[AUTHORITY: IMPOSSIBLE]
Titus smirks, sets down his can and mirrors Garte. The gesture is much more effective on his broad frame.
“Nah, the boys are just redecorating a bit.” He shrugs, “I can ask Tibbs if he can come by sometime next week, it’s no big deal.”
The obvious provocation lands. Garte’s face turns a ruddy, blotchy pink that spreads to the collar of his shirt. To his own horror, he realizes that he is more of a fight than flight guy.
His index finger juts out, almost of its own volition, and stabs Titus in the sternum.
“You need to get a fucking handle on your little boy’s club and Tibbs better be here tomorrow morning.”
Garte doesn’t allow himself to consider that he must look ridiculous doing this, since he has to crane up his neck, standing so close to Titus.
Titus rocks on the balls of his feet once, then leans down to Garte.
“Or what, barkeep?”
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Me and my sister having the "does Captain Rex have a genetic defect that affects his coloring or is he just a bottle blond" conversation and that let us to the wonderful idea that bc he's constantly deployed, he asks Ahsoka to stop by Coruscant Sally Beauty/CVS when she's back at the temple to pick up his hair dye, and she buys fun new beads while she's at it and when she gets back into the field they have quiet cute spa mornings together, redecorating her padawan braid and redoing his roots before they have to march back out to the war front.
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BIG BURLY FLUSTERED MEN with a/o who takes one of their hands and kisses their knuckles - knuckles that have been covered in blood - and big burly man (I’m imagining König) just self destructs. Blue screens. Combusts.
Unwinding after operations is always a hassle. There's this limbo between finishing the mission and arriving back at base where adrenaline is still high, but you can't stay in one place long enough to come down from it.
Everyone is still milling about the building your unit is using as a temporary base. Counting your dead, if any, and treating the wounded before heading to the drop ships to fly back to KorTac's base.
You and König are holed off in a corner of the courtyard, you being seated on a bench with your back pressed against the wall while he sits on the ground between your legs. He rests his head back on your thigh, and you can feel the way he fidgets. Itching for something when there is nothing left to do but wait. His mask is still on, along with the rest of his gear. One of his hands idly tap your ankle, trying to find some way to release this anxious energy he has until you both can get back to base, where he knows it's safe.
You look down at him and remove your gloves, placing them aside before sneaking one of your hands under his hood and the balaclava beneath. Your fingers drag against the column of his neck, and your nails gently scratch his nape, making him groan and tilt his head back further to look up at you.
König let's out a grunt and fixes you a curious look. You hold out your free hand toward him. "Give me your hand." You murmur, and he does so compliantly.
He melts a little at the pleased little smile you give him, eyes darting down to where your hand holds his. His are so much bigger than yours, thicker too with the bulky material of his gloves. The fabric is stained red, speckles of blood still wet and crimson. He frowns a little at the idea of your hands becoming stained as well.
König thinks to rip his hand from yours, but falters when you begin to tug the leather off his fingers and down his wrist until his skin is released from the suffocating material. His hands are rough, pale and scarred and calloused. Your hands aren't perfect, but they are much more delicate and pretty than his in comparison.
You seem to disagree, though, with the way your hands trace the shape of his. You spread his fingers a little, dragging your nails along each callous and faded scar. It's almost devout in the way you study each line of his palm, the pads of your fingers so gentle against his skin.
You lift his hand up to your lips, tenderly pressing a kiss to each knuckle. You start at the base before moving down each finger, almost as if you don't want any of them to be left out. He would have laughed at the thought if his body wasn't frozen like a deer in headlights.
Your eyes fall down to his and your smile widens at the absolutely mystified look in his eyes, stormy blues flickering between yours and your lips against his hand as his pupils dilate.
His mouth opens and closes underneath his mask, but any attempts to speak die in his throat. How could you put so many thoughts in his head that he is unable to fabricate them into words? Do you have any clue what you do to him?
You let out a small chuckle and go back to kissing his hand, trailing your lips down across his palm and the back of his hand. You pull down the edge of his sleeve just to press your lips to his wrist. König groans as your affection doesn't let up, long and pained as his head lulls against your thigh and he drapes an arm over his eyes.
"Du wirst mein Tod sein, Engel..." He murmurs, thankful that his mask hides the stupid grin on his face.
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Kind of weird question, but If Mu Qing got hit in the head like really hard would it be funnier if he landed and got embroiled in the world of scum villain or mdzs?
Scum villain 100%; my headcanon is that Mu Qing is somewhere on the ace spectrum or demi, so that would be a strange world to navigate for him to say the least… though a lot of the tropes that permeate SVSSS exist in his too… I just feel like he’d be extremely done/have no patience with it which could be entertaining.
For MDZS I just feel like he’d get really into the politics, though that could lead to some funny shenanigans too… and familiar territory for him too. Like does no one else notice this pure as snow guy is head over heels for a black and red themed villainous fiend AGAIN or…
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Does sweetheart ever see his girlfriend again? :[
No but… he does get to see his boyfriend :]
(His girlfriend transitioned while he was away mantling Sheo)
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