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eruden-writes · 2 years

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The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 10 (Yaujta x Human)

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Summary: The night her abductors die, Rayelle finds herself running for her life. She doesn’t know where she is, what is following her, where to go. All she knows is she’s not on Earth any longer and the thing chasing her has the capacity to kill.

Tai'dqei never anticipated finding a human when he took the job of tracking and subduing a small contingent of smugglers. It was only when the human attacked and fled fled, Tai'dqei - hopped up on the euphoria of a successful hunt - gave chase, instinct burning at his center.

Will sense return to Tai'dqei before he catches Rayelle? Or will Rayelle be subjected to the yautja’s natural inclinations?

And what happens afterwards?

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CHAPTER CW: A chase scene. Violence. Rayelle making really quite awful Poorly Thought-Out Decisions.

Tag list: @ajarofpickledtears

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Roughly forty-five minutes after he left, Tai'dqei's tech gauntlet pinged. He glanced at the notification, barely holding back a frustrated curse. He'd gotten a notice of the ship unlocking, quickly followed by yet another notification of Rayelle on the move.

"Something wrong?" Zav, Tai'dqei's employer, regarded the yautja with an entirely dark green gaze. The green Florazian sat far more elegantly than necessary, given the transaction happening between employer and hunter. With one lithe leg crossed over the other, his body leaned sideways against the only table in the rental space. On the table, the container of skulls lay, already perused by Zav.

"A delayed shipment of parts," lied Tai'dqei, already on edge with Zav's inquiries before the notifications interrupted them. He didn't like how Zav watched him, especially as the vine-like hair shifted atop the Florazians head. Shoving aside his own discomfort and annoyance, Tai'dqei nodded to Zav. "Go on."

Zav took a breath to stare at Tai'dqei. Behind the Florazian, others stood at the ready. Mostly they were beefy, four-armed aliens that found jobs as bodyguards. But the ones that concerned Tai'dqei were the other Florazians. They, too, watched him with dark eyes and hard-to-read expressions.

"Yes, as I was saying, this particular contingency of cretins," Zav motioned to the skulls atop the table, "were rumored to have rather valuable cargo."

"You didn't request cargo retrieval." It wouldn't have been rare, had Zav requested such a thing. When one employed a bounty hunter, sometimes it was a matter of getting something valuable back along with the heads of the bounties.

"No, I didn't, since I thought it'd be a long shot. They likely already pushed this particular valuable out," Zav sighed, his posture slouching further as he rested his elbow on the table and cradled his chin in his hand. "But humor me, Tai'dqei. Was there anything I should know of on the ship?"

"No, sir." Tai'dqei stood still, arms crossed. There was a mounting suspicion in his head, but he didn't want to acknowledge it, lest it made it a reality. After all, Rayelle was a person, not a thing. And Zav had been discussing a thing. "Just the crew, some counterfeit goods, drugs. The usual."

"I see." Zav's expression didn't falter or change. Other than their writhing vine-hair, he was still. "I do hope you aren't lying."

Tai'dqei offered no verbal response, though an annoyed growl began deep on his chest. At his snarl, the bodyguards and Florizians behind Zav tensed, prepared to protect their boss.

"Point taken." Zav's thin lips twisted into a smile, serrated teeth flashing in the dim lighting. His calm tone soothed his posse behind him, tense shoulders sagging a little. With a bored little wave of his hand, Zav airily said, "You may go now."

"My payment?" Tai'dqei asked, his eyebrow ridges rising even though Zav wouldn't be able to see his expression change behind the mask.

"Already wired to your account." Zav waggled his hand idly at Tai'dqei. "You may check if you like."

Tai'dqei proceeded to do so, not one to simply rely on an employer's word. He made that mistake during one of his first assignments, being left with roughly three-quarters of the agreed upon price and a promise to receive the rest through 'exposure.' Thankfully, Tai'dqei's request for an impromptu Hunt was approved by the elders in his clan and that former employer wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Or, well, any mistake ever again.

After verifying that the full amount, and a decent tip, had been applied to his account, Tai'dqei gave a curt nod and turned his attention back to Zav. There wasn't much else to say. Zav knew the amount was there and had already dismissed him, so Tai'dqei gave a grunt of acknowledgement before turning to leave.

He tried to keep his movements slow and fluid, as if he had nowhere else to be. When, in fact, he had to track down that damned human. His mind was already racing with possibilities as to where Rayelle would try to go first. Most likely, she'd try to hitch a ride out of the area, try to break the signal emitted from her tracking collar. Less likely, but more to Tai'dqei's hopes, she'd seek out Ah'ke, if only to prove to him she had the right to freedom, but would respect his concerns.

Tai'dqei just barely kept from growling to himself, before Zav's voice rang out again, causing the yautja to pause. "If I do find out you kept something valuable from me, I'll be very cross, Tai'dqei."

After a breath of waiting, Tai'dqei continued on his way out, having nothing more to say to the Florizian. Though he could feel Zav's stare on his back the entire way out.

Once Tai'dqei left, Zav's crew scurried to lock the door of the rental office. He had plucked a skull with one eye socket from the container, staring at it in an bored fashion. A human-cyborg assistant scuttled up to him and, without looking at them, he asked, "What were his notifications about?"

"S-security event. Ship was unlocked. And alerts from a tracking program." The assistant held out the holo-tablet, which had previously been clutched to their chest, out to Zav. One of his tendrils relinquished the tablet from the cyborg, who flinched at the touch.

Sucking air in between his teeth, Zav considered the chances of someone daring to break into a yautja ship and something of enough value to require a tracker. A tracker, he realized, that could measure biological vitals. Though his assistant hadn't managed to hack further into the logs, Zav was willing to bet those particular files would affirm his suspicions.

"Hone in on that tracking signal and follow it," Zav commanded, shoving the tablet back to the cyborg. They took it, quickly hustling away as they tapped commands into it while also issue directions to those around them, rousing a small team together. Zav let his assistant deal with the rest, turning his attention back to the skull in hand. He flexed his fingers, the bone cracking under his grip.

He wanted that human.

—

Getting out of the ship had been easier than Rayelle expected. The ear worm didn't extend to written words, so she was out of luck just looking for an 'escape hatch.' However, using context and intuition, she soon found an emergency release lever for the door that led outside. She presumed it was used in cases where the ship went up in flames and the system malfunctioned or some similar misfortune happened.

Of course, getting the damned door open was another story. It took her a solid fifteen minutes of hauling on the lever before the heavy entryway divided enough for her to squeeze through. Once she got her ass and packed rucksack out of the ship, though, freedom tasted sweet.

Well, metaphorically. Rayelle's presumption she was in a sort of docking sector for space ships was correct, so the air tasted like oil and electricity and metal. Among a number of indecipherable or unnameable smell-tastes, as well.

Steadying herself and trying not to look like some naive space tourist, Rayelle marched her way down the ramp and into the docks. It was hard not to stare, though. Whether it was at the ships - a variety of designs and shapes and materials that she couldn't even begin to understand the engineering behind - or it was the variety of people. Skin colors, textures, solidity, feathers, scales, furry, large teeth, mandibles. Her brain overloaded, drinking in the new details and marveling at the sheer diversity of sentient life.

Rayelle didn't realize she'd even left the docking sector, until her ears registered the familiar sounds of salespeople.

"Two for the price of one! This cycle only!"

"Try our new fragrance! Made from the nectar of the luscious and rare zelu flower!"

"Fresh gth'uk! Get it fresh, get it hot!"

Bright white tiles lined the floor. Storefronts lined the walls. A little to her right, she found a large window looking out into space and upon a nearby reddish planet, which the station likely orbited Rayelle realized. There were tables set up in front of the window, and it seemed a number of aliens - and even human or human-looking people - were enjoying their lunch break there. Or whatever meal it was for them.

It was like a fucking mall or airport, Rayelle realized with a start. Albeit filled with non-humans and glimpses of unfamiliar tech and a literal stellar view. But still, it was like a mall or airport. Or maybe that was just her mind trying to equate it to something familiar.

Adjusting her hold on the rucksack, which she had lifted from Tai'dqei's storage after some snooping, she tried to figure out where to go. Ideally, she wanted to get the collar off, but she had no clue where to go for that. A tech shop? A welder? The authorities?

Her eyes skimmed the signs around the entrances of the shops, but she couldn't make heads or tails of anything.

If she couldn't find someone to help, Rayelle feared she'd just have to hitch out of the collar's range. It couldn't report her position to the ends of the universe, right?

As that thought crossed her mind, though, Rayelle paused. Suddenly thrust into this world of unfamiliarity, part of her thought Tai'dqei had a point. She had no clue where to go, who was friend or foe. She couldn't even read the damned signs! Could she make it much farther than this? Did she want to?

At least, with Tai'dqei, she was reasonably safe. Or that's how she felt, even if she didn't want to feel it.

"Looking for something?" Rayelle started, drawn from her thoughts by a stranger. She did her best to school her reaction. The stranger was a lavender purple, with butterfly-like wings sprouting from the sides of their face and large pink eyes. Other that those details, they seemed rather humanoid. Overall, they weren't the most outlandish extraterrestrial she had met. In fact, they looked - and smelled, Rayelle realized - rather sweet.

Tugging at the collar of her own jacket, Rayelle showed the butterfly-stranger the blinking collar latched around her neck. "Yeah, I need to get this off."

"Why're you wearing that?" Something changed in Butterfly's expression, translating to surprise to Rayelle. A widening of the eyes or perhaps the wings angling upward.

"My friend thought it'd be a funny prank." Rayelle's voice dripped with dry bemusement as she recited the lie she had come up with on the ship. It wasn't the best, obviously, but she couldn't be sure what would even land. A mischievous cohort with an ill-thought prank seemed the best excuse.

Butterfly snorted, their face-wings fluttering. "Your friend is an ass."

"Don't I know it," Rayelle sighed, releasing her jacket's collar. "Got any suggestions?"

The extraterrestrial paused for half a beat, their eyes narrowing imperceptibly. "Why don't you get your friend remove it?"

"They took off this morning. They're supposed to be back tomorrow." Rayelle leaned into the second part of her lie, hoping it was believable to whatever Butterfly was. "Part of their prank."

"I see." Butterfly's lips scrunched together, their wings fluttering slowly as their feet shifted.

Apprehension rose in Rayelle's head. She didn't like the feeling radiating from Butterfly. It was either suspicion or some sort of calculating, if her intuition was correct. Neither struck Rayelle as appropriate or heartening. "If you can't help, I'll keep loo-"

"Wait up, wait up." Holding up their hands, while their wings fluttered nervously, Butterfly flashed Rayelle a mildly distressed expression. "I didn't say I couldn't help!"

Though Rayelle paused, the alien peered around, humming to themself. It seemed Butterfly was trying to decide something, before they gave a resolute nod and turned back to Rayelle. "Follow me, I know a place."

Rayelle watched as they trotted between two storefronts, through something that felt akin to an alleyway. In reality, it was just a smaller and less brightly lit corridor, but still. The warning bells in her head rang. She considered her options. She could just not follow them. Turn around and head back to Tai'dqei's ship and wait for him to return. Allow this new norm to remain.

But if she followed the stranger, she might get the collar removed and get a modicum of freedom. Tai'dqei wasn't about to give that to her. Honestly, she wasn't sure how long it'd take to earn his trust enough to get him to offer her freedom. This seemed to be the only way, she decided.

Though she doubted Tai'dqei would offer her freedom easily, once she snagged it for herself - even if he caught her again - maybe he'd let her have what she managed to grasp.

If she lived, a treacherous little voice said at the back of her head. But Rayelle steadfastly ignored it as she strode toward the smaller corridor.

—

Okay, so that had been a bad idea. A 100%— No! A 200% bad idea.

Rayelle gasped for breath as she raced through the crowded corridor. Her pack thumped up and down on her back, with every step she took. Even if she'd been in peak physical condition - which she wasn't, even before her abduction - the amount of people milling about the station were numerous obstacles.

She constantly found herself ducking and dodging around bodies. Adjusting her path to the one of least resistance as she hurried and scrambled through the throngs.

Behind her, a horde of fifty or so aliens pursued. It had started when she followed the stranger with the butterfly-like wings sprouting from the sides of their head. The longer and further she followed them, the more people they had shared a look or a few words with.

At first, it hadn't seemed strange. Perhaps they were just amiable and had plenty of friends, connections. It was when some of these friends started to accumulate that Rayelle worried. Some wandered next to Butterfly, some flanked her and made idle conversation with her, others tailed behind her. A pressure descended on her, the warning bells screaming louder in her head, until she felt breathless.

Rayelle didn't remember how she got away. Something that was said, the salacious timbre of the words, looks that made her stomach churn. Or maybe she caught the concerned gaze of onlookers. She couldn't say.

She just suddenly stopped, pushed through a weak side of the group, and took off running. The pounding footfalls of pursuit soon followed behind her, along with a cacophony of shouts and even snarls. At points, it even seemed as if her pursuers fought with each other, as meaty slams or shrieks of pain followed her.

A crackle of something like an intercom hissed overhead, but Rayelle couldn't make out the words. She just ran, just tried to escape. Occasionally, someone - something - would grab at her with a hand or tentacle or claw. She lost her rucksack, her jacket, before she had to resort to yanking away from the touches, slamming fists and elbows and feet into anyone that laid a hand on her.

Suddenly, something big and heavy and invisible landed behind her from above with a hard wham! The unseen thing made Rayelle and other others in the crowd scream, some turning tail and racing off. Rayelle lost her balance as the floor beneath her vibrated with enough intensity to make her bones shudder.

As she tumbled, the impact of her body meeting the floor bruising her hip, she could hear the unseen thing give a familiar snarl and the meaty thump as strikes landed. She managed to roll onto her back, pushing herself further away from the new danger. As her pursuers piled onto the thing, a faint outline of the invisible opponent glittered to life wherever hits landed.

Her eyes widened when - whether due to damage or voluntarily - the cloaking mechanism shut off.

Tai'dqei was there, various aliens piling atop him as he flung them back. Attackers went flying across the corridor, slamming into walls or skidding across the floor. The sound of bones and cartilage cracking echoed, pained screams following quickly after. It was like watching a pride of lions getting tossed through the air like ragdolls by a rhino.

It hadn't taken him long to track down Rayelle. The fucking swarm of aliens running after her had been a decent hint. Instant rage had bubbled up at the sight. Many would enjoy a human companion, for various reasons. And the more he thought about that the angrier he grew.

Tai'dqei had barely taken in a breath, before he clambered up a support beam, jumping and swinging his way toward the chased human. He'd at least had the sense to trigger his cloaking mechanism.

Metal creaked under his weight and lights flickered as his body passed in front of them, but everyone down below was too focused on the chaos in their midst.

The others were gaining on Rayelle, grabbing at her. They'd yanked her rucksack from her back, but it was watching someone haul her jacket off her that made his rage flare even hotter. She had barely stumbled far enough ahead of her pursuers before he dropped between them.

By the time the last contender had been tossed aside, Tai'dqei's chest heaved with enraged breaths. At some point during the brawl, someone had managed to knock his helmet off. It lay yards away, none of the onlookers daring to touch or get close to it. His hands, fingers crooked and ready for more, were held out from his body, ready to strike anyone who dared to come close.

She stared up at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Self-preservation had screamed at her to get up, to run. But something else kept her staring, watching Tai'dqei's muscles flex under his armor as he fought and listening to his aggravated gnarls. As he stood over her, she could but help but admire how his chest heaved from the exertion.

Slowly, Tai'dqei shifted backward, positioning Rayelle between his feet. At that point, she tore her gaze from him, half rolling to her side. She didn't trust herself to keep her gaze to polite areas.

Deep in his chest, a raspy hiss began, before the roar expelled from his chest. A cry caught in Rayelle's throat as she curled up on the floor, partly around Tai'dqei's large foot. His bellow vibrated through her ears, through her skull. But her arms instinctively wrapped around his leg, hugging his familiarity close.

The howl echoed through the corridor, dwindling into a chesty clicking growl that reminded Rayelle of an alligator. Many others fell to their knees or scurried backward, if not outright fled. Some did linger, still watching with concerned expressions.

Tai'dqei's decree was obvious and didn't need words, though.

This human was his.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 2 years

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Contraband

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

The station had grown a lot in the past few years. It had what amounted to thirty two docking ports each designated with a letter/numeral combination. The entire hub colony was built around the universe’s second largest warp ring, though shipping manifests and revenue flow indicated that it was still the highest monetary grossing port in the universe, if not the warp ring with the highest traffic.

Thousands of ships passed through here every cycle, and the residents of the hub had grown used to the intermittent flashes of blue that send ships rocketing out across space, between stars and galaxies. Each warp began with a prechage sequence that sent a line of blue energy down and around the ring, as soon as the ship passed through, the ring would discharge that energy, and the waiting ship would be fired through a warp like a cannonball being shot from a cannon.

Were it nt for the warp stabilizers on the ring itself, the rest of the hub would have been rocked as if shaken by a 7.3 earthquake. However, good engineering and planned maintenance made that only a theoretical reality, and Donovan Red found the intermittent pulse of blue light to be rather soothing.

His operation had grown over the past two years as the hub had grown around him, and more people had brought with it more opportunity both licit and illicit. The hub was so large and experienced so much revenue flow that it was pretty easy to make a shiny credit here and there if you played your cards right.

The hub itself was large, and a few well placed bribes had given him prime real estate on what he considered the, Down, side of the space port. Technically, in space there is no such thing as down, but the average planet dweller isn’t a fan of that fact, so artificial gravity, and the way that people build things usually shows a preferred preference for a certain direction.

He was on, what one might have considered, the underside of the station have been allotted hanger F6, which was, on the small side as far as hangers go and was never intended to take large amounts of cargo. On the original hub plans, Hanger F-6 had been designed as a VIP docking bay for high rollers and rich celebrities, but the pretty little bribe from Red had changed that reality. Now, Deck E5 was the VIP hanger, and this was his own little slice of heaven.

All around him his crew worked tirelessly caring shipment of contraband in and out, loading them up on shuttles and getting ready to send them off, and slip them on ships past the eyes of inspectors.

Smuggling was Red’s favorite activity, and he knew how to di it well.

The first rule of smuggling was knowing what you couldn’t smuggle.

Organic material was an impossibility, that was just a fact of life. The bioscanners at each port were simply to advanced to allow for the movement of plants/animals or unregistered people.

No matter how much money he could have made through the smuggling of the common housecat, it was never going to happen. However, non organic material was much harder for any type of scanner to pick up, and it was more up his alley anyway, not to mention that there were ways of shipping organic material extralegally that wasn’t technically illegal.

When Adam Vir had gone straight after his stint as a smuggler, he had given Red his access to the contacts he used to ship human organic tissue, including vat grown human skin, which Adam had neither mentioned, and Red hadn’t asked what it was used for. He was sure that if he had a conscious, he would have felt weird about it, but if the universe’s biggest school boy was okay with it than, it couldn’t have been too bad.

But out of all of the things Red liked to ship, it was chemical contraband, usually the kind of thing you saw used to make explosives in illegal mining operations where explosives technically weren’t sancitoned but still happened anyway. He liked this particular industry because it usually meant working with Tesraki mining contractors , who were usually greedy bastards with more money than sense.

He watched as a group of his men walked into the hanger, carrying with them a rather cumbersome looking crate on a hover trolley. lThe crate was big, big enough to to fit four grown men in, if you shoved them into boxes in the fetal position and adequately drugged them.

Of course he was sure that was unlikely to be the case.

Still he was curious, sidling over to see what was going on.

Baby K sat with a clipboard, a frown on her half shaved head as she stared down at the clipboard.

She pouted, full lips puckering in mild annoyance.

She had really come into her own over the past few years, and he wasn’t just saying that because of their on again off again relationship thing, which was currently on. Red slipped a hand around her waist, brushing the back of his hand over the back of her tight leather pants as he did.

She slapped his hand away, “not while I’m workin’ Red.”

He grinned and retrieved his hand. He mostly liked it when she got all bossy.

The pout on her face deepened.

He frowned, “Something wrong?’

She shook her head, “This box isn’t on our manifest.” She turned to look at him, the station commander let it past the contraband office and sent it down here, as per our agreement, but he usually doesn’t let go of stuff this big.

Red held out his hand and she handed over the clipboard.

That much was true.

The station commander and himself had a tenuous friendship that amounted to playing rocket ball every other tuesday, and a tentative agreement that he might let a few boxes of contraband slip past as long as red was willing to keep the lower elements of the station under control.

So far their agreement had worked out for the better, but the station commander still had to save face with his people, so that meant, he didn’t usually get to send red anything big, at least not this big.

“Odd.” he leaned forward to examine the box, “no labels?”

One of his other flunkies shook his head, “No, Boss. It Doesn’t even have a shipping tag.’

That was even more strange.

In order to ship cargo to a location, it had to have the proper shipping tag. It was like tagging your luggage at a spaceport. How were they supposed to know where you wanted your stuff to go if it wasn’t properly labeled, and even if it wasn’t labeled normally, smugglers had their own signs and identifications that would let you know where something was going.

This had nothing.

Red crossed his arms over his chest, “Open it.”

His men scurried to do as told, and it took them a few minutes, but finally, they were rewarded with the pop of a containment lid.

Red slid over with the others, stepping up onto the edge of the hover trolley to peer inside.

When he looked inside, Red was immediately filled with an odd sensation of cold.

He couldn’t have described why, but, the contents of that crate did nothing but to turn his blood cold.

Little vils of glowing orange liquid neatly packed into containers.

“Red.”

There was a pause before Red looked up to see baby Kay holding something out to him.

A holopad.

He took it in one hand, and as soon as he did, the screen burst to life with a static crackle. The screen lit up, though when it did it showed nothing but a black void, and a pair of burning yellow eyes.

“For the acolytes, you know what to do.”

And then the image shut off.

Red pulled back in surprise and stared at the holopad, which he turned over slowly in his hands. On the back it said, K to N.

It wasn’t for him, that was sure enough, and he had no idea who N was, but he was certain he knew who K was.

“Baby, get me a line to Admiral Vir.”

Baby K bared an order at one of the younger women, who hurried over after no less than a few moments with Red’s personal holopad. He took it in one hand, scrolling through his list of contacts before finding the one he was looking or.

There was only a few second delay before the screen lit up.

For a moment Red was left confused, thinking he had called the wrong number, but that thought was soon dissipated when the man spoke, “Red, hell its been a while”

His voice belied his age, and Red had to blink a few times before the face solidified in his vision.

“Admiral, is that you…. Holy fuck you look terrible.”

Admiral Vir frowned, “You’re looking good too red, thanks, never felt better.’

“Sorry but….. Weren’t you blonde the last time I saw you.”

The man huffed, and ran a hand through his now white hair, “Premature graying runs in my family.” He supposed that was believable enough. He still had a youthful enough face. What was he, early thirties now, but still he looked like shit. His human eyes was bloodshot, and dark circles dominated his face below his eyes. From what little of him Red could see, he looked to be laid up in bed part of his upper torso bandaged, though, most of it was off screen.

“Well, I’m sorry if this is a bad time, but I don’t think this can wait.”

Adam frowned, “I…. well I’m not really in the condition to go anywhere right now, Red. is there any way you can come to me/”

Red glanced over at the large crate and nodded. It didn’t mater what he thought was important. Baby K could take care of the operation while he was gone, but whatever this was it took precedent.

“I think I can do that.” he glanced back at Adam with a raised eyebrow.

“Seriously, what happened to you.”

Adam gave a tight lipped smile.

“What happens to all of us red. Life.”

Red shook his head in mild disbelief, “nah, what happens to you doesn’t happen to the average person and you know that. The rest of us have all our limbs.”

Adam gave a wry smile, “Just get your ass down here, and we can count all my robotic parts together.”

“Say any more and a man might think you’re filtering with him.”

“With you red, not on your life.”

Red grinded shortly before cutting off the call, his face becoming serious again as he handed the holopad back to baby K.

He had a feeling there weren’t going to be many reasons to smile on this trip.

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hasufin · 5 months

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The banality of disaster

i just finished reading an oddly fascinating book: The Wreck of the Carl D. Bradley.

This book, as you might have guessed from the subtle title, is about the sinking of the SS. Carl D. Bradley.

On paper, this should be a pretty damned boring book. Interesting to a very select group of people, certainly, but not of general interest.

If you're unfamiliar - which you almost certainly are, because even if you're "into" this sort of thing this disaster was far overshadowed by the more famous Edmund Fitzgerald, which at least got a song - the facts are thus:

The Carl Bradley was a Great Lakes freighter which hauled stone - mostly limestone - for the Michigan Limestone company.

In a heavy storm on November 18. 1958 the ship broke apart (either wholly or partially) due to hogging (wave action which exerted longitudinal force on the ship) and sank rapidly. Due to the intensity of the storm, rescue efforts largely failed and ultimately only two of the 37 men on the ship were rescued.

Subsequent investigation was unable to determine any particular cause of the wreck, and the inquiry concluded the Master of the ship had exercised poor judgement in going out in the storm. The only substantial recommendations were to improve the life vests of the time to have crotch straps, as there was some indication that some of the men drowned due to having to hold their flotation devices and thus became exhausted; and some improvements in the life rafts and lifeboats.

Now, the death of 35 people is not unimportant, but all told this doesn't seem to have the makings of an entire book. There's no thrilling conclusion, there's no unlikely hero, and even the technical details are wanting: a ship went out in a heavy Autumn storm and sank.

Schumacher does, however, bring a great deal of value in contextualizing and humanizing the story. He discusses some of the crew and officers, explaining why they were on that ship at that time - which ran the gamut from ambitious men who hoped to become captain or chief engineer, to those whose families were intertwined with sailing on the Great Lakes, to those who were somewhat less tethered and simply glad to get some regular income until they moved on to the next thing.

He talks about the community which was hit hard by this tragedy: the bulk of those lost came from a single small town which existed largely to serve the limestone industry. And here one is stuck by the difference in the era: of police and company representatives driving to the homes of each family affected not just out of respect but also necessity: many of them did not even have telephones. It's hard to really wrap a modern mind around the void of information, reliant on radio, hand-delivered material, and actual visitors for all news.

One point of frustration is the technical detail. Now, to be sure, there is some and it's a difficult matter to gauge how much to include. Moreover, no one has ever proven any exact cause. Eyewitness accounts say the ship broke in two amidships: that the survivors who were in the fore of the ship saw the deck tear apart and the fore and aft separate. Later investigation found the ship appearing to rest as one piece, but subsequent dives discovered that the ship had broken apart but the pieces came to rest together - though there is some suspicion the keel held together.

But no one has proven specific defects in the ship which would have caused this wreck. On the other hand, while the storm was exceptional, the Carl Bradley should have been able to weather it.

(My own suspicion is that it was a confluence of issues: the steel used in ships laid down at that time sometimes had excess sulfur, which made it brittle in cold conditions; the design of that particular ship made it more prone to twisting and hogging than most other ships; auto-loaders like the Carl Bradley - that is, a ship designed to be able to load and unload its own cargo rather than being reliant on dockside equipment - took more wear and more damage than similar ships as they could cycle faster and serve less-frequented harbors. there was some deferred maintenance which may have contributed; and modern weather models suggest Great Lakes storms could be more treacherous than was understood at the time. With the benefit of hindsight the captain should have taken refuge instead of trying to keep schedule, and most (but not all) other ships did just that; but it seems he did reasonably think his ship could handle it, and was fatally wrong.)

Yet what all this shows is that you can provide an interesting enough story without the typical elements. sufficiently humanized, just surviving is sufficient.

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stevetonyweekly · 2 years

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SteveTony Weekly - May 1st

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories!

BTW-- anon asks are finally turned on because I realized they weren’t. I have a few more mini rec lists to post for the follower appreciation giveaway, so look for those over the week!

**Indicates my recent favs

~*~

P.S. by IronDadStan

Tony leaves for a job opportunity, leaving Steve and the life they built behind.

So, what happens when Tony is planning on moving back home after two years abroad and dials Steve's number?

soft spot by meidui

They grow old together. The simple life.

The Longing and Yearning by Sineala

The year is 1963, and Colonel Steve Rogers has been the Iron Man since 1940. His recent brush with death in a fight against the Hulk has left him scarred, broken, and -- unwillingly -- in retirement. He'll never wear the armor again. Tony Stark, the new owner of Stark Industries, is young, brilliant, ambitious, and he has a few ideas of his own about the next Iron Man. But when Tony shows up at Steve's door one evening, the conversation quickly turns to matters other than business. Tony is smart, gorgeous, half Steve's age, and he's definitely not offering what Steve and his lonely fantasies wish he were offering. And even if he were, Steve should definitely not take him up on it.

New Traditions by nightwalker

Tony's starting to think that tackling the whole teamwork thing, the sobriety thing and the holidays thing all at once might have been overly ambitious. AKA: Steve and Tony throw the first Annual Avengers Non-Denominational Winter Holiday Party.

blue oleander by starvels (dinosaur)

It's been seven years since Earth was destroyed. What remains of humanity, of the superhero community, is on a ship, half-lost in the deep of space.

But they're not alone. And what crawls through the portals in the aft cargo bay, day after day, is about as human as Steve feels anymore.

Until You're Ready by exfatalist

Of course, the only way he could get back to normal was to put an end to the friendly, concerned harassment of his teammates and stow his own embarrassment over the whole ordeal.

So, really, actually, Tony needed to get laid.

“Cap, I need you to pop my cherry.”

Standard Deviation by viklikesfic (v_angelique)

“Well… I guess all it would tell me is a name and some other medical language, right? That doesn’t seem to mean much, compared to what I already know about how my body works.”

“And if you need to elaborate on that,” Tony grins, pushing a kiss against Steve’s jaw, “I’d be happy to help you out with an experimental approach. Hint, it’s going to involve a lot of tongue.”

“Tony, all your plans these days involve a

Every True Thing by dirigibleplumbing

After escaping captivity, Steve and Tony go to a safe house. Ordinarily, it would just be boring. But they’ve both been dosed with truth serum….

that's an order by ArabellaAM

Confusion is a state of mind Steve has made himself acquainted with; so much so, it no longer registers as something strange, but rather as this constant thing that’s always there, always in the back of his mind, no longer taking all the space it once took. It's become something that doesn't make him trip anymore.

At least, that’s what he thought until Tony started obeying orders.

Or, Tony suddenly starts obeying orders and Steve has lots of questions.

Parallel by thyrza

In 1987, following the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark, Tony Stark chose a different path. The genius heir to Stark Industries and a multi-billion dollar fortune disappeared from the public eye, mysteriously around the time Tony Carbonell cropped up in the small town of Cedar Falls, Iowa, and found a job as a middle school science teacher.

Twenty-five years later, Steve Rogers has newly woken in the 21st century and is still struggling to adjust to life in the modern world and as a SHIELD agent, when he's assigned to an undercover mission in the midwest. His assignment? Bring Tony Stark back to New York to claim his legacy from the double-dealing clutches of his father's old business partner, Obadiah Stane.

Bright Things and Fair by sheron

The course of true love never did run smooth — and neither did time-travel to retrieve the Tesseract. When circumstances outside their control force Steve and Tony to spend more time together in the 1970, they do what two people with their history do under the circumstances: work together and try to get through it without unnecessary feelings getting in the way. Falling for each other is definitely a bad idea, isn't it?

all the time in the world by starklystar

Steve stares at the green stone shining in the air above Tony’s hand, not quite comprehending what he just heard.

“I’m sorry,” he blinks confusedly at his husband, “you can control time now? With that? I thought you hated magic?”

“Well,” Tony grins at him, “I figured this magic has its uses.”

Blue eyes, Blond hair... And Dumb. by Iggysassou

"Steve: What’s your type?

Tony: Tall, muscular, blond hair, dumb, blue eyes.

Steve: That kinda sound like me, too bad I’m not a girl.

Tony: Did I mention dumb?"

Steve wants to know what Tony’s type is. Tony answers him but forgets that Steve can be... a little oblivious.

Mr. Right and Mr. Right Now by iam93percentstardust

Radio host Steve Rogers knows it's a bad idea to keep falling into bed with his co-host. He can list the reasons with his eyes closed: they work together, they already tried dating, their breakup had been so explosive they hadn't spoken or even seen each other in ten years despite working in a relatively small field - there are a million of them. But he can't seem to stop himself, and since Tony can't seem to stop either, surely it can't be that bad of an idea, right? It's just sex. It doesn't matter that he wants to stay, that Tony wants him to stay too. But when the owner of the station announces big changes coming to their show, Steve is forced to confront his lingering feelings for Tony - and whether he's waited too long to confront them.

Too Little, too late by Cards_Slash

The newspapers liked to call him a Futurist when he did something they liked, and it suited him fine because the word tasted like victory when he said it. Long before he’d woken up in a dark cave, before necessity had created the Iron Man suit, before tragedy had woken him up to the cost of his ignorance, his only super power had been the ability to create things that had no business belonging here and now.

Shame then, really, that all of his foresight, and all of his genius, and all of his creations couldn’t have predicted this moment.

sweet enough on the vine by meidui

Tony says he likes this bar, but what he really likes is the stunning older man behind the bar with bright blue eyes and dirty-blond hair silvering at the edges.

tell me that you're mine by Areiton

“What’ll you have?” he asks, his voice low and Tony’s gaze flicks up, darts over his face, and then down, to the top of his tattoo, the larkspur flower flirting with the hollow of his throat. Tony swallows hard and Steve wants to trace it with his tongue.

“Whatever you’ll give me.”

Sugar on Top by FestiveFerret

When Tony's relationship turns out to be a recipe for disaster, a chance encounter with a Brooklyn baker serves up something sweet.

#stevetony weekly #stevetony fic #fic rec #stevetony #stony #stony fic #stony fic rec #rec list #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america

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anderwhohn · 1 year

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@dutyworn || not-so-random plotted starter

After a quick introduction of Dr. Mordin Solus to Dr. Chakwas and the medical team in the Normandy's medbay, Isabela finds herself once again kicked out so that they can focus on their patient. She knows it's for the best, so that they can focus on saving Garrus's life and ensuring he has full functionality of the side of his face that took a direct hit from a gunship's rocket, but at the same time, it's difficult not being able to be there for her best friend, even with everything else that needs her attention on the Normandy.

"I assume our 'guest' has been well behaved?" she asks Nihlus as she heads for the cabinets, opening the one dedicated to the dextro food storage to rummage through her personal levo supplies stored there, never having gained a true taste for most human foods unlike the majority of the current crew, preferring instead that of the asari and salarians instead. She sticks with just a protein bar for now, ignoring the stern look the older Spectre gives her as she waves off his concern, knowing she's no doubt burned through her energy reserves with her biotics, however limited they may be.

"I made sure she was fed and had Chambers find her a ship suit in her size. Chakwas had one of the medics run a triage scan on her - she'll need medical attention, but not so urgently that she can't wait until Garrus is taken care of," Nihlus offers, his subvocals thrumming with his disapproval of her dismissal of her own needs, even though he knows it's not worth fighting her over it right now, at least until Garrus is back on his feet and on their six once more.

"Well, that's something, at least," she sighs wearily, making quick work of the protein bar before tossing the wrapper into the waste disposal chute. "Any idea how she got onboard? Or who she even is?"

Nihlus shakes his head, gesturing for her to follow him, heading for the elevator. "No idea, on either account. She's not on any list for C-Sec, the Hierarchy, or the Spectres, at least."

"But that doesn't mean she shouldn't be on one," Isabela points out, pressing the button to take them down to the cargo bay where their prisoner waits in one of the holding cells. "It's not like the Protectorate has records of every human in the Terminus. They can barely keep tabs on the ones in the Traverse."

Nihlus breathes a low hum of agreement, his subvocals giving away more of his wariness regarding the whole situation. None of this sits well with him, with an unknown human finding her way aboard a state-of-the-art war ship without even the highly illegal AI noticing until she was inside. "If Lawson is to be believed, she's not Cerberus personnel. And I doubt you'd find a merc wearing Alliance N7 armour, no matter how damaged it might be…"

Stepping out of the elevator into the cargo bay, Isabela frowns at all the wasted space where the armoury should be, as opposed to Cerberus's choice of putting it on the combat deck. "We really should see about making a few retrofits when we find dry dock to make upgrades," she notes quietly with a quick glance up at him before heading toward the holding cell. "At least to move the main weapons and armaments lockers down here."

A quiet huff of amusement escapes the turian at her side, earning him a wry smirk before she focuses instead on dealing with their unexpected 'guest', the warmth and mischief she displays with her partner vanishing behind a mask of cold calculation as she studies the other human trapped behind the barrier curtain of the cell.

"I am Isabela Shepard, an agent of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. My partner is Spectre Nihlus Kryik," she starts, her tone that of bored indifference as she handles their introductions. "You boarded our ship, the Normandy, without authorization. I hope for your sake you have a damn good story, because I have better things to do than deal with a spirits forsaken stowaway right now."

#dutyworn #dreams of elsewhere ( ic )#engineering death ( isabela shepard )#altverse || this could be... problematic ( crucible bs | shepard )#wren shepard || dutyworn ( shepard )#against insurmountable odds ( closed starter )#altverse au || things just got a lot more complicated ( crucible bs | shepard )

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the-hindu-times · 7 months

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Life of Pi 3/10/23

Woking New Victoria Theatre

Beginning life as a Man Booker Prize 2001 novel by Yang Marte, Life of Pi became a four-time Oscar winning Ang Lee movie in 2012, before being adapted for the Broadway stage by Lolita Chakrabarti in 2019. It went on to win five Olivier Awards after its transfer into the West End in 2021. It tells the story of 17-year-old Piscine Molitor “Pi” Patel from Pondicherry, India; opening in a white-walled hospital where Pi is questioned about his remarkable 227 day sea survival, after the cargo ship he was sailing from India to Canada, with his mum, dad, sister and the animals from the family zoo, sank during a violent storm. We find Pi stranded on a lifeboat in the Pacific Ocean with a hyena, a zebra, an orangutan and Royal Bengal tiger, called Richard Parker, for company. Pi and the tiger manage to co-exist for the entire journey, both sharing a strong desire to live. The veil between reality and imagination merges with Pi telling two versions of his survival and challenges his interrogators to decide which version they prefer. Pi explores the nature of reality and the role of religious faith in life although this never dominates the fundamental story of human survival and the spectacle of the staging.

RADA graduate, Divesh Subaskaran, makes a very impressive professional stage debut as the lead. He is charming in the role; with youthful high spirits and a playful attitude to religion whilst showing endearing warmth towards the wellbeing of the animals. He wonderfully holds our attention and showcases his athleticism as he leaps and bounds across the set. He is able to draw us into his storytelling no matter how incredible the tale gets and beautifully connects what happened in the past to the present day.

This narrative would be nothing without the wonder created by Tim Hatley's extraordinary set, with the design and the incredibly creative projections transporting you to several different worlds. With seamless transitions from one scene to another, at times it felt like the set was unfolding perpetually as layers, each more stunning than the last. There were three main contrasting environments created: The beige hospital room in Mexico, in which the interrogation takes place; The dramatic Pacific Ocean seas in which his lifeboat sails; and the wonderful colourful life in India before the voyage. Evocative pictures enhanced by clever little details in the projections, conjure the unimaginably vast strangeness of the ocean, thoughtfully bringing this incredible story and journey to life through each bold scene.

Along with Divesh, it was Finn Caldwell’s incredible and magnificent array of memorable puppets that were the equal stars of the show - in particular the main creatures: the unfortunate playful goat; the wonderful Zebra, who breaks its leg; the impressive orang-utan; and the vengeful Hyena... were all superb... but, it was the Bengal Tiger that dominated the action; It moved with a cat like smoothness as it prowled the cage; every breath and step immaculately choreographed. The puppeteers breathed real life and emotion into the creatures and made it look effortless. When the lights, puppets, projections and set all come together, the effect was out of this world, yet so real - like we were out there with Pi on the open seas.

Life of Pi stands as one of the most visually stunning theatre shows I’ve ever seen - in particular the second half; when you could really appreciate the artistry of the three puppeteers who were responsible for Richard Parker (my eye was quick to dismiss the handlers, in order to focus solely on the tiger’s movements).

While the book is more philosophical, this visually stunning stage adaptation is still full of heart and its core themes are still present; A tale of survival, endurance of human spirit, hope and examining what truth exactly is. We were gripped from beginning to end; with focus continuously pulled to fantastical stagecraft - a demonstration of the puppetry art form that makes you only see the creature and not the people behind it - that allowed us to easily suspend our disbelief and accept the tale, even when we finally know the truth.

Life of Pi is a must-see production and a creative masterpiece.

Mittal Patel

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abbyindenhaag · 1 year

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Marathon Marching

After navigating through the first streamlets of early-bird marathon spectators, our first stop today was the Cabinet War Rooms in nearby Westminster. Basically, the war rooms were an underground HQ created just weeks before the outbreak of war in 1939, and included the most important operations as well as living quarters. They were closed up and sealed off very soon after the war ended in 1945, so they were able to be restored quite faithfully and turned into a museum documenting their use at the time. I wouldn’t say I learned very much surprising there, since I feel the British war effort is *exceedingly* well-documented, but I appreciated seeing the “rooms where it happened”, as it were. There were videos of women who had worked as secretaries when they were 18 recalling the environment -- some of it sounded Covid-y, like being cooped up in tiny rooms and rarely going outside, and not knowing if disaster was coming for you today or not, but others less so (like, the camaraderie of being around other people). It was horribly stuffy and hot, and people were theoretically protected from some dangers, e.g. they had gas masks and armed guards, but probably the gas mask wouldn’t work and the concrete slab above the rooms may not have done anything if the building really was bombed, and anyway if the Germans managed to breach the banks of the Thames somehow the basements could have been flooded. But, they carried on.

Above: Reconstruction of an officer’s chambers underground. Note the carpet - a sign of status!

The visit inspired us to start reading a book that has long been on Bart’s list called An Army at Dawn, about the Allied North Africa campaign in 1942-43. I don’t usually read war books, for possibly obvious reasons (it’s the death and suffering), but I have been enjoying this one so far. I’m a little ashamed to admit that in recent years I have felt a certain lack of curiosity about history, among other nonfiction topics. I’m not sure whether this is due to the narrowness of the economist’s gaze, a feeling that at 29 I’ve got a pretty good idea of How Things Generally Work, or something else. But learning more about a campaign that I could probably have told you max one sentence about before has reminded me how refreshing details can be. The quartermasters in the US bought up thousands of pairs of nylon stockings to send with the armada to barter with North Africans! Ships’ cargo holds were packed so badly that soldiers broke windshields climbing over trucks looking for their gear. The wind was so treacherous at the Rock of Gibraltar that windsocks at the ends of the runway often pointed opposite directions! Beyond the drama, the details also have been reminding me that nothing is written in advance. Enough uncertainty exists -- in weather conditions and human nature -- that the course of history could easily have gone differently. So there’s a reason to want to learn why things turned out the way they did.

The other really cool thing in the museum was they had some of the original charts and documents that were used in the map room. You could see all the holes in the maps where they had moved ships around the ocean, with surprisingly many dots on the US Atlantic seaboard. I hadn’t realized there was so much relevant activity there? Also, close to my heart, there was a chart of food price inflation by category over the years. Besides the subject matter (inflation), it also makes one think about how much more work it took to make a chart back then than it does now. How long do we think this took to make? Three hours? A day?

There was another part of the museum focused on Churchill, his life and his legacy. Bart was surprised his parents totally ignored him as a child, while I had basically expected that as an upper-class young British lad. I hadn’t known, though, that he supplemented his income in the early years of his soldiering by selling articles to newspapers as a war correspondent. Based on the bits of his speeches that I know, I expect he was an exceedingly good writer, so I kind of want to read his memoir of his early years just for the writing. I’d also like to learn more about his wife, who sounds like an excellent person but did not get a lot of airtime in this museum.

When we emerged from the museum the marathon was in full swing. The grounds outside Whitehall (above, maybe? IDK any of the building names and they are all white and hall-ish) had been made up into a stadium and the final ~600 meters of the race were around the edge of St. James’s Park, which we walked through on our way to Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. I strongly dislike crowds and don’t really understand the appeal of watching repeated cross-sections of an objectively somewhat boring activity, so I was surprised to find myself a bit swept up by the energy of the crowd cheering for the runners on the last leg. We humans are odd creatures.

I don’t have super much to report from Hyde Park/Kensington Gardens except that it is a huge relief to finally know what they look like and how they fit together. And what the average population density is! Strikingly, it was much lower density than Central Park in Manhattan, though that might possibly have been due to the drizzliness. But I don’t think so, I think they genuinely just have a lot of green space that they are willing to mow.

Above: Bart and his fuel (tea)

Below: Me and my fuel (flowers and turtlenecks)

For some reason, there was a statue of a guy on a horse who appeared to have no skin, called only “physical energy.” ?????

After the Parks we wandered around Kensington and grabbed lunch in this cute cafe, which had excellent crepes:

Kensington had tons of beautiful houses, flowering trees, and expensive cars.Bart pointed out that the buildings typically go to 5 or 6 stories instead of the 3-story Boston standard, and they didn’t look any less nice. Hear that, Boston?!

Below: a policeman exhausted by the marathon crowds we encountered on our way back to our hotel. Me too, man. But maybe for different reasons. Our mile count for the day was about 7.5 -- so like, one quarter of a marathon. At walking pace. Over the whole day. Practically the same!

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talabib · 1 year

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Wisdom From The World Of Finance.

Think back to 2008. In that fateful year, the global economy crashed dramatically. The stock market sank. The huge investment bank Lehman Brothers collapsed. Many lives were ruined in a matter of months. It was a tragedy, and the blame lay squarely on an irresponsible and greedy financial system.

Finance, then, has a grubby reputation. At certain moments, as we’ve just heard, that reputation is fully deserved. But when the only perspective on finance is negative, we all miss out. Because, quite simply, there’s a lot more to finance than greed and irresponsible speculating.

In this post, we’ll discover some surprising wisdom from the world of finance. We’ll look at what a diversified stock portfolio can tell us about life experience. We’ll see what romantic partners can learn from corporate mergers and we’ll compare parenting to taking on debt. Read on for more strange and wonderful insights from the world of finance.

Finance isn’t just for investment bankers; it’s for all of us.

Consider this familiar scene, set inside the glass and steel of a Wall Street skyscraper. At the center of a stylish and sleek open-plan office, with necktie askew and feet on the desk, is the infamous day-trader.

For many of us, it’s a picture of unlimited greed. We remember the 2008 crash. We see the leering figure of Gordon Gekko in the film Wall Street.

But the truth is that many good, intelligent people spend their lives working in finance. Are they all engaged in a purely base, amoral business? Well, no, they’re not. Like any complex human endeavor, finance has a great deal to teach us, if we look at it the right way.

One major obstacle in coming to grips with finance is the traditional “Wall Street/Main Street” divide. On one side, Wall Street doesn’t help. The language of finance is often inscrutable. For instance, what’s the difference between “leverage” and “borrowing”? What exactly is “equity”? What do “options” mean? And further, Wall Street has behaved badly, from the excesses of the 1980s all the way to the 2008 crash.

On the “Main Street” side, the widespread belief that the entire financial profession is greedy and amoral only strengthens the divide. This perspective in turn damages the way in which people working in finance see themselves. And it means that the valuable lessons contained within the realm of finance are lost to most people.

So how can we bridge this gap? We need to link finance to our broader human and intellectual endeavors. The book Confusion de Confusiones, by the seventeenth-century merchant Joseph de la Vega, provides an excellent example.

In this depiction of the markets of Amsterdam, Vega portrays a conversation among a philosopher, a merchant, and a shareholder. When the philosopher admits to knowing little about markets, the shareholder rebukes him. How could such a worldly man neglect this fascinating topic? He describes finance as “a quintessence of academic learning and a paragon for fraudulence . . . a treasury of usefulness and a source of disaster.” In other words, finance is complex, full of both the bad and the good.

Insurance is grounded in common endeavor, not just financial calculation

Let’s face it⁠—insurance has a bad reputation. We imagine boring, nerdy, even ghoulish executives profiting from the misery of others. But as with many things in finance, this is a reductive view.

In fact, insurance originates on the swashbuckling high seas. As shipping goods across oceans carried such risk, insurance was invented to share this risk among many parties – including all the owners of the various goods on board the ship.

This type of insurance emerged around 1000 BC on the Greek island of Rhodes, and is known as the Lex Rhodia. In essence, it states that if the captain of a ship had to throw some goods overboard to save the rest of the cargo, it was only fair that the owners of the saved goods compensate those of the lost goods.

Three millenia later, it still applies to cargo ships, and today is called “the law of general average.” It ensures that everyone assumes the same risk when the boat sets sail. Effectively, it asserts that we’re all in this together.

The American philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce even used this notion of insurance as an argument for virtuous living. He reasoned that, as insurance companies need to account for all kinds of unforeseen risks, they can only understand those risks through the experience of others. As our personal experience is limited, we can only prepare for the worst by understanding what countless others have faced. The bigger the sample, the better the prediction.

To understand the experience of others fully, we must empathize with them, too. Peirce declares: “To be logical, men should not be selfish.” So, contrary to the self-centered philosophies of economic thinkers like Ayn Rand or Friedrich Hayek, Peirce used this element of finance to advocate for a more compassionate world.

The fundamental role of insurance is to help mitigate the disorder and chaos that we all face – from the sudden onslaught of pirates or crop-killing frost to a faulty stepladder – and to make sure that we are protected. The lesson here is that we all benefit when we face these things together, with empathy and understanding.

Diversification is a good thing.

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket!” How often have you heard that old chestnut? It’s not bad advice for investors: unless you’re Warren Buffet, betting everything on just one or two stocks can spell disaster in a world where firms go bust every day.

Enter the principle of diversification – the art of spreading out risk across many stocks from diverse economic sectors and geopolitical areas. So if ExxonMobil’s share price takes a beating, no sweat: your stocks in Toyota, Heineken, and HSBC compensate. It doesn’t have to stop with the stock market, either.

In life, as in finance, cultivating diverse experiences, friendships, and education can be enormously beneficial.

Imagine yourself a student of anthropology. As a future anthropologist, you may need to understand the way early Phoenician traders valued their goods. With an economics class under your belt, you’d be much better equipped, wouldn’t you? In other words, rather than focusing all of your energy on your main subject, it could be more fruitful if you took classes in different subjects. After all, who knows what information might become essential after graduation? The principle of “diversification” can change your life for the better.

There’s a further lesson, too. Investors often diversify their portfolio with three different types of assets: high-beta, low-beta, and negative-beta. A high-beta asset is very risky, but has potentially enormous gains when the market is roaring. A low-beta asset is reliable, but not particularly lucrative. A negative-beta asset is one that, like gold, makes no money at all in good times, but is reliable when everything else is crashing.

If we extend this metaphor for a moment, we all have high, low, and negative-beta people in our lives. A “high-beta” might be someone we’re acquainted with for career purposes, who might open doors for us but won’t be the first person we turn to in a crisis. A “low-beta” is a good, steadfast friend. A “negative-beta”? They’re the people, like our family or closest friends, to whom we can turn for shelter in a storm.

Just like the investor, we must balance our life’s “portfolio” with these people, and value them accordingly. When was the last time you phoned your “negative-beta”?!

In life, as with investment, luck plays an enormous role in our success or failure.

Remember the Parable of the Talents, from the New Testament? Before going on a journey, the master of a house entrusts three servants to look after his money. He leaves each of them a slightly different amount, according to their talents.

Upon returning, he finds that the two most able servants have invested his money and made a profit. The third, to whom he entrusted the least, just saved the original sum. Rather than punishing the investors who risked his wealth, he rewards them. The man who risked nothing, however, is scorned for his lack of initiative.

Many in the world of finance have interpreted this parable to mean that the market rewards the smartest, most entrepreneurial people, and punishes the meek. It’s a brutal, Darwinian way of seeing things. But does it stand up to scrutiny? The market suggests not.

Most investors don’t profit off their talent alone. The truth is, those who invest in index funds, which rise and fall with the whole market, outperform so-called stock-picking “mavericks.” And the few who do beat the market? Well, a good deal of that is down to luck.

If you ask 100 of your friends to stand in a large room and toss coins repeatedly, at least one person will flip “heads” over and over. Investing is the same. Truly successful investors have a great deal of luck on their side – yes, even Warren Buffet. For all his extraordinary success, he has occasionally made some bad investments.

Investors who think themselves masters of their destiny would do well to accept just how lucky they’ve been. Otherwise, they’re in for a nasty surprise when that luck runs out and shares plummet. For the rest of us, market fluctuations can demonstrate just how central the role of chance is plays into the world around us.

Finance teaches us to enjoy our successes when they come, but with humility and generosity, knowing that others may have succeeded had fortune favored them instead.

Seeing ourselves as “principals” and “agents” in our relationships can bring clarity.

When you head to the bank and ask an advisor to help you set up a new savings account, you enter into a relationship common to finance. You’ve become a “principal,” and the advisor, your “agent,” is there to carry out your instructions.

This relationship is replicated throughout the world of finance. For instance, shareholders are principals who’ve tasked their agent, the CEO of a company, with returning good value for their investment. The CEO is a principal, too, who empowers her agents – the company’s employees – to work for the company. This principal/agent relationship helps clarify the motivations of those who work with money.

Understanding these agent/principal dynamics can shed considerable light on our personal relationships. Consider the way in which we parent our children. Are we truly acting as their “agent” when we nurture them? We might believe that by encouraging them to read certain books, take up certain musical instruments, or attend certain classes, we’re acting purely as their agents.

But isn’t it also true that parents raise their children to reflect the parents’ own values and tastes? In that case, then, the parents would be the principal in this relationship, tasking their children to satisfy their own demands.

Let’s return to that company CEO, acting on behalf of her shareholders. On the surface, she appears to be a wonderful agent for those investors, returning excellent dividends year after year.

But the truth might be that she is acting as the agent for her own interests. In raising dividends over the short term, she hopes to curry favor with the board of directors and secure a pay raise. These dividend increases might even be unsustainable for her company, whose entire financial future would be jeopardized. So, not a good agent for the shareholders after all.

In finance, it’s quite easy to clarify the agent/principle dynamic. Business relationships are more straightforward than the complex webs we weave in our personal lives. But, as with finance, if we can clearly define the kind of relationship we’re in, we’re able to be more honest about our motivations. And guess what? Honesty leads us to be better friends, partners, and parents.

Financial mergers can teach us a lot about romance.

January 11, 2001 marked the beginning of what was supposed to be “the romance of the century.” Whose romance, you ask? Two movie stars? A prince and princess? Competing athletes? Think again.

The date marks the merger of two corporate giants of the age: the internet pioneer AOL and entertainment behemoth Time Warner. Venture capitalists called it “the single most transformational event” in American business.

By 2009 it was all over: after years of acrimony, they formally separated. The merger had been an expensive failure, wiping out billions in market value. Just like an ill-suited marriage, they’d both chosen badly.

So what lessons can we learn from a business merger that we might apply to our romantic lives?

First, due diligence is critical. In the case of Time Warner, it never vetted AOL’s financials thoroughly. This meant that they missed serious accounting fraud on AOL’s books, which hurt the merger down the line. In the case of a long-term romance, there is wisdom in vetting your potential partner, too. Do you both want the same things? Do you enjoy living together? Are children on the agenda? If you fail in your due diligence on these critical issues, heartbreak is inevitable.

Second, filling a hole in your life is not a good “merger strategy.” In the case of the AOL-Time Warner merger, the CEO of Time Warner felt he was “behind the times” when it came to technology, so he sought a merger with a digital media company. Unfortunately, this quick-fix was wrong for both companies, and failed to account for fundamental incompatibilities. Apply this to our romantic lives: choosing a partner because that person seems to make up for a lack in ourselves is deeply unwise. Just because someone has something you don’t – say, money or confidence – isn’t a good reason to date that person!

Finally, unequal mergers are easy, but of limited value. Time Warner quickly became dominant in the merger with AOL and imposed its business practices on the younger company. Mergers like this – which are, in essence, takeovers – appear easy, but they tend to fall apart as resentments linger. “Unequal mergers” between two people are rarely a good idea, either. Any partnership is on firmer ground when it’s between two people who respect each other as equals.

Sometimes taking on debt is necessary.

Suppose you want to start a new company that specializes in selling oat milk. You’ve identified a key market for the product, designed a cool logo, and purchased a domain name. Now what? Certainly, you’ll need money – to purchase stock from wholesalers, hire your staff, and pay distribution costs. Most likely, you’ll need to borrow capital from a bank or private lender.

In other words, to get off the ground, you’ll first need to go into debt. Just like businesses, we sometimes need to take on debt to achieve our dreams. This debt can be economic, or more abstract.

Take education as an example. To gain a qualification that helps our financial prospects later in life, we often get into debt. We pay tuition fees in the hope that this investment will pay off in the wonderful job we’ll get later.

The same is true when we consider having children. Raising a child is an expensive business. But here the debt isn’t just financial, it's emotional. When we have children, they draw heavily on our emotional resources, demanding unconditional love and endless attention. But many parents argue that all of these “debts” are paid off with unimaginable riches. As we watch children grow up and discover the world around them, we rediscover it ourselves.

In short, debt can pay off handsomely in the long term. Let’s consider the example of contemporary artist Jeff Koons. After working as a Wall Street trader, Koons understood finance quite well. He therefore understood that without debt, he couldn’t function as a successful artist. His enormous sculptures are possible only with a great deal of initial financing. His shiny balloon dog or Michael Jackson pieces, for instance, required lots of costly materials and expertise to craft.

So, to ensure that he can produce a new work, he sells it first – before he’s made it. In effect, two parties enter into a debt relationship: Koons is indebted to the buyer, for whom he now makes the work. The buyer takes on a debt that might never be repaid if Koons fails to make the piece. Without debt, however, there is no shiny new sculpture at all.

Like finance, life demands moral complexity.

Imagine yourself the owner of a delivery business that has hit a rough patch. You’re confronted with a choice: for the business to survive, you can either lay off your talented new apprentice, or require everyone to take a big pay cut. Which do you choose?

Life is full of difficult, complicated decisions like this. And, sadly for us, we can’t avoid them.

Here’s an example from the world of finance. To the public, former CEO of American Airlines Gerard Arpey is something of a moral giant. In the 2000s, when other airlines declared bankruptcy so they could “renegotiate” expensive pensions and labor contracts, he held firm, saying, “Call me old-fashioned. But I think companies ought to pay people back.”

Meanwhile, American Airlines struggled with these expensive commitments. But rather than give in to pressure from the board of directors, who wanted the company to declare bankruptcy, Arpey resigned. After stepping down he was celebrated for his integrity – including in a New York Times op-ed entitled, “A CEO’s Moral Stand.”

So a good man decided to stand by his principles, rather than compromise like every other Machievellian capitalist. Simple, right? Well, not exactly.

Before Arpey resigned, his uncompromising position meant the company was running into serious financial trouble. Aircraft manufacturers doubted its future, partner airlines began questioning shared agreements—there was even a mutiny amongst its pilots. The airline’s future looked bleak—along with the jobs of all his staff.

Soon after Arpey resigned, American Airlines declared bankruptcy, and the new CEO, Thomas Horton, renegotiated those pensions and labor contracts. In doing so, he saved the company. Quite soon, its long-term finances were in order. Today, it’s the world largest airline, employing more people than it did under Arpey’s leadership.

So who’s the hero? The moral martyr, Gerard Arpey? Or Thomas Horton, who took the brunt of the unions’ anger, but ultimately saved the company? In retrospect, many would argue for Horton.

Life is full of similarly complex situations. The lesson from American Airlines is that it's honorable to confront the messy, complicated parts of life and deal with its conflicting priorities. Learning to navigate competing obligations, while understanding the consequences, is often the best we can do. Another foundational lesson for life from the complex, and all-too-human, world of finance.

Although finance is often associated with avarice and irresponsibility, like any other ancient and sophisticated human endeavour, it contains valuable lessons. From insurance to portfolio-building, there are many things that finance can teach us about life in general—whether that’s the necessity of taking on “debt” if you seek to achieve, or the romantic wisdom contained in corporate mergers. Significantly, finance also teaches us that complex moral decisions are part of life, and that the sooner we are able to face them, the more we grow as human beings.

Action Plan: Accept that accumulation nevers brings fulfillment

When gazing enviously on the lives of the ultra-rich, remember this simple logic: the more we attain, the more we want. It’s never enough. Nobody ever becomes a millionaire and then is wholly satisfied. So, learn to be happy with what you have in this present moment. Unless you’re in seriously dire straits, it’s probably just enough.

#financial freedom

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Sealing the Deal part 2

Summary: Dick has a perfectly reasonable idea.

a/n: There will probably be more parts to this since you people gave me so many ideas but for now here is some soft smut. Did I finish this just in time for the end of mermay? Yes.

warning: Attempt at soft smut

Main Masterlist

Part 1

"Let's get married."

It takes around a minute for you to even register the fact that Dick had even said anything at all and another to parse out the meaning behind his words. You look up from the piece you've been slaving over for hours while Dick dozed on your lap.

"Let's get married." He repeats earnestly.

You narrow your eyes at him. You... clearly missed at least 2 diatribes and 40% of this conversation. "Uh Dickie, my love, did I miss the part where you divorced me or did I sleep through it like I did when Wally was preaching about raw fish?" You set your tools down and pull his pelt more tightly around you, feeling oddly protective of it.

Seeing you wrapped up in his pelt never failed to make Dick's chest flutter; unfortunately, he had to focus on the matter at hand. "As I was saying, we're married but not in the human way. "

"Ah- Yeah, I see that but.. that seems entirely unnecessary."

"There's no harm in it." Dick says, looking at you with big hopeful eyes. No matter whether it’s his liquid seal eyes or his bright baby blues, you’re still a sucker.

He is definitely up to something. Dick always uses that look when he really wants something and you can already feel yourself falling for it. Who thought giving this man the cutest face in the world was a good idea? Who?! You sigh. Spousal homicide is a bad idea, you tell yourself.

"You're so lucky you're terribly cute," you huff, "you're also lucky that there's a ferry coming tomorrow."

You mentally calculate how much time the whole trip would take but you know all that arithmetic is useless when you hazard a look at your husband. Dick beams, dimples appear at the corners of his mouth, and makes the happiest little noises.

You lean over the railing, watching the sea and feeling the wind comb through your hair. A pair of arms wraps around you making you squeak.

Dick buries his face in your hair and he sweeps you into his arms. "How's the most beautiful creature in the world?"

"Dunno Dick, how are you?" You smile.

Dick sniffles. "You're not allowed to be this cute."

"Hypocrite." You laugh wrapping your arms around him.

He nudges his face against yours.

"Are you liking your first boat ride?"

"I could still swim faster." Dick hums.

You roll your eyes. "Sadly for us, I can't."

"It's ok," he says, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear," it just means you can't escape me on this boat."

"Pfffft!"

"You're saying that now but look who I have in my hold." He chuckles, lips brushing against your neck.

"We're in public you dork!" You squeal.

"And?"

You sigh."You just like embarrassing me."

"Yup. Just ask Jaso- What's that?!" Dick says pointing to a statue on the shore. It was tall and proud with hair cascading down like a waterfall with a visage as hard as the rock it's carved on. You narrow your eyes trying to recall what the local told your father when you were younger.

"Oh, it's... It's a sea goddess I believe or maybe a selkie." You shrug at Dick who looks at it in awe. You supposed this is the first time he's seen a statue that big.

"I thought you said the people on the mainland didn't believe in selkies?"

"Er... ok, so there are mainlanders who are more inland where I come from and there's people near the sea. No, there are more divisions than that but- Ok, so the place where I came from the sea wasn't as important but here it is so they probably have more folk tales."

"I guess that makes sense," Dick says burying his face in your hair. "Did you have any folk tales?"

"Some but it was mostly cautionary about maidens being stolen away."

"Guess you didn't listen to them, huh?" he says, "did they say anything about stealing hearts?" Dick winks one of those winks that only he could make cute.

You huff into your scarf. "More about eating them, I think."

"I can do that if you want." He smirks cheekily.

You pat his cheek, trying to be as irritatingly condescending as possible. "You're still not scary."

Dick takes your hand in his and brings it closer to his lips. He pretends to bite at your fingers, his sharp canines dragging along the skin and nipping at the joints. "It’s because I love you so much."

Dick alternates between gawking at perfectly common sights like large cargo ships and flocks of sheep on the cliff and teasing the life out of you for the rest of the ferry ride.

You are the tiniest bit mortified that several passengers have seen your husband drag his teeth over your skin and toss you in the air for the fun of it. Dick was horrible at keeping a low profile. Not that acting reserved would have mattered anyway given how everyone's eyes were always drawn to him.

You can't blame them, his laughter is infectious and his smile was enough to make the gloomy morning look like a bright summer afternoon. You really really don't blame them for gawking but you just wish they wouldn't.

Not even fifteen minutes onshore and you're reminded why you only ever went into town with your father. Being meek by nature, you're often the target for unruly sailors. It never got too bad, not enough for you to call the cops at least. You would be lying if you wish it wasn't such a common occurrence to have some random guy shove his hand down your back pocket and squeezes your ass.

You jump, nearly dropping the little map of shops your father had drawn for you a while ago. A man passes behind you snickering quietly and yeah, knocking his teeth in would be amazing.

"Hey buddy, do you mind apologizing?" Dick asks, his voice dangerously pleasant.

There's a gnawing sense of foreboding forming in your stomach. It squirms in your gut until you grab Dick's sleeve. "Dick," you hiss, "it's not worth it."

You'd looked at the man and sadly, it really wasn't worth getting Dick's face punched in on his first visit to the mainland. You don't think anything worth getting Dick hurt.

The men turn back to your and the dread in your stomach solidifies. Even your dad was never dumb enough to piss off sailors especially ones built like I train would be dented when hitting them.

"I don't see the problem, pretty boy," the man spits like he'd said the word fungus, "The lass doesn't have a problem with it, do you?" He leers at you. It makes your skin crawl. He steps closer, invading your space, and places a hand on your shoulder. "This lassy here and I go waaaay back." He says, sliding his hand down your arm. You have absolutely no doubt that this man is sloshed because you have never seen him before in your life. You are pretty plain, so that makes sense but yeah, this is the first time you've seen his mug.

"A lass like you shouldn't be dressing like that if you know what's good for you."You open your mouth to protest but only manage to tighten your grip on Dick's sleeve.

There's a split second between Dick flickering his eyes to you and the satisfying sound of a fist making contact with a jaw. The man falls to the ground narrowly avoiding smashing his head into the cobblestones.

"Get up and apologize to her." Dick growls, teeth bared. He pushes forward. You're about as stunned as the man on the ground. Dick's poised for a fight and you have no doubt he'll have no problem getting into a row. You need to stop Dick from doing anything stupid. You wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing your eyes shut. You bury your face into his coat. You want to tell him that it's fine, that you're used to things like this, that you don't want him to get hurt. This whole thing isn't worth him getting hurt. You're not worth him getting hurt. But the only thing you can manage is a weak "It's not worth it."

Dick squeezes your hand. You're trembling and Dick feels awful for scaring you but he doesn't stop glaring at the man. He guesses he's made his point loud and clear. He softens a fraction, maneuvering you to his side and wrapping an arm around you. There's still a snarl caught in the back of his throat but contrary to popular belief, Dick isn't hot-headed enough to ignore you. All he wants to do now is get you to safety.

You squeeze him with your arms, your face still scrunched as if bracing for impact. "Let's go shopping for those rings, yeah?"

Dick sighs with an indulgent smile. "Ok, honey." He kisses the crown of your head. "I love you, I’m sorry."

"Don’t be sorry," you say, snuggling tighter into him. "You know I only want you and--” That wasn’t even the point. You are really bad at this. “--and you really should be more careful. What if you got hurt?"

"Did you miss that killer right hook? He sure didn't."

A small smile shapes your lips. "Moron."

"Still love me though." He says, bringing your knuckle to his lips.

You shake your head. "It's unfortunate really."

"You know the more time I spend here the less I believe the fact that you didn't know what selkies were," Dick says holding up another seal necklace.

You look at him, wince at the bruise blooming on his knuckle but continue. "My dad and I went into town twice a year and they were only ever day trips." You say, setting down a cheap shot glass with a blubbering seal. It wasn't strictly a lie. It was more of a guesstimate. You look away from him and mumble a "I thought they were called Setties."

Dick snorts loudly and you have a heart attack thinking he reverted back to his seal form. "Setties?" He snorts again and you think he's gonna suck in all the dust from the store.

"Yes, Setties." You repeat grumpily, "I was 7. Cut me some slack!"

"When have I ever cut you some slack?"

"Never."

"Mhm, exactly."

"Why do I love you again?"

"Because I'm the cutest person, you know?"

"I dunno, Dickie." You drawl, picking up a couple of little seal stuffed toys. They were cute with their round faces and distended bodies. Their black eyes didn't quite do justice to your favorite trouble maker but they're close enough in huggableness."These little guys could give you a run for your money."

Dick makes an affronted squawk. You hold them to Dick's face for inspection and ask: "Should we buy the black one or the white one?" Truly, a matter of life and death.

Dick scrunches his face in thought. "The black one obviously."

"But the white one looks cute too." You whine.

Dick gives you a grumpy pout. You ignore him. "Why don’t we get both?"

Dick crosses his arms. "Why-"

"Yanno... A pair like us..." You say, pulling them closer to your chest and looking up at him hopefully.

Dick looks at you wearily. "How could I argue against such a solid argument?" Dick says, tousling your already windswept locks.

"What do you think I’d look like as a seal?" You ask absently as you exit the store. You'd managed to drive the price down with a little haggling and a bit of distraction from Dick.

"Beautiful."

You grin at him. "Again buttering me up won't make me buy you more sweets."

"I can think of other things to eat." Dick says, his pink tongue darting over his lips as he looks at you.

You swallow, mouth feeling dry. Dick is horrible to you today.

The old antique shop was dustier than you remembered. Part of you suspects that the particles sprinkled on all the shelves is in fact just the old owner's cremated remains but you don't really wanna find out if it's true.

You comb through the shelves, feeling like a pirate in search of treasure. The expensive rings with their big rind stones were stowed away on a shelf behind the shopkeeper but everyone one knows that if you want the good stuff you have to search for it yourself.

Dick seems to be happy looking through all the strange knickknacks, so you carry on.

You nearly squeal with glee when you find a ring. It was a band of silver carved into the shape of a seal curling in on itself as it slumbers. You smile holding it close to your chest. "Give me your finger."

"That... is a very strange way to put it."

"Just give me your hand." You say holding out your own. Dick, still incredulous, puts his hand in yours. You bite back a smile as you put the ring on his ring finger. Your lips stretch even as you dig your teeth in. It was a good fit. You're embarrassed to say you were bouncing on your heel with excitement.The silver looks lovely against his tanned skin.

Dick inspects it. "And you said subtlety wasn't my element."

"It really isn't," you say, smiling down at his hand. "But I never did say it was mine either." You could easily find another ring if he doesn't like it but you're quietly hoping he does. You try not to watch his face, not read too deeply into his expressions.

"I like it. Let's try to find a matching one."

Much to your amusement, you did find something but it's.... You snort as you put it on.

"It kind of matches." Dick says wearily.

"It's a fish." You laugh.

"Um... it's a pretty silver fish."

"Absolutely ravishing, huh?"

"Exactly like my wife." Dick says, nipping at your ear.

Your ear burns and you cover it hastily.

"Let's just go pay for them." You say, shoving at him lightly.

"So you do like it?" He asks, peaking through your fingers.

"Yes, you dork. Now, stop being cute." You say, shoving him again.

"Never." He chuckles.

"Is this the statue from the harbor?" Dick asks, poking at the little replica on the shopkeep's counter.

"Aye lad, the natives worshiped the sea before we came along. Kooky fellows but they knew a thing or two about the sea. They even talked about the selkie. Those blood-thirsty women folk of the sea. "

Dick scrunches his nose. You press the heel of your palm to your lips holding back a laugh.

"Well, I’ve heard some different of stories." Dick says, leaning into the counter, his eyes shining mischievously.

The old shopkeep leans in, looking around. "Like what?"

Dick leans in a bit more, his voice hushed and conspiratorial. "I hear they try to trap fair maidens into marriage to bear children for them."

Dick winks unabashedly. You flush. "What?!"

"C'mon lad," the shopkeeper snorted like a walrus, "we all know that all selkies are women folk."

"That’s the thing," Dick says, resting his hands on his intertwined fingers. He grins. "I’ve been out at sea a while, my whole family has aaaaand," he drawls in his other voice. The shopkeep looks entranced. "We've heard of different tales."

"Do tell."

"My family have heard tales of male selkies, those who seek women to carry on the selkie way." Dick pushes off the counter, spinning around on his heel theatrically. "We heard of old lore when they used to kidnap unsuspecting women by the sea shore." You vaguely recall this version but it seemed like ages ago. "But now," he says, stepping closer to you. "Now, they are much more persuasive." Dick winks at you and you resist the urge to elbow him.

"I also heard they're quite persistent." You say, leaning against him.

"Quite." Dick says a little too fondly.

"Hnnn, never heard that one." The shopkeep says tilting his head. "Do you have anymore?"

"Oh, I have a ton of seafaring stories if you'd like. I’ve heard stories about the Cthulhu."

"Cthulhu?"

"The great horror of the deep."

"The only horror here is the lack of treasure chests." The shopkeep huffs. You would be inclined to agree if Tim and Damian weren't so good at finding them.

"Oh this is no tall-tale my friend," Dick says, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders, "we heard that he awakes once every 10 years to roam the deep seas. Why do you think boats go missing with no trace?"

Monsoons, you think.

"Like that submarine last summer!"

Dick nods sagely "Exactly."

You want to slap your palm against your forehead. There is no way he can believe that hokey, right? ... You are literally married to a selkie. Do you really have any room for skepticism? You sigh. You suppose not.

"The sea is a mysterious maiden just like those sires. A tricky bunch, slippery and smart not like mermaids."

"Have you ever heard one?!" The shopkeep nearly folds over the counter.

"Once when I’d been at sea for 4 months, I heard the most beautiful song in my life, kind of like a mirage but it was a misty night at sea."

The shopkeeper gasps.

You blink. This is news to you.

"Luckily, my father pulled me from the towboat before I set off towards it." You try to imagine it and somehow it's funnier than the idea of Dick being bloodthirsty.

Dick regails Bruce's spat with a sea witch and Alfred's horrifying tale with a kraken. Even you were enthralled by all his tales. Having the shopkeep thoroughly wrapped around his finger. He leans in close again. "Sorry, I got so lost. How much were these rings again?"

The man blinks as if resurfacing from a trance. "A sea-loving man like you? You can keep it for five coffers."

You gape at him, eyes blown wide. That’s less than what you pay for bread.

The man turns to you. "Lass, you better keep an eye on him. This one belongs to the sea."

He's... not wrong.

"You really are too kind," Dick says handing the money over.

"Anytime lad. Feel free to come back with more of your stories!" He calls out as you two walk out the door.

“Since when were you a sailor?” You ask, nudging your shoulder against his.

“Since Jay told me stories.” He answers, nudging back.

“So they were all made up?” You ask, shaking his arm.

Dick hums noncommittally.

You frown at him. “C’mon fess up, pup.”

“Not *all* of them. I just spiced up the truth, that’s all.”

“The sirens?”

Dick freezes.

“Wait, are sirens real?” You gape, pounding your hand on his chest.

“Well, kinda.”

“Kinda?!”

Dick walks ahead of you trying to avoid your question. He does the mature thing and plugs his ears with his fingers. You continue to pester him all the way down the street.

The scent from the bakery wafted in the air calling to both of you as you two continue to bicker. Your stomachs cry out in a chorus. You look at your watch. You knew you'd forgotten something.

"I'll get us something to eat," Dick says, clearly staring at the cupcakes. Getting cupcakes wouldn't hurt. It would be better than getting an actual wedding cake.

You shake your head. "I might sit for a bit." You say handing him your purse and wrenching the bags from his grip. He huffs but doesn't complain.

You park yourself on a bench just outside the bakery. Going to town is just as exhausting as you remember it being. You lull your head back, looking to the sky. What are the odds that it's safe to just doze off here on the bench? Probably pretty low.

Dick watches you from a window, snickering. You were so cute when you're nodding off. He should probably ask if they sell coffee too because you look like you're going to need the entire pot.

He lets a woman go in front of him because Alfred taught him manners and not because he was delighted to see you nearly fold into your shopping bags. You startle and yelp then straighten up. Great seas, you're so cute.

"Hey handsome, can I get a name?"

Dick turns to the woman with an amicable smile. "Oh, the name's Dick."

"I'm ..." Dick is barely paying attention when he sees you take out one of the rings you'd bought with a stupidly happy smile on your face as you try it on. You look up at your hand and Dick can't help the twitch of his mouth.

You wave to him, feeling his eyes on you. He waves back with a thousand-watt smile.

There's a hand sprawled on his chest. "I've never seen you here before." The woman purrs. Dick steps back, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm from out of town-"

"That explains it." She says, batting her eyes.

Dick's not too concerned, not when you've just disappeared from his sight. Dick's about to run outside when he feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around his waist.

"My husband and I are just here for a day trip to run some errands." You huff glaring at the woman.

Dick wraps an arm around you, chuckling at the priceless expression on your face.

"Dickie, did you want to introduce me?" You ask sweetly.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch your name." Dick says, feeling genuinely bad because he really wasn't paying attention. In his defense, you were distracting him.

"I'm Mia."

"I'm (Y/n)." You say trying not to puff your cheeks. You clearly just want the woman to go away.

Dick wants to pinch you for being so cute. The disgustingly sweet aura you two radiate was enough to make the woman go away. Much to your relief and Dick's amusement. Dick lets himself sink into your embrace.

Dick pinches your cheek as you get the bread from the counter. You swat his hand away with a loaf of slightly stale bread you were gonna rework later. "What?!"

"Nothing, you're just so damn cute, honey." Dick laughs, pinching your cheek again.

"Says the dork who punched someone." You say, pecking him on the lips.

Dick rolls his eyes. "He totally deserved it."

"Sure, sure."

Ok, he did.

Dick pecks your lips. "Let's go find you a bouquet and a minister so you can keep that ring on."

You flush not noticing that you haven't taken the ring off. Dick looks down at you like he's the luckiest man in the world.

“Will it still make you happy?” Dick asks, fidgeting in front of the courthouse.

You raise a brow at him prompting him to elaborate.

“Getting married without a proper ceremony, I mean.”

Ah. You clutch the bouquet of cornflowers to your chest, twining your finger with his. “As long as I have you it’ll be perfect.”

Dick sniffles. “Stop saying things like that.”

“You started~”

Dick presses his forehead against your, letting out a low trill. “I can’t wait to sign on the paper and make you my wife. Officially.”

You nudge your nose against his. “I can’t wait either.”

The minister looks between the two of you suspiciously, probably looking for signs of which one of you suggested eloping. “You may now say your vows.”

Dick takes out a crumpled sheet of paper with yellowing edges. In a cool crisp voice, he begins to speak:

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.”

The wind rises in your chest, tears welling up in your eyes. You try to keep yourself together.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hope, always perseveres.”

You cup your hand over your mouth, your father’s words coming to life through Dick’s voice.

“Love never fails.”

Dick reaches out to you, wiping the tears running down your face. You don’t know if Dick knows how much that meant to you but you’re endlessly thankful.

You feel flush. You’re not really sure you could follow that up. God, you really should have prepared more. You take a deep breath and will yourself not to turn tail and run.

Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm;

for love is strong as death,

passion fierce as the grave.

Its flashes are flashes of fire,

a raging flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

all the wealth of one’s house,

it would be utterly scorned.

Dick looks at you, fondness curving his lips. You smile back at him sheepishly.

The minister clears his throat. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Dick picks you up and spins you around then brings you close to kiss you. You giggle at his theatrics. In the corner of your vision, you could see the minister just looking extremely tired.

“Give me the bouquet.”

You don’t mainly because you have a policy of making people explain things before you do anything and also because you were hoping to throw the bouquet yourself.

Dick tilts his head. “Uh, give me two.” He pauses. “Please?” “Will you promise me this won’t curse anyone?”

“Just because my dad’s girlfriend is a sea witch does not mean I curse people.”

“And you feel absolutely no need to unpack that, huh?”

“Sweetie, pleeeeeease.” He gives you the big eyes and you silently wonder how selkie divorce works.

You hand him two flowers. He pinches off the stems and says: “Hold out your hands.”

“Can I at least know what kind of ungodly ritual my husband is suckering me into?” You huff as he puts one of the cornflowers in your palms.

“It’s more superstition really. My mom used to say that if you tell a flower about your love for someone and let the sea carry it away, then your love will be able to weather storms.”

You want to tell him that based on the stories the sea had nothing to do with the ferocity of his parent’s love but when you look back into the glitter of nostalgia in his eyes you know that there is nothing for it.

You hold the cornflower close, whispering promises to it, an endless litany of devotions that you hope only the sea will hear. Dick beside you does much the same with regular pauses and additions to his. When you’re both finished, you let the flowers fall harmlessly into the water and watch them, despite all odds, drift together in the ocean.

Dick nuzzles you into the floor. You lay flat on his pelt as Dick hovers over you. He kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. You hum and slide your hands up his back and part your lips to give him access. Dick pulls away, dragging his lips down your face. His teeth graze on the skin of your neck. Feeling ticklish, you giggle. He smiles pressing another wet kiss to your skin before pulling back. You whine already missing the close contact.

"I think we forgot something." Dick says, gently grasping your wrist and kissing it.

You furrow your brow. You play with his hair as you try to think. "Pretty sure we did everything," you mumble. You shiver when you feel Dick's teeth catch on your pulse, his luminescent eyes staring at you intently. "I'm telling you, sweetheart, you're forgetting something."

You groan. It would be easier to think if Dick's lips weren't on your skin. "We've gotten the rings, thrown the rice, and hit Wally in the head with the bouquet..." You bite back a squeak when Dick sucks a hickey onto your wrist.

"Getting warmer, darling."

You flush. You try to control your breathing but your skin feels so hot against his. You and Dick have met with a minister and he's also carried you over the threshold... All that's left is...

You can feel Dick's hand slide up your shirt, his hand warm against your chilly skin. "Consummation." You whisper, swallowing thickly.

Dick's eyes are bright and mischievous in the firelight. "Bingo." He lets go of your wrist and lowers himself to press a hungry kiss on your lips; it was all tongue and teeth as his hips move against yours. He pinches your nipples between his fingers drawing out a gasp from you. Dick takes this chance to deepen the kiss. He groans into the kiss when you tug at his hair.You moan against him, wrapping your legs around his waist trying to pull him closer. Your movements are clumsy, speaking to your inexperience. Dick is going to take his time with you.

Dick kisses your nose and pulls away. He can’t resist. Dick drags the shirt slowly over his body. He hears your breath hitch and a vain sort of pride fuels Dick’s ego. It was one thing for other people to tell him he was pretty. It was an entirely different thing to have you look at him with so much awe and reverence. That look in your eyes always makes his skin prickle with delight.

You trace the shape of his muscles with your fingers, your mouth parted slightly as you drink in the sight of him. Dick is no less awe-inspiring than the first time you saw him. You marvel over the scars crisscrossing his chest and arms. None of the imperfections on his skin ever managed to dull his beauty. Unfairly, they only enhanced it and took your breath away every time you noticed a new detail about him. Your hand drifts down to the V of his abs; the tough makes him tremble as it dips closer to the hem of his pants. Dick takes in a sharp breath before kissing you again. It was partly because he could never get enough of your lips and partially to get your attention.

“Honey, I want to see you too.” He whispers into your lips.

Your body locks up at his words and a heat spreads across your chest, your neck, and up to your ears. Your mouth feels so dry all of a sudden and your feet turn into blocks of ice. What if Dick finds you repulsive? What if he sees you naked and he can’t stand what he sees? Will he leave or will he smile through it all the while gritting his teeth through it? You’re not pretty, not the way Dick is and you certainly can’t measure up to the other Selkies you’ve met. How the flying fuck were you supposed to compte with Babs or Kori? You seriously consider running away and hiding in your room until you feel Dick’s teeth graze against the column of your neck.

“Please.” He breathes and his voice is so thick with want that it’s enough for you to forget the desire to melt into the baseboards even for just a moment. You don’t want him to be disappointed, to know that he’s traded down. You’re scared. You don’t want to be but you’re fucking terrified.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “I know you’re nervous.” He kisses your forehead. Dick knows he needs to be patient. He’s waited to feel all of you for this long. He’s willing just to wait a bit more if it means you’re comfortable.

You close your eyes, grabbing the hem of your shirt. Dick kisses your eyelid. He bites his lip, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into your flesh. It’s so supple and hot against his. Instead, he busies himself by helping you out of your bra but his fingers are clumsy with his brain too full of your skin. You giggle as you both fumble for the clasps.

Dick wastes no time peppering your chest with kisses once you’re completely bare. “So pretty.” Dick purrs against your chest. He nuzzles into the valley of your breasts as he feels your breaths even out. Sliding his hands up and down your sides reverently, he makes certain that you know just how beautiful you are with every bite, every kiss, and every touch.

His attention goes to your breasts. You arch your back as Dick begins rolling your nipples between his teeth. He savors all the little gasps and mewls you make. "Dick." You sigh out his name happily. Dick groans, hips gyrating against yours. "Dick." You repeat, tugging at his hair. You rock your hips in time with his.

Your voice is driving him insane. The way his name rolls off your tongue like silk fries his nerves. All he wants to do is make you scream it over and over while he takes care of you and lets you know just how good you feel against him.

"That's it baby, let me make you feel good."Dick says, giving your nipple one last lick before taking care of the other. "I wanna make you feel so good, sweetheart."

The husky quality of his voice makes you shiver. Your fingers travel down his back, fingernails lightly scraping against his skin. He trembles against your as you slide your hand down his chest and down his pants. Your fingertips brush against the head of his member. You wrap your hand around his cock, teasing his head with your thumb. Your thumb is wet with his precum as Dick pants softly into your skin. Dick can't help but move against your hand.

"Sweetheart," he grunts, " I can't... I-"

Dick grasps your wrist, pressing a kiss to it before pulling it over your head. You whine. Dick's breaths tickle your ear as he tries to steady them. He kisses your cheek and nibbles on your ear. Dick grabs your other arm and pins it down next to the other, pinning both hands with one hand. You squirm underneath him, trying to break his hold.

"Let me take care of you." He says, trying to level his voice but you're making it so hard.

You drag your leg up his calf. Dick brushes his lips down your neck, sucking a hickey into every available surface of your skin on the way down your hips and murmuring ‘I love you’ as he does.

"Dick, please." You moan.

"Sweetheart," Dick says, biting the soft flesh of your hip.

You wriggle in his grip causing the hand wound around them to tighten. Dick watches you intently as he bites another hickey into the flesh or your hip. You gasp out his name and Dick can feel his cock twitch. He needs more.

“Shhhh, I know, Honey. Shhhhhh.” Dick says, kissing along the hem of your pants before his teeth catch on the fabric. Dick tugs the button free and pulls the zipper down with his teeth. You think your heart stops. Every little thing he does drives you up the wall. He hooks his fingers to the top of your pants and pulls them down slowly. You can feel the fabric drag against your skin as Dick presses I love yous up your leg.

Dick bites lightly at your ankle as he tosses your pants over his shoulder. Dick licks his lips, they’re plush and glossy from the saliva. He’s looking at you with so much love and adoration that you feel yourself melt. You’re suddenly painfully aware of your nakedness. You snap your legs shut shyly, withdrawing your ankle from his hold. You curl in on yourself, muttering an apology.

He shakes his head, chuckling softly. Dick pushes the hair out of your face. He presses his forehead against yours, kissing you softly and running his hands up and down your sides. Your legs slowly open to let his body closer to yours. You just want to feel his skin against yours.

"I love how your body reacts to me, honey." Dick winks.

You wrap your arms around him, your muscles relaxing a fraction. He can feel the ring on your finger dig into the back of his neck. You are his and he is yours. Dick trills at the thought. You laugh, the vibrations from his lips tickling you.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?" Dick asks, nibbling your lip.

"The whole world knows," you snort, "especially after that fiasco at the town square."

"I had to protect my wifey's honor." He says with a cheeky smile that takes over his face.

"Somehow, I feel like knocking his teeth in was a bit much." You say, pulling him into another kiss because... well, your husband is awfully adorable even if he is a disaster.

"Only seems fair," he says, his hand travelling down your body, kissing your clavicle, "he was being rude to my wife." Dick's fingers dip between your soaking folds. You were dripping just for him. Dick would be lying if he said that didn't inflate his ego. With his fingers curled inside you as he drags them in and out, you arch into him. You thread your finger through his hair and pull.

"Dickie, I want you," you whisper, rubbing your knee against his crotch. "I want you so much."

Dick ruts against your leg, breath ragged and desperate. Dick's body is so sensitive to your touch; it's ridiculous.

"I want you too." He manages barely above a whisper.

"Then fuck me, " you look away from his, biting your lip, "please?"

"Honey," he groans. God, why did you have to say it like that? "You're going to make me cum."

"Isn't that the point?" You ask, your nails dragging on his back as you try and fuck yourself on his fingers.

What did Dick do to deserve you?

"It is," he says, taking his hand out of your folds. "But not before I can make you cum first." He licks his fingers in front of you never breaking eye contact as he does.

You cover your face and squeak because damn it Dick you can't just- Who does that?!

Dick hastily shimmies out of his pants, his cock springing free. You hear a pap as his cock slap against the toned muscles of his stomach. You squeak, peaking through your fingers, the slap ringing sinfully in your mind. Dick lets out an amused breath as he hovers over you. Stroking his length, he smears the precum along your inner thigh, whispering how much you turn him on and how he can't get enough of you.

"Sweetheart, I want you to look at me while I fuck you." He grunts and the air in your lungs evaporate. You think you'll follow suit in a few seconds. "Sweetheart, don't make me beg you."He says into your neck.

Dick, you're not helping, you think to yourself but the saccharine way he always says your pet names has you giving into the request. Dick is smiling down at you and your heart melts. He kisses you deeply. You wrap your limbs around him, your heels digging into the small of his back and your fingers tangled in his locks as he slowly enters you.

He moans into your lips and you moan into his. There's a burning stretch inside you that has you begging for more. He bottoms out and your walls flutter around his cock trying to accommodate his girth. A shiver travels up his spine feeling your velvet walls trying to milk his cock. Dick pulls away from the kiss to whisper: "I love you."

"I love you too, hubby. Please move."

"Aye aye, wifey." He says slowly, pulling his length out. You can feel the long drag of his cock against your walls. You mewl for a lack of anything intelligent to say.

The sound is enough to egg him on. He pushes in and out of you in long strokes, enjoying how your body rocks against his chasing your own pleasure. You pepper kisses to his chest and leave your own marks. Dick would be embarrassed by the lewd noises he makes as you do so but he's too caught up in you to really care. He doesn't even care if the whole world can hear him right now, all he cares about is that you're his and that you're loving this as much as he is.

"Baby, you feel so good. Your pussy was made for me. Ah!" Dick says, his hips stuttering when he feels you clench at those words. He kisses your shoulder. He loves the way his name falls from your lips as if it's the only thing you know how to say. "That's it baby. You're so pretty moaning and gasping and begging for my cock."

All Dick can focus on is the sound of your skin slapping against his. You kiss up his neck, nibbling at his Adam's apple as he swallows. "Dickie, I want more."

Dick's mind comes crashing to a halt.

"Dick, please. I want to feel you more. Please, go faster." You say, voice husky with want. It makes Dick feel like his body has turned to gelatin.

He kisses your forehead, a blush spreading across his skin. "Sweetheart, I can't."

"Please Dick." You breathe, pouting at him.

Fuck, you can't look this cute while begging him to fuck you... twice. That's just not fair.

"Sweetheart, if I go any faster, I'm going to cum." The embarrassment is hard to hide.

You drag your nails across his back and lick a stripe up his neck." Dick, I want you to fill me up. Dick, please, I'm so close." You beg, teeth catching on his collarbone, looking at him with watery eyes.

Dick is a sucker and he can never say no to a pretty face. He kisses one of your eyelids before slamming his hips into yours. His balls slap against your skin as he thrusts in and out with wild abandon. He thrusts deeper at an angle that was sure to hit your g spot every time.

You sing his name sweetly as you pull him closer. Your nipples rub against his chest as you bounce on his cock. Your walls constrict around him making it harder to pull out every time. All he wants to do is to stay inside you and revel in your warmth but he wants to bring you over the edge and fuck you stupid. He rolls your clit between his fingers as you whimper into his neck.

You both cum crying each other's name. Dick kisses you as he fucks you through your orgasm, painting your walls with his hot seed.

Dick rests his weight on top of you as he pulls out with some of his seed painting your inner thigh. "I love you." He pants.

"I love you too, you heavy lug." You grouse, trying to push him off of you.

Dick has mercy on you and rolls you two over with you resting on top of him, perfect for cuddling you.

Dick whispers "I love you" and other praises every time he opens his mouth and you return the sentiment by kissing a different part of his face.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow, Dick flushes seeing just how many hickeys he's left you and he flushes even harder seeing his own chest marked up.

"Sorry about that," He says kissing one of the marks. "I just can't help myself-" Kiss "-You look so pretty covered in love bites-" Kiss "-Sweetheart, you gotta stop sounding cute. I'll get hard again- Fuck."

Your hand wraps around his shaft, fingers brushing against his skin experimentally. "But I want you." You say bluntly.

Dick is going to combust. "I want you to. I've wanted you like this for so long."

You stop. Your thumb brushes against the tip of his already leaking cock. Your lips curl into a smile. "Is that why you were so adamant on getting married?" You snicker, booping his nose with yours.

"No, yes, maybe... partially." He stammers out.

You snort. "You know that wasn't necessary for us to..." The flush creeps back on your lips. You somehow have the audacity to look shy while still stroking his shaft. Dick is going to burst.

"I didn't want you to miss out on it," Dick says steadying his breath, feeling himself get harder as he talks or attempts to, "I wanted you to experience it since you told me you dreamt about it as a kid."

You stop and Dick bucks to urge you to keep going.

"You remembered that?" You ask, the expression on your face is complicated.

Dick sits up, brushing a finger against your cheek. "Of course, I did."

"Dork." You sniffle, kissing his cheek.

"Only for you," He laughs but it's cut off by the movement of your hand. "Sweetheart, are you trying to kill me?" He gasps, biting into his knuckle.

"I'm only thanking you for being so sweet." You tease, spreading your mixed juices all over his cock. "and I just love my hubby that's all."

____________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!!!!!!

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish , @birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red @ marshmallow12435 @vvipgot7be @jadedhillon

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson smut

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eijispumpkin · 3 years

Note

ASHEIJI PIRATES AU???? PLEASE EXPAND ON UR IDEA

OHOHO!!!! GLADLY!!! (cw for fantasy transphobia.)

eiji is a prince with a big problem.

see, most people think he's a princess, not a prince, and he's supposed to marry some prince from a kingdom across the sea, but that guy is a huge asshole and he doesn't want any part of it, especially because that guy is expecting a "princess" to be his "wife", and... uh, yeah, no.

but he isn't given a choice in the matter, and so he's put on a ship with his tutor and trusted friend, ibe-san, and sent off to his doom (or wedding. whatever). the weather is bad, and they’re forced to go a little further from the coast than planned...

and then their ship gets boarded by pirates.

specifically, pirates flying the lynx’s flag. everyone who lives near the sea and plenty who don’t have heard of the lynx - he’s a deadeye, he’s unstoppable, and none who cross him live to tell the tale. his crew is full of ruthless, dangerous men, and upon spotting a ship full of merchants and nobility, they descend like scavengers, lining up the crew and passengers on the deck as they take all the cargo and valuables from the hold.

and that’s when eiji gets a bright idea.

“excuse me,” he says, and waves at the man he can only assume is captain lynx (he’s more slender than eiji expected, and younger. pretty, in a surprising way). “captain lynx? do you take hostages?”

captain lynx gives him a flat look. “i don’t deal in any sort of trade with people’s lives, if that’s what you’re asking. no. we don’t kidnap people.”

eiji holds his wrists together and does his best big, pleading eyes. “i’m a prince. i’m sure you could get a nice ransom for me! please?”

that’s about when poor ibe faints and falls to the deck with a thunk.

“the fuck is wrong with you?” captain lynx asks, completely ignoring poor ibe-san, out cold. “you want to be kidnapped by pirates, princess?”

eiji sighs. “i’m not a princess. i’m a prince. and i am being shipped off to a marriage i never wanted, to a man who wants me to be his pretty ‘wife’ in a cage for the rest of my life. yes, i want to be kidnapped by pirates.”

something flickers in captain lynx’s eyes. later, eiji will understand what it was; later, he will know that captain lynx knows a lot firsthand about being someone’s pretty doll in a gilded cage. for now, all he knows is that captain lynx reminds him of a roaring flame in a human guise, as he turns his head to snap at one of the pirates carrying loot from the hold back to the pirates’ ship.

“bones!” he commands, and gestures at eiji. “take his highness aboard. we’ll see what kind of ransom we can get for him.”

the pirate who comes to get him is rather scrawny - bony, even - and eiji wonders if that’s where he got his name. as he’s led across the precarious planks joining the two ships, he can’t stop grinning.

later, captain lynx comes to him and apologizes, for calling him “princess” earlier. eiji is startled; it’s the first time someone outside his family has gone out of their way to apologize to him for that, and he realizes with a shock that he quite likes life away from court.

captain lynx offers him a deal: he can stay on the ship as long as he wants, so long as he finds a way to make himself useful as part of the crew. eiji admits he’s never done much work on a ship before, but he’s willing to learn, and captain lynx laughs at him, and eiji is startled all over again by just how lovely this strange pirate of so much rumor can be.

“what about the ransom?” eiji asks, a little apprehensive.

captain lynx rolls his eyes. “that was bullshit for the people watching. i told you, i don’t deal with human lives. i just can’t have anyone knowing i’m not an asshole.”

why not? eiji wants to know. he decides it’s better not to ask, not yet.

captain lynx takes eiji up to the crow’s nest, at the top of the mast, and tells him he can be lookout, for now - all he needs to do is keep an eye on the horizon, and hold onto the ropes. eiji laughs and promises he’ll be careful and won’t fall, looking out into the distance with wonder, and captain lynx just grins at him and says “okay. then i’ll leave you to it, birdie.”

birdie.

eiji likes that.

later still, eiji gets himself real pirate clothes, rather than cumbersome finery made for the princess he never was. the first mate, alex, cuts his hair for him, and he is so utterly delighted by the sight that greets him in the mirror that he jumps for joy, ruffles his own hair, and runs off to find captain lynx to exclaim about how fluffy his hair is now.

(if captain lynx blushes as eiji tells him to pet his hair, surely it’s just because of the sun.)

and even later, somewhere on the high seas, bones mentions that there’s an alchemist who makes a masculinization serum that he takes. he asks if eiji wants to come with him, next time they stop at that port. eiji is delighted both to have the opportunity, and to get to know a friend in the same boat as himself.

(pun intended.)

captain lynx mentions also that there’s a surgeon they took bones to, a couple of years ago, and bones eagerly rips off his shirt to show off his scars proudly. captain lynx laughs again. eiji really wonders why that’s so captivating.

“we can get you there, too, birdie,” he says, and gives eiji a smile that’s warmer than the lanterns on the deck at night. “if that’s something you’d want.”

“how can i ever repay you?” eiji asks, touched beyond measure. “you have done so much for me. and i know you are being hunted, because of the bount on my head.”

before captain lynx can answer, bones jumps in. “they had those super fancy looking pastries in the galley on your old ship. do you know how they make ‘em? i wanna feast like a king!”

captain lynx snorts. “there’s your answer, eiji. get my crew some fancy-ass pastries and we’ll call it a day.”

all this happens, and lots more, too. eiji doesn’t know any of it, when he gets taken on board the lynx’s ship, leaving his old life behind. all he does know, as he breathes in the salty air and feels the sea spray on the wind, is that it tastes like freedom.

#asheiji #pirates au #THERES SO MUCH PLOT IN IT AND IM NEVER GONNA WRITE IT ALL BUT GOD DO I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT IT #AAAAAAAAAAAAAA #written

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love-and-monsters · 3 years

Text

Vampire Squid Octomer

GN reader X M monster, 6,943 words

Happy Mermay everybody! In celebration of this wonderful time of year, here's a story about a human breaking out of containment with a octomer and some telepathic chicanery.

Your stomach rolled slowly, like a ship tossed in an ocean. The floor was, you were pretty sure, stable, but your head was spinning. As tentatively as you could, you planted your hands underneath you and sat up.

The room was pitch black. Closing and opening your eyes made no difference. You kept one of your hands on the wall as you clambered unsteadily to your feet. Keeping in contact with the wall, you paced around the perimeter of the room.

It was small, barely more than four by four feet. Even the ceiling was close to your head. You weren’t in danger of hitting your head on it, but you couldn’t extend your arms over your head either.

Where were you? You tried to go back through your memories, but they seemed distorted and uncertain. You had been… outside? Walking by the sea? And then… Nothing. You didn’t remember getting drugged or hit by something or blacking out. One minute you were walking on the beach, the next minute you were waking up in a pitch black, tiny room.

It felt like a cage more than a room. You did another pass around it, running your fingers along the walls. They were perfectly smooth, expect for a thin seam that outlined the shape of a door. It was too thin to get your fingers into, and you couldn’t feel any hinges or latches. There was no way to get out.

You were also wearing a skintight wetsuit, one that only really covered your torso. You hadn’t been wearing it before you blacked out. The idea of someone having to strip you down and shove your limp body into it was unsettling, to say the least.

The cage rattled. You stumbled and fell on your butt as the entire thing jerked, swaying back and forth. It swayed precariously, like it was dangling on a single tether. You could feel the cage lifting into the air.

“Hey!” Your voice came out oddly rusty. God, your mouth was dry. How long had you been out? “Hey! Let me out!”

Your voice didn’t carry and you didn’t have much hope that anyone was listening. If you were in this cage, it was probably because someone wanted you there. Still, you slammed your fists against the walls. They were unyielding. The cage swayed again, sending you sliding to the other side. It felt like it was suspended from a crane. Your mind pulled up images of crates being stacked on cargo ships. Were you being shipped?

The cage dropped. Your stomach leapt into your throat as it plunged. For a split second, your terrified mind wondered if you were on some horrifying version of the tower of terror. Then you hit the water.

It was water the cage landed in. You could hear the splash and felt the slight bob of the cage before it drifted downward far more slowly.

The box must have been sealed against water because you saw none of it leaking in through the seam. If it was watertight, it was likely airtight as well. You tried to slow your panicked breathing. You needed to conserve air and you needed to get out before you sank too deep to make it back to the surface.

You slammed one of your feet into the wall. Again and again, you struck, trying to focus on the little cracks of the doorway.

There was a faint noise, a sort of sucking pop, then thin jets of water spurted in through the crack. The seal was broken! You slammed your shoulder against the door, but it only made a metallic clang. Your shoulder throbbed. You threw your weight against it again, but the door was unyielding. Already, you were splashing about in the water of the floor. It made your feet skid. The water was brutally cold. Already, you were having trouble feeling your toes.

Growing more desperate, you slammed your shoulder against the door again and again. The seal budged more, sending more thin streams of water flowing into the box. Water sloshed around your calves. It was approaching your knees. Your teeth chattered. Still, the door refused to budge. If there was a piece of metal blocking the door, you were never going to get out. Regardless, you slammed your shoulder against the door again and again. You had to try.

Something slammed back.

You staggered, falling again. The cold water shocked you into stillness as something on the outside slammed again and again. The door shuddered. More spouts of water appeared on the seam. The water inside your cage rose faster. Already, it was at your waist.

Another slam. The door jerked and, with an almighty pop, the seal fractured. Water gushed in, pumping through the doorway. Stumbling to your feet, you slammed your body against the door once more.

There was a pop once more and the door shifted. A wave of water dumped over you. The shock made your muscles seize, but you ignored it. You needed to get out, you needed to get out!

Blinded by the saltwater stinging your eyes, you kicked once more at the door. It jostled aside, leaving a hole just big enough for you to squeeze your way through. Just as your cage was fully submerged, you slipped out into the open water.

And then something grabbed you.

For a moment, you thought it was an octopus, or some other tentacled sea creature. Thick, muscular tentacles wrapped around your waist and legs, the suckers popping against your skin. Filaments brushed against your skin, tickling and making your flesh crawl. You thrust out your hands, fingers too stiff to even grip the tentacles, much less untangle them. The grip tightened. Already, your lungs were screaming for air, but the creature had you and it was going to drag you into the depths to drown you and pick your soft meat apart with its beak-

And then hands settled at your waist.

You started. Even if you couldn’t see them, you knew the feel of human hands and fingers. One hand shifted upward, taking a firm hold of your arm. The tentacles unwound from your leg, though you could still feel them brushing against your skin.

The hand on your arm squeezed tighter and then it was hauling you up at quite a quick pace. Or, was it hauling you up? You had no way to tell which direction it was pulling you in. Perhaps it was dragging you deeper, pulling you into the depths and drowning you.

Your lungs were screaming for air. It didn’t matter which direction you were going. If you didn’t get there soon, you were going to start compulsively gulping water into your lungs. Furiously, you started to kick, trying to swim in the direction you were being pulled in. You were just going to have to hope it was trying to save your life.

Your head broke the surface of the water. You had a split second of overwhelming, blissful relief, then the top of your head slammed into a hard metal wall.

Stunned, you dropped back into the water. Stars blinked behind your eyelids. You’d been moving at a fairly quick pace when you’d emerged from the water, so you’d slammed into the metal at speed. Dim, dazed thoughts drifted through your mind. What was happening? Where were you? Your lungs burned. You needed to breathe. You moved to inhale-

Your head broke the surface of the water. One hand was wrapped around your waist. The other was holding onto the back of your head, pulling your head back so you could breathe without bonking your head on the metal above you. You gasped and gulped air. You could still feel the tentacles brushing against your legs, but that was a secondary concern to just stopping the awful burning in your lungs.

As you were struggling to breathe, you felt something nuzzling at the back of your head, right where you’d smacked it. It felt like nuzzling, anyway, though you couldn’t see what was touching you. You could feel something snuffling at your hair, nosing at you. The tentacles in the water wrapped around your legs again, holding you still.

Now that you were breathing again, your concern shifted to the thing that was holding you. It had human hands, a human face, and tentacles like an octopus. Some sort of merperson? Octomer, were they called?

The creature released your head. You felt the tentacles on your leg release as well, drifting away from you. Slowly, you lowered your head, moving tentatively to avoid hitting it again. You tried to peer into the water, but there was no light in the tank. You couldn’t see anything.

Something splashed next to you. The water grew choppier, like something else had broken the surface. Before you could move to investigate, a pale blue light blossomed from next to you.

There was a person in the water next to you. They were terribly pale, almost ghostly, though that may have been a trick of the blue light that gleamed from patches on his skin. The glowing blue lights glowed under his eyes and across his forehead, following the bone structure of his face. Only his head showed above the water, his eyes glittering in the light that he gave off.

“Hello,” you said. Your voice was raspy and weak, and you sputtered as little waves of salty water flowed into your mouth. “Can- can you tell me where I am?”

The octomer stared at you. Something brushed against your leg and you went still. Did it speak English? Maybe not. Probably not. Why would an undersea creature speak English? It seemed to be more interested in looking at you than helping you do anything. Cautiously, you drifted back away from it. It followed you, though it kept a certain amount of distance between you.

You had only been floating back a few feet when your back struck a wall. You stopped, sputtering. The octomer drifted closer, blinking its large, inky-black eyes at you.

Arms stretched out, you drifted from side to side, trying to touch the walls. By your best estimate, the container was at least ten feet across, probably ten square feet, though it was far deeper. It was a cage. You had escaped from a cage into another cage.

Despair rose in you in a terrible tidal wave. Your limbs felt too heavy to keep yourself up anymore. This cage was much bigger, much stronger, and full of water. Already, you could feel your limbs going numb and heavy with cold. You couldn’t escape and you couldn’t keep swimming forever. Eventually, you would drown.

Sobs burst out of your chest. It was stupid to cry, it used up energy and air you didn’t have, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The octomer drifted away from you, eyes wide. You kicked your legs furiously, but you could already feel yourself starting to drift underwater. Your chest burned, but your legs hurt from trying to keep yourself above the water.

The light dimmed. The octomer had darted under the water. Had it lost interest? Or was it just waiting for you to drown so it could easily pick apart your corpse?

Hands touched your waist. They were firm, strong, and they hoisted you effortlessly out of the water. The octomer’s head appeared in the water next to you, dark eyes blinking up at you. Its filament hair drifted against your skin, tickling faintly.

You sagged in relief. The octomer’s hands kept your head above the water, even when you stopped kicking. Your entire body felt heavy. Where you weren’t numb, you were in pain. Muscle cramps seized through your legs, and the tingling pain of cold was burning at your fingers and toes. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, but you were still alive and you were breathing.

The octomer abruptly leaned forward and nuzzled its face against your stomach. You froze. The way it was holding you meant that its head was roughly level with your torso, and it was simply nuzzling and sniffing the area that was easiest for it to reach. The touch was… curious? It didn’t seem to be trying to do anything to you. It was just nuzzling.

You shivered. The creature pulled its head back, eyes wide as it stared up at you. The lights along its body pulsed, dimming and brightening in a rhythmic pattern. It seemed to be assessing you. Perhaps it was trying to figure out if you were going to attack it. You shivered again. It was so cold. Even if you were no longer in danger of drowning, you were in desperate danger of getting hypothermia.

When it realized that you weren’t going to attack it, the creature leaned back in to nuzzle you again. The tentacles wrapped around your legs again, suckers popping against you skin. The long filaments of its hair wreathed outward, touching every bit of exposed skin they could find. You held as still as possible. The creature didn’t seem to want to hurt you. Maybe it was better to just let it explore.

The filaments touched their way across your face. You closed your eyes as they twitched around your eyelids. Gradually, the filaments settled, though they were still resting on you. There was a faint buzzing sensation, like they were mildly electrified. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

There was a sudden, unpleasant feeling in the back of your mind. Something was rifling through your memories like it was going through a filing cabinet. You could feel it, rustling around in the back of your head.

Just as you noticed this, the rifling thing turned its attention to you. A wave of calm flowed from the presence, giving you the impression of someone walking toward you with their hands up. The octomer’s hands shifted against your head as it nuzzled you again.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Your voice echoed a little in the confines of the container. “You’re doing this?”

You had no idea if the octomer could understand you, but the nuzzling at your stomach stopped. The presence in your mind kept sending out waves of peace toward you, but you could feel an underlying sense of curiosity. Tentatively, you closed your eyes and focused on the presence.

There was one curious moment where your mind approached the other one, then, like two drops sliding together, you merged.

Everything was confusing for a long moment. A blur of colors and sounds rushed through your mind, flickering too fast for you to latch onto. Flashes of feelings and fragmented ideas tore at your mind. Swimming through blue water, tangling in a great web, being hauled up and dragged into a cage, prodded and poked, and the hunger. A great, yawning hunger that grew and grew and was unsatisfied by any of the fish or feed the captors shoved into the cage.

A heavy sensation formed in the pit of your stomach. A few other memories surfaced from the other mind related to the hunger- great fangs, red blood gushing out in the water, slurping and drinking and… Cold terror shocked through you. A man in a white coat bleeding into the water and drinking and drinking deeply of the rich red liquid until it filled the great maw inside.

Blood. This creature drank blood. And you were trapped with it.

Your first instinct was to try to fight off the creature. But the fact that it was holding you made you pause and take stock of the situation again. It hadn’t tried to eat you yet, even though you could feel the burn of hunger in the back of its mind. It was still supporting you above the water. And the tone of its thoughts seemed far more curious than aggressive. Tentatively, you reached out with your own mind.

Your attempts to do so were fumbling. Clearly this creature was far more adept with telepathy than you were. But as you struggled to reach out, you felt a returning rush of delight. The creature’s mind surged around yours, interested and eager about your attempts to reach back.

The telepathic communication was both rudimentary and somehow far more complex than using words. It took you a few tries, but you managed to communicate how you’d ended up trapped in a cage. The creature’s mind hummed with sympathy, showing you its similar story. It also communicated, however vaguely, that you were safe from it. Images of the scientists were always tinged with red anger, but as it showed you an image of yourself, the tone shifted to curiosity and interest. It was even tinged with affection, the sort of way you would think about something cute.

Water sputtered into your mouth. You coughed frantically, kicking your legs. They were so heavy, so tired. Everything below your knees was numb. A flutter of concern pressed against your mind. The creature shifted, lifting you further out of the water. Apparently, holding you up was starting to tire it out too.

Despite your relief that the creature with you was on your side and not going to eat you, it didn’t change the situation you were in. Even with help, you couldn’t stay above the water forever, and it was cold enough that you were going to get hypothermia and die anyway. How long could the pair of you hold on?

The creature rested its head against you again, making soft, mewling noises. A flicker of protectiveness moved through its mind, along with anger. It took a moment for you to follow the direction of its thoughts. The creature was angry that the scientists were trying to sacrifice you to it, angry that they thought it would be so cruel.

You reached out carefully with your mind again. This time, you focused heavily on only one thought: escape. How do we get out?

A flurry of uncertain thoughts came back along the connection to you. Sometimes the scientists came into the tank or opened it up to run tests, but there were always too many of them to try and escape through.

You pressed for more information. The scientists. Where did they come from?

Up. Above. You extended your numb fingers to brush them along the wall a couple of inches from your face. The ceiling was removeable. That made sense. It was likely locked, though, or at least too heavy to move on your own.

You considered your options for a moment. All right. You couldn’t open the cage on your own. But you did have one advantage: the scientists threw you in the cage as food. Which meant they were expecting you to be dead. There had to be a way to use that to your advantage.

You asked the creature when the scientists were coming back. Soon, apparently. The creature sent back images of it eating, then the scientists coming back not too long after.

“Then we need to be ready,” you said out loud. Slowly, carefully, you outlined your plan to the creature. It was difficult to do so while also keeping your jangling nerves from startling it Luckily, the creature was accepting and quick-witted enough to understand and accept your plan.

You floated at the top of the tank. It was less convincing because you had to float face-up instead of face-down, but you had to hope that the scientists wouldn’t be suspicious. And you only needed them to be fooled from a distance.

The creature bumped at you from under the water. You could feel his (it felt weird to keep referring to him as it, and his mind had indicated male) worry bubbling at the back of your mind, making a pit of anxiety twist in your own stomach. He kept nudging worriedly at you, hovering only inches away. Eventually, you had to tell him to swim away, lest he look suspicious when the tank got opened. You could feel him pouting in the back of your mind as he obliged.

It took all your willpower not to open your eyes when you heard the scrape and groan of metal being shifted. You made yourself go as limp as possible. You just needed to look dead. Hopefully the hypothermia you were experiencing would assist in that.

Light shone against your closed eyelids. Water lapped at your ears, but beyond that, you could hear the murmuring of voices.

“Didn’t eat the solids, I guess,” a rough, masculine voice said from somewhere above you. “Hal, you owe me twenty bucks.”

“Fish out the body, first. Maybe he took a few nibbles.” There was a splashing noise and something metal poked your side. Worry fluttered in the back of your mind, almost frantic. The creature swam toward you. You warned him off, but he was only barely held at bay by your warning.

The hook caught around your waist. You remained as still and limp as possible as you were hauled up on some kind of observation platform.

“Hey, hold on,” a third voice said. “I think this one’s still breathing-”

Okay, time to go. You launched yourself up, seizing the man around his neck with your elbow. You weren’t much of a fighter, admittedly, but you had the advantage of surprise and a slippery working platform. You managed to knock him off balance and dunk him into the water.

He sputtered, scrambling frantically. Blue lights illuminated the water around him as the creature surged upward. The other two scientists scrambled, trying to get a hold of you. Luckily, one of them was clearly off-balance and you managed to dodge him. The other one seized your arm, twisting it around. There was a pressure on your shoulder as he jerked it, threatening to pop it out.

Furiously, you twisted at him. You couldn’t remember any of the fighting and self-defense techniques that you had seen on the internet, but you didn’t care. You just lunged at him, clawing and snapping your teeth and just trying to hurt in any way you could. The man yanked your arm more severely and something tore. Screaming pain lanced across your shoulder, up your neck, and down your chest.

The other scientist screamed. The one holding you twisted to look and his grip loosened in shock.

The creatures had managed to clamber out of the tank while the scientists were distracted. It was bigger than you’d realized. Even its human part seemed unusually large, but the surging tentacles that made up its lower half took up a great deal of the platform. One of them slammed into the scientist not holding you, pressing him into a wall. The creature barely paid him any mind. Instead, the creature’s attention was fixed on the scientist holding you.

Out of the water, clearly visible, the creature’s sharp, bony features were thrown into a strange relief. His upper body was skinny, though his tentacles looked powerful and muscular. The long filaments that covered his head like hair shifted and twitched, raising like a halo. Dark eyes glittered in his face, reflecting his bioluminescence. And his teeth… they were all sharp, like a slightly narrower version of a shark’s tooth.

The scientist dropped you. Trying not to land on your injured arm made for an awkward fall, where you smacked your chin on the ground instead. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.

A tentacle reached over your head and, with a violent motion, sent the scientist who had been holding you tumbling into the water. The creature bent over you, making soft, trilling vocalizations. His filaments tickled over your skin, worry bubbling up from his mind.

“I’m fine,” you said. “Oh, oww…” The worry pressed against your mind with more intensity. The creature took a gentle hold of your arm, probing lightly at it. His mind reflected your pain, adding sorrow and concern to the mixture. “It doesn’t feel good,” you reassured him, “but I can manage it. Ugh.”

The creature kept making soft, worried noises as it helped you to your feet. “We need to find a way out,” you said, trying to focus your mind around the pain.

The little sounds of concern became more intense. The creature butted his head against your good shoulder, nuzzling you furiously. You absently patted his head as you looked around the room. None of the scientists had managed to raise the alarms. Everything was still and silent. Ahead of you, there was a heavy metal door. Slowly, you approached it.

The creature followed you as you stopped in front of the door. Taking a deep breath, you put your good shoulder to the door, turned the doorknob, and shoved.

The door slid open more easily than you were expecting. The hall beyond smelled faintly moldy. Puddles of damp covered the floor. You lifted your hand to your nose. “Ew.”

It seemed like you were in some kind of cave. Everything was uneven stone. There were only a few lights scattered throughout the hallway, so you relied mostly on the glimmering light of the creature crawling along next to you.

An unsettled feeling was starting in your stomach. This wasn’t some kind of military-grade lab. It was made to sort of look like it, but the cracks were there. It was made by someone with money, but not enough money to make it all official.

Poachers or smugglers. Some group selling endangered creatures for money. Which meant the creature beside you was either rare, endangered, or both. And you were technically robbing people who would probably be able to make your life a living hell.

You were so lost in that thought, you didn’t notice when the creature stopped dead, back going stiff. You paused and took a few steps backward. “What’s wrong?”

The creature’s mind touched yours again. You got a vague sense of salt and ocean air, the rush of waves. “The ocean is nearby?” The creature made a soft, trilling noise. He scanned the wall for a moment, then pointed up toward the ceiling. There was a small opening in the wall, faint beams of white light streaming through.

Images of swimming, sliding free through the water hit your mind with such force it almost bowled you over. The creature reached out with his tentacles and started to heave his body up toward the opening.

There was no way you were going to be able to climb up and follow him. When he realized you weren’t following him, he turned to look back at you. Concern fluttered against your mind.

“I can’t climb like you can,” you said. “Especially not with my arm. I can keep going. There must be some other way out.”

The creature tilted his head at you, still partially hanging off the wall. Two of his tentacles detached from the wall and slithered around your waist. You could feel the muscular strength rippling through him, but the grip on you was gentle. The creature’s mind pressed against yours soothingly as he pulled you in close to his body. Swiftly, he turned and pulled himself through the hole, taking you with him.

The hole was barely big enough for the two of you to fit through together. Stone scraped against your arm, one particularly sharp one cutting a thin slice through your skin. Your physical proximity to him seemed to be enhancing whatever connection had been established between you. You could feel faint prickles of discomfort against your skin where he was scraping against the stone. There were even odd phantom pains whenever stone pressed against his tentacles.

After a few moments of careful wriggling, the creature heaved himself out of the tunnel and onto an outcropping of rock.

You looked around. The location was unrecognizable to you. Sea spray filled the air along with the crash of the waves. You were seated on top of some kind of rock formation at the edge of a beach. The open ocean stretched out in front of you.

“Hurry,” you said, nudging him toward the water. “You need to go. Get away!”

The creature made an anxious mewling noise and twisted back toward you. He butted his head against your chin like an affectionate cat. Worry fluttered against your mind once more.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine! I can get down to the beach and-” You stopped. What were you going to do? Where were you? How far away was civilization? Your shoulder throbbed again, reminding you of your injured state. The people who had captured the octomer were going to be looking for you. How long did you have until they found you?

The creature mewled once more. His tentacles twisted around you, coiling around your waist and your legs. The worry pressed against your mind again, this time far stronger. “You can’t take me with you,” you said. “I can’t breathe under water, I’m hurt, I-”

The tone of his mind against yours shifted. You trailed off. His eyes had shifted from your face down to your stinging arm. Blood welled up from the shallow cut and slid in warm dribbles down your forearm. And as he watched it, the thoughts against yours took on a tone of hunger. That great, gnawing emptiness inside him was rising.

Fear jolted through you and through your connection. The creature blinked once, twice, then the hunger was fiercely restrained. You could feel him fighting against it through the bond. He dropped low to the rock, making soft, soothing noises.

“You need to go,” you said. “Hurry.” You pushed against his mind again. He pushed back. His thoughts whirled against yours, trying to sort out some kind of a solution. You had a hard time sorting out any specific thoughts, since his mind was moving so fast, but you noticed when he settled on a path. With a new determination, he leaned toward you, one arm extended. His mind projected soothing, gentle thoughts into your own. Trust me. Listen to me. I will help you. Just go with what I am asking for.

You had only just allowed your feeling of acceptance to come forward when he took hold of your arm. His fingers were tight on your wrist, though not uncomfortably so. The soothing feeling pressed against your mind as he lowered his head to your arm. He sniffed at the rivulets of blood that were seeping from your skin. Then his mouth opened and a long, slithering tongue emerged.

The tongue slipped down and lapped at your arm a few times. It was slightly rough, not barbed, like a cat’s tongue, but distinctly textured. There was almost no pain, just a faintly uncomfortable prickling. As his tongue ran over your arm, the blood stopped weeping. By the third lick, the cut was nothing more than a faintly pink slice in your arm.

You pressed at it as he leaned back, tongue slithering back into his mouth. There was no more pain. The wound was gone, as if it had never been there. “Ooh,” you muttered. “I can see why they tried to poach you. That’s a handy skill.”

The creature slithered closer to you and bumped his head against your shoulder. The hunger in the back of his mind had faded, if only slightly. “You still need to go,” you told him. “Hurry. You healed me. I’ll be fine.”

The creature sent back an image of your shoulder. You sucked in a breath. You hadn’t been looking at it, but apparently it was starting to swell and turn a nasty purply shade. “Don’t suppose you can do anything about that?” The creature sent you a complicated series of images and emotions that boiled down to the idea that he couldn’t do anything if it wasn’t an open wound. “Rats.” You glanced back toward shore. “Well, it won’t stop me from running. I’ll just have to move fast, try to get to the nearest town. Hopefully I’ll be safe there.”

Worry pressed against your mind with more force. The creature made a high keening noise, nuzzling close to you. You absently stroked his head. The filaments that made up his hair wrapped around your fingers. “It’ll be all right. They’ll probably want to go after you first. Which is why you need to go!” You gave him a shove with your good arm. He slid back a little way on the rock before pulling himself closer to you.

The creature considered you for a moment longer, then he reached for you. His hands came down on either side of your face. His thoughts sent soothing messages to you before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

His filament hair twined forward, wrapping around your head. You were barely paying attention to that, though. His mouth was working against yours, his tongue tracing against your lips. The more he touched you, the more his thoughts slipped into your mind. Feelings of pleasure and concern and comfort mixed together until you couldn’t remember exactly where he ended and you started. Your thoughts just merged. There was no thinking about running or safety. There was just the Experience, the Moment where you were together and kissing.

The creature pulled back. You blinked. There was a moment of raw, cold emptiness in your mind, a hole where his presence had been seconds earlier. Your own mind adjusted after a moment, filling the gaps, but there was still an odd sense of loneliness. For a just a moment, you had been… understood. Known. And cared for. Losing that was disorienting.

Chirping quietly, the creature nuzzled his face into the crook of your shoulder. The touch made you jump. His mind reappeared in yours, pressing gently against yours for a moment, like a goodbye, then he twisted away from you. There was a splash and a spray of seawater as he slipped beneath the waves. For a moment, you saw brightly-colored tentacles flash by just under the surface of the water. Then he was gone.

You waited for a few moments longer, staring out into the ocean. Nerves jangled wildly in your mind, but there was an odd, alien sense of peace as well. Of course. He was safe. You would Know if he wasn’t.

It was a weird sense of certainty, but its weirdness didn’t diminish the feeling that you would know if he was hurt. The confidence buoyed your spirits. You turned and picked your way carefully across the rocks until you made it to shore.

As it turned out, you were quite a ways from civilization. The sun was setting when you came across a tiny, rustic-looking town. Fortunately, someone stumbling into town absolutely soaked and rumpled-looking in a wetsuit garnered enough concern from the locals to get you a bed for the night.

Apparently, if you lived in a tiny town on a relatively rural stretch of coastline, a shivering person with no provisions but a wetsuit wasn’t entirely weird. You managed to spin some story about walking along a cliff and accidentally falling into the ocean, losing your bag of possessions in the process. No one seemed to question it. The next morning, you were provided with clothes and a ticket home on the closest train.

The next few days were a rush of both trying to get all your lost objects back, mostly your phone and your wallet, and being overly suspicious of every person you didn’t recognize. You weren’t sure how much effort was going to go into finding you, or if they even cared. You considered going to the police, but you weren’t even sure what you would say. That you’d been kidnapped and almost fed to a merman? You didn’t have any identifying details. In the end, you decided to just keep your head down.

It worked, or at least, it seemed to. After a week, you were no longer jumping at shadows, and you had gotten a handle on all your important documents enough for that stress to be diminished.

Of course, that was when something else started happening.

Your emotions were going absolutely haywire. Initially, you thought it might be something to do with the stress of being kidnapped, but it didn’t feel like a stress response. Instead, you would get strange bursts of happiness out of nowhere, or odd surges of melancholy. The emotions were never congruent with the situation, and had no discernable triggers. They just simply appeared in your mind, as overwhelming as if they were in response to something.

Before bed was the worst. Every time you drifted off to sleep, your mind was full of the sound of crashing waves, the feeling of drifting through the waves, and the strange surges of emotions that were definitely not your own.

As the emotions grew stronger, so did a sense of calling in your mind. It tugged your feet when you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking. You woke every morning with a sense of longing at your heart. Come. Come! Find me. I miss you. The thoughts echoed in your mind louder and louder until they drowned out your own thoughts.

Driven by the calling in your mind, you headed down to the shore. Nerves pricked along your back as you walked along the beach. This was where you’d been kidnapped last time. But the feeling of safety surged through your mind, so you headed down toward the edge of the beach regardless. By the time your feet touched the water, you had entirely stopped trying to keep yourself above the waves of emotion that lapped against your mind. Your body was pulled into the waves, automatically following the pull.

You had always been a reasonably strong swimmer. Within a few minutes, you were out in water high enough to cover your whole body. The calling took on an excited tone, like an eager puppy. Come! I am here! Come!

Something slammed into you from underneath the water. Strong arms wrapped around you first, followed by a tangle of sucking tentacles. A head pressed into the crook of your neck.

The joy that flooded through your mind was almost the emotional equivalent of a bomb going off. It was stunning, rendering you insensate to anything else. If the creature hadn’t been holding you up at the surface, you probably would have forgotten to breathe.

“It’s you!” you yelped, startled. The creature nuzzled at you, making excited chirping noises. “You’re… you’re here! Why?”

Ideas and images flooded your mind, overwhelming until the creature calmed his mind enough to give you a coherent story. Missed you. Worried. The creature showed you an image of his body and your body. There was a bright line connecting them.

Comprehension flooded you. “When we kissed. That we you connecting our minds?”

Needed to make sure you were safe. The creature butted his head against you again. Safe! Safe. Both safe.

You ran your hand over his head. His filament-hair twisted and tangled around your fingers. “You haven’t seen the people who trapped you again?”

He gave a rapid shake of his head. The filament-hair swirled around him in a long mane. “That’s good.” You looked out into the sea, at the endless blue waves that faded into the horizon. “Are you… do you have somewhere to go? Family or friends?”

The answer popped into your mind within seconds. No. You got vague images of family, but he had separated from them before he had been captured. There was a pause, vague concepts tickling at your mind. The creature seemed to be trying to communicate something complex. You took a deep breath, relaxed, and opened your mind.

The images that came to you were complicated, overlapping, and not in any precise order. You had to take a minute to sort it out in your mind. There were images of creatures like him tangling their tentacles together, swirling in odd dances. The same shining connection he had showed you between you and him gleamed between the two bodies.

There were more images of the creatures swirling together, then some images that definitely made you blush. The creature showed them to you perfectly matter-of-fact, perfectly nonchalant, though you felt its curiosity at your embarrassment. The connection was still there between the two creatures in every image he showed to you. The connection was important. It was something he was trying to convey to you. His tentacles wrapped around your legs, clinging tightly.

“Oh!” Something clicked in your head. The connection. The way he was rubbing against you. The images he was showing you. “This is… that’s… you do that for your mates?”

You felt his joy at your conclusion. Yes! Yes. Mine. Under his affection, you sensed a slight streak of possessiveness. He nuzzled against you, lips tugging delicately at your skin.

Perhaps you should have been surprised or reluctant. But you weren’t. You could feel his affection surrounding your mind like a hug. Your minds touched, mingled. Already, you knew him better than you knew anyone else. Almost better than you knew yourself. And he knew you in the same way. And he loved everything he knew, a deep, abiding caring that filled your entire body from your head to your toes. You wrapped yourself around him as he supported your head above the water.

His tentacles wrapped around you, tugging your body against his. The connection between your minds, already fuzzy, blurred into nonexistence. There were two bodies working against each other, but only one mind, humming with heat and love and joy.

#exophilia #mermay2021 #merman #merman boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #mermaid #merfolk #merman lover

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beskarhearts · 3 years

Text

Scars (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series pt. 4

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, mention of family members passing away, scars, torture from empire, some sexual tension

Word count: A little over 4.8K

Summary: The Mandalorian sees a part of you that you’ve been hiding and comforts you.

Notes: Did I listen to drivers license by olivia rodrigo on repeat while writing this and tear up at least two times? Yes. Is this possibly the saddest thing I’ve written yet? Yes.

Last Part ____ Next Part

__________________________________________________________

“If you don’t take off your jacket and sweater, I will.”

And that is when you realized that everything the Mandalorian says sounds 20x more sexual than it ever should.

________________________________

You’ve said it once. And you will say it a hundred more times.

The Razor Crest was a hunk of junk. A total piece of trash. It may as well had been space garbage, just floating through the atmosphere. You swore it was a metal death trap that could just happen to fly through light speed. You told Din to get a new ship and he had very sassily remarked about how she was perfectly fine (yes, he referred to his stupid ship as a ‘she’ and you couldn’t stop laughing about it for five minutes straight).

Regardless of Din’s arguing, you knew deep down the ship was junk. And that is why you had to stop (again). You had rushed to fix the wing on the planet where you had been attacked and it’s been a couple days since then. It held up okay but you knew you were going to have to stop on a planet for probably a whole day, so you could fix the wing, as well as the heater which had broken down in the last day.

So you and Din had planned to stop on a remote planet. One without a lot of humans or any big civilizations near by, that way you wouldn’t have another surprise visitor like last time. One where you could fix the ship and where Din could take a day to relax, to sit back and not worry about the safety of you and the kid. To be honest, it sounded like a great day to you. You would keep busy with the ship, but Din would watch over the kid and talk to you. It would be like how life used to be almost. A taste of normalcy in an otherwise hectic world.

And then Din landed you in the middle of the damn desert.

“Din Djarin, when I said land on a planet, you couldn’t have chosen one with water or plants or nice, cool temperatures?” Din had just stepped back into the ship after checking the surroundings of where you had landed. His armored head faced you and the kid you had held in your arms. The child gurgled endlessly, his tiny fingers clutching onto the zipper of your jacket as you rocked him back and forth.

“I’ve been to this planet before. There aren’t a lot of people. Worse there is are some Jawas. And Mudhorns, but they stick to the caves.”

“Mudhorns? Where are we?”

“Arvala-7. This is one of the first places the kid and I went together.” The Mandalorian walked towards the two of you, stopping right in front of you. One of his gloved hands reached out to pat at the kids head. The child’s attention drifted from your zipper to his father, a hand reaching out. Din wiggled one of his fingers at the kid, something you don’t even think he realized he did, and watched as the three green digits wrapped around his finger. You smiled at the sight before you, looking at Mando’s helmet which was tilted down, aimed towards the child. The moment felt so domestic, like you three were just a little family. You and Din parenting the kid, living life traveling through the galaxy, not because you had to run but because you wanted to. You could’ve easily let yourself drift into the daydream but shook it away. That was a reality a person like you could never have. A reality that Din deserved and maybe could have one day, but with someone else. Someone who was worthy of a man like him.

“Well, I am so glad you and the kid are going to take a trip down memory lane here but I am going to die from the heat.” You heard the Mandalorian chuckle as his hands reached out to grab the child. You handed him over to his dad’s arms, which the kid seemed to very pleased about. You could tell that the kid liked his father’s embrace, even though most of his body was covered in beskar. He liked to be held by Din and lately you had been wondering what that would feel like. For his strong arms to wrap around you.

Lately you had been thinking a lot of things about the Mandalorian that you shouldn’t have.

“Didn’t you grow up on Jakku? That place is even hotter than here.” The words were said with a hint of sarcasm, as his helmet turned as if to said ‘duh’.

“Yes but that was different.”

“How? Just take off some layers and you’ll be fine.”

He said it very matter-of-factly and you supposed that was a reasonable thing for most people to do. Most of the time when you were on Jakku, outside working, you would only wear a pair of cargo shorts and a tank top with a work vest. Light layers that kept you cool and allowed your skin to be kissed by the sun as you worked away on a ship. You remembered spending hours upon hours outsides, never being bothered once by the heat and desert environment.

But things were different. You had lived on Yungbrii for so long now that you were used to the cold. And you always wore your sweater, with a jacket over it. Taking those off weren’t an option anymore. Wearing just the tank top underneath them wasn’t an luxury you could afford anymore.

“I have a shirt you can borrow if you need to.” Din broke your train of thought with the offer.

An offer that nearly made you lose it. You had never once thought of wearing a piece of Din’s clothing. Hadn’t ever crossed your mind or been mentioned. And you knew he was only offering it because the temperature outside, no other reason. Not because he wanted to see you in his clothing or anything like that. Just to be kind. But, the thought of you wearing a shirt of Dins, something his skin had touched and probably smelled like him and would probably swallow you... made you feel some things. And a part of you really, really wanted to take him up on the offer. But that would show too much skin.

“No!” You had inadvertently yelled it out, watching as Mando’s helmet whipped up from the kid to you. “I mean... uh, yeah. No thanks. I’m good.”

“Uh, okay. Yeah.”

An awkward silence filled the room until the kid let out a loud giggle. You swear the little womp rat could tell when you had just done some dumb shit and always thought it was the funniest thing in the whole damn galaxy. You scrunched up your nose as the kids big black eyes looked up at you and you turned to look away from him and Din.

You needed to ease the tension. “Don’t you get hot in the giant tin can of yours?”

You couldn’t tell if Din found the tin can jokes funny or insulting, but every-time you made them he let out a little huff, one you couldn’t decipher as a laugh or a sigh. It was one of those times you wished you could see him face. You had gotten pretty used to reading him, despite the helmet and his quiet demeanor. But times like these you wish you could see an expression, an eyebrow raise, a smile, anything. “Sometimes.”

“I’d imagine you are sweating buckets under there.” You walked towards the bag you had stuffed in a corner of Din’s ship, reaching into it to grab your father’s box of tools. The cool touch of the metal against your fingers made a pain spread throughout your whole body. The tools were the only thing you had left of him. The only reminder that he had existed and that he had been there for you every day. The only reminder of the hours he spent teaching you about ships and how to fix them, ever since you were only a tiny little girl. Your mother thought you would be preoccupied with more feminine things. But even at a young age, you loved the feel of metal against your fingers, the sweat that would collect on your brow from the sun, the ache of your muscles from a hard days work. It gave you purpose, meaning. It was a way to help and to contribute. And all you had ever wanted to do was help your family, even in the end.

But you had failed to do that.

You heard the clanking of Din’s boots behind you and he stopped behind you, bending down at the knees. If he didn’t have his helmet on, you probably could have felt his breath on the back of your neck, but now you only heard the sound of his breathing through the modulator. It was faint but it was there. “You okay?”

You could of broke down sobbing at the moment. At your father’s tools in your hand and Din’s worry about you. But, instead you shook your head and stood up, looking down at him still bent down. “I’m getting there.”

And it was true. For the first time in years, you felt like maybe one day you would be okay. That the pain wouldn’t be so gut-wrenching every day.

And that was only because of Din.

“I should probably get started on fixing the ship.” You gave the Mandalorian, your Mandalorian, a small smile and walked past him, outside of the ship.

_____________________________________

It was so hot.

You weren’t used to the heat anymore. You weren’t used to the way your sweat would seep out of every pore, drenching your clothes. You weren’t used to the fatigue that came along with a hard day’s work in the sun. And the sweater and jacket probably weren’t helping. But no way in hell were you going to take them off. No one was even around but Din kept walking back outside to check on you, probably cause your stupid ass was dying of heat exhaustion.

Your sweater clung to your skin, the jacket slightly more durable but still trapping your body heat. You bent over a panel on the Razor Crest’s side, a tool tightly grasped in your hand as you worked away. The other hand reached up to wipe away at your forehead continuously.

“You are going to kill yourself out here.”

Something you hated about the Mandalorian was that he could be so quiet sometimes and sneak up on you. The man was always covered in metal and you would think you would hear him from a mile away, but he could come up behind you without letting out a peep. Which made sense considering his job but it was so unnerving.

You jumped, turning to look at Din, who stood with his hands on his hips and his helmet tilted. “You look like shit.” The words were said gruffly, with an air of annoyance.

“Well, you sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” You were almost too tired and hot to let the joke out, but you didn’t want Din to know how horrible you felt. Which was probably useless because you couldn’t even see yourself and knew Din was in fact correct: you did look like shit. Your skin was flushed red, your hair pulled into a ponytail but tiny wisps of hair clung to your head, wet from perspiration.

“You need to take off some layers. You are overheating.”

“How do you know, sir?”

“My helmet can tell your internal body temperature.”

Of course it can. “Well that feels invasive.”

Din let out a loud sigh at that, one that was loud and clear through the modulator. You were driving him crazy but he didn’t understand. “You need to take them off.”

“Nope.” You let your lips pop out the word, going to turn away when you felt Din’s hand reach out and grab your arm. He turned you back to face him, stepping even closer.

“If you don’t take off your jacket and sweater, I will.”

And that is when you realized that everything the Mandalorian says sounds 20x more sexual than it ever should.

You thanked the Maker that your face was already a bright red from the sun and tried your best to not start choking on your own saliva from the words. On the list of things you thought Din Djarin would say to you, you never would have put ‘threatening to take your clothes off’.

You blamed the modulator. Something about the modulator made his deep, raspy words sound sexier than they had any right to (not that you frequently thought that Din’s voice sounded sexy, because that would be weird and inappropriate). And Din was saying this to try to convince you to stop killing yourself in this unbearable heat, but your stomach still clenched at the threat.

Damn you, Din Djarin. You had to come up with a good come back. Something so he knew his words hadn’t effected you.

“Well, Din, if you wanted to see me undressed this badly, you should of asked sooner.”

You expected Din to step back, mumbling some lame apology and leaving you be but your Mandalorian was much more determined than you realized. “Sweet girl, no snarky response is going to make me leave this be. You are gonna die out here.”

Oh boy. Of course he said sweet girl. He had said it once last night while you had a conversation (the same conversation where you had told him a little about your family) and you had lamely teased him about flirting. Maybe because you were secretly hoping he was flirting. And you were afraid you had scared him away from ever calling you that again, because you honestly loved the way it sounded. Sweet girl. It was such a sweet thing, made so much sense that Din would call you that. It made you feel special and made your hands tremble.

Oh, now you had to come up with something really good. Because not only was Din trying to get your to take your sweater off, but now you swear the man was teasing you. There was no way he had no clue what he was doing. And you were the only one allowed to tease people here. So you had to come back with something really snarky, really teasing, that way he’d leave you alone and let you breathe.

But he didn’t give you time to do that because his gloved fingers started reaching for the shoulders of your jacket, so he could take it off of you. And while you were sure in any other situation, if you were any other person with any other life, you maybe just might of let Din continue, you had to stop it.

“I’ll take it off!” you yelled out.

Din ripped his hands away from you, looking down at them for a split second before dropping them down to his sides. He stepped back slowly, like he was unsure what to say or what to do with the tension in the environment.

“I’ll take them off. But you can’t be out here. You need to stay in the ship.” You said the words slowly and watched as the Mandalorian nodded his head in response, before turning away without another word.

You were confused. You didn’t know what had just happened. You didn’t know if the Mandalorian was angry with you or if he was reeling from what had just happened like you were. But you didn’t give yourself much more time to think before you took the jacket off, letting it drop to the ground. Your fingers reached for the hem of your sweater and with a shakey breath and one more look around your surroundings, you lifted the fabric over your head. Leaving you only in a jankily cut tank top, with the scars littered on your back and arms exposed. The very scars you had avoided looking at were out for the world to see for the first time since you got them.

________________________________________

The child was most definitely a womp rat.

It was like he knew when it was not the time to mess around, and decided to mess around. You had been bent down, working away at a panel mindlessly, not paying much attention to your surroundings. You were so close to being done and were consumed in the final bits of work. And the child had made his way out of the ship, waddling up behind you, reaching for you without you being aware of it. You were lost in the gruel of work, in the warm feeling of the sun on your skin. You didn’t know what was happening until it was too late. Until you head the footsteps.

You flipped around, looking over to the child and then hearing the Mandalorians boots pound on the ramp leading outside. The child let out a squeak at the sight of his dad and it was too late. Din’s head whipped to look over right as your turned around, desperately reaching for your jacket or sweater to cover your skin. You knew it wasn’t on purpose. You knew the kid had probably escaped and Din was just worried about him leaving the ship. You knew he was just worried about the kids whereabouts. It wasn’t malicious or an excuse to look. It was just happenstance but it was still too late.

“I’m sorry. The kid was napping and I turned around and then he disappeared and-” You heard the abrupt pause in his babbling and knew he saw. Knew he saw the dozens of marks on your back and arms that faced him. Saw the scars that were an almost white color but still very apparent. Saw the scars you so desperately tried to cover.

You slowly turned around, feeling your chest cave as this part of you was exposed. Tears pricked at your eyes as you saw Din look at you. The child cooed with curiosity, not quite understanding the gravity of the moment. “Who did this to you?”

You heard the tone of his voice loud and clear. He was angry and sounded like a man ready to kill. You knew he wouldn’t like seeing it but even you didn’t understand how much this hurt Din to see. To see his sweet one so hurt and scarred. To see that someone did something so awful to you, something you would always keep as a reminder. “Din-”

“Tell me who.” He wasn’t messing around. He didn’t want to hear you try to calm him or change the conversation. He wanted to know who was responsible for your pain.

You let out a sigh. “Let’s go inside.”

You picked up the kid, cursing him mentally for being so curious, and your other hand reached for your box of tools until you saw the Mandalorian reach for them. He followed you as you walked up the ramp, into the Razor Crest. You set the child into his little hammock, handing him one of his small toys to keep him preoccupied as the Mandalorian closed the hatch, locking out the outside world. The world that had caused you and him so much pain. You were back in your ship, your bubble where there was joy and love.

“Who did that to you?” He repeated, more evenly but you still heard the rage dripping off his words. His fists were clenched tightly and his helmet was aimed right towards you. You couldn’t see his eyes but you felt like they were burning into your skin.

“This Imperial leader...” You took a deep breath in and out before continuing. “When they found my family, my grandmother wasn’t anywhere around. And they wanted her most. So, they tortured me, hoping I would give up her location. But, I didn’t know and now... I’ve got this ugly, horrible reminder.”

The air was heavy around you as a single tear slipped out. Din didn’t say anything or move. Even the child sat quietly in his hammock, big eyes staring at the two of you. You went to finally put your sweater on when Din finally interrupted with a small “Wait.”

You looked up at the man in front of you. Din brought his hands together, slowing taking off one of his gloves finger by finger until he switched to take the other off. “Do you trust me?”

You didn’t have to think about it. You just responded with a nod of the head and watched as Din dropped the gloves and slowly stepped towards you, like you were an injured animal he didn’t want to scare away. You still held the sleeve of your sweater limply in one hand, the rest of the fabric resting on the floor of the ship. Part of you still wanted to crawl into it, hide yourself, and pretend Din hadn’t seen a thing. But it was too late for that and in all honesty, you trusted Din Djarin so much. It had only been a matter of maybe a few months since you had joined him and the kid. But it felt so much longer. It had been the first time in so long that you felt safe and cared about, and you didn’t know how Din felt but you hope he shared the same feelings.

You almost gasped when Din’s hand reached out to grab your arm. It was surprisingly gentle, his fingers felt like they were just barely holding on to you. His fingertips were calloused but not rough. They gently traced the bare skin of your arm, one hand holding your wrist and the other beginning to dance along your skin. Din raised his helmet to look at you quickly and you nodded, letting him know what he was doing was okay. Not just okay, but welcomed. Din’s helmet turned back down to your arm as he watched his fingers trace the warm, sun kissed flesh.

Din’s fingers ran up the length of your arm, going from the forearm to your bicep. He moved your wrist slowly in the opposite direction, wanting you to turn around. You slowly turned, no longer facing the Mandalorian. His hands dropped from your arms and part of you wanted to whine at the lost of contact. But then Din moved your hair gently in front of your shoulders and you knew he now had a complete view of your back, besides the flimsy fabric of your tank top. His fingers returned to your skin, this time each one to each of your shoulders. You closed your eyes, trying to hold back tears, as you felt one of Din’s fingers trace one of your scars. It sent a spark through your body. His touch was so gentle and so kind and it was like he was purifying the marks, no longer making them something so ugly and twisted. The skin to skin contact was minimal, but so electrifying and warm. It made your whole chest feel warm and you realized you had never had someone do something for this like you. You never had someone take your broken pieces and try to make you whole. Nobody had ever treated you so gently because you didn’t let this part of you show.

But with Din it was so easy to. And so safe.

“Sweet girl...” He barely whispered the words, but you heard them as he continued to work all over your back.

A tear slipped down your cheek at the name, the name he made for you. A name you didn’t have to ask for and didn’t expect. But one he gave you, to make you feel cared for because that you deserved. And Din knew that.

“Din...” You didn’t really have anything to say but you just wanted to feel his name slip from your lips. It was so comforting.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

___________________________________

Din sat in the cockpit with the child in the seat beside him, bundled up and asleep, as she took a shower. His hands were still shaking and his gloves were back on but his fingers felt like they were burning. He had stood there, probably for a good hour, just touching her skin. He didn’t even know why he had done it. Why that had seemed like a good idea for him to do. For all he knew, the last thing in the world she wanted was for him to touch him. But, as soon as he grabbed onto her skin with his bare hands, he felt himself melt into and felt like maybe she had too.

The moment had been so vulnerable. She stood there, scars and all, and let herself be consoled by him. And he was vulnerable too. He exposed himself a little bit to her, letting himself delve into every part of her. She was so soft but so strong. He never doubted once her ability to protect herself and the kid. He didn’t think she was fragile. He just saw she was a human being, one who needed to be shown how perfect they were. How beautiful they were.

Because, Maker, she was so beautiful to him. Every part of her was perfect to him. And all he wanted was to show her that.

His train of thought was broken as he turned his head, listening as she made her way up the ladder to the cockpit. She stepped in and Din swore he could have stayed in this moment forever.

"I, uh, hope you don’t mind. I borrowed one of your shirts.”

Din didn’t mind at all. The sight of her in one of his shirts nearly gave him a heart attack but he still didn’t mind. The shirt was slightly too big on her, swallowing most of her midsection but fell by her thighs. Her hair was still damp from her shower and he was used to it being up in a pony tail. But now it fell down her shoulders and back.

He realized he was staring at her and cleared his throat quickly. “No. Not at all.” He gave her a small smile without even thinking about the helmet blocking his face and felt silly. She couldn’t see his face but he could look at her whenever he wanted, bask in her beauty and warmth.

“So, where are we going now?”

When she had been showering, Din had left Arvala-7 and put the Crest into hyperdrive. He had something that he wanted to do. Something he felt he needed to do. “Navarro.”

Her eyebrows scrunched up a little, in a way that Din adored. “Why Navarro?”

“I have something I have to do there. It will just be a quick stop.” He hoped his answer left little room for questions or further conversation and was content when she nodded and walked closer to him.

“Okay.” She paused, looking over at the sleeping child and smiled at the sight. Din loved seeing her with the kid. She was tough but with the kid, she was so maternal. He could see how much they loved each other. It made him so happy that the kid had someone else beside him, someone who he could look at as a mother. “I should probably get him to bed.”

“Yeah. You need some sleep too. You worked hard today.”

“It was honestly kind of nice, working on the ship. Felt like the old days a little.” Her gaze drifted back to him, a warm smile still on her face. “Din, I just wanted to say-” She paused, seeming to fumble for words but he stopped her.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Din saw her turn, arms reaching out for the child when she suddenly dropped them and turned around. She stood in front of Din, looking down at his helmet which was tilted up at her. She paused before slowly lowering her head down, laying her forehead against his helmet with eyes closed. Din could tell she was shaking a little but he just reached forward and grabbed her wrist. His thumb drew small circles.

Din was pretty certain that she didn’t know what a keldabe kiss was or the importance of it. As far as he was aware, she had a very limited knowledge of Mandalorians and was always willing to learn. But her not being aware of how monumental this moment was for Din was almost even better. The fact that she was making him feel so cherished without realizing showed how good of a person she truly was.

She eventually pulled away with a shy smile and Din dropped her wrist lightly. She turned around, grabbing the bundle the child was in, and turned towards him one last time. “Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, sweet one.”

Din watched as she walked away with the kid in her arms, going down to the hull of the Crest. And that was when he realized something.

This must be what falling in love feels like.

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