#considering the amount of times i drew that armor

[erachiiii]

Just spent two months channeling all the love that exists within me and dumping it on alphonse elric

[psalacanthea]

A Sky of Shattered Stars- 10

oh, hey, look what I did. It's a longfic update. The Hawke x Varric post-canon, post Hawke escapes the fade. It's a juicy one and full of surprises and feelings and angst, and you should read it here!

...

By the time Hawke finished blackening her armor, there was no choice but to put it on and slip out into the night, fleeing from what had happened. 

Hightown was quiet, sharp in silver and shadow.

The new chantry loomed, a monument to hypocrisy.  She glared at its distant silhouette against the clear sky.  Maybe she'd make Varric open a park with a statue of Anders in it.  Right in front of the fucking chantry.

Not because she thought Anders wanted or needed a statue; it'd just piss them off.

She was knee-deep in revenge fantasies when a scream drew her attention.  Around a corner and down a narrow alley between two estates, a figure was fending off three much larger people.  It quickly became apparent it was a very young woman, maybe in her late teens, being accosted by thieves.  Well, that was an easy choice.

Indulging in bloodlust, Hawke attacked.

They were child's play, shadow-wreathed blades slashing through clumsy attack and defense both.  She spared a thought for the law, but Hawke had no faith in Aveline after what they'd been through before.  These thugs were prey.  They were slow, vulnerable, and Hawke was running from her problems. 

That made her powerful.

Within two minutes she had them down, minimizing blood spray for the sake of the hovering girl, who didn't seem to have the sense to run away.  Once all three were bleeding out on the ground, Hawke crouched down to empty their pouches.  Yes, she was rich.  It was the principle of the thing.  She didn't believe in wasting money, no matter how small an amount.

Which was why Varric called her things like 'cheap' and 'cutthroat'.  Rude.  Like he was any better; his scams were just bigger.

"Serah...you saved me."

Hawke finally turned her attention to the girl, rising to her feet with a flare of her coat.

The girl’s face, sharp in the moonlight, was so strangely familiar that Hawke felt deja-vu.  It took a moment, until abruptly the memory of a gangly little girl tagging along the heels of her elder sister Babette sparked Hawke’s mind.  Cosette de Launcet.  Oh, great.

“Messere, the streets at night are no place for such a delicate lady,” Hawke said, taking pains to keep her voice low and disguised.

“You saved me,” the girl breathed, glancing up, wide-eyed.  "Thank you so much!"

Wait, wasn't Varric having issues with de Launcet with all of the statue nonsense?  Hmm.  Bringing Varric presents home from her nighttime escapades was an old tradition, and this seemed like a wonderful and wicked opportunity.  The girl would be useful.  Sure, Hawke could play hero for her.

Hawke smiled behind her mask, inclining her head.  "I insist upon taking you safely home.  Please."  With a flourish, she extended her arm.

Little Cosette de Launcet gratefully took her arm, and unwittingly led Hawke back to her secret escape route from her family's manor.  She would stay out of trouble for one more night.  Though, considering how skilled she was at slipping in and out of an imposing stone-hewn Kirkwall mansion, she'd been at it for some time. 

Kids would be kids.

[cybernightart]

How I imagine Genji under his armour + head cannons!

(slight nudity warning? He still has boxers on but you know...nothing else... anyways heads up)

(Also I drew him in boxer shorts cuz I didn't want him to be naked 👌)

Since the paper is hard to read(also I added more info) here is what each blurb says corisponding to the number:

1. Cybernetic built in to his brain

2. Cybernetic spine

3.face scars from Swiss explosion so mainly just around the eyes and lower face

4.synthetic voicebox

5. Perma tanlines from his blackwatch outfit

6. prosthetic / cybernetic legs start just above the knee

7. Arm chopped off here (mid bicep)

8. Cybernetic brain implant

9. Cybernetic spine (I picture one reason he couldn't walk after he as saved was because Hanzo accidentally broke genji's back during the fight, or of the the OverWatch rescue team may have dropped him while transporting him to the dropship, no one knows! And Genji was so out of it at that point between the bloodless, shock, and the instant pain killers he was given when they realised he was alive, that he can't remember for the life of him what happened, but he doesn't remember Hanzo breaking his back at any point. Which says alot considering he remembers getting stabbed through his neck but not that ...hmmm 🤔)

10. He had more stuff fixed internally, both cybernetic and not, but they're not visible on the surface for the most part

*This is the bare minimum, he normally wears a lot more of his armor on a day to day basis, even when going to bed. This is strictly the bear minimum.

Additional stuff I didn't write on the paper:

.The shoes are a part of the legs but he can detach them and put on different feet(for like if he needs to wear dress shoes or something he has a different kind of feet taking attached that would actually fit into the shoe instead of trying to put a shoe on another shoe) you can also change out the entire cybernetic legs for the most part except for parts that physically connect to his human body which are inside of the cybernetic legs so you can't see it

. Same thing goes for his arm, where he has interchangeable arms, 90% of which also have the Shuriken reloading thing, but he does have one or two that don't energize more everyday non-ninja cybernetic arms. Also so he can change his arm to go with his different armor, because this man builds his cosplays around the fact she has no idea when he's going to be called out to a mission so they all have to be battle ready.

. In my design for current Genji his scars have faded to a much lighter color, still quite prominently they are noticeable but they've healed a lot more and aren't as prominent as they used to be

. He also has little divots in his ears from all his piercings that he got in his youth, which she can't wear most of the time because it wouldn't really be safe with his helmet in battle, but when he isn't wearing his helmet he quite often puts his earrings back in

. Also he's kind of forced to have an under cut now due to the cybernetics. After black watch when he changed into his OverWatch 1 armor, you would just completely both his hair so he wouldn't have to deal with it and it was the least amount of maintenance option, it wasn't until he was with Zen that he started growing his hair out again and with Zen's help (a lot of googling on Zen's part acting like he knows what he's doing) he learned to cut his own hair, and eventually he redyed it green on top

. I like to imagine the red glowing in his eyes wasn't actually the cybernetics it was his dragon, which had a constant red hue to them during black watch most evidently and basically until he started making progress with Zen. Because him and his dragons rage was manifesting into his eyes constantly glowing but because he was constantly in a state of fight or flight and was essentially just surviving until zen helped him start living again, in which his eyes stopped glowing. That is unless he gets really emotional (primarily anger) or very protective, where they'll glow bright green unless he's really really pissed, then they'll be red again...but that almost never happens because he has a much better control of his emotions now, but every now and again his good old Shimada family anger issues can creep up on him a little

Feel free to leave thoughts and opinions, this is just how I see him but I'm more then willing to listen to others opinions on it!

[screenmaven]

Film Share Sunday - with Banannasui

*update as of 10/27/23 I am no longer doing film shares do to a hectic time in my life, I do however appreciate anyone who has taken the time to join me in that spotlight. I may return to in the future, but for now I do not have time.*

I usually spotlight creators Top 5 Favorite Films each Sunday, via my SCREENMAVEN Instagram (now just starrymayx) but this week I welcome an extension of that to the blog. I love fashion probably as much as I love film, so it’s a two for one special when a film produces both.

I had the pleasure of connecting with one of my favorite fashion content creators Banannasui, and wanted to share her insight into why she highly acclaims these as her top 5 fashion films.

Charlie’s Angels (2000)

The 2000 Charlie’s Angels is fast-paced, flirty, lurid in both color and dialogue, and I feel like the outfits completely reflect that. The opening scene alone give us Cameron Diaz wearing the ultimate accessory that bridged the late 90s and early 00s: gradient sunglasses adorned with rhinestones (hers specifically were from Chloé). I remember reading that the costume designer had stacked up 3,000+ outfits for the movie, with each of the three girls having a wardrobe cultivated specifically for their character; Cameron is the all-American girl, Lucy is sophisticated and mature (her cooking muffins in a leather corset is amazing), and Drew is the scrappy rebel-type. Overall the movie is such a fun, campy feast for the eyes, but I think my absolute favorite outfits are the trio of glossy red white & blue jumpsuits they don on the racetrack.

The Bling Ring (2013)

God, it’s such a period piece of its time. A millennial’s period piece. The outfits aren’t ones I’d necessarily consider fashionable now, but (the year it came out) it was the pinnacle of it! The skinny jeans with pumps, the Uggs, the clunky jewelry, the scene of them walking out with their iced coffees wearing capes and vests and scarves and pencil skirts. All staples of that weird time period where office-chic infiltrated Polyvore boards. I love movies where the outfits are such a direct reflection of the person wearing them, it elevates the wearer to the point where you stop seeing them as the actor and start seeing them as the character. Especially when the one dressing them does their homework! Case in point, costume designer Stacey Battat said she bought every back issue of US Weekly from 2003 in preparation for dressing the cast, and then incorporated elements of the early 2010s as well, in order to make the time period of the movie feel more ambiguous. Although not included in the film, thinking of the outfits reminds me of a line from the famous Alexis Neiers phone call to Nancy Jo Sales: “..you saying that I wore six inch Louboutins heels to court with my tweed skirt, when I wore four inch little brown Bebe shoes.” It’s just so of its time.

Faster Pussycat! Kill Kill! (1965)

I love, love, love the outfits for Faster, Pussycat! It’s campy, visceral, with an appropriate amount of violence— you can see echoes of it in John Waters and Quentin Tarantino films (both of whom have cited the movie as inspiration). The outfits within the movie are very 60s, composed of simple shirts and jeans, yet are menacing, sexy, and striking. There’s no shortage of tight pieces and plunging necklines, yet the provocativeness doesn’t feel exploitative or demeaning. I like the idea of sex as armor in this movie, a notion expanded upon by Robert Ebert in a 1995 review. Despite the much exposed skin and cleavage, Ebert notes that the director, Russ Meyers, “from the beginning of his career and almost without exception, has filmed only situations in which women wreak their will upon men.” The trio of intimidating women in this film constantly leave behind a streak of havoc, literally snapping men’s spines and running them over with cars. They do all this whilst donning tiny tops, push up bras, hot pants, and bikinis, taking full control of their situations. It subverts the girly 60s look, both in attitude and appearance. Personally, I especially love Billie’s (Lori Williams) looks in the movie, in particular her iconic white hot-pants and polka-dotted crop top getup.

Female Trouble (1974)

I love 70s fashion, a lot. I also enjoy the garish vibrancy of camp, where the attitude of the story bleeds into the wardrobe. Female Trouble deploys all of that, served on a sickening platter of glitz and glamor. The John Waters film stars legendary drag queen Divine, and is chocked full of fashion references to the 50s and 60s, splicing decades of style together in a way that matches the pacing and overall attitude of the movie. There’s beehive hairdos and pastels, as well as brightly colored dresses, slick animal prints, heavy eye makeup, sequins, and fur coats. It’s very gaudy, very glamorous, and very much full of fashion inspiration. I actually originally found out about this movie due to fashion collections that took cues from the film, namely Miu Miu spring ‘15 and Adam Selman fall ‘15.

I love how despite the frivolity and outrageous storytelling that the outfits weave, they’re also very stylish in a wearable way. I mean, the orange transparent mini dress with a fur coat and sky-high hair? I’d wear it.

Blow Up (1966)

It’s a cult fashion movie, and for good reason. The movie takes place in the midst of the swinging sixties, and the clothing is accordingly immersed in the world of mod: flats with tights, kitten heels, a-line mini dresses, sharp lines and sleek ensembles that evokes imagery of both Twiggy in Vogue, and Edie Sedgwick in her iconic black tights and chandelier earrings (though of course, Edie had shrugged away the label of mod). It’s very much representative of its time, notably featuring a young Jane Birkin, as well as legendary model Veruschka playing herself. Some of the frames in the movie might as well have been pictures of collections from the iconic designers of that era, including Mary Quant, André Courrèges, and Pierre Cardin. It’s fun, simple glamor, encapsulating the time in which it was created.

I’ve always loved the style of this era of the sixties, and how it’s portrayed in Blow Up; simple mini dresses that accentuate attention-stealing pieces such as fur coats and red tights (which are timeless, even now). Nothing beats a barely there a-line dress to me, and they are bountiful in this movie.

I myself (screenmaven) absolutely love Blow Up!! That one is definitely on my film style list.

Thanks again, for sharing with me and my followers your insight into style through film.

Follow @ starrymayx on IG & banannasui for more great content.

[stardestroyer81]

One of the things that I love the most about the Classic Mega Man series is its artstyle. It's very anime-esque with a slight twinge of toon, and there's a surprising amount of detail that goes into each art piece drawn by Mega Man illustrator Keiji Inafune (Such as how robot masters and characters like Mega Man and Roll have different pupil types and the infamous 'Capcom hand').

Naturally, ever since 2015, I've been trying my hand in seeing how accurately I can replicate the Mega Man artstyle, and considering I mentioned planning to make a full Famicom styled box art piece for Mega Man Ultimate, I decided it was about time to dive back in to researching Mega Man's artstyle to make said art piece as 1:1 to official artwork as I can!

And where better to start with the centerpiece, Mega Man himself? Back in December of 2020, I drew a Classic styled Mega Man in honor of his 33rd anniversary, and while it was decent enough in its own right given my skillset at the time, this time I wanted to go all out in drawing a full-body Mega Man while keeping a lot of Inafune's art choices in check...

... which resulted in the best Mega Man I've ever drawn!

Looking at a character like Mega Man, you'd think he wouldn't be too difficult to draw, and design wise, he's not. The simplicity of his armor and few colors actually make him— in theory— pretty easy to draw.

But when you're attempting to match the actiony grandeur that is the key artwork for more recent Mega Man games on top of keeping an eye on proportions, shading styles, and shaping everything just right... then it becomes a tad hard.

So, when I sat down to draw Mega Man, I made the decision to start with arguably the most important part... the head.

To me, if you're going after a stylistically accurate Mega Man, his head is detrimental in getting just right. This is easier said than done, because his helmet isn't just a circle; it's more ovular and widens toward the top, leaving the base of the helmet to be a bit slimmer.

Above, you can see two preliminary sketches I whipped up in preparation for the digital outline phase. While they look fairly similar, each one has a focus: the leftmost sketch was primarily focused on getting the head to look nice (Which took about forty-five minutes by itself!), as well as drawing a good buster.

The righthand sketch was more focused on Mega Man's pose, explaining the placeholder head and buster. I was originally going to jump right into taking the left sketch and digitalizing it, but when I felt like the hand and legs could be drawn better, I made an additional sketch to merge with the first.

Woah! Here's something new: just like how I've begun showing the spriting process for some of my sprite works, here's the process I went about when digitalizing my Mega Man sketch after I had finished reshaping everything in my drawing software: from outline to flat color to the end result!

Interestingly, when I first got done drawing Mega Man, I thought it looked great... but I wasn't a fan of how he looked proportionally, as I thought his arms and legs looked a little short. When I had been searching for reference images to base my sketches on, I noticed that Mega Man's legs especially are a bit lengthy, so I redrew 45% of my then-final result with these changes in mind, which resulted in the version shown in this post.

I'm really impressed with myself on how great I got this piece of Mega Man to look, since shading and posing aren't my forte— it feels nice to have one of the tougher aspects of MMU's eventual box art drawn, and I hope you've enjoyed both the art and reading the process behind it!

[the-broken-truth]

Yandere Headcanon: Aela The Huntress (Platonic/Motherly)

When you walked through the door of Jorrvaskr for the first time, everyone just thought you were a messenger of some kind.

When you presented yourself before Kodlak Whitemane asking to join the Companions, everyone began laughing.

You? You didn't even look like you were strong enough to hold a sword, let alone wield one. But Kodlak silenced his companions and offered you a chance to prove that you could hold your own.

He assigned Vilkas to test your arm - much to the man's dismay but he could not disobey the man he considered his Alpha & Father Figure.

The doors that linked the mead hall to the training ground opened and The Lone Huntress looked down from her perch by The Skyforge. Her arms folded as her grey eyes glared down at Vilkas and the unknown pup that trailed behind him dressed in steel armor with a steel sword at their side - they looked smaller than a normal warrior would but that way they walked in the armor showed they had no issue wearing it.

Both combatants stood in the stone field and drew their blades - Vilkas was the first to charge and attack but the whelp managed to block the attack and counter with one of their own. This went on for a while before the whelp managed to knock Vilkas's sword from his grip and send it crashing to the ground.

A small amount of praise was given for the whelps victory before the task of taking Vilkas's sword to the Blacksmith of the Skyforge - Eorlund Gray-Mane - was given. The whelp frowned at Vilkas but did as they were asked anyway.

The new blood walked up the stone stairs and gave the sword to Eorlund, giving praises to the blacksmith, and was about to leave before Aela called out to them.

"Just what are you doing in Jorrvaskr? Shouldn't you be home?" She asked.

"I would...if I had a home to go to." That answer messed with Aela's mind. Did they not have a home?

The next few weeks were...strange for the new whelp: Training with Vilkas and Farkas, Dining in between contracts and chatting with the other companions - well, all of them except Aela.

She started acting strange towards you, also outside whatever room you might be in (scaring the daylights out of you), always reminding you to eat more or not to drink more than one cup of mead before bed, always seems to be nearby when you're about to accept another contract but well come up out of nowhere if it seems to be too 'dangerous' for you. It was rather annoying,

On the day it was announced you would take your trial - Aela wanted to insist that she be the one to accompany you but Kodlak decided that Farkas would go with you; she was not happy.

The night you returned for your Judgement of the Circle - Aela could smell the blood that was leaking from the open wounds under your armor - one was out, an arrow hole that looked to be broken fro the middle, leaving half of the shaft and the tip in your arm.

Farkas gave his judgment and you were an official companion, you feasted and drank with your new brothers and sisters before retiring to your room to tend to your wounds.

Aela could smell the blood and she barged in without knocking, starling you as you attempted the remove the arrow from your arm.

She began cooing over you - like a concerned mother would when their child got a scrapped knee for the first time.

You told her that she didn't need to worry about you - that you could take care of yourself and you wanted your space. You pushed her out of your room and closed the door behind you.

She stood there for a while, looking at the blood on her hand - your blood.

It was sweet, innocent, and needed to be protected.

Aela and her wolf both came to a conclusion.

You needed a mother - someone to keep you safe but not just any mother; you needed her.

And she was going to be the mother you deserved.

First - A talk with Skjor to see if the ceremony could be moved up a few days.

[End]

[djadins]

aurora glow | thrawn x f!reader — part one

An alien ship lands on Earth after electrical failure. You have been surviving alone, the planet being struck by an EMP-like solar flare years prior. What happens when you meet the inhabitants of this ship on your travels?

warnings: violence, explicit language, canon divergence

rating: T

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Thrawn probably is and will be OOC during this series. also, as the story progresses i’m definitely bound to get things wrong and probably accidentally add something that’s actually from star trek (so apologies!) loosely inspired by the Voyager episode ‘Gravity’ and a book I recently finished!

You saw the crash before you heard the explosion.

It had been a long time since something had lit up the sky that wasn’t the moon, sun or auroras. You weren’t very far away from the crash site, you could tell. Although, admittedly, you were still bad at measuring distances. It was on your way southbound anyways - as it was fall, and winter and the first snow would be fast approaching.

You arms tightened around the smooth handle of your walking stick, one of your favorite found items. You preferred to think of them in this manner, rather than “looting” or “stealing”. Could they even be considered that if their owner was no longer there to use them? You didn’t think so, at least.

It took twenty minutes before you were close enough to see the smoke rising out of the giant space... ship. You felt a shudder rip through your body. You know exactly what you saw but it was still a concept you had to wrap your brain around. Believing for nearly your whole life that out there, somewhere, other life had to exist... and actually seeing it with your own eyes were two different things.

You instinctually began walking lower to the ground, closer to the shrubbery and trees, checking your hip for the well hidden, small 9mm you kept on you at all times. You knew you had few bullets left and would not use it unless you really needed to. There was a knife in the inside of your boot that you would try to use instead but only if the situation called for it.

You could make out many white, helmeted figures from here. At least, you assumed that was armor and not their actual bodies. There was also one, deep, calm voice alongside a fair amount of shouting that you couldn’t quite see. You walked in a semi circle, closer to the voices. There was a lot of brush, thankfully, that you could hide yourself in.

When you were close enough to see the event that was unfolding, you instinctively held your breath. There was the spaceship, in all her glory, smoking and partially buried in the ground. You were surprised there wasn’t more outward and obvious damage, but you weren’t sure of the full extent of the electrical failure or how far from the planet it had reach. Many of those white figures were scattered around, holding some sort of weapon in the direction of the action.

The shouting figures, which were now only a few feet from you, were holding weapons you recognized. Even with their backs fully or partially turned from you, you could tell that the three of them were human. Two men, who had their weapons pointed towards select armored white aliens, and one woman. She had a short-barreled shotgun that was pointed at the tallest of the aliens.

His crimson eyes caught your attention first and you released your breath at the sight of them. They were dark, reminding you of the Red Delicious apples you had stored in your pack. His vibrant blue skin contrasted harshly against his eyes and his pitch colored hair and uniform. His hair was short and slicked back but a few strands were hanging over his face. He seemed humanoid apart from his angular face, but even with that, if he wasn’t blue he might actually pass for human.

You realized the woman wasn’t shouting at him, but the uniformed men around him. Their weapons were pointed at the three humans but they were taking no action.

“We want all the food and supplies out of that ship, now!” she shouted. “If we don’t get it in five minutes, I’ll take big blue here down!”

You were close enough to see the jaw in the tall blue alien’s mouth tighten. He pinched his lips together tightly before responding in a cool, calm voice. “As I have already stated, my men will not respond to your demands. Neither will I, for that matter.”

The woman began shouting again. You bit your lip and wondered if you had gone mad for what you were considering doing. You didn’t even give yourself time to think if this was the smart move before you picked up the palm-sized rock that was on the ground beside you. There was a large, wooden warehouse on your right where one of the human men had been standing beside, weapon ready. You were about 30 feet away from it from your current position.

You wound your arm back and threw that rock with everything you had. It smashed through a wood panel, making a sharp cracking noise. All heads momentarily turned, except for the blue alien, who’s line of sight was now firmly focused in your direction. You had already taken off from the bushes, walking stick in hand, when you realized he was looking directly at you.

While everyone else’s attention was still focused on the dilapidated warehouse, you spun your walking stick behind your back and then quickly whipped it back in front of you, hitting the woman with the shotgun square in the head. Your walking stick shattered where it connected with her. She crashed into the ground with a bloodcurdling scream and you grabbed the shotgun she dropped. All eyes were now on you as you pointed it at her.

“Drop your weapons, you two,” you yelled, partially out of breath, eyes still focused on the woman on the ground. You poked her with the barrel of the gun. “Tell them,” you warned her.

She nodded her head and looked around at the two men. You heard the familiar crunch of grass as the two weapons were dropped, but your eyes were still focused on her. Then you heard the shrieks of the men and a sickening crunching sound that followed. Two of the white armored men now approached either side of you, weapons drawn. The blue alien was still silent, but he put his hand up towards his men. They lowered their weapons instantly.

He motioned for you to back up and you did just that. The two armored men flung their weapons behind their backs and went towards the woman on the ground. They restrained her before you finally drew your attention fully to the tall man in front of you. He had stepped closed to you now that you were hanging onto the shotgun with one loose hand, the barrel almost brushing against the grass.

He held a large, cerulean hand out to you. His eyes had seemed to lighten. “If I may,” he started, “it will take my men off edge.”

You nodded and passed the weapon over to him. He held it in both hands, studying it for a moment, before handing it to one of his men.

“Why did you betray your people?”

You looked from his hands back up to his eyes, your voice suddenly gone.

You bit your lip and looked around you, fully realizing the situation you had now put yourself in.

A handful of the armored men had restrained the three humans but the rest were looking at you and the alien. They still had their weapons drawn, and although they weren’t pointed in your direction, you knew that they easily could be.

“Th.. they weren’t my people,” you stammered, looking back into his vibrant eyes.

He tilted his head slightly. “Hmm.” He took his time, looking you up and down before doing the same to them. “They resemble you. Are you of a different race?”

“N.. no. I, uh,” you struggled on how to explain. You bit your lip again. “We are all humans, from this planet, yes. But I do not know them personally.”

Another hmm escaped his lips as you wondered how on this good earth you could even understand what he was saying to you. “I am still perplexed,” he admitted. “What would compel you to help me?”

You looked down at your feet after he asked you this. You honestly weren’t sure what surged through you in what had only happened moments earlier. You looked back up at him, directly in his eyes. “I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I have never seen an alien before and I didn’t want you to think we were all bad.”

His eyebrows scrunched together at your response, giving you what you could only describe as a quizzical look. It was as if he was trying to figure you out entirely by solely examining you. He took a step towards you.

“You have never met another who wasn’t from your own planet?”

You shook you head. “Before the blackout, it was a widely debated topic whether or not there was extraterrestrial life somewhere in space.”

He smiled at your response. “Well, I’m happy to inform you, there are many different life forms, spread across millions of light years.”

He watched your eyes light up at this statement. You couldn’t help but look up at the sky above you. You felt infinitesimally small in that moment.

“I am Thrawn, Captain of the Thunder Wasp.”

You looked back at him and gave your name.

“I am unsure of how your people greet one another, however it is a pleasure, nonetheless.”

You held you hand out towards him without thinking at his response. Some of his men tightened their grip on their weapons at your action and you flinched. He looked towards them and shook his head. He slowly mimicked your action, bringing his hand out but not quite touching you.

You grasped his hand, slow enough that he could pull back if he was uncomfortable. You looked in his eyes and smiled, slowly shaking his hand up and down. His hand was large, enveloping yours easily. He was incredibly warm to the touch. “Nice to meet you, Captain.”

He caught on to your action, bringing his hand up and down in a synchronous motion with you. When you both released your light grip, he smiled back at you. “Please, Thrawn is sufficient. I am not your commanding officer, but a visitor to your planet.”

After this interaction, Thrawn’s men separated, leaving the two of you to yourselves. There were still four guards with the other humans and only then did you bring your attention to them.

“Dirty bitch,” the woman spat at you and as soon as she did, one of the guards knocked her in the back of the head. A shudder ripped through your body after witnessing this.

Thrawn called out your name and you focused your attention back to him. “If I could borrow you a moment, I have some questions I would like to ask.”

You shook your head in affirmation. He turned on his heel, hands firmly clasped behind his back as he walked towards his ship. You left your walking stick on the ground as you followed behind him.

The ship was tilted sideways slightly, it’s nose buried in the ground while it’s backside was raised a little above. You approached the side of the ship, where two of his soldiers were standing in position beside a door.

At the Captain’s approach, they grasped what appeared to be suction cups on each individual door. The pulled and the door split open in the middle and Thrawn walked towards it, taking a large step up into the ship easily with his elongated legs. Upon realizing you would struggle a lot more to get in than he would, he bent down and reached a hand out towards you.

You didn’t hesitate as you put your hand into his and one foot on the floor of the ship. It was angled just above your waist and you could feel the stretch burn the back of your thigh. The sensation didn’t last long as Thrawn hoisted you into the ship, seemingly using little energy on his part. He dropped your hand as soon as you were steady and the doors were manually shut behind you.

The corridors were lit with dim red lights along the wall. Shadows bounced as you and Thrawn navigated through the ship. His skin looked almost iridescent in here.

You followed him through many different corridors until he paused in front of a door. He pulled a card out from somewhere in his uniform that he swiped against the panel next to the door and it slide open automatically. Same at the doors outside, just without someone manually pulling it apart.

You looked around as you followed behind him. You were in a large room that resembled an office and had another closed door leading to somewhere else along the wall. There were many different pieces of what you would describe as art scattered through the room along with a giant desk. It had two large, comfortable looking chairs settled on either side.

Thrawn pulled out the chair that had its back facing the door you had just entered, clearly made for whoever was visiting the owner of this desk, which you could only assume was the man in front of you himself. Once you had settled in the chair, which threatened to swallow you whole, Thrawn settled into the seat across from you.

He started by asking you what exactly you had meant by the ‘blackout’ you had mentioned earlier. You did your best to explain what little you knew of it, telling him that a few years prior the sun had sent out a solar flare strong enough to act as an EMP, effectively wiping out all electronics, everywhere, and sending humans back to the stone age. Thrawn listened to you intently, without interruptions as you did your best to work through what information you had gathered through the years. You ended your long explanation by telling him that approximately once every 30 days, another solar flare would hit the Earth for roughly 12 hours and restore most of the electronics during that time. You could tell it was approaching by the aurora that would brighten the sky the night before.

You both sat silently as Thrawn chewed through the information you had just given him. Finally, he simply said, “That explains some things.”

You waited patiently for his next question while he formulated it. You had trouble keeping your eyes off of him, but didn’t want to come off as rude, so you looked around the room every once in a while.

Thrawn called out your name softly while you were staring at a painting situated over his left shoulder. If it wasn’t eerily silent on the ship, you might not have heard it. You looked over at him. He was examining you as if you were that painting hung on the wall. Finally, after a minute that seemed like an hour, he asked what your plans were.

“Well, winter is fast approaching. I aim to keep heading south where it will be warm during the season.” You looked down at your feet. “I have found it best to keep migrating through the years. Staying in one place invites danger,” you practically whispered.

“Are you all alone?”

You held back the emotional outburst that threatened to rip through you at that question. You shook your head in confirmation.

“How long?”

You swallowed hard. “7, maybe 8 seasons.”

You could feel Thrawn’s pity even if you weren’t looking at him, even though if you had looked at him you would have only outwardly seen stoicism.

“When do you expect the next flare to hit?” he asked you after a few silent moments.

You looked up at him for the first time in a while. His red eyes were soft, the color nearly washed out compared to the first time you saw him. He had folded his hands on top of his desk and was hunched over — or what a military man like him probably considered hunched over. His back was still pretty stick straight.

You pondered his question. “If I had to guess, 10... maybe 12 days. I don’t keep track very well anymore and sometimes it doesn’t follow an exact pattern. But it always happens, eventually.”

Thrawn nodded. “Would you be willing to stay with us while we repair the ship?”

Your mouth fell open. Sensing your confusion he added, “You are the only one who knows this planet, we could use your expertise.”

You bit your lip so hard you tasted metal.

Thrawn continued, voice near a whisper. “I will take you off this dying planet in return.”

His transition from ‘us’ to ‘I’ didn’t go unnoticed by you. You still sat there, silently processing his question.

You took a sharp breath in and let it out shakily. Tears prickled at your eyes.

How could you leave the only home you had ever known, if Thrawn and his men could even get their ship working again in the first place?

How could you survive out there, in space? A place you didn’t know... none of your people really knew, where you didn’t belong.

Where would you go? What would you do?

But you had no one and nothing left here.

You gave him your answer and you could have swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in response.

[crqstalite]

2021's Summary of Art

We certainly live in interesting times. I think that reflects pretty well in my art this year, considering the batty amount of changes my style went through as the year went on. Unfortunately, only have eleven instead of twelve drawings this year because of unforeseen circumstances. However, I did significantly more art than I did last year to the point I think I can safely say I did more than writing, and perhaps more than the last two years combined. Oops. Explanations under the cut + 2020 here + a blank version here!

January! My Holiday Harbinger gift for the lovely @faejilly of their Ella Shepard! This one was the more adventurous of the two I did, mostly because of the overlay I put on top of a handful of constellations. I genuinely can't remember which ones they are, I'm not really into astrology. I am very glad that they liked it though!

February! I believe the first time I ever did real ship art? And subsequently, the first time I drew Kaidan this year. It's a little flat and I don't love it as much as I did before, but I'm still pretty pleased with how I figured out the posing for both muses. Never been a fan of drawing kisses, but never been a fan of drawing two muses actually interacting either. The second muse is my AJ Shepard.

March! My darling Svenja Tabris in her Warden armor and looking her best while up to trouble in the Brecilian forest. I discovered the splatter brush and never really looked back on this one, but the first time I ever drew her. Also, the second reason I despise drawing Warden armor. I hate the blue part of it because its so tedious to color, shade and highlight.

April! During one of my sketch giveaways for a handful of mutuals, Raya Auren (who belongs to the lovely @sheyshen). As you can see, probably the first time I learned how to actually draw noses properly. Was not super great with nostrils beforehand, but we figured it out! Loved drawing her features as well, which gave me a foray into something new.

May! My darling Citlali Velasquez (who I almost drew every month this year), just posing somewhere out on the Citadel in an outfit I mashed together from pictures on Pinterest. Hands down my most fashionable muse, second only to Brione because women's pantsuits are hot. Got to play around with a sheer shirt and leather (which I still haven't learned to texture properly) in this picture, as well as levels of lighting.

June! A birthday gift for my mutual @sheyshen of their Kara! I believe I did a photo of her the year prior, so its nice to see the improvement from then, including the radical change in style between then and now. Do go and read the fic she's part of, Koren's Breaking The Bad News.

July! A giveaway reward for the lovely @pigeontheoneandonly of their Nathaly Shepard. It was a real treat to work on her, and I believe one of the few reasons I haven't drawn the N7 armor since then. There's quite the demand for detail on it, but I loved drawing it for them! Do go and read the fic she's part of, Pigeon's Nathaly Shepard series.

August! The second time I did ship art this year, and one I'm actually still really happy with -- of my Citlali Velasquez and Joker. I have many soft spots for them <3 Not actually sure what sparked drawing this one, but the reason I will never draw the crew outfit from three again unless paid. It is unnecessarily complicated and I hate it.

September! So quick "fun" fact, I was in my school's competitive marching band from about August to December this year. TL;DR, I'll literally never do it again because the schedule is destructive and a little dehumanizing tbh. Either way, no work done this month because of a lack of time.

October! Darling Citlali...again. She was my second or third foray into a more painterly style that didn't rely at all on the blender tool, and I loved working with all her color values. Super wacky that I just don't work for a month and then start slapping colors down again in a complete 180 of a style. Thankfully she still looks like herself here, after all I tend to draw her and then she looks like a completely different character because I've morphed into a different artist.

November! Reyna Hawke, finally visualized into all her glory. Finally, I collected all six stones -- I mean all of my main Dragon Age protags. November was literally the first time I had them all drawn in a partially consistent style (Marzie's was October last year I believe), and after her redesign. The first time I've drawn her post-DA2 armor as well, but during the Here Lies the Abyss mission.

December! Can't tag them or name their character just yet (Holiday Harbinger's gifting doesn't open until January 😞), but I adored working on this piece so much!! It's a pose I tend not to like using since the muse's face isn't head on, but working with their character and being able to give them art I'm really proud of was the best part of working on this!!

[beelsnack]

Bad Influence - Beelsnack's 666 Follower Special!!

(Technically I'm over 666 - shoutout to the porn bots)

But seriously, holy shit, there's a lot of you. Thank you all so much for liking my stuff, and for interacting with me and sending me good vibes and all of that. I hope I can keep giving you guys quality work!!

And yes, I am a nerd and I consider 666 a milestone for a blog for a bunch of demons. No, I'm not sorry.

-----

Lucifer: He couldn’t help but wonder when the change had set in.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, they had been humble and meek. If anyone complimented them, they deflected it with the mastery and resignation of someone who had been doing it for far longer than they should have. And if someone thanked them? You would think their entire world was dissolving around them.

But now?

He extended a gloved hand towards them as they descended the stairs. Tonight was one of the rare nights where they had the opportunity to be alone without one of his brothers tagging along, and they had been planning this date for nearly a week now. They slipped their hand in his without any of the hesitation they would have shown at first. They knew they deserved his reverence.

“You look radiant as always, my dear,” he curled his fingers around theirs as they reached the bottom step, bringing the backs of their knuckles to his lips. “Surely there is no star in the sky that could outshine you.”

They laughed - his theatrics always did amuse them. “You do have amazing taste, after all.”

He chuckled as well, guiding the two of them to the front door. “Of course. Do you think the Avatar of Pride would associate with anyone less than the best?”

“Definitely not,” the wind that came through the door when they opened it blew their hair away from their face, and Lucifer couldn’t help but preen at the fact that he had helped that quivering little animal grow into the proud swan that stood before him.

“Speaking of the best, where are we going for dinner?”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he laughed as they made their way out into the night. “You deserve the world, and the world you shall get.”

“Unless ‘the world’ means a steak dinner, I’m not interested.”

Mammon: “Come on, don’t leave me hangin’ out here!”

The curtain covering the entrance to the changing room rustled, and Mammon heard a faint “Fine, fine, just give me a sec!” before it finally opened and out stepped the human.

Mammon always thought they looked good no matter what they were wearing, even if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Actually, especially if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. But seeing them decked out in his fashion brand - one he had both designed and modeled - was definitely making him feel some type of way.

He let out a low whistle when they stopped in front of the chair he had seated himself in. The results of his own shopping spree were tucked haphazardly into a colorful assortment of bags at his feet, but the human had taken a bit longer than he did picking out their stuff. And damn, was he glad they did, because otherwise he wouldn’t get the chance to see them modeling his clothes.

It was a private fashion show, just for him.

The outfit itself was pretty simple. A black fitted tee beneath a cropped leather jacket, a pair of faded dark-blue skinny jeans, and a pair of black sneaks with a gold stripe going up the side. But the thing that brought the whole outfit together was the long necklace with a topaz pendent resting against their breastbone.

“Well?” they asked, giving him a spin before striking a pose before him. “What do you think?”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The human wearing his clothes...it was the next best thing to them walking around with “I Belong To Mammon” tattooed on their forehead.

“I, uh...I guess you...um,” he swallowed thickly. “Ya look alright, I guess.”

“That’s tsundere for ‘you look hot,’ right?” they grinned before spinning around to look in the mirror. “Man, this is a whole look! I have to have it!”

If this had been a few months ago, the human would have waffled back and forth about whether or not to buy anything. It didn’t matter how much they wanted something, it was almost like they just couldn’t do anything nice for themselves. There was being frugal, and then there was deprivation. Now, though, was completely different.

“I wonder if I should get some shades to go with?” they mumbled, looking themselves over in the mirror. “I think that would really pull it together, don’t you?”

“Just don’t go for the Ray Bans, it’s a fucking scam.”

Leviathan: "Come on, come on, come on…"

Very rarely was Levi the one watching someone else play games, unless it was a stream. And as mind-blowingly awesome it would be to watch the human stream one of his current faves, he definitely didn't want other people seeing how adorable they looked when they were focused.

They had come to him with absolute determination in their eyes, begging him to help them out. There were a limited amount of UR armor sets in the event, and they needed to get their hands on one. And, well, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't help them out?

(The fact that he already scored the armor is irrelevant.)

So, here they were, camped out in the pillow nest that they often made for themselves when gaming in his room, laser focused on the screen with Levi giving them guidance. The event level was brutal, but they were in the final hours, so it was crunch time.

"Okay, this boss is easy once you know the attack pattern. Four regular slashes, a jab, then you've got about five seconds to get behind a pillar before it uses the AOE."

"Gotcha."

Even then, it was a long battle, and they had used up most of their healing potions by the time the monster let out an anguished roar and disintegrated into a pile of bones. The human held their breath as they moved towards it to gather their loot.

"Yes!!"

They practically leaped out of the pillow nest in triumph. There, right on the top of the loot list in shimmering gold font, and the UR armor that they had been coveting.

"I got it! I got it!" they cheered. "Levi, I finally got it!"

"Hell yeah you did!" the two of them shared a crisp high five as the results of the campaign loaded on the screen. It was updating in real time, so they could watch as the final moments of the event ticked away.

Levi knew what they were looking for. Early on in the dungeon, another player had done them real dirty, sniping them from a few levels above and then taunting them over VC about how they would never get the armor now. So of course that only inspired the human to work harder, and here they were.

3...2...1

Event over. Quickly, the human scrolled up to the beginning of the list, checking the names of all the players who scored the armor.

Levi sat next to them, chewing his lip. What was that person's tag again? He didn't remember.

Suddenly, the human let out a snort that turned into a full-on giggle fit.

"They didn't get it!" they cackled like a hyena. "Serves them right, the jackass!"

Levi was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to laugh at the misfortune of others. But, he knew better than anyone that spite was a hell of a motivator. When they had first gotten themselves isekai’d into the Devildom, they had let demons walk all over them, Levi had personally witnessed a lower-level demon shove them out of the way to get a sandwich they had been reaching for, and the human just stood there and let them take it. But they had grown to be a little more selfish, and if they wanted something, they were taking it.

And maybe, just maybe, seeing them like that turned him on just a little bit.

Satan: "You want to come and say that to my face?"

Satan stood there in stunned silence as the human spun on their heel to look the demons right in the eyes. They had their back to him, so Satan couldn't see the look on their face, but whatever it was made the two lesser demons flinch.

"Hey, come on, Human, we were just joking."

"Yeah, no need to get all worked up."

They scoffed, and Satan knew them well enough to know that they were rolling their eyes. "Is that right? So you don't think I'm a...what was it? A fleshy meat sack who thinks they can get what they want by sleeping with the strongest demons in the Devildom?"

Another flinch. Satan chuckled to himself.. Did those morons really think they wouldn't hear them? Humans might not have super-heightened senses but they weren't deaf.

A small crowd had begun gathering around them, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't every day one of the human exchange students squared up to a demon.

"You've got some nerve," the human drew themself up to their full height - which, admittedly, was laughable compared to most demons - and crossed their arms. "What do you think Lord Diavolo would do to demons who messed with his exchange students?"

"I believe there's a special spot in the Royal Torture Chambers for such demons," Satan came to stand next to them, and the other demons downright cowered. "If I recall correctly, there's an Iron Maiden down there."

"Ooh, cool!"

"Alright, we get it!" One of the demons cried, throwing their hands up defensively. "We're sorry!"

Satan opened his mouth to spit a curse at them, but the human beat him to it. "I've got Lord Diavolo on speed dial, so start running."

The two demons turned tail and booked it down the hallway, nearly crashing into Beelzebub as he turned the corner with a sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He stood frozen for a moment before he swallowed and turned to Satan and the human.

"Were those two bothering you guys?"

Satan cast a sideways look at the human before a wicked grin spread across his face.

"They took care of it."

Asmodeus: "Well, someone's feeling bold tonight."

The door had barely shut behind the two of them before the human was pressing Asmo against it, mouthing at his neck as their hands traveled down the front of his silk blouse. He shuddered gleefully as their breath ghosted against his ear lobe.

"I can't help it," they murmured, fingers skirting just beneath the hem of his shirt. "You looked so good out there."

"I look good all the time, darling," he hummed, reaching up to grab a fistful of hair to gently pry them away from his neck.

"You looked especially good," they huffed as he let go of their hair. "Dancing like that, I could barely wait until we got home."

"Aw, sweetheart, you should have come to join me." Asmo rolled his hips in an echo of the dancing he had been doing at the club, delighting when he felt them shiver against him. "We could have put on a show that would have captivated the whole Devildom."

"I don't think the staff would appreciate it."

"They would be too busy watching to care," Asmo giggled, diving down to capture their lips in a quick and dirty kiss. "Although I can't say I'm not thrilled to be getting a private show."

Beelzebub: “Man, this place has the best barbecue!”

Dinner dates were a pretty common thing for the two of them. Over the course of the human’s stay in the Devildom, the two of them had figured out which restaurants would put up with Beel’s appetite and which would visibly freeze when the Avatar of Gluttony entered the establishment. The Hellfire Barbecue was one of the good places, probably because Beel made sure to tip really well, and one time personally went into the kitchen to tip the chef. Or, well, he tried, anyway. He ended up giving the money to the human and told them to give it to the chef because he knew if he went in there he would devour everything. But the sentiment was still there.

Beel smiled down at the human as they wiped the barbecue sauce off of their face. “You finished all of it this time.”

“Huh?” they glanced at their plate. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You usually don’t.”

“I was really hungry, I guess.” they grinned sheepishly.

Beel distinctly remembered the human telling him that they always tried to save some food for later. Whether it was being resourceful or because they had a weird sense of shame around eating too much, Beel didn’t know, but he had never pressed in case it was a sensitive issue. But, seeing them indulge themselves and looking genuinely full and satisfied made him happy. And was probably his main motivation for taking them out to dinner so often.

Well, that and getting his own food.

“I like watching you eat.” Beel said, waving to the owner as he passed by.

“You...like watching me eat.” the human repeated, looking somewhat confused.

“You look so happy when you eat good food,” Beel smiled. “I like seeing you happy.”

Belphegor: Oh, how the tables have tabled.

“Come on, I don’t feel like dealing with Lucifer’s lectures today.” Belphie grumbled, tugging half-heartedly on the human’s arm that was flung around his waist. “We should get up soon.”

For all of his complaining, Belphie didn’t move. If anything, he snuggled down deeper into the bed. He loved when the human agreed to have a sleepover in the attic with him. They got uninterrupted cuddle and nap time, since nobody dared to come up to the attic except Beel. And Beel was almost always welcome to join the cuddle puddle.

“Five more minutes…” the human mumbled sleepily, burying their face into Belphie’s neck. The soft, contented sigh they let out tickled, and he squirmed a little.

“Aren’t you usually the one waking me up?” Belphie nuzzled his nose against their hair.

“But it’s comfy here,” they whined. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You just don’t want to do the presentation in class today.”

“Your point?”

Belphie laughed. “Can’t say I disagree.”

“I did all the hard work anyway,” they shrugged. “We’ll make Mammon give the report.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

The two of them settled back down into the nest of pillows. The human had almost drifted back to sleep when Belphie brought his nose down to theirs to nuzzle them together.

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You’re cute when you shut up and let me sleep.”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Fated Part 1

Ares x Nemesis!reader (as in the goddess)

Word Count: 1496

Summary: The Fates had a plan War and Revenge, here is their story.

Note: Gods age weird, don’t worry about it.

Like any soul that existed, you were born with your future written in metaphorical stone. Whether it would be Aphrodite herself or one of her kind that was going to you with Love’s arrow, you didn’t know, but what you and your entire family did know due to some poor secret-keeping was that you were destined to marry the God of War, Ares himself. It wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone once it was leaked, either, especially once your affinity for Revenge started showing itself. Wars with that particular motivation were a dime a dozen, after all.

Still, even knowing that you and he were destined, you found yourself frozen in place the first time you laid eyes on him. No amount of preparation could have braced you for his beauty, the unique beauty of an Olympian that was so vastly different from any of the Chthonic gods you called your family. Silvery hair was streaked through with blood as crimson as the eyes that scanned the battlefield for his next opponent.

“What’s the matter, dear sister?” Thanatos’ voice teased from next to you.

You didn’t bother to move your gaze to look at him; the smug look on Death’s face was something you were already very familiar with. “Not all of us were raised with our Fated, little brother. You and Zagreus were lucky.”

“That is true.” Fortunately, you and Lord Ares are still quite young, comparatively speaking. There will be plenty of time for you to grow close.”

“Be that as it may, we will not begin that today,” you announced. Your heart raced as those red eyes finally landed on you. A small upturning of his mouth pulled his fine face from a bloodthirsty scowl to an amused smirk. “I must take my leave.”

“Until next time, then.”

~

The next time you met Lord Ares was a much more private--but equally surprising--affair. You’d just finished blessing a woman who’d been praying for your aid at a small temple of yours far in the woods--her husband was a right piece of work that thoroughly deserved what was coming--when the quiet clanking of armor drew your attention to the door. And there he was, glancing around to take in the modest sight.

“Quaint place.”

You scoffed. “There aren’t many people that call upon my services, Lord Ares.”

“A shame. Perhaps we would be meeting before now if that weren’t the case.”

“You could have sought me out.”

“You could have done the same.”

“Ah, but I am a possessive creature,” you informed him. “I will have you to myself or I will not have you. Humans are one thing, but gods are another.”

“So you waited.”

“Until the Fates predictions about your godly children had passed, until all of them were born.” You didn’t bother to reveal how you knew the details about them. The answer was simple; your weaving sisters sometimes had poor ambrosia tolerance.

“A patience I can admire.”

“Impressive considering how impulsive your family claims you are.”

He chuckled. “And you should know that those that say such things have little grasp of the truth of war. Ones such as you and I know that the sweetest battles simmer for a time.”

“I couldn’t have phrased it better myself.”

He stepped closer. “Have you any pressing matters?”

“Not for a time. What are you scheming?”

“Come with me to my House. We have stalled our meeting for far too long. I have a fine vintage I’ve been saving for this occasion.”

“Ambrosia?” you let your tone slip into mock-surprise. “Suddenly I don’t think your intentions are as pure as getting to know one another.”

“Well,” his smile showed off unnaturally sharp canines, “perhaps those rumors of my impulsive ways aren’t as false as I’d like to believe.”

~

Perhaps it was rash, but the pair of you married the following day after having spent the entire night just talking--despite any promises to do much more physical things. It was a small, quick ceremony with the only outsiders being your mothers. Hera, being the Goddess of Marriage herself, officiated while Nyx simply observed with a fond smile. Then the pair of you promptly vanished from everyone’s awareness for a honeymoon of sorts, one spent in the House of War Ares called home, the one far away from Olympus and its prying population.

It was only once you resurfaced that you realized six human months had passed. Oh well. Let the mortals enjoy their peace. It was unlikely that the gods of Olympus noticed either of your absences anyway.

You parted from your husband with a lingering kiss after placing his black laurels on his head for the first time in all that time.

~

You could still smell the iron and ash scent of Ares on your clothes by the time you crossed paths with your favorite brother. Part of you hoped he noticed your absence--you longed to gush about your newfound love--but the rest of you prayed you got to keep the secret and your privacy just a bit longer.

“It’s been a while, sister,” Thanatos greeted after he reaped the man whose wife poisoned him under your influence.

“We all need a break from time to time, Than. Remind me, how long was your first vacation with Zag?”

His cheeks colored with a blush. “Fair enough.” He cleared his throat. “Was your break restful?”

You fought the urge to touch the small vial of Ares’ ichor he’d given to you as a symbol of his vow at your wedding, the one that hung under the silver collar you war that was so similar to Than’s, the one that Ares had the match to on a cord under his breastplate. “And then some.” Your heart longed for your lover already, but you both had a job to do and secrets to keep from enemies that might try to use your bond against each other.

“I am glad. Truly. You deserved to relax for a while.” With that, he nodded at you and vanished in his customary green flash.

~

Time, as demonstrated by the six month leave of absence, passed differently for gods than it did mortals. Years passed in the blink of an eye without you really noticing. Here and there your strange schedule aligned with his and allowed the two of you the time to thoroughly enjoy each other’s company once more. So it was no big surprise when you went a while without seeing him.

‘A while’ being roughly a human year.

In that year, you had noticed a few odd things. The wars you saw taking place held none of the ferocity that Ares brought with him like a perfume. The vial of ichor seemed cooler against your skin rather than brimming with the heat that always seemed to radiate off of him. You’d assumed it was due to Ares staying at House War to spend time with his sons, the twins Aphrodite didn’t lift a hand to help raise.

You only learned how wrong you were when Hermes suddenly skidded to a stop in front of you, blocking the temple door you’d been about to leave through. It was only after you snapped, “This had better be important, boy; I have things to attend to,” that you noticed the panic on his face and the alarming amount of golden ichor on his hands.

“Hera ordered me to fetch you,” he rushed out in that speedy way of talking he always had. “You must come to her at once!”

“What’s happened?” Your hand drifted to the silver colored dagger at your hip, another gift from Ares, this one from the last time you saw him. Worry lanced through your heart in the seconds before he answered. Still, you tried to reason with yourself that the fear was for naught. Ares was a god after all. The iron and ash smell wafting around you was your imagination, nothing more.

“It’s Ares.” Or not. “Hera told me to get you because he’s your Fated. I thought it was strange since the two of you hardly know each other, but with the shape he’s in there really wasn’t time to argue--”

“Hermes!” you cut him off. “What. Happened?”

“Giants caught him!” he yelped, fearing retribution from the goddess of the concept. “Kept him in chains for a year. She’s not sure he’ll pull through.”

Your blood chilled in a way it hadn’t since your little brother, Death, had been brought into the world. “Where is he, Hermes? Has she taken him to Olympus? Or is he home in Thrace?”

The fleet-footed god faltered. “I-I’m not sure. She mentioned something about moving him--”

“Find them, boy,” you snarled, vision clouding red around the edges with rage at the lack of information. “Go to Olympus and find out where my husband is!”

With wide eyes and another yelp, Hermes vanished. Only to reappear a breath later panting, “She’s moved him to Thrace!”

“Take me to him.”

[hlizr50]

Update: Revelations

Chapter 3: Midnight Conversations

Finally an update for Revelations, where Hawke finally finds out about Poppy's experiences with Lord Mazeen and gets big ragey mad about it (because that's what we live for).

Read on AO3

Hawke stalked down the hall mentally checking off the list of things he needed to address with the fire-haired woman he had just caught on the Rise. Gods, where to even begin?

How did you learn to fight?

Why did you learn to fight?

Why were you on the Rise?

Are you absolutely mad?

Do you have no sense of self-preservation?

Do you own no proper clothing so you aren’t fighting Craven in a nightdress and satin slippers?

He’d taken a few minutes to rinse the blood from his armor and his face and out of his hair. The guard had begun his trek back to the Maiden’s chambers as soon as he’d stowed his broadsword.

Yes, they still had so much to discuss. Those questions – and others – swam through his mind as he reached the heavy oak doors. Using a surprising amount of restraint he raised a fist and rapped on the wood. After a few moments the door cracked open, revealing the lady’s maid – Tawny.

“The Maiden is sleeping –“

“Doubtful,” Hawke interrupted, amused at the untruth. He lowered his chin and gave the lady a pointed look, but she didn’t open the door wider. So he pushed through the opening, mouth quirking as Tawny stood agape. He kicked the door closed and fixed his gaze on Poppy, who’s jaw had also dropped in apparent astonishment. As if she should be surprised to see him there. “It’s time for that talk, Princess.”

The guard cast a glance toward Tawny, jerking his chin in the direction of the door. “Your services are no longer needed this evening.”

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss her!”

Hawke turned is gaze back to the Maiden whose pale cheeks and emerald eyes were alight with ire. He raised a brow. “I don’t? As your personal Royal Guard, I have the authority to remove any threats.” He barely suppressed a dark chuckle at the notion that Poppy’s lady’s maid could pose any real danger.

“Threats?” Tawny’s lips curled down. “I’m not a threat.”

“You pose the threat of making up excuses or lying on behalf of Penellaphe. Just like you said she was asleep when I know for a fact that she was on the Rise,” Hawke retorted. The maid inhaled sharply and whipped toward the Maiden.

“I have a feeling I’m missing an important piece of information,” she accused. An amused grin lifted the corner of Hawke’s lips.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you. And it wasn’t that important,” Poppy argued. Not that important? Oh how she wounded him.

He snorted. “I’m sure it was one of the most important things to have happened to you in a long time.”

“You have an over-inflated sense of involvement in my life if you really think that.”

“I think I have a good grasp on just how much of a role I play in your life,” Hawke deadpanned. Indeed. Her first kiss, the first time she’d even been touched by a man. But it was more than just the carnal urges that had brought them together that first night. He was, as far as he could tell, the only person who was willing to address what the Duke had been doing to her. He felt… drawn to her, felt a nearly overwhelming need to protect her inside this structure of stone and cruelty – one place where she was not able to protect herself.

“Doubtful.” She turned the word back on him and he could barely keep from rolling his eyes.

“I do wonder if you actually believe half the lies you tell.”

“I am not lying, thank you very much.” Gods, she was so stubborn.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Princess,” he breathed with a grin.

Poppy scowled. “Don’t call me that!” she exclaimed with a stomp of her foot. The guard lifted a brow at her, pouting his lips.

“Did that make you feel good?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Because the only other option is to kick you.”

There it was again, the need to fight roiling beneath her skin. That did something to him, sparking a flame deep in his belly. He chuckled. “So violent.”

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I’m your personal guard. I can be wherever I feel I am needed to keep you safe,” he stated. Hawke wished she weren’t so argumentative. He just wanted to talk to her, to understand her – dig deeper into her strength.

“And what do you think you need to protect me from in here?” She flung her arms out, gesturing to the empty room. “An unruly bedpost I might stub my toe on? Oh, wait, are you worried I might faint? I know how good you are at handling such emergencies.”

The Atlantian smirked. He knew she had been irritated that afternoon in the atrium, as the ladies in wait resorted to ever escalating heights of ridiculousness to garner his attention. He was like a shiny new toy, a handsome new Rise guard from the capital. If only Poppy knew that his attention was ever only centered on her.

“You do look a little pale. My ability to catch frail, delicate females may come in handy,” he countered, earning an enraged inhale. “But as far as I can determine, other than a random abduction attempt, you, Princess, are the greatest threat to yourself.”

“Well…” her lady’s maid drew out contemplatively. At least one of them was reasonable. “He kind of has a point there.”

“You’re absolutely no help,” Poppy spat.

Hawke softened his voice slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on her gaze that was green like Atlantian spring. “Penellaphe and I do need to speak. I can assure you that she is safe with me, and I’m sure that whatever I’m about to discuss with her, she’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Yes, she will, but that’s not nearly as entertaining as witnessing it.”

She was quite the spitfire, as well. The Maiden sighed.

“It’s okay, Tawny. I’ll see you in the morning.” She almost groaned.

Tawny was incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I have a feeling that if you don’t leave he’s just going to stand there and drain precious air from my room –“

“While looking exceptionally handsome,” Hawke interjected. “You forgot to add that.” Poppy rolled her eyes, but her lady’s maid giggled.

“And I would like to get some rest before the sun rises,” she finished. Likely story that was, coming from the woman who had just left her bed to fight monsters on the city walls.

Tawny heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” she muttered. Hawke glanced at her as she moved to leave. “Princess.”

His lips curled up in a devilish smile. Spitfire, indeed.

“Oh, my gods,” Poppy groaned. He waited for the lady’s maid to exit through the adjoining door before showing his delight.

“I like her.” Hawke grinned.

“Good to know. What is it you wish to talk about that couldn’t wait until the morning?”

As he looked back to her his breath caught. He’d always known that she was a lovely specimen, but seeing her before him in that thin nightgown and red hair unconfined and falling wildly above her shoulders. She truly was magnificent.

“You have beautiful hair,” he murmured. She just blinked, and he could see that she hadn’t been expecting that. He was glad to have been able to take her by surprise.

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugged and then allowed his eyes to very obviously roam over her barely-clothed body. The skin of her shoulders looked so soft, the dip at the base of her neck between her collar bones so inviting. The swells of her ample breasts were barely hidden, and the soft fabric clung loosely over her stomach and hips. And of course those pretty thighs and sculpted calves. She looked absolutely delectable, and the way the flush exploded over her flesh as she felt his gaze feel every curve caused his pants to tighten. She moved to grab the robe that was strewn across the bed and the corner of Hawke’s mouth curved devilishly.

And then she stopped, a challenge settling into those emerald pools as they met his. Ah, yes, she knew he’d already seen most of what her sleeping gown revealed, and a tremor of admiration rippled through him when she straightened, choosing not to hide herself from him.

“Was that all you were wearing under the cloak?” Hawke asked, balking at how utterly insane she must be. Truly.

“That’s none of your concern,” Poppy answered hotly.

“Feels like it should be.” His voice was raspier than he’d intended, throat tight from the vision before him. “I meant what I said that day. The Duke and the Lord told you that it was a lie, but it wasn’t. You are absolutely beautiful.” He noticed the widening of her eyes, the pace of her breathing increase. Again he had caught her off guard, although rage boiled through him with the knowledge that no one had allowed her to even consider the truth of her devastating beauty.

Poppy’s body seemed to sag all at once as she sighed and turned away from him, padding to one of the chairs by the fire. Hawke followed her with a burning gaze, unable to avoid how the slit in her nightgown revealed nearly her entire leg when she walked. Gods, she was going to be the end of him. He fucking knew it.

He followed and stood next to the chair across from her, watching as the reflection of the fire made her eyes appear to glow silver, how her body seemed to now bow into itself. She had fought so well – had knocked him on his ass – but it had only been two days since her punishment at the hands of Duke Teerman.

And Lord Mazeen.

The guard was determined that he would get answers this night. He would find out what the lord was doing in that room, what his interest in Poppy truly was. The oily, heavy feeling deep in his stomach told him that he wouldn’t like the answer.

But he knew he couldn’t just come out and ask, not considering how she’d try to deny the obvious torment even when he could see it with his own eyes and scent it on her skin. He would have to weave his way expertly through their conversation, through her defenses and over her walls.

“I’ve been thinking. About what you said.” Poppy turned her chin to him, the emeralds in her gaze finding him as he remained standing. Hawke was stunned that she had initiated the conversation, and even more taken aback by her quiet, steady tone. It was so unlike her.

“What I said?” he urged before gesturing to the chair. “May I?”

“You told me to think about the things they did. The Duke, the Ascended. To trust my instincts. And I,” she paused, turning her stare back into the fire, “I think Lord Mazeen had something to do with Malessa’s death.”

Hawke had settled into the chair, forearms resting on his knees, when his eyes snapped up. “Why do you think that?”

“He had… he had just come into the hall from that direction. Before she was discovered. He smelled of jasmine, and there was a petal left there. And he seemed… enthralled. He wouldn’t stop staring at her, with her skirts hiked up and her corset pulled down.” Poppy continued boring her eyes into the flames, as if the fire might give her the answers. He observed her with narrowing eyes, absorbing every word, every implication. “It felt so wrong, the way he stared at her. Nobody did anything to shield her, to give her even the smallest shred of dignity in death. But Lord Mazeen… he couldn’t seem to look away.” She looked down at her hands, then, alabaster fingers fidgeting in her lap. Hawke looked down at them, too, carefully considering her words. And only one thing continued to echo in his mind as the silence around them seemed to swallow him whole. One thought that needed only a spark to ignite a killing rage, one question that needed to be answered even though he knew it might boil him alive to hear it.

“How do you know what he smelled like?” Ice laced the words, a quiet promise of torment and death.

Hawke’s voice was usually warm, mirthful. He enjoyed their arguing, liked getting a rise out of her. But this question… the answer that could confirm that the lord – with his reputation for lust and degradation – was close enough to Poppy so she could smell him…

His shrewd eyes noticed everything, like the predator he had trained himself to be since his return to Solis. Her fingers stilled, jaw clenched, shoulders tensed. The redhead was immediately on guard, and Hawke understood with disturbing clarity that the lord would be a difficult subject.

“Poppy.” He whispered a warning. He could see the noiseless tells as she was trying to work through an explanation to feed him, to placate him. With a snarl he rose and strode the short distance between them. Grasping her chin between his thumb and finger he jerked her head to face him. “Don’t you dare lie to me.” Those green eyes flashed in promising defiance, then guttered to a dull, fathomless dark. And for a moment the Maiden before him was just a girl – lost, confused, alone, abused.

Gods, that look broke his heart.

Hawke released her chin and lowered to his knees in front of her, their eyes still locked on the other’s. He hesitated for a breath before reaching to cover her hands with his.

“I swore to protect you, Poppy. But if I am to do that, I need you to be completely honest with me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what or who is causing you harm.”

She laughed bitterly, turning her gaze back to the flames. “Nobody can protect me from the Duke. From Lord Mazeen. The power they wield, the way they manipulate. I told you before – there’s nothing to be done.”

“Just because nobody has protected you doesn’t mean that I cannot,” he urged, nearly growling with her unwitting admission that the lord was yet another danger. His heart pounded in his chest as he murmured desperately, “What has he done to you?”

He could feel her racing heartbeat in her fingers, could hear it echoing through the hanging silence. His grip tightened, and Poppy’s spring green eyes slid to him.

“Please, Poppy. Let me help you.”

He was in too deep with her, he knew. But there was something about her, something he couldn’t understand. Sure, he could write it off as a decent man seeing a woman who needed help, who wouldn’t stand by while someone innocent was mistreated.

But it was more than that.

And after he’d seen her cutting down Craven on the Rise? A goddess of violence and beauty. He was irrevocably tangled in her web.

“The night Malessa died, Lord Mazeen stopped me in the hall coming from that direction. I had been on my way to the garden with Rylan, but he said he wanted to speak to me. Privately.” Poppy walked through her story with firm determination, nary a tremble detectable in her voice. “He pulled me into an alcove to the side of the hall and began his games. He knew that I knew that I didn’t have a choice. As the Maiden I am not supposed to linger or speak with anyone, but it would also be disrespectful not to participate in the conversation. One word to the Duke for either offense and…”

“And you get called to his study to satisfy his sadistic whims,” he finished the sentence after she trailed off, earning a terse nod. He hated it, hated them. He would kill the Duke for what he’d done, as slowly and painfully as he could.

“Lord Mazeen was taking the opportunity to… remind me… that his position was such that he was above reproach. He… he lifted his hand to my face, touched my cheek, my lips, down over my jaw and neck and… lower.”

Hawke breathed a curse, rage coiling tightly into a spring poised to snap. He squeezed her hands tighter but then let go, fearful that his grip may become painful as his ire grew. Instead he gripped the cushion on either side of her knees, trying to reign in his immortal strength as he kept his gaze fixed on eyes of shimmering green. Her throat bobbed.

“I tried to excuse myself and leave, but he pulled me back to him. His hand was still at my chest, my back against his front. I could… feel him.” Poppy took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “I always knew he delighted in making me uncomfortable, but I don’t think I realized…”

She shook her head, finally breaking the link between their eyes as her lashes lowered. “That’s how I know he smelled of jasmine. I was able to run away when someone screamed – when they found Malessa.”

Hawke looked down at his hands, knuckles white has his fingers dug into the plush forest green upholstery. Would Lord Mazeen have dared to go further? It wasn’t much of a leap from his slimy touch to further violation. His vision blurred, his chest a chasm of disturbing realizations and maddening what-ifs. He only knew that he was still breathing because he could hear it – labored, sawing breaths. He grounded himself by focusing on her face – the raised pink skin of the Craven scars, the full luscious lips, the smooth porcelain of her flesh that he reached out to touch. Fingers traced over her cheek and jaw before pushing gently under her chin, her eyes raising to look back at him.

“And what about when you are summoned by the Duke. Is he always there, too?”

Poppy’s breathing stuttered, eyes widening as they lined with silver.

“I told you I heard everything, Poppy,” he murmured as his thumb drifted over her skin. “What was he doing there?”

When a tear escaped over her lashes, it was like the world shifted under his feet. When had everything become so fucked up and twisted? He’d always known the Ascended were monsters, but knowing that those two beasts took such great pains to back the Maiden into a corner, with no possible way to escape their sadistic attention… It made his stomach roil.

Slowly, so she would not be caught off guard, he lifted his fingers from her chin to wipe away the droplet that slowly fell over her cheek. Taking a calming breath, he encouraged, “You can trust me, Princess. I know it’s hard to do, and I know that I have only been at your side for a few days. But it is abhorrent that nobody in this Godsdamned castle has tried to shield you from these predators and I will not let it stand a moment longer. I swear it to you, Penellaphe. With my sword and my life, I vow to protect you. Not the Maiden,” he spat, “not the Duke or the Duchess or any of the lords and ladies, not this Godsforsaken castle or anyone else in it. I said your name. I promised you.”

She stared at him, expression calculating, weighing his declaration. Hawke pulled his hand away, resting it against her knee. He braced himself as she swallowed, preparing to speak.

“Lord Mazeen began taking a special interest in Duke Teerman’s lessons a few years ago. He likes to watch.” The redhead paused, gaze returning to her hands. She had started wringing her fingers again when she continued, “The Duke requires me to disrobe to my waist. He prefers to strike bare skin.”

Holy fucking gods. Hawke forced himself to breathe, keeping his eyes trained on her reddening cheeks and dreading that she had more still to tell.

“I lean against his desk to support myself, and in my state of undress I will hold myself up with one arm and try to cover myself with the other as much as I can,” her voice cracked. He could feel the heat wafting from her skin, face flushing with shame. He never could have prepared himself for how complete her degradation had been at the Duke’s cruel hands. “The last time,” she whispered, “it wasn’t enough for Lord Mazeen to just sit there. He… stood in front of me. Leered at me. He pulled my arm away from my chest and held my hands to the desk… so he could look his fill as the Duke took the cane to my back.”

Hawke was frozen, staring at Poppy’s bowed head. He could smell the salt of her tears as they silently coursed down her cheeks, glowing gold in the firelight. Gritting his teeth, nostrils flaring, a snarl rose from his throat. His head was empty of all thoughts, save for the need to massacre the monster. But the shimmering of her crimson locks grounded him, and he lowered his forehead to her knees as he struggled to calm his racing, raging heart. Air hissed from between his teeth, the sound of his ragged breaths roaring in his ears, and he could feel his fingernails clawing through the fabric that covered her cushioned seat.

“Poppy,” he groaned desperately. “I need you to talk. About anything else. I need – I need to find a way to calm down.” The guard’s shoulders tremored with coiled rage.

“Hawke?” Her soft voice pierced through the night. “I don’t understand.”

“The only thing keeping me from finding that worthless pile of refuse and tearing him limb from limb is knowing that I can’t protect you if I’m swinging from the gallows,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “Please, Poppy. I need–“

Any remaining air whooshed out of his lungs when he felt timid, trembling fingers combing through the ends of his hair. Immediately his muscles relaxed, shoulders bowing in. When he lifted his gaze she snatched her hand back, cradling it to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. The corner of his mouth tipped up.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Poppy’s breath caught, but her eyes stuck on his. Green, like an Atlantian spring. They were beautiful and clear and shining. Hawke felt like he couldn’t look away, and he wondered for a moment – maybe even hoped – if she felt just as entranced as he did.

“What is?”

“How it feels like I’ve known you longer. You feel that, too,” he answered. That gentle tickle of her fingers in his hair, a caress of care and a promise of… whatever this was. It was as if they had always shared such familiarity. But then her hands dropped into her lap, eyes following. “Why were you on the Rise?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

Hawke’s grin grew. “Your motivation wasn’t. At least, tell me that. Tell me what drove you to go up there to fight them.” She paused, casting her stare into the fire as she contemplated.

“The scar on my face. Do you know how I got it?” she asked.

Of course he did. It had been one of the many, many things Vikter had seen fit for him to know. “Your family was attacked by some Craven when you were a child.”

“Vikter filled you in?” Poppy smiled slightly, but it didn’t crawl into her eyes. “It’s not the only scar.”

Hawke didn’t respond to that, but he mentally scowled. More scars meant even less perfection, more opportunities for the Duke and the rest of the Ascended to remind her that she was somehow less. It grated at him.

The Maiden told the story of her family. How the town only had a short wall to protect them, but that it hadn’t seen Craven in decades. That seemed odd. And then how someone had somehow saved her and her brother.

“I woke up days later, back in the capital. Queen Ileana was by my side. She told me what had happened. That our parents were gone.”

He’d had to carefully school his features at the mention of the Blood Queen. To Poppy she had been a guardian, someone she could trust. To Hawke she had been a nightmare. He hoped to the gods that Poppy would understand one day. Regardless, he understood what it was to lose people that he loved. And for her to have been so young. It was truly tragic.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I truly am. It’s a miracle you survived.”

“The gods protected me. That’s what the Queen told me. That I was Chosen. I came to learn later that it was one of the reasons the Queen had begged my mother and father not to leave the safety of the capital. That… that if the Dark One became aware of the Maiden being unprotected, he’d send the Craven after me. He wanted me dead then, but apparently, he wants me alive now.” She laughed bitterly as Hawke quietly analyzed what she’d said. The implication of the Dark One in her family’s attack stood out to him, as he had never been able to control the Craven, much less send them to kill an innocent red-haired girl.

“What happened to your family is not your fault, and there could be any number of reasons for why they attacked that village,” he urged softly as he reached up to tuck a loose tendril of fire behind her ear. “What else do you remember?”

“No one… no one in that inn knew how to fight. Not my parents, none of the women, or even the men. They all relied on the handful of guards,” she explained. It wasn’t necessarily surprising – yet another way the Ascended were able to keep the mortals under their heel. “If my parents knew how to defend themselves, they could’ve survived. It might’ve been just a small chance, but one nonetheless.”

It made so much sense. So much so that Hawke scolded himself for not understanding sooner. “And you want that chance.”

“I won’t… I refuse to be helpless.”

“No one should be.”

And it struck him, then, the double meaning behind his reply. She had taken the steps to ensure that she could defend herself. She was highly skilled, enough to have knocked him on his ass. And brave to the point of recklessness. And yet, inside that hellish study, she may as well have been any lady in wait – with no skill or training or hope of escaping whatever the Duke planned for her. It was so, so wrong.

“You saw what happened tonight. They reached the top of the Rise. If one makes it over, more will follow. No Rise is impenetrable and even if it were, mortals come back from outside the Rise cursed. It happens more than people realize,” Poppy rambled. The guard tamed his expression, careful not to react to yet another unintended confession. He had heard rumors that the child of the gods would assist in providing a dignified passing to those who had been bitten. A day or two ago he never would have believed that it was the Maiden, that the chosen one would commit treason to ease the suffering of those cursed. But now… he truly wasn’t surprised. “At any moment, that curse could spread in this city. If I’m going down-“

“You’ll go down fighting,” he finished for her. When she nodded he mirrored it. “Like I said, you’re very brave.”

“I don’t think it’s bravery,” she muttered. “I think it’s… fear.”

“Fear and bravery are often one and the same. It either makes you a warrior or a coward. The only difference is the person it resides inside.” And he knew which one she was, without question. Hawke leaned back, settling himself to sit before her on the ornate rug. It took her longer than usual to respond.

“You sound so many years older than what you appear,” she answered quietly. Gods, if only she knew.

“Only half the time. You saved lives tonight, Princess.” He leaned his forearms upon his knees and peered up at her.

“But many died.”

“Too many,” he agreed. “The Craven are a never-ending plague.” Poppy sighed.

“As long as an Atlantian lives, there will be Craven.” It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. He would have to be as patient as he could for her to see the truth. But that didn’t mean he had to listen to the slander.

“That is what they say,” he answered dryly, turning golden eyes to the fireplace. “You said that more come back from outside the Rise cursed than people realize. How do you know that?”

“I’ve heard rumors,” she offered, voice slightly higher than normal. He could hardly suppress a grin. She really was a terrible liar.

“It’s not spoken about a lot, and when it is, it’s only whispered.” Hawke’s eyes drifted back to find blazing, defiant green.

“You’re going to need to be more detailed.”

He lifted a brow. He already had her backed into a corner, but if she insisted… “I’ve heard that the child of the gods has helped those who are cursed. That she has aided them, given them death with dignity.” The guard studied the Maiden, mussed hair waterfalling over her shoulders and burning against her ivory skin. Her body was rigid with tension, an easy indication that she had been caught. And yet all he could really think about was how her flesh would feel beneath his fingers, against his lips.

“Who has said such things?”

Hawke shrugged. “A few of the guards. I didn’t believe them at first, to be honest.” And that was the gods-honest truth.

“Well, you should’ve stuck with your initial reaction They’re mistaken if they think I would commit outright treason against the Crown,” Poppy huffed, earning a snort from her guard. She lifted a defiant eyebrow in question.

“You’re a terrible liar, Princess.” Indeed, it was any wonder she was ever able to placate the Duke and Duchess. He continued before she could argue, “And I understand why you would. Those men speak of you with such awe that before I even met you, I half expected you to be a child of the gods. They would never report you.” He wondered for a moment if there truly was more to her, somehow. That she could be beautiful and courageous and strong and also… more.

“That may be the case,” she retorted, “but you heard them talking about it. Others could hear them, as well.”

“Perhaps I should be clearer in what I said about hearing rumors. They were actually speaking to me,” Hawke explained, fixing her with a pointed golden stare. “Since I too have helped those who are cursed die with dignity. I did so in the capital and do so here, as well.” Her plump lips parted in surprise, and he desired so badly to touch them with his own.

“Those who come back cursed have already given all for the kingdom. Being treated as anything other than the heroes they are, and being dragged in front of the public to be murdered is the last thing they or their families should have to go through.” Hawke lifted himself from his seat on the floor, brushing invisible lint from his breeches as he basked in the light of the surprise shining in her emerald eyes. Rendered speechless. How unusual. “I’ve kept you up long enough.” With a dip of his chin he started toward the heavy wooden door. He had made it a few paces before her voice called to him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He paused and turned back to her, but she was still facing the fire. All he could see was the fiery mane above the back of her chair.

“Of course.”

“I know that what Duke Teerman and Lord Mazeen do to me is wrong. I know that. And I know that I am trained, and that I could fight back – but I don’t, because it would be catastrophic for Vikter. But…” Her voice trailed off a moment as she seemed to search for words. “I… I could have stopped Lord Mazeen. I could have cut off his most precious, private possession when he tried to touch me. But I didn’t.” Another long, heavy pause. She turned her head so he could see her profile, a silhouette before the flames.

“Does that… what does that say about me?”

Hawke’s shoulders sagged, heart cracking yet again. “The only thing it says, Poppy, is that you are in an impossible situation. That you are locked so tightly in a cage that they have given you no hope for escape. And yet you still stretch your limbs to protest it, in your way, and with great and grave potential consequence. And that is extremely brave.” The guard ran a hand through his unruly dark hair. “And the fact that you bear those consequences – not willingly, but to protect someone you care about – is perhaps even more courageous. You should feel no shame for that.”

With a nod she turned back to the fire. He was hopeful that he had convinced her that it meant nothing beyond the notion that the Ascended were monsters, and that they did nothing but abuse her and use her as a symbol to keep the citizenry in their thrall.

“Get some rest, Princess.” His paces carried him to the door, and as it creaked open under his had he paused again. “And wear better shoes the next time you go out onto the Rise. And thicker clothing. Those slippers are likely to be the death of you, and that dress… the death of me.”

[ragingbookdragon]

An Unexpected Friendship, But A Friendship Nonetheless

A Jason Todd and Harley Quinn One-Shot (Non-Reader Insert)

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So I wrote this for @aurailia or @nitebirdie because she drew that wonderful Jason picture for me which you can find right here! I hope you like this, Jess! Love you! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Jason expected a lot of things.

1. Getting yelled at by Bruce for shooting serial murderers and rapists? Check.

2. Getting yelled at by Damian for calling him short? Check.

3. Getting yelled at by Tim for spray painting a billboard of him with penises? Check.

4. Getting yelled at by Dick for picking on his younger brothers? Check.

So really, it was getting yelled at by his family that he expected the most, but all things considered about his life, his expectations weren’t pretty high. He knew he was going to get hurt on patrol, knew was going to spend the rest of his life dealing with the chronic pain and learning how to manage it.

But the one thing Jason never expected, was to end up being friends with Harley Quinn.

And honest to God, the whole friendship only started because the psychiatrist they both went to accidentally scheduled them at the same time. A screw up. A monumental screw up. But it did lead to a revolutionary session where Jason and Harley spent most of their time badgering each other about their habits while the woman merely watched on and scribbled furiously at her notepad.

When they both left, they were in such a heated argument about which way would be better to deal with the Joker. Jason suggested a bullet in the head and Harley suggested cutting off his arms and legs. An excellent suggestion, he had to admit, but nothing would satisfy him more than killing the pasty bastard, and she knew that too.

Surprisingly, when Harley got to her bus stop, she grabbed the front collar of his shirt to keep him in place while she typed her number in his phone. Of course, Jason wasn’t sure what to be more concerned about: the fact that she’d lifted his phone without him knowing, or that she was putting her number in it and telling him to call her when he needed someone to talk to.

He’d responded that he didn’t need another shrink in his head.

She’d given him a pitied look and said it wasn’t for that, but for a friend.

And Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but three weeks after, he was dialing her number at two A.M. just to hear someone’s voice over the deafening silence in his apartment.

They talked for hours about anything and everything. Cars, weapons, games, favorite childhood memories, everything they could think of. And by the time they’d finally talked until their tongues were numb, the sun had started peeking above the buildings in the distance.

He apologized for keeping her all night.

Harley laughed and asked to hang out on patrol come Friday night then hung up.

Jason hadn’t even told her who he was, but low and behold she was doing cartwheels on the roof of the building he was looking out on that night. And it should’ve annoyed him but hell, he’d grown up with Dick—gymnastics was something he was used to being around.

Halfway through their stakeout, she was perched on the side of the ledge, staring at the side of his head, and it shouldn’t’ve unnerved him like it did, but there was something about her bright blue eyes drilling into his brain that made his skin crawl—and not in the good way.

Will you stop boring holes in me, Quinn? He’d grunted. Pay attention.

Why? She’d retorted. Aren’t you tired of doing this? Don’t you wanna go do something fun?

Stopping drug dealers is good for Gotham.

I’m not talking about good for Gotham, Jason. I’m talking about for you.

Harley hauled him up and tugged him along, him barely resisting because good God she was relentless and headstrong when she put her mind to something. So, he let her. And she dragged him to the Bat-Burger down the block and shoved a roll of money towards the cashier, ordering one of everything on the menu.

And Jason found it really odd when he was balancing two trays in his hands while Harley carried the milkshakes over to the booth in the corner where they huddled in and started eating.

She held up a packet in between her fingers. Want some Jokerized seasoning?

He blinked at her and gently took it, sprinkling the red, white, and green flakes over his fries. And he wasn’t offended when she reached over and took one, popping it in her mouth.

It’s terrible to say it, but God I love this shit. She laughed and Jason’s jaw dropped.

I know! He agreed with a grin. I can’t help it! It’s so good!

Her eyes had narrowed at that. You should smile more, Jason. You look normal when you do.

Normal? He repeated.

You look happy. And that’s what you should strive for. She finalized and took the Robin Nuggets from his tray, grinning when he let out a noise of complaint.

When they could finally move after consuming so much food, she tugged him along to the department store that had closed hours before and while Jason wasn’t one to ever care about breaking and entering, he did have a problem with property that wasn’t a center for criminal activity.

Don’t be a baby. She griped and slipped in though one of the vents and Jason merely stared at the opening before he heard her yell to him. Get a move on! We have stuff to do!

Begrudgingly, he squeezed himself into the way too small vent and shimmied after her.

And Harley Quinn must’ve been planning this for a while because when his feet finally hit the floor, he watched as she started disabling security cameras and alarms in the entire building before spinning around and grinning at him.

Mall’s ours. Let’s get it. And she was off.

Bruce was not going to be happy about this but watching her swing that electrified bat at the glass windows, watching them shatter into millions of shards stirred up something devious in him and Harley was cackling when he broke a window with an armored elbow and yanked out the mannequin, tugging the black leather jacket off before shrugging it on.

He posed with his shoulders squared and strong and she clapped her hands. Looks good! Wanna go hit one of the jewelry stores and find some silver earrings to go with it?

Jason nodded and somehow Harley ended up piggybacking on him, giggling profusely when he started belting out Queen at the top of his lungs; she even joined when they got to the operatics.

And somehow, he let her convince him to go and help her raid the major makeup store in the mall. Harley managed to fill three backpacks full of lipsticks, foundations, eye-shadows, and a whole lotta other shit that Jason had no idea what they were for.

How much money do you think all that is? He inquired and she shrugged.

Probably a grand? Maybe two if I’m being honest. This place is a money-sucking-makeup-hog and I’ll be damned if I’m paying a hundred bucks for one set of lipstick and eyeliner.

She turned to him. Anywhere you wanna go? There’s a map out there if you wanna go look.

Jason nodded and walked out of the store while she was busy filling whatever belt pocket wasn’t empty.

After a few minutes, he heard, Found anywhere?

He pointed silently at one of the stores on the brightened map and she squinted, looking it over.

You wanna go there?

Wouldn’t’ve suggested it if I didn’t.

She shrugged and piggybacked him again. Lead the way, Jason.

He hated that the elevators had been out, and while he hadn’t broken a sweat carrying Harley up three flights of immovable stairs, his knees and his back were killing him when they finally got to the store.

He started wandering inside but stopped when she tossed him a duffel bag.

Fill it up with everything you want.

Jason tried to smile but could only manage a grimace as he stepped in and started going up and down the aisles. He wasn’t too picky with his choosing. Books that looked like they’d help manage his pain he shoved in the duffel bag. An electric pulsing gel pad went in too followed by a vibrating roller he could stretch his muscles on.

He was flipping through a book geared towards mindful chronic pain management when he felt her slide next to him.

Finding everything alright?

Mostly…this one is all about conditioning the mind to work with the pain.

Sounds useful. Meditation and mindfulness have been known to work. It’s really all about placebo-ing your mind into it. She looked at him. Jason, do you ever think about going to a physical therapist?

He scoffed. I already go see a shrink. Why would I go see another doctor?

Because your mind is one thing, and your body is another. Her hand was cool when she placed it on his arm. Jason, if you’re in pain, there are people who can help you.

He really wanted to be snarky but all he could do was glare at her. And what about you? Do you go see a doctor for all the things he did to you too?

Harley gazed at him for a long time before answering him firmly. I will if you do. Or… she started, then trailed off and picked up a few books on physical therapy. You can come to the apartment that Ivy and I live in and we can do it together.

And Jason blinked in shock because he’d never met a person who would agree to do something for themselves if he did something for himself, an agreement for dual help.

You’d really do that for me? For you too?

Harley smiled, big and pearly white, red lipstick a bit smeared in the corner from their meal earlier.

We’re both screwed up cause of what he did, Jason. But here’s where we’re different from everyone else.She linked her arm with his, leaned close and murmured. We’re not going to stew in it while healing is in our futures.

You know we’ll never be one hundred percent fixed, right?

It’s not about fixing, Jason. It’s about healing. Healing doesn’t mean you’re fixed. Memories, pain, it’ll always be there and no amount of management for pain or therapy is going to fix that.

She stared up at him. But it will remind you that you’re still you. Even if there’s a few broken pieces here and there. And no one can take that from you. Not even him.

Jason’s lungs were too tight to form words and his eyes stung horribly but he managed to swallow the lump enough to choke out his reply. You’re alright, Harley.

Smiling, she pressed her cheek into his bicep. Call me Harleen, Jason.

Not Harley?

No, not Harley. I only let the ones I care about call me Harleen.

Does this mean we’re friends then?

Oh, this absolutely means we’re friends now. Best friends, in fact. She tugged at his arm. And I think there’s a Wayne Enterprises outlet somewhere in here and I think we should leave Brucie boy a message.

Jason laughed and wiped his eyes, hurrying after her. Can we spray paint dicks everywhere?

Only if I can spray paint boobs.

You’ve got yourself a deal, Harleen.

Jason expected a lot in his life. To be yelled at by his family for being a pain-in-the-ass son and brother, to be injured on the job, to see a therapist every Tuesday and Thursday, to call his family every night to tell them he loved them.

But the one thing he never expected, was to find one of the greatest friends he’d ever had in a woman he had once been on opposite sides with.

He also didn’t expect Batman to come through the window of the outlet in the middle of their spray painting but that’s another story for another time.

[raindrops-and-tubestops]

Fluff: 3. “Have you seen my hoodie?” “Noo.” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” /Lin-Bumi/, please.

Oooooh this is a new pairing for me! Thank you for the prompt anon ! I did change the wording…I feel like Bumi would wear a sweater…

I hope you enjoy 💜

——————————————————

He had to be going crazy. He knows he tossed his sweater somewhere as he was tripping over his feet on the way to the door this morning. He glanced quickly around the entryway once again.

Where did it go?

Bumi was trying to get to the market before Lin came home. He wanted to make dinner for them, they both needed the quality time after how hectic the week had been. They had been literal ships passing in the night, only acknowledging each other with a chaste kiss on the cheek or a soft pat on the closest body part. He had been spending a bit of time on the Island, Tenzin had given Bumi several classes to tend to himself.

And Lin, well she was being her normal self, diving into each crisis thrown at her with gusto. She had a few officers who were one medical leave, they had gotten injured in a raid turned ambush by the Triads the previous week. She had been working all different hours, each day a different shift, just to offset the work load. He would tell her that she needed to take care of herself…she’d in turn roll eyes affectionately.

Being the Chief doesn’t stop just because I’m off the clock or a little run down.

He could hear her voice, low and gravely, sticky like warm honey, as the words floated through his mind. A small smile crinkled the corner of his eyes as a soft chuckled rumbled through his chest. If there was one person, aside from his mother, that he was hopelessly devoted to, it was Lin Beifong.

As he turned slowly, surveying the room and it’s contents, his grey eyes were drawn to the pile near the front door. It looked suspiciously like Lin’s armor.

How did I miss that?

‘Babe,’ Bumi called curiously, the statement more of a question.

The pet name was a work in progress, more often than not she’d roll her eyes and ask him not to use it. Other days she’d indulge him, trying out some of her own, ‘darling,’ was a favorite of hers.

No answer was forthcoming, but his gut told him that she was indeed somewhere in the apartment. As he continued looking he registered a trail of discarded clothes. A pair of black uniform pants next to the kitchen table. A white tank top carelessly thrown behind the couch. Bindings draped over the high back of Lin’s favorite reading chair. Metal hair pins in a nest pile on the coffee table.

He tried again, ‘Linny?’

He waited a few moments, still eyeing the mess his Chief had made. The bedroom door opened with a creak that cut through the silence like a knife. Soon enough he could hear the soft tread of her bare feet, but he wasn’t ready for what greeted him as she emerged at the end of the hallway.

Lin Beifong, in all her glory, was an admittedly gorgeous woman. Her steel grey hair and sharp green eyes cut quite a contrast against her pale skin. Her frame was lean and muscular, with just the right amount of curves that most people would consider ‘feminine.’ Her cheekbones sharp, giving her a stern appearance, until her lips would lift in a shy smile. Her lips, round but not overtly slow, a soft pink that darkened as she became more excited.

Normally these features, and others her airbender lover was able to catalogue, were hidden under the previously mentioned armor. It was rare, even at events and parties, for Lin to forgo her precious metal, and even when she did, she was noticeably uncomfortable.

Not because she wasn’t confident, because confidence in her body was something Lin had in spades. No…she wasn’t sure she could adequately protect the people she loved if she wasn’t in uniform. Which would put her on edge, even with the metal accents she would incorporate into her formal wear.

Bumi knew exactly how lucky he was., that he of all people, was able…no PERMITTED to see her so relaxed. To see the esteemed a Chief of Police as the woman under the armor, under the facade.

This vision of her, rumpled and clearly still sleepy, just waking from a nap, was for him and only him to see. Her hair was curling slightly at the ends, having been freed from the pins that normally held it. She hated those curls. She had confessed this to him after one of thier first night s together, after he had seen her bed head, her face buried in her pillow. Bumi had merely drawn her closer and placed a soft kiss on those curls, nuzzling the back of her head slightly.

Her long legs were also on display courtesy of the spandex work out shorts she favored for at home. The strong muscles under the smooth skin gave Lin a graceful yet powerful appearance. His fingers itched run up and down her calves, maybe even farther if she’d let him.

As he continued his perusal of her body, he jolted with a start. She was holding up one side of the garment on her torso, hand gingerly rubbing at her hip as she tried to make sense of the world.

The sweater, his FAVORITE sweater mind you, was flowing down her frame. It was a present from his mother, from however long ago, different shades of blue, green, and greys swirled together in a dizzying pattern. Lin had said so herself many times that the pattern made her crossed eyes.

Bumi smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, hip leant against the back of the chair.

‘Hello sleepy head,’ he teased, ‘you haven’t seen my sweater have you?’

Lin dropped her fist from her side as the other scrubbed across her face, desperately trying to clear the sleep from her mind. She didn’t even remember getting to the bed…

‘No,’ she responded sincerely confused.

Bumi chuckled which drew Lin’s attention finally. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her own arms, she didn’t understand what he was talking about.

‘What’s so funny?’ she asked, clearly more awake.

Bumi shook his head slightly, stepping around the chair and closing the distance between the . She tracked her lover with her eyes as he came closer, raising her chin in defiance. Stopping inches from Lin, her head barely reaching his shoulder, Bumi forcefully tugged on the material of sweater.

Taken by surprise and finding herself off balance, Lin fell gracelessly into his chest. The airbender grinned as he wrapped his arms around the metalbender tightly.

‘You sure?’ He asked again, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she realized her mistake.

His chief mumbled something, burying her head in his chest.

‘What was that?’

She sighed as she leant back, ‘I forgot ok?’

His hand snaked up to the base of her neck, stroking the fine hair. Bumi drew Lin closer, his hand urging her to relax into him.

‘It’s ok babe, looks better on you anyway.’

The kiss placed on her forehead and the steady pressure on her waist caused a gasp to escape her lips. Breathy and soft and promising all at once.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled again, ‘it’s soft…did you need it?’

Bumi could feel the steady beat of her heart, the fleeting pressure of her fingertips as they flexed on his own waist, and the puffs of warm air on his neck as she quietly spoke.

Overcome, he kissed her again, his breath ghosting across the delicate skin of her temple. He could feel her lips lift in a soft smile.

Prompts 💜

[isoldearcher]

Qui Vivra Verra, Chapter One

Salvia - "I'll Think of You"

Summary:

"If every time I thought of you a star fell, well, the sky would be empty."

Trigger Warnings - violence, death, gunfight, slavery, starvation, suicidal ideation, implied rape

REMINDER: THIS WORK IS FOR THOSE 18+; MINORS DNI

Disclaimer: Several chapters of this fic use/will use dialogue directly from The Mandalorian. This dialogue was taken from wikitranscripts and no copyright infringement is intended - I have written this entirely for my own pleasure and seek no profit from it.

Read it on AO3

The suns were well past their zenith but the heat was still nearly suffocating, even in the shade.  The Mandalorian had wasted precious time chasing after the slain hunter’s dewback.  He was exhausted.  His armor was covered in dust and sand had worked its way in between the gaps and settled in his base layers and boots.  He wanted - in no particular order - a drink (water would be a good start, but something stronger would not go amiss), a shower (with real water, not just a sonic), and food (preferably something hearty but a ration bar - anything - would do at this point).  Actually, the first thing he wanted was to make sure the Child was all right; he’d been away for much longer than he intended and he doubted the little one’s presence had gone unnoticed by the mechanic back at the bay.  But Fennec Shand’s twisted corpse told him all he needed to know: that none of those things would be happening anytime soon.

He had known something was wrong the moment his audio sensors hadn’t picked anything up as he made his approach.  The kid rarely shut his mouth long enough for them to do their job and so the silence had quickly settled like a stone in his gut.  With one hand on his blaster, he drew closer, only lowering his guard when the lone heat signature he registered through the head-up display in his helmet was Shand’s cooling body.

He heaved a sigh and turned his mount towards Mos Eisley.

Dusk had fallen and quickly turned to true night. With the disappearance of the suns, the temperature dropped rapidly but heat still radiated upwards as the Mandalorian made his way through the empty streets.  It felt like a ghost town; even the drunks had stumbled their way home or were sleeping it off in the dark corners of some alleyway or cantina.  He had known that there was no hope of beating Toro Calican back with the dewback’s lumbering gait so it was no surprise to see the remaining speeder bike parked outside Peli Motto’s repair bay.  The eerie silence set his nerves afire and Mando ground his teeth as he drew his blaster.  If anything had happened to the Child...no, Calican might be incredibly stupid, but surely not that stupid.  Mando pushed the thought out of his mind; it would do him no good to consider the what-ifs, he just had to go in there and do his kriffing job.  He stalked into the shop, his footsteps nearly inaudible over the layer of sand that blanketed everything.  Slowly, slowly, he scanned his surroundings.

A clatter to his left drew his attention, but it was just one of Peli’s droids.  It skittered across his path and into the office, cowering with the others before ducking out of sight.  Though it made his skin crawl, the Mandalorian forced the droids out of his mind; they weren’t the threat (this time, a corner of his mind whispered treacherously), the hunter was.  He took a few steps in the direction it had come from.  He was just considering switching from night vision to thermal to scan for heat signatures when the kid’s voice rang out through the still of the night.  “Took you long enough, Mando,” he called casually.

The Mandalorian immediately fixed his gaze on his ship’s hold, approaching the Razor Crest’s ramp with blaster outstretched and no small amount of trepidation.  Calican emerged from the shadows with a triumphant swagger, the Child in one arm and the mechanic at gunpoint.  Peli's face was lined with fear as she grimaced.  “Looks like I’m calling the shots now - huh, partner?” Toro drawled, traces of mockery seeping into his words.

The bounty hunter adjusted his grip on the trigger, looking for a clear shot.  There wasn’t one.  

“Drop your blaster and raise ’em,” Calican ordered.

Mando hesitated a moment, calculating his options.  A plan - risky, but not as risky as trying to shoot around two hostages - began to form in his mind and he decided to run with it.  He tossed the weapon on the ground just in front of the ramp.  Then his hands came to rest behind his helmet in resignation.

Toro jabbed the barrel of his blaster between Peli’s shoulder blades.  “Cuff him.”

Peli muttered in disgust but shuffled the rest of the way down the ramp anyway.  She could taste the bitterness of disappointment on her tongue at how easily the Mandalorian had given up to this...this punk.  Then again, she mused, that punk had his kid.  And hadn’t she done the same just months ago when - no.  This wasn’t the time for that.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican continued, holding his weapon trained on the Mandalorian and the mechanic.  “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape.”

Well, that certainly explained a lot, Peli mused.

There was a click as the binders fell open.  Peli’s breath stuttered in a quiet gasp as the Mandalorian opened his hand just enough that she could see the flash grenade he held.  “You’re smarter than you look,” she whispered and he suppressed a snort.

“Fennec was right; bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild,” Toro said.  “It’ll make me legendary.”  He took aim.

Time seemed to slow.  Peli felt a flush of fear, knowing that she was no use to the young hunter once the Mandalorian was dead.  He has a plan, she reminded herself.  You just need someplace out of the way.  She would only have a second once -

Mando deployed the grenade; the resulting explosion lit up the bay and would have blinded him if he hadn’t known it was coming. He groped for his blaster as he rolled to the side, vaguely hoping the mechanic had found cover as well.  

Toro Calican shouted out in pain and frustration as he lost sight of his target, squeezing his eyes shut against the glare.  He discharged his blaster towards the Mandalorian’s last known position - once, twice, three times and then a fourth for good measure.  His vision cleared at the same time he heard the movement to his right but he barely brought his weapon around in time for the Mandalorian’s shot to catch him in the chest.  The would-be bounty hunter tumbled off the ramp with a choked grunt and landed in an undignified heap on the sandy shop floor.

Peli materialized from behind the crate where she had taken shelter, a hitch in her step as she limped towards the Mandalorian.  Her knees weren’t made for running and twisting anymore and she had done both, on top of hitting the ground hard when she dove out of the line of fire.  

Mando waved her away.  “Stay back,” he cautioned.  If Calican wasn’t dead, he didn’t want her to end up collateral damage.

“Gotta get it,” she murmured but hesitated, hanging back while the Mandalorian rolled the kid over.  His blaster slipped out of his limp fingers.  Mando allowed himself to relax marginally - only to realize that the Child was nowhere to be found.

Peli crept up behind him.  “Where is it?” she asked anxiously, casting about for any sign of the little one.

‘I don’t know!’ the Mandalorian wanted to scream as he glanced frantically from side to side.  There were so many places something that small could hide.  His breath started to come in shallow pants.  Had he hit the Child when he shot Calican?  What if he was hurt?  What if he couldn’t find him in time?  Stars, he shouldn’t have taken that risk…

Soft babbling drew their attention as the Child stuck its head out from behind a cylinder.  Tension seeped out of Din’s shoulders as Peli knelt and scooped the little one up.  “There you are,” she cooed.  “Are you hiding from us?  Huh?  Look at you.”  She stood, turning towards the Mandalorian but continuing to address the little one.  “That’s all right, I know.  That was really loud for your big old ears, wasn’t it?”

She bounced him gently, trying to disguise the trembling in her limbs, as Mando knelt and pulled a pouch off of Toro’s belt.  “It’s ok, shh, shh, shh,” she soothed.  The baby babbled up at her, even as she reluctantly handed him over to the Mandalorian.  “Be careful with him,” she cautioned.

Her patronizing tone had Mando’s teeth clenching behind the helmet but he took the Child with no small amount of relief.  Something in his chest loosened as he finally held the infant and he forced his breathing to slow.

Peli shuffled her feet awkwardly, swinging her arms.  “So, I take it you didn’t get paid?” she inquired, hating herself a little for asking the question after everything that had just happened.  The bounty hunter turned his visor to her and she could almost feel the sardonic gaze behind the darkened glass.  Her hands found her hips and she sighed in resignation.  This is what she got for not insisting on payment up front -

But the Mandalorian held Calican’s pouch out and waited until she cupped her hands below it before upending the contents into her waiting palms.  “That cover me?” he asked gruffly.  

Peli’s mouth fell open in surprise - this was enough to cover the work she’d done and more, much more.  But then she sighed.  “Here, take them,” she grumbled, shoveling the currency back into the bag.  “You need them more than I do.”  As much as it pained her to give up the revenue, she couldn’t take food out of the mouth of the babe.

The cool night breeze stirred the Mandalorian’s cape.  He tilted his head to the side, considering the mechanic as the Child let out a soft coo.  “I pay my debts,” he said simply, then gestured broadly at the shop.  “I’ve put you through a lot of trouble and this is the least I can do.”

Peli scoffed.  “Real heart of gold you’ve got there, bounty hunter.  Listen, there’s two of you and one of me and it don’t take much to keep me and the droids going.  You work hard and he’s a growing…well, whatever he is.”  She hesitated.  “Look, it don’t feel right to take this.”  She held up a hand to forestall his protest as his indrawn breath crackled through his modulator.  An idea had occurred to her that would settle his debt and assuage the guilt that had been eating at her for the last several months.  “If you really want to repay me for the trouble, there’s something you can do for me.”

The Mandalorian took his foot off the ship’s ramp and shifted the Child to his other arm.  “Name it,” he grunted.

“I used to have an assistant.” Peli cleared her throat, rocking back and forth on her heels.  “Sharp as the edge of your blade there, and that’s no exaggeration.”

“What happened?” the bounty hunter prompted.

“Ghent Suvan,” Peli growled, fingers clenching around the bag of credits.  “Local gangster, moved in here after the Hutts left.  He and his goons come around every so often to take payment for ‘protection’.  Well, I didn’t have enough credits or firepower to keep them off last time so they took her instead.”

The helmet tilted again as the Mandalorian tried to puzzle through the information.  “What use does a gangster have for a mechanic’s assistant?”

A soft scoff escaped Peli’s lips.  “Trust me,” she said.  “You’ll know it when you see her.”  Before she could say more, one of the pit droids skidded to a halt in front of them and babbled something in binary.  “I don’t know!” Peli replied, her voice rising to nearly a whine at the end.  “Drag it to Beggar’s Canyon!”

The droid saluted her and scrabbled back to the others, each grabbing one of Calican’s limbs.  They lugged him out of the hangar, chattering amongst themselves until their voices were lost in the silence of the desert night. 

“Where can I find this...Ghent Suvan?” the Mandalorian pressed the mechanic.

Peli gestured vaguely towards the dunes.  “He took up in an old inn out on the edge of town, used to be The Modest Smuggler.  Got a friend with a speeder who can take you out there in the morning.  Or whenever you wake up,” she added, shifting her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet.  “Take it you’re pretty wore out.  I got some bonzabeast stew leftover from feeding the little one earlier; you’re welcome to it.”

The Mandalorian hesitated. "I'd prefer to eat on my ship,"  he answered, “without the Child.  If that’s not a problem.”

"Of course you would," Peli said with a wave of her hand and a twinge of annoyance. "I'll bring it up to you.  He can stay with me.”  She reached over and plucked the baby from the bounty hunter’s arms.  As she turned to walk towards her living quarters, she began to fuss over him.  “That’s right!  You can stay with me - oh, we have such fun together!”

Something lodged itself in the Mandalorian’s throat as he watched the mechanic’s retreating form.  Her words from earlier came back to haunt him - “You can’t just leave a child all alone like that.  You know, you’ve got an awful lot to learn about raising a little one!” - and, not for the first time since he’d blasted his way out of the safe house, he felt the hot flush of shame on his face.  It was nothing short of the truth; but it was also true that Mando would have preferred to leave the Child on Sorgan, anywhere that wasn’t with him because with him was often synonymous with in danger.  He heaved a sigh and climbed the ramp into the Razor Crest to try to wash off the dust of the day - and maybe some of the guilt, too, while he was at it.

The suns were just cresting the horizon when she finally worked up the courage to slide out of the bed, drawing a sharp breath as the shackles around her wrists, ankles, and throat bit into skin rubbed raw by the ill-fitting durasteel.  Ghent Suvan rolled over, muttering sleepily.  “Where d’you think you’re goin’?”

“The refresher,” she murmured in thickly accented Basic, keeping her eyes downcast.

He grunted in assent or acknowledgment, she wasn’t sure.  Before he could change his mind, she scampered for the relative safety and privacy of the little room adjacent to his quarters.  The door closed behind her and she pressed her back to it, sliding down to sit on the floor and bury her face in trembling hands.  She allowed herself a moment to feel the fear, the futility, the self-pity before drawing a ragged breath and forcing herself to her feet.  Slowly, though - too fast and she’d wind up right back where she started.

Out of habit, she checked her reflection in the mirror.  Gaunt eyes and sunken cheeks looked back at her and she felt a stab of satisfaction.  She could almost begin to count her ribs.  Suvan might have taken away her chance at freedom but the half-portions he allowed her to eat were a double-edged sword: they kept her too weak to be anything but compliant yet she could see him growing more disinterested in her by the day as she grew thinner and thinner.  Still, there was steel under her bearing; her people were proud, hard to break, although she was getting dangerously close.

Quietly, she edged the cabinet under the sink open, mindful not to let the hinges creak.  She ran her fingers along the recess that formed the faux drawer just beneath the sink bowl, pleased to note that the items she had stashed there were all accounted for.  She had collected nearly enough parts to rig her own crude blaster should she get an uninterrupted moment from her master to assemble it.

The problem she then faced would be how to use the blaster.  While she might be able to kill Suvan in his sleep, there was no way for her to make her way out of the building unaccosted.  He had too many men and she was in no shape physically to fight off even a single one, never mind several of them.  Even if she did manage to get away by some small miracle, she doubted she could make it to the docks without attracting attention.

There was another option, but she was loath to take it.

Before her silence or absence could arouse Suvan’s suspicion (which, more often than not, led to rousing his ire), she eased the cabinet closed again.  She used the toilet and splashed some water on her face as she washed her hands, cold water invigorating her.  She paused a moment more to delay the inevitable, glancing down at the amulet around her neck as it clinked softly against her chains.  It was her only possession that had survived her enslavement all those years ago when the Zygerrians had boarded the transport.  She regarded it with a certain amount of bitterness, for it was the amulet that had sealed her fate.

The Zygerrians had been more than pleased to discover a Servant of Naamah among the passengers.  ‘Worth her weight in gold,’ they had purred, rubbing their hands together with greedy pleasure.

Since that day, several of the masters she had served had made it their mission to turn her vows into a mockery of what they had once been.  Servants of Naamah could choose those on whom they wished to bestow their gifts; a slave could not.  Here, at least, the amulet only invited leering glances or loaded suggestions from Suvan’s thugs, but never more than that.

She belonged to Ghent Suvan and he would kill any sentient who laid a hand on his property.

She emerged from the ’fresher, sparing a glance at the bed.  Suvan lay motionless, snoring softly.  Relief flooded her limbs at the thought that she could have a few more precious moments to herself.  She made for the terrace on the opposite side of the room.  Being in the open air where she could breathe again, more than the stale air of the abandoned waystation, where she could see the rolling dunes and the lightening sky - it might be only an illusion of true freedom but she would take what she could get, for now.

Once on the terrace, she fell to her knees.  “Elua, if you have any compassion for your child, send me a sign,” she prayed quietly in her native tongue.  “Naamah, take pity on your servant.”  She swallowed around the lump in her throat.  “Kushiel, if this is punishment for my transgressions, have mercy; have I not atoned enough?”  If she thought any of the other gods were listening, she would have pleaded her case with them as well.  Instead, she fell silent, waiting.  A chill worked its way up her body from where the stone met her knees while the warmth of the early sunlight trickled down from above.

She lost track of how long she knelt there, eyes flying open with a gasp as a heavy hand closed itself on her shoulder.  “Makin’ your daily devotions, little priestess?” Ghent sneered, digging his fingers into her flesh.  “Why don’t you come back to bed and make your devotions to me instead?”

With leaden limbs and heavy heart, she rose and followed him back into the room.  If this was the sign she had asked for, her gods had abandoned her.

[hearts-hunger]

dralshy’a ka’ra (brighter stars): chapter one || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Series Summary: In the lake country of Naboo, you and Din romance each other under summer’s brighter stars. || Part Two of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: After docking the Crest at the harbor, you and Din while away the afternoon exploring the city hand in hand.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut (eventually) | Word Count: 3.1k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So, I loved writing Mr. and Mrs. Djarin so much that I decided to give them a vacation after all the stress of Ciryc Ca’tra. Basically, it’s Din being the sweetest husband ever. It’s technically a sequel, but I’m fairly certain it can be read as a standalone series. Let me know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

“Isn’t the sunshine wonderful, Din?”

You tipped your face up towards the bright, cloudless Naboo sky, feeling the sun on your cheeks like a kiss from a dearly-missed friend.

You heard a soft laugh come through Din’s vocoder. “Yes, it’s wonderful.”

You looked over at him and gave him a bright, sun-squinty smile. “You’re not even in it.”

He was leaned up against the side of the Crest in its shadow, as relaxed as someone in full armor could be, his arms crossed over his chest as the sunshine glinting off the bay cast shimmering reflections on his beskar. You knew he was monitoring your surroundings with care - even in the port of Naboo, where you’d never known there to be any trouble, your husband was nothing if not observant.

“I will be,” he said patiently. “But there’s no use in me sweating through my armor before we’ve even docked the ship.”

You were waiting on the harbormaster to come by and check that everything was in place with where you’d landed the Crest, and even though you knew Din had done everything by the book, he still preferred to have a conversation with the person in charge wherever he left her. You came over to him, stepping into the shade from the Crest, and rested your arms over his.

“Hi,” you said with a smile, looking up at his helm.

He chuckled. “Hi, yourself.” He leaned in to gently tap his helmet against your forehead. “Are you happy to be back?”

“Yes,” you said, earnest and sincere. You’d only come back to your home planet once since you’d been married, and that was to let your family meet your new baby. That time, you had only stayed for a few hours - Din had worried about coming at all, as the authorities on Naboo surely knew the price on his head and didn’t care that the kidnapping was, in reality, the rescue of a youngling from a murderous Imperial warlord. But he knew how much it meant to you that your family be able to see and hold your new baby, and had whisked you and your foundling into your small village in the countryside under cover of night. The expression on your mother’s face when she held your baby for the first time was something you would always treasure, and you would never be able to truly thank Din for letting you have that, even as dangerous as it had been for him to arrange.

This time, you were here without the baby; you’d taken him to Sorgan, to stay with Omera and Winta for a few days, and you knew he was having the time of his life playing with the other children in the village for hours on end. Din had made good on his promise to take you on a trip after the frozen planet - somewhere warm, where you could rest and enjoy being with each other without a care in the galaxy. You also knew he was paying good money to keep your ship off the radar; an old ship like yours was bound to draw attention, and it was only with a generous amount of credits that it would be able to go by the New Republic regulations without getting flagged.

“Thank you for bringing me,” you said.

He nodded. “You’re welcome.” It was just like Din to treat grand love gestures as everyday kindnesses to you. You would have attributed it to the Mandalorian way of life, where selflessness was expected in every aspect of one’s relationships, but you knew the way he treated you with such gentleness and kindness without ever being asked or expecting anything in return was just in your husband’s nature.

“Are we going back to Trask after this?” you asked. You didn’t want to spend your holiday worrying about what you’d do after it was over, but you knew it had to be on your husband’s mind.

He studied you for a moment. 

“I think so,” he finally said. You’d stopped there long enough to bring the frog lady to her husband and get the Crest halfway flyable again, and then taken it to Peli for more extensive repairs. It was almost as good as new, and it had taken you to Sorgan and then here to Naboo with little trouble.

“I still need to find the other Mandalorians,” Din continued. “I thought of letting you stay with your mother while I did, but...” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be apart from you like that. I can’t keep you safe if I’m not with you.”

You knew he was thinking of your baby as well as you, and you gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

“We’ll come with you to Trask,” you said. “I understand you not wanting to leave us for that long. But for now, the baby will be fine with Omera for a few days. You don’t have to worry about him.”

He sighed. “I know,” he said. “It’s just... it was harder to leave him than I thought it would be.” He seemed to think he’d said something wrong, and quickly tried to mend it.

“Not that I don’t want to be here with you,” he said. “I do. It’s nice to have a break and just be with you, cyare.”

You smiled. “I know what you meant,” you assured him. “It’s hard for me to leave him too, but he’ll be fine with Omera.”

You reached up and draped your arms around his neck; his hands moved to your waist and the small of your back, holding you close to him.

“And we get a few days all to ourselves,” you said. “With no broken ship and no horrible spiders and no frosty beskar.”

He gave a wry hum of agreement. “Basic requirements for any vacation, I think.”

You laughed. “I think so too, but with our luck, we should take what we can get.”

You could have stayed in his arms like that for hours, but you felt him straighten and pull away from you a little; you turned your head to follow his gaze and saw the harbormaster coming over to the Crest. You stepped back into the sunshine, content to let Din handle the logistics of docking the ship while you basked in the warmth.

“All set,” Din said after a few minutes, putting a hand on your back to gently get your attention. You opened your eyes and almost had to close them again at the bright shine of his beskar in the sunlight.

“Great,” you said. “Is that a defense tactic for you Mandalorians? Blind your opponent with your shiny armor?”

He laughed. “Knowing us, probably.” 

You wound your arm around his and hung off him like a new bride, leaning your head against his bicep as you walked down the port street together. You drew attention - Din’s armor would always attract curious gazes wherever he went - but the people of Naboo were not aggressive or overly suspicious. Travelers of all kinds came to enjoy the sights of the beautiful city and the countryside, and as long as they didn’t cause trouble, the locals were happy to let them be.

“Do the people around here dress this fancy all the time?” Din asked.

You considered the locals that walked the streets, noticing their long, flowing dresses and ornately stitched suits that you’d grown up wearing and seeing everywhere in your childhood. You were so used to it that it hadn’t even occurred to you that it would seem out of the ordinary - you and Din were the ones who seemed out of place, with his armor and your plain shirt and trousers.

“Yes, but it’s not considered fancy,” you explained. “Even those who do manual labor still have some sort of detailed stitching or bright colors on their clothes.”

Din looked over at you, seeming to take in your outfit. “Do you miss it?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. Sometimes.” It had been a bit of an adjustment when you first married, but it just wasn’t practical to wear anything that ornate when you were the wife of a bounty hunter. It attracted too much attention and made for a clumsy getaway, if you ever needed to make one. It didn't bother you now, and you were happy to dress in a way more suited to your lifestyle, but you imagined it would be a fun change of pace to wear a pretty dress every now and then.

He put his free hand over yours where it rested on his arm, gentlemanly and comforting. “I’m sorry I can’t give you... nice things. The things you were used to when you lived here.”

“Oh, Din,” you said, looking up at him. “You don’t need to apologize. I love our life, and I don’t regret anything that had to change to let me be with you. I’d give up every nice thing in the galaxy to be with you if I had to.”

His laugh was a little regretful. “Haven’t you, for the most part?”

“No,” you said honestly, hoping he would understand how much you meant it. “I mean, yes, it’s very different from how I lived here, but I don’t care about all that stuff, Din. There’s nothing I’d want more than you and our son - nothing else would make me happy.”

His gaze was steady, and you wished you could see his expression.

“I love you,” he said finally.

You smiled. “I love you too,” you said, leaning your head against his arm once more. “And besides, your son would pull every last thread of beading off of anything I decided to wear that was fancier than this.”

He laughed, and you were pleased to hear that it was more relaxed. “You’re probably right about that, cyare.”

You walked arm in arm through the streets of the city, taking in the sights and sounds of the beautiful streets of Theed. Even when you lived on Naboo, you hadn’t ventured to the capitol much - your family lived in the hill country, and you only came into Theed for special occasions. In your travels with Din, you rarely visited such a bustling city center; most of his work was conducted on the scrappier, less hospitable planets. 

You dragged Din to a halt in front of a market stall with all sorts of candies and sweets, spotting something you hadn’t had since childhood and now simply couldn't go another minute without.

“What is it?” he asked. He didn’t much care for sweets, but obliged your proclivity for them all the same.

“Plasma cloud,” you said, pointing out the pink swirls of egg whites and sugar. “My father used to bring them home to us when he came to the city on business.”

Din reached in a pocket on his belt and handed you a few credits, and you grinned at him with childish excitement.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on the side of his helmet before you went up to the stall owner for your treat. You came back with a bag of them in hand and one already popped in your mouth and handed Din his change.

“I’ll save a couple for you for later,” you said around another bite. They were better than you had remembered them, and reminded you of long summer days spent playing and waiting for your father to return home from the city.

“I know you don’t like candy,” you said, winding your arm around his again. “But you have to try a bite, at least.”

He chuckled. “I’ll try them for you, cyare. Are they good?”

You nodded. It was all good - the sunshine, your sugar-sticky fingers, Din beside you for a leisurely stroll through the city. You couldn’t remember the last time you and your husband did anything with leisure besides collapse in your bunk at night, and you determined you’d make a better effort to make happy afternoons like this one a priority for both of you.

“So, lover mine, where are you taking me?” you asked, happy to let him lead the way. He hadn’t given you any details about where you were staying while you were here, and you’d assumed you were going to stay with your parents, but it would have been impractical to dock in Theed and travel all the way to the hill country. You guessed he could have wanted to stay in the city, but that didn’t seem like him, and you looked up at his helm while you waited for his reply.

He looked down at you. “It’s a surprise.”

You grinned. “Okay. Is it somewhere in the city?”

“No,” he admitted. “We can stay for a while longer, but we should be heading out of the city before the sun starts to set. If I was drawing attention earlier, I'll be the most popular guy on Naboo come nightfall.”

You hummed in agreement. “It’s because of your winsome personality.”

He laughed. “Yes, that must be it. Mandalorians are notorious charmers everywhere they go.”

“Well, mine is,” you said. You traced the Mudhorn signet on his pauldron, the one that matched the pendant you wore around your neck. “I hope our kids grow up to be like you, Din.”

He looked over at you, perhaps as surprised as you were by the unexpectedly serious and heartfelt sentiment. You blushed, but you didn’t quite know why until you realized that you’d said kids, plural, and it had slipped out before you thought of the implications.

He seemed a little lost for words for a moment. 

“Thank you, cyar’ika,” he said, and you knew how much he meant it. “That’s... very kind of you to say.”

As always, his humility endeared him to you. You touched your fingers to your lips and then to the bottom of his visor.

He was quiet, and you knew him well enough to know that his cheeks were pink under the helm. Then, most likely with a gentle smile, he lightly nudged his shoulder against yours.

“I hope our kids grow up like me too,” he teased. “I’m what the Mandalorians call a ‘ramikadyc mando’.”

You smiled. “Oh? And what does that mean?”

He shrugged, easing his discomfort with the self-aggrandizing nature of the joke as he explained it to you.

“It’s used to describe someone who takes on the best of Mandalorian training and lives it to the fullest. Endurance, determination. Confidence, but justified by their skill. I’ve had the pleasure of knowing several Mandalorians who deserve the title.”

You wanted to say that he deserved the title too, but you knew he’d be embarrassed by it and wave you off. You settled for pressing closer to him, and he pressed closer to you in return.

You whiled away the afternoon in the city, window shopping and admiring the beautiful architecture as the sun sank lower in the sky. Music drifted from the concert hall, dreamy and elegant as it mixed with birdsong and people’s friendly conversations. You stopped to admire a great swath of flowering vines that had covered the side of a weathered stone building, the deep wine color of the blooms catching the fading sun.

“Millaflowers,” you said, recognizing them from a dress your mother had when you were very small, hundreds of the little blossoms carefully stitched into the fabric. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Din very carefully plucked one and tucked it behind your ear. “Even more beautiful on you, cyare.”

Your cheeks warmed as you reached up to touch his hand, surprised and delighted by the tender gesture.

“I love you,” you said.

He gave a soft laugh, affectionate and warm. “I love you too, ner sarad.”

You twined your fingers with his. “‘My flower’, right?” you translated.

He hummed in agreement. “It isn’t used that often, but I think it’s nice. I once heard an older Mandalorian say it to his wife, and I thought to myself that I’d like to call someone that one day.”

“Did you really?” you asked, endeared at the thought. “Oh, Din. You’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” he said sweetly. You leaned close and he obliged you with a gentle tap of his helm against your head.

“Let me take you to bed,” he said softly.

You blushed; better than anything, your husband knew how to make you feel desirable, and you were pleased with the affection and want in his voice.

You put your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you said, your voice a little wobbly and lovesick. He put his hands to your waist and drew you to him, and you suddenly wished there wasn’t so much beskar between you.

He held you for a moment longer before he released you to take your hand, leading you back through the winding streets until you came to the lakeside on the opposite side of the city from the bay. The warm lights of the city reflected over the water, and lights flickered from houses nestled into the mountains that wound around the body of water that seemed to go on forever.

“That’s where we’re headed,” Din said, pointing out a small cluster of lights just visible around the curve of one of the mountains. “Near enough to the city, but no neighbors.”

You gave him a wry grin. “Any particular reason that might be important?”

You would have bet good money he smirked under his helmet. “Yeah. I’m not very neighborly.”

You gave his shoulder a playful shove, and his laugh was bright and warm even though his modulator.

“We’re taking the ferry there,” he said. “It should be here soon.”

For the sake of Din’s dignity, you didn’t start jumping up and down with delight, but you wanted to. 

“Are we really riding the ferry?” you asked.

“...yes?”

You grinned. “I’ve never been on it before,” you said. “Mother’s deathly afraid of boats, and we didn’t go into the city with dad. I’ve always wanted to, ever since I was a little girl.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m honored to be the one taking you on your first ferry ride, cyare. I’d have planned our trip a little differently if I knew you were that easy to please.”

You knew he was kidding, and you wondered what else he’d planned. Everything so far had been lovely; you didn’t need anything more.

“What else do you have planned, Djarin?” you asked, teasingly suspicious.

He cocked his head at you. “Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue?”

You laughed. “Sure, but we both know I’m as impatient as they get.” 

He gave an affectionate hum of agreement. “Yes, cyare. I know.”

He put his arm over your shoulder and drew you close, his posture relaxed and open. You leaned against him as you waited for the ferry, watching the gentle waves on the water with more peace and contentment than you’d had in a long time.

Read chapter two!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic​​​​​​​​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​​​​​​​, @stardust-galaxies​​​​​​​​, @theorganasolo​​​​​​​​​ ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven​​​​​​​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​​​​, @remmysbounty​​​​​​​​, @bitchin-beskar​​​​​​​​ ♡

(since this is a continuation of Ciryc Ca’tra, I kept the same taglist - I hope that’s ok 👉👈)

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 19: Merry of Soul

Summary: Claire and Jamie begin to settle in with each other, and Claire continues to experience human oddities.

Read on AO3

Read chp 19 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 19: Merry of Soul

***

If Jamie thought Claire had been touchy before, nothing compared to the amount of contact they had now that they were together. Her hands— or lips— were all over him at the most unexpected moments (and the expected moments as well, to be fair). Not that Jamie was complaining. Though every bit of contact still brought a blush to his cheeks and made his heart race so fast it could have torn out of his chest, he never wanted her to stop. 

It had been two days since the fateful trip to Craigh na Dun and the following declarations of love. Two days since she’d decided to stay with him— bloody fool that he was. Two days of bliss with the love of his life. 

He’d left her that morning still asleep in their (their!) room. Her limbs had been strewn all over the place, making her look like a starfish sprawled on the bed. After disentangling himself from underneath her wee but aggressive arm, he’d placed a kiss to her temple, smiling with contentment that she was his to wake up to and kiss every morning. 

Standing then in front of the stove, flipping his pancakes absently, he thanked God for the blessing of her. He breathed in a long sigh and tried to fully appreciate the perfection of his life. 

The quiet was interrupted by a pair of arms snaking around his waist, making him jump. 

“Did you forget about me?” A silky voice asked, lips brushing the back of his ear and sending a shiver down his spine. Claire must have been standing on her tiptoes to reach him. 

He placed his own hands over top of hers, hugging her arms, and swayed slightly back and forth to take her with him where she was pressed against his back. Affection welled up inside him, so strong that he was nearly overcome. 

“I couldna forget ye, mo chridhe. I only didna want tae wake ye up. Ye looked sae bonny and peaceful.” 

“You should have. I don’t like being in the… what is it called again?—” 

“Bed,” Jamie answered automatically.

“Bed. I don’t like being in bed without you. Besides, I quite like how you wake me.” 

A blush rose in Jamie’s cheeks as he thought about how he’d kissed her awake the past two mornings. He loved seeing her sleepy eyes open and her smile as she met the day with the sight of him. How her lips would grow more eager as she regained consciousness… 

“I’m verra sorry for leavin’ ye,” he apologized, turning around in her arms so he could loop his own around her waist, “whatever can I do tae make it up tae ye?” 

Claire hummed, looking exaggeratedly thoughtful, and then tapped a finger on her cheek expectantly. 

Happy to oblige, Jamie leaned down and placed a kiss at the indicated spot. Claire smiled in response, looking like a cat that got the cream. She then tapped the other cheek, and Jamie was quick to give it the same treatment, this time letting his lips linger for a long moment. Her smile widening, she pointed to her forehead. 

“Awfully demanding, are ye no’?” Jamie accused warmly before pressing an obedient kiss there. 

Claire just murmured an assent— apparently completely willing to own it— before her wee finger was placed over her lips. 

It took Jamie only the length of a heartbeat to cover her mouth with his own, uncaring of trivial things like morning breath or whether or not Claire would be able to taste the residual pancake batter on his lips. If she could, she didn’t mind, because she spent the next minute withdrawing half a centimeter only to kiss him again, her tongue less than timid as she indulged herself. He found it unreasonably enjoyable, and his hand wandered up to cup the back of her head to keep her mouth on his. 

Her appreciative murmur vibrated his lips, and that only served to encourage him all the more. 

But he was interrupted from his task by Claire drawing back enough to gasp, “do you smell that?” 

Tearing his eyes away from her puffy lips, he turned around toward the stove to see that his pancakes— really now more black lumps— had smoke rising from them in active billows. 

“Christ!” he swore, at the same time as the smoke detector began to go off. 

At the shrill noise, Claire let out a startled cry and smacked her hands over her ears. Jamie didn't have time to reassure her as he lunged toward the burning pancakes and tore them off the heat. He juggled them with one hand and turned on the fan with the other before shutting off the stove. With everything going wrong, of course it was that very moment when the handle of his old pan decided to snap, and the bowl of the pan (smoking pancakes included), started to fall. On instinct, Jamie grabbed for it with his free hand. Pain shot through him on contact, and he hissed as he jerked his hand away, allowing the damn thing to tumble to the ground. He jumped out of the way, smashing into Claire, who still was holding her hands over her ears and looking terrified. 

Exclaiming some rather colorful words, Jamie reached out his not burnt hand to steady Claire.

“Sorry, lass. It’s okay, dinna fash,” he said with a raised voice over the obnoxious beeping of the fire alarm directly over their head. 

“What’s that sound?” Claire yelled out, looked very distressed with her wide eyes and hunched shoulders. 

“It’ll stop in a second,” he shouted. 

Sure enough, as the smoking mess on the floor subsided, the smoke detector went quiet. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. 

Claire, the poor thing, looked nearly ready to cry. 

“It was jes’ the smoke alarm, mo nighean donn,” he tried to reassure, “the sound makes sure that I ken there’s a fire so I can put it out.”

“I did not like that,” she said with a shake of her head, shuddering. 

“I’m sorry, a leannan, come here.”

Drawing her close, Jamie gave his faerie a cuddle. She melted into him, and the tension flowed from her muscles as soon as he enveloped her. It made Jamie swell with a certain satisfaction to comfort her over something so trivial, as if he were some knight in shining armor who’d rescued the fair maiden from the beastly alarm— only he’d actually been the one to cause it in the first place and he hadn’t done anything but make a mess while trying to solve it. 

As if suddenly remembering, or perhaps she could sense the slight sting in his fingers, Claire drew back and exclaimed, “give me your hand!”

Smiling but a bit nervous, Jamie held out his hand for her. He watched with anticipation as the soft golden light emanated from her hands as they formed a cup around his. This time, instead of watching the light, he turned his head up to look at Claire’s face. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, lines etched in her face as she focused all her energy. She blinked hard once, shook her head, and went back to staring down at their joined hands. Jamie felt the tingling warmth flow through him, making his hand buzz with energy. The pain began to subside, and the determined expression on her bonny features eased. After half a second more, the light faded from her palms. She didn’t let go, but stroked his now perfect fingers between her hands. 

To add the finishing touch, she brought his hand to her lips and began to kiss each finger one by one. Her lips were soft; her kisses more healing than even her energy. 

“Ye make a good nurse,” Jamie said in a gravely tone, enraptured by her gentle touches. 

“Hmmm?” she murmured, still focused on her task. Finishing with his pinky, she curled his fingers down and pressed one last feather-light kiss to his knuckles.  

“Ye’re a fine healer, Sassenach,” Jamie amended. He brought his newly healed finger tips up under her chin and tilted her face up toward him. “And I’m verra grateful ye’re mine.” 

He leaned in to give her a proper kiss. She didn’t respond as enthusiastically as usual, but her lips molded to his and in a passive sort of way. He chalked it up to her nerves over the alarm and concern over his injury, but it still disturbed him because she had never responded in this way. 

Following his resolution to communicate better, he pulled back and asked while cupping her face with a tender hand, “are ye alright, mo chridhe?” 

The smile she mustered seemed forced, which didn’t do much to ease his worries. “I’m fine,” she said, “just felt strange for a second, it’s nothing.”

He kept studying her for another long second, but she remained firm in her statement without adding anything else. With a dip of his shoulders, he decided to let it go. 

“I’m sorry about that, my sweet one,” he said with a self-deprecating shake of his head, “I didna mean for all this chaos this morning.” 

“It’s not your fault, Jamie,” she countered. The newly growing smile seemed much more genuine again as she added, “I probably shouldn’t have distracted you while you were making…”

“Pancakes,” Jamie filled in. 

“Pancakes,” she echoed, looking thoughtful. 

She was trying to learn words as much as she could, and Jamie found that he quite liked his role as tutor. At least he quite liked rewarding her for her learning of new vocabulary. 

“And the word for the first meal of the day, do ye recall?” he quizzed. 

Looking up at him with a triumphant expression, she exclaimed, “breakfast.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed approvingly, “that’s verra good.” 

He leaned down and gave her a soft, gentle peck on the lips, and as he drew back, he found she was smiling. 

“You’re a very good teacher, you know,” she said, “maybe soon I’ll start teaching you another language and see if you’re as good of a student. Which one would you prefer?” 

Jamie laughed, “maybe we take it one step at a time. I can barely keep up wi’ things as it is. Maybe we start wi’ fair folk culture and go on from there.”

“Deal,” she agreed. 

“Anyway,” he said, marveling a little at her ability to get him sidetracked, “it seems my breakfast has been ruined. Perhaps ye’ll give me a wee moment tae grab somethin’ else?”

“Hmmm,” Claire looked gravely ponderous as she considered his request, “I suppose I’ll allow it just this once.” 

Jamie rolled his eyes with a smile that betrayed how happy moments like these made him. He took a step away from her, already mourning the loss, and headed over to the pantry. 

As he stood debating between the merits of cereal or a granola bar (both required no cooking, thank you very much), hands suddenly snaked their way under his shirt. He stiffened in surprise at first, and then relaxed as the hands started to stroke up and down the length of his back. 

He shot a glance over his shoulder to see Claire behind him looking innocently up at him. He raised a brow. 

“What are ye doin’, lass?” he asked. 

She gave a little shrug but did not remove her hands. “Touching you.” 

There’s his faerie. 

“Is that no�� what got us in trouble in the first place?” 

She gave a little hum that said I can’t argue with that, but then countered, “I don’t think I care.” 

Forgetting all about breakfast, Jamie whirled around. He grabbed the backs of her legs and hoisted her up into his arms. She let out a squeal but quickly got with the program, wrapping her legs around Jamie’s middle and her arms around his neck. 

As he held her tightly against him, their fronts smashed together, he turned his face to catch her mouth and kiss her fervently. Those perfect lips against his seemed almost victorious as she pressed them to his just as passionately. A hum of satisfaction rose from her, making Jamie nearly drop her with how watery it made his legs. 

After a long moment of enjoying her mouth against his, he finally drew back. 

“I dinna ken how every time I kiss ye it feels like the first time,” he breathed. 

“And I don’t understand how the first time I kissed you it felt like the hundredth time,” she agreed. 

“Hey,” he said suddenly, smiling so hard his face felt like it would split and tightening his grip on her thighs, “I love you, you know that?” 

“I love you, James Fraser,” she replied, her gaze soft with adoration. 

Jamie went to put her down then, releasing his grip on her legs and expecting her weight to drop off of him. Only instead of her legs unwrapping from his waist and her hopping down, she clung to him stubbornly. 

As he brought his hands far out to the each side to marvel at the barnacle that seemed to be glued to him, Claire tightened her hold. 

“A leannan,” he chuckled, “are ye no’ getting down, then?” 

“Don’t think so,” she said from where her face was pressed into his neck. 

He let out a very Scottish noise from deep in his throat. With one hand, he held her against him just to keep her steady, and with the other, he turned back to the pantry and began rooting through the items. 

He withdrew victorious with a granola bar from the package, and he held it up behind him to the wee faerie. 

“Care tae help me wi’ this seein’ as I only have one hand at the moment?” 

“Of course, darling,” she obliged. 

One of her hands reached out to grab it. Still keeping both arms around his neck, she somehow managed to tear open the package (much like a child would— she still hadn’t gotten that human task down) and then handed it back to him. 

It was beginning to get real to Jamie just how little personal space he would ever have again. 

And he loved it. 

“Thank ye, wee one,” he said before taking a bite. Curious fingers began to thread into his hair as he did, making it extremely hard to concentrate on the simple task of breakfast. Fingertips pressed delightfully into the nape of his neck and tangled into the soft curls there. 

His throat felt tight as she caressed him, making it hard for him to swallow. It wasn’t his fault that her every brazen touch turned him into a besotted sap… 

“Are ye going tae go through my whole mornin’ routine wi’ me?” he asked, shoving the last of the granola bar into his mouth, still rooted in the same spot by the pantry. 

Christ, this lass made it impossible for him to eat a meal slowly and in peace. Impatient thing. 

The fingers paused their exploration. “Most certainly.” 

“Well, we might as well have some fun wi’ it then. I ken ye dinna need it because ye dinna eat, but would ye care tae learn how tae brush yer teeth?” 

She drew back so she could look at him with eyes alight with curiosity. “What’s that?” 

“Ye’ll see.” 

*

Upstairs in the bathroom, Jamie somehow managed to detach his clingy faerie. She let go reluctantly, dangling her feet down and allowing Jamie to deposit her onto the ground. Once he was free, he stooped down to find a new toothbrush from the cabinet. Finding one from the dentist a few months ago, he let out an aha and held it triumphantly up to Claire. 

“And you use that on your teeth?” she asked warily. 

“Aye. It’s called a toothbrush. Watch.” 

Demonstrating with his own toothbrush, Jamie wet it before applying toothpaste and sticking it in his mouth. In what was likely a comical expression, he bared his teeth and exaggeratedly brushed the bristles over it. 

Claire was giving him a look of distaste and near horror that made his wame twitch with hilarity. 

He switched his brushing to go further back into his mouth, making her eyes go even wider. 

“Are you sure this is nothing like eating?” she asked, apparently still a bit traumatized from the incident with the spaghetti that first night.

“No,” Jamie laughed through the toothpaste in his mouth, “it jes’ cleans yer teeth after ye’ve eaten. Ye dinna actually swallow the toothbrush.” 

He rinsed and spit before straightening up to face a still dubious Claire. 

“Ready tae try, lass?” 

She wrinkled her nose a little but gave a nod. 

Jamie prepared her toothbrush for her. As he approached her, she eyed him with a wide eyed look of apprehension mixed with curious excitement. She opened her mouth tentatively like a nervous child at the dentist. 

He cupped his free hand around the back of her head, his thumb making soothing circles. Then, slowly, so as not to startle her, he placed the bristles onto her teeth. 

It was his expectation that she’d jerk away in disgust the moment it touched her, but she stayed still. He gently moved the bristles back and forth, very lightly over her front teeth, and she blinked rapidly and sucked a sharp breath in through her nose. 

“Alright, lass?” he asked with a smile as she froze underneath his hand. 

She gave a nod, and he continued, rubbing the toothbrush just over the front of her teeth. He felt it as she relaxed, the buzzing tension easing as she came to the realization that this was, in fact, not torture— nor anything like eating. 

She made a “huh” sound from deep in her throat, and Jamie withdrew the toothbrush so she could speak. 

“It feels… kind of nice,” she said slowly. 

“Aye. I ken ye dinna really need tae clean yer teeth since ye dinna eat to dirty them in the first place, but…” he eyed her with a gleam in his eye and a smirk, “if ye’re gonna be puttin’ that mouth on me all day long, ye might as well taste minty fresh.” 

To his great enjoyment, Claire flushed, looking at the same time like she felt embarrassed and also wanted to kiss him some more. 

“Here, lass,” he said, “wash yer mouth out.” 

He handed her a cup of water, and she mimicked what he had done earlier and rinsed.  

Once she was done, she straightened up and looked at him expectantly, as if there was some last step to be completed. 

“Now,” Jamie said, the corners of his mouth pulling up, “I’ll find out how ye taste, aye?”

***

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