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monstersandmaw · 9 months ago

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Oats the kelpie (single dad, dad-bod, absolute softie sweetheart) is now up on Patreon on early release! You can read it right now for $3, or for $5 you can have access to everything pre-2020 mothballing.

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

Wordcount: 7562

Preview:

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

Read the whole thing right now over on Patreon, as well as everything else in my exclusive masterlist, plus February's story involving a holiday romance with a naga in Starfall Springs...

#oats the kelpie #kelpie #male kelpie #male monster #monster romance #single dad monster #monster single dad #dad bod #male monster x female reader #plus size reader #plus size female reader

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mahou-furbies · 5 months ago

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Miss Meguca contest (casual outfits), comments

All preliminary rounds are now over! Since there was some variance in how many people voted each round, I'll have to calculate everyone's scores with percentages. So I think the final round won't start until tomorrow. In the meantime, here are the comments:

Round 1

Let’s Hope Madoka Wins this Thing Again. I want to See an Idol or Maybe a special Surprise Image song round or something.

Most of these outfits are so good. I only docked off points for some of them cause they weren’t as interesting. Also Ayaka’s outfit is perfect except for the color of her tights

Always glad to see my girl, Ashley!

Hoods are always a good taste, so…

I'm a sucker for suspenders!

Yuuna, Rena and Kokoro are the TOP of winter fashion!!!

There're quite a few outfits I WANT to like but they're just drawn so weird. Like. Why is Mitsune's sweatshirt Like That.

Also why is Mami dressed like she's in her 40s.

I really love all the varied silhouettes Magireco gives its characters in their casual clothes. Yuuna's is probably my least favourite because it's so boring. Ikumi's cat socks are extremely 2010s fashion and I love them.

Ashley has the best one here! It's practically something I would wear!

Rena's was so cute… until the short shorts. Girl!!! Your thighs are going to freeze!!! At least with skirts it's easy to wear skin colored thermal tights!

Ikumi: I'm going to wear e-girl cat socks with the most boring fit possible.

Round 2

Ren's outfit is so adorable!

Bring On Da Next Round! I Need Madoka to Win!

Yuma stands out not being super detailed, but I like it.

Scene 0 Madoka's outfit isn't bad but I don't think the silhouette and blue jacket necessarily suit her. Also adult Hikaru's outfit looks like something I'd wear in IRL help

Yuna: I don't understand the transparent fabric on her, but aside from that, is a pretty fashionable outfit

Akari: The bunny purse? The bow with the scarf? The puffy shorts? *chef's kiss

Moka: teh top part is a 10, but the bottom is a 3

I would once again kill for Mami's, but Ria's on the block too

Felicia ily but THAT clothes???????

Round 3

It's designs like these that get my hopes up about character design and fashion.

Alina wins out because of the paint on her clothes!

No Madoka Here but I’m Alright with That Besides Madoka Is Gonna Be the Winner Again!

I love Alina's painting clothes 💚💛❤️

So many cute designs in this round💖

ADORE alinas outfit, its so unique among the rest of the super feminine and cutesy casual outfits!

What is up with that bow on Tomoko’s outfit? It feels like everything was just slapped together when it comes to how she’s dressed.

Round 4

sorry, kyouko. i cant stand orange+green color combos.

Finally a good outfit for Kyoko!

Why does it feel that they put more effort into making the winter ones and just slap some ramdom shirts and skirts for casual?

They really did Kyouko dirty in this game.

Looking Good I know Madoka is the Winner nothing ordinary or new!

Thought Homura had a mustache necklace for a sec

I was gonna give glasses Homura a -1, but she's getting a 2 for the mustache necklace actually. I don't like it but it's such a bold choice and I love that for her lmao

I dislike Kirika but her clothes are in my fav choices ;;

I find my choices a little funny in hindsight because Kokoro's outfit is a hiking outfit and it looks nice but it also feels very generic, but I also feel like Leila's outfit looks like she's about to go camping or something. Also I am OBSESSED with Homura's mustache necklace.

Round 5

I'd like to make a disclaimer that I'm not rating Ranka's outfit 1 because I hate it, I just don't think it makes a good winter outfit necessarily. But does this also mean she's into larme kei and shops at places like MA*RS and Ank Rouge? Also: 1) Yachiyo's cold shoulder sweater dress amuses me for some reason. Girl your shoulders! 2) Green is a very interesting colour choice for Temari.

Hotaru, my beloved!! Sleepy queen!!

This is getting Good Final around Ahead and Madoka must Win!

I want Konomi's one so baaaad!!!!

Homura with glasses has the best outfits ;_; I have seen a lot of hers in the polls and always I love how she mixes cutesy with black clothes

Some of these are awful

Round 6

Lots of threes this time for interesting silhouettes or designs that make me go "yeah, that's [character]"! Also Mifuyu's outfit is just one of my faves in general

These are not as awful as the other but somehow most of them has something that ruins the look for me.

The thing is, a magical girl costume is always so extravagant and beautiful, that when we go back to their casual clothes, we expect nothing less. Bu then it comes some disappointment, because they look so plain and simple.

Last One I Need Madoka To Win!!

hard to be picky abt it ;-; they're all so pretty tbh

ui looks adorable!! i love her little outfit! you can certainly tell she's a kid. i find her outfit works really well over all. a lot of others i felt like there'd be one or 2 elements just don't fit with the rest but ui's just matches perfectly in my eyes

This is so difficult because imo the game has really really good designs for the casual outfits

Round 7

Kyoko looks really good in purple

After seeing Yachiyo's dress everything seems pretty.

Disclaimer I like Kyouko's outfit but I don't think it suits /her/ personally. I don't really like the mauve on Oriko? I feel like she should be wearing white or a very pale lilac at least. Tsubaki's is okay I guess and there's something about Tsukuyo's I don't entirely vibe with for some reason

I came to the conclusion that Homura is the Fashion Queen…

And poor Kyouko has so much to learn…

Let’s Hope Madoka wins this whole Thing!

Kyoko's outfit is great, but not a good fit for Kyoko.

Nagisa gets a 3. The OG deserves it. Too good for this world. Too pure. Deserves all the cheese.

Again, Homura has the best outfits

#miss meguca contest

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songoftrillium · 6 months ago

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I assume you're taller than me! (I'm 5'3"). I assume you also like... GURPS or Pendragon. I assume you like denim jackets. I assume you already said wolves were your favorite animal when you were a little kid ☺️

I am tol. 5'9". I used to be taller, then hrt plus an injury! I am a tall gal, and it's funny being in a sea of shorter women.

I actually haven't played either! I have autistically and pretty rigidly stuck with the original World of Darkness. I have however also played one of the only other RPGs outside the WoD that use the Storyteller System, and that's Earthdawn (underrated imo). I've also played AD&D and D&D 3.0, 3.5, and 5E. Other games include Call of Cthulhu, Thirsty Sword Lesbians, and a handful of oneshots.

Not a big fan of denim! I love layers. The weather in the PNW is prone to changing constantly, so it helps to be able to layer things up and down to respond. The classic local armor set is hiking boots, wool socks, thermals, pants, tshirt, sweatshirt, and a rain jacket on top. My armor set tends to be boots, wool socks, thermals, jeans, tanktop (because I get hot flashes), flannel shirt, and then I'll typically either just tough it out in the rain or in more dramatic weather I'll grab a hooded cardigan, raincoat, or layer up the coat for snow.

My mother tells me that the only time she asked me what my favorite animal was I bit her and didn't elaborate.

Askbox is open! Tell me stuff you assume about me, and I'll answer!

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sylphidine · 2 years ago

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[Fic] Call Signs, Chapter 24

Fandom: Deltarune

‘Verse: Human AU

Pairing: Swatch/Spamton [Swatchton]

Characters: Swatch Paletta, Spamton Addison, T.M. Tanner [Tasque Manager], Mike Cowley

Rating: Mature

Chapter title: Exact Time To Failure, Part One

Chapter summary: Spamton's life seems to be resuming an even keel in the week before the 'quarter birthday' party he's planning for Swatch. Swatch, on the other hand, has a realization which sends their feelings into rough seas.

Author notes:

No trigger or content warnings in this chapter. Any NSFW action is left to the reader's imagination.

Thank you all for your continued support of this story, and for your patience in waiting for updates. I did not expect to take quite this long a hiatus in posting chapters.

Many thanks to @jaimistoryteller for helping me to refine the midsection of this chapter.

Again, as in previous chapters, flashback scenes are in italics, and present-day scenes are in regular type.

_________________

The next day, Spamton woke up happy. He woke up warm and secure. He never wanted to leave this bed.

He held his right arm bent at an angle, so that his hand was tucked under the pillow under his head.

His left arm was wrapped around Swatch, his left hand under Swatch’s thermal top and curled up at rest in the thick springy curls of Swatch’s chest hair. There was barely an inch of space between his nose and Swatch’s back, and he closed the gap to nestle flat up against them.

Both of Spamton’s legs were lying between Swatch’s as the other lay on their right side, their own right arm and hand crooked up under their own pillows, their left hand lying loose on top of the covers. He cautiously wiggled one sock-clad foot to make sure he wouldn’t get a cramp. Swatch’s left leg was bent at enough of an angle that not all their weight rested on Spamton’s calf. Even in sleep, Swatch couldn’t fail to be courteous.

Their chest rose and fell in even breaths under Spamton’s hand. Warm, alive, and just so… beautiful? Yes, that was the word for Swatch.

He hadn’t realized he’d said the word “beautiful” out loud until he felt rather than heard Swatch’s laugh.

For a split second he was embarrassed to have been caught, but then he mentally shrugged and decided it was his opinion and that’s all there was to it. He nuzzled his face into Swatch’s back even more firmly and started crooning, “ Beeee-yooo-tee-fulllll dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeamer, wake unto meeeeee… ”

Swatch shook with the effort of not laughing, but eventually a snort escaped them. Their voice had a rusty sound as they spoke. “You are either blind as a bat or lacking a sense of smell, considering where that pointy nose of yours is stuck. Probably both.”

At that, Spamton sat up in bed. He crossed his arms in mock offense and tossed back, “P-p-p-pointy nose? That’s funny, c-c-coming from someb-body with a nose like a b-bird beak.”

That got Swatch to turn over and open their eyes to look directly at him “I’ll have you know that this nose comes from countless generations of royalty and even more generations of hard workers.” Spamton looked away and stuck his own nose further in the air, but his lips were twitching to show he knew Swatch wasn’t really annoyed.

“So you w-want me to say you stink? Okay, you stink.”

Swatch reached up and Spamton leaned towards them, letting them pull him onto their chest. He buried his nose in Swatch’s armpit and blew a raspberry, while at very nearly the same time Swatch rubbed the side of their face against his messy hair and then sputtered, “Ugh, you stink too. Guess we both should have showered last night after walking across half the city.” They gracefully rolled out from under Spamton and moved towards the side of the bed, only to have him grab them around their waist and whine, “N-noooooo, don’t gooooooo, I’m c-c-cold.”

“Then come with me. A shower will warm us both up.” They raised their arm and sniffed under it, grimacing. “When you’re right, you’re right. I do stink. Starlight and dewdrops are NOT waiting for me, unless you’re getting me a new body wash.” Swatch got to their feet and headed towards the bedroom door, pulling off their thermals as they went and throwing them on top of the laundry basket in the corner.

Grumbling halfheartedly, Spamton followed, shucking his own nightwear as fast as he could while enjoying the view in front of him.

___________________

"Th-thanks for the ride, Swatch," Spamton said as Swatch guided the Corolla into a space in front of the campus library. "It's sure a lot c-colder out here today than yesterday." "You're welcome. What time do you get off shift again?"

"It - it should be around 5. But you don't have to - have to p-p-pick me up, I can meet you guys at Luigi's."

"It's no sweat. I'm not going to jeopardize our two-income household by having you get pneumonia. Or me for that matter."

"Okay, if you insist, you c-can pick me up. But hopefully we'll both have b-b-better paying jobs someday. And c-can afford two - two cars."

Spamton got out and went around to the driver's side. Swatch rolled down the window to peck their partner on the lips.

They kept their cheerful expression until Spamton disappeared through the library doors.

Once he was out of sight, their smile fell away.

It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

______________

T.M. was sprawled on the sofa studying in her own dorm for a change, since GiGi was spending the weekend with Leroux and his son.

When her phone suddenly chimed with the “interstellar” tone it startled her, seemingly louder than normal.

Without looking at the ID, she picked up the call and said, “Hey Birdman, what’s up?” Stretching a bit, she didn’t actually give them a chance to immediately answer, “I haven’t forgotten that it’s Luigi night.”

They huffed, “No, that’s not why I called.” The phone picked up the sound of her building door sliding open. “Ummmm…” the hesitation was a bit concerning, but she didn’t want to assume anything, “any chance I could stop by, Moggy? I’m on campus anyway.”

It became her turn to huff, amused as she pointed out, “When have you ever needed to ASK, Swatch? C��mon up, since I figure you’re down in the lobby.”

“Drat.” They muttered something unintelligible, then asked a bit more clearly, “What gave it away?”

“Oh you know,” she said coyly, “There’s that weird echoey sound when the door opens and shuts.”

This time their huff was closer to a frustrated laugh. “I need to get sneakier then. “I’ll be there in a minute.””

At least Swatch is still teasing. That’s a good sign, T.M. thought to herself.

They were upstairs and had wrapped themselves around her before the minute was even up, face buried in the crook of her neck as if breathing her in.

Or not.

“Hey, hey,” she murmured, running her hands in gentle strokes along their back. The fact that she could feel their muscles knotted with tension through their winter jacket was worrisome. “What’s wrong?”

T.M. wasn't sure how long they stood there. It felt like hours and only a breath all at once, since Swatch didn’t reply. She kept the gentle pressure up until their entire body trembled in a sigh, breath hot against her neck as they released it and stepped away, blindly heading over to the window to stare at the overcast sky.

Ah, the aftermath of an anxiety attack. That she could deal with. She returned to her spot on the sofa, drawing on past experience and marshaling her inner reserves.

She knew when Swatch was like this, they needed physical comfort. But that being said, comfort had to be on their terms, as their body and mind disagreed whether to draw close or push away. And there was never any consistency in how long that battle would go on. She'd just have to wait it out.

The spot next to her was left open in silent invitation.

This time it didn’t take Swatch all that long to get to the point where the need for contact won out. They trudged over, sinking into the couch cushion and flopping over so their head was on her lap. As her fingers rhythmically stroked Swatch's hair from the wavy ends upwards towards their skull, she could actually see the tension slowly draining out of them.

It had never mattered whether she petted their hair or the reverse; it had always been a source of comfort for both of them. She didn’t know why, didn’t even care really. She was simply relieved that it hadn’t changed as they both gotten older.

Lightly tugging at the end of one of their curls, she mused, “Your hair is getting so long.”

Swatch’s eyes were closed as they hummed, “Mmm-hmm.” Taking a shuddering breath, their voice was low as they continued, “I’m going to have to get it cut. You know, for job interviews.” A touch of bitterness entered their tone, “If I can even get any, this late in the game.”

She took a moment to choose her words as understanding hit. “Is that what has you going all tharn on me?”

“Oh god, THARN.” They huffed, burying their face in her leg to mutter, “ I haven’t heard that word in ages.”

“Stop avoiding the subject, Birdman.” She tugged again lightly on their hair at the beginning of the next stroke. “What brings you to my doorstep for cuddles instead of talking out your blues with your boyfriend?” T.M. continued stroking Swatch’s hair steadily. ”Not that I’m complaining.” She went still before she added, “Unless your boyfriend’s the problem. Then he’ll have to answer to me.”

They rolled to partially face her. “No, please don’t beat up my partner, Moggy. It’s not his fault. Although…” Swatch’s voice trailed off dejectedly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Although what?”

They tensed up again, shifting to a sitting position as they let out another full body sigh. Silence reigned until Swatch settled their arm around T.M.’s shoulders. She leaned into them, biting her inner cheek to keep from trying to drag things out of her bestie. It had taken years, but she'd learned that unlike her ever-bubbling speech-before-thought, Swatch's thoughts would just have to take as long as they took, and she would just have to wait.

Finally Swatch quietly said, “Although,” hesitation rife in their tone, “something Spamton said kind of started this ‘runaway train’ thinking in my head.”

T.M. reached over to wrap her fingers around the hand resting half in their lap, half in hers, squeezing reassuringly. She gave them another minute to put their thoughts in something akin to order before prompting, “And that was?”

“The party next week for my ‘quarter birthday’.” There was a heaviness in their voice she hadn’t heard in awhile. “February 20th. FEBRUARY.” Yet another deep breath. ”February as in three months before graduation. As in when you and I graduate, and the rest of our real lives are supposed to start.”

Swatch hadn’t even finished explaining when the rest of the situation became clear to T.M.

This isn’t one of those exasperating “nanny goat” moods Swatch sometimes gets into. It’s not just a random existential crisis. It’s their ability to overthink combined with everything in the last year. Why didn't I see that Swatch essentially put their life on hold?

Unfortunately, time had a way of moving on when people didn't. This was real. Life would be changing, and very soon. Too soon really.

She snapped back into focus as Swatch continued, “And now my not looking for an internship last year is going to come back to bite me in the ass, HARD.” Their voice wavered, then flattened. “Fairlight got sick, and I was all ‘Oh, I can’t think about the future right now, I’ll think about it later’. And then she died,” they shrugged, “and you know what I was like after that.” They stared blankly ahead until she squeezed their hand to get their attention. “Yeah, I do.” She smiled sadly. “You were more worried about everyone else’s problems and you pushed your own feelings down, like you always do.”

Lightly butting her head under their chin, she added encouragingly, “Keep going, Birdman. I think I know where you’re going with this, but don’t keep me in suspense.”

I'm out of practice. it’s been a while since Swatch has been so introspective.

They rubbed their chin against the top of her head for a time, a different kind of physical comfort, trying to find the right words. “Well, the ‘later’ for setting up life after graduation was going to be this fall. But time got away from me, and then –”

Okay. Perfect opportunity to lighten the mood here.

She interrupted, saying teasingly, “And then you fell in loooooooooooove.”

Swatch snorted at her, tugging their hand from her grasp to playfully slap at her hand. More of the tension faded visibly from their frame.

“Well, you did!” T.M. retorted with a smirk.

“Hmph.” Swatch rolled their eyes. “What I was going to say, you brash vixen,” as they lightly squeezed her shoulder, “was that I had my accident. And then,” their voice softened and grew warmer, “yes, I fell in love.”

She nodded. “And now you’re punishing yourself for reacting like a human being,” she drawled, “and thinking that you’ve let the universe down somehow, and that emotions have distracted you from your destiny.”

T.M. delivered the last two words in a Darth Vader voice to make Swatch smile. The two of them were always intoning, “it is YOUR DESTINY” to one another whenever they had these HDRs. And it achieved the desired effect once again when the hoped-for smile came through.

Score one for tradition.

They squeezed her again. “Hey, you at least know what YOUR DESTINY is, Moggy. You were the smart one last spring snagging that sweet spot at WQXR. That’s going to get you places, isn’t it?”

"Hold that thought." She slithered off the sofa. “I’m not ducking the question, I’m just thirsty,” she explained as she headed to the suite’s kitchenette. “Want some ginger ale?”

"Sure."

Out of the corner of her eye, T.M. was relieved to see Swatch leaning back and relaxing deeper into the couch cushions.

When she returned to the living area, she perched on the coffee table rather than resuming her seat on the couch. Her knees touched Swatch's so that they could still have some contact, but if her answer upset them, she could back off.

Here goes nothing.

“Well, you might as well know. I have,” she couldn’t help the almost boasting tone, “been offered a production assistant slot at WNYC, starting in July, after somebody goes out on parenting leave.”

Encouragingly, Swatch's only reaction was to arch an eyebrow at her over the frames of their glasses. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” She took a sip. “The fancy jargon says ‘Manage the work of an associate producer and their ongoing professional development, while building an environment conducive to high levels of productivity, creativity and professional fulfillment.’ In other words, I'll be herding cats. At which I am an expert."

Swatch would have to have been made of stone NOT to snort at that, and they obliged.

T.M. raised her glass in a salute. "It’s grunt work, but it gets my foot in the door.” She grimaced, nose wrinkling in frustration. “And it still sticks in my craw that I wouldn’t even have had the nerve to apply for that internship last year if GiGi hadn’t let me know about it.”

“Mmm-hmm. I remember,” Swatch answered between sips of their own. "She was quite insistent. I was rather taken aback."

“GiGi can have a sensible thought once in a while." She drained the rest of her ginger ale. "Once in a VERY long while.”

Swatch copied her motion, clinking their glass against hers before they both set the empties down on the coffee table. T.M. tilted her head and asked, "And so my having a job after graduation and you still needing one brings us to...?"

“Which brings ME around full circle to what Spamton has to do with all this.”

“I was wondering when you were going to get to that. Let me guess. It starts with an ‘Add’, ends in a ‘son’, has an ‘i’ in the middle, and has something to do with cybernetics.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t get what the problem is. How is this any different than my asking GiGi to put a word in for me to get an interview at Greene Space, or you asking your Uncle Julius if anything’s open at Ambit Automation?”

“Because!” Swatch got up abruptly and started pacing agitatedly. “Because I’m not dating GiGi or Uncle Julius. I’m dating Spamton. Or rather, G. Stanton Addison. And the last person that G. Stanton Addison dated was only out to use him for the ‘Addison connection’, and that person did a HELL of a lot of damage to my partner.”

It took a minute to register, but then suddenly a lot of puzzle pieces that T.M. had been wondering about since September fell into place, and the picture was not pretty.

Tears sprang into T.M.’s eyes, matching the tears in Swatch’s own. Fiercely she said, “Let me know who I have to kill.” “Don’t worry, the guy’s already dead.”

_______________________________

November 21, 2016

The professor looked at his watch and said, “I’m sure you’ll all be grateful for a headstart on your Thanksgiving weekend. Our sessions will resume one week from today on Monday, November 28th, at 10am sharp. I’ll expect to see your outlines from each student for your final paper when we meet again.”

An assortment of under-the-breath comments and one sarcastic cheer greeted this statement. Spamton was in the middle of putting his arm through the strap of his backpack, ready to leave the lecture hall with the rest of the students.

“Mister Addison? A word, if you’ve got a moment.”

At the sound of Professor Cowley’s voice, he cautiously let the bag slide back to the surface of a nearby desk.

In the last month, he’d finally started to relax and put his experience at the fetish club out of his mind as a bad memory and nothing more. He was grateful that his instructor seemed to also have left that distasteful evening behind as well.

This class was a challenge, and its coursework was different from anything else he’d studied. Spamton found himself gravitating more towards the psychological and sociological facets of AI than he did to its uses in advertising.

Unfortunately, the uses of AI in advertising was SUPPOSED to be the end goal of his getting a degree in Digital Communications.

Spamton replied now, “Yes, Professor Cowley?”

“I know you have other classes to get to, but I wanted to tell you that I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the quality of your work in this course, especially since you’re a sophomore rather than the juniors and seniors I usually teach. Your midterm marks were amongst the highest.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’d like to discuss some of your plans for future courses. I’ll be in my office this evening until 6pm if you’d care to stop by. Room 269… I usually share it with Dr. Alphys, but she’s in Holland this semester.”

There seemed to be nothing but kindness in the keen blue eyes behind the rhomboid bicolored glasses, so Spamton had no reason to doubt his instructor’s sincerity. He nodded and answered, “I can come by. I’ll see you tonight then, sir.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Stanton.”

And thus Spamton found himself knocking at the door of Room 269 at 4:15pm. A firm voice called out, "It's open!"

Professor Cowley was seated behind a desk that was almost comically tidy, compared to the crowded and messy bookshelves lining the walls of the office. He indicated a chair across from him, and Spamton sat, more curious than ever.

The only item on the surface of the desk was a thick folder, with a label across the front that read “A.Z’ Flowers”.

“I��m sure you’ve already completed your registration for Spring classes…” The gaunt older man with the deeply-lined face ran a hand through thinning hair of a faded red. “But I was wondering whether you might consider an alternate curriculum for next semester. I’ve been handed a metaphorical ‘hot potato’ by one of my prior students, who had drafted an independent study proposal before he had to transfer schools due to a family emergency. Much of the groundwork was laid that I’d really like to see brought to fruition.”

He pushed the folder towards Spamton, who opened it gingerly and began to read to himself.

DESIGNING AND IMPLEMENTING A PROMOTIONAL CAMPAIGN

Offers the independent research student an opportunity to design and implement a digitally based promotional campaign for an external sponsoring organization. During the campaign design phase, the student becomes part of a creative team, performs target audience research, analyzes the research findings, reviews key performance indicators, and develops a communication plan. During the campaign implementation phase, the student executes the communication plan. Implementation includes creating email marketing and social media marketing messages, calls to action, client presentations, monitoring campaign results, and performing an overall project assessment. Each phase includes project updates to the sponsor and self-reflection on the learning experience. The student develops deliverables and tracks their work using a leading-edge marketing automation platform.

As Spamton kept reading, he became both more fascinated and more frightened by the possibilities. This could put him within reach of his goal of proving himself to Eos and to Ballew that he belonged in the family business on his own merits, not just as their baby brother. This could also set him up for failure and disgrace if he couldn’t measure up to the expectations of whichever company sponsored this project.

Some of his worry must have shown on his face, because Professor Cowley chuckled drily and commented, “You don’t have to decide right this minute! Take the folder home with you this weekend, read the material thoroughly, and we’ll meet again to discuss matters next week.”

“Thank you, sir.” Spamton stood up and shook his instructor’s outstretched hand, which was cold to the touch, and as dry and hard as bone.

#swatchton #swatch paletta #spamton addison #tasque manager #deltarune fanfiction #sylph writes #fic: call signs

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hikeslot · 8 days ago

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EBMORE Kids Merino Wool Hiking Socks Thermal Winter Warm Thick Boys Toddlers Girls Cushion Crew Socks 6 Pairs

Price: (as of – Details) From the brand Kids Wool Hiking Socks Kids Athletic Socks Kids Wool Hiking Socks Kids Wool Thick Socks Girls Funny Crazy Socks Girls Knee High Socks Anti Slip Baby Socks Kids Fuzzy Grips Socks Kids Slipper Socks Package Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 7.99 x 3.94 x 2.76 inches; 8.11 ounces Department ‏ : ‎ Unisex Child Date First Available ‏ : ‎ July 26, 2023 ASIN ‏ : ‎…

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eldritchaccident · 11 months ago

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[pm - in spanish] [user types up a bunch, and deletes it all just as many times. There's a line here and they don't want to cross it. But Emilio asked twice to not talk about it now, so, they relent. For now.]

Okay, we can shelf this. Alright? Focus on better things.

I just feel like maybe, perhaps, I know a few more things about surviving in the cold than you, Cortez. You ever even shoveled a sidewalk? Why would I want you to have frostbite? That's stupid as hell. I feel like I'm pretty transparent with my motivations with these socks in particular. They are cute, and I think it would be funny to see that on you. That's it. They do make non-cute ones. In fact I think most thermal socks are not as cute as they should be. It's a shame really.

[..................] I [.............] am not sure whether to be concerned or impressed. [...................] Where are you getting the cats?

[pm, in spanish] Don't make it sound like I was forced into it. Nobody ever forced me to do anything. But you were a kid who [...] had someone telling them something wrong was right. [some pieces are starting to fall into place. user doesn't like it.]

Yeah. It would have. Never said I thought my way wasn't bad, just that it [...] hurts less. I'd rather freeze. Rather do without the pain. It's easier. [...] The cabin wasn't all bad, no. I mean, could have done without wondering whether or not Joy's goons were chasing us, but without that and the cold, it might have been [...] nice. [...] You know you're the only one I know who says goons?

Yeah, well, I guess I'm lucky I've got you around, then. You seem to like smacking me.

I said I don't want to talk about it anymore. Can't we just do that? Not talk about it?

There were a lot of people to blame, Teddy. A lot. And I'm pissed about that, too. But I don't know where I'm supposed to put that. What I'm supposed to do with it. It's just going to drown me sooner or later. Hold me under until the lights go out. But maybe I want it to, a little. Maybe I just want it to be finished. I don't know how to stop it.

The sock thing is superficial. I don't trust you on that. Your feet are never warm. You're lying to me to lure me into a false sense of security so you can give me frostbite.

No, I want more money. She's paying me $150 every day I don't bring her a cat.

#private;#with; emilio

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 2 years ago

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Deck The Halls Thermal Socks

Deck The Halls And Not Your Family Thermal Socks with the designed on the bottom of the sole. These thermal socks will top off your Christmas outfit!

Thermal socks are specifically designed to protect your feet during the coldest time of year.

Shoe size 6 to 10. Material is cotton, polyester and spandex. The Material breakdown is 50% Cotton, 49% Polyester and 1% Spandex. The width is 4 inches and the height is 22.125 inches.

Perfect for outdoor sports, going to the office, and curling up on the couch in the winter months.

Machine wash cold with like colors. Use ONLY non-chlorine bleach when needed, tumble dry low, do NOT iron.

Deck The Halls And Not Your Family Thermal Socks with the designed on the bottom of the sole.

Thermal socks are specifically designed to protect your feet during the coldest time of year.

Men’s size 10-13. Material is cotton, polyester and spandex. The Material breakdown is 50% Cotton, 49% Polyester and 1% Spandex. The width is 4 inches and the height is 22.125 inches.

Perfect for outdoor sports, going to the office, and curling up on the couch in the winter months.

Machine wash cold with like colors. Use ONLY non-chlorine bleach when needed, tumble dry low, do NOT iron.

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bumblingbabooshka · 2 years ago

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(Insert any love interest here except T’Pel) excited to see Tuvok in his underwear only to find that Tuvok’s underwear is essentially just leggings or a one piece with stirrups.

#it's COLD. On VOYAGER.#Love Interest: You're just wearing that???? There's no...cup???#Tuvok: ????? cup?????#LI: Where do you keep your............??? -gestures towards groin- it doesn't just hang out???#Tuvok: Why would my genitalia be ....out?????? when not copulating???#[they both think this has been a gigantic embarrassing mistake - L's all around]#Vulcans wearing thermal underwear aboard starships is canon to me #Tuvok turns around to go back to [wherever] and Love Interest gets a view of his ass in leggings and is like hol' up....maybe this is good #actually I love your nerd underwear for geeks Tuvok v_v don't turn around again though #'except T'Pel' bc she'd obviously know + she can see past it #I refuse to believe that Vulcan dicks are just like humans....think bigger...think ball-less #and when I say bigger I do NOT mean size-wise. I mean out of the box. Throw the box right out.#Tuvok sees human balls for the first time - just THERE dick OUT and deflated and has to really struggle between not laughing and not gagging #being an ensign is tough. You have to fight the urge to have your eyes cartoon-pop out of your head when you see weird genitals #enough human's being like 'wow your junk is weird but I can work with it' and more aliens doing that - I think its very funny #Anyway. Tuvok's a ken doll down there unless its go-time. That's MY truth and I'm glad you came down here in the tags to learn it.#Me: -does not have access to drawing Tuvok on my computer 1 singular day-#Me: Time for this post #for some reason I just cannot imagine Tuvok wearing socks on the day to day basis....it just feels weird to me #socks do not feel like they are typical for Vulcans to wear

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anastasiabeiste · 1 year ago

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Ana: Lol it's okay! You tried, and it's very much appreciated! Hadley suggested I just wait and see what fits the bird's personality so that's what I'm going. But thank you so much for helping out! Ana: Well, if you go in the winter, make sure to take extra layers too! That helps, and I've also found thermal socks work wonders when you're having trouble really keeping warm. At least for me they do, but I'm usually indoors. But no, I think I did everything I had planned. I just took it easy, spent time with my friends. I can't say there was anything else I really planned on. Ana: I get that! They say some funny things when they're just learning to talk. I had this one kid that couldn't say octopus correctly, he called it something that sounded closer to otter pop and it was just the cutest thing.

Andy: Maybe do a cross of both names? Like Ari Lipa? I don't know. I'm not too good with this stuff lol Andy: Just everything really. Between football camp and stuff, I wanted to do more camping for sure. I love to camp and just the peaceful aspect of it. I don't mind camping in the winter. I just make sure to take the dogs with me when I do for extra warmth. Anything you didn't get to do over the summer break? Andy: It's interesting for sure. I don't know what goes through these kids heads at times, and I do my best not to laugh at some of the hilarious things that they say.

#text #text: andy #ft. andy puckerman

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hollowslantern · 2 years ago

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Out of the mercs who is most and least likely to wear silly pajamas

YOU UNDERSTAND ME SO WELL THANK YOU FOR ASKING

okso right off the bat I can tell you spy is the least likely to wear a silly pajamas. he would maybe wear a (high quality made with the finest materials) pj set perhaps even with a (mature and stylish) silly pattern but in his heart of hearts hes a silk boxer briefs guy. a bathrobe guy. a lavish nightgown guy. a negligee guy.

pyro is 100% living the silly pajamas life. while perhaps not actual pajamas this cosmetic is called The Cats Pajamas and it's beautiful. would wear a kigurumi

sniper is actually most likely to prefer sleeping nude but in his line of work (everyone trying to kill you all the time) he can't do that with the peace of mind of knowing you're not going to be forced out of bed with no notice. actually i think he would be pretty unbothered by this because in a life or death situation his outfit or lack thereof has no bearing on his ability to shoot and stab people. but the others hate it and have threatened violence if he doesn't stop showing up to intruder alerts as if they're pussy out events. so he wears boxers. or thermal underwear if its cold. I think he travels pretty light and so probably doesn't buy himself jammies, but if he got some silly pajamas as a gift he would wear them.

he also has the cammy jammies and conspicuous camouflage which I do adore. it's cold out imma wear ma jamas

medic and heavy (do not separate them) are ALREADY wearing silly pajamas which has given life to maybe my favorite image in the WORLD.

you fucking woke them up. im like obsessed with these cosmetics though they're so beautiful. they're so bert and ernie

scout in his ideal world is wearing superhero pajamas, but out of his deep desire to get laid he mostly refrains and wears cool jammies. like boxers with flames on them or something. very likely to wear silly jammies but act like doing so is too lame for him .

demoman is primarily rocking the old t shirt + pajama pants look, definitely with some silly designs going on. silly pajama sets might not be his first choice, but he'll gladly wear them.

soldier would... honestly probably wear anything, like hes not the picky type about sleepwear. he'd sleep in his uniform even. but that's no fun. i think he'd wear a scrooge nightgown WITH the nightcap and slippers.

and last but not least is engie. he seems to me like a real heart pattern boxers and undershirt guy. but I wouldn't rule out his capability of wearing like, a wrench patterned 2 piece set or something fun like that.

BUT!!! if i had to assign each of the mercs only one of the following three classic pajama sets, based on what would be really funny (though they all would be) without going too much against character, I would give them the following.

scrooge nightgown and cap: soldier, pyro, spy, sniper

cotton striped pj's with bunny slippers: medic, heavy

heart pattern boxers and undershirt with socks: scout, engie, demoman

#asks #tf2 #i wanted to do even 3 3 3 but everyone who gets scrooge belongs nowhere else nothing is funnier

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago

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June Contest Submission #8: A Real Howler in July

Words: ca. 5,500

Setting: modern AU

Lemon: no

CW: none

Was there anything worse than inclement weather?

Anna didn’t think so.

Not at this very moment anyway, buried nearly up to the waist in snow as she was. She hefted her ski pole out of the drift behind her with a grunt and plunged it haphazardly into the snow ahead of her. The screaming winds cut through her hard shell jacket like it was made of tissue paper and Anna’s body locked up while trying to shiver violently at the same time. Slush had gotten into the boots a size too big for her, squelching against her socks in an icy, soggy mess. The forest of dark pines offered scant protection against the swirling flurries that obscured her vision in a confetti of white.

Snow, in July.

That was supposed to be a joke, just something people said— not a real thing. Wasn’t it? Anna was just grateful she’d chanced upon that bizarre store in the middle of the woods, otherwise she’d be doing this in jean shorts and a tank top.

Oaken’s Trading Post (and Sauna)— that’s what the sign had said. It looked like any other cabin, but inside was a shop, sure enough. Anna had been greeted by a large man behind the counter in a thick wool sweater, suspenders, and an impressive mutton chop-mustache combo. This was the titular Oaken.

The big, tall Norwegian in the loud sweater had given her a funny look when Anna explained why she was there and who she’d rented her cabin from. “Kristoff did not say anything when you booked those dates?”

Wait, he knew this would happen?! What the hell!

Anna shook her head, failing to repress a full-body shiver as the heat of the shop started to thaw her out. Oaken clucked his tongue. “I swear, that boy. If it is not ice he is very clueless. I told him, ja? I told him he should not put his place on the line for strangers to use.”

Anna pressed her lips together, fighting a smile at the term “on the line”. She eyed the brick of a monitor behind the register that looked like it might be a gateway computer, and wondered if he still had dial-up. Or internet, period.

Oaken caught her looking and shook his head. “No service up here now, phone or computer.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any winter appropriate clothing here?”

Oaken gave her a wry look and gestured to the back of the shop. Their “winter” selection looked very sad indeed. “Not many tourists come to the mountain. Even those in the town stay away in July,” he said as Anna surveyed her options in disappointment.

Well, fine. It wasn’t ideal, but Anna wasn’t about to give up. She slapped her wallet down on the counter. “Whatever you got? I’ll take it.”

The sum total of what Oaken had was a bright fuchsia hard shell jacket, boots in a size 9 (she was a size 8), blue ski pants, gloves, a wool hat, and five pairs of long underwear. She took it all.

Anna looked longingly at the sauna as he was ringing her up, but she couldn’t risk losing daylight. She settled for taking some extra time in the toasty changing room, putting on three pairs of long underwear (she couldn’t get the last two on without going up a size), and every other article of clothing that would fit under her new jacket. Everything else was shoved into her backpack.

Oaken kindly lent her his own ski poles, the caveat being that she return them on her way back.

Anna stood on the deck, looking out at the frozen landscape. She didn’t have much experience with this kind of weather, but that wasn’t going to stop her. One thing Anna wasn’t, was a quitter. She was going to find this damn cabin if it was the last thing she did.

What started as heavy snowfall soon escalated into a full blizzard. Anna kept herself going by composing a strongly worded review for Kristoff’s Airbnb in her head, one that got more acerbic with each step.

So. Here she was: three hours from Oaken’s, slush in her boots, pushing her way forward by kicking through the drift she’d sunk down. Anna could practically feel the blood freezing in her veins, suffocating the vital warmth that kept her functioning. She’d been seeing the markers Kristoff said would be there, but each one was taking longer to find.

Anna unstuck her foot from the snow and took a giant step, pitching forward heavily. That was a mistake. The drift crumbled beneath her and she went down, tumbling head over heels through a sloping copse of trees until she rolled to a stop in a small clearing. Face first, of course.

Weakly she pushed herself up, casting about for the ski poles. They had landed close by, and as she fumbled for them something caught her eye: a warm contrast against the frigid, grey landscape. There, at the edge of the clearing, was an honest to god cabin, with smoke puffing from the chimney and brightly lit windows shining like a beacon against the dark.

She’d made it.

Anna stumbled towards it, the tantalizing promise of warmth so close it made her whole body ache. The wind surged around her the closer she got, forcing Anna to swerve into it just to stay upright. She struggled up the stairs; leaning heavily on her poles. Leveraging herself onto the porch, she shuffled to the door, practically collapsing against it.

It was locked. No key under the mat where there should’ve been. Seriously? Anna let the ski pole dangle from her wrist as she raised her fist and brought it down heavily on the door. “Is anyone in there?” She called out. “Please I just need to get out of the storm!”

She couldn’t hear anything over the wind and no one came to the door.

Anna knocked again.

Nothing.

Anna continued knocking, and the blizzard grew stronger, as if it took personal offense to her presence.

There had to be someone in there— Anna was pounding on the door now. “Please open up! I promise I’m not a murderer or anything!” She winced. Great sell Anna, that definitely won’t creep them out, because real murderers never say that. “Please, I’m supposed to be staying in Kristoff’s cabin and this is the only one around, and I’m really going to freeze out here if you don’t—”

The door swung open and Anna almost toppled to the floor. She grabbed for her ski pole and braced it against the deck. A waft of warm air curled around her exposed face and Anna looked up to see who had come to the door.

Woah.

Okay so a model was using the cabin. Cool. Neat.

The woman who stood there looked like the poster child for Nordic beauty, with long, braided platinum hair and shocking blue eyes. She was dressed surprisingly light (or so Anna thought) in an oversized, cable knit sweater and black leggings, no socks. Anna guessed she was about her age, maybe a little older—possibly mid to late twenties.

The wind gave another disembodied wail, and Anna gestured inside. “Um, can I…?”

The woman stared at her, but after a beat stepped aside silently to allow her in.

Anna breathed a thank you as she trekked inside, basking with unspeakable relief in the heat and abrupt stillness from the absence of raging wind and snow. She turned around to find the other woman watching her from the door, leaning her back against it with one hand clasped around the knob. “So…who are you?”

“I believe I should be the one asking you that.”

The woman had a point, though Anna still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not this was the cabin she’d rented from Kristoff, and maybe he’d double booked it or something. She wouldn’t put it past him.

“Sorry— yeah, I’m Anna.” She gave her a big smile, but her companion remained poker-faced. “I rented a cabin from a guy named Kristoff Bjorgman, on Airbnb? He, uh, never mentioned I should expect snow, which seems like a pretty big oversight, all things considered.” She looked pointedly out the window.

The woman closed her eyes at that and sighed.

“I take it you know him?”

“Yes.”

“So…is this not his cabin then?”

“It is not.”

“Okay…”

The woman gave Anna a wide berth as she moved away from the door to the nearest window, peering out at the squall.

“You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, yeah, of course I shouldn’t. I should be in my own cabin, the one I rented,” Anna said lightly, watching her reluctant hostess wring her hands. She seemed unduly nervous, even allowing that she’d been intruded upon by a stranger in the middle of nowhere.

“Could I…? I mean,” Anna let out a nervous little laugh, “you’re not going to make me go out in that and try to find my way in the dark right?”

She looked at Anna as if seeing her for the first time. The wind screamed, rattling the windows in their frames. “No… of course not.” She swallowed visibly. “I’ll…,” she gazed around the cabin as if it were the first time she was seeing that too, like Anna’s presence had thrown her whole life out of orbit and everything she knew was now foreign.

She took Anna in from head to toe— in all of her frozen, slowly melting glory. A trickle of thawed snow slipped down the back of Anna’s neck and she shuddered.

“You need to get warm,”she said gravely.

“Yes please,” Anna exhaled gratefully. “Um, sorry I still don’t know your name.”

“My name is Elsa.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I’ll run you a bath. You can leave your boots and jacket by the door.” With that, she was off down a hallway and out of sight.

“Thank you!” Anna called after her, quickly shedding her outer layers. Well, this wasn’t the worst development in the world.

Anna let out a dreamy sigh and sank lower in the tub. Steam drifted in lazy tendrils from the surface of the water and her eyelids were getting heavy. Before she fell asleep, Anna dragged herself from the bath and stuffed herself into her last two pairs of long thermal underwear. Elsa had graciously provided her a cable knit sweater and fleece joggers.

She came out of the bathroom and wandered into the living room just as Elsa finished tucking a sheet into the couch. She stacked an enormous pile of blankets on the cushions. “I would give you the bed, but I think you need the fire more. Hopefully it’s comfortable enough.” She looked up and stopped at the sight of Anna.

Anna ran a hand through her damp hair, suddenly nervous under Elsa’s attention. “I know, I look a little different when I’m not rocking the half-frozen rat look.”

Elsa’s lips curled faintly. “It’s not a bad different. And you’re not the worst half-frozen specimen I’ve seen.”

Anna chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” She collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the nest of blankets. Her body was utterly exhausted, but the physical exertion coupled with the muscle memory of getting warm after so much cold left her tingling pleasantly down to her bones. “Oh that’s nice.”

“There’s some hot chocolate, if you’d like.” Elsa indicated the steaming mug on the coffee table.

Anna almost lunged for it. She took a careful sip, and burned her tongue anyway. “Oh, you’re an angel.” For being so reticent to let Anna stay, Elsa was incredibly hospitable.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Elsa said. She turned to go but hesitated. “He really put his cabin on Airbnb?”

“Mhmm,” Anna hummed the affirmative as she took another gulp, watching Elsa’s face.

Elsa shook her head and murmured something that sounded like he should know better. “Perhaps he confused the dates.”

Again with the dates. It was starting to give her an inkling, like she’d wandered into an episode of the twilight zone. Her host was half way out of the room when Anna popped her head over the back of the couch. “Elsa?”

She turned back. “Yes?”

“Thank you, seriously. If I hadn’t found your cabin and you hadn’t let me in… I don’t know what would have happened.”

A look Anna couldn’t interpret passed over Elsa’s face. She nodded once. “Goodnight Anna. Sleep well.”

“Night,” Anna said to Elsa’s retreating back.

Elsa barely slept, too anxious and distressed by the foreign presence in her living room. There shouldn’t be anyone on this mountain right now, let alone someone a handful of meters away in her cabin. The night of tossing and turning, of pacing, had only made it worse and she was completely unsurprised, yet bitterly disappointed the next morning when she came into the kitchen and found the window half obstructed by snow. There was nothing she could do at this point to mitigate the storm.

They were trapped.

Elsa had no idea if Anna could survive the cold that was coming.

One coffee later Anna stumbled in, tousled and groggy. Elsa set a fresh filter in the carafe. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” Anna mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She’d draped herself in a blanket, only her face peaking out. The effect was quite endearing, a little childlike, and Elsa reminded herself sharply that Anna was still a stranger, and her situation could soon be perilous.

“Well, you didn’t murder me in my sleep, so I think it could be worse.”

Anna cocked her head in confusion.

“You shouted yesterday while you were trying to knock my door down that you were not ‘a murderer or anything’,” Elsa clarified, pouring a steaming kettle over the coffee grounds.

Anna laughed sheepishly. “You heard that huh?”

Elsa allowed herself a small smile. “I did.”

“Well it’s true, I’m not.” She grinned, but it slipped off her face when she saw the window. “Oh my god, all that is from last night?”

Elsa clenched her jaw as Anna moved closer to it, gaping out over the white barricade to the sky furiously hurling snow. “Still coming down too…”

“Yes,” Elsa said tightly, pouring muesli into two bowls. “We won’t be able to leave the cabin until the storm is over.”

Anna sighed and sat down heavily in her chair. “There goes my deposit.”

After breakfast they gravitated towards separate activities. Anna returned to the nest of blankets on the couch and checked her phone, which was dwindling at 5% battery. When she asked about charging it Elsa informed her there was no electricity; the cabin was only equipped with a propane tank to heat the water, and power the stove and the fridge.

They were roughing it…sort of.

Elsa checked the cabin meticulously, fixing blankets over the windows for insulation, cataloguing her supplies, and lighting candles on practically every available surface.

It was quite cozy, and Anna was happy to doze intermittently while her body recovered from lingering jet lag and her frozen hike.

Conversation between them was sparse, but Anna put it down to Elsa’s clear anxiety over the state of things and decided not to take it personally.

—

Anna shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, wrapping Elsa’s thick wool cardigan across her chest, over the borrowed sweater. She stopped.

“Weren’t there five chairs here yesterday?”

“Hmm?” Elsa murmured absently while layering peppered salami on a tray next to a neat row of jarlsburg slices. Anna noticed she made sure to put the pickled herring with dill in a separate bowl; it turned out Anna was not a fan.

“The chairs,” Anna pointed to the empty side of the table. “Are we …missing some?”

Elsa glanced up at the breakfast nook as she plated a handful of rye slices. She turned to check on the potatoes boiling on the stove, brushing her hands on her apron. “I’m using them elsewhere.”

Anna shrugged and went to set the table. They only needed two after all.

By midday, Anna was getting a little antsy.

“If the snow wasn’t so high— and there wasn’t a raging blizzard, obviously— we could be building snowmen right now,” Anna said wistfully, holding aside the blanket to gaze out at the narrow strip of murky white sky. Only a few inches remained between the drift and the top of the window.

“I know!” Anna spun around. “Do you have any paper and something to draw with?”

Elsa looked baffled by the request, but retrieved a notebook and a couple of pencils for her. Anna tore out some blank pages, waving Elsa to sit down across from her. “Okay, so since we can’t go outside and build real snowmen, we can at least make some this way.” Elsa glanced from the paper to Anna, looking unconvinced. Anna shrugged. “We have to pass the time somehow right?”

“Alright.”

It took some doing at first; Elsa kept getting lost in the middle distance while she tapped her pencil anxiously against the table. With enough prodding from Anna though, she got into it and by the time dinner rolled around they had a small army of 2D snow people.

Anna’s second favorite was a delightfully monstrous snow creature Elsa had sketched with precise strokes and deft shading. Her first was undeniably goofy but charming; squat and awkwardly shaped, with big eyes and a bucktoothed grin. That one they’d made together, with Elsa illustrating while Anna directed her and offered suggestions.

They named him Olaf and Anna thought he was perfect.

After dinner they sat by the fire, sipping mulled wine Elsa heated for them on the stove. Anna was grateful for the added warmth and the pleasant buzz.

“It’s just so crazy you guys have a blizzard in July,” Anna said suddenly, voicing the thought that had been a constant, giant question mark. “Every year! What even is that?”

Elsa set her glass aside and leaned back in the chair, cradling her arms across her stomach. “It’s just something that happens here. Though, if it has to happen I think July is probably the best time.”

“How could summer be the right time for snow?”

Elsa shifted and bit her lip. “We already have harsh winters here, a snowstorm like this on top of that would be even more dangerous. Better one briefly interrupts July and then everyone has the rest of summer to enjoy, don’t you think?”

Anna could admit that sort of made sense. Still, it wasn’t any less weird.

—

On day three Anna was up to three sweaters, a blanket, and two pairs of sweat pants. Elsa was down to a fitted henley and jeans. She was beginning to wonder if Elsa would give her the last shirt off her back if it came to it, and that mental image got Anna flustered enough to feel like shedding layers instead of adding them.

She amused herself by exploring the cabin— at least, the areas that weren’t private. Elsa had a few intriguing nicknacks, but what captured Anna’s attention were the two bookcases next to the fireplace. Books of all kinds lined the shelves; in English, Norwegian, and other languages she couldn’t place. There were novels, and textbooks, and books so old she didn’t dare touch them.

Later, after Elsa had finished her bath, Anna persuaded her to read from one with a deep blue cover and silver leaf embossing. It was clear by the illustrations they were fairytales, though she couldn’t understand any of them. Anna quickly discovered she could listen to the smooth lilt of Elsa’s mother tongue forever, but before long her eyes had closed and the soft norwegian story trailed off with her consciousness.

When she woke, Elsa was still curled up in the armchair, reading silently. Anna stretched and plodded over to the fireplace. She grabbed the fire iron and prodded at the remaining wood, making sure it was all lit. One of the logs cracked and split in a pop of sparks, and something beneath it caught her eye. Anna leaned closer; it was oddly smooth and cylindrical, and just there was an intricately carved pattern like—

The chairs in the kitchen.

So that’s where they went.

Clearly Elsa had some strange immunity to the cold, and she hadn’t bothered to stockpile more wood for herself even though she new the storm was coming.

She’d been burning her own furniture to keep Anna warm.

Anna looked over at the woman, still completely absorbed by the book in her lap. Another small piece of the enigmatic puzzle that was Elsa fell into place; one that made Anna’s chest feel tight, and warm, and a little achy.

Elsa glanced up then and noticed her staring. She blinked. “What?”

Anna cleared her throat and stood up, brushing her hands on the back of her pants. It felt important to let Elsa have this secret. She put on a reassuring smile. “Nothing. Can I make you some hot chocolate?”

Elsa smiled. “Yes, please.”

That night Elsa actually joined Anna on the couch, curling into the opposite corner while they started their second glass of mulled wine.

“So why do you come up here all by yourself? And during weather like this, no less?”

Elsa’s lips twisted in a way that was difficult to read. “I’m not bothered by the cold,” she said, confirming the obvious. “And I’m not always good at being around other people.”

“You’re an introvert.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that.” Elsa swirled the wine in her glass. “After a while the world gets too loud and I need to be alone, completely. I come here to get away and try to let go of all the things that build up. All the reasons I can’t be…normal.”

Anna leaned her head back into the cushions, tilting her face towards Elsa. “Normal is overrated, and there’s nothing wrong with needing space. You gotta get those feelings out somehow.”

“Sometimes I think I feel too much.”

“Better than too little.”

Elsa hummed noncommittally. Anna could feel her starting to withdraw, and searched for some way to hold on to this unexpectedly open side of Elsa. “I think that was my ex’s problem.”

Elsa looked up. “Oh?”

“Yup,” she said, popping her lips on the ‘p’. “Too shallow. Took me a year to figure it out, and that was only as he was leaving me. It was a great reminder of why I prefer dating women,” she muttered into her glass.

She inhaled and continued past the bitterness. “It’s one of the reasons I made this trip actually— well that and the vet clinic where I work shutting down. A little hard to start your own practice in a big city that already has plenty. I guess I was feeling a little adrift, and my aunt and uncle always talked about showing me the place where they grew up, so I thought: why not? Though technically they’re from Fevik, not Arendal, but Fevik doesn’t have much to offer in the way of rentals.”

“Why would anyone leave you?”

Dammit. She was hoping Elsa wouldn’t focus too closely on her love troubles. Anna chuckled humorlessly. “When he broke up with me he said, and I quote: ‘Anna, you’re great, but you’re just too much’.”

She shrugged and took a liberal sip. It didn’t matter that Hans had casually flung her deepest insecurity in her face right before he walked out the door forever. Even if he hadn’t been the best partner, and she hadn’t been happy towards the end.

It was fine.

“You are a lot.”

Elsa quickly reached for her hand when she saw the look of hurt Anna couldn’t hide, surprising them both. For a moment it seemed like she might pull away, but she squeezed Anna’s hand instead. “I didn’t say you were too much. You are a lot of a good thing.” Elsa withdrew her hand and cupped it around her wine glass, staring into the burgundy liquid. “Some people don’t deserve that,” she finished quietly.

It must have been the alcohol sloshing in her stomach and the fumes muddying her brain that made Anna say, into a silence suddenly heavy with nebulous meaning: “Why do I feel like we’re not just talking about my ex anymore?”

Elsa sucked in a breath, as if she hadn’t realized her words would be so revealing. She set her glass down on the coffee table then tucked her feet under her, grabbing a pillow and holding it to her chest while she picked at the fringe.

Anna knew her brain had fully turned off her filter when her mouth continued to work, seemingly of its own volition. “Don’t you deserve good things Elsa?”

Elsa curled herself tighter around the pillow, her eyes seeking answers in the embers of their small fire. The cabin groaned as the storm surged around them. “I’m not sure I do,” she whispered.

Anna felt her heart break, just a little, at that soft admission.

“I think that’s bullshit.”

Elsa looked at her, startled. “You barely know me.”

Anna thought of chair legs and hot chocolate, of warm baths and borrowed clothes— of how she’d never experienced so much cold in her life, and she’d never felt so warm either. The way Elsa humored her, not because Anna was a burden or an obligation, but because she seemed to actually enjoy her company. “I think I know enough. And I’m sure anyone would be fantastically lucky to have you in their life. I know I am.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters you saved me from freezing to death out there.”

Elsa shook her head. “You wouldn’t have been in danger of that if I—” she clamped her lips shut.

“If you what?”

“If I… had checked with Kristoff before he listed his cabin.”

Anna frowned. “That’s hardly your fault, Elsa. It was his mistake. Besides it’s not like you can control the weather.”

Elsa flinched. A thread pulled free from the pillow; she laid it carefully on the arm of the couch. “No… I suppose I can’t.”

“Hey.” Anna extended her leg across the couch and nudged the bottom of her foot against Elsa’s. “I’ve always wanted to experience getting snowed in. I’m glad it was with you.”

Elsa’s smile was bittersweet.

But still there, and Anna took that as a win.

They finished the rest of their wine in companionable silence as the fire burned down and the night grew deeper. Elsa got up to take the empty glasses to the kitchen.

“We’re out of wood.”

“What?” Elsa spun slowly to see Anna squatting by the fireplace. There was nothing left but ash. Elsa had been so distracted by Anna, the wine, and the conversation, that she’d forgotten to find more to salvage, and she’d left Anna without a source of heat.

This was what happened when Elsa wasn’t careful, when she wasn’t in control of herself —

“We should sleep together.”

Elsa nearly dropped the glasses.

“What?”

“Oh my g— n-no! Not like that!” Anna flushed scarlet. “I meant like, for warmth.” She pulled her blanket around herself and looked everywhere but at Elsa.

Elsa’s pulse slowed a fraction, and she tried to ignore the unexpected whisper of heat low in her stomach. It dissipated instantly when she registered what Anna was suggesting. “Anna, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not…I…I run quite cold, I’d probably make it worse—”

“Then I’ll just have to warm you up.” Anna stopped, her face burning again. “I meant like— oh whatever, you know what I mean.” She came and liberated the glasses from Elsa, setting them in the kitchen sink. Elsa protested weakly as Anna grabbed her hand and marched towards the bedroom, but it seemed she remained powerless to the force of nature that was Anna.

“Wait.” She tugged on Anna’s hand. “Let me at least get the blankets.”

While Anna got ready, Elsa layered back all the bedding she’d stripped away that first night, grateful Anna hadn’t commented on the fact that she’d been sleeping with nothing but a fitted sheet.

When Anna returned she quickly flung herself under the covers; Elsa climbed in reluctantly on the other side, staying as close to the edge as possible. After a minute Anna pushed the covers down and looked over at her.

“Okay, I’m not saying you have to spoon me, but it’s going to be a little difficult to share heat from way over there.”

Elsa bit her lip and slid closer, heart pounding. She felt like Anna was asking her to hand over a live grenade. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to anyone.

“Liiittle closer,” Anna coaxed. Elsa got as close as she dared, still leaving about 20 centimeters of space between them. She drew up the covers more securely, trying to insulate Anna against the cold, against her. As she tucked another blanket around them, her hand brushed Anna’s arm.

Anna shivered. “Geez you’re cold.” She latched onto her wrist before Elsa could react, pulling her closer. “You must be freezing,” she muttered, running her palm back and forth over Elsa’s forearm.

Elsa was frozen; her whole body had gone rigid, while her heart had leaped into her throat. Anna had pulled her closer as if that would bring them heat, and now she was worried about Elsa being warm enough. The irony was excruciating. But Anna’s grip was strong, and Elsa felt a twisted flair of hope; that perhaps, just this once, she might be capable of more than cold.

Anna shuffled back drowsily into her arms and Elsa held her breath, waiting for the worst. Minutes went by and nothing happened; Anna sank into the pillow with a sigh, still holding onto her. Tentatively, Elsa began to relax, as fragile hope turned to wonder.

Anna hadn’t turned away.

At every turn Anna had been reaching out, even when Elsa was reserved, or anxious, or closed off. Anna kept drawing her out, kept intriguing and surprising her.

Anna had felt the cold, her cold, and she reached for Elsa anyway.

In that moment it didn’t matter that Anna wasn’t aware of the whole truth— yet, because after the last few days with this woman, Elsa was confident that Anna wouldn’t have done a thing differently.

The last thing Elsa knew was a soft snore, and the feel of Anna against her, and then she knew nothing else.

—

The first thing Elsa became aware of, was warmth. Heavy warmth, and a body in her arms, and breath on her neck. She inhaled slowly, soaking in each incredible, hazy sensation. It took a few moments for Elsa’s brain to remember who was in bed with her, and who it was nuzzling closer with a sweet sigh. Her pulse jump started, and for once, not out of fear. It seemed Anna was fine—more than, in fact— and Elsa was greedy for every last moment before the inevitable.

After a few minutes the spell broke as Anna stirred groggily, pressing her face into the pillow with a murmur. One eye opened and landed on Elsa. It grew wider when Anna realized just how close they were and she quickly disentangled herself, cheeks flushed bright red. “Oops, sorry, I uh, I can be a little clingy when I share a bed.”

Elsa struggled with the near physical ache begging her to pull Anna back to her arms, a sensation as terrifying as it was foreign, as baffling as it was undeniable. “It’s alright,” she said softly, her own face feeling a little hot.

She watched Anna hop out of bed and go to the window to throw open the curtains, seemingly more out of habit than anything else.

Anna gasped. “No. Way. Elsa! You have to see this—you’re not gonna believe it!”

Elsa frowned and joined her apprehensively at the window. She peered out, and lost her breath.

Nearly all the snow was gone.

Only a thin layer remained on the ground, melting under the bright sunlight. Large swathes of grass were showing, triumphant and sparkling in the fading frost.

Anna bumped her hip against Elsa’s. “Isn’t this great?! We can go outside! We can stock up on supplies, I can wear my clothes again— not that I don’t like yours— Oh, we could have a picnic! Kristoff said there was a lake nearby, I wonder if Oaken has a boat…“

Anna continued spouting ideas as she left the room, and Elsa registered distantly that all Anna’s haphazard plans involved her. The sharp little anxiety at the thought of having to say goodbye died before it could take root.

Elsa remained at the window, dazed and transfixed by the landscape that had been altered so drastically overnight.

Or perhaps, had been four days in the making.

Anna rushed back in, finally having realized Elsa wasn’t following her. She grabbed Elsa by the hand and led her outside, where they came to a stop in the grass just past the porch. They stood, absorbing the sunlight, the gentle breeze and the birdsong. Anna still had ahold of her hand, and Elsa was content to keep it there for as long as she’d let her.

The sun blazed forth from behind a passing cloud, and Anna shaded her eyes with her free hand. “It seems like that freak storm really has passed huh?”

A smile pulled at Elsa’s lips and she looked up into the vivid blue sky. “So it would seem.”

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm

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chamomileteainabuttercup · 3 years ago

Text

Dincobb Week Day 3 - New Experiences (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have two pieces, an SFW and an NSFW - the NSFW is scheduled to post an hour after this one.

New Experiences

Cobb keeps on saying he’s been cold before, it gets bitter cold out in the desert at night, and Din has kept on telling him that yes, that’s cold, but it’s not ice and snow cold, and if he’s going to take him on a trip he needs Cobb to trust him about the appropriate clothing.

He does need thermals, he does need thick wool socks, he does need a heavy parka, wool cap and mittens.

“What about you?” Cobb asks. “You may be wearing thermals under your suit, but I don’t see a parka.”

“I’m used to making do without one,” says Din, “but I have higher standards for you.”

“Have ‘em for yourself too, then.”

“All right then. I will.”

“Just see that you do.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Din says, smiling inside his helmet.

“I’m the boss of everyone, they just don’t know it yet,” says Cobb with a cocky grin.

Boss or not, he’s got Din to wear a parka over his beskar, which he doesn’t altogether like to do. The shiny breastplate is for show as well as for function. A symbolic declaration of identity and values. Well, everyone can still see the helmet, and he compromised on cutting off the parka sleeves just above the elbow so his vambraces are free and functional. This is meant to be a pleasure trip, just to show Cobb a different world as a treat, but he’s still not about to go anywhere without ready access to his grappling hook, flamethrower and whistling birds. Safety first.

He lands the small ship he’s borrowed from Boba on a small, flat-topped hill overlooking a frozen lake, its edges frosted white and its heart a turquoise blue. In fact, if you’re generous with your aesthetics, the lake is sort of heart-shaped. He wonders if Cobb will notice and appreciate that. They lower the landing ramp and step outside into a brilliantly sunny day. The air out here is so cold and crisp it stings your face. Cobb actually gasps. Din gives him a few moments to walk to the bottom of the ramp, then slowly, carefully, extend one foot and put it down and feel the crunch and squish of the snow under his boot.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s weird!” says Cobb enthusiastically. He sees his own breath condensing on the air and huffs out another cloud of warm mist. Then, “Ow.” He puts his mittened hand to his ear.

“You forgot to take out your earring?” Din asks.

“I was excited to see the snow,” Cobb says sheepishly. “And I love it. You gave it to me.” It’s the beskar dart tip from a whistling bird and Cobb is almost comically proud of how it looks glinting in his earlobe.

“Well, it’s gonna get real cold and I don’t want you to get frostbite. Hold still,” Din says. He pulls off his gloves, gives them to Cobb to hold and carefully removes the already chilly earring. He pulls up one of the hook-and-loop flaps of Cobb’s parka pockets, tucks the earring firmly down inside, presses it closed, then pulls Cobb’s wool cap down to cover his ears properly. “There.”

“This hat is crushing my hair,” Cobb grumps.

“A Mandalorian helmet couldn’t unpretty your hair, but you think a toque will?” Din asks, pulling his gloves back on.

“Aw, Mando, you think I’m pretty?” Cobb beams at him, more radiant than the sunshine on the snow crust.

“C’mon,” Din says, embarrassed. He does think Cobb is pretty but he has too little experience of romance to be able to say it smoothly. He grabs Cobb’s hand and pulls him along, heading down the slope towards the lake. Cobb slips and flounders and laughs. He starts to lurch forward, catches himself and throws himself backward, landing on his butt and then flopping on his back with his arms outstretched. “Come on,” says Din, with a chuckle. He reaches down and pulls Cobb up to his feet, leaving his outline in the snow.

“Hey, look at that!” says Cobb, twisting to look back. “It really takes a print, doesn’t it? Not like dry sand at all. It’s so crazy that this is water.” He scoops up a mittenful and crumbles it around.

“Try squeezing it,” says Din. Cobb squashes the snow between his palms. “See how it compacts? It’ll hold together.” He’s remembering the short period his first covert spent living someplace very like this, a little compound in the snowy woods. Unlike most covert locations, it offered both secrecy and open space for children to run and play. The snow forts they built and the snowball battles they fought were both educational for warriors in the making and tremendous fun for a motley assortment of kids in hand-me-down winter clothes and soft training helmets. The snow was the first thing that brought him out of his shell to play with the others. Up to then he had been his foster father’s shadow, dumb with sorrow, until finally the sight of them running, shouting, flinging snow had sparked his attention.

Buir had seen where he was looking as Din stood beside him holding tightly a fistful of his cape. He’d looked down at Din, his helmet impassive, nothing like his lost parents’ dark, expressive eyes and smiling, talking mouths. But there was something kind in the tilt of his head, and he gently jerked it in the direction of the romping foundlings. Buir barely spoke because his larynx had been crushed in a fight years before. Rather than speaking through the mic in his helmet, he would hold a little electrolarynx device to his throat when he really needed to speak aloud, but more often than not he used a modified sign language, finding it more convenient. That was what he told Din back then, but thinking on it now, he’s fairly sure Buir switched to relying on signing because the electrolarynx made him sound a lot like a droid, and he saw how uncomfortable that made the child he’d picked up. He didn’t need to say “Go on”; Din understood, and after hesitating a moment longer, he released his grip on the crumpled fabric and ventured out to play.

That was the day he learned to make snowballs, and it’s something he can teach Cobb now, how to press and mould the snow between cupped palms, how to roll it down the slope, picking up more and more snow as it went, turning it between the two of them to keep its shape even and rounded. It makes them both laugh just out of happiness and satisfaction. Cobb’s cheeks and nose are flushed a sweet rosy pink. His eyes are bright, their hazel colour almost gold where the sharp sunlight catches it, and he’s altogether so lovely a sight that Din is glad his face is hidden and he can stare as openly and foolishly as he wants.

Together they build a snowman where the ground flattens out; he gets an idea and labours back up the hill in the sliding snow into the ship’s hold and brings back a bucket to mould its head into a snow Mandalorian. After that success they make their way down to the lake, and after Din checks how solid the ice is, they venture out on its surface, skidding around a little. Cobb keeps grabbing hold of his hand, and although it actually makes both of them a bit less stable, Din’s happy to let him. When Din asks, “You want to try sliding?” he’s immediately game. They run and slide on foot, on knees, and on a few accidental occasions on their asses until they’re out of breath and glowing with warmth. It occurs to Din that apart from a little light Grogu-entertaining, he hasn’t really played in years. He still knows how, though. Panting and laughing, they stagger off the ice and begin making their way back up the hill, wallowing in the knee-deep snow, helping each other up by reaching down from above or by pushing from below (hands on butts). At the top they look back at their chaotic trail across the formerly perfect snowscape.

“What do you think of it now?” Din asks.

“It’s fantastic,” says Cobb. “I couldn’t have imagined what it’s really like. And there’s no one I’d rather be here with than you.” He throws his arms around Din and, to his surprise, kisses him smack-dab on the cheek of his helmet. He can’t feel it, of course, but he enjoys it symbolically, at least for a few moments until it becomes clear that Cobb’s lips are stuck to the frosty metal. He tries to pull away, gives a little muffled cry of panic and pain, and stares helplessly through the eyeslot of Din’s visor. “Hnnh!”

“Dank farrik — it’s okay, hold still. Just — okay, put your hands on the helmet, hold it, take the weight. Got it? Don’t let go or it’ll peel your lips.” He steadies it with his hands too and brings his head and shoulders down, pulling his head out of the helmet. He’s dazzled by the unfiltered bright light for a moment, then gets a proper look at Cobb, scarlet-faced and glaring with anger, confusion and embarrassment, still smooching the helmet. He has to bite his own lip hard not to laugh, but it’s not really funny, he doesn’t want Cobb to get frostbite or tear the skin off his lips. “Stay there,” he says, turns and runs up the ramp into the ship. In the tiny, cramped galley he draws a cup of lukewarm water from the tap, then rushes back, trying not to spill it. “Okay. It’s okay, just hold very still for me, got it?” Carefully, he pours water over the join between lip and metal, while Cobb breathes loud and fast through his nose. After a few moments the icy seal breaks and Cobb is able to gently, carefully peel his lips away from the helmet. They’re very red and they look like they’re sore and stinging. “You don’t look like you’re bleeding anywhere,” Din says hopefully.

Cobb cautiously runs his tongue-tip over his lips and winces. “No, but they feel raw,” he says. “Goddamn that was cold!”

“I think you’ll survive,” Din says.

“Well, sure, I’ll survive,” says Cobb. “But could you kiss ‘em better?”

It seems only fair.

#dincobweek2021 #dincobweek #dincobb week #fanfic

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