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veruz29 · 2 years

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Crosby, Stills & Nash co-founder David Crosby dies aged 81

David Crosby, who was active in the bohemian Laurel Canyon scene in the 1970s and brought folk-rock to the mainstream with The Byrds, Crosby and Stills & Nash, has died at the age of 81. His publicist confirmed the artist's death to his NPR. At the time of writing this report, no cause of death has been given.

Crosby has long suffered from serious health problems, including multiple heart attacks, diabetes, and hepatitis C, which he underwent a liver transplant in 1994. Despite these challenges, experienced musicians have enjoyed a creative hot phase in recent years. Between 2014 and 2021, he added five solo albums to his catalog and two groups of collaborators, The Lighthouse Band (featuring Snarky Puppy bandleader Michael League) and Sons. He toured frequently with the Sky Trails Band, with James Raymond on keyboards. Crosby's interest in touring dates back to his early professional days as a nomadic folk musician, honing his performance skills on tour. In the late 1950s, Crosby began performing in coffeehouses in Santa Barbara, California, but he soon traveled across the United States, appearing in South Florida, Chicago, and Boulder, Colorado. Crosby also spent his formative years in Greenwich Village, where he happily played in the then-new Bitter His End with Chicago musician Terry Currier.

Despite his long and successful solo career, Crosby has had success with collaborations. This is a trait he discovered at an early age after being fascinated by symphony orchestra performances. In his 1988 autobiography, Long Time Gone, he wrote, "The idea of a collective effort to create something one person could not have stuck in my head. ' writes. "That's why I'm a harmony singer and I like being in groups."

Crosby's first major successes came as a founding member of the vast California country folk troupe The Byrds. The band reached a commercial peak during their tenure, winning two number-one singles - a cover of "Turn! Turn! Turn!" by Pete Seeger. and Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man" - and broke into the Top 20 with the stormy classic "Eight Miles High". Crosby co-wrote the latter and wrote a number of other memorable Byrds songs, including the solo and the amusing "Lady Friend". He is credited with helping the band develop a vocal approach rich in harmonics and kaleidoscopic sound, incorporating psychedelic rock, jazz and folk twangy, and is credited for recommending a bandmate. Roger McGuinn with music by John Coltrane and Ravi Shankar.

In 1967, Crosby was fired by Byrds due to his growing personality and creative conflicts (though he later returned to producing and starring in Byrds in 1973). Out of breath, he immersed himself in sailing, one of his childhood passions, buying a sailboat for $25,000 with a loan from Peter Tork of the Monkees. The boat will be a source of comfort and inspiration for decades; he wrote songs like "Wooden Ships", "The Lee Shore" and "Page 43" on board.

The guy who turned into born on August 14, 1941 is Crosby and he grew up in Southern California. His father was cinematographer Floyd Crosby, who won an Oscar for Tabu in 1931:

A Story of the South Seas, as well as the Golden Globe for High Noon in 1952. (Crosby himself would have influenced another notable corner of Hollywood:

He often says that Dennis Hopper was inspired by his look and attitude for Easy Rider in 1969.)

As a child, Crosby fell in love with the Everly Brothers, the source of his lifelong fascination with close harmony, still underpinned by his family's regular singing sessions. His brother, Ethan, introduced him to jazz, a genre he would pursue throughout his career, most notably with his band CPR in the late '90s and early 2000s and on a brooding solo album in 2017, Sky Trails.

Crosby's formative influence became more evident when he worked with Stephen Stills and Graham Nash, who explored new ways of expressing harmony. In Long Time Gone, he deconstructs their unique vocal approach with typical brevity, noting that the band sang "unmatched stuff" influenced by classical, late jazz music '50s and early '60s and Everlys. "I've done some of my best work subtly, turning the middle into internal changes that allow it to happen," he wrote. Crosby's clear tenor blends perfectly with Stills and Nash's vocals in a silent and haunting way, especially with his own "Guinnevere". His songwriting contributions have also propelled the band in new directions - particularly the rhythms of "Déjà Vu" and the loose arrangement and bohemian tone of the instruments in "Wooden Ships". .

As a trio, Crosby, Stills, and Nash were both critically and commercially favorites. His 1969 debut album of the same name led to a Woodstock gig and a Grammy Award for Best New Artist, while 1970's Deja Vu - at which time Neil Young was involved, added a word. one after another in the band's name - evoking both the comfort of tradition and the seismic generational change already underway. Months after the release of Deja Vu, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young would become the leading voices of the nation's anti-war movement, the record "Ohio" written by Young in response to the shooting of four college students. in May 1970 from Kent State University.

Over the years, Crosby - who has twice been inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, as a member of The Byrds and CSN - continues to perform with various collaborators, Nash being the His most consistent post until the mid-2010s, and brutally honest, he's an open book about his personal flaws and failures, as well as his feelings about companions. his profession. This no-nonsense personality makes him both beloved and thorny, especially as a member of a band—CSNY's internal disagreements have become legendary. But then it comes naturally to Twitter's concise and easy-to-understand nature. Crosby has shared many thoughts on politics and music on the platform and answered fan questions, both about his own career (he told one fan that he "doesn't" must be the right man for the job" when asked if he should be working on Leonard Cohen's second album) and those in his orbit ("Is Jerry Garcia a tenor?" ?":

"Torro/baritone."). Such endearing brevity even got him a consulting column in Rolling Stone.

Crosby's career is one of countless transformations and second chances. Years of well-documented drug addiction led to fractured relationships in and out of music, multiple arrests and nine months in prison in Texas in the 80s. Notable is his voice. He remains strong and unchanged, a fact that Crosby himself discovered inexplicably, as he explained to Cameron Crowe in the 2019 documentary David Crosby:

Remember my name. However, the film also reflects a lot of humility, depicting a musician facing his death while trying not to live in the past. "I've hurt a lot of people," Crosby told Here & Now, the NPR and WBUR noon news program, in 2019. "I've helped more people. I just have to be able to watch it, understand and learn from I don't blame myself Honestly, I'm pretty happy with my man now. I try very hard to be a decent human being. And I like it."

#david crosby #news #entertainment

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eri-cheri · 4 years

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Now that we have reached the last chapter of the year. It is time to do a 2020 roll call of what I like to call, “State of the Shippers”:

1. IzuOcha. Status: Placated.

-IzuOcha’s could celebrate several cute tidbits throughout the year. Mini moments as they say.

Anime Highlights: The OVA’s came in clutch with moments for shippers all around and IzuOcha is no exception. We got a cute tidbit where Izuku and Ochako bumped into each other and were flustered.

Manga Highlights: Christmas kept on giving to this fandom as the AM doll Izuku gave Ochako made many appearances. A cute fist bump between the two was also exchanged and Mina was right there bouncing with y’all.

Heroes Rising: Izuku super man carried Ochako to safety. And was Angy she was injured. Fans could enjoy the small Lois Lane moment.

Troubling Signs?: Ochako said “I would like to be excluded from this narrative” when it comes to her feelings for Deku. She’s a hero damnit! So if they are in for something, probably won’t be while they are still in school.

II. DabiHawks. Status: Yikes.

- Dabi and Hawk’s very public breakup set this fandom in disarray but also kind of disayay?

Anime Highlights: None yet. This fandom was cruelly cock blocked by Bones. Sorry DabiHawks stans.

Manga Highlights: Where to begin, my goodness. With these fans, I guess the good and the bad is a plus in this homoerotic double agent relationship. We have the notion that Dabi may have known Hawks when they were kids, which may be a positive? Hori sure loves his childhood friends. Other than that. The GIRLS WERE FIGHTIN’. Hawks is now permanently scarred by Dabi and I don’t think it was kinky folks. Tokoyami inserted himself in the middle to White Knight Hawks, Dabi broke up with him via YT expose and overall, shippers could anguish in the absolute MESS that this ship endured this year. But I’m sure that’s part of the appeal. So...yay?

Heroes Rising: They were both in it.

Troubling Signs?: The entire relationship is a troubling sign which again, is part of the appeal. Maybe Hawks will cuddle up with Dabi’s father after the war. That’s troubling! Speaking of...

III. EndHawks. Status: Yearning and Burning.

-If there’s one thing Endeavor couldn’t stop worrying about, it was his hot (in more ways than one) new side piece who probably should have looked at the fine print when signing a contract to be a recurring guest star on “Keeping up with the Todoroki’s”.

Anime Highlights: A fateful meeting finally in high definition for all our eyes to see! Hawks’s unwavering support of his biggest hero was endearing to watch and their shenanigans together spurred the anime onlies to finally jump on the biggest May-December ship in the series.

Manga Highlights: Endeavor’s admiration and concern for Hawks seeped through the pages as we entered our most exciting arc in the manga yet. Fate split these two up yet entwined their downfall together. And that Fate’s name was Dabi...or should I say ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️ or should I just say Touya!

Heroes Rising: “Don’t bite my head off, Endeavor.” Geez, can you flirt a little less loud Hawks?

Troubling Signs?: They say never meet your heroes and Hawks is in for a rude awakening. We shall see just how deep his admiration runs or if Endeavor’s past will split our dynamic duo up for good.

IV: TodoDeku. Status: “Precious”

-Shoto’s “Midoriya is in Danger” radar was highlighted in both manga and anime. 4th User’s quirk, who?

Anime Highlights: “Midoriya hasn’t returned yet.” “Where’s Midoriya?” “Midoriya! Grab my hand!” “Have some of my Soba Midoriya.” Shoto gets it. His emotional support friend is a danger magnet. TodoDeku’s also enjoyed tiny tidbits in the OVA such as a hand grabbing scene. Gotta hold tight to those crumbs.

Manga Highlights: Two Words. “Precious Friend.” Deku comes in w/o arms or legs fighting for Shoto and Shoto’s honor. These two spent the entire year worried sick about each other, and going against all odds to save each other. Precious Friends indeed. TDDK fans ate.

Heroes Rising: Shoto kicks some dog ass and then faints thinking of Deku (and Bakugo but shh. Let the shippers rejoice.) On the bright side, we have a 3rd movie coming featuring “The Three Musketeers” so shippers of TdDk can HOLD TIGHT to what’s to come.

Troubling Signs?: Shoto still doesn’t know about OFA and he’s gonna have LOTS of questions after this arc. Will Deku finally tell him? If not, it could make or break the ship.

V. TodoBaku. Status: “Shining through the city with a little funk and soul.”

-Who knew the greatest comedy duo we needed was Shoto and his hot headed “friend” or not friend? It still remains unclear to Shoto. Regardless, these two had a fun year.

Anime Highlights: “I wanna see your cute face”, disco dancing, and more fun in the provisional license training. Plus the OVA added some cute moments between the two such as Bakugo staying behind to save Todoroki during a dangerous excercise and his adorable plan neatly animated for us. I’d say TodoBaku’s really were resurgent and energized this year!

Manga Highlights: Shoto, that is not how you properly Catch a Kacchan, I’m sorry. But at least you did it you mad lad. As with Deku, Shoto spent the year worried sick about Bakugo. While the anime let us have our fun, these two were suffering in the manga.

Heroes Rising: Again, Shoto put a dog down and then fainted with Bakugo on his mind (and Deku but we ignore that. Shush.) TodoBaku’s have the 3rd movie to look forward to which is bound to have some amazing content!

Troubling Signs?: They have a lot of trauma to deal with. And a lot of Deku to worry about. I also imagine Shoto will be hurt about being left out of the OFA secret. We shall see what 2021 has to offer.

VI. KiriMina. Status: Unbreakable.

-Changing your hairstyle to match the gal who inspired you in middle school? Sorry y’all but if Mina were a guy, I’d say that’s gay af.

Anime Highlights: We got that backstory Bois. Red Riot’s origin might as well make him be called Pink Riot. Again with Hori and the childhood friends though I wouldn’t exactly call them friends. They just went to the same middle school but Kirishima was highly influenced by Mina’s Chivalrous spirit! A ship is born!

Manga Highlights: The influence is mutual! Mina creates a move based on Kirishima’s unbreakable and we all let out a collective “awwww”. Also in the war arc, we got Kirishima making sure Mina’s chivalrous spirit shines through right into Gigantomachia’s mouth! KiriMina may just be the unsung MVP’s of this arc.

Heroes Rising: They were in it.

Troubling Signs?: I can’t think of a single one. KiriMina’s can enjoy a peaceful sailing.

VII: KiriBaku. Status: Crumb Collectors.

-2020 was an uneventful year for KiriBaku but Bones made sure there were crumbs aplenty! Thank God for OVA’s!

Anime Highlights: KiriBaku’s did thrive in one episode! Kirishima reflects on the sludge incident and evolves his quirk based on inspiring words from Bakugo! Hooray! KiriBaku’s can thrive in their blossoming friendship. The OVA also has Kirishima (and Kaminari but shh) once again following Bakugo’s lead when it comes to the training excercise. How can you not? He’s so manly!

Manga Highlights: Not gonna lie. There is nothing much here this year. I did find a teeny tiny flake in Aizawa’s flashback. Kirishima and Bakugo are sitting next to each other. Oh! And at the hot pot gathering, Bakugo sits next to Kirishima! Eat your crumbs KiriBaku’s! There’s always next year!

Heroes Rising: Kirishima hangs with a lazy Bakugo and delivers the most hilarious line in the whole movie. “Silly Bakugo, there won’t be villains here!” Hahah... Silly Bakugo. Oh you~ KiriBaku’s can inhale the fact that those two sure love to hover around each other!

Troubling Signs?: With great crumbs come little responsiblity. No trouble if there’s no content! 🤔

VIII: KamiJirou. Status: Singing their hearts out 🎶

-If there’s any ship that’s coming close to canonization, I think this is it, folks! “Think of the person most important to you!” Can’t argue with Midnight!

Anime Highlights: Kaminari does non stop encouraging of Jirou and her hobbies! He works super hard to learn guitar for her sake! We love a king who can encourage his queen!

Manga Highlights: Kaminari thinks of the most important person to him and surprise! It’s Jirou! All of the feels can commence.

Heroes Rising: They were in it!

Troubling Signs?: Kaminari does love his women. And men. Kaminari overall is a huge flirt. But Jirou appears to have his heart strings. ❤️

IX: BakuDeku. Status: Rising. 👑

-Alternative Statuses include Winning, Thriving, Soaring. It’s just been non stop content this year. 2020 is truly the year for BakuDeku. The shippers can rejoice.

Anime Highlights: Three words. Be. My. Cane. The OVA’s helped fan the flames of the BkDk hearts with a surprise! Deku tops! Not only that, we got a lovely shoulder tap of encouragement in the canon material. While in season 4, Deku’s primary focus was Eri. Bakugo and Deku still had their moments to be hella gay.

Manga Highlights: Where do I even begin? I guess we’ll just cut to the chase with Bakugo Katsuki: Rising. We finally saw Bakugo’s true feelings manifest for Deku and if getting stabbed for him isn’t the ultimate showing of love, then idk what is. BakuDeku’s rounded out the year with the Volume 29 cover AND the volume 29 cover drafts to eat at our heart strings. Overall, their relationship got the spotlight in the manga this year. And we’re bound to start 2021 with a dramatic confrontation. Hand holding seems to be the key with these two and it didn’t stop with Heroes Rising...speaking of.

Heroes Rising: The entire movie. Like....yeah. That’s it. [OP, your bias is showing. You have to be SPECIFIC.] {But random criticizer in my head, if I lay out the entire plot of the movie, my post will be too long} [OP....] UGHHHH Okay okay. The POPSICLE MELTING. THE HAND HOLDING. THE CHARACTER DESIGNS OF WHAT MIGHT AS WELL BE THEIR LOVE CHILDREN. Did I mention? “It’s fine if it’s you?” CAUSE YEAH. Oh and All Might randomly officiating their wedding in their heads like idk. Isn’t it just simpler if I say the whole movie??!

Troubling Signs?: Well these two’s relationship is extremely delicate and while it has non stop soared this year, Deku might not take too kindly to Bakugo almost dying for him. Will they stop pushing each other away? Time will tell.

That’s all for this year folks! Happy Shipping and good luck to everyone next year!

#my hero academia #bnha spoilers #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #bakudeku #izuocha #tododeku #todobaku #DabiHawks #endhawks #KiriBaku #kamijirou #kirimina

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

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King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough Am I giving enough Have I paid my debts Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker - and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

209 notes · View notes

captainrexforever · 4 years

Text

His Queen

Rating: T

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: You’re a little hesitant about wearing makeup due to a past experience. Din has no problem changing your mind.

Warnings: childhood trauma??, little bit of angst, fluff, steamy makeout

Note: After the amazing response I received on my last fic I decided to write another one. After all, these ideas are still going to be swirling around my head even if I don’t put them in writing. I hope you enjoy!

Sidenote: Imagine him looking at you like this *swoon*

“Are you sure we don’t have any additional rations in the crates?”

“No, the kid snuck into the stash last night. I didn’t notice until after he polished off the last of the rations.”

Din just sighs.

“I can make the trip to the market while you finish the repairs.”

“No, I’ll go, I don’t want you to deal with all the bantha shit that goes on at these markets.”

For some reason-don’t ask why-it’s incredibly attractive to hear him curse.

It’s touching to hear the protective note in his voice, but you feel that you are well enough equipped to handle yourself. As a teenager, you had been taught the essentials of self defense by a family friend.

“It’s alright. I’ll have my comm with me and it won’t take long if I just place an order for delivery of the rations.”

“Alright, if you insist. Be careful.”

“I will.”

He stands from his kneeling position on the floor, where he had been checking the netting beneath the bench for any additional ration packets. You prepare to leave, patting down your pockets to make sure you have your credits, your blaster, and your comm before you set off. When you look up again, he’s standing in front of you, a tilt of his helmet betraying his inner thought process. A smile tugs at your lips.

“Looking for a goodbye kiss?”

He sighs again, and you’re certain he’s rolling his eyes beneath the helmet.

“Ner verd’ika, you are a tease.”

You giggle before raising your hands to the sides of his helmet, eyes fluttering closed as you tilt it upwards. With an accuracy born from hours of practice you lean forward, raising on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before allowing the beskar to fall back into place. He lets out a disgruntled huff, his hands falling to your hips and tugging you against his torso so that he can rest his forehead against yours.

“Be careful.” He repeats.

“Always.”

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

It’s surprising how many people can squeeze into the small marketplace, vendors and townsfolk chattering away as they bargain for an agreeable price. Animals bellow in the distance, adding to the noisy buzz that fills the crowded streets.

You find yourself enjoying the bustling atmosphere, welcoming the stark juxtaposition to the quiet serenity of the Razor Crest. Before you can become too distracted, you steer your feet towards the largest area of the forum where several shops display food and beverages.

After placing an order of rations and directing the shop owner to deliver the crates to the spaceport, you find there are a few spare moments to wander around the market before returning to the ship and tending to the delivery.

After traveling with Din for some time now, it has come to your attention that each planet you visit boasts a unique variety of wares. The citizens of this particular planet seem to possess a fascination with water-colored mugs and delicate embroidery. Not that you are complaining, everything that greets your eyes is absolutely gorgeous.

Upon rounding the next corner though, you stop dead in your tracks. Before you stands what is obviously a cosmetics shop. Holoimages are projected against the walls of the stand, each image featuring breathtaking models who-to your immense surprise-don't have you feeling even a dash of envy. What has you so enamored is the crowd of young women that peruse the shop. They are obviously a group of friends, but what shocks you the most is the presence of their mothers. Each parent is eagerly pointing out cosmetic items and encouraging the younger women to apply the samples that are provided. Bitter tears bite at the surface of your eyes, and you blink furiously in an effort to keep them contained.

As a young woman you had constantly been dissuaded from wearing makeup, told that it wasn’t appropriate at your age. You feel pathetic, chastising yourself and turning around with the intention of returning to the ship. But you don’t get very far, a feminine voice floating past your ears.

“Miss, Miss? Would you like to join us?”

Not wanting to expose your current state of turmoil, you scrub frantically at your tear-stained face, hoping to avoid further humiliation. When you feel presentable, you turn slowly, coming face-to-face with a girl that stands even shorter than you. Practically an impossible occurrence at your height, Mando would have teased you if he was here.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were by yourself, and well, on our planet it’s tradition for women to join together and add to their makeup collection on this particular day. It’s like the New Years of cosmetics.” Her eyes are shining, and she seems so genuine that you feel silly for your earlier judgement. “Although I am almost certain you are just visiting, my friends and I would be honored if you would join us.” Almost as if on cue, her friends rush up behind her, pleading with you to stay for just a little bit.

“Well, I…” Din will be expecting you back soon, and you don’t want to worry him.

“Pleeeaaaase!” They all beg, drawing out the word as they stare at you.

“Alright, just for a few minutes.” He won’t mind, you think to yourself. He and the kid can catch up while you are gone anyways, they haven’t been able to spend much time together lately.

The girls’ smiles are blinding and the first one grabs your hand, pulling you along as they all return to the stand to continue shopping. “I’m Tasha, by the way.” She beams. You smile back, sharing your name as well.

“What will you purchase?” Another girl questions.

“Oh, actually I don’t wear makeup.”

“You don’t?” They looked like you just told them Life day was made up.

“No, I....I never learned how to apply it.” That was close enough to the truth.

“Don’t worry, we’ll show you how!” Then Tasha is beckoning her mother over and soon they are exchanging ideas so quickly that you lose track, only picking up on fragments such as “transition”, and “complementary shade”.

“Could you please sit for a moment?” Tasha’s mother inquires, gesturing to a chair that rests next to the booth.

You’re a little hesitant, the assortment of items that they are both clutching in their hands has you yearning to turn your back and run.

Take a deep breath, it’s just a little bit of makeup, it’s not going to kill you.

After your flight instinct recedes a little, you move to sit in front of the older woman, trying not to flinch as she gently dabs several types of cream-like products on your face. She tuts here and there, discarding some of the products that she is holding as she works through all of the samples. Eventually, she finishes, holding out a wipe as she gestures for you to wipe your face. Once that is accomplished, she’s attacking the various assortment of products that Tasha is still holding. You idly wonder if it’s sanitary to be layering so many products over the sensitive skin of your face, but assume that it is probably alright if this is a common practice for most women.

What feels like hours later, after your face has been contorted into every position imaginable, your eyes weighed down by what seems to be a boat anchor attached to your eyelashes, Tasha and her mother proudly declare that you are ‘finished’-whatever that means. Then Tasha is holding out a bag of products for you to take. You eagerly accept the bag, feeling quite mature all of a sudden, and swagger over to the counter to pay the clerk. To your immense shock, Tasha’s own mother is sitting behind the register, and when you approach she insists that the items are ‘on the house’, refusing to accept any form of payment.

With a blush, you suddenly realize you have no idea how to apply any of the products yourself, but before you can even open your mouth, the older woman is sliding a piece of flimsy towards you. A detailed assembly of holoimages decorates the flimsy, demonstrations and instructions outlining the correct application technique for each product. There are tears welling in your eyes again, but you blink them back and circle the table to engulf the woman in a heartfelt embrace. She accepts the action with an affection you can only describe as motherly, patting your back gently until you pull away, then fixing you with a radiant smile.

Suddenly your heart drops into your throat, and your own smile fails. You can’t return to the ship looking like this! Din will be appalled that you delayed your departure from the spaceport to indulge in a personal shopping trip. Tasha’s mother frowns, watching as you suddenly turn frantic, scanning the nearby vicinity like a child who has been caught stealing a dessert cube. You reach for the packet of makeup wipes that sits upon the table, hastily rushing to explain the thoughts running through your head.

“This makeup is lovely, but I can’t return to my…” kriff, what should you call him...“friend looking like this.”

“And why not?” You are taken aback a little at the tone of your voice. She’s not angry, though there are hints of disapproval and surprise laced into her words.

You stammer for a response. “He...I…” Your brain sputters as you try to conjure the right words.

“Oh, I see. He’s that kind of friend. Well, if he doesn’t like the way you look, then you seem like the type of person who will have no trouble putting him back into his place.”

She continues speaking even as your jaw falls open.

“However, I heavily suspect that won’t be necessary.” The knowing grin that spreads across her face is like that of a loth-cat that just caught a canary.

“....” You can’t manage to utter a single word, trying to force down the blush that is rising to your cheeks.

“Here, take a look into this mirror.”

Woah, is that your face? Whatever had been applied to your eyes had caused the color to pop, drawing attention to your now piercing gaze. Every feature appeared to be enhanced, and you couldn’t help but note that your jawline seemed capable of cutting through duraplast, like a vibroblade through bantha butter on a hot Tatooine day.

“I look...wow.”

The older woman chuckles gently. “You look amazing dear. Embracing your natural beauty is important, but you shouldn’t be afraid of enhancing it either. No matter what, your inner beauty always speaks louder than any outer appearance ever will. Now go catch that man of yours. I’m sure he will agree with me too.” She ends with a pointed wink.

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

Shadows stream past you as you jog back to the Razor Crest, hoping you are not too late to meet the merchant who is delivering the order of rations. Of course your luck is worse than you expected, and not only is there no merchant in sight, but it seems that Din has already finished the repairs. Kriff. Well, you’ll just have to return to the shop and apologize to the owner before pleading for another delivery opportunity. Then, after you settle that, you will need to prepare an explanation for Din.

Kriffing hell.

How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?

“And here you had me thinking that you might have finally ditched me.” Din startles you, but there is a teasing lilt to his voice.

How is he still in a good mood? Wait, where is he?

“Up here.” He’s chuckling now too, probably at your apparent confusion, the bastard.

You look up and place your hands on your hips in disbelief of what you’re seeing. A shake of your head does nothing to help you understand what exactly is going on. At the moment, Din is flying figure eights in the air using his jetpack, the kid tucked securely in his arms while he squeals in delight. You shake your head again, looking down at the ground as a rush of affection floods your chest. The damned Mandalorian can be such a romantic without even realizing it.

As of late, it has been difficult for either of you to discreetly purchase jetpack fuel at a decent price. Yet, here he is taking the kid for a ride, probably because he looked into those big brown eyes and couldn’t resist indulging the kid in a quick flight.

Their maneuvers continue for a few more minutes, and you wonder if you should head back to the market while Din and the kid are still occupied. Abruptly, you decide to take a seat inside the Crest for just a moment before jogging back to the store. It’s not until you scale the ramp that you notice the newly delivered crates resting inside the storage netting.

“The delivery arrived before you did, so I made sure that it was unloaded onto the right ship.” If you weren’t so relieved you might scold him for scaring you like that. Then again, he probably enjoys sneaking up on you. You scowl goodnaturedly, he’s lucky you lov--. Oh no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no.

No, no.

No.

He’s lucky you love the kid. That’s right, that’s what you meant to say.

Whew.

You move to rub your forehead, then realize that you’re still wearing what feels like fifteen layers of bantha paste and an entire canister of glitter on your face. Uh-oh. Has Din seen your face yet? You don’t think so. Your back is still facing him, but at any second he’s bound to step in front of you and notice that you’re all decked-out in makeup.

Despite the kind words from the woman back at the market, you feel yourself begin to panic. What if he thinks you look silly, or worse what if it changes his perception of you?

His footsteps advance forwards and you hold your breath, only for him to continue towards the kid’s hammock. It’s then that you realize the kid has fallen asleep in his buir’s arms, obviously worn out after his latest adventure. Din is exceedingly gentle as he sets him into his hammock, rocking the child for a few seconds to ensure he remains fully asleep.

As you bask in the sight of a soft, caring Din you don’t realize he’s turning around until it’s too late. He lets out a punched out sound once he is face-to-helmet with you, and although you are never sure where his visor is pointing, you know without a doubt that it is currently directed at your face.

Neither of you move, gaze fixed firmly on the other for several minutes as a lingering tension brushes at your spine. Before you can explain yourself the lights flicker and plunge the hull into darkness, gloved hands and a beskar covered chest suddenly slamming into you, pinning you against the nearest wall so quickly that your back aches a little from the force of the impact.

“Kriffing hell.” He manages.

Oh, you definitely shouldn’t find that as attractive as you do.

“Is this what you were doing all afternoon?” His words are followed by a resonating clang, and you find yourself begging whatever deity is above that he is about to kiss you senseless. Sadly, he seems too interested in pressing a kiss to your neck while he whispers shamelessly into your ear. It’s a close second though, and you're definitely not complaining, especially when the position allows you to drop a hand down to squeeze his perfectly sculpted ass.

He lets out a growl at your feistiness, sucking at your neck in a manner that is sure to leave a visible hickey. “Maybe I should send you to the marketplace more often if this is how you’ll return.”

You let out a pleased mewl at that, proud that you are able to elicit such a passionate response from your usually stoic companion. “Sounds...sounds good to me.” Your reply is breathy, and there is no way that your lungs are supplying sufficient oxygen to your brain right now. It doesn’t help that Din has decided to wrap one of your thighs around his waist, your body erupting into flames at the suggestive positioning.

“Look so good.” It’s muttered between butterfly kisses, his lips charting the skin of your neck like it’s a flight path. “So pretty.” Another scorching kiss on your neck. “My sweet girl.” It’s half spoken-half growled against your throat.

A moan is ripped from your throat at that last sentence, and your free hand is scrabbling for purchase in his hair, using your touch to coax his lips to meet your own neglected ones. This man is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. He’s mewling into your mouth, half-chuckling because he knows how much you appreciate that specific action, then he’s pressing his tongue in as well, sliding it across yours as he dares you into a battle of dominance. You can’t help but indulge him, fingers tightening in his curls as you allow yourself to be a little more aggressive, pushing into his mouth as you lead him on a merry chase. Even in the most intimate of acts, Din is ever the hunter and he takes control in a record amount of time, knotting his hand in your hair so that he can position your head in whatever manner he desires. The whole act is absolutely delicious and your toe curls as you wedge yourself even closer to his armor-clad chest.

“I sure hope you have more of that stuff.” He mumbles against your lips when you both separate for a breath.

“Huh?” You finally manage after gasping down a breath.

“It makes you look like a queen.” He elaborates.

There’s no point in arguing with him, especially when his mouth returns to yours to shut down any rebuttal you might have.

It’s safe to say that any of your hesitations towards wearing makeup were cleared up after that particular incident, and you learned a couple valuable lessons that day. The most important being to buy extra makeup wipes for the Mandalorian himself. Let’s just say Din was an...enthusiastic kisser.

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

Ner verd’ika: my little warrior

Buir: (mother or father), in this case it pertains to ‘father’

Life day: the equivalent of Christmas in the star wars universe

#mando reader fluff #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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I have another lovely commission to share! This one is a sequel to the last, with the Brave Police spending more time on the Lost Light to answer questions, and it's just as precious in my opinion!

"Now, now, there's room for everyone. Single file please!"

Ultra Magnus thankfully had ample experience and skill getting his voice to fill the entire classroom, and so the crowd was able to take their seats in a mostly organized fashion at last, filling up the entire room from back to front in short order. Scarcely a single bot on the ship wasn't present for the day's presentation, and one glance at the tightly packed rows of tables made that obvious. No one wanted to miss the long awaited event.

At the head of the classroom, Ultra Magnus murmured about the ill manners being displayed to their guests before nodding at the bots in question. Sitting in their own row at the raised stage, the Brave Police looked like a full representation of all the reactions possible for the center of attention. Some were happy, others flustered, and a few quite casual about all the fuss. Deckerd, ever the responsible leader, held his small collection of notes tightly as he nodded in return to the much bigger bot. Rodimus took that as his cue to hop on stage.

With a single whistle, the captain reduced the fog of chatter to absolute silence, something he took with a proud smile before speaking.

"Alright, everybot, you know the drill! The Brave Police have been kind enough to agree to this little Q and A panel, so let's show them the proper courtesy while they're up here." he announced happily, looking about the crowd and lingering his optics on a few potentially troublesome bots in particular. Making sure to use his Captain voice, he leveled a serious look at each as he issued his warning. "That means no talking unless you get called, and no hogging the mic when it's your turn."

"Discipline will be administered if anyone breaks these rules." Ultra Magnus said, finalizing the warning with an undeniably serious threat. Beyond a few nervous glances, the room remained frozen in total silence after the big bot went back to his dutiful watch. No one present would dare risk incurring the wrath of Ultra Magnus, not even for the questions that they wanted answered more than anything.

"Sooo…" Rodimus interjected, taking back the stage briefly to try and bring some life back into the event. Gesturing to the main guests, he gave the best parting warm up he could before stepping off the stage. "Without further ado, I'm going to give the show over to them. All yours, Deckerd!"

Clearing his throat politely, the police cruiser stood up on his spot, briefly taking hold of the rim on his hat-like helm accent as he often did when nervous. Taking hold of his notes, he spoke up with the somewhat ineffectual tone of a practiced but uncom public speaker.

"To start, we would all like to offer our thanks! For everything you've done, and for allowing us this opportunity, you have our deepest gratitude." the well mannered bot said humbly, briefly glancing at Rodimus for a flash of pointed thanks before returning to his notes. The captain couldn't help but puff up a little, quite proud of his suggestion all over again, but he was otherwise still and silent as he watched.

"Now, I understand you have many questions, and we are happy to answer them as a group or individuals." he explained, looking to his teammates for group confirmation. Each gave some form of assent, ranging from Duke's proper and stiff nod to Gunmax putting his pedes on the table with a vague gesture of agreement. Deckerd merely narrowed his optics for an instant before returning his smile to the crowd. "Through the system, I will begin the process of selection!"

A button on the desk, intended as a method of selecting students to answer questions, was activated. Every bot froze in anticipation that they might be selected first, with each hoping they might be the lucky winner. Magnus had mandated the algorithm select at random to prevent any cries of unfair choice for good reason…

So of course it was quite fitting that Whirl of all bots get the first question.

A group groan was cut off by another Magnus stare, yet the orderly mech was clearly beyond apprehensive at the possible chaos about to unfold. Uncaring of the tension his selection created for the crew, Whirl merely cleared his vents and stood up with obvious purpose, having planned his potential query well in advance of the moment. Looking to the bots on stage, his optic betrayed little emotion as he spoke. "So uh, were you guys actually built by humans? From scratch? Processor and all?"

There was an immediate cringe amongst the entire crew, as the question was immeasurably rude by Cybertronian standards, but the Brave Police didn't flinch.

"Yes!" Deckerd replied happily, completely unaffected by the cultural faux pas he'd just had directed his way. "Each of us was constructed by the Japanese police force, starting with myself."

"Except for Duke, he was made by the Scotland Yard." McCrane specified, drawing attention to the brightly colored and reserved mech at the end. The attention actually seemed to fluster Duke, who flashed an expression of surprise to be singled out before dropping his gaze and quietly confirming the fact.

"That is correct."

There was a moment of mixed murmuring amongst the crowd, with Whirl looking satisfied to have gotten his answer along with getting the ball rolling, and he sat down to allow the next bot a turn. It took just as little time for the next selection to occur as the first.

"How recently was that, exactly?" Swerve said, looking confused but happy to be the central figure of the moment. It was a much less disrespectful question by Cybertronian standards than the first, and the bots on stage appeared equally content to answer it.

"As of this date, it has been four years and five months since my activation." Deckerd replied casually, unintentionally sending a wave of disbelief through the entire room. This mature, well rounded bot was barely more than a protoform?!

"We were constructed seven months later." McCrane said, speaking for the Build Team with a gesture that only deepened the shock in the room. Deckerd was young even by human standards, yet he was still the oldest one on the team? How young was the newest among them?

"Shadow Maru was next, by about a year, then six months later I joined up!" Drill Boy declared loudly, loving the surprise each answer drew from the crowd. Gunmax, equally a fan of stirring things up, smirked confidently as he leaned back in his chair.

"I haven't even been kicking around for a year." he declared smugly, adding to the shock of the bots several times over. Sure, Cybertronians were ready to go in mere hours, but no one had been born in so long… to be confronted by a mechanical being so young was nearly unfathomable. Not to mention that the oldest among them was still so inexperienced! A fresh wave of hushed gossip washed over those assembled, only to fade out into silent anticipation as the next opportunity for a question presented itself.

"What kind of criminals are you fighting? Most of the time, anyway." a bot in back asked, making the Brave Police perk up as a group. Like anyone, the opportunity to retell their adventures was hardly one they'd ever pass up, and even the humble Deckerd was a little boastful as he set up their panel to reply.

"Our division is uniquely suited to handle threats too powerful for humans to safely combat. The criminals we face have a multitude of motives, and it is not uncommon for us to face creatures designed to cause maximum destruction. I will allow my team to recount some of these events in greater detail." he said, opening up the discussion with a smile and a nod. There was a shift in the classroom as if every being leaned forward at once in anticipation.

"The underground bug people were my first mission!" Drill Boy announced proudly, unintentionally creating far more questions than he could have ever hoped to answer in a single sentence. Gobsmacked expressions were shared all through the crew, even by Ultra Magnus and Rodimus at the front. While they'd figured their new friends got into some wild adventures, like themselves, there was clearly so much more to the group than they'd let on…

"There was a giant moth one time." Dumpson recalled thoughtfully, only adding fuel to the fire with his calm expression of thoughtful recollection.

"Don't forget the giant panda." McCrane said helpfully, the tiniest hint of a smile hinting that he was perfectly well aware of the reactions they were getting. Rodimus had to admire the skillful stirring of the pot. Some bots were taking notes now, especially as the list continued to grow and the Brave Police grew no less unpredictable in their retellings. Brief tidbits about mind control, ghosts, aliens and cults were undoubtedly going to spawn some incredible conversations at Swerve's later on.

Drill Boy finished the segment with a beaming smile. "Without the Boss, I don't think we'd have been able to catch that brainwashing nun!"

While every single adventure would have probably called for a panel of questions in its own right, that statement alone made for an excellent segway into something every single Lost Light bot had been curious about, and the moment the next bot was selected they said what everyone was thinking. "Who's this "Boss" we keep hearing about? Are they a bot like you?"

"Our Boss Yuuta Tomonaga is a human boy, and the first being I ever met. He became my first and most trusted companion." Deckerd replied, smiling affectionately at the description. It had been clear from the onset he cared deeply for his mysterious "Boss", yet most had assumed them to be something like an Amica, or perhaps an older mentor bot. To hear they were a human, and one that sounded exceptionally young at that…? Deckerd recognized the confusion, and while obviously a little bashful to be so open, he was more than happy to talk about the achievements of his dearest friend. "I owe him my life, several times over."

"Many of us have gained human friendships." Power Joe said helpfully, taking some of the pressure off their leader and bringing the attention to himself. Not missing the opportunity to brag, he gestured proudly to himself. "I've befriended many of Yuuta's classmates, they see me as a superhero!"

"Yuuta's sisters are compatriots of mine." Shadow Maru said in a polite and subtle one up, setting the stage for the others to continue naming their friends.

"Hmph, I'm the only one besides Deckerd to have called Yuuta by his first name." Drill Boy bragged.

"Colonel Seia has taught me much through our professional relationship." McCrane said calmly, returning the focus to one of individual bonds over boasting. Unfortunately, Dumpson chuckled and quickly took aim at the comment.

"Are you sure it's entirely professional?"

McCrane froze for a second, optics widening and face flushing, before he calmly folded his hands on the table and replied. "I could say the same of you and Ayako."

"I suppose Shunsuke and I get along okay." Gunmax said somewhat dismissively, cutting off Dumpson before he could stammer out something he'd regret. The fact that every bot seemed to have a complex and long standing relationship with humans was quite the surprise to many crewmembers, especially those who only knew the species from second hand accounts. The Brave Police weren't too different from Cybertronians, so if they could find friends amongst Earth's inhabitants, maybe it was possible for everyone? More than a few of those in the audience were considering visiting to see for themselves when the attention turned to the only member who hadn't given an answer.

Lowering his helm to hide his optics from view, Duke appeared to be blushing as he spoke into his microphone, his volume barely more than a murmur as he did so.

"My Lady, Regina, is very important to me…"

While the statement undoubtedly had plenty to unpack, Deckerd mercifully chose to move on, selecting the next lucky audience member. Tailgate stood up in a flash, getting up on his chair and raising his arm so everyone could see him. Smiling with excitement, he was nevertheless quite polite in his tone when he asked his question. "You can transform, right? What are your altmodes?"

"I transform into a police cruiser." Deckerd said simply, earning some nods of approval from the audience. That was a fairly solid alternate mode, from their perspective, and fit quite well with his appearance and abilities. As the team each volunteered their own altmode, there was little fanfare.

"I'm a dump truck."

"My alternate mode is called a power shovel."

McCrane was the first to smile, though his good humor was shared when he gave his answer. "A crane, fittingly enough."

"I have two; a drill and a jet!" Drill Boy declared with a puffed out chest, and the mood went from calm to shocked all over again. Though he had no concept of a triple changer, the young bot knew that having a plurality of modes was special, and the audible gasps confirmed his guess. Rodimus cast Drift a look of surprise from the stage, speaking without words as they so often did. Not only did this guy have two altmodes, but a drill and a jet? Could you get any more wild? Drift replied with an equally stunned but good natured shrug.

"Like Deckerd, I transform into a police cruiser." Shadow Maru said simply, giving his younger friend a look that drew out a very unhappy pout. Sitting up with a smile, he continued and made very clear why his companion was so upset, and in doing so only made the room erupt once more. "I can also take the form of a tank, a jet, and a canine."

Gasps filled the classroom, and even Ultra Magnus was too shocked to silence them, his jaw dropping in total disbelief at what he'd just heard. Five modes?! Not only that, he was a beastformer to boot?! The ninjabot smiled somewhat smugly at the reactions, getting a few looks from his friends that ranged from jealous to bemused as whispered conversations rushed through the bots. Most had never even heard of such an ability, and yet here he was, a bot from earth with so much talent! Several made a note to ask him for tips as Duke took advantage of the chaos to get his simple reply out of the way.

"I am an ambulance."

The medics of the ship all shared a look at what only they seemed to hear, wondering if perhaps the shy bot knew a few things about human medicine he might share with them later. In the murmurs that followed, however, there came a considerable silence as everyone realized the most anticipated answer had not yet been given.

Gunmax leaned back further in his seat, making a face few could decipher when all the attention zeroed in on him. Pretending to cough, he spoke just loudly enough for his mic to pick up his answer. "Don't have one."

Somebot made a comment about "Monoformers'' before Deckerd stepped in, reading the emotions of his friend as well as the room to skillfully redirect them. It saved Rodimus the trouble of jumping in to make an example of the bot who'd made the comment.

"Gunmax typically has a motorbike, one that he can merge with to form a very powerful weapon." he explained, looking at the visor that allowed the mech in question to hide so many of his emotions. A flash of gratitude behind the veneer of apathy allowed him to continue with a smile. "When I combine with J-Decker, I can utilize that weapon for defeating extremely powerful foes."

"We can also combine!" Drill Boy added enthusiastically, pointing to the Build Team and perking up the entire crowd with references to "combining" of all things. Combiners were a precious rarity amongst their own kind, could the humans have truly mastered such technology in addition to multiforming?

"Yes, Dumpson, Power Joe and myself form the Build Tiger." McCrane replied helpfully, gesturing to the group of them and further compounding the confusion. How could they all transform into a single entity, their colors didn't even match! Not only that, but the name absolutely baffled those who had been to earth and those who hadn't. The crane bot only continued his talk and further confounded his audience. "With Drill Boy, our abilities are increased, and we form the Super Build Tiger."

Deckerd, wanting to discuss other things, was granted mercy when he selected Brainstorm via the system.

"What kind of energy do your weapons fire?" he asked, having observed the holsters and folded rifles some of them carried. Being intensely curious as to whether earth had progressed beyond the initial steps of plasma based projectiles, he waited eagerly for a reply.

"Most are based on shells, similar to what humans utilize but on a larger scale." Deckerd said, helpfully taking out his pistol to show what he meant. Metallic bullets fell from the chamber and into his cupped palm, unintentionally shocking the scientist and the more ballistic trained crewmembers. Primitive lead based projectiles, fired by simple chemical reactions?! How were these bots just as intelligent as themselves but defending their lives with the Cybertronian equivalent of stone age technology?!

"Yes, that's what my shotgun fires." McCrane added, patting the sizable weapon on his back as Brainstorm noted a million potential improvements he might offer before they left.

Shadow Maru, somewhat for the sake of dry comedic effect, unsheathed a blade from his back and shrugged as he held it up. "Personally, I prefer swords."

Laughter rippled through the audience, though Rodimus caught the clear sight of Drift looking far more like he wanted to applaud the other bot who seemed to gel so well with him. Unable to keep a grin off his face at the friendship forming before his optics, the captain considered setting up a communication line on earth so they could all stay in touch going forward.

"Where do you all live?" a shy bot said when selected next, bringing to mind how their home planet didn't seem to be built for beings as large as themselves.

"I stay with Yuuta each night, in the garage. His family has made it my personal home, and I keep them safe." Deckerd replied, describing the situation quite wistfully despite the uncertain expressions that flashed before him. The idea of staying within a single room, like a machine for storage… even bots who didn't mind resting in their altmode couldn't wrap their heads around the idea.

"The rest of us stay at the base, but we're free to go where we please when not on duty." McCrane added, wanting to dispel any ideas that they were at all confined. His words did indeed provide some reassurance, especially considering that a few had been considering "liberating" their new friends if necessary.

"When we travel for work, we live wherever we can." Dumpson said, recalling the many times they'd each had to go across the planet undercover. That notion was quite relatable to the group of travelers, especially those who had gone long periods of time without any home to speak of. Needing to find somewhere suitable while moving undercover had been their existence for years.

Gunmax perked up a little at the topic sitting forward a bit so he could be heard as he extolled the wonders of driving around on his bike. "The roads go on for miles, and some have pretty nice views."

When the next question was called, the Brave Police as a group found it was their turn to be surprised.

"Do you like earth?"

In another turn of events that no one could have predicted, it was Duke who spoke up first, saying his piece simply but confidently before returning to his usual silence.

"It is the only planet we've ever known, and I would have it no other way."

"Earth has everything dear to us." Deckerd confirmed, a barely contained gleam of pride shining from his optics, both for their home and his friend. Everything about the planet was dear to him, from the life that flourished there to the people who had made him, and he wasn't at all ashamed to say as much. That was something each and every member of the Brave Police could agree on, and in order, they all expressed the same sentiment.

"Earth has everything we could ever want." McCrane added plainly, looking like he wanted to say more but was held back by his own reservations. The simple smile on his face spoke volumes for him, thankfully. His past mentions of friendship and more with humans resonated deeply with certain bots in the audience.

"We fight lots of bad guys, but that's to keep all the good humans safe, and they're more than worth it." Dumpson said, sharing a glance with Power Joe, who immediately agreed. The big bots many small friends made his answer and confirmation quite easy.

"Most of the people that live there like us, and we like them too. They have a lot to teach us." he said, recalling his love for martial arts as well as everything else he'd ever been passionate about. The need for patience, the importance of seeing the bright side of life, mentoring the younger beings around oneself… Speaking of the younger, Drill Boy jumped in to reply with his own experiences.

"They've invented all kinds of cool games and sports for us to play!" he said happily, tapping the soccer ball in his chest to emphasize his point. The sport was a genuine passion for him, and without humans he wouldn't have it to enjoy. Slightly more bittersweet thoughts of the many adventures he'd had, and the beings he'd met and lost, but wouldn't trade for anything made him smile far more softly. Tapping his digits together, he added a soft addendum to make his point. "Plus they make lots of other cool things."

"There's not much better than going for a drive on earth, or watching the sunset." Gunmax said in agreement, nodding and closing his optics as he played the memories in his mind. The crew talked plenty about their home of Cybertron, and while it sounded wonderful, he doubted anything could ever surpass his home. One of his first memories was going for a drive on a beautiful day, and he didn't believe any planet could ever offer anything more. Not that he'd be opposed to visiting somewhere else...

"It's our home, and it always will be." Deckerd concluded, unintentionally making the crowd a little emotional with his dedication. A far quieter whisper of conversations briefly passed through them all, this time centered almost entirely on the planet in question. Sure, these bots hadn't ever known another world, but they made their own sound quite wonderful. The many who'd never had a chance to see earth were suddenly feeling quite a bit of longing and curiosity of their own. When the quiet descended once again and Deckerd selected the next bot, the query was hardly a surprise.

"Can we come visit you all sometime?"

The entire team exchanged a look, and Deckerd glanced at Rodimus with the kind of knowing smiles leaders could share when they knew what was happening. While the logistics of such a thing would be a nightmare, there could be no denying the eager faces all around, and any potential benefits were far too great to ignore. Though it would be an impossible amount of work, they both nodded to one another in agreement.

"We would be honored to have you as guests, just as you have taken us into your home."

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #lostlight #idw #tf #ll #brave police j decker #brave series #deckerd #rodimus #my writing #my commissions

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stitch1830 · 3 years

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CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: KANTO

So this is a character description for the character Kanto that @precious-metal-girl and I created for AUs where he is in a loving and committed relationship with Toph Beifong. Part of this is to help me keep track of all of his features and personality traits, and if others are looking to write about Kanto but aren't sure about how to describe him, feel free to pick and choose characteristics that meet your AU needs! This will (hopefully) be a living document where characteristics are added and changed over time. If you are curious about our AUs or want to know about a particular trait/personality, feel free to ask us questions!

......

Born: ~88/89 AG (summer)

Residence: Republic City

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Green

Element: Earthbending/Metalbending

Occupation: Deputy for the Republic City Police Department, Metalbender Division

Nicknames: Hotshot, Dep (short for Deputy), Slick, Botany Boy, Pretty Boy, Metalbrain, Metalhead, Rockhead, K, My Rock

Relationship: Toph Beifong

Background:

Kanto grew up near one of the Fire Nation colonies close to what is Republic City today (part of the reason why his name has FN influence). His father took many different jobs and tried to avoid fighting in the war as long as possible so he could stay with his family, while his mother was a seamstress for the town. Often, he would help his mother sew clothes, and because of that he was pretty crafty and good with his hands. He lost his parents at age 7; old enough to remember them and his childhood, but all the memories are pretty blurry.

What he does remember is that his family was pretty poor, but they always had something to laugh about.

He loved learning new skills with his dad, and had his mom read the same two books they had every single night. And one thing he always remembers is eating together as a family.

His parents died either in an accident for rebelling against a FN rule (maybe the FN wanted to take Kanto away for being an earthbender), or from protecting Kanto in general.

Kanto was always pretty feisty as a boy, pushing people’s buttons and egging people on. It only got worse when his parents died because he pushed buttons out of anger now.

He also had a lot of friends, but after, he didn’t talk to anyone for a while because he ran away. Most of his fighting skills were learned while on the run, he never got any formal training until he went to the metalbending academy (maybe 17 or 18? Toph managed a different part of the academy so she didn’t know him. That or he went to a different academy branch entirely).

One thing he remembers is that he was happiest with his family, so he cherishes the idea of a happy family unit, and he constantly searched for something that made him feel close to that happiness.

Personality:

The first impression people get of Kanto is that he is a no-good, arrogant, bad boy. He acts as if he’s the coolest person in town and always has something sassy to say in response. More than half of the words that come out of Kanto’s mouth are flirtatious and sarcastic, a combination that initially drives Toph Beifong crazy.

But in reality, Kanto is an extremely loyal man who’s rather selfless, putting himself in harm’s way so no one else has to. His initial personality is a front to protect himself so that he doesn’t befriend anyone too much, because he knows what it’s like to love people and lose them. He hated how he felt when he was orphaned and never wanted to feel that way again.

When his facade finally cracks with Toph and she sees the real him, he’s actually… a dork.

He’s got a very goofy personality, he gets excited about little things, and his passions do not necessarily align with his looks and his first impression. When he loves people, he does so with his full heart, but again, he’s hesitant to do so with many… His family are essentially the only ones that see him this way.

Looks:

Kanto is most certainly a hunk. He’s got a similar skin complexion to Toph, thick and wavy (borderline curly) black hair (Toph loves playing with it), broad chest and shoulders (a fit and toned body overall), a mischievous, slightly crooked grin (left corner turns up higher than the right) that makes all the women of RC swoon, a crooked nose from being punched in the face one too many times, and classic earthbender green eyes. He’s also pretty tall, that’s where Lin gets her height from, well over a head taller than Toph And despite being an earthbender, his hands and fingers are actually rather long and nimble. Some popular fanart interpretations of Kanto can be found here and here and here and here and here.

Interests:

Kanto likes flowers, he often brings new ones home (especially when he’s with Toph) so he can teach her about its qualities and so they have a nice and natural floral scent in their home. He’s obsessed with pro bending like Toph, and often will attend matches with her. Astronomy and biology are also interests of his. Toph and Kanto also have a cool rock collection, both are trying to best each other to find the coolest one. Kanto reads science fiction novels to Toph in their downtime and he’ll play the guitar or pipa.

Fears:

Kanto is afraid of bugs, he doesn’t care for large fires that can get out of control, and big animals make him nervous at first contact. When Lin’s in the picture, he freaks out when there are too many sharp corners in one place. He’s always afraid she’s gonna fall and hit her head. Kanto also doesn’t like those rip tides or currents in oceans/large bodies of water.

Some of his deeper level fears include losing his family. He cannot stand the idea of losing Lin or Toph, especially if the reason they are missing or gone is because of him. He’s lost his family before, and he’ll be damned if he loses them again.

Flaws:

A lot of his flaws stem from his stubbornness and confidence. He’s arrogant, overconfident, prideful, and impatient. He knows he’s good at his job and he’s not afraid to talk about his skills and talents, and unless he’s working specifically with Toph, he assumes he’s the best for the job.

He’s flirty, sarcastic, reckless, and a bit of a slob (just his home, he keeps a clean appearance). Kanto’s constantly ragging on coworkers, has comments for days, and it’s rare for him to speak in a serious tone while on the job. Just doesn’t happen.

He’s protective, reckless, a troublemaker, skeptical, and vengeful. When he actually finds love and has a family, he is extremely protective, to the point where if criminals threaten his family, he’s not afraid to take the law into his own hands to eradicate the problem. One of these would be his fatal flaw, maybe vengeful? His vengeful tendency could be from a need to retaliate to protect his family from a threat, and that ultimately may take him down.

His flaws mainly seem to come from his overconfident front that he gives to the world. He doesn’t let too many in, or, he lets people in, but they don’t see the real him. Kanto doesn’t trust people right away, but it’s easy to get along with everyone if you just have this confident and charismatic face on. But his ‘face’ seeped into his actual personality, so there are times when he shouldn’t blurt out the first stupid comment in his head, but he does.

Gaang First Impressions:

Aang: He’s always extremely happy and excited to meet new partners, so he was thrilled to meet Kanto. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but Aang is great at being friends with everyone despite the differences, so there’s no animosity.

Katara: She’s skeptical at first, because Kanto acts like a douche and has a bad boy persona. Katara just doesn’t want to see Toph get hurt, so she interrogates the man a bit (a lot), but even though the things he says concern her, he’s a gentleman to Toph, very attentive to her needs. So, maybe he’s not so bad… Later on, she knows the bad boy look was all a facade and that Kanto is a sweetheart, and she grows to really like Kanto.

Zuko: He gives Kanto a very cold shoulder at first. He’s very protective of Toph because he thinks of her as a little sister. So, he crosses his arms, glares a bit, and Kanto glares back because that’s what he does at first. But then, they start going on double dates, and Zuko and Kanto turn out to have a lot more in common than they realize. They’re buddies now!

Sokka: Sokka’s attitude really depends on ship preference with him, but in most HC’s, he’s Toph’s best friend, so he would also be distant with Kanto. He wouldn’t like how cocky he is, or that he’s super tall and talented at many things… he’s not a fan. However, Toph is always super happy around Kanto, he makes her laugh, and no one is allowed to insult Toph without an ass whooping from both Kanto and Toph, so, he warms up to the guy. He’s been seen buying Kanto a beer after a long day of work as a truce, and he often goes to Kanto if he needs police paper signed and expedited (Kanto does the same with Sokka, it evens out).

Suki: Suki is pretty chill about it all. She’s pretty perceptive about personalities and whatnot, and she can detect a bit of a bad boy mask. So, she treats the introduction casually and is super cordial with Kanto. They never become best friends or anything, but she was one of his first “allies” in the Gaang, and for that he is forever grateful.

Other Facts:

His mannerisms are that he walks with a slow swagger. Often the slowest of the group, he takes his time whenever he walks places. But don’t let that fool you—he can sprint really fast. He leans back in almost all of his chairs, sometimes he leans too far back. Kanto was a notorious manspreader when he would sit down, but since being with Toph, she put a stop to that instantly. When he’s restless, he bounces his leg a lot, and usually only stops if Toph reminds him (usually a hand to his leg to calm him down). Kanto also runs his hand through his hair a ton to either push it off his face, or just on instinct. He fidgets with his hands, too, Toph does as well. Usually, the two will hold hands or play with each other’s fingers to ‘remedy’ their nervous tick. In extremely stressful situations (like an AU where Lin is kidnapped), Kanto usually throws up and doesn’t sleep at all.

Kanto’s voice is a mix of a rural and city accent, once Republic City becomes prominent. He uses slang in his speech often and mainly uses city words (he picked up a lot of city lingo when interacting with criminals and undercover work back in the day). There are a few words and phrases from his childhood that he uses that scream ‘rural kid’ and that is mainly when the distinction in his accent and speech is picked up. His voice is smooth and deep when he casually talks. When he yells, it becomes a bit gravelly and husky sounding. Oddly enough, when he whispers, the same thing happens.

Kanto smells like the earth or something with a forestry scent (cedar comes to mind). He wears cologne, and the scents he usually goes for are ones that smell like earth, wood, or resin. Kanto likes wearing cologne, but he can’t put too much on, otherwise it bothers Toph’s nose, and he typically checks to see which ones Toph likes, and he’ll purchase that cologne again because he knows she likes the smell. He naturally smells a bit like metal and dirt and a bit of smoke (he was a casual smoker before he had Lin). All these scents are not prominent, but by the end of the day, these are the scents that can usually be detected.

Some of his pet peeves include fake apologies, when people kick or shake the chair he is sitting in, any slightly insulting remark toward Toph, close talkers, people that interrupt frequently, and those that correct his grammar.

Kanto canonically only has one daughter, Lin. In this AU, he’s a loving and committed father who emphasizes putting his family first and protecting them. He doted and hovered over Toph while she was pregnant, cried tears of joy when Lin was born, and is very attentive and caring toward Lin. He’s the one that soothes her when she cries out at night, he’ll get up in the morning with her so Toph can sleep in, and when he comes home from work, he smothers her in kisses and gives her raspberries on the belly (affectionate). Even as a baby, Lin was a Daddy’s girl and Kanto spoiled her as much as possible.

In the relatively canon compliant AU, Kanto dies when Lin is about 6 months old. He left for work, had a run-in with a bloodbender (or an accident on the job), and never returned home. On the day of his death, Kanto planned on proposing to Toph, but never got the chance.

Lin knew about her father growing up, but he wasn’t talked about often because it is a touchy subject for Toph (and for most that knew him well). On her 13th birthday, Lin receives the engagement ring on a necklace, along with a handwritten letter from Kanto.

There are many AUs and headcanons related to where he lives, but those are very fluid and change all the time!

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dramatistvx · 4 years

Text

Loki fic recs!

Hello there! Here are some of the Loki fics I’ve read that I thought were really good :) Enjoy!

Some of the fics contain dark themes so please read the tags and be safe! :)

Time Travel -fix it-

The Fun With Time Loops series by Infinite_Monkeys

Summery first work:

With One More Try (Can We Start Again)

Loki's attempt to conquer Earth has, to his great dismay, succeeded spectacularly. When Thanos sends him to collect the Time Stone, he strikes a deal with the Stone's keeper: he'll be sent back to the beginning of the invasion, and this time, armed with knowledge about his opponents, he can lose properly.

Or: a time loop fic in which Loki does increasingly desperate things to try and get the Avengers to defeat him already.

Words: 13,563 - chaptered

Series total; 4 works, words: 78,913

Pretty sure you’ve already heard about this one and for good reason. It’s so good! Loved the whole series. I liked the third work best, tho it’s quite a bit longer than the others -60 k- It has more depth and -wayyy more angst- you get to see more of Loki struggling and him generally being in pain oOp- but he’s trying! Also Thor just wants to help bc he cares hihi. Love love love.

those yesterdays bleeding through by wnnbdarklord

Loki dies on the desolate plains of Svartalfheim, Thor's howls of grief ringing in his ears. He wakes up on his bed in his cell, where there is no sign of destruction.

A time loop fic where Loki gets the chance to fix things on the day the Dark Elves attack Asgard. And another. And another.

Words: 9,508

Another great time travel fix-it fic! I actually read the Fun With Time Loops series because I liked this fic so much and needed more lmao. There’s also a twist in the end that I didn’t see coming ;) It has so much angst for 9k I love XD I’d say that it’s a bit more explicit in the angst so be aware! Overall great read if you want something short and angsty but with a hopeful ending.

De aging

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup

In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Words: 26,586 - chaptered

Love love love this one! After a magical accident, Loki accidentally gets de aged and it’s the most adorable thing ever. There’s fluff and angst and kid Loki is just so precious. I also love how Loki and Clint bond in this. Literally go read this! xD

Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Ichor in Violet by tirsynni

When Thor learns that Loki can travel to other realms without Heimdall seeing, of course he convinces Loki to take them both to Jotunheim to hunt Frost Giants. There an accident unravels centuries of lies and threatens to unravel Loki, too.

Words: 14,574 - chaptered

Where Loki accidentally discovers who he really is and has trouble dealing. Thor is confused, he just loves his brother. The angsttttt. This is dark so be aware!

The Tapestries series by Lise

Summary first work:

It turns out that even a god can't escape a beating by the Hulk unscathed. At the end of the Battle of New York, Loki doesn't get back up. This changes more than you'd think.

Series total; 4 works, Words: 30,727

Oh the angst *wrings hands*

This series is amazing! It’s Loki struggling to deal with centuries of unresolved anger and hurt while simultaneously trying to cope with more recent events, the Void..Thanos.

Basically, Loki just wants to go home, wherever that may be. Everyone’s trying, genuinely trying. You just gotta know when -how- to stop fighting. It’s very well written and It really dives into the psychological aspects of his trauma. Also, Odin actually cares for once lmao. This one is also pretty dark so be aware!

Mistakes Made (And Corrected) by ADreamer67

In a different universe, Hela rebelled sooner. In a different universe, Hela Odinsdottir seduced Laufey with promises of power and convinced him to attack Midgard. In a different universe, Hela got pregnant, and didn't want to be. In a different universe, Hela left her newborn son for dead and went to face her father.

In a different universe, Loki Helajarson is two hundred and fifty years older than Thor. Let's see what happens.

Words: 47,072

Woah, just- this is so good!! It’s a very different take on Loki’s character but it’s still really fitting. After Thor is banished and the Odin sleep is fast approaching, Loki is to be king. Things don’t go very well for him, to say the least. I loved how the characters were portrayed and absolutely adored the dynamic between Loki and Thor. There’s so much angst and turmoil and it’s pretty dark so read the tags and be safe!

Just Close Your Eyes by ADreamer67

Ragnarok has come to pass, the Asgardians have reached a deal with the leaders of Midgard for territory of their own, Loki is allowed to stay (provided he doesn’t leave said territory), and Thor is settled on the throne. So all in all, things are going well, if you ignore the recent massacre and planetary annihilation.

Well, except for the fact that Loki is working himself into the ground. And Thor is having none of it.

Cue a not entirely legal brotherly field trip where Thor will make Loki relax, or die trying. Responsibilities? Pssh, who cares about those? (Hint - Loki. Very much so)

Words: 31,832 - chaptered, still going

So fun! It starts out pretty angsty but it gradually becomes a little more lighthearted. Then, it’s just Thor and Loki exploring Midgardian customs together -mostly Loki being mildly disgusted by them lmao- :)

Birthright by ADreamer67

Four years ago, Odin told Loki his birthright was to die. If only he knew.

When the Laufeyson was born small, too small and frail to survive, the solution seemed obvious. Though it had been many a generation since it had been done, the child was brought forth to the Casket, to be bound to its' power in an ancient ceremony that would imbue the little one with all the strength of a typical Jotun. That ceremony was interrupted by battle, and the child was left with the unguarded casket, in the hopes that the casket could keep it alive until it was safe to finish the ceremony.

That ceremony was never finished.

Over a thousand years later, the Casket of Ancient Winters is destroyed during Ragnarok. No one thought this would be an issue, least of all Loki. Guess what.

Words: 76,599 - chaptered, still going

This is so good!!! It’s one of the first fics I read in the fandom and it has really set my standards high. There’s so much angst and turmoil and it’s so well written. I absolutely adored the dynamic between the crew and how much Thor loves his brother even though Loki thinks he doesn’t deserve it. I really like the way ADreamer67 portrays the characters.

Soulmate/Soulbond, Relationships

Maybe You (and your sad blue eyes) by alby_mangroves

Loki had already come to accept being born without a bonded soul to cleave to, one more way in which he would always be the lesser brother. So of course it made sense that it would settle upon him when he least expected it.

(Set in the timeline of Captain America: The First Avenger, Thor, and The Avengers. Canon divergent just before Chitauri invasion.)

Words: 29,258 - chaptered

I don’t really ship Loki and Steve -bc stucky heheh- but I came across this fic in another rec list and I absolutely loved it, plus the art is stunning! Def a great read if you like angsty soulmate/soulbond fics but with a happy ending.

The sexual awakening of Steve Rogers by aLoggedInReader

Steve's life has always been complicated, but he did not know just how much of a rollercoaster it could become until Bucky came to stay with him.

Bucky is trying to be helpful and get Steve to live a little, but between being a hundred years old and having only lived a couple of those years, as an assassin for Hydra to boot, he tends to miss the mark now and then.

Adding an Asgardian prince in exile to the mix surprisingly does not make things easier.

Words: 47,333, still going

Sksjsksksk I don’t really ship Loki/Steve but this one is just so fun. features a lot of female Loki, flustered Steve, protective Bucky and overall wholesomeness and chaotic energy. Everyone just wants Steve to be happy. -mostly Steve centric-

The lines, here are written by dfotw

In a world where everyone has their soulmate's name written on their wrists, Steve Rogers has quite a lot more... and Loki, a lot less.

Words: 18,009 - chaptered

Lmao Imma just stop saying I don’t ship them XD This one is also really good. It’s angsty and tender with a hopeful ending.

#loki (marvel)#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #thor #hurt/comfort #loki angst #fic recs #frigga #angst #mcu #steve rogers #time travel #soulmate #loki fic rec

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

a dead woman tells no tales / vikings fiction

series based on Lady Lazarus, a poem by Sylvia Plath.

chapter three / catch up here

synopsis: He left you for dead and now you’re back.

author’s note: the one small detail the reader has, is that she is a red head. also! as apparent in the last chapter, Ivar’s canon dick-can’t-get-wet-problem doesn’t exist. It can go fuck off with the canon ending in my humble opinion.

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✄

“You lie,” Ivar says suddenly, shoving your body to place a strong force of distance between you. “Freydis loves me,” Even at his small attempts to prove his own mind to work in his favor, you still catch yourself passing another laugh.

“And do you love her?” You answer, a slick smile spreading through your lips as the amber waves go over your shoulders. “Because lying with another woman as a man who has wed does not sound like love,” Ivar looms over you as you speak, twisting his torso to peak a menacing glare through how he holds on to the sorrow you’ve suddenly stuck him with. His hand grabs your throat at such a speed your flinch is caught far after he has his grip on you.

“You are lying,” Ivar spits again. “You lie because you can not deal with what is truthful,” You feel the pressure along your airways tighten, the hum of the faint dark ink creeping along your vision as Ivar watches your eyes flutter. Suddenly his hand loosens and your mouth opens to pull in as much oxygen as your lungs will take.There’s a quick spark of fear spreading to a fire through your body as you crawl away from him; you know this time Ivar will not wait to call for help because he will ensure you are left at the gates of Valhalla. Scurrying back to your garments, it’s quick work to tie your dress haphazardly as you ready yourself to flee from him. Ivar’s eyes are still stuck on you with such distaste for your words it only makes you fonder, desperate to twist the knife further and tell him more of what you know.

“When that child is born you will see it resembles nothing of you. The only lie that I have ever spoken was that I did not love you. I have loved you Ivar, and I have had to deal with that,” You can hear his roar as you leave the hall, the shatters of broken ceramics not soon after.

Ivar hovers over a plain of disillusioned fate, the promises of returning to a woman who claimed her love for a monster like him torn from his crippled hands. His mood sours, even far past what he was normally known to hold as the meal around them takes no interest of his. Chatter from Hvitserk in one ear, chatter from his men in the other. Ivar had yet to look up to see you standing.

“Yes?” Hvitserk says, a faint turn of his head to your figure. Ivar’s eyes peel briefly as he flinches a whisper of fear through his bones from his spot. You place the dagger on the table that belongs to Ivar. “How did you get that?” Hvitserk questions, reaching for the steel blade that you pull back.

“Your hair still curls like it did when you were young,” You voice comes, the meal halfway towards Hvitserk’s lips stopping short. “It is fine that you do not remember me, I would not blame you. Have you not told your brother the tale, Ivar?” You speak, turning your head to look back at him. He is set to sail at the sun’s rise and you will swim behind the boats if you have to. Ivar just laughs, the ring of his amusement falling short with the snap of you wrist, the blade flying to piece the wooden table next to his hand.

“Leave,” He yells. You grab the lone cup of mead on your passage out of the room, drowning the concoction past your lips before tossing the container along the floor.

The moon is high when Hvitserk finds you, silver light past your cheek bones as it dances off of his blonde waves. He studies your body from where you’ve seated yourself, the rocks catching your figure as you try to keep the tears at bay. Ivar did not deserve them then, and he does not now. You would charge him for every droplet of salted water, every scar, every broken jagged twist of your heart if it was possible. The words in his voice that take up your mind, his touch, how tightly he held you. The men you have killed so that you would not simply slaughter him.

“What did Ivar do?” His voice beckons softly, curling around your cloak and lacing with the amber on your shoulders. The lapping water takes your voice from you briefly as you arrange the words on your lips to tell him of the past faults that only you and Ivar knew of.

“When you heat a blade over flame, it pierces more smoothly. Did you know that?” There is no answer given to you as Hvitserk shifts to seat himself where you are. “It is what he did not do. Do you remember the young girl who used to pull him in the wagon? The young woman who would challenge him in the woods when you would practice alongside him?”

“Yes,” Hvitserk answers. “She went missing—left,”

“Ah, that was the tale they told,” You sigh. “You know better of that, do you not Hvitserk?” You catch the way he looks at you, puzzled brow as he absorbs the sight before him. “I never went missing, Hvitserk. I fell, dueling Ivar and he could not help me up but he spoke of getting help. He never came back,” Your words fell past your mouth like tightly coiled ropes, thunking weight on to the ground, unraveling to be picked up and climbed. “I was there until travelers found me, and I went with them,” You added as Hvitserk sighed, his disappointment taking hold of your dropped ropes and latching on.

“And you think he has changed since then?” He asks, his question hanging heavily in the air.

“People do not change, Hvitserk. The seasons may, but people do not. I longed for an answer to why he would not return, and perhaps I will never get one,” You said. You knew Ivar was still under there, under the look of madness, the look of evil. The man that held you last night, making love, was the man you knew. The shocked eyes of being told he was unfavored by his queen were of a new person, failure to read even the simplest scenarios—that was not Ivar. He was not a blind man, nor a stupid one, but you wished for one day perhaps he could be—he could be told of something and simply accept it. He was not in love with Freydis. He was not surprised you came back. But he was sorry that he left you there to die. Crawling from ash as a walking miracle of the skin he dreamt of, rotting on those rocks as he could do nothing with his useless body to save you.

“You will sail back with us,” Hvitserk suddenly states as he bends to stand.

“Hvitserk,” You speak as he halts to turn back to you, brows raised in expectancy for the next question across your lips. “I have been sailing with you since you left Kattegat,” You admit as his face churns to catch where you have slithered through a lie within your words. “I never left, that was only the tale,”

Birth of Freydis’ son chimes through the town, up over the valleys and down through the trees, squawking between the ravens, and croaking between the toads. The town rejoices for their new prince upon the return of Ivar and his men, his attempts to act in celebration are only caught to be faulty by your eyes. What comes next are the whispers of Ivar’s unacceptance, his torment of throwing them out because the son carried a skin tone not of Ivar’s and not of Freydis’, eyes deep and dark and the near newly reborn spitting image of the baker’s son. Ivar wanted the man hanged, spread wide and pulled between layers of flesh for all to see. He wanted to pull the blonde hair in Freydis’ braid and choke her own airways. He wanted that bastard child left to the wolves.

Your meal was adorned before you, petty pickings from your cutlery on account of your absent appetite. Even if Ivar knew the truth now, it still did not make you feel any higher. You knew you were broken, but you would never doubt you were powerful—you had destroyed yourself, and it had been glorious. The pounding on the door halts you but you leave it as minuscule in your peripheral visions of things left of importance. You add wood to your fire and put out the last candles, collecting the scraps of your nightly meal to toss to the wildlife that litter the area past the great hall. Through all of your routine the pounding did not cease. With a pull of your shaw you cross the threshold and pull the door from its home, and the guard’s eyes sparkle in the light of the full moon.

“Your king has requested you,” He says. Nodding to the man, you follow his beckoning towards the quarters that hold Ivar’s throne.

“I figured you may haunt me, tell me that you were right to spite me,” Ivar’s voice says as you enter the room. His back is turned to you, speaking his words into the yellow fire that crackles but you can not detect any movement on his body. His voice comes across as dead, so brokenly mundane that you even can tell he makes no effort to hide what he’s feeling.

“Hvitserk never did handle his mead well,” You find yourself saying, the brief smile you crack at how untimely he must have spoken of your return on the ships with them, and how closely you had stayed apparent now. “And I can say all of that if that is what you wish Ivar,” His chuckle calls through your mind as you cross in through the room, padding behind him. “What became of them?” You asked.

“Nothing, as of yet,” Ivar says back all to bluntly for your favor.

“What would you like to become of them?” You ask from behind him. “Because while you have motive to hurt them Ivar, I do not,” You sang from where you were, crossing hands over his shoulders as you level your head next to his, your arm stretching out before both of you towards the hearth. “The burn of a flame can be put out, it can be controlled,” You whisper as you move your arm to the swords on the high wall. “A lot of blood comes from very specific places, but slice precisely and they take time to perish,” Your lips curl by his ear as your breath fans across the hair that has crawled his jaw, tracing your nail along his chin. “The meat of a mortal tastes the same to a wolf,” You add as you catch his jaw to look to you. “Whatever horror you want me to gift to them, Ivar, I will do it,” You spit as his eyes watch you. “You know how simple it is to break a bone,” Ivar’s tongue passes over his lips after you go quiet, your offer taking up space in his mind of the torment he could let you run madly free with. How there was no limit to what you now knew to do because you had spent far too long dreaming up how you would hurt Ivar for leaving you under that sky. You watch his chest heave quickly, a slow smile spreading over his mouth as his mind wanders. “You can bathe in their blood and show your people that there is no one who should cross Ivar the Boneless,”

He had never been this quiet for this long in the time you have known him. Ivar’s eyes mimic the oceans he has sailed for his path to ruthlessness as he stares at you, dancing through the shadows on your cheeks as you level yourself into his lap.

“Can I watch?” Is all he asks.

“You answer my one question, and you can watch anything you desire,” You say as he nods, sinking slightly from you as you sit just inches from his heart. “Why did you not come back?” You whisper, willing your voice not to crack under the extent of getting the chance to be gifted the one answer you ever wanted, but you are of no success. You eyes line with tears and although you need to blink them away, a stray droplet trickles across your cheek. It’s caught by the pad of Ivar’s thumb against your jaw as he looks back at you.

“You were gone when I came back,” Ivar simply answers.

“Now you are the one who lies,”

“You were,” Ivar repeated. “You jumped from that ledge, do you not remember?”

Tagged:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @grimeundglow @another-bryk-in-the-wall @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @revolution-starter

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/fandom/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings fiction #vikings au #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar au #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson fanfiction #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar x reader #ivar x you #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk #hvitserk au #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )#a dead woman tells no tales

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sanders1665 · 2 years

Text

Are we all part of a divine master plan,

or just random accidents and peculiar circumstances,

did love evolve from the primordial soup,

or is it the secret ingredient added by a master chef.

Existential ruminations,

past, present and future,

what has been and what could have been,

swirling in my head,

we can only know,

that we truly don't know.

Doing deals with our devils,

seeking forgiveness from our personal gods,

changing our faces for different people and places.

Daily habits carried out,

annual traditions celebrated,

people come and people go,

some needed and some we regret meeting,

life gives us thunderstorms and rainbows,

potholes, sinkholes and mountains,

sometimes, it feels like we're being punished like Sisyphus or carry the burden of Atlas,

a myriad of emotions,

not enough highs and too many lows,

wisdom rarely speaks and pain is too often felt.

We smile for the new born,

maybe drop a tear for those who pass,

and not give enough smiles and kisses for those we love,

if we're lucky, we find true love,

but, is it really enough,

what will tomorrow bring,

in quiet contemplation I ask why of the absent gods.

We worry about things that never happen,

with too many doubts, anxieties, insecurities and feeling lost in deserts and jungles,

youths dreams are always full of hope,

while aging dreams are full of doubts,

earnest prayers have three answers,

yes, no, maybe.

We keep adding to our collection of status symbols,

and pursuing hedonistic fulfillment's and ego trips,

is life just an on-going paper chase,

while treading shifting sands blown by winds of change.

But, deep within our hearts,

we just want to be accepted, acknowledged and to feel we are loved,

to taste and feel nourished by the secret ingredient of life,

Yet, the enigmatic mystery of life,

has me seeking more,

perhaps a biological or evolutionary twist to keep moving forward,

seeking answers, purpose and meaning.

Continually trying to make sense of what lies

beyond the picket fence,

choosing heroes to emulate,

keeping a watchful eye on the villains,

and mindful of the perpetual friction which causes change.

Ships of hope drift away and sink,

swallowed by the ocean waves,

life lets me understand in reverse,

as I seek the wisdom in its eyes.

So many doors to go through,

too many roads to travel,

so many rivers to carry me away,

too many choices,

a dance between order and chaos.

Heartbreaks and disappointments,

failures and successes,

birth, life, death,

but this feeling of love,

makes everything alright.

#my thoughts #spilled words #my post #my poem #poems and poetry #my poetry #poem #poetry #spilled thoughts #new poem #existential angst

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fannishcodex · 3 years

Text

So I love @revasnaslan 's Where One Fell Verse, a SPOP AU. :D (Will add a link to the fic series in a comment or reblog below after remembering that tumblr sometimes has issues with embedded links, I think.)

Like, I really love it a lot, it borders on self-conscious "am I being too much, will this for some reason bother the fic writer??" And really, I’ve realized, no way, it won’t, especially since I write fic too and know I would be delighted if my fic got that reaction; but I think this may be more part of my self-consciousness and shyness. In any case, my affection for these fics is on hyperfixation level. I'm in the WOF Verse fandom. It's a thing I've been thinking about in some way since I found it late last year via @cirusthecitrus, it's one of the things that cheers me up these days. I struggle to articulate my pleasure with this fic, but I want to try to do it more.

This fic is a wonderfully character-driven story.

Fic spoilers under the cut, so recommend reading Where One Fell (fic 1) and Everything But A Door (fic 2) before this--and also, just, this fic has my deepest rec and everyone should check it out:

But, another different note first, even more self-conscious on my part: me writing about this fic more feels long overdue, but I really do struggle to sometimes articulate even my positive feelings about a thing because I want to get it across well--but I'm trying to more just spill it out now instead of trying to refine it more; and just also other things have been...a lot, there's been a lot (good and less good) that's pulled my attention in other directions too. So, long overdue, I wish I could've done more earlier, but I still just want to...gush about the fic; but I get self-conscious and worry about, like, "I don't want to end up pestering/pressuring and asking for immediate gratification for a new chapter/I don't want to guilt-trip for an update especially since I feel like I understand because I write fic too and I write slow and it's hard"...but I still want to gush about WOF verse, especially since it's like any other story I enjoy. I like gushing about the stories I enjoy.

So, again, this fic is wonderfully character-driven, which I love.

I'll bring up some canon for obvious reasons, but mostly in terms of contrast. One of the ways WOF Verse felt refreshing and drew me in was that after SPOP canon--well, in some ways SPOP canon feels like a wasted ensemble show; like many other things SPOP doesn't pull off, it doesn't pull off an ensemble show (especially when it ends up sidelining a bunch of characters that should've been prioritized more instead of a very mishandled character), and it kinda feels like it ends up having too many characters/like it starts feeling like too many characters if some are sort of just there and not really used (and I have my thoughts on who should've been prioritized, but that's another post; though granted I think my interest in this fic really indicates some of the characters I would've prioritized more).

So, I enjoyed how WOF Verse focuses on a smaller cast, giving them more attention and exploring them more. The general summary of the fic immediately drew me in, because I'm a sucker for family themes and dysfunctional families and familial love getting messy and complicated in fiction, and I hadn't realized I needed clone Hordak and his genetic template/progenitor Horde Prime shifted to them being literally brothers, plus the added twist of having Horde Prime actually care for his brother, but Prime's become thoroughly twisted in how he shows that affection and protectiveness--didn't know I needed that until I found this fic. And oh do I enjoy how this fic opened up the original '80s She-Ra/MOTU up to me more, because I just thought "wow, Hec-Tor Kur is a good made-up alt name/'real-ish' name with a last name for Hordak in this AU, and Anillis Kur just sounds cool and it just feels like it fits as an alt name/real name for Horde Prime when he's not always using that title," and I thought making them literally blood brothers was just a neat twist on them being clone and genetic template/progenitor. But nope, apparently Hec-Tor Kur and Anillis Kur are their real alt names from the original '80s canon which also heavily implies they're brothers, and that's really cool. (And I think it would've been really interesting if spop/the latest reboot had actually just explored that more, explored them more as brothers and siblings.)

Again, WOF is very character-driven, and I love that. And I enjoy how this feels like it also fits the story and world of the fic, which involves Anillis Kur/Horde Prime going into Extremely Overprotective Brother Mode and confining his sickly younger brother Hec-Tor (Hordak) to the Velvet Glove because he's that paranoid about anything happening to his brother due to a lot of family trauma that happened before Hec-Tor was even born/when he was just a baby (and baby Hec-Tor himself almost succumbing to illness and dying did not help with Anillis's issues), not to mention that controlling; so much of the fic so far is in a closed world, it adds to the hyper focus on the characters in that closed world. I appreciate how at times the fic really does have this claustrophobic feeling. I like how it sometimes makes me think of like a one-setting/limited setting play on a multi-chapter scale.

And of course, I like the specific characters getting this sort of hyper focus, and WOF makes me enjoy them even more. I love Hordak, his character, his voice, his design, etc. Horde Prime also has such a cool design and again that same cool voice, I adore Keston John's voice acting and his range in it. Canon S5 doesn't give him enough internal depth or character though, and ultimately makes him too much of just an obstacle and symbol/too much of a plot device in the show and a wasted opportunity for a more interesting character. That becomes even more apparent in contrast to WOF Verse, because Anillis Kur/Horde Prime is so much more interesting!!! Like Anillis/WOF!Prime is so much more interesting, it makes me realize how canon Prime is lacking in character/interest.

Ohman, this Prime. Prime has a great design and a great voice, and WOF has an interesting personality to match those elements in quality. There's so much fascinating contrast with him in WOF, and it makes him feel like a more unsettling villain. We've seen him care, and so it feels more frightening when he turns more aggressive and ruthless and cold. WOF's opening scene really effectively sets that contrast with him; it starts with him exhausted but having a really sweet moment with a very young Hec-Tor, and then not long after that when Hec-Tor's asleep in his arms it's a very unsettling mood whiplash with how Anillis coldly treats the clone attendant; it's even very effectively distilled and crystalized even further with the image of Anillis holding a sleeping Hec-Tor in his arms while glaring daggers at the clone attendant, that contrast of love and threat. Like, definitely a character that can do Both and I love that. And contrast adds layers to Anillis, it renders him in even more emotional dimensions, he can be multiple things at once.

And I rather love that he's far less...touchy, with everyone; it more finally struck me that he's rarely negatively touched anyone until a pivotal scene, and it being a rarity made the scene pack more of a punch, and then I looked back and realized he just doesn't do that often, there's another earlier scene that also feels shocking because it's another rare use of explicit touch, his touch is more targeted--he doesn't need to constantly do it to feel threatening at all, and is in fact much more threatening and unsettling without it. (I literally had to pause some instances because I was nervous about what Anillis would do next.) It's so fascinating to watch Anillis steadily grow worse and to watch Hec-Tor gradually have the dawning realization of what Anillis is really doing and the truth of his situation. It's interesting to see Hec-Tor gradually realizing that what he's lived with his whole life and what has felt normal isn't a good thing, it's not acceptable.

And I really do like that familial love is such a motivating factor for Anillis, and that it's something that feeds into a lot of his ruthlessness and villainy; and it feels like something I still don't see enough in fiction. And it just feels more believable, more consistent. Anillis acts horribly, is abusive, but it still feels like what he does is out of love for his brother and he really is blind to what he's actually doing to his brother, that it's the opposite of what he wants, it's not protecting him like he believes. I like that level of character believability/consistency, and part of that also involves how it's overall framed, and it's still framed as pretty terrifying; Anillis cares about his brother, but his methods are twisted.

And my gut feeling does...well, feel connections between canon and this AU--and that may be obvious as source material and fic based on it, but I mean--it's as if canon were the very rough first sketch/draft, and WOF is the fully realized version of the character, plus the change of shifting his brotherly status into a brother that actually does care but goes about it in a horribly twisted way. WOF takes parts and pieces and little details from canon and fleshes them out into something more fully dimensional and more interesting. Like the trace of canon Prime's collection with plants/other things and even arguably the imagery at the end with his ship the Velvet Glove becoming a tree feel connected to a more fleshed out version in WOF where Anillis keeps a garden. And there's so much meaning that can be pulled from his garden--it's another reflection of his controlling behavior with the way he controls/manages the garden; on the flip side, it feels like it further reflects the contrast/dichotomy in his character, as gardens can still have positive connotations too--it can reflect the potential Anillis had (may still have?) for genuine good/for genuinely nurturing care. And it also does more explicitly point to Anillis's affection for family since his late father had kept a garden too and Anillis's own garden on the Velvet Glove still has his father's plants. There's so much done with Anillis's garden.

And with his backstory and the contrast in his character, just his...everything, I also want to know more about Anillis, I'm curious for even more of his backstory, even going more into "why are you like this?" Like this is a genuinely fascinating, charismatic, threatening, multi-faceted antagonist right here.

And I can go on about Anillis, but I love Hec-Tor/Hordak in this too. I love Hordak, and I enjoy how this still feels so much like Hordak, but with a different life; I feel like there are commonalities that remain from canon within him combined with differences based on the AU he's in and the different experiences he's lived with. Like, there's such an interesting detail with Hec-Tor's growing anger issues that remind me of Hordak--it's there, but different because of their different lives, Hec-Tor's developing because of his isolation but still quieter, simmering, because his brother only has his best interests at heart, he shouldn't act like this... And then it’s so nice to see Hec-Tor be even more talkative about SCIENCE because he does have more space to be a bit more open about his passions in this AU/different life situation. And it's all like another AU I didn't realize I wanted until I saw it--I really dig seeing Hordak/Hec-Tor as a baby, as a little kid, getting to have a childhood and get to have more typical developmental stages and to have more familial experiences, albeit twisted ones. And I love how the story has shifted to Hec-Tor more, love his POV and following him on his journey.

And the clones! The clones are great in WOF and give me feels too. I love how more of them are focused on as individuals, and that we get to see more of their characters and glimpse their differing views. And when Etherian characters join in, they're as well written and interesting too (the Entrapdak is so good). I just like WOF's cast, and the line-up plucked from canon and how they adjust to the AU; this ensemble just feels better, and it's utilized and treated better than canon.

And the worldbuilding with Anillis & Hec-Tor’s race and the clones and their world is so good and seamlessly interwoven with story and character, enhancing the whole thing even more and making things even more interesting.

I just...really love these characters and this story. They have a lot of heart and intrigue.

(Disclaimer: I definitely ended up having trouble figuring out tags for this. Especially since I think only the first five tags actually show up at first? And I think last I checked tumblr freaks out over dashes within a tag so while “hec-tor kur” probably fits better, I don’t think tumblr can handle that for some reason so just going with “hordak,” which also really still just fits.)

#fic rec #spop #anillis kur #hordak #horde prime #not a reblog #where one fell

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jumpingjaxx13 · 3 years

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📚 📖 📓📕📒📔📘📗📙

Lol

The joke's on you. I have a ton of these and I'm about to make it everyone's problem.

Put "📓" into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

(I'm gonna cheat a little. The ones with * are ones that I have started writing, but are incomplete/have been WIPs for a long time/nowhere close to being done. I feel like that counts just because of the amount of daydreaming/not writing that goes into them lol)

(Also, if there is any that someone is particularly interested in reading once it's finished, just leave a reply and I'll reach out with a link once it's published!)

This is going to be a long post, so I'll put the answer under a read more!

📚 *

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ships: ShigaDabi (primary), TodoDeku (background, maybe)

An AU where Tenko Shimura was found by Inko Midoriya instead of AFO and raised as Izuku's brother. He winds up becoming Hawks's secretary, meets All Might and learns about his grandmother, and gets to proudly watch his brother follow his dreams. Things start to change when he meets a strange man outside of a cafe and falls for him. How was he supposed to know that Dabi was a villain!? From there, Tenko has to do a lot of self reflection and decide what he wants to do after learning about his boyfriend's identity, especially when he found out that his boss had known all along. Does he chase after Dabi? Join him? Turn him in? I'm not 100% sure how I want to end this, but I am tempted for it to lead to the "birth" of Tomura. Any suggestions would be welcome!

📖*

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ships: N/A, maybe background Duo Holders?

Essentially an AFO origin story focusing on his relationship with Yoichi over the course of his descent. I take a few snapshots of the brothers together, starting as teens and going through to his death, and showing how their regard for each other changed. It finally ends with AFO speaking to Yoichi's grave years later. I'm a fan of DFO, so I'm going to be using the name Hisashi for him, but if/when his canon name comes out, I'll be changing it to match!

📓

Fandom: Death Note

Ships: LawLight (primary), MattMello (secondary)

An AU where Roger Ruvie dies early on in the investigation and, with the entire world under suspicion, L can't afford to replace him. Instead, he sends the majority of the kids off to other houses that Watari had built, save for his top three successors. Near, Mello, and Matt all move into the Task Force HQ and, despite L's "best efforts" to prevent it (read: he's totally just pretending to stop them to please the others), they continually find themselves thrown in the middle of the investigation. I'm also not 100% certain how I want this to end, but I do know that it's going to be endgame L/Light and Matt/Mello.

📕*

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Ships: RanPoe (past), ODazai (past, platonic or romantic), SteinCraft (past, background)

A sequel to Unstoppable Force. I've had a few people express interest in the culprit, so I've decided to write up an optional sequal that explains it. I debated not doing it, but I know that a lot of people enjoy closure, so I thought it would be fun! I invented a new villain and a new ability and I found an excuse to drag some Guild members into it as well. Essentially, Ranpo reopens the case after the funeral and uses the strange behavior of Steinbeck to corner and catch the elusive ability user. I'm personally proud of the ability I created, so I'm going to keep it a secret for now.

📒*

Fandom: Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun

Ships: TeruKane (primary)

This one is actually based on a post that has since been deleted proposing the idea of a soulmate AU where the name of your soulmate is written on the inside of your book in the Four O'clock Library. I shook it up a bit and added the idea that if you read your soulmate's name, people will begin to forget they exist and you have to confess your love to them within a week or they will disappear from existence entirely. Akane didn't think it would be a problem to go and confirm his soulmate-- it's obviously Aoi-- only to discover a very different name written in his book. Knowing his time limit, he struggles to find a loophole in the curse that would help him avoid confessing a love he doesn't feel. In the meantime, people are slowly starting to forget who Teru Minamoto is, with Akane being the only one to remember, forcing them to spend even more time together. This one is going to have a happy ending, but it's going to be a really close call!

📔

Fandom: Robihachi

Ships: Robby/Hatchi (primary)

This is a sequel to Lovely that I've been playing around with. Someone expressed that they wanted to see how Robby's father would react to their situation and that got me thinking about it. In a misguided gesture of good faith, Hatchi's parents invite Robby's family up to the moon to help celebrate either his birthday or their first anniversary. Much to Robby's surprise, they agree to come, leaving him with an awkward mess of judgement to deal with until they leave. I still haven't decided how this will end, but I know it's going to be on either a positive or bittersweet note.

📘

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ships: EraserMist (primary; may be romantic or platonic), Tomura/Touya (secondary)

Sequel to Purpose. Kurogiri and Tomura move in with that kind hero, Aizawa, after what happened in the alleyway. It takes a lot of getting used to, but it is leagues better than living out of a hotel. Kurogiri juggles working to obtain his hero license with raising Tomura (made easier with the new help) and investigates just why that hero seemed so familiar... Later on, when Tomura enters UA, he juggles making friends for the first time, proving his heroism despite his quirk, and a concerning new crush on the hot upperclassman.

📗

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Ships: MatchaBlossom (primary), Renga (secondary), ShadOka (maybe)

This one is going to go through a week of after-hours visits at Sia la Luce. Each day, someone drops in while Joe is closing up, needing one thing or another. From relationship advice to a pleasant escape to pleas for forgiveness, Joe finds himself to be the center of all of their attention. It's just a collection of seven mini-stories that are all collected throughout the span of one week in-universe. Everyone is going to give Joe a visit for different reasons and I'm excited to see how it turns out!

📙*

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Ships: Shin Soukoku (primary), Soukoku (secondary), more potentially TBA

A fantasy AU in which Fukuzawa and Mori are the kings of two rival kingdoms, Ada and the Port Kingdom (I'll probably change the names lol). Fukuzawa has no genetic heirs, but he had taken in a number of wards, one of which will be chosen to succeed him. Mori has two children, and the prince was born with a terrible curse that leaves his reputation soaked in blood. Atsushi, one of Fukuzawa's wards, is also cursed and feels that Prince Ryuunosuke is just like him; that he can be saved with some kindness and compassion. Despite being warned not to, he sneaks out and attends a ball intended to find the prince a suitor. While there, he unknowingly defends the prince from a number of attackers, which, while unnecessary, piques Ryuunosuke's interest. The two run away together, but wind up being sidetracked by an advancing enemy and wind up lost. Chuuya, a knight from the PK, is sent by Mori to go and find his son. Dazai, Atsushi's mentor and ward of Fukuzawa, is sent to go and locate the weretiger after he does not come to breakfast in the morning. Chuuya and Dazai run into each other while searching for their respective people, which leads to them teaming up to find them while Atsushi and Ryuunosuke are trying their hardest not to be found.

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 4 years

Text

Agave Syrup: ship kid. Secondary collab verse.

Annnnnd here's the new baby! She's my Cciller ship kid. She exists the the secondary ship kid universe which is a collab verse with @thebluescreen. She's from the Multiverse Rem is a part of, but not from the multiverse Coffee creamer is from. (They are two separate multiverses with different ships and storys.)

Both Agave and 4Loko are the same person, I'll explain below.

"yall really for a no caff, full foam, double chocolate latte, with an extra hit of caramel syrup!? It's my own special blend..... Added just for you~"

Name: Agave Syrup

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Strate

Parents: (Bio) Ccino (Da) and Killer (Baba). Non bio Nightmare (Father).

Other family: Rem (older half brother) Vanta (older half brother) Somba Lullaby (older half brother). Dream (uncle) Cross (Uncle) Radiant Hope (Cousin) Empathy (Cousin). And many cats.

Nicknames: Kitten (by killer) and Gave

Agave is the youngest of the Fluffynightkiller ship kids from the second verse. She grew up primary raised By Ccino and her oldest brother Rem. Killer and Nightmare were there, but weren't massively involved parents.

Agave is pretty close to her brother Rem, despite the 13 year age gap and will normally have a fortnightly movie night where they will watch crappy horror movies (like Jack Frost or The Sand) and laugh about how stupid they are. They also both love to watch old horror movies and play a game of "what incredibly stupid choice will character A make that will result in there death? Hmmm". It's there favourite thing to do together.

Agave isn't a huge fan of generally good horror films though and especially can't stand the saw films. So she doesn't watch them unless it's with Rem.

Agave and her other brother Somba aren't as close (he's 5 years older) but she still cares alot for him and isn't above defending him if needed.

Agave has two main sides to herself, this being how she is normally and her persona/alterego 4Loko. But more on that below.

Normally she is a very bright and chipper girl who's abit of a goof. She sees the fun or silly side in alot of things in life and is rarely not in a good mood. She's also quite a passive person (or at least pretends to be) and is quite kind. Her personality is abit to much like Dream's for Nightmare's liking so the two aren't really close.

She's that person who is very fun to be around but just slightly unnerving. Like there is something going on underneath her smile. Something just slightly off.

Being born with her soul on the outside of her body wasn't suprising because of her relation to Killer, however it caused Ccino to be conserned during her up bringing. He were quite scared about how easily she could be hurt of killed so always kept a close eye on her. Killer didn't care as much and gave her more free rain. For example, letting her play with this pocket knife as a 1 year old.

Agave works primarily at her Da's coffee shop and takes great pride in it. She grew up there and its been a part of her life ever since she can remember. She enjoys making her own flavouring syrups and blends to put into drinks to make them taste better. Other then that she's studying a business degree (at age 18 +) at a local university in order to get better with the business.

About 4Loko and her soul.

"Me? And serial killer? No no I'm a barista, those aren't even similar....."

Now this is where things start up, because she's got to inherit some things from Killer, right?

Agaves soul glitches, much like Killer's does, from being heart shaped to being target shaped. It does this many times a day. When this happens it normally doesn't last longer then a few seconds till it goes back to normal. To an outsider it may even be unnoticeable and for the most part it doesn't effect Agave.

However sometimes she will trap her soul into a jar or some type of container. Doing this will stop it from glitching and stick it in whatever form its in (she can't do this all the time as it strains the soul and brings pain). So sometimes she will stick it in target mode. When she sticks it in target mode, her eyes drip.

Unbeknownst to any of her parents when her soul is like this, it changes her. She feels basically nothing, no fear, no sadness, no guilt or empathy. She realised at a young age that this was her super power.

In this mode she could do anything and not suffer any emotional consequences.

It started with stealing cookies from the biscuit tin at age 9 and evolved into hurting bully's at school. Then into giving food poisoning to rude customers by mixing up syrups to slip into drinks to make people ill.

For the most part she stays out of this mode, only dipping in when she felt she needed to test how far she could push it.

When she was 15 she started to consider pushing it to the limit.

She was watching the news and found out about some kind of abuser or murder being arrested and she thought. Why do we let people who do such horrible things live? Wouldn't it be better if they were dead? Then she realised, with her super power, could she kill someone?

When she was 16 she had her first kill. They were robber shed caught beating someone in an alleyway. (I don't know to much about this yet so I'll need to think more about it) but afterwards, she realised that she'd been right in the fact that she didn't feel guilty. She could use this to make the world a better place!

She didn't kill again for about a year. (just incase, I wanna point out that I'm not saying that what Agave does is justified. She's just an ship kid, a act of fiction and not ment to be taken seriously)

So anyway, by age 17 Agave makes her second kill and continues on that path. These are alot more thought out and planned. Her method of choice is through creating poisonous syrup and killing people that way, though she isn't above a good old knife death. Her Baba taught her well. She also carries around chemicals to clean blood and things like that.

She doesn't like her victims to dweal in pain and gets the deaths over quickly and painlessly. She gets no pleasure from causing pain to others, and when she doesn't have a target soul it makes her upset to hurt people.

Agave ended up calling her killer mode 4Loko. That's the name for her alterego the serial killer. She separates 4Loko from herself and doesn't want it to impact her Day to day life. So she will use make up to cover the birth mark on her face. When she's in her 20s she ends up working as an hireable assassin for killing criminals. But more on that later.

Non of her parents know about her double life. But that doesn't mean no one does.

Rem has always kept a close eye on his little sister. Over the years he noticed her odd behaviour and her collection of 'syrups' that she keeps in her room hidden.

During her 17th year he confronts her about what she does (which was a huge mess) the two fought as she attempted to stab him through the soul with her knife. She couldn't let him live if he knew right? She would have been able to but she just couldn't bring herself to hurt him. Since she wasn't in target mode she just couldn't do it especially as he spoke to her and talked her down. (tbh it's actually a kind of sweet scene between them).

After he's calmed her Rem offers to help her kill people, and he's very happy to. (Rem has alot of darkness under his kind surface which I'm sure @thebluescreen would be more then happy to explain in better detail).

So the two grow closer through that.

And yeah, that's the basic run down of my Cciller baby.! Hope you like her! My barista turned murderer/hitman I figured this would be a good mix of both her parents.

You have no idea! How long I spent working on her colour scheme..... It took about a month till I finally had this one and I'm pretty happy with it. I hope I explained everything about her double life well, I wasn't sure how clear it is. If you have any questions, please ask.

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