Northern mountains, I thought at Rhys, wrapping the beautiful new cloak tighter around me to suppress a shiver. Even they aren’t as cold as this.

He hid his amused smile with a lazy smirk, boredly surveying the Winter Court ice waste around us as the reindeer-pulled sleigh whisked over the snow. I agree, he thought back, but it’s not for very long.

The small tiara I’d chosen to accompany my gown was like I’d wrapped an icicle around my scalp. The metal of it practically frozen to my skin.

The sleigh turned a corner.

“By the Cauldron,” I breathed.

The palace was made of ice. It towered into the sky with sharp jags and icicle towers, hexagonal walls filtering sunlight from behind. White-furred bears patrolled the battlements alongside the soldiers. All of whom sported white hair and pale blue uniforms. Snow was falling, but there was only a scattering of clouds. The High Lord’s magic, then, probably.

It might be a good idea to close your jaw, Rhys advised, no sarcasm present. We have an image to maintain while we’re here.

Right, I thought.

The sleigh driver pulled us up to a half-circle drive of packed snow. At the apex of the half-circle were two massive doors to the palace, wide open to the deep blue gloom of indoors. After slowing to a stop, we gave the driver a curt but polite thank-you and swept out of the sleigh. I caught Rhys flicking a finger before offering me his arm. What magic did you just do? I thought at him.

Tipping the driver. It’s polite but I definitely don’t want to be seen doing it. Would ruin the monster reputation I’ve spent centuries building. An image accompanied his reply—of a cheeky wink. I sent him back nothing but laughter.

An attendant—a young “lesser” faerie female with skin the color, texture, and reflectiveness of powdered snow—guided us inside. It was a lot warmer within the ice-crafted walls than I would have expected. I almost wanted to remove my cloak. The attendant looked absolutely terrified of us. Rhys and I barely acknowledged she was there, both keeping impassive expressions on our faces. I wished I could reassure her that everything was alright—that we were friendly—but I knew why I couldn’t.

She led us up what technically counted as a spiral staircase—despite it being hexagonal and not perfectly circular—to a suite of rooms. “His Lordship hopes you will be comfortable here,” the attendant said.

“Thank you.” A curt dismissal from Rhys. She scampered away.

Once she was gone and the doors closed, both of us relaxed. “I hate acting like that,” I muttered.

“Me too. But every High Lord puts on a face,” Rhys said. “You remember Helion. He seems terribly prickly and temperamental in public but is quite amusing and kind in private.” Rhys sat on a white sofa embroidered with sky blue winter flora and a few snowflakes.

“I do remember Helion. I also remember wishing you’d given me a warning about it. I was ready to punch him for being so rude to you.”

Rhys winked at me. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun,” he replied. I rolled my eyes. “Well, love, there’s nothing to do but wait until the reception. We did arrive a little early.”

“Four hours is ‘a little’?” I joked.

All I got was a shrug. “I like making statements,” he replied casually. “I arrive when I wish and I don’t care about their scheduling. Usually I would prefer to show up late to make it seem like I really don’t care about whatever it is they’ve had the courage to invite me to, but sometimes it’s more fun to arrive much earlier than planned and make that everyone else’s problem.”

I laughed. “You do a good job of making your act seamless.”

“Centuries of practice, darling.” He lounged on the sofa but patted the seat next to him. I sat beside him. It was almost warm enough inside to remove my cloak, but not quite. Rhys’ body heat was helping make up the difference. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

I grinned. “Thanks. You’re quite stunning yourself.” Black jacket, immaculately embroidered in silver and gold, deep midnight blue shirt underneath buttoned all the way up to hide his tattoos, black slacks with a single ring of silver thread around the ankles. It had taken me an hour to convince him to wear a blue shirt instead of black. But it really brought out his eyes. Dimmed the blazing, powerful violet just enough to reveal that his irises were actually blue.

“I’m always stunning,” he replied.

I smacked him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Arrogant,” I accused.

He kissed me. “You like it though.”

I rolled my eyes.

—

The ballroom was enormous. Pillars of glimmering ice reflected faelight bobbing around the ceiling. It was lightly snowing inside. Winter Court High Fae and faeries milled around, talking, eating, drinking. A line extended away from the bride and groom. Well-wishers offering their congratulations.

Rhysand wasn’t going to bother waiting in the line. I knew that. We’d approach from behind or from the other side, offer our regards, and then leave.

But not immediately.

The ballroom was warm enough that I passed my cloak to a waiting attendant. My gown was so dark violet it was almost black. A bell-shaped skirt dotted with beads in the shape of stars swished over the ice floor, lightly dusted with snow. The gown’s sleeves barely capped my shoulders, but the long black satin gloves that ended two inches from the bottom of the sleeves helped keep my arms warm. The bandeau tiara had three dark amethysts glinting among the white diamonds.

The finery wasn’t terribly comfortable, but I knew the effect it had on others.

Rhys and I wandered the ballroom, mingling only occasionally—and only if the other party dared approach us first.

Including High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court and his charming bride-to-be, Feyre Cursebreaker. Both of them looking happy and healthy and more in love than ever.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Rhys,” Tamlin said begrudgingly. His eyes flicked over to me. I didn’t have to be daemati like Rhys to know what he was thinking. The whispers of the other faeries milling about followed me the moment we entered the room, and Tamlin was likely in agreement.

Freak. Unnatural. Witch. Lightning was not meant to be harnessed by magic like that. She doesn’t belong in any court.

I thought about snapping something at Tamlin, but Rhys cut in smoothly, “We could hardly miss an important function such as this, Tamlin.” He inclined his head at the female on Tamlin’s arm. “A pleasure to see you again, Feyre.”

“Wish I could say the same about you,” she replied dryly.

Rhys tsked, but didn’t say anything to her. “Enjoy the party,” he said to both of them instead before pulling me away. I waved at Feyre, letting an apology touch my expression. Her glare softened a moment and she lifted her fingers as though to wave back, but thought better of it.

I turned away. She’d saved Tamlin and freed the other High Lords and their courts from Amarantha. She gave Rhys back to me—and I couldn’t even give her the thanks she deserved. Electricity crackled in my veins. Rhys jolted slightly as I shocked him. No one else would have noticed.

Easy, he thought at me. What’s wrong?

I let him into an antechamber in my shields, to see what I thought and felt without having to explain. Thoughtful silence followed. We’ll find a way to let you thank her. For us both to thank her. She gave me back to you, too.

Thank you, I thought at him.

Of course. I felt a loving caress against my shields. I sent one in return.

Rhys took me through the crowd, occasionally offering greetings to the High Fae and faeries who didn’t cower as we passed. Rhys’s damper on his power had been loosened. Not released completely, but relaxed—allowing tendrils of darkness to drift from him like shafts of steam. It was an intimidation tactic. He did it a lot.

“Kallias. Viviane,” Rhys said as we approached the bride and groom. Both looked resplendent. Viviane in her simple but no doubt expensive gown that glittered like powdered snow under the moonlight. They turned to us. “Morrigan sends her regards and regrets that she couldn’t make it.” Those words were directed at Viviane. She smiled at the both of us. More warmly at me than at Rhys.

“Congratulations to you both,” I said with a genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy with one another.”

Kallias gave me a cold stare. Wondering where my calculating, ruthless High Lady mask was, no doubt. But I did want them to know that I was happy for them. That I was happy they’d found one another after Amarantha.

“Thank you,” Viviane said before Kallias could reply. She reached out and took my hand in both of hers. “And thank you for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rhys said smoothly, smirking slightly.

“We left our gift on the table with the others,” I said softly to Viviane.

She gave me a warm grin. “Thank you. Thank you, both.”

I returned the grin and Rhys bade a curt goodbye to Kallias before we retreated back into the crowd.

“Care to dance?” I asked.

“With you? Always.” He smiled at me. For a moment I forgot we were in another court. All I could think of was him. All I could see was those blazing eyes—that lazy smile. His warmth against me.

I didn’t realize I must have been showing that on my face because he leaned down and kissed me. “The rest of tonight is going to be so much fun,” he whispered suggestively, giving me that playful smirk he always had when he knew we were both going to get what we wanted from each other before the night was over.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the Winter Court chill travelled down my spine. Excitement. “Oh, I think it will be,” I replied.

#Winter Court Wedding #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction

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valdomarx · 3 years

Text

Saving Grace

When the test flight of a new experimental spacecraft goes wrong, Sheppard ends up lost in hyperspace. Injured and alone, his subconscious mind summons up a familiar face to keep him company.

Stargate: Atlantis, Sheppard/McKay. 6k words, rated T.

Contains Shep whump, happy ending, and gratuitous descriptions of astronomical phenomena.

Sheppard comes to with a lancing headache and vise around his chest. An alarm is blaring. He takes in his environment: he’s in an unfamiliar cockpit. Whatever he’s flying, the inertial dampeners have cut out and he’s pulling several Gs, the forces pushing him against his seat and making his head swim.

He blinks woozy eyes and stares out the window. Streaks of color whip past him in a confusing and rapid swirl. A strange thrum vibrates the ship. This doesn’t look like space.

Shit. That’s because he’s not in space. He’s in hyperspace.

This is not good.

“It’ll be a cakewalk!” McKay gestures animatedly. “A quick trip across the solar system to warm our new baby up, then kick in the hyperdrive. It’ll catapult you to the Triian system, and you can turn around and gate back. Easy.”

“Catapult?” Sheppard raises an eyebrow. “I don’t love the sound of that.”

But McKay isn’t listening. He and Zelenka are deep in conversation about hyperspace and its effects on the particle/wave duality of light. The rapidly rising volume of their voices suggests this is an argument they’ve had before.

They’re both fussing over the control panel for their latest pride and joy, a cobbled-together prototype spacecraft which is a hybrid between a puddle jumper and a X-302 fighter. It’s taken them months to build the A-305, based off the miniature hyperdrive McKay designed while he was temporarily almost-ascended. They’ve poked and tweaked and run every simulation they can think of, but sooner or later the ship will need to be taken on a real test flight.

Just as well Atlantis has the galaxy’s best fighter pilot for a military commander, Wier had said with a smile. She’d wished him luck on the A-305’s maiden voyage and told him to come home safe.

Stay safe. Stay alive.

Right.

Through the fog in his head, Sheppard focuses on his first problem. The spinning of the ship is making it impossible to think, and he needs to be clear headed to find his way out of this. He needs control of his ship.

With a wince he connects to the ship’s neural interface. It isn’t as seamless as operating a puddle jumper, but the principle is the same. McKay and Zelenka had done their best to replicate the Ancient interface, but their best approximation was still a long way off. Using it adds to the sharp spike of pain in his skull, but he needs to know what he’s dealing with.

The ship’s interface blinks into existence behind his eyes. The sensors scream out incomprehensible reams of data. He silences them. The alarm is still blaring. Silence that as well.

Now. Here. Positioning and guidance systems. This data is a jumbled mess too, and most of the navigation functions are offline. But thrusters are up. That’s good. He can at least stop this spin.

In the corner of his mind, the power system whines needily. It’s one of a dozen systems competing for his attention and it will have to wait. He pushes it aside.

Thrusters. Fire them, hard. Counteract the spin.

The ship jerks and he is slammed into the side of his seat. It pushes the air from his lungs, but gradually the colors outside the window slow their nausea-inducing swirl.

The world rights itself. The G forces release their iron-tight grip on his chest. The ship is stationary.

Now, at least, he can think and he can breathe. He can call for a rescue.

He taps his radio and calls out to Atlantis. No reply. He tries the ship’s communication system. No luck there either. The radio plays back nothing but static.

Ok. Communications are down. He’ll need to fix that, but first he needs to find out where he is. He opens the hyperspace location system and searches for a beacon.

Silence stares back at him.

He searches further, pushing the sensors to their maximum. There must be a signal he can lock onto somewhere.

He finds nothing. Not even empty space. Nothing but the strange, pulsating colors of the uncharted depths of hyperspace.

Damn it. He’s lost.

“I’m telling you,” McKay is, once again, waving his hands around with great enthusiasm, “you have no idea how hyperspace works. It’s not like navigating through normal space.”

Sheppard is sat in the commissary on the Daedalus, overhearing Ronon wind up McKay and trying not to show his amusement.

“I thought it was like an ocean current?” Ronon asks innocently.

“What? No! It’s nothing like that.” McKay gestures with a fork. “It’s more like… You know when you carry something heavy through the forest?”

“Like a body?”

“God, how does your mind work? But right, sure, you’re dragging the lifeless corpse of your defeated enemy through the forest. And as you go, you’re crushing bushes and leaves beneath your feet, right? You’re making a trail.”

“I don’t leave tracks.”

“Oh, sure, Mr I’m-a-big-tough-guy-yet-somehow-I-can-move-silently-through-dense-foliage.” McKay scowls and Sheppard hides a smile behind a forkful of mashed potatoes. “The point is, when a ship moves through hyperspace it leaves behind a trail. When another ship follows the first, it reinforces the trail. Over time, that builds up a network of paths through hyperspace.”

“And that’s how we know which direction to go in right now?” Ronan looks out the window, where the hyperspace currents wrap around the ship.

“Exactly. Over time, we’ve laid out beacons along these paths. They allow us to jump from one part of the galaxy to another, but only along the predetermined routes. If we were to head away from the path, eventually we’d be too far away from the beacons to orient ourselves. We’d end up lost forever in hyperspace.” He shudders, and Sheppard can see the millions of horrible scenarios playing through his head.

“Huh.” Ronon puts his feet up on the table. “If I get lost in the forest, I orient myself by the sun.”

“Unfortunately for your rustic wisdom, that’s not very helpful when you’re outside the normal planes of space and time.”

Ronon gets a glint in his eye and goes in for the kill. “But aren’t there lots of stars out there? And the sun on Atlantis rises in the east, right? So you could pick a star, and head toward it, and that way would be east.”

McKay turns a worrying shade of purple. He gapes. “That is just. On so many levels, that is so unbelievably wrong, I can’t even fathom how you would -” He takes a huge gulp of air. “THAT IS NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS.”

Sheppard does not panic. He reminds himself that the first thing to do when you’re lost is to retrace your steps. How did he end up here?

He remembers prepping the A-305 for the test flight. He remembers heading away from Atlantis and deeper into the solar system. He remembers firing up the hyperspace drive.

He remembers the drive spinning up. He remembers a whirring noise. He remembers the pop as the ship made the hyperspace jump.

And then… There had been a spark. A crackle of electricity, here in the cockpit. A bolt of lightning had shot out from one of the rear hatches and struck the control panel.

There had been a terrible screeching sound, and a series of bangs as various components fried out and died. Then a bang louder than the others that sent him reeling. That must have been the drive pod blowing.

He remembers the force of the explosion smacking his head on the console. Then only blackness.

Gingerly, he touches his forehead. His fingers come away wet with blood.

That explains the headache.

He needs to figure out where he is but the data coming from the sensors doesn’t make any sense. He opens the interface again and looks through data on the craft’s position, speed, structural integrity. Anything that could orient him in the nothingness.

The reams of data start to blur together. His eyes are drooping and it’s getting hard to focus. He forces himself to look at each number in turn, but he can’t make heads or tails of any of it. The chilling ache of helplessness starts to crawl up his spine.

“Why don’t you let me take a look at that?”

Sheppard whips his head round. Perched on the edge of the console, flicking through a tablet, is McKay.

He rubs his eyes, but McKay is still there. He didn’t think he was this far gone.

“You’re not really here,” he gasps. Maintaining some grip on what is real and what is not has never been more vital.

McKay tilts his head and smirks, and it’s such a familiar movement that it makes something in Sheppard’s chest loosen. “Of course I’m not here. I’m light-years away in Atlantis, worrying about you.”

“Then what-?”

“You’re lost. Your ship is damaged. You’re alone. And you have a pretty severe concussion.” McKay ticks off items on his fingers. “Your subconscious figured you could use some help. So it called me.”

Sheppard blinks. “You're imaginary?”

McKay shrugs. “I’m a creation of your mind. You knew you needed help, so you summoned up the one person you knew could get you out of this.”

“And that’s you, is it?”

McKay radiates smugness. “It’s ok, Sheppard. You can admit that I am not only the smartest person you know, but also the most inventive. And, frankly, the most handsome as well.” He flicks his hair back in an affected manner. It's awkward as hell.

Sheppard rubs his aching temples. “Lucky me."

He'd known McKay was going to be a pain in his ass since the day they met.

He'd spent three years in Antarctica. It was nice there. Quiet. No one to get in his business or hold him to any obligations.

And then he'd come to Atlantis, and everything had changed.

Now he has a team to protect and more responsibility than any person should have to deal with. Teyla and Ronon, Weir and Lorne, even Beckett, they have all become indelible fixtures in his life.

And then there's McKay. Brash, arrogant, and perhaps the only person in the expedition who has worse people skills than he does. McKay, whose endless chattering and whining has become the cosmic background radiation of his life. He's gotten so used to it that being without it feels like he's missing a part of himself.

“What we need is a reference point to lock onto.” McKay is pacing, as much as is possible, around the tiny cockpit. He’s making Sheppard nervous.

“There’s nothing out there. I've tried to pick up a beacon signal, but it’s no use this far from the hyperspace lanes. The more time passes, the further I drift.”

“Ah ah ah.” McKay snaps his fingers. “So we can’t find a beacon. But maybe we can find something else to use as a marker. We just need a point in normal space to orient ourselves around.”

“But we’re cut off from normal space.”

McKay shakes his head. “Not completely. Hyperspace is orthogonal to normal space, not entirely separate from it.”

Sheppard has only the loosest idea what that means.

“So you should be able to…” McKay starts futzing around with his tablet again. He can’t actually be doing anything, because he isn’t real and neither is the tablet, but his mind apparently can’t conceive of McKay without having him poking at some piece of electronic equipment. “Try the radar.”

“The radar? But radio waves don’t carry through hyperspace.”

McKay beams. “They do if the source is strong enough.”

“But that’s -”

“Are you seriously arguing with yourself right now? You know I’m right! On some subconscious level, you clearly realize that this makes sense. So do you want to bicker, or do you want to get out of here?”

“Fine! Jeez. I’ll try the radar, but it’s not going to work.”

McKay raises an eyebrow, like he’s about to say wanna bet? Sheppard clamps the headphones over his ears.

Using the neural interface, the radar signal comes through as auditory information. He hears the rumbling of the radiation coming from his spacecraft, and the pings of neutrinos twisting past at super high velocities. So far so unhelpful.

And then… there’s something… And then it’s gone again. Sheppard strains his ears, reaching out with his mind to extend the range of the radar. There’s nothing, only horrible blankness. And then - there it is again.

A faint, very low pulse. Beating like a heart, every second. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Steady. Consistent. A fixed point.

Sheppard lets out a breath. He’s found a pulsar.

He’d barely been paying attention when McKay had brought it up. He’d been more interested in flicking through the dog-eared copy of Golfer’s Digest he’d borrowed from Lorne.

“See! Right here! Pulsar J0056-87.” McKay gestures him over, vibrating with excitement.

Sheppard rolls his eyes but stands all the same. McKay’s been on at him to join him for a night of stargazing since he found an Ancient telescope stashed away in a lab somewhere. Apparently, even with their elaborate technology, there were still some Ancients who enjoyed looking at the stars with glass lenses for some reason. Bunch of damn hipsters.

But the night was warm and clear, and for once there was no imminent threat of invasion. McKay had dragged him along to one of the distant piers and set up while Sheppard had busied himself with a beer and a magazine.

“Look!” He lets McKay manhandle him into position in front of the telescope eyepiece. “See that?”

He peers through the glass and sees a blurry outline of something like a star. But it flashes, on and off, on and off, like a strobe light.

“It’s the collapsed core of a massive star,” McKay says, all expressive gestures, “and it's spinning so fast it's emitting beams of electromagnetic radiation from its poles as it turns, like a lighthouse. That’s why it seems to flash, and that means it can be used like a yardstick for the galaxy. It’s the only one we’ve found in Pegasus.”

Sheppard grunts, says, “Thrilling,” and goes back to his beer.

“We’re going to get you out of here, Sheppard.” McKay sounds confident, but McKay always sounds confident. Sheppard has learned to temper his expectations.

“Ok. I've located the pulsar. Can we use its location to extrapolate the coordinates for Atlantis?”

McKay pulls a face. “That would require triangulation - we’d need at least three fixed points for that. We’ve only got one point to work from.”

“So how does that help? We’re still lost.” A churning mixture of anger and anxiety rolls in his chest.

“You have to head toward the pulsar.” McKay nods decisively.

“Oh, what a great idea, I’m so glad I have you here for inspiration. I’m lost in hyperspace, so let’s go even further out. Let’s go deeper into the unknown. Let’s throw all of my eggs into this one strobing basket. Brilliant plan, McKay!”

“And what’s the alternative? Sit here and wait to die?”

“Protocol states that I should stay where I am. Preserve my position. Give a rescue team the best chance to find me.”

“And that’s all well and good in normal space, but we’re not in normal space, are we? There’s no maps here. There’s no way for a ship to track us. They can’t rescue you if they can’t find you.” Sheppard glares at him. McKay pouts back. “Since when have you given a shit about protocol anyway?”

Sheppard grimaces and checks the thrusters. He can at least see how much fuel he’s got left.

He reaches into the interface with his mind.

FUEL DEPLETED, a warning flashes. REFUEL IMMEDIATELY.

“Ahh.” McKay looks apologetic. “I was worried about that. I guess when the hyperdrive blew it took the fuel containment with it.”

Sheppard stares out at the rippling nothingness.

Great.

Sheppard has faced death many times.

There was a time when he would have been fine with this. Going out in the line of duty, he figured that was more or less inevitable given the choices he makes.

But things are different now. There are people counting on him. There are people who care about him.

There are people he cares about too. He doesn't know exactly when they became so important to him. But how does know he doesn't want to die without seeing them again.

He considers his options. He doesn’t have many.

“If I follow the pulsar, I’ll drop out of hyperspace halfway across the galaxy.”

McKay looks at him like he’s stupid. “Yes. That’s rather the point.”

“But the team will be mounting a rescue. I need to stay near to where they left me.”

“That won’t work!” McKay waves his arms in the air. “Even if they find a way to enter hyperspace at exactly the same point you did, and even if they could recreate the accident that sent you here, we’ve still drifted too far to be in communications range. They’ll never find us.”

“What’s your suggestion then? Throw myself at the nearest shiny thing and hope it magically leads me home?”

McKay stops his pacing and kneels in front of Sheppard. He takes his hand. It’s weirdly warm.

“What do you think I’m doing right now? Back on Atlantis?”

Sheppard shifts in his seat and takes his hand back. “I’m sure you’re trying to find me.”

“Ya think?” McKay goes quiet, and that’s so unexpected it rattles Sheppard more than the threat of imminent death.

“This is my fault,” McKay says, standing and turning away. “The jumper hyperdrive was my creation. It’s my fault it failed, and it’s my fault you’re lost.”

“I don’t believe that.” Sheppard waves a dismissive hand. “I’m a test pilot. It’s literally my job to fly experimental vehicles. There’s always a risk. I know that, and if you’re part of me then you know that too.”

McKay turns to give him a sad half-smile. “Yeah. I know you think that. But you also know me - the real me - well enough to know that I’m never going to forgive myself if we lose you.”

That hits a little too close to home. He shoves down the swell of emotion closing up his throat and tries for flippant. “So what? I don’t want you to feel bad, and I don’t want to die here. But pointing my ship to a point in space and hoping you’ll know to find me there? How’s that supposed to work?”

“I know how you think, Sheppard. I know how hyperspace works. I know that your ship has been damaged and that you’re lost. I also know you’ll be able to locate the pulsar. And I know you’ll head toward it. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“It was months ago that you told me about that pulsar. And I was barely even listening to you at the time! How do you know you’ll remember?”

McKay fixes him with a steady gaze. “I’ll remember.”

Here’s what really happened: McKay invites him to the pier for stargazing. The night is so clear that the stars of Pegasus blanket the sky. The air smells of salt from the sea and the crackling of ozone from the shield generators.

Sheppard pretends to flick through his magazine as he watches McKay set up the telescope. He watches the way his hands dance over components. He listens to him mumbling to himself about which piece goes where.

And then the telescope is ready, and McKay begins searching the sky. Sheppard watches his face as he scrunches up his eyes to focus on the eyepiece. He pretends to drink his beer and he observes.

He’s beautiful like this, Sheppard thinks. Give McKay a puzzle, or a mystery, or an unknown, and he simply expands his mind to meet it. Once he’s solved the problem, then he’ll snap back into his defensive egotistical genius mode. But in the moment just before that - when he sees the solution in front of him, when a new piece of understanding begins to take shape - then McKay glows.

“Ohh,” McKay breathes, face still hovering over the telescope. “Would you look at that. A pulsar, right here in Pegasus.”

Sheppard takes a swig of beer and pretends not to be interested.

It’s one of his favorite memories of Atlantis.

“Even if I wanted to follow your crazy plan,” Sheppard begins.

“Your crazy plan, technically,” McKay interrupts. He gestures to himself. “Figment of your imagination, remember?”

“Even if I wanted to follow this crazy plan, then. Thrusters are out because I used the last of the fuel to stop the spin. The hyperdrive is fried. How am I supposed to maneuver anywhere?”

McKay raises an eyebrow and taps meaningfully on the oxygen gauge. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“The life support? Oh yes, that’s brilliant. Let’s vent the last of my oxygen into space. I always wanted to try death by hypoxia.”

“Venting gases from the ship will create thrust,” McKay says, and he truly must be a fantasy because the real McKay never speaks with such patience. “We don’t need much. Just enough to overcome inertia and start us moving in the right direction. No friction in hyperspace.”

“Even if I vented half the oxygen and got moving, I’d still need to jump out of hyperspace.”

“Oh no no no no no no,” McKay wags his finger, and that’s more familiar. “With the drive in the state it’s in, we will not be jumping out of hyperspace. We will be falling out of hyperspace, like a stone through a pond.”

“That doesn’t sound great.”

“It’s not! But it’s your only option, so hop to.”

Sheppard scowls. “How am I supposed to fix the hyperdrive? You’ve been working on it for months, and you barely got it functioning.”

McKay gives him a look. “You’ve spent years looking over my shoulder. You know how to bypass secondary systems and reroute power to the drive.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

Sheppard finds a spanner tucked under his chair. He grasps it and turns to face the panels full of incomprehensible wiring behind them.

Time to get to work.

McKay and Zelenka are bickering again.

“Your simulations are not only wrong, but reckless as well! You can’t patch primary power cables like that. Unless, of course, you actually intend to blow the prototype up.”

McKay snorts. “Don’t be so timid, Zelenka! The power conduits don’t need to carry that much power long-term. We’re talking a short-term bypass here, not a permanent solution.”

Sheppard focuses on flying the jumper and ignores the voices coming from behind him. He considers closing the bulkhead between the front and rear compartments, but then he’d only have to listen to McKay ranting later.

“A short-term solution which could explode at any moment isn’t viable!”

“Please, it’ll be fine. We only need to avoid patching into the main power distribution node. The hardware for primary and secondary power systems aren’t so different. They’re interchangeable if you’re careful enough.”

“Your desire for glory is outweighing your common sense, McKay.”

“And your petty jealousy is unappealing, Zelenka!”

Sheppard puts on his headphones and tunes out the arguing with the mellow sound of Johnny Cash.

“That’s good.” McKay puts a hand on his shoulder. It feels real. It feels nice. “That should channel all of the remaining power to the hyperdrive, give it enough juice for one last wheeze.”

Sheppard stares at the mass of cabling. He’s been going by instinct: cut here, patch there. He should have learned more about how the puddle jumpers work, and about hyperdrives. But he’s gotten lazy. He’s gotten used to having McKay around for things like this.

“It’ll be fine.” McKay is not known for his generosity regarding the work of others, so Sheppard can only assume he’s done the wiring correctly.

But something is bothering him. “Even if we manage to drop out of hyperspace -”

“When,” McKay corrects, “not if.”

“- And even if you are, somehow, miraculously aware of where I’m heading -”

“I am.”

“How are you going to get there? That pulsar is in the middle of nowhere.”

“Don’t worry.” McKay smiles blithely. “There’s a stargate nearby.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you know, Sheppard. You’ve seen it.”

It feels like decades ago. It was when they had first arrived in Atlantis and they’d been desperately searching for ZPMs. He sits in the control chair and brings up a map of the galaxy in the vain hope it will show the location of a power source.

The room darkens and lights blink on overhead. From where he sits, he can see the Pegasus galaxy from end to end: stars and black holes, planets and comets, all represented in delicate, dancing lights. He searches for power sources and finds nothing.

But there, in a far corner of one of the galaxy’s spiral arms, is a single light flashing on and off, on and off. He notices it out of the corner of his eye, a flashing oddity. Interesting, but not helpful in their current search.

He puts it out of his mind. But as he does so, he notes a label next to the flashing light. The third planet orbiting that flashing star has a stargate.

“You’ve got quite the memory, Sheppard.” McKay is looking at him… oddly. Softly. It’s unnerving.

“Could have been mensa,” he says, unraveling the tension with a smirk.

Predictably, that sends McKay into a rant. “Oh, you just love to bring that up, huh, your great big IQ to go with your great big guns, and you know what else is sure to be huge -”

The power system chooses that moment to scream back to life with a warning klaxon.

WARNING, it says, POWER LEVELS FALLING. LIFE SUPPORT FAILURE IMMINENT.

Right. Time's up.

“If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now,” McKay says. He chews at his lip nervously.

Watching him, a strange serenity washes over Sheppard. Live or die, right or wrong, he is out of options. Time to make a choice.

He locates the pulsar. He prepares to vent the life support. He opens a seal on the opposite side of the ship, and he releases the airlock safety control.

There’s an explosive rush of gas from the vents, and he's slammed into his seat. He punches the airlock shut switch as quickly as he can, hoping he didn't waste too much air.

“Hey!” McKay whoops. “It’s working!”

The ship is moving, sailing through hyperspace and toward the pulsar. He sighs, and takes a moment. At least now he has a destination. It’s better than floating lost.

Then he looks down at his oxygen supply.

OXYGEN LEVELS AT 10% AND FALLING, the system says. DANGER OF PILOT HYPOXIA.

Huh. He should be worried about that, but it seems so far away. It can’t be that important.

There's a rushing in his ears that sounds the roar of the ocean.

He leans back with a smile.

It's the sound of home.

“Sheppard. Sheppard!”

He comes to again with McKay shaking him.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me now.”

“‘M tired.”

“I know. That’s the oxygen deprivation. But you need to hold on a little bit longer. You need to activate the hyperdrive once we’re close enough to the pulsar.”

“He’s not…” His words are slurring. It’s hard to move his tongue. “They’re not going to find me.”

“Yes they are,” McKay’s voice has an edge to it he hasn’t heard before. “Teyla is going to be calling up every contact she’s ever made. She’ll find someone on the nearest planet, and she’ll get us safe passage. And if she runs into any problems, Ronon is going to intimidate the hell out of the entire system until they help. Beckett is on board a rescue jumper right now preparing his medical kit, ready to treat you as soon as they find you. Wier is going to approve the mission in a heartbeat, even though it sounds insane, because she’d sacrifice all of the jumpers and half the city to save you.”

Sheppard blinks. McKay’s face swims before him.

“And I… Sheppard, you already know this, but I am going to move space and time itself to find you. I’m not going to take no for an answer, and I’ll bend the damn laws of physics themselves if I have to. When you drop out of hyperspace, I’ll be waiting there for you.”

McKay’s voice is further and further away. It sounds nice, what he’s saying, but it’s like it’s carrying on the wind across a great crevasse.

“You’ve saved us all so many times, Sheppard. For once, let us save you.”

He wants to believe that. He wants his team to rescue him. He doesn’t want to die here, alone.

But he isn't thinking straight. This whole plan hinges on McKay remembering a conversation from months ago. It’s madness.

“McKay… Rodney… He doesn’t know,” Sheppard croaks. He’s too tired to feel ashamed of how weak he sounds. “He doesn’t know that I listened to him that night. He doesn’t know that I always listen to him. He doesn’t know that..." he breaks off. "I never told him.”

McKay takes his face in his hands and kisses him. It’s so unexpected that it shocks him awake again, enough to register McKay's lips against his own and his fingers tangling in his hair. It’s like a jolt of lightning, like being raised from the dead.

“I know, John,” McKay says, pulling back and looking him dead in the eye. “I’ve always known.”

He points down at the hyperspace activation button.

“Now come home.”

Sheppard summons the last of his strength to raise his arm. It’s like wading through concrete. One last task, he thinks, and then I can rest.

He presses the button.

There’s a ripping sound, a whirl of lights, and then there’s only blackness.

He wakes up to the familiar surroundings of the infirmary: the bustle of doctors moving around, the distant sound of the ocean.

And frowning down at his laptop, McKay, sitting hunched in a chair by his bed.

The breath Sheppard lets out feels like a great weight lifting from his chest.

"Hey," he says. His voice is raspy and everything hurts. "What happened?"

McKay scrambles to his feet. "Sheppard." His face is guilt-stricken. "Carson!" he calls. "He's awake."

Soon enough, the whole team is crammed into the infirmary.

"We had to search the entire pulsar system to find you," Elizabeth explains. "By the time we got to you, your ship had been without power and oxygen for several minutes. Carson worked very hard to get you breathing again on the trip home. You gave us quite the scare."

That would be why his lungs ached.

"It is good to see you awake, John." Teyla bows her head. "I hope you will join me for tea when you are feeling better."

Ronon snorts. "Or come down to the gym for a sparring session if you want a real challenge. I'll be waiting." He grins.

Elizabeth looks around and smiles. "We're all very glad to have you back." She glances at McKay, huddled quietly in the corner. "Even Rodney. He's been here since we brought you in." She gives him a tight nod and turns to leave, guiding Beckett, Teyla and Ronon with her.

Sheppard looks at McKay expectantly.

McKay pushes his laptop aside. He takes a deep breath and straightens himself up like he's heading into battle.

"I'm sorry, Sheppard." He's not quite meeting his eyes. "I sent you out in that ship, and I told you the drive was ready. It's my fault you were stranded. You must be angry, and I'll understand if you want me off the team."

Sheppard raises an eyebrow. "Did I just hear an actual apology? From you?" He breaks into a grin. "My head injury must be worse than I thought."

"Way to ruin the moment, you ass." McKay leans over to punch him in the shoulder, which hurts, but McKay is smiling now so it's worth it. "I'm trying to bare my soul here."

"Well put it away. I'm not angry, and I don't want you to go anywhere." He looks at McKay's fingers twitching anxiously on the bedspread. In a moment of wild abandon, he takes his hand in his own and gives it a squeeze. "I knew you'd find me."

"Oh. Uhh. Really?" McKay is staring down at their joined hands, but he doesn't let go. The tips of his ears go very pink. "That's very. Uhh. I'm touched by your. Uhh. Your faith in me."

The moment stretches, and Sheppard wonders if he's supposed to say something else. Then McKay fidgets, and the moment passes.

"How did you figure it all out, anyway? I saw the state of the A-305. Getting that wreck out of hyperspace can't have been easy."

Sheppard rests back against the pillow. He feels bathed in warm light. "I had some help," he mumbles as sleep begins to take him, "from a very good friend."

It's a week before Sheppard is well enough to be released from the infirmary. He's still a little shaky, but Beckett says he'll be fit for active duty soon enough.

He makes the most of his new-found freedom and tells McKay to join him on the east pier that night, and to bring the telescope. He trades a month's worth of rations for enough meat for a couple of turkey sandwiches and some beers. He figures he at least owes McKay dinner.

When he arrives, McKay already has the telescope set up. A few lonely clouds drift through the night sky, but the stars overhead glow all the same.The lights of the city twinkle, the spires reaching up into the dark sky.

"Will you find it for me?" he asks.

"Find what?"

“You know what.” He gestures at the stars and gives him a smile, which McKay haltingly returns, and he lays out their dinner as McKay tweaks dials on the telescope. It doesn’t take long.

'Here." McKay waves him over, and he looks through the eyepiece to see it once more: blinking in the night, steady like a heartbeat, constant and true. The pulsar.

Sheppard lets out a breath and something soft uncoils in his chest as he looks at it. "That's our star," he says, moving to sit on the pier with his legs dangling over the edge.

"Our star?" McKay joins him. He sits close by, and he radiates warmth in the cool night air. "You're a romantic at heart."

"I guess I am." He can't resist a grin. "It needs a better name though. 'J0056-87' doesn't have much of a ring to it."

As he sounds out each number, McKay's eyes keep dropping to his lips. He leans closer. So does McKay.

"We could always rename it," McKay suggests. There are only a few scant inches between them, and his voice is low.

Sheppard lets this drag out, a shiver of anticipation running up his back. "Any ideas?"

"We could name it after me." McKay grins too. "I mean, as the foremost astrophysicist in not one but two galaxies, it seems only apt -"

Sheppard interrupts what he's sure would be a lengthy recap of McKay's skills and career by kissing him.

Judging by the way McKay kisses him back like he's been starving for it, hands running through his hair and trying to pull him even closer, that was a good call.

It’s dizzying and overwhelming, and it’s also the most natural thing in the world. When they break apart, McKay’s lips are red and kiss-swollen. It’s a sight Sheppard could get used to.

“I’m really glad you made it back to us,” McKay says, chewing his lip.

Sheppard takes his hand. “I had to make it home,” he says, quietly. It’s like leaping headfirst into an abyss, but knowing that someone is there to catch you at the bottom. “Everything I care about is here.”

#stargate atlantis #mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #my writing #i had so much fun writing this #i am living my most self-indulgent life this 2021

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mudhornchronicles · 3 years

Text

sanguine | din djarin

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, angst, yodito’s name spoiler, face reveal, sexual references but aren’t toooo explicit

a/n: this is part two for maroon.

i made up a planet because i couldn’t find a planet that wouldn’t be obvious to hiding Mandalorians, ya know? I’ve never written smut before and as much as I wanted to include it, I’d just ruin it BUT I’m learning lol. also, happy new year to everyone! I hope this year brings you joy, health, and happiness. please enjoy and let me know what you think!

masterlist

No matter how long it has been, you are always thrown back to the day you lost everything. Your necklace is a constant reminder of the death of you. No matter if you’re at the market buying the supplies you’re running dangerously low on or if you’re in the midst of stitching up a laceration - your hand always finds its way around the symbol of pain.

The gunfire. The screams. The tears. The loss.

The nightmares are a virus you cannot get rid of with medication. After all these years, the past plagues you even after you have tried your hardest to move on.

When you made it to the planet Alegoria, the emperor, Krusean, took you all as his own people. The warriors who were once faithful to the creed willingly relinquished their armor for civilian clothing in order to conceal their true heritage. You witnessed every brave soul you saw defeat Mandalore’s invaders once upon a time diminish to discomfited individual’s seeking purpose aside from duty. Alegoria gave you the opportunity to become the independent being your father always wanted you to be, but every time you took five steps ahead, the thought of him infiltrated your mind and you retreated into the shell of a person you arrive as.

Because of your skill set you found yourself excel with, Emperor Krusean found it ideal to have you stay in the palace as his assistant. You preferred not living in a home you did not earn, but you agreed to always carrying a commlink. An agreement that you felt safe with. You found yourself comfortable in the presence of the emperor, or Krusean as he liked to be called. He was an older gentleman, nearing his sixties, and he was a man with a heart of gold. You reminded him of his daughter, his army’s lieutenant, who gave her life for her father’s. You both had a connection, and he became your family as you did his.

So much, that he was only person on Alegoria, aside from your own people, who knew about your lost love.

The day was as every other with the exception of the sky being painted in rich reds and pretty pinks – something that happened every three to four months. You knew a sanguine palette awaited tonight’s night sky. Always a beautiful sight.

As you ran your daily errands, you began to note the people of Alegoria, the former Mandalorians to be exact, seemed on edge. You walked up to a few and they came across jumpy. You looked up and you caught sight of three ships and one of them gave you the fear you have not felt in a long time – a tie fighter.

As it appeared to be landing, chaos unfolded.

The screams and tears returned, but the gunfire was absent.

You felt sick. You could not move but were forced by one of the emperor’s guards. They barked out orders to shelter themselves and reminding them of the evacuation plans if needed. The guard escorted you back to the palace in a speeder made specifically for attaching life-boards. They were the evacuation plan.

Once through the palace walls, you ran straight to the emperor. As you ran, you could not help but to attach your hand on your signet and ring adorning your neck. You brought them up to your shaking lips, giving them both a kiss and whispering an apology to whoever was listening. You found the emperor barking orders at his general to secure the city’s perimeter – his people’s safety came first.

He spotted you and ran to you, bringing you into his arms and placing a kiss on the crown of your head. You could not stop shaking as he held you, telling you that everything would be okay. He informed you that the radars did not detect any other ships – just the three crafts and seven life forms. He asked you to go into the safe room underneath the palace while the situation get assessed and you oblige, knowing he must have thousands of thoughts running through his mind.

While you sat underneath the fortress, you thought back to him. You were able to move on from losing Mandalore, but you could never move on from him. You clutched his ring in your hand and let out the tears you had been suppressing for years. You never allowed yourself to vocalize his name, let out cry about him.

“I miss you so much, ner kar’ta. I have never given up on you, but I couldn’t wait around and do nothing.” you kiss his ring and continue to voice your ache. “The people I was with, my love, they aren’t you. They could not make me feel shielded from the galaxy’s wrath like you did. I’ve stayed here because I didn’t want to miss you when you came to find me, but I- I don’t know if I can go through life unknowing of what’s out there.” You jump as you hear the door of the safe room unlock and swing open. You see Emperor Kursean come in with this look on his face that you have never seen while in your presence – sympathy.

He refuses to answer your questions and protests of leaving the room. He leads you to the room you never made yours. He stops in front of the tall doors and brings you into his arms. You return his hug and ask a simple question before he leaves you.

“Krusean, am I going to die?”

He looks at you incredulous. Why would you ever ask him that question? How can you think that he would let you die?

“Sweet girl. What you will see through this door is the past you need to either close or welcome. You need to stop running away from what made you stronger.”

He places a single kiss on your forehead and leaves you.

Your hands begin to shake. You cannot help but to feel scared. You do not know who or what can be behind these doors and you do not know why they are here. You take a deep breath in and it comes out with a quiver. You place your trembling hand on the handle and push down. You hear the distinctive click and you lightly push. The room is pitch black except for the crimson light bleeding through the balcony. You step inside and close the door behind you. You feel the second being in the room, but you are not frightened. It is a friendly aura which eases you. A minute passes by and as you are about to leave you hear it. The sound that you have been longing to hear all these years.

His voice.

You tense at the sound of his voice saying your name. It pleads for you to stay and so you do. You are not scared for your life, but now as you have heard it, you fear for your heart. You cannot take another heartbreak. You just would not survive turning around and this voice telling you goodbye for the final time, or worse it not being him at all.

The voice says your name one more time and you finally slowly turn. You feel as though your heart has stopped and splattered over the floor.

It is not him.

You have never seen this warrior before. The armor is not a design you recognized, but the color is what gives you a sliver of hope.

It is silver. Mourning a lost love.

You find yourself staring at the figure in front of you and your eyes catch the handle to the weapon of the Mand’alor.

As you have been taught to do by your father, you bow your head as a sign of respect.

“Su cuy'gar, ner Mand’alor.”

The Mand’alor says nothing; he only reaches out to stroke your cheek.

“Su cuy'gar, ner riduur.”

You felt as if time froze. This cannot be him. This cannot be your love. The di’kut you fell in love with could not have become the leader of Mandalore. You could not stop the tears any longer.

“I-I can’t… How did… is it really you?”

He placed your delicate hands into his and his helmet appeared to be nodding. He is shaking again. You can feel it once more.

“It is my love. I gave you my word. I promised I would find you. I never stopped looking for you. I just hope I’m not too late.”

You shook you head, giving him the answer he hoped to receive.

“Din,” you whispered just enough for it to kiss his ears.

You did not know what overcame your body, but you blinked and your arms were around his neck; his around you. You sobbed his name repeatedly into the small opening between the lip of his helmet and his broad shoulder and all he can do was cry with you.

He had finally found you. After years of searching every planet he was sent to, he finally found the person he gave his entire being to. He felt whole. You felt complete. He held you in his arms so tight, you felt as if you became stone. A statue carved to perfection with the two central pieces fitting together with a seamless union.

“I also promised you something else if I remember correctly.”

As much as you did not want to let go of him, you let your arms fall from his shoulders, but held his hand in yours. With your free hand, you fished out his ring, your engagement ring. He held his ring with both his first and second fingers and smiled in his helmet. You kept it, he thought.

“I promised you a proper riduurok, did I not?”

You genuinely smile for the first time in a long time and nod. “Yes, you did. Are you finally making me a part of your clan?” You take a glance at his shoulder to examine the signet gracing his pauldron. “You managed to kill a mudhorn, cabur?” Din looks over to his pauldron and tilts his helmet back to you.

“I had some help. You will be joining my clan and making it three.”

“Three?”

“My foundling, Grogu.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“He’s with his kind now. I promised him I’d see him again and I hope you would be by my side.”

You delicately place your hands on either side of his helmet and bring your foreheads together. “Make me your wife, Djarin.”

“We only had one more vow to recite if my memory serves me well.”

“I’ve waited to long – we’re starting over, my love.”

He leads you to the balcony and a minute later, you are officially a part of Clan Djarin.

“Riduur?”

You glance up to your husband and although his silver helmet sits upon his shoulders, all you see is him.

“Yes, riduur?”

He takes a step in front of you and kneels. He looks up to you and places both your hands on either side of his helmet. For as long as he can remember, Din Djarin perceived himself as this cold-blooded mercenary who only cared about the credits and reputation he would gain, but after finding the kid and learning how it was to feel human again, Din Djarin is vulnerable.

“I’ve dreamt about us for so long and as I stand here now, I feel as if we never each other – just time. As my wife, I want you to see the face that our children will resemble. I want to be able to make love to you without the tint of my visor. I kneel before you as I ask you to remove the helmet that conceals the identity of your husband.”

You grace his helmeted forehead with a chaste kiss as you press the button to unlatch Din’s helmet. You sluggardly lift his helmet up and away from his face – eyes still closed as if he would suddenly regret his decision. Once completely off, you hear his unmodulated voice speak your name and you feel your heart begin to race.

You open your eyes and a grin appears on your face from ear to ear.

“Ner riduur, I knew you’d be handsome, but it should be a crime for you to be hiding this face.” He smiles brightly at your compliment. “I also didn’t know you had a dimple! My love, you’re captivating!”

You stay mesmerized by his beauty as he furiously blushes at your gazing face.

“My husband, would it be too fast to ask for you to touch me?” you plead.

“Would it be too fast to admit that I want to toss you onto this bed and make love to my wife?”

“No. I’d be upset if you didn’t. That would mean you changed. You used to be inside me with my hands pinned against the wall every chance you got.”

His eyes filled with desires and before you knew, that is exactly where your hands were – pinned against the wall.

The sanguine night sky illumination was only a factor to your husband’s stamina – one that allowed you to rest several hours later.

mando’a translations:

ner kar’ta = my heart

Mand’alor = the sole leader of Mandalore; king of Mandalore

Su cuy’gar = Hello - lit. ‘You're still alive.’

ner Mand’alor = my King

ner riduur = my spouse

di’kut = idiot

cabur = protector

tags: @theocatkov

part 3 to maroon - brick

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #sanguine #maroon #maroon pt 2

149 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

I need to take this out of my lungs, HANGE AND LEVI AS MIA WALLACE AND VINCENT VEGA FROM PULP FICTION oof 💖💖

Title: No Foot Massages

Summary:

'You’re taking care of a married woman, Levi. No foot massages'

"Romance was something that came slowly, a mysterious thing he never dared to test without putting the time and effort. Yet at the same time, he was aware that the smallest things could constitute cheating or ‘stealing’ with the right context and the most convenient explanations.

So Levi decided to keep it simple. Keep it distant. Keep it casual. Keep it fun."

Levi is ordered to take care of a married Hange for a weekend.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Note:

That movie was just... a roller coaster ride really.

This ended up a quick fic I wrote in between some meeting we were forced to attend outside office hours.

You might be disappointed by the lack of sex and drugs compared to the actual movie. But I'm leaving my adult content for another one shot ;)

“A new mission?”

Erwin nodded and rested his chin on his hands. “Looks like our boss is gonna be gone for the weekend, on a trip to the Middle East and he’s leaving his wife alone in the house. You think you can handle taking care of her?”

Levi raised one eyebrow. “He has a wife? What’s her name?”

“Hange Zoe.”

“How did they meet?”

Erwin shrugged. “How else do rich people meet their wives?”

“They pick the prettiest woman around right?” Because they can. Levi added to himself. Somehow though, a name had so easily accompanied the face. And she wasn’t at all what people would have concluded to be ‘the prettiest woman around.’

Erwin narrowed his eyes at Levi. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking? I just thought she wouldn’t be the prettiest woman around. Not enough to attract the richest person within the walls right?”

“But why are you making that face?”

“What face?”

“The face of intention…” Erwin gave him a knowing look.

A face of intention? Even before Levi though could figure out how exactly he had looked to Erwin, the latter continued speaking.

“Do you know what happens when someone lays a hand on Marsellus’ wife? Do you remember what happened to Moblit?” Erwin asked.

Moblit? It had been a while since Levi heard that name, or has seen him walking through the hallways in between meetings.

“Well, our big boss sent some of his men after him. They broke into his apartment and pushed him out the window. ”

That was enough explanation at least for Levi to remember… Moblit was dead. “For what?”

“On account of one Hange Zoe.”

“What did he do? Fuck her?”

“He gave her a foot massage.”

“A foot massage?”

Erwin nodded his head.

“But… what if her feet just hurt?” Levi asked.

“It’s laying hands on his wife that’s the problem.”

“He gave her a foot massage. Foot massages are nothing.”

“By laying hands I mean, laying hands in a familiar way. It’s not the same as fucking her or eating her out but I’m sure you can agree that they’re in the same field right?”

Levi though, was still very much new to the nuances of romance. The world had only recently opened up to him and he was still very much unfamiliar with the cultures outside his own small country. He wrinkled his nose and sighed. Let’s keep it simple. “Okay, so I just have to take her out, keep her happy for just one weekend,” he asked. “And no foot massages right?”

“You’re taking care of a married woman, Levi. No foot massages”

“That’s easy enough,” Levi said. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Romance was something that came slowly, a mysterious thing he never dared to test without putting the time and effort. Yet at the same time, he was aware that the smallest things could constitute cheating or ‘stealing’ with the right context and the most convenient explanations.

So Levi kept it simple. Keep it distance. Keep it casual. Keep it fun.

Erwin’s last three words, he kept like a mantra, a little guideline Levi allowed himself as he approached their mansion.

No foot massages.

*****

“Oh, so you’re captain Levi?”

“You can call me Levi.” We don’t use terms like captain in my job. Levi said silently. But he didn’t mind such a term. The way it had rolled off her tongue had been a little too seamless to have been worth a verbal correction.

Hange settled on the sofa in front of him. The sofa could have fit three people but Hange managed to occupy three people’s worth of space with the way she stretched her legs so messily and if Levi angled his view a little lower, he might have seen something which could have had him thrashed like Moblit.

“Levi huh? Well, given my husband’s position. I guess that makes me your boss too right?” Hange asked.

I only answer to Erwin, and by extension, your husband. That at least had been what was taught to him since he started his job. But somehow, he felt more inclined to listen to Hange first.

“You have anywhere in mind you want to go?”

Hange hummed. “My husband keeps me really busy… so it has been a while since I got to go out like this. To be honest though, I don’t know much about the town. Do you have anything in mind?”

“There’s a new diner in town… Niccolo’s been cooking for Sasha a lot lately so I heard they’ve been offering more in the menu lately.”

Hange grinned. “Then let’s go?”

*****

“What do you think?” Levi asked as they settled into one of the booths in the corner of the restaurant.

Hange didn’t reply. Her face was completely hidden by the menu in front of her. And all Levi did get in return for his consideration were a few hums of approval.

“Your husband is paying. Get whatever you want.”

“Well, I heard Niccolo makes a great milkshake. And Sasha said the seafood from Marley is particularly delicious… So what about lobster?”

“Then we order two lobsters and two milkshakes.” Levi looked at his own menu. The numbers came in two digits, sometimes three.. Something Levi had never gotten used to having grown up in the underground and he found himself having to grip the menu a little harder to stop himself from dropping it. “Wait, you’re willing to pay this much for a milkshake? And Hange… The price of lobster?”

“Why? What’s wrong? These are pretty reasonable prices. It’s not like we can actually get these locally.”

But is your husband willing to pay for the lobster and the milkshake of his own employee? Levi felt the panic well inside him. At the same time, he was still conscious enough to know that such a monster like panic manifested in wide eyes and a sweaty brow. And for once, Levi found himself thanking the lord for that awkward height difference. Made it all the easier to put the menu in front of him.

“My husband told you right? You take me out to do whatever I want this weekend. And I want my lobster and I want my milkshake.”

*****

“We just ate. And you wanna dance?”

Hange only had to look at the stage to answer that question. She had that longing look in her eye, and when she looked back at him, it morphed into something, an expression Levi could have sworn he had only ever seen in dogs. “Levi… You know, I never get to leave the house. Especially when my husband’s home.”

Hange didn’t need the explanation though. Levi had already given in when she had given him that look and we had allowed himself that extra few seconds to stare a little longer. But even before he could give a nod of submission, Hange’s face brightened. She quickly stood up and pulled him along all the way to the top of the stage.

Levi focused on the blinding lights above him. Undoubtedly, it hurt. But for someone who never did get used to having at least fifty people watching him, it was still a better view.

“What a lovely couple we have here!” Niccolo of all people was at the center of the stage microphone in hand. With his free hand he pulled Hange to the front. “Could you introduce yourself and your partner here?”

“Hange Zoe here,” Hange said, with the widest grin on her face.

The crowd exploded into murmurs and among them Levi heard something about a ‘big boss’ and a ‘wife.’

Hey shitty four eyes, you’re gonna have me killed. Levi had reached out his leg half way, ready to kick her in the shin when Hange spoke up again.

“No, Levi here is not my partner. He’s just taking care of me for the weekend.”

There were ‘awws’ of disappointment among the audience and maybe a few heckles. Before Levi even gave in to that bout of self consciousness, looking back at the stairs behind him, Hange had pulled him to the middle of the dance floor. “Come on! Let’s win this.”

The heckles eventually transformed into cheers but Levi had to shake his hips for a few seconds or even a minute longer than he wanted too just to placate that hungry crowd.

He couldn’t dance for sure. He didn’t have the coordination to move everything at once. At that moment, the only thing he did feel was his hips, he jutted out with a few arm movements to add some color at least. That seemingly ridiculous movement though did nothing to erase the nervousness and the tension he felt then.

He looked up at Hange. She was smiling, much more confidently. And a few times she closed her eyes and swayed her head to the music. And she was closer, closer than Levi would have liked. He pulled away, keeping the swaying of his hips and the waving of his arms in check and as he did get a wider view of her, a head to toe view, he became a little more nervous and a little more self conscious.

He was a horrible dancer. He felt it in the way, his body could only move in sharp movements. And he had imagined how he looked to the crowd, a constant mixture of cheers and murmurs. And maybe a few laughs.

But that was the thing. With a limited view of Hange, he could just rely on his imagination to give him a merciful picture of how he looked. But when he stepped back, Hange became a top to bottom picture, a moving picture, her movements too sharp and a little too stiff. With her as reference, Levi became a little more conscious of how the hell he looked at that moment.

Am I that stiff? Levi thought to himself. In reply, his joints creaked to the unnatural movements, his arms shot up and he waved them like he was waving some sort of sword. And his movements although swift, were sharp, they jutted in directions a little too mechanical to have been considered a dance.

And Hange who had closed her eyes, and shaken her head and all directions within a few seconds, who had shot her hands up in the same way, moving her hands and her chest one direction and another, looked fucking ridiculous too.

Levi considered closing his eyes for a second, to at least get into the rhythm and maybe forget the audience behind him, but Hange, with her eyes closed in front of him, looked all the more ridiculous having chosen to forget everything around her.

I could close my eyes and forget... And for a while, as Levi did stare at Hange, he considered following suit.

Levi found an alternative though, an alternative that was so much better in the moment that Levi didn’t even bother weighing or comparing it to anything else. He jumped for that alternative a little too hastily. He rushed towards her, until all he saw in his vision was her face, then when all he saw was her eyes right in front of his.

She opened her brown velvety eyes and for a second, they were the only things he was seeing. But the view had only lasted a second. Too little time to count the colors in her eyes and too little time to admire her lashes and how beautifully they all formed such a unique shape between almond and round.

“Levi what the--”

And even before he could start admiring such a view, he felt a blinding pain, smack on his face.

“What the f---”

The whole word had been against him then, not even allowing him a single taut curse at such a cruel turn of events. They were at the edge of the stage and it turned out they had been for a long while.

And they were fucking idiots. Or so, that was what Levi realized, they were idiots enough that they had only noticed it themselves that they had been going in too many directions at once, only when they found himself tumbling down the stairs.

And Levi did only have a second to process that part, before the world had gone black.

*****

“You won’t tell him right? He’ll kill me.”

“Believe me, he’ll kill me too.”

“So how are you going to explain that,” Levi asked, gesturing a little too subtly at Hange’s swollen ankle propped on the coffee table in front of her.

“Well, how are you gonna explain that…” Hange asked, gesturing at him in general.

Levi didn’t have to look at the mirror to know what she was talking about. His skin was taut and he felt a dull pain spread out across his nose, he was sure at the best case scenario his nose and his cheeks were bruised. But that was the least of his problems then, he wasn’t sure if he’d still be alive and worrying about a possibly broken nose by the end of that week.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t care too much of a minion is bruised up. The more important thing is his wife doesn’t come out of this worse off.” Levi got up and went to the kitchen. “You’re going to have to wrap that.”

Levi’s penchant for cleanliness and orderliness had made it a little too easy for him to deduce where the first aid supplies would be hidden in such a high end house and Levi found himself back in the living room a second later, bandages in hand. He dropped it on the coffee table next to her.

“Here,” he said. He sat in front of her, leaning one elbow on his knee, propping his chin on his elbow.

Hange only returned his look, with an expectant one of her own.

“What?”

“Well…” Hange stretched out. “It would be a little awkward if I tried to bind my own ankle right? What if I fall off the couch?”

No foot massages. Erwin’s words echoed in Levi’s mind as he stared at the swollen foot in front of him for a little longer than what would have been normal.

And Hange noticed. “You don’t know how?”

“I know how to bind a sprained ankle.”

“Then why don’t you?”

No Foot Massages. Their words loomed on him like a ghost and as Levi gripped the roll of bandages, unravelling them slowly, he started to realize, there was no way of wrapping bandages on a sprained ankle, without caressing, without gripping at her injured foot and without pressing at a few areas as he tightened the bandage and got rid of the few pockets of air.

But I had to do this right? He can’t kill me for giving her the care she needs...

But just in case, he did make sure to confirm with her. “This doesn’t count as a foot massage right?”

*****

That weekend passed by in blur. Or maybe because he didn’t want it to end. And the world had proved multiple times already that it was constantly on a mission to fuck him over.

Saturday and Sunday were peaceful, too peaceful that it shouldn’t have gone too fast. Then, with nothing much to do but nurse his broken nose, keep Hange company, and nurse her through the first few 24 hours of dealing with a swollen ankle

And with nothing else to stimulate his mind or his senses but the brunette next to him on the sofa, Levi started to notice something a little more glaring.

“You haven’t showered since I came here.”

“Okay, thank you for that statement,” Hange said, not even looking up from the book she was reading.

“That’s not a statement. That’s a light suggestion.”

“Okay, I can ignore the suggestion.”

“It’s a request.”

“Well requests can be rejected right?”

“I would appreciate it if you explain why you’re rejecting that request.”

Hange gave her bandaged ankle a long stare, looked back at Levi then back at her book.

“Then I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No. I’m at a good part.”

“Well, I can’t stand you stinking up the house either.”

“This is my house. I can let it stink how much I want!”

Pulling her out of the couch had been a blur of an ordeal. He felt like he had done it many times before so even with the flailing of arms, the screams and despite all that, the great care he had to take with her sprained ankle, he had managed to forget it all as he sat outside her bedroom, letting the sound of the running water calm him down.

“You okay in there?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her words were garbled, cracked between syllables and Levi found himself peeking in, just to check if she had been okay.

“Hey…”

A mop of hair should have been visible, even with the steam that blanketed the bathroom. Alarmingly, there had been nothing there.

“Hange, are you there? Hey, don’t die on me fucker.”

“I’m fine… Levi… I’m just tired.” Hange said, between bubbles and short breaths.

“I’m not leaving this room.”

“Then don’t leave,” Hange said, as she sat up a little straighter on the bathtub. And that was when Levi saw it, the hesitation, the recoil. He heard it soon after, the creak then the whimper.

“Tired isn’t supposed to be painful.”

“Well I’m exhausted and sometimes being exhausted is painful.”

Didn’t we spend the past few days doing nothing though? Levi thought to himself. But time had been an illusion the past few days and he could have sworn only a few seconds had passed by since that long dance in the diner. Even with the past two days of doing nothing, somehow he did understand the exhaustion.

In fact, he understood it a little too well. His own instinct had been to approach her, reach out a hand on her shoulder and squeeze. Her shoulders were hard and for a while, it had felt like they were pushing back.

But Levi was strong and he easily won that small battle with that knot on her shoulder.

Hange let out stilted breath. “That felt good.”

“Why is your body so stiff…” Levi asked as he ran his hands over her shoulder. He squeezed points right after the other, and her body could have been made of those knots and he wouldn’t have been too surprised. It was unsettling and almost terrifying.

“I told you. My husband overworks me all the time.”

“But really what do you do…”

“I work… I work everyday.” Hange said.

“Work for what…” Levi continued as he ran his hands up her neck.

Hange stretched her neck, letting out a resounding crack. “I don’t wanna disappoint…”

Disappoint him? His hands were over her damp hair, and he found himself amazed by how easily his fingers had untangled the waves in her hair.

“Disappoint?”

Hange turned to him and stood up.

“Disappoint him?” Levi asked. And as the haze cleared, as Hange stood up, and grabbed the towel, for a second Levi did see her raw, damp and very much exposed.

Exposed in ways that only her husband should have had the privilege to see. And Levi only noticed it then.

No foot messages right? Foot massages were actually very innocent things.

By laying hands I mean, laying hands in a familiar way. In fact, foot massages were such innocent things, Levi would have been happy to confess to a foot massage if it meant forgetting everything else he had done.

Fuck, he’s not just gonna be disappointed. He’s gonna be angry. Furious. He’s gonna fucking kill me.

And the steam chose that moment to disperse, the steam chose the moment when Hange was looking back at him yet still a good many movements away from wrapping that towel around herself.

And for some reason, Levi couldn't move. He couldn't walk away nor could he put his eyes up in some sort of defense. The only thing he had control of then had been his voice. But would she listen?

Either way, it was worth a try. “Hange, stop. Don’t!”

“You didn’t sleep well last night did you?”

Levi’s blinked back from that last view. That transition had been a little too abrupt. In what world would steam, with the silhouette of a naked Hange open up to a pile of paperwork on a desk? His mind had asked him then.

A voice had broken through his mindspace to answer it. “You looked like you were having a bad dream there. You okay?”

Levi looked up to see Hange clad in survey corps green coat, like she always had been, every single day before that.

And that… That was a fucking dream. Levi let out a long sigh. He wasn’t some low life stealing someone’s wife. He was a captain. And Hange was his commander.

“I’m fine. Sorry I dozed off for a while. How long was I out?”

“Around 12, I came back from a quick lunch and found you asleep. So looking at the watch now… Two hours?”

“And you didn’t wake me up?”

“You looked tired,” Hange said matter-of-factly, she said it too calmly that to Levi, it had been almost painful hearing it. Hange didn’t look like she had slept well either, her worry lines were more apparent and her eyes tended to droop a little more than usual.

And Levi found himself focusing particularly on the way her shoulders dropped yet at the same time stiffened. From a meter away, Levi could already pick out the knots on her shoulders and he was certain she never did give them a proper stretch. “You always look tired. That’s why I’ve told you many times before, give me some of your work.”

“No need to deal with any of those, I fixed the purchase orders already.”

“What about these?” Levi asked as he read through the topmost paper.

“I read through and documented everything already.”

“Then why are they here?”

“You’re still the head of the special squad. So I thought you’d want to review the purchase orders for the weapons.”

“I could have dealt with this myself,” Levi narrowed his eyes at Hange.

“Well it’s done at least. Doesn’t matter who did it.”

“No. It does. You’re constantly tired,” Levi said. “You might get sick or hell, you might drop dead at the rate you’re going.”

“I’m commander, it’s my job to read through all this.” Hange walked back to her desk and gently tapped the stack of papers on her desk.

“I can take some of that,” Levi offered.

Hange shook her head. “These are reports on the installation of the new train line. I don’t think this is the type of paperwork I can easily hand over to anyone else. Just read through the purchase orders, tell me if I missed anything.”

Even when Hange was requesting something with such a serious face, it had almost sounded pleading. And Levi felt almost obligated to look through every single one of the records very carefully, even after poring through more than half of them and coming up fairly convinced that there would be no mistakes among the pages worth of purchase orders.

No calculation errors. No typos. Levi had spent the last two hours before the sun set, even doing some quick calculations and estimations through them to be sure. Hange was thorough.

Before Levi knew it, the office started to come out looking a light orange, a far cry from the dull rustic brown hue that blanketed it most of the day.

It had been a comforting view long ago, when it had been a sign of the end of a long busy day.

But recently, Hange had been staying longer, even after the bright orange faded into purples and into a dark blue, even long after Hange had to turn on dim light. What had been the most unsettling part for Levi though had been the fact that she never did go home. When he entered the office in the morning she was there. When he left the house for the night she was there.

As if she were married to her job.

“Hey.”

Hange looked up, catching his gaze. “You need something?”

Her eyes were glossy from what could have been a constant stream of exhaustion and somehow that made Levi all the more determined to get her out. “What’s your plan tomorrow?”

Hange shrugged. “Depends what I finish tonight.”

“You haven’t taken a rest in so long. It’s like you’re married to your job.”

“I don’t wanna disappoint,” Hange explained. “Erwin made me commander for a reason.”

“We never got to check out that one fancy restaurant. I heard that Marleyan soldier makes really good food.”

“New shipments are coming tomorrow so I’m going to have to go to the port and---”

“That can wait until tomorrow,” Levi approached her table, placing his hand gently on the edge. “One night. Forget about your work for one night. I promise, we’ll have a great time.”

Hange raised one eyebrow. “A great time? It’s been a while since I had one.”

“And all I’m asking for is one night. You’re not happy married to your work.”

Hange sighed. “Actually you might be right. I have been pretty miserable lately. Maybe because I never give myself a break.” She pushed the papers haphazardly to one side of the table. “One night,” she repeated.

They could have taken the carriage to the restaurant and could have been there in five minutes. But somehow, Levi was scrambling for reasons to make the night last longer. And Hange didn’t protest.

They were walking through the more silent parts of town. The walk took them through winding paths that only prolonged their trek to the restaurant. Although they were very much familiar with that part of town, neither of them protested such a silent decision.

“You know, you were smiling in your sleep for a while,” Hange said.

“Was I?”

“Then suddenly, you were frowning. Then you woke up screaming,” Hange said, widening her eyes in emphasis. “Was it a bad dream?”

Was it? “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“It had good parts and bad parts.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There were a lot of things which happened there, which I wish could happen in real life… And other parts were just…” Levi trailed off. He felt himself shudder just thinking of that phantom husband of Hange.

“Things you wish could happen? You mean… like a happy ending after the war or something?”

Some of the pictures though had Levi cringing and unable to stop that grimace that played at his lips. Levi looked away as soon as he felt the blood rush to his face. “What about… You enjoy tonight… Like enjoy to your heart’s content, take a great rest. And I’ll tell you.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you so eager to hide something from me. ” Hange let out one whistle, one provocative whistle that only served to make Levi’s blood boil. “But I’ll hold you to do that.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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syubub · 4 years

Text

JIMIN SOULMATE READING

~Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as fact~

Chim chim, my Libra son. Your time has come.

(Yes I am aware of the shit picture)

So let's start off with Jimins energy color! Its an amber orange with gold ish sparkles? Kinda like if you dipped a cheeto in gold dust?

This was the closest I could find to how it looked. Its really pretty!

Moving on. I get up to his platform and offer energy and blah blah but hes behind a little glass door thing. He doesn't open it so I'm like? Do I just leave? But then I kinda start to float through the glass? This shit makes me sound crazy and I am well aware thank you. Anyway, he touches my forehead and yeets me backwards off the platform.

Cool cool cool. It wasn't mean or anything btw, he was just kinda like oki, get to it.

The only "message" I got was just straight up, "Nevermind" thats his tattoo and idk what that has to do with anything at all lol.

Now for this person's card I got 10 of cups. This is a very well rounded, optimistic person who has worked hard to achieve the life they've always wanted. They are very fulfilled in life!

As for cards about this person's personality/ life I pulled 9 of swords, king of wands, high priestess and temperance. This person is always in search of balance in life and they are a natural born leader. They have a lot of hidden talents. This person has also been through a lot of past traumas/insecurities that are still manifesting in their life today. This person is trying to get better and is most likely in therapy (I'll get to this later too) this person is motivated and driven (I see them being a perfectionist) has a knowledgeable and strong persona.

As for possible zodiac signs I got air or earth and I pulled the empress so that to me says Taurus or Libra (or maybe those two together)

Onto the relationship. We have the sun, the lovers, seven of wands rev., the heirophant rev., death rev and ace if swords.

So this relationship is very warm. I mean no doubt they work well together and have a very seamless fit. They fit into eachothers lives like pieces of a puzzle for sure. I bet they are always very touchy around eachother. I get the feeling that his soulmate is equally as touchy and physical as he is. Probably a lot of cudles tbh. Theres a lot of love between the two.

Now, they might have an issue with being in the spotlight. Its kinda like they have a hard time dealing with being under scrutiny/ pressure. They both have things that they need to work on and they are both heavy perfectionists and having people nit pick everything that they do together really messes with them. Theres likely to be a period of "drama" and breakdowns in the relationship. Its no fault of their own though. I don't want to get too into it but its like..( possible trigger warning I guess) they both have not great relationships with food/ their bodies or they push themselves too hard as a form of self harm? And they deal with pressure in unhealthy ways sometimes. They are both getting better and doing better and are healthy but there is this caution almost that they still hold on to old, harmful coping mechanisms and IF things their relationship were to be public and people were watching everything they do 24/7 and criticizing their every move then theres a chance that they might fall back into bad habits? Or even say it was just his soulmate that kinda spirals then that might trigger him or vice versa? They have similar ish issues and all I can say is that its hard to recognize something toxic in someone else when you're plagued with the same issue. They also might not be good at communicating how they want to be loved? Like I get the sense that they have a hard time being like, "hey, it really upsets me when you do this and this is why. I know you mean well but it does xyz" ya, know? I think its hard because they don't want the other person to feel bad or like they don't appreciate the love that they receive.

HAPPIER STUFF NOW

We have warrior woman and answer the call. These cuties help eachother find their purpose. They are eachothers rock and they are both so supportive of eachother!

Moving on to messages that his soulmate has for Chim. We have open your heart, its dark and you can't see a thing (get your head out of your ass. Pronto) and get the fuck outside. Move your ass (your body is pissed at you) I think this can be interpreted as his soulmate being like, "hey. Its okay. The world is scary right now but you shouldn't lose faith in humanity. You're surrounded by people that love you and they are good people. Go take a walk and take care of yourself" some level 100 wholesome shit.

Now let's go to character cards. We have. Child: nature, mother and monk/nun rev. This person loves animals! Wouldn't be surprised if they volunteer at animal shelters and do a thawing that helps rescue animals. This person is also mom friend for sure. Always taking care of others and is everyones go to shoulder to cry on. This person also is a bit unintentionally judgy? Its not mean or anything but they have a savior complex almost? Its like they don't know what to do if they aren't needed. They also may unintentionally let some of their personal high standards seep onto other people.

Little cards are funny, feminine, dark hair, fashionable, loud and introvert.

We also have the cards from his soulmate to him, open, thinking of you, pure, negative and habit. (The last 2 were stuck together so I'm gonna say it means something about a negative habit that he has)

Now we on to the last card! We have beyond the mind, the heart beats. This card talks about listening to your heart and not ignoring its wishes. It talks about doing what you feel is right. Following that call and trusting yourself!

Last last card. I pulled one card just to get a sense of what might have contributed to his soulmates past trauma and I go the hermit. That gives me the sense that they have abandonment issues and it might be a big part of their perfectionism. So there's that.

Jiminie has a very sweet and kind soulmate and they work very well together. They help eachother to overcome and to love. The energy is so lovely even if part of the reading was serious? Really though, his soulmate is very kind and very much like him. I wish them both all of the happiness ever.

#bts tarot #bts #bts reactions #bts imagines #kim seokjin #jin #suga #yoongi #hoseok #jhope #namjoon #bts rm #bts jimin #jimin #jimin fanfic #taehyung #bts v #jungkook #bts astrology

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bnha-mha-imagines · 3 years

Note

🍁 🍄 🌸 🌻 🍓 ✨ (sorry for picking so many) Character: Kirishima

Haha no worries! It was fun answering them all! :)

🍁Maple: What’s your ideal date?

My ideal date?? Ooh, is this an invitation? ;) all jokes all jokes...unless? 👀 I would say my ideal date can vary depending on my mood! I’m pretty content to just stay in and watch a movie and cuddle, but I’m also very much down to take a walk or a hike! It's fun, naturey, and you get an adventure out of it! Pack a little backpack with waters and snacks, bring a speaker, and go explore! That’s probably my ideal date :)

🍄Mushroom: Have you ever been in love?

I’ve only ever been in love once, and I am lucky to say it is with my current boyfriend :) We’re kind of each other’s first real relationship, so we’re discovering everything together and I am so happy to experience these new things with him!

🌸Blossom: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Kind of but no? I love the notion of love at first sight because like… knowing your soulmate at first glance sounds totally adorable! Realistically, I believe in attraction at first sight, but I think love is something that requires more effort to obtain. Love perseveres in the face of ‘the ugly,’ it is all encompassing, and it is cultivated with time, communication, and experience. When you first meet a person, odds are your first impression is off, and to truly love a person for who they are, I think it’s crucial to get to know them, truly know them, first.

🌻Sunflower: Do you think humans are inherently good or bad?

I’ve been told that I am “wholesomely naive… in a good way!” As such, I am heavily inclined toward the idea that people are inherently good! Perhaps I’m wrong and naive as I’ve been told, but honestly I think I’d rather be so in this regard than accept that all goodness is unnatural. I think people, granted that they don’t suffer any conditions that prevent them from feeling so, desire very similar things: love, comfort, happiness, acceptance, justice, etc. I think these things, all leaning toward goodness, pay testimony to the innate natural goodness within us, and the desire for goodness! :) I think those people who we label villains have been conditioned to act in ways that contradict innate goodness, and that for the most part, villains are created not from the existence of evil, but from the absence of good.

🍓Strawberry: What season do you wish could be all year round? Favorite things to do during it?

My favorite season is autumn, so clearly I’d love to spend my whole year surrounded by colorful leaves and pumpkins <3 My favorite things about fall are: apple picking, visiting pumpkin patches and corn fields, HALLOWEEN, dressing in cozy clothes, chai tea, apple cider donuts and apple cider period, chilly weather, and… my birthday! haha.

✨Stars: What fictional character do you most relate to?

Since this is a bnha blog, it seems fitting that I pick a bnha character to compare myself to haha! I would say I most relate to, or act most like, Kirishima or Kaminari. Kirishima is very relatable to me, in both his positive attitude and insecurities, whereas Kaminari is similar to me in his energy and humor. Maybe throw in a little bit of Uraraka and you’ll get an amalgamation that is me haha!

______

Eijiro Kirishima:

Kirishima was hiding something, that much was obvious. He was fidgeting endlessly, perspiring lightly, and his eyes kept shifting to the door as if he wanted to run away. To say you were concerned was an understatement.

Nothing apparent had prompted his behavior; you were simply sitting in the dorm common room watching National Treasure. With just the two of you there, you could only assume that the cause of his anxiety was something internal.

You were tempted to write it off as a bad day, but any time you asked if he was okay he insisted he was. He wouldn’t keep eye contact with you, and you were beginning to think perhaps his strange, uncharacteristic behavior had something to do... with you.

Tentatively, you placed your hand over his, hoping perhaps the simple and tender touch could provide him some sort of comfort. The way he reared back startled confirmed your rising suspicion.

“Kirishima,” you asked him gently, unable to keep the hurt from your voice. “What’s going on?” You reached for the remote and paused the movie, turning to face him. You stared into his eyes, and in them you could see clouded thoughts unspoken. “Is it me?” you dared to ask, unsure if you actually wanted the answer.

At your question, Kirishima’s expression changed immediately, concern and surprise painting his face. “Huh?” he exclaimed. “Of course not, never, that’s not--!! Oh geez, I really messed this up, didn’t I…” You watched him curiously, urging him to continue.

Facing you suddenly, Kirishima grasped your hands with his own. “I was planning on making this grand gesture to tell you and make it all seamless, but… I guess that plan backfired. (Y/n), I guess what I’m trying to say is...well, what I’m struggling to say is, I love you.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and suddenly everything made sense: why he’d been so off, so anxious, glancing at you when you weren’t looking. You felt your worry melt into unadulterated warmth and love, so overwhelming that you couldn’t help but embrace him, assaulting his face with kisses.

Affection swelled in your chest. “Kirishima, your dork!” you laughed. “You don’t need a grand gesture to tell me that. And you don’t have to worry at all, because… I love you too!” You had barely any time to react before Kirishima had enveloped you into a crushing hug, kissing you again and again. You laughed, only half trying to push him away to end the onslaught.

“Get a room,” suddenly a gruff voice interrupted from behind you. Turning around on the couch, you felt your cheeks grow red hot as your eyes landed on none other than Bakugo standing at the kitchen island behind you. “That was like watching a shitty wattpad story.”

Kirishima laughed.

#kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #4250 followers #follower special #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #eijiro kirishima

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caligobeltrao · 3 years

Text

Brahms with an S/O who knits

So I rewatched The Boy... head empty, only Brahms. And apparently he’s the only one I flipping write for I’m sorry I swear I want to write for more people... Also my inbox is empty so if you have requests... please send them? <3

SO first and foremost, let’s set the scene. You have just been hired as a nanny in the English countryside for a doll named Brahms, there’s no cell service and no wifi, so tbh it’s a great time to knit.

You fall into his routine quickly, and add your own little knitting breaks in where you can, mostly at night or during music time.

You start out with small, simple stuff; things you know how to make really easily and don’t take up too much brain space, like dishcloths or a plain garter stitch scarf (or two... or ten...). Things you’ve made a thousand times before. Things that you don’t really take notice of if they go missing.

Of course they do, but it’s easy to chuck a scarf you’re not going to wear in a drawer and then forget you ever made it.

It is a little more noticeable when you decide you want to gift Malcolm a particular thing you’ve made (since there’s really nobody else to give things to around here) but can’t find the one you had in mind.

Which, side note, if it is something like a scarf, he would wear it at every grocery drop off he does from then on. You can’t change my mind.

But obviously that gets boring. Eventually you ask Malcolm if with his next grocery run he could bring you the yarn you’d want to make a nice blanket. The manor can get chilly, after all, and he agrees.

When THAT goes missing, you definitely notice. And, assuming you get the warning that Brahms is playful, you can ask for it back and you’ll find it neatly folded up on his bed the next day. Which is when you decide to start making things for Brahms.

It’s perfect! It’s a judgement-free way to practice your skills, AND you can make you and the doll matching sweaters. How fucking cute is that???

Malcolm thinks this is... slightly more odd. Worrying, maybe. Especially if you, like me, would have taken to treating the doll like a real child from the get-go.

But you’re keeping yourself busy, he can’t fault you for that lol.

Anyway, Brahms LOVES this turn of events. He loves seeing you and him (his effigy at least) in matching sweaters! He loves the little socks you knit for him, especially his new sleep time socks! He loves how proud you are when you slip his little knitted cap and scarf and gloves on!

What he doesn’t like is when something is new or difficult for you and watching you rip out your work because you dropped a stitch, or looking at a previously finished work a few weeks later and deciding you hate it so you rip it out or just throw it away if you don’t think you can salvage the yarn.

Well... he doesn’t mind you throwing them out, so much, because he’ll just... snatch that right up. It’s your work! You made it for him and it’s beautiful! How dare you be so critical on yourself! >:(

Even worse is the disappointment the first time you try to knit him a sweater and you measured the doll incorrectly so it doesn’t fit. :( He hates seeing you sad.

Back to your perspective though, it’s much nicer to have someone (something) to knit for. Plus, he has to wear and appreciate your items. He’s a doll, he’ll wear whatever you put on him and in your mind, he loves it lol. So there’s no chance of the resentment or anger or disappointment you get when you make something for a family member and they just never use it.

You also knit him his own blanket for his bed, which real Brahms obviously takes immediately. That’s what started all of this, after all. And you would take the time to stitch a little B on one of the corners, to make it all his.

You aren’t surprised by it going missing. In fact, you’re happy that Brahms likes your things. Like I mentioned with the disappointment, you’ve most likely felt this before in your life, so it’s odd that a ghost (as that’s honestly the least weird conclusion here) appreciates what you do more than some of the people you know.

Also imagine knitting with the doll on your lap. 🥺 Cute. Cute cute cute.

But then you meet real Brahms. And that’s weird, like I know there’s a lot weird here, but you can’t just make a seamless transition into this, there’s an adjustment period, so you stop knitting.

Which he Does Not Like.

Like sir??? What did you expect?

Well he expected everything to be the same but it’s him and not the doll, really.

Which he makes pretty obvious fairly quickly. He wants a matching sweater, and he asks you outright. “You make such pretty things... can I have one? Please? I’ve been very good.”

So of course you do. You decide to take a pattern and color you already made for you and the doll and make it for him, so the three of you could match. Which is weird in and of itself, but adult life is already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

And that starts a new cycle.

He loves that he can now show you appreciation for the items you make him. He can thank you much easier, no worries of frightening you with a disembodied voice from a “ghost.” He can wear what you make, and he does, all the time. He’ll give you kisses too, since you’re being good.

And he’s always excited every time you gift him something new, like it’s never happened before, as if he HASN’T seen you working on it for the past month. Each and every time, he has such love and joy in his heart and he will Let You Know damn it.

Legit always has something you made on. If it’s warm, he has a light cardigan you made. If it’s cold, a sweater and his blanket. And either way he’ll have a pair of your socks on. Nonnegotiable.

Honestly he gets super worried if you go to wash his things. What if it falls apart? You assure him you know what you’re doing, but it still takes probably six to seven washes for him to get less tense about something going in the washing machine.

You will never be able to toss out anything ever again. Dropped stitch? A tie come undone and it’s unraveling? A few weeks of looking at it making you wanna cry? Just doesn’t look like you wanted it to? Nope! It’s Brahms’s now. And he’ll love it and cherish it as if it’s the only gift you’ve ever given him.

Literally no room for you to be insecure about the things you make. Only love. You’d think he’d get tired or bored of it, but it’s a physical representation of time and care you’re putting into him and his care. He clings to that.

The only time he won’t interrupt you for your attention is when you knit. Because he understands that’s also a type of attention. He does like to be in the room with you when you do it though. And you can get him to read while you do it, so that’s nice.

He will be a little jealous/salty about anything you’ve given Malcolm though lol.

#brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms imagine #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher imagine

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kunoichi-ume · 2 years

Text

I posted 1,884 times in 2021

117 posts created (6%)

1767 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 15.1 posts.

I added 237 tags in 2021

#swtor - 64 posts

#ffxiv - 35 posts

#oc: noara starspark - 27 posts

#fic rec - 26 posts

#i love this - 20 posts

#wwe - 16 posts

#ume travels - 13 posts

#omg - 12 posts

#torian cadera - 12 posts

#chaos art - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#though i am sad the pretty half pony tail look an npc on dantooine has isn't included in this cause it would be perfect for noara

My Top Posts in 2021

Okay holy crap. Noara looks amazing. I was blown away by your sketch you sent me the other day but cleaned up, with colors and everything? I love this so much. I don’t know whatelse to say other than that something this amazing needed a drabble so here is my first offical Space Wrestlers AU fic, inspired by this amazing, stunning picture.

Story: Unnamed Wrestler Noara Au

Word Count: 1113

Characters: Noara AKA “The Starspark”, Emah Keqara AKA “Kayo Blitz”

Noara sat on the bottom rope, reclining against the middle one, as she watched her opponent enter the arena. The roar of the audience was a mix of cheers and jeers, loud enough she could only just hear Kayo's theme music. She smiled, remembering how the crowd had cheered for her own entrance. Her character had been carefully constructed to be a fan favorite, a baby face they called it in the business. Against a wild, aggressive character like Kayo she was easily the favored wrestler.

That by no means meant facing the larger, stronger, Bothan woman would be an easy task.

Kayo struck her signature pose and howled before surprising Noara by sprinting the rest of the way to the ring. She dove under the bottom rope, sliding onto the mat and rolling up to her feet in one seamless, impressive move. With a glance to make sure Noara wasn't going to attack right away, Kayo turned her back and jumped up to the middle rope in the corner, almost straddling the turnbuckles and pumping her fist in the air. The crowd roared, their excitement for the coming bout building.

Noara stood, walking to the side of the ring opposite Kayo's corner, as the lights came on. The referee, a dark furred Cathar she hadn't worked with before, entered the ring and after receiving a nod from both women signaled for the bell to start the match.

Wasting no time, Noara rushed Kayo as the bell's chime still echoed around them. Hitting Kayo with a forearm to the chest, pushing her back toward the turnbuckles, she followed the strike with several body shots. Against someone like Kayo, her speed was her asset, one she needed to take full advantage of.

The Bothan was initially stunned by her barrage and Noara grabbed her leg, wrapping the limb around the rope so it rested behind the knee. Jumping to give her movement more momentum, she pulled hard on her leg. Kayo cried out as the unprotected back of her knee hit the tightrope.

Then the ref was there, telling her to get out of the corner. Kicking Kayo once in the gut, Noara stepped back at the count of four. Not doing so before a five count would be a disqualification and Noara had no intention of losing, even by a technicality. Taking several quick steps toward the opposite corner, Noara spun and sprinted toward Kayo, diving right before reaching the Bothan in an attempted spear - a shoulder hit to the opponent's midsection.

But Kayo had recovered more than she expected, diving to the side, and Noara was unable to stop herself before her shoulder connected painfully with the metal pole in the corner. She groaned, holding the ropes to stop herself from sliding out of the ring onto the barely padded metal flooring below. Strong arms wrapped around her middle and before she could counter the move she was flung backwards, over Kayo's head and released. Her body flew halfway across the mat, and though she tried to roll with the impact it still knocked the breath out of her.

Never one to let an opening pass by, Kayo was on her again, growling like the animal her character often mimicked. She picked up Noara, easily manhandling her smaller form, lifting her above her shoulders. She was setting up for a devastating blow, one of Kayo's go to moves, where she threw her opponent over her shoulder and hit them in the face with her knee on their way down.

Shaking off her daze, Noara twisted in Kayo's grasp, managing to get her legs wrapped around one of the Bothan's arms and locked her arms around her neck. Kayo dropped to her knees, balance thrown by Noara's weight shifting, Pressing down, Noara forced Kayo to the mat and tightened her thighs around her arm, wrenching the limb in a direction it was not meant to go. Her gras shifted, hands grasped across the end of Kayo's snout and she pulled backward. The stretch in her neck would hurt, as well as the unnatural pull on her shoulder. It was a modified armbar, one that had worked well for Noara in the past.

Taking stock of her position, Noara smiled when she saw they were directly in the middle of the ring. Reaching the ropes, even just getting a limb under them, would force Noara to break the hold or risk disqualification.

"I got you Kayo!" Noara shouted her jeer to be heard over the cheers of the crowd, "tap out!" Kayo squirmed beneath her, trying to dislodge the smaller woman but Noara held fast. She wasn't the strongest wrestler in the business but she was like a Boohar Pitbull when she got her fangs into her opponent, she didn't let go unless physically forced to.

On the other side of Kayo the referee was practically lying on the mat, his face inches from Kayo's asking if she wanted to tap. The Bothan shook her head, as much as she could with the brutal hold, and growled. Noara arched her back, increasing the pressure of her hold.

With another grunt, this one more exasperated before smacking her free hand against Noara’s arm repeatedly. Tapping out. The ref pushed to his knees, shouting for the bell and ordering the hold be broken. Noara gave one last pull of her arms, for good measure before releasing her grasp and rolling off of Kayo's body. The referee rolled Kayo onto her back, leaning close to speak to her - checking that she was alright.

After judging her well enough not to need the medics called he jumped to his feet as the announcer declared Noara the winner. The referee held her arm up in the air as her music hit and Noara whooped with the crowd. She spared a glance down at Kayo, noticing how the Bothan was rubbing at her snout. and fought the instinct to grimace. She was going to owe Emah a beer for that one, she knew the woman hated submission holds and even more so hated being forced to tap.

But for right now that didn't matter, Emah would get over it and both had come out to the ring determined to win. For Noara it was more than that. It was an opportunity. To show that even a little thing like herself could overcome any challenge, that she didn't have to resort to her connection with the Force to make it happen.

That Noara, the independent woman and not the Jedi she had once been trained to be, was strong enough to conquer her own demons. Even it was just for entertainment.

34 notes • Posted 2021-05-02 17:38:09 GMT

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47 notes • Posted 2021-09-09 23:17:58 GMT

Look who I met this weekend! I got a picture of him being a dapper af gentleman (cause he didn’t have a King Richard print sadly) and brought a print of @dingoat‘s beautiful art for @cinlat because I couldn’t meet Aric Jorgan’s voice actor without getting an Aric and Fynta picture signed for Cinlat. He really liked the art and asked who did it and said it was “very cool” that I had special art for him to sign. Only got to talk to him for a moment but he was super nice. I literally went to this convention just to meet him and it was totally worth it.

50 notes • Posted 2021-09-20 17:56:30 GMT

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82 notes • Posted 2021-08-01 21:42:59 GMT

I am dead. This picture @commander-sarahs-art did of Noara is so great it slayed me. I’ve been sitting on this all day because a quick post while I was at work wouldn’t do it justice. I love everything about this. Noara’s new hair, the expression on her face, the armor - as in the armor Torian gifted her because her idea of battlewear gave him grey hairs - the beautiful background, her sabers. I love everything about this, just all of it. Thank you Sarah for taking such good care of my girl!

135 notes • Posted 2021-02-05 01:31:27 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I love the art in this one #And dude two of them are things I literally made #I may not have written much this year but I did other creative stuff

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maniac-fandomist · 3 years

Text

Genshin Impact is What I Have Wanted

and this got longer than I expected.

i’ve been playing a lot of Genshin Impact and thus far it has everything I wanted FFXIV to have -

a seamless open world (i can see as yet unattuned teleport markers from malms and malms away, the sky is so blue, i can see cool landmarks...)

climbing, climbing, climbing, i can climb a bloody cathedral. It’s good thing this game has a stamina bar because I would climb everything (I do that anyway).

Also - gliding. The story was like “you need a gliding license” and after I had spent between-quests gliding all over town and climbing over every structure and looting everything bird’s nest for eggs, every hidden chest and every ivy vine for mushrooms. I like not having to jump off things and my character going crunch at the bottom. saves some travel time. and it’s just fun/ (game play wise, the gliding license is not important lol)

It has swimming. Also - I wanted FFXIV to add a swan dive emote. If you jump from a height into the water in Genshin Impact, you do a clean swan dive. it’s the little things.

(Apparently, allegedly some guy smashed his PS4 in a rage that Genshin Impact is similar to Breath of the Wild to which I say - do you not like having two cakes? I haven’t played BotW yet but I wanna.)

I like the elemental system!!! They have seven elements - Wind, Stone, Fire, Water, Levin, Ice and Plant. I am so glad they included Plant, it just makes sense. They call it Anemo, Geo, Pyro, Hydro, Electro, Cyro and Dendro though.

I love the elemental reactions; it makes the world have consequence and dynamics. I can even use enemy elements against then by using wind to create a firestorm with the enemy fire attack and burn enemy wood mages.

The known gods of the world who are actually acknowledged by common people actually feature in the plot kicks around Twelve headcanons

they have five weapon types - Sword, Bow, Claymore, Catalyst and Polearm but each combines with it’s character and element in new and different ways. Catalyst comes in two variants as grimoires (Like arcanist) or orbs (like starglobes) are basically mage characters

The art work is really, really colorful and pretty, the world is gorgeous and you get to explore every bit of it! It’s very exploration heavy and has a steady pace; tbf it is a new game. Opening new Statues of the Seven fills in the map, rewarding you for reaching it

I know this is a gacha game but honestly, the game hands you primogems for just about every activity and you use them to buy intertwined fates which gets you gacha pulls. I find every character a joy to at least try out

Oh - they let you try out characters either in the story or through banner events.

It has Noelle - a cute maid who’s maid uniform is also armor. Her element is Geo which seems in character for someone with a big fuck-off sword though I gave her a club which seems apt

I thought Genshin Impact didn’t have weather changes for a bit so far I have discover clear skies, howling gales (that was a storm barrier does that count...?) and rain storms.

I am so glad this is for so many platforms including PS4 - it literally can’t play on my phone, it cannot download. I have been playing for like two weeks and I am hooked

#blogged #rambles #non ffxiv #Genshin Impact #long post #mirapris.txt

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sage-nebula · 3 years

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Game Review — New Pokémon Snap

In 1999, a photography game centered on the world of Pokémon was released. Ever since then, I have hungered for a sequel. And now, 22 years later, my wish was finally granted.

Overall Score: 9/10

While I am still puzzled that they didn’t create and release this game for either 3DS or Wii U, since both had built-in cameras, overall I couldn’t be happier with this and I definitely feel that it was worth the 22-year-long wait. Head under the cut (and onto my blog) for more detailed thoughts on what has honestly been an excellent game.

The Pros:

Everything is GORGEOUS. The environments, the pokémon, literally everything. Even setting aside the glowing effects of the Illumina phenomenon (particularly at night when it really stands out), everything about this game is visually stunning. The colors are bright, but not blinding, and you can see that everything was crafted with care. There aren’t any areas that feel unfinished or unpolished. It is beautiful to look at, which is rather important when you’re making a photography-based game.

Each area changes as you increase your research level, so that even though you will have some run-throughs of the courses that are the same as you experienced before, you’ll also find new paths and see different pokémon as you go through the courses more and more times as well. For instance, when you first play through the Florio Nature Park, the Bidoof are in the process of building their dam. But later, their dam is completed. And this is just one example of how things change; believe me, there are lots of changes as time passes and you go through the courses again and again, making them feel far less repetitive than they did in the original game. (Not to bash the original game, which was on the N64 and thus had a lot less space to hold data, of course. I’m just saying.)

The pokémon behaviors are also so great. You have the Bidoof building their dam, for example, but you also have Alolan Raichu surfing the sand dunes, or Espurr levitating rocks for the fun of it, or Pikipek bringing fruits back to nests on Toucannon’s orders. On less happy notes you also have things like a group of Mareanie chasing down a Corsola, but I mean, it’s a well-established fact that Mareanie eat Corsola, so that’s just nature. The point is that this isn’t a game where the pokémon are just standing around waiting to have their pictures taken. The pokémon feel alive and it’s clear that so much thought went into their behaviors to make it feel as if life is teeming around you as you go through the courses, because it is! It’s excellent.

Although this is a sequel game (and it makes it clear that it’s a sequel game, which I’ll talk about more in a second), it’s also incredibly accessible to those who have never played the original. Even if you never heard of the original before, you can jump right into this one with mostly new characters and a brand new story. And I think that’s great, considering the original game came out 22 years ago and is probably somewhat hard to find now, especially if you don’t have a system with access to a Virtual Console to play it on. (Which wouldn’t be a problem if we had the Virtual Console on the Switch, Nintendo, but that’s a separate discussion.)

That said, it is a sequel game and all of the nods and references to the original game are things that I love. I mean, first off, Todd Snap is back and he had a major glow-up. But even setting that aside, it’s mentioned how the NEO-ONE was based on the old vehicle that Todd used (the ZERO-ONE), how Todd used to take photos for a different professor (Professor Oak), the final Illumina Pokémon’s level is a huge callback to the Mew level in the original Snap, et cetera. Although this game was called New Pokémon Snap likely so that people wouldn’t think they had to play the first game first, it’s pretty clearly Pokémon Snap 2 and I love that.

Along with the courses themselves changing as you progress through the game, there are also day and night versions of almost every course so you get something different on them even before making more progress. Additionally, each course has multiple different routes that you can take if you find them / want to, and Elsewhere Forest in particular has zones that change depending on the season, which offers even more variety and things to discover. Again, it doesn’t feel boring to keep going through the courses because there’s always something new to find.

Everything is streamlined and plays excellently. The menus are cleaned, I haven’t noticed any lag in gameplay no matter how much is going on on-screen . . . everything is smooth, clean, and fresh, and again, adds to how much of a joy to look at this game is, on top of making it a joy to play as well.

The online features are implemented really well. I absolutely love that you can post photos to share with people around the world, but also that the feature isn’t obtrusive and in your face, so if you want to ignore it, you can. But the process itself is seamless, and the fact that you can add filters and stickers to make memes out of the photos is hilarious and a well thought-out feature, particularly since this is the age of social media, so having a Pokéstagram just makes sense.

I enjoy that there are little missions that you can complete that are posited as being posed naturally by the other characters. You’re given clues of what to do, but often you’re not told outright, which can make some of them fun to figure out (and others the shot itself is challenging enough so you don’t need a riddle, haha). While fulfilling the requests can be a bit irritating (more on that in a bit) I like that there’s additional material to do in addition to the main story that unfolds as you go through and gives you plenty of stuff to do even after you’ve completed the main story.

The characters are all pretty great. There’s one character I don’t enjoy very much, but otherwise the characters are good and add charm to the story.

These characters still don’t know anything about photography (the rule of thirds is so basic and no one here knows it), at least they’re not as obvious about it as Professor Oak was, always scolding me for not getting pokémon in the center of the frame. So toning down the obnoxiousness on that was nice, I will give them that.

The environments are so varied and so cool. Like sure, you have your basic jungle, your basic grasslands, your basic volcano . . . but also your underwater, your magic forest, your ancient technicolor ruins. And I mean, I don’t even want to diss the other areas because the volcano area was incredibly vivid, the snowy mountain was beautiful, and so on. Again, I don’t want to gush too much about how beautiful this game is, but it is and the wide variety of places to take pictures makes it all the more incredible.

As I mentioned in the missions bullet, there is plenty of content to do even after the main story is completed, which is a definite plus. Filling your Photodex aside, there are also Course Scores that are enabled once you complete the main story and an additional time of day for an already unlocked area that is unlocked as well. This means that even after you clear the game, you can still have fun trying to get different shots and discovering new things, which is always a bonus in my book.

Motion controls are included, but they are entirely optional. So if you want to undock your Switch (or if you are playing with a Switch Lite) and you want to move your Switch around like an actual camera, you can! But if you have any physical limitations that would make doing that hard for you (or if you just don’t feel like it), you don’t have to and the motion controls are actually turned off by default. I haven’t used them myself because I’m not a fan of motion controls so I can’t tell you how good they are, but I can say it’s a plus that the motion controls are 100% optional, rather than forcibly included like they have been in other Nintendo games.

The Neutrals:

All of the different tools you get are basically the same as the original game, with a few slight (and sometimes silly) changes. For instance, they’re now calling apples “flufffruit” because “fluffruit are actually a lot softer and don’t hurt the pokémon” even though . . . they’re very obviously apples. Like very obviously apples. I get that they don’t want to encourage throwing apples at animals for the sake of picture taking / they don’t want to make a kid feel bad if they accidentally (“accidentally”) knock a pokémon in the head with one, but . . . come on. They’re apples. They’ve also decided to take away the Pokéflute and make it a random music player instead, and Illumina Orbs replaced Pester Balls for both story reasons and for the same reason why we can’t call apples apples anymore. Honestly, all of this is fine, just something to mention, though I will say it took way too damn long to unlock the turbo feature, damn. Pokémon are fast, guys! Give me my turbo sooner!!

Sometimes the “tips” that Professor Mirror gives during the photo evaluations . . . don’t actually fit the situation at all. Like I can’t tell you the number of times he’s told me about getting the whole pokémon in the frame when the pokémon is in the frame, or like “throw a fluffruit to get the pokémon to look right at you!” even though the pokémon is staring into the camera like they’re on The Office. It’s not a huge deal but it makes me think that Professor Mirror might need his vision prescription updated.

I understand that this is also the age of the smartphone, but I do find it disappointing that we’re essentially given a smartphone camera (or at most a point-and-shoot) versus the SLR camera that Todd very obviously had in the original Snap (and even has here). Granted, we didn’t have to adjust for aperture or shutter speed in the original game and I wouldn’t want to do that here either, but it’s about the aesthetic and the fact that having professional nature photographers have actually good cameras is more fitting than handing them a smartphone and saying, “have fun!” Again, I get why it’s a smartphone now, but it still is a little disappointing, even if not an actual detraction from the game.

It is confusing that we have wild Alolan form pokémon when this is not Alola, especially since they didn’t make it equal by adding in Galar form pokémon too. (And on that note, there seems to be a lack of Galar pokémon at that.) I think it would have been cool if they’d designed some Lental form pokémon for this game specifically, although I get that this isn’t a game developed by Game Freak so I understand why that wasn’t done. All the same though, the presence of Alolan form pokémon when this isn’t Alola was still a bit weird.

It’s rather easy to breeze through the main story if you don’t want to take your time revisiting areas to get better pictures / boost the research level. While the main story is longer than the original game / there are more areas than the original game, it’s still pretty short. Ordinarily this would be a con, but since there are so many things to do even after you beat the main story, I’m putting it in the neutrals section instead.

The Cons:

While the missions are fun, it is frustrating that you have to do them again if you capture a photo of the mission before the mission is formally handed to you. This is especially true if it was a hard to get shot that’s difficult to replicate. I understand they want to put challenge in the game, but it’s a bit frustrating you can’t point to your photodex and have the mission be cleared if you’ve already done it. You also can’t get the pokémon doing the requested thing in a different part of the course (or a different version of the same course, or even just a different course altogether if a pokémon appears in multiple areas), which is fine, except that you can only turn in one photo per pokémon. This can make it particularly frustrating when you technically get a photo of what was asked for (e.g. Wingull doing a loop-de-loop) but it’s not the specific Wingull you were supposed to take a picture of, so it doesn’t count.

I have noticed a few bugs or typos here or there. Like one time the text box said “Rita” even when it was clearly Mirror talking, and there have been other times when the game is like “you can’t submit photos if the pokémon is not in the Illumina State” even though Wishwashi was GLOWING BRIGHT PINK because I had just thrown an Illumina Orb at it. Little things like that are things I think could have been better smoothed out in QA, but ultimately aren’t too much to deal with and don’t happen very often.

The alternate paths are a bit too finicky sometimes. Like I managed to get on the swamp path once and haven’t been able to manage it since. I was on research level 3 in Elsewhere Forest for a good long while before Espeon decided to show up, which blocked me off the second exit and guaranteed winter route, too. Again, I love that there are secrets in this game, but I tried to replicate getting into the swamp area twenty times in a row after I had just done it with no success, so it can be a bit frustrating at times.

There isn’t really a true conclusion to the main story. I won’t give spoilers, but essentially the story revolves around uncovering the secrets of a myth that happened in the Lental region thousands of years ago. You get close . . . but the story ends before you get any real answers. You’re just left to speculate. In a way this makes sense, since it’s not like you’re time traveling, you’re just taking pictures. But it is still a little annoying for anyone who is interested in things like the lore of the Pokéworld and who might like actual answers to the questions set up (such as myself).

Anyway, overall, this game is amazing whether or not you played the original, and I highly recommend it to everyone who likes Pokémon even a little. Here’s hoping we don’t have to wait another 22 years for the next one. (But if we do, it will probably be worth the wait.)

#pokemon #pokemon snap #new pokemon snap #2021 game reviews #i am still playing it but since I finished the main story I figured I should go ahead and post the review

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