#hence why it's pink rather than orange

[sick-ada]

two travellers, never seen apart. their stature is small, but the infection coating their weapons proves them to be capable warriors. something drives them down into the corpse of that old kingdom. vengeance, compassion or simply curiousity -- who knows?

i need to do more for this au it kind of fucks

[supper122]

i always had this headcannon that the seven fallen children are the descendants of the seven humans who sealed the monsters away

none of the humans passed the stories of the monsters down to the humans, except the mages, who told their children, promting the children to become curious and go looking for the monsters, hence why they fell

i headcannon that the story at the beginning of undertale is the seventh mage relaying the story to frisk, witch is what makes them go to mount ebbot

related to this, i also think the mages have the seven "pure" soul types, and everyone else has souls that are combinations of the seven traits and colors, hence why the seven fallen humans have "pure" versions of their color, rather than like, pink or reddish-orange or something

obviously there is zero evidence for this its just a headcannon that i like and think is neat

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Sweet confections

Oneshot Summary; Price brought the pastries to 141 as you asked him to, who could’ve thought sweet confections would spur the thoughts of sweet confessions?

Pairing: John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 4k

Warnings; relationship-angst, fluff, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: This was originally 2k🙃 Buuuut, I got carried away with delving into Price after seeing a post theorising about his previous dating life and just couldn’t help myself but write a snippet of the morning after their liquor-tasting date when sunshine!reader asked him to bring pastries to the 141 squad from Price's perspective.

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

On your first date, you'd brought him to 'the little coffee shop on the corner' you so endearingly called it. It wasn't as much a coffee shop as a bakery, Price remarked then. He even mentioned it the second time you'd come here to buy some bread together for dinner at your place. The third time, he'd shaken his head as he drove and spoke with you over the car's built-in phone, 'I've been working in the little coffee shop on the corner, I can wait for you here and we can go together to mine'.

Most of the space belonged to the bakery, stone ovens and counters to assemble the pastries. The rest was a quaint sitting area, with soft couch-looking seats compared to wooden-legged chairs and tables. Indeed, it was charming, gentle in a sense, concerning the neutral colour schema and warm bakery air.

Now Price stood in the same space smelling like newly baked bread and confectionery. It was early, before seven. Hence, the ovens were on full blast, loaded with loaves of bread and danishes. On the baking counter, cold sweets awaited completion, his presence suspending the process.

"Is that all?" Price's eyes focus on the cashier. According to you, she's the owner. She opened the place a few years ago to keep working with her passion after the official year of retirement, at her own pace and with her own ideas to fulfil a childhood dream.

His eyes fall on the things before her.

The usual for him and the rest of 141 on days likes these, coffees to everyone's taste and something to chew on. None favouring breakfast served on base since Price had brought something from his local place. He could scoff that a single prompted decision turned to habit on days like these when they would gather for meetings ahead of missions.

Usually, he would say yes. But this time, Price's eyes flickered to the right. 'Bring them something sweet in my name', your voice echoed from just 30 minutes earlier.

"I'll take some of those", he nods towards the colourful pastries behind the viewing glass.

"Any particular?" The woman asked. His eyes glide over the confections, some seemingly with a base of berries or other fruits, some with chocolate.

Price isn't too fond of sweets. Consequently, neither invested in what's good or not. Thankfully, he recalls which ones you'd pointed out as your favourites. 'Always taste the new ones when they come', you said when you'd visited the place together. Even if that hadn't been the case, Price would've trusted your tastebuds over his.

"Hm, I'll take two of each", he pointed to three different sweets, not attempting to pronounce their name even though in English. What he knew, or rather remembered, was your description of them. The pink one had a base of pomegranate with some curd, sweet but refreshing. The orange one contained peaches and syrupy cream, honeyed but with a delicate fruitiness. The tan one was some brownie fusion, if you ever want to taste diabetes. He'd chuckled when you explained the taste differences.

"Buying them for your girl?" Price's eyes jumps to the woman, who barely spared him more than an amused look between picking the pastries he'd directed her towards and packing them into small cardboard boxes.

"What?"

"Did your girl make you sleep on the couch after some argument? That's why you're trying to win her over with this?" She nodded to the first box of sweets she placed amongst his order.

You, she was talking about you. Price dipped his head, shaking it with a slight chuckle.

He wasn't startled, per se, that the women recognised him. He'd been here a handful of times in the last few weeks.

If it would've happened in the regular place he usually stops by on the way from his home, he wouldn't have even reacted. It was local, small, an everyone-knew-everyone case sooner rather than later. Although quaint for a city with its cosy inside, this place was still strategically placed on a corner between the juncture of two streets. And that's why Price isn't surprised the woman recognised him but tied him to you in the way she had.

"No, ordered me to bring some to my mates". He knew the woman had scanned him today, taken in his hard-to-misplace attire. Where there earlier only been a question mark, he'd now been placed in the box reading soldier within seconds of turning to face him from where she stood further inside the bakery after having called 'one minute' over her shoulder.

"Smart women, know you boys probably deserve it". She commented in passing, bending down to pack up the second sweet. Price hummed in return. "Hopefully, they'll like them, though I don't second her taste", the woman chuckled more to herself even though Price listened.

From how the woman dearly greeted you by name each time and a short conversation if it wasn't too hectic, he'd quickly gathered you were a regular here, your knowledge for someone who tasted but didn't bake the confectionaries giving it away as well.

"That'll be all?" She repeated the question from earlier when finally boxing up the last pastry. The three boxes were now effectively tied together and pushed together with the rest of his order.

"It'll be all", Price returned, reflecting the woman's smile as he reached to pay.

"Tell her I said hi and that I've got something new on the way for her to look forward to". He raised his elbow in an attempted wave, nodding a goodbye as he exited the bakery.

Not until Price stood at the curbside, a tray of coffees, one letter scribbled in neat handwriting on each cartoon cup, and two rather than one takeaway boxes of something to chew on did he realise he hadn't corrected the women once.

Your girl.

Price looked back inside through the windows lining the wall of the bakery. He couldn't see the women, probably already set off to complete the morning routine he'd interrupted.

Did she take it for granted that you bringing him here meant he was something more than just a date, someone you casually met? Because this wasn't neutral ground but a special place to you?

He faced his car, looking at his reflection.

His girl.

Price huffed, shaking his head and opened his car, placing what he'd bought in the passenger seat. He could only speculate why the woman had assumed you were a couple. But he knew why he hadn't corrected her, why he barely even had cringed at the notion of someone calling you his.

...

When arriving at the base, Price wasted no more time than to gather the mission files he'd had delivered to his office before heading to the scheduled meeting room.

When he pushes the handle down with his elbow, the door to the meeting room swinging open, he finds the rest of 141 inside. With his added appearance, whatever conversation they had halted.

"Morning, Captain", Gaz greets him, to which he nods his silent hello, clearing his hands by placing the things from the bakery on the table they sat around.

"Help yourselves to your usual", Price gestured to the things he'd brought. "And a mission file", he continued as he put down the folders he'd kept beneath his arm when not juggling the other things around.

His men reached forth, each taking the coffee cup with their initials along a sandwich wrapped in plastic foil. At first, their eyes were only swiftly shifted to the added boxes with intrigue until Soap dared to unwrap them, catching a look at what was inside.

"The place from yours gotten sweets now as well, Price?" The Scot looked over with a cocked brown, opening the rest of the boxes without taking more than a swift look down. Of course, Soap would be the one to inspect the boxes standing out from the team's usual orders.

"No, stopped at one in the city". Price shrugged, reaching for his cup of coffee but waiting with his sandwich. He would eat it, knowing you would give him a disapproving look if he didn't, though only later, when the coffee kicked in and made him hungry. The first visit back at base after a leave always does wonders of curbing his appetite.

As the black bitterness of coffee bit his tastebuds, he eyes Gaz as he lean forward, inspecting the boxes Soap opened and picked a pink pastry from. As his sergeant's eyes fell to the contents of the packages, he found the variety the Scot inspected seconds earlier.

"Why the hell the detour?" Gaze's eyes met Price, who took another drink of his coffee before he answered.

"No detour. I was in the city already".

Soap, who'd tasted the sweet he'd picked out and whose eyes rolled, accompanied by a content hum, leaned back in his chair as his attention travelled to Price. "What-", he began, eyes widening a wee bit as they locked with Price's. He doesn't know what the Scot saw, but whatever it was, it stopped his sentence abruptly with a rise of brows, a straightening of his back and a curl of his mouth's edge. "It's the lass, ain't it?"

Price didn't know why he stalled, why the takeaway cup halted in mid-air, why he didn't just say yes. 

It wasn't that his men didn't know. It was impossible for them not to. They'd been there the night he met you at the bar. They, or Gaz and Soap, having encouraged him to talk to you when he'd hesitated because why would you be interested in him. Ghost hadn't said anything on the matter, but Price bet he found entertainment in how the Seargents' jabbed at their Captain at something so trivial. And much like pushing his first step, their reaction to seeing the two of you leave together followed the same characteristics.

So no, it would be hard for them not to know about you. And there went one of the reasons Price would hesitate to answer.

"S'pose it can't be anyone else", Price relented. The biggest reason he wouldn't indulge the rest of the fact a dispensed reasoning of keeping you hidden meant safety.

It made Gaz whistle, leaning back with one of the orangey sweets in his hand. Soap drummed his hands against his thighs after inhaling the rest of his small pastry. Ghost shifted in his seat, head cocking, eyes sweeping to inspect the confections the other two men had indulged in fleetingly before his attention returned to Price.

"How's it goin' then? Asked the lass out since last we saw the two of ya disappear in the sunset?" Soap asked, his question prodding for two answers rather than one. But rather than levelling the Scot with a look, something that silently would confirm his suspicions of what happened the night Price drove you home, he leaned back in his chair with a tip of his head.

"We've talked some, met a few times as well". Price took a sip of his coffee as if it would do anything else than exacerbate his nerves upon you being the subject of conversation and the memory you'd more than just talked after some of your dates. "Got those from one of the places we went, some of her favourites".

"Old romantic, you are, Cap". Gaz's comment made Price clear his throat. It was followed by a 'yeah, yeah' muttered under his breath almost bashfully.

"Well, I'd say the lass is rubbin' of good on ya", Soap steered the conversation in his ever-present direction of jest on topics like this. "Ain't all time our dear Captain spoils us with such sudden acts of kindness", the Scot reached forth, picking one of the chocolaty treats this time with a smug look and a glint in his eyes towards Price.

He can't help but roll his eyes at the jab. "It's her spoilin' you, not me. Ordered me to buy some for you lot as a greeting".

That made Soap's signature grin form. "The lass orderin' you around already, Price?"

"The real question is why he's accepting it. He doesn't like us bossing him around and barely any higher-ups as well", Gaz stated, lightly elbowing the Scot at his side with a chuckle, the latter joining in agreement.

"Did the request come this morning?" Ghost pulls his attention away from his snickering Seargents.

With his eyes settled on the man who'd been quiet until this moment, Price knew his Lieutenant didn't ask the question because he needed the answer, only the confirmation. If anything was Ghost's forte, it was gathering the scattered pieces of information dropped throughout the chat, what’s between the lines, enough to build a picture of what went on behind the scenes.

Price clocked that for the veteran, who'd nursed his coffee with sparing sips and lifts of his mask, there'd been enough details throughout the conversation for him to flesh out the parts left untold. The knowing look reflected in Ghost's dark eyes exposing it as well.

"We went out yesterday, stayed the night", Price brushed off. Knowing Ghost, he'd say there's a smile hidden beneath the mask, equally as smug as those visible and directed at him from the other two men.

"Starting to think you don't want to indulge us, Cap", Gaz pointed out. "It seems to be going very well between you two".

"Aye, Price, when will we meet ya lass again?" At Soap's question, the morning flashed before Price's eyes.

He'd woken up before you. No need for an alarm that Price was scared would wake you up in the process and he would hurry to shut off. The military had since long engrained the early hours in the back of his mind.

He'd woken with a blink of his eyes rather than a slow descent from slumber, immediately noting that during the night, the two of you had shifted to something more comfortable for sleeping than the previous cuddling. Your back was towards him, a little gap between you. Even so, his arm draped over your waist, and your warmth reached his front angled towards you.

Price had dragged his hand lightly down to your hip, feeling the skin beneath the oversized shirt you'd gone to sleep with, but his hand managed to sneak beneath nonetheless. When his palm settled on the curve of your hip, your skimpy panties beneath his skin, he'd pushed up on his elbow.

His eyes had travelled over your face, or what could be seen of it as your arm partly covered it, checking if you were awake even though your breathing already suggested you weren't. Noting your stillness, Price made his way out of bed slow to not stir you.

Dressing into his jeans and shirt felt wrong as he watched you continue to sleep soundly. He wanted to stay for a few more moments, press close to your back, bury his head in your nape, and linger in the moment. But he knew his willpower to go to base and hold the meeting he was supposed to would wain if witnessing you slowly coming to in his arms.

Price had debated how to leave your flat and fetch the things in his car without getting locked outside. He just brought your keys with him in the end, deciding against leaving the door ajar behind him, concerned for your safety despite the second gate out to the street.

He didn't meet anyone as he went down to his car and up again, allowing Price to wallow in the lingering warmth of your body close to his as he pulled his jacket tight around him in solace. Despite being summer, it wasn't warm in the mornings, crisp and slightly chilly until the rays peeks over the edges of roofs.

A feeling that hadn't been present in a long time, not a genuine one, at least, settled in his bones as he walked through your home with his bag slung over his shoulder. Domestic, his thoughts supplied a label to the feelings growing in his bones, muscles and every fleshly part of him as he slowed his pace past your bedroom, the door open enough that he spotted your sleeping figure beneath the covers.

It lingered as Price had taken a shower, using the towel hanging beneath yours on the rack when done. He'd stopped asking what towel to use just a week before, as a second joined your smaller one near the sink and one by your body towel.

He'd felt something warm enter him when he first noticed the newly added additions, even more so when he'd asked about it to be entirely sure and your head had popped into the opening. Explaining almost shyly you thought he should have his own from how often he's been staying overnight, and so he doesn't need to ask every time.

And since then, Price had become used to moving around your apartment without you by his side. Something about you giving him permanent things at your place erased that 'stranger' feeling one had before getting comfortable in someone else's space.

That's why, when he'd crouched by the side of your bed this morning, dressed in clothes portraying such a different reality to what he felt like this fever-induced daydream was, Price couldn't wait for you to prove that this wasn't just a morbid fantasy created under the influence of morphine taken to ease the pain of a nasty wound, one he was too incoherent to remember.

You'd shown him a part of yourself, your most intimate space, your home, to him, making him comfortable here. He could relax when stepping over your threshold. Knowing he stepped into your world. And yet, everything feels tied to you, not him. That's why he invited you over to his place, wanting not only to see your reaction to stepping into his world but seeing you in his home would settle the anxiety gnawing at his bones. Or so he hoped.

Price felt his fingers, which rested on his thigh, twitch. He wanted to reach for the phone in his pocket and settle the plans for the weekend that were coming with a quick text, even though it was only Monday.

He sighed at himself, remembering correcting the faulty phrase concerning you and his relationship, even though it came from someone much closer and who knew more about his relation to you. "She ain't my girl".

"Why? The two of ya already act like a pair, it seems". Price's eyes flickered to the pastries' Soap motion to, or more so, the significance behind them.

"They've known each other for a month, Johnny". Ghost's comment eases his nerves.

Yes, he'd gotten to know you well over a month. Outside 141 and his nearest circle within work, you were the one he felt the closest to. He'd caught himself entertaining the idea, not only upon talking with the lady at the bakery and now with the men surrounding him, but this morning when he'd walked around in the silence of your flat. He didn't dislike the idea of enjoying his or someone's space together with the other. But it was the first time he liked someone enough to tie into that future.

You brought so much for Price to look forward to, but most of all, you were the embodiment of comfort. Just your presence was enough for him to relax, let his shoulders drop and the tension in his neck ease. That's why it felt right spending time with you, why Price didn't think even a second about how much time you'd spent together despite meeting a month ago.

And yet, today, this morning, made him hesitant to go too fast forward, to let the previous night and this morning make him let go of all reins and fall headfirst into whatever this was.

Today this life, the one his occupation as a Captain of a task force entailed, merged just slightly with the reality he'd created with you on his leave.

You knew he was military, SAS, but neither of you mentioned his work, the topic not easily slid into, despite that you'd explained your job in more detail. It would've been more than right of him to do so in return, but explaining and talking about his profession was one of few included in general parentheses.

There was only so much he could clarify about the field he operated in. And legally, he couldn't disclose much about the task force either. If you hadn't known they were military the night you met and he hadn't gotten to know you'd dabbled in his field of work, he probably wouldn't have mentioned many of the things he had. He didn't keep it a secret, not the basics, but neither was Price one to bring it up in conversations.

Still, you stayed. After everything told and not, you were still here. You wanted him, or so Price assumed since the first night you'd met.

He assumed it wasn't simply feigned interest you'd shown when you'd concerned yourself of what haunted his mind when on leave. He assumed, that when he'd seen the gears turn in your head of how you could voice your questions without overstepping, it was from the sincere concern of doing so, not a forced attempt at seeming friendly. He assumed, that when you so sweetly looked at him only to say in that purred voice that you wanted to help him relax, it didn't only mean for the night.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have entertained him for this long. Yet again, that was what he thought. However, what Price knew what that he needed to give you something to work with. You couldn't support him without him relenting something about himself, this side of him.

He didn't blame his previous partners for his fleeting relationships. Not entirely. He'd remained strict with letting too much spill too early, knowing how some may react, how they try to pull away gracefully. Somehow it was a test, an unintentional one but a test nonetheless. And the answer didn't come until after his first deployment, when he found out how his supposed partner reacted to his previous emotional distance and later physical disappearance. A test of boundaries, one could call it.

And concerning it was only a few weeks more until his first one with you, he thought about it. A lot.

Price shook his head. He blinked, eyes refocusing, noticing his gaze had gotten stuck to the pastries on the table. As his eyes flickered up, he found that Soap and Ghost still exchanged arguments.

"Shouldn't stop him from askin' the lass if it feels right", the Scot said, arms now crossed over his chest, his shoulders resting against the backrest of his chair, spine curved.

"Can't rush", was all the masked Brit responded with, along with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Enough of his. Let's get on with the meetin'", Price interrupted, effectively ending the conversation. None of the others argued, noticing it was their Captain rather than Price commanding them to drop the subject as he opened the mission file before him.

Nevertheless, as they started the meeting, Price couldn't help that Soap's and Ghost's arguments replayed in the silence. Neither how you entered his mind when listening to the others discuss the details of the OP. It never overtook his attention, but it lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing away at the nerves in his inner skull.

After this mission, Price thought, he'll see how you've held up and maybe have a conversation with you.

He didn't like making promises he wasn't sure could be kept. But, this one, that he would come back to speak with you about it, he would go above and beyond to keep. Because it felt different this time, he longed coming back to you before even shipping off.

[dein0nychus]

siggy give me as much wyvern info as possible

ENABLER!!!!

-Wyverns is invertebrates. They have a lobster-like shell-skeleton-thing beneath their skin that keeps their shape and protects their organs. Their beaks and resonating chambers are coated in keratin to reinforce them. Its much more "Wyvern-shaped" than Earth vertebrate skeletons.

-Wyverns don't have feathers, but rather coarse "hairs" like insects. The hairs are very thick (some individuals acclimated to colder climates can have up to 10 hairs per follicle, but its usually 1 or 2) and stiff. Touching a Wyvern feels like running your hand over a soft-bristle hairbrush. They usually range from 1-4 inches in length and stand straight up and away from the body, but sometimes can be longer and/or "shaggier."

-They come in lots of colors, from purples and blues to reds and oranges! Their color runs down to their skin, so a hairless Wyvern would still retain their color and pattern. Colors are genetic and related clanmates usually share similar colors, inherited from their parents. Brighter colors are considered more attractive, with the exception of pink. Pink wyverns are a form of hypopigmentation where the skin and hairs don't fully develop normal color, so they appear varying shades of pink depending on the levels of pigment in their skin. Rikki is a good example of a hypopigmented Wyvern- he retains some red pigment but is mostly pinkish in color. Pink is often used as an alarm or threat color, as their blood is magenta.

-Wyverns have a bisex system, but it doesn't quite work the same way ours does. One sex can only reproduce sexually with another Wyvern, while the other can reproduce parthenogenically (asexually) as well as sexually. There is no sexual dimorphism between the two. Exclusively sexual reproducers can mate either with the opposite sex or with each other (hence why I hesitate to call the sexes "male" and "female." The closest analogue here on Earth that I can find is gynodioecy, where females and hermaphrodites coexist, with the asexual reproducers being the "females" in this scenario. Confusing, I know. This is also totally prone to retcons as I'm not sold on it yet.)

In line with reproductive stuff while keeping it as SFW as possible, Wyverns are sort of marsupial-like in young development. They form a marsupium (a sort of weird external sack to hold developing offspring in. Isopods do it, its totally cool and weird) on their abdomen, where the offspring develop for a few months before they break out as little scraggly cotton balls called whelps. The whelps can't walk on their own, and are totally dependent on their parents for the first few years of their lives. They can eat solid food from birth but depend on their parents (and other adults in the clan) to carry them around, feed them, and protect them until they're old enough to start flying and their wings get strong enough to walk on. As soon as they're fully flighted, they're considered adults in the way of becoming a full-fledged clan member, but don't become fully physically mature until they're about 20, when their resonating chamber starts to grow out into its full display structure (which takes another year or so to finish.)

That's all I got off the top of my head without further prompting atm!

[liv-333]

Tattoos

 A grumpy sunshine drabble                                      

 warnings:  Tattoos, kissing one extremely mild swear word (Is ass even a swear word?) FLUFF MAJOR FLUFF   A/N: My first ever writing piece! Lmk if you have any other requests 

Tones of golds, oranges and pinks seeped through the curtains as sunshine slept peacefully next to grumpy. Grumpy was staring at sunshine with nothing but love and admiration in their eyes; they were so engrossed in watching their sunshine in their peaceful and calm state that they failed to notice the golden sky turn blue and the numbers on the clock change from 6 to 7 am. 

Sunshine woke at 7:10 am when they noticed the warmth from next to them had disappeared. Grumpy walked into the room almost on cue, gently closing the door with two steaming hot cups of coffee in their hands. “Finally, you’re awake” Grumpy obviously stated. “Yeah, now come back into bed you’re nice and warm” Sunshine replied, still  half asleep and making grabby hands at grumpy. Grumpy couldn’t help but chuckle at their love, as they placed the coffee down on the bedside table and threw themselves onto the bed rather than sitting or lying down. Sunshine giggled at this and grumpy smiled a rare sort of smile (that was usually only reserved for sunshine.) As grumpy lied down on the bed they started peppering sunshine’s face with kisses,as a semi-permanent reminder of their love for sunshine. While grumpy was displaying their affection, sunshine wriggled around the bed, trying to find a comfortable place to relax, which just so happened to be grumpy’s chest. Grumpy didn’t complain, they never did when it came to sunshine, not even when sunshine ever so slightly lifted up grumpy’s shirt to reveal a myriad of tattoos. That was one of the things sunshine loved most about grumpy, they weren’t afraid to express themselves. But sunshine had more important things to be doing than daydreaming about grumpy (they did that enough as it was anyway.) Slowly putting grumpy’s shirt back into its original position, sunshine started tracing the tattoos on grumpy’s arms around them. They started tracing the song lyrics, the stupid stick’n’poke ones, the sun that grumpy got for sunshine, even though they advised them against it in case they ever broke up, the conversation ending in grumpy saying that if they did ever break up it wouldn’t be on grumpy’s part and sunshine silently agreeing. The dinosaur on a skateboard and then sunshine’s favourite one; the snake, it was a simple design with ample detail, but it made grumpy look bad-ass. Sunshine took extra care tracing this one, going over each of the scales, making sure to do the design justice. Sunshine traced the design from bottom to top only stopping when they noticed a new tattoo. It was a simple sunrise, drawn in pink, yellow and orange ink, complete with sunbeams in the same colours. “That one’s new”  The statement came out as more of a question rather than the matter of fact tone that they were hoping to achieve. “Greatly observed, i’m surprised that you didn’t notice it already. Do you like it?” “Wha- yeah, it almost puts the snake to shame!” Sunshine said in a jokey tone, even though they were most definitely not joking. “I’m telling Stephen you said that”. “YOU NEVER TOLD ME IT HAD A NAME!”  “You never asked” grumpy mumbled while kissing the top of sunshine’s head “When did you get it? Does it have a meaning? How come it’s in coloured ink, you never get your tats-” Grumpy kissed their love on the lips in an attempt to shut them up. “How you have this much energy this early in the morning never ceases to  amaze me.”  “Anyway” Sunshine continued, prompting grumpy to answer their questions. “I got it last week, hence why I was surprised that you only just noticed it, yes it has a meaning buuttt, i’m not sure if I want to tell you. “WHAT YOU CAN’T JUST-”. For the second time that morning sunshine was shut up with a kiss to the lips. “I got it for you, well, us. I love it when we have slow mornings like this, where the sun has only just risen and your’e tracing my tattoos and I wanted a permanent reminder of it. Coloured ink made it look wayy cooler also. Sunshine melted at this and grumpy could feel them turn into a puddle of sweet nothing. “What have I told you about getting tattoos for me and us?” Sunshine asked softly.    “I think i’m always going to love you sunshine”  “I love you grump” “I love you too sunshine”   

And with that sunshine planted a kiss to grumpy’s cheek and the pair let a second wave of sleep was over them.  

The coffee’s sat on the bedside table, cold and forgotten as the lovers slept entangled into one-another.

[wistfulcynic]

last december my friend Kayoko came to visit and now, six months later, husband prime and i have finally got round to trying the collection of Japanese Kit-Kats she brought us. Here are our findings. 

First, the subjects: 

the flavours aren’t clear on all of them, but with the aid of google translate we have, starting at the top left and going across

top row: strawberry, milk tea, coffee 

middle row: orange, standard kit kat, cheesecake 

bottom row: pistachio, whole wheat, matcha (green) and dark chocolate (”adult sweetness” is the translation of the label, lol) 

tastings below the cut

the first one we tried was milk tea. Japanese milk tea is black tea brewed in milk and sweetened with plenty of sugar. Slightly reminiscent of builder’s tea in the UK in that it’s strong and sweet, but milk tea is creamier. 

the milk tea kit kat was very sweet to start, but the tea flavour was definitely noticeable at the end and lent a richness and depth to the white chocolate (which i generally don’t care for). Very good. 9/10 would eat again. 

kit kat two was pistachio.

now, i love pistachio in all its forms so i was looking forward to this one. Sadly, the pistachio flavour was very mild, almost undetectable. Still very tasty but a slight disappointment. 6/10

next is strawberry

another white (or rather pink) chocolate version. This one was very aromatic with a strong strawberry punch. Definitely artificial strawberry but a light and fresh one, not at all cloying. Personally i love fruit flavours in candy and so i really enjoyed this. 8/10

cheesecake is next

not super strong in the cheese flavour, but light and pleasant. It would be good paired with the strawberry actually. 5/10

next, orange

if you’ve ever had a Terry’s Chocolate Orange the flavour of this kit kat will be familiar to you. They’re almost exactly the same. So, delicious. Nice to have a bit of light crunch with the Terry’s flavour actually. 7/10

next, coffee

we weren’t certain at first if this was coffee flavour or just “coffee break” and it was a pretty strong chocolate flavour to start but with a definite hint of coffee at the end. Very nice, and probably would be good with a cup of coffee. 7/10

next is what google translate concluded was whole wheat

this one was fantastic. Very light and crunchy but with texture to the crunch, not too sweet with a caramelly, biscuity flavour in the chocolate. i thought it was a bit like a white chocolate digestive might be, husband prime likened it to a custard cream. Either way, fab. 10/10 i am going to be craving this one. 

next, dark chocolate

or “adult sweetness” according to the translation app. Saucy 😏. Dark chocolate isn’t my favourite but this was very good. Had a nice bitter edge without being overwhelming and also very rich. Good stuff. 8/10

standard kit kat

it’s a classic for a reason, and the japanese version has richer chocolate than you get in either the UK or US, with a lot of depth of flavour. Hard to go wrong. 7/10

last and definitely least, matcha

look, i know matcha has its adherents but you’re all wrong and have terrible taste. i tried proper matcha prepared by trained experts when i lived in japan and it was good, if a bit grassy for me personally. Very good when paired with some of their traditional sweets (sweet bean paste my beloved) but when it comes to flavouring other things? Ugh. No. Gross. Why do you want your ice cream to taste like lawn clippings? 

this kit kat did not taste like lawn clippings. It tasted, in husband prime’s words, like fish food (DON’T ASK ME HOW I KNOW THIS he made sure to add). Anyway, it was nasty. If you like matcha you might like it, idk, who can say what horrors your palate will tolerate. But for me it was only redeemed by the sweet crunch and the fact that the matcha flavour only came out at the end. 1/10.

the scores out of 10 obviously are based on my personal taste though i tried to be objective, hence the high rating of the dark chocolate. The following is my preference ranking, from first to worst

1. whole wheat

2. milk tea

3. strawberry

4. pistachio 

5. orange 

6. coffee

7. dark

8. standard 

9. cheesecake 

sir not appearing in this ranking, it knows what it did: matcha 

this was fun, and if anyone has a source for black market whole wheat kit kats... call me. 

[atlasifyllm]

just #sulcore things aka i have a special interest in colors

- I kept the term "Paladin" from my Voltron phase because of the potential pun "Palette-in"

- Jay being the edgy one is based off of Brown being Orange mixed with Black; Jay rejects their title as Orange Paladin by wearing black, as Brown is not a spectral color

- Rina's neutrality towards issues is based off of me claiming Green being a neutral color; it's such an in-between of yellow (a very bright warm color) and blue/cyan (the coldest colors) that Green as a character feels very neutral and emotionless to me

- Turqbalt is both the Cyan and Blue Paladins, because lots of people just lump Cyan as another shade of Blue. Hence why his whole "dual soul" fiasco exists; he's the entire Blue Spectrum, even though they're two pretty unique hues

- Amethyst and Aster get mistaken for one another, but are notably different people; "Violet" is a spectral color and is a more bluish purple, while "Purple" refers to violet pigments and is a more reddish purple. And so, Amethyst is the Violet Paladin and Aster could be considered a Purple Paladin. I'll occasionally use the terms interchagably though; I'm not as strict on the Purple spectrum than the Blue spectrum

- Rose I'll solely call the Pink Paladin, but she can technically represent Magenta or "Rose" itself

I use this color wheel as a huge way of organizing the Paladins; I think that Magenta and Rose (color) have different personalities in-universe, but Rose as the "Pink Paladin", it's very vague on which hue she actually represents. Until a Magenta Paladin pops up, she can technically represent the entire Pink spectrum; though I usually lump her in with the CMY colors

- Rose is the youngest and most inexperienced because technically a Pink Paladin shouldn't exist; Magenta as a color doesn't actually exist, it's merely how our brains perceive the absence of Green

- Because of that color wheel, I like to imagine there's potentially /12/ possible Paladins to exist; there's 6 Tertiary colors in this wheel, but only 2 of them are Paladins. We'll see!

- Jay and Amethyst are technically Tertiary colors, though I like separating the Paladins as RGB + Violet and CMY + Orange; the general personalities of Tertiary Paladins just fit those groups better

- Tarum is the only Quarternary color to exist as a real Paladin; since Indigo was previously said to be a color of the rainbow, I felt it was flexible enough to make an "Indigo Paladin", even though Rainbow-Indigo tends to refer to modern day true Blue rather than my own Blue-Violet definition. That being said, most Indigo souled characters are named after the BLUE dye.

- Gray being considered an absence of color is why there's a plot where Ruby's soul starts turning gray; she's literally infected by a curse that saps away what makes the RED Paladin... well, RED.

[danishunit05]

Counter Culture logo

This is my logo for my counter culture and the reason i made it how it is because I wanted to make it look like a app logo and the use of the letter M was to represent the name of the app called Meditrina as this mean the goddess of healing.

I used orange and pink to make it feel kind and allowing people to actually join rather than just give them fear since this app is to help your mental health and decrease stress.

I don't believe this looks scary as I am the designer and I feel it more like helping rather than scaring as it like I'm asking you but more like forcing you to join because I want to help that bad that asking you probably won't make you join hence why it kinda has the sharp edges which just there to make it feel like you should just join right now.

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

If you like this post, and want to see more like it, consider supporting me on Patreon!

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[chibimyumi]

Redesign Prompt RESULTS!

Alright, thank you everyone who has voted, the results are now in! Overwhelmingly our winner is Ranmao 🐈!

First of all, I need to insert a few caveats here. Unlike with Victorian fashion, I do not have years and years of studying of Qing dynasty-fashion behind me. So whatever results I show here are the product of a fortnight of reading up and meticulous studying of contemporary photographs. a.k.a. I am merely scraping the surface here. But! I do promise that everything shown here is done to the best of my ability to be responsible as a content provider.

Now without further ado, let us dive into Ranmao’s current design, the blatantly obvious inaccuracies, and how I propose to redes...ign... her outfit while keeping the original intact as much.... as possible????  Heck, this is not even worthy of being called a ‘redesign’, this is straight up designing from scratch!

Hair

Let us start with her bangs. Her bangs are in fact surprisingly accurate, as late Qing dynasty women would wear their bangs in a variety of Bettie bangs trimmed well above the eyebrows. Having sides of the bangs growing longer framing the face was usual too, though they would be cut slightly thicker than Ranmao’s. Though, we don’t know how much hair Ranmao has, so I see no reason to alter it.

Twin braids are very much associated with the “China doll look”, but they seem to have been branded into our image of the “Chinese Girl” because it was the go-to look for unmarried women in Republic China (which is many years later than Ranmao’s time, and also has more surviving images.)

In Ranmao’s time, unmarried girls would either wear the bottom part of their hair down, or have everything tied into a single braid behind them. Girls who preferred a more feminine look would often decorate the sides or the top with flowers or other ornaments depending on their wealth.

Yana’s notes say that the flower in Ranmao’s hair is a Chinese peony, which is also called the Empress of Flowers in Chinese as well as Japanese culture. I could find sources on how the peony was the symbol of the Empress of China, and how one better avoid wearing any type of peonies around the Empress herself for fear of being suspected of disrespect. But I could not find any evidence of such flowers being banned for other people, so presumably it was more an ‘unwritten code of politeness’ rather than fashion law.

Hence, I kept the pink peony design for Ranmao, and decorated them in the way Qing women would have.

Neckline

By far the most interesting thing I learned from this redesign attempt was that the “mandarin collar” - the thing that pops up first in most people’s minds when thinking about Chinese fashion - was in fact not at all common.

In this academic work on Chinese fashion history, Finnane writes that the ‘high collar’ was “not a common feature of costume before the twentieth century.” Instead, most costumes would have had a round neckline.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 93

The ‘high collar’ gained popularity in early 1900s in China after the Europeans brought with them the beauty standard for high collars, as well as slim-fitted silhouettes. The Chinese increasingly adopted this type of collar and the slim silhouette (the well known ‘china dress/qipao/cheongsam’), and the relatively many early photos that survived helped engrave this stereotype into our minds.

Sleeves

I do not think it requires any mention, but 19th century Chinese fashion did not include boleros... For many of the original designs of Ranmao I can sort of see where Yana got that image from, but this bolero-look truly beats me.

The sleeves worn in the late Qing period were relatively wide, though they were starting to slim down over time. Late Qing women enjoyed much more flexible clothing rules than earlier Qing women, and the width of the sleeves was in great part determined by personal preference, season, but mostly one’s wealth.

Needless to say, the larger the sleeves the more fabric and embroidery it would require, and thus more expensive. Also, the wider the more it would get into the wearer’s way.

I don’t know how much thought Yana put into Ranmao’s original design in relation to her function as elite bodyguard, but considering how the original has zero practicality and only serves to maximise Ranmao’s attractiveness, I have no qualms about giving Ranmao fairly large sleeves too. Besides, let us assume that Lau is responsible for providing Ranmao with clothes. Illegal money tends to fill the pockets quite deeply, I don’t think he can’t spare a few pounds for big sleeves.

Wider sleeves would expose much of ‘a lady’s precious skin’, as such a more fitted layer would have been worn underneath. (The sleeves under the wider sleeves obviously did not have to be orange-ish. This was merely coincidence that both my redesign and the visual source have this colour.)

Silhouette

The figure hugging silhouette x Chinese clothes was - as mentioned above - not at all a thing in Ranmao’s time. In fact, the accentuation of the “female curves” was considered very inappropriate if not downright ugly in the Qing dynasty.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 94

Yana’s notes mention that the thing Ranmao wears is just an European corset and that that is the only thing ‘English’ about her attire.

Well... I don’t know where the idea that Victorians wore corsets on the outside comes from, but I myself admittedly was fooled by this a few years ago too... I promise you all now however, Victorians decidedly did not wear their ‘bras’ on the outside. I think even now this look is considered rather ‘questionable’ by most people.

Instead, Qing dynasty clothes were mostly cut wide and straight, loosely dangling around their bodies offering maximum comfort and space. You feared Ranmao killing you in her corset? Now tremble before her now blessed with maximised agility.

Trousers

Well... I considered ‘translating’ Ranmao’s attire to 2020 standard like I did for O!Ciel, but that would not be Tumblr-filter approved. Skirts so short they could be mistaken for a belt are nothing too surprising today, but wearing one with a split that deep is probably a bit too revealing even by today’s standards.

By the late Qing dynasty, men and women, rich and poor alike predominantly wore trousers. Long robes (skirts) were definitely in fashion too, but they were reserved for those who could afford to not have much agility. If you were a farmer, robes would not have been your first option. Perhaps the way long skirts were viewed by the Qing Chinese was not unlike the way we see them now; ‘more classy’ ‘more feminine’ and ‘less convenient’, but not the only way to express femininity.

In these pictures below we can see relatively rich women, married and unmarried alike, all wearing trousers.

Ranmao is predominantly a fighter, and as trousers are plenty feminine in Chinese fashion culture, I don’t see why she would not choose to wear trousers instead of a restricting long skirt. Hence I gave her a pair of trousers.

Shoes

Like I said before, “the shoes are correct...” But the anklets definitely are not!

Golden or silver anklets are something that are worn by very, VERY young children in China. Even to this day it is customary among many Chinese people to gift newborn children at least one piece of pendant, bracelet or anklet, for it is believed to bring the child luck. More practically, this piece of jewellery will become the child’s first piece of property then, which can be sold later SHOULD they ever run into a financially difficult situation.

These anklets or bracelets would not be removed from the child unless they have outgrown them, which happens fairly quick. Ranmao who is probably full grown should have outgrown them at least ten years ago. Hence, seeing these things on Ranmao would probably make it look like she is still wearing diapers or bibs.

Chinese people would likewise not have worn shoes barefoot. Instead, they would have worn cotton socks which were mostly white.

DOUBLE HAMMERS

HERE COME THE WEAPONS! Luckily Yana wrote the following note or I would never have guessed what they are for my knowledge about Chinese weapons is next to nothing.

“These are【SUPER】heavy. They are weapons called 双錘 (double hammers) and they in fact exist. I heard these were used by power-type warriors.”

So, I googled 双錘 and it turns out that the type Ranmao is holding do indeed exist! But... only in fiction and theatre.

The hammers that were used in actual combat were either very thin and long, or short and plump. Such hammers were one of the most primitive metal weapons in China, and quickly fell out of favour among Chinese warriors when more practical weapons such as the metal spear, sword and bows were invented. The hammers mostly retained their value because of their weight in heroic tales and myths about legendary warriors and deities.

I don’t have the full details, but apparently according to some legends or myths, one of such big-ass hammers could deal a force of 200kg, and thus 400kg combined. Regardless of this being realistic or not, it sure does sound very cool! It is therefore no wonder this primitive weapon retains its popularity even today.

Nowadays when these hammers are used, they are either the blown up theatrical versions, or the smaller versions for the sake of preserving martial arts.

I had a bit of a dilemma as to which version to give Ranmao, but in the end I settled with the short and heavy ones because I wanted to keep the idea of this small and innocent looking girl wielding solid metal balls. Two cheer-leading sticks would simply not have the same weight, figuratively and literally.

Alright everyone! Did you enjoy my response to your votes? I hope you did ^^ Non-European fashion history really is not my strong suit, so my deepest apologies if I messed anything up.

Pray tell if I did, I am always happy to learn ^^

[chaoticneutralwriter]

GD!Jimin Extras: Golden Hour

As they say, taking a picture lasts longer.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, romance, angst, slow-burn

word count: 2.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

A snapshot of the days before The Storm

A/N: Shout out to @azulamakesmeblank​ because this was partially inspired by this ask! As promised, a fluff chapter before the literal shit storm that’s about to take place in the story (butisitreallywhenyoureadthelastlineofthispromptwhat:’)) I hope you enjoy it! it’s kinda half edited dkfhgha I love you guys as always for your support and patience for this story! 💖💖💖💖

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady​ @youmaiiwasherebeforeu​ 

You arrive at the front door a little too breathlessly in your haste. It should be embarrassing but blaming your increased pulse on your lack of fitness has your mind and, ironically, your heart resting easier than having to think that you're actually half-nervous and half-excited to see Jimin again.

Even though you literally saw him just yesterday.

You really need to pull yourself together better; you'd rather not have a repeat of pouring tomato sauce all over the counter because your hands got too shaky from Jimin watching you cook dinner (and after you insisted on him not needing to do anything too!)

You take in a fortifying breath, appearing to be squaring up to take the final stand in saving the world instead of simply seeing your boyfriend for what's essentially a stay-in dinner date. You punch in the pass code to the lock pad with practised ease, almost not giving enough time for the beep to chime as you push the door open.

“Jimin?” You call out in greeting once you toe off your shoes and slip on your pair of house slippers. Your eyes scan over the vast living room, spotting the head of raven locks peeking out from the end of the couch. Stepping closer, a smile sneaks its way onto your lips when you realize that he's most likely resting, given his lack of response. Quietly, you step into the kitchen area to set down your bags of grocery on the counter before you make your way to peer over the back of the seat. You're instantly smitten at what you see.

The sun is beginning to make its descent below the horizon, dying the clouds in an ombre of fiery oranges, pinks and reds against the remnants of soft pale blue sky. Thanks to the generous amount of window space the penthouse has, the golden glow easily washes over the interior of the living room and bathes everything with its light; Jimin being no exception.

It cascades over his skin like honey, high-lighting the bridge of his nose, the tops of his cheeks, and the shape of his cupid's bow. It makes his long lashes stand out so delicately and the equally dark strands of hair that falls gently over his forehead. Your fingers itch to sweep them away yet at the same time, you don't dare risk disturbing this sleeping beauty.

So unconsciously, you silently settle yourself on the top of the couch, resting your elbows on the cushion with your head propped up in your hand.

He looks so completely relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped over his stomach. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, forearms toned and the first few buttons undone to expose a teasing view of his collarbones while black slacks hug his thighs perfectly (as per usual). If someone were to take a picture of him right now and slap on some big fashion name on it, you're pretty sure anyone who would see it would believe it to be a legit advertisement or a cover of a magazine.

Now that the thought has crossed your mind, temptation begins to rear its head. From the beginning, it's a no brainer what you imagine one would do given the opportunity of having a guardian demon that looks like the carbon copy of your favourite idol; do whatever you can to prevent said demon from stepping out into the world and risk slandering the actual person they're parading around as, or indulge in your wildest fantasies now that you have the means.

It's....a rather unique position to be in, with a plethora of mixed feelings to say the least.

After the initial shock of it wore off (which was really just taking three business day to process it all), you've come to the conclusion that this whole thing was, more than anything, weird. Some people might be able to turn a blind eye and though you're grateful that he had decided to look like Park Jimin from BTS, no matter how good of a disguise it was, it still doesn't change the fact that it's not Jimin.

You were grateful, but it made you a little resentful towards him.

With such a stark contrast, it's as if all of the good things you associated with that face had been sullied for something colder and unfeeling. You hated that he had chosen to use someone like Park Jimin – the perfect example of a good human being – to mask his much more sinister nature. You were sure it was part of some sick joke, and it felt...wrong.

Like you've lost part of a safe space in your world to the uglier side of the universe.

So in an attempt to preserve Jimin's good name in your heart, you were adamant in keeping your guardian demon at arms' length, hence why doing something as simple as taking a picture with him was out of the question. Not only would it not be in good faith, you can't begin to imagine what would happen if it got out to the world somehow.

And you succeeded....in the most unexpected way possible.

Maybe it was the deep rooted connection you had for Jimin, but there was always, without a doubt, a part of you that was soft to him. At first it had irked you, however over time, you realized it allowed for you to see another part of him that you wouldn't have otherwise. It made you open up to the idea that....he's not as bad as he seems.

You were afraid of losing a piece to your safe space when really, you ended up gaining an entirely new one instead, one that had become just as important.

So maybe that's why, as the longer you stared at Jimin (who's not Jimin but that doesn't mean he's worth anything less), the more you wanted to preserve this memory of him to keep for yourself. It's selfish you know, but things have changed, you've changed, and this is too good of a chance to pass up.

Your phone is out, hands steady as you pull up the camera and you want to laugh at how the image on your screen does no justice in capturing just how ethereal the sight before you is (of course it doesn't, should you really be surprised?) That doesn't stop your finger from tapping the snap button, because as they say, taking a picture lasts longer. The shot is satisfactory enough, getting him at an angle that show him from the waist up. You wonder if you can get another one, this time a little wider....

Well, you'll never know if you'd ever get the shot because your guardian demon chooses to wake up at that moment, locking piercing eyes with you through the phone. You immediately freeze.

There's a pause on his end before you see him pinpoint exactly what is going and a sly smirk tugs imperceptibly at the corner of his lips. “Cherub....” He greets, the low drawl sultry and irises pools of rich melted chocolate.

You gulp, straightening up while trying to inconspicuously put away your phone, a sheepish grin stretching across your face. “Rest well....?”

Jimin pretends to hum in deep thought, shifting so that he's facing more comfortably towards you. “For a good while yes....until my demon senses started tingling, telling me I was being watched. Should I be mildly concerned that you like watching me sleep?”

You scoff, “I don't always watch you sleep.”

“And you totally weren't snapping stalker photos of me.”

Your jaw drops, affronted but you don't go on to deny the claim. “Hey, calling them stalker photos is a stretch. And I'm just saying this because this was the only time I've ever – oof!”

Without warning, his hand had shot out to grab a hold of one of your wrist hanging over the back and with a strong tug, you fall face first onto his chest, an arm encircling you to keep you in place.

“Whatever you wanna call it, doesn't change that I'm still going to charge you for them.” You hear him playfully chastise above you. When you tilt your head up, you see him quirk an eyebrow at you expectantly. You blink, then roll your eyes, pretending to be inconvenienced by his stinginess, as if you're not ready to give him everything if he so much as breathes a word of it.

“Alright, what do you want?”

Jimin doesn't say anything in response, simply staring at you with those bottomless eyes, a smoulder simmering beneath their surface that it has you drowning in their depths. He watches you, unperturbed by your squirming (actually amuses in it) before you practically hear him purr, “What do you think I want?”

Your heart easily skips a beat (or more) and you're sure he can feel it beating frantically from your chest to his. While you're internally combusting, Jimin remains the picture definition of smug, free arm still propped behind his head the same time the other is wrapped around your waist, your face heating at the way you feel his thumb stroke at the strip of warm skin peeking out thanks to your shirt riding up a bit in the tumble.

He's actually infuriating, you think. Why's he gotta be so damn good at what he does?! You don't think he's even trying. Ugh, get it together, this is nothing new so it's not even a big deal! You can be cool about it too!

Giving yourself a chaotic pep talk apparently is what helps you find the courage to scooch up until you're able to land a chaste peck on the centre of his lips. Before you can fully withdraw, you already see the unimpressed look Jimin is shooting your way.

“I know you can do better than that.”

You puff, chewing on your lower lip into a pout; the deadpan in his voice makes you grumble at being called out, your neck and the tips of your ears burning now. Seeing you so flustered though, Jimin couldn't help but be endeared, then finally decide to ease up on the teasing he's been relentlessly subjecting you to. Slowly, he lowers the arm behind his head to gently take a hold on your chin, bringing your attention back to the adoring smile softening his features.

“Pretty cherub,” He coaxes, “Won't you give a little sweet treat for me?”

It takes everything in you to suppress the small whimper that wanted to jump out from the base of your throat at hearing those words. Whether it's teasing, cocky Jimin or loving, doting Jimin, you really aren't built to handle any of them at all, seemingly defaulting to a blushing mess no matter how hard you try be unfazed. Which is why after a moment of resigning to your fate, accepting that there was no point resisting when your heart and body have already betrayed you, do you close your eyes and give in wholeheartedly.

He welcomes you, carefully lets you mould your lips to his for a proper kiss and you helplessly melt against him. You don't think you can ever get used to the feeling but it's like Jimin doesn't mind one bit, pace unhurried to savour every press like it’s your first. Your mind becomes muddled the longer it goes on, and when you feel the swipe of his tongue, you're nearly gone. But as tempting as it is, you can't get too carried away here – you still have dinner to cook!

You allow yourself a few tantalizing licks before you part with great reluctance. Through hazy eyes you meet Jimin's, the little breath you have hitching from the sight of his swollen, moistened lips and dark brown irises now glowing a muted maroon, on the verge of igniting into full blown desire.

“Can't have you spoiling dinner so early.” You say, then embarrassingly avert your gaze at how your voice comes out raspy and thick.

You miss the way the corner of Jimin's mouth twitch, but catch the mischievous glint that's no doubt from mentioning the word 'dinner'. You put on your best scolding face, smacking his chest lightly in reprimand.

“No.”

“I didn't even say anything.” His incredulous retort is drowned out by the laugh he lets out with it, the sound has you struggling to maintain your 'serious' front.

“You were thinking it.”

“Are you sure it's not you projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

You humphed, about to turn away and get off your personal body pillow but Jimin's hold remains steadfast. He sneaks a quick kiss to your forehead once you settle back down again as a means to placate you, chuckling softly, “Okay, okay, I'll behave.”

You giggle lightly, cheeks pressed into his collarbone as you give an approving hum, cuddling even closer to his person and you both lapse into a comfortable silence, breaths in sync. Outside, the final rays of the setting sun disappears below the city's horizon, taking the warmth of the day along with it.

But you find no lack in that when you're lying here in his embrace, because whereas the sun comes and goes, yours remains unwavering.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 9: Not Without My Cyar’ika

Link to Chpt. 8, Link to Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: Canonical violence, death, SMUT, explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), mentions of the possibility of sexual assault (but NO sexual assault takes place in this fic)

Word count: ~10K

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took such a long time to write, but I was at the end of my academic year and it was a tough one. You’ll see in this chapter there is a mention of cloaking technology, which I completely stole from Star Trek. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“And so he has her now… I- I feel like I failed her, but I’m going to get her back,” Din has been conveying the unfortunate events of the last few hours to the Armorer over a holocall.

“You should return home to the tribe,” she replies, her voice even and calm, “You need the assistance of your aliit.” The soft blue glow of her image in the holo is somehow comforting to him. He knows she is correct; he needs the support.

“You’re right, I do,” Din acquiesces. He says goodbye to the Armorer with a promise to see her in a few hours. Even if it puts the Covert in danger again, he can’t rescue you alone, not against the forces that Kerrick has at his disposal. A soft coo sounds from the co-pilot’s seat and he looks over at his foundling. The little guy is looking at him with an almost hopeful smile, and Din reaches over to let the child sit in his lap cuddling him close. He tells himself that it’s for the child’s benefit, but deep down he knows he needs the comfort too.

As he makes his way back to the Covert, Din is greeted at the mouth of the cave by Paz and another warrior. Both nod to him gravely, clearly having been briefed by the Armorer of the situation.

“We will stand with you, vod,” Paz states, and the other Mandalorian punctuates this with more nodding, “We should have insisted on mounting an attack on this Commander Hoven from the start.” Paz says Kerrick’s name as though the taste of it is foul in his mouth.

“I appreciate your willingness, and I’m ready to accept your help,” Din admits. His reluctance to take advantage of his tribe’s assistance and his feelings of guilt over Nevarro have evaporated in the face of his need to save you.

“The Armorer said your woman willingly sacrificed her freedom to save you and the child; that shows real bravery,” the other Mandalorian speaks about you with respect. He has black armor and Din recalls that he is called Throm. He continues on to say, “My riduur, Mirmim, became close to her while she was here and it would be my honor to help you with the rescue. Also, Mirmim has offered to care for your foundling while we carry out the mission.”

“Thank you,” Din says appreciatively, “That means a lot.”

Din follows Paz and Throm into the main area of the cavern where almost all of the other tribe members are gathered. Everyone grows quiet as they enter.

“Din Djarin, we are sorry to see you again under these circumstances. We have discussed the need to rescue your woman, and we have decided to send our best warriors with you,” the Armorer greets him in her calming yet authoritative voice, “I will also be accompanying you.”

“Thank you all, I am honored and humbled by your support,” Din replies sincerely.

“The warriors will meet now to formulate our best plan of attack,” the Armorer states.

A woman in pink armor comes up to Din first, before he can join the others. He recognizes her as your friend and as she greets Throm too, it’s clear that she is his riduur. “I can take care of your foundling while you attend the meeting,” she says with her arms outstretched for the little guy.

“You must be Mirmim; Throm said you were willing to care for him while we’re away… while we get her back,” Din says, his voice catching a little. His emotions are so close to the surface right now as he tries not to think about what could be happening to you. He hands Mirmim the child and gives the little one a small pat on the head as he settles into her arms.

“You must have faith. You will rescue her and your tribe, our tribe, will help you succeed. This is the way,” Mirmim reassures him.

“This is the way,” Din tries to sound confident but still he knows that Kerrick has a powerful and well-protected ship and many troopers. They’re going to need a very solid plan.

This is the first point he raises in the warriors’ discussion, “Hoven has a light cruiser with turret-mounted twin light turbolasers, port and starboard quad laser cannons, missile launchers and likely concussion missiles. Not to mention he has at least a squadron of 30 storm troopers aboard, possibly more, not to mention other officers who are likely under his command.”

“We have 16 warriors, and we all know that storm troopers can’t aim for shit, so I’m sure we can take ‘em,” a man in orange armor says confidently. He’s a younger man from the other tribe and Din knows he means well, but he needs more than cocky bravado right now.

“Din Djarin, has an excellent point though that we do not know the total number of fighters,” the Armorer says, quieting the boastfulness of the warrior, “We would be better to find additional warriors.”

“I have an idea about that,” Din says, “I want to ask the Mistresses from Angel One. I’ve seen their warriors in action and I believe they would be willing to help, although their old leader was in league with Hoven, the others were not. Plus I know we made quite the impression there… she made quite the impression there.”

“You should contact them at once,” the Armorer nods her approval.

“I also have another person I need to contact; someone who I think can get us into Hoven’s ship undetected.”

“You don’t think we can take them on in a true battle?” Someone asks.

“No, I don’t. We don’t have enough ships to take on that kind of firepower in a ship-to-ship fight,” Din explains, “I believe our best option is a sneak attack. If we can be aboard another ship that docks with Hoven’s cruiser, we can do maximum damage from inside the ship.”

“Yes, but how do we convince Hoven to let this other ship dock with him?” Paz raises an important question.

“We need to offer him something he wants, something that could make him more powerful,” Din answers, “Hence, why I need to reach out to my other contact.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking out into space from the comfort of your bed on Kerrick’s cruiser, you sigh and wipe at your teary eyes. It’s only been a day since you were forced to part from Din and the child, but you feel like you’ve spent an eternity crying wretchedly into your blankets. Fortunately so far you’ve managed to put Kerrick off from wanting to be with you and mostly you’ve been left to your own miserable devices. You think back to yesterday and give yourself a small pat on the back for accomplishing this small victory.

As Kerrick dragged you onto his ship, you felt yourself becoming increasingly worried for Din and the child, as you knew they wouldn’t have been able to get away without a fight. You repeated to yourself that Din was more than capable of getting out of a jam, but it didn’t stop you from worrying. You were feeling positively nauseated at the negative ideas running through your head. Not to mention, every time Kerrick leered at you over his shoulder, you felt your stomach flip in an unpleasant manner. It worked out to your favor, however, because once you were at the entrance to Kerrick’s personal quarters, you managed to vomit spectacularly all over his floor and boots. He was instantly repulsed and it put a stop to any romantic notions he had cooked up for your reunion. With a look of disgust, he had a storm trooper haul you away to your own quarters for the night. Since then you’ve been left almost completely alone, except when another trooper came by to bring you some soup. You’re grateful to have had the time to think, as well as cry, because at least now you’ve come up with a plan to keep Kerrick at arm’s length at least for a little while.

A crisp knock sounds at your door, but apparently it was only perfunctory as the door swishes open to reveal Kerrick, who clearly doesn’t think he needs to be invited in to your space.

“So, my doll, I hope you’re feeling better today,” Kerrick looks you over as you sit up on the bed. He takes in your disheveled appearance and tear-stained face. You’ve done absolutely nothing to make yourself look pulled together in any way and you can see by his expression that you must look rather awful. He grimaces at you before saying condescendingly, “I see that you must still be sick, or else living with that Mandalorian has caused you to forget all about personal grooming?”

“I’m still not feeling well,” you sigh and clutch your stomach dramatically, “I’ve started my period and the cramps hurt so bad. It’s making me feel so bloated and nauseous.” This is a lie, but you remember that Kerrick is one of those asshole men who thinks everything about menstrual cycles is disgusting. He never wanted to touch you at that time of the month back when you were dating and you’re praying the same is true now.

“Ick, did you have to tell me that?” He recoils from you in horror and you almost laugh out loud at his reaction. “You know I don’t need to hear details about any of that. Ever.” He backs up towards your door looking as though he can’t wait to be gone from your presence.

“I’ll have someone send in some new clothes for you at least,” he says with a frown, “I guess I’ll see you in a few days.”

“It might be as long as a week,” you say trying to sound as pathetic as possible, but any extra time you can gain will be helpful so you can figure out an escape plan. Or maybe it will give Din time to rescue me? Your thoughts are hopeful that Din will come after you but at the same time you try not to get too excited about the possibility because how in the galaxy is he supposed to find you? And how will he fight his way on to this heavily protected ship? No, it’s best that he doesn’t put himself in danger like that; you will just need to keep working on a plan to get yourself out of this mess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din waits as the holocall works to connect to Eira on Angel One. He’s hoping the friendship you were able to build with her will be strong enough to garner her assistance in his mission to rescue you. When Eira’s blueish image appears, he’s bolstered by the smile and warm greeting she gives him.

“Mistress Eira, I wish I were contacting you under better circumstances,” Din explains, “Your warning was helpful, but ultimately we were unlucky. Hoven has her, he caught us in a trap.” He has to pause here to collect his thoughts because his anger and shame at begin tricked by Kerrick is still so raw. Before he can continue though, Eira is speaking.

“We will help you rescue the princess,” Eira pledges solemnly. “That man would never have known how to find her if it weren’t for the treachery of Mistress Sigrid. You must allow us to send warriors to assist you so that we can repay our debt to her and to you.”

“I’m so grateful to hear you say that, Mistress,” Din responds, “It’s why I was contacting you, I was hopeful you’d be willing to help me… to help us.”

“I know you were only here for a few days, but the princess left a lasting impression on many of us,” Eira tells him, “Both of you have helped us see that perhaps our society could be more open to outsiders.”

“Mistress Eira, I do need to tell you one thing, she… she isn’t really a princess, we only said that to make us seem more important so we would be welcome on Angel One,” Din feels sheepish admitting the lie and hopes she won’t rescind her offer. He continues to explain, “It’s just… we were trying to protect our foundling; he’s very special and we needed a safe place to stay for a few days.”

“You lied to protect the child?” Eira clarifies.

“Yes, and I’m sorry we had to deceive you like that,” Din apologizes.

“It was for a noble cause, I understand your reasons,” Eira sounds satisfied, “Now let’s discuss how we’re going to help you get your princess back.”

“She isn’t a princess,” Din repeats.

“She always will be to me,” Eira says with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re quietly making your way through the corridors of Kerrick’s cruiser trying to find your way to Engineering. Your plan has been working wonderfully and Kerrick has stayed far away from you. The first few times you ventured out of your room, no one said anything to you and they seemed to pretty much think it was normal to see you walking around. As you seemed to be granted free access to the ship, it occurred to you that perhaps you could find small ways to weaken the ship as a way to assist you in a possible escape. The first thing you did was check to see if your old access codes would still work at one of the workstations. Fortunately, they did. Same old lazy Empire, they never thought to delete anyone from their system because it would be too much work to keep those types of records. You knew you couldn’t make your sabotage too obvious or you’d be caught right away, but if you could do small things that could be brushed off as typical problems you would be able to create a whole host of annoyances.

You started with changing the lighting cycles in the barracks. The lights were designed to automatically turn off and on at certain hours for sleeping, but you managed to get in and change it up so that lights would randomly turn off and on at all hours of the day and night ensuring that none of the storm troopers could get more than a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep. Of course you locked your new lighting program with an extremely secure password so you knew it would be hard to fix.

Next you made your way to the officers’ mess hall, and while no one was around, you dismantled the caf machine and dumped several of the parts into the trash compactor. You remembered how strong the caffeine additions always were amongst the officers and now they’d need to go to the troopers’ mess if they wanted caf. In many cases this would mean they’d have to be far from their posts and stations would be left unmanned, opening up more opportunities for your little acts of defiance.

The destruction of the caf machine was why you were headed to Engineering right now. You had overheard the head Engineer and his assistant talking about working on the caf machine today because they were sick of having to go to the troopers’ mess. So you figured there was a chance you could do a little bit of damage in Engineering while they were away from their posts. You’ve just poked your head into the Engineering bay to have a look around when a lieutenant commander spots you. Damn!

“Hello, what are you doing down here? I thought you’d be in your room resting,” He speaks to you pleasantly and you realize you know him; he’s a former student of yours from the Sy Bisti class.

“Lieutenant Commander Roth, I didn’t know you were here. It’s so nice to see you again,” you force a polite smile onto your face.

He chuckles warmly, “Please, call me Sergio, and I’m sure it isn’t all that great to see me, but I’m enjoying seeing your pretty face again.”

“No, it really is good to see you, Sergio,” you tell him, sounding a bit more truthful this time. Honestly, he was one student you didn’t mind so much. You remembered him as a cheerful and handsome scoundrel, who was always kind to you. He never seemed too overly indoctrinated like the rest of the officers and although he had morally ambiguous air about him, he didn’t seem as truly evil as the rest of the officers you had known. Although he’s a little older now, he still has that attractive rascal look about him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sergio smirks at you, “What are you doing down here?”

“I’m lost,” you say trying to think of where you could say you intended to go.

“No, you’re not,” Sergio smiles as he sees right through your lie, “I think you’re right where you want to be.”

“Why would you think that?” You give him your best wide-eyed innocent look and blink up at him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, “I know you’re much too smart to be anywhere but where you planned to be. That idiot Kerrick doesn’t give you enough credit.” There’s no malice in his laughter and he seems genuinely amused by your lie.

“Maybe I was looking for you?” You venture.

“Ha, that’s rich, you didn’t know I was here,” Sergio is very amused, “It’s ok, I think what you’re doing is brilliant and maybe I’d like to help you.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t know what to think, so playing dumb seems like the best option.

“There’s only one person I know who could have locked that lighting pattern with such a great password that no one else can figure it out.” Sergio looks at you pointedly, “After all, isn’t a password just a mini code?”

“Oh” You look down at your shoes, not sure what to say to that.

“Don’t look so disappointed! I’m not going to say anything,” he tells you sincerely, “I’d rather help you.”

“Are you serious, Sergio?” Could it be that you have a friend here somehow?

“Look, I know I’ve made shitty decisions with my life. I should have left the Empire years ago, it was a mistake to get involved in the first place,” Sergio sighs, “But I just sort of fell into this and the next thing I knew I had a little bit of power and I liked it. It’s a terrible excuse and I should have turned myself in to the New Republic years ago. But I’ve never been good at handling the consequences. I’m way too pretty for jail.” He says this last part with a small wink and a self-depreciating chuckle.

“You really won’t say anything to Kerrick?” You ask him.

“No, that weirdo doesn’t deserve you,” he says, “And I don’t know, maybe if I help you, I can redeem a part of myself in some small way.”

“Do you think you could help me escape? Could you fly one of the Tie Fighters?” You know it’s a lot to ask but you have to try.

“I’m sorry, but I think we’d just get caught right away, it’s too risky,” he responds, but there’s a sincerity to his voice so you feel that he’s being honest with you.

“Ok, so maybe we could mess up something here? I was thinking maybe the tractor beam?” If Din does manage to mount a rescue you’ll still be able to get away if the tractor beam is out of service.

“Sounds like fun.” He gives you a cocky little smirk and leads you over to the right workstation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din leads a group of his fellow Mandalorians into an office building on Canto Bight with a shining plaque that reads “DeWitt Systems”. A receptionist stands up immediately when she sees the intimidating group enter the foyer and with a shaky smile she greets them.

“Welcome, Mr. Mando and um, guests,” she tries to be as polite as possible but doesn’t seem to know how to address anyone. Paz snickers a little at Mr. Mando but Din quickly shushes him. He thinks to himself that it’s a good thing half the group decided to stay behind on the Crest. She attempts to smile at everyone, as she gestures down a hallway, “Mr. DeWitt is waiting for you in the conference room; let me show you the way.”

“Mando, I’d say it’s good to see you again, but that isn’t the case under these circumstances,” Eugene is there looking sharp in a new suit. He moves forward to shake Din’s hand.

“Eugene,” Din returns the handshake and gives him a nod in greeting, “Thank you again for agreeing to be part of this rescue.”

“I’m happy to help in any way that I can, Mando,” Eugene says earnestly, “After my evening with your charming companion and you my business has skyrocketed, so I’ll do anything I can do to help her.”

Din nods again. When he spoke to Eugene earlier, he was worried that the man might not want to get involved in this type of risky undertaking, but blessedly you had made quite a lasting impression on him and he agreed to lend a hand almost at once.

“Have you finalized the idea to entice Hoven and get us aboard his ship?” Din asks.

“I think I’ve got something brilliant, not to brag, but I think it will definitely get us a meeting with Hoven,” Eugene is confident and he brings up a holoscreen. “I’ve come up with a mock-up of a cloaking device for a starship. The idea is that it can make a ship become virtually undetectable to scanners of all types.” Eugene shows a brief demonstration on the holoscreen of this technology. It shows a complicated series of mathematical symbols and equations and a diagram of a ship that vanishes when Eugene clicks a few buttons.

“That’s incredible, does it really work?” Paz wants to know.

“Not really, I can make it look like it works for about 5 minutes, but that’s all,” Eugene says, “However, it sounds really realistic and my tech mock-up is convincing enough that I think Hoven’ll be interested. If we get an invitation to meet his ship, I’ll be able to make us look ‘cloaked’ for just long enough for him to think the tech is real, but it’ll just be a ruse.”

“We’re getting that invite; Hoven won’t be able to resist tech like this,” Din states, “This is really great work, Eugene.”

“I have even more great news for you,” Eugene smiles looking rather proud of himself, “Do you remember the casino owner, Mr. Belvers? He’s going to lend us a ship. He was so impressed with the two of you from the party, you especially, Mando, and I happened to see him right after our call. When I told him about the trouble you were in, he was eager to be able to help out too.”

“Eugene, you’re more resourceful than I realized, thank you again,” Din is humbled and very grateful for the assistance. He remembers how jealous he felt over Eugene back when you all first met and he thinks about how much it bugged him that Eugene was so enthralled by you. Now that jealousy seems rather ridiculous and petty, and Din’s thankful that Eugene isn’t holding any of that against him.

After some additional discussion, they decide to leave the Razor Crest on Canto Bight and take Belvers’ ship which turns out to be a luxury cruiser. It’s smaller than Kerrick’s but large enough that it can easily transport the Mandalorians and the Angel One warriors. It’s flashy enough to be impressive but it’s not going to be seen as a threat in any fashion by Kerrick. Plus, without the Razor Crest, there’s no way for Kerrick to have any inkling that Din is coming for you.

“Alright, we’re ready for you to make the call to Hoven,” Din instructs Eugene.

“Let’s try and sell a cloaking device,” Eugene says enthusiastically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve managed to keep Kerrick away from you for three days, but when a new dress showed up at your door with your breakfast this morning, you figured your reprieve from him was about to end. Reluctantly you pull on the dress, and try to prepare yourself for a difficult day. Sure enough, shortly after you’ve given yourself a little pep talk to psych yourself up for having to deal with Kerrick, you hear your door swish open. Not even bothering to knock anymore.

“Baby doll? Did you get the new dress?” Kerrick’s head pops into the fresher where you are fixing your hair.

“I did, thank you, Kerrick,” you give him a bland smile.

“Excellent! I know you’re still, ahem, untouchable, for a few days,” Kerrick says with a slight look of disgust, “But you can keep me company on the bridge for at least a few hours, surely?” He gives you a creepy smile that turns your stomach, but you know you need to do this to keep him calm.

“Of course, Kerrick, that sounds nice. I’d like to see you while you work.” You do your best to bat your lashes at him and then say, “I always thought you were a natural leader.” To make it through this, you figure your best option is to just compliment him as much as possible.

“Oh, yes, I think you’ll see I was born to be in charge,” Kerrick replies smugly and holds out his arm pointedly for you. You gently loop your own arm through his and let him lead you out into the corridor. When he reaches over to pat your hand you try not to flinch away, but he notices your discomfort.

“Don’t worry, my doll, you don’t need to be nervous, everyone will like you,” he lets out a small laugh as he says, “And if they don’t, well, they’re all expendable.”

You let out a nervous laugh at that comment, and hope to Maker that he is making a joke, but something tells you that he might actually mean it and you pray that you can stay as inconspicuous as possible. Even though these people have given their allegiance to a terrible organization, you don’t want anyone to get hurt, or worse, because of you.

Kerrick leads you to the bridge and then proceeds to give you an extended tour of the area, being sure to tell you how crucial and important he is at every opportunity. He’s such a braggart, you don’t know how his crew put up with it, frankly, and you’re surprised no one has attempted a mutiny yet. Then Kerrick begins telling you of some of his greatest accomplishments with the Empire. Each story is horrific and you feel sickened again by what he has become. He’s finishing up a tale of how he used his superior language skills to successfully trick a village chieftain on the planet Morak into giving up a major portion of his tribe’s land to the Empire so they could mine rhydonium and you can’t hold your tongue any longer.

“Kerrick, weren’t you ever worried that your actions could have serious consequences? I mean, look at what you just told me. Rhydonium is incredibly unstable and I’m sure that mining it must have put all of those people at serious risk.” You want to say so much more, but you try to reign yourself in so that you don’t anger him.

“Why do you care about a bunch of smelly villagers on Morak? They’re so beneath us, baby doll.” Kerrick sneers and then laughs, “You have such a soft heart, but that’s ok, you can use it to worry about me. I’m the only one you should care about. Why don’t you give me a little kiss? Show me how much you care.”

He grips your chin and you know you can’t avoid it, so you lean in and kiss him, but thankfully you’re spared from too much because the sound of a holocall is dinging loudly. Kerrick lets out an exasperated sigh, before answering with a slightly disgruntled greeting.

“Good morning, Commander Hoven, I am Eugene DeWitt of DeWitt Systems. Please excuse my directness in calling you without an introduction, but I believe I have an excellent opportunity for you. One of my other clients, a Commander Pershing, recommended I speak with you.” You hold in a gasp when you see the blue glow of Eugene’s face displayed and you know that this can’t be a coincidence. You carefully move closer to Kerrick so that the holo will be able to pick up your image too.

“Oh? What is this opportunity, Mr. DeWitt?” Kerrick seems rather bored but the mention of Commander Pershing is enough to have him a little curious.

“Oh, I’m certain you will be interested in ship cloaking technology,” Eugene says with a small flourish, “You see I run a technology firm that specializes in cutting-edge innovations. With my program, your ship can become undetectable to scanners of all kinds, especially those used by the New Republic.” Eugene gives a small nod and then seems to make eye contact with you for just a moment. Your heart fills with hope that Din must be involved in this call. Your attention snaps back to Kerrick though as he answers Eugene.

“Well, now I am intrigued, Mr. DeWitt,” Kerrick’s eyes grow wide at the prospect of this new technology and you can almost see the evil gears grinding in his head thinking of how useful a tool it would be. “But how do I know if it really works? Are you willing to offer a display of some type?”

“Yes, absolutely, Commander Hoven, I am prepared to come to you as soon as possible to demonstrate the immense capability of this unique technology.” Eugene gives Kerrick his best salesman smile as he launches into a description of the tech and displays several fancy charts and equations. Before you know it, Kerrick is sharing his ship’s coordinates with Kerrick and setting a time for a meeting tomorrow. You keep a placid look on your face but inside you are bursting with excitement. This has to be Din, he must be coming for you. If Din has gone back to enlist Eugene’s help, he must have formulated a rescue plan. Now it’s up to you to figure out what you can do here to make the rescue successful.

Kerrick finishes making plans to meet with Eugene and then he turns to you and grabs your hand pulling you in closer to him as he says, “You see my doll, I’m an important man now, one that other men respect. While all those fools think the Empire is dead, I’m here in the heart of it all making us stronger than ever. Just think, we’ll be able to traverse this galaxy virtually invisible to the New Republic scum!” Kerrick’s eyes light up as he gives you this speech and you can see that no shred of the man you once knew remains. The young man who shared your love of languages and the world of academia, the man who was once funny and charming, the man to whom you once gave your heart freely is completely gone as surely as if he died or rather was killed by this new Commander Hoven. You can’t help but let this sad realization show on your face.

“Oh, don’t be sad, I won’t forget about you, my beautiful doll. You’ll be right there with me, supporting me,” Kerrick says with an indulgent grin, “A strong, powerful man needs to have a pretty woman behind him, or rather, underneath him.” He laughs at his own bawdy joke and you manage a weak giggle that seems to placate him. It’s about all you can manage as his misogyny is making you want to punch him, but that won’t help your situation.

“I’m afraid all this excitement of being with you has me feeling a bit lightheaded,” you tell Kerrick, “I think perhaps I should return to my room to rest for a bit.” You’re not sure if he’ll buy this, but he sees you as weak anyway and you clutch your brow dramatically for effect.

“So soon? But we’re having such a nice time, and I prefer to have you here with me,” Kerrick says pouting.

“Commander, we need your approval over here,” another officer is requesting Kerrick’s presence.

“You have so much important work to do,” you simper at him, “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true,” Kerrick says considering you, “I’ll see you in a few hours and we can have lunch together.” You nod to him and move to pull your hand out of his grasp, but instead he yanks you back to him hard and forces you into a kiss. You remind yourself not to struggle and just hope it will be over soon. “There you go, have a nice nap, baby doll.”

You hurry out of the bridge area as soon as he releases you and when you’re certain you’re alone you wipe your mouth in disgust. Oh, Din, please be with Eugene when he comes tomorrow. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to hold off Kerrick and his amorous advances. In hopes that tomorrow really will bring a rescue, you wonder if you can rearrange the storm trooper work shifts somehow. Since you heard all the details of the meeting, you know precisely when Eugene’s ship is scheduled to arrive and wouldn’t it be convenient if somehow there were a lot fewer troopers on duty then?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din looks out at hyperspace from the pilot’s seat of the luxury cruiser. After a quick stop on Angel One, the rescue party is now complete and the atmosphere aboard the ship is rather jovial despite the danger of the upcoming mission. The Mandalorians and Angel One warriors have bonded quickly as they speak about the chance at a good fight with each group eager to show off their skills. Eugene is also in high spirits having perfected the way to temporarily mask their ship from Kerrick’s scanners when they arrive at the designated coordinates. It will only last for a few minutes, but it will give off the impression that the cloaking technology really works. If all goes well, Din plans to see if Eugene can rig up something similar in the Crest since it could come in handy at times. Who knows, maybe Eugene really will invent starship cloaking someday.

Din tries not to look at the time and count the minutes until he reaches you. Once the first phase of the plan was complete, he’s been impatient to get to this next step. When Eugene told him that he saw you in the holocall, and that you looked safe, he was filled with relief but also worry knowing that it meant that Kerrick was keeping you close to him. Din knows that you are smart and will do whatever you can to keep yourself safe, but at the same time he knows what Kerrick wants from you. He can’t let himself think about that right now though or the anger will consume him.  

As if sensing that Din needs someone to speak to, the Armorer joins Din in the cockpit. “You have amassed a good team; I believe we will be formidable against the enemy,” she tells him sagely.

“Thank you for agreeing to be part of it,” Din replies; he’s still honored that she has chosen to accompany him on this rescue.

“You are right to be worried for her, she is surrounded by dangerous men,” the Armorer says, “But, remember, she was amongst such dangerous men before and she survived.”

“I know she did, but this time she may have to… he might force her…” Din can’t bring himself to say it aloud, and just the thoughts that swirl in his head are enough to fill his stomach with a deep, burning ire.

“You must not let your thoughts dwell on what might happen,” the Armorer advises him, “Your woman is intelligent and resourceful, and we do not know what she will or will not need to do.”

“I know you are right, but in my head I keep replaying the moment I saw him force her into a kiss and then I think the worst,” Din’s voice is dark and angry now.

“I understand, but you must channel your anger into your strength, focus it as a weapon to use against this man,” the Armorer instructs him, “Do not let it overwhelm you and cause you to be foolhardy in your attack.”

Din nods in agreement, “You are correct, as always.”

The Armorer pats his pauldron in response. It’s a small gesture but one that is full of meaning. He thinks again about how grateful he is to have her support and the support of everyone on board. He also knows that she is right, he must maintain his focus.

An alarm dings from the ship’s console alerting Din and the Armorer that they are closing in on Kerrick’s ship. Eugene hurries in to activate his tech virtually hiding them for the few minutes before they reach the meeting spot.

“Tell everyone this is it,” Din tells the Armorer, “We’re getting her back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re certain the shift changes worked?” you whisper your question to Sergio as you’re standing on the docking platform. Kerrick has arranged a welcome party to greet his guest and you’ve been able to have a few minutes to speak to Sergio while there. There are still several storm troopers here and you’re concerned that Din won’t be able to handle so many.

“Yes, I went by the barracks just before arriving here and there are way more troopers off duty than there should be,” he tells you in a low voice.

“Good.” Yesterday while you were supposed to be napping, Sergio helped you mess up the storm troopers’ shifts so that only a skeleton crew would be at work now.

“I also decided that neither the main guns nor any of the missiles needed to be online today,” Sergio shrugs like this is no big deal while you look at him with surprise.

“Thank you,” you say, grateful for his help.

“Just remember this if I ever need you to testify at my trial,” he chuckles.

“What are you laughing about, Roth?” Kerrick has taken notice of you both and he looks annoyed.

“Lieutenant Commander Roth was reminding me about my language lessons and some of the funny pronunciation exercises I made the class do,” you lie smoothly.

“Yes, she had us doing these silly sound drills that made us all sound like a bunch of hissing serpents,” Sergio laughs again.

“Well, if you’re done with your trip down memory lane, perhaps you could tell me if you see Mr. DeWitt’s ship on our scanners?” Kerrick gives the command with a frown.

“There is nothing reading on our scanners,” Sergio responds promptly.

“Well, either his tech really does work, or he’s late,” Kerrick states.

“Commander Hoven, sir, there is a holocall for you,” an ensign brings over a holopad with Eugene’s image.

“Mr. DeWitt,” Kerrick says in greeting.

“Do your sensors detect us, Commander Hoven?” Eugene asks with a smile.

“No, are you sure you are in range?” Kerrick asks.

“How about now?” Eugene smirks.

“Sir, there is a ship just off our port side, it appeared out of nowhere,” Sergio sounds surprised and bit impressed.

“Well done, Mr. DeWitt,” Kerrick seems pleased, “Let’s proceed with docking and then you can come aboard to show me more about this incredible new tech you’ve created.”

You’re watching the docking mechanism intently, looking for any sign that this is more than just a strange coincidence. Suddenly a plasma bolt fires down the docking tunnel taking out a storm trooper. For a moment there is merely stunned silence around you until more bolts come hurtling in the direction of the troopers.

“What the fuck!” Kerrick exclaims as a total melee ensues.

You dive for cover while silently cheering inside. You take a peek and see the gleam of beskar helmets. Din is here and he’s brought plenty of help with him! Another quick glance shows you Mandalorian and Angel One warriors working together, fighting against the Imps. Although your first instinct is to run straight for Din, you don’t want to get caught in the crossfire, so you force yourself to stay where you are. Your hiding place isn’t very secure though and abruptly Kerrick is there grabbing at you and forcing you to your feet.

“Get up, you bitch,” he snaps at you, “This is all your fault.”

“Let go of me!” you yell back, but he’s too strong for you and he yanks you after him. You scream as loud as you can and try to kick and break free of his hold.

Din hears you scream and it immediately draws his attention across the fighting in time to see Kerrick drag you out of the area and down a corridor. He quickly moves to pursue you, kicking a trooper in the stomach and shooting another in the neck as he follows after you. Both Eira and the Armorer hear your scream too and quickly trail after Din, shooting a path to do so.

Neither you nor Kerrick are anywhere to be seen in the corridor, but this is no problem for Din as he brings up a tracking program on his vambrace.

“What’s that?” Eira asks

“I put tracking devices in her shoes,” Din responds, leading the three of them forward as he follows the signal.

“A smart idea,” the Armorer replies as Eira looks mildly shocked.

They continue down the corridor, weapons at the ready. As they encounter a few troopers, the trio easily dispatches them. They pass a sign indicating the location of escape pods and Din breaks out into a sprint; there’s no way he’s letting Kerrick get you off this ship.

Kerrick is pulling on your arm so hard you’re afraid he’s going to dislocate your shoulder. He’s got you at the escape pods now in a desperate attempt to get away with you. As soon as he starts to force you into one, you start fighting harder. You remember the fighting techniques from Din’s training and you manage to land a sharp kick to Kerrick’s shin.

“What the kriffing hell is the matter with you?” He yells at you in pain. You try to kick him again, but he slaps you hard across the face. The shock and the sting of the blow makes you stumble. But then you’re struggling against him again, hitting him in the side with your free fist and then whacking him hard in the face.

“Oof! Fuck! Stop it!” He slaps you again, harder this time and you feel your face throbbing.

“That is enough! Don’t you ever do something stupid like that again or you’ll regret it,” Kerrick threatens you and then brandishes a blaster in your face. The fact that he might actually shoot you makes you stop struggling.

“Please, Kerrick, please, you don’t have to do that,” you say your voice trembling.

“I won’t have to hurt you unless you keep acting so fucking stupid,” he snaps back. He still has the blaster pointed at your face and you’re afraid to even move now.

“I’ll do what you want, you can lower the blaster,” you try to make your voice soft and sweet in an attempt to calm him. His eyes are wild and he looks unhinged.

“That’s right you’re going to do what I want,” Kerrick says menacingly, “Because you’re mine, he doesn’t get to have you, and you’re going to keep doing what I want for the rest--”

But Kerrick never gets to finish that threat. Instead you watch as a bolt hits him square in the temple and he collapses dead at your feet. You jump back in horror and shock as it happens, but then you turn and see Din with his blaster still aimed from where he shot Kerrick. You feel nothing but utter relief and before you can think, you are running at him and launching yourself into his arms.

Din catches you and embraces you tightly, never wanting to let you go again. He feels like his heart is going to burst from the joy of holding you again.

“You came for me, I knew you would, I knew when Eugene called it had to be you, I just knew it,” You’re babbling you’re so happy that he’s here, that he’s really here holding you. “Oh, but I’m so sorry for the awful things I had to say, I didn’t mean any of them, you have to know that, I didn’t mean it at all, I love you, only you, Din.”

“I love you too and I’m so sorry, cyar’ika, so sorry that I couldn’t protect you better, I can’t believe I fell for his trap, I won’t ever let that happen again,” Din is babbling too in his elation at rescuing you. He pulls back a little to look at you and raises a hand to cup your injured face. “I’m so sorry he hurt you, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop it.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Din,” you tell him, “You protected me now, and you rescued me.”

“Well, technically we’re still in the middle of rescuing you, so maybe you two lovebirds can save the happy reunion until we’re out of here,” Eira pipes up.

“Oh, right,” you reply sheepishly.

“Come, we should return to the ship before more Imperials arrive,” the Armorer motions to you both.

Your group hurries back in the direction of the docking platform and you meet up with more of Din’s group. It’s a mix of Mandalorians that you met from the Covert and warrior women from Angel One. You’re so humbled that they came to fight for you.

“I can’t believe we haven’t seen more troopers than this,” Paz speaks up.

“I made sure a lot of them would be off duty now,” you say with a grin.

“You did?” Din sounds impressed.

“Yeah, I tried to do a little sabotage here and there where I could,” you tell him, “By the way, the tractor beam, main guns, and missiles are disengaged right now too.”

“You’re so smart.” You can hear the admiration in his voice as he praises you.

“I was lucky to have some help,” you demure wondering what has happened to Sergio.

When you are back at the docking platform you can see the resounding defeat of Kerrick’s troops. You glance around looking for Sergio; despite his allegiance to the Empire, you hope he isn’t hurt or worse. You don’t see him and so you hope he got away. You don’t have time to dwell on his fate however and you quickly head for the docking tunnel with Din and the others. When you reach the other ship, you see Eugene’s relieved face and you cheerfully hug him in greeting.

“Eugene! Thank you, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence when you called,” you tell him excitedly.

“I had to help, as soon as Mando told me you were in trouble,” he replies.

You feel the ship jolt and know that someone has put you into hyperspace and you breathe a huge sigh of relief and joy. Then suddenly you are surrounded by well-wishers as everyone tries to hug you or shake your hand in celebration of a successful rescue. Eira even picks you up as she hugs you tight. Someone brings you some bacta cream for your face and you wonder if you need it more to help relieve the bruises left by Kerrick or to soothe your aching muscles from all the smiling. Finally, when it seems as if you have been congratulated by everyone, Din is there taking your hand and leading you away from the celebrating crowd. He takes you into some sleeping quarters on the ship. It’s a beautiful room, but you don’t spend time looking around because all you want to see is him.

“Cyar’ika, I’m so sorry,” Din apologizes again, still feeling guilty over not being able to protect you from Kerrick.

“Oh Din, no, you don’t have to apologize,” you tell him, “I’m the one who needs to apologize to you. I said those hateful things--”

Din interrupts, “No, cyar’ika, I know you didn’t mean them, you- you just did what you had to do.”

“Yes, I only said those awful things to save you and the child. Oh my goodness, the child! Is he alright? Where is he?” You realize that you didn’t see him with everyone.

“He’s safe, he’s at the Covert being looked after by your friend with the pink armor,” Din reassures you.

“Thank the Maker! I was so worried for you both when I was forced to leave with Kerrick,” you say.

Din looks away for a moment when you say that, when he looks back at you, he says your name softly, almost like he’s trying to ask you a question but can’t find the words.

“Din?” You say his name prompting him to speak to you, to tell you his thoughts.

“Did he force you to… did he force himself on you?” Din asks and you can hear the horror in his voice at this possibility.

“No, no Din, he didn’t,” you assure him, “I was forced to kiss him a few times, but that was it. I lied and told him I was having my period and that was enough to keep him away from me. He always was disgusted by menstrual cycles.”

Din lets out a huge sigh of relief and pulls you close to him, as he tells you, “I’m so thankful to hear that, the thoughts I’ve had about what he wanted from you, about what he might have made you do… it was making me sick and I just, I--”

“I understand, my darling, but you don’t have to worry any more, I’m fine and we never have to worry about him again. You made sure of that for me.” Your voice cracks as you speak and you reach up to pull his helmet down to you to meet your forehead in a Keldabe kiss. Tears stream down your cheeks as you hold him to you. Din pulls off his gloves so he can reach up with his bare hands to cradle your face. You listen to his breathing and you can’t be fully certain, but you think he may be crying a little too.

“I love you so much, cyar’ika, I never want to let you go,” Din’s voice is thick with emotion.

“I love you too, Din, and I want to be with you, I want to go wherever you go,” you tell him.

“That’s all I want too, my love,” Din responds, “And I want to show you how much I want that.” He brings his hands up to cup yours, holding them to his helmet, and then he lifts his head away from yours. Gently he starts to lift your hands up, tugging his helmet with them. You gasp and try to let go of his helmet, but his hands are keeping yours in place.

“Din, wait, what are you doing?” you ask breathlessly. His hands stop moving at your question.

“Please, cyar’ika, please, I want you to see me, all of me,” he implores you.

“But your creed?” You’re so worried he might regret this that it’s overshadowing your desire to see his face.

“I believe it will still be intact, I trust you,” Din says steadily and although you don’t entirely understand what he means by that, his calm and certain tone make you trust him. You nod to him and he begins lifting his hands once again, and this time you help him.

Slowly you see his face being revealed to you starting with a dark stubbly beard, then full lips and a mustache followed by a stately nose and high cheekbones, next, warm brown eyes slightly wet with tears and framed by thick eyebrows, and then finally, a forehead somewhat obscured by wayward dark brown curls. Din is the most handsome and beautiful man you have ever seen. You’re afraid to blink or breathe because it feels as if a spell may be broken and he’ll disappear if you dare to move. It isn’t until you hear him saying your name, repeating it in fact, that you remember how to speak again.

“You have the most wonderful face, my love,” you tell him, your voice filled with awe.

Din smiles at you, a little upturn of the corners of his mouth before he tells you, “That’s impossible; I’m looking at the most wonderful face right now.”

And then he can’t wait any longer, he leans forward to kiss you. Din kisses you like you’ve been apart for decades, putting everything that he is, everything that he feels for you into his kisses. His arms wrap around you and hold you against his chest so firmly that he swears he can feel your heart beating against him. He feels a wetness on his cheeks and he thinks for a moment that you must be crying and then he realizes the tears he feels are his own. He breaks the kiss only because he knows he needs to tell you again that he loves you. As you repeat his words back to him, you reach up to kiss away the tears on his cheeks and Din thinks he’s never felt anything so tender and so pure in his entire life.

“Cyar’ika, before we get carried away, there’s something else I want to say to you,” Din says, stilling your actions.

“You can tell me anything, Din,” you reply, smiling softly at him.

“What you said earlier about wanting to go wherever I go, that is exactly what I want, for you to be by my side for the rest of my life, to share that life with me… cyar’ika, will you be my wife?” Din’s voice is emotional as he asks you to marry him and the look of love on his face is the most beautiful vision you’ve ever seen.

“Yes, Din, yes, I will,” you reply and you pull him close so you can kiss him again. He holds you as if you are the most precious creature in the entire galaxy, and when he breaks your kiss, it’s only so he can tell you how much he loves you.

“Also, that means you can have this,” he tells you as he places a soft pouch in your hands. It’s like the pouch that held your heart pendant and when you open it you see a new beskar pendant, in the shape of a mudhorn, the symbol of Din’s clan.

You unhook your necklace so that you can add this new pendant to it. Din helps you as both of your hands are shaking with emotion and excitement. When the mudhorn is resting right next to the heart pendant it looks so exactly right, a perfect combination. Din rehooks the clasp of the chain around your neck and you can see his eyes shining as he takes in the sight of the symbols of his love, his clan, and his creed on you. Before you know it, he’s kissing you again, and you can feel the power of his love in each kiss. You return his heated kisses passionately, wanting to show him how much you love him and how eager you are to be his wife.

“I love you, Din, with all my heart, and I can’t wait to become your wife,” you tell him as he moves from your lips to kiss your neck, “And for you to be my husband.”

Din nips at your neck when you say the word husband. He tells you, “Mmmm, yes, say that again.”

“I’m going to be your wife, and you’ll be my husband, my riduur,” you repeat in a husky voice.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Din says before he sucks a mark onto your neck and then returns to your lips to kiss you hard, making you throb between your legs. When he pulls away finally, you feel almost lightheaded from the force of his kisses.

Din continues to trail kisses down your neck and chest as he tugs at the fastenings of the dress you’re wearing, eventually pulling it open so he can shove it down your shoulders. He barely gets the top of the dress down around your waist before he’s yanking your bra out of the way so he can kiss and caress your breasts. His hands grope down your body as he buries his head into your chest and when he shoves his hand under your skirt and works his fingers into your panties, he’s relieved to feel how hot and wet you already are for him. He tries to slow his movements, but he feels frantic for you, overwhelmed with need. His fingers circle your clit quickly causing you to moan out his name.

“Din, I can’t take too much teasing, please, I need you too much… I need you now,” you plead with him sounding desperate. You mewl as he pumps two fingers deep into you, pitching your desire into overdrive. It’s been too long since you’ve been together and your yearning for him is staggering. You manage to kick off your shoes and start yanking at your dress in an attempt to get it off your body.

“I need you too, cyare, so badly,” Din sounds equally as desperate.

He quickly helps you finish removing your clothing before opening his trousers and pulling out his weeping cock. You can see how much he wants you as his cock is rock hard and his tip is flushed dark. He’s still wearing the rest of his clothing and armor, but neither of you can bear to wait for him to take the time to remove it. He sits on the bed and pulls you to sit on his lap, straddling him. You start to sink down on his steely length but Din is too eager to wait and he meets your downward motion with a swift and powerful thrust upward, pushing into you all at once.

“DIN! Yes!” You cry out at the exquisite sensation of instantly being filled by him. You grapple at the hard, unforgiving beskar of his cuirass as you rise and fall against him. One of Din’s large hands is at your back, supporting you and holding you to him as he fucks up into you, while the other toys with your clit roughly. You are both moving fast, too caught up in each other to take your time.

“Din, you feel… so good… I missed you… soooo much,” you tell him, panting with the effort.

“My cyar’ika… I missed you too… missed being inside you… like this,” Din gasps out between thrusts.

For the first time, you look into his eyes as you feel him moving inside you, and you feel more connected to him than ever before. You watch every small expression that he makes, simply delighted as you see his desire and love for you play over his face. Wanting to see more, to have the chance to keep looking at his face causes you to draw out your movements, slowing your pace slightly.

Din also loves being able to see your entire face uncovered with his own eyes. The look of absolute love in your eyes is incredible to him and he feels a sense of belonging that he has never felt before. It is not the same feeling of possessiveness that he’s had in the past, instead it is the feeling that he belongs with you, that you belong together.

“Please, cyar’ika, please say you’ll stay with me, always,” Din begs you, despite knowing that you will, he needs the reassurance now.

“I will, I promise, I will, Din, always,” you vow to him, but then you need your own guarantee, “Promise me you’ll never leave me, Din.”

“Oh mesh’la, my love, ner kar’ta,” terms of endearment spill from Din’s lips as he tries to tell you how he’s feeling, “I’ll always stay with you, I’ll never leave you, never.”

“Din, my love, my Din, I love you,” you manage to respond and you feel your inner muscles squeeze him tight as the sensations of love and pleasure swirl around you. Between the feel of him shredding up against pure bliss inside you at a relentless pace and the sheer ecstasy of his fingers on your clit, your climax is rushing towards you.

“Look at me, cyar’ika,” Din commands as your eyes had been fluttering shut. You snap them back open and look deep into his eyes. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

You cry out as you hear Din tell you he loves you in Mando’a and you careen over the edge, falling into his body as you are overcome with pleasure. He wraps his arms around you tightly as he manages to thrust up into you a few more times before exploding within you and shouting your name.

“I love you, Din, I promise I’ll love you forever,” you tell him as you pepper his face with kisses.

“I love you too, forever,” Din repeats back to you before he kisses you soundly. His arms encircle you as he holds you close. His heart swells with joy and Din knows he has found true happiness with you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading!! Again, I appreciate your patience with me in getting this chapter out. I have decided there will be just one more chapter for this series, Chapter 10: The Mando Who Loved Me. 

Mando’a definitions:

aliit = family

vod = brother

riduur = spouse

mesh’la = beautiful

ner kar’ta = my heart

ni kar’tayl gar darasuum = I love you

Tag list: @niiight-dreamerrrr @grogusmum @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @rexsjaigeyes @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @beskarprincessjenny @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @hotsauceonabiscuit @asta-lily​ @onabouteverything​

[lady-of-the-lotus]

The Undershirt

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty - Suitang - 2k - G - first kiss fluff - AO3!

..............

“Hand it over,” orders Sui Zhou.

Tang Fan pouts, a pout somewhere in between his “I’m hungry, feed me” face and “Dinner was an hour late, I almost died” face.

“I ran out of clean ones,” he says when Sui Zhou holds out his hand, “and I had to pack in a hurry—”

“I had only three rules. Rule one: Don’t mess up my house again—”

“Alright, alright,” Tang Fan says before Sui Zhou can lecture him. Leave it to Sui Zhou to take an inventory of his clothes as soon as he got home, all because Tang Fan had left his things just the tiniest bit mussed! “Take your stupid undershirt back; it’s too big on me anyway.”

Sui Zhou turns back to his cooking as Tang Fan slips halfway out of his robe, making a face as he removes the undershirt. Missing Sui Zhou, Tang Fan had pilfered the distinctive draped-neck garment from his things after he’d left on his ill-fated “business trip.” “Happy now, Sui-baihu?”

Sui Zhou glances up briefly from the soup, eyes flickering over Tang Fan. Sui Zhou’s handsome features are soft in the warm yellow candlelight and the orange glow of the stove. “Better.”

Tang Fan stands there with his robes draped around his waist, chest exposed, shyly holding the undershirt in front of him, watching Sui Zhou’s strong, sure hands as they slice vegetables and meat and then, once dinner is cooking, assemble the dessert, grinding the sesame seeds and working the delicate mixture.

A swell of fondness fills Tang Fan’s chest as Sui Zhou puts the finishing touches on the little sesame cakes, decorating each with a pink circle of honeyed flower petals.

"Aren't you going to put the undershirt back on?” Tang Fan asks as Sui Zhou puts the last petal in place. Most of the shyness has worn off as Sui Zhou tells him about how he developed the recipe, his deep voice low and soothing as it fills the cozy little kitchen.

"Later." Sui Zhou glances up, eyes flickering once again over Tang Fan's bare chest before returning to his work. Perhaps it's the warm glow of the candle, but Tang Fan imagines there's a hint of color in Sui Zhou's cheeks.

Too late it occurs to him that he should have at least put his robes back up over his arms and chest. Jiejie had driven it through his head that to wear robes without an undershirt was uncouth and a sure way to get the robes dirty, but…

"Do you still have your prison clothes? That was a good look." The question escapes Tang Fan before he can censor himself. "I mean—your uniform is good too—I mean, your normal undershirt is better than that prison one.” He dangles the undershirt from his fingertips, as if this question was just an extension of him returning Sui Zhou's undershirt. “I mean...”

Sui Zhou cranes his neck away slightly, as if trying to avoid looking at Tang Fan but probably only checking to make sure Dong'er isn't nearby to see Tang Fan in this state of undress. "Be careful with that. You're going to set the kitchen on fire again."

Grinning, and more at ease now that the conversation is back in familiar teasing territory, Tang Fan sidles closer to Sui Zhou, waving his shirt near where the mutton soup is bubbling on the fire. "Oh, that was on purpose. You know, to get you to free Dong'er—"

Sui Zhou gives him that look of his, the one that appears completely expressionless but in fact contains a half dozen emotions from all corners of the spectrum. "You set fire to my house on purpose?"

"Well—"

"What about the time you fell asleep with the candle beside your bed, and the time you tripped and fell holding the lamp—"

"Fine, it wasn't on purpose. But the bad food was! I can cook, if I wanted to—”

"You can't cook."

Tang Fan inches closer. He's not quite sure why. "You could teach me."

Sui Zhou frowns slightly. "You step foot in my kitchen without me here, and you sleep outside with the sheep."

Tang Fan wrinkles his nose. "The sheep has a name ."

"Li Qing?"

Tang Fan almost drops the undershirt on the stove. "How did you—”

Sui Zhou turns away again as if to hide a grin. Li Qing is the main character of Tang Fan's magnum opus, My Sexy Lady .

"You didn't read it!" Tang Fan leans forward in consternation. He's not sure why he's so thrown. It's a brilliantly-written work, like all of his books, but somehow to have Sui Zhou privy to—to all that — "Wang Zhi told you or something—wait till I get my hands on him!"

Sui Zhou is definitely holding back a grin. "I liked the part where the ‘sexy lady’ sets fire to Shi Yang's house after she thinks he stole her necklace."

"That never happened! She never did anything half so crazy!”

Sui Zhou is no longer holding back his smile. "Maybe in the sequel, My Sexy Wife."

Tang Fan laughs out loud. People who don't know Sui Zhou think he's stiff and cold and completely humorless, but Tang Fan knows better. It's subtle, but Sui Zhou's sense of humor and appreciation of the outlandish is definitely there. If it weren't, Tang Fan doesn't think he would get along with him as well as he does.

Which, when he stops to think of it, is rather odd. His getting along with him so well, not the sense of humor. Despite having lived in the capital for years, and having many acquaintances, Tang Fan has few close friends. As he knows he’s a delight to be around, never complaining and generously standing people meals, he can only assume it’s a failing in other people.

A failing that Sui Zhou evidently doesn’t have, to appreciate Tang Fan’s virtues, both hidden and overt.

It’s not that Tang Fan annoys people. That can’t possibly be it, no matter what Jiejie says. But he can’t deny that not everyone appreciates him, and that hurts, sometimes.

A sudden thought, and Tang Fan abruptly stops laughing. Why did Sui Zhou pick that example? Surely it was just a joke after what they'd been talking about—he knows it is—but of all characters to pick—

Tang Fan had based a lot of Li Qing on himself. Like him, she's a beautiful genius often put-upon by those who fail to appreciate her properly, driven to do the right thing at whatever costs, someone who appreciates fine food and faces the world with a smile no matter how she's feeling.

No. Sui Zhou is just teasing him, as usual. That's it. He probably hadn't even finished the book...

He wants to ask Sui Zhou if he liked the book, but despite it being his best-selling work, he’s hesitant to ask. Sui Zhou is nothing if not honest, and what if he didn’t truly like it?

Tang Fan resolves to start work on a sequel that night. Perhaps Shi Yang could enter the imperial guards and, together with Li Qing, solve a series of increasingly exciting mysteries that pit them against the world. Back to back, they’ll chase justice and stand strong against the winds of—

“Here.” Sui Zhou slides the plate of sesame cakes towards him. “For coming to get me.”

Tang Fan grins. “You mean rescuing you.”

Sui Zhou turns back to the soup. "Just eat them."

Tang Fan inches even closer, more to annoy Sui Zhou than anything else, he thinks. "Go on, say it. I rescued you."

"Keep this up, and you're getting kicked out of my kitchen."

" Your kitchen? Why is it—oh, right. It's your house." Tang Fan looks down at the sesame cakes. It's almost a shame to eat them, they’re so beautifully decorated. "Am I allowed to eat them before dinner, or are you going to get all sulky?"

Sui Zhou gives Tang Fan a look as if to say, I'm not the childish one here, and reaches for a sesame cake just as Tang Fan does. Their fingers brush, and tingling current runs up Tang Fan's arm. Startled, he jerks away, dropping Sui Zhou's undershirt on the stove.

Spattered in mutton grease, it erupts in a column of flame.

"Augh!" Panicking, Tang Fan drops the shirt in the soup. “Put it out! Put it out!”

Sui Zhou snatches the shirt out of the soup and drops it in a pot of water. "What did I just tell you about setting my house on fire?"

Smiling weakly, Tang Fan begins sidling in the opposite direction as Sui Zhou comes closer. "You startled me! You grabbed at me just as I was trying to eat, I haven't eaten all day, I was hungry, you forced me to take a cake—"

He bumps up against the wall. Sui Zou leans over him, one arm framing him, his face a mix of exasperation and—and fondness, Tang Fan wants to believe, though it’s hard to when there's a charred, soup-soaked undershirt not five feet away.

"It wasn't my fault I burned your shirt!" Tang Fan continues bravely. Whining has always worked on Old Pei and Jiejie, though he still hasn’t quite learned the exact point Jiejie’s indulgence tips over into slapping-him-across-the-face territory, hence all the slapping. "Tired after weeks of traveling, traveling across half the empire to rescue you, if you recall, weeks of seasickness and danger and unpadded saddles and not being able to finish my rice noodles in the one good restaurant between here and I thought you were dead at one point, and that was almost as bad as the noo—"

Sui Zhou bends forward and kisses him.

Tang Fan goes rigid.

Did—did Sui Zhou just—

Sui Zhou kisses him again, as if to clear up any doubts.

"Well, that's one way to stop you from talking," he says.

Tang Fan's heart is beating like a war drum, but strangely enough it's not from nerves. There's a smile on Sui Zhou's lips (rather full lips, he notices. Until now he's been too distracted by his arms and shoulders and—well—all the rest of him, most likely), and there's definite fondness in his eyes.

"I once talked through an acupuncture session for a sore tooth," Tang Fan says boastingly, more to calm his nerves than anything else.

He’s never been kissed before. Or rather, being a man, perhaps it was more appropriate to say he’d never kissed anyone before.

He’d always changed the subject when Old Pei brought it up. The local girls had never interested him, and he’d never though there were other— options—

"You can ask him at dinner,” he blusters on, pulse fluttering. “I was probably able to give him some good tips and pointers, I once read a book on acupuncture that—"

Sui Zhou shuts him up again, cupping his face in his hand. It smells of honey and spice, the callused palm somehow soft against Tang Fan's cheek, his long fingers curling around the back of his neck as he kisses him.

Tang Fan is suddenly very aware that he's half-naked, but it's somehow nice being around Sui Zhou like that, not uncomfortable as he's sometimes felt in the past around others. Natural, despite his first-time nerves.

He suddenly realizes that Sui Zhou is looking down at him as if waiting for him to say or do something.

"Am I allowed to speak again?" Tang Fan asks.

Sui Zhou half-smiles. "Nothing could stop you from talking for very long."

"I want another one of your undershirts, but a black one this time. I saw one tucked away in the chest, but Dong'er said it wouldn’t match my robes, though what does she know? I want the black undershirt, and—"

"Black to hide any future char?"

"This was an accident! You startled me!"

"The one you were wearing today is mostly black now, after you set it on fi—"

Tang Fan kisses him.

"You're right," he says, grinning at Sui Zhou, who seems to have forgotten how to speak. "That does work."

*

AO3

[sciencespies]

14 Fun Facts About Bright Pink Animals

https://sciencespies.com/nature/14-fun-facts-about-bright-pink-animals/

14 Fun Facts About Bright Pink Animals

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Feb. 12, 2021, 6:08 p.m.

Each February, the color pink is a bold sign that the season of love has arrived. Now filled with blush-colored Hallmark cards featuring cute puppies and kittens, Valentine’s Day has evolved in stark contrast to its origins. The three-day Roman feast allegedly marked by animal sacrifice is certainly more R-rated by today’s standards.

Thankfully, people simply purchase fluffy, rose-tinted Teddy bears for their special someone instead these days. You’d be hard-pressed to find a rosy grizzly in nature, however, so why not celebrate this Valentine’s Day by learning about 14 animals who rock both soft and vibrant shades of pink, naturally.

Axolotls Have Hot Pink External Gills

An axolotl showing off the bones in its feet and the blood vessels in its gills

(Seánín Óg via Flickr under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 )

Captive axolotls are known for their pale pink-white bodies and flashy, spiky, hot-pink hair-do—that isn’t hair at all. The crown of feathery prongs emerging from the base of their head are actually its gills. Axolotls have four genes that influence their color. Those with a white-pink body rely on a recessive gene that during embryonic development prevents pigment cells meant to darken their body from taking effect.

But rose-hued axolotls won’t pop up in the wilderness. For starters, wild axolotls are an olive-brown color, and they only live in waterways in Xochimilco, Mexico. These critters are critically endangered but persist in captivity as research subjects or unique pets.

Rare Fuschia Oblong-Winged Katydids Stand Out in a Crowd

A pink oblong-winged katydid failing to blend in at the Middlefork Savanna Forest Preserve in Lake County, Illinois

(JanetandPhil via Flickr under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 )

Katydids have a reputation for being brown or green, but some species shatter the stereotype with a bright pink flair. Oblong-winged katydids (Amblycorypha oblongifolia) are one of those species. Breeding experiments suggest this discrepancy isn’t due to a genetic mutation. When a green individual mates with a pink one, they make blush-colored children half the time. So why are fewer of these pink katydids seen?

Blame the power of camouflage, which gives green katydids that resemble leaves a survival advantage in most areas. In contrast, easy-to-spot pink individuals are picked off by predators.

Beware of the ‘Purple People Eater’

A mauve stinger traveling underwater

(Fco. Javier Gallardo Álvarez via Flickr under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 )

The mauve stinger jellyfish (Pelagia noctiluca) proudly displays brightly pigmented hues, dazzling the beholder with purple, yellow and even pink varieties. P. noctiluca roughly translates to “night light” in German, named for its ability to leave a glowing trail of bioluminescent mucous behind if frightened. They have stout bell- or umbrella-shaped “bodies” measuring between 3 to 12 centimeters, with long tentacles dangling below.

In Australia, these jellies have a quite shocking nickname: the purple people eater—and for good reason. They’re covered with stinging cells called nematocysts that are able to paralyze their small prey, including planktonic crustaceans and fish larvae, and give humans localized pain.

Amazon River Dolphins May Get Pinker From Battle

An Amazon river dolphin spyhopping in the wild

(Sylvain CORDIER via Getty Images)

When Amazon river dolphins (Inia geoffrensis) are young, they pretty much look almost like the average bottlenose dolphin one might see at a zoo with a few key differences. They are born with sleek, gray bodies, but feature long, thin snouts and ridge-like humps where a typical dorsal fin would be. But when they grow up, they become even more distinct from good ol’ Flipper.

Some adults in the species develop a gorgeous blush-pink color, hence their nickname “pink river dolphin.” How exactly these animals, also called boto, go from gray in their youth to pink when they mature is unknown. But there is one rather brutally compelling theory: they beat each other up.

Males, who are bigger and more aggressive, tend to also look pinker than the females. It’s possible, then, that their color comes from their scar tissue that appears as they heal from battle. Another idea is that the adults become pink to camouflage themselves in murky red waters to hide from prey. Considering they’re an endangered species, impacted by human hunting and development, that kind of adaptation might be crucial for their survival.

The Rose-Feathered Galah Will Make You Say Ooh-La-La

A pink galah on a tree branch in Australia

(Alexandre Roux via Flickr under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 )

Cockatoos might have the most stylish hairdos in the animal kingdom, and the pink galah’s short, white-feathered crest is among them. Like other parrots, the galah’s raspberry-colored neck, breast and underwings are caused by psittacofulvins, pigmented molecules in their feathers produce color absorbed from light. These molecules are unique to parrots, whereas most other birds get their colored plumage from light-absorbing carotenoid pigments found in their diet, not within their feathers.

Those searching for wild galahs (Eolophus roseicapilla) will need to travel to two locations in Oceania: mainland Australia or a small region in northern New Zealand.

This Super-Pink Sea Slug Eats Tiny Rose-Colored Creatures

The pink design of a Hopkins’ rose nudibranch signals poisonous danger to predators.

(Robin Agarwal (ANudibranchMom on iNaturalist) via Flickr under CC BY-NC 2.0 )

Despite looking more like sea anemone or some kind of squishy, spiky stress ball, Hopkins’ rose nudibranch (Okenia rosacea) is actually a sea slug—and please don’t give it a squeeze. Aptly named, this North America-based, one-inch-long sea critter is as impossibly pink, save for its white-tipped papillae. Nudibranches use their colors to warn predators that making a meal out of them would lead to toxic consequences.

Unlike other sea slugs, nudibranchs feast on certain creatures, and the Hopkins’ rose variety gets its beautiful color from its choice prey: tiny pink bryozoans, or moss animals. Bryozoans are colonial animals, meaning they live in colonies where individual organisms connect in units called zooids. These Lego-like animals are no match for the Hopkins’ rose nudibranch, however, which has hook-like teeth made to pierce through bryozoans and gobble up the pink delicacies.

This Worm-Like Creature Is Actually a Lizard

A Mexican mole lizard in Laz Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico

(marlin harms via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY 2.0 )

Despite its blush-colored, noodle-like frame, the Mexican mole lizard (Bipes biporus) is neither a worm nor a snake. Instead of four legs, however, the reptile has just two tiny forelegs for digging while the rest of its body slithers along. Rarely emerging from the ground, the strange-looking lizard’s subterranean lifestyle causes it to have low levels of color-boosting melanin. This behavior leads to its baby-pink appearance, though it turns white as it matures.

The Mexican mole lizard belongs to a group of legless lizards called amphisbaenians. Of course, since it actually does have limbs, it also resides within a special three-species family called Bipedidae that have front legs, unlike the other amphisbaenians. Native to Baja California Peninsula in Mexico, these critters are hitched to a rather unsavory, baseless myth among locals. Some folks fear the lizard will crawl into certain exposed areas while relieving themselves.

A Fluffy, White Bat With Rosé-Toned Wings

A Northern Ghost Bat hanging from a palm leaf

(Michael Autumn via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY-SA 4.0 )

Not to be mistaken for cotton ball hanging from the rafters, the northern ghost bat (Diclidurus albus) lives up to its name thanks to the soft white fur it sports. Once in the air, however, its translucent pink wing membranes, stretching from the forelimbs to the hindlimbs, are unmistakable. This coloring deviates from the darker membranes more commonly found among bats, helping the ghost bat stand out among its batty relatives.

Where the northern ghost bat’s name deceives is its geographical range. Not found in most of the Northern Hemisphere, instead, their habitat range includes Mexico, Central America, most of Brazil, parts of South America and across some Caribbean islands, including Trinidad.

The species is solitude save for breeding season, which happens to occur in January and February—just in time for the season of love, when members in groups as big as four step outside their bubbles to cozy up together during the day.

This Coral-Colored Seahorse Matches Its Home

A Bargibant’s pygmy seahorse trying to blend in with its surroundings

(Nature Picture Library / Alamy Stock Photo)

Measuring just under an inch when fully grown, the Bargibant’s pygmy seahorse (Hippocampus bargibanti) doesn’t just rely on its small stature to hide from predators. They instead go one step further: matching their environment with the precision of an expert designer.

The species lives mainly in the Coral Triangle in the western Pacific Ocean, where they reside and feed on gorgonian corals. The color of the pygmy seahorses depends on the coral they live in during their youth. To match their vibrant coral home, they’re usually an orange-yellow mix or a red-pink fusion, with bumps called tubercles aiding their camouflage. It’s unclear yet if the seahorses can change colors if they take up residence elsewhere, or if their coloration lasts a lifetime.

A Mantis Disguised as a Beautiful Blossom

A female orchid mantis, which looks like a generic flower in its environment

(Frupus via Flickr under CC BY-NC 2.0 )

The orchid mantis (Hymenopus coronatus), found in Southeast Asia and Indonesia, uses its white body with ombré hints of pink and yellow hues to draw in other insects for a feast. This appearance, particularly stunning in their juvenile forms, is an example of aggressive mimicry where an animal blends in with its environment to catch prey off guard. However, the orchid mantis doesn’t actually look like any particular flower in its environment.

Rather, the orchid mantis’s unspecific nature is actually a boon. Instead of just attracting specific types of pollinators for the kill, the mantis keeps its menu wide open by appearing generic enough to bring in many unsuspecting insects. It doesn’t need to saddle-up next to blossoms to get the job done either; standing out in the open masquerading as a gorgeous orchid is enough to pull off the charade.

This Dashing Dragonfly Is No Damselfly in Distress

A vibrant male Roseate Skimmer dragonfly at Bob Jones Park in Southlake, Texas

(TexasEagle via Flickr under CC BY-NC 2.0 )

The roseate skimmer is an aptly named dragonfly—that is, for the males. As an animal that exhibits sexual dimorphism, the species’ mature males and females appear noticeably different from each other. The females are decidedly less colorful, taking on a brownish hue. The males, however, show off pink-purple bodies when they reach adulthood. A young male roseate skimmer (Orthemis ferruginea) is certainly a mama’s boy, having a similar appearance to the females before his own maturation.

The species can be found throughout the southern United States, from California to Florida. It also is located in Hawaii and parts of the Midwest and East Coast, Mexico, and Central America. Roseate skimmers prefer inland bodies of water where vegetation is plentiful, and decide to put their eggs even in tiny pools so long as the plants they desire to eat are around.

The Shocking Pink Dragon Millipede Lives Up to Its Name

A shocking pink dragon millipede crawls through its environment, sharply contrasting the drab background.

(Oliver Thompson-Holmes via Alamy Stock Photo)

While the shocking pink dragon millipede (Desmoxytes purpurosea) is considerably smaller than dragons of lore, they are just as intimidating to their enemies as their fire-breathing namesakes. Resembling hot pink limousines of the insect world, the three-centimeter-long millipedes’ vibrant color serves as a warning to any would-be predator: stay away. They have glands that excrete hydrogen cyanide, a highly toxic acid. This strategy—using appearance to signal danger—is known as aposematic coloration.

Aposematic coloration is thought to be the reason for the pink dragon millipede’s coloring because it eats out in the open during the day, perhaps confident that its stunning appearance will dissuade other animals from eating it. The pink dragon millipede resides in northern Thailand. It is also one of the biggest in its genus. In total over 30 different dragon millipedes exist, all around Southeast Asia in countries such as China and Vietnam.

Bubble-Gum Pink Elephant Hawk Moths Live Are Global Sensations

The small elephant hawk moth trades size in exchange for color

(Frank Vassen via Flickr under CC BY 2.0 )

Both the small elephant hawk moth (Deilephila porcellus) and its larger cousin (Deilephila elpenor) rock beautiful bubblegum pink wings outlined in olive set the small elephant hawk moth (Deilephila porcellus). Both insects start out as gray, dusty-looking caterpillars that slightly resemble elephant trunks, hence the name elephant hawk moth. D. elpenor has a gorgeous pink stripe on its abdomen that differentiates it from its smaller relative.

These moths can be found in North Africa, Europe, and even as far east as China. Their location can even impact how vibrant their colors are. Moths in drier and warmer parts of Asia show less, or even an absence of, pink coloring, while moths in northwest Africa and around the Mediterranean sea have brighter colors.

Pale-Pink Naked Mole-Rats Are Resilient Feats of Nature

A naked mole-rat at the National Zoo

(Mehgan Murphy / Smithsonian National Zoo via Flickr under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 )

As one of the most unique, and perhaps off-putting, mammals in the world, the naked mole-rat (Heterocephalus glaber) is interesting in more ways than one. They are mostly hairless, resulting in a wrinkly light-pink or gray-pink appearance. However, the practically-blind animals have whiskers on their faces and tails to sense their surroundings and hairs on their feet to help them move soil around in their East African underground environment. Naked mole-rats are also the longest-living rodents, with an estimated life expectancy of up to 30 years. They’re immune to cancer, and their risk of death doesn’t increase with old age, baffling scientists. They can even survive better than us humans, as they are able to withstand nearly 20 minutes without oxygen.

Because naked mole-rats cannot regulate their own internal temperature, they get warm using shallow tunnels and huddling together. That intimate contact is also the most action a naked mole-rat will usually get: unlike most other mammals, they are a eusocial species, meaning one queen mates with several males while the rest of the community helps raise the children. Such togetherness will quickly cease if the queen is gone, however. Several females may engage in deadly battle in order for the right to become the colony’s new leader.

This Magenta-Speckled Snake Slithers With Style

Liophidium pattoni slithers along with its pink-striped scales.

(Bernard DUPONT via Flickr under CC BY-SA 2.0 )

Researched for the first time in 2010, Liophidium pattoni may lack a common name, but it certainly has no shortage of pizzazz. The slithering creature is striped with hot pink speckles against black scales along its back with a bright yellow belly. The underside of the tip of its tail looks as if it was dipped in magenta, almost as if the snake is cosplaying as a mermaid, minus the fin.

The species can be found in northeast Madagascar and is just one of two kinds of snakes with bright body coloration among more than 90 species known to science on the island. Because it is not believed to be aggressive nor dangerously poisonous, its pink pattern may be an indicator of bad taste or even a bluff that it’s harmful to predators. Essentially, it could be an example of aposematic coloration without actual danger lurking behind.

#Nature

[barsformars]

Lover

//

g - fluff

p - husband!yunho × fem!reader

w.c - 773

t.w - none

c - just newlyweds moving into their new home and sharing an intimate moment while watching the sunset 🥰

a.n - this was such a sweet one that while writing i wondered if ill ever find a love like that lmao, why am i making myself sad :")

t.l - @closer-stars @jeongyunhoed

//

playlist 🌇

- lover by taylor swift

"Here are the keys, Mrs Jeong."

You were still not used to this new honorific, having gotten married to your best friend and your lover, Yunho, only slightly more than a week ago. The two of you had just came back from your honeymoon vacation and it was now time for the next exciting thing. Today was the official handover of the keys to your new place. It was not a new place to stay, but rather a new place to settle down and start a family; it was not a new shared apartment, but a new home. Everything has turned from "me and you" to "us", and that really was the biggest change as the both of you progressed into the married life.

Yunho's grip on your waist tightens with excitement as you received the keys from the previous owners. As much as he would miss your previous shared apartment, he could barely wait to share new memories and milestones with you in this new home. One with a process that the both of you participated actively in from going househunting and settling with it, to personally designing the interior to really bring out you and Yunho's personality, which you weren't allowed to do in your previous place since it was rented.

"I'm so happy," Yunho said with a big smile that wouldn't seem to go down as he looked around the apartment. He has seen it countless of times while overseeing the renovations but somehow, today, it feels different. You rest your head against his arm, yours still interlinked with his, as the two of you stepped out to the balcony.

The sky was a burning orange right at the horizon, the colour fading to shades of pink further up and painting the clouds till they resembled cotton candy, before turning into a beautiful purple right at the top. Passionate, fluttering and peaceful; it was a mirror of the relationship between the two newlyweds watching it with each other in each other's arms.

You begun humming to the song that the both of you had your first dance to at the wedding, the melody still stuck in your head from the sheer amount of times you had heard it while preparing for the big day. And while the routine was still fresh in your muscle memory from having practiced it for weeks, there was no space at the balcony to do it. Hence, you settled for just swaying, your hands travelling up to Yunho's shoulders. A small chuckle escapes from Yunho's lips as his hands go down to your hips, leaving it to you to lead the 'dance' by setting the pace. If he had any words more beautiful and intimate than this moment right now, he would say it, but for now, he just hums along with you.

I love you, you feel it when Yunho presses his forehead against yours. He would keep his eyes open to stare at your beauty but he realises that even with them closed, he could still see you, the corner of his lips quirking up to laugh at himself quietly. He had suddenly recalled the very first meeting between the two of you, it was during a sunset as well. Yunho still remembers the way your eyes seemed to hold the setting sun in them, how it felt like you weren't gazing out into the open sky but instead, projecting that breathtaking image out into the world. He pulls away for a bit to take a look at you now, and in your eyes he could still see the sunset, but this time he was in there too, in the center of the masterpiece. The still point of the everchanging setting sky he will be, for a very very long time.

I love you, you feel another exchange of those three words when an affectionate smile blooms on the both of your faces. It was the very same smile that you had been greeted with when you turned away from the sky that day, and you have never seen Yunho giving it away to another person that wasn't you. He says he doesn't know what you're talking about, he thinks it's just an ordinary smile. It's endearing.

"What?" Yunho asks, his smile growing. It's something he always says when you look at him like that. Like what? You don't know either.

"Nothing," you replied, "just thinking about how lucky I am to be able to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Same here, Mrs Jeong."

[bellisperennis0]

White Violet

Word Count: 1,934

Warnings: A couple ‘F’ Bombs??

A/N: Stumbled across the above prompt and couldn’t get it out of my head, so I decided to throw together a little something. Not the best, but appreciate you taking the time to read. GIF credit @mayans-mc​  Enjoy! ❤️

--------------------

You had just opened your Flower Shop for the day, when you heard the bell above the door ring, indicating someone had entered your shop.

“Feel free to look around, I’ll be right out.” You yell at the customer from the back room. Walking into the main room of the shop you were taken back to see a tall man in a Mayan MC kutte standing in the middle of your shop.

“I’m Y/N. Welcome to my Flower shop.” You say as you approach him.

When he hears you approaching he turns to your direction, giving you a contagious smile. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips lifted upward, the way his dimples crinkled, and the warm glow his smile gave, almost like a ray of sunshine.

“Ezekiel. EZ.” He says still smiling. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“How can I help you, Ezekiel?” you ask as you make your way back to the counter, him not too far behind you.

“This might be a crazy request, but how do you passive-aggressively say ‘Fuck You’ in flowers?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, more at how nervous he seemed at asking rather than at his request. Although you have never personally made one of these bouquets, you have heard of the so-called ‘Fuck You” flowers.

“Such the gentleman. Probably one of the nicest ways to say it.” You teased him as you reach under the counter for a basket. Clenching the sides of his kutte he just gives you a shrug.

“Well, EZ. Let’s get your flowers.” You tell him, handing him the basket, as you begin moving around your shop as he shadowed you around.

“Alright, soo first off a couple of Horseshoe Geraniums - Symbolic of stupidity or idiocy.” You say with a shrug. EZ chuckled a little bit but nodded in understanding.

“Foxglove for insecurity.” you followed, grabbing a couple flowers. This time, he let out quite the laugh, you couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds about right.” He tells you.

“So, next we have Meadowsweet for uselessness. I think these Yellow Carnations are really going to bring it all together, though.” EZ raised an eyebrow.

“And their meaning?” he asked. Your eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Disappointment - Sometimes rejection or disdain.” EZ snorted making you laugh.

“Absolutely right with that one.” He tells you thoughtfully.

“Anyways, last but certainly not least, Orange Lilies - Hatred or dislike.” You say, as you set the last of the flowers in the basket he was carrying and headed back to the counter. EZ sat the basket on the counter and took a seat on the stool as he watched you make your way to the other side.

“You know, if I hadn’t just heard all those meaning of each flower, I would have thought that this was quite the meaningful bouquet,” He said, resting his elbows on the counter. You just giggled.

“Striking and full of loathing” You said cheerfully, reaching under the counter for an appropriately sized vase, proceeding to arrange the flowers nicely.

“Thank you for all your help y/n.” EZ said sincerely. You just brushed it off.

“It’s no problem! It’s not every day that I get to make an arrangement that means anything else besides Happy Birthday, I love you, or I’m sorry. So the pleasure is all mine.” You give him a smile, making him smile in return.

As he handed you the money to pay, your hands brushed against each other momentarily. You felt something similar to an electric shock run up your arm. If Ezekiel felt it as well, he didn’t let on.

“Keep the change. A thank you for your help.” He says with a wink, getting up from his seat.

Flashing him a smile you handed him his bouquet. “Thank you! I hope whoever these are for, enjoys them.” You tell him as you both chuckled. “I’m sure they will. Thank you again y/n.” He says with another small smile and a wink. You simply nodded as you watched him turn and walk out of your shop.

---------------

Entering Carniceria Reyes in search of something to cook for dinner, you were slightly taken back by the young man behind the counter. You had heard from almost everyone around town how Carniceria Reyes was the best Butcher shop in town, but were told it was ran and owned by an older man named Felipe. This man didn’t really look like a Felipe nor was he anywhere near old. He flashed you a smile as you approached the counter, you smiled in return. “Just one second, my Pop should be out real soon to help you.” He tells you. “Thank you.” You respond back.

“You’re new around here.” You hear him say as you were looking through the display counter. “I am. Moved here about a month ago. I own the flower shop just a few doors down.” You tell him. “Old Senora’s Gonzalez’ flower shop?” he asked you. “Yes! She was my Grandmother. She left me the shop and her home, hence why I am new in town. Y/N.” You introduce yourself, outstretching your hand. “Angel.” he tells you as he takes your hand.

Just then your attention goes to the voices coming into the shop from the back room. “I know Pop, I hear you. There was just something about her. Something different” You can hear one of the men say. You watched as an older man in an apron walked out the backroom with a taller gentleman carrying a box right behind him. Once the taller man sat the box down on the table, you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face when you met eyes with Ezekiel. “Y/N.” he says flashing you a smile. “Hi, Ezekiel.” You greet him, you couldn’t help but blush at how excited you got seeing him again.

“Ah, so this is the Flower Shop girl.” You can hear the older man, you assume who is Felipe, say. “Oh I’m sorry, so rude of me not to introduce myself.” You say as you turn to Felipe. “Y/N. Senora’s Gonzalez’ Granddaughter.” You continue as you shake Felipe’s hand. “Nice to meet you mija (sweetheart). Felipe, and these are my boys Angel and EZ.” He tells you, with a smile. “It’s nice to put faces to the names I’ve been hearing all about around town.” You admit. The three of them just chuckle. “Yeah, we’re used to it.”  Angel says as he walks over to EZ, patting him on the shoulder, and pointing outside. You watched as the two made their way outside, catching another smile from EZ before he slipped out the door.

After making small talk with Felipe and picking out a few things to make dinner a couple nights out of the week, you say your goodbyes and head outside to make your way back to your shop. Once you made your way outside you found Angel in a deep phone conversation and Ezekiel sitting at the table reading a book. The second he saw you walk out he got up, placing the book into his kutte pocket.

“Can I walk you to the Flower shop?” he asked you and you simply smiled. “It’s only a few doors down, but that would be nice of you.” You tell him, as you both begin to walk towards your shop. You couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he seemed.

“Oh, so how did the flowers work out?” you asked with more excitement as anticipated. He smiled, “Couldn’t have worked out better, she loved them.” He laughed. “If she only knew the real meaning behind it all.” He continued and you just laughed. “Glad to be of service” you say, flashing him a smile.

“Just out of curiosity, if I wanted to ask someone out that I didn’t really know, what kind of flowers would be helpful?” Ezekiel finally spoke. You found it charming that he was trying to put in an effort into impressing whoever this lucky person was.

“Hmm, I guess a Rose would be your typical go to flower, but I feel like that is so cliché and expected. If you really wanted to impress this person I would say go with their favorite flower if you knew what it was. Maybe a Pink Camellia, which can represent longing.” You tried to think a little more of other options. “If you can find one, a White Violet would be nice. It can represent taking a chance on love.” You said looking up at EZ who you can tell was taking in everything you were throwing his way. “Those would be my picks for that kind of occasion.” You say quietly, though EZ nodded thoughtfully.

“Thank you for the tips y/n.” he said with a small smile. “Thank you for walking me.” You tell him as you go to open the door. “Take care, querida.” He says, watching as you walk through the door. “See you around, EZ.” You smile at him, waving him off.

---------------

It had been a few days since your last encounter with Ezekiel at the Butcher shop, and you couldn’t seem to get him out of your mind. You knew it was just some silly crush, you’d get over it. Thankfully these last few days had been keeping you pretty busy.

It was near closing time and you decided to close up a little early, wanting nothing more than to spend your Friday night on the couch binge eating and watching Netflix. As you were busy watering some of the flowers you could hear a soft knock at the door. You were about to turn and tell whoever it was that you were closed for the evening, but those words got stuck in your throat when you saw EZ standing there. Setting down your watering can you head towards the door to let him in.

“Ezekiel!” you said, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. “Surprise visit?” you ask, he just shrugged. You noticed he was standing there with his hand behind his back. “Not that I am not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” you ask, noticing how he looked down at his feet momentarily, before looking back up at you.

“I… erm,” He began. “Well, you remember how I asked you what flowers would be good to ask someone out, the other day?” you simply nodded slowly. Secretly praying he wasn’t about to tell you how well that worked out for him. As happy as you were for him, a part of you couldn’t help but be slightly jealous.

“Yeah,” you said cautiously, wondering where he was trying to go with all this. Your question was answered when Ezekiel brought his hand out from behind his back and presented you with a single White Violet. Your eyes went wide when you spotted the flower in his hand.

“Well I was sorta hoping….maybe….well….” he struggled with his words. Reaching out you took the flower from EZ, smelling it, a small smile appearing on your face. “I was hoping you would join me for dinner tonight? I know its such short notice, but I’ve been wanting to ask you out since we first met.” He finally admitted. You smiled, placing a hand on EZ’s arm.

“I’m starving and dinner sounds wonderful. Let me finish closing up.” You tell him as you walk back inside. “Take a seat. I shouldn’t be long.” You tell him as you set the single flower he had given you on the counter, your heart fluttering at the gesture and effort.

 -xx