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oh-katsuki · 4 years ago

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Jealousy (Connie x Reader)

phases of love collab | masterlist

Pairing: Connie x Reader

Summary: You take Sasha’s place.

Content Warnings: Implied aot ending spoilers, smut, angst, character death (reader), some fluff, romantic sex, slight cockwarming, drugs / alcohol

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This hurt me to write so I hope it hurts to read. Thank you so much to @dande-lion and @eremiie who beta-read this and gave me so many suggestions because I didn’t like the way I worded it. I would not have been able to be happy with this without you, ILYSM

For @mikaberries collab! Thanks for letting me participate!

Connie’d never loved like this before. He can’t recall a single time in his life that he’s felt so truly connected to someone, so deeply ingrained in someone else’s being that he doesn’t know who he’d be without them.

Connie had you wrapped in his body, dick buried in you so deep and legs intertwined so gently. His delicate fingers sunk into your skin as one wrapped around your waist, the other around your head. There was nothing rough about tonight, nothing exemplary or particularly outstanding except for the fact that he was hopelessly in love with you.

Connie was infatuated with you. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel enough of your skin against his as he fucked himself up into you with steady flicks of his hips. You felt so good around him, hips grinding to meet his with gentle moans. He wishes he could have this moment forever, wrap it up and keep it in his pocket so he can feel it whenever he needs to. The way your gummy walls hugged him or how you breathed in low and deep sighs with each of his thrusts.

“So beautiful…” He exhaled against your skin, pulling back to take the hand from your head and run his thumb along the plump skin of your cheek.

You gave him a lazy smile, eyebrows furrowed together in focus and pleasure as he leaned in to kiss you. It was delicate at first, pumping into you slowly, keeping up his sluggish pace. Connie was taking you in, appreciating the feel of your lips on his and the way you tasted like sweat and sex and something akin to cinnamon.

Connie wasn’t working towards a goal, arm wrapped lazily around your body, sticky with sweat while he admired your feel.That was the best way to put it— he was simply letting you both admire each other’s feeling, whispering sweet nothings, he just wanted to love you. So he fucked into you languidly, mind clouded over and head spinning.

He could remember clearly every moment like this he’d had with you and he was about to lock away this one with the first time he saw you, your first kiss, your first time. He doesn’t know why this moment in particular strikes him so deeply, but the way you look and your cunt fluttering around him has his heart swelling with love and pride.

You’re his.

There was nothing to be discontent with, no doubt seeded in his heart about another man, no jealousy bubbling in his gut. You were only his and he knew it, he could feel it in the desperate little sighs of his name as you came closer to your high, heat building in your stomach as the candle beside the bed dimmed as it burned through its wick.

The two of you had been like this for hours, Connie unwilling to let you go until he’d felt you come undone around him so much that he’s all you think about— you’re all he thinks about. He was already all you thought about though, already taking up the most space in your mind even when you weren’t creaming around him. Still, you couldn’t complain, so wrapped in his smell and feel that you let him keep rutting his hips into you, arms looped around his body and fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

But it’s true, Connie’s love for you was incredible and you felt it with every stroke of his big hand against you, in the way your skin buzzed as if it were whispering its own sweet words between his. Words of praise whispered over the pillow, lips brushing past each other’s ear to mumble quiet “I love you’s” that rattle through each other's bodies like coins down a well.

When you finally came undone in a steady rise, like water bubbling delicately over the edge of a too-full container, you whimpered, teeth sinking into the muscle of his shoulder. Your legs trembled as he held you tightly, slowing his movements and letting you bury your face into him, looking for anything to ground you as your body rolled.

Connie loved your voice, the whine of his name that spilled from your lips and the way your cunt clenched around him, pillowy and soft. He loved you and with that profound knowledge, soon met his own high with a stutter of his hips, cumming deep into you as he buried himself to the hilt.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other, Connie unmoving within you as you panted against each other before your breathing fell into an even rhythm. How was he supposed to let you go? How could he be expected to pull out and let you pad to the toilet. It would only be a few minutes but he found himself dreading the moment you stirred in his arms. He’d let you meld yourself to him like this if it were possible.

“You know that I’ve got to get up.” You chuckled into his chest, turning your head to glance to the nightstand. “And I’d like to get up before that candle burns through and I have to stumble through the dark.”

It was growing dim, nearing the end of its life span as it casted a low light across the bedroom. Connie’s desk was faintly illuminated in the corner but you were focused on the way the light danced over his features, displaying the apples of his cheeks that rounded with his smile.

“I know,” he sighed, pulling you closer, “just don’t wanna let you go right now.”

“You big baby, it’s only a few minutes.” You say, peeling yourself from him and pulling him out of you gently.

He was soft already, but the act itself was intimate and you could feel the way he started to spill out of you as you moved to the other side of the room, wrapping a robe around yourself before leaving the bedroom.

Connie watched you as you left, admiring your hips and your figure as you receded into the darkness. How had he gotten so lucky? He somehow managed to snag the girl the entire regiment was crazy for, and– as you both moved through the ranks– managed to fall so irrevocably in love with you that he’s forgotten who he was without you.

Still, he wouldn’t trade it for the world, wouldn’t trade you for the world.

He was deep in thought by the time you returned to bed, discarding the robe and snuggling up beside his naked figure.

Of all the things that had changed recently, you hadn’t. You remained the woman he loved more than anything, still smiling. He remembers the way you’d joke with your friends and squad, evenings spent laughing at a pub with all of the captains after your promotion.

Every major event of his life had been spent with you and you both had made it out clean, more appreciative of the love you shared. Connie cherished every part of you, every fleeting moment with you.

And he was certain that he’d do it for the rest of his life.

---

They’d suspected that Eren had gone awol. That he’d gone off on his own. Connie should have stopped him, they could have talked some sense into him before he fled to Marley, attacking a congregation of world leaders and forcing the Scout Regiments hand.

You both had separated so quickly, each moving away from each other in your own individual squadrons without so much as a stay safe. You both always did. Connie couldn’t have imagined that you’d be one of the six who didn’t make it home.

He couldn’t have guessed that the child would sneak aboard the ship and point the rifle toward Sasha’s chest. But Connie could have predicted the way you jumped in front of her, moving before you had time to think to shield his best friend from the shot.

Connie would never forget the look in your eyes as your blood seeped and pooled onto the cold floor of the airship, his warm hands pressed to your cooling chest, covered in a thick layer of your blood. You looked content, the same look you’d flash at him before any expedition. You were at peace and you smiled up at him. A far too pleased smile for someone who was slipping from Connie’s hands faster than he could process— faster than he wanted you to. How could you be smiling? He was losing you.

It was like you to take a shot for a friend. You always put your comrades before yourself like that.

You and Sasha were both brave that way, the only difference being that today, Sasha would return home to her lover and you would not. Your body would stay in the morgue for the night before they placed you six feet below the ground in a graveyard not far from where you lived.

How is it that you could be so close so far away at the same time? He’d never get to feel your body against his again, never hear your laugh that rings like chimes on a spring day, and looking at your grave after the funeral procession, he could only think about how quickly your blood had cooled on the floor of the airship. Connie stared at the fresh dirt under the headstone, trying to bring anything but your lifeless eyes to mind. He tried to think of your smile, of the crinkle in your eye whenever he’d say something stupid, but instead he was reminded of the uncharacteristically stiff way your body laid in the airship and the wan tone of your skin as your precious years drained from your face.

---

As time passed jealousy bled into Connie’s life. Slowly at first, in the waning hours of the morning when he’d be awake and full of drink. He found himself thinking about you constantly, your picture flashing through his mind with startling clarity.

He’d wake up in the middle of the night, grabbing at the sheets beside him– searching for you, wondering in his half asleep state where you’d gone, only to be reminded that this time you weren’t coming back to bed. You’d no longer take your trips to the bathroom and you were much farther away than a few minutes. Instead, he was reminded that he’d have to spend a lifetime without you.

A lifetime without your presence. How unfathomable. So he buried himself in drink, in alcohol, in fighting a war he no longer had a reason to fight. It was bearable that way, his days without you. He was occupied. Working until his hands shook and his feet ached, then drinking to quell the pain. It was all he knew in those following days, working for a peace you’d never know, drinking to forget your time together, sleeping in hopes that he’d see you in another world. But the next world wasn’t for him. Life mercilessly kept him alive, despite his carelessness in the fight.

When the war finally ended and things came to a quiet halt, everything became harder. Eldia rebuilt its streets, patching up the wounds that battle had left on it, and with the power of the titans gone, Eldians were negotiating their terms of peace and fighting the good fight to total freedom. Connie found it difficult now to focus on anything but your absence.

He’d move down the cobbled streets of Marley and be reminded of you at every turn, reminded of something you’d never get to see. He thought of your plans for the future and the way you’d agreed to marry him once peace finally came, but peace came and went without you.

The summer months in Marley were the most beautiful. They brought couples and children and laughter. You’d have loved them. In between peace negotiations, Connie would let himself wander through the streets. Why he even bothered to go outside? He had no clue, but he still did it everyday without fail, wandering until he ended up in the same place he always did. He’d find a seat in the park and watch the couples, listening to the way the ocean sounded as it beat against the shore.

It was supposed to make him feel better, supposed to remind him that things were okay now. But all he felt was unimaginable rage. A rage that grew brighter with each gust of wind and each rustle of leaves. Each happy chuckle of passing couples and each aimless laughter of stumbling children. Connie was jealous, perpetually and undeniably.

He was jealous of the time the two of you never got. Jealous of the people who would spend their lifetimes with their lovers and get to cradle their children. Jealous of his own time, the years he had left ticking by slowly and twisting the knife in his gut with each turn of the month on a calendar. He was jealous of Marco who was no doubt with you now, jealous of Erwin and Miche and anyone they’d ever lost because they were with you.

Why did everyone else get so much time? What made them so different from you? Connie couldn’t understand a world where someone else deserved to survive to see the end when you didn’t, where people other than the two of you got enough time to live out their lives.

Connie didn’t have that luxury and you surely didn’t either.

The weight piled on, the greed, disgust, and envy weighed on his shoulders like boulders. A person can only take so much, can only struggle for so long under such a profound feeling.

It was the day the negotiations were finished, the day the war came to a true end and Eldians were no longer discriminated against legally, that he broke.

He fell to his knees in his temporary apartment after getting home and seeing the bare walls, the ones that lacked pictures because he’d never gotten to take any of you. You would have loved today, would have pulled him into the living room to dance or even invited all of your remaining friends to your shared apartment to celebrate. Connie could practically hear you telling him to appreciate the day, your voice chiming like bells in the recesses of his mind. It was haunting.

“Fuck!” He shouted, slamming his fist onto the counter and collapsing to the floor as sobs wracked through his body.

His friends had followed him to his apartment, worried for him. They had been for a while and today was the breaking point, watching him sway down the steps of the courthouse without so much as a word. They could hear him crying through the walls, hear the guttural cries that seemed to push through him so angrily.

Connie’s stomach was twisting in painful knots, it was years of being tired, years of missing you crumbling all at once in a crescendo of anger and unimaginable grief. He was sick, his heart wrenched in his chest, hammering against his ribcage, something your heart could no longer do.

It was sickening, how his bones wracked and how his shoulder shook with every shuddering sob. His own walls were finally let down and his veiled emotions crashed over him appallingly fast. How did he carry around this weight, this grief, for so long?

Connie couldn’t pick his head up from his hands when his friends came in, ushering themselves past the entrance to crouch on the floor with him, Jean’s arm bracing his frame and helping to keep him upright. They let him cry like that for a long while, letting the sounds echo through an apartment that should have had you in it.

They all missed you, but they had already done their mourning. In doing so, they’d left Connie behind to fend for himself. Left him alone like you had.

“She’s watching from somewhere, Connie.” Jean’s voice piped up, low and reassuring.

“Y’know-” Connie choked out, sniffling. “Everyone talks so much about this a-afterlife.”

Another sob wracks through him.

“About his place where the dead go once they’ve finished their time here.” He was shouting now, voice rising.

“I just wish that maybe there was some fucking proof that she’s still there.” His fists balled up against the floor. This time Connie doesn’t try to stop the cries to talk, he pauses to let himself sob before speaking again. “Because right now I can’t find a single reason to believe she’s out there and I don’t know what I’d do if I never got to see her again.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to move on? How do I carry this weight? How can I keep taking steps forward when she’s not at the end?” Connie’s eyes snap up to Jean, his hand coming to grab his wrist.

His eyes were pleading, crying for an answer, something, somebody to tell him that there was something to look forward to. That you would be at the end of this stupid game called life. His voice came up from the deepest recesses of his body. Eyebrows pulled up in anguish, eyes glassy with tears that refused to let up as he peered into his best friend’s eyes. Connie knew he couldn’t answer, knew that there was no one secret to getting through this, that he’d have to power through on his own. But he was so angry, so exhausted from fighting.

“Why did it have to be her!” He gasps, eyes going wide as realization courses through his shaking body. “Why didn’t she get more time, why didn’t she get to fucking see today?! Why was it me? _____ would have known what to say today, would have had the perfect words. I’ve never had them, never had anything to say.”

Connie inhaled deeply, blinking until limpid tears decorated the fabric of his uniform. “I need her here. I need her.”

That was the last thing he said that night, letting himself cry on the floor in the company of his friends who tried in vain to calm him. He raged against fate, body heaving in tremendous sobs that left his chest feeling emptier than before, inhaling in great pulls because with each cry he could feel the water flooding his lungs. Invading, violating, and wretched with every wail. Everything served as a reminder for his jealousy, ugly and painful in its existence.

Connie knows you’d have hated this.

Could you see him right now? Were you watching in the months to come as he hit his lowest low before slowly starting to pick himself back up, finally formally forgiving Gabi even though he hadn’t blamed her for a long while.

It took a long time for him to gain that semblance of normalcy and once he returned to Eldia from overseas, he went straight to your grave, finally able to face your name scrawled on the headstone once again. Connie hadn’t expected it, but with time the jealousy faded into a dull ache. He spent hours in the graveyard that day, staying with you until the sun had long set over the horizon and the air nipped at his skin. Connie would take any time he could have with you, even if it was like this. And as he sat there talking about the newfound peace, he hoped you could hear him.

He was filled with regrets about you. He wishes he had made you laugh more or studied the way you threw your head back in a smile because after so many years the memory had faded to little more than a silhouette. Connie wished he had taken pictures of you, kissed you on the day he met you, married you. But he couldn’t.

Connie wondered if you were watching him all the time. Did you watch his healing, the way he picked himself back up after being shattered and broken for so long. Maybe he’d glued part of you to him when he patched himself up, maybe he still gets to carry some of you with him in the corner of his heart he knows is reserved for you.

Did you see the day he met her? The woman he’d marry one day. She’d caught his eye because she reminded him so much of you, especially in her smile. Connie couldn’t help but think you’d had something to do with it, some cosmic influence that led her to him.

He thought of you on his wedding day as his bride moved down the aisle, radiant in her beauty. Connie loved her the way he loved you, deeply and honestly. He thought of you the day his first child was born and on every day after that because he saw you in every part of his little girl. He saw you in the way she laughed and the way she ate, the way she stood up after scraping her knee to keep running.

Connie told his wife about you, about the love he lost, and his daughter thought of you as family, despite never meeting you. Your name fell from his family’s lips so often that it was like you’d never left this world in the first place.

He healed, Finally, time began moving again and that sickening envy slipped from his veins like melting ice. He was no longer jealous.

He still goes to your grave, every Sunday. He brings his family and sits his daughter on his lap to tell stories about you, about every aspect of you. Partly because he wants her to know, but also so that he can remember. It’s like a prayer, uttering your name as they sit in the grass that had long grown over the dirt with such reverence, such adoration.

The wind moves through the trees, shaking leaves from their late summer bloom and Connie swears he can hear you laughing, deep and rich and so like you.

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wearethekat · 3 years ago

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Okay maximum spice🙄🤢🤧But also 🥺

🙄 what's a popular book that you dislike, but you'll get crucified if you say it?

hmm I think I've mentioned this one before but I absolutely despised TJ Klune's House in the Cerulean Sea, which a lot of people seem to like. it was just so saccharine. it was weirdly stylized. you could picture the disney animation going as you read. everyone held hands with the bad guys at the end and sung kumbaya because it was all a big misunderstanding and now the village understands. Well, not quite, but you get the idea. The romance was sickeningly sticky-sweet. I don't really think of myself as a cynic, but I'm far too cynical for that.

🤢 what's a popular ship you despise, and why?

now usually I don't have very strong opinions about ships. it's more like. well that seems implausible. or, hmm. no.

but the one ship I absolutely despise is anyone shipping Cam Lockedtomb. I don't talk about this much because I know I'm being a little unreasonable about it. BUT. get your paws OFF my aroace Cam! SHE WOULDN'T DATE YOU AND SHE WOULDN'T DATE ANYONE IN CANON EITHER. she just has aro vibes, okay! I've hit her with the aspecification beam and she's MINE now. luckily the big one was Cam/Corona and that one's not really popular anymore post As Yet Unsent.

🤧 An overrated book/character trope you're tired of?

Rivals to lovers. You're just making fools of yourselves. Either commit to being enemies or stop pretending that you don't like each other, you're going to look ridiculous when you have to eat your words in the third-act love scene.

🥺 what's a truly underrated book/series you recommend and wish the whole world would read?

The Vorkosigan Saga by Lois McMaster Bujold! Starting with Warrior's Apprentice. it's flawless. it's perfect. it's literally the best book series ever, overall. No one has such an excellent hand with characters and dialogue like Bujold does. Or with writing believable, interesting cultures. There's a reason she was nominated for nine Hugos for this series alone and won four. And no character is so maniacally competent as Miles Vorkosigan, who's also my very favorite character.

Alas this series was burdened with the worst covers that have ever seen the light of day by Baen Books (damn their name), so I have the hardest time convincing people to read them. In lieu of a cover (seriously, please don't look at them), I leave you all with a randomly selected passage beneath the cut.

(ask game here)

Miles sank into his seat with a groan. “Some bodyguard you are,” he said to Elli. “Why didn’t you protect me from that interviewer?”

“She wasn’t trying to shoot you. Besides, I’d just got there. I couldn’t tell her what had been going on.”

“But you’re far more photogenic. It would have improved the image of the Dendarii Fleet.”

“Holovids make me tongue-tied. But you sounded calm enough.”

“I was trying to downplay it all. ‘Boys will be boys,’ chuckles Admiral Naismith, while in the background his troops burn down London . . .”

Elli grinned. “’Sides, they weren’t interested I me. I wasn’t the hero who’d dashed into a burning building – by the gods, when you came rolling out all on fire –”

“You saw that?” Miles was vaguely cheered. “Did it look good in the long shots? Maybe it’ll make up for Danio and his jolly crew, in the minds of our host city.”

“It looked properly terrifying.” She shuddered appreciation. “I’m surprised you’re not more badly burned.”

Miles twitched singed eyebrows and tucked his blistered left hand unobtrusively under his right arm. “It was nothing. Protective clothing. I’m glad not all our equipment design is faulty.”

“I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I’ve been shy of fire ever since . . .” her hand touched her face.

actually no, wait, I lie. I can't pick just one have another:

"Mon Dieu, it’s the little admiral,” she said cheerfully. “What are you doing here?”

Ignoring the anguished scream inside his skull, Miles schooled his features to an—exquisitely—polite blankness. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“Admiral Naismith. Or . . .” She took in his uniform, her eyes lighting with interest. “Is this some mercenary covert operation, Admiral?”

A beat passed. Miles allowed his eyes to widen, his hand to stray to his weaponless trouser seam and twitch there. “My God,” he choked in a voice of horror—not hard, that—“Do you mean to tell me Admiral Naismith has been seen on Earth?”

Her chin lifted, and her lips parted in a little half-smile of disbelief. “In your mirror, surely.”

Were his eyebrows visibly singed? His right hand was still bandaged. Not a burn, ma’am, Miles thought wildly. I cut it shaving . . . Miles came to full attention, snapping his polished boot heels together, and favored her with a small, formal bow. In a proud, hard, and thickly Barrayaran-accented voice, he said, “You are mistaken, ma’am. I am Lord Miles Vorkosigan of Barrayar. Lieutenant in the Imperial Service. Not that I don’t aspire to the rank you name, but it’s a trifle premature.”

She smiled sweetly. “Are you entirely recovered from your burns, sir?”

Miles’s eyebrows rose—no, he shouldn’t have drawn attention to them—“Naismith’s been burned? You have seen him? When? Can we speak of this? The man you name is of the greatest interest to Barrayaran Imperial Security.”

#ask game

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0celesteisthebest0 · 3 years ago

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Sleepy Mornings

Word count: 613

Pairing: Ezra(prospect) x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Authors notes: Okay so this is my practice( I guess) of Ezra as a character its short and sweet. If you guys want to see more things like this just let me know! But yeah I’m most likely posting this because I can’t write other things at the moment and wanted to share at least something to you guys

“Dewdrop,” the whispered voice of Ezra told you softly. He was spooning you in the tiny bed in the shared space you rented out in case you were on planet and not on the ship. You knew he had to get going but you were gonna be selfish for just a bit longer.

“Dewdrop,” he repeated and you hummed at his pet name for you.

“Yes my prince,” you grinned and turned your body to see his tired face. He needed to wake up and deal with what the day would bring him but you wished it didn’t need to be so early. His grin made you float and the softness of his features just made you cling onto him. He shook his head from this movement.

“My lover, clinging on to me won’t make me stay longer,” he muttered in your skin and you huffed.

“It could?”

“I'll be back before you know it so don’t start complaining dewdrop,” you sighed at him but it didn’t seem like he was moving anytime soon. His warm body made no effort in moving from your grasp.

“Ezra,” you whispered against him and he sighed about having to leave again.

“I’ll leave in a minute,” his hand went under your shirt to grab your waist to make sure you were tangible and not a dream. It was as if he was grabbing onto you so the pull of his responsibilities didn’t get him out of bed. You went under his shirt to run your fingers on his back causing him to sigh. “You're a bad influence on me, addicting to be around.”

“Addicting,” you asked somewhat confused and also intrigued. He kissed the crevice of your neck as a response.

“Can't get enough of you, causes a bit of an issue for daily tasks my dear,” you hummed and he didn’t make any movements to leave like he said he would.

“So I’m causing you problems lover,” you inquired and he continued to languidly kiss any part of your skin that wasn’t covered with clothing.

“Wouldn’t categorize them as such,” he corrected and his fingers moved in circular moments on your waist.

“How would you categorize them then,” you waited patiently for an answer to come out of his plump lips but that didn’t happen. You giggled, “first time I’ve ever heard you speechless.”

“I would categorize them as love,” he added quietly to your giggles. You raised your eyebrows at his confession. He’d serenade you with passages of how he enjoyed your presence but never outright declared that he loved you. Called you lover, murmured poems into your ear as you fell asleep but never said anything like this before. “Love you dewdrop, more than any being in this grand universe.” You grinned wide and started to kiss his cheeks, affection swelled up your chest.

“Love you too Ezra, love you so much,” you peppered his cheeks with more kisses until he captured your lips into a tender feeling between the two of you. Yeah you weren’t going to let him go now more than ever and it seemed to you that your sweet prince didn’t seem keen on leaving your little world anytime soon. For you two deserved this morning together. Soft and serene and something tender that daily tasks weren’t a part of.

“Dewdrop,” Ezra muttered against your lips and you hummed waiting for his words. “I’m gonna stay for a little longer okay.”

“Whatever you say lover,” you knew what he meant by a little longer. So you wrapped the blanket closer to the two of you and kissed the crevice of his neck. You deserved the morning to be with him and him alone.

#fluff #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #I might have writers block again and I finished this way back when so might as well share it #Drabble

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nellynee · 4 years ago

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The makings of greatness, or why, as a ride or die Treasure Planet stan, I’m glad there’s no Treasure Plant 2

You ever see somethings that makes you unreasonably angry? Yes I understand exactly what I’m saying, and how that indicates that my emotions and opinions on this are exactly that. Opinions. There’s a good chance I have some objective truths mixed in, but that does not make my opinions based on those truths truth. If you disagree or have different tastes or opinions or interpretations, cool, let me know! maybe you’ll change my mind. That being said.

The plot synopsis for the Treasure Planet sequel makes me angry. Not like, actively so, just annoyed enough to be in a bad mood. And now you guys all have to be in one as well. Why?

Reason 1, and probably least important: Disney sequel syndrome.

Ok so Disney sequels aren’t inherently bad. I’ll stan the Aladdin sequels to my grave, who knew Cinderella could world build, obligatory Rescuers Down Under (the first one was better) blah blah blah.

But there is an inherit problem with sequels in general, and that usually has to do with cast and crew. An original piece of fiction has to grab the audience yes, but there’s also freedom in that. Media touches people in different way. The worldbuilding can mean more to some than others. Some are in it for the animation, or the character developments, or relationships. What connects with one person won’t connect with another. The problem with sequels is that different people who worked out the original material might and usually do not work on the new. And those new people are already working on that new material with their own personal lenses and experiences and interpretations coloring the old. The reason sequels (and remakes, and big budget presentations of other materials like books into movies) tend to bomb hard is because you are essentially being forced to accept someone’s fanfiction into the canon material. Usually, there’s a pretty strong correlation between more successful franchises/extension material, works staying true to the core material, original crew working on the material, and the enjoyment of the audience.

And sources say very few of the original crew remained. Some yes, but mostly voice cast. Even worse, TP2 was a DisneyToon production, not even a mainline feature. Now I’m not saying the new people weren’t talented, or passionate about the project, or were lacking in experience. It doesn’t really matter if any of those things are true or not. It’s the warping of their personal lenses I don’t trust. Fanfic I can disregard, meta I can disregard. This would have been canon.

And reading the Artbook makes is abundantly clear that the parts that touched me personally would have been missing. The very core of Treasure Planet for me was the relationship between Jim and Silver (and their exquisite animation budget). However you choose to interpret that relationship, you can not deny that Treasure Planet is a powerfully emotionally romantic movie. It’s quiet moments and emotional resonance shaped my views of intimacy with a sharp and fine touch. Silver and Jim’s bond is as undeniable and powerful as it is compelling and awe inspiring to witness unfold.

And a lot of that is owed not only to the voice acting of Joseph Gorden-Levitt (Jim) and Brian Murray (Silver), But to animators Glen Keane and John Ripa, who were the head animators of Silver and Jim respectively. Not only did Gorden-Levitt and Brian Murray deliver stunning performances, but made sure to work together and jointly play off each other in ways most voice actors don’t have the opportunity to do. And the Masters Keane and Ripa took an already stellar and carefully crafted vocal rapport and took it one step further. I highly recommend the Artbook as a good read, both Keane and Ripa talk about the journey of discovering who Jim and Silver were with delight, acting out entire scenes together using their own body language to build the characters together, using the same animation reals to animate, tag teaming in and out of the program rather than do it separately, becoming so attuned with their characters attitudes and mannerisms that you can tell they poured entire pieces of themselves into Jim and Silver.

I’m not saying the Sequel would have been inherently bad because it’s a sequel, or because a new crew worked on it, but I am saying I wouldn’t trust it with a ten foot pole.

Reason 2: Thanks I hate it (I’m saying it’s inherently bad because the plot is bad and I hate it)

I’m sorry for the length, but for you to really understand just how bad this is, I actually have to pick through every single line and tell you why it fails critically at some junctures and where it would be so simple to fix. For those of you who were unaware that there was a sequel in the works at some point, I’m pulling these quotes pretty much wholesale from the AnimateVeiws article Buried Treasure: The ill-fated voyage to Treasure Planet 2, specifically the interview with Jun Falkenstein who was set to direct the now canceled sequel. Spoiler warning, I guess?

So, from the begining

“The sequel was to pick up where the first film left off, with Jim Hawkins going to the Royal Interstellar Academy. At the Academy, he is a hotshot “natural,” but he doesn’t follow the rules very well.” - Strong start but then dropped the finish. I think the interstellar academy would be a very compelling starting point. I see no fault in it at least, it’s a good opportunity to world build. Clemence and Musket like to make a point that Jim was crafted to connect with the emotionally wounded and distant youth in a age of divorce, so showing what happens when that youth hikes up their britches and gets to work can extend on that theme aaaaaaand you dropped it. Dropped that strong start. Yes, Jim was more than a bit of a bite back rebel in the film, but that was a reactionary response to the bad place he started in. Jim was abandoned, and tied his self worth into that abandonment. His kickback against society was a reaction stemming from an inability to see his personal worth and any sort of future he could craft from it. He outgrew this, his very character development was about this in the film. His character arc was about realizing his inherent worth, embracing a sense of confidence and learning what he could do. Even disregarding that, bonus material outside of the film shows that Jim has a very strong sense of respect for Captain Amelia, her military career, and the hard work she put into it, and he’s there on her recommendation. Why would he act out in this? He is a natural yes, but the film shows he’s incredibly sharp and intelligent, if unlearned, and more than ready to learn given opportunity.

“Hence, he gets off to a shaky start – especially with his classmate Kate, who is very smart and has a type A personality. Kate’s father is Admiral Blake, the Commander of the Navy. Jim and Kate vie for top of the class but have very different skills.” - So building off this to fix the problem before. I guess the dynamic they are going for is something like “the kind of a jerk hotshit hotshot who’s got it all figured out and the straight laced rule fallowing stick in the ass rival”? I’m not apposed to to a rivalry, but lets tweak this, given how “hot shot natural jerk” isn’t really where Jim settles at the end of the film. Jim is a natural talent, who excels under tutelage, but more importantly, he has practical experience. While the time period spent on the RLS Legacy is not defined, they do sail to a deep and unexplored part of the galaxy, probably well outside of regular settlements, so no small distance, though Jim is young enough that a very long period of time would be noted in physical growth. Given comparisons to classic nautical sailing of the source time, months, perhaps up to a year? That’s a long time to spend, learning the rough and tumble basics, tying knots, experiencing food and water rations, extreme temperatures, playing with the rigging and mechanical aspects of the boat. Jim knows what it’s like to actually sail. Meanwhile, this is the Royal Academy, who probably takes in upper class second born children and pumps out military accolades for well learned mathematicians and strategists. Jim doesn’t fit in because he can visualize, he can think outside of the box, he can weld a damn engine to a hunk of shrapnel and ignite it freefalling against a metal hellscape and outrace a boat in a high adrenaline situation. He adapts where the other’s frantically look through their notes for the answer. Worse yet, he’s poor and not classically educated. Make it a class issue. In this aspect I do like Kate. Being the Daughter of the Commander of the Navy, she probably has a very technical and far more expansive understanding of navel ships, particularly the running of them. In this way Jim and Kate are perfect foils. Jim representing the poor, instinctually and practically knowledgeable crew, and Kate the upper-class, technically knowledgeable command, a dichotomy representing the haves and have nots in their skills, experiences, an class.

I don’t want to post a picture and break the post, but I do love Kate’s design. I do recommend looking up the article and checking it out. that being said, being a feline species, they messed up not spelling it Cate.

“Captain Amelia is dean of the Academy, which has a brand-new vessel: the Centurion.” - I… why, why is Amelia the dean? Additional material shows that Amelia broke ties with the military because she didn’t like their rule stickling ways and red tape. Why would she want a red tape position? She helped with a war and then bailed first opportunity to become a freelance captain so she could fallow her own rules. Even if you don’t know any of that additional material, you do know that she is a freelance captain. Why is she dean? what happened to the old one? Are they dead? Did DisneyToon kill them? Did Disneytoon kill the old dean?

“Designed by Doctor Doppler, the Centurion is the fastest ship in the galaxy.” - HE’S NOT THAT KIND OF DOCTOR!

“B.E.N. is its pilot”. - NO

In all seriousness all three of those statements show a serious problem, in that none of those characters are in fact those things. Amelia I’ve already explained. But Doppler was a debatably youngish bachelor with too much money who was fascinated by astronomy specifically and who suffered from ennui. And BEN was a navigational unit, so maybe it makes sense for him to be a pilot, but why is a robot who was functioning under a galaxy feared pirate for who knows how long given any kind of agency over a brand new incredibly important ship? These decisions were probably made to incorporate as much of the old cast as possible, to not exclude fan faves. But any decision that makes BEN a prominent part of the plot and thus gets more screen time is a BAD one.

“The pirate Ironbeard desires to commandeer the Centurion. This ruthless villain is relatively all iron – almost nothing of whom he originally was, inside and out, is left.” - On the one hand, I have a weird feeling that this would somehow violate the 30-70 rule. Buuuuut on the other hand, the Artbook does describe the decision making process of what and how was mechanical on Silver (my favorite tidbit was the wheel on his head representing his constant thinking and assessing) and states that that they in a way represent the pieces of humanity he gave up looking for Flint’s Trove. Extending that to a pirate who has given up everything could be a powerful thematic tool if used right (or intentionally)

“He leads a group of pirates to hijack the Centurion while Jim and Kate are aboard.” - ok, yeah, I’ll buy that. If they are butting heads constantly, I could see them sneaking off to the new piece of hardware to one up each other on who knows their stuff, or maybe bond over wanting to learn about the said new tech and being frustrated with restrictions.

“The Navy can’t catch the Centurion, due to the vessel’s speed and armor.”- sure

“Jim and Kate escape the Centurion. Jim decides he needs a pirate to help catch pirates. They find his old buddy Long John Silver in the Lagoon Nebula, where he is running a smuggling ring. “ - So what Jim just goes “I know just the pirate to help us” and then finds him? That journey of itself deserves it’s own movie, anything less is a disappointment. Alternative. Jim and Kate escape onto a particularly lawless planet. Jim has some tricks to keep them safe and fed, maybe he even excels in ways he’s been straight up stop gapped at the academy. Maybe his knowhow is appreciated by others who society also rejects. But Kate is a frustrating fish out of water, getting offended and worked up over things that are big deals to an average citizen but not criminals and pirates. But such reactions are putting them in danger and she needs to get perspective fast. It’s plausible maybe that Silver tracks them down through interesting rumors, but more than that, let it be fate. Neither having any idea the other is there till the second they see each other. Bonus points if Jim and Kate get in a bind and Silver is the leader of the harassers. Better yet lets add some thematic mirroring not only to the scene where Silver saved Jim from Scroop, but directly contrast it to the scene where Silver doubled back and down against the notion of caring for Jim when called out before the mutiny. *kisses finger* Touching and hilarious.

“ Silver agrees to help when he hears about the Centurion. “ - Silver agrees to help when he hears about the Centurion without Jim even having to ask. Storywise, lets make some kind of deal over how Jim, an upstanding enrollee of the academy, apparently is chummy with a pirate. Tension doesn’t just have to be external, and Kate is the daughter of the Commander of the Army. Maybe she’s recognized and this gets them in trouble. Maybe Kate has issues with her identity outside of her father’s career and need to learn a lesson about being outside of a rigid social structure?

“Jim and Kate receive a tracking signal from B.E.N. – who is currently hostage aboard the Centurion – and follow via Silver’s creaky vessel. They discover the Centurion docked near the Botany Bay Prison Asteroid. “ - While being the fastest ship yet is a good excuse for wanting it to get stolen, my suspension of disbelief breaks a little at any ship, let alone a creaky little pirate vessel, catching up to the fastest ship yet, or the tracking signal being the only way to track it to a guarded prison. Seeing as how I’ve written BEN out of this scenario lets fix it. After the events of the movie, the Royal Military swoops in after to confiscate the debris of Treasure Planet. For those in the know, canon lore states that the Planet was a giant computer, and it and the map were the byproducts of an ancient and advanced civilization. Studying the debris led to the Centurion, notable not for it’s speed, but for it’s stealth. It can cloak itself. Which is why no-one can find it. Meanwhile Silver lets it slip that he snagged the map from it’s pedestal as they escaped the planet as a souvenir. (handwave why the portal was still open with a “the whole thing was exploding, the computer froze). The map is able to track the remnants of said planet, aka the Centurion, meaning Silver has the only means of tracking the cloaked ship

“Ironbeard is using the Centurion to disable Botany Bay’s security systems. Jim, Kate and Silver sneak aboard the Centurion, where Silver reveals to Jim that he wants to take the Centurion for himself. He asks Jim to join him.“ YES. YES YES YES YES YES YES! Understanding that Jim’s decision to not go with Silver in the first movie is key here. He rejected Silver’s offer the first time because Silver had shown him he had intrinsic value, and Jim finally felt that the natural gifts he had were worth cultivating, that he did have the chance to explore who he could be on his own terms. Jim was comfortable being on his own, because he felt capable. Now, Jim and Silver bring out the best in each other, and the time apart has done them harm. Jim’s strings of social rejections are starting to fell like a glass ceiling he can’t overcome, and is finding more and more comfort in being a big fish in a pirates small pond, and the emotions of of being wanted that come with Silver is a powerful drug. But it’s a one way ticket away from any opportunities he could work towards, not to mention his barely repaired relationship with his mother. Meanwhile Silver has been slowly slipping back into the colder, more selfish self he was, a necessity for his lifestyle, and doesn’t want to loose his connection to Jim and what Jim brings out in him, but is still far enough gone to make the offer and try for the boat anyways, even if he knows it’s not what’s best. It’s an emotionally compelling decision. You want them to say yes, you know they shouldn’t

“Kate overhears this and is horrified, especially since the two have, of course, started falling for each other during the adventure.” - Hate. this I hate. Leaving shipping to they way side, what’s that “of course”? why do they have to fall for each other? Why the Disneytoon sequel love interest? I have a feeling her characterization would come at the cost of it. Why can’t they be rivals? why can’t they develop a mutual respect outside of attraction? Why can’t they both learn an individualized lesson about finding their own place in the world outside of social constraints as foils without macking? I hate this concept. Kate overhears, and is horrified, because Silver is a Pirate which is actually in universe get yourself hanged offense, and Jim is considering this, and they are going to steal a VERY IMPORTANT BOAT and and leave her stranded in a dagerous prison, and are making an objectively morally bad decision.

“Ironbeard discovers the intruders, charging into a fight in which Silver is injured. Meanwhile, the other pirates throw down ladders to the prison below, allowing swarms of elated prisoners to climb up into the ship. Silver, Jim, and Kate exit the Centurion amidst all the confusion. However, Ironbeard shoots down Silver’s ship. They plummet to the prison asteroid below, crash-landing” - cool. Drama. But for my purposes, lets tweak it so Silver isn’t injured yet. But I really want to emphasize that this attack does not interrupt before Jim can react to Silver’s offer. Even something as tentative as “I’m not sure” has consequences. None of this “misunderstanding” BS.

“ Kate is angry at Jim and storms off. “- again, make it clear that Jim showed a real chance of agreeing to steal the ship. if she’s angry before he had a chance to answer that’s contrivance for drama’s sake. Give her a reason to be mad

“ Jim is about to blow her off as well when Silver tells him to give her a chance. He reveals a part of his past through a flashback, when a young (non-cyborg) Silver screwed up a relationship with the love of his life – a decision which directly led to his life of piracy. “ - nope. nope nope nope . I’m gonna put a big old * here because this is reason number 3 why I hate this potential movie, and I will get to that believe me, but here’s me, putting a pin in it. That being said, have Silver selfishly try to double down on getting Jim to join him in a three way argument instead. This is the conflict of the film. Kate, who was learning to grow outside of the strict restrictions of her life and do her own work, make her own way, is being rejected. She is as morally repulsed as she is hurt that she wasn’t included, and hates herself for that hurt as well. Jim is torn between the freedom of what he could be after the academy paired with the strict social constructs around it, and the freedom of a life “full of himself and no ties to anyone” but running from the law and the two friends they represent. Silver is the aggressor here. He likes Kate, he does, but he loves Jim and only has one place in his heart, and has spent his life being selfish. There’s already a crew on board, and Iron beard is hooked into the Centurion. With having the only other means to navigate, they take down ironbeard, the rest will surely fall in line. This is paydirt. A fantastic ship, a bloodthirsty crew, and Jim.

“Silver has a very dangerous cargo with him that he had been trying to smuggle and sell for a fortune, which has the power of a neutron bomb. Jim, Kate and Silver reconcile and work together to fix Silver’s ship and prevent the Centurion, filled with the most evil pirates in the galaxy, from going on an insane robbing-and-killing spree. At the last second, Silver reluctantly gives up his “retirement fund” in order to destroy the Centurion, with Ironbeard and all the pirates on board.” - this entire section needs rewritten. That’s a mcguffin Silver put it away. I have retconned the mcguffin to be the old map, so that is now moot. Now to not blow up the ship. Afterall, Silver and Jim have both already overcome what Treasure Planet represented with it’s destruction. Rather, B plot

If we are that desperate to have past characters in, let’s have Amelia and Delbert back home. When the Centurion is captured, Amelia immediately volunteers to fallow, feeling responsible for Jim and secretly pining for some adventure. Delbert feels the same, and he to a bit of an adrenaline junkie after the events of the first movie, but they have the children to think about and only one can leave. Delbert is the one chosen to help by the navy officials searching for the Centurion. While Amelia bickers with the Admiral Blake over his pragmatic but emotionally distant decisions over the situation of his missing daughter, Delbert is an astronomer, and is blah blah blah science meta, fallow the flashing and bending lights around the cloaked ship to find it. As in Delbert is helpful. Amelia in a reflation to Admiral Blake, is torn between her family and commandeering her own ship to help. Blake is frustratingly headstrong in his decisions, and the script makes it seem like that emotional distance is disinterests, but reveals to the audience that it incorporates a great deal of suppression of his anxieties and worries over his daughter, and trust in her abilities, though he has issues expressing this pride to Kate herself. Amelia, Delbert and fam make what is probably a poor decision in commandeering a ship and leaving on their own to track the Centurion, the navy hot on their heels.

Back to A plot, the navy is approaching. Jim has to make a decision. He is the only one who knows how to unmask the ship using the old ones tech without training, as it’s based off the map. While Kate and Silver are distracting iron beard, he has to either steal the ship and sail off, or uncloak it for the navy. Iron beard is taken down, but not without Silver getting injured. Jim decides that Silver’s life is worth more than anything, and after agreeing with Kate that she’ll commandeer a doctor and wont let Silver die, uncloaks the ship. The Centurion is retaken in a blaze of naval glory that is the action climax. The pirates fight back up are over run. Maybe Kate gets taken hostage as the Admirals daughter, as an opportunity for a resolution with her arc as Blake’s distant daughter, though obviously said resolution comes at her showing her abilities in taking care of herself and the practical skills she has learned.

“Silver again parts from Jim and Kate, telling them to take care of each other. A few years later, Jim and Kate graduate with honors, while a proud Silver secretly watches from the shadows, smiling” - Boooooo. Kate and her dad make up, and she challenges him that she’s going to one day Captain the Centurion, with him understanding that she needs less a mentor and more an emotional support while she works her way up the ranks. She invites Jim to be her first mate, to which Jim accepts as a navigator, (a thing I’ve pointed out to be his real strength in another post). But to Silver, who has been “pardoned” for his part in retaking the Centurion, the movie hinting that he to would be on the eventual crew there I fixed it fic to come I s2g.

yeah there’s a lot of good there, but it’s so easy to fix the bad it’s frustrating. which brings me to

Reason 3: that little pin

Nope nope nope I’ll tell you why.

First of all, sources like the artbook say that Jim is so Important to Silver because he’s the first person Silver has ever let become important. he’s specifically stated to have no family, never married, no children. And that’s something he cultivated actively. His life of piracy, his metal limbs, his loneliness and moral failings were all gleefully accumulated for one reason and one reason only

Treasure Planet.

Treasure Planet was the great love of Silver’s life. It was a lifelong obsession. It destroyed his body, took his youth, his opportunities and nearly his life. He broke Jim’s heart over it.

And he let it go. For Jim.

And Jim understood this

This is the crux of treasure planet’s very themes. This is where Jim found self worth. Another person finally looked at him and said “you matter, you matter more than anything. I like being around you and I choose you first.” and it made Jim realize he’s someone worth choosing.

The treasure was EVERYTHING to Silver, and Silver let it go, for Jim.

That one line there, attributing the start of Silver’s fall to a girl? that actively retcons the entire theme of the previous movie. IT rewrite the emotional linchpin of Silver’s sacrifice of the gold. And actually fuck that. right into the ground. I do not accept. I do not pass go. I refuse. Fuck you non existent movie. That makes me mad. every single time. Hate I shall never let go.

#Disney #Treasure Planet #Jim Hawkins #long john silver #john silver #long post #meta #god I hate this non existent movie #This outline is the closest I've ever come to writing spitefic and its still up in the air #Treasure Planet is such a romantic movie and you come into my house and try to shred the emotional core and themes by recontextualizing?#fuck off #Fuck I love Treasure Planet #sequel synopsis can die in a fire tho

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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Hey everyone,

This will be my final post addressing the fandom conflict that has quite frankly gotten out of hand. Although it’s very likely this post will be picked apart, no matter how well intended it is, I will no longer be addressing, interacting, or responding to any further accusations made against me. Of course, if people have questions from a genuine place of interest, I will be happy to clarify anything for you, either via DM’s or non-anon asks. I will not be answering anonymous asks on this, as I do not want anything else posted on this topic.

As a side note: For anyone tempted to wade into the debate, I sincerely ask you not to get involved. Do not make yourself a target, do not feel you need to ‘pick a side’, and please do not think you have an obligation to reason with either side. It seems to be well past the point of that, so please find people you get along with in this fandom and curate a space for yourself away from all this conflict.

Warning: This post will contain uncensored slurs, mentions of racism, paedophilia, transphobia, LGBTQ+ phobia, death threats, threats of violence, targeted harassment, and abusive language.

To start off, I want to apologise to everyone who has somehow gotten drawn into this mess by either defending me, following me, or interacting with my content. This whole situation with me began well over a year ago when I wrote a crack-smut fic featuring Javier/Micah, posted back in August 2019. A crack fic is defined as “a work of fan fiction that is absurd, surprising or ridiculous, often intentionally.” It was inspired by a camp interaction between Micah and Javier, and like many other fanfiction writers, I decided to write smut about it. The fic was titled ‘Dirty Fucking Greaser’, and if that shocks you, I’m sure you can imagine how shocked I was to be informed afterwards that ‘Greaser’ was in fact a very serious 19th century slur for a Mexican individual. My first encounter with this word as insult was via RDR2, where it was used like a very casual insult. My only prior knowledge of this term was in regards to the greasers youth subculture, so the severity was lost on me. This obviously does not excuse my ignorance, and I should have researched the term better, but this is just again to apologize for that oversight, the insensitivity, and to highlight that my use of this term was not meant maliciously. Following this being pointed out, I proceeded to make 3 separate apology posts [Unfortunately I can only find the third one: HERE], renamed the fic, and added slur warnings in both the tags and the fic description. When I continued to receive complaints and increasingly aggressive abuse (which included being told my apologies weren’t good enough and I should delete my account and even kill myself), I attempted to delete the fic and mistakenly abandoned it instead. I contacted AO3 to see if it could be removed, but they said there was nothing they could do. I contacted their DMCA takedown team, who also said they couldn't remove it. Please note that all this happened 7-8 months ago, and has been dragged on for almost a year.

So, from this one unfortunate incident, I’ve been branded a racist, and someone who attacks POC, when all I have done is tried to defend myself and correct my past mistakes. I could have done this more gracefully in the past, but frankly when you’re suddenly the target of unrelenting callout posts and nasty anons, it’s very hard to be open to criticism of this sort, but this is what I’m trying to move past.

Over the course of the year, this one mistake has spiralled, and the crusade against me has somehow coincided with moral conflicts over certain characters and ships. This has devolved into dehumanizing abuse, witch hunts, death threats, doxxing, anon hate, and much more unpleasant behaviour.

I have been in fandom for a very long time, and at the heart of all fandom circles is the fear of censorship and subsequent purges, so the ‘ship and let ship’ mentality was more or less the pinnacle of fandom philosophy. And yes, this can be problematic in some contexts. People have their right to be uncomfortable with content, have a right to be offended by content, but that is not content meant for you. This argument has devolved into ‘what material is morally right to engage with’ and that is a mentality in which fandom will not survive, because for every person who is telling me I’m an awful person for writing about Micah, there are three other people telling me how much they appreciate me making that content. For every fic in which I characterize Javier and Flaco a certain way, some people are made uncomfortable by it and others tell me they enjoy it. And this isn’t just white people, but POC too, which makes it very difficult to know whether I am genuinely in the right or the wrong, especially when it comes to the concept of ‘fetishization’ which I have been made aware I need to educate myself on. I intend to do so, but I disagree with the common accusation that finding non-white men romantically and sexually attractive is inherently fetishistic and makes me racist. It’s pushing a catch-22; don’t find POC sexually attractive? Racist. Find POC sexually attractive? Racist.

I am always willing to be (politely) approached about anything my readers may be concerned about, but if it’s something I’ve specifically tagged for (such as themes, scenarios, etc.) I’m afraid you consented to reading it and with that I cannot help you. You are just as responsible for curating your space and what you see/read just as much as I am responsible for tagging it appropriately.

On the topic of racism, I want to bring up my prior use of ‘white racism’ which has obviously been a point of contention among both white and people of colour. The (literal) black vs white concept of racism is incredibly American-centric, and as someone from Europe, which has a history of oppression against white cultures and those of people of colour, it feels inaccurate. However, this has recently been discussed with me and I came to the realization that while growing up, especially in the UK, ‘xenophobia’ and ‘racism’ were marketed as one and the same. So, with this little revelation in mind, I will no longer be using ‘white racism’ (Or ‘reverse racism’) to identify the abuse I have been receiving, but will instead call it by what it really is; dehumanizing, debasing, xenophobic, puritanical.

Very briefly, I will also touch on the NewAustin situation, which has also been dredged into this. I did not ‘chase a POC from tumblr’. NA was a minor who for some reason was on my 18+ blog and took issue with me, likely from the ongoing discourse regarding my fic and initial mistake, as well as my interest in Micah. They were subsequently harassed into deleting their account by anonymous hate following various conflicts with other users for their support of me or their ships in general. I have never encouraged my followers to target anyone, and have always asked to be blocked and blacklisted by those who do not like me or my content. When NewAustin messaged me following the deletion of their blog, I was admittedly indifferent to the point of being unkind, and accused them of sending the hate themselves. This was based on the anon hate being racially-driven without there being any prior knowledge or publication that NA was a person of colour. This aside, I should have at the time, whether I believed it was my followers or not, condemned this behaviour. Regardless of the issues I’ve had with these people, it is never ever ok to send hate to anyone, no matter the motivation behind it, and that should have been stated at the time.

All I can do at this point is acknowledged and apologize for my past mistakes, and try to improve myself going forward.

It is not my place to dictate the morals of the character/ship-aspect of this argument, and I am not interested in waging a war of opinion. This post is simply to clarify how I am involved in this, and why I am so viscerally targeted. You can draw your own conclusions, but I am no longer interested in this endless back and forth.

To my mutuals/followers, I stand by my request to not interact and to block and move on, as this is what I’ll be doing too.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope it makes things from my perspective a little clearer.

-RAT <3

EDIT: Just after this post was made, the fic in question was finally removed. I had to go through a DMCA take down, which can take months, since I originally abandoned the fic, thinking that meant delete. I explain this in more detail above. Said fic is gone, and has been gone since this post has been around.

#the tea #apology #long post

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fanficsandfluff · 4 years ago

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Tickles of Color Entry 2021

Heeeere we are! I hope you enjoy @twordficsnooneaskedfor !!! I really don't know the character of Ahsoka (never watched Clone Wars) but I tried my best! Thank you to @ticklesofcolor (@tickle-bugs and @peachytickles respectively) for hosting this super awesome event!

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Ahsoka Tano, Grogu (The Child)

Words: 1,551

Ahsoka spent time with the youngling, listening. She did much listening, she realized, as the poor child could not communicate with anyone else, nor had he actually been able to speak in quite a long while. He was releasing and explaining. He spoke of the horrors, the not-so horrors. It was all feelings inside him, and then the Mandalorian would come into the picture. Grogu perked up.

“He’s made you happy,” Ahsoka smiled softly as the youngling nodded, cooing in agreement.

She listened some more and then cocked her head at something he said, “You want to make him happy?”

Grogu again nodded his little head, ears flopping.

Ahsoka placed two of her fingers on top of Grogu’s small hand, smiling at him, “I’m sure you’ve already made him happy, little one.”

The child’s head bowed, gurgling something like disappointment. He wasn’t enough. He was a burden… well, the Mandolorian has willingly protected him for this long… maybe less of a burden than he thought.

“Let’s meet with the Mandalorian for food. We’ll discuss options later,” and Ahsoka picked the child up and made her way back to the ship where said topic of conversation was cooking for them. It was a meager meal of hunted creatures, and they sat around a small burning fire.

The Mandalorian picked piece by piece of meat off the bone for the youngling. It turned out the child was eating the meat faster than the Mandalorian could tear it.

“Hungry, are we?” the tinny voice filtered through the helmet. Grogu made a noise of contentment. The next chunk given to the child was eaten at a purposely humorous fast pace, and both of them knew exactly what was going on.

“You’re very funny,” a gloved finger brushed under the child’s chin and the child giggled.

Ahsoka looked on, eating her own small cooked animal, crunching on the singed skin. She smiled when she heard the Mandalorian chuckle. He has already proven worthy of the child’s love and attention based on the way he helped him channel the Force during training.

The Jedi set her meal down and brushed off her hands, staring at the Mandalorian. Focusing, Ahsoka poised the fingers of one hand inconspicuously, aiming, and… The Mandalorian’s hand chased away an invisible bug on his neck, eyes searching for the culprit. Ahsoka bit the inside of her cheek… she can work with this.

“What do you need me to do?” Din asked the next morning, standing in the clearing in the woods with Ahsoka and Grogu.

“Your participation will be crucial for today’s training,” Ahsoka reassured, holding back a smile.

Ahsoka knelt down next to Grogu, who was placed onto a large rock. She whispered something into his ear. Grogu exclaimed in what to Din seemed like joy. Maybe he already knew whatever it was Ahsoka was telling him to do?

“Mando,” Ahsoka spoke louder now, “I’m going to demonstrate to him first.”

“Okay,” Din said, standing still. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen, but he waited.

Ahsoka pointed her hand towards him and he felt a crawling up his sides and back. He jerked, surprised, bewildered… all-around confused.

“You okay?” Ahsoka asked with a very visible smile on her face now.

“Y-Yeah.. Was it--? Is it supposed to feel so…” Din didn’t know how to describe what he felt so he wiggled his fingers in the air, “Scratchy?”

Ahsoka huffed a small laugh and Grogu made a noise, as well.

“Well, yes. But it’s very important you stay still.”

“Okay. Can you tell me what it is you’re teaching him?”

Ahsoka looked to the child to get his approval of what to say. Answer honestly? Grogu said no.

“It’s a Force touch. Like he’s feeling out into the world without having to move.”

Din nodded, “Alright. Just be more… careful, I guess.”

“Show one more time? Very well,” Ahsoka made up that part of conversation with the youngling as she once again poised her hand and made sparks fly all around the Mandalorian’s shielded sides and ribs. It encompassed him, feeling like they weren’t really touching him at first. It was like a breeze being blown all over his torso. But then the feeling zeroed in and Din barked out an obvious laugh. He hunched over, elbows pressing into his sides.

“W-Wahahait!”

Ahsoka was shaking her head, “If you cannot handle what I am demonstrating, I’m sure you’ll do much better with Grogu.”

“It feeheels so strange,” Din regained himself, clearing his throat after standing straight.

“That may happen from time to time,” Ahsoka smiled but her mind was on a slightly different track now, “What was it?”

“I don’t know. Like a buzzing. Not so much like touch, though.”

“I see,” Ahsoka raised her hand again, “It feels like this?” and Din was once again squirming, but this time trying to hold back his laughter at the feeling on his belly now.

“Yehes!” he croaked.

“It seems like it’s tickling you,” Ahsoka said what she was doing this whole time, stopping the sensations again.

“Tickling? No, isn’t that… that’s what babies feel.”

So, he really didn’t know. Her thought was correct.

“Grogu,” she knelt again by the child, “Would you like to try?”

The child shut his eyes like he usually did when he had to concentrate on the Force. He did that first to get the feeling in his bones and then opened them to aim it at the Mandalorian. Din stood still, fighting the very soft feelings. He didn’t move, didn’t laugh. Thank goodness for the helmet because they couldn’t see him smiling and biting on his lip.

“Kihihid!” he burst out laughing when there felt like a sharp, focused jab to his hips. Grogu giggled.

The Mandalorian couldn’t stay still. He could try and suppress the laughter, but he just couldn’t not squirm. He looked honestly very silly, squirming about, taking little hops and steps here and there. Ahsoka even snickered.

“You’re moving, Mando,” Ahsoka teased.

Grogu was enamored by the display. He’d never really heard the Mandalorian laugh before. He’d chuckle from time to time. But this was different. This was wilder.

“Y-You’re doing this on p-puhurpose!” Mando accused, arms secured to his middle.

Ahsoka started walking closer to the Mandalorian, “Grogu wanted to make you happy. This was our solution.”

Din’s heart warmed at hearing that. The kid only wanted to make sure he was happy. I guess it was hard to gauge under the helmet and all. He couldn’t always tell if he was smiling. But that warm heart was quickly frozen over once more when there were pinch-like motions on his lower ribs. This time those were real touches. From Ahsoka.

“Hahang on! I didn’t say you could actually do that,” he started backing away from the Jedi.

“Oh, my apologies. Grogu may continue,” Ahsoka smirked. Maybe Din should’ve just shut up.

Grogu giggled and tried again. He could really only get forceful pokes and jabs out with his Force; that or it was a spread-out attack. Both were devastating to Din.

The Mandalorian made the movements to walk over to Grogu on his rock to get him to stop. But he was taken down to his knees with laughter and weakness to tickling only halfway there.

Din hadn’t felt anything like this before. Maybe distantly, in a memory and a world he seldom remembered. He knows the touch of a small bug walking over his fingers, the feeling of water rushing against his bare skin when he bathes. He even could recognize a playful shove or pat on the shoulder or back.

The proud Mandalorian was now flat on his back, too tired to protest or fight back. He could only laugh. Grogu found a way to change directions so he moved the Force touch downward and Din squeaked, turning over onto his side, curling up.

“Stohohop! Kid, please! Hahahaha!” Din begged, the touch fluttering down his thighs to the backs of his knees. He was giggling now. Grogu was most definitely mocking him with his own giggles.

“I think that’s enough, Grogu,” Ahsoka finally stepped in. Who knows how long the kid would’ve continued if she didn’t stop him?

“Y-You’re just as bad as him,” Din coughed out, sitting up in the dirt.

Din would’ve loved to take off his helmet and breathe fresh air, to gulp it into his lungs, now sore from laughter. He felt another touch at his knee and he almost swatted it away before he realized it was Grogu’s hand. The kid had waddled his way over to him. Checking on him, it seemed, by the look on the kid’s face. Din picked him up and sat him in his lap.

“I’m okay, kid.”

Grogu tilted his head, reaching up to touch the helmet.

“I’m happy, too. You got what you wanted,” Din poked a finger into the kid’s belly and made him giggle, “How do you like it?” he chortled.

Grogu leaned into Mando after cooing a little to the pokes, shutting his eyes. Mission accomplished. His masked protector was happy and it was because of him. That felt good.

Din shifted so he was looking at Ahsoka. She was looking right back, a soft smile gracing her features. And he smiled. Definitely happy.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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When We Were Young Part Four

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader Rating: T Notes: Not beta-read I hope everyone's had a good week and is doing well :) Thank you for all of the likes/reblogs/replies!! Warnings: Uuuuuh none Summary: “I’ve never come across a boring case, Lord Dawson. Some have perhaps been easier to solve than others, but the truth is never boring.”

“You seem a little agitated, if you don’t mind my saying so.” You did mind her saying so, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be irritated with Mrs. Lloyd. She was Uncle Cornelius’ housekeeper, had known you since you were very young, and was familiar with your moods. “I’m not particularly looking forward to this evening,” You excused. Mrs. Lloyd glanced at you in the mirror as she adjusted the off-the-shoulder sleeves of your royal blue evening gown. “Could it have anything to do with the fact that Lord Dawson will be in attendance?” She asked. “Among other things,” You replied stiffly. She hummed, lifting her hands to smooth over your hair. “Shall I tuck a flower into the braid? I got a lovely bunch of gardenias at the market this morning,” Mrs. Lloyd offered. She didn’t wait for your answer before she headed for the door. “Why gardenias?” You asked, turning to look at her. “They symbolize purity and gentleness,” She told you. You grimaced. “Are there any flowers that symbolize resentment?” You asked. Mrs. Lloyd frowned. “Petunias. But I didn’t buy any of those.”

-- “It’s the last thing this country needs, reform,” Mycroft had been prattling on for nearly twenty minutes now. Most of the men’s voices uttered murmurs of agreement, though you noted Sherlock’s was absent. You glanced in his direction to find him eyeing the man that had been seated across from you. Lord Fredrick Adelbert Dawson did cut a fine figure, you couldn’t deny it. With a sharp, pointed jaw, dusty blonde hair, hawk-sharp steel blue eyes, and an aquiline nose, he tended to draw the eye of many a young lady. He had even drawn yours when you’d first met him. And then you’d had a conversation with him and any interest you’d had faded quickly. You lowered your eyes to your plate as you saw Sherlock’s gaze flit to you.

��Come now, gentlemen, I do believe we’re boring our companions,” Cornelius chuckled, casting looks around the table, “Perhaps Mr. Holmes could tell us about the case he’s currently working on?” You felt yourself grow tense as everyone’s attention shifted to Sherlock. If he was rattled by this sudden spotlight, he didn’t show it. His face retained its usual mild expression; the only noticeable change was a now quirked brow in Cornelius’ direction. “What is it you’d like to know?” He asked. “Whatever it is you can tell us,” Cornelius pressed. “I’m not sure there’s much Sherlock can say about this one at present,” Mycroft’s voice was tight as he reached for his glass of wine. You watched him take a rather long sip before he lowered the glass to the table. The hand that had been holding it rested on the cloth, balled into a fist. “Is it because it’s confidential, or is it simply dreadfully boring?” Lord Dawson asked. You cast Sherlock a glance, watched him tip his head and narrow his eyes at the question. Oh dear. “I’ve never come across a boring case, Lord Dawson. Some have perhaps been easier to solve than others, but the truth is never boring.” “The truth?” Dawson repeated, brows raised in amusement, “What excitement can one find in the truth?” “About as much excitement as you find at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. Is it still under the management of Madame Vestris?” “Sherlock,” Mycroft hurried to hiss from the other end of the table. But the damage had been done. You watched as the blood drained from Dawson’s face. The comment had landed with the other gentlemen at the table, and, unfortunately, with you. Uncle Cornelius, in one of his more intoxicated states, had once made mention of ‘the pretty ladies he’d been in the company of’ at the Theatre Royal. You weren’t naïve; you knew that they were ladies of the night. You reached for your glass of wine, avoiding the eyes of both Sherlock and Lord Dawson as they looked to you for a reaction. “I quite loved H.M.S. Pinafore!” Cornelius piped up in the hopes of breaking the tension. -- After dinner, the ladies had adjourned to the sitting room for a glass of wine and some conversation; the men had remained in the dining room for brandy and cigars. You had only been able to stand the chatter for a few minutes before you excused yourself. You stepped out into the garden, sighing into the night air and allowing your shoulders to sag just a little. Dinner had been no less than a disaster. Even after Cornelius had moved the conversation on, there had been glares and harsh words veiled as polite conversation between Sherlock and Dawson. You had hated it; you knew that this would be awful, but you couldn’t have fathomed it would be nearly this bad. “Are you cold?” You jumped at the sound of his voice. Sherlock held his hands up in apology as you brought your hand up to your chest, feeling your heart pound. “No,” You lied, the word harsh in your irritation. If he knew you were lying, he didn’t call you on it. Sherlock turned, beginning to wander around the garden in silence. You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to warm them as he was looking elsewhere. As you saw him turn back toward you, you quickly lowered your hands, clasping them in front of you. “What are you doing out here?” You asked. “I wanted some air,” Sherlock excused. “There’s plenty of air inside.” “And you?” Sherlock asked, “What drew you out?” “... It was too warm in the sitting room,” You fibbed. Sherlock hummed, clearly unconvinced before he began to wander the garden again. “Did they teach you to lie at finishing school?” He had meant it to be a joke, but you nodded and said, “In a way.” His brow furrowed. “Explain,” He requested. You looked down at your hands, considering. “Well... You’re taught to comport yourself according to the rules of society. How to sit, how to eat, how to smile, how to speak, how to laugh. And you’re taught to act that way regardless of however you may truly be, or however you may feel. You learn to become someone else, for the sake of society...Though everyone tells you that it’s for your own sake.” When you looked at Sherlock, you found him watching you closely. “...Promise me you’ll find Enola before Mycroft does,” You pleaded softly. His mouth turned down in irritation. “I’m doing everything I can, dove,” Sherlock swore. “If you were doing everything, you wouldn’t be taking breaks to ruin dinner parties,” You retorted. Sherlock grunted, turning away from you. “Your Lord Dawson is quite the character,” He commented. The butterflies in your stomach began to swirl about in an uneasy flurry. “How so?” You asked. “Well, he’s quite blunt, firm in his opinions. He seems to be under the impression that you’re meek, soft...Though maybe that was the fault of the gardenia,” he glanced back at you. You let out an irritated huff, reaching up and yanking the flower that Mrs. Lloyd had put in your hair out, tossing it on the stone bench near you. You glowered at the sight of Sherlock’s amused smile. “I’m sure Mycroft will be quite cross with you for what you said to Fredrick,” You commented. “Fredrick?” Sherlock repeated, stopping in his place, a thread of incredulity in his tone. You arched a challenging brow, silently daring him to comment on the name further. Rather than press, Sherlock said, “I’m sure Mycroft is already taking the pains to smooth things over. You’re familiar with Dawson, do you think he’s amenable?” “Your brother has a reputation for being persistent to the point of ruthlessness. I’m sure his success is imminent.” “I wasn’t asking you about my brother,” Sherlock pointed out. He tucked his hands behind his back, regarding you. “...Could you be happy with him?” The question took you aback, but your answer was prepared - it was the same thing you’d been telling yourself for months: “My family would stop worrying about my future. It would be a weight off of their mind, and therefore mine.” “That isn’t an answer.” “Yes it is,” You argued. Sherlock considered this. “I disagree,” He finally said, “Let me ask again.” He began to cross the garden toward you in slow, steady steps as he spoke, “Would you be happy, being Lady Dawson? Attending opening day at Ascot? Wearing the latest fashions? Having your name in the papers whenever your husband takes up another of his several affairs?” Your stomach churned uneasily, heart pounding as Sherlock stared you down. “Stop it,” You mumbled. “Bearing two, three little lords or ladies? Shipping them off to school--” “Stop it!” You snapped more loudly. Sherlock went still at that, close enough for you to see the flicker of shock in his eyes. You shook your head a little bit, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment to quell the tears that had begun to prickle, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you looked at him again. “You’re just as bad as Mycroft sometimes, you know? Prodding me to see how quickly you can get a rise out of me like I’m some experiment and not a person. It’s cruel.” Then you saw it again - the flash of hurt that had crossed Sherlock’s face back at Ferndell. But it didn’t disappear this time. Instead it settled, twisting his handsome features as his eyes lowered to the ground. “You did it when we were young, too. Maybe it was fair then, maybe I was just this irritating noise-making thing that you wanted away from you. But we’re not children anymore,” You reprimanded him, “And what I may have to do to maintain my family’s social standing is none of your concern, Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock looked at you then, eyes skating over your face before he met your gaze. “Your eyes are red,” He said. Irritation shot through you. “I’m not a case, Sherlock,” You sneered before you turned away, intending to leave. Sherlock’s hand caught hold of yours, stilling you. “Let go,” You hissed. “Dove.” His tone was beseeching, gentle. You didn’t trust it. “Let go of me,” You demanded. He did, and you strode away, leaving him alone in the night. -- “Are you alright? ... My dear, you’re shaking,” Mrs. Lloyd gripped you by the shoulders, steering you back into the study. “I-- It was colder than I anticipated,” You excused. You allowed yourself to be steered into a chair by the fire, folded into a blanket, the others fussing about you catching your death. No one noticed the gardenia missing from your hair. No one noticed the white petals peeking out from the pocket of Sherlock’s jacket as he bid Cornelius a good night. -- “Breakfast is on the table. And there’s been a delivery for you - it’s in your study,” Your mother informed you. You thanked her quietly before turning back to your vanity to finish pinning up your hair. You were glad to be home. Your last two days in London had been entirely uneventful. You’d met with your father’s other investor (with minimal condescension; the gentleman had actually been somewhat pleasant) and dropped in on your aunt one more time before traveling home. You hadn’t heard from Dawson, which was a relief. You’d heard nothing from Sherlock. That should’ve been a relief, but it was, in fact, agonizing. You told yourself it was because it meant that you had no news of Enola, but you knew that it was more than that. You couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you may’ve said or done if you’d turned back to him when he’d wanted you to. You hadn’t sought him out despite this curiosity, either in person or by post; he had a case to work on. Besides, you didn’t know what you’d say to him even if you did see him. You two seemed to turn to bickering when left to your own devices. Your curiosity about the delivery won out over your hunger, and you went into your study. There was a beautiful white satin glass vase sitting on your desk filled with purple hyacinths. You knew what those flowers meant well enough - you’d sent them to your Aunt Mary the last time you’d failed to send her a formal thank you note for a dinner party you’d attended at her home. Purple hyacinths were for apologies. You stepped closer to them warily, gently fingering the petals. Your eyes fell to the envelope beside the vase, and your stomach gave a little flip. Sherlock’s handwriting hadn’t changed after all this time; his penmanship had always had a crisp, almost tight quality to it. You picked the envelope up, pulling the note out. Please forgive me, dove. -S.H. At the very bottom of the note was an address for Miss Harrison’s Finishing School. Tag list: @run-through-wa11s ; @thefallenbibliophilequote ; @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem ; @maan24 ; @awkward-walking-potato ; @madalore ; @alexa-lightwood-blog ; @chelseaxaz ; @marwritesgood ; @runawayolives ; @parkerismybaby

#When We Were Young #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x You #Sherlock Holmes Imagine #Sherlock Holmes Henry Cavill #Sherlock Holmes/You #Sherlock Holmes/Reader

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ajaxwrites · 4 years ago

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GENSHIN IMPACT FANFIC REC LIST II

(previous: part i)

Seaglass by Aevas

There was more to the contract than a gnosis and test of Liyue. It seemed like a simple deal five hundred years ago: so long as Morax never had a soulmate, the Tsaritsa would never harm Liyue and she would not get his gnosis. But the moment he gained a soulmate, all that belonged to him was forfeit. He thought the deal left Liyue safe—he'd lived thousands of years without a soulmate. The Tsaritsa would be dead and gone by the time she'd have a chance to collect.

Five hundred years later, Childe appears in Liyue, Zhongli gains a soulmate mark, and everything falls apart.

(The obligatory soulmate AU, featuring a Zhongli with PTSD, an oblivious Childe, and demon-worshipping cultists.)

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: I CANNOT BELIEVE I SLEPT ON THIS FIC FOR SO LONG. Read it and I mean it! I admitted initially steered clear of this fic because I wasn’t comforted with a soulmate tartali fic pre-Osial but this fic is actually post-Ostial *facepalm* The writing is phenomenal and Aevas does some beautiful worldbuilding that you typically don’t see in Genshin Impact fics. I love the dynamic between Childe and Zhongli here and the angst is real. The author writes the two as very human characters who makes mistakes, etc. and notably Zhongli struggles with the concept of Childe as his soulmate (who understandably is upset by the rejection when he realizes). They get better though. Also very plotty. A+ writing.

it's a hard rock life for us by reptilianraven

“Ah, no need to worry about that,” Azhdaha waves a dismissive hand. “There is no real Kun Jun. He’s dead.”

A leaf blows past and plaps onto Aether’s face.

“You killed him???” Paimon screeches.

“No,” Azhdaha scrunches his eyebrows. “He was dead when I found him.”

“And you just decided to wear his corpse?” Aether says, leaf still on his face.

He shrugs. “It was free real estate.”

“Azhdaha...” Morax says, sounding vaguely pained.

Or the one where Historia Antiqua Chapter II: No Mere Stone goes a little bit different and Azhdaha gets more time.

He ultimately uses that time to bully Morax into confronting his immortal neuroses, to make Aether and Paimon suffer, and to figure out how to get that ginger boy Morax has his eye on to make a move already.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, Past Azhdaha/Zhongli

Notes: Very lighthearted, humor-filled fic. Love how Azhdaha is so flippant. Interactions with Zhongli and Childe are pure gold.

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes by moonlight_mist

Childe has a Weapon problem- specifically, that he can't keep one.

He's too reckless, too wild, and too keen on pushing his Weapon partners past their limits. He's just about ready to give up when he meets Zhongli, a Weapon who just might be the solution- so long as Childe can manage to keep his dick in his pants.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This is a Soul Eater AU with some college/university AU vibes (?) but you don’t really need to know much about the anime. It’s a cute AU and I love the premise. Light angst but otherwise, it’s a pretty semi-plotty fic. Easter egg Kaeya and Diluc though.

To Kill A God by IlluminanceinTales

In Snezhnaya, they call them sansis—lost souls that have no guidance but themselves. It’s an apt description, given that most of the time, wannabe-Archons have to go through dozens of tests with nothing as their reference, relying solely on their wit and strength and hoping it would be enough. At least, until they survive the end of the whole game—and they might not have to undergo a painful reincarnation which feels like a hundred bones being stitched together again.

On his seventh game, Childe Tartaglia reincarnates this time in the body of a young man.

Damn, he thinks, looking down at his thin body, his slightly calloused fingers. This won’t be good when facing the other Hydro Decisions.

In a world where an Archon's position is not chosen but fought for in games, Childe Tartaglia is a Hydro Decision who's poised to become the next Hydro Archon. Of course, that's only if he survives his seventh reincarnation. All would be so much easier if it weren't for a certain Geo Archon interfering with every possible chance he gets.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Think Hunger Games meet Political Intrigue meet Genshin Impact. Love the premise and world building that’s done. Features overprotective Zhongli and lots of Childe whump. Has one or two supplementary OCs that aren’t really important outside of plot device reasons. Warning for character death tho lmao.

Three's a Family by IlluminanceinTales

Childe finds a kid that looks just like him.

Of course Zhongli wants to keep him.

Or: How a harbinger and an archon accidentally become fathers. The kid is their wingman

Ships: Childe/Zhongli (?)

Notes: Your everyday cute AF kid fic. Fluffy as hell and super cute. Zhongli and Childe get domestic pretty quickly. Xiao gets dubbed a grandfather and begrudgingly plays along. Super wholesome.

in pitch dark i go walking in your landscape by snowbrigade

He glanced down at him, at the silvery scars peeking out from beneath his robe, and at his eyes, properly now. They were the bright blue of high quality noctilucous jade, but he could see it, an underlying darkness.

Zhongli wondered what his eyes betrayed about himself. --

Rex Lapis is dead. Zhongli, formerly known as triad leader Rex Lapis, is a detective investigating his own "death." Childe, also known as Tartaglia of the Fatui mafia, is undercover as an escort looking to kill Rex Lapis- until someone beats him to it, and he wants to know who. Goals intersecting, they form a partnership of ulterior motives.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: There’s like one scene that skews NSFW but otherwise surprisingly not explicit. Really fun AU. Like how the author addresses Childe’s reaction to being stuck with the undercover escort stuff and how the dynamic between the two develops. Pretty plotty so far.

Phantom Lines by iskendaris

“It’s a measure of one’s self, Mr Zhongli.” Childe says. “Maybe you don’t understand it since you work as a consultant, but as an ambassador from the Tsaritsa, as one who fights in her name— this is how I learn to know the measure of myself.” “I understand,” Zhongli says thoughtfully. “It is a warrior’s way, to test one’s strength against the incomparable. To find where one falls short. To find where one has risen to the challenge.”

In which Childe has insomnia, vandalizes public property and runs into a mysterious funeral consultant on his first night in Liyue.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: THE FEELS. I can only describe this as the fic where Zhongli pays Best Boyfriend Ever only to FUCK UP big time (via Gnosis deception). Poor, poor Childe. Look, he gave the boy feelings and then broke him. You can really feel Childe fall in love in this love. He also does mental swooning a lot lmao.

adventitious by Anonymous

It's said the Ley Lines remember all things that happen in this world, from the surface down to the deepest depths... But in the hidden corners where the Gods' gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming.

There's a dormant bud where Kaeya's eye once was. One day, it will bloom. (Never forget: memory is untrustworthy.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: I don’t even know where to start. This is very headcanony and lore-focused. Very much concentrated on Khaenri'ah. The implications of this story is grotesque to say the least (according to this fic, Visions are the literal eyes of the people of Khaenri'ah). Warnings for eye and body horror.

Without Those Dark Memories by StrangeDiamond

Diluc awakens in Stormterror’s Lair with no memories of the past five years. Kaeya is on the trail of a rogue alchemist, with a habit of testing his chemicals on unwilling human subjects. Now, in addition to capturing the criminal, Kaeya has to shake him down for an antidote . . . and deal with an amnesiac Diluc who acts exactly like he did before their brotherhood fell apart. (Standalone Fic.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: This is sort of a classic amnesia fic. I particularly really liked the way that Kaeya was written in this. I feel like the author did a really good job nailing his character and they have a way of capturing the subtle things.

Through the warmth, through the cold by strikedawn

“It’s you!” Paimon shouted with a twirl in mid-air.

“…Excuse me?"

They were drunk. Were they drunk? Was he drunk? Because Kaeya had the feeling his guests had been talking to him for a while now, but none of their words had made any sense whatsoever.

That was, until Venti stepped firmly in front of Kaeya’s desk and set his hands on the top, the better to lean over towards Kaeya and say: “For the end of the Windblume festival, Sir Kaeya Alberich, we’re going to auction a date with you.”

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Shortword, Kaeya gets auctioned off. Diluc makes impulsive (but good) decisions and scores himself a Date but displays an inability to do Date Planning. Venti deserves a pat on the back. Very sweet.

Hide and Seek by Kiri_Kaitou_Clover

Childe did not expect regaining his memories would bring him such frustration.

He makes the best of the situation by messing with one amber eyed consultant in anyway he can.

A reincarnated storm god wades through life in Liyue, all while screaming about one dragon god's incompetency at being human.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Features Childe as Osial’s very exasperated reincarnation, who gets the joy of discovering that his rival/enemy Morax is not only an idiot but also broke AF. He still falls in love anyway. Contains this golden line:

"Did... did that complete blockhead really use my money in order to get me a gift that basically says that he is proposing to me?!"

(Osial was screaming. When had the other god become like this?! Had he always been like this?!)

Getting that Bread by tzitzimeme

Concubine AU where Zhongli is Emperor, Xiao is an assassin sent to kill him while disguised as a woman in his imperial harem, and the only reason he doesn't actually do it is because he pities Zhongli for being so catastrophically stupid (also Xiao falls in love).

Ships: Zhongli/Xiao

Notes: Like Xiao says, Zhongli is an idiot. Fluff and humor filled. Xiao spends a good 95% of this exasperated by Zhongli’s bullshit.

prayers for a boy by Recluse

The only way to reconciliation is fierce combat!

Hm... Come to think of it, there will be a lot of interesting news to be heard the next time we gather for drinks. Filling in the blanks.

Ships: N/A

Notes: I...don’t really know where to begin with this? It’s exactly what the summary implies...but more? I was tempted to describe this as the fic where Zhongli puts his foot in his mouth but...that’s not exactly write? I feel like this was more of a character study. It explores the aftermath of the Osial Incident and how Zhongli and Childe reconnect. Platonically...though I guess it can be read romantically.

one kind of longing, two places of sorrow by lady_peony

Zhongli's hands rest behind his back, both gloved hands clasping one another. His fingers tighten around one another for the merest moment, before he relaxes his grip.

"There is a tradition in Liyue," Zhongli says, his back still to Childe standing behind him, "of inviting out a companion to a last meal before a farewell."

A pause.

"A tradition?" Childe echoes.

"Yes."

"With a companion?"

"Yes."

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The fic where neither of the two communicate about jackshit but go on a quiet, sad not-date before Childe leaves for Snezhnaya. Childe pulls (? on accident or on purpose, I can not tell) the equivalent of leaving the jacket in the car post-date to get date to call for the second date. Also, the author has a gift for like...writing angst...without writing angst? Like the whole fic is like brimming with everything that the characters aren’t saying but the thoughts aren’t necessarily written out BUT YOU KNOW THOSE DUMBFUCKS ARE JUST LIKE. BRIMMING WITH FEELS?

The People of Liyue by queer_occurrences

But Zhongli whispers, his low voice rooted in the back of Childe’s mind. “Changsun, the merchant, who is never too Mora-enthralled to turn away a needy child. There’s Tiantian—she will allow anyone to join the Adventurer’s Guild—she knows what it is to be desperate.”

Childe ducks away from them and hurries out over the bridge. It’s a warm, sunny day, the kind he would have complained about, whining about his delicate Snezhnayan skin. “It’ll burn, or worse, freckle. Would you still like me if I was freckled?”

Then Zhongli would say, “The people of Liyue will remember your sacrifice.” And he would wrinkle his nose.

Or: after it all goes down, Childe takes a walk.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The author has a way with perfectly balancing angst with humor in a way that makes you cackle. There’s a lot of feels in this one. Zhongli tries communicating--Childe runs away a lot. There’s a lot of love for Liyue in this one.

cold blooded, warm blooded, hearts all the same by reptilianraven

Teyvat Petting Zoo @tyvtpettingzoo

Well would you look at that! Zhongli, our resident spinytail iguana, has gotten quite cozy with Childe, our new (and very feisty) ginger ferret! Aren’t they adorable all cuddled together like this? 😍😍😍

[Attached image shows a brown spinytail iguana curled up against a ginger ferret. The iguana’s head is nuzzled under the snout of the ferret.]

At the Teyvat Petting Zoo, Zhongli and Childe fall in love.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: ...I promise I’m not weird. This is just super cute. Cross-species love affair? Childe the ferret is very besotted. The internet is confused and the zoo keepers are just done.

a geo archon's guide to the modern era by Erina

“Morax,” Xiao says after Zhongli finishes his retelling of the incident. “He thinks you’re a weirdo.”

“No, don’t say that,” Barbatos snickers. “You’ll give him hope that this is salvageable.” He lowers his voice. “Morax, he thinks you’re a boomer.”

(In which Zhongli hibernates for centuries and wakes up in the modern world)

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This took me, I shit you not, FIVE SEPARATE ATTEMPTS to read. Not because it was bad but BECAUSE THE SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT WAS REAL. Like, omg, just reading about Zhongli’s introduction to modernity made me want to dig a hole and die. Super funny though. Do not read in public or you will look like a lunatic. Has a...parallel (?) fic in the same series called buy two get one archon free where Zhongli gets reversed isekai’d into an anime convention.

time flies like an arrow by Erina

He’s tired, tired of the unbreakable loop of watching his loved ones pass on, tired of getting attached only for the connection to be violently ripped away from him. He wonders if the real victors during the Archon War were those who perished, who died long before their godhood turned into a curse that chained them to the land that they were fighting for.

But that is not a problem for Childe to worry about. That is Zhongli’s burden to bear, delivered to him in a pretty package years ago in the form of a gnosis.

His very first contract.

(Zhongli and Childe, across many lifetimes)

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This is a quiet fic. It’s this kind of slice-of-life fic colored by this overpowering sense of love and loss as Zhongli remains immortal and Childe dies and lives and dies and lives for hundreds of lifetimes, but always finds his way back to his geo archon. It’s so lovely but also unbearably sad.

Tartaglia’s Favorite Professor by GreyLiliy

The famed hitman Tartaglia of the Fatui Syndicate spends his days as the charming college student Childe. The two lives remain as separate as possible in order to maintain a flawless cover to keep the authorities off his back and to better serve the Tsaritsa.

However, new intel about a rival syndicate intersects his two lives in a way he could never have predicted.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Mafia AU meet College AU. Childe is somehow both a horny AF college student and murderous hitman. Zhongli gives off major DILF vibes. GreyLily somehow makes this work while also avoiding cringe. Highly recommended!

like a handprint on my heart by fallingintodivinity

“Strictly off-the-record,” Jean says, with a small smile, “I’m really happy to see you and Captain Kaeya getting along again, Master Diluc.”

“We’re not – we’re not getting along,” Diluc tells her, indignant. “We’re working together. Unwillingly, I might add.”

“Yes – oh, yes, of course.”

Diluc stares at Jean suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me?”

Jean clears her throat primly. “I would never.”

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Super, super cute! Sort of reads like a first date fic except genshin impact style? Writing style is very refreshing!

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #fanfic rec #rec list #zhongli/childe #childe/zhongli #tartali #chili #diluc./kaeya #luckae #fanfiction #took a while but i have been steadily reading my way through the fandom #still not all my recs #but you can check my ao3 for what i'm reading lmao

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johaerys-writes · 3 years ago

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Writing Tag Game

I was tagged by @noire-pandora @midnightprelude @mogwaei @serial-chillr @faerieavalon @pinkfadespirit @inquisitoracorn and @in-arlathan thank you so much! :)

How many works do you have on Ao3?

On my main Ao3 blog: 23! I also have a second blog where I post works set in the Dragon Age-inspired Modern AU I've been writing with @oftachancer , featuring my OC Tristan Trevelyan and her OC Aran Trevelyan, as well as a few others of our OCs. There are 5 works there at the moment. You can check them out here: jo_writes

What's your total Ao3 wordcount?

On my main blog, 516,722 words. On my second blog, 193,953 words, but the majority of it is co-written with @oftachancer .

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

High-Flying Birds: 589 kudos (TSOA)

Where Blood Roses Bloom: 467 kudos (Castlevania)

Winter's Fruit: 424 kudos (TSOA)

Like Friends Do: 410 kudos (TSOA)

Memories and Echoes: 327 kudos (TSOA)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always!! I don't think there's a single comment I've ever received that I've left unanswered. I just love talking with my readers and screeching in my replies. I often wonder whether I come across as a tiny bit insane or overly enthusiastic, but you know what? I am both, so who cares 😂 I just appreciate every single person that has taken the time to read and comment on my works, and I want to make sure they know JUST HOW MUCH

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I honestly don't think that many of my stories have an angsty ending? Most of them end on a hopeful or at least bittersweet note, I think. I'm pretty sure the only ones I've written that have sad endings were those in my Hector/Carmilla series, You Always Hurt The Ones You Love (CV) which were kind of dark and depressing anyway.

Playground Love, the fic I've written with @oftachancer featuring our OCs Tristan and Aran ends on an angsty note, but things do get better in the next installment, Never Let Me Go, so I suppose I am a little allergic to angsty endings XD

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

The Stars Will Guide Us Home (TSOA, Modern AU) has a super soft and fluffy ending, and Fall Into Your Tide (TSOA, Merman AU) will have a happy ending too.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I've written a Witcher/Dragon Age crossover, Viper In Tall Grass, where Tristan is a witcher and Dorian a Nilfgardian mage which I thoroughly enjoyed! Also, one of the first long fics I ever finished was a Witcher/Wheel of Time crossover, which I think is genuinely the most... imaginative thing I've written 😂 I never posted it and don't think I will, but I still love it to bits and I'm super proud of myself for writing it.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Kind of? It wasn't directed at me personally (I don't think) but at one of the main characters of the fic. Perhaps it was referring to the way I'd written the particular character, I truly can't say, it was a little vague. It takes a lot to offend me, but this really rubbed me the wrong way. I honestly think I would have been less offended if the person had criticised my writing rather than the character lol. I just don't take any shit when it comes to the characters I love. They're PERFECT, okay? How dare you come into my house and badmouth them 😂 RUDE

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell YEAH! I love writing smut, it's great. As to what kind, I think that porn with feelings describes it really well. The smut I write tends to get emotional real quick, even when I intended for it to be straight up porn, so I guess there's no hope for me, hah.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, High-Flying Birds has been translated into Vietnamese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! With oftachancer, two novel-length fics (Playground Love and Never Let Me Go), as well as a few other WIPs that haven't been posted yet, and I'm currently working on a multi-chap fic with my friendo @in-arlathan , featuring Dorian/Tristan and Solas with her Elenara Lavellan, which I'm so excited about! I've also brainstormed and goblined-out over a couple projects with @mogwaei !! I love co-writing, it's so fun :)

What's your all time favourite ship?

Oooh, that's a tough one. I'm super biased in that the ships I love are those I write (both canon and OC pairings) but if you held a gun to my head and asked me to choose I would probably have to say... Dorian/Tristan and Achilles/Patroclus? AAH this is too hard ;w;

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I do plan on finishing all of the WIPs I am currently working on. I have a lot of writing ideas that I don't think I'll ever get around to, but when I actually start writing something I tend to commit till the end.

What are your writing strengths?

Descriptions, introspection and angsty/emotional scenes I think are my favourite things to write. I also enjoy writing fight scenes a little too much (and judging by the feedback I receive on them people seem to enjoy them too, heh). Lastly, I've been told that the characters I write are complex and fleshed out and that my pacing is good, and that's honestly the best praise for me.

What are you writing weaknesses?

I struggle quite a lot with self doubt and perfectionism. I worry a lot about how my work will be perceived and whether it's good enough. I often agonise over small details or paragraphs/sentences, to the point where I sometimes post just so I stop myself from going back and editing indefinitely. I have thousands upon thousands of words in deleted scenes because "they weren't quite right" or I changed a tiny bit and the rest didn't fit. So. You get the idea 😅 (Now, how I manage to read through everything multiple times before posting yet still get typos... welp)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Hmm, I have to say that I do like it when there are foreign words interspersed through the narrative if the story isn't set in an English speaking world or if the characters speak a different language, but I'm not a huuuge fan of seeing a big chunk of dialogue in a foreign language without immediate translation or a hovering text. It kind of breaks the immersion for me and I tend to avoid it generally in my own writing.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age, and specifically DAI! That game never gets old for me.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

It's impossible for me to pick just one so I'm going to cheat and choose a few. I absolutely love my current WIPs: High-Flying Birds, Where Blood Roses Bloom and A World With You, and the freaking epic-length fics I've written with @oftachancer . They haven't always been easy to write (especially AWWY, which has the most intricate plot & character development) but I'm so proud of them and I've learned so much while writing them. Of my finished stories, The Stars Will Guide Us Home is hands down one of my all time faves. It had been on my mind for several months before I actually wrote it, and I poured so much of my heart into it. I still get emotional when I go back to reread it, not gonna lie! Lastly, At The Water's Edge (TSOA) is very dear to me and I often go back for rereads.

I'm tagging forth to (no pressure!): @fancytrinkets @elveny @glimmerofgold @asiriushoe @juliafied @boshtet-juggler @schattengerissen @dafan7711 @tessa1972 @fandomn00blr @pikapeppa and anyone else who would like to join!

#tag game #writing #dragon age #castlevania #the song of achilles #tsoa #johaerys writes

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hoodedguitarist · 4 years ago

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Luminescence

Gif not miiinee Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn x Jedi!Reader

Summary: You and Qui-Gon find yourselves on one of the lesser known, lesser visited planets. Having narrowly escaped a sudden attack from some raiders, you and your crew have landed on this serene and beautiful planet to make a few repairs and take a break before returning to Coruscant.

Warnings: Fluff, Mush, Kisses, Confessions, not held responsible for any cavities you may develop whilst/after reading this. :D

Notes: Apparently there’s a serious shortage of Qui-Gon x Reader fics?? This is what I heard. I’m doing my part, saving the fangirls and all. Qui-Gon is one of my absolute favorite characters but I can’t bring myself to write a smut thing for him. @chadillacboseman this is the best I can do. This is for you my dear <3 I hope you like it. Also, I just made this planet up on the fly. ALSO also, loosely based off of this beautiful poem. Can you tell I want to go to a bioluminescent bay? Cause I do. Ok I’ll shut up now.

The ship had been in a good enough condition to land properly. Luckily, none of the raiders had followed, but repairs were needed before you could continue.

“This planet is peaceful,” Qui-Gon assured you and the other two who were with you. “And I’m sure they will have the part that we need. It’s a simple enough task. Jado, Tyla?”

“We know what to look for and we know what we need,” Jado, the mechanic, answered. He gave a reassuring smile and a nod.

“Good. In that case, we will stay here with the ship,” Qui-Gon motioned to himself and you.

“Are you sure it’s safe enough to send them out on their own?” You asked gently. “Shouldn’t one of us go?”

“We can take care of it,” Tyla, the pilot, promised. “We don’t need the Jedi constantly watching over us, we’ve got our blasters and know how to use them,” she smirked.

“Clumsy and random,” you quipped back with a smile.

“Not in our hands,” Jado chuckled. He nudged Tyla. “Come on, let’s head out. We’ll try to be back before dark.”

The pilot and the mechanic made their way off the ship, and you and Qui-Gon were alone. You couldn’t help but be a little worried. You weren’t very familiar with this planet and had certainly never visited. He sensed your unease and stepped over to you, looking down into your eyes.

“It’s alright, my dear,” he assured, sliding a hand onto your shoulder. His touch comforted you and made a warmth spread through your chest. He gave you a knowing smile. “I told you, this planet is peaceful. My instincts tell me we won’t have any trouble.”

You raised a brow, amusement written on your face. “Qui, when are we not in trouble? This whole situation was caused because trouble found us. And don’t try to quell me with your sweet talk, it won’t work.”

You and Qui-Gon weren’t really together… You went on an awful lot of missions together, though, and you flirted a lot. It was mild when people were around but when you were alone, it always seemed a bit more serious. He always made your heart beat a touch faster and gave your stomach butterflies.

You were also at least half sure that his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, could sense something between the two of you, but he never said anything. Obi wasn’t there, though… And the realization that you and Qui-Gon were alone together suddenly hung heavy in the air.

“I am not trying to quell you,” he had a soft laugh in his voice. “I would never try to do such a thing to you, I only mean to reassure you.”

“Well, perhaps I would feel better if I explored a little outside. I’ve always heard this place is beautiful at night but this is my first time being here.”

“Ynirro is known for its magical oceans and white beaches. If you want to explore, I will stay with the ship.”

“What’s so magical about the oceans?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“When night falls, I will show you,” He had that look about him, that look that clearly said he knew something that you didn’t. It was mischievous, but endearing. “For now, stay in sight of the ship. I know the beach is close by, but wait for me. I wish to see it with you.”

“That’s very romantic of you, Master Qui-Gon,” you teased softly, placing your hand over his that still lay on your shoulder. His smile faded and was replaced with a more thoughtful look. Your chest tightened in slight panic. Did you say something wrong? Was that too much?

His features soon softened, though, and a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He lifted his thumb and ran it along your fingers, even going so far as to clasp your hand in his. His blue eyes locked earnestly with yours.

“Only for you,” his sincerity startled you a bit. Your heart began to race. He took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Go on, go do your exploring. I’ll be right here.”

“Alright…” You barely managed the word. It came out as more of a soft breath than an actual word. He had enraptured you and your skin now tingled pleasantly where his lips had touched. You took a step back but squeezed his hand gently one last time. He returned it before you both reluctantly let go.

When you finally made it outside you had a chance to take a breath and calm yourself down. Of course, the first thing that popped into your mind was the Jedi Council. They hung like a little grey cloud over your head, always watching, always wary. You and Qui-Gon were not like the other Jedi. The both of you followed the will of the Force more than the code, often going against the Council’s wishes at times. If they found out about this, they would not be pleased and you ran the risk of being kicked out.

You blinked and had found that your feet had already started walking while your brain went in another direction. Your eyes took in your surroundings, noticing the lush greenery of the forest and taking in the sweet scents of tropical flowers that bloomed around you. It was a paradise, that much was certain. You made a note to come back to Ynirro when you had free time, if only for a slight vacation… And maybe you wouldn’t be alone.

“What am I thinking?” You said softly to yourself. “Kai Adi-Mundi has four wives!” You shook your head. There was no way that you were going to let the council control that part of your life. You and Qui-Gon seemed to share a bond, even from the moment you first met. The both of you always knew what the other was thinking or feeling… Dare you even think that you shared a bond within the Force? That it led you both to each other?

Your heart leapt at the idea and you glanced back in the direction of the ship. You would try not to get your hopes up, however. You didn’t want to jump the gun, or blaster as it were. You were sure he was thinking through a few things as well with the time that he had. Instead, you turned and walked into another direction, letting your fingers ghost over the soft petals of a blue flower. The sun would be gone soon but it would give you both enough time to think before nightfall.

~*~

Twilight was fading and it had grown darker as you made your way back to the ship. A few lights were on and the platform was extended still. You smiled and adjusted your robes before heading up into the ship.

“Qui-Gon?”

“There you are,” he turned, smiling at you. “Well, do you feel better now? More at peace?”

“I do. Not just with Ynirro but with a few other things that were on my mind as well.”

“I did the same while you were gone. Night has fallen but I would like to wait for Tyla and Jado to return-” A noise cut his sentence off and the both of you looked back to see the two in question come in.

“We got the part!” Jado said excitedly. “Tyla and I will get to work on it right away.”

“Take your time, don’t rush,” you said gently. “The ship must be fixed properly and if we have to stay here overnight, so be it.”

“I agree. A rushed job is often a poor one,” Qui-Gon said wisely.

“We’ll take our time,” Tyla promised. “We’ll get it done right and be back in Coruscant before you know it.”

“Well, we’re going to observe the beach. I hear the ocean is quite a sight to behold. When you two finish, come and join us. I promise you won’t be disappointed,” Qui-Gon put a gentle hand on the small of your back and you stood up a little straighter, your smile widening.

“We will! Have fun!” Tyla chirped before she began to rummage around in a box of tools.

You and Qui-Gon both headed out and into the warm night air. You couldn’t hide the excitement now that the two of you were alone. “I can’t wait!” You walked close to him, looking up at him. “What is it? Can you give me a hint? Is it creatures of some kind that live in the ocean?”

Qui-Gon tilted his head a little and smirked. “To a degree, yes,” he gave you a sideways glance. “But that is all I will tell you. Come, take my hand,” he stopped and held his hand out. Your eyes met and you smiled, sliding your hand into his. He laced your fingers together and led you through the bushes. You noticed that there was a faint blue glow coming from up ahead. You stayed close to him, your hand tightening in his with anticipation. The glow was calm, soft, and became brighter the closer you got to it.

Suddenly, the terrain changed beneath your feet and you noticed the white sands. You were at the shore line.

“Close your eyes,” Qui-Gon’s voice was right at your ear. You could feel his breath brush down your neck and it made your lips part. A soft breath left you and you turned to look up at him. The both of you were a mere inch away from each other. He smiled at you and let his eyes run over your face for a moment before his free hand came up. He pushed a stray strand back from your face and curled it behind your ear. His fingertips ghosted down the shell of your ear and down along your neck. “Close your eyes, love,” he whispered.

You nodded, licking your lips and taking a deep breath. Your eyes fluttered shut and you tightened your grip on his hand just a little. Your other hand came up and you placed it on his arm. There was the sound of leaves being pushed apart and Qui-Gon tugged you gently in his direction. You stepped forward, being careful of the sudden thickness of the sand. You could feel that you were actually on the beach now, having cleared the tree-line.

Qui-Gon carefully lead you further and further until he stopped and you stopped with him.

“Alright, open your eyes,” he whispered. You did as you were told and what you saw made your jaw drop and your eyes widen.

The ocean waters of Ynirro were shimmering with beautiful blue lights. It was as if the stars had fallen and landed in the waters, making the oceans their new home. As the waves rolled up onto the white sandy shores, the lights brightened when the water stirred them, and then they calmed again when they floated back into the sea.

“Qui-Gon…” Your voice was breathless with awe, your eyes transfixed on the enchanting sight before you. In all your years of being a Jedi, all the places it had taken you, you had never seen something so beautiful.

“Microscopic bioluminescent creatures. They live in the oceans and soak up the sun's rays during the day, then put the stars to shame at night,” he explained.

You were enraptured by the sight before you…

And Qui-Gon was enraptured by you.

The way the lights bathed you in a soft blue glow. It shined in your hair, on your face, in your eyes. He was taken with the sight of you and loved to see you in such pure wonder.

Your senses pricked at you lightly and you blinked, turning your gaze away from the sight, only to see Qui-Gon already looking at you. You felt a blush try to crawl up your neck, but you smiled and laughed softly. “Qui, this is the most… Amazing thing I’ve ever seen. It’s so beautiful.”

“It is… Beautiful…” His voice was soft and his eyes never left yours. Your hands were still clasped. You stood side by side, both bathed in the glow. He turned to face you and his hand came up again, cupping your cheek. His calloused thumb ran across your cheek bone and you gave a soft in-take of breath.

“Qui-Gon...” His name was a plea on your lips, a soft begging lilt as you leaned into his touch. You placed your hand over his and your eyes darted to his lips. That was all the indication he needed. The Jedi Master leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, loving kiss.

Your eyes shut and you leaned into the kiss, a peace settling over you. It was as if this kiss was the last missing peace, the last thing that was needed to solidify the bond growing between you. You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, rubbing your thumb along the back of his hand that still cupped your cheek. He let go of your hand in favor of sliding it around the curve of your waist and pulling you closer.

It felt like your heart had grown wings, like it wanted to flutter out of your chest. Your free hand slid along the back of his neck and into his long hair. There was no space left between the two of you. Qui-Gon had pulled you flush against him and he had deepened the kiss. Your lips moved slowly against each other, savoring the moment and every feeling. You were sure you’d never been kissed so passionately and so lovingly in your life.

He pulled back, only barely, and your eyes opened and met again.

“I love you,” he admitted. “I cannot hide it any longer and I don’t care what the Council thinks.”

“The Council doesn't need to know,” you answered without missing a beat. “They are already in our lives too much. They already root around in matters that should not concern them.”

Qui-Gon smiled at this and rubbed his nose against yours. “Then this will be ours. This moment, this love, this bond we share, it is ours and is of no concern to anyone else.”

“Except perhaps Obi-Wan,” you teased softly. Qui-Gon chuckled, low and warm.

“He is clever, but I trust him. If he does know or if he figures out, I know he will keep our secret safe.”

“Good…” You rested your forehead against his, running your fingers gently through the loose part of his hair. “I love you Qui-Gon…” You whispered.

He ran his fingers through your hair and pulled you close again, kissing you deeply while you bathed in the celestial glow of the luminescent waves.

Yeah, I’m soft and cryin a little, not gonna lie. We’re all just gonna pretend Qui-Gon lives and yall live happily ever after, training Anakin and Obi-Wan and Anakin grows up with a stable father figure in his life and doesn’t turn to the dark side. Palps gets OUTED like the trash he is and Anakin and Padme have lil Luke and Leia and You and Qui-Gon become like the most awesome grandparents in the galaxy. THE END

*takes a deep breath*

Thanks for reading everyone! I headcanon that Qui-Gon is on some serious romantic level shit. Like that man will make you feel loved, give you all the passion, and make sure you feel it deep down in your soul.

As always, if you wanna be added to the tags list just shoot me a message! Inbox/asks is always open. If I hit 200 followers I’ll do some drabble requests. Never done that before, sounds fun and chaotic. I’m here for it!

Tagslist: @the-grey-jedi @hayley-the-comet @pinkiemme @swordandstar @chadillacboseman

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ultimatebethylficlist · 3 years ago

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Veteran Author of The Month: September 2021

The featured veteran author for September is a well-known and beloved name in the fandom, @rckyfrk !

Rckyfrk can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I did not start watching TWD until late into Season 3. I don’t do well with horror. My husband would watch and I would just read a book in our bedroom or something. Well, one fateful night, I needed to get some work done on my laptop and didn’t feel like sitting in bed to get it finished, so I just stayed in the living room (our house was teeny tiny - there weren’t a lot of other places to go), and I turned so I wasn’t looking at the TV, plugged in my headphones, and got to work. Well, I glanced over and there was the wonder that is Daryl Dixon gracing my screen. I was instantly intrigued. (I believe my exact words were, “Who is that? What is he...DON’T DO THAT THERE’S ZOMBIES THERE!” and I was instantly hooked. Dammit. I found that as long as I could watch some of the behind the scenes stuff on how they make the walkers, it took some of the horror out of it and I could just focus on the artistry of all the makeup and stuff. Season 4 premiere, we had some friends come over for a “watching party,” (remember those?) and I was actually up getting refills for everyone (being the good hostess that I am) so I completely missed the hug in Beth’s cell and when I came back into the room, NO ONE THOUGHT THAT WAS IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO TELL ME ABOUT. (I thought they were my friends…) So I really didn’t start *shipping* Bethyl until “Alone.” I mean, I saw how close they were getting during “Still,” but I guess I didn’t realize what I was really seeing, you know? (Keep in mind, I was still a relatively new fan and had missed most of Season 3 and THE HUG.) Anyway, I couldn’t stand waiting for the next week to find out what happened to Beth, and thus began the ONLY time I have EVER looked for spoilers. That’s how I happened upon this crazy thing called “fan fiction,” (I honestly had never known such a thing existed before that fateful search.) I got to know some of the Bethyl writers, and someone suggested joining tumblr and writing my own stories, and the rest is history. Bethyl is the only pairing I’ve actually, actively shipped, before or after. The only two characters I’ve invested time in. The only two I’ve cried over (just ask @jbird9...hubs has seen me go through all kinds of emotions over these two). My boys can identify Beth and Daryl (they’ve NEVER seen an episode, not even a commercial for TWD, but recognize them from pics I’ve shown them.) The Bethyl fandom has brought me to meet some wonderful people, who probably know me better than members of my actual family. This fandom has been such a bright spot in my life, and has been so supportive even when the well has been dry for years (at least as far as new content from the show). I love you guys.

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

(Ugh. I’m really hesitant to come up with personal lists because I’ve read SO MANY WONDERFUL STORIES and I don’t want to leave any of them out, but I also know my brain and I’m not always the best at recalling names and places when I need to. I do want to give some love to:)

@gneebee [AO3] Love’s Highway and One Cold Night live in my head rent free

@piper1016 (basically anything she’s written) [AO3]

@inkinmytea (Audriss) [AO3] especially By Any Other Name

These ladies have been super supportive of my writing, and I can’t thank them enough.

I also really miss Pussyfoot by SaraiVe

is this how you say hello (in the zombie apocalypse) by the queen conquers (dastardly_dame)

Also, @leftmywingshome [AO3]

and @majicmarker [AO3] who not only write amazing Bethyl stories, but have their own original work published, all of which I strongly recommend reading.

There’s about a gazillion other stories that I’d like to recommend, but we’d be here all day if I listed them all. PLEASE don’t feel left out or disheartened if I didn’t pull your name from the deep recesses of my brain. I swear I’m not doing it on purpose. There are so many gifted writers in this fandom - we are SO lucky! - and I truly do appreciate @ultimatebethylficlist for recognizing the veterans and newbies equally.

Rckyfrk’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Lady in Red and Man in Black Summary: It's finally the big day, Maggie and Glenn's wedding day. Beth is maid of honor, Daryl is the best man. - This started as a one-shot/prompt for Bethyl Week on Tumblr, but has evolved into becoming a full-sized story. Thoughts: I miss these babies. I had to take a break to try and get Terms and Conditions going because they are so drastically different from it, but now it’s been so long I almost have to get T & C out of my system before I can get my head back in the syrupy sweetness. Lady in Red started as a prompt (technically two) WAY back in the day. We’re talking back in the summer of 2014. The first two chapters received such a supportive response that it took on a life of its own, but it was solely from Beth’s POV, and I had Daryl in my head basically screaming to be heard, so Man in Black made its way in. The goal is to get MiB caught up with LiR, then write them simultaneously (mainly so no one knows what will be coming next and the reader gets to decide which “side” to read first).

Terms and Conditions Summary: It was Beth's first time in Atlanta by herself when the world decided to end. When she lost her way home, she winds up meeting a crossbow-toting man with steel blue eyes and a smile that gives her chills. This is not your typical Bethyl story - imagine if Daryl were more like Merle. Thoughts: I think this is the darkest thing I’ve written (and really, it’s not even that dark). I had this idea in my head for Daryl to be a lot more like Merle and all these little scenarios kept popping into my head of Beth “taming the beast,” and having them slowly fall in love despite how they met and him being a total jerk - at least in the beginning. I think there’s only going to be a couple more chapters of this one, I just need to buckle down and write them. Maybe that’s why I’m dragging my feet to do it.

And once upon a time, I was writing a non-Bethyl story called “Summer of Learning,” which is actually kind of misleading. Back to that summer of 2014, where I was going through some fandom drama and was about to give up writing and tumblr all together when this group of Norman fans (we called ourselves his Harem...I miss you @basswipe and @unicorns-and-myblacksoul) came along and included me into their shenanigans. Anyway, they gave me the prompt “Imagine Sean Patrick Flanery is your dad’s best friend and teaches you everything there is to know about sex.” In the story, the main character’s parents are Norman and Emily, so it’s...Bethyl adjacent?

#bethyl fanfiction #veteran author of the month

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beskarberry · 4 years ago

Text

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

“We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.”

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

“Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center.

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes.

The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos.

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes.

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?” He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice.

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.”

That got his attention fast.

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you.

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose.

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar.

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table.

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man.

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures.

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile.

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.”

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths.

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!”

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would.

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...”

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp-

“OUCH!”

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super.

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

“Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist.

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!”

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage.

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk.

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again.

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed.

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn.

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.” You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare.

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?”

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?” His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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