#ahhh nervous for this one

[quarantineddreamer]

Ulaf

For @andorappreciation Week 2023! A little backstory for Ulaf 💙 Opening below and complete fic below the cut.

Ulaf was not an innocent man. 

Of course he wasn’t. He was too old to be innocent in a world that was hard, containing “rules” that were arbitrary and ever-changing. 

He committed his first crime when he was no more than 8 years old–and if he was being honest he was surprised it had taken him that long. His stomach was horribly empty, the kind of empty where even the grit of dust on his tongue held a certain sort of appeal. He hadn’t seen his father in over two weeks, a new record. He swiped a piece of fruit from a woman’s bag the moment she set it on the ground to examine another item, and he ran, fast, the wind whistling in his ears like a scream.

His father eventually came home a week after that. He wore the same clothes Ulaf had last seen him in–now patterned with sweat and other mystery stains–reeking of booze, not a credit left in his pockets (not that there had been many to begin with) and a large, greening bruise on his face, the ugly of his insides seeping onto the surface of his flesh. 

A week after that, Ulaf’s father disappeared again, but Ulaf wasn’t too sad about it. This time, he didn’t wait for his father to return. As soon as he realized what had happened, he committed his ninth and tenth crimes (stealing a coat to fend off the cold and a new pair of shoes to keep out the rain). Then, he found a new place to live–in an abandoned building on the outskirts of town. 

Ulaf thought he might have seen his father one more time a year later–the briefest glimpse of a pair of familiar, vacant eyes belonging to a man stumbling out of the cantina–but 6 years after that he realized he had been mistaken, because a stranger walked up to him, clapped a hand on his shoulder and laughed drunkenly as he told Ulaf about a man he’d killed 7 years ago. “You’re the spitting image of him. Miserable bastard…You interested in a bet?”

It was lucky Ulaf possessed not a single thing of value, it wasn’t possible to gamble with nothing.

Or maybe that wasn’t quite true. 

He couldn’t gamble in the way his family had for generations before him, but he gambled in other ways, took risks when he needed to for survival…and when he didn’t need to, because he found something in his veins turned to gold when his heart was pounding, lungs burning, the prickle of danger sending shivers down his spine. 

It was the only time he felt like he was worth something; capable, powerful, above the grime and the muck and the cruelty into which he had been born. It was the only time, that is, until he met Neel. 

When Ulaf was 19 he stumbled upon an open doorway, a pool of warm, yellow light beckoning, the delicate clinking of fine glassware, the easy hum of chatter–not a single voice raised in anger or distress, not a single soul bothered by anything that existed beyond the walls immediately around them. At first he thought he might be dreaming, or else, he’d stumbled upon some strange portal to a parallel universe.

Ulaf walked through the door and into a room drenched in opulence. There was food everywhere, no one was worried about the draft streaming in from the outside, everyone was dressed in beautiful and intricate clothes–a single thread of which Ulaf felt certain was worth more than every bit of fabric cloaking his body. 

No one seemed to notice him, they were too caught up in themselves. Ulaf found an empty bowl–large, ornate, and purple, looking like it had never once been used–and set to work wandering the party, casually scraping food (pastries, fruit, vegetables, meats, all unidentifiable and bite-sized)  into the container.

When the bowl was filled to the rim–practically overflowing, in danger of spilling if not balanced correctly–Ulaf began making his exit, and…locked eyes with a boy–about his age, dressed in worn, ragged clothing the same as him, with short brown hair and a long, skinny frame. 

Ulaf waited a moment, bracing for a shout, for an arm to rise and a finger to point, an outraged glare to appear upon the boy’s face–throw him under the speeder to make his own escape easier. 

But the boy only continued to watch him with curious, gray eyes–the same color as the sky outside. 

Ulaf took a hesitant step towards the door, holding his breath. 

The boy did nothing. 

So, Ulaf continued walking steadily for the exit, clutching his bowl of treasures tighter to his middle and staring straight ahead. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy following him, gaze never lifting from his face as he slipped through the crowd.

For some reason, Ulaf did not feel the need to run. His path intersected with the boy’s at the entrance to the party and they both stopped, silent and still staring.

“You know,” the boy said quietly, looking down at the bowl of food in Ulaf’s arms, “I think that bowl is only for decoration.”

Ulaf blinked in confusion, glanced at the bowl, perfectly useful–what they were supposed to be, what else?

“I’m just saying,” the boy murmured, then lifted his eyes, corners of his mouth turning upwards into a small smile. “It’s probably made of something valuable. You might be able to get some credits for it after you’re done with it.”

“Okay…” Ulaf didn’t know what to do. Usually all his instincts would be pushing him to leave, run, get away, but something had taken hold of him, rooting him to the spot, and he suspected somehow that the boy was responsible. 

“I’m Neel,” the boy offered his hand, spotless, glowing–he’d taken the time to wash them recently, maybe in preparation for this, for whatever little good that did to help him blend in considering his outfit.

Ulaf awkwardly shifted the bowl in his arms, rubbed his palm against the side of his leg–not that it would accomplish anything, he was certain there was plenty of dirt on his pants as it was–and took the boy’s hand in his own, gave a tentative, gentle shake. 

“What’s your name?” Neel asked. 

“Ulaf…” he replied, beginning to feel restless, shifting his feet.

“Ulaf,” Neel repeated, nodding his head. “Nice to meet you, Ulaf.” He leaned closer and asked quietly, “Are you willing to share?”

He’d never shared a meal with anyone. His mother had died giving birth to him, he had no siblings, and his father had never been much company. The idea of sharing was new, but it seemed nice.

Ulaf silently nodded. Together, he and Neel stepped into the fresh air where the cold bit at his cheeks, trying and failing to chase away the steady flush that had risen there, accompanying a ticklish sensation that was playing in his gut.

They found a rooftop to sit on while they ate, legs dangling over the edge as they talked. Later that same night the richness of the stolen food would make them both sick, but the next day they finished the rest of it anyways–too rare a gift to let go to waste.

The night marked the beginning of a new phase in Ulaf’s life. He and Neel became fast friends, partners, working together to get through it all. Ulaf learned how to laugh, because of Neel. Learned there was more to life than survival. Learned happiness.

It was Neel who convinced Ulaf that they could get jobs, make money–find stability. And he was right. Their home was changing, old buildings being torn down, new ones being built up. There were more residents arriving, hosting fancy parties like the one Ulaf had met Neel at; more wealth streaming in, carving new features into the landscape of the town. 

Ulaf found he didn’t mind it. It made work easier to find, and that work was pleasant enough. Construction challenged him in unexpected ways–mind and body–and he was surprised by the satisfaction he felt when a project finished. Something new in place, rising from rubble, thanks to the work of him and his team. 

He and Neel were a part of the team that tore down the old building they had once called home. The walls came down with unnervingly little effort–all in one morning’s work. That same day, they took what little credits they saved and moved into an apartment together, sleeping on the floor, wondering at the ceiling over their heads–no more need to worry about the rain.

When Ulaf was 25 (and Neel 26), they met Ver. One drink after a long day on site, “just one drink,” Neel wanted, and Ulaf’s entire life changed. Again. 

From the moment Neel saw Ver–across the room, black hair cascading down a slender shoulder, drinking something pink and sweet–Ulaf could see how he felt about her.

Because of Ver, Ulaf learned love. He learned jealousy, and hurt, and the bitter taste of swallowing it all, hoping it wouldn’t cause him to choke. But in spite of everything, he could see how happy Ver made Neel, and in that way, she made him happy too. And anyways, it was his fault, he reasoned, for not realizing sooner how he felt about his first, longest, and best friend…

A few months later, Ver had moved in with them. Ulaf enjoyed her goofy sense of humor; she was a good cook, a fierce friend, and she never made him feel left out. The first thing she told him after she and Neel announced they were getting married was, “But I don’t want you to think this means you need to move out. Okay?” Like it had never been a question to her, but she knew his mind, and she knew he would need that reassurance.

In the end, they all ended up moving out when Ver became pregnant. With three sources of income, they just managed to afford a new home: a cozy house a few blocks away, with three bedrooms, a run-down, but proper kitchen, and even a little living room, where they carefully arranged second-hand furniture, flickering, barely-functioning lamps, and a dusty, green rug.

Their unusual, but loving family gradually grew into the space, filling it with a warmth it had not previously possessed. First Xara arrived, with beautiful eyes of slate-gray, just like her father’s. Then two years later Zo joined, possessing her mother’s same contagious, bubbly laugh. The persistent ache that had haunted Ulaf’s chest for years now, eased somewhat. It was hard to regret how his life had gone when he felt the love he did for his friends and for their children. 

He made sure they felt every bit of support and care he had never received. 

Xara was the curious one, always asking questions, always wanting to learn. It was no surprise to anyone when she started school and became fully absorbed in her studies. When she was old enough, she even taught Ulaf to read–something he had never had the privilege or time to do when he was her age.  

Zo had a rebellious spirit, like Neel, that got her into trouble more often than not when she hit her teens. But when she was hissing fire at her parents, she confided in Ulaf, and he provided her with what guidance he could–usually managing to convince her that Neel and Ver were on her side too. 

They grew up too fast. They all did, decades flashing past like the lights on a speeder. 

Zo married a good man who became ill and died tragically young, leaving her a widowed mother to their five year old son–named Ulaf, after his great-uncle. She came home to live with Neel, Ver, and Ulaf again.

Xara showed up one day with her best friend–a woman who she reintroduced to them as her now-fiance. The celebration that ensued lasted well into the earliest hours of the next morning. There was a strange combination of joy and grief that settled in Ulaf as he watched Xara and her wife-to-be, witnessing a future he’d never quite imagined was possible…

While Neel and Ver aged gracefully, Ulaf found he did not. His bones began to ache fiercely in the chill of winter mornings. He left construction work not long after his 65th birthday, his fingers grown too clumsy for the tools, his back too painful, his feet weary. He was surprised he had lasted as long as he had, not just because of his deteriorating physical health, but because the work had been gradually drying up for years before… 

Ulaf was 68 when he overheard Neel and Ver’s hushed words in the kitchen. “There’s not enough…” “We have to figure something out.” His friends had never kept secrets from him before, a weight like a rock settled in his stomach. 

Not long after, Ulaf was lying awake one night, listening, because Neel hadn’t come home yet… 

The door gave a familiar creak as it slid open–they’d never managed to figure out how to fix it in all the years they’d lived there–and Ulaf slid from his bed and padded softly into the living room. 

He found Neel sitting–saggy-postured, and exhaustion pouring out of every angle of his body–on the couch, picking mindlessly at the edges of a hole in the upholstery. 

Ulaf switched on the light, announcing his presence and revealing Neel’s face: one eye swollen shut, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead, staring at palms scraped raw from a fall. It reminded Ulaf of his father; pulled him right back to the nights of hunger and cold, fear, loneliness. 

“Neel,” he breathed, collapsing into the seat next to Neel, gently taking his hands and turning them over carefully, wincing at the depth of the scratches. “Hold on.” He rose–joints voicing their complaint in loud pops–to grab the spare bacta patch they had from the kitchen cupboard along with whatever other bandages he could find.

“Don’t tell Ver,” Neel murmured upon his return, flinching as Ulaf began to dab lightly at the cut on his forehead with a damp cloth. 

“Neel, I don’t know if–”

“Please,” he repeated, and Ulaf saw a desperate light in his friend’s eyes that sent a cold spark of terror in him. 

“What’s going on?” Ulaf whispered, lifting the cloth to check his work, reaching behind him for the bacta patch when he saw the wound was clean.

Neel gave a hard swallow, looked away for the first time since Ulaf had joined him in the room. “I got fired, they saw I couldn’t keep up anymore–not that there was enough work to begin with. And then… You know we’ve been helping Zo with taking care of the kid ever since…” He shook his head. “We were cleared out. Nothing left. And now…”

Ulaf looked down at the bacta patch in his hand, fingers worrying over the packaging as he tonelessly said, “How much do you owe?” 

He heard Neel give a heavy sigh, “Too much.”

“How much, maybe I can help–”

“No,” Neel argued fiercely. “And then what? We’ll be no better off.”

Ulaf stilled as memories came flooding into his mind. “We had nothing before…”

“When we were young, Ul,” Neel protested, “when we were young. It’s different now. What with the kids…”

In the silence that settled, Ulaf tore into the bacta, gently lined it up with the wound on Neel’s face and pressed, before dragging his hand away, lingering on his friend’s cheek. He handed Neel the damp cloth to put on his swollen eye and looked to his empty hands. “Who?” he asked quietly. “Who do you owe?”

“I didn’t want to get wrapped up with a whole crew. I went to the one at the end of the road, just off the market. But it was a mistake, he’s worse than most. Demanding. Uncompromising.”

“Okay,” Ulaf murmured, lifting his head to stare at the shadows pooling at the end of the dark, empty hallway where not far-off Zo was sleeping with the son she’d named after him, where the woman who had given him a family–Ver–was dreaming, maybe nightmares. And then he turned back to find Neel’s steady, gray eyes watching him, turning him into a boy again, running through alleyways, ears ringing with laughter. “Don’t worry,” Ulaf told him. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“Ul…”

Ulaf took one of Neel’s hands in his own before he could fully realize what he was doing. “It’ll be okay.” He didn’t know what else to say, ‘Thank you’, would echo with a finality too sharp for Neel to accept–would only lead to him resisting. And…

‘I love you,’ would be a betrayal. Even if it was true, it would be. To Ver, to Neel, to his family. 

Ulaf slowly stood. “It’ll be okay. Go to sleep, I’ll be back.”

Neel rose, something unreadable on his face. He reached a hand round to the back of Ulaf’s neck, pulled him in close till their foreheads were touching, the bacta patch a bubble pressed between them. The only sound was that of their breathing, kept in perfect rhythm, and Ulaf could feel it, for the first time in years… His heart pounding, something in his veins turned to gold…

It was a while before they broke apart. Ulaf waited to leave until Neel had limped his way down the hallway and shut the door to his and Ver’s bedroom. 

Then, he walked out of his home and into the moonlit street, the crisp, night air setting his lungs on fire with something fierce and brave. 

He tried bargaining with the man who had loaned his friend money, but the man’s greed was evident, his threats only increasing in severity with each passing moment Ulaf spent with him. 

In the end, their arguing was too loud–attracting the attention of local law enforcement. A banging on the man’s door interrupted them, the man turning his head with a scowl. 

Ulaf took advantage of the man’s distraction to grab the man’s blaster from his belt and fire. 

The Imps came rushing in, saw the man writhing on the floor in pain, clutching at his side, and arrested Ulaf on the spot.

At first, the work in Narkina 5 reminded Ulaf of his days spent working alongside Neel, putting pieces together…only this time there was no end, and it was always the same, and the pain was there, always there, every ‘night’ when he went to bed, every ‘day’ as he worked, and every ‘morning’ as he rose, forced to do it all over again.

Until one day, he couldn’t do it anymore. 

In his life, Ulaf had stolen. He had lied, to himself, to his loved ones, for decades. And, he had committed an act of violence against another person.

He was not an innocent man. 

But he was a good one.

[kevinsdsy]

Jean Moreau was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He could hear Jeremy Knox, whom he shared a room with, chatting with Laila even though the door to their bedroom was closed. He couldn’t smell it yet, but he knew Cat was making dinner right now. Normally, he would’ve been helping her out in the kitchen at this time, especially because both Jeremy and Laila were disastrous in the kitchen themselves. Jean wasn’t much of a cook himself either—his past with the Edgar Allen Ravens hadn’t allowed him to develop such skills, but ever since coming to California, he had learned a thing or two from Cat, and he had managed to not burn the kitchen down.

Everything within Jean screamed to get up out of bed. His body had somewhat gotten used to 24-hour days when he was still with the Palmetto State Foxes, but it was times like these, when he was doing nothing but wasting his time, when he could feel how long 24 hours actually were in comparison of the 16-hour days he had grown up with for most his life in the nest. Jean secretly hoped Jeremy would stay quiet for a long time, so the anxious feeling of being left alone without a partner would kick in and push him to get out of bed. Instead, Jeremy’s voice was moving through the halls, leaving Jean comfortably staring at the ceiling for the past hour or so.

[adamarks]

Hello! I wrote about Ed in the Orville Peck mask. If you’d like to read about blowjobs, Steak Knife getting #rejected, sexy fringe, and the grocery store, please give it a read:

Here

[krynutsreal]

haiii posting some old sky au doodles happy Valentine's day :]

OK. ALSO. THMEM. KISSING OR WBAGEVER .

holds head innhands . guys they'r so bad at it they're so bad . someone come push them off a cliff for me

[doeeyeseddie]

you still make sense to me

“But why wouldn’t I be?” Eddie asks. It’s not something he has to think about for long – he’s never desired Marisol that way, even though he knows he should. “She’s beautiful, I really like her, why don’t I want to sleep with her?”

“Well, I’m afraid sexual attraction isn’t logical. No one is attracted to everyone, Eddie. But,” he gives a little nod, and Eddie braces for whatever is about to hit him, “since it sounds like you weren’t particularly sexually attracted to your previous girlfriend either, it might be worth looking into some other possibilities.”

“Like what?” Eddie asks nervously.

“Well, it could be that they’re both women, and you’re not actually sexually attracted to women.”

Eddie swallows. “But– I have a kid. I can’t be– I can’t be gay.”

“One doesn’t negate the other,” Frank says patiently. “I’m not saying you are gay. I just think it could be enlightening to examine whether or not you have felt sexual attraction towards men. And if you haven’t – there’s also the possibility of asexuality.”

~

eddie is ready for a new relationship – but why does it never feel right? buck has a lot to work through, and doing that comes with a few realizations.

chapter 1 of 3, 14k

[read on ao3]

[datastate]

SOMEONE'S EMAILED ME FOR A PAINTING COMMISSION!!!

[heart-select]

Hallo! I've not done this in years but if anyone has any drawing requests/ideas you might want, hit me up in asks :DD

Things that I'll most likely take

The hobbit (Bagginshield, The company, just bilbo etc.)

Genshin (mostly mondstadt ones bc i miss them)

LoTR (tho im more familiar with the movies)

[wolfram-but-art]

had a dream where Archie found out Engi was the one behind MVM and engi was trying to convince him to not tell anyone and archie didnt know whether to protect engi's hurtful secret or give him up and possibly get him killed :thumbs_up:

aaahhh sorry this took so long i'm finally done!!!!!!!!!!11 ahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

reblogs >>> likes btw :P

[b0wieblue]

I did a thingggg :]

Convention prepping before I rejoin the work force agdkdhdmdb because I know for a fact I’ll be too mentally exhausted to do it then ahhhh

[viciousvales]

the way my stomach lowkey dropped when tomorrow’s emoji on the netflixuk twit wasn’t lockwood & co related

[kalashtars]

forever and ever ago I submitted poems to my university's journal and they got accepted but there was some complications with sending the poems back after editing (my email sending them back was never responded to) and now im worried they're not even going to be in the journal :/

[puncromancy]

.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Squeaks and flaps hands!

A Work of Magic is officially up on Ao3!!!

--> https://archiveofourown.org/works/47501014/chapters/119709694 <--

I apparently have to do some editing before I post the rest, because I’ve become a lot more discerning over when to use Little Details. (Prepositional phrases, italics, emdashes, etc. I also like colons and semi-colons now, which adds Variety to the punctuation pool.)

But I’ll be updating it as I edit! It’s the low-spoons kind of editing, really. I might even do another chapter or two before I go to bed tonight...

My goal is to get it caught up with the ffdn posting within the next month, though. Preferably before the trip to NY!

[000png]

ajlkdfadfsja

[paper-star-ships]

Wish me luck y'all I have a very scary test to take :')

[aflyingjackieappears]

I got a costume design gig!!!! :D