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darknights04 · 2 years ago

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For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Pairings: pirate!Eddie x mermaid!reader

Summary: The dread pirate Eddie Munson decided he wanted a mermaid. And once the captain's mind is made up, there's no changing it. When the captain meets you, however, he may just change his opinion on the beasts.

Warnings: Blood (slightly), not proof read

Masterlist

youtube

Mermaids.

That was the quest the dread pirate Munson decided to take his crew on today. Were the crew scared? Yes. But they knew better than to go against Eddie when he put his mind to it. No matter how badly they wanted to scream “HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT?! WE’LL BE KILLED!”

But Eddie was their captain. What he says goes. Even if it may be a death sentence.

“All hands! Batten down the hatches!” Eddie was heard calling out from his spot behind the wheel. “Watch out for those waves!”

“It’s the mermaids,” his first mate and right hand man, Steve, had concluded. “They’re protecting the cove.”

“Well, they’ve yet to encounter us. Gonna take more that a few splashes of water to turn us around. Right men?!”

Small shouts of agreement came from the rest of the crew, hurriedly securing everything on the deck so it wasn’t lost to the waves.

“Drop a rowboat!” Eddie next commanded. “We must row the rest of the way in.”

The men followed in suit, running towards the ropes that help up their rowboats.

“Now,” Eddie continued. “Which of you is joining me in the cove?”

Everyone looked around at one another, none volunteering. Eddie looked at each of the men om board, each immediately looking away so as to not make any sort of eye contact.

“I’ll join you,” Steve had sighed after more moments of silence.

“No. No you stay behind to guard the ship. If we go down you’re next in command.” Eddie continued looked around before his eyes landed on one person in particular. “Dustin,” he grinned, an audible whine left the boy’s lips as he noticeably slumped. “And Robin.”

“Why me?” she began to complain.

“I dunno, you’re a girl aren’t ya?”

“So?”

“Maybe the creatures will feel more comfortable around you.”

“I see something!” their lookout, Lucas, had called from the bow of the ship. “In the water, straight ahead!”

Everyone ran to where the boy was standing to look for what he was referring to. Sure enough, there was a head bobbing on top of the waves, long hair billowing out behind it. Half the men were in awe. The other half, scared to death. Eddie didn’t take the bait. He watched the creature with careful eyes as he lowered their row boat slowly down into the water, unbeknownst to her. He knew that if she saw them they’d be dead in an instant. The larger ship would not be as easy a target.

While the rest of the men were entranced by the mermaid in the water, more began to pop up. One by one, the ship was surrounded.

“Plug your ears, men!” Steve shouted at the helm. “Don’t let their songs reach them!”

Like clockwork, as soon as the men on board plugged their ears, they started to sing. Will nearly had to catch Mike by the collar of his shirt cause he was a second too late and nearly jumped clear over board and into the sea.

“Shouldn’t we help them?” Dustin whispered from his spot on the rowboat. “What if they attack?”

“Steve’s got it,” Eddie assured. “Our goal is their cove. They always leave the weaker ones behind while attacking.”

“So the rest of the crew is to act as bait then?” Robin realized.

“Distraction,” he corrected. “As long as they stay prepared, the beasts won’t be able to sink them.”

“And if we lose some to their siren song?”

Right as the question left Robin’s lips, the trio heard a war cry screamed from the water near the boat. As they glanced back in fear, they saw the hoard of mermaids leaping to action, hurling themselves towards the ship in formation.

“Go,” Dustin told Eddie with his eyes wide. “Go! Row! Row! Row!”

Eddie didn’t need and more urging to increase the speed at which he was rowing their boat towards the cove.

“Quiet,” Eddie ordered as they pulled the boat ashore. “We don’t know how many they left behind. They should be in the heart of the cove.”

Eddie removed his heavy coat and took his guns from their holsters, trying to limit the amount of noise he generated. Robin and Dustin followed suit, all keeping their swords in their spot on their hip just in case.

The trio was in awe at the sights that waited for them past the beach. There were trees hanging towards the ground, leaves swaying in the wind. Waterfalls and babbling brooks could be heard running over the top of rocks in every direction. The grass seemed greener than everywhere else, the water more blue and yet also clearer. They wouldn’t have been surprised if a unicorn had emerged from the bushes at any moment. It was magical.

While the three were marveling at the sights around them. Eddie heard it. Humming. Coming from a nearby pool in the center of the trees. He motioned to the others and put his finger to hips lips, signaling them to be quiet as he carefully drew out his sword, the others following. As they drew closer, Eddie couldn’t help but feel he knew the tune from somewhere.

His suspicions were confirmed, however, when you began singing.

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas…” she sung, mostly under your breath and just to yourself. “With n’er a fear of drowning.”

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. It was the song his mother would sing to him as a child. Well before she passed. One of his few remaining memories of her.

“And gladly ride the waves of life…” you continued, a bit louder but still slow and drawn out. “If you will marry me…”

As you said the last line, Dustin seemed to realized you were a mermaid singing, and the fear of being bewitched made him shoot his hands up to cup his ears, dropping the sword he was holding in turn.

“No!” Eddie whispered in protest, reaching for the droppen weapon, but was just a second too late as it clattered to the ground.

You gasped at the sound, turning towards the group and quickly retreating away after seeing them, disappearing into the shadows.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. He had put too much planning into this voyage to lose it all now. He had to do something and quickly.

“No scorching sun, nor freezing cold,” he sang back. His voice far more raspy and no where near as smooth. “Would stop me on my journey.”

Eddie motioned for Robin and Dustin to stay behind as he took a few cautious steps towards you, continuing to sing. “If you would promise me your heart… And love…”

He stood with his hand outstreatch towards you, urging you to come forward. Everyone stood in silence for a long moment. Waiting to see how you would respond. It was evident that not even you knew the answer. Tensions were high. No one knew what would happen next.

Eddie had nearly lost hope after a few more moments of silence. That was until you took another breath. “And love me for eternity…” you sang. Eddie let out a sigh of relief as you moved from the shadows, slowly and cautiously approaching the man.

“My dearest one, my darling dear. Your mighty words astound me.”

As you got closer to Eddie, he approached the edge of the water, attempting to meet you in the middle. Dustin was watching with fear the whole time, afraid you would snap at any moment. No matter how you seemed on the outside, you was still a mermaid. The same breed of mermaids that were attacking their friends not a thousand feet down the coast.

Your lips turned to a shy smile as you continued singing towards Eddie. “But I’ve no need for mightly deeds when I feel your arms around me.”

Eddie knelt down onto he kness, trying to encourage you to be comfortable enough to approach him more.

“My mother sang that song to me,” he said softly, smiling to himself as the memories came flooding back.

By now, you were intrigued. You wanted to know more about the pirate in front of you. He sat in silence after mentioning his mother. You watched as his smile went from a happy smile reminiscing on the past to a sad, sorrowful one. You knew nothing about him, yet wanted to comfort him. You reached out your hand for him to take. Just a small gesture of comfort, it was all you could think to do. His sad smile became a little happier as he connected your hands. He was taught that mermaids were heartless beasts. That they could not feel and would stab you in the back any chance they got.

That must have been the fear Robin felt as she saw her captain in such a vulnerable spot with you, as she dashed forward to protect him. Becoming afraid again, you turned around, trying to swim off as fast as you could. Before you got the chance to get far enough, Robin acted quickly, driving her sword down into the sand, catching the edge of your tail in the process.

“You got her!” Dustin celebrated as your could no longer swim away. Eddie’s eyes went wide as he watched the blood trailing from your fin and becomming diluted in the water. You turned around to face Robin and all Eddie could see on your face… was fear. Sure it was warranted granted you were completely at the mercy of pirates… but he was taught that mermaid felt no emotion. And as far as he knew, fear was an emotion.

“Let’s get it back to the crew,” Robin said, wasting no time in grabbing your arms to hoist you out of the water. You tried to fight her grasp. Your writhed and screamed to no avail. Robin felt as though she was trying to tame a wild cat with the way you scratched at her hands. “Dustin, come help me!”

Dustin rushed to her aid to help and drag you from the pool of water. Despite your attempts to escape, they succeeded.

Almost immediately after you left the water, your tail shrunk and separated into to legs. You stopped your squirming to escape and instead moved you arms to cover yourself, the lack of clothes making you feel quite vulnerable. It only took a moment of Robin and Dustin continuing to drag you across the ground that Eddie stepped in.

“Enough!” he nearly screamed at the two.

“Captain?” Dustin asked, confused. They were, after all, just doing as he asked.

Saying nothing, Eddie took off his coat and threw it over your shoulders, quickly fastening it in the front in order to give you some sense of dignity. Your eyes widened in shock at his kindness towards you. Considering his companions never called you more than an “it”.

“Can’t you see she’s scared?” Eddie hissed at the two.

“She?” Robin repeated.

“She’s scared?” Dustin gawked. “She’s the one who tried mauling us!”

Eddie scoffed at them as he helped you to your feet. As he watched your form tremble beneath him, he was at a loss as to what to do. On the one hand, this was the purpose of the whole mission. To obtain a mermaid. He had done just that. But on the other hand, you looked to be just an innocent girl like this. Not a malicious bone in your body.

With a small, sympathetic smile, Eddie continued to sing to you under his breath. “Through all life’s sorrows and delights,” he sang softly. “I’ll keep your laugh inside me.” And with that, he grabbed your shoulders and carefully pushed you back into the water, allowing you time to escape as he blocked Robin and Dustin from going after you.

“What are you doing?!” Dustin screetched.

“It’ll get away!”

“I changed my mind,” Eddie responded simply.

You watched from the shadows as the three argued. Eddie firmly standing his ground. When the other two backed off, you resurfaced.

“Swim and sail the savage seas,” you smiled towards Eddie. When he turned to face you, you propelled out of the water, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him to your level. Robin and Dustin both called out in fear, however, when his head reached the water you stopped. You landed a soft, gentle kiss on the pirates lips as a symbol of gratitude and watched as he pulled away with a drunken smile on his lips.

“With n’er a fear of drowning.”

And with that, you disappeared back under the waves.

#mermaid #pirates #stranger things #eddie munson #pirate eddie munson #pirate eddie munson x reader #eddie x mermaid #x reader #eddie munson x reader #netflix #pirate x mermaid #mermaid reader #Youtube

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ayemkew · 1 year ago

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So I'm just joining the lovely tumblr HP fandom from AO3, and I'm hoping to gauge interest in an Age of Sail/Pirates AU! I've started plotting and written a few short scenes for this fic, which will be longform and mostly gen (with a few canon pairings featuring). Marauders and Auror gang will be the main POV characters, with other POVs making appearances here and there. But I'm not well-read outside my usual pairings! Has this been done to death already? Am I missing out on pirate shenanigan fics?

Who am I kidding, I'm writing this anyway. Here's an excerpt, see you soooooon

The waters were calm under vivid magenta skies.

If Tonks had learned anything from her years at sea with the Ministry service, it was not to trust Muggle superstitions about harbingers of good weather. The ocean was a fickle thing.

The magenta was quite nice, though, and worth trying out.

It was just a moment later, with her nose scrunched up and her hair shifting from acid green to deepest pink, that something on the horizon caught her eye.

She gripped the wooden railing with one hand, fumbling inside her scarlet Auror’s coat with the other. Once the telescope was in her grasp, she aimed it across the water and peered at the offending object with a frown.

A smooth-sailing brig ambled along the horizon, her white sails set aglow by the radiant pink of the setting sun. From the stern staff, blowing gently in the patient evening breeze, a flag of crimson and gold was stitched with strange, unfamiliar designs.

“Captain!” Tonks called back to the quarterdeck, where her commander was stationed at the wheel. “A ship, on the larboard side.”

The step-thump, step-thump of Captain Moody’s approach echoed over the noise of Dawlish up on the quarterdeck, scrambling to see what Tonks had caught sight of before him.

“Bearing?” grunted Moody as he drew level with Tonks and drew his own telescope.

“Two points abaft the beam, sir. I don’t recognize their colours.”

“Hm.” Moody’s scarred lips pursed. “Whatever that daft flag is, it doesn’t look like any Muggle ensign I’ve seen.”

He switched the telescope from his regular left eye to the swiveling electric blue one, metal touching upon glass with a disconcerting clink. Tonks had always wondered how well the eye’s penetrating abilities functioned through the lenses and mirror of a telescope, but Moody had never given her a straight answer.

“Not a Death Eater flag either, though,” she said, peering through her own scope again at the strange ensign. It looked handmade, and overly complicated in design, like a futzy crest of arms overpopulated with creatures of some kind. Dogs, maybe, and…were those antlers?

“Their heading is the same as ours,” Tonks added. “North-east toward Founder Isle.”

“Porting in Rowena,” said Moody.

“Maybe with prizes in their chests,” said Tonks, nodding.

Moody snapped his telescope shut with a frown. “Not without running them past us. Admiral Scrimgeour’ll have a bloody fit if he sees any more pirate booty smuggled through our port.” He stomped toward the hatch that led down to the lower decks. It was habitual for him, whenever they encountered a new ship, to retreat to his great cabin so he could inspect his foe glass and at least one sneakoscope.

“Dawlish!” he cried, already halfway down the ladder. “Hail the vessel a-larboard. Tonks, set course to intercept.”

“If they make a run for it?” asked Tonks.

Moody paused, gnarled hands just visible around the edges of the ladder, and his face twisted into a frightening half-smile as he looked up at her.

“Then we’ll bloody well pursue them, won’t we?”

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synthy-sizer · 1 year ago

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The interior of the rocket is instantly disconcerting. The entire thing is turned sideways. You can see several rows of seats extending downwards. The backs of the seats are against a wall, which houses a hefty-looking DOOR. There are rungs built into the wall that would allow you to climb down safely. Above you is an array of CRT MONITORS covering most of the wall.

Look around>

The lights are warm and dim, something much more comforting than the concerning red that bathes most of the Apollo facilities. The interior is made of glossy, smooth plastic and even has carpeted floors. You're surprised by the level of comfort it prioritizes. There also appears to be a communications TERMINAL next to the ladder.

Go to door>

You climb down the ladder and walk on the "wall", then lean down and examine the door. It has a large WHEEL on it.

Turn wheel>

You crank the wheel and pull. The door swings open. Looks like it was designed to keep the air inside in case of a breach. That's a smart safety feature. You look down at the room below. It's all empty racks and shelves, abandoned straps and hooks, and slots on the floor. It looks like it was designed to keep luggage and supplies secure. You close the door behind you and turn the handle back. There doesn't seem like any reason to keep it open.

Look at monitors>

You climb back up and look at the monitors. You recall that you never saw any windows on the rocket when you looked at it from the outside. Maybe the monitors are what let you see the outside?

Look at terminal>

The only familiar thing on the terminal is the INSTANT MESSENGER. There's also a program called STARTUP. You could probably use Heresy's advice now.

Talk to Heresy>

[HERESY is ONLINE]

Luna1: Hi Heresy.

Heresy: I see you made it to the rocket.

Luna1: Yeah, I did.

Luna1: But I don't know how to launch it.

Luna1: There's no obvious launch button.

Heresy: Those rockets were surprisingly autonomous and automated.

Heresy: They used a computer to run it.

Heresy: I should be able to help you launch.

Luna1: This seems kinda dangerous…

Heresy: You'll be ok, Sofia.

Heresy: Nothing can happen to you.

Heresy: I promise.

Luna1: Ok….

Luna1: So what do I do?

Heresy: Make sure the doors are closed and buckle yourself in.

Heresy: The terminal should have a few options for starting up the monitors and putting it in launch mode.

Heresy: Once you set those things up I can start it from my side.

You minimize the messenger. It sounds like Heresy was talking about the STARTUP program.

Use startup>

You double-click the application and it opens. The screen lights up with a flashy UI which features a short list of BUTTONS. They read monitors, safety check, and launch mode.

Use buttons>

You click every button in turn. The monitors start to whine and turn on soon after, displaying a clear view of the sky from the rocket's position on the launchpad. The cameras must be on the nose of the ship. When you click the safety check, a diagnostic program starts running and a loading bar appears. You barely even see it before it disappears, though. Seems like it's perfectly functional despite everything. Finally, you click launch mode. The program changes to a message.

"PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEAT AND BUCKLE UP FOR YOUR SAFETY. CLOSE MAIN HATCH BEFORE LAUNCH."

Ah, right, the HATCH. It would be a bad idea to leave it open during launch.

Close hatch>

You swing the hatch shut and turn the wheel on your side. Everything should be set up now. You need to let Heresy know.

Talk to Heresy>

Luna1: I think everything is set up now.

Heresy: Good.

Heresy: I saw that you set it to launch mode.

Luna1: Yeah.

Luna1: So I guess this is it then?

Heresy: Yeah. Buckle yourself in and I'll trigger the launch remotely.

Heresy: The course is already projected.

Something is bothering you. You pause a bit before sending your next message.

Luna1: Do I really have to go?

Heresy: What do you mean?

Luna1: I'm not sure if I'm ready to leave yet.

Luna1: I'm going to miss everyone a lot.

Heresy: You don't have to leave right now.

Heresy: You can stay as long as you like.

Heresy: But the thing is, your fate was already decided.

Heresy: At some point you'll decide to come anyway.

You think about her words for a while.

Luna1: How do you know?

Heresy: Because God told me, Sofia.

Heresy: I reached out to Luna for a reason.

Heresy: And I knew when you found me that you were who I was sent to find.

Heresy: We're both part of something bigger than us.

Heresy: That's why I need you.

You leave her waiting for a while again, trying to sort out your own conflicting emotions. But eventually you decide.

Luna1: Ok, I'm going to buckle up now.

You get into the seat nearest to the terminal and strap yourself in. The chair has excessive padding and buckles, and the headrest feels like more than just comfort. You look up at the grid of monitors. Something new has started to form on them. There's an overlap charting out the course to Earth from Luna. And then a countdown. As the countdown the rocket starts to rumble, more and more, and you can see the camera views start to show smoke drifting up. As soon as it begins the camera view cuts out, showing only the grid and leaving you in the dark to wait in anticipation. And then, liftoff.

You're pressed back into the seat as the rocket launches. Everything it shaking violently. You can faintly hear ripping and tearing metal and the booms of scattered vehicles and equipment flying from the thrust of the launch. The entire facility is probably demolished. But you can't afford to focus on that now. More and more pressure is piled onto you, and then you black out.

…

….

…..

You wake up suddenly, gasping desperately for air and trembling. You look around. Things are floating in the cabin. The cameras are back on, and you can see Earth in view, surrounded by the inky void and twinkling stars. As you slowly approach the planet, you notice what looks like a dense glittering silver ring around it. You're left to this view for quite a while. A timer in the corner of the grid says it'll be a number of hours before you make it. Eventually, you pass out.

…

….

…..

You awake at the jolt of the rocket. You're right inside the dense ring now. Now that you're closer, you can see what it's made of; metal scraps and debris. The rocket rumbles and shakes again. You must be bumping into the space debris. How many satellites and facilities were launched into orbit to create a ring this dense? You wonder for a moment, and the rocket shakes again. The lights flicker this time. You're getting nervous. Suddenly, you feel the thrusters again, and the pressure builds. It looks like you're coming in for an entry. The rocket slowly descends into the atmosphere, and as flames appear to build against the nose of the rocket the cameras cut out again. The ship rumbles and shakes more and more, and the pressure against you builds. A warning message appears and the lights flash red.

"WARNING: CRASH LANDING"

You close your eyes and feel the impact of the rocket slamming into the ground.

And then nothing.

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poems-from-around-the-world · 1 year ago

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John Maynard - Theodor Fontane - Germany

Translators: Julie and Amy Huberman (German)

"Who is John Maynard?"

"John Maynard was our helmsman true. To solid land he carried us through. He saved our lives, our noble king. He died for us; his praise we sing. John Maynard."

From Detroit to Buffalo As mist sprays her bow like flakes of snow Over Lake Erie the "Swallow" takes flight And every heart is joyful and light. In the dusk, the passengers all Can already make out the dim landfall, And approaching John Maynard, their hearts free of care, They ask of their helmsman, "Are we almost there?" He looks around and toward the shore: " Still 30 minutes.... a half hour more."

All hearts are happy, all hearts are light -- Then out of the hold comes a cry of fright. " Fire!" it is, that terrified shout. From the cabin and hatch black smoke pours out. Smoke, then fire and flames aglow, And still 20 minutes to Buffalo.

And the passengers, in a colorful crowd Stand pressed together on the bow. Up on the bow there is still air and light But the smoke at the helm forms a thick, dark night. " Where are we? Where?" the men must know, And still 15 minutes to Buffalo. --

The wind grows strong but the smoke cloud stays. To the helm the captain turns his gaze. The helmsman is hidden by the raging fires But through the bullhorn the captain enquires: " Still there, John Maynard?" " Yes, sir. I am." " Onto the beach! Into the surf!" " Yes, sir. That's my plan." And the people cry: "Hold on! Hallo!" And still 10 minutes to Buffalo.--

"Still there, John Maynard?" And the answer is clear, Though with dying voice: "Yes, sir. I'm still here." And in the surf, rocks, obstacles afloat, Into their midst he plunges the boat. To be saved, it's the only way to go. Salvation: the shores of Buffalo!

The fire is out. The ship's run aground. All are saved. Only one can't be found.

The bells ring out, their notes all fly From churches and chapels to heaven on high. The city is still but for funeral bells. For one service only the sad sound swells: In the procession ten thousand go by, Or maybe more -- and not one dry eye.

With layers of flowers the grave they soften. Under more flowers they bury the coffin. With golden script in marble stone The city has its tribute shown:

"Here lies John Maynard! In smoke and fire He held fast to the wheel; he did not tire. He saved our lives, our noble king. He died for us; his praise we sing. John Maynard!"

#john maynard #theodor fontane #germany #poem #poetry #poems from around the world #translation: German

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ericmhe · 2 years ago

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Godzilla rewatch: Godzilla and Mothra

My copy of this is on the other side of Godzilla vs King Ghidorah and doesn't have a subtitled track, so I'm not sure how much is dub creation and isn't. One thing that stands out is the really goofy over the top voice they give this old guy who seems to mostly be there for reaction shots. Another stand out is when the Cosmos ask Mothra not to hurt any more people and Mothra turns right around and crawls straight through a building. I'm guessing the line there was a bit different in Japanese. I seem to recall finding some of the banter between the divorced characters kind of funny, but I can't remember a specific interaction now that I'm sitting down for it, so there wasn't anything too memorable there I guess.

The overall movie feels a lot like a reboot of the original Mothra movie that's being speedrun a bit to fit in an evil twin and Godzilla. Enough of the movie is on Mothra that it feels really weird that she gets written out of the rest of the Heisei movies, or at least it seems like the Mothra Rebirth trilogy should have tied in to some degree. Kind of a Pilot with no follow up or something.

I haven't seen this movie very often though, I've just been more prone to rewatching Showa or Millenium series than Heisei, so I was a little surprised by how aggressive and effective Battra actually is, especially as a larvae. The flying form actually seems like a bit of a downgrade in battle power for him but it's still kind of cheap that he can just decide to assume it and glows for a bit while Mothra still has her whole cocoon process. When Mothra's egg hatches and she's using the ship to keep some cover between herself and the other kaiju I have to say, that ship is tough. It takes a lot of laser blasts, attacks that destroy groups of armored vehicles, like a champ. - speaking of that, the fact Heisei Godzilla is willing to blast little larval Mothra at the get go definitely establishes him as more persistently villainous than Showa Godzilla who fought Ghidorah for doing that. Heck, it took a long time for still a villain Showa Godzilla to retaliate against Mothra larvae (though he was a threat to the egg? I guess he had a small window for 'acceptable target' there)

It's mostly a case of not having many scenes in Destroy All Monsters, but I think this is the most destructive Mothra I've seen. Plowing through buildings and ships, it's kind of funny after hearing about how Toho insisted Mothra not kill anyone in 2019's King of the Monsters. Still she's definitely the least dangerous of the movie's three kaiju. Which reminds me in the first Mothra movie a telepathic link meant it was inevitable that Mothra search for the fairies/cosmos/shinobin but here they actively sing for her to come get them which I can see as coming off as much more premeditated destruction. Kind of weird when they tell Mothra to go back and Mothra doesn't take them along at first. I guess it's so the attack and cocoon can happen.

Everyone being surprised that Godzilla survived a lava bath is sort of funny with the time gap between Returns and vs Biollante in mind, but I guess this Godzilla didn't go through that, because of the time travel from the last movie? Or he both did and didn't? Dang, previous movie goofs everything up. Deep breath, it's a loose continuity, 'something kind of like the last movie might have happened, but maybe it didn't is the rule here. And YET! Mothra's still written out of the series.

Is it just me or is that climactic battle really weird looking? Maybe it's just because I'm from a rural enough an area I'm used to seeing all of Orion pretty easily, but it just does not feel like a night sky to me. Could be effects failure, but I can't say for sure without asking someone from a city with no stars in the sky. The big deal made of Battra catching the Ferris wheel before it falls on Mothra is kind of funny too, sure she's more delicate than the others, but if she can hang with a pair that fought through volcanic activity it seems odd she'd bee threatened by a heavy bit of metal. Well, whatever, it establishes that the insectoids are allies now and they can do their team up, it works fine. Battra seems to take a lot of damage easily here but I suppose there's run time to consider.

Two movies in a row there's a sacrifice to drop Godzilla back in the sea to save Japan, but this time he's not tied up in a bunch of mechanical grapples so it seems like he'd probably get back up more easily than last time even though they glossed over the fact he should be pretty entangled with Mecha King Ghidorah's body. Sigh, loose continuity.

It's a shame we haven't seen Battra again outside of side media like games and comics. I've seen people say that he and Megaguirus make each other redundant, but aside from them being spiky flying insects I feel like they have very different roles and personalities so that they don't really do that.

#godzilla #mothra #battra

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alireadsbooksandstuff · 1 month ago

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Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

For the first read of 2025, Brave New World is thought-provoking. We open with not an explanation of how we got to this New World, but what this New world entails.

IE: Thousands of children grown and hatched, not born of a mother and father. With no family, they are conditioned from before birth to not question their world, their government, or themselves.

The population of grown (in a bottle) twins are conditioned to feel nothing more than joy and amusement. And while, on the surface level, always being happy may seem like a good thing, it comes at a harsh price.

Happiness costs blind obedience, torture of children, horrendous class disparity, unquestioned consumerism, and slaves that do not have the ability to know they are slaves.

Honestly, with how freely the State uses hypnopaedia, I am paranoid about what I hear in my sleep.

“Till at last the child's mind is these suggestions, and the sum of the suggestions is the child's mind. And not the child's mind only. The adult's mind too - all his life long. The mind that judges and desires and decides - made up of these suggestions. But all these suggestions are our suggestions! Suggestions from the State.”

“That's why you're taught no history,”

“Art, science - you seem to have paid a fairly high price for your happiness,”

“As if one believed anything by instinct! One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them.”

With no true main character and no character being “good” in a real sense, it was hard to root for anyone. For a good portion of the story, we follow Bernard, who is different. He doesn't want to sleep with hundreds of women. He doesn't want to take soma, but at his first taste of popularity, it goes to his head. He turns his back on the only two people who have understood him in the slightest. It shows that even the “good” can be swayed with pleasure. Then, of course, we learn that one or two voices make no change. John screaming from rooftops that they are slaves and being poisoned by the State does nothing more than have him beat up and shipped away.

The State has effectively done its job. It has created a population of soma-addicted, mindless, emotionless, slaves to hold under their thumb and force to keep the wheels turning. The State has stripped them of empathy, leaving them not caring for each other as they move through their worker bee lives and die a happy death.

I could have done without the stark reminder every few pages that this book was written in 1932 with word choice, and the end coming to God being the outsider's moral compassion, but in all it reminds me that maybe we are not far off from 1932 in 2025. The fears that the writer has etched on the page are still on the realm of possibility, and is that not terrifying?

#booklr #alireadsbooks #reading #thoughts #books #Brave New World #aldous huxley #not so hot take

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

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Milestone || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: a journey through some of the biggest milestones in yours and bucky’s relationship from the day you first met to sharing a home of your own

a/n: in this we’re gonna pretend that bucky didn’t get dusted! also reader has powers similar to those of wanda’s. reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

The First Time You Met

Running down the hallway of the airport, you watched as Peter was swept off of his feet and into the air by none other than Falcon, leaving the man you recognized as the Winter Soldier in your midst. Your shoes squeaking against the floor as you stopped short, you threw your arms into the air, stopping the man from moving.

Snapping his attention towards you, he furrowed his eyebrows and you could feel him fighting against your magic. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried your hardest to keep him contained but with only so much experience, he broke through it in a minute, coming for you straight after.

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself, watching as he strode over to you.

Clasping your hands together before pulling them apart, you created a baton of sorts in just enough time to hold it in front of yourself as Bucky cornered you into a wall. Pushing him back with the beam, you grunted, trying your hardest to keep the magic from dying out.

“You’re not very good at this.” He commented, attempting to pull the magical beam from your hands.

“I’m...” You grunted. “.... new.”

Using all of your force, you shoved him back. Taking the first opportunity you saw, you began shooting blasts of magic at him while he stumbled backwards. Attempting to dodge the blasts, he moved forward, putting his hands in the air.

“Look,” He said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Watching as he stumbled backwards, closer to a ledge, you halted the blasts, tilting your head sideways.

“Lucky me.”

As soon as the words fell from your mouth, you used the rest of your force, swinging your arms backwards and then pushing forward to shove him through the railing and over the edge, his eyes wide as he fell backwards. When he fell, he took the Falcon with him.

Glancing up above, you saw Peter, shooting a web to hold the two men to the ground. Feeling the energy in your palms, you floated down to the floor they were held to, standing above them.

“Look guys, I would love to keep this up but I’ve only got one job here today and I’ve gotta impress Mr. Stark, so I’m really sorry-” You watched as the drone took Peter’s web and pulled him through the window cutting him short, Peter screaming as it did.

Turning back to the men, you pulled the hood of your cloak over your head.

“Don’t worry about the drone thing,” You said. “I know when to see myself out.”

Turning to make your way towards the exit of the airport, you heard Bucky call from behind you.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Who are you?”

Bucky didn’t know why he was asking. He could barely even remember facts about himself, never mind keep track of every super human person he came across, but there was something nagging in his mind, begging him to learn more.

Glancing over your shoulder, looking at the Winter Soldier one last time, you smirked.

“Y/n.”

And with that you left the airport.

First Touch

The hatch to the ship opening, you stumbled down the steps, gripping Nebula’s arm to keep your balance. As Steve took hold of Tony, Pepper rushing to his side, you looked up to find the familiar face of Rhodey making his way towards you.

“I chose the wrong day to go see who Dr. Strange was.” You chuckled somberly, trying to make light of the situation.

Grabbing your arm to steady you as you slowly walked down the steps, Rhodey shook his head.

“The fight wasn't much better back here.” He said. “At least we had oxygen though. You’re not looking so good, kid.”

Too afraid to have looked at your deteriorating reflection the past three weeks, you knew he was being too kind.

It had been nearly three weeks since Thanos snapped away a half of the universe’s population, leaving you, Tony and Nebula stranded in space. You had run out of fuel weeks ago and had nearly lost hope of ever returning home as the oxygen supply began dwindling until Captain Marvel had found your ship and brought you all safely back to the Avengers Compound.

Despite being back, three weeks in space had left you exhausted, starving and dehydrated- just to name a few.

Biting back the dizziness you felt, you sighed.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rhodes.” You said, beginning to feel lightheaded. “It’s nothing-”

Missing your footing on the step, you tripped, losing your balance from Rhodey, about to hit the ground until you felt an arm wrap around your torso and the cool touch of metal grasp your hand. Looking up, you were met with the familiar face of the man you had fought two years ago at the airport in Germany, his hair cut shorter since the last time you had seen him, but recognizable nonetheless.

“Bucky Barnes?” You asked, standing up straighter with his assistance.

“Y/n.” He replied, shooting you a gentle smile.

Although you had what many would consider super-human abilities with your magic, due to being discovered after the civil war between the Avengers that had effectively split up the group- you weren't used to being recognized. Hearing your name fall from his lips felt somewhat gratifying.

“You remember my name?” You asked in disbelief

“Hard to forget the name of the woman who kicked my ass.” Bucky chuckled, helping you walk towards the doors of the Compound. “Doesn't happen often.”

For the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to smile as you gazed up at the man holding you steady, making sure you didn’t fall. When his blue eyes met yours, you adverted your gaze, turning your attention towards Natasha who wheeled a wheelchair through the doors of the Compound and towards the two of you.

Moving his flesh hand to rest on your lower back, his vibranium one still in yours, he helped you slowly ease into the chair. When you sat back in the chair, resting your feet on the footrests, you looked up at the super soldier and smiled.

“Not looking for a rematch are you?” You asked, slipping your hand out of his and resting it on your abdomen. “‘Cause I think I’m gonna need a raincheck.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he laughed shaking his head.

“No, I think I’m done with fighting.” He said.

Feeling Natasha pulling back on the wheelchair, about to spin your chair around and towards the doors, you threw him one last smile.

“That makes two of us.”

Just when Bucky was about to turn around and walk away as Nat wheeled you through the doors, the chair stopped and he watched as you glanced over your shoulder.

“And Sarge?” You called.

“Yeah?”

“I like the new arm.”

For the first time in decades, Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks as he watched you tiredly speak to Natasha until you left his line of sight.

First Kiss

It had taken you nearly a month to recover from your time in space since returning back to Earth. Although you understood that there wasn’t much to be done since Thanos had wiped out half of the universe, you still felt guilty taking up space in the Compound when all you would do was lay in bed, attached to an IV.

The one thing that made your time on bedrest a little more bearable was none other than Bucky Barnes.

Throughout your stay in bed he had consistently visited you. Though at first he was a bit shy, you had proven to be someone he could trust- assuring him that he could never be a bother to you and that you genuinely enjoyed having his company- maybe a bit too much, but you would never tell him that.

Bucky himself was surprised that he had put himself so out there with you after living such a solitary life for nearly the past 80 years, but there was just something about you that drew him to you time and time again. He couldn’t pinpoint it- whether it was your kindness, humor or intelligence- he found both joy and peace in your presence- something he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in.

So, despite the voice in the back of his head telling him that you didn’t want to see him, he had visited you while you got better in bed, taking care of you in the littlest of ways until he watched the dark circles under your eyes fade away and your ability to walk without his assistance return.

Finally feeling somewhat better, you had insisted to bucky that you were ready to train again and no matter how many times he tried to convince you that you weren’t, he could never say no once you squeezed his hand and pouted up at him.

He was regretting not saying no to you as he now stood across from you in the training room.

“Y/n, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, watching you sway in your spot despite your feet being planted to the mat.

“C’mon Barnes,” You taunted, raising your hands. “You scared?”

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, you shot a blast of magic towards him, Bucky dodging it just as it whooshed past his head.

“I wasn’t even ready!” Bucky exclaimed.

Shrugging your shoulders you formed another beam made of magic, holding either ends of it with your hands as Bucky came towards you.

Trying to plant your feet to the ground, feeling another hit of dizziness wash over you, you pushed him back with the beam, but before you could do anything more, his leg swept under yours, making you lose your balance.

Before you fell to the ground, however, the magic in your hands diminished as you gripped your hands into Bucky’s shirt bringing him down with you.

Flipping over before you fell, you landed on top of the super soldier, your hands planted firmly on his chest. With his hands above his head that was inches away from yours, you both stared at each other- you finally noticing just how much you liked the scruff that coated his jawline and him admiring the color of your eyes and how he swore he could lose himself in them if only he had the chance.

Opening your mouth, you felt the thumping of Bucky’s heart against your fingertips that were resting on his chest as he gazed up at you.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” You whispered, out of breath despite you barely having trained.

“Yeah, it does that when I see you.”

You could barely believe what you were hearing until you felt Bucky’s hands come up and cup your face, glancing down at your lips before back to your eyes, asking wordlessly for your approval.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you eagerly nodded back at him.

Before you could even process it, you felt Bucky’s lips meeting yours as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands moving from cupping your face to wrapping around your body, pulling you tight against him. All you could remember thinking was that despite his tough exterior, his lips were soft and you could lose yourself in the comfort of having his arms around you all day if he let you.

Pulling away first, a beaming smile spread across Bucky’s face as he rubbed circles against your back.

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” He teased. “You could’ve just asked.”

First “I Love You”

Sitting on the edge of the rooftop, your legs swinging in the air, you offered the bag of popcorn in your hand to your boyfriend who was sat beside you. Taking his eyes off of the view in front of him, he grabbed a fistful of the salty treat from the bag, popping it in his mouth.

“Did you have stuff like this back in the olden times?” You asked, laying your head on his shoulder.

“What?” He asked despite his mouth being full. “You mean fireworks? How old do you think I am?”

Laughing at how he mocked offense over your question, you sat up straight, pecking his cheek.

“One hundred doesn’t sound much better, babe.”

Rolling his eyes, knowing that you loved him anyway, he brushed off the remaining salt from his fingertips, wrapping his vibranium arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

Just as he pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, he jumped in his spot as he heard the loud sound of the first firework shooting up into the air over the water before “popping” and bursting into an array of color.

“Look!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the display. “It’s starting!”

Although he took a quick glance at the firework display, his attention was purely focused on you. He couldn’t help but admire the way the colorful lights reflected on your skin or how you had a hint of an open smile on your face watching as the fireworks burst midair. No show could compare to looking at you.

He couldn't help but feel his heart race in his chest, breath caught in his throat as he admired your beauty- even when you were still in your suit from watching over the parade with him earlier that evening. He was convinced there wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t completely enamored with and you only gave him more reasons to love you every single day.

Before he even realized what he was saying, admiring you in complete bliss and utter awe, the words slipped out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

He thought you wouldn’t be able to hear, the sound of another firework popping ringing in his ear, but when you turned towards him, your eyes wide and mouth agape, he knew you had.

“Did you just say that you love me?” You asked, fireworks continuing to burst behind you.

Not one to lie- especially not to you- he nodded his head.

“Yeah.”

A smile beginning to form on your face, you grabbed the strap on his jacket, pulling him closer to you.

“I love you too.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his, the sound of the finale of the display ringing behind you as the fireworks burst one after another in air, every color imaginable washing over your joined figures sitting on the edge of the rooftop on that cool summer night, almost as if it were taking the feeling shared between the two of you and bringing it to life for the world to see.

First Home

“Okay!” You nodded, pointing to the corner of your living room. “That one can go over there. Thank you so much for your help, Steve.”

“I helped Buck move into his first apartment, Y/n.” Steve said wiping his hands on his pants. “I wouldn’t miss stuff like this for anything.”

Smiling at Steve’s comment, you felt Bucky’s vibranium hand land on your lower back, pulling you closer. Leaning into his touch, you wrapped your arm around him in return, staring up at your boyfriend.

“Yeah and the first time he was about a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.” Bucky chuckled. “This is easy for him.”

Watching Natasha set down the last box on top of a pile of the others in the kitchen, you excused yourself from your boyfriend and his best friend, making your way into the other room.

When you had left the two of them’s earshot, Bucky watching as you left, Steve rested his hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“You know,” Steve said. “I’m happy for you, Buck. I think this is gonna be good for you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s comment- despite how cheesy it was- because he knew it was true.

When Bucky’s memory had finally been cleared, a part of him had always feared that even though he had been given a new chance at life, he would never have a normal one. Although he knew “normal” was a strong term for the life you two shared together given that he was a century old super soldier and you had magical abilities- you had given him a chance at a peaceful life full of love and contentment which was all he could ever dream of asking for.

The idea of finding love and having a family was something that he worried was left eighty years in the past, but you proved to him that life didn’t end for him when he fell from that train- if anything it brought him the beginning he had always hoped for.

“Sure you won’t miss me too bad, pal?” Bucky asked.

Taking his hand back from Bucky’s shoulder, Steve laughed shoving his hand in his pockets.

“No, I think I’m used to it by now.” Steve chuckled. “It’s just like you to be able to find a woman with shared life experience even when half the world disappears.”

Shaking his head at his friend’s joke, he shoved him playfully.

“C’mon, ya’know this is different.” Bucky said. “I think this is the last one for me.”

Without missing a beat, Steve smiled.

“I know.”

Hearing the sound of you and Natasha’s footsteps stepping back into the room, Bucky kept his mouth shut, feeling your hand run over his shoulder as you stood beside him.

“Don’t forget about me now that you have your own place, okay Y/n?” Nat said crossing her arms.

“Don’t worry.” You told her. “I’ll come visit every day.”

“Well, not every day-” Bucky interjected.

“No. I meant what I said. Every day, Nat. You’ll wish you never said anything.”

Once the laughter that had erupted in the room settled, Steve and Nat said their goodbyes to you and your boyfriend, you both waving them off as you shut the door behind them. When the door was shut and you and Bucky were left in your new apartment alone together, you rushed over to your bag by the door, pulling a neatly wrapped gift out of it.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked as you handed him the present.

“Just a little housewarming gift.” You smiled.

Gazing at your smiling face, a smile finding its way onto his, he looked down at the present in his hands, carefully tearing the paper off of the gift to reveal a framed photo of the two of you.

A framed photo of the two of you fighting in an airport three years ago on the day you first met.

“So, Tony had put a camera in Peter’s suit back before we went and fought you guys.” You explained. “And I thought it had to be gone since Peter was... you know... but it turned out that Tony still had the footage so I was able to find some from that day at the airport and in it there was this quick little shot of us fighting and I just had to have it, Buck.”

Flipping the frame around at you, he raised his eyebrows.

“A photo of us fighting?”

“Yes!” You told him. “Do you like it?”

Despite the fact that it was a photo of the two of you fighting- a fight that he had gotten his ass kicked in no less- he loved it more than anything else you could have possibly given him because it was the day he met you. It was the day his life changed and he didn’t even know it in the moment.

Although your story was far from “normal” it was your story and that’s what mattered the most to him.

“I love it, doll.” He said, pulling you into his embrace. “This is a crazy story to tell our kids though, huh?”

“All of them are.” You laughed into his chest. “But I wouldn't have it any other way, Buck. I love you.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a photograph of the day your story first began in his hand, he smiled.

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff

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oonajaeadira · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian Tarot: Major Arcana

If you’re following me, you know this is a Mandalorian obsessive account. I love the man, I love the show, I write a Mando-fando that is all about pining and touch. I tend to go all in when I have an interest.

Another one of my interests? Tarot. A friend challenged me to Mandalorify the major arcana. And because Jon and Dave know their stuff and are good with archetypes (which is all tarot really is), it was an easy fit.

YOU GOT MANDO IN MY TAROT. YOU GOT TAROT IN MY MANDO. TWO GREAT TASTES THAT TASTE GREAT TOGETHER.

But. I can’t draw, so I’ve dreamed them in words and included the Rider-Waite-Smith deck illustrations that I would riff on if I could.

READY? LET’S PLAY.

(All tarot illustrations by Pamela Colman Smith. All Mandalorian images property of Star Wars/Disney.)

UPDATE! @heathenashtattoos has taken up where I cannot and is making these cards a reality! I will post them individually and come back to link them to this post as we go.

0 THE FOOL = THE MANDALORIAN / IT IS MADE! --->

The story of the tarot is the Fool’s journey, the arc of becoming. So it makes sense to me that Din would be the fool. Fits even better, since he has tremendous Fool energy in his himbo tendencies, just rushing forward into situations without a lot of planning--he’ll deal with it when he’s in it--ready to rely on others to show him the way or guide/help him to the next step.

If I could draw: Din on the cliff, with his jetpack on, meaning he has no fear of falling. Instead of the bindle-stick the Fool carries, he’d have his pulse rifle slung over his shoulder. Instead of the dog nipping at his heels, Grogu. And, of course, the landscape would be Tatooine/Navaro-esque.

~~~

1 THE MAGICIAN = LUKE SKYWALKER , IT IS MADE! --->

The Magician is someone who is still learning to bend the laws of magic/the Universe, but very adept with their tools. Since Luke is only a few years into his Jedi training at this time, he makes a pretty good Magician.

If I could draw: Luke in his blacks, holding up his lightsaber. The Jedi symbol would replace the infinity sign.

***

2 THE HIGH PRIESTESS = AHSOKA TANO / IT IS MADE! -->

High Priestess is further along the path of her magic than Magician, and her knowledge is more intuitive, her skills more effortless. Where the Magician is still learning the balance of light and dark, the High Priestess knows the value and pitfalls of both. It was always going to be Ahsoka.

If I could draw: Ahsoka sitting cross-legged in meditation mode, but with eyes open and a knowing smile. Instead of two pillars, she holds her lightsabers up and parallel to each other.

***

3 THE EMPRESS = PELI MOTTO / IT IS MADE! -->

The Empress is the mother figure, the energy in the universe that provides all that is needed and embodies the energy of creation. I can see the argument for Omera being the Empress--mostly because she is a mom and she’s soft and a lot of people see the Empress as a soft female figure, I get it. (And if I were to do a minor arcana, girl would show up as one of the Queens for sure.) But in the end, I gave it to Peli because she’s a recurring character, more relevant in his story, and if Din is the Fool, Peli is more an Empress to him. She’s able to be the provider of his particular needs; services to his ship to get him up flying, contact and location information, and she’s always willing to care for Grogu whenever she gets the chance.

If I could draw: Peli sitting in the dock, against the R4 unit, holding aloft a spanner and surrounded by her pit droids.

***

4 THE EMPEROR = BOBA FETT / IT IS MADE! -->

The Emperor is all about authority. And all I gotta say about Boba is BIG DICK ENERGY.

If I could draw: Just put him on the Jabba throne and let him lounge like a badass.

~~~

5 THE HIEROPHANT = THE ARMORER / IT IS MADE! -->

The Hierophant is the keeper of traditions and a spiritual guide. As the leader of the covert and keeper of the Way, The Armorer fits.

If I could draw: The Armorer, framed by her forge, holding aloft her tools, with Mandalorian acolytes. Instead of the crossed keys at the bottom, let’s just have a mythosaur skull.

***

6 THE LOVERS = FROG LADY AND FROG HUSBAND

This should be obvious and I will fight anyone who says it isn’t the right thing to do. I will die for this.

If I could draw: I would actually depart from the Smith depiction and just draw them embracing or holding each other by the arms and staring into each others’ eyes. Some kind of glowing background? Maybe the egg tank?

***

7 THE CHARIOT = THE MUDHORN

Oh. You thought I was going to say the Razor Crest, didn’t you. Don’t worry, I have plans for our beloved craft, but it ain’t here. The Chariot can be a ride, yes, but it’s about victory. Sometimes it’s about the victory over your inner “beastly” natures. To travel to the next phase in the journey, the Fool must take on the beasts that drive the Chariot and claim dominance over them, and when he does, they will carry him to the next level. Since it’s the victory of the beastly mudhorn that brings Din to his bond with Grogu and becomes his signet, Mudhorn for the win.

If I could draw: Again, I’d probably play on Smith’s imagery, put the charging mudhorn in the middle, and replace the rams with Din on his knees brandishing the vibroblade and Grogu in his pram with his Force hand up.

***

8 STRENGTH = CARA DUNE

Don’t come at me about including Cara. I am glad Gina got shown the door and I lose no love on that bigot. But. Cara is not Gina and to cut her out is to cut out Jon and Dave’s creation and I won’t do it. I actually love her a lot--she’s got her flaws, but she’s sassy and strong and solid, and I would happily accept a piggyback ride from her any day. She’s also a major player in Din’s story and deserves a spot in it. Strength comes after the Chariot--once you’ve conquered the beast within, you have confident dominion over it and it becomes a companion or a tool for your use. Cara is one with her toughness, she’s used it to do some good and bad shit in her past, and she continues to wield it effortlessly and fearlessly. She is absolutely this card.

If I could draw: I would put her maybe sitting on top of the downed ATST. I’d replace the infinity symbol over her head with the one on her cheek (Rebel Alliance).

~~~

9 THE HERMIT = KUIIL

The Hermit is a loner, yes, but in his solitude he looks within, learns from all he’s been through, and becomes wise. He holds aloft a light of wisdom and truth. This was always going to be Kuiil.

If I could drawn: Just our buddy, looking out over the Arvala-7 landscape, holding aloft an in-universe working lamp. No need to get fancy. He would want it to stay simple.

***

10 THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE = IMPERIAL SYMBOL AND STORM TROOPERS

The Wheel is fate. You win some, you lose some. Sometimes you’re on top, and sometimes the Wheel crushes you beneath it. You are helpless to its roll and where you’ll land. Storm Troopers are such a sad bunch. They are keepers of Imperial Law on the ground. On a good day, they capture a Rebel or hold off an attack. On a bad day, their Moff just blasts them to make an example.

If I could draw: The wheel would just be the Imperial symbol and there’d be Troopers on and under it. Maybe the one on top is just standing there, looking authoritative. The one underneath has been blasted. Some Wheels have two more figures--one on each side--and I’d add those too. The one on the down-going side would be falling, arms flailing, blaster shooting (if only sound were available, there’d be a Whilhelm scream), and the one on the up-going side would just be dangling by one arm, along for the ride.

***

11 JUSTICE = COBB VANTH

Well, it just feels right to make the Marshal into Justice. But it’s not just a literal translation of making sure the right thing gets done and the bad guys are punished. Justice is about wiping away emotion and making decisions with bare truth, looking at every side of the situation and understanding what is really there. And I think Cobb fits this well. He doesn’t want to give up his armor because of what it means for the protection of his people. But he’s willing to consider it, if there’s another way he can protect them. Emotionally, he doesn’t want to deal with the Tusken Raiders, but he does it because he can see it’s the best course of action. He flies into battle with the Krayt Dragon. He gives up his armor without a fight. He makes a fair trade and sees the balance in it because he walks away from the emotion and chooses the best course of action. Cobb Vanth for Justice, errybody.

If I could draw: Cobb in the Fett armor, but with the helmet at his feet. In one hand, a bottle of spotchka. In the other, the Tusken mushroom drinky thing; he’s holding them with equal balance.

***

12 THE HANGED MAN = MIGS MAYFELD

The Hanged Man is not just about a dude who’s hanging upside down. (If that was the case, I would have just gone with Gor Koresh and called it a day.) Hanged Man is about changing your perspective to see things in a new way so you can grow. Many times, this growth also requires sacrifice. Over the two episodes we see Mayfeld, we know he goes from Imperial sharp shooter, to traumatized deserter, to merc, prisoner, and exonerated friend. He’s seen some shit, given up a lot, and he’s willing to see how he can be a help to others and find redemption for himself.

If I could draw: Hear me out. Take the image of Mayfeld hanging upside down from the Crest hatch into the prison ship. Mirror that above with an image of him in his Imperial Ground Transport gear. Flip it all upside down so bad Mayfeld up top, good Mayfeld on bottom, images mirrored but inverted, hence “looking at things a new way and getting everything a little topsy-turvey.”

~~~

13 DEATH = MOFF GIDEON

Death is about transformation, so it’s not always the most sinister card. But Death does not discriminate. It comes for us all, constantly stalking, and it will strike you down to serve its needs. You need to face Death to get to your redemption. But really, Gideon is our big baddie here, so why the hell not.

If I could draw: I would forgo the Smith illustration and go for the Marseilles tradition on this one. Gideon and the Darksaber replaces Death and the scythe.

***

14 TEMPERANCE = IG-11

Temperance is the transformation that comes after Death. Once Death has chopped your physical being into pieces with his scythe, Temperance is there to take all your pieces and put them back together into something new and better. It’s also a card that asks you to re-evaluate your priorities and see if you can find better motivations than you previously had. IG’s death and reprogramming speak loudly to me on this.

If I could draw: IG pouring the tea.

***

15 THE DEVIL = THE CLIENT

Here’s another baddie card that’s all about your worst faults, about excess and giving into the stuff that will eventually kill your soul. The Client holds on hard to the Empire, doing whatever he’s ordered to do to be one of the top dogs. And in the end, it doesn’t matter. Gideon takes him down like he’s nothing.

If I could draw: The client, wearing his Empire bling, with chains around Doctor Pershing and a rough-looking Storm Trooper.

***

16 THE TOWER = THE RAZOR CREST

I don’t know about you, but Chapter 14 killed me. And not because the Dark Troopers flew away with Grogu. We all knew Din would never stop at getting him back. But when the Crest was destroyed, it was like someone punched me in the soft parts, and I made a lot of severely anguished noises. The Tower is the most tragic card in the tarot. It’s when forces beyond your control make a very big (and usually negative) impact in your life and everything changes. You are left to pick up the pieces and survive any way you can with the skills and resources you’ve been blessed with.

If I could draw: Just that moment of the ray hitting our beautiful Crest, just as it begins to break apart, maybe with Din, Boba, and Fennec watching in horror in the foreground.

~~~

17 THE STAR = GROGU

The Star is hope. It comes after the biggest tragedy in the deck to tell you that not all is lost. There is always something there to live for. C’mon, kids. In this series, there was only one choice.

If I could draw: Just Grogu. Maybe drinking his soup. Or maybe he’s levitating his metal ball overhead, reaching up to it with a smile on his face. *coos*

***

18 THE MOON = BO KATAN KRYZE

We all like Bo Katan, sure. But remember my Clone Wars/Rebels fiends, she was Death Watch, and they were terrorists. She sided with Maul to take over Mandalore. Sure, she’s come a long way and her path is a bit more honorable now, but she’s got an agenda, which makes her hard to trust. Since the Moon is about more feminine energies and has themes of illusion and deception--things look great in the moonlight, but maybe not as they really are--Bo Katan’s our girl.

If I could draw: Head and shoulders profile, double-imaged so you see her face, but her Nite Owl helmet superimposed in profile over it. Nite Owl signet on the bottom. Possibly flanked by her two Nite Owl cronies.

***

19 THE SUN = GREEF KARGA

Everything's sunny when Greef’s around! He’s the feel-good gramps that’s going to make any situation A-Ok! If you’ve got a problem, Greef can sort it out...or he knows someone who can! The sun is always gonna shine on you and take you back.

If I could draw: Just Greef smiling and being cheesy with the halo of the sun around him.

***

20 JUDGEMENT = FENNEC SHAND

This card traditionally shows the resurrected rising from the grave, ready to be judged. Fennec’s got a lot to answer for in her life, but she is being given a second chance, and my number one girl crush is going to do new and wonderful badass things with it.

If I could draw: I’d either just show her opening her gut pocket to show her new works, all full of aura, with her looking down at it reverently. OR I might do a scene of her being rescued by Boba.

~~~

21 THE WORLD = THE HELMET

Din’s helmet is the world he lives in. But it’s also a symbol of The Way. The World represents completion, a wholeness of self and being, the end of the journey. And since Din is our Fool, his journey is an exploration of his morals and honor, what it means to walk the way of the Mandalore, and what the meaning of the helmet is for him. He may choose ultimately to keep it on and go all-in on Mandalorian-4-lyfe (Child of the Watch style), or he may understand that the helmet is just a symbol and the honor was in him all along; he can wear it or not wear it and it’s all the same.

If I could draw: The World usually depicts a circle or sphere of some kind, the symbol of perfect completion. The helmet is close enough, so it takes up the center. Traditionally, there are four symbols in the corners that give more meaning to The World, and I would replace them with The Razor Crest, Grogu, the Mudhorn Signet, and the pulse rifle or blaster. These represent his home, his foundling, his clan, and his religion, all of which make up more of the whole; what it means to him to be Mandalorian.

~~~~~~~~~~

Challenge accepted and faced.

Adira dops her witchy mic….

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #tarot #mandalorian tarot #star wars #din djarin #luke skywalker #ahsoka tano #grogu #bo katan hate gang

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books-of-the-great-leviathan · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 18- Luca

***

By daybreak Lapide was far gone, faded to a smear on the horizon, then to nothing at all. They'd long since passed Valeris's outlying islands, ancient watch-towers jutting from sea stacks, summits broken against the sky, and had entered the Inner Sea itself. Now the open ocean spread on all sides, waves cresting to glass in the Wasp's running lamps. The moons fell- first one, then the next, each in turn swallowed by the horizon.

Now the last moon lingered, a ghostly trace against a sky still spattered with faint stars. The winds were low, sails gusting and snapping above, the Wasp the only relief from the vast wave-carved expanse of blue. Nagi glided aloft, her feathers the same shade as the water, snaps of her sharp beak scattering the cloud gulls when they dived too close.

"Where are we going?" Cereza asked as Luca tied off the wheel and retracted the winglines, folding the side sails once more against the hull. She'd spent the night huddled under both their cloaks, her back pressed to the mast, the Belmont cup's box clutched to her chest and the harpoon over her knees. Now she unfolded, slinging off Luca's cloak as he strode past her. "Luca. Answer me."

"We need supplies," Luca muttered. He glanced at the bullet holes in the sails. Those would only grow bigger. "And repairs."

He closed his eyes, brow furrowed, tracing a course in his head. "We'll arc north to Vodyenai, maybe Buyan if there's not a storm. There won't have been time for word to travel to them from Valeris, not yet. We'll be safe there for a while. We can hire a crew, a bigger ship..."

"And then?"

Luca glanced at the witchborn. She stood at the bow, her silhouette sharp against the dawn sky. A slash of gray and pale rose showed at the horizon, drowning the stars and sending fragments of light skittering across the sea.

Cereza followed his gaze. Her expression hardened, eyes cold.

"Then we have her track us our whale," Luca said. "Make her, if we must."

"And if she won't, even then?"

"Then we'll do it ourselves, won't we?"

He'd tried to sound light, but it wasn't convincing, even to him. He knelt at the base of the mast, fit his fingers through a metal ring bolted to the deck, and pulled the hatch open with a crack. Inside were naval rations in waterproof paper, leather map tubes capped in brass, an astrolabe in its case, a sheathed sword. Canteens of water- not many, not nearly enough for long. A bottle of bilge rum, which was a profound relief; he'd forgotten that was there. At the bottom was a small chest containing pistol and shot.

Luca brushed his fingers over the gun box, glanced again at the witchborn, and left it where it was.

"Here," he said. Cereza took the touga jerky he passed her, but didn't eat. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm cold."

"Sit here, out of the wind."

She shook her head, setting the jerky down. "I don't think that'll help."

Luca let out his breath, then stood, taking up the harpoon. He hefted it, getting a feel for its length, its balance. He'd have to splice on a new lead for it; only a frayed twist of ancient rope remained of the one some long-dead whaler had used. The dawnlight struck its rusted barbs and they glimmered, hungry and harsh. It had been made for these lonely stretches of sea, made for salt wind and sweat, made for dawns like this, traveling toward the edge of the known world.

"Cereza," Luca said. "Hold this, would you?"

He approached the witchborn, Cereza behind him holding the harpoon in both hands like a spear. A gust of wind scudded across the sea; sails creaked and groaned, pulled taut as drumheads. The witchborn turned as Luca stopped behind her. She stared at him, unblinking.

"Cee," Luca said. "Point the harpoon at her, if you will."

She lowered the point, aiming for the witchborn's belly. The tip was steady; one thrust forward, and the witchborn would be food for the cloud gulls wheeling and arguing overhead.

"I'm going to chain you down," Luca told her. "Make one move, and she'll pin you to the gunwale. I suspect you don't want that, and neither do I. You're no good to us if you're dead."

She narrowed her eyes.

Luca stepped past Cereza, reaching under his shirt collar and hooking free the key to the shackles. Chain rasped against chain. The witchborn's eyes followed him, so dark he could not differentiate pupil from iris. This close he felt the faint heat of her skin, and when she turned her head to look at him, he saw the pale flash of a scar across her throat.

Luca's eyes flicked to it, then back to her face.

"Someone tried to slit your throat, didn't they, witchborn." He took one of her chains. "Is that why you can't speak?"

Disgust seeped into her expression. She didn't respond. Luca pulled the chain tight and looped it around the Wasp's railing.

"What's your name, anyway?" he asked. "I can't keep calling you 'witchborn.'"

She lifted her hands, fetters now bound to the railing by chains. I don't particularly care what you call me.

"Well, I do."

And I don't particularly care about what you want.

Luca fastened her chains with a twist of the key. She watched him tuck it into his shirt once more, her hands again by her sides. Perhaps it was the dawn light, but she looked more human here. Not so much a monster anymore.

No, he told himself. No mercy. Luca forced himself to remember the knife, Cereza's scream, the witchborn's bared teeth as she'd smashed her heel into his face. The Falcii she'd torn apart, wisps of shadow curling from their wounds. The curse twisting through Cereza's heart, crushing the life from her beat by beat.

How close they'd all been to peace.

"Only someone with real vengeance in her heart would do what you did," Luca said. He still held her chains, links cold against his skin. "Only someone who's been waiting years to strike against Lapide would be as brutal as you were."

Estara promised me wealth.

"And you're in this for gold, are you? King Daval's favor? A pat on the head from the Bloodmonger himself?" He jerked her closer, chains twanging taut. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

Her hands sliced through the air. Estara promised me your head. All of your heads. The waves red with Lapidaean blood.

"And now here you are, with us. Keep jumping from side to side and you might find yourself with twice as many enemies as you bargained for."

A harsh grin cut across her face. Estara, Lapide. You're both the same. It doesn't matter who I kill for. Both of you will end the same way, with massacres, and burning seas, and cut throats-

"Luca," Cereza warned.

"Struck a nerve, have I?" Luca spat.

"Luca, stop it."

He rounded on her. She stood, hands in fists, face hard. "How can you defend her, Cee?" Luca cried. "You-"

Force slammed into his guts, so hard white splintered through his vision. The witchborn seized the front of his waistcoat and heaved him round, swinging him bodily into the air. Even with her abilities dormant, she was unnaturally strong. She slammed him hard onto the gunwale. Stars burst in Luca's vision as he hung, the small of his back pressed to the railing, his head and arms dangling over the side.

He grabbed at the railing. Gulls spun overhead; below rushed waves, deep green, spray spackling his face with cold. His stomach swooped as he slipped toward the water, but the witchborn's hand was twisted in his shirt, keeping him from going over.

She yanked him upward. His spine gave a throb of protest. She seized a hank of his hair and wrenched his face toward hers. Her teeth were bared, her pupils ringed in white. It was the same look as when he'd caught her on the Palace rooftops, when she'd smashed her heel into his face.

"Go on," Luca managed. Overhead, Nagi swooped and circled, her fluting calls agitated as she flickered from color to color. "Kill me. You'll never make it back to shore-"

Wood cracked against flesh. The witchborn let out a huff of pain as Cereza brought the harpoon's blunt end down on the back of her head. She released Luca; he scrambled onto the deck. Cereza backed off with him, the witchborn straining at her chains, raking deep, hungry breaths. She signed, her movements jagged, hands shaking. Tears shone in her eyes.

You will never understand, she said. Not until you see her die before you. Not until you watch your world burn.

"What?" Luca panted.

Wind blew, sails straining at their lines: a stronger gust than before. Maybe the winds were turning. Maybe the Triune wasn't done with them, yet.

Luca shifted forward, wincing as the movement jogged at the ache in his stomach. By the Three, she kicked hard.

I came here to see you die, Luca Valere, the witchborn signed. And I will see it. I swear it to you. I will see you bleed.

Another gust spiraled past. The Wasp creaked and shuddered around them, the surface of the sea turning choppy. Waves slapped at the hull. Cereza stood, tense, staring out toward the horizon. Luca couldn't tear his eyes from the witchborn.

"I don't understand," he pressed. "Why Lapide? Why-"

"Luca," Cereza said.

Something in her voice made him turn. She stared out, eyes wide, harpoon lowered. Another gust of wind ruffled Luca's hair back from his face as he followed her gaze. The sky was stained with day, the sun a white crescent. At the horizon came a flicker of light. For an instant, Luca's heart blazed-

-An aurora, the Leviathan-

-But it was no prismatic glimmer, no many-colored falls of light, but a silvery haze, flashing and shifting under the weak sun.

The wind came again, scented not of salt and clean water but of storms, metallic and heavy as blood in the back of the throat. Luca brushed past Cereza and leaned over the railing to get a better look.

"Luca," Cereza whispered. "What is that?"

He heard it, then. A whispering, a hishing, like a crowd of thousands, or like some distant waterfall. It grew louder as the flashing silvery light grew closer, closer. It spanned the horizon for leagues in either direction. The whispering sound strengthened- a whisper, yes, but a roar, too. Not a waterfall any longer. It put Luca in mind of a drawn sword, metal against metal, but multiplied by a hundred, a thousand.

"Cee, toss me the spyglass," he called.

Cereza did, and he snapped it open, setting it to his eye. Through the glass the light became a cloud, an advancing wall of scintillating silver taller than the Wasp. Flickers of blue lightning crackled, illuminating the cloud from the inside in arcs and bursts.

No.

Oh, no.

Cold swept through him as terror seized his nerves.

Triune save us.

He shoved back from the railing. Nagi arced upward, higher into the sky. Luca scrambled to the wheel, heart in his throat. His hands shook on the winglines; they wouldn't loose. Why wouldn't they loose?

"What is it?" Cereza demanded, taking his arm. "What's wrong?"

Luca met her wide eyes.

"Razor storm," he said.

A wet impact hit the deck. Luca looked down to see a fish wriggling on the planks. It was no more than a foot long, its body glimmering silver-blue. Gills gaped, flashing vivid red interiors. Twin pairs of long, triangular fins fluttered from its sides, spread like wings. They glinted the bright silver of a blade, glistening wet, their posterior edges fringed with metallic spines. Where it flopped, it left deep gouges and scars in the wood, like someone had taken a knife to the deck.

Razorfish.

"Get it off!" Luca cried. "Into the water! Fast!"

Cereza seized the harpoon and flipped the fish over the gunwale as a second struck the deck, then a third; the next went through the sails, fins slicing through the thick canvas like it was paper, leaving behind a gaping, ragged hole. Luca knew razorfish, had seen them dead and preserved in salt, or their fins mounted as trophies. He'd seen sailors with scars latticing their bodies, a second skin of them matching the pale scars covering the metal hulls of their fishing trawlers, evidence of a school of razorfish hitting them somewhere in the depths of the Inner Sea. He'd never heard of a storm like this, edge to edge, no end to the wall of fins like blades.

Pain slashed Luca's cheek. He tasted blood. The wind was a blast now, strong as a storm, the sound of the approaching razor storm loud as a warship's engine, a thicket of metal scraping metal, the high keening scream of countless razorfish's wings fluting through the air.

Luca wrenched the wheel hard port, muscles straining. The Wasp turned too slow; air whistled through the holes in its sails, dozens now, fish coming thicker. These were just the fringes. The main mass of razorfish was no more than a few hundred yards away. They'd never outrun the storm.

The upended dinghy on the Wasp's stern was already a ruin of splintered wood. The sky began to darken, the sheer numbers of razorfish drowning out the sun. Luca hazarded a look toward the razor storm; lightning crackled and burst, illuminating the water, the storm, the thousands upon thousands of deadly-finned razorfish. When the main mass of them hit, it would do more than cut. It would tear the Wasp's sails apart.

It would tear them apart.

Another streak of pain opened his side, and he fell, hard, against the wheel. White spun in his vision. He saw Cereza crouched behind the mast. Blood glistened on her hands as she tried to bat the razorfish away with the harpoon. Dying fish flopped around her on the deck, but more got through than she hit.

"No-" Luca cried. "Cee-"

Chain rattled, cutting through the storm's howl. He whipped his head up. The witchborn signed furiously, far faster than he'd seen her sign before.

Let me go.

"No!"

All of us will die if you do not let me go.

Wind tore past him; fish thudded against the deck, hammering thick as rain. Her eyes met his, through the storm, through the flashing, sparking, screaming wall of razorfish.

He heard Nagi's cries, riding higher than the storm.

He heard Cereza's voice as she shouted something lost to the wind.

Damn you, witchborn.

Luca pushed away from the wheel and flung himself across the deck, toward her. She caught him by the arm; her grip was solid. Luca scrabbled in his shirt for the key. She yanked it from his hands, nearly throttling him by its chain, and jabbed it into her fetters. They sprang open, and she lunged, dragging him along beside her, the two of them stumbling together through the thickening swarm.

They reached Cereza as the mainsail split, rent down the middle, halves fluttering like banners from useless lines. Luca threw himself down, over Cereza; he looked up at the witchborn, who stood, half-crouched, staring toward the storm.

"What are you doing?" Luca yelled. "Get down! You'll be ripped apart!"

She raised her hands. Darkness curled around her fingers, drawn from the air, from the flashing shadows of the razorfish around them. It twined around Luca, veining through his skin; it felt cold as night, cold as the black emptiness between the stars.

"How by the Triune are you doing that?" he breathed.

The witchborn spared him a glance. You'd best be glad it's not day yet, Valere.

Shadow streamed and pooled, solidifying into a spectral barrier between them and the storm. Luca braced; Cereza's eyes shone; he felt her racing pulse as her hand tightened around his. The cloud of razorfish grew closer, closer, the wind like a god's hand trying to fling them from the deck.

Luca couldn't look away, couldn't close his eyes. The witchborn curled to her knees, teeth grit, hands outthrust against the shadow barrier, an instant before the storm hit.

The world dissolved into a blur of flashing silver and lightning. The scream became a force, became bigger than Luca; he twisted away, Cereza's face buried in his chest, his hand cupping the back of her head.

He felt the witchborn shaking against him, felt the numbing cold of her shadows, knew she could kill him now with barely an effort. All she had to do was send her shadows into his heart, or retract them, leave him and Cereza to the mercy of the razor storm.

Luca was rigid, half-expecting her to, half-expecting the next thing he felt to be the agony of blades entering his flesh, but it never came.

Fish hammered against the barrier. There was no time to marvel or wonder. All he could do was close his eyes and wait and hold on, hoping beyond hope his luck had not yet run out.

***

Nagi wheeled overhead, scattering cloud gulls, a raucous flock of them turned to silhouettes by the sun.

Luca raised the canteen to his lips. A trace of water trickled onto cracked skin, then nothing. Luca shook the canteen. Empty, like the others. He let his arm fall to the deck and stared upward, where Nagi coasted on the still air, shifting colors. A bright, hard blue, like the sky, then yolk-yellow, then scarlet. The sun stared, an unrelenting eye.

A cloud, Luca thought. A breeze. Triune, I am begging you. I'll never blaspheme against you again, not if I live a hundred years.

He raised his head enough to stare over the railing. The ocean was a blue so vivid it hurt his aching eyes, the only disruption the occasional faint ripple as some trace of wind skittered over its surface.

Four days they'd been here, four days on this windless mirror sea. The Wasp drifted at the current's mercy. Even if wind came, there was no way to harness it, not anymore. The sails hung, useless, from their lines, so shredded they looked more like fine lacework than canvas. Great chunks and gouges had been taken from the Wasp, turning its once-sleek hull into a pocked wreck. Slashes showed paler wood beneath the black paint, the mast listing and chewed. Cut lines trailed behind the ship like the tentacles of some dying sea creature.

This was no fishing trawler, no armored warship sheathed in plates of metal to protect it from razor storms. It may as well have killed them. A razor fish's fin to the throat would have meant a quicker death than this, slowly succumbing to the gradual lull of dehydration.

"Luca," Cereza murmured.

He turned his head. Cereza leaned against the railing, her head to the gunwale. Her eyes were closed.

"What?" Luca said.

"Any more in yours?"

"No, Cee. I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"No. I'm sorry for...this. For everything."

"Stop, Luca..."

"I mean it."

"This was my choice, too," Cereza said. She pressed her hand to her heart, brow creasing. "I want to see it. I want to see it as much as you do."

Her voice was pained, so full of hope. Luca pulled himself to her side. She still held the Belmont cup's box, a deep cut gouged from its lid. The cup inside was unhurt. The sunlight made it glitter like a prism, too bright to look at. Luca snagged his canteen and tipped the last spare drops of water into it, then set it to Cereza's lips. He saw the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

"Better," she said.

Luca leaned next to her, one shoulder against the railing, the cup still held in his palms. He turned it to and fro, watching the ripple of color through its depths. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense some pull from it, some pulse or echo of power.

Nothing but smooth, sun-warmed crystal. He was no witchborn, after all.

"I have a game," he said. He tipped his head toward Cereza. "To pass the time."

She didn't bother opening her eyes. "What sort of game?"

"A delightful one."

Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Go on, then."

"When we reach land- a lush one, of course, with extremely accommodating people, exceptionally delectable cuisine, and suspiciously beautiful women- what's the first thing you're going to eat?"

"Mmm. Moon cakes."

"Moon cakes? Out of everything there is to eat in this world you'd choose moon cakes?"

One eye opened. "I thought this was supposed to be a delightful game, not a judgmental one."

"Fine, fine."

Nagi called overhead, swooping past once more, dipping her wings into a dive. She snatched something from the water's surface and spiraled into the sky once more, her feathers blooming pale pink as she alit on the mast to eat her catch. Rotting razorfish still covered the Wasp's deck, but she wasn't stupid enough to try feeding on those; their flesh contained barbs as sharp as the ones on their wings, and to eat them was like swallowing a mouthful of broken glass.

"And to think," Luca murmured. The sun beat down on him, sweat trickling into his hairline. "If none of this had happened, you'd be eating moon cakes off silver plates alongside Prince Alois Belmont right now."

"I thought we were so close, Luca."

"I know, Cee." He let out his breath. "I know."

"I dreamed again."

He looked at her. Her gray eyes were focused on some point in the sky, past the sun and wheeling gulls. "The Leviathan. I saw it."

"What did you see?"

"The same as before. Flying. It was bleeding. I could see it, beneath me, but it was in the air, too, in the sky, the stars all falling, all burning. Dying."

Her voice became a sing-song whisper. "It was like the end of the world. Maybe the beginning. I don't know."

"We will find it."

She said nothing, just closed her eyes, lashes golden in the sun.

Luca raised his head. The witchborn was where she'd been the last time he'd looked for her, perched on the Wasp's prow, one leg on either side of its bowsprit. They had barely spoken in the past four days. Luca climbed to his feet and approached, wincing as his cuts pulled. The razorfish had left him a mess of drying blood and shallow gashes. At this rate he'd have nearly as many scars as the witchborn.

She glanced at him as he stopped by her side, leaning once more against the railing. A breeze ruffled his hair, momentary respite from the heat.

"Anything?" he asked, after a pause.

She shook her head. They took turns looking out, scanning the horizon for a sail or the first sign of land. The stars told him they were leagues off course, their arc taking them not north, up trusted routes to the northern archipelago of Buyan, but south, deep into the Gulf of Storms, toward the edge of the Inner Sea. These were the doldrums, the windless desert deadlands of sailor's nightmares. At least a storm would push them toward something, even if that something was shipwreck.

He cut his eyes toward the witchborn. He thought she hadn't noticed, but she raised her hands and signed what do you want, Valere?

"To thank you. You saved our lives."

I saved my own life as much as yours.

"Yes, well. You didn't have to, and yet you did. I can't help but appreciate it." He sighed. "I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did."

Not very princely.

Luca laughed. "No, it wasn't. Though, the way things have been going, I'm afraid nothing about me is."

She smiled, a hard upturn of the corners of her mouth. Her profile was clean, the planes of her face bathed in sunlight. Where was she from? She didn't look like anyone Luca had seen before, no ambassador or tradesman from off-island. She'd spoken of feeling the pulse of the Leviathan's power through the whaleglass knife, had spoken of balance, sky and sea and star.

My name, she signed, and spelled out an unfamiliar word. Luca mouthed along with the letters she formed, one by one.

"Sirin?" Luca said when she got to the end.

She nodded.

"Sirin," Luca said again, savoring the unfamiliar taste of the sounds. "That's a name worth waiting for."

Don't attempt charm, Valere.

"I don't attempt charm. I am charm."

You are Lapidaean, she signed. You and I will never be friends.

Luca's grin faded. He nodded and faced the horizon again, forearms braced against the railing. Sirin's face was hard, all of her momentary glint of humor gone.

There is a tale of a place like this, Sirin signed after a pause. Where I come from the winds never cease. They might relent for an hour, but they always returned, and we welcomed them like friends when we once more heard their howl.

Her hands danced and fluttered as she spoke, signing her words in midair to weave the story. We believed souls were carried on the winds, released at the moment of death to ride in the skies forever. But a place without wind is an unnatural thing. Souls fall here. Souls drown. These seas are full of them, lost to the deeps, like children wandered far from home.

Luca thought of the Triune, their three faces carved from Valeris's pale stone: Sola, Ina, and Yuna, the past, the now, and the unknown. "Our gods fly, too."

How similar we must be. And you trust those gods? You believe in them, love them?

Luca didn't answer. The Triune were his mother's gods, his father's, Isabella's, their temples great and their priestesses many. He believed in them because he'd grown up with their statues, their shrines, their word. He believed in them, but he knew it was superstition, like sailor's charms or fishermen's rituals. It was rote, but not real.

His belief in the Leviathan was not superstition. It was a call, it was a storm, it was bigger than him, it was madness. It filled him up and ached. It was as much a part of him as his pulse, like the Great Leviathan was his heart, ranging some ocean far beyond his small shard of understanding.

"The Trifold Tongue says our dead are sent to a place without fear," Luca said after a moment. "Cut from this life by Yuna's sword."

Cut. How violent. As I might expect.

"Bold to preach to me of violence. You've killed more than I have."

She said nothing. Luca sensed a renewed tension from her, a tightening of her hands.

"Of course," he added, with a theatrical shrug, "some in Lapide also believe the oceans have an edge, and all the water goes pouring off into a starry abyss, swimming with monsters vaster than the sky. I don't suppose that's true."

Your folk fancy strange things.

"And your folk fancied nothing, I'm guessing?"

Nothing so ridiculous as that.

Luca felt the corner of his mouth curl up in a smile. Strange, this, to be trading stories with a monster. If she was, indeed, a monster.

"Where is it, then, you come from?" he asked.

Sirin cut him a look. A place long dead, she signed. A people long drowned.

She said no more. Luca stared across the sea, watching the ripple of the waves, the shimmer of sunlight on water.

"All things considered," he said, "this isn't such a bad place to die."

A dark spot swam in his vision. He blinked, rubbed his eyes. It persisted: a blot on the horizon. Was the heat addling his brain? Luca blinked again, straightening, as Sirin unfolded from her perch, crouching on the railing's edge.

Not a sunspot, not his mind playing tricks. He scrambled for his spyglass and set it to his nose, heart hammering.

Sails.

A ship, sailing straight for them.

As he lowered the spyglass, Cereza and Sirin were at his sides, staring at him. "What flag?" Cereza asked. She leaned on the harpoon like a cane. "Lapidaean? Buyani?"

Estaran? Sirin signed.

Luca shook his head, licking his lips. They must have cracked; he tasted blood. If the Triune were listening, they must have a wicked sense of humor.

"No," he said. "Pirates."

#tales of the great leviathan #togl #fantasy fiction #original fiction #serial novel #chapter 18

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cptnbvcks · 5 years ago

Text

cold showers (mandalorian x reader)

summary: mando gets sex pollen-ed and you just so happen to be in the way of him and his cold shower.

warnings: sex pollen! dub-con because of the sex pollen!

a/n: this was quick and dirty i just needed to get this out there

By your count, it had been roughly forty-eight hours since you last saw the Mandalorian.

It wasn’t your position to ask, and the hunter rarely told you much anyway. It was always the same commands: Stay here with the child. Don’t let him out of your sight. Keep him out of the cockpit or he’ll have you halfway to Sorgan before you can stop him.

Your job was to take care of the child. Stay out of the Mandalorian’s business.

You wouldn’t have minded his absence — he had been gone for longer bouts of time before — but there was something about the humid heat of this planet’s rainforests and the incessant croaking from the swamps that set you on edge. The heat was creeping into the ship and it was making both you and the child a little antsy. Your clothes stuck to your skin and the child fussed in his bundles of robes.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m sure your dad will be home soon,” you murmured gently as you closed the doors of the Razor Crest for the night, eyes scanning the dense, blue-shadowed forest entrance for any sign of glimmering beskar. The child chittered worriedly in your arms as its ears twitched low.

You looked down at the little green baby and smiled slightly. Its eyes were shifting back and forth over the entrance of the forest too. Searching.

The child babbled lowly as the doors slid shut, casting its massive eyes up at you expectantly. He opened his mouth, his little teeth peeping out from under his lip, and yawned nice and big with a tiny coo as he smacked his mouth back together. You laughed quietly as he blinked tiredly at you, “C’mon, you little womp rat. Lets get you to bed.”

You massaged the tip of his ear between your fingers as you walked back into the main chamber of the ship.

It barely took any time at all between you setting him down in the little sleeping nook and turning out the main lights before the little guy had teetered backwards with a thump, closed those big ol’ bug eyes of his, and began snoozing.

“Thank the Maker there aren’t Jawas out here, huh, bud? I can’t imagine shooing those bastards away in this kind of heat.” You spoke to yourself as you dragged the back of your hand across your damp forehead.

You were worried. You always spoke to yourself when you were worried.

"Hope he’s okay, little guy,” you sighed under your breath as you pulled a thin cover over the child, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his forehead before pulling down the sheet metal that would keep him from waking up and wandering around.

Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck and you were more than grateful that the kid almost always slept through the entire night. It meant that you could take all the time you needed in the ship’s shower.

—

The water was icy cold and poured gently from the rusty overhead spray. For once, you didn’t complain. The space was cramped and you wondered how the Mandalorian even fit. Surely his head bumped the faucet and his arms knocked over the few toiletries he had.

You smiled to yourself at the thought. He was always so serious to you that you couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if he even liked you at all, or if he simply tolerated the additional body because he couldn’t keep dragging the child into life threatening situations.

Sighing, you pressed your forehead against the metal wall as the water dribbled coldly over your back and shoulders. Your eyes slipped shut as your thoughts returned to the Mandalorian. Out there, in the heat. The dark. You hoped he was okay. Partly because you didn’t know what the hell you’d do if he wasn’t.

Partly for other reasons that you refused to acknowledge because of professional reasons.

Still, the thoughts came, intruding and incessant, as they always were when two people spent too much time alone in space together. You dragged a hand through your hair and thought of Mando’s. Was his hair brown? You imagined so. Brown hair to match the dusky sound of his voice. Dark eyes too, to match his hair.

Your hand slipped over your neck and you thought of his skin. You knew it was tanned; honey gold and firm with lean muscles. He had come in once with his under-shirt ripped half to hell and you had to restrain the baby as he cauterized his own wounds, despite your offer to help.

You never wanted to admit it, but you had thought of that little patch of bronzed skin for about two weeks straight.

Your hand moved lower and you thought of his hands. He had grabbed your wrist once after you touched his shoulder to check if he was sleeping at the wheel. The force of it had left a faint bruise, and if the Mandalorian had ever noticed it, he never brought it up.

A small moan echoed in the tinny shower chamber at the thought of those hands leaving marks somewhere else.

Your little daydream was abruptly cut short by the sound of the the ship’s buzzing fluorescents going dead silent. Your eyes shot open but you swore you were still lost in the darkness behind your eyes.

“Fuck,” you cursed low, panic rising suddenly as the creeping disorientation set in. You dragged your hand over the wet stall, knocking aside the Mandalorian’s facial blades in the process.

You reached for where you thought the hatch to the shower chamber was.

Something grabbed your hand.

Panic shot through you; raw and piercing as you screamed loud. The hand that clamped down over your mouth and pushed you back into the shower chamber was bare, dry and rough and big enough that its fingers touched your jaw from edge-to-edge. The hand smelled like blaster residue and leather.

The body pressed into yours and by the maker, they were burning up. Your survival instincts kicked into hyperdrive as you blindly shoved one-handedly at whoever was in the stall with you. Their chest was bare and your hand smacked wetly against it as you shoved at the person’s shoulders.

“Stop that,” the voice huffed tightly; heavy and familiar and unmodulated — your breath caught in your throat and your struggles halted, “It’s— It’s me. Just me.”

The Mandalorian. A very naked Mandalorian.

This had to be a dream.

Maybe a heat-stroke illusion.

Your cheeks flared red and you were grateful for the drowning blackness because you thought you might implode if you actually had visual confirmation of what was happening right now.

You whimpered his name against the palm of his hand, your eyes searching the darkness in front of you for any indication of a face.

You had never felt so much of him before. Not skin-wise. Not even contact-wise. What was going on? Where had this come from all of a sudden?

He lowered his palm from your mouth before silencing whatever question or rejection that you might have voiced by pressing a hard kiss to your lips. You didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed but you swore you saw stars when he dragged his tongue over the roof of your mouth.

Maker, he tasted exactly as you had imagined.

“‘m sorry, it’s just— I don’t...” he grunted against your mouth, his words jagged and slurred as his hand dragged down the curve of your throat, squeezing there for a moment before sinking down to the trembling curve of your damp breasts. He squeezed hard, unrestrained and nearly unhinged as he pinched the wet peak of your taut nipple. It fucking hurt. “Just... fuck—, need you— need this—”

He wasn’t making much sense but you couldn’t exactly ask for clarification when he made his point by shoving his hand between the wet flesh of your thighs.

Something about this feels off.

Something about the slur of his voice and the radiating heat that’s surrounding him. The hunter barely ever looked in your direction, rarely even spoke more than he needed to — hell, sometimes you wondered if he even remembered your name — and now here he was, cornering you naked in the shower, sans-helmet and hard as the beskar steel he wore.

Something was wrong.

“M-mando, wait—! Maker, what’s going on?”

Your head falls back against the chamber wall and the ragged gasp that interrupts when he circles your aching clit with the rough pad of his finger is almost unbecoming of a lady.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you get wet for him. Even more so when he buries his fingers to the knuckle within your walls and you cry out like you’ve never been touched by a man before. You’re hot and wet on his fingers as he thrusts them deeper, curling them hard against your clenching cunt until every logical thought turns into gibberish in your head.

“I just... please, fuck—, stop talking.”

You comply, but only because he locks his mouth over your breast and rubs his thumb over your swollen clit and you swear to every god in the galaxy whatever’s possessing the Mandalorian is rubbing off on you.

Your thighs shake hard as he wraps his arm around your waist, forcing you up onto your toes in an attempt to match his height. His cock is trapped between your bodies, hard and thick and your cheeks blush dark as he shifts his hips against you, all but fucking himself against your stomach. It’s vulgar, maybe a little demeaning, but the heat that’s pooling against the Mandalorian’s fingers tells a different story.

“You’re so... tight,” He growls, shoving you harder into the chamber wall, “How are you so tight? I can’t— fuck, can’t wait—” He trails off as you card your fingers into his hair. You feel him shudder against you as he bites down on your flesh hard enough that you pull at his hair in protest.

He moans against you; low and deep in his chest as he rolls your nipple over his tongue. His entire mouth is hot; fever hot.

All you have is your sense of touch but something about the way he shoves his fingers into you just a little harder and sucks a fresh bruise into your collarbone when you drag your nails against his scalp tells you that you’re testing the fine line of his restraint.

You know the Mandalorian would never hurt you. He’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. But something tells you that if you push him tonight, you’ll be regretting it by morning.

“Turn around,” he orders and you hear the slurred strain of his voice. It almost sounds like he’s wounded but you can’t tell if he’s bleeding with the way the water’s flowing against your bodies. His cock pulses against your stomach as he drags his fingers from your heat, drawing your slickness over your clit until his fingers glide easily over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You take too long to do as you’re told.

He’s pushing you out of his arms again, his grip bruising as he grabs your hips and flips you towards the wall. The movement of it in such tiny quarters knocks more things from the small shelves of the shower. Your hands fly up to cushion your fall as he shoves you up against the biting steel. The metal is freezing on your breasts, icy compared to the warmth of your hunter’s mouth, and your nipples harden painfully upon contact.

You yelp with surprise as he brings a hand down over your ass. His palm lands slightly awkwardly and it hurts more than you think he intended, “Ow! Fuck, Mando, not so hard—!”

He hears you, but you don’t think he hears you, because he does it again. Your body jolts and it stings even worse because of the water. This time, he gropes at the plump curve of your backside with one rough palm while the other roams over the exposed flesh of your back that he can hardly see in the darkness.

There’s so much of you. So much. His thoughts are foggy, sluggish and pinwheeling solely to the body trembling before him in the dark and all the things he wants to do to it. To you.

He doesn’t realize he’s saying half of these things out loud, brokenly and stuttering on his tongue. They’re filthy and they make you blush all the way down to your breasts.

He knows something’s wrong. Knows he shouldn’t. But when he takes his cock into his hand and drags the bulbous head over your soaked entrance, the Mandalorian realizes that he doesn’t care bout the morality of it. There’s only you. Soaking wet and blushed pink for him.

You gasp wordlessly, stunned to silence, as he circles your hips with his battle-hardened grip and buries himself deep into your body with a single decisive thrust. Your cry of pleasure comes late, catching on your exhale as your walls flutter tight around him.

A random shiver crawls down your spine that makes your walls grip him even tighter. Your broken whimper echoes in the shower chamber as you slap a hand weakly against the wall beside your head, your body struggling to acclimatize to the stretch of him.

“Fu-uck, Mando,” You choke out out, “Fuck.”

He lets out a shuddered breath behind you and you realize he hasn’t moved an inch yet. Instead, he presses you flat between the wall and his body and grinds into you. Hits you in a place so deep that you swear to the galaxy’s edge that you can feel the ridge of his cock’s head inside of your walls with distinct clarity. Your toes curl and a muscle begins to knot itself in your thigh from the strain of being on your tip toes.

The noise that leaves you is fucking primal.

He drops his head against the back of your shoulder and lets out a sharp breath, “Good— you feel so good. So soft, everywhere. Everywhere.”

He begins to move. There’s nothing slow or deliberate about it. It’s messy, the way he fucks into you like he’s halfway forgotten that you’re a person and not a rag doll.

His hands grab handfuls of your curves, dips between your thighs just to feel the obscene way your pussy stretches around his cock. His mouth is sucking purple bruises over your shoulder blades, ones you won’t even notice once the lights come back on. You smell like his soaps and taste of the distilled water of the shower. He runs his tongue over your flesh and bites down.

He knows he’s being too rough; knows you’re biting down the pain when he digs his fingers into your breasts and drags your back flush against his chest. You’re wincing slightly when he hits you too deep but you’re sobbing for him when he sinks his fingers between your legs and begins working your clit beneath a rough finger.

You’re making the most beautiful sounds while you’re taking him and when he wraps his hand around the delicate curve of your throat and pins your head back against his chest, you reach up and grab his arm with urgency, nails biting into the exposed skin of him. Your pussy clamps down hard around his girth and he pushes against the resistance until he’s as deep as your body would allow him.

It’s so dark and you’re lost in it and all you know is him and the earth shattering pleasure when his fingers press down on your clit. You’re coming and you think you’re screaming but you only know for sure when he squeezes your neck hard enough that the sound catches in your voice box.

You cling to him as your walls pulse around his cock. You only realize he had cum too when you feel the liquid fullness of it as he continued to fuck himself into your spent body.

Well.

Now you’re a little concerned for your pussy’s wellbeing.

—

You wake up the next morning disoriented. The ship is bright and you can hear the birds outside loud and clear. A warm humid breeze blows in and it carries the babble of the baby.

The baby!

You jolt upright and almost knock yourself out on the utility compartment above the spare cot.

“Easy. I’ve got him.” The voice comes from the ramp of the ship, crackling gently through the modulator of a shiny beskar helmet. He’s standing at the open entrance, dressed in his armours with the little green child bundled in his arms. You notice the fresh scuff marks on his cuirass, tokens from whatever battle had brought him to this jungle planet for so long.

Your chest catches with a sudden sharp inhale as the knowledge of the night before hung heavily in the air between you.

For a moment, you don’t know what to say. You wonder if to say anything at all.

It wasn’t like you could both ignore the fact that he had fucked you from sundown to sunrise in every spot you could fathom on the ship. You certainly couldn’t ignore the fact that you could still feel the remnants of him between your thighs.

“I understand if you want to leave.”

The Mandalorian’s abrupt words catch you off guard, but it’s what he said that stuns you to silence.

“What we did— What I did, I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have done that to you,” the Mandalorian was stumbling on his words but the shame that hung in the air between them felt like a punch to the gut, “I was tracking a mercenary in the marshland. She tagged me with something. Some kind of amatory agent.”

It was both hazy and vivid in his mind — putting the quarry in the carbonite chamber, shutting down the lights because he thought you had already retired with the child and to avoid the risk of you finding him without his helmet in his disoriented state, then stumbling out of his armour and into the shower to quell the burning heat that had crept over his body and blurred his mind to one physical singularity.

He remembered finding you in the shower chamber. Naked. Wet.

And he remembered every single thing he did to you afterwards.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said softly, and you knew that he fully meant it. You tried to ignore the growing pang of dejection that settled sourly in your stomach. The Mandalorian averted his gaze then as the child peered between you and his somewhat-father, gurgling contently. The hunter turned towards the cockpit hatch. “I’ll set the co-ordinates back to take you back to Nevarro.”

“... Do you want me to leave?”

Your words made him pause. The sound of hurt in your voice made his heart ache at the wonder of what he might have broken between you. His breaths echoed in soft static through the helmet as he stood silently.

“No. I don’t.”

You slipped out of the bunk despite the protest of your thighs. The Mandalorian felt his heart jump in his throat at the sound of your bare feet padding over and for a moment he wondered if he had truly worked all of that poison out of his system. He didn’t fight as the child lifted his arms for you to take him.

You itched the back of the baby’s head and he exclaimed happily. The Mandalorian was looking at you now, just the slightest tilt of his helmet to indicate as much. You looked up at him from beneath your lashes, sugar sweet and endlessly forgiving, as you kissed the child’s head.

“Then I won’t,” you said softly, jokingly lifting the child slightly, “For his sake.”

—

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#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #baby yoda #star wars #the mandalorian fic #myfic

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I don’t know if you’re still doing this prompt but how about the Oxygen Loss but with either Rung or Ratchet? I’m not sure how you would do Ratchet, maybe he’s away from the Med Bay at the time the LL is being attacked?

I've got some of my favorite bot Rung for you, and Ratchet is in part five listed below! Let's have some angst with the good phsychiatrist!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: You're Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Rung

·Perhaps being human just made one think differently from Cybertronians in the most unusual of ways, but you truly never understood how anyone could forget the lovable phsychiatrist, though you have quite a few unique reasons to remember him. While he's actually rather sociable and energetic, the two of you most often enjoy relaxing together in his office. Today you're doing just that by chatting away about the various pieces of earth media you think he'll enjoy. Whether or not he actually ends up having interest in any of them, he takes great pleasure in discussing your suggestions. Not only does it give him a better glimpse into earth and the culture of its inhabitants, but it also allows him to hear about your own tastes in entertainment, and that alone could keep his interest for days. Just hearing you talk about yourself so happily is a delight.

·Unfortunately the fun times are interrupted by an emergency broadcast, one the two of you are equally baffled to find is little more than a garble of indecipherable warnings and instructions. Before any kind of explanation can be requested, the line goes off completely, fading out to silence that doesn't even register static. Having served on many ships in the past, Rung has theories straight away as to what could be going on, and they vary from trivial to concerning. For this though, he wants to err on the side of caution. That means getting somewhere safe. If something is indeed wrong, he explains, help can always be found in a number of key locations. Considering where his room is, he knows the closest safe place is the medical bay.

·Wanting to be wary but not panicked, Rung admittedly struggles over whether or not to get moving. Though he doesn't say why, you know one of his biggest fears is being unable to protect you, something he worries he can't do being adverse to combat. A small smile of encouragement naturally lights up your features as you lay a hand on his. You promise him you trust his judgement no matter what. A look of gratitude is knocked off his face when his whole office trembles, and it's replaced entirely with a look of terror as the ship gives a mighty buck, sending your tiny body flying. An athletic dive saves you from crashing into anything, and instead you find yourself held in a pair of trembling hands when the world levels out. On his knees and quite frazzled from the jolt, the first thing Rung does is ask if you're okay, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you confirm you are.

·The incident gives him the impetus to make up his mind; the two of you are going to head for more secure territory. In agreement despite being so frazzled, you let him take the lead and try to convey just how grateful you are to have him at your side for all of this, holding onto his digits as he prepares to get moving. There's so much obvious planning in the processor behind his furrowed brows you can practically hear the metaphorical wheels turning. He wants to be ready for any possibility, so much so that he grabs his rarely used combat staff from the corner. Despite the circumstances, your heart actually flutters a little; to you he's always looked quite dashing wielding the weapon.

·There's silence when he enters the hallway at last, and it drives him to hug you to his chest in a move that comforts himself just as much as he hopes it comforts you. It certainly helps you feel secure, as the move puts you right beside his spark, one that leaves no doubt as to its status as brightest on the ship. A soft and melodic humming seems to pass straight through his chestplate at all times. Pressing against him, you let the sound soothe the tension from your much smaller body. Even if you can hardly protect him from much of anything, you hope he feels a bit safer in your company, though he's hardly struggling to move boldly through the ship. From a distance one might have even missed the light tremble in his frame.

·Scared as he might be, he's faced situations similar to this before, and came out with the knowledge that it's best to move as he is now; quickly, but quietly, so as to avoid being taken by surprise. However, he had the aid of his natural resilience to get him through past situations alive. Incredible healing abilities have always been a literal life saver, but now, the fact that only he would be saved... The thought of recovery is just as agonizing as any wound when he thinks of you not being there when the physical pain faded. Fear of such an outcome makes him freeze when the first sound of movement meets his audials; there's something rather large nearby, and it isn't an Autobot. Nor is it a Decepticon, further inspection tells him when he listens intently, as he can hear how unnaturally it moves even from his makeshift hiding spot. It has to be one of the attacking forces.

·Rung looks down as you hold your breath, having heard the same sound and doing your best to make sure the alien doesn't find either of you. For an instant you're both left frozen and the air is tense enough to feel as if it's smothering you. Scouting the situation as best he can, the small mech takes note of the fact he only has one usable path to the medical bay from this position, as any other course would require a great deal of backtracking there simply isn't time for. The only viable way forward is this one, and as there's only a single enemy... Looking down at you one final time let's him make a decision. This has to be done, for your sake, and he quickly sets you down in an open yet depowered electrical hatch, one likely left this way by a bot abandoning it in the midst of some maintenance. Hopefully it will keep you safe...

·You know what he's doing when Rung whispers for you to stay down and make a run for it should things "end poorly", but you don't even get a chance to try and stop him, the fear in his optics all but breaking your heart as he disappears from view. Alone in the hatch, a million thoughts storm in an attempt to form a plan. Being so tiny leaves you very few options... Yet a forgotten tool, some kind of Cybertronian screwdriver, opens up a slew of dangerous possibilities. What you assume to be adrenaline fills you so fast you get dizzy, but you don't let that stop you as the makeshift weapon is clenched between your shaking hands. Unbeknownst to you, Rung executes his first attack at the same instant, finishing off an impressive ambush with a ferocious stab intended to end a fight before it can begin.

·Rung isn't surprised when his attack merely staggers his opponent; just dissapointed as the brute turns to retaliate. Bloodied weapon in hand, he simply doesn't have the reflexes to avoid the hit that comes next, though he does manage to land a small puncture wound as a powerful blow slams him against a wall. As he is pinned by the overwhelming weight of a much larger being, he can only think about you... The weapon is immobile in his hand, as useless as he knows he is, and he prays this commotion will at least enable you to escape. Pressure hard enough to crack his armor suspends any thoughts beyond pain as the alien goes in for the kill. Only, it's interrupted by a very unexpected attack at the base of one of its legs, one that staggers it as something tiny and very sharp is stabbed as deep as it can go... by you.

·There's no time to celebrate before a reflexive kick sends you sprawling, your tiny body rolling across the ground from a mere glancing blow. Between the window of opportunity and the glaring rage on your behalf, it's all Rung needs to turn the tide of battle. Though he's sloppy from anger and pain, his staff finds a weak point and the bladed end sinks deep, sending the gargantuan being toppling like a gigantic tree. Before the thud has finished echoing Rung is by your side, kneeling on a visibly damaged leg to look you over. Despite the strength of what hit you, there's something off in how bleary you are as his face spins above you, as if the world is slipping away. Your injured partner can see it too. In fact, anyone could see you're struggling just to breathe, and that sends a chill through his spark. Whether or not this level of incoherencey makes any sense for your manner of injury, he doesn't have time to ask questions, needing to get you somewhere safe instead. All he takes the time for is to plead that you remain awake.

·Before he can damage his leg further by attempting to struggle into a standing position, luck arrives in the form of a squadron of armed bots, who heard the sound of combat and came to investigate. The sight of the ship's tiny phsychiatrist and the hulking alien he obviously killed makes most of their jaws drop. In a rare loss of composure, Rung begs them to take you to the medical bay as fast as possible, tears hidden only by his lenses. Slipping out of consciousness while you're lifted by dexterous hands, you can only be glad he'll be okay, and that despite your tiny size you made a difference... A quick thinking bot heeds the instructions and carts you off for treatment. Rung can only pray help will be given in time, and as he's helped along after you the bitter sense of failure hurts worse than any injury; how could he be so worthless as to let you down in this of all moments?

·The feeling is not at all relieved when he arrives for care of his own and is told that you'll live, only because the true cause of your sudden deterioration strikes him hard. You were suffocating, tiny organic body failing from a lack of critical resources, and yet you'd been forced to save him. Did this mean he had hurt you more than anything else today, because he'd been unable to handle himself, making you waste precious oxygen and energy? As soon as he's patched up he requests to stay alone by your side, which is rather difficult due to how many bots want to praise his efforts in taking down an enemy. Their intentions are at least appreciated. Yet he's left to agonize as he waits for you to stir, removing his glasses so he can hold his head in his hands while the emotions overwhelm him.

·Upon waking, it's hard to ignore the fact that most of your body hurts in one way or another, particularly in a few stretches of your arms and legs where bruises will no doubt be blossoming soon. Yet the mask on your face is what really gives you pause, especially as you open your eyes to see the interior of a medical bay suite. A familiar dash of copper catches your attention before you can think too hard. Rung is just beside you, yet you can't tell if he's awake or powered down by the way his helm is leaning so heavily against his palm. The question is answered as soon as you stir, and his usually bright optics snap open to reveal an exhausted grey. Despite the visible anguish, he smiles as soon as he sees you, reaching forward to brush your cheek as he softly says your name. Static blurs his voice into an uncharacteristic croak.

·A tad bit accustomed to worried minds in confusing situations, he gently relays what led to you being here, trying to remain neutral but slipping in a bit of self admonishment as he gets to his failed defensive effort. The memories flood back despite the injuries you suffered and the lack of oxygen in the moment. A far different scene comes back in your mind's eye, one of a mech valiantly charging into a fight just to give you a chance at escape, and you take hold of his digit despite the pain of moving your arm. When he tries to stop the action you cut him off gently, saying that he's not just the reason you're alive, he was the source of your own burst of courage that resulted in you saving his life. Your love for each other is why you're both here to live another day.

·The devotion in your words takes him by total surprise. For all the adoration he has for you, he's not even accustomed to being remembered by anyone, let alone treasured. Honest as can be, he can only silently wipe away a few happy tears as he requests you forgive him for the self imposed criticism. Smiling back, you promise to do so, and to always help him remember that he's worth all the love you have for him. With tenderness only he could possess, Rung leans down to leave a soft kiss on the side of your head in silent thanks. There simply aren't words for the happiness you give him even in the hardest times...

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #rung #rung x reader #human reader #self insert #requests

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absurdthirst · 4 years ago

Note

Saw your inbox got nuked so I’ll resend (ignore is annoying). It’s not the exact same because my memory is absolutely trash but here we are.

Something soft but sexy with Mando and a reader in a wheelchair? Maybe him reassuring her that he can keep her safe and that her body isn’t what’s important to him? I’m also curious how he would modify the ship to be accessible but I know I’m asking a lot lol

***I hope this is what you were looking for?

Accessible

“Din, you know I can’t-”

“Just come and see it cyar’ika.” The warmth of his baritone wasn’t masked by the modulator of his helmet. You tipped your head up to see him, the dark visor pointed towards you. You could tell he was excited, impatient, his body moving slightly as he shifted from foot to foot.

Releasing a sigh, you nod. “Okay. I will come see the changes you made to the Crest.” You agree.

The Mandalorian doesn’t even respond to you, just quickly turning on his heel and looking back at you, waiting for you to press the lever on your chair to roll you forward.

It wasn’t easy, not being able to go with him anymore. An injury damaging your body past the healing properties of bacta and not even the medic droids were skilled enough to repair you without the very real risk of killing you. So you were bound to a chair, your legs for all intents and purposes, useless.

Your home was on Nevarro, set up to where you could be safe under the watchful eyes of Greef and now Cara. When you had been injured, Din had not wanted to leave you behind, but there was no way that you could function on the gunship. More of a liability to the bounty hunter than he needed. So you had told him you would stay here.

You hadn’t realized how much you would hate it. Being apart from your lover was not something you had ever dreamed of. And you hadn’t known how much it was affecting Din either.

“Kuiil, the ugnaught, I-I had him do some modifications to the Crest before he- before he died.” You heard the sadness in his tone at the mention of his friend’s demise, knowing that Din still blamed himself for the Imps killing the kind soul.

“Why would you do that?” You ask, the wheels of your chair rolling along the rocky path that led to where the ship you had called home for so long sat parked, the fuel lines hooked up as he prepared to leave once again.

“I want you to come with me again cyar’ika.” He stops and turns towards you, kneeling down in the volcanic rock and staring at you with that impassive visor. “I- I can protect you, and I miss having you here when I wake up.”

You close your eyes, remembering the nights you had woken up in his arms. The passionate times spent entwisted in each other in that tiny sleeping nook. The uncomfortable cot seemingly a feather bed when he was with you.

“Din I- I’m not the same.” You gesture to your useless lower body, things were so different that they were before.

“I don’t care about that, cyar’ika.” He says quickly. “I don’t- your body isn’t what I fell in love with. You, your heart, soul, mind, those are the things that I love and miss seeing you smile, hearing your voice. I miss your presence in our ship.” You feel your eyes fill with tears as his heartfelt admission. He wasn’t poetic at times, but this was words from the heart, and you knew that he was being genuine.

At the base of the ramp, there was a floating chair, similar to the pod that the kid was in. You tilt your head curiously and Din cleared his throat. “I thought it would be easier if you had something that could be maneuvered easily. You can just have it lift you through the hatch instead of worrying about the ladder.”

Your heart melted at the thoughtfulness of it. A hover chair would be more useful than the chair that was relying on wheels that you were currently using. You transferred over to the new chair and Din handed you a small remote. “It’s - I also programmed it to my vambrace.” He admits, making you laugh as you think about him moving you around like the kid.

Taking you through the ship, you could tell Kuiil had worked hard to modify the ship. Precious space in the cargo bay was now missing, used for other areas to accommodate you. The fresher was expanded. The tiny sonic shower now much larger with a seat built into it for you. The narrow sleeping quarters was twice the size that it once was, a proper bed in play of the cot, with bars around it for you to hold on to when you needed to get in and out of the bed.

Showing you how he had the hatch widened to make sure your chair could fit through it, he brings you up to the cockpit and you see that your chair, the one you always sat in is missing. Making room for you to be right by him again while he pilots the Crest.

“Cyar’ika, what do you think?” He asks, almost bashfully. You look around the cockpit of the ship you have spent so much time on. That you still dream about every night and wake up thinking you can still hear the rumble of the engines as you travel through hyperspace.

“It’s - it’s wonderful.” Your voice is rough with emotion, catching as you pitifully try to describe what you think of his thoughtfulness. There are no words that you can think of in any of the languages you know to adequately tell him how much it means to you.

“Come with me again?” He asks softly, reaching out for your hand and holding it in his leather clad one gently. “If I missed something, let me know. I just need you with me again.”

You bite your lip to hold back your tears of joy as you nod, a small sob escaping you. You didn’t have to stay behind anymore. You were able to be with your lover, the man who you loved because he had been so thoughtful and made his ship more accessible for you.

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 3 years ago

Note

I fell in love with Arthur x Tenth Doctor, so a drabble would be great! 😊 Prompt... well, is a ship with the Doc really valid if there's no constant running towards and then running away from danger?

(Also, all action packed scenes should end with a happy/relieved/giddy kiss, imo 😌)

Maybe this can be part of that little story that's been happening here with Arthur and the Doctor on the station I've been writing?

Considering it's a massive space port, there's bound to be seedy things happening in dark corners, and of course the Doctor has to see what's up!

On with the fic!

"Is this perfectly normal for you?" Arthur said, his normally calm composure twisted into a bit of panic and mild anger for and at the alien by his side, who was doing something to the mechanics of the Follow-Me Artificial Arthur was attached to.

The sounds of weapons being fired off and shouting was quite loud, and getting closer. They were hidden, yes, but it would only be a matter of time before that group of very dangerous looking individuals would find them.

It had been the Doctor's idea to wander around the port again, with Arthur at his side. When the Time Lord has overheard something about illegal trading in the lower areas of the port, he insisted that they should investigate.

They had found the lower markets, thanks to Arthur having the maps of the port in his programming, and an upgrade from the Doctor to really see the lower markets, and discovered what was being traded. A dangerous, concentrated form of Dark Energy that, in the wrong hands, could be used as a weapon.

The Doctor had made it his mission to stop it from being sold and used, which resulted in a lot of running about (was this normal for the Doctor? He almost seemed thrilled to run around), and meeting quite a number of frightening people who Arthur would never allow into his place of business.

They got the jar of dark matter, which shouldn't exist in the jar, it was dark matter after all, but the Doctor has babbled on about something or another on how it was possible. Arthur hadn't fully listened, as they had to run for their lives. Granted, Arthur could just be reuploaded into a new body if something happened to him, as long as his central processors weren't damaged beyond repair, same with his memory cards, but the Doctor was organic.

It's not like he could get a whole new body like Arthur could.

So, they found themselves, hiding as they were being chased down, with the Doctor doing something to the Follow-Me Assistant. "Doctor, do hurry, they're coming back."

"Hold on, just..." The Doctor said around the sonic screwdriver he held in his teeth, toying with two wires. There was a small spark and he grinned, using the sonic to do something, before closing up the hatch he had been working on. "Arthur, have you ever been held?"

"Aside from you placing me on the bartop, no."

"Have you ever held anyone?"

"I held you up when you were drunk, why?"

"Well, I'm going to need you to hold me in your arms like I held you." The Doctor said as he pocketed both his screwdriver and then the jar into his jacket.

The sounds of the dangerous individuals was louder now, closer, and Arthur decided not to question what the Doctor was asking of him. He scooped the man into his arms, like one would hold another, bridal style, he thought after a quick search of his word banks.

"Alright, I upgraded your speed and power, it'll drain your power in your wheels faster, but we'll be able to get to the upper levels in no time!"

Arthur frowned, but there was a shout, they'd been spotted.

"Hold on, Doctor." Arthur said, and thin arms wrapped around his neck as Arthur's grip on the Doctor tightened. He connected to the wheels, registering the upgrade in just a matter of milliseconds, and they were off.

On his track, Arthur was quite fast, had to be when he had to make a number of orders in a short amount of time, but he had never been this fast before!

The Doctor let out a whoop of excitement, telling Arthur he was brilliant, and something about that made Arthur feel a little lighter. He'd wonder about that later, right now, he had to get to the lift before they were in-

A shot rang out, zipping right past his ear. The skin might have been damaged, but he could replace it. If the Doctor got hit, then he'd be more worried. He turned a corner sharply, nearly tipping over, before slamming down and straightening himself as he continued to drive.

The map in his system told him he was just meters from the lift and the Doctor threw out his hand, now holding the sonic again, and aimed the light at the doors of the lift as it came into view.

They opened and Arthur drove in, slamming into a wall. The Doctor tumbled from his arms and then soniced the control panel, locking them inside before the criminals got to them. The Doctor then made the lift return them to Arthur's proper floor.

The Doctor looked at him, grinning brightly, his hair a mess, he looked crazed, but Arthur couldn't deny that he looked amazing.

"Oh, you were just brilliant, you!" He put his hands on Arthur's face. "Amazing! Fantastic driving, eleven outta ten, would totally recommend again!"

"You-!" Arthur put his own hands to the Doctor's face, glaring at him. "You are the most insane individual to grace my bar! You could have been hurt, you could have been killed, you- you...!"

He looked into those dark, brown eyes and just...

His programming didn't really require this of him, he didn't even think it was in his programming, or his basic nature, but that didn't stop Arthur from pulling the Doctor close, kissing him right then and there in the lift.

#arthur x tenth doctor #good omens extended universe #john's drabbles

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

All For The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin/Jedi Reader

Word Count: 3,282

When gathering bounties, the Reader wonders how long it would take Mando to catch them. A bet ensues. Will the Reader last all 24 hours, or will Mando hunt them down before the time is up?

You sighed in the comforting silence of the Crest, carefully taking apart your lightsaber to examine the purple kyber crystal. You’d never had problems with your lightsaber, but you liked to be sure everything would continue to be in working order for any future events. Grogu was asleep, and would likely be that way for at least the next 24, if not 48, hours. The final member of your small clan was sitting on a crate, silently sorting through available bounties. He dismissed most of them on the basis of time, considering the three of you could only be in one place for a week or two.

“How long does it take you to catch one?” You asked, breaking the silence as you clicked your saber pieces back together.

Mando looked up, the T of his visor sending a shiver down your spine. “What?”

You shrugged off the feeling of the shiver, putting your saber back on your belt. “How long does it take you to catch a bounty, on average?”

“On average,” Mando repeated slowly, clearly thinking it over. “Two days, depending on the skill set the bounty has.”

Nodding, you stretched. “What about me? How long would it take you to find me?”

Mando was quiet. He’d met you due to a bounty on your head, but had never once tried to turn you in or hunt you down. “Where?”

“Here,” you said, gesturing to an open hatch that overlooked the bustling city.

Again, Mando considered it. “A day.”

“A day?” You laughed, standing and moving to set up your sleeping area. “I bet I could last longer than that.”

“Do you now,” Mando drawled, his voice a tone you’d decided long ago was amused.

You smirked. “Yeah. I do. I think it would take you at least two to catch me and bring me back to the Crest.”

Mando stood, holding a hand out. “Wanna bet?”

Immediately, your chest tightened with excitement. You and Mando made bets a lot, considering it was often the only thing to do in hyperspace. “Fine,” you said, shaking his hand. “Some rules. No going easy on me. I want this to feel legit.”

Mando nodded. On bigger bets, you and him would alternate coming up with rules until you were both satisfied. “Second,” he said. “No intent to hurt or kill.”

An obvious one, but you kept going. “I get a head start of half an hour.”

“Okay. No using your weird power.”

“It’s called the Force, and sometimes I can’t control it.”

“Fine. No excessive intentional Force using.”

“Then you can’t use any weapons beyond your blasters.”

“My built in ones?”

“I’ll make an exception. But no Z-6. It stays here. And don’t use those fancy ass settings on your HUD. That absolutely counts as cheating.”

Eventually, you and Mando reached a nice point of agreement on all fronts, and you began to get ready as Mando took the Child into the cockpit to wait out your half hour head start.

Immediately, you dug up clothes Mando didn’t even know about, dressing quickly. They were your old Jedi robes, altered after you left to help you survive with a bounty on your head. You clipped your saber to your belt and tugged your old boots on, carefully tying away your hair and slipping on your hood.

Walking silently out of the Crest, you checked your wrist, where a small multipurpose watch sat nestled between strips of leather to make makeshift vambraces. You set the watch to alert you when Mando left and raced off into the city.

Even now, as the sun was setting, the city was busy. You slowed, checking your watch. Mando was still on the ship, and would continue to be for another ten minutes.

Taking a minute, you stopped to wander, making a plan. It had been almost 18 months since you’d hid from anyone this way, but as you imagined the Mandalorian hunting you down, it sharpened your instincts back to their razor-fine point.

You smiled to a merchant you bought food off of, heart beating faster when your watch chimed and set a 24 hour timer. Mando was on the hunt.

Scanning the skyline, you noticed a standout structure. A big wheel with baskets to hold people. It was in the more abandoned part of town, where only the desperate dwelled.

But you weren’t desperate yet. Drawing your hood closer around your face, you continued about your way, acting as if you belonged. With your bag and your entirely innocent demeanor, you hoped Mando’s helmet would just glide right over the back of your head.

You fought to keep yourself from tensing when you heard the telltale clinking of beskar behind you. But you managed to keep yourself composed as Mando passed right by you. The merchant you were talking to was relaxed, maybe a bit too relaxed, you realized as you used the Force to speed up the transaction.

Stuffing the spare clothes into your bag, you bowed slightly to the merchant and began to walk off, towards the residential district. To anyone, it would look as if you were merely done shopping for the evening and were headed home.

As you walked, you cursed your subconscious instincts. The Force had, upon remembering the feeling of being hunted down, heightened your hearing. You pulled your hood down, sliding a pair of pod racer goggles over your eyes. You couldn’t risk getting anything in your eyes now.

Leaving your hood down, you shivered as a breeze blew through, carrying the sound of beskar. Was he already on your trail?

Wondering if he’d remember if you used Force persuasion on him, or if it would even work at all, you continued to walk without a care in the world. Ducking down a narrower street, towards the abandoned district, you checked your watch once you were in a good enough alcove. An hour had passed since the hunt had begun.

You continued to make your way towards the wheel, climbing up on people’s rooftops and racing across with silent footsteps. You caught sight of Mando at one point, checking his vambrace. Probably checking the time, just as you had been periodically doing.

You walked away, ducking behind a chimney when he turned to look in your direction. But his focus was on the ground. Had he seriously forgotten about the skillset that kept you alive for all those years?

You continued towards the wheel structure, killing another hour with how you were twisting and turning to see if Mando was following you or if he was just looking.

You scaled the wheel with ease upon reaching it, settling down in the highest basket. You could see Mando’s helmet glinting in the low night lights occasionally, but he didn’t seem to be on any kind of trail, so you scooted down, heightened your senses, and closed your eyes to sleep.

You woke to the sun on your face, filtered through the protective lenses of your goggles. You were awake immediately, senses all hitting eleven as you felt someone scaling the wheel.

Looking down, you blood ran cold. With nine hours gone and fifteen left, Mando had found you.

You scooped your stuff up, tossing the cloak you’d purchased on to hide your Jedi clothes. In one smooth movement, you jumped, grabbing the old structural beams of the wheel and thanking the Force you’d picked up a pair of gloves as you swung from beam to beam with practiced ease.

By the time you’d hit the ground, Mando was only halfway down, cursing loudly. So he had forgotten you were a self-taught acrobat.

As soon as your boots made contact with the ground, you took off running, heading through the maze of scrap metal. You gave Mando a generous five minutes to get off the wheel, so you abandoned your cloak down one split at a fork in the road, backed up, and sprinted down the other one.

You were aiming to hide away in the shadows of one of the warehouses, hoping they were filled with junk you could hide behind. Once you had proper shadow cover, no one would be able to find you.

Of course, your entire plan was hinging on Mando not finding you before you reached the warehouse. The Force was active in your veins, reaching out and determining where he’d gone. He had followed the fork with your cloak, which would take him back to the market district.

Slowing to a walk, you caught your breath, noting a pair of eyes on you. “Hello?”

The person squeaked, hiding behind a crate.

You smiled, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. “Hi. Did I scare you? I’m so sorry, me and my friend are just playing a game.”

The person, who you could now see was a child, peered out. “You’re a Jedi.”

You glanced down at the lightsaber on your belt. “I was,” you murmured. “But now, I’m just a person.”

The child still seemed nervous. “Do you need help?”

Crouching down so we’re the child’s height, you thought. Mando hadn’t said anything about receiving help, but you were fairly certain it was against the rules anyway. “No,” you said. “Like I said, it’s just a game. My friend isn’t actually trying to hurt me.”

Of course, in that moment, a thick rope wrapped around your body, causing the child to cry out, scurrying away down a tunnel as you writhed. Truthfully, this would’ve been easy to escape, but you wanted to put on a show and make this interesting. You stood, hearing Mando’s footsteps clinking slowly as he wound the rope closer.

“I can bring you in warm,” a low voice said from behind you, causing your entire body to shiver with an exhilarating mix of terror and excitement. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

You waited, still and compliant, as Mando drew closer. Might as well use this time to test a previous theory.

You turned, leaving a single coil of rope around your elbows and waist. “Mando. They sent you after me, hm? They’re fools, all of them.”

Mando, to his credit, stayed silent.

Sighing, you lifted your hands, opening your palms in the universal ‘I’m unarmed’ gesture. “I’m not your bounty,” you said firmly, dominant hand making a small arc as you prayed this would work. Mando’s mind was a steel trap, and Force persuasion rarely worked on those who were strong willed. “You need to let me go and head back to the market district. That’s where your bounty went.”

Mando’s body shuddered, muscles tensing. “Shut up,” he growled, actually growled, at you.

Instead, you repeated your phrase, putting as much Force behind it as possible.

Mando didn’t falter, and when you saw that this wasn’t going anywhere, your dominant hand shot down, quick as a flash, and grabbed your lightsaber. Severing the rope in one smooth movement, you raced off while Mando caught his bearings, shaking his head and following after you.

You were fast and you knew it, having been trained as a Jedi meant you were always in peak physical condition. But no amount of exercise or training could help the fact that Mando’s legs were longer than yours.

“Shit!” You yelled, skidding around a corner and seeing a ten foot tall chain link fence between you and the warehouses. At the top of the fence sat coils of highly charged wire, meant to deter those who wanted to enter. But nothing could deter you now.

You began to scale the fence, making it almost all the way up before Mando caught up to you. He called your name out, voice desperate. “Come back here!”

“Like hell I will,” you replied, gripping the top chain and praying this would work.

He called your name again, the fear in his voice making you pause. “You’ll get hurt! Let’s just go.”

You screwed your eyes shut. In one calculated movement, you threw your body over the electric wire, arching your back and falling the ten feet down to the ground on the other side.

Turning, you smiled at Mando, who was in apparent shock that that had actually worked. “Good luck,” you said with a mock salute. “You only have fourteen hours left.”

Just like that, you ran off, heading down the row of warehouses. You picked one about five down, some old storage plant that made an excellent hiding place. Wedging yourself between two crates on the top floor, you settled in with an old book and a dim flashlight.

At the three hour mark, you put your book down, wanting to save the rest for later, just in case you found somewhere else to hide. Instead of reading, you shuffled around until you found a semi-comfortable position and slipped into sleep.

Your nap lasted longer than expected, clocking in at just over five hours. The exhaustion of being hunted wasn’t entirely foreign to you, but it had been a while since you’d experienced it, and you were fairly certain that you’d sleep for years upon reaching the Crest again.

You checked your watch, standing and stretching to work the kinks out of your neck and back. Six hours left. This was shaping up to be the longest twenty four hours of your life. You’d always been cautious when you’d been hunted, but those were average bounty hunters. Being hunted by Mando was a totally different experience.

Speaking of Mando, he wasn’t anywhere close to you, if your senses were accurate. You looked around, spotting a promising place to settle in the shadows.

You carefully scaled thick chains and swung a few times to reach the hanging canvas cloth, held in the air by a length of chain. It took a few tries, but you were eventually cocooned safely in your makeshift hammock. Leaning back and letting the canvas cradle your body, you pulled your book out, entirely determined to finish it.

You did manage to finish the book, killing another five hours. Only one left.

At this point, you were worried about Mando. He hadn’t showed up for thirteen hours, which was concerning. Had he given up? No, he wouldn’t. He had to have a plan.

You wiggled upright, wrapping a leg loosely in chain and sliding down to the ground. If Mando was waiting for you, then you’d give him what he wanted. There was only an hour left anyway.

You found him in the market district square, talking to a merchant. He was waiting for you to come to him.

“Smart bastard,” you grumbled, checking your watch. Half an hour.

Mando turned, spotting you with your saber out but unlit. “You found me.”

“You were baiting me,” you argued. “You’re still treating this like a game.”

Everyone in the square hurried off, as if bounty hunts were normal out here. There was a clear ring for you and Mando.

You lit your lightsaber, moving to a fighting stance. “Come get me, Mandalorian.”

Mando’s hand twitched on his blaster, but before he could get a shot out, you were gone.

You ducked and weaved down abandoned streets, lightsaber unlit in your hand. You were headed back to the Crest, Mando hot on your heels.

You jumped, easily stepping up a stack of crates to the rooftops. Mando remained on the ground, racing beside you. He fired his blaster off a few times, and while his aim was true, you blocked them with ease, saber lit and whirring as you ran.

Eventually, you reached the end of the roofs, jumping down and zig-zagging your way through the smaller houses on the outskirts of the city. The Crest was just up ahead, and you skidded behind it, where no one else could see you fight.

Mando came up behind you with a flurry of dust, his blaster raised. You blocked the shots, hearing the click of the blaster emptying. Mando swore, coming at you with his fists.

It wasn’t a horrible mistake, but his fighting style was entirely focused on physical force, whereas yours was more about the dance and balance of the fight. You matched Mando’s every move, whirling around him and occasionally striking his pauldron or backplate. Your lightsaber did nothing against the beskar, but it was more about the fact that you were slowly wearing him out.

Eventually, you managed a high kick, accidentally aiming wrong. You’d meant to catch his collarbones, but your foot hit the lower lip of his helmet instead, sending it flying off and spiraling into the air.

You stopped, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck. Sorry. Go get that, okay? No cheap shots, I promise.”

Mando shuffled, grabbing his helmet. When he softly signaled you, you opened your eyes. He was ready, fists raised. As you lit your saber and slid to a fighting stance, your watch beeped. You stared at it, confusion quickly melting to happiness. “I won!”

Mando stood straight, a low chuckle coming from under his helmet. “So you did.”

You two ended up back in the Crest, the same way you’d been the last time you’d been here. You had bathed, changing back into the soft sleep clothes you wore around the Crest. Mando, still in his armor, recharged his blaster, methodically taking apart his pulse rifle to examine the pieces. You did the same to your lightsaber, sitting opposite Mando in the cargo hold.

“You never told me what you wanted.”

“Hm?” You looked up, a bit confused.

Mando shrugged. “You won. What do you want?”

“I dunno,” you said softly, clicking your saber pieces back together. “Who are you?”

“What?”

“That’s what I want,” you decided. “Who are you Mando? I’ve known you for almost two years, and yet, I know nothing about you.”

Mando was silent, so silent you figured he wouldn’t answer. But then, he looked up.

“My name is Din Djarin.”

You smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Din Djarin.”

After that, it was silent again. You finished with your saber, putting it with your day clothes and heading to the cockpit to entertain Grogu, who had just woken up.

That night, after you’d laid down in your tiny sleeping area, you heard the door hiss open. Assuming it was just Din, you rolled over, rubbing your eyes against the harsh lights. “What?”

Din looked as ashamed as someone wearing a face-covering helmet could. “I can’t sleep.”

You were still confused. “Pardon?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I heard you,” you grumbled. “But what does that mean?”

Din took a breath. “Every time I close my eyes, I just see you, leaping that fence like an idiot. You scared me. I thought you were going to die.”

“Huh.” You shuffled in your bed, balling the blanket up. “I guess, well. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Din promised. “But can I?”

He didn’t even need to finish. You scooted over, making as much room as you could. “C’mon. Yours probably has more room, but I know for a fact my mattress is softer than yours, and I’m sore as shit right now.”

Din chucked, climbing into the bunk and lifting Grogu up with him.

It took some finessing, but eventually, you and Din were comfortably snuggling together in your bed, Grogu in his tiny hammock above your feet.

“Do you really sleep with it on?” You asked the pitch blackness in front of you.

“Hm?” Din hummed, and his voice sounded clearer, more human.

You smiled, curving into his chest and wrapping him up closer to you. “I guess not. Good night Din.”

Din let out a soft breath, ruffling your hair and letting his chin rest on top of your head. “Good night.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want!

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #my writing #pedro pascal

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