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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

Of Gorgons And Gardens

Fandom(s) : The Mandalorian and Prospect [2018]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader/Ezra

Rating: Holy shit uh. Explicit.

AN: That's right. I've done it. It's time for the sex pollen. This is a standalone that's not involved with either of my previous tales related to these fine boys, so we have a Death Watch-raised Mando that takes the Creed incredibly seriously and an Ezra that's well armed. Also I apologize for the constant viewpoint switches. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @hardcorewwetrash @helplessly-nonstop @lackofhonor @oloreaa @theocatkov @jackierey09 @zombiexbody @crookedmoonsaultpunk @pedrosbigdorkenergy @absurdthirst @culturalrebel

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For obligatory dubious consent due to sex pollen, as well as threesome activities, breeding kink and gratuitous bodily fluids. Stay safe!]

The quarry was named Ezra. Not that their name mattered, the chain code was freshly generated. The strangest part was that there had been no image attached to the puck.

Din had tipped his helmet to the side, narrowing his eyes and tapping the bounty puck curiously. "Somethin' wrong with this?"

Karga shook his head. "No, he's just too slick for us to have any holorecords on him. Somebody from Bakhroma wants him alive."

Undocumented quarry was exceptionally rare, and not usually something that one requested a Mandalorian for. It indicated green prey, a first-time offender. "Bakhroma, huh? Pretty far out." He wasn't an idiot. There had to be a reason why Karga had offered him this one specifically.

"Guy apparently walked off with a majority of someone's aurelac pull. Typical floater squabble, but one of them ponied up the mining points for credits and asked for a certified, card-carryin' Mando." Karga had leaned back in the booth. "How's the kid?"

Din had just grunted noncommittally in reply, gloved fingers scooping the puck off the table. "I have to get back to the Crest."

…

"The target has been on Bakhroma relatively recently. Not sure if he was in the Green or not, but either way he'll probably be a walking biohazard." Mando muttered, turning his head towards you. "So you're staying put."

"Until something happens to you and I have to pull you out of the fire again." You retorted with a smirk.

"Hey, that was one time." You knew he was narrowing his eyes, though you weren't quite sure how you knew. Something about the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to the right clued you in.

"You were full of nexu quills."

"One. Time." The Mandalorian growled. "I even said thank you."

"You sure did," You replied, laughing. "Right before you passed out!"

He palmed over the side of your head roughly. "Brat." His grumble was fond, softening the edge of the insult. "Promise me you'll stay on the Crest, Senaar, otherwise I'll ask Omera to take you and the kid for an extended sleepover."

"Fine, I promise." You relented, huffing in annoyance.

He tinkered with his charts for a moment, then tilted his head again. "Where did you go earlier? I got done with Karga hours ago. Couldn't find you."

You stiffened, abruptly absorbed in checking the fuel levels. "Oh you know. Around." You said breezily.

"Well in the future, when you feel like going around, at least let me know so I don't think you've been abducted." Mando grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

"Aw, you're cute when you care!" You cooed, making him scoff and return to his control panel.

…

In hindsight, he wasn't sure what he was more pissed off about. The fact that this Ezra character had led him on a wild fucking chase over half of a suspiciously verdant moon, or the fact that his brain had apparently decided to shift into overdrive regarding you. He couldn't get you off…

Get you off his mind, that is. Stars, he was so confused.

He felt like he had been walking in circles for hours, the only noise the steady beep of the tracker. He was too hot. Thirsty. His armor was chafing like it never had before; it was less like an extension of his body and more like a too-tight skin he needed to shed. Din finally bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"You look like shit," drawled an unfamiliar voice while a set of knuckles rapped on the back of his helmet. Djarin jerked upright and immediately staggered, fumbling to grip a tree trunk for support. His vision swam uncertainly, and he blinked several times in an effort to clear it.

The man in front of him was clad in a utilitarian suit that bore an unfamiliar logo, maybe a mining corporation. No duraplast or durasteel visible, no unnecessary frills, old-fashioned rubber gaskets to seal where glove met sleeve. Din's gaze traveled upwards, past the man's chest to his large domed helmet. He kept his motions deliberate. He had been caught off-guard by this man, but he wouldn't--

What?!

"I'll assume you're encroaching upon my solitude to haul my undesirable personage back into civilized spaces?" The man inquired after Din had taken several long seconds to try and understand what he was seeing. "For monetary compensation, if I had to hazard a guess. There are few lures that tempt a man so far out into the uncharted."

Why does he have my face? Sure, the scars were different. Different facial hair, different hairstyle, and a wild little tuft of blond sprang from amidst the dark locks at his hairline. But it was him. Same brown eyes, same nose, same mouth curving into an infuriatingly benign smirk. Djarin was struck with the sudden urge to punch him, his belly writhing.

"I take it the dust has you firm in its grip. A real pity, that. I'd love to sympathize, but regrettably I am at an advanced state of the same condition." The quarry gestured at his right arm, where a bloodstain blooming on the fabric of his suit indicated a loss of the integrity of said suit. "I'm Ezra, though I'm certain you're already well aware. And you?"

"Irrelevant." Din grated out, clumsy fingers fumbling to get his binders off his belt.

"A man of action, excellent! I shall acquiesce, but only because being removed from this Centaurian mass is infinitely better than being confined to it." Ezra replied with a sage nod, extending his wrists. "Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

"Be quiet." The Mandalorian grunted, his mind still reeling. How does he have my face? Then, a new, far more troubling thought occurred to him.

If he turned Ezra in, people would inadvertently know what he looked like. They wouldn't know, but they would know. What would that mean for him? For his dedication to the Creed? Did things like that count against him? Had something like this ever happened before?

"Tell me you, at the bare minimum, have functional transport?" Ezra asked after Din had relieved him of his blaster, sounding hopeful. It was so strange hearing his own voice with such an odd, imprecise cadence to it. The Mandalorian had worked for years to improve his Basic so that anyone and everyone would be able to understand him through the coarse modulator, though he still ended up sounding hitchy or curt most of the time.

"How else would I have gotten here?" Din snapped, gesturing the other man forward with the encouragement of his own weapon.

At least now he knew how to get back to the Crest, thank the Maker for his helmet and the tracking protocols he had. Now, observing his previous path of forward motion, he realized with a jolt how much it wound back and forth. He had been walking in circles.

Since when did he lose his sense of direction? Even in unknown territory, he usually had a damn good idea of which end was up. That concerned him.

And on top of everything else, Ezra wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Be quiet." Din muttered for what seemed like the thousandth time. How long had they been walking? Probably his own fault. With how much his head was spinning, he didn't dare deviate from the winding trail he had left. Even if a straight path would have been miles quicker.

Ezra continued to drone, "a toilsome marathon of carnage, I assure-"

"I said, be fucking quiet."

The target huffed out a breath, but obliged Djarin's terse demand for the moment. Din's head was pounding, his already short fuse shrinking with every word out of the talkative man's mouth. Was this the Maker's hysterically ironic way of compensating for how little a solitary Mandalorian would speak? Making a doppelganger that was ceaselessly chatty?

Din talked a lot more these days, between you and the kid. Maker, you. His head swam again and a low, guilty heat throbbed in his belly. You talking to him, the way your mouth moved around your words-

No. No, stop, he told himself sternly, two fingers sliding idly between the gasket and gorget at his throat just so he could breathe a little easier. This planet's air felt thick, like breathing through tar.

"I would not indulge that craving, were I you." Ezra spoke up, the man obviously watching him claw at his neck. "The less exposure you have, the better."

Din wanted to snap at him because honestly how many times do I have to say shut the fuck up-

But then he stopped. Since when did he even do things like breach the seal of his own fucking helmet on an unfamiliar planet?! He flinched, tearing his hand away and hating the low, wry chuckle that issued from the quarry. The other man mused, "It's already too late for me, you know. I imagine I'll have an hour, perhaps two."

"What the hell are you talking about now."

"The dust, my armored associate. It permeates. Sludges the mental processes." Ezra shrugged with only one shoulder. "Among other things."

"How do you know so much about it?" Din gritted his teeth against the buzzing pain in his stomach. "Seems pretty stupid of you to hide out here." Especially if you know the flora is deadly.

"There is naught to do on a freighter slingback aside from read." Ezra's eyes narrowed. "And I could hardly pick and choose which moon my pod decided to give out on, you monosyllabic knuckle-dragger."

"Watch your mouth before I break it." Din snarled.

"Lo and behold, he comprehends! I assumed all you knew how to say was a stagnant variation on the theme of be fucking quiet." Ezra retorted with enraging cheer.

Din's gloves creaked with the tension of his fists and he barely kept from slamming them into his temples. They were almost to the Crest. Almost. Once they got there, he would throw this mouthy nerf herder into the carbonite and…

And what? And turn him over? And inadvertently compromise his whole identity, possibly destroy decades of loyally obeying the Creed?

All the deprivation, the loneliness, the weakness of his own heart...

"Be fucking quiet." The Mandalorian muttered, knowing full well that the other man hadn't said anything. Be fucking quiet. Be fucking quiet quiet quiet just fucking be quiet--

Din ground the heels of his palms against the curve of his helmet at his forehead, praying for some kind of relief.

Carbonite, he reminded himself.

…

Ezra grudgingly held his tongue, which even he had to admit was a rarity. Unlike the other floaters that had approached him before and met their swift demise, this particular bounty hunter was heavily kitted. The gleaming plate he sported didn't seem to hinder his motion in the slightest.

Interesting.

Ezra knew when he had been outplayed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't banking on the other man having a functional ship even before he decided to go peacefully.

The hunter (mentally dubbed Steerforth, he rudely had not introduced himself) obviously had no idea about the pollen, for all his outward preparedness. Clearly Serpentia was not as well known as Ezra had wished.

Regrettable.

He could hope that the bounty hunter hadn't been exposed, he mused. After all, the man was wearing that positively arresting helmet, and his suit seemed of a sturdy (if unfamiliar) weave. Here was an individual that Ezra would have to tread carefully around, if he wished to escape with his life.

His faith waned a bit as he recalled watching the man 'track' him, winding back and forth through the trees like a drunken mule until Ezra had taken pity on him and turned himself in.

The hunter was terse in his speech, likely weary from the chase. Ezra could sympathize, he was weary from running. It had almost been a relief when that last hunter had attacked him and forced him to crash the pod on this moon. Though his relief had quickly turned to dismay when Ezra had done a full turn outside his pod and realized just what was making all the pollen in the air.

Serpentia, Serpent's Tongue. He had never encountered the plant in the proverbial flesh, but once upon a time he had been accidentally doused with the extract when a holding tank had burst while he was on a job site.

His skin crawled as he remembered the torment that followed during his solitary confinement. He had been nigh-certain he would not recover, clawing free of the haze that had gripped him with the barest vestiges of his mental faculties.

This moon's Serpentia population seemed infinitely kinder than the concentrate he had encountered, if only for its soft, creeping approach. It lapped at the base of his brain, dulled the edge of his panic until he was nearly comfortable with the ache that licked hot in his groin.

But thank Kevva for this bounty hunter lumbering through the brush! With a little luck, Ezra would be able to persuade him to accept a few pearls of aurelac in lieu of dragging him back to face that greatly-exaggerated justice.

...

According to the limited information from the Crest's scans, the air on this moon was perfectly safe to breathe.

And if what Mando had said was right, he probably would need the ship to himself for a little while to decontaminate. So you had posted up beside the ramp once he had departed, occasionally wiping the sweat off your brow. The atmosphere was humid and you watched as breezes too delicate for you to even feel nudged the thick pollen in the air this way and that.

The moon was liberally coated with lush vegetation; just finding a place to safely land the Razor Crest had been a Herculean effort. You wondered vaguely if there was a lake or spring nearby that you would be able to cool off in. The ship's fresher was functional, of course, but its water had been sitting in the holding tank for a few cycles now and it smelled rusty.

The pollen covered everything, orange-red substance sticking to your already-damp skin. You grimaced, wondering if maybe you should have put on your suit. But no, the atmosphere was safe. The scans had said so, and you already spent so much of your time in your thick suit…

The sunshine felt wonderful after all the hyperspace travel, like a warm embrace from a friend. You caught yourself wondering what Mando's hug might feel like. Probably uncomfortable, what with all the beskar. You scoffed at your thoughts. You really needed to stop thinking about him like that, he was technically your boss even if he called you his partner. So what if he had passed out on top of you? That had been an infection thing.

It wasn't as if he had stroked your cheek before he dropped, his voice breaking when he called you Senaar...

So what if you had solicited not one, but two Mandalorians during your last stop on Nevarro?

It wasn't as if he noticed anything that you did, aside from when it had inconvenienced him. It wasn't as if you couldn't handle your little infatuation with him, even if it did result in you seeking out Mandos that would give you attention.

You propped your chin up on your hand, your eyes half-focusing on the dust floating in the air. It was nice to just relax for once, though there was a little guilty sensation in your stomach. Because Mando was out there working, while you...were lounging around, soaking up the sunlight.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, but you finally got up with a groan and a stretch that felt heavenly. You would investigate the surrounding area, you decided, maybe you could rustle up something fresh. If you couldn't be active on the hunt for the quarry, you could at least restock the larders.

After what only felt like a few steps, you quickly stumbled across thick vines that bore an unfamiliar, violet-hued fruit. The fruit was the size of your fist, and the skin had slight give to it. Light-colored flowers dotted the vine here and there, their tiny stamens crested with heavy crowns of thick pollen. Clearly you had located one of the many sources of the dust that choked the air.

You picked one of the fruits and propped it up on a flat rock, using your trusty field knife to slice it open. It had orange pulp inside it, and a small hollow in the middle filled with pinkish fluid. The whole fruit reminded you of a sunset. Dimly, you thought that you probably shouldn't be touching this fruit with your bare skin, on the off chance that it might be caustic or toxic. But it looked delicious.

Surely just a little taste wouldn't hurt?

The pinkish fluid was almost overwhelmingly sweet, and sticky. It dribbled down your chin when you tipped the fruit to slurp it up. You laughed at yourself, tugging your tunic to scrub at your face.

Mando will love these.

You weren't sure where the thought came from, but obviously it was true. The idea of Mando being alone, slipping off his helmet to eat...the juice from the fruit glistening on his mouth…

Your breathing had quickened. You carefully harvested more of the round fruit, tucking the ripe produce into the makeshift cradle of your tunic. Once you decided you had enough, you turned on your heel and went to make your way back to the Crest.

...

No.

No no no no no-

Din stared at the partially-ajar ramp on the Crest and he wanted to yell.

"Oh dear." Ezra murmured faintly. "What a predicament." He had been getting quieter and quieter the closer they drew to the ship, so hearing him talk again sent a jolt down Din's spine. "You left your egress open? How careless of you."

"I didn't." Din snarled, wrapping his fingers around the binders on Ezra's wrists. You. The throbbing in his stomach lurched.

Ezra's eyes widened and he abruptly planted his feet. Din hadn't realized just how off-kilter he was, normally something like a shift in weight wouldn't be enough to make him stagger. But he almost toppled, barely getting his balance back in time. "Is there someone else on that ship?" Ezra asked sharply.

"Of course." Din didn't even think to lie. "Partner."

"Would they have wandered? Exposed themselves?" The prospector-thief-quarry continued to quiz him and Din resented it just a little.

"Be quiet," He grunted, tapping at his gauntlet to open the ramp, "and get in the fucking hold."

Ezra abruptly drew himself up to his full height. "I do not believe you actually want me to do that." He intoned with difficulty, his teeth gritted. "Putting myself, yourself and the potential of one more infected person into an enclosed space is a very…" His words faltered. "Oh."

Din whirled, visor traveling up the ramp into the dim hold. And just barely visible at the edge of the ramp, a small pile of what looked like fruit--was that your leg?! He lunged forward, his blaster ready.

"I would not advise you to approach them!" Ezra barked.

"Fuck you!" Din snapped, striding up the ramp to kneel alongside your body. He crushed one of the fruits beneath his knee, lurid pink juice erupting to soak into his suit. The color was high in your cheeks, your body blotchy with flush. Pollen encrusted your neck and shoulders, drifted through your hair; something pink and shiny coated your lips like a strange gloss.

Din caught himself leaning in and jerked back at the urgency in Ezra's voice when the prospector called, "Do they breathe, man?"

"Be quiet!" Djarin roared. Why hadn't he checked that first? What was wrong with him? He shoved his vambrace against your mouth, his chest clenching in relief when your breath fogged the metal. Stars.

"I'm afraid this complicates things quite significantly." Ezra said loudly, fidgeting at the base of the ramp. "I was unaware you had a partner of the...other biological persuasion. Had it just been you and I, two masculine-presenting bipeds, things would have been miles simpler."

"What the hell are you saying now?" Din was getting tired of this shit, tired of listening to the other man talk.

"This plant is...shall we say, heteronormative." Ezra drawled, waving his bound hands in the air to illustrate the cloying pollen. Din cocked his head in confusion. "You know, masculine and feminine? Male and female? Different. Hetero."

Djarin scoffed derisively. "My people don't care about that shit."

"A noble practice to be certain, very forward-thinking."

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian replied.

Ezra soldiered on, "Unfortunately, the plant that infests this planet does indeed differentiate. Fruit for the female, pollen for the male." He added hurriedly, "in the biological sense, of course! I will not make any assumptions about your partner. The fruit is a...a catalyst. Are you familiar with the old-Earth religious writings, the ones that mention the Garden? Or perhaps the Greek pantheon may have been more your style?" When Djarin shook his head, Ezra sighed. "The genus name in Basic is slippin' my mind. But this particular iteration is known as Serpent's Tongue, Serpentia. It is Medusine in nature and it inspires feelings of…" Ezra paused, licking his lips nervously. "Heat."

"Heat." Din repeated blankly, knowing that he must be missing something.

Ezra ducked his head, breaking eye contact. "As in, being in heat." The man clarified after a moment.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm-"

"Excuse me?" Din snarled, running his fingers through the juices that coated his knee. It was thick, sticky like syrup, why was it warm--He bolted to his feet and stalked back down the ramp. Ezra took a step back, and then another, the quarry obviously wary of him. Good. The satisfied feeling took some of the edge off his frustrated panic. "So what the hell is wrong with my partner?" Din grated out.

"Er, to couch it in layman's terms…" Ezra hesitated, clearing his throat. "They are aroused."

Aroused. Aroused. Aroused. "Sexually?" Din hated the way the word came out, all breathy like he was a youngling that had just learned about the wonders of copulation.

Ezra nodded, grimacing. "From the sound of your tone, I would hazard a guess that the two of you have not been intimate."

"Why would we have been?" Din retorted bluntly.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, seeming as if he was avoiding looking at you. Good. Mine. Din had no idea where the hell that thought came from. "Oh of course, I was foolish to assume so blatantly." The prospector muttered. "That does complicate your own matters further, however. Were you previously sexually intertwined, this would have been much more simple." He suddenly doubled over at the waist, a loud grunt forced from his mouth and a low exclamation of, "fuck, fuck-"

The curse sent a hot flicker down Din's spine and it took him a second to realize that you had made a noise in reply. You sounded dazed, scared. He whirled on the ramp and knelt again, taking your hand. "Senaar, you coming around?" Your eyes looked...wrong, blinking open slowly; your pupils were blown like you'd been spiced.

You stared up at him for several long seconds before your mouth opened. "Wanted to make lunch." You managed to say. "I don't feel good."

"Well, you don't look so great either." Din said gruffly.

"Bastard." You groaned at him, trying to sit up. "Maker, I feel so hot, I...oh! Oh no, you smushed one." You appeared to have noticed the remains of the sticky fruit currently seeping into his knee. "I wanted you to try it. Tastes...tastes...it's so sweet Mando, s'like candy." You saying his name (even if it wasn't his actual name, shit) was like a lightning bolt to his groin. You dragged your hand over his knee, gathering up the remnants of the fruit and then sliding your fingers into your mouth.

You brought him food. His lungs felt too full and not full enough. Stars, the idea of you feeding him that, smearing it all over his mouth with those pretty little fingers-

No, the helmet. The helmet. He couldn't take off the helmet. The Creed.

He jerked his head up, looking to Ezra. The other man was still doubled over, holding his midsection as best as he could with his hands bound.

A dark, uncharacteristically evil thought wound its way into Din's mind, sweet and smokey like a good ne'tra gal. "Get in the ship." He grunted. Ezra glanced up and Din was a little startled by the level of emotion he displayed. He wasn't used to seeing expressions play out on his own face. The other man seemed wildly uncomfortable and Din found that grounding, for whatever reason.

"I do not dare to." Ezra panted finally. "Just being this close is...immensely troubling. I am not the master of my own body at this moment, Steerforth."

"Is this the target?" You asked softly. Din nodded and he could almost feel your eyes raking over the other man. "What happened? He's hurt."

Shit, he had nearly forgotten. Ezra was still bleeding from his arm. The quarry had obviously forgotten as well, clearly dealing with a much more pressing matter.

You beckoned to the other man and Din had to rein in the knee-jerk reaction to grab his blaster as Ezra reluctantly approached. He had never been territorial about you before, what the hell was the matter with him?

Ezra halted a good five feet away from you, keeping his head down. "I am Ezra. I apologize in advance for my untoward behavior." He muttered, his voice gone so low and gravelly he actually did sound like Din. The Mandalorian's stomach pitched uncertainly. "I am not myself at this point in time."

"What happened to your arm?" Your tone was warm, concerned. Din's fists clenched. "Did Mando do that?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. Your compatriot has been nothing if not a complete gentleman." Ezra replied wryly. "I sustained this injury during a previous floater's quarrel."

…

You hummed and you saw Mando stiffen up out of the corner of your eye. What was wrong with him? One second he had been leaning over you, all worry and hand holding. The next, he was barking at the quarry.

And the quarry was hurt. Ezra, Ezra, his slow drawl making your head swim and your chest tingle. Never mind Mando, what was wrong with you? You felt so strange, like you were hyper-fixated.

Maker, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that fruit. "I'm sorry." You apologized to Mando, your lower lip beginning to quiver. "I just wanted to give-"

"Be quiet." He ordered, his voice startlingly gentle. A gloved thumb pressed to your lower lip and you stared up at him, opening your mouth automatically even though you knew he was just wiping the juice away. You were startled when he slid his thumb into your mouth, but you obligingly cleaned the juice from the leather with your tongue. Shouldn't this be strange? But Mando just did it, like it was normal. Maybe it was normal.

Your mind flew back to your sultry encounter on Nevarro, how you had occupied yourself while Mando wrapped up his business with the Guild, and warmth lanced through your stomach as you recalled greedy gloved hands grasping and caressing your bare skin-

"Steerforth, if you are to carry on in that heated demonstration I must plead for the carbonite treatment that you were so hellbent on throwing myself into earlier." Ezra sounded like he was in pain. "I have only endured this once before and it was a torment that threatened my already-tenuous sanity. Have fucking mercy man, I implore-"

"Be quiet." Mando snapped, "we have to treat your arm, right?"

"Fuck." Ezra swore again, the sound writhing through your belly. "Hurry then."

"Get in the ship. I'll turn on the filters."

"Do not leave me alone with them, I implore you!" Ezra cried, that domed helmet finally tilting enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. "I am not the master of my own body, Steerforth."

His eyes were dark, impossibly dark, and frantic as he argued with Mando. His skin seemed tanned or olive through the sun-struck dome of his suit's helmet. Short brown hair was plastered flat to his forehead with sweat, and the lower half of his face was coated in a somewhat unkempt mess of facial scruff. Too long to be five o'clock shadow, but too bedraggled to be dubbed anything else.

Roguish, you decided, wanting to laugh at yourself. He looks roguish. What a ridiculous thought to have! Not obviously dangerous like Mando, but still dangerous. Was that your heartbeat throbbing in your ears? You sighed softly, taking a step towards the other man without meaning to.

Mando's hand was suddenly on your arm. "Hold it. Treatment. We have to treat his wound." He said gruffly.

You nodded. Of course. Who knew what he had been exposed to through the breach in his suit? "I was going to help him walk?"

Mando shook his head. "You get the kit. You've got no gear on. He's contaminated." He reasoned. "Get me the kit and then seal yourself into the cockpit so we can filter the hold." You nodded again and his hand found your cheek, gloved fingers grazing your neck before he jerked back. "S...Sorry." he apologized.

"It's okay." You whispered.

…

Ezra, helmet discarded and suit stripped to the waist, flinched away from Din's touch yet again. "Stop. This is a bad wound. It'll get infected if I do this wrong." Din snapped. He rarely encountered blaster wounds that didn't self-cauterize, even though that tended to come with its own set of problems.

"I do not mean to tear free." Ezra protested. "Blood flow has increased. I am…" He paused, biting his lower lip. "Sensitive. Surely you have a handheld? One of the burners? Just burn it shut man, Kevva, I cannot even endure the graze of your fingers."

"If I give you a burner patch, it'll seal in the infection." Din reasoned, flushing the wound again. "Focus on something else."

"I cannot." Ezra said sharply. "There is only one matter my brain currently wishes to focus on, and it is not the dire straits of my wounded arm."

"Them?" Din asked, keeping his voice low.

Ezra shot him a guilty look from beneath his sweat-matted fringe of brown hair, finally nodding. "It is ludicrous, but I feel as though I can taste them." He confessed. "Gods, I wish I had never landed on this accursed moon. I wish I had never encountered the Serpentia."

"What will happen?" Din did his best to maintain his vocal level as he bandaged the other man's wound.

"Arousal. Sheer, unadulterated arousal. You ache, like the worst fever you've ever had. I've heard it is even more excruciatin' for those of the other human biological persuasion, due to their genitals being internal. Though it is Medusine in nature, so it has a...failsafe, of sorts. You are seized with the primal instinct to mate, conquer, claim. It does not stop until you have buried your...until you have sheathed yourself in an orifice." Ezra was gasping for air. Obviously just talking about it was enough to cause him distress, either that or Djarin was being rougher than he thought. "Steerforth please, I-"

"This will cause them pain?" Din asked slowly.

Ezra nodded jerkily. "I have been told it's like a sickly, stabbing heat. Fingers are not enough to…er, extinguish the flames." His cheeks flushed. "The tongue soothes, but not overlong. Internals require certain length, and...rigidity." Din didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to the beskar that covered his upper thighs. "When last I encountered this damned flora, I suffered the effects alone and I felt as if I would go mad."

Tongue. Fingers. Rigidity. Din's mind reeled. "Specifics." He gritted out, his body awash with heat in his armor when Ezra made a pitiful noise.

"Kevva, have mercy on me Steerforth."

"I said. Specifics." Din fisted a glove in the other man's hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up. Ezra moved, albeit reluctantly, the Adam's apple of his throat bobbing when he swallowed. "Specifics." Din repeated himself, a little softer this time.

Ezra shuddered all over. "They will seek you out. To be fucked." He said, cringing a bit as if he disliked using the word. "You must open them up with your tongue first, dissolve the Medusine barrier with saliva. That's the failsafe, you see, an individual of that biological persuasion who is suffering cannot be penetrated without tender effort. Ease into it and perhaps they will not loathe you when this madness has run its course-"

"I can't." Din interrupted.

"What?" Ezra gawked at him.

"I can't. T-Tongue. Not allowed. Forbidden." Din felt like he was drunk. "Helmet."

The other man's brow furrowed. "You can, I presume, take off other portions of your plate?"

Din shook his head, wishing that he could explain it better. "Technically yes, but it's frowned upon. Exceptions happen. And under no circumstances can I take the helmet off."

"How in the Fringe have you ever-"

"I...inspire feelings in people." That was probably the most delicate way he could have said I cater exclusively to bipeds with a predator/prey fetish. Din grimaced. "I'm large and imposing. Usually that's...enough. No need for warm up." He said awkwardly. "Armor stays on."

"What a bewildering existence!" Ezra tilted his head in disbelief. "So you have never removed…?"

Din shook his head. "Not in the presence of others. The Creed forbids it."

"Your dedication is admirable, but unfortunately it leaves your partner twisting in the wind." The quarry pointed out. "I would offer my services, but I am an unknown and-"

"Yes." Din gritted out, that dark thought slithering back through his mind.

"Yes?"

"Your services." Din took a deep breath. He didn't bargain with quarry, but this man had his face. He couldn't turn him in without jeopardizing everything he had sworn his life to. "In exchange, when this is...when they no longer require your services, I'll let you go."

Ezra's eyebrows bunched together. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Steerforth."

"I don't want them to be in pain." Din's voice grated in his throat and he watched Ezra's eyes widen in comprehension. "I don't want them to hurt."

"You...this is not just the Serpentia. You have a prior attachment to them."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't have." Djarin muttered dismissively. "Because of the Creed, I...I can't. But you can."

"You can't give them your mouth, certainly, but there are-"

"If it's what makes it possible, you have to do it!" Din interjected sharply. "I don't want them to hurt."

"I need you to comprehend what you're askin' of me!" Ezra shot back, his bound fists clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "They don't know me from Job, and you're all but demanding I violate their trust-"

"I don't want them to hurt!" Din roared, startling himself with his own furious reaction. Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by your staggering descent on the ladder. You looked unwell. Ezra skittered back a few steps, falling on his ass with a muffled swear.

"Mando?" Your voice wavered and you swayed at the ladder. Din lurched forward, tucking you into his arms as you sniffled, "I don't feel so good. I think I'm sick." You were radiating heat that he could feel even through his suit. Your tunic was soaked with sweat.

"Osi'kyr." Din cursed under his breath after he swapped to his infrared and saw just how brilliant your signature was. "Listen to me, alright Senaar?" He murmured, simultaneously loving and hating the way you nodded in a docile manner. "We know what can fix this. But it's not…" he paused, searching for the right term.

"Appropriate." Ezra supplied loudly.

"I feel awful." Your whimper made Din's stomach ache. His cock rubbed against the confines of his compression leggings.

Ignore it.

"I know you do." Din pressed his palm to your forehead. "Listen to me. We can fix this. You trust me, right?" Your nod was immediate and Din barely stifled his groan. "Ezra knows what's wrong. Ezra can help."

"He can help?" You echoed blearily, looking past Din. "Okay. He said something about the fruit before, right? I shouldn't have eaten it. M'sorry. Was it poison?"

"Poison may have been simpler to endure." Ezra muttered. "It is an aphrodisiac. Do not blame yourself. The fruit is visually appealing for a reason, otherwise the plant would not be able to propagate."

…

Aphrodisiac. Your mouth was flooded with that sweet taste at the sound of Ezra's drawling voice, the groan that followed burrowing into your blood.

You had never felt this way before. Your body ached and twisted, arousal pooling uncomfortably in your pelvis. Everything felt like it was trapped, your tunic sticking to your skin with sweat. Aphrodisiac.

"Please pay attention." Ezra sighed. "I understand this is incredibly distracting, but I have a limited window of coherence." He was trembling slightly, still avoiding your eyes. "Your partner has requested I aid you where he cannot. I will not harm you." He said with gravity. "This is a situation which bodes exceptionally poorly and I am...I am truly sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"Oh, it's okay. Mando gets me into messes all the time." You brushed off his apology and Ezra choked out a bitter laugh.

"I fear you may change your tune once the pain truly starts." He remarked.

"He says it'll hurt." Mando murmured. "Like stabbing."

You knew your eyes widened with fear because Mando was quick to envelope you in his arms again. He had never been this touchy before. It was...strangely nice. The coolness of his armor felt wonderful on your skin and you moaned in relief. Mando went stiff at your noise, his gloved fingers clutching the nape of your neck. Up until this point, you had just felt some minor throbbing. Distracting, but negligible.

This was different.

...

Your breath hitched in your throat and your fists curled into his suit, knees buckling as a low, wavering cry left your lips. Din jerked at the sound. He had never heard you make that kind of noise before, not even when you had been shot--

Oh he was fucked. He was so fucked. Was he excited or terrified? "Easy, you're okay, you're okay," he soothed, clumsily brushing the hair back from your face. Who was he even trying to convince?!

"Make your choice expediently, Steerforth. Am I to be thrown in carbonite or put to work?" Ezra queried through gritted teeth.

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you." Din said to you, ignoring the other man for the moment. "I won't let anything happen to you. I need you to trust me for right now, alright? We can fix this."

Your grip on him tightened even further. "I don't like how this feels." You whispered.

Din closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off his own self-loathing, pressing your cheek against his breastplate. "I know, Senaar. I'll be right here with you. I just...can't give you what you'll need." He stuttered, offering on a desperate whim, "I-I can hold you, if you want." You nodded frantically into his armor.

"If you have a...a blanket. A sheet. Something for the floor, we are going to make a mess and I am uncertain if we will be able to protect your partner's modesty." Ezra muttered, his bound hands resting surreptitiously over his groin. "They may be more enthusiastic than one would anticipate."

Din patted your elbow, trying to gentle his voice. "Go get your pillow."

"O-Okay." You gulped.

Din tore into one of his many lockers once you released him, the armored man frantically digging around for his extra bedding. Ezra staggered to his feet, moving in close to Din. So that you wouldn't hear him speak, no doubt.

"There is still time for you to freeze me, Steerforth. I am not a man without morality, tattered though it may be." He murmured, and Din noticed that his weary brown eyes were surrounded by the same deep lines and cracks that Djarin's own face sported. The Mandalorian hadn't ever paid much mind to just how many expressions he still made beneath the helmet, probably because he knew no one would see them.

Din grabbed the other man's shoulder, searching those eyes. Ezra stared at his impenetrable visor, probably confused by his silence. "I need your help." Din rasped seriously. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, but he could live with the uneasy truce if it would…if it meant that he could…

Stars, this was all so damn wrong.

Ezra finally nodded. "I will do my best to assist with the...emotional aftermath. This is not your fault, or theirs. This is merely an unfortunate side effect of a hazardous occupation."

"Thank you."

Ezra's eyebrows shot up, but other than that he gave no indication of his surprise. Din elbowed him to the side, unfolding the thick blanket and spreading it out carefully on the floor of the hold.

…

This was certainly an odd predicament.

Ezra could not say he had ever been in such a charged scenario, despite his checkered history. His jaw worked thoughtfully as he watched the armored man devote an obscene amount of care to smoothing the wrinkles out of his blanket.

Arousal swirled around him like the thick pollen outside, but it was tempered by the terrible memory of that singular past experience where he had rubbed himself bloody on the inside of his suit. He knew he was worse off than Steerforth. No, what had you called him? Mando.

Curious.

A Creed that prevented the devout from showing the world their face.

Curious. And familiar, somehow. Ezra spooled his mind back, trying to recall why it was familiar. He couldn't focus however, his own breathing becoming too distracting.

Mando hadn't gotten nearly as much of the pollen as him. The other man seemed unbearably, impossibly calm in the light of what was about to occur. Maybe it was an illusion afforded by that unreadable helm, or brought about by his lack of prior experience.

Ezra was wildly jealous all the same. "What is their name?" He asked softly.

Mando fixed him with a look and Kevva, that helmet was indeed imposing. "I call them Senaar. It...it means bird." He sounded reluctant, like he didn't even want to give up that much. "Names are sacred in the Creed. I couldn't give them mine so they didn't give me theirs, but I had to call them something."

"No names in the Creed, either?" Ezra asked incredulously.

The armored man shook his head. "To outsiders we are all Mando. To us, we are Mando'ade. This is the Way."

"A veritable legion of nameless, featureless warriors." Ezra muttered, mainly to himself. He rattled his restraints after a moment. "Am I to remain bound during this frotfest, Steerforth?"

"I'm not stupid enough to give you free range. Be grateful I didn't secure them behind your back instead." Mando snarked.

"I will not harm your little bird." Ezra protested.

"I know." Mando leaned in slightly, broad shoulders made even more intimidating by the blue-steel pauldrons that graced them. "I would kill you before you got the chance."

Oh, such confidence! Ezra wished he was in his right mind, he would obliterate this smug cretin--

His breath caught in his throat as you returned from your excursion. Gods, he had nearly forgotten what he was being called to do. He warred with the obscene urge that dragged his gaze to the crux of your thighs. "A divine sight." He murmured, not lying for once. This entire day had been remarkably truthful.

You actually gave him a ribald wink, and that eased his conscience slightly. Perhaps you were not the unsullied, blushing virgin he had feared you might be. Obviously you had used the time you took to grab your pillow wisely, maybe even given yourself a bit of a pep talk.

"Have you done this before?" Ezra asked, half-joking. He heard Mando audibly gulp in that damn bucket when you nodded, a pained smile curving your lips. "Not under the effects of such altering substances, I pray?"

"Nah, nothing like that." You replied, shaking your head. "It was back on Nevarro, I-"

"Nevarro?" Mando hissed. "You disappeared on me for hours. That's what you were up to?!"

You shrugged weakly. "It doesn't really matter but...there were two Mandalorians, and I wanted, um, something that seemed familiar, I guess." You admitted, your tone remarkably cool for the subject matter.

Ezra hid his grin. He was hardly immune to the allure of saucy gossip, and there was nothing quite like gossip that had no particular bearing on him. "Two?!" The armored man's voice squeaked even through the thick modulation and Ezra burst out laughing, the binders knocking his jaw when he tried to stifle his mirth.

"I meant more whether you had engaged in copulation in general, but I suppose that would have been a pertinent question as well." He mused once he got himself under control, the low buzz in his stomach blossoming into an excited thrum. "How fortunate that you would be so generous when it comes to your partners, little bird."

"What do you mean, familiar?" Mando carried on over him, obviously agitated by the fresh knowledge that his partner may or may not have some...tendencies. Ezra almost wanted to laugh again; you were nothing if not painfully transparent. Seeking out others like the armored man to have their way with you? Clearly you harbored some sort of affection, kept secret and safe by the walls that humans build around themselves.

But Serpentia had a funny way of sliding that dastardly pink slick through all defenses, leaving the body raw and exposed.

"I mean familiar." You replied, your pillow like a shield between yourself and Mando. Ezra settled back to watch the show, well aware that his smirk was probably insufferable. "I have needs, you know." You continued primly.

Mando's fists clenched on his thighs before he pointedly flattened them back out, fingers dragging over the plates. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I'm sorry." He mumbled, patting his leg.

You wavered again and nearly fell. The armored man caught you, settling you down with a cautious tenderness that fired a thrower shot of arousal directly into Ezra's gut. He had always been a weak fool for chivalry, though he was able to display precious little of it in his own life. Oh, this was the best kind of story.

...

Your face burned with embarrassment; why had you told him about your rendezvous with two other members of his Creed? It was like the words just fell out of your mouth, like your brain itself was against you.

You could still remember the way the larger one had pressed his forehead to your own and then encouraged you down his chest to his groin, the way his helmet had tipped back--

A new flood of warmth swept into your cunt and you bit down on your hand to stifle your noise at the pain that followed. Mando paused, then laid your pillow between his open legs. "Lay down on your back." He muttered, patting his leg again. "This way you can see me. I'll be right here."

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize, please." Mando cut you off. "Once this is over, once everything is...over, I...listen, we'll operate as a sealed unit. This maneuver is scrubbed from the start. I never found the quarry. Nothing that we say or do here will ever be mentioned again. Understood?"

Your breath caught in your throat. He was giving you an out. Or himself, you were uncertain. You nodded slowly and his shoulders drooped a little, but whether he was relieved or disappointed…

Well, some secrets were meant to stay that way.

Ezra nodded his own agreement. "It is best to have certain protocol already in place when engaging in uncharted waters." He muttered. "Decidedly militant, but I must surmise your Creed taught you that."

"This is the Way." Mando said firmly.

"If we are operating under burner infantry orders, then I must voice my trepidation about this engagement," Ezra confessed to you. "I have endured this crisis once before and it was not a pleasant experience. I do not envy the pain I am certain you feel at this moment, but I also know that you are in a...compromised and sensitive position. I...if any advance is unwanted, I trust you will inform me. And if I do not respond, if I am too far gone, please have your associate rescind my invitation." He gestured at Mando with his bound hands.

"Wh-What are you going to do to me?" You asked, your voice high in your ears even as you let Mando maneuver you down to the blanket.

"I am going to do for you what your companion cannot, little bird." Ezra's tongue dampened his lips nervously. "And only that, if I understand the situation correctly."

"What he…" you trailed off as a thought occurred to you. Ezra hummed quietly as if to confirm and the sound reverberated through your core, making you whine and squirm restlessly. "Oh, what, stars, you mean-"

"My mouth, little bird." He had a tiny section of blond hair on the right side of his head, the tuft residing rakishly just at his hairline. You hadn't noticed until now, but the whimsical little patch seemed to soften his stern features. "You will need the saliva, regrettably. I am certain that the idea of the mouth of a lowly aurelac harvester on you is a repulsive one, but it is the only way to get the proverbial ball rolling."

"Wait, you have to eat me out?" You asked in confusion, trying to get back up. "Hang on, I should shower, I'll-" Agony raked down your spine and you spasmed, a breathy sound of pain forcing itself past your lips.

Ezra's incredulous chuckle soothed the sensation back down to a manageable level. "What an unexpected offer, little bird! I cannot recall the last time someone bathed specifically for me. You will wholly ensnare me if you continue such considerate behavior."

…

Din's body felt like it was on fire in his armor.

You had gone looking for people like him.

You had gone looking for Mandos because you wanted familiarity. The idea of you sussing out more of his brothers or sisters because you had needs-

Din wasn't sure if he would survive this particular encounter. He was gripping his cuisses so tightly that the leather of his gloves burned against his fingertips. Mandalorians weren't celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but the Creed could make things...more difficult than they needed to be for a variety of species.

Ezra, despite his hands being bound, was remarkably capable. The man had coached you through the pain when you had tried to move, his voice obviously helping you somehow. Djarin wasn't sure if he was jealous or grateful. Maybe both.

The fact that this was causing you to suffer had him loathing how stiff his cock was in his compression leggings, even though from what he had gathered he couldn't actually help that particular reaction.

"I must beg your assistance in disrobing." Ezra was saying softly, tugging at the overly-knotted waistband of your loose pants. "Please, little bird."

"Right, yeah, of course." You mumbled and Djarin could hear the pain in your voice, could feel the twitchy little flinches as you tried to follow Ezra's directions.

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian moved his hands up until they rested on your shoulders. You exhaled a breathy little moan, nuzzling your cheek against his glove in what he had to assume was thanks.

"Better." You gasped, seeming more sure as you struggled to undo the sash at your waist.

"Well done, Steerforth." Ezra praised, causing something warm and wet to pour into Din's abdomen. The armored man's breathing stuttered, was this what Ezra had been feeling the entire time they had been walking? Stars, how had he even managed-

His cock lurched against the tight hold of his leggings, precome dampening his stomach. Without meaning to, Din's fingers tightened on your shoulders and he grunted quietly.

Your eyes shot up, locking with his visor. He knew you couldn't actually see him, but at that moment he felt exposed. "You alright?" You asked quietly, your breath hiccuping when Ezra brushed the stubble of his jaw against your naked thigh. Din ached to do that himself, Maker he wished-

"I'm fine." He choked, like he wasn't roasting alive from the double-edged heat of artificial arousal and jealousy. His left hand slid down, resting at the hollow of your throat. It soothed his ego a little to see that your eyes were still on him, despite what the quarry was about to do.

Ezra, he reminded himself. This man wasn't prey anymore, for all that he was keeping the binders on. Din at least needed that level of control. He needed the stability.

That recurrent devious thought surged forward again, dark and heady. Utilizing Ezra, he could indulge vicariously in the hazy desires he had fought for cycles. The wish to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you cried, like in the raunchy imagecasts he picked up on rare occasion. Putting his bare hands on you, stars-

Din Djarin was a man of extreme self-control. So far, he hadn't overstepped or shamed the Creed, unless you counted the time he was loaded out of his mind with bacteria-laden quills. He hadn't realized just how many of them were embedded in his back until his vision started getting blurry as he was standing over the nexu's dead body. Served him right for letting the feline get the drop on him before he put his backplate on.

You had been so worried when he returned. You were patched into his coms so you obviously heard the struggle he had dispatching the creature. Heard how ragged his breath got and how hard he had to actually fight.

Din vaguely remembered flopping down on his belly with you hovering over him, pliers in one hand and bacta shot already buried in the meat of his shoulder. Stars, it was great to have a partner sometimes. If he had come back to just the kid like that, he'd probably be dead from an infection. You didn't even make him take off his suit, you just worked around it.

You ended up removing thirty-seven quills of various lengths, most of them bearing nasty hooked barbs. The pain had hit different because of the infection, leaving Djarin trembling boneless and silent on the floor of the hold while you wriggled quills out of his back. He had never felt more helpless, more vulnerable, beskar be damned.

"It's alright. I'm glad you made it back." You had said calmly. "I'm not letting you go alone next time, though."

"Thank you, Senaar…"

Din's face flushed when he recalled how badly his voice had cracked when saying the name he called you by, less speech and more a plaintive cry. The way his glove had slipped over the skin of your cheek, and how he had longed to remove that glove...

Maker, he sullied the Creed with his inability to reconcile over lack of touch. The hunger for skin-to-skin contact that reared its ugly head every time you were out of your heavy exosuit and durasteel served as a painful reminder, one much more poignant than the simple weight of his helm, that he was a Mandalorian.

But this doppelganger loophole was a gift to be thoroughly exploited and he wasn't about to waste that opportunity.

Ezra buried his face between your legs and Din felt the way your entire body coiled up in anticipation, another trembling cry leaving your lips and your hands twisting frantically into the blanket beneath you. "Mando-!"

His name, his name, you were saying his name even with another man's mouth giving you pleasure. Djarin couldn't help the satisfied little growl that left his lips and made its way through his modulator. He heard Ezra chuckle, the other man pausing to shoot him a sly wink over the length of your body. Din nearly laughed.

"Ezra," He said instead, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Make them cry."

He stopped caring about how wrong it was.

…

You gasped at Mando's words, already inches from bursting into tears. Ezra's mouth was slowly coaxing you open, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw rubbing your thighs. Every pass of his tongue, every gentle press and suckle sought to untangle the knotted ball of heat in your belly, but you were certain you would lose your mind before you managed to disperse the agonizing feeling.

You were too full, almost too aroused to handle Ezra's mouth on your cunt but you were positive if he stopped licking at you, you would die. Heat felt like it was sloshing in your belly, there was so much of it...

Ezra placed a series of delicate kisses on your clit, each one lighter than the last. His hands, still secure in their binders, clutched your right thigh for purchase when he pulled back to gulp air. His expression was dazed, eyes managing to focus on the armored man that loomed over you after several long seconds. "Will you not indulge, Steerforth?" He sounded like he was almost begging Mando, voicing what you couldn't bring yourself to say. "They ask for you, how can you sit there so damned impassive?"

Your breath caught in your throat when you heard Mando exhale raggedly, the bounty hunter muttering, "M' not impassive. There's nothing I-"

"Touch them, for fuck's sake!" Ezra cried, pointedly rattling his cuffs. "I cannot do both. We must work together!"

The Mandalorian lurched suddenly up onto his knees, then sprawled over your body, slamming one hand down to support his weight before wrapping his fingers in the neck of Ezra's tattered thermal shirt. "You don't call the shots here, quarry." He snarled in That Voice, the one that he reserved for his bounties.

Your hands crept up to his hips, hyper aware of the sweet taste in your mouth and how good this would feel.

…

Ezra stared at the pitch-black visor inches from his nose. Felt the strength in the gloved hand that threatened to do much more than stretch his shirt.

The prospector took a mental inventory of his body at this juncture, a bit surprised and entertained to find that he was thoroughly invested in this new direction the encounter had taken. Mando was no doubt glaring at him from the safety of that impregnable helm, the other man's hackles obviously raised by the jab from the prospector.

It mattered very little at this point in time, however, as Ezra heard a zipper fly open. Mando flinched so hard Ezra felt it in his back, and the sound you made was enough to get the devil to start sweating. "Seems that you may be outnumbered, Steerforth."

"Target rich--environment-" The armored man snarled. "Senaar, y-your--mouth, fuck-"

He stuttered. He stuttered. Ezra latched onto that weakness with a filthy grin, easily twisting out of the other man's grip to duck his head back down and taste you. Mando's other hand hit the blanket as you undulated your hips up to meet Ezra's mouth. Ezra could only imagine the noises you were making around the other man's cock. He knew you were making them by the way Mando's arms quivered. And wasn't that a sight, a man in full armor rendered helpless by the power of a warm, eager mouth on his cock.

"Watch me now, Steerforth." Ezra crooned, tilting his face up to make presumed eye contact. "This is how you make them weep with pleasure." He was sure that his chin was dripping pink at this point and he knew, even without seeing the other man's face, that Mando was barely hanging on. He had to salute the armored man's dedication. A less devout individual would have given out before they made it to the floor.

The Medusine barrier that the Serpentia formed was slowly weakening under the gentle assault of his mouth, Ezra was pleased to notice. Of course, he wasn't exactly rushing, simply going at a steady pace to keep your pain to a bare minimum. You had begun to leak around the barrier, your arousal even warmer than he had expected. Ezra couldn't tell whether it was because he was under the effects of the pollen or whether it was reality that you tasted immaculate, but he reasoned that it didn't particularly matter.

He was hungry enough to cope with either happenstance.

"Little bird, fuck my face, won't you?" He requested sweetly, chuckling at your enthusiastic response. "Grind yourself to completion on my tongue, break the barrier so that your associate can sheathe himself balls deep in this delectable pussy and give you respite."

...

"Fuck." Din rasped, his eyes wide behind the visor of his helmet. The way that Ezra spoke was like fucking music, the man wrapping filthy words in flowery, incomprehensible syntax.

The Mandalorian's fingers tangled resolutely in the blanket, the armored man panting as you urged his aching dick even further down your throat. Your hands grappled with his thighs, shoving them wider and then taking two hungry handfuls of his rear to encourage him.

"Senaar-" he started to warn you off, but stopped dead when you moaned around him. Stars, he wondered how you could even breathe--

You pulled back, coughing and gasping. "You're doing so well, little bird." Ezra murmured from between your legs. Your only reply was to take Din's cock back into your mouth and oh fuck you weren't stopping-

Your hand found Djarin's in the blankets and you tugged on it, forcing him to try and figure out how to redistribute his weight so you could have the appendage. He managed it of course, he was a fucking Mandalorian after all, but there was a moment where he nearly lost his balance.

You guided his hand to your neck and Din couldn't fight back the groan he let out when he felt his cock bulging through your throat. Fuck, no one had ever been able to take this much of him into their mouth before, halfway was usually the stopping point.

Djarin grunted and tilted his head down to watch you struggle, finally wrapping a hand around his cock and easing it back out of your mouth. Strands of saliva connected the engorged head of his dick to your lips. Din sighed stupidly at the sight, fisting his dick and coating his glove with your spit. "You're good at this, Senaar." He said gruffly, knowing that it wasn't really praise, not like how Ezra said it. But words had never been his forte.

"Keep speaking to them Steerforth, they leak at every word out of your mouth." Ezra encouraged from between your legs. "That's right little bird, just a bit more…"

Din was startled, to say the least. You liked when he talked? "I…" he hesitated, then his brow furrowed. "Can't wait to fuck you, Senaar." You whimpered, your hips shuddering. "Fuck you until you don't remember your own fucking name." Din growled. "Breed you like a good Mando should, pump you full of my come just like my Creed-siblings did, right?"

You nodded against his thigh, your sweat seeping through his flight suit to meet his own liberal perspiration. He was so hot, his armor had never been this hot--

"Kevva, that's a kink I didn't anticipate." Ezra panted, pink slick smeared all over his nose and chin. "They certainly like it though, if I understand correctly."

Din could smell you, smell the sweet scent of that fruit mixed with your own arousal. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Ezra's neck and he nearly headbutted him on reflex, barely reining the power back in time. Ezra seemed confused at first, the other man obviously dazed with heat and just sort of allowing Djarin to shove his face against his helmet.

…

The helm was so cool, Ezra couldn't restrain a relieved sigh when he made contact. Mando appeared to be rubbing your essence all over his helmet, utilizing Ezra's face as a paintbrush. Unorthodox, but effective.

"Oh," Ezra realized, "you've got some sort of olfactory sensors in there, don't you. You lewd creature you!" He teased breathlessly. "If you think they smell sumptuous, I regret to inform you that their taste utterly puts that to shame." Words were heavy in his mouth, the prospector having to work harder and harder to put sentences together. It wouldn't be long before his senses wholly abandoned him, he was certain. "Release me, Steerforth, I must…I must carry out my end of the bargain." He groaned, struggling free. "We are almost at their climax."

Mando was nearly vibrating with anticipation, gloved fingers clawing at Ezra's hair. "Careful," was all the armored man said hoarsely.

Ezra nodded, once again touched by the bounty hunter's surprising display of consideration for his partner. "When the barrier breaks, they will need your cock immediately, Steerforth. I will...not be coherent for much longer." He mumbled against your cunt, giving up on speech after Mando nodded.

With one last sweep of his tongue, the barrier dissolved. You sobbed out, your voice breaking as you writhed beneath your large companion and bucked your hips up against Ezra's eager mouth. Slick fairly poured out of you, leaking down your thighs and soaking the blanket beneath you.

Ezra didn't remember wriggling his bound hands beneath your rear, simply returning to his senses with your legs over his shoulders and his lungs burning for air but you tasted so good, he felt raw with hunger.

Mando's gloved hand covered nearly the entirety of his face, easing him back from his feast. Ezra watched the other man's chest heave in a daze until he suddenly remembered what he was doing. "I apologize, I...I am too far gone." He murmured in contrition, lowering your hips back to the floor.

"Ask nicely to fuck their mouth." Mando ordered, his blunt words digging into Ezra's groin. "You said it hurt you last time because you were alone. You helped them not to hurt. If they don't want to let you to fuck their mouth though, I'll…" he hesitated, "I'll figure something else out. Nobody has to hurt."

"'Something else'?" Ezra repeated, stunned. What on earth could this armored man possibly be offering? Those gloves were remarkably soft, the leather worn smooth from a lifetime of use, no doubt- "Oh."

…

The pain had eased, only to be replaced by a searing emptiness. You squirmed beneath Mando, tangentially aware that he was engaged in a discussion with Ezra. Your hand flew to your pussy, the drenched area making an embarrassingly loud noise when you thrust two fingers into yourself in an effort to quell the ache.

"Maker, please, please, Mando!" you begged, barely aware of what you were saying. The heat concentrated in your pelvis was burning you alive, desperate tears pouring down your face.

Mando stood to his full height, towering over you, just watching you quiver while you pleaded deliriously. He fairly ambled around your body, moving until he stood between your spread legs. His boot shoved your ankle, opening you even further, exposing every inch of you and the mess that covered the blanket under you. "Senaar." The low burr of modulation made you rock your hips up, whimpering and nodding when he stroked his cock like he was showing off.

Somewhere, deep in your soul, you prayed that he liked what he saw even without the strange pollen instigating.

He knelt, gloved fingers curling beneath your chin to pull your eyes up from his thick, perfect cock and the puddle of precome it was currently weeping onto your pubic mound. His touch sent flickering trails of electricity through your body, and you could barely focus on what he was asking.

"Ezra...mouth?"

You nodded rapidly, making Mando bark out what could have been a laugh. He cupped your jaw again, and then his hand stroked your hair in a way that was almost tender.

"I'll make you feel better." He promised. Ezra was a mess, he looked like you felt. The quarry simply let Mando shove him down onto his knees, his eyes half-lidded. "Undo your suit." Mando ordered and Ezra shakily attempted to obey. He was having a difficult time with his hands still in the binders so you reached out, batting his hands away impatiently to unzip the lower portion of his exosuit.

His thermal leggings were threadbare like his shirt, the waffle-weave fabric soaked through. His cock visibly twitched when you exhaled sharply. "Do not tease me, little bird, I feel as if I am on death's doorstep." The man pleaded through his teeth, "I am raw and agony gnaws at my skin; please take me in your mouth."

"I have to get your pants off." You tried to explain, fumbling with the article of clothing. The noise of despair he made had you frantically clawing at the pants, finally dragging them down low enough that his cock was freed. It slapped against his belly and he moaned, bound hands digging helplessly into your hair.

"May I please have your mouth?" He requested raggedly. "I will not take it if you do not give it freely but please, little bird."

After he had worked so hard to get you to come? You were nodding hurriedly before he finished speaking, and his deep, drawn-out groan of relief was like music to your ears when you swallowed him down.

…

You were radiating warmth, your hips twitching and shifting restlessly even as you tried to get Ezra's dick out of his suit. Din had to hand it to the other man, he did ask nicely.

But there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Mainly, your neglected cunt that was currently leaking all over the underside of his cock. Djarin took a steadying breath, and then slowly sank himself into your waiting heat.

Your cry of relief was fucking primal, a hungry, feral snarl that slithered hot and seething in his stomach under the beskar plate. Din was wholly, entirely lost, finding himself mentally shattered at the first stroke into your body. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips and then your legs fell open, like you didn't have the strength to hold them up.

Shit, he knew he should say something, he knew he should be reluctant about this, but it was like every cell of his body needed you to fucking survive.

Maybe he always had.

Din bared his teeth and growled back at you, his attention divided between watching you eagerly suck Ezra's cock and watching the way his own dick split you open. His passage was eased by the strange pink fluid that continued to ooze out of you, stars it was so hot-

Ezra's fingers tangled in your hair after a moment, the prospector cradling your head to his groin in a manner that could have almost been described as gentle.

"Is this how my Creed-siblings f-ucked you, Senaar?" Din's voice grated in his chest, the armored man barely aware of the heated words tumbling out of his mouth. "Filling you, claiming you, fucking your throat and pussy?"

"Kevva." Ezra breathed. "Your peculiar voice working in tandem with your cock appears to be the thing that turns them into a voracious harlot. I do not know if I have ever-" His sentence broke momentarily, "oh, fuck, very well little bird, take the whole of it then." He grunted, raking his fingers through your hair as you deepthroated him. "You are absolutely magnificent at that, you know." The other man praised shakily.

Your cunt fluttered around Djarin's cock and he felt your arousal soak through his suit, hot fluid sliding down to coat his balls. "Stars, did you just come?" He groaned, unable to stop the filthy noise he made when you whined around Ezra's dick and nodded as best as you could. His fingers gripped your thigh, digging into the skin as he began to rut against you. The Mandalorian threw his head back, panting, "Feel so fucking--good around me, fuck, Senaar, so good-"

…

You felt like you were falling apart again and again. The taste, the sensations, the curling knot of heat in your belly that released inch by inch. Mando's hand on your thigh and Ezra's grip on your head were the things that allowed you to hold on to your sanity, but only just.

Mando was conquering you utterly, his dick driving into you with enough force that you knew you would be aching later, but in the moment you never wanted him to stop. You had craved him, wished for him for so long, to finally have him was total bliss.

And Ezra, Ezra, his silky voice caressing your body as his bound hands carded through your hair. His cock choked you again and again and every time you had to pull back off of him for breath he praised you, talked about how good you were, how no one had ever taken him as deep as you…

You were in heaven.

Ezra abruptly retreated, his cock smearing more precome across your lips. "If you continue on in this manner I will be undone, little bird." He muttered. "Your one-sided assault, while inescapably delicious, is rendering me wholly base. You wish for me to spill my seed on your face?" His hips twitched. "Or shall I fuck my come down your throat, request that you swallow every drop?"

"Fuck it into them." Mando rasped before you could say anything in reply, a gloved hand grabbing your chin. "Fuck your load i-into that sweet little mouth of theirs. Give them what they fucking need, quarry." He demanded, and you nearly came again from how unhinged he sounded.

"Well, little bird?" Ezra asked softly, his eyes dark with want. "Shall I take my pleasure from your lewd little mouth and let your beautiful throat milk me dry?"

"Please!" You begged, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to encourage him.

Ezra sighed blissfully at the sight, lacing his fingers through your hair and encouraging you to take his cock until your nose rested against his groin. "Fuc-king gods, you are positively celestial." He groaned, "Relegating yourself to a singular partner would be doing you a disservice, little bird. I highly encourage you to weaponize your talents in whatever field you wish."

Come flooded your mouth, his cock twitching heavily against your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, your lungs burning for air and you dimly heard Mando snarl, dropping his helm to rest on your sternum. The metal was blessedly cool even through your tunic, helping to anchor you to reality.

"Fucking touch me, please." Mando's voice shook even with the modulator, his words buzzing through your body. "Senaar please, fuck, pl-please, touch me, fucking--"

Your palms crashed into his shoulders, hips bucking upwards to meet his next thrust and you came again. Mando made a noise that you could only liken to a roar, the armored man grappling at your hips and grinding himself against your dripping cunt.

"Senaar, Senaar, Senaar--" The name he had given you punctuated every thrust, his rasping tone making your belly drop out. You weren't sure if you would ever stop coming, grasping blindly at Mando and Ezra while your cunt gripped down on Mando's cock.

…

If Ezra still had any doubts about being a blatant proxy for the armored man, that was obliterated in his post-orgasm daze.

A gloved hand slid to the back of his neck and tugged him down to your mouth. Ezra went clumsily but willingly, the prospector humming when he tasted himself and the cloying sweetness of the Serpentia on your tongue. You sobbed against his lips and Ezra soothed you with his mouth, accepting all of your hungry whimpers and whines as he stroked your hair back off your forehead.

"Little bird, little bird, you will want for nothing with this individual pummeling you so mercilessly." He breathed, relishing the soft cry that quivered against the skin of his neck. "I imagine you can feel every inch of that prodigious girth, burning like unquenchable quicksilver, threatening to breach your very womb." He moved his bound hands down, resting them on your stomach. "Steerforth, I trust you are punishin' their cervix with every thrust?" He queried, chuckling darkly when Mando just snarled in reply.

You threw your head back, hands fisted in the fabric between Mando's pauldrons and gorget. "Mando-!" You pleaded, "fuck!"

Mando's hands dug beneath the small of your back and he canted your hips upwards, sheathing his cock in the cradle of your body over and over. Ezra envied the armored man's stamina, grunting when he felt his member trying to rise again. Whether he could blame the pollen for that, he was unsure, but the lovely company certainly did nothing to dissuade his arousal. Watching this large, almost knightly figure rail into you, your face still a mess of tears from when Ezra had fucked your mouth…

Kevva, he could not recall a time where he had been so content to simply play voyeur, pressing the occasional kiss to your lips at Mando's behest. "Such tenderness, what a dichotomous sensation for you," the prospector mused, "the contrast between armor and flesh." His mouth brushed against your ear when he continued, "However, I believe you're beginning to realize that there is an untapped wellspring of man beneath all that metal, am I correct little bird?"

...

You squeezed your eyes shut and Din's hand reached up, the bounty hunter unable to keep from cradling your cheek. "I always knew." You said, your voice barely audible. "I-I always...I always-"

"Be quiet." Din grunted. "Y-You...don't have to say it." His heart slamming in his chest had nothing to do with his current exertion. You knew. Shame reached him dimly through the haze of arousal. All the times he ached to touch you, all the times he battled with himself over his desire for contact…

Your hand gripped the back of his helmet and he flinched sharply. He hadn't noticed you move and you could pull his helmet off, shit, he was so stupid for doing this! His eyes flew to yours, even though he knew you couldn't see through his visor.

After a moment of him fighting back his panic, you just shook your head. "S-Sealed unit, ri-ght?" You asked, your words hitching with his thrusts. Djarin nodded warily. Your eyes half-lidded and you knocked your forehead into his helmet, the gesture unmistakable to a Mandalorian.

A kiss.

Was his heart breaking, or just fucking giving out under the assault of this insane pollen? Was he overloaded? Was this all just some wild hallucination?

Din frantically shoved his helmet against your face, pinning your head back to the pillow. Shit, he needed to be careful, you didn't have armor. "Senaar, I--" Basic had always been so damn heavy on his tongue. Mando'a flowed, but it was secret. Sacred. Djarin hesitated and you reached up again, cradling the indents on his helmet.

"Always. Even with this." You whispered.

His brain had short-circuited. The roaring in his ears was deafening and he knew he was making some kind of ugly, wounded noise, but he couldn't actually do anything about it.

Always. Always.

His heart must have blown, he reasoned desperately. That was the only explanation for what he was feeling right now.

…

The sound that Mando made after you assured him was heartwrenching, a guttural sob that seemed like a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He clawed at the blanket beneath you, gasping for breath as he all but broke you in half, his dick ripping yet another orgasm from your hungry cunt.

You were lightheaded from his prolonged fucking, your pussy in spasm around his thick cock, but you refused to give out yet. "Did you feel me come, Mando?" You whimpered against the side of his helmet, wringing more feral noises out of him. "Is it good?"

"Fuck, incredible, s-so--" Mando gripped your thigh, hitching it up over his hip and then dragging his fingers hungrily through the pink slick that had pooled in the crease of your hip. "Never want to leave, fuck, m'sorry, I know I'm t-taking--forever-"

"Only a fool apologizes for his length in the bedroom." Ezra remarked dryly, dipping down to kiss you when you laughed. "How do you fare, little bird?"

"So good." You sighed, feeling half-drunk on your orgasm high. The knot in your belly had finally gone slack, leaving you weak and trembling beneath Mando as he chased his own completion. You hummed and Ezra rumbled back, his touch remarkably careful when he cupped your chin.

"You have done so well." Ezra murmured. "Serpentia is no simple storm to weather, yet you have endured." Mando wordlessly bumped his helmet against Ezra's temple, the metal rubbing over the blond tuft of hair the quarry sported. "You are most welcome, Steerforth." Ezra chuckled. "One is glad to be of service, but please. You threatened to fill them, didn't you?"

Mando's hips faltered in their rhythm and the armored man finally came with a shattered moan of relief. Stars, you weren't sure if you had the Serpentia to blame for the sheer volume that he came; you could feel it frothing out of you around his cock as he continued to shudder and writhe through his orgasm.

"Holy shit, Mando." You said incredulously, unable to fight back the urge to slip a hand down between your bodies. "You told me Mandalorians were rare."

"We--are." Mando panted raggedly, his cock still twitching inside you.

"If you come like this, how?" You asked, your combined fluids soaking your questing fingers. Mando just stared at you for a moment, shoulders heaving while he struggled to catch his breath.

And then he started laughing, which was...not nearly as terrifying as you had expected, honestly. "Stars, you--" He wheezed, his helm thudding gently against your forehead. "Fuck you, Senaar." You could hear him grinning, his voice still warm with laughter.

"Odd method of displaying affection. I take it your Creed is of a fraternitous bent?" Ezra commented, a quiet noise of surprise escaping him when you tugged him down for a kiss.

"Thank you." You mumbled drowsily into his mouth.

"Hardly. I ought to thank you. When last I endured the Serpent's grasp, I was incarcerated and driven to gratify myself to ribbons on the inside of my gear." Ezra informed you, his tone nonchalant. "This experience was a rare moment of hedonistic bliss in my life. Believe me when I say I shall cherish it."

He straightened up before you could say anything in reply, extending his bound wrists to Mando.

"Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

Mando ignored him for another moment, stroking your forehead tenderly. He appeared to have noticed your weariness, because he sounded softer when he spoke. "Sleep, Senaar. It's over."

…

"I'll cut you loose on Sorgan."

Ezra swiveled in the co-pilot chair, knowing that his expression must border on the befuddled. When the armored man had left you to sleep, hauled Ezra into the cockpit and secured his binders to the chair, the prospector had assumed that whatever agreement they struck previously was rendered null and void. "I would be...wholeheartedly grateful to you, Steerforth." He breathed.

"I never found you. Your pod malfunctioned and you burned alive in the atmosphere." Mando instructed him in that level, modulated voice. "Stop stealing shit and I won't have to hunt you down again."

"Those men stole from me!" Ezra retorted hotly, knocking his elbow down into the white case that hung off his hip. "I worked alone for stands and they came along right at the most opportune juncture, put a thrower to my head and robbed me! I simply reclaimed-"

Mando waved a hand, interrupting his self-righteous tirade. "You and I both know that it doesn't matter. I'm forfeiting the credits this time, but next time…" he trailed off pointedly. "Don't get caught again. If someone else from my Guild chapter picks up your bounty, Mandalorian or otherwise, they will catch you."

Mando leaned in close, his elbows resting on his knees and helmet propped up on his folded hands. Ezra felt for all the world like a specimen underneath a microscope, barely suppressing the urge to squirm nervously.

"The bounty specified that you be captured warm." The armored man said after a beat. "No promise of half-payment upon cold delivery or even proof of demise. So whoever you got into a pissing match with wants to be the one to put that last slug into your brain. You already heard my advice. For your own good, I suggest you lay low and be fucking quiet." He gestured out the cockpit viewport at the green sphere that hovered in the distance. "There's good people on that planet. Good people that I care about. If you bring hunters to their doorstep, I will find out. And then I will find you."

Kevva have mercy, this man was no joke. Ezra was having a difficult time just mustering up the breath to give him an affirmation! Was this truly the same Lancelot he had watched engage in lotus-eating debauchery with his Guinevere not two hours hence? Ezra's belly roiled uncertainly, arousal and fear a potent combination. This must be how the bounty hunter indulged himself without divesting his plate, the prospector reasoned dimly. Fear was a remarkably stimulating thing. "Of course." He finally answered, his voice a little reedy. "Your mercy is...unexpectedly generous, but no less appreciated for its spontaneity."

Mando grunted, seeming satisfied with his response. The armored man returned to the control panel after a moment, flipping a few switches. The entire ship appeared to be miles above what Ezra was used to. Even the Testin had a dog-eared manual that hung from a chain by the central dash, and the craft was such a rattling nightmare that she needed three bodies just to keep her straight. But this man, this...Mandalorian, he operated the whole blasted vessel with a fluid ease.

His next words were so quiet Ezra nearly missed them. "Thank you."

"Pardon?" Ezra queried blankly.

Mando heaved a sigh that made his pauldrons visibly dip. "I said, thank you." He growled awkwardly. "I don't know what...I don't know if I would have hurt them because of--because of how I am."

"It will do no good to ruminate on such dour subjects." Ezra hesitated, then continued, "but your Creed...would you have broken it for them, had you known about the requirements of the Medusine barrier?"

"I…" Mando tightened his hold on the directionals, those gloves creaking with his tension. "I'm not sure." He admitted, lapsing into silence afterwards.

"Your ship is marvelously responsive." Ezra murmured by way of changing the subject. "It reminds me of a diminutive Screamer-class that I endured a few stands on, oh, nearly fifteen cycles ago-"

"Be quiet."

…

Din watched Ezra until he vanished between the large trunks of Sorgan's conifers, the Mandalorian then dropping back into the pilot's seat with a groan. Maker, he hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped he hadn't just unleashed some mass-murdering psychopath on the unsuspecting populace.

Djarin tilted his helmet back against the headrest of the seat, aimlessly staring up at the fuselage.

What the hell was he going to say when you woke up?

Din's heart sank. He knew that he couldn't believe anything that had come out of your mouth while you had been under the effects of that fruit. Serpent's Tongue. He chewed his lower lip meditatively.

He could lie.

He fucking cringed at the thought, then shook his head at himself. You would be embarrassed at best, but at worst…

Shit, he didn't want to lose you, even if you didn't feel the same way about him. And then there was the kid to worry about. No, a lie would be better.

You had sought out other Mandos. His stomach lurched as he recalled that little fact. Fuck, fuck, was it hope that beat so insistently in his throat?

A sealed unit, he had said.

He just wouldn't bring it up. He was the one who had insisted that this whole maneuver was struck from the proverbial records in the first place, right? He just wouldn't mention it. Easy enough. If you said something, that was fine, but otherwise…

Din nodded firmly. This is the Way.

Part Two

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fakeloveaskblog · 3 years ago

Note

Greetings from the void, Remington Siest, I have been summoned in your stead—

Oh, it's you! We've already met! Right! Uh, Remus's nonbinary demon friend again, this time coming from the shadowy corners in your room that you never look to. My apologies for that little scare, it's my day job you see, and someone else did summon me to you; old habits die hard, yadda yadda. How have you been? How are you liking that Raccoon plushie I sent?

Now, as for what's been requested of me *sounds of paper shuffling* hmm, ok, yeah, that's easy! Remus adores you, can confirm! Both him and Janus love having you as a friend and while I cannot speak on Remus'd behalf on the matter I can say that Janus is absolutely smitten with you (on a romantic sense) beyond a shadow of a doubt! He doesn't and will never only want you for your body, or leave you if you were to reject any advances he may yet put forth, so you can rest easy on that issue!

Oh. *hears what Remy has to say to their summoner before the message sents* Oh my. *starts to panic* Seems things are worse than I thought. I have. No idea what to say that wouldn't make this any worse! Where's the person who cheers you up and sents you nice text messages when you need it?! Ah, guess if they're not here this falls to me until they do get here? Uh, darn the timer's running out, um.

Remy… you are amazing and a great person and your friends love you for you, and you alone, not just your body, you! (Remus is ace for crying out loud!) Other than the obvious… now, we don't have time to unpack all of that, but…! *quickly sents a link to a social media app on Remy's phone* So. *John Mulaney voice* Hey, do you want me to kill that guy for you? Because it sounds like he sucks and I would totally kill that guy for you!

(U!Virgil, emotional abuse)

Remy: "Oh girl I am loving the raccoon! I sewed him a lil like hoodie so now he like reminds me even more of my boyf. I have-"

They forced in a sharp breathe through their teeth while their whole body trembled from pain. The plushie was pressed close to their chest as they laid in bed. All the blinds were rolled down because any and all light would bring them a migraine right now.

"I haven't like....been doing too hot...I...It's like....a lot right now"

They took a few moments to really listen to your message. (How good that all demon messages came with an automatic playback function)

"...Jan does seem so sweet...and Rem makes me feel all warm...maybe you’re right" They buried their face into the soft fur of the plushie "I want Jan to like hold me like all the time. He's so soft"

(A part of them still felt doubt. Sweet guys had left them before. They tried to press the doubt deep deep down until they couldn’t hear it anymore)

"I really hope Jan like texts me about hanging out soon. Like shopping or eating at some resturant or like going out walking or whatever. I just wanna like talk to him. He seems like tots a good listener right? Would be like good to vent to I guess...I kinda want to...I trust him. I think....I shouldn’t vent....I shouldn’t”

The door opened. The small amount of light coming in made them whimper and hide down under the blanket. Virgil came in. He hunched down by the bed.

“You feeling any better?”

“Bitch look at me. I’m dying more than a 70′s fashion trend!! Oh woe me!”

He kissed them on the nose before taking out a pill from one of the medicine bottles on their bedside table. Remy immediately tensed up.

If they took that pill then eventually the bottle would be empty and Virgil would have to pay for another and they wouldn’t have any way to make it up to him because they were useless and couldn’t work and could barely even be used properly and he would probably tell them himself how horrible of a burden they were and they were probably supposed to refuse or he would get mad and-

“You need it” He had a soft look in his eyes.

“I’m fine babe!” They spat out in panic.

Virgil grabbed onto their jaw and forced their mouth open. The back of their head got pressed down into the mattress. It hurt. They knew he would just sigh back how Everything hurt to them if they said anything. They grabbed onto his wrist to try and force him away, they couldn’t. He wasn’t strong but they were very weak.

He pressed the pill down into the back of their mouth. “Swallow” He kept their mouth open until they did as told. “Good. Was that really hard” He muttered sarcastically.

Their whole body was still so tense it ached “Please babe you just sounded like a laughably pathetic daddy dom”

Virgil fiddled with his hoodie strings like he always did when he got flustered “I Uh didnt’ mean to. Gross. Eh. Dinner’s almost ready by the way”

“Don’t burn the stove down” They teased.

“Shut up you smartass”

“You wish”

“Idiot” He said jokingly before kissing them. He left to check so the stove hadn’t actually burned down.

Remy painstakingly turned to look at you. They pressed the plushie closer. The medicine started to make them drowzy. It did that sometimes.

“My boyfriend doesn’t suck...he’s sweet. so sweet” They mumbled out “Most days he’s so sweet. Like today. And on bad days he just like doesn’t lie. He just says the truth..he gets so anxious about me leaving him....isn’t that like kinda romantic...him being so desperate for me to not leave he just...he just says stuff...and yells...and.....and it’s sweet. He’s so sweet”

They kind of wished Virgil would always be either sweet or honest. It made them so stressed to never know how they had to act. At least their dad never made them stressed like that. He was always angry. That made it easy

Remy gripped onto the stuffie harder. They hated when their brain made connections between his boyfriend and-

“He loves me. He just like loves me so much. All that stuff that sounds bad it’s either ‘cause he’s trying to make me stay, like I would leave or someting, or- or ‘cause it’s true”

....But....But they’d thought the whole thing about how no one else would want them except for their body was true...but if Janus didn’t....then it wasn’t true....Remy couldn’t help but wonder if-

The door opened again. Virgil came in with 2 bowls of black bean soup. The silly wondering was quickly forced away from their thoughts.

He sat down on the bed next to them and set the bowls onto the bed table they had for bedridden days. He gently put his hands on their back and neck to help them sit up. When they whimpered he kissed them.

“I’m not hungry” Remy muttered.

“Beanie you are”

They could eat on their own but they didn’t say no when he used the spoon to feed them. It made them feel pampered and it made him feel needed. Double win.

“Babe this tastes horrible. just saying as like a warning” They said after finishing half the bowl.

“Like you could do any better” He pressed a playful kiss to their forehead.

“Oh yeah definitely! I just put the ingredient in! And then the like water! and then it’s done! Easy!!”

“Woooow. Wish I’d thought of that”

They smiled “Yeah that’s why you’ve got dick for brain. Bitch”

He simply snapped his finger into their forehead in reply “Wanna watch a horror movie?”

Remy got bored by horror movies and Virgil easily got anxious by them even though he loved them so really he was if they wanted to make out and cuddle to avoid looking at the film.

“You akready know I want to”

They didn’t look which movie he picked. They’d already cuddled up to his side and pressed their head to his chest. He moved his arms around them so he could eat his soup while the movie started.

It was so nice. They could hear his heartbeat through his hoodie. He was so sweet. They were so horrible.

They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve it.

#thanks for the ask!!! that must have taken you some time to write <3 #ask #remy sanders #unsympathetic virgil #sanders sides #obsessed with how your ask makes the implication that remy has a tumblr

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secrets-of-the-library · 3 years ago

Photo

This is the fan-created personal home of Arthur Kirkland I made, realistically, like anywhere between a year to two years ago. This is well before the Cottage pack that just recently came out (And I am upset because that could’ve added so much more but I can’t be bothered to alter it now after all this time). Remember: This is fan/headcanon created. I build for fun and am not a professional. I do not build with the intention of having it livable/non-clashing. If something clashes it will be up to you to fix it because I build for the pure aesthetic and not functionality. I own a lot of packs so if you don’t own all the ones used in this there might be issues. After the cut here I will provide a visual walk-through via screen captures. You’re more than welcome to download it and look at it for yourself. My username on Sims4 is Shinoshallbugyou.

First up, the outside overview. Keep in mind that Sims 4 limits the lot to a harsh degree. I actually really miss Sims 3 in how you could alter and change the environment otherwise I’d have Arthur’s home buried in a garden/trees. I have placed his home in the University area because it felt the best suited. There wasn’t any particular designs I was going for... I just kind of made it and went with it. His home, unlike Spain’s that I am working on, is much smaller in comparison. I particularly wanted to bury this home in foliage and green with ivy climbing up the wall and etc. Something to where you could have enchanted little areas to sit in, fairies, and etc. Something to where he can be more introverted and away from others.

3rd Floor- Attic/storage.

2nd Floor - Full bath, office, and his bedroom.

1st Floor - Entry room, 1/2 Bathroom, Living room, dining room, kitchen. Outside there is a small backyard area as well as a greenhouse.

I specifically always want to try to do a ‘triangle’ entry or a sloped half triangle entry. It ALWAYS clashes and hates being put in there but the aesthetic of it appeals to me and I’m always trying things even if they’re difficult. I know some of these objects may seem more German than British but... I don’t care lmao. I don’t do this to do a 100% British Speedrun. Just fun.

The greenhouse in particular was something I wanted and is difficult to implement. Those are not full walls and as such do not drop down like normal walls for those of you who download this. Also, previously, I had custom content on the windows and doors of this greenhouse that were removed with several updates and I can’t be bothered to re-download it so I chose something from a pack. That would do. I love the idea of a greenhouse and wanted to try it and I particularly liked making this house in specific ‘cramped’.

I really liked adding this ‘side door’ that goes into the living room with its little step-up.

I really tried, to the edge of it, building the lush garden and foliage covers.

A small, quiet area for tea and fairies. There are lots of gnomes and stuff hidden throughout this house! Just a fun little surprise. My fiancee tried to play this build of mine and since I have seasons fall is triggered but it just adds to the look, in my opinion.

The backdoor into the kitchen with another cute step-down.

My hands were killing me by the end after adding all this foliage but it’s worth it. We also joked in a larp once that when America visited he accidentally broke a gnome and hid it in the bushes. Arthur immediately noticed that Reginald was missing. Where did Reginald go? Reginald???

The front entry room or, I suppose, a ‘mud’ room. I never do these and I really liked it.

A lot of Arthur’s house will be cluttered and lived-in. I love those looks. Also, my apologies in advance, I didn’t realize there would be an outline where my mouse was hovering. I’m a builder, not a photographer.

I wanted a nook of a kitchen. The walls aren’t even that high but the Sims 4 is great about making things ridiculously tall. I think I joked about putting a step-stool in there for him lmao. The door leads down below into a 1/2 bathroom. I also in particular liked that oven because it was a ‘London’ oven.

Greys and browns were something I thought that Arthur would like. More Earthy tones. I wanted a ‘round table’ for obvious purposes. I had a custom content here too and had to improvise when they removed it. I like to think that Arthur also collects those cute dishes that some people do.

The living room as well as stairs going up. I wanted it old-fashioned a bit with an old record player and the TV isn’t the main focus but is there because he has reluctantly upgraded over the years. And while you can’t see it... I miss in Sims 2&3 I believe it was that they would put on ‘chimneys’ for the fireplaces. I love how realistic that is rather than it just... Being in the wall???? So I make 1x2 spaces behind the fireplaces by default now that they’re missing from the game. I miss those. The clipping from the half triangle roof is here along with foliage. Usually my brain just blocks out that stuff or I try to hide it. In this case... I blocked it out and ignored it.

Going upstairs, peering down into the living room.

I really, REALLY wanted this weird bay-window with a ledge here. A lot of stuff I want is a pain to do but I always want to. I temporarily removed a clipping roof object here (It is the ‘rounded roof’ here). I enjoy how it looks outside but not inside. For the pictures sake, I removed it. The window doesn’t allow it to disappear and for some reason it clips into the bathroom as well even though that makes no sense. Roofing is one of the hardest aspects in this game.

The full bathroom first. The top view gives the most details as to how it looks. Since it isn’t big I have to remove the walls to see further into it.

Arthur’s personal office. I wanted to involve a bit more of the spiritual or supernatural things he’s into since I wasn’t interested in making a basement for this project.

Arthur’s bedroom. I really enjoyed this one because of the quilted bed and things like that. I added the rocking chair and knitting sidekick there as an afterthought while looking at this room since, at the time, the knitting pack hadn’t come out when I made this. I thought the contrasting red and green would actually look good and not just Christmas-y. He has his own little walk-on balcony.

Here is the half triangle structure I was talking about as well as the circular roof down below. Roofing is incredibly difficult and I’m OCD and want it to look a particular way. I about had a fit on Spain’s home recently in regards to roofing.

The 3rd floor... The attic that has been transformed into a storage area. I actually really enjoy making storage areas in particular that help reveal some aspects about these characters I create for. In England’s case I like to imagine that America used to live up in here with him and he’s converted it from Alfred’s bedroom into storage. The babyshoes are supposed to be Alfred’s that he still keeps around. Just little bits and pieces over the years that he’s tossed in here and yet it’s still not really that chaotic... All things considered.

Anyways... That’s it! I hope you all like it! I’ve been working on Spain’s and, unlike England, I like to picture him having a HUGE home. Because of how big it is... It has taken much longer. I have the majority of it done though and am mostly left with his 2nd floor and outside foliage to complete before it’s done! I’ll probably upload the ship and island I’ve made for them on the next post.

#sims 4 #sims 4 creator #sims 4 build #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #aph england #aph arthur kirkland #fan build

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jamestaylorswift · 4 years ago

Text

1 different interpretation of “the 1”

A companion piece to this.

When I first heard “the 1,” I got a rather intense musical itch. Consider this essay to be me scratching it. Enjoy, or don’t, and thanks for reading!

Note: I’ve tried my best to simplify some technical parts music theory, but my sincerest apologies in advance if the translation still seems clunky. My hope is that if this essay doesn’t make musical sense to you, it will at least make linguistic sense. The only prerequisite knowledge you need is that scales exist and a song is made from minor and major chords.

——

There are a shocking number of connections between “peace” and “the 1.” One of my favorites is a very subtle musical one. Like “peace,” I propose that “the 1” could be imagined as a conversation. The difference in perspective is again telegraphed by what the piano and bass are doing.

Here are some musical facts about ”the 1:”

This song is in the key of C major, which means that the C major chord is the sonic ‘home base.’ It is is the chord to which every other one ‘resolves,’ or quite literally returns. (In fact, this chord accounts for exactly half the chords in the song.)

The verses and prechoruses are constructed with two alternating chords, (1) either F major or D minor, and then (2) C major. This creates a kind of ‘push and pull’ effect, of harmonic tension and release. (You don’t need any musical training to feel this effect. Just focus on the first 10-ish seconds of the song.)

All of the chords in the song are made up of three notes. The F major and D minor chords share two of the same notes; both chords are thus as similar as two chords could be. Substituting one for the other is a very common trick. These chords are similar enough that Taylor wouldn’t need to sing different notes over them to sound good. Indeed, she doesn’t, and several chord substitutions in “the 1” sneak by as Taylor goes on her merry melodic way.

In “the 1,” the substitution of D minor for F major does not happen at the same point in the verses/prechoruses. The D minor to C major progression happens in the seventh and eighth lines of the first verse, but the fifth and sixth of the second. It also happens in the third and fourth lines of the first prechorus. The second prechorus is only long enough to allow the F-C progression.

Chord substitutions exist mostly to make music interesting. If they do exist, they usually follow predictable patterns. The last observation above is…itchy.

Most people are taught that chord quality is emotive: major chords are happy and minor chords are sad. Perhaps Taylor is trying to highlight that the lyrics with substituted chords are especially sad. Here are the lyrics associated with the F-C progression:

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop,

I didn't though

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinée

I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

I have this dream you're doing cool shit

Having adventures on your own

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

These are the lyrics with D minor instead:

You know the greatest films of all time

Were never made

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

These lyrics are sad, but I don’t see why these lines would be picked over others. All of the lyrics are pretty depressing. Plus, if Taylor really wanted to make the song sad with minor chords, she would have added a lot more.

Emotion doesn’t explain the different positions of the minor chords in the verses. What could?

Recall “peace.” Observations about the bass and piano in that song, especially their musical independence/interdependence with respect to lyrics, led to the conclusion that the piano represents Taylor and the bass represents Karlie. These instruments also suggest two perspectives in “the 1.”

However, “the 1” is more sonically dense than “peace.” The arrangement of “the 1” makes perspective shifting more complicated than ‘the piano plays independently here, therefore Taylor is talking.’ Instead, we discover perspective shifts when considering deviation from the harmonic ‘norm’ of the song. (This is not a real musical term, but rather an English approximation of how our brains/ears interpret the chord progressions of “the 1.”)

The chord substitution is the first example of deviation from the norm. F major and D minor function differently in harmonic progressions because the bass note changes (from F to D). The effect of substituting D minor for F major is that the release of harmonic tension, the ‘pull’ or resolution back to C major of the first chord’s ‘push,’ is less satisfying. That is, a bass note of F exhibits a stronger ‘push,’ so the ‘pull’ back to C is far more compelling to the ear. (Look no further than terminology for an explanation. F major to C major is an example of the beautiful “amen” cadence, a chord progression so nicknamed because it’s found at the end of many hymns.)

Per the lyric split above, Person One gets the F-C progression while Person Two gets the D-C progression.

The second example of deviation from the harmonic norm is the movement of the bass note in first and second halves of the chorus.

Consider the first half of the chorus. The bass note follows the chords at the beginning of this section. The first two chords are A minor and C major, so the bass plays A and C. Like in the rest of the song, the chords in the rest of this section alternate: F major, C major, D minor, C major. (The notes aren’t really that important, just the back-and-forth behavior.) This time, however, the bass note doesn’t hop around with the alternating chords. It walks down part of the C major scale: F, E, D, C. (Again, the notes matter less than the movement. This is a part of the song where the bass doesn’t do what the piano is doing.) The bass movement in the first half of the chorus is summarized as ‘hopping, then walking down.’

The second half of the chorus features a bass that just walks down the C major scale: A, G, F, E, D, C. The only difference between the halves of the chorus lies in the first two chords, A minor and C major. This time the bass plays A and G, not A and C.

This bass line appears in only the second halves of the first two choruses, but the entire bridge and last chorus.

The difference between the two halves of the chorus is simple in alphabetical terms but sneaky to the ear.

The alternating chords throughout the song make C major a strong sonic home base which the ear absolutely does not want to leave. (Pretend the ear is a person who doesn’t like to stray out of their comfort zone.) The bass has to leave C to make the music interesting at all, so it facilitates a sonic reward system. The first half of the chorus offers almost instant payoff for straying from the key’s chord: A is immediately followed by C. This placates the ear, if you will, and makes the walk down the scale more acceptable. The ear gets tricked into believing it will get to return to its comfort zone, to C, if it just waits a little while while the bass walks. So consider this first section the bass’s way of expanding the ear’s comfort zone.

The bass then can be a little more audacious. It walks down the better part of the C major scale in the second half of the chorus. Even though the chords above the bass line alternate with our home base chord of C major, the bass takes the long, long way back home to C. (Essentially, this harmonic progression is a tease because it takes its sweet time to fully resolve.) Still, this walking line isn’t as jarring as it could have been, because the bass eased the ear into accepting a long walking line during the first half of the chorus.

Remember that the walking bass line is ultimately what separates the bass from the piano. The long, meandering bass line in the second half of the chorus therefore constitutes deviation from the harmonic norm.

We apply this idea to the lyrics. The chorus is first Person One’s question:

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

And then Person Two’s answer:

In my defense, I have none

For never leaving well enough alone

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

In summary, the harmonic progression of “the 1,” defined more by the bass line and not the piano chords on top of it, splits the song between two speakers. The verses and prechoruses are split unevenly. The first two choruses are split in half, with Person One speaking first and Person Two following. Person Two sings the bridge and last chorus.

I’ll be the first to concede that using an observation about “peace” to prove the same thing about “the 1” might be circular logic. It’s crucial, however, to recognize that all of this musical magic is very, very sneaky and probably not accidental—especially because deviation from the harmonic norm of “the 1” does not follow a simple (i.e. localized) pattern.

Who is Person One and who is Person Two?

Perhaps Taylor is Person One because the “new shit” is the “shit” she talks with her friends in “peace.” Perhaps she’s Person Two, who “never [leaves] well enough alone” in both “the 1” and “ME!” (This depends on your interpretation of “ME!” though.) If Karlie is the bass, does that mean she’s talking when the bass is doing something normal or something different? I have my own opinion, but in the spirit of the song, I’ll leave it open for your own interpretation.

The takeaway from this exercise isn’t that the novelty of a song increases because there are multiple perspectives in it. Many of Taylor’s songs allow room for interpretations of just one perspective as well as many. (I adore “the 1” as a solo breakup song.) Nor must all songs featuring piano and bass be conversations. The bass is critical for the style of “Lover,” for example; most people, myself included, regard that song as from Taylor’s perspective. To me, “peace” and “the 1” simply highlight one interesting, beautiful way of telegraphing multiple perspectives. Taylor has introduced multiple perspectives by creating lyrical connections and collaborating with artists who trade verses with her. Just as literal voices clarify who is speaking, it seems reasonable that instrumental voices could too.

One final thing. The melody and chords of a song bounce around a scale, which establishes the key of the song. In this case, the melody and harmonies are all made of notes in the C major scale; the song is ‘in’ C major. Different combinations of notes in the scale make different chords, like F major, D minor, A minor, and of course the C major chord, home base. Each chord can be represented by the single scale note upon which it’s built (e.g. F, D, A, C). This note is called the ‘root.’ It’s usually (though not always, as we saw) what the bass plays.

Scales are ordered. Musicians like to label chords with numbers based on where the root note falls in the scale order. The chord made from the very first note of the key—in this case, the C major chord, the thing to which Taylor always returns—is literally called “the 1.”

——

Things that I think are neat but that probably only exist because the songs aren’t boring as hell:

The bass walk down in the chorus of “the 1” is the same as the bass movement in the “peace” second verse/quasi-bridge

The “amen” cadence makes an appearance for the lyrics “the devil’s in the details but you’ve got a friend in me”

The coincidence that this essay is about?? Idk man maybe I was just supposed to be content with a lifetime of itchiness

#kaylor #gaylor swift #folklore analysis #music analysis #my post

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98prilla · 4 years ago

Text

Abductions, Past and Present

AO3

...

Remus’s breath catches and he’s backing up, backed into a wall, backed into a corner. He can feel his breath getting caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs, and it’s dark, too dark, and suddenly he’s back, back in the cell, back in the black, except it’s smaller, it’s so much smaller, iron bands wrapped around his arms and legs, climbing up him until he can’t even wiggle his fingers, until they cover his mouth, then his nose, and he can’t breathe, he’s suffocating, they’re suffocating him, and he wants to scream, but he can’t, he can’t, and he can hear Him, whispering, taunting, just like he always does, it echoes in his ears along with his silent scream until they’re ringing and there’s still no air-

Contact. He flinches, lets out a garbled shout that comes out as more of a strained whimper. The touch quickly moves to withdraw, but instinctively his hand shoots out, latching onto the contact like it’s the only thing left in reality, and he’s drowning, drowning in his own mind, his own thoughts, his own memories

“remus.” His name finally makes it through the ringing in his ears and his head shoots up, wild eyes locking onto whoever’s face, Logan’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, because it’s not Him, it’s not Him, it’s not Him! “can you nod, if you can hear me?” Logan’s voice is soft, softer than he’s heard it before, and there’s emotion in it too, instead of the clinical cold tone that sets his teeth grating. Slowly, with effort, he manages a nod. “that’s good. You need to breathe, ok? Can you breathe in, 1,2,3,4” Logan counts, and he screws up on that, the very first part, and his heart rate rockets up a notch, because now comes the punishment, now comes the pain, now comes the hurt, as a result of his failure, of his stupidity, he can’t do this, he can’t do anything-

“it’s ok, Remus. It is perfectly fine. Let’s try again, ok? Just do whatever you can. No one is going to hurt you. You’re doing fine.” Logan, again, soft and… and worried? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t sound angry, as he starts counting again, and Remus tries, in fits and starts and gasps, he tries, until finally, he can breathe again, and he collapses into a ball on the floor, gasping sobs flooding out of him in bitter waves as his head clears from the thoughts, from the memories, from the fears, from the pure intensity of his emotion, one that doesn’t even have a name, just a mix of sorrow and loss and fear and deep, keening pain.

He realizes Logan is still there, has dropped to the floor with him, and he feels guilty at pulling him down too, realizing he’s still gripping his arm, probably hard enough it hurts, and between breaths he gasps out an apology.

“It’s perfectly fine, Remus. You can hold on as long and as tight as you need. Do you want me to get someone else? I… know you are not fond of me.” He shakes his head, because he can’t, he can’t be left alone like this, he can’t force himself to let go, or he’ll drown again, and he’s afraid if he plummets again he will hit the ground and smash into a million pieces.

“okay. Did you have a nightmare?” Logan asks softly, and he laughs, because the last decade has been a waking nightmare, half of Roman’s entire life has been a waking nightmare, and he apparently cannot function unless he’s being tortured, because he’s fallen apart more since he’s been rescued than the entire time he was held captive!

“that’s only natural, Remus. While under such extreme duress you didn’t have time to question or think, every moment was spent on survival. Your mind is trying to process ten years of trauma all at once. It’s not easy, it’s not something your brain is made to do, it shouldn’t be something you have to experience in the first place. It is only natural that now that your body has realized it doesn’t need to expend all it’s energy on fighting, that it’s trying to understand and comprehend everything you’ve been through.” He uncurls slightly, looking up at Logan, face so different from the impassive mask he is used to, softened around the eyes and mouth, a slight frown on his lips, sympathy and worry and pain in his clouded silver eyes.

“it just got so loud. I’ve… I’ve always been shit, at dealing with it, I always get nightmares, I always… I hate sleeping, I can’t…” He’s on the edge of losing it again, and he forces himself to breathe, forces himself to take deep breaths, but he’s lost what he’s saying. He feels Logan gently squeeze his arm back, and knows he understands what he’s trying to say, at least.

“it’s ok to be angry. It’s okay to be furious. It’s ok to want to hurt the people who did this to you, it’s ok to want to destroy them, it’s ok to want your life back, it’s ok to scream and shout and punch things because it isn’t fair. Because it isn’t. It’s ok to grieve, Remus. However that looks for you, it’s ok.” Logan near whispers, and he’s silenced for a moment at the ferocity in his voice, at the venom when he spoke of the captors, and then he breaks again, surprising Logan as he falls against him, his tears reduced to sniffles now.

“I want them back. I want my parents back, I want them to know we’re safe, I want them to know what happened, I want them to have closure, they probably think we got dragged off by cougar or something, they probably think we’re dead. I want Roman to have gone to middle school, to have gotten to high school, to have tried out for every school play, because he’s such a fucking good singer and actor, I want to have helped him run lines and gone to every performance and I would have beat up anyone who made fun of him for being into theater. I want him to have gone to college or gotten an audition and ended up on broadway, and I would have been in the front row screaming, cheering him on, and so would our parents. I want to have gone to high school, have gone to college, have become an artist, an animator, done something with my life other than be a fucking lab rat, and I know it’s not fair, and I know I can’t have any of that, but I’m so damn angry because the two of us can’t stop blaming ourselves for shit that they did to us!” He yells, shaking with exhaustion, spent and empty yet again, angry tears dripping down his face. “and I hate them. Because I want to hurt them, I want to tear them apart, I want to watch them scream and writhe and beg for mercy before I kill them with my bare hands. I’m just… I’m just like them. They made me their monster and I hate myself for it.”

“No. You’re not a monster for wanting that, Remus. You aren't Them, for wanting that. You have a reason to hurt them, a damn good one, too. It’s not wrong to want revenge, though taken too far it can be damaging. They are the monsters. They had no reason to hurt you, yet they did, for their own selfish gain. That’s what makes them monsters.” Logan answers, voice shaking, but surprisingly fierce, and Remus feels him hugging him, firm and protective. “it took me a long time to learn, I still am learning, that it is ok to feel negative emotions, necessary, or you will never be able to let go of it all and move forwards. It hurts and it’s terrifying, but it gets better.”

“does it?” he asks softly, he’s so tired and broken and so far beyond caring.

“Yes. There's not a single one of us on this ship that hasn’t gone through some kind of trauma, and I swear it gets better. Not fast. Not easily. But it does.”

“What? You… but you’re so…” Remus gestured to all of Logan as he pulls back, eyes wide, and Logan lets out a humorless laugh.

“Yes, well, appearances aren’t always what they seem, are they? We each have a reason we got into the rescue and rehabilitation business. We've all lost something to the trade.” He sits silent for a moment, considering Logan, head tilted as he tries to make sense of him.

“while… while we are speaking, I would like your input on something.” Logan pauses, and Remus nods for him to continue, a bit wary. “I know you dislike me, for obvious reasons, but I do not wish you to be afraid of me. I… is there anything I can do differently, anything I can do to make you more comfortable in my presence, I… anything you need, just ask it.”

“oh.” He hadn’t been expecting that. He doesn’t know how to answer. He feels more at ease with Logan now, after he had talked him down from his panic, had helped so much, but he’s afraid that in the light of day, he won’t be able to help himself, help the fear, help the instinctual panic at the way he speaks, moves, acts. “it’s… it’s not you. You’re… fine.” He mumbles, fiddling with his sleeve. “you… I mean, I get it. You were protecting him, and I get that. I… wasn’t at my most lucid. I don’t mean what I said, anymore. I know you weren’t… weren’t trying to hurt me. Even if I can’t quite forgive you for it yet, I’m not… mad… about it anymore.”

“then what is it, Remus? You don’t have to tell me, you don’t need to, I just… I want to be able to help.” Logan asks, reaching out, and he doesn’t pull away, as Logan slowly rests a hand atop his.

“it’s not even to do with you, really. It’s… Him. The Scientist.” He says, nearly whispers, irrationally afraid that saying the name will summon him. “he… he moved, like you do. Had the same, I don’t know, the same sound to him that you usually do. But you don’t sound like that now. You don’t… you don’t make me think of Him now.” He replies, staring at the ground, aware of Logan’s gentle exhale, close to a sigh.

“He was probably the same race as me. Straevion. We are… curious, intellectual. We learn things very fast and very thoroughly. Most of us become scientists or engineers or mathematicians. We love exploring, discovering, studying. And many of us are ethical, interacting and learning from different species we encounter, respecting and studying the cultures, the language, the worlds. We thrive on learning, really. But there are many who see themselves as above, as better than, because we are more technologically advanced than many worlds, therefore those worlds are lesser, those peoples lesser. They see other races as not really other peoples at all, just animals. It’s wrong, and horrendous, and despicable, and I hate that the Council that rules our world does nothing to stop it. That’s why I do this, Remus. Because somebody has to stop it. I know that it’s a reflex. That it is ingrained that my general appearance equals pain, but I will never knowingly hurt you. And if I accidentally hurt you, tell me immediately so I can rectify the situation and avoid causing harm in the future. I swear it.” Logan’s voice is serious and heated, and passionate, and a smile pulls at the corners of Remus’s lips, because Logan is so much different than Him. He just has to try and remember that, try and push past his first instinct to run.

“ok.” He whispers, meeting Logan’s eyes for a moment, before looking away, though it was long enough to see the slight smile on his own face, enough to see Logan once again understood without him having to say all the words what he meant. “I, um. I came out here for some water, before I, y’know, broke down. I’m… sorry. For unloading all that. On you.” He mumbles, face going a bit red.

“Oh, of course. You’re perfectly fine, Remus, I am happy to listen and help talk you through your thoughts, if that is something that helps.” Logan replies, getting to his feet, reaching out a hand to help him up. Remus hesitates for a moment before taking it, a bit wobbly on his feet, as he settles on one of the stools at the kitchen island, realizing the light has gotten brighter. It must be early morning. No wonder he was so tired, he hadn’t slept at all, and he’d had an emotional breakdown. He runs a hand through his already ruffled hair, letting out a soft groan.

Logan sets a glass of water on the counter before him, and he slowly sips at it, despite his desire to chug it. Still, he empties it quickly, and Logan quietly refills it for him. He rests his head on his arms atop the counter, letting out another long sigh, tiredness filling every inch of his bones, but his mind is still whirring a thousand miles a minute, the reason he couldn’t sleep in the first place, he was never able to silence his mind.

“You have insomnia.” Logan says, though it has the hint of a question. He nods, enjoying the feel of the cool counter against his forehead. The luxury of having space is incredible.

“where are we going?” he asks, suddenly, curious, his mind wandering and trying to focus on anything other than the thoughts in the dark spaces.

“Pardon?”

“I mean, we’re on a spaceship, yeah? You can’t just be drifting pointlessly.” He gasps, shooting upwards. “Is there a window? Like, can you see out, into the stars and stuff? Galaxies and planets and stars, oh my!” he giggles slightly to himself, realizing he’s losing it a little, loopyness setting in a bit. Logan just chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“There is. We have a star map, where we chart our courses. The room also doubles somewhat as an observatory, with rounded, slightly tinted windows, so the light of passing suns and stars don’t damage anyone’s eyes. Virgil still can’t tolerate the brightness, his kind is especially sensitive to light. As for a course, we are currently heading towards a small, mostly plains biome planet known as Drakkia. We intend to stock up on supplies, as well as gather resources and information. Also some new clothes for the two of you, as well as things to decorate your rooms, if you like. If… you intend on staying, anyways.” His eyes are wide as he stares through Logan, imagination running wild, because the thought of stepping off a ship, feeling actual, solid land beneath his feet, feeling a sun on his skin, even though it’s not his sun, still… still.

“Remus?” He realizes he’s crying again, and he shakes his head, snapping back to reality, smile bittersweet.

“it’s been ten years since I stepped foot on a planet. Our whole world was the cell, the lab, and the testing rooms.” He says softly, just barely catching the stricken look on Logan’s face, the flash of anger that vanishes quickly as he takes a deep breath.

“well. You are no longer confined anymore. We will arrive in approximately two days. That being said, I can show you the observatory later. I am the chief navigator, if you are interested in how the ship itself flies and works.” He perks up again at that, excited.

“I loved building things. I even made a few robots, before. Always got in trouble for taking things apart to figure out how they worked. Wouldn’t’ve been a problem, cept I could never put it back together right. Started a loooot of fires.” Logan chuckles again, shaking his head.

“Do your best not to light anything on fire while onboard, please.” Remus snorts, head thumping back down against the counter, giving a thumbs up.

“Lo, did you start the coffee already? Oh. Hi.” Virgil, sounding a bit tired himself, and he gave a small wave without removing his head from the counter.

“I did not.” Wait.

“Coffee?! You have coffee!? I was gonna fall asleep on the stool, and there’s caffeine here!?” He shrieks, glancing between the two slightly taken aback aliens with wide, excited eyes.

“Um. Yup. No one else aboard can really handle it, it’s a little like poison to them, but I’m less physical, of a being so it doesn’t do much. I take it you want some?” Virgil asks, clearly holding back a snicker.

“I was hoping you would get some actual sleep instead of choosing to stay awake via drugs that would literally make my heart explode.” Logan replies, looking sternly at them both. Earlier, that look would have set his heart racing, his pulse panicking, but now, that fear is easy to push through with a scoff.

“What kind of a heathen are you? Coffee is the drink of the gods. It’s barely a drug, have you ever had Meth? Now that is a drug that will get you buzzed. Heroin isn’t so bad, though, it mostly just makes you feel good and sleepy. Must be why they didn’t use it as often. Acid though,” he shivers at the thought, “that just is wild. I always had a bad time with that one.” He looks up, and realizes Logan’s face has darkened again, and Virgil is looking at him with mild concern and something soft, before he turns away, and pulls out the cups without commenting.

“Remus… “ Logan starts, but sighs, trailing off and shaking his head. He’s about to say something else, when he hears a scream from down the hall and his head whips around.

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legobiwan · 5 years ago

Text

Whumptober #5 (gunpoint, or in this case, blasterpoint)

TW: none except a severe lack of editing, apologies in advance

Fandom: Star Wars (Obi-wan Kenobi, Qui-gon Jinn, Satine Kryze, General Grievous)

Notes: Getting this in just under the wire. It’s kind of a 5+1 without the +1. And now I really need to go to sleep.

----

The first time Obi-wan Kenobi aimed a blaster, he was fourteen.

This was not entirely true. All Jedi Padawans had rudimentary training in handling weapons beyond their lightsabers, even if half the Council disapproved of introducing younglings to such a crude device.

(Qui-gon Jinn was not one of them, of course. “While I can’t condone blasters, it would be foolish to stick one’s head in the sand and pretend they don’t exist. You must be prepared for every eventuality, Padawan.)

The first time Obi-wan Kenobi aimed a blaster with the intent to do harm, he was fourteen.

Fourteen and terrified, lightsaber stolen by a band of Ceterian criminals on a mission gone wrong on Naxar Prime.

Fourteen and lost, not knowing if Qui-gon was captured or dead.

Fourteen and bereft of any idea of how he might survive, the cold weapon in his hand his only salvation, finger hovering, trembling over the trigger.

(Later, after the Ceterians had been dealt with, Qui-gon had given Obi-wan an earful about proper use of weapons, how blasters were last resorts. Obi-wan hadn’t had the energy or courage to point out the hypocrisy in Qui-gon’s statement.)

(Years later, Obi-wan would come to understand Qui-gon was only scared, his Padawan teetering, an unpracticed balancing act on a high-tightrope spanning Light and Dark.)

The second time Obi-wan could remember holding someone at blasterpoint was, of course, on Mandalore.

In an effort to not attract too much undue attention (a difficult task, given the antics of Qui-gon and Satine’s fiery personality), both he and his Master had forgone their lightsabers, wielding blasters on their hips, both sides, in the Mandalorian tradition.

Given the conflict between Mandalore and Jedi, it was a prudent move.

“If you’re going carry the blasters, you ought learn how to actually use them,” Satine had commented in that contemptuous manner of hers, chin slightly raised, somehow peering down at the Jedi Padawan despite the fact she was a good two inches shorter. “Otherwise no one will believe you come from this planet.”

Somehow Qui-gon had managed to wriggle his way out of blaster training with Satine (there was some story attached to his excuse, something about an undercover mission, an illegal pod racing ring, and his old Master which didn’t quite make sense to Obi-wan’s ears, but Satine had deemed a satisfactory explanation).

Learning to be marksman was every bit as taxing as his own exercises in the Temple.

Mandalorian training, apparently, did not leave room for error or kind words, it seemed, Satine putting him through his paces day in and day out as they hid in a forest refuge on the far side of the planet.

Still, he had improved, in small part to Satine’s efforts, and weeks later, Obi-wan found himself pointing his blaster.

“I don’t think this is the wisest idea,” he commented, pursing his lips.

“You’ll be just fine,” Satine responded.

Obi-wan grit his teeth. So stubborn. “In fact, I won’t, if this ends as poorly as it has the capacity to.” Forget the Council, Qui-gon would murder him on the spot.

“You’re a Jedi. Trust the Force.” Satin quirked her lips. “And my training, of course.”

“Of course,” Obi-wan muttered, drawing on the Force against his better judgment, aiming his weapon just above Satine’s head, where a single, red apple sat.

The third most important time Obi-wan had held someone at blaster point, it hadn’t been Obi-wan. Or, at least, that’s what kept trying to tell himself.

Rako Hardeen. It wasn’t you, it was him.

It was a terrible lie, of course, one so threadbare it wouldn’t even have passed muster as a Republic-issued blanket, and Force knew he had heard enough griping from the clones and Anakin about that issue the past few years.

He hadn’t killed that clone, in fact, he had nearly blown apart the entire mission to save one life. Rako Hardeen never would have done that.

(But if Rako Hardeen wasn’t the perpertrator of that non-crime, it meant all his other actions spanning from the breakout to Naboo had been Obi-wan’s alone. The guard on Nal Hutta. His rage, fists flying at Anakin, then later at Moralo Eval as Dooku’s smug face looked on. The way he had left half a dozen sentients to die in the box. The way he had betrayed everyone except the Council.)

No, if Rako Hardeen hadn’t held that clone at blasterpoint, then Obi-wan Kenobi had.

It had been so easy, too easy to pick up the blaster and aim. And so difficult to keep himself from pulling the trigger.

The second-to-last time Obi-wan Kenobi held someone at blaster point should have been his last.

He had lost count of how many of the Death Watch he had felled, his aim unerring, bodies falling succession as he and Satine tried to make their escape.

It had been murder, plain and simple, Obi-wan not having the time nor the awareness (nor the inclination, if was going to be honest) to change his weapon to ‘stun.’

Perhaps Death Watch’s weapons did not even have such a setting. It wouldn’t surprise him, the Mandalorian splinter group lived by the most vicious of codes, and what need did they have of a weapon that would merely slow their enemy, not destroy them?

A weak justification for his actions. Disgusting, really. He was a Jedi, and he had killed. Indiscriminately.

And it hadn’t been enough.

In return, his penance took the form of an ancient weapon cruelly wielded, striking Obi-wan through his metaphorical heart as the dark blade slid easily into Satine’s gut.

Blasters, Obi-wan decided, had no place at a Jedi’s side.

The last time Obi-wan pointed a blaster at someone, there hadn’t a someone on the other side. There had been an entity, if it could be called that, a sentient monster masquerading as something more than a loose agglomeration of metal and organs, all tied together by compiled code somehow working in tandem with a higher brain function.

And that strange mix of machine and organs was set on destroying Obi-wan Kenobi.

It annoyed Obi-wan to no end, that Grievous was able to be such a thorn in his side, to be able to gain the upper-hand again and again in their confrontations. Trained in all forms of lightsaber combat, he had proven more than equal to any Jedi, and had been the downfall of too many of Obi-wan’s friends and colleagues, not to mention the Republic at large.

It was fitting, then, that the weapon to finally put and end to the mechanical bastard was no weapon of a Jedi, and every bit the piece of machinery the General was himself.

Obi-wan looked down at the blaster in his hand, sparing a single glance at the steaming pile of parts which had once been General Grievous.

He threw the weapon to the side with a crooked grimace.

“So uncivilized.”

legobiwan does whumptober

#writing #whumptober #whumptober 5 #star wars #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #qui gon jinn #general grievous #yes i went william tell on this don't ask me why #FRANTIC TYPING

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flowerslut · 5 years ago

Note

1/2: hiii, i was wondering if you have the time (and/or patience), could you please explain further about vampire age vs. human age when turned and how that effects how they act and what teenage tendencies the vampires will be prone to? like i get the whole child development frozen. can't be taught. but for like the cullens physical age (17-20s?) you're telling me their 50+ years won't affect them at all? like they won't mature mentally at all? learn? does this make sense? it confuses me too tbh

I always have time to procrastinate my real life responsibilities to talk about twilight are you joking

this is going to be long. so uh, apologies, I guess.

I'm no neuroscientist or anything (fucking duh) and I feel like smeyer makes all of her science-esque explanations vague enough to be left up to some sort of interpretation, but with my understanding it all has to do with what the brain can actually do. so, again, while I’m not a neuroscientist, I am a teacher. I did study child development pretty thoroughly back in school and I work with kids that range from infants to 12 year olds. so I’m going to start with an example on child vampires before I answer your question about teen vamps.

here’s the way I see it:

say you’ve got a two year old. alriiiight, lets make that baby a vampire! now, two year olds are basically large babies who are just beginning to function as people. words are there because vocabularies are being built. fine and gross motor skills are lacking but still being actively improved upon. their understanding of the world as a whole is also pretty basic because they can’t grasp larger concepts. sitting down a vampire toddler—even one who has been a vampire for 5 or 10 years—and saying “hey. you’re illegal. which means we have to keep this on the down-low, meaning you have to like, listen, or both you and I are going to to be straight-up murdered by our immortal lawmakers.” isn’t going to get you any results. your little abomination is just going to ignore you after the first 6 words and start to wonder why you’re making such a funny face.

in the words of Piaget, children aren’t “little adults” and literally cannot function as such because their young brains prevent that. they just don’t have the tools.

I know smeyer took all sorts of “it’s supernatural!!” liberties with Advanced-Functioning-and-Brain-Development Renesmee but the way I make her existence work in my head canons is by headcanoning the opposite with her: I want to see the vampire side of her show in more realistic (and less idealistic) ways. where her parents are frozen vampires, I want to see her slowly developing, as opposed to the weird hyper-developing thing smeyer had going in order to age her faster to get her with Jacob quicker, but uh *coughs* we won’t go into that nasty fact. I want to see a Renesmee at her 2 year old birthday party and she’s still the size of a 6 month old. (Emmett blows a noisemaker too close to her head and she bursts in to tears; he’s subsequently banned from the cottage for a month but it’s not like he misses out on anything. Next time he’s over Renesmee has barely grown anyways.)

so while we have Renesmee’s frankly disturbing case, let’s go back to the actual topic:

the thing is, vampire children’s brains aren’t developing. they’re learning, as all children do, but what makes (human) kids wild from a general standpoint is how fast they do it. but again, with the rate at which their brains develop and their bodies grow, of course they’d pick up things so quickly. they sort of have to in order to help them navigate this world around them in which most pieces of information they’re introduced to are 100% new concepts to them.

now, the real question: can vampire children learn. yeah, to an extent, they probably can. but they’re not learning the way you and I do, or the way a normal kid might. let’s go back to our hypothetical two year old baby vamp for a second. so this kid is frozen in time, right? so that means that while they might practice or perfect skills that are usually developed as they grow, they won’t be able to build off of those learned skills and advance them into something more or something better.

for example, a two year old who has learned to catch and throw a ball with someone else will eventually learn how to throw and catch the ball by themselves because their motor skills and hand-eye coordination will improve as they develop.

not with our vampire baby, though. imagine anything you can teach a two-year old with one full day of practice: catching a ball. hopping with two feet instead of just one. putting on a hat by themselves. now, imagine anything you can teach a five-year old in the same period of time. how to tie a knot. how to do a cartwheel. how to recognize specific words. so, with a two-year old vamp who is technically 5 years old, they wouldn’t be able to further their skills like a human 5 year old because they don’t have the tools to build their skills. so while you may have a 2 year old who can catch a ball from a literal half-mile away, they aren’t going to figure out how to tie their shoes even if you worked on it for 6 months. it aint going to work. they’re going to be figuratively left in the dust developmentally and they’re going to stay that way because, you know, the unchanging nature of the vampire deems it so........

now with our poor, unfortunate immortal teenagers. oof. I really feel for them. I mean, as a grown woman I think back to seventeen year old me and cringe sometimes. all people do, but then I imagine if her development had been stunted and she’d been trapped in that body and mindset for an eternity. it really gives a gal some fucking goosebumps, that’s for sure.

I know everyone likes to joke about how Esme is the only person with braincells in the family because she’s the only one with a fully developed pre-frontal cortex, but when you think about the fact that developmentally she really is the only one who should be calling any shots for that family it makes you wonder why smeyer didn’t make the Cullens a matriarchal family (I mean, we know why, but I digress...)

since the Cullens are written by an adult (and Bella, too, for that matter) that’s why when we read the books when we were younger we all most likely thought “oh! they’re all so level-headed and mature!” and they are a little bit. but that’s because they’re written like that. if the Cullens were as developmentally stunted as smeyer claims they are then they’d be every bit as chaotic as the fandom likes to head canon them as. poor impulse control. bad decisions nearly every step of the way. and sure, they’d learn from mistakes. but when faced with a split-second to make a decision it doesn’t matter if you have 50 years of lived experience behind you. that 17-year old brain in that head of yours is going to act and react. ain’t nothing you can do to stop it.

that’s why Edward being like “alright. fuck it. I'm killing myself” in new moon makes sense to me. and it’s why Rosalie being angry and jaded for nearly the entirety of the series makes sense to me. combine their ages and their last human moments and look back on where there development was stunted: a lot of the shit that people complain about their characters will feel like it makes a shitload of sense. it doesn’t matter if they’ve been ‘alive’ for 100 years.

(this whole thing is also why I made Esme the head of ‘the family’ in CotN, for all intents in purposes. bc of fucking course she would be.)

but think about how frustrating it would be, even with the super-vampire-memory, to look back at every single time you gave into the same impulses. sure, you’ll tell yourself you’ll do better next time. and maybe you will. but the brain calls the shots y'all. and while you might think you’re fully in charge of what it has to do or say, you really are only a passenger in this thing. along for the ride.

to finally answer your question: I think, yes. you are going to have teenage vampires who give off an air of maturity to them because of all of their lived experiences. but I still believe having even a 23 year old in charge (because now I look back on 23 and I’m like, hm, yeah. still a baby.) of a coven of vampires is fucking foolish as shit. but I mean, if Carlisle were as ‘smart’ as his medical degrees say he is, with him at the helm of the family the Cullens wouldn’t get into half the shenanigans they do. that pre-frontal cortex development is vital in making sure someone doesn’t give into impulse, can make thoroughly thought-out decisions, and has proper judgement in a variety of ways. without that, it’s a recipe for disaster (i.e. see: the entirety of The Twilight Saga.)

#the twilight saga #now that what I call a proper waste of time #time to get back to errands before work lmaoooo #mine

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magmasliveblogs · 5 years ago

Text

1.11

i almost didnt have enough time to do this today but i did! we are onto the 12th chapter! to recap: last chapter pisces met relc and klb! this was a great meeting full of joy and happiness! ... who am i kidding it went about as well as you can expect, which is horribly. pisces used his illusion skills to escape!

Erin stood in front of the cupboard and sighed. Loudly.

“Men.”

Erin paused and thought about that word.

“Males. They eat and eat, and eat. And then I have to clean up the dishes. Typical.”

True, she was an innkeeper. Or at least, she kept an inn relatively clean. But that didn’t make her feel better.

“Pantry? Pantry is empty. Food? Food is gone. And money—”

Erin glanced at the pile of coins on the kitchen counter.

“Money is shiny. But uh, inedible. And it’s good to have money, but starvation is an issue.”

Erin stared at the empty pantry. Starvation was a major issue.

it seems we are getting our requisite obvious observations of the day out of the way

“Aren’t there some more blue fruits around here? Here? No…here? Yep. Nice and wrinkled. Lovely.”

She could always get more blue fruits, of course. But there was a limit on how many those trees had left. And there was also a limit to how many Erin was willing to keep hauling back.

“And I’m out of ingredients.”

The flour was gone. The butter was gone. The salt—okay, there was some salt left, and some sugar too. But they were running low in their bags and with the lovely preservation-spell-thing gone they’d probably turn rotten sometime soon.

“So I’m in trouble.”

“So it would appear.”

Erin was sure her heart stopped for a good few seconds. She turned around and looked at Pisces.

“If I had a knife in my hand, I’d stab you.”

He smirked at her. It seemed to be his default mode of face.

“Ah, but what good innkeeper would deprive herself of such a magnificent guest?”

Erin reached for a knife.

“Please, please good mistress, let’s not be hasty!”

Pisces raised his hands quickly and took a few steps back. Erin glared at him. He looked dusty. And dirty. And sweaty.

pisces, what did you expect? also yeah, he is not in good shape

“Where did you come from? I didn’t hear you come in through the door.”

“I was, in fact, upstairs the entire time. It was the simplest solution given the intelligence of those two brutish guardsmen.”

Erin blinked.

“Good job, I guess. But they’re still going to find you. You’re a criminal and you’ve got nowhere to hide.”

“Except here.”

He raised a hand before Erin could say anything.

“Please, hear me out. Rest assured, I bear you no ill will for reporting my actions to the guard. I fully appreciate the severity of my crimes, however—”

“You want something. What? To stay here? No. Nope. No way in hell.”

“I assure you I would be a quite convivial guest. And I wouldn’t ask for much. In fact, you may be interested to know I am proficient in multiple schools of spellcasting. While Necromancy is a—passion of mine, I have extensively studied the elementalist, alchemical and enchanting schools of magic. My level is over twenty in the general [Mage] class. Even amongst my fellow students, you would be hard-pressed to find a spellcaster as widely capable as I am. I can aid in a number of functions that would improve your inn. And I have money.”

Erin raised two eyebrows. One just wasn’t enough.

“And you’re telling me all this…why?”

He licked his lips.

“In point of fact, I was wondering if I might persuade you to shelter and provide me with my basic necessities while in this moment of dire need. I can provide you with adequate recompense I assure you—”

Erin snorted rudely.

“Right, for how long? Days? Weeks? Months? And I get to feed you, make sure no one finds you, and clean up after you? Again: no.”

“Would you turn away an innocent—”

“Innocent? You? You’re nothing more than a thug with a magic wand. Remember how we met? You tried to scare me into giving you food. And now you want protection because you’re getting your just desserts? No. No, when I see Relc again you’d better be long gone from here. And if you don’t leave now, I’ll kick you out myself.”

yeah let the necromancer panic! i doubt erin would truly let them kill him, given her sense of morality so far

Erin finished her tirade and folded her arms under her breasts. But while Pisces had turned white as a sheet, he didn’t look ashamed or afraid so much as…

Angry.

He whispered a spell. Erin felt the air grow colder around her, and suddenly saw shadows twisting around Pisces’s hands. The darkness was gathering around him like a cloak. It was the same spell as before, or close enough.

Pisces took a step towards her.

“I am a man in desperate straits. You would do well not to underestimate what I am capable of.”

Erin’s heart was racing. She took two steps back and he followed.

“Antagonizing one of my power is unwise. If you have any sense, you will accede to my request. Or know the consequences.”

Her mouth was dry, but she knew it was just an illusion. So Erin forced herself to reply with more bravado than she felt.

“So, what? If I don’t decide to help you, will you hurt me? Bash my brains in? Or will you just rip my clothes off and try to rape me?”

He looked shocked.

“Of course I wouldn’t do that. I’m no barbarian—”

“Good.”

Erin’s hand moved in a flash. Pisces looked down and gulped. A knife was poking into his stomach.

Her heart was racing. She could taste bile in her mouth. But her hand was very, very still. She wasn’t sure of much in her life right now. Magic and monsters, made her head spin. Yet some things were the same. And she had no intention of being the victim here, especially where no one could hear her scream.

Her knife had a gratifying effect on her mage guest. He licked his lips and raised his hands, turning a shale paler than normal.

as i said, let the mage panic. also, good to know at least the educated of this world consider rape bad

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty good mistress. I was merely saying—”

“Move and I will stab you.”

It was no threat. It was a promise. And to his credit, Pisces was intelligent enough to take it seriously.

“—Allow me to apologize. But if I might say a few words—”

“No. Out.”

Erin advanced. Pisces had to step backwards or be knifed in slow motion. She forced him back into the common room and towards the door.

“Please, please reconsider.”

“No. Why should I?”

Pisces stopped at the door. Erin jabbed at him with the knife, but he refused to move back any further. He raised his hands higher and spoke with increasing speed and desperation.

“If I am caught, they will take me to the city. And there I will be judged and killed. This is a certainty, Mistress Erin.”

Erin eyed him uncertainty.

“Relc never said—”

“He didn’t want to tell you the truth! But he and I both know what happens to necromancers. We—any mage possessing even a single level in the class—are all killed on sight in this part of the world! There’s no mercy for my kind here.”

“Well—well too bad.”

Erin’s mouth was on autopilot. Pisces tried to step around her back into the inn, but she blocked him.

“Even if you’re in danger, I’m in danger if I hide you. I’m not doing that. Run away. Just run away now.”

“They will have patrols out around the city. They will scour the grasslands for me. Please, if you were to hide me I would be sure to survive.”

“No. Go.”

Erin pointed towards the door with one hand. He wavered, but made one last entreaty.

“Please, I beg of you. Just one night. Just give me sanctuary and I swear I will be gone upon the morrow. It is my death without your aid. Would you kill me? I ask you as a fellow human. Please.”

“I—”

The knife in her hands wavered. Pisces seized the moment. He stepped forwards, hands outstretched, beseechingly.

“Please, spare my life. If you have any pity in your soul—”

Thudthudthudthudhtud.

Both humans turned and looked at the door.

“Gotcha!”

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand the guards are back! it seems pisces’s plan wasnt as foolproof as he thought

It was quick. One second Erin was pointing her finger out the door and glaring at Pisces. The next, something blew past her and he was gone. Two figures crashed into a table and chairs. Erin’s mouth dropped open.

“There you are!”

The larger shape uttered a triumphant laugh as he swung Pisces around and slammed him into the floorboards. It was Relc.

“Miss Solstice.”

Klbkch appeared at her side. Erin jumped but the ant man placed a steadying…hand on her shoulder.

“Please forgive my rudeness. But are you well? We doubled back as soon as we realized the mage had not fled the inn after all. Are you hurt or in need of assistance?”

“What?”

Erin stared at him.

“Are you—what’s—I’m good. Good.”

“That is well. Then, please stand clear. We will be going about our business and I would not wish you hurt.”

That said, Klbkch gently guided Erin to one side. The fight between Relc and Pisces was knocking over tables and chairs as the Drake attempted to smash the Human into anything he could while the human tried to avoid that fate.

Relc roared from the ground.

“Klb! Get over here and help! This guy’s slipperier than he looks!”

Klb nodded to Erin and dashed into the fight. She watched in stupefaction as the two tried to hold Pisces down. Oddly, it wasn’t that easy. Despite the size advantage and muscle advantage, Pisces was still managing to fend both off. Erin wondered why until she saw him push the air around Relc and send the bigger lizard flying off him.

Pisces scrambled to his feet and leapt for the door. But Klbkch caught him by the foot and attempted to tie his hands together with a piece of leather cord. Pisces shouted…something and the leather burst into flames.

It was a fast and dirty fight that had one or all three of the fighters rolling on the ground at all times. But Erin had only half an eye for that. The other eye was watching all of the furniture in her inn get smashed as they fought.

“Stop moving! Hey!”

“Desist your actions or—”

Pisces’s fingers sparked. A small explosion of lightning blasted Klbkch into a wall as Relc ducked. Erin ducked too. From behind her table she could see Klbkch twitching and making a distressed buzzing sound.

“You squirming—”

ugh i would not want to hear that! also we have some non illusion magic being employed by pisces here! seems like non mages have issues understanding the mage language

The dull thud of something hitting something echoed throughout the inn. But it was punctuated by another crackle of electricity and Relc shouting in pain.

Erin turned away from the brawl and ran into the kitchen. She emerged with the pot just in time to see Relc blasted off his feet, this time by what looked like an explosion of air.

Pisces backed away from the Drake, panting heavily. His face was bruised and he was bleeding from the nose and mouth, but his fingers still crackled with energy. He turned to run, but stopped.

Klbkch was on his feet. Well, his legs. The ant man was standing in front of the door, swords drawn. He held two, one in each arm while his other two held small daggers. Erin saw Pisces gulp. She agreed. Klbkch looked like a wall of blades.

“I—I seek no quarrel with you. I am student of Wistram Academy and a practicing mage. You detain me at your peril.”

Pisces pointed a trembling finger at Klbkch. It sparked with green energy that crackled around his fingertip, but it was suddenly a lot less impressive compared to Klbkch’s armed armory.

“Regardless of your affiliation to any academy, you are still under arrest. Please surrender now, or I will be forced to employ lethal force.”

Pisces hesitated.

“My magic—”

“Is useless. Surrender.”

“Surrender?”

Erin jumped. She saw Relc getting to his feet. The Drake’s eyes were narrowed, and in his hands was a spear. It wasn’t long, but it did look extremely sharp. And the way he held it, Erin instinctively knew he was ready to use it to kill.

Pisces took one look at the spear and immediately raised his hands.

“I—I give up.”

Relc spat.

“Not likely. I’m gutting you like a fish right here.”

Erin stared at Relc in horror. But there was no joking in his eyes. He was practically quivering with rage, but the arms that held his spear were completely still and tensed.

“Gutting? Hey, that’s—”

“Don’t be hasty!”

Pisces backed away from Relc, talking fast.

“I assure you, my life is worth far more than you would ever get for me dead. This can all be solved amicably. I will fully cooperate—”

“Cooperate?”

Relc stepped forwards and Pisces pressed his two fingers together. A strong breeze flew through the inn and a flickering barrier of wind appeared in front of Relc.

“I will cease all magic and go with you quietly if you assure my life. I meant no harm to you or your companion. But we are at an impasse until you do.”

Relc’s eyes narrowed.

“By that? You think a piddly little Wind Wall spell is going to stop me?”

The big Drake’s body tensed. He crouched slightly, and then dashed into the wind wall. Relc’s massive body smashed into the semi-transparent barrier of wind. He sunk into the barrier and then the winds pushed back.

Even from this distance Erin felt the tremendous force in the spell and saw chairs and tables being blown away from the force. For a moment she thought he was going to be blown away. But his claws dug into the ground and the wind howled—

The whirling winds blew apart with a small clap of air that sent the nearest chairs flying. Pisces staggered back, face grey with shock. Erin stared.

Relc on the other hand just twirled his spear in his hand. He spat contemptuously on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your spells. I’m a former soldier of the 1st Wing of the Liscorian Army. I’ve killed more mages than you have levels. Now, are you going to die quiet or will I have to pay for painting the walls green with your blood?”

well written fight scene, not one of the best but its early days. also it seems liscors army has a reputation to flaunt. is it common for veterans of the army to become guardsmen?

Pisces stepped back, tripped over a fallen chair and fell on his back. He raised his hands and cried out in a shrill voice.

“I can be ransomed. Quite highly! My school will pay ten—thirty gold coins in whichever denomination you like for my return.”

Relc raised the spear.

“Still don’t care. I don’t need money if I can get rid of a stinking monkey like you.”

Erin raised her voice in horror.

“What? No! No killing! Do you hear me?”

But no one was listening. Klbkch was closing in, swords and daggers at the ready. Relc raised his spear higher.

“Last words, mage?”

“I—I—”

Relc grinned with all his teeth. He raised his spear high. Klbkch watched impassively. Pisces screamed and shielded his face ineffectually. And Erin—

“Hey!”

Erin slammed the pot on the table top as hard as she could. All Relc, Klbkch, and Pisces paused as one to stare at her. She pointed one shaking finger at them.

“No fighting. Not here. And no killing!”

Relc blinked. He lowered his spear a fraction. Erin pointed to it.

“Stop that! Put the weapons away and get out.”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t care! You don’t kill people just because they practice stupid magic! And you don’t kill people just because you don’t like them! And you don’t kill people because killing people is wrong!”

“What?”

Relc pointed down at Pisces angrily.

“He’s a criminal.”

“No, he’s an idiot. But he didn’t do anything wrong enough to die for. All he did was try to scare me.”

“He hit me with lightning!”

“You punched his brains out! That’s not enough to kill him over!”

The Drake lowered his spear.

“I can’t believe this. Are you defending him? Because he’s Human? Or do you not want the blood in here? In that case I’ll take him out back and—”

“No!”

Erin shouted at Relc.

“Are you stupid? I don’t want anyone killing anyone! You can’t do it! I forbid it! It’s wrong! It’s illegal.”

“In point of fact, my comrade’s actions are not—”

Erin whirled and pointed at Klbkch.

“I don’t care! No killing, do you hear me?”

Relc hissed angrily.

“Then I’ll arrest him and he’ll be executed tomorrow. Happy?”

Pisces turned pale again. Erin’s mouth replied before her brain caught up.

“I withdraw my testimony.”

“You what?”

“I withdraw it. All of it. I was never attacked yesterday. This mage-guy never visited the inn, and I never saw him until today. So there’s no reason for you to arrest him.”

“You can’t do that!”

Relc turned and looked at Klbkch.

“Can she?”

The ant man nodded reluctantly.

“She is correct. Without her testimony we cannot arrest him.”

Relc faltered. He looked uncertainty at Pisces and then remembered.

“But he’s still a [Necromancer]! That’s a crime no matter what he does!”

Erin crossed her arms.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove. It. Can you? Is there a way to check his uh, class?”

Relc gritted his teeth.

“…No. Not without an artifact.”

“Then go. Now.”

this is one of the better early moments. they cant execute him if they cant prove he is a [necromancer]

Relc gaped at Erin. It was surprisingly frightening. Erin could look right down his throat. He had a lot of teeth.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Erin glared at him. Relc lowered his spear, grabbed at the spines on his head and hissed. He pointed at Pisces.

“You take one step in the city and I’ll—I’ll—you take one step in there, and I’ll do something about it.”

Pisces was still lying on the ground. He raised one hand weakly.

“I assure you—”

Relc’s eye twitched.

“Shut up.”

He stomped towards the door.

“Humans!”

Relc kicked the door as he left. Erin winced as she heard the wood crack. Then he was gone.

Klbkch walked past Erin and nodded to her politely.

“Do not mind him. You are within your rights to enforce law within this establishment as you choose. I apologize for the mess on both our behalves.”

He left. Erin stood around the room, looking at the broken chairs, overturned tables, and general wooden carnage. Behind her Pisces got to his feet. He was still shaking and sweatily pale.

“I don’t know how I can thank you good m—Ms. Erin. Please, accept my humblest—”

Bonk.

Erin tapped him on the head with the pot. Hard.

“Out.”

“What?”

Pisces stared at her in disbelief. Erin raised the pot higher.

“Out.”

He stumbled out. Erin kept staring at the mess in the room. It had to be said. Definitely.

“Males.”

it seems erin is done with people for today.

also, thats the end of the chapter! will erin ever go to the city? will pisces come back? will the guards come back? will erin be welcome in the city?

see you tomorrow!

#chrono

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sisterbestill · 6 years ago

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I write this on my iPhone, sitting next to my dad, who is currently getting his 4th Chemo Therapy Treatment of Carboplatin and Taxol. The drugs are chemical bombs and each week the accumulative damage grows. They pre-treat him with histamine blocking meds so he doesn’t have reactions, but he has reactions during the infusion, like he can’t breath. The nurses are well aware and calmly manage the reactions with more meds. These meds cause him to become very drowsy, so the remainder of the day becomes about keeping him from falling.

I still am trying to process all that has occurred since early August 2018. I look back on these pictures of our last outing at Lake Jocassee and never would have guessed how things would change just a week later. I’ve often wondered how cancer strikes people so quickly, now I know. I am writing this so I will never forget each minute that will forever live with me. I am also using this as a way to cope and understand something that is unfamiliar and terrifying.

My parents have always taken care of themselves and one another. They have been very lucky to have good health and I have been lucky to have them as energetic as they are in their eighties. When they moved up here from Florida, I was delighted I was going to finally be able to spend more time with them - like daily and weekly vs. just twice a year. They moved 15 minutes away or a lovely 60 min bike ride through rolling countryside and mountains. I was giddy and felt the universe shift a bit. I felt pulled to them. They are in fact two of the coolest, funniest, and open-minded people I know.

Shortly after this kayak trip (photos above) they decided to make a pact to live to 100 and created a “bucket list”. They were thankful for their health and never took it for granted. Perhaps the bucket list idea was a way to for them to celebrate how young they felt or perhaps they recognized they were chronologically getting up there.

Paddling on Jocassee was relaxing, calm, and beautiful; Certainly an experience they would have loved to have recreated again and I am hopeful they will. It may look different in the future, but I suspect the beauty and calmness of the lake will bath their brains in peace.

A week after snapping these pics, I got a call from my mom, she was on her way to the ER with my Dad. I was working one floor up and met them in the ER. While we waited, I learned my Dad had been feeling fatigued for several months and had developed shortness of breath over last few weeks. It wasn’t evident on the kayak trip that he was struggling, but it was obvious in the ER. My mom said they had been to their primary care several times and their primary care doc reassured him it was natural aging, as tests did not reveal anything to be concerned about.

As we sat for 6 hours in the waiting area, I was certain it was nothing serious. Afterall, my dad had no other health issues other than a little hypertension. His meds consisted of an 81 mg baby aspirin and amlodipine 2.5 mg each day - what a lucky guy. I was thinking maybe he had pleurisy or walking pneumonia.

We finally were shown to a room and labs were drawn. We were relieved to finally get things moving. By this time my sister, Lori, and I were getting silly from the fatigue of waiting. We were thoroughly entertained by a belligerent drunk guy on a stretcher in the halllway who seemed to draw all the attention of the medical staff while we well-behaved folks waited for answers.

I noticed my dad’s HR would easily jump to a sinus tach in the 130s with just a little bit of movement. Something didn’t seem right, but I was not going to speculate or think the worst. I was just his daughter, at his side, keeping the mood light.

We were informed by the physician assistant caring for us that his left diaphragm was elevated and was probably the cause of his shortness of breath. I was a little taken back as this was an unusual finding that left me with a knot in my stomach. Not too long after this finding he was whisked away for a CT of his chest.

He returned to the room and we waited for results. The PA came in with a sticky note and said she read off it: “You have a very large anterior mediastinal mass...No one here will operate because of your age...We are discharging you and you will need to see an oncologist.”

Our mouths dropped. My stomach bottomed-out as she said “mass” and my face flushed. We all just blankly looked at one another. Go home?

I spoke to a good nurse friend in recovery and she called the thoracic resident. I spoke to the PA who delivered the news and said, “We can’t go home. He is short of breath. He and my mom live alone. His Heart rate is bouncing up to 130s. He is weak. Please admit him and consult thoracic surgery.” My dad chimes in, “I’m not a throw away!” Meaning he doesn’t want to be dismissed because of his chronological age. He was far healthier than most half his age and this deserved a second look. The radiologist who read the report never actually saw my dad, but he did see a birthdate.

The next day, the interventional radiologist who read his CT and gave us the crappy news also did a needle biopsy of this baseball size mass.

We went home on a Wednesday after 2 days and waited. We were waiting for results and waiting for an appointment with a thoracic surgeon. Waiting is tough and if you are sick you will learn the meaning of patience.

We made it to Sunday when I thought something wasn’t right with my dad. He continued to have episodes of shortness of breath, but something was still off. I knew he had anxiety, but this was different. He said he felt fine and I almost left it at that. As a nurse you learn to listen to your 6th sense.

My parents live in a remote part of the county where everything is 30 min away. I left there house and an hour later returned with a pulse oximeter that I purchased from a CVS drug store. His oxygenation was 95% not bad for a guy now breathing 40 times a minute with 1.25 lung capacity. However, his pulse read 155 and I was baffled. No way?! I palpated his radial artery and it was a match. Off we went to the ER...

ER visit number II was faster as we went to a smaller satellite hospital 30 min from their home. The rhythm was too fast on the monitor to establish what it was so the ER MD attempted to chemically cardiovert him with adenosine. Adenosine is pushed quickly through an IV. It stops and restarts the heart. I can not lie, I was nervous. It’s so diffferent when this is your own family member. My mom tearfully excused herself and I stayed by his bedside. The ER doc informed my dad it would suck, and we proceeded. It sucked. He felt his heart stop and I watched his eyes bulge and panic come across his face for 3 of the longest seconds of my life. We were able to see he had an underlying atrial flutter. We were started on a verapamil drip and were transported to the main hospital for management by a cardiologist. His heart converted back to a normal rhythm on the verapamil drip before we left the ER in transport to Main hospital at 1 am. We were under the impression it was stress related to the new shitty diagnosis and having to wait on results.

The next day he had an echocardiogram to look at the structure and function of his heart. He was started on a Metoprolol a drug that blocks adrenaline and keeps heart rate lower and it was doing its’ job.

He spent 2 nights in hospital and outside of naps, lacked solid hours of good sleep. We finally got word that his ECHO results were good. No one said a word about metastatic disease to his pericardium. We were told he had a small ring of fluid within the pericardial sack, but it wasn’t a lot and certainly not something they felt needed draining. The atrial flutter responded well to the metoprolol and we were discharged home to once again wait for our thoracic surgery appointment.

We finally made it to the thoracic surgeon to learn of what was growing in my dad’s mediastinum. I was hoping for a thymoma, but instead we drew the really short stick with a highly aggressive, highly invasive cancer called: Squamos Cell Thymic Carcinoma.

WTF? Come on! Can we not catch a break here?

I had never heard of this type of cancer and neither have many in the medical field cause in addition to being aggressive and invasive, it is also a rare tumor. A rare tumor that hasn’t impacted enough lives that researchers devote a lot of time, money and effort into understanding it. Not only that, but sadly, most people die before any data can be collected. Once you get short of breath, dry cough and fatigue it is usually advanced.

PET Scan had some questionable lymph nodes light up, but no other disease was noted distal to the mediastinal cavity.

We hoped it could be removed. Excising the tumor was first choice in the management of this cancer and had the best outcomes, but to do this the surgeon would need to get clean margins. The thoracic surgeon wanted a cardiac MRI to examine if this tumor had invaded any of his great vessels. CT scans had only shown that the tumor was abutting the ascending aorta, but we needed to be certain cause the surgery involved opening his sternum with a saw and recovery would be 5-6 weeks. The surgeon emphasized that he didn’t want to operate and create trauma without being able to get the entire tumor. He didn’t want to delay care in a time-is-of-the-essence scenario.

It was 6pm on a Monday evening just days out from last hospitalization, when I returned to their house to check on him. Earlier that morning, my mom and I took his mini Pomeranian back to the vet and learned it was dying. The vet apologized and said it was time. We put my dad’s 18 y/o Pom, Ben, to sleep at 10:30. My mom held him and he passed. We were a mess. We told my dad and his response seemed flat. Distant.Something else was on his mind.

I stayed close and felt something was amiss, something was unfolding, progressing. I was thinking is he getting an infection? His temp was 100.2, slightly more SOB, and his pulse was 95-110 at rest, on a beta blocker. Nowhere near his norm and I could not ignore this or excuse it. My dad is precious to me. I looked at my mom and dad, apologized as I informed them we needed to go back to the ER. They were agreeable. I think he was relieved I recognized something was wrong.

Shortly after arrival at the satellite ER labs were drawn and ultrasound of his heart was done by ER doc. He said there appeared to be a large fluid collection around my dad’s heart. We were again admitted to ICU for a condition called Cardiac Tamponade. Early the next morning he had the fluid drained 600 ml from around his heart. The fluid build up which is inside the pericardial sac squeezes the heart. The heart can be stunned and go into failure. The fluid that was drawn off was sent for cytology. It was suspicious. It was likely metastatic disease.

In fact after annoying the cardiologist with repeated questions in the hallway, he motioned me over to his computer screen. He showed me the ECHO and pointed out the thickening of the pericardium and showed me a mass dangling from his ventricle. I didn’t need to wait for cytology. This was confirmation for me that we were very far into a disease process. My face flushed, my heart sank, and my stomach dropped as I comprehended the situation. I thanked the MD and my mom asked what he was showing me. I told her. I saw the color leave her face.

The thoracic surgeon was still hoping to remove the mass as the CT didn’t show it had invaded the great vessels, but he did want a Cardiac MRI which was on the back burner. We were still in ICU cause the Cardiac Tamponade and procedure to drain the fluid triggered a lot of Atrial Flutter and Atrial Fibrillation. We waited for the Cardiac MRI for 3 days. There is only one machine and his was repeated twice before they got quality images. The thoracic surgeon finally met with us and after consulting his partners, radiologist, and oncologist, it was decided surgery was just too risky and he wasn’t certain he could get clear margins. He stressed how he didn’t want to create more problems or delay my dad in getting treatment if there were complications. We very much appreciated the thoughtfulness of his answer. We really didn’t have a minute to spare. The surgeon decided to cut a window in my dad’s heart so the cancer did not build up more fluid and compress this vital organ again. The cancer cells would drain into his belly instead of filling the pericardial sack.

We were discharged home in a questionable state: weak. At first we were told he would stay until he was walking well, but the hospital was full and we were off-loaded unexpectedly. Home is a place with stairs. Stairs to to get in and stairs to get out and the most movement he had done in a week was walking 25 ft with a walker and that was exhausting for him. I was concerned about falls. How were me and my mom going to get 170 lb man up 5 steps safely? He was too weak. He hadn’t eaten, he had not slept in 10 days. We were behind the eight ball and chemo had not even started.

Chemo is rough. To survive chemo, one needs some level of fitness, meaning able to perform ADLs independently and move often. We were overwhelmed. The next week was labor intensive and emotionally draining. Here we were home and we were struggling. He still wasn’t eating, still not sleeping, and my radar was on constant alert. I spent my days observing and looking for subtle changes. Oh and there were changes that needed immediate attention as he flipped in and out of rapid atrial fibrillation and got urinary tract infection.

I was scared and my dad was terrified. In times when we were alone, he would ask me: “How did this happen?” He would shake his head as if disappointed in his body. Disbelief. He was unable to comprehend it and he too was terrified.

To be continued...

#thymiccancer #cancer #chemo #raretumor #cancersucks #thymiccarcinoma #thisislife

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ahumanintraining · 6 years ago

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handoff (ch. 4 of “follow up”) a shallura modern era hospital au ft. dr. allura and patient shiro [link to ao3]

notes: I do this weird thing where I can’t write third person omniscient so I change perspectives every now and then but I’m pretty terrible at it, lol sorry in advance. honestly i'm not even sure this chapter makes sense lol.

as always, thank you all so much for your support for this fic. again, multichaps are definitely out my comfort range for me, so seeing all this encouragement has been incredibly amazing.

chapter four: handoff

“Wait... what do you mean?” she asks.

And her voice sounds so disappointed that it makes him realize that “I’ve had a bit of change in plans” can also mean “I’m canceling our dinner.”

Wait! Fuck, he didn’t mean that. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“No, no! I mean, sorry, I mean we’re still on for tonight,” he corrects immediately. “I just.. well, I won’t be able to drive you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh, okay,” she replies slowly. “Do you… want me to meet you somewhere then?”

“No. I mean, I’ll still meet you at your place,” he explains, desperate for words, but he’s tensing up and the words are spilling out of his mouth without abandon. “I just…” and unable to figure out what else to say, he apologizes again. “I’m sorry. When I told you I’d drive to your place, I forgot I was still going to have a splint.” He paces back and forth. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to risk driving you when I only have one functional arm.”

Ugh, he totally fucked up.

“Oh, I see.” She laughs. “Why’d you make it sound so serious?”

He opens and closes his mouth many times as he hears her laughter die down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that we’re not on for tonight,” he blabbers. “I spoke wrong, and I’m sorry about that.” He pauses. “I really want to see you soon.”

“Me too,” she says.

And hearing her say that might have just given him an extra ten years of life. He smiles uncontrollably, pressing his phone hard against his ear.

Then he suddenly remembers he probably should tell her that he’s right outside her apartment door.

“Um, actually,” he then awkwardly adds. “I’m already outside your building, I think.”

Her heart jumps out of her chest.

Outside her building?! Already?!

Composing herself, she calmly replies, “Oh! Okay, I’ll meet you downstairs. Give me a few minutes.”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry for not giving you a heads up.”

“No, no, no, you’re fine,” she assures him, her left hand grabbing eyeliner and some lip gloss. She leans over her counter, resting her phone on her shoulder and popping open the eyeliner.

“Okay, then,” he says. She hears him smile. And even in the midst of her rush, something about his silence on the other side of the line is calming. She momentarily stops her rummaging to experience the quiet. “I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles, and she can see in her reflection in the mirror that her smile reaches the corners of her eyes. “See you,” she replies.

She waits for him to end the call, hanging on for a second, but he doesn’t. Gingerly, she bites her lip, watching the timer for their call still ticking before she presses the end call button.

What a rollercoaster of emotions, she thinks to herself as she draws over her eyelids with the eyeliner. In the last five minutes, she went from thinking he was canceling their date to realizing he’s been right outside of her door the entire time.

He would be the death of her before the night was over, she was sure.

“Takashi Shirogane,” she says softly to herself. She holds up her chin, unscrewing the gloss and brushing the clear pink wash over her lips. She squeezes her lips together and smile at herself, replacing the makeup into her bag and stands up straight, looking at herself once more in the mirror.

Experience from past first dates warns her to not get her hopes up too high, but she can’t help this gut feeling bubbling within her that tells her she’s going to have a good time today.

And maybe she hopes that by the end of the night, he thinks the same.

She grabs her clutch purse from its hook on her wall, dropping her phone and wallet into it, slipping on white flats as she walks out of her apartment. With every step closer to the elevator, then closer to the entrance of her building, she feels her pulse growing stronger.

She recognizes him right away, even in the dim yellow streetlight. He’s wearing a dark sweater, leaning over the short fence surrounding the small flower garden in front of her apartment, body half-turned toward her building, face turned to the street, left hand tucked into the front pocket of his black jeans, and right arm casually rested against his waist. From this angle, she can still see the unmistakable white streak of hair at the front of his head.

She takes a deep breath and walks out.

He meets her eyes right away, and he straightens, taking a step toward her.

All of sudden, she doesn’t know what to do, but she waves to him as she approaches, taking in more and more of his details — the crinkles around his eyes, the silvery scar line over his nose — as he comes closer. A white shirt peeks out from the collar of his sweater, in a crooked way that makes her want to adore him even more.

“Hi, Takashi Shirogane,” she greets, and then realizes she blurted out his last name by accident because she’s been repeating his full name to herself for the past few hours.

He doesn’t seem to notice. “Hey,” he replies, stepping forward.

This makes her stop in place. She was not planning on coming this close to him, but now he’s within hug reach and she’s wondering if she should hug him? Hugging is not something she does naturally but now she’s standing too close to him for no reason.

But at this distance, she suddenly remembers the smell of his skin, and damn it, she really does want to hug him because she craves it, but she represses the desire immediately because — well, that would be weird of her to do.

“Hey,” she says instead.

They stand there for a moment. He looks like he’s taking her in from top to bottom, and she admits she doesn’t mind this at all. His eyes meet hers and he offers her a small smile.

“So, I was looking around your area and there’s actually a few places to eat around here we can walk to,” he starts, pulling out his phone. “But I was thinking you might have been to them already, and if that’s the case, we can go someplace else and I can call us a ride there.”

She thinks quickly. “Oh, no, not at all,” she replies. “For how long I’ve lived here, I haven’t explored every much around here. I know there’s an Italian place, an Ethiopian place, some kind of Middle Eastern place, and maybe a Korean barbeque place too.”

“Yeah, I saw that on my way here. What are you feeling?”

She wants to say Korean barbeque, but she’s been told by colleagues that Korean barbeque was never a good place to take first date.

Does she really care? Not really.

“How are you on KBBQ?”

“Love it.”

“Yes! Perfect,” she says, clapping her hands together.

He looks at her with a soft gaze and an uneven boyish grin. “Alright, ready?”

She looks at him once more, half-dazed by his smile. She secures her clutch over her shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“So how long have you lived here?” he asks.

He’s really only making small talk because otherwise he’d find himself distracted just watching her walk beside him. She’s walking next to him. This beautiful doctor is next to him and he’s taking her to dinner and honestly his brain can’t fully process that yet.

“Hm…” she replies, musing a moment.

He likes the way she tilts her head up and slightly purses her lips when she’s thinking. He likes how the ends of her hair bob as she steps forward, ever so gracefully. He likes everything about her, really. She’s even more beautiful than he remembers — her white dress and matching shoes and tied-up hair — he doesn’t even have the vocabulary to describe what she’s wearing or how she’s wearing it but whatever she’s doing, he really likes it.

“In this specific building? About two years,” she continues. “I first moved to this city to work in Olkarion General about three years ago but for the first year, I was crashing between sublets trying to find a proper place to stay.”

“Yeah, it can be hard to find a lease around here.”

“But then I found this apartment and if everything works out, the plan is to stay here for the rest of my life — or at least as long as Olkarion General will keep me.”

He laughs. “I’m sure they’ll keep you around.”

He likes the sound of her staying here.

“What about you? Where do you live?”

“Oh, not too far from here. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the Beta Traz District, but I’m right around there.”

“Heard of it,” she says. “Haven’t ever been.” She turns and gives him a joking frown. “Doctors don’t get out much. That’s why I haven’t even been to this place that’s literally down my street.”

He shrugs, chuckling. “That’s fine. I don’t get out much either.”

He still doesn’t know where to put his hands. He can’t help this excited teenaged feeling of wanting to reach forward to hold out her hand, and suddenly he realizes he’s been looking for too long down at her hands. He looks up to her face in case she’s noticed, but she doesn’t seem to know at all, having the most calm and peaceful expression on her face, but then he realizes that now he’s just staring at her face – so he keeps his eyes to the sidewalk and his left hand deep in his pocket…

…only to later find his eyes veering to the gentle swish of her dress as she walks and how the light folds of her dress fall over her legs as she steps forward.

“I’m glad you suggested walking somewhere nearby,” she starts, looking over at him.

He meets her eyes briefly, but then realizes that her blue eyes are way too pretty for him to look at without blushing. He focuses on continuing her conversation.

“Oh, yeah, I mean, thank you for being open about doing this,” he says. “I, um, wish I had a more impressive reason to walk instead but I have a lame excuse of a broken arm.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “No, it’s good. Walking is great for the cardiovascular system,” she says, but then quickly adds, “And for your mood.” She pauses. “Well, for a lot of things, really. I mean, it’s great for the environment, too. Well — compared to us driving. I mean, you driving me.”

Seeing her trip over her words, he looks over at her and he sees her bite her bottom lip.

He hides a quiet laugh. She’s adorable, and he loves it.

“It’s a great temperature outside,” she says quickly, looking over at him.

“Yes,” he agrees, not letting her catch his gaze.

“Speaking of which, how is your arm anyway?”

“Oh, well, I was able to talk with my doctor today,” Shiro quickly recalls. “He just got me in to see an orthopedist for tomorrow but he didn’t mention anything bad about my arm. Just told me to try not to use it until tomorrow.”

“You look like you’re doing fine,” she says.

“I’d gladly take your second opinion,” he jokes, but then he realizes that might come off weird. “I mean, I don’t need you to check or anything. I don’t want to be that person asking you about random things just because you’re a doctor.”

She laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” she assures him. “Everyone does it anyway. And I’d rather that then people self-diagnosing based on internet articles.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he laughs.

They fall back into silence.

Damn. He didn’t mean to make this awkward. Why did he even say anything about his arm in the first place? She’s not at work right now and she probably wants a break from treating people — and he’s not even her patient anymore!

…or is he? Technically? It doesn’t feel like she’s treating him like a patient, but at the same time, maybe she’s just getting dinner with him because she was being nice after he, as a patient, offered.

He looks over at her and she is completely expressionless. He breathes in and continues walking, looking down briefly at his phone to check how far they have still to walk. He glances at her once more, and she still carrying the same neutral expression.

She’s not interested in him, he’s pretty sure. If she actually is interested in him, she’d definitely be more… flirty? … with him, right?

Besides, who is he kidding? Doctors must get this all the time. People wanting to thank them and such. This dinner must be pretty much all the same. And besides, this doctor-patient relationship thing is all his own wild fantasy, isn’t it? Isn’t it all just an overused romantic trope in those Korean dramas his mother watches?

Did she even wink at him in the first place? He’s not even sure if she had even winked at him when he was in the emergency room. He thinks she winked at him, but… well, even if she did, did that mean she was actually inviting him to call her? Some people just wink because they’re being friendly.

But she did accept dinner with him… right?

Stop it, Shiro, he thinks to himself. Now you’re just extending the silence and making this even more awkward…

Or maybe he should just ask her to be clear, his brain suggests. Just ask her what exactly this dinner is for.

He shakes his head.

No, don’t be stupid, Shiro. Don’t kid yourself, she’s just being nice.

He turns to her. “Hey,” he says, without thinking. “Um…”

Damn it, Shiro.

Allura cannot believe she started talking about medicine.

Why is she like this? Why is every other sentence she says has something to do with being a doctor or about some organ system? She hates it.

Doctors don’t get out much. Walking is great for the cardiovascular system? How is your arm?

Don’t say anything medical-related, she reprimands herself. At least through this dinner.

But then in these past seven seconds of awkward silence, she’s been unable to say anything not medical related. She’s been thinking of conversation topics but all her funny stories are about medical school, her medical colleagues, or random fun facts that she discovered in recent literature on PubMed.

Grimly, she reminds herself this is probably why she hasn’t had any successful dates with anyone since undergraduate.

Not to mention she had actually gone ahead and briefly looked over at his arm — which, although covered by the long sleeve of his sweater, looked visibly less swollen and a lot better even just a few days later — and told him her assessment, as if this dinner was a follow up visit. He even had to tell her that she didn’t have to check up on him.

Ugh, she is not doing well on the dating front right now.

She sneaks a furtive glance at him. He doesn’t look at all concerned or anything — honestly, she can’t tell what he’s feeling right now.

Probably awkward. And she doesn’t blame him. She made this entire conversation about medicine so far, and he’s probably not interested at all in what she’s talking about.

What kind of doctor goes to dinner with their patient anyway? He must be thinking about how awkward this all is because he probably didn’t expect her to say yes when he offered dinner. She’s had plenty of patients offering her things, but she’s never actually accepted anything — after all, it wasn’t quite right to accept the gifts and kind gestures. But she said yes, and now, he was probably going through all of this just because he was nice enough to follow through with it all.

Suddenly he looks over at her.

“Hey, um…”

She looks back at him. “Yes, Takashi?”

He hesitates. She sees him lick his lips. “Just to be clear… I’m not taking you to dinner as my doctor or anything,” he says. “In case I wasn’t clear.”

“Oh, well, no, no,” she replies quickly. “I’m not doing this as your doctor or anything. I thought we would just go out for dinner as… like, you know, friends or something.”

Wait.

“Oh, okay,” he says, nodding. “Right.”

Wait. Did she just…

She just friend-zoned him.

Damn it, Allura.

Friends or something.

Right. Friends or something.

That’s fine. That’s okay, right? Friends can date, right? And friends can become something more, right? That trope is in his mother’s Korean dramas, too, right?

Shiro really likes her. He really really likes her, and he wants so bad for her to like him too — and it’s crazy. He likes her so much even though he doesn’t know a single thing about her. But she has such a magnetic personality… is it wrong for him to want to spend as much time with her as he can?

This is fine, he convinces himself. At least they are having dinner.

Maybe if tonight goes well, he can toe the friend line.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he composes himself as the KBBQ restaurant comes into sight, stepping forward to open the door for her as they approach.

Despite what seemed like a very busy night, they’re immediately seated by the server, who grabs a couple of menus for them. They’re placed off to the side in booth seats and Shiro quickly takes a seat, watching Allura take her place across from him.

“This was a great idea,” she says, a little excitedly, pointing at the grill at the center of the table. She looks around at the atmosphere of the restaurant. “I haven’t had KBBQ in months, and I’ve actually been kind of craving it.”

He laughs. “Yeah, me too.”

She pours water from the pitcher in front of them into the two empty glasses, sliding one over to his side and taking one for herself.

“So, Takashi, tell me a bit more about you,” she says, folding her hands over each other and leaning over the table.

He tries not to notice how her cleavage grows as she does this. That would be terribly inappropriate of him, but —

He clears his throat, keeping his eyes on hers, even though his peripheral vision is offering him temptations. “Well, I grew up in Kerberos. I went to Puig for university and have moved around a little bit after that, but a year ago, I came here to Olkarion and yeah, I’m here now.”

He’s purposefully avoiding talking about what he’s doing now — frankly, because he isn’t doing anything now. And fortunately, she doesn’t focus on that last detail.

“Really?” Her eyes pop open. “I went to Puig University — did you…?”

“Oh, yeah, same. Class of ’07?”

She shakes her head. “’08,” she replies. “I’m fairly surprised I never met you while we were there.”

He shrugs. “It was a big school, and I chose to live off-campus.”

She nods. “Hm… and I was a hardcore premed, so unless by chance you happened to be doing anything biology-related or volunteered for the student clinic, I’m pretty sure I had no chance of meeting you.”

“Not at all. History major,” he says.

She smiles, her eyes dropping to the table. “I wish I met you back then, Takashi.”

Never mind what she just said, about wanting to meet him back then — this is maybe the third time she’s said his actual name.

Strangely, hearing her say his first name makes the whole conversation sound incredibly intimate. After all, no one calls him Takashi, and he doesn’t even remember hearing it in his past relationships. And when she says it so gently in her soothing voice…

“Shiro,” he suddenly blurts, then clarifies. “You can just call me Shiro. No need to be formal or anything.”

“Shiro?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he replies.

Maybe he’s being super Japanese about it. Like the whole you-called-me-kun-and-not-san thing. Whatever it is, he’s being weird about it.

“It’s short for my last name,” he explains. “Shirogane. People usually call me that.”

She arches her eyebrow. “Well, what if I choose not to, Takashi?” she asks, mischievously.

He almost gets a boner.

“I— I mean, you call me whatever you want to,” he says, choosing not to elaborate that he may have just discovered he has a weird first-name-basis kink. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, reaching for his glass of water.

“I’m kidding,” she says, also holding her water out in front of her and taking a sip from the straw.

“Hi, good evening, sorry to interrupt you two,” a server says, coming up to their table, laying out some side dishes out in front of them and turning on the grill in the center of their table. “I was going to take any orders you had?”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, completely forgetting about it all. He looks to Allura, but she has the same oh-crap-we-forgot-we-were-ordering expression. “Um,” he says, flipping over the menu. “Maybe we can start with bulgolgi and the saeng galbi?"

Allura nods, looking over the options. “And maybe pork belly and uh… if we could get an order of japchae?”

He’s about to compliment good choice in food, but then he feels a familiar vibration in his pants pocket of someone calling him. He reaches over and grabs his phone out of his pocket, seeing the kanji.

Oh, his mom.

He slowly stands to his feet.

“Anything else? You can get up to three things at a time.”

“Oh, maybe just add beef brisket on both of ours,” Allura answers for the two of them, noticing the phone in his hand and him getting up.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he mouths, making his way out of the restaurant.

Oh, of all the times for his mother to call.

Allura likes him.

She really does. She knew she thought he was cute, but somehow just in the last hour, she thinks she wants to get to know him much more.

It’s all too bad she more or less friend-zoned him earlier.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did she do that? Maybe she should clarify and tell him she wanted to date him —

But wait, when she recounts back to when she friend-zoned him, he didn’t seem upset or surprised at all… so maybe he’s already on the friend-zone page… except the only problem is that she’s not on that page…

This is fine, she convinces herself.

In fact, this might turn out for the better. Maybe by the end of the night, she’d realize she actually doesn’t like him at all. And then that would make things easier.

Somehow though, she doesn’t think she won’t fall for him — because she already has, and she can’t stop it.

She watches him now as he returns through the restaurant, laughing with one of the restaurant employees that stops him on the way back to the table. He has some kind of charm disarms anyone, and she is just as susceptible.

As he approaches, she pretends she hasn’t been staring the entire time. She takes a piece of kimchi and chews it, pretending her eyes have been on all the side dishes and waits until he comes back to the table for her to lift her eyes up to him.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes.

She shakes her head. “No, don’t be sorry about that. You needed to take that call.”

Sitting himself back down, he shrugs. “It really wasn’t that important. My mom just called because she wanted to see another picture of my arm.”

She laughs. “I don’t blame her. If my son broke his arm, I would probably be the exact same way.” She lets her laugh fall quiet. “You’re close to your mom?”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s something I’m embarrassed to admit.”

“Hm,” she says, nodding quietly.

“Are you?”

His question strikes her out of the blue. “Am I…?”

“Close to your parents?”

“Yeah…” she replies, looking up from her hands and smiling at him. “Yeah, I was.”

He looks back at her, concerned. “Oh, I’m sorry… did something happen?”

She shakes her head. “My mom passed when I was younger but I was always close with my dad. He passed a few years ago.” She sips on her straw and flits her eyes up to gauge him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for asking. You didn’t know.”

His mouth twists. “Well, yeah, but… I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to get that deep that fast.”

She laughs. “Well, I asked about your mom first,” she reminds him. “And I didn’t know anything about you so I think I risked just as much going into that question.”

He gives her a careful smile. She really wants him to be comfortable and not intimidated. She really hopes he doesn’t just see her as ‘the chick whose parents died.’

In almost perfect timing with their silence, their server stops at their table, delivering their orders. She watches the dishes get placed onto the table, the clink of the dishware the only sound between the two of them.

She thanks the server then quickly takes the prongs. “So, what keeps you busy these days?” she asks Shiro, dropping some meat onto the grill. “Work or hobbies or anything?”

“Well… I’m actually on the search for a job,” he explains slowly. He follows her lead and drops his own meat, onto the grill, immediate sizzles emerging from underneath.

“What were…” Quite honestly, she doesn’t expect him to be unemployed and she tries her best not to sound judgmental or like she expected him to be doing anything. “What were you doing before?” She corrects. “Well, if you were doing anything before?”

He doesn’t seem to take offense. “Air Force,” he replies simply. “I quit though.”

She doesn’t expect this either. “Oh, uh,” she struggles, trying to see if her past interactions with veterans from her VA rotation in medical school would help her. “Was there a reason you quit?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t mind the first few years, but then the last two years, I hated with a passion and I wanted out. I felt like there wasn’t much freedom, and there was a lot of bullshit.”

She nods. “I see.”

There’s not much more there that she knows how to get into or even wants to get into. Suddenly she’s not completely confident about making good conversation with him, and it’s a feeling she’s not used to. She stirs the straw in her glass for a little bit.

“Sorry for asking, and maybe I don’t know,” she starts on another subject. “But are you Japanese? I’m just assuming because Shirogane seems Japanese.”

“No, you’re right,” he says, and this question seems to break through. “That’s better than most people assume.” He nods his chin in her direction. “And you? How do you identify, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugs. “Black,” she says. “Or African-American. Nothing special.” She tilts her head. “Do you speak Japanese at home, then?”

“I’m Japanese. I have to speak Japanese,” he groans. “My mother would never let me go without it. Japanese at home. Japanese school on Saturdays.” He looks at her. “What about you? Do you speak any other languages?”

She wrinkles her nose, smiling. “No, not really. And I don’t count the Spanish I took in high school. I’m quite language-less aside from English.” She recounts a little back. “Although, one of my high school friends and I made this elaborate language we used to communicate to each other while passing notes in class.”

She sees him almost spit out his drink, laughing. “This must be before texting became a thing.”

She smiles wide. “Yeah. I’m sure you remember back then.”

“Oh absolutely,” he says. “I mean so few of us in high school had phones that could actually text, and the texts were so much money per character that we didn’t even try to transition from paper.”

“And then there were the cool kids that had the Blackberrys.”

“Don’t even remind me about how snobby they were.”

She laughs. “I was only cool enough to get a Blackberry when I was in college,” she says. “But I’m glad I hung on until then because the smart phone revolution started and by then my family hadn’t invested in all the ‘new’ tech was ultimately surpassed.”

“Yeah. I’m still waiting for holograms to come out.”

“I’m sure a more intelligent alien species out there has already invented some form of that,” she says, taking a bite of the acorn jelly on the side dish. “It’s only a matter of time for us.”

“You believe in aliens?” He looks at her, amused.

“There’s infinite possibilities out there in the universe,” she replies easily. “How can you not?”

“Whatever the doctor says,” he teases.

She rolls her eyes. “What about you?” she asks.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a hardcore believer,” he replies. “One of my roommates in undergrad really sold me on it though. He was studying astrophysics or something and he used to tell me all the time about alternate universes. He had a ton of formulas and equations that proved all of it.” He thinks to himself for a moment. “Honestly, he was kind of weird. He’d always be calculating a ton of probabilities of things and probably had some form of agoraphobia. He never left the room.”

Allura considers. “Not leaving the room,” she says, nodding. “That sounds a lot like it.”

“Yeah,” he says, before changing the subject. “So. You still need to tell me about this elaborate made-up language you used to write notes to your friend in class.” He leans back into his chair. “Aside from majoring in history, I low-key studied a lot of linguistics in my undergraduate, so I’m not letting you off the hook for that detail.”

“Oh no, you won’t find it interesting,” she replies. “It was literally just English with character substitutions. We just didn’t want anyone reading our messages.” She softly confesses. “I actually still remember it from A to Z.”

He shrugs. “Memory works in the strangest ways.” He watches her for a few seconds, with a thoughtful look. She tries to focus on cutting her broccoli, pretending she doesn’t notice at all. “Was there a name for this language that you had?”

She clears her throat, smiling to herself, thinking back. “Altean,” she says, looking up at him. He’s listening intently, and she takes a deep breath and carefully explains, “Well, it was called Altean because it was my last name.” She pauses and clarifies. “It was just a code that two of us shared. This is a little embarrassing, but we thought we would get married and that my last name was the better one to take on, so that’s why the language is my last name… because we thought we’d share that.”

He softly smiles. “Romantic,” he says. “No wonder it had to be secret.”

“Yeah,” she says. She looks at him, and he’s still looking at her intently. “We didn’t eventually get married,” she adds with an embarrassed smile. “It was just a high school romance. She —” She quickly corrects herself in a split second. “We broke up freshman year of college.” She continues to add more substance. “You know, long distance is hard and all.”

She holds her breath and watches him. She had been so comfortable talking to him that she completely slipped.

“It happens,” he says, and if he had heard that, he was good at acting like he didn’t care.

Or maybe he didn’t actually care that she’s dated girls.

She struggles to find something else to say. “Ah yeah,” she eventually agrees.

She watches him flip around a strip of meat on the grill for a little bit before he makes a weird scooping motion with the chopsticks and plops the meat on his plate.

“Damn,” he mutters. She hears it.

“Struggling a little bit there?” she teases. “Chopsticks not your thing?”

He looks at her like she’s shitting him. “My left hand is getting there.”

“Do I need to teach you?”

It’s just a joke, but he actually arches his eyebrow at her. “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he challenges.

She doesn’t, sticking her tongue out instead. “For some reason, I feel like this should be the opposite of how it should be going. You know, you being actually Asian and all.”

He smiles, waving off his left hand. “Honestly, I’m about to just fuck it and use my right arm.”

“No, no, no!” she reprimands him, laughing. “You need to keep that arm as still as possible until you get your cast tomorrow!”

“Whatever the doctor says,” he teases again. He tries for a piece of pork belly this time, instead getting the ends of his chopsticks stuck between the slits of the grill. He tries a couple more times.

“Here,” she says, automatically, reaching over the table and grabbing the piece in her own chopsticks and raising it up to mouth level.

Her eyes meet his eyes and then suddenly, she realizes she’s feeding him.

He seems to realize it, too. His eyes don’t leave hers.

Her heart shivers. “Um…” she hesitates, looking away from him and back at the pork between her chopsticks. “Careful, it might be a little hot,” she finally says. She tries her best not to look at his eyes and waits, staring at the bite of meat.

His head ducks down and his lips come into view just behind her chopsticks. He slightly angles his mouth to better accommodate the morsel and opens his mouth. She cautiously places the meat forward between his lips and waits until he withdraws before she releases the pork from her chopsticks.

She exhales her held breath, immediately going back to the grill to pick up some remaining pieces of meat, placing a couple on her plate. Feeling a light flush on her cheeks, she keeps her face down to the table, trying to pass all of this as normal as possible.

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbles, doing the exact same.

Suddenly, his left hand is much more capable with the chopsticks.

A few silent minutes between them pass.

“S-Sorry if that was weird,” she can’t help but say.

He looks up at her and smiles, shaking his head. “I did need the help,” he replies. “Otherwise we would have been here all night.”

“Oh, yeah, that was definitely something I was trying to avoid.”

“What?” he teases. “You’re not enjoying my company at all?”

She narrows her eyes, a playful smile on her lips. “Nope. Not in the very least bit,” she declares.

But that is very much a lie, and Allura is sure he knows it — even if he was that dense and immune to sarcasm to not know otherwise, he would definitely know with how many more hours she passes with him for the rest of the night.

Shiro’s cheeks hurt from laughing. They’ve been hurting.

He thought dinner might not have been going the right way after his mother interrupted and after he accidentally uncovered both her parents passed away, but the conversation very quickly led other ways and he discovered much more they had in common than not.

And she’s hilarious. Blunt and straightforward, and not afraid to just tell it how it is. He loves that.

As he laughs off this last remark she made, he checks his phone and is surprised to find just how late it is — half past midnight.

She seems to note the time as well, and they both agree to get going, calling over their server to split the bill so they can be on their way.

“I’ll walk you back, yeah?” he suggests as they’re walking out of the restaurant. He’s trying his best to hold onto as many minutes with her as possible. It’s been a while since he’s felt this desperate to spend time with anyone.

“Sure,” she replies, taking her purse and following up behind him. She reaches out to him, and for a moment, he thinks — with widened eyes and held breath — that she’s going to take his hand, but her hand reaches past his body and pulls open the restaurant door handle in front of them.

He quickly tucks away all the thoughts he has about her fingers intertwined with his.

She opens it wide and a light spray of mist falls over his face.

“Ah,” she announces, almost nonchalantly. “It’s raining.”

He sees a few clusters of people huddled within the restaurant’s overhanging roof to avoid the rain, hearing some chatter about calling an Uber or how far away their parked car is.

He turns to her, taking out his phone. “I can call an Uber or something.”

Allura looks at the rain. “Nonsense, it’s not that bad.”

She looks back at him with a bite of her lip, and then she suddenly reaches and takes his left hand. Before he can even process it, she’s locked her fingers between his.

“Come on,” she says, walking off at a quick pace.

There’s many things that Shiro’s done without thinking — and this, running into a storm with a woman he’s very much enamored with, isn’t very much different — but like all things that he’s done without thinking, he very quickly realizes doing so was a very bad idea.

In fact, it only takes two steps into the rain to register this.

“Oh my god!” she screams, probably realize the same. She starts laughing, her pace slowly as she almost falls over giggling, clutching her stomach.

“This is definitely really bad rain,” he sputters, unable to keep himself from laughing with her. He pulls her forward, keeping her moving forward as she tries to catch her breath. He squints some rain out of his eyes and sees an open convenience store a hundred steps up ahead. “We can probably get an umbrella in there.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, with another laugh.

He’s sure his shirt is almost completely soaked through, but for once in a very long time, he doesn’t care at all. His heart is light and unburdened. She picks up the pace after another short episode of laughter and he lets her guide him until they reach the convenience store, rushing inside with the frazzled excitement of teenagers at prom. The door rings as they enter, both tracking drops of rain in.

He hasn’t felt this carefree in ages.

“Sorry,” Allura apologizes loudly to the cashier as they walk, dripping, through the narrow store. “You don’t happen to be selling umbrellas, are you?”

When the cashier nods and points behind them, she pulls her hand out from his and reaches behind her, placing a large umbrella on the counter and reaching into her purse for the wallet.

“Oh,” Shiro realizes, reaching his hand back to his wallet. His mind is still foggy and his hand is still warm from her touch.

“No, no, I insist,” she says, with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I was the one that decided to run out into the rain like a crazy person, after all.”

“Okay,” he agrees, returning a smile. He watches a small drop of water fall off a stray strand of her hair and fall onto her shoulder.

No, he’s pretty sure he’s the crazy one to be still running after her.

“Here, come,” she commands him, walking out of the convenience store as she opens the umbrella wide. She waits for him to stand next to her before she starts walking again. “This should keep us much drier,” she says. “Much better idea than my other idea.”

He laughs softly, reaching his left hand up to comb over his bangs, feeling some drops of water falling over the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I hope your clothes are okay.”

“It’s just water,” she says, looking up at him. “Come closer so you don’t get wet,” she tells him.

He’s already very close to her, and he can’t imagine closing any more distance — but she shifts her umbrella more to his side and presses her arm right up against him, her right shoulder bumping into his left side.

“I’m fine,” he insists, his hand almost automatically reaching up for the umbrella handle. He takes it to relieve her, but she doesn’t let go, and his hand overlaps hers as he takes the umbrella — and he swears he feels a spark between their fingers.

His eyes shoot over to look at her, but she just smiles up at him, continuing their walk like everything is normal and like they do this every day.

And for once, under the same umbrella and in the same space, he feels at ease. The downpour all around them and all the traffic rushing by on the street fades away, and all that is left is her arm brushing against him and her occasional sigh, the smell of her hair and rain, the warmth of her hand against his.

It feels like a small separate world made of just him and her — and he wants this peace to last forever.

All too soon, she slows to a stop and Shiro quickly realizes, much to his sadness, that their walk is coming to an end. She leads them to the front of her apartment’s main door, steering with the umbrella.

“So…” she asks as they come under the overhang of her apartment building. She collapses the umbrella and hands it off to him. “How did you get here?”

“Oh, um,” he says, retrieving the umbrella. The start of the evening feels so long ago he’s almost completely forgot. “I walked.”

“Hm,” she nods, looking off to some empty space as she fishes out her keys from her purse without looking, in that same way she did whenever she was thinking about something.

Adorable.

“How about I drive you back to your place?” she suggests.

He wants to say no, but she doesn’t let him refuse her offer, tapping him from behind and pushing him forward as she turns the key to her apartment lobby.

“Wait inside here,” she tells him. “I’ll go upstairs and get my car really quickly. I have to drive it down from parking. I’ll meet you on the street here.” She points in front of her building, leading him to a bench inside.

He sits himself down and finds her looking down thoughtfully at him.

“Actually, you’re soaking wet,” she says. “Just come up with me. I’ll get you a towel to dry off.”

“Uh,” he hesitates, but his body stands back up under her command.

“Come on,” she calls to him, slapping the up button to the elevator. The elevator dings and she slips inside, keeping her hand between the doors to keep it open.

And of course, like any lovesick person, he follows right along.

As the elevator doors shut, he finds himself again alone with her. He looks over at her, catching her gaze, and she smiles at him. He returns the smile.

Half-soaked and her hair wind-and-rain swept, she still looks like the most beautiful thing he’s seen in ages. The tops of her shoulders and sleeves are drenched in rain, and some parts of the hem of her dress have rain spots over them — but her bright smile reaches her twinkling eyes and she looks like she’s never been happier.

He has the strongest urge to just rush over to the other side of the elevator and kiss her, but he knows better. He knows he shouldn’t read into the fact that she spent hours with him over dinner, even helping him with his chopsticks at some point. He knows he shouldn’t read into the fact that she held his hand before running out into the rain or that she’s inviting her up to her place.

God, he likes her so much that he’s not thinking clear. All of this — everything from her okay to dinner to her driving him to his apartment — she isn’t doing any of this because she likes him, he’s thoroughly convinced. She’s just doing all of this out of the goodness of her heart. She’s a doctor, after all! She chose a career dedicating her entire life to helping people.

She’s the prime example of an incredibly friendly, undoubtedly selfless, and utterly perfect person — none of everything tonight could really mean anything and he really shouldn’t kiss her, as much as he wants to.

Besides, they’re just friends, right?

He breathes in slowly, watching the numbers climb up to the eighth floor.

The elevator dings again, and he follows behind her as she walks down the hallway, stopping in front of an apartment. Her keys jangle as she turns her keys, and he hears a faint mewl coming from the other side of the door.

“You have a cat?” he asks her, as she leans against her door to swing it open.

“Yes,” she says, immediately crouching down to pick up the cat that comes up to her as she enters. She turns to him and rocks the cat up and down in her arms. “Her name is Blue.”

“Blue,” he repeats, finding himself with nothing else to say.

“You like cats?” she asks him, slipping behind him to close the door behind him.

“Yeah…” he says.

Allura smiles and then carefully drops Blue back to the ground, who approaches him curiously. He puts down the umbrella, putting out his hand to the cat’s nose. Blue sniffs him cautiously, before rubbing her face over his fingers. Allura watches their interactions for a moment.

“She likes you,” she observes.

Shiro looks up at Allura, continuing to pet her cat. He smiles up at her. “I like her, too.”

Allura smiles.

“I’ll get you a towel,” she says, slipping away to her bathroom.

Shiro lifts her head to look around. He doesn’t know what to think of it — it’s about as normal of an apartment as he would expect any apartment to be. There’s a few extra-large textbooks scattered over her couch, a leftover mug on her coffee table, and a small scattering of plants on the window.

“Here,” she says, coming back to him with a white hand towel.

He stands, taking it with his left hand and one-handedly dries his head. “Thanks,” he says, when finished.

She snorts when seeing his messed-up hair. She takes the towel, reaching up to smooth out his hair, then rubs the towel over his shoulder, carefully around his neck.

He realizes he’s holding his breath, watching her so close to him. When she takes the towel back, she looks up at him.

He could kiss her.

She smiles. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

He swallows, nodding. “Yeah,” he agrees, watching her walk off to drop the towel in the bathroom.

This is the second time he’s thought to kiss her tonight.

He has to stop thinking this. That, or get home right away before he risks doing anything stupid.

“I’m surprised you walked this far,” she says, pulling up to his apartment building.

She looks at the time. It’s late. Incredibly late.

“It must have taken you a quite a while if it took us fifteen minutes to get here,” she continues.

He shrugs. “Some doctor I know told me walking is great for the cardiovascular system.”

She smirks. “A good doctor?”

“Oh, the best one I know,” he replies.

He watches her eyes lighten as she takes the top of the steering wheel with both hands, leaning over and tilting her head onto her hands, giving him a tired but content smile.

He needs to go. It’s been a long night.

He looks at the umbrella at his feet. “Here,” he says. “I’m leaving the umbrella with you. Thanks so much for everything. You really didn’t need to do all this.”

“Take the umbrella so you can at least stay dry getting to your door,” she insists.

“Alright,” he says, placing it between his knees. He starts to turn his body to open the door with his left hand, but he pauses, looking up back to her.

She looks back at him, quietly, still leaned against her steering wheel.

A beat.

“Um, thank you,” he says.

She smiles. “Of course.”

He nods, and then turns back to the car door, opening it and slipping himself out of the car, snapping open the umbrella and holding the stem between his shoulder and neck as he waves goodbye to her and shuts the car door again.

Should he have kissed her?

He should have kissed her. He should have fucking kissed her.

Damn it, Shiro. You missed your chance.

No, it’s okay, he reminds himself. This would have been the third time he thought to kiss her tonight, and he’s not supposed to be even thinking about kissing her.

“Hey, Shiro?” she calls out to him, rolling down her car window.

His heart stops.

“Yeah?” He turns to her, unable to resist. He holds the umbrella out between them, ducking down slightly to meet her level.

She smiles. “I had a really good time with you today,” she says.

“Yeah,” he agrees, returning the smile. “Me too.”

“And keep the umbrella,” she insists.

Before he can protest, she adds, with a wink, “You might need it the next time you take me out.”

notes: they are literally just awkward nerds but at least allura’s pulling through at the end, hah. also I’ve definitely put in a bunch of random tropes in there so forgive me.

#shallura #shiro x allura #shallura positivity #shiro #allura #voltron #—shallura #—voltron #—follow up

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presumenothing · 8 years ago

Text

flash point

for the prompt: “You are a pyrokinetic who tends to accidentally set things on fire when stressed. And today, you’re having a very bad day.”

[~1.5 hours of completely unedited writing, apologies in advance for any glaring errors]

(AO3) (FFN)

EDIT: now continued(ish?) here!

EDIT^2: ...and continued further here?

"Damn it," Saguru mutters under his breath, when the edge of his paper catches fire for the third time today.

Acrid tendrils of smoke curl out from where his fingers meet the paper, and he forces himself to take several deep breaths (in why was this happening, out he ought've mastered it completely by now, in just stop already) until the heat flickers and dies out again – which is when the lunch bell rings, and Saguru would've called it divine intervention if he'd been inclined to be religious in the least.

He's just about to stand and leave (to anywhere, really, Saguru doesn't usually have a problem with confined spaces but the classroom feels excruciatingly stifling today) when a voice calls out from behind him.

"Oi, Hakuba," says Kuroba, and Saguru watches somewhat warily as his classmate walks over to his desk. Quite contrary to any of Saguru's expectations though, Kuroba only looks at him for a moment, before nodding towards the desk. "You want to talk about it?"

Or – not quite the desk, Saguru realises, looking down at the slightly reddened patches on his hands. His pyrokinesis doesn't hurt himself, usually, but today had been a bad day on all fronts, to put it mildly. Saguru can't help but grimace. "That obvious, huh?"

"Unless you're blind. Or deaf. And lack a sense of smell, I guess," Kuroba adds after a moment's consideration. "So, like I said – wanna talk?"

Saguru's first instinct is to decline politely, but he forces himself to consider it seriously. He hasn't had a power lapse this bad in a long time (three years, eight months, and four days, to put it precisely), after all. But...

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll pass," Saguru says eventually. "I don't think talking will help in this situation, honestly speaking."

Kuroba shrugs, his expression nonchalant. "Okay, whatever you say. Offer's still open, though."

Then he walks off, and Saguru is certain that's the end of it, when –

A small jar lands on his desk with a metallic clink, and Saguru looks from it to Kuroba's oddly unexpressive face, suddenly feeling like there was a whole part to the conversation that he'd missed. "I'm sorry, what – ?"

"Burn cream," Kuroba says, interrupting the question – not that Saguru quite knew what he'd been intending to ask, anyway. "Or at least my version of it, but it should help with your hands."

"I – " Saguru blinks in surprise, and almost wonders if he heard that wrong. "That sounds useful. Thank you, Kuroba-kun."

"Don't mention it," comes the answer, almost flippantly, and Saguru belatedly realises that Kuroba is already halfway to the classroom door. "Literally."

He's still seated at his desk a few minutes later – all thoughts of leaving the classroom gone from his mind – when Aoko walks over and notices the jar on his desk. "Oh, is that from Kaito? It's really effective, I know he uses it during his own practice."

"Yes, Kuroba-kun gave it to me." And speaking of whom – Saguru turns to his other classmate, and wonders if he looks half as mystified as he feels. "Why would he do that?"

He almost expects her not to answer, but instead Aoko leans over to turn the chair in front of his around and sit down, looking pensive.

It's a few moments before she speaks, and in that time Saguru has already applied a thin layer of the cream on the base of his fingers, where the outline of the paper from earlier is still smarting ever so slightly – and Aoko is right, it does work wonders.

"Kaito had quite a lot of trouble controlling his powers when he was younger, you see. Especially after his dad..." Aoko's voice trails off – her words are soft enough that it doesn't carry, though the classroom is almost empty anyway. "Anyway, it wasn't until middle school that he really got a handle on it. So he knows what it feels like, I guess."

Saguru listens with a growing sense of disbelief, because he's seen Kuroba in ability training, and he – or, to borrow a turn of phrase, anyone with a functional set of senses who happens to be in the elemental manipulation section of the class – can see that Kuroba's control of air is basically perfect. And Saguru has been to some of the finest ability training institutions both back home and in Japan, so he knows what he's talking about.

Then Aoko adds, "So, do you want to talk about it, Hakuba-kun?"

And apparently Saguru is more tired than he thought, because the retort slips out before he can stop it. "Are you and Kuroba-kun ganging up on me?"

Aoko giggles. "Not at all, Hakuba-kun, you would definitely have noticed if Kaito and Aoko were working together on something like that!"

Which is... true, if not quite an answer he was expecting, and Saguru is suddenly and forcibly reminded of what he'd heard and dismissed as a myth back when he'd first transferred into Ekoda High – that a previous math teacher for this class had resigned in a fit of terror after she claimed that she was being haunted at school by some particularly persistent ghosts.

He looks again at Aoko, who still has the slightest glint of mischief in her eyes, and decides that (a) he really doesn't want to know, and (b) Aoko would've gotten involved only if the teacher had been legitimately terrible in her own right. Probably.

School, Saguru thinks with a sigh, had never been quite this complicated in London. "It's really not something pleasant to talk about, Aoko-kun. I was just assigned to help Division One with their caseload this week, and... well, it's been a while since I've encountered any murder cases, I suppose."

That isn't the whole story, of course – Saguru hasn't really worked on many homicides since coming to Japan, that much was true, but he'd handled them quite regularly before, enough so that he knows a murder alone isn't enough to trigger something like this. But one of the cases had been worse than the others, and –

A slight crackle catches his attention, but before the flame can escape beyond Saguru's clenched fingers Aoko conjures a little disc of water that extinguishes it with a faint sizzle before vanishing without a trace.

"Thank you, Aoko-kun," Saguru says, then adds, "Your control is very impressive as well, you know."

"Eh? Aoko's control?" She laughs, shaking her head. "Not really, Aoko is just lucky to have an easier element than Kaito or Hakuba-kun! Water has a much more physical form than fire or air, after all."

Saguru recalls several of the more disastrous hydrokinesis attempts that he'd seen with a wince. "I beg to differ, Aoko-kun. A former classmate of mine once nearly brought down a tsunami upon our heads. He had been trying to create a whirlpool, I believe."

"That sounds like he lost control of the direction vectors," she replies. "But as long as you're careful with those, water can be quite predictable. Aoko doesn't even need to worry about factors like viscosity and composition all that much, unlike Kaito."

Before Saguru can argue the point any further, though, Aoko stands up and extends a hand to him. "Oh, do you want to go to the rooftop and watch Kaito practice, Hakuba-kun?"

He raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Practice? On what?"

"On himself, of course!" Aoko says, before elaborating at Saguru's presumably confused expression. "He mentioned something about working out the buoyancy and lift forces on himself, but Kaito's never liked sharing his ideas before he's figured out how to make them work."

Saguru puts two and two together, and comes up with a short-circuited brain and the otherwise unlikely hypothesis that Kuroba is apparently trying to make himself fly, which is –

He's halfway to his feet before he realises the obvious contradiction. "Hang on, doesn't that mean he won't want us there watching?"

"That's why we're going to be spying on him instead!" Aoko answers cheerfully, fishing out her handphone from her school satchel. "Besides, Aoko already promised to send Chikage-san a video if Kaito actually makes it work, so we definitely have a reason to be there – "

As Saguru lets himself be tugged along in the wake of Aoko's excitement, he thinks about how school had never been quite this interesting in London, either – and really, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

...no, I don’t know how this happened either? honest. the brain saw it and went, hey, that sounds like a certain Osaka loudmouth – oh no wait! why not let’s make our own lives difficult and pick the one character who’s the exact opposite!! it’ll be fun!!!

......so yeah, that happened. powers assigned at semi-random, Kaito gets air because that would be pretty neat as Kid (what with all the acrobatics and gliders and whatnot), Aoko gets water because why not (it’s a lot harder than she makes it sound obvs). not sure where Akako would be in this universe? also someone really needs to have Layla’s power from Sky High that scene was really awesome okay hush now

#detective conan #magic kaito #hakuba saguru #kuroba kaito #nakamori aoko #fanfiction #mine #really not kidding about the unedited part #haven't even reread this beyond basic spellchecking??#hope i didn't miss anything major #but anyway #just gonna leave this here #what even is my life anymore #flash point

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smithya93-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Bird Brained- Chapter 6

Show your support by reading the next chapters on Wattpad!Maze left the infirmary and wandered the palace. He held his arm in a sling and wore his obscene feathered cloak in a way that conveniently displayed the bandages that crossed his chest. He was after all an eccentric person at heart. Maybe if he gave enough of a shit about anything he could have been a good actor or poet. Too bad he hated writing and had a terrible memory.

As if by the grace of Nepetes herself, he found Lekan headed down the hall toward him. Play it cool, he thought. Let the prince introduce himself. His stomach quaked at the dramatic nature in which he had fallen into the other man's life. There couldn't be a better way to make a first impression. He greeted Lekan with a short nod in acknowledgement.

"You're awake."

Maze cocked his head "I have been for a while now... " Lekan laughed holding out his hand to shake.

Wrong hand.

He shifted his left to awkwardly shake brandishing the sling. The prince winced.

"Oh.. my apologies does it hurt?" "The pain is mild.. The cleric here is lovely." "Yes Lupit is well respected for her healing magic." "I would agree she has patched me up well." He patted the sling feigning a wince. This felt too formal "Although she wants me to remain in one place until my injuries heal."

"You are more than welcome to stay here while you recover." Could he stay forever? Lekan was on the verge of melting. This was him. This was the scrappy looking man who saved him that night.

He needed to stop referring to him that way. Scrappy wasn't the most accurate term. The man had shaved, his hair neatly trimmed and taken care of while he was resting. Although it looked like he was graying early, he could be no older than the prince himself. His features were rough but held a softness to them that Lekan found striking.

Maze smiled brightly. "Should I take you for the Head of House?" "My mother holds that title for now."

"So you are the prince then.."

Lekan was surveying him intently.

Oh this felt amazing.

"And your name is?"

Lekan was taken aback by the question. "Oh.. Lekan.. Well... that's... you can call me Lekan" Maze gave him a short bow. "I thank you for your hospitality."

"The pleasure is all mine.." He paused waiting for Maze to introduce himself.

"Maze Suvroc, Shadow of the Morning Star." It was so wordy. He hated it but damn did it make him look really good.

"Maze.."

Lekan showed the stranger around. Maze oo'd and aww'ed at the grandiose nature of the palace, as if he hadn't been living there for the last six months.

"Explain yourself." Arthula looked furious arms crossed. After their tour Lekan had brought him into the great hall to meet with his mother. Maze felt the full weight of her gaze as he was scrutinized. All eyes were on him and with only six people in the room, it was excruciating.

"I.. deserted the regalia.. I wanted to take a tour of the region... try to find myself" He bit his lip hating how that sounded "I.. ran into some rough company... situations I could not avoid.. I just want to start my life fresh."

"So you're a coward" Lonan asserted himself into the conversation.

"No I found the Regalia boring." He scoffed without acknowledging Lonan hovering behind him. "Idolizing military power turned out to be duller than I expected."

Arthula looked over to her son not believing an ounce of what Maze had said "Well?"

"His... his family is in shambles, he should stay here while he recovers and sorts out his estate." That may have came off way more eager than he wanted it to.

"I understand that." Arthula began "but, is it safe to just assume this man is really who he says he is."

Ulyss stepped forward clearing his throat. "If I may your grace.. Maze and I went to boarding school together." He looked back at Maze who greeted him with a weird little hip wave.

Maze nodded "We were roommates."

Lekan nodded at his mother "They were roommates."

"He would, in my honest opinion go missing off of the face of the earth for four years and then return from a near death experience at the side of the road." Ulyss continued his eyes not leaving his former friend.

Arthula sighed "Fine, I'll have another room made up." She motioned for Lekan to follow her and Ulyss joined them.

"You.. didn't run away this time though did you.." he muttered under his breath as he passed Maze by.

What was that supposed to mean?

He was offered dinner at the long table alone. It felt very... lonesome. At that time of night everyone else had already eaten, so leftovers were warmed for him. They had also left him a chalice of wine. How kind of them.

Every clink against the dinnerware rang throughout the high ceilings of the empty hall like cannon fire. Footsteps approached him and Lulit made herself comfortable on the table

"So.. How's it going?"

"Your mother is terrifying."

"You think it's bad, I have to live with her."

"I will too if I can play my cards right."

She laughed "Your so optimistic."

"He likes me" "Ulyss has like a week over your head"

He grumbled downing another glass of wine.

"So.. what is it about him?" Arthula and Lekan took to setting the room together for Maze. The staff were all finished with their work for the day. The family had very strong feelings about letting them have their free time.

It's not like they couldn't make a bed themselves.

"You'll call me crazy."

"Should I?" she let the comforter drop over the bed.

"Maybe"

"Then tune your mother in on why she should consider you crazy my summer flower." She sat down watching him worried. "You've always been too kind for your own good. Picking up all manner of broken or tired animals, this boy is not someone you can fix. Who knows where he's been.. Or.."

"I think he was the one who saved me.. that night I was ambushed."

Arthula balked at the statement. "What.."

"When.. I woke up and heard the struggle outside. I saw three figures. When the Guard came in... I saw his face.." he sat on the bed and rubbed his face. "You might think he is trouble.. but I know he was fighting back against those intruders." He looked at her pleadingly "If it was him, I owe him my life."

Arthula pushed down the worrying warnings she wanted to give.

"Just... stay close to Lonan.. He can stay because his estate has essentially been torn apart by looters. Don't tell him that.. Tell him there was a fire or something. We can figure the rest out later." She waved her hand. "Do not.. Under any circumstances allow yourself to be alone with him. Do you understand me?"

"Mother.." "No buts... not until we can trust him." She shook her head. "Have Lonan fetch him.. I am retiring for the evening." She kissed his forehead taking her leave.

He most certainly did not ask Lonan to fetch Maze and he most certainly did not heed his mother's words. He returned to the great hall to find... "Lulit? What are you doing here"

She jumped off of the table. "Interrogating the suspect."

"What is he suspect of?"

"Trying to kill you."

Maze nearly choked on his food "Hey! Im.."

She laughed shaking her head "As mom thinks of him."

Lekan shooed her off "Go to bed."

"Why?"

"Just.. go.. I need to talk to him"

She rolled her eyes strolling off. Not before giving Maze a thumbs up behind her brothers back.

He waited until Lulit was out of the hall before speaking. "I see the wine has been treating you well."

Maze glanced at the half empty vase before him. "Oh.. it came that way." It most certainly did not and Lekan knew that.

"If you are done eating, I would be happy to show you to your room." Lekan held out his arm for Maze. He pulled himself up taking it and allowing the larger man to escort him.

Guests were situated in the tower beside the family's quarters. Up the winding stairs different rooms spun off with a communal shower at the base. Lekan explained that the castle had been built that way and to put in individual amenities would disrupt the traditional feel of the palace. Maze felt like it might just be a ploy to force snooty guests to have to walk to take a shit.

His door was at the top of the staircase.

"I apologize in advance, we did not plan for any guests." He laughed "but.. I can say I am not disappointed to have the company" Maze released his arm so he could unlock the door. "Do you need clothing?"

"Ah.. I should tomorrow."

"I can have a squire go and fetch things from your family home" he was deciding to ignore everything his mother told him tonight.

"That's alright, those things can rot there.." he ran a hand through his hair sighing. "I'm not a fan of the.. family. I'm looking to make a new one."

Lekan looked at him bewildered. "Not.. a fan?"

Maze pushed the door open not wanting the conversation to continue much longer "Oh.. it's complicated. As families are." He took stock in the room, the canopy bed, the simple dresser and wardrobe arrangements and the small lounge area. He could sleep here and Lekan wouldn't be the wiser that his crow was missing. The prince followed him in.. damnit.

Not that he didn't want to welcome Lekan into every aspect of his life. He was just worn out, and making more trouble for the prince probably wouldn't be good for either of them at the moment.

"I'm not sure I understand?" Lekan followed up on the previous statement.

"Just.. I was never really close with my parents.. they didn't want any more kids so I was an only child. They thought.. one to carry on, save the rest from the misfortune." he caught Lekans progressively more inquisitive look. "That misfortune being my mother" Maze flopped back on the bed "She was a witch, not it the literal sense but she.. really knew how to make a house feel like a prison." He laughed. "I left to find my own way without them. Just the clothes on my back, and the shoes on my feet" and the feathers he grew from being an unfortunate moron.

Lekan nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry you had to experience that" which in essence, was what Maze expected. One who grew up in a cooperative functional family couldn't really understand where he was coming from. Lekan didn't need to get it, just understand it was a sore spot for him.

"So... why are you letting me stay here?"

Lekan stroked his beard contemplatively. "In all honesty. I think your interesting... and someone I want to keep an eye on.."

Maze chuckled shedding his cloak and flinging it over a chair, Lekan stared at it.

"Feathers?"

"I was advised against it but I don't take advice well."

"Why feathers?"

"Family crest is a crow"

"Is it?" Lekan found that very curious "I accidentally adopted a crow."

Maze sat up feigning surprise "Really? How coincidental."

Lekan chuckled "It might have been meant to be."

An awkward silence filled the space between them. Shit, he had nothing fun or interesting to talk about. If he had actually gone on a real venture to find himself he would have some funny stories to tell or some quip about crows he met on the vast plains but..

"Is this your first time in the capital?"

"Yes" he lied blatantly.

"Oh.." Lekan seemed to be disappointed in that response.

"Show me around sometime?"

"I would be honored."

Maze smiled as the prince took his leave closing the door politely.

He spent about five minutes pacing his room before heading back to his nest.

A swift rapping at the door woke Maze the next morning. Lekan was already awake, preparing for the day and went to answer. Ulyss emerged from the doorway with a tray "Good morning my prince, I brought you breakfast" Lekan was thrown off by the gesture.

"Oh.. I was on my way to go eat with the rest of-"

"I thought it might be nice if we could have breakfast together."

Lekan nodded slowly "All right..." Well, Ulyss was supposed to be wooing Lekan.. the man could enjoy it if he wanted to.

Ulyss set the tray down at the coffee table and took a seat in one of the lounge chairs. The prince took stock in the food before digging in. "Did you cook this?"

"Yes.. I enjoy a little culinary work when I have the time. All faeish recipes of course, I've gotten quite good at preparing the food." "It's fantastic." he praised Ulyss royally.

It was just eggs, anyone could cook eggs. Hell with one more chromosome Maze could make eggs and that wouldn't be considered a phenomenon.

Ulyss reached out sliding a hand down Lekans shoulder.

"You know.. I've grown quite fond of you Lekan.." The prince looked up with a mouth full of food. "Oh?"

Ulyss laughed resting his hand on the other man's thigh. "I.. would hope you feel the same.."

Lekan made this face. It looked to Maze almost like he was in pain. "I would appreciate it if you would-"

Ulyss sighed interrupting his rejection. "I just want to please you my king."

Ok that's far enough. Maze took his leave from the nest screeching incessantly and dive bombing the newcomer. Ulyss threw himself back swearing and swinging his arm "WHAT THE HELL" Maze felt maybe he should just go right for the throat. Going in claws first- until he was grabbed by the midsection and tossed across the room.

Lekan was astounded by his careless toss and burst into a stream of apologies, as Ulyss bolted from the room screaming. Maze was not injured by the throw, however the wind had been knocked from him. He laid on the bedspread gasping for a moment before Lekan came to check on him.

"Oh.. I'm so sorry... I didn't mean.." his eyes betrayed a hint of tears.

Wait.. no don't cry.. not over this.

He squawked and slowly stood back up. Resting his beak on the hand on the bed and gave him a reassuring look.

Don't cry over me.

Lekan stroked the birds head sighing. "You really startled me.. and Ulyss I guess." He winked at the bird. "I'm sorry, I would never intend to hurt you my little crow." He took a moment to stroke the birds back and make sure it wasn't injured before returning to his morning routine. Maze wasn't wholly sure he could fly right now. He put on a good little show just now but, geez that blow could have killed him if he hadn't hit the bed.

Once Lekan left he needed to get to his room and get dressed before anyone noticed he was missing.

He hopped to the balcony looking down. Sure.. he could shimmy his way across the rooftops... but at crow size that was like a mile of sliding and maneuvering. It would take like an hour. He could probably glide into one of the lower rooms.. sneak out the door and up to his room.. where his door was locked.. he did manage to do that before passing out.

Curse his forethought.. well.. Balcony hopping it was.

He righted himself and tumbled from the balcony hitting the roof below hard. Yeah great start to the morning. He hopped himself along the copper plates of the rooftop.

The roof was not made for crow feet. He kept slipping slowly toward the lip with each step not able to catch a grip. He made it to the foot of the tower and clung on for dear life, as he contemplated having to climb it. He beat his wings finding little purchase but eventually working his way up to the first ledge. Then the second, painfully he scaled the balcony with the incessant wing beats, pulling himself onto his balcony and collapsing on the floor switching to his human shape. He lay there wheezing for a while when he heard a knock at the door.

Lulit pushed her way inside smirking at him.

"Saw you had a little trouble getting back over here.. thought I'd drop in and make sure you didn't fall off."

"you're so kind"

She grinned "You should really lock your door at night.. oh and breakfast is starting soon... so chop chop." She took off back down the stairs.

He joined Ulyss and Lulit at breakfast. Lonan sat to the side to the side eyes boring holes into Mazes head. "Sorry, couldn't find the shower." He took a seat at the table and made himself a plate.

"Wheres Lekan?" "He has some business today with mom" Lulit responded without looking up from her book.

He nodded at Ulyss "What happened to your face?"

"The princes feral crow"

"Feral crow?"

"It went berserk. Just absolutely attacked me as if I was some villain!"

"Well... what did you do?"

"NOTHING! I.." Ulyss ran a hand through his hair trying to calm himself, still clearly overwhelmed by the experience.

Maze felt a prick of pride at his exasperation.

"I just brought him breakfast.. you know.. to schmooze him a little."

Lulit stood quickly realizing that the conversation was turning in a direction she did not want to be a part of. Lonan watched her leave without a word and returned his attention to Maze.

With Lulit out of the room Ulyss continued, nodding toward Maze.

"I've learned that kind of thing always works for an early morning rubdown." He chuckled.

Maze fairly choked on his fork. He did not find that funny. "What's that supposed to mean"

"If I am going to be his husband, that doesn't mean I can't dive in early."

"If you dive in too early the water would be dirtied and unworthy of bathing" Lonan chimed in with his outdated and offensive opinion.

"You are now officially out of the conversation" Ruit muttered harshly. They looked at him with disgust.

"How can you even say that.."

"Ones fist time is sacred" Lonan responded wiping his face.

"Not really.. I mean if you think that for yourself fine.. but you can't decide that for someone else" Ruit muttered into his eggs.

Lonan scoffed "I have long since lost that experience, I will not allow his pool to be sullied."

Ok this analogy was getting old.

"He's not a pool or an object.. he's a person and.." Maze burst out "You know what.. You have that conversation with him, and see how he feels."

Ulyss laughed "Oh how your tune has changed since school. It's nice to know at least some of us can grow up" He shot a dirty look at Lonan.

The knight huffed and stood from the table "Ruit.. we are needed at the prince's side."

The squire rolled his eyes leaving his half eaten plate to follow his Sir from the room.

The two former roommates found themselves alone and with a strange tenseness in the air.

"Do you think I did something wrong?"

"Maybe.."

Ulyss looked across the table at his old friend with a pained look in his eye.

Maze set his fork aside. "Look... crows are smart right.. maybe he thought you were a danger to Lekan.." he shrugged. "Was he interested in your schmoozing?"

Ulyss said nothing contemplating that statement as he chewed through a piece of bacon.

"Would schmoozing be inappropriate at this time?" "Dunno... I don't know him.." he lied "but he seems like a gentle person.. He's probably been schmoozed his entire life."

"So he would know better.."

"He might need bodyguards to protect him but I don't think he is as defenseless as they make him out to be."

Ulyss smirked "Always keen.. As crows are I guess."

Maze ignored the comment finishing his meal.

He watched Ulyss and Lekan sneak out of the palace later that evening from the top of a turret.

He would let Ulyss have his date with Lekan in peace. Despite the mornings event he knew Ulyss to be of decent background, and after their conversation felt that he wouldn't need to chaperone them.

---

"So.. What do you think.. Do I have a chance?"

"I don't know man.. I'm not an expert on my brother"

"You know him better than anyone else"

"Actually I think you might." She pulled away from her book. "When you got here Lekan stopped talking to us about his problems. He talked to you."

"I'm subjective you are not." They both went quiet for a while. Maze playing with the charm around his neck anxiously.

"What if he doesn't like me?" She turned to face him unsure of how to answer "What if.. I do all of this and, he doesn't want me?"

"It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" She went back to her book.

"Wow.. wise words coming from you!"

"Some poet wrote that."

"Of course they did."

"If he doesn't want you.. well.. respect his decision." She shrugged "What else can you do.. if you love him support him."

Maze nodded.. Was love too strong of a word. Did he really love Lekan, he owed his life to the man sure, he felt joy in the confidence Lekan held him with. All of his secrets and feelings. He wondered if their relationship as people could be as close.

The evening's dinner met Maze with a very rude awakening. Ulyss sitting at the head of the table beside Lekan holding a bubbling conversation with the man. Something in the pit of Mazes stomach dropped. The appetizing meal before him went untouched in the revelation that, Ulyss might.. Actually have a good chance.

Did they even have anything in common? Maybe he had rushed into this. It was hard trying to think about the needs of others. Being a crow was a selfish pleasure, being someones partner was.. ugh. One night stands were ideal for him, he never needed to worry about feelings and compromise. Ulyss was intelligent, charming, handsome... all values Maze knew were appealing and yet none he had himself.

He left the dinner table early that night. Unbeknownst to him, Lekans eyes followed him out as he left.

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