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catlordewrites · 4 years

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Where the Roses Grow Chapter Three

The compound on Arvala-7 didn’t house one bounty, but two. Elsi Nokk is an enslaved nanny with more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She’ll do anything to protect her charge, even if it means standing against - and then with - a certain Mandalorian. Rated M.

@kyjoraven @killtherandomness

This story can be found on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

CHAPTER WARNINGS: SMUT, slavery and associated themes, anxiety, dissociation, mild language.

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Chapter Three

Elsi woke with a start. The baby was less than an inch from her face. He cooed and grinned toothily, reaching out with his little hand to pat her hair affectionately and showering her face with sand.

She huffed and pushed herself into a sitting position, biting back a groan of effort as her muscles screamed and ached in protest after the full day of grueling activity followed by a night on the unforgiving ground. The sun was just below the horizon, washing the sky in pink and red, promising another hot, cloudless day.

The Mandalorian, of course, was already awake. He sat more or less where he had the night before - his cuirass back in place and in the process of collapsing the little lantern and returning it to his belt. The gash on his arm was still red and the cloth around it stiff with dried blood.

Elsi imagined that, if she were closer, she’d be able to see that the flesh was twisted and singed until sealed. It would leave an ugly scar. But she doubted he cared about something as trivial as appearance.

His helmet tilted up at her. “We need to get moving.”

Elsi dipped her head in acknowledgment, easing herself to her feet and picking up the baby to place him back in the bassinet. The baby grumbled, his ears drooping when it became clear that today was to be another day of riding. He wanted to walk and explore, she was sure. She wasn’t particularly thrilled either.

The Mandalorian stood and shouldered his rifle, but waited while Elsi paused to dig through her russack bag.

She found a strip of fabric that she had been saving in case the baby needed something new made. It was cream colored cotton, thick and tough. She shook it out and wrapped the widest part over the top of her head before tying the ends under her chin - resulting in a makeshift bonnet. Despite having spent the majority of the day before in the shade of the canyons, her cheeks were tight and warm from the sun. The bonnet wasn’t perfect, but she was hopeful that it would at least help a little.

Seeing that she was ready, the Mandalorian gave her a curt nod and led the way farther into the endless expanse of rock and sand.

. ~0~0~0~

The baby wasn’t getting better.

If anything, she worried he was getting worse. All he did was sleep, and it was getting harder and harder to wake him. When he did manage to wake up, he simply gazed at her through lidded, foggy eyes. Sometimes he would whimper or grumble, but otherwise he stayed deathly silent.

Even worse, he wouldn’t eat. Elsi tried everything. Milk. Fruits. Vegetables. Soups. Meats. Grains. She had the best luck with a hearty meat stew made in the house kitchens. When she smeared some of the grease across his lower lip, he stirred just enough to lick it off, then proceeded to swallow down one small chunk of meat and chewed at another for a while before drifting back to sleep with it still between his teeth.

Elsi did absolutely everything she could for him. She dipped a clean cloth in water and wet his lips to try and entice him to drink; she regularly cleaned and medicated his diaper sores; she talked to him; held him in her arms at all times.

Nothing worked. She feared he was slipping away.

With the baby swaddled tightly to her chest in a sling, she brought him with her into the gardens, hoping some sunlight and fresh air would do him good.

They sat together in Elsi’s spot by the stream, basking in a patch of sunlight while Elsi’s nimble fingers worked on mending and patching the holes and worn spots in the baby’s overcoat.

While she worked, her conversation she’d had with her Master earlier that morning rang through her mind:

~0~

“Will he recover?”

“Like I said before: I’m not a doctor.”

“You’ve cared for sick children before.”

“Human children, mostly. Some Devaronians. A few Zygerrians. I’ve never seen anything like him before.”

“But if he was a human child, would you expect him to survive?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Silence fell between them.

She went on. “But he isn’t a human baby. Human babies are relatively fragile when you compare them to other species. He could be stronger.”

“Or weaker.”

“Yes.”

He heaved a sigh. “When will we know for certain?”

“I can’t really say. From experience, though, if he is going to die, it’ll probably happen in the next 24 hours. If he makes it to nightfall tomorrow, I’d say he has a pretty good shot at pulling through.”

~0~

Elsi tied off the thread and snipped it with her tiny sewing scissors. The patch was smooth and almost indistinguishable from the rest of the coat, which had been religiously cleaned and disinfected. It was good work, but there was a certain point where a garment would look worn and ratty no matter how much love her talented hands poured into it.

It would have to do for now. She wasn’t sure if there was any point in going through the trouble of making him an entirely new coat.

Elsi pressed a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she murmured against the wrinkled skin. “Make it, and I’ll make you a dozen new coats. Fine, black market fabrics. The best. People will think you’re the son of a king.”

The baby stayed silent.

~0~0~0~ .

The baby was singing to himself.

It was tuneless, and despite the lack of a pattern or rhythm, it was unmistakably a song.

It was something he did when he was happy, and Elsi couldn’t bear to ask him to stop, especially since it didn’t seem to be bothering the Mandalorian, who was either amused by it or tuning it out.

As long as he wasn’t annoyed, everything was fine.

They walked until the sun burned high above their heads. It was hotter than the day before, but Elsi was feeling decently better after resting, and their little group was able to cover more ground in a shorter amount of time.

The dry flats melded into rocky hills. Elsi’s thighs burned as they picked their way up a particularly steep slope. Her head was down, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other so she didn’t slip on the loose stones, so she didn’t realize that the Mandalorian had stopped until she walked straight into him.

He paid her no mind, taking another step forward and kneeling, swinging the rifle around from his back. Taking the cue, Elsi crouched low beside the bassinet and surveyed the scene before her.

In the valley below sat a great, hulking sandcrawler. Although they were still a fair distance away, Elsi didn’t need the Mandalorian’s scope to recognize Jawas when she saw them. They swarmed the area like termites, picking apart the dried bones of what had once been a ship.

Elsi’s heart sank. She had been banking on the Mandalorian to get them off-world, but now that didn’t seem like it would happen. She was so annoyed that she didn’t feel much in the way of pity when a few of the little menaces vanished in puffs of smoke, meeting their untimely ends at the end of the Mandalorian’s rifle.

The Jawas’ screams of alarm echoed through the air, carried to Elsi’s ears by the scant breeze. They scrambled to return to the safety of their fortress under the inadequate cover fire of the few that had blasters. They were firing at random, so none of the shots came close.

Another disintegrated on the spot.

The crawler roared to life, crushing the little pole structure the scavengers had set up to catalogue the parts as its massive treads churned up the ground beneath it.

The Mandalorian didn’t say anything, but Elsi could see the outrage in the set of the bounty hunter’s shoulders.

Realizing what he was about to do - however illogical she thought it to be - Elsi scooped the baby from his bassinet and held him while the Mandalorian took off down the slope, skidding and sliding on the loose dirt and sprinting headlong after the crawling fortress, the now-empty bassinet trailing behind.

Elsi patted the baby’s back. Together, they watched as the crawler ate up the distance until both it - and the Mandalorian - disappeared from sight.

The baby tilted his face up at her and chirped. A question.

“No idea,” Elsi sighed, more to herself than to him. “He’s crazy-crazy, huh?”

The baby waggled his ears like he understood.

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

Elsi sat on the open ramp of the Mandalorian’s ship, watching as the baby shuffled around the wreckage, hunting for bugs. He caught one every now and then, and Elsi’s stomach turned uncomfortably every time he popped up with one in his mouth, and again when he crunched it between his teeth.

She had no idea if the bizarre little creature’s choice in snacks was good for him or not, but was willing to assume that it was probably fine. He’d eaten much, much worse than a few beetles and never seemed to suffer any ill effects.

The time he ate a baby snake was probably the worst - to her, if not to him. Just thinking about it still made bile rise in her throat. It had been small; nose to tail, the length of a human palm. The child had held it up in his tiny three fingered hand… crunched its skull between his teeth…

Down it went, slurped down like a noodle, still wiggling in its death throes.

Elsi had been too horrified to stop him. By the time she realized what was happening, the snake was gone and the baby was grinning up at her with all the innocence of a cherub that hadn’t just killed and eaten something that probably should not have been.

She’d panicked, worried that it had been venomous and would bite him or something on the way down. But nothing ever came of it.

It was times like that she wished she knew at least something about his species - at least whether or not his choice in diet was normal.

She shook those thoughts away, instead forcing a smile when the baby toddled up to her, waving a rather large winged bug around in his fist for her approval.

“Good job!” She praised, though her smile transformed into a grimace when the half-dead insect met the same untimely end as the dozen or so others the baby had consumed in the last half hour.

The Mandalorian had been gone a while. Elsi was starting to worry. They were already screwed without a ship, but she was hopeful that the bounty hunter would have a better idea than ‘wander around in the desert and hope you find someone kind enough to take pity.

Which was what Elsi would be forced to resort to, should the Mandalorian get himself killed.

Then again…

More bounty hunters were probably on their way. But relying on them was a gamble. The Mandalorian had made it reasonably clear that he meant to keep them alive, but she knew that there were others who would kill them both to save themselves the trouble.

She could also probably track down the Jawas. Maybe they would be interested in some kind of trade. She didn’t have much to offer, but a ride to the nearest settlement shouldn’t be too much to ask. Jawas could be fairly accommodating, if you knew how to get on their good side.

And… well… if the Mandalorian was dead, then she felt that it wasn’t too calloused to bargain with his armor. Needs must, and all. At least a few pieces of it were bound to be real beskar, which would be more than enough to see her and the baby safe passage to civilization - hopefully further - if she could keep at least some from the Jawas. All she would have to do was hope that she found the body before they did…

All those thoughts were dashed when the Mandalorian rounded the end of the hull. She could help but be a little impressed at how quiet his approach had been - she wasn’t easy to sneak up on.

Although still alive, he’d definitely taken a beating. He was favoring his left leg and carried a stiffness in his back and shoulders - only partially due to frustration.

He said nothing to Elsi when he reached them, his helmet turning briefly to locate the kid before climbing the ramp and vanishing inside what was left of his ship.

Wise from experience, Elsi made sure to stay out of his way. She took the baby a little farther away from the hull, sitting on an empty box and amusing him with his stuffed frog, which had returned with the Mandalorian and bassinet, all the while listening to the distant clangs and curses as the Mandalorian examined the damage firsthand.

It wasn’t pretty. Everything that was worth having was gone. She was by no means an engineer, but she didn’t have to be to know that the vessel wasn’t getting off the ground, let alone off the planet.

She needed to figure out the Mandalorian’s Plan B before coming up with her own.

She was both frustrated and relieved when the Mandalorian finally stomped back down the ramp, still angry, but moving with purpose.

“We need to move,” was the only explanation he offered. His tone was terse. Clipped. Absolutely no room for discussion or questions.

He barely waited for Elsi to put the baby back in the bassinet and shoulder their belongings before he was striding back out into the desert.

The baby groaned, giving voice to the sentiments that Elsi would never dare say out loud.

More walking.

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

They arrived just as the last of the sun’s rays were slipping below the horizon. The destination turned out to be a small homestead. It was a meek little farm: moisture collectors, a few of the small rounded patchwork metal huts that could often be found on desert planets, a work shed, and a few paddocks containing some large, bizarre reptilian beasts that Elsi had never seen before.

The walk there had been grueling. Out in the open desert, they hadn’t had the benefit of walking in shaded canyons, and while it was only three, maybe four hours of travel, the Mandalorian hadn’t exactly been accommodating in terms of breaks. The pace he’d set was brisk, and Elsi had gotten the distinct impression that if she was left behind - then that was her problem.

He hadn’t spoken once the entire trip, but that was fine by her. She’d needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, anyhow.

The baby, blessedly, had been good. As much as he didn’t like riding, he was content to sit quietly and watch the scenery and - when he got bored with dry, cracked rocks - the Mandalorian, who seemed to be his new role model. He would tilt his little head to survey the landscape as the hunter did, and when there were no behaviors to mimic, he would sit and watch, his eyes moving with the sway of the Mandalorian’s cloak.

The little traitor.

Under different circumstances, it might’ve been cute. Elsi didn’t see the appeal. But, then again, she hadn’t been asked.

The Mandalorian seemed familiar with the homestead. He didn’t hesitate to stride straight in, bypassing the main hut and making for one of the moisture collectors. Elsi was quick to see why. Up on the collector’s rickety maintenance platform was a short man. He had his back to them, but she assumed that he wasn’t human.

“I thought you were dead,” he addressed the Mandalorian without turning, managing to sound wholly indifferent and paternally disappointed at the same time.

The Mandalorian came to a stop at the base of the collector. The bounty hunter’s helmet tilted, but he didn’t respond.

Elsi stayed to the side and slightly behind - out of the way without hiding, her hands folded politely in front of her and settled her eyes just below the average eyeline - submissive without cowering.

The man turned to level the strange little group with a scowl. He was an Ugnaught, she realized, noting the squat stature, deep set eyes, and somewhat squashed face through the filter of her eyelashes. The Ugnaught’s frown deepened when his eyes flickered across Elsi.

“And you’ve brought another guest,” the Ugnaught added, starting to climb down the ladder to greet them.

“Meeya! Muu? Eh!” The baby, a tad over excited about a toad hopping about the base of the collector, scrambled out of his blankets. He clambered over the edge of the bassinet, much quicker than he had any right to be.

Elsi lunged to catch him, but the Mandalorian was closer and faster. A gloved hand flashed out, snagging the child by the robes the same instant he tumbled into thin air.

The baby dangled there for a moment, suspended by the back of his overcoat. The Mandalorian stared down at him, expressionless mask angled in such a way that it gave the impression of mild bemusement. The baby laughed, clapping his little hands like this was the best game and kicking his feet as if he hoped to swim in midair.

Carefully, the Mandalorian eased him to the ground, making sure to set the little creature on his feet and steadying him when his balance wavered. The baby giggled and waddled after the flopping toad.

The bounty hunter shot her a glance, as if confirming that setting the child down had been the correct thing to do.

Elsi, having regained her composure, remained expressionless as her eyes trailed after her charge. She didn’t trust him to not wander through the wire fence of the nearest pen. Although they looked clumsy, the beasts were big and had the long, jagged teeth of predators. It would take very little for the baby to get crushed underfoot or eaten.

Upon the lack of rebuttal (like she would dare to offer one), the Mandalorian turned his attention to his right vambrace, which had been sparking with electricity off and on throughout the day. It had already been damaged before Elsi had met him, but based on the aggravated way he’d been fiddling with it, she assumed that the jagged, twisted gash in the rust red steel was fairly new.

By that point, the Ugnaught had made it down the ladder. He waddled by, movements stiff with age, bypassing them in favor of adding a bucket of water to the trough just inside the giant reptile’s pen.

The baby was still shuffling after the toad. The Ugnaught looked down at him appraisingly.

“This was what was causing all the fuss?” He scoffed, sounding baffled, but not unkind.

“It’s a child,” the Mandalorian explained offhandedly.

The Ugnaught nodded gravely, looking between the hunter and Elsi. “And its caretaker, I presume.”

Elsi inclined her head to confirm, but stayed silent.

The Ugnaught grunted in acknowledgment before addressing the Mandalorian, passing him a delicate screwdriver for his vambrace. “The bounty you seek is for both child and slave?”

The Mandalorian didn’t look up from his vambrace. “Yes.”

That was news to Elsi. The child was the valuable one, she was just an extra commodity - the thing the child’s new owners decided to buy/appropriate so they didn’t have to care for him themselves. She was useful and convenient, but never valuable enough for any bounty.

“Better to bring them in alive, then.” The Ugnaught concluded. He took a few of his shuffling steps to stand before Elsi.

When he stuck out both of his gloved hands to take hers, Elsi complied just a tad bit too quickly. No hesitation. Instinctual obedience. After doing it, she knew that it was a mistake. The Ugnaught’s eyes glittered knowingly - with sadness and understanding.

She knew what else he saw that others might not. The slight crookedness in her once-straight nose from where it had been broken more than once. The thin, silvery scars around her right eye and cheekbone where a mistress had thrown a broken glass in her face. Her hands, too. They also bore a thin scattering of scars under the thick calluses worn by a lifetime of labor. She knew that if he removed his gloves, his would look the same.

She didn’t like it - being known. It hurt.

The Ugnaught squeezed her hands in what was supposed to be reassurance. She knew he meant well, but Elsi had to grit her teeth to keep from pulling out of his gentle grasp.

“I am Kuiil,” he declared. “You are my guest. Here, you are slave to no one. I have spoken.”

She’d met people like Kuiil before. She appreciated them - the ones who’d made their own freedom. But slavery wasn’t something that could be turned on and off at will. It just was, or wasn’t.

Elsi was saved from having to scrape up a faux heartfelt response by the Mandalorian.

“Hey… is that…”

Elsi whipped around just in time to see the toad go into the baby’s mouth. This time she wasn’t able to mask her distaste as he swallowed it whole, flailing legs and all.

“...normal?” The Mandalorian finished, radiating the disgust that they couldn’t see on his face.

Elsi didn’t stop the sigh that hissed between her teeth. “Yes.”

Kuiil chuffed, waving the scene away. “You will rest here tonight. You are weary from your travels.”

The Mandalorian stabbed at his vambrace with the screwdriver moodily while Elsi went to scoop up the baby. “My ship has been destroyed by Jawas. I’m trapped here.”

Kuiil gestured them along. “Stripped. Jawas steal. They do not destroy.”

“Stripped or destroyed, makes no difference to me,” the hunter groused, ducking into the doorway of the main hut. “They’re protected by the crawling fortress. There’s no way to recover the parts.”

Kuiil’s home was what you expected a desert-dwelling hermit’s space to look like. The ceiling was low, so low that even Elsi had to duck down to keep from banging her head. It was utilitarian and cramped, every available space covered with spare tools and appliances that could prove useful to someone who only had himself to depend upon in the desert. Despite the clutter, everything was neat and organized, and Elsi found it homey.

Elsi ducked in behind the two men, keeping a respectful distance from them both. The baby let out a little trill, full and content in her arms. She hushed him, tucking him against her chest as she took in their new surroundings. The Mandalorian had already moved to sit on a low stool along the wall.

Elsi wavered for a moment, wanting to be out of the way and not take up anyone else’s space. She elected to sit on a storage box a short distance from them, content to rock the dozy baby and listen as the two men continued to talk.

“You can trade.”

“With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?”

“I will take you to them,” the Ugnaught declared, moving to the stove and starting the beginnings of a meal. “I have spoken.”

Elsi actually heard the Mandalorian’s teeth click as he bit back a retort. She knew as well as he did that there weren’t any better alternatives.

Silence fell between them as Kuiil made them a simple, but wholesome meal of porridge and meat. The baby decided that he wasn’t ready to sleep just yet and insisted on being put down. Elsi fetched one of his toys - a length of yarn tied to a small wooden ball - out of her bag and he was happy to sit by her feet and roll it back and forth across the toe of her shoes.

Kuiil served Elsi first, another considerate gesture that made her extremely nervous. She had already been uncomfortable watching their host prepare a meal and doing nothing to help. She hid it the best she could - which was extremely well - thanking him and moving to sit at the small table against the wall.

The Mandalorian didn’t seem to notice or care that he’d been slighted, standing up to accept his meal and taking it with him to the back of the hut, vanishing behind a threadbare curtain that separated the front room from the back.

“Mandalorians value their privacy,” Kuiil commented as he settled across from her at the table.

“Yes,” was all Elsi had to say.

“I’m curious about the child,” he said, direct and to the point. “How is it that he fell into the care of a slave woman?”

Elsi swallowed her food politely before answering. It was both sweet and savory. Absolutely delicious. It had been a long time since she’d eaten anything outside of the ration packs that were thrown in her direction and she had to school herself to keep from scarfing it all down at once.

“The master I was serving was part of an Underworld chain,” she explained, honest but near emotionless. “I was the head-childminder of the household. The child was ill and in need of nursing. When it was time for him to be moved again, I was sold to his next keeper, and so on.”

Kuiil nodded seriously. “I’ve paid out my clan’s dept. I too know what it is to be bartered and sold.” An indentured servant. She wasn’t at all surprised. “What is your name?”

It had been a long time since anyone had asked that. After leaving Lord Burkisn’s household, she hadn’t needed one.

“Elsi Nokk.” It sounded strange to her own ears, like it belonged to someone else.

“Elsi Nokk,” the Ugnaught echoed. “How long have you lived in servitude?”

“Always.”

“Your parents, then, as well?”

“My mother.” Elsi was long past feeling awkward about speaking about her history. It was pathetic, she knew, and it made others uncomfortable. But it was her past, and she didn’t want to live ashamed of her entire life. “I never knew a father.”

“Is your mother still alive?”

“Doubtful.” In truth, her mother was long dead. There were channels through which slaves could communicate. Elsi had used them when she was in her teens - hoping to locate her long-lost mother, only to find heartbreak.

“You don’t know?”

She did, but she didn’t really want to talk about it. “We were separated when I was small.”

“How many masters have you served?” Even though she didn’t mind being asked such questions, she felt that Kuiil was leading up to something. Trying to make a point, one that was important enough for him to have forgotten about his porridge, which was growing cold.

“Many.”

Kuiil nodded again. Dead serious. “And what master do you now serve?”

There it was. It was the same question that had been nagging at the back of her head since they’d left the compound.

The answer? The Mandalorian. He had her fob.

Technically.

But Elsi sensed that that answer was the wrong one. She hadn’t missed the way the bounty hunter acted around her. He would scarcely look her in the eye. Wouldn’t address her unless absolutely necessary.

She made him uncomfortable.

He would never claim a slave.

The other technical answer? Whoever the Mandalorian was delivering them to. But that wasn’t solid, either. It was doubtful that they were necessarily expecting a slave to be delivered. She was a fairly pricey utility, but not near expensive enough to negate hiring a bounty hunter to find her, especially not a Mandalorian.

No. They wanted the child and his caretaker. Not a slave.

Kuiil wouldn't be asking that question if he hadn’t already weighed all the available options. She didn’t doubt that he’d come to the same conclusions she had.

The Ugnaught was waiting for her answer so he could pick apart her train of thought - to push her to make a bid for freedom.

She wanted to scream at him. Wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter whether she wore a collar or not, because her fate was the same - care for the baby. His captors would be hers - slave or not - and he shouldn’t dangle the concept of pseudo-freedom over her head.

She’d done the mental math during the walk across the desert. After considering the things she’d overhead in Lord Burkisn’s house and the things she’d learned since, she had a pretty good idea of who wanted the baby.

Everyone was a slave in the eyes of Imps.

But she didn’t say any of this, of course. She stayed honest, though, both to herself and the kind Ugnaught.

“I’m the child’s caretaker,” she said evenly. “I go where he goes.”

The baby sat his butt down heavily on her foot. He leaned back against her leg, rubbing his face into her skirt and cooing. It was almost time for bed.

Kuiil grunted, but it was hard to tell if it was in disappointment, aggravation, or something else entirely. Instead of pressing the point, he nodded to her now empty bowl.

“You are finished,” he narrated, sticking his hand out for the dish. “I will clean it. You will tidy yourself and your child in the bathhouse. Then you will rest.”

“Please,” Elsi added as she stood, mindful of the sleepy toddler still attached to her ankle. “Allow me to tidy away the meals. You’ve been such a gracious host.”

“You are my guest. I have spoken.”

That ended that. She’d wanted to argue, and if it wasn’t for the exhaustion creeping in her bones, she might have. Another time, maybe. Instead, she took directions to the bathhouse and picked up the baby, who squeaked and buried his little face in her neck.

Night had fallen across the desert, velvet and deep. Stars glistened overhead like ice crystals. The security lights were warm and soft, but lit the homestead well enough to see where everything was. The giant reptiles snuffled around in their pen, no more than great shadows hulking in the dark.

The bathhouse was exactly that - a shed with a tub sized basin, a sink, a sonic shower, a vac-tube, and an overhead faucet for showers.

Elsi couldn’t make herself use enough of Kuiil’s limited water supply to take a bath or a water shower, so she placed the baby on the counter beside the sink while she stripped and allowed herself to stand under the sonic shower just long enough to rid herself of the dirt and sweat of the past two days. The child was sleepy and was content to sit and wait the five or so minutes it took for her to wash and redress.

Then she filled the sink partway with water and bathed the baby. He whined about it quite a bit, but knew better than to fight it.

“I know, baby. I know,” she murmured sympathetically. “You can sleep soon.”

“Eep!”

“That’s not my fault. You could’ve napped today.”

“Merwlp. Muu? Gah!”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can play more tomorrow. We might be traveling again.”

“Eee.”

“Maybe it won’t be too bad. You might see some Jawas.”

“Oohwah. Buurrr!”

“I’m sure Mando will be around. And Kuiil.”

They talked like this a lot. It was as much for the baby’s development as it was for her sanity, as it had been a long time since she’d had anyone else to talk to. She’d missed adult conversation. Perhaps her next talk with Kuiil would be on a more pleasant topic. Maybe she would ask about the giant reptiles...

But for now, baby talk would have to do. Their conversation continued as she finished toweling off his ears and redressed him before stepping out into the night, not letting the rusty metal door bang behind her.

“Mmmwah!”

“Yeah, I saw that toad you ate. It was disgusting.”

“Mmmmm.”

“As long as you liked it. It would’ve been awful if you hadn’t.”

They were rounding the side of the main hut. Elsi froze at the sound of voices drifting through the rounded walls. The tones were tense. Clipped. Elsi held her finger to her lips to silence the child and leaned in to listen. She’d long given up any moral aversion to eavesdropping. To her, it was a survival skill.

“They’re bounties,” the Mandalorian snapped. “It’s a job. I follow the Guild Code.”

“You're a man of honor.” Kuiil tried to placate, but his frustration bled through his words.

“But?”

They were talking about her and the child. She clutched him tighter to her chest and inched forward to peer through one of the foggy glass windows dotting the hut’s patchwork steel walls, using the darkness to her advantage. She could just make out the shapes of the two people inside. The Mandalorian was standing, hunched against the low ceiling with his hands fisted at his sides. Kuiil stood before him, gesturing for emphasis.

It was the tail end of the argument, but there was more than enough left to guess what the rest of it had been.

“You possess a slave.”

“I don’t deal in slaves,” the Mandalorian bit. His shoulders were squared. Offended.

“Is that not her fob attached to your belt?”

The Mandalorian stiffened.

Silence fell, thick as tar and twice as sticky. Elsi’s blood roared in her ears. She was flustered - maybe just a tad bit angry. Kuiil hadn’t been able to convince her to make a bid for her freedom, so he’d taken it upon himself to do it on her behalf.

The Mandalorian’s hand went to his belt. Elsi braced for the pain she intellectually knew wouldn’t come. He held the control fob carefully in his palm, considering it.

When the Mandalorian didn’t fill the silence, the Ugnaught did.

“I assume her previous masters now lie dead in the compound. Deliver her to your client, and she will belong to them,” he elaborated, gentler now, but stern. “Until then, she obeys the one who controls the collar around her neck.”

Another beat passed. The Mandalorian placed the fob gingerly on the table, like it might blow up in his face if he wasn’t careful.

“I… I didn’t…” When the Mandalorian found his voice, it came rough through the vocoder, barely audible through the metal wall. “If I’d realized… It's been two days. I would never...”

Elsi was surprised at how shaken he sounded, but not as surprised as how distant she felt from herself and their conversation. Her emotions didn’t swirl in her gut. They were packed away and thrown out, leaving her fuzzy and numb.

So Kuiil’s next sentence didn’t affect her as much as it should’ve.

“If you have no complaints, I can remove it.”

“Would she then be free?” The Mandalorian asked sharply.

Kuiil picked up the fob with great care, turning it over in his hands and studying it. “I believe that the collar is the only physical bind. But I will ask.”

“Aren’t slaves normally chipped?”

“Many slaves are chipped,” Kuiil explained. “Those who aren’t are often collared. House slaves, mostly - those of wealthy masters who pay to send the slave to conditioning facilities to train them and increase their value. At that point, chips are considered unnecessary.”

If you have to chip your slaves, they haven’t been broken properly.

Elsi shoved her “Councilor’s” cruel voice out of her head. It had been many years, but she could still hear her mocking laugh.

“She’s my bounty, not my slave,” the Mandalorian said firmly. “If you can remove it, feel free to do so.”

She’d heard enough. Elsi was confused. Confused by her own emotions. Confused about why they thought it would make a difference. But most importantly, upset that the conversation and subsequent decision had taken place without her.

Despite her buzzing mind, Elsi knew better than to be caught eavesdropping. Silent as a cat, she slunk back to the bathhouse. She opened the heavy door again, but this time let it close with its full weight. The resulting slam echoed across the small farm. From there, she ambled back across the lot, picking back up her conversation with the baby like the last five or so minutes had never happened.

“Oh, so now you’re not tired?” She asked loudly, layering on the fond annoyance. “Are you gonna keep me up all night?”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Although he didn’t understand the importance of what they’d overheard, he’d picked up on the intensity and was now wide awake.

He gave her a petulant look that demanded, ‘what did I do?’ “Muuu? Ehh?”

She flashed him a smile and pressed a placating kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll tell you a story first. Will that help?”

“Burrr!”

The Mandalorian ducked out of the hut as they reached the entrance. He stopped in front of them, looming between them and the doorway like a duraplast wall.

Elsi waited, the perfect image of pleasant ignorance while she pretended that she hadn’t heard as much as she had. Her eyes stayed respectfully low even as the baby babbled and reached for the hunter with grabby hands.

The fingers of the Mandalorian’s right hand played at his side. She noted it as a nervous tick. He looked like he wanted to say something.

He didn’t. He gave them a curt nod before walking off in the direction of the bathhouse.

She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Elsi liked Kuiil, but didn’t know if she wanted to face the oncoming conversation alone. Any presence would be welcomed.

The baby burbled up at her, grinning. He would be there for her, at least.

She bounced him for a moment to steady herself before stepping into the hut.

Kuiil was waiting for her. His face was as grumpy as ever, but his eyes sparkled with renewed determination.

“I will remove your collar,” he said, straight to the point. “The Mandalorian has approved. I have spoken.”

. ~0~0~0~

Days had passed with no change. Every night when Elsi tucked her and the child into her bed, she thought the next morning would be the one where she woke to him dead on her chest.

She prepared for it mentally. Ready for the feel of his cold, lifeless flesh against her own skin. For the bitter disappointment and howling grief.

It had happened to her once before. Still and stiff and empty.

Elsi thought it would kill her when it happened again.

This tiny green baby was not her own, but she knew that it’s loss would destroy her regardless.

When the baby’s condition changed, it WAS in the morning, but it wasn’t the change she’d anticipated. She woke up and found herself looking deep into a pair of massive, deep brown eyes.

The baby grinned. He reached out to pat her cheek affectionately. And then he laughed.

It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

~0~0~0~ .

The lock on the collar was not complicated - a fact Kuiil reminded her of more than once. All he had to do was trigger the release on the fob and then pick the lock.

Simple.

It still took a few minutes. A few moments after Kuiil had informed her of the decision and caught her up on the things she’d missed while bathing the child, the Mandalorian had reappeared, making Elsi believe that he’d hadn’t really needed to visit the bathhouse and had been lingering outside instead. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid the conversation, though. She wished she could’ve avoided this whole situation altogether.

He made up for it by making himself useful and offering to hold the baby during the procedure. The little goblin stood on his thigh guard, laughing uproariously with the delight of finally being acknowledged by his stoic new friend.

Elsi couldn’t see his face, but she could gather from the Mandalorian’s body language that he was caught somewhere between uncomfortable and charmed.

“Waadar ke'sush',�� the Mandalorian told the child when he wouldn’t sit still. “Ibic cuyir jaon'yc par gar buir.”

Elsi wasn’t familiar with the language, but could glean the gentle rebuttal from the tone.

First Kuiil picked apart the fob, checking and double checking for any nasty anti-escape measures. Finding none, he had Elsi sit in one of the low stools while he stood beside her, giving him easy access to the lock.

Elsi could feel the steel pick scraping around against the iron mechanisms. She was being freed, but the only emotions she could find within her were fluttering anxiety and icy dread. She knew how she was supposed to feel, but knowing something didn’t mean shit if it wasn’t true.

Despite her feelings, she didn’t once resist or argue. They were trying to do her a favor. She didn’t want to throw that kindness away. It was also worth mentioning that the Mandalorian and Kuiil were still calling the shots, and if they wanted the collar off, it was coming off.

With a collar, without it, it didn’t make much difference to her. She would still be at the whim of whoever was in possession of the baby. She would still be a slave, by nature if not by name.

Especially if they fell into the hands of the Imps, she would either be recollared or chipped.

Or killed.

But the lessened risk of being electrocuted at a whim sounded nice. So that was something.

She’d worn a collar as long as she could remember. Most slave children that were sent to conditioning were collared at age five, as she had been. After that, the only time she’d been without it were the handful of times where she’d outgrown one and had to get it resized.

Resizings were uneventful. It had been at least two decades since her last one, but she could remember how naked she’d felt without the cold metal band holding her together.

The lock clicked and the collar went slack.

Elsi wondered if she’d feel naked all the time now.

Kuiil carefully maneuvered the metal band from around her neck. She swallowed hiss of pain when the end scraped against the tender flesh beneath.

Then it was gone.

Elsi was free.

It didn’t feel any different.

Kuiil nodded his satisfaction and the Mandalorian dipped his head in what was probably congratulations. They both looked at her expectantly, which only served to vamp up the sensation of being naked by topping it off with feeling like an animal on display.

What was she supposed to do? Did they expect her to laugh? To cry? To run? She wished she knew so that she could distract herself by having a reaction to fake. Her heart was racing, and the only impulse she had was to curl up in a dark corner and hide.

She would never do that, though. She felt vulnerable enough as it was.

Instead, she reached out to take the baby. He went to her gladly. As novel a concept as the Mandalorian was, the child seemed to sense that his caretaker needed the familiarity of him in her arms. He cooed at her softly, one of his little hands coming up to pat the now bare place where her collar had been. The skin was raw and it didn’t feel nice, but she didn’t stop him.

He chirped.

“Yeah, that’s weird, isn’t it?” She murmured quietly, brushing the peach fuzz on his head with her lips. “It is to me, too.”

“You have had a long day,” Kuiil declared, dropping the now useless collar into a box of other junk. “You will rest now. We leave to find the Jawa at first light.”

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

In one of the two back rooms within the Ugnaught’s home, Elsi sat on the thin straw-stuffed mattress Kuiil had provided. It was lumpy and the fabric was rough against her skin, but it was eons better than the ground or the stiff mat she’d been allotted by the Nikto.

The Mandalorian had been given a similar sleeping pallet, which he’d picked up and carried to one of the storage huts for the sake of privacy. He probably needed some helmetless time, and Elsi couldn’t find fault in that.

Elsi’s mattress lay on the floor against the wall, wedged in a gap between two shelves. The baby, totally wiped out from the day, finally managed to drift off in her arms. She held him longer than necessary, needing to touch him and know he was okay. She tried placing him in his bassinet twice, only to reopen the shutters because she’d started to panic as soon as they closed and he was hidden from her sight.

He was fine.

He was safe.

She was safe.

Fine? Not so much.

What she was was exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. All of her systems were on high alert and wouldn’t shut down.

The faint lowing of the reptiles outside was too loud, the feeble light from the single lamp too bright.

In the next room, she could hear Kuiil’s slow, steady breaths as he got the rest she so desperately craved.

Elsi twitched when a toad - one that had been lucky enough to avoid the little green predator sleeping in her lap - started to croak somewhere outside.

She fidgeted, rubbing the comatose baby’s ears like a worry stone. All she could think about was the air on her neck. The collar - the thing that had defined her for nearly four decades - sat in a box in the other room, buried under other useless trinkets.

Without it, she felt adrift. Throughout her tumultuous life, it had been her only constant. Her anchor. It wasn’t just metal - it was her. She’d seen it in the mirror as many times as she’d seen her own face. She’d carried its weight, bore the marks that it had carved into her skin, learned to work and fight around the limitations it represented and even turn them to her advantage. Had it all been for nothing?

Elsi was tempted to go and get it from the other room. Maybe if she held it in her hands - placed it under the sack of a pillow - she could sleep.

But, no. She wouldn’t do that.

If she were caught with it… nothing would happen… but she felt that others knew too much about her as it was. Unveiling a weakness was unacceptable.

Trembling, she dug the heel of her palm into her forehead.

There had to be another way.

An idea sparked in the recesses of her whirring mind, bright and shining. It wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had; she was more than aware of all the ways that it could go wrong. But now that her brain had latched onto it, there was no letting go.

She didn’t have much to lose, anyhow.

Elsi placed the sleeping baby into the bassinet, closing the shutters and firmly telling herself that she wouldn’t open them again until morning. Trusting that the baby would sleep until then, she slipped back on her worn shoes and padded silently out of the room.

The night was at its deepest. Cool desert air caressed Elsi’s sunburned cheeks and batted at the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of her braid. The stars were brighter than ever, flourishing with the lack of competition in the moonless sky.

She took a few steps out into the murky shadows of the farm. She paused. Listening.

She had a hunch that she wasn’t the only one that couldn’t sleep.

The faint tinkle of fine metal tools told her that the assumption was correct.

Elsi followed the sound to the Ugnaught’s outdoor workshop. It was a sort of stall of wood and metal with a rusted tin awning to protect the tools and storage containers from the weather.

The Mandalorian stood at the workbench jutting out from the shelves, evidently still trying to salvage some of the connections in his damaged vambrace. He looked up from the sautering tool as she approached.

He didn’t seem bothered by her presence, but he didn’t seem to understand it either.

“The kid?” He asked, indicating the hut with his chin.

“Asleep.” Elsi rubbed her arms to ward off the chill. She wondered if a storm front was on its way. Usually a drop in temperature on Arvala-7 precluded a rainstorm.

The Mandalorian grunted, returning his attention back to his work. “You should be, too.”

“As should you,” she reminded him. It was the first time she’d given him even a hint of attitude beyond compliance. She held her breath to see if he would react.

He didn’t, not really. There was a shift in his shoulders, but it seemed to stem from curiosity.

“I should,” he admitted, his voice low and soft. He nodded at the damaged vambrace. “But I need to get this functioning properly before tomorrow.”

“For the Jawas?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I like to be prepared.”

Elsi agreed, but continued to feel him out. She raised an eyebrow. “Then you should prepare for negotiation, not battle.”

His scoff was little more than a burst of static through the vocoder. “You can’t negotiate with Jawas. Not well, at least.”

Elsi fixed him with a deadpan expression.

“Well, your last method was so successful,” she drawled. “I’m not surprised you’re hesitant to try another. Stick with what works, I say.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by another burst of static through his helmet. For a microsecond, she thought she’d annoyed him, but the set of his shoulders had loosened. Amused, then.

He shook his head in good-humored disapproval, dropping the sautering tool back into an open toolbox. Elsi stepped closer, closing the cushion of distance between them. The Mandalorian turned to face her as she entered his space, but his body language told her that she wasn’t unwelcome.

The Mandalorian was about half a head taller than her. The helmet tilted down to look her in the face.

“Why are you out here?” The question was firm, but the tone his deep voice used to ask it was pure velvet.

She blinked up at him with bland innocence. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you come to me?” She could practically feel his raised eyebrows. He was world-wise enough to recognize that she had ulterior motives - and enough to probably have a pretty good guess as to what that motive was.

“Yes,” she said simply. She stood close enough to him now that she could feel his warmth radiating from his body..

“To…” He cocked his head. “...chat?”

Laughable. He thought so too. This was the longest conversation they’d had.

But he still didn’t move away. Elsi took it as an invitation.

She placed her hand flat over his abdominals - just below the cuirass. Although there were several layers of thick fabric as well as a Kevlar pad between him and her hand, she could still feel the muscles beneath twitch in response.

With the same amount of innocence, Elsi responded, “Yes.”

The helmet tilted to the side. Intrigued. Her hand wandered lower, tracing the edges of the metal buckle of his utility belt, and then lower still.

He grunted when she pressed against the space between his legs. She watched the helmet closely, checking for any signs of discomfort. His breath had quickened, his chest beginning to heave.

He didn’t ask her to stop.

Elsi palmed him through his pants until she felt his body start to respond. Then she found his zipper, pulling it down slowly for effect.

Once given access, she pushed her fingers through the gap and was pleased with what she found.

He was already half-hard, and his cock twitched as she ran her thumb across the head.

The Mandalorian grunted, shifting his stance almost imperceptibly wider, like he wanted to give her better access, but knew that he probably shouldn’t.

When his hand finally came up to grip her wrist and stall her movements, she started to move away, biting back disappointment.

Except he didn’t let her. He kept her in place, her hand still loosely wrapped around his erection. It took him a moment to find his words, but when he did, it wasn’t to send her away.

“It wouldn’t change anything,” he warned.

Elsi understood what he was trying to say. It was unnecessary, but she appreciated it all the same. She and the child were bounties, and they still would be no matter what.

If he was going to fuck her, it wasn’t going to be under any false pretenses.

She didn’t expect any special treatment to come of this. Not really. It wasn’t what she was after right now, anyway. She wanted the release. To be touched. To forget; even if it was for just a few minutes.

If nothing else, maybe it would at least help her get to sleep.

She held the gaze behind the visor unflinchingly. “I know.”

He cast a look back towards the hut, seeming to pause and listen for any sign of Kuiil or the baby before turning back to face her. “What about—”

“Implant.”

There was a beat of silence; of stillness - save for the heaving of the bounty hunter’s battered cuirass. For that moment, neither of them looked away, pale grey eyes locked on the tinted black T, and vice versa. It was an odd sort of stand off - like two fighters in a cantina, each waiting for the other to draw their weapon - except with very different stakes.

The Mandalorian moved. His hand went to the blaster in its holster and drew it, his gaze never leaving Elsi’s.

She didn’t so much as blink.

Without looking, he dropped the blaster almost carelessly on the workbench, just out of his - and therefore Elsi’s - reach.

Then went his vibroblade. He brought his boot up so he could grab the handle without breaking eye contact. The impeccably polished steel flashed in the light before it too was gently tossed alongside the blaster.

Then his utility belt. There were explosives on it. Tools. Sharp objects. It unbuckled with a soft click before being added to the growing pile, landing with a clatter.

The last to go were his gloves. Elsi watched, intrigued, as he picked them off almost daintily by the orange leather tips, one finger at a time. The hands underneath were large and rough. Strong and naturally tan. Human hands. A small, circular tattoo was etched into the soft flesh beside his thumb in dark ink. Elsi wondered what it meant.

The gloves were tossed away carelessly, and his hands dropped to his sides. Not in an uncertain way. Not hesitant. Just… thoughtful. Non threatening.

The helmet ticked sideways, emphasizing the sentiment.

Double checking.

Elsi’s body language remained open and relaxed. She shifted her weight back a smidge so the edge of the workbench pressed into her lower back. Inviting him closer.

He stepped into her space. The tattooed hand slowly lifted, coming up to her face, knuckles tracing her jaw. Careful. Exploring.

Her chin tilted up, encouraging. He responded by brushing his thumb across her lips. She parted them, let him do it again. Poked out her tongue to taste his skin, then took his thumb playfully between her teeth.

The Mandalorian’s breath seemed to stutter. Emboldened, he closed the remaining distance between them. The metal cuirass pressed flush againt her breasts. His hand wandered down. Down her throat, finding the sweet spots below her ears.

He was VERY good with his hands.

He’d done it like this before.

Elsi wondered how it would feel if he used his mouth - if he’d ever used his mouth like that before. She imagined not.

The Mandalorian hesitated on the rough band of flesh at the base of her throat. The scars were old and deep, twisting the skin into another collar - one that could never be removed.

Elsi knew what it looked like. She’d seen the marks left by over three decades of wearing a collar. Knew it was ugly. When Mandalorian’s thumb brushed delicately across the reddened welts left by yesterday’s electricity, she shifted away, suddenly unreasonably concerned that he would grab her by the collar etched into her flesh and drag her around by it.

The offending hand moved away at once. He didn’t try to touch her there again.

The Mandalorian paused, checking to make sure nothing had changed.

Elsi was tired of waiting. She went back to his cock, this time not hesitating to reach in and free it from where it had been tenting up his pants. She pumped it a few times, but there really was no need. He was ready.

The Mandalorian grunted. His hands flew to her shoulders, gripping her tightly for a moment, seeming torn between pulling her closer and pushing her back.

He settled on pushing her back - back into the table, where he encouraged her to jump so he could lift her onto the work bench. She did, pleased that it was the perfect height to position her hips level with his.

In one fluid motion, the Mandalorian swept the tools on the workbench to the furthest edges of the surface, clearing enough space for her to sit without being perched precariously on the edge.

Elsi spread her legs, and he stepped into the cradle of her body, slipping his hands underneath the hem of her dress to check her readiness - finding the source of her impatience, but not her undergarments, which she’d removed before she left the hut in anticipation of this exact scenario. A growl rumbled in his chest.

That was the end of foreplay.

Finally seeming to understand what she wanted from him, the Mandalorian flipped up her skirt, bunched it at the tops of her thighs, closed the gap between them, and grabbed her by the hips.

Elsi gasped when he pressed his flesh roughly into hers, her hands snapping up to grip the unarmored part of his shoulders. The Mandalorian groaned, using one hand to brace himself against the workbench and the other to hold Elsi in place by tangling in her hair. The moment he was in all the way, he started thrusting.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t gentle.

The Mandalorian was strong, and he had his own frustrations to vent.

His grip on her hair was tight enough to hurt. The sensation was enough to wipe Elsi’s mind blissfully blank.

The only things even remotely worth considering were of the here and now. The slide of his cock. The way he smelled; of dirt and sweat and metal; she buried her face in the fabric covering his collarbones, fascinated by it. The cold press of metal against the side of her head, where his helmet rested - digging in almost painfully as he tried to get closer, get deeper.

She’d never fucked someone while they were helmeted, but couldn’t find cause to complain. It was uniquely erotic. She could hear him - each quiet modulated grunt, pant, and groan - each tiny sound given to her through the cold kiss of steel against her ear.

Really, she liked it. Liked the contrast between the heat of his cock and the chill of the armor. Liked the impersonal aspect of the helmet. Liked how she got goosebumps everywhere her flesh touched metal.

That being said, Elsi’s hands still roved, seeking out all the soft parts of him she could find. The small of his back. Biceps. Buttocks. The back of his neck. Although those places were covered with thick fabric, she dug her fingers in to ensure he felt every bit of it.

He’d groaned his approval of her exploration, so she continued, going as far as placing a bite on the side of his neck. The fabric tasted of sand and sweat, but it was more than worth his reaction.

Suddenly, he pulled out. Before Elsi could protest, he lifted her bodily off the table and flipped her around so that her back pressed hard against the steel covering his chest, then bent her over the edge and carried on with renewed vigor.

The hand that Elsi wasn’t using to brace herself against the bench groped blindly around behind her, jamming her finger against the thigh guard before she found the back of his thigh, which she then gripped tight enough to leave behind bruises.

He was close. The snap of his hips was jagged and cramped. One of his hands went down her front to rub roughly between her legs while the other clutched desperately at one of her breasts.

Her release was quiet, spent by shuddering where she stood trapped between the steel cuirass and wooden table, biting back her cries so they were no more than a few strangled whines and gasps.

He followed soon after. Not remotely loud, but deliciously vocal. His helmet rested heavily against the back of her neck as he gritted his pleasure into the space between her shoulder blades.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Elsi listened to his modulated breaths, enjoying the weight of him keeping her pinned to the table while he rested against her. The hand that had been groping a breast through fabric dipped down under the neckline and into her bra, where he fondled the flesh beneath almost lazily.

“...you good?” His voice was somehow even more gruff than usual, but in a disheveled way that was undeniably sexy.

Elsi hummed contentedly. Her hands curled around his elbows as she melted back against him. He chuckled breathlessly and nuzzled the front of his helmet against the back of her head, giving her a tight squeeze as he did.

He was soft by the time he finally left her, but even after he’d tucked himself away, he stayed close for another few minutes. The Mandalorian turned her back around and encouraged her to lean against his chest. His strong arms looped around her, taking the time to slowly rub up and down her back and massage her neck with his still-naked fingertips.

She never would’ve pegged him for a cuddler, but here they were.

It was unexpectedly nice - but all things end. The glass of his visor pressed briefly against her cheek, giving her the approximation of a kiss, then he was moving away.

They didn’t exchange any words. There was no need to. When they were done, they went their separate ways - him to the storage shed, her back to the house. No goodbyes. No second glances. No hesitation. Although their brief intimacy had been thoroughly enjoyed by both parties, they were back to their previous relationship of bounty hunter and bounty.

Exactly as it should.

Unbothered, Elsi sneaked back into the house. She checked on the baby and was relieved to find him still asleep. The rush of endorphins had numbed her frayed nerves and the pleasant ache of her core distracted her body from the emptiness around her throat.

Feeling much more grounded, she was finally able to curl up on her makeshift bed and slip into a dreamless sleep.

~0~0~0~ .

*Mando’a Translation: ‘Pay attention. This is important for your mother.’*

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x oc #mando x reader #mando x oc

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junpito · 3 years

Text

A Beginning

I’ve been thinking about starting a fic surrounding what might have happened if Mahito had realised that killing Junpei wouldn’t have worked. This part works within canon, but I intend it to be the opening to something longer.

It’s basically just a brief character study, exploring how they learned a little more about one another, set just before episode 10.

No content warnings besides what already applies to canon. AO3 link here.

The rope creaks a little against the gentle rocking of the hammock. The sound echoes down the tunnels, accompanied only by the soft sounds of running water. It’s quiet down here, peaceful. Like a private bubble, a whole other world separate from the loud, aggressive, ugly world above.

Junpei’s eyelids feel heavy. Between the soothing sounds, the rhythmic motion, and the delicate threading of long fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, he felt wonderfully at peace, teetering dangerously close to falling asleep. His head is pillowed on a well-muscled chest, and he can’t help but find himself listening for a heartbeat. Mahito isn’t human, he knows that, and he has no idea if curses have internal organs, if they need working innards to be functional like humans do. Maybe the reason he can’t pick one out is because underneath his skin, Mahito runs on nothing but energy and raw human emotion. He told Junpei that that was what birthed him: the collection and manifestation of all of humanity’s hatred and fear and anger for one another, a conglomeration of all the negative feelings humans hold towards each other.

It feels almost dangerously on-the-nose that Junpei should have found him. After all, Junpei never feels as alive and real as he does when he’s staring into the eyes of his bullies, his every nerve alight with the desire to hurt them. When he’s not angry he feels like he’s floating, untethered. Maybe that’s why he likes movies so much, because through them he can experience artificial emotion, he can explore the fantasies that would otherwise remain behind locked doors for good. He understands, he thinks, what it must be like for that anger, that spark of hatred to be the sole reason for one’s existence. Him and Mahito are two of a kind, in that way.

Then again, this feels pretty real. Short fingernails scritch gently at the nape of his neck and he shivers a little, unable to hold in the prickle of pleasure down his spine. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever done this to him before, at least not since he was a child, and it feels amazing. He would quite happily die here, in this curse’s arms.

“Mahito…” He murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep. Mahito hums a quiet query, his own mismatched eyes closed too, though Junpei is pretty sure he doesn’t sleep. “Do you have a heartbeat?”

His eyes open then, filled with mirth, and he laughs. “How should I know? I’ve never cut myself open.”

Junpei props himself up on his elbows on Mahito’s chest, regrettably disrupting his slow petting. “How old are you?”

Mahito’s eyes flick up to the ceiling, and he thinks. “Hm… I don’t really know. I know parts of me existed before I formed consciousness, but… I’ve been me for a good few months now, I think.”

“Months? That’s it?” Junpei’s eyes widen. Mahito definitely looked older than him, though he didn’t behave like most of the adults in Junpei’s life. Then again, he could control his appearance. Junpei wondered to what extent he could really do that, and chasing that thought was another, much more dangerous one: what if he could change my body? What if he could give me the body I want without driving me crazy?

He put a stopper in that one, at least for the time being.

Mahito laughs again. “You expected longer, right? Like I’m… some kind of immortal spirit that’s always been floating around this world, as old as humanity itself, hm?”

“Well… You told me you were made of humanity’s feelings of hatred towards each other, right? Haven’t humans hated each other forever?” Junpei couldn’t imagine ancient humans had been any better than they were now.

“I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last.” Mahito’s smile relaxes into something softer, darker. He tucks Junpei’s fringe back behind his ear delicately, uncovering his scarred, ugly forehead. Junpei blushes in embarrassment and looks away. “And it’s not just hatred, you know. Humans feel all sorts of ways towards one another that create cursed energy. Humans are disgusting, vile creatures.”

“Do you think I’m disgusting?” Junpei asks quietly, suddenly self-conscious, and Mahito chuckles, a slow rumble from the back of his throat.

“Did I ever say that was a bad thing? Without people like you, I wouldn’t exist, would I?” He reaches forward and pulls Junpei against him, strong arms like a cage holding him in place. “Junpei…” Those fingers are threading through his hair again, his voice a soft cooing. “You’re justified, you know that, right?”

Junpei pauses at that, his fingers curling in the fabric of Mahito’s shawl.

“Those people I killed were empty. They had no flavour at all.”

“…Flavour?” Junpei asks hesitantly.

“They didn’t hate you. They barely even considered you.”

Junpei frowns, a familiar anger bubbling in his gut. “But they wanted to make me hurt…”

“That’s the fun part, isn’t it?” Mahito’s voice is laced with giddy excitement. “Some humans cause pain just because they can, because it’s fun to them. It makes me feel almost human, myself.”

Junpei swallows. “You like hurting people for fun?”

“Hm… Sort of.” Mahito tilts his head to one side. “I like picking fights. I like it when fights are a challenge. Small fry like those trash in the cinema aren’t much fun at all. That was more… taking out the garbage, you know?”

“Oh.” Junpei relaxes a little. Then he frowns again. “I think I’m different to you in that way.”

Mahito’s eyes drift down to him, alight with curious amusement. “Oh?”

Junpei’s jaw clenches for a moment, he sits on the secret he’s been holding in for years, that he thought he’d never be able to share with anyone. But then, no one else he knew was a literal murderer. “I think I want to hurt them.” Saying it feels like throwing an ex’s engagement ring in a lake. He immediately feels lighter, and yet at the same time, at a loss.

“Oh?” Mahito repeats, and Junpei can practically feel his excitement. His grip tightens.

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s better if… I can just turn away. Ignore them. But they don’t ignore me, so… why should I?” Sometimes, Junpei thinks his rage is like one of those underground rivers. On the surface it flows, but it seems calm, little more than a fast-flowing stream. You don’t know just how deep, winding, and violent it is until you’re already submerged in it. Then he remembers that he’s small and weak and powerless, and that his rage is a useless emotion.

His jaw unclenches, and his shoulders relax. His voice settles into its usual quiet, almost despondent tone. “I wish I could ignore them.”

Mahito is quiet for a moment, two, three. He taps Junpei’s spine gently. “Get down. There’s something I want to show you.”

Junpei clumsily clambers out of the hammock, the impact as he meets the concrete floor jarring his ankles. Mahito follows, much more delicately. He fumbles in his pockets, and Junpei watches the water in the channel flow. Dirty rainwater, carrying away the filth of the streets. His thoughts wander, remembering an old saying, one he’d thought about before.

“Here. Hold this.” Mahito holds something out to him, and Junpei takes it, turning it over in his hand. It looks… ugly, whatever it is. Small and shrivelled, a texture that reminds him of beef jerky. It looks like it’s got some kind of hollow face carved into it. He looks up to ask Mahito what it is, but Mahito is already walking away. He follows, and Mahito glances back at him.

“Tell me more about yourself, won’t you?”

“…Yeah.” Junpei murmurs, and for the first time in his life, he begins to speak his mind.

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#mahito #yoshino junpei #junpito #jay writes #bad end (2)

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cadcnce-archived · 3 years

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BIG ASS CHARACTER SHEET FOR FANTASY VERSE WYLAN

I found an image while going through my files for cursed pics to send @spiritmaiden, they had the audacity to take it and fill it out for the fantasy verse of their sky-zel, so I of course have to match the effort for Wylan because I’m not about to be shown up. It’s hella involved, nobody’s getting tagged but damn if you want an exercise in hitting your character then give it a shot. Most is under the cut because of length.

Character’s Name: Zachary Reis (Born) Wylan Rechtur (Used) Character’s nicknames: Ze (by his sister) Wy (by his friends and preferred) Zephyr (mercenary name, also what you’d see on any wanted posters) Gender: Male Righty or Lefty: Righty Age: 25-26 Height: 6′-0″ Weight: ~180 lbs Eye Color: Emerald green, bright and wide filled with a mix of confidence and playfulness. Hair color: Dark brown, messy and falling to his ears. Unkempt may be a good descriptor, but he generally keeps it down flatter at the least. Distinguishing marks: His body is pocked with marks and scars from fights and other disagreements, but the ones most easily discerned are knife scars on his hands, and a short arc above his left brow. Describe physical traits in one passage: A good way to view him is concealed strength and agility. He’s toned and in good shape but doesn’t often dress or carry himself in ways that would flaunt this. His posture and pose are loose, and his expressions can be lazy and playful. So the moment he flips that switch and uses the full brunt of his power? It’s a surprise. He’s also a bit on the lanky side, his body size doesn’t fully compliment the size of his limbs.

FAMILY/ RELIGION

Parents: Mother and father were disappeared/dead when he was just a bit over 6 years old and his sister was an infant. They were involved with the church but not royalty themselves. Wylan never spent much time figuring out what. They had a life left for him and his sister that he threw away as well. His father was a gentle soul while his mother was razor sharp and firm. Siblings: Younger sister, Katelynn Reis, but goes by Lyn with her friends. Wylan calls her Kat. She’s ~5 years younger than he, and remains with the church training and working as a healer. Whereas Wylan ran away from being a Paladin, she stayed strong to become a Cleric. Significant Other: Verse dependent, Wylan typically is averse to romance and prefers casual encounters. Children: None, nor is he open to them initially in his canon. Other relatives: None remain living that he is aware of. He and his sister were raised by his grandmother on his father’s side, but she passed away shortly after he left the knight’s academy, when Wylan was roughly 16-17. Pets: None. But he does enjoy talking to cats. Friends: Wylan is the type who ‘knows a guy’, he’s close with many tavernkeeps and makes nice with the adventurer’s guilds and their members as well. His work as an informant necessitates things like this. Wylan is also the type to consider most anyone he encounters and converses with a friend, whether they like it or not. His best friend though would easily be a wandering adherent by the name of Emke. I don’t care what the thread is about in some way she’s involved in his life. They’re platonic soulmates. Enemies: As a mercenary and hunter, some others in his craft would consider Wylan to be their rival, and in many cases he would view them just the same. It’s hard to say he has any enemies outside of pointedly evil factions however! Relationships (other): His relationship with his sister is an odd one. They’re still in touch via letters and the occasional visit, and he does what he can to support her with his money, but they’re not close like conventional siblings. There’s a strange codependence between them. Wylan depends on Lyn as a ‘rock’, and she depends on him as the ‘sea’. Ethnicity: Human! His origins are mostly a mix of Germanic/Portuguese if you wanted a comparison to Earth races/ethnicities. Religion: He recognizes the existence of higher powers but his relationship with them isn’t the best. As if being rebellious to his parents wasn’t bad enough he has to be tsundere towards The Light. This is noted when he uses holy magic such as wards and smiting spells and getting rebound into his own body upon use. Superstitions: He’s incredibly wary around the undead and spirits. So catch him spreading salt when he has to camp somewhere less than lively. Also give him a moment to sharpen his silver weaponry... Diction, Accent, ETC.: His dialect is pretty clean, though this depends on who he’s speaking to, being the travelling sort he is he’s capable of lightly ‘faking’ various accents, or just being lazy with his own manner of speech. Traces back to proper speaking that was drilled into him as a child and then his own rebelliousness. SCHOOL/ WORK / HOME Education (Highest): He was well learned with the academy work that he actually accomplished. While he never finished and never put his all into his studies, it was clear to his teachers that he had a gift for learning but a problem with conviction. Degrees: None! But just so I still have something here, one of his informal titles is ‘The Gale’s Fang’. Vocation/Occupation: Jack of several trades, wrapped up best as a mercenary informant, and a monster hunter. He’s good at tracking both people and monsters and taking them down- lethally or not so much. Employment History: Wylan was fully involved with the knight’s academy from the age of 6 to 16, so for those 10 years he had his hands full dealing with that and trying to figure out himself (poorly). Upon leaving the academy after the accident, he took up arms and was given tutelage by the thieves’ guild which taught him how to use his senses and move quietly through the shadows. Wylan didn’t make a good pickpocket, but he was good at reading other people and exceptional at duels. It wasn’t long before he took the advice of the guildmaster and made better uses of his talents. Not necessarily for good, but for more profit. By the age of 22 he was an accomplished and well connected informant, bartering information as well as putting his swordwork to use headhunting and slaying monsters that made issue outside the cities in which he frequented. This continues to current/canon start of interactions. Salary: He’s affluent enough not to worry too much about his state of living, but he can be prone to splurge spending that puts him in a bind for a few weeks at a time, at least until the next job puts money back on the table. Status and money: Continuing off the above, he’s decent enough with his funds (after sending money back to help out his sister) but wouldn’t be well off enough to be considered rich compared to his modern verse. Fortunately he has enough renown that jobs aren’t too hard to come by for him. And many barkeeps and friends are willing to open a tab for him. So he’s not too desperate. Own or Rent: Wylan typically rents inn rooms when he stays in the cities, and camps when he’s out in the woods. Technically he also owns if you count helping his sister keep her own place running (thought it’s really about 30-70, with his sister funding most of it) Living Space: Wylan never stays long at the room. It’s a place to go back to and sleep. Personal belongings? Very few. Most things he owns that he wouldn’t want to lose stay back with his sister kept in a basement or separate room that he uses on the rare times he’s back in the capital/holy city from which he originally hailed. As you can imagine, this isn’t very often. Work Space: N/A! He doesn’t have one! Given his work is almost entirely in the field. Main Mode of Transportation: CATCH A RIIIIIDE. Though he’s apt to have a horse around for transport if he isn’t going too far. Long voyages for when he changes locales would probably be hitching a ride with a caravan. He also doesn’t mind voyages on foot too much. PSYCHOLOGY Fears: Externally he has an aversion to ghosts and spirits. The concept of the dead coming back to haunt you isn’t something he much cares for. Having access to light magic should mostly assuage this, and yet it can give him goosebumps anyhow. Ironically he has a fear of large mammals in his modern verse but that shit doesn’t apply here given he’s a monster hunter! Internally he fears being forgotten, not making a name for himself, and dying before he can truly feel alive. Secrets: His birth name, Zachary Reis, isn’t something he will bring up with anyone. It’s not necessarily a ‘dead name’ for him, but it’s one he threw away the same time he decided he was going to toss away his ‘fate’ as a paladin. Taking the name of Wylan was another way he took his life for himself in his mind. Despite this being a path of self destruction. His sister is also something he doesn’t often bring up unless he very much trusts that person. IQ: Surprisingly high. He picks up a lot of information doing the work he does, but you wouldn’t be blamed for not believing this. Eating Habits: They could be a lot better. He eats enough to get by, but his diet isn’t as varied as it could be. Wylan hunts small game when he can, but he isn’t an exciting cook so ALAS. This boy prefers hitting up taverns and getting basic meals like stews, jerky, sandwiches, etc etc. Sleeping Habits: Wylan is a very light sleeper. Typically if you so much as step into the room he’s sleeping in he’ll snap into awareness. It takes a loooong day of exertion to keep him sleeping deep otherwise. Frustrating is how he ‘fakes’ being asleep. So someone could come in and start rummaging and he would still breathe and move as if he were still sleeping. Up until he sits up and stares or cracks a joke. Dare you to kiss him when you think he’s asleep. Book Preferences: History tomes every now and then. Wylan doesn’t read much fiction and prefers any time he spends reading to be somewhat productive! Make up for other education he missed as part a result of running on the academy. He also reads up on magic and sorcery to work on the wind affinity he also has. Music Preferences: Wylan doesn’t play any instruments but he DOES love love love to dance and sing. He’s an entertainer at heart and loves to rally people however he may. Suffice to say he’s amusing to go drinking with. And not just because he starts bar fights to amuse himself. Groups or Alone: He’s primarily a lone fighter. Some hunts he will of course work with a team of other hunters, he’s not stupid enough to take on the larger beasts by himself, but there’s a preference for doing things on his own terms. He’s self aware enough to know that his ways and methods can be grating, but ah... how all of that clashes with his desire to show off and have an audience. Being Wylan is suffering. Leader or Follower: He’s both, but prefers to be a follower if he can help it. Let other people make the plans then nudge them this way and that to better fit your own methods. He’s a prankster and a good compliment to most parties after all, so you’d be wise to utilize him! Lest he utilize himself... but that said, he’s an anti-hero, so there’s possibility in there for him to be a leader as well and take charge. It just isn’t his default nature and he’d rather not. Planned Out or Spontaneous: Wylan is chaos incarnate. Most everything he does outside of necessity/work is spontaneous. All his mischief and plans are cobbled together and thrown out there. Sometimes he’ll do a bunch of things at once, like throwing a bundle of darts at the wall to see which ones stick. And oh my fucking god don’t get me started on being romantic he can’t plan for shit in that department. Journal Entries (Do they keep one?) Nope. Not a daily journal at least. He’ll keep notebooks and the like for jotting down intel and what have you for jobs he takes up. But most of the time he’ll just have little notes in his pocket, and not really chronicle his life. He may also make ‘fake’ entries to tease people or trick them. See what he did to Zelda the one time. Be careful what you believe... Hobbies, Recreation: Tricks!! Sleight of hand!! Cards and dice!! Part of growing up and learning with a thieves’ guild is getting involved in lots of things that make use of your hands and dexterity. He likes playing random games with folks and oh! People watching. Stalking. Not the cutest thing but Wylan makes a hobby out of ‘testing himself’ and exercising his talents. His hobby is unfortunately annoying people, to summarize. How Do They Relax: His hobbies help him to relax! Also, if you can believe it, sitting back in a group conversation and watching the conversation happen and move forward. Learning about other people is something he likes doing, which is hypocritical since he can make himself so difficult to learn by contrast. BUT THE REAL THING HE DOES.. is practice sword fighting. Slow rhythmic swings of his blade, almost like a dance. He focuses his thoughts and calms his soul when he practices. It’s like a mix of swordfighting, dancing, and yoga. Controlling himself. Feeling himself. It’s multiple things. What Excites Them?: PEOPLE. Things! Happenings! The unknown and pushing himself to new limits. Honestly one of Wy’s biggest drives is doing something or becoming something that will make him ‘Feel Alive’. Because for all of his antics and frivolity he’s very much fighting an encroaching darkness in his soul. So he’ll search out bizarre things to get involved in. It’s one of the reasons he’s bugging Zelda, because her involvement in witchcraft and his own suspicions have him interested huehue. Pet Peeves: Being ignored. Like perfectly disregarding his existence and whatever he’s getting up to. If you’re not reacting to him being him then that means he’s not being effective and he’s losing. It’s his only real weakness... Prejudices: None. He’s not the most respectful person so most everyone, royalty or important or otherwise gets subjected to similar treatment. If anything, the more important you are the more likely you are to get annoyed! Attitudes: He’s usually with a front, a mask if you will. His general attitude is curious and nosy, but that’s fronted with a playfulness and proclivity for being annoying. Don’t be fooled, he’s usually something more pensive and calculating underneath that exterior. Wylan actually quiets a fair bit once that mask is taken away, his mood swings down and his tone is a touch deeper. Stressors: Things going awry and his friends being put in danger. He absolutely does not do well with people he cares about being hurt. One of the worst things that can happen to him is his sister dying for example, and has lead to one of his most self destructive plots I’ve written, in this verse especially. Lovers? Don’t hurt them. Don’t endanger them. The idea of rivals or enemies going after people he cares about.. hoo. MAN. None of that please. He can be SO damn possessive. In relationships he’s very self conscious as well of fulfilling their needs. So if his partner remarks, regardless of how offhandedly, they’d like more of something he will TRY TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN. Obsessions: Being an absolute pain in the ass. And in cases where someone has wronged him or someone close to him? Tracking them down and getting closure/revenge. That shit takes him to the brink of killing himself. Addictions: None to the point of being problematic, but he does love eating pickles. Ambitions: To make a name for himself, to be renowned and respected. To feel alive and accomplished as a person. He’d also like to take down a dragon someday. Get some armor from its scales and a sword out of that shit. As Seen by Others: Capable and dangerous, but impossible to work with for long periods. Keep a tight lip around him lest he use that information against you and learn things you’d rather keep secret. A lecherous womanizer. As Seen by Self: A body of broken glass, encased in a shell, covered in masks. Who are you? What are you? Where are you even going? You’re lost. You’re aimless. You’re swimming and swimming and eventually you’re going to be tired, aren’t you? ASTROLOGY/PHISIOLOGY Birth Date: October 10. Time of Birth: Evening. Western Astrological Sign: Libra Traits Associated with Western Sign: Social, Clever, Unreliable, Diplomatic Traits Associated with Chinese Zodiac: N/A, seeing as I don’t age Wylan with the years this doesn’t really apply. Handwriting: Clean when he needs it to be, but otherwise a quick script with lots of pen strikes. He’s capable with drawing diagrams and the like as well! This boy can throw out monster diagrams with weak points and other ecological notes oh yes yes. Sexual History: Wylan was already exploring that sort of thing before he left the academy, so yes... as early as 16 he’d already lost the v-card. He doesn’t really do relationships and enjoys casual encounters. Many a maiden at the bar or elsewhere has taken him for a spin. Typically partners aren’t reoccurring in fantasy verse, however. He’s... well, very good in the performance category. General Health: A+ healthy aside from the sleep and subpar diet bits. Strong and good stamina. Medical History: He’s nearly died one times too many. Been stabbed, cut, poisoned, bitten, but hey he’s still alive! And that’s what he’d argue matters with this business. Allergies: SHELLFISH. Chronic Illnesses: None to speak of. Handicaps: He’s somewhat of a type B tsundere. It’s awful. OBJECTS Purse / Bag: He’s got a coin purse that he’ll carry spare gold around in for spending on what have you. Supposedly food but he’s weak to splurge purchases. Most everything else he keeps on him in his pockets and his belt. Wallet: Uhhh see above, coin purse!!! He’s got enough for the week or so!! Don’t try and pickpocket him because he will catch you and you will feel stupid. Fridge: He doesn’t keep food around. He more or less has to scavenge for everything he eats either through buying or hunting. That’s kind of the life for the vagrant he is, isn’t it? Medicine Cabinet: N/A, but he does keep bandages and salves at his room. Glove Compartment: N/A!! Junk Drawer: NNNNNN/AAAAAAA Kitchen Cabinets: Wylan get a house so I can fill this out challenge. Bedroom Hiding Place: Behind a wall panel or somesuch if he can manage. Otherwise in the floor or outside the window. Closets: His wardrobe typically includes tunics, coats, leather armor and harnesses for his weaponry! He’s got a couple swords in fantasy verse, and he’s got throwing knives and a grappling hook!! Backback: Yeah uh see above, what a question. Locker: None Desk: WYLAN KEEP ITEMS AROUND CHALLEEEEENGE. Clothes pocket: Daggers, notes, maybe a writing implement and paper so he can jot things down. He’s also got little knick knacks like a gem or a monster tooth to show off. Isn’t it cool??? Also lint.

OTHER Halloween Costumes: Werewolf!!! Get him in either just a lazy one with gloves and ears or deck him out in the whole garb. Love that idea on him. In one verse Big Bad Wolf is his nickname, and in another he flat out IS a werewolf! So yeAH. Tricks: He’s very skilled at sleight of hand!! Card flourishes and dice rolls. Cup games. Illusions and dexterity... he’s a slippery one! He’s also likely to catch you in words, using things you say against you. He gets really meta and oh how annoying that can get... Talents: SWORDPLAY- He learned from a very early age at an esteemed academy where only the best knights get trained. He mixes that style with a more ‘street’ type that he picked up with the thieves’ guild and even further as a monster hunter and mercenary. Suffice to say that all mixes together into multiple stances he can switch between depending on what he’s up against. Strong sweeping strikes, vicious stabbing and leaping, poised dueling and parrying... he’s a TOUGH fight. MAGIC: Wylan is at odds with his use of holy magic that utilizes the light to bless and heal. Until he comes to terms with himself and the power he wants to channel it’ll have ‘blowbacks’ on himself. Fingers will burn, head will ache, and his stomach will flip. But it’s still undeniably effective for where it is! Aside from that he knows some wind magic to supplement himself. He’s not known as ‘Zephyr’ for nothing after all! Gusting steps, slashing winds, REALLY BIG JUMPS!!! If you throw him he’s a fantastic projectile! And lets see- DANCING! He learned it first as part of his etiquette as a knight, but it’s something that’s evolved with him and oh does he enjoy festivals for that reason. Ballroom styles are what he’s most familiar with. Dance with him. Please dance with him. Politics: Indifferent! Doesn’t care for authority figures to begin with so in any case or kingdom with a monarchy he’s very buh about it. He’s very self-accomplished and his beliefs would push him towards meritocracy over anythign else if you ask me! Flaws: Suspicious, possessive, and very persistent. This could be a strength too but for the most part can be seen as a detriment because of how it ends up being applied. Which is in self-destructive tendencies WOO. He’s also very lustful, and can be distracted by a fine woman and let himself be swayed by his desires over time. Have I mentioned he isn’t the most reliable? He’s apt to lie to people and give intentionally wrong impressions just to make it easier for him to slip away. You gotta go up a few levels to unlock that... So yeah, sins are WRATH, LUST, and ENVY. Strengths: NONE. Okay if you earn a solid place as his friend there is almost NO limit to what he’ll do to protect you. Wylan has a ridiculous amount of determination and mental fortitude and he can and will strike down a GOD to keep those things that are precious to him. He’s also an amusing character to have around, if you are feeling bummed he is almost guaranteed to find a way to cheer you up and support you if only so he can not feel as guilty teasing as he usually does HUE. He’s got a very up beat personality! Sure, a lot of it is a mask but he WANTS it to be real and that’s what really matters if you ask me. His reckless optimism can be endearing. There’s a lot of other surprising mental qualities such as how clever and quick witted he can be. Part of that mental fortitude lets him think and fight on his feet regardless of how much pressure he’s under. It takes a LOT to dampen his thought processes. Drugs/Alcohol: He drinks frequently, but he wouldn’t be counted as a drunkard. Wylan rarely drinks to excess, and prefers to do so among friends and good company. Passwords: Uh, do ritual prayers count? Magical spells? Heh. Email Address, Home Page, Blogs, etc.: Oh if only this were for modern verse... Time and place: Medieval fantasy! Magic and creatures! I also love throwing Monster Hunter vibes in for the big monsters he goes up against. Special Places: For him? Cliffs overlooking the ocean. Abandoned temples he can just chill at. For all he enjoys being around people now and then he really appreciates quiet isolation. Special Memories: Lots of memories with his sister before they more or less split ways. There’s one in particular where he was trying to teach her swordplay when she was just a little girl, and she about stubbed his toe when the wooden practice sword fell right on it. Her panicked attempts to try and heal him were something that really stuck with him.

#musings :: about #verse :: fantasy #dash :: games hc #THIS TOOK FOREVER #but was so satisfying to write and get out there #hell fuckin yes #if you actually read this? props tbh

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ft-dads-au · 4 years

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Break Free

Gratsu Weekend 2020 Prompt: Join Pairing: Gray x Natsu, Siegrain x Gray (not Jelray) A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

AO3 | FF.Net | Takes place after Dancing to the Beat of Your Heart

August 14, 2021

Gray hurried into the train station, looking down at his watch to make sure Natsu’s train hadn’t arrived yet. His shoot had run longer than anticipated, but he’d raced out of the building as soon as he was done, hailing the first cab he’d encountered.

He’d wanted to turn the job down, but Hibiki had convinced him that it was a rather large sum of money for the amount of work required, plus they would also pay for his stay in Crocus. Once his mother had agreed to watch Aki for the weekend, he realized this could be a great opportunity.

Natsu worked pretty much all the time, but if he could somehow convince him to take the Saturday off and join him, then they could turn it into a weekend getaway. He was sure Makarov would love to watch the kids, and they could certainly use some time alone.

Gray and Aki had begun staying over every other Sunday. After getting used to sleeping on the same bed with him, Natsu had become more comfortable and curious about cautiously exploring their physical relationship, leading to some pleasurable evenings.

Gray looked at the platform numbers, stopping when he reached number seven. The train arrived at the platform, it’s brakes squeaking as it slowed down and finally came to a halt. He could easily spot the flash of bright pink moving through the crowd of passengers that were boarding and disembarking.

“I’m over here,” he waved, and Natsu turned to him with a smile. Gray grabbed him by the hand, guiding him into a less crowded area so he could pull him into an ardent kiss.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmured into Natsu’s ear, giving him one last hug before once again grabbing his hand “I can’t wait to show you around, I even found an all you can eat place near the hotel for lunch.”

Natsu’s stomach rumbled in agreement, but Gray didn’t think he even noticed. He knew Natsu hadn’t traveled very much, although he’d always wanted to, and as they walked outside the train station, he devoured their surroundings eagerly.

Crocus was an older city, the capital of Fiore, it had long been known as the Flower Blooming Capital. It was easy to see why when there were flowers as far as the eye could see in every color imaginable. Flower beds decorated the sidewalks, while window boxes added a certain charm to many of the shops in the commercial district. Gardens were prominent features of the parks they passed on their way to their hotel.

Gray chuckled, occasionally squeezing Natsu’s hand when he made an over the top reaction, amused to see how much he was enjoying this. He couldn’t wait to show him around the capital, but his first priority was to get rid of the small suitcase that Natsu was carrying. Soon they reached the hotel where Gray had been staying since Thursday, and he led Natsu inside.

Natsu’s eyes widened comically as he took in the luxurious design of the lobby. Gray caught him staring dumbfoundedly at the elegantly dressed staff, so he quickly moved them towards the elevator.

Once they made it to the right floor and stood in front of the door to their room, Gray began to laugh heartily.

“What?”

“I don’t know, the way you’re acting. I almost feel like I should carry you over the threshold or something,” Gray teased.

“Fuck you!” Natsu objected, not liking the implication of those words.

“On second thought, I like your idea better,” Gray snickered, opening the door and hurrying inside to get out of the way of Natsu’s response.

“Very funny,” Natsu muttered before something outside the window caught his attention. He dropped his suitcase and rushed over to examine it, “I’ve just never seen anything so beautiful.”

Gray smiled as he came up behind him, holding him close while resting his head on his shoulder and murmuring, “I have,” into Natsu’s ear.

Natsu stopped gawking out the window and turned around, finally paying attention to his boyfriend. He touched their foreheads together, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of Gray’s cologne. “I missed you,” he admitted, threading his fingers through Gray’s dark hair.

“I’m here,” Gray’s voice was breathy as he nudged them ever closer to the bed until the only way to go was down. And Natsu complied, pulling Gray along with him as he sat down on the mattress and slowly laid back.

Although it had only been minutes since they’d locked lips at the train station, Gray felt ecstatic to be finally kissing Natsu again. He would probably never get sick of it, and every kiss they shared still brought him the same joy as it did the very first time.

They started slowly, but it didn’t take long before they got carried away. Their kisses became deeper, more passionate. For the moment, Gray had forgotten about the plans he had made in his head, the lunch, and the list of all the wonderful places in Crocus he’d thought would be fun for them to visit. His focus was only on his boyfriend. His warmth, his scent, the smoothness of his skin as Gray slipped his hands underneath his t-shirt. Natsu made soft sounds of pleasure against his lips, hums, and moans that were like music to Gray’s ears, and Gray wanted to hear more of it.

He let his hand travel lower, dipping below the waistband of Natsu’s jeans and tracing the outline of his hardening cock through his boxers. It elicited another wanton moan, but before Gray could move to get those jeans out of the way and give him some easier access, there was another sound coming from Natsu.

A low rumble coming from his stomach.

Gray knew they weren’t going to get anywhere when Natsu started giggling, interrupting their heated makeout session. He was quick to try and continue, but his stomach growled once again, and Gray let him go with a laugh, “Fine, fine, to be continued. Once your stomach starts doing that, it’s impossible to get you to focus on anything else.”

He could tell that Natsu wanted to protest, but as much as he’d enjoyed what they were doing, Gray knew he was going to be patient. Besides, for once, they had all night to play, without worrying about how loud they might get. They could pick up where they’d left off later, and he was already looking forward to that.

0-0

When they exited the restaurant, they were both stuffed, which wasn’t surprising considering their meal had turned into an eating competition which neither was willing to lose. It had finally ended when Gray had reminded Natsu they were wasting time that could be spent exploring.

They held hands and walked through the more colorful areas of the city, the ones that were mostly geared towards tourists, and Gray found he was enjoying himself despite having seen them plenty of times before. Seeing the awe in Natsu’s eyes as he took everything in made him want to show him everything. From the sculptures that decorated the fronts of many large buildings, to the street performers who entertained crowds with their tricks or haunting melodies, all the way to the shops, many of which sold items not often seen in Magnolia.

Natsu loved it all. He ran from place to place, pulling Gray along behind him until he noticed the one building that was larger than any other, dwarfing every other structure surrounding it.

“Is that a castle?” Natsu asked excitedly.

“Yep, it’s called Mercurius, a long time ago when Fiore used to be a monarchy the King and his family lived there but nowadays it’s mostly government offices, oh and it has some beautiful gardens you might like. I’ve done a few shoots there.”

“I’ve never seen a real castle before,” Natsu soon gave him the puppy eyes, “Can we go there?”

“Sure, why not?” Gray smiled.

“If we hurry, we might be able to take a tour,” Gray announced after looking up the information on his phone. They reached the castle in about twenty minutes. There was a long line for the tour, so they opted to walk around the gardens first.

“Erza would love it here,” Natsu smiled, taking picture after picture to show her. They followed a path that led them to a garden maze.

“I forgot this was here,” Gray exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of a challenge, “Want to see who can get to the center first?”

“You’re on,” Natsu was already grinning in a way Gray easily recognized. He had engaged his competitive mode. They each chose a different entrance, but before they could get started Gray’s phone rang.

He looked down and wrinkled his nose, “I have to take this.”

Gray motioned for Natsu to keep looking around while he took the call. It was Hibiki.

“Hey bro, hate to take you away from your day out, but they need reshoots,” Hibiki sighed, probably feeling bad that the shoot had proved to be such a pain.

Gray groaned, “We just got to Mercurius.”

“I’m sorry, but it shouldn’t take long, you can bring him with you and show off a little,” Hibiki suggested.

“Fine, we’ll be there soon,” Gray grumbled before hanging up.

He turned to see Natsu kneeling down in front of a particularly spectacular flower display, and he called out to him, snapping his picture when Natsu looked at him.

“Hey, no fair!” Natsu protested, “I wanted a picture of you.”

“Maybe we can get one together,” Gray declared, stopping a couple that was walking past and asking if they would mind taking their picture. He handed them his phone and stood next to Natsu, his arm draped over the shorter man’s shoulders as they both smiled for the camera.

Once the picture was taken, they thanked the couple and looked at the results. “Oh man, I look stupid,” Natsu complained.

“Look?” Gray teased holding his phone away so Natsu couldn’t delete the picture. “Come on, we have to go.”

“Go where?” Natsu asked curiously, “Who was on the phone?”

“Hibiki, my manager, I have to go back to Blue Pegasus for some retakes,” Gray apologized, but to his surprise, instead of seeming upset, Natsu looked excited.

“I’m going to get to see you work?”

“Yeah, trust me, it’s not in the least bit exciting. It’s a lot of getting ready to then wait for the photographer to take his pictures.”

“You get to see me work all the time,” Natsu reminded him.

Gray chuckled, grabbing his hand and leading him to the taxi line, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

0-0

Hibiki texted him on the ride there, asking him to come in through the back entrance. That should have been his first clue that something was up, but he didn’t think anything of it, caught up as he was making out with Natsu in the cab to really think about anything other than what they would get up to after he was done working. Their kisses were growing more and more heated, and even though Gray wasn’t usually a fan of public displays of affection, right now, he didn’t care. He just wanted to finish the retake as quickly as possible so that they could get back to the hotel, and he could get Natsu out of those clothes.

They got out of the cab, and Gray led Natsu to the back of the building, where Hibiki was waiting for them. They hugged briefly, and Gray introduced Natsu to his friend.

“Hibiki, this is Natsu, my boyfriend,” he announced proudly, frowning a little at the appreciative once over Hibiki gave Natsu.

“So you’re the one Gray won’t stop talking about,” Hibiki smiled, “It’s very nice to finally meet you. Welcome to the Blue Pegasus Talent Agency, and might I say if you’re ever interested in giving modeling a try, I would love to represent you.”

“Down boy,” Gray laughed at his friend.

“What? He’s gorgeous, just look at those cheekbones, and those eyes” Hibiki went on talking about Natsu as if he wasn’t there.

“Stop making him uncomfortable, will ya? And tell me why I’m here?” Gray asked as they walked into the building, heading towards one of the sets.

“They decided their concept lacked originality or something,” Hibiki rolled his eyes, “You know how these creative types are.”

Gray immediately groaned, “Are you kidding me? After all the different shots they tried this morning?”

“I know, I know,” Hibiki soothed, “They assured me they wouldn’t take up much of your time, so why don’t you go get ready and hopefully you two can be out of here in an hour or two.”

They had arrived in front of the dressing room he’d used that morning, and he opened the door to find Eve, his previous assistant, and a makeup artist already waiting for him. Hibiki offered to give Natsu a tour of the building while Gray got ready, and he accepted, causing Gray to yell out, “Don’t sign anything!”

Hibiki chuckled, “I can’t promise I won’t try.”

“What’s the matter, Princess, afraid I’d be more popular than you?” Natsu taunted.

“Princess?” Hibiki snorted at the nickname, “Oh, I like him!”

“Should I show him the picture we took earlier?” Gray raised an eyebrow, laughing when Natsu hurried out of the room.

“So that’s Natsu, huh?” Eve asked as he grabbed the clothes that Gray discarded and handed him a robe. “He seems nice.”

Gray nodded, sitting down on the makeup chair and relaxing his features as much as possible to make it easier for the makeup artist to do her job.

“I’m glad you’re moving on,” Eve patted him on the shoulder before leaving the room to get the outfits Gray would need to wear from the clients.

“Me too,” Gray replied to the closed door, receiving another shoulder squeeze and a smile from the makeup artist.

Gray closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. As much as Hibiki wanted to remain as his manager, he knew this life was no longer for him. Every time he entered the building, he would tense up knowing he could bump into Siegrain at any moment. It hadn’t happened yet, but he had a feeling that was Hibiki’s doing.

The long shoots and crazy hours, the parties, and most of all, the interviews and the keeping up of appearances. None of it appealed to him anymore. Not that it ever had, but he’d put up with it for Siegrain’s sake. Back then, he’d thought they were a team, each building on the other’s successes, not having a clue of all the things Siegrain got up to behind his back. At this point, he just counted himself lucky that he hadn’t caught anything from his husband’s numerous affairs.

His life was most definitely in Magnolia now, with his family, and Natsu and their kids, but he’d continue doing these small jobs to help him get enough money together to open up the Taekwondo school he’d told Natsu about. It would be nice to teach others how to defend themselves and help them develop their minds and bodies. That was the kind of life he wanted to lead. Simple but full of meaning, joy, and, most importantly, love. He really looked forward to it.

Eve had hung up his wardrobe on a portable rack, and Hibiki finally returned with Natsu. From the way they were laughing like old friends, Gray could tell that Hibiki approved of him. The makeup artist finished up with some eyeliner, and he could feel Natsu’s eyes on him, making him feel a tad self-conscious when he stood up to get dressed.

“Eyeliner looks good on you,” Natsu announced, and while at first Gray thought his boyfriend was messing with him, his admiring glances told another story.

He put on the first set of clothes quickly, determined to get through the retakes as soon as possible, Natsu’s presence making it hard for Gray to concentrate on anything but him.

After an hour of wardrobe and lighting changes, he was finally done. He left the makeup on since Natsu had seemed to like it. And after putting his clothes back on, he guided him out of the building.

With a sly wink, Hibiki had informed them he’d sent a bottle of champagne to their room for their trouble and invited them to order whatever they wanted from room service before bidding them good night. Several members of the agency’s security staff walked them to a car Hibiki had arranged to take them back to the hotel.

It all felt over the top, but Hibiki was like that sometimes, so Gray didn’t think anything of it.

“Was it as boring as I said?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“Not at all, it was kind of interesting, but you’re right I could never do it,” Natsu admitted, “Having to be still for that long would drive me crazy. But you looked amazing. The way you changed your expressions and stuff, it was kind of like acting.”

Gray laughed, “Not even remotely, but thanks!”

“I could feel your eyes on me,” Gray whispered in Natsu’s ear, mindful of the driver, “It was so hard to focus, all I wanted to do was get you back to our room, and take off those clothes so we could pick up where we left off.”

He could hear Natsu swallowing hard at his words, and it turned him on even more. “Would you like that?” he teased, blowing warm air into Natsu’s ear and watching him squirm as he nodded.

Soon they arrived at the hotel, thanking the driver before hurrying inside. They were walking across the lobby and towards the elevator, arms wrapped around each other’s waist as they debated what to do for dinner when Gray suddenly heard Siegrain’s voice behind him.

“You must be quite pleased with yourself.”

He froze, not entirely clear as to what he was going on about but uncomfortable at having Natsu witness whatever circus this was going to devolve into. When he finally turned around to face his ex, he was baffled by what he saw. Siegrain’s substance abuse had had a dramatic effect on his appearance. It hadn't even been that long since Gray last saw him for negotiations, but he looked at least 10 years older. His hair was matted, his skin was dry and impure, and he'd lost weight.

“What are you doing here?!” Gray demanded, pulling Natsu behind him. He could feel Natsu fighting his grip, but he held on tightly knowing Natsu’s short temper.

“You have some nerve saying that to me after getting me kicked out of Pegasus,” Siegrain ignored Gray’s question, preferring to continue with his tirade.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gray stated calmly, “I was only there for some reshoots.”

“You think you’re such a big deal, don’t you?” Siegrain narrowed his eyes, studying Natsu in a way that made Gray nervous, “Tell me, are you enjoying making a fool out of me in front of our friends?”

“Let’s take this outside, alright? No one here is interested in this,” Gray declared, trying to sound reasonable, “Natsu, wait for me upstairs, will you?”

“Like hell I’m leaving you alone with this asshole,” Natsu raged, and Gray could see from the stubborn set of his jaw that there was nothing he could do outside of carrying him over his shoulder that would get Natsu to return to their room.

“I can take care of myself, remember?” Gray assured him.

“I know, but I’m not about to give him the chance to hurt you.”

Gray looked from one man to the other and, with a long-suffering sigh, walked out to the hotel’s entrance. They could follow him if they wanted, but he wasn’t about to make a scene in the lobby. Natsu was right behind him, asking him in a whisper if he was okay.

Siegrain stomped after them, “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”

“What is it that you want?” Gray crossed his arms across his chest, feigning boredom even though his heart was beating a mile a minute. “We have plans.”

“I want to talk to you, I miss you.” Siegrain attempted to look genuine, but it only managed to make Gray feel even warier. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“You missed me?” Gray scoffed, “Well, it sure as hell didn’t seem like you did when you were plowing everything in sight.”

“Come on, Baby, we don’t need all these lawyers, we’ve always been able to work things out between us.”

Siegrain flashed him one of his most charming smiles, and once upon a time, that would have been enough to get Gray to do whatever he wanted, but that spell had broken long ago. Now Gray could only wonder how he had ever been so naive as to fall for it in the first place, and it filled him with sadness and shame that he’d let this man mistreat him for so long.

“You had more than enough time to work things out, Siegrain, you just weren’t interested.”

Siegrain took a step closer, still flashing that same smile, like a scam artist that is only capable of one trick, “I know I’ve made mistakes, and it cost me our relationship, but you’ve made mistakes too. Can’t we put those behind us? Have a coffee with me sometime, now that you’re making your comeback, there are some amazing opportunities we can discuss. No one knows you better than me, let me put that to work for us! We’ll make millions, all you have to do is drop Hibiki. Come back to me.”

Gray stared at Siegrain in shock. No one knows you better than me? Come back to him? The man was delusional, scratch that, he was certifiable, but before he could respond, Natsu did so for him.

“Not a chance,” Natsu growled, putting his arm around Gray’s waist while openly glaring at Siegrain. “He doesn’t need you, he already has a manager looking after his best interests.”

“What’s this?” Siegrain scowled, gesturing towards Natsu, “We’re not even officially divorced yet, and you’ve already replaced me with a boy toy?”

“Let me make myself perfectly clear, I have no interest in pursuing any kind of relationship with you. Now or ever,” Gray’s eyes bore into Siegrain, “As for him, he’s none of your business. If that’s all you wanted you can go. As I’ve already said, we have plans.”

“You cockslut!” Siegrain screeched, “Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that?! I made you what you are! You were just some punk college kid without a jewel to his name when I found you.”

“Yeah?” Gray replied calmly, thanking God that Natsu was with him because trying to keep him from doing something stupid was allowing him to remain collected. “Well, it was this punk college kid that allowed you to live the lifestyle you’re so enamored of.”

“Can I just deck him?” Natsu pleaded, both his fists twitching at his sides.

“He’s not worth it,” Gray replied, searching for Natsu’s hand and lacing their fingers together both as a source of strength and a declaration.

“Also, Aki is doing well. I know you haven’t asked, but seeing as you were so determined to see him, I thought you might want to know.” He turned them around, trying to enter the hotel before things escalated, but Siegrain called after them.

“Fuck you and that snot-faced brat! Out of all the mistakes I’ve made, he was the biggest one!”

Gray could feel Natsu struggling in his grip, and he was almost tempted to let him loose, but he held firm. He turned around,” He is the only thing to come out of our marriage that I don’t regret. But I’m not surprised to hear you say that. You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself.”

Siegrain laughed, “Oh, I care about plenty of things, you just don’t happen to be one of them.”

Now it was Gray’s turn to laugh, “Was that supposed to hurt me? You’re going to have to do better than that. You know, I wasn’t going to say anything, but since we’re finally sharing truths here’s one. You look like shit, man. All strung out and itching for a fix. What’s the matter? Did people stop finding you interesting once my money ran out?”

Gray felt the blood dripping even before the pain of Siegrain’s fist colliding with his nose exploded in his head. He could hear the doorman calling the police, but all he was concerned about was Natsu’s response to him being hit.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Siegrain smirked, looking quite satisfied with himself, “Every single time you’d start in on me about spending more time together or whining about the brat, I fantasized about doing it. Gotta say it felt as good as I imagined it would.”

He wasn’t sure whether he let go of Natsu’s hand or if he managed to wrestle it free, but the result was the same. There was no hesitation, Natsu charged at Siegrain, his fist already flying toward his face, and Gray could see he’d made no effort to control his force. He had expected that, but what he hadn’t expected were the words that came out of his mouth as he held Siegrain up by his shirt collar, ready to punch him again.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Natsu glowered, “You had everything, and yet you threw it all away for some cheap thrills. You never deserved either of them, and I swear, if you ever try to come at Gray again, I will be there.”

Siegrain spit out a tooth, wiping his mouth of the blood that had sprayed out with it. He stared at Natsu for a full minute before announcing with a sneer, “He’s a lousy lay, but you probably already know that. Am I right?”

“I’m sure he’s better than you could ever hope to be,” Natsu retorted.

Gray was done with the whole conversation, “Just let him go,” he said tiredly, noticing for the first time that there was a group of people watching them, some even had their phones out and appeared to be recording. “Great, it’s going to be all over the news, Lyon is going to kill me.”

He tried to disregard the sting he’d felt at hearing Siegrain say those words. Even if they had only been meant as provocation, they reinforced the insecurity he had always felt over whether that was the reason Siegrain had sought his pleasure with others.

Throughout their relationship, Gray had agreed to do so many things he wasn’t proud of, things he’d rather forget, in the hopes that Siegrain would look at him with the same love he had once felt, but he realized now how futile that had all been.

The police arrived at the scene, separating the three of them and asking them what had happened. The doorman verified that Siegrain had instigated the whole incident, including throwing the first punch, and they viewed various videos that corroborated their story.

They handcuffed Siegrain and escorted him to the back seat of a squad car. It didn’t really seem to bother him, and as he climbed in, he made sure to get Gray’s attention, mouthing, “You’re going to regret this,” with a crazed grin.

Gray tried to ignore him. In the morning, they’d have to go to the police station to give their official statements, and to officially press charges, Lyon would have a fit if he didn’t. But for now, they were free to go.

0-0

The hotel doctor had already taken a look at his nose, resetting it and making sure the bleeding had stopped, though that didn’t keep Natsu from fretting over him. They rode the elevator in silence, Gray feeling tired and humiliated.

He could feel Natsu’s gaze on him, but it wasn’t until they entered their room that he finally spoke.

“So that was Siegrain, huh? He was kind of a dick,” Natsu fiddled with his hands nervously, “I’m still having a hard time believing he’s related to my boss.”

Gray could only nod in agreement, feeling overwhelmed by the whole encounter. He scowled at his phone, knowing he’d have to call Lyon soon and dreading the harsh words he knew his friend would have for him, no matter how deserved they were.

“I’ve got to call Lyon, why don’t you look at the Room Service menu, we might as well take Hibiki up on his offer.”

Natsu reached out for the menu and looked through it as Gray locked himself into the room’s spacious bathroom.

By the time Lyon was finished asking all his questions, and Gray had called Hibiki to give him a heads up, the food Natsu had ordered had already arrived, along with the champagne bottle Hibiki had promised them.

“Lyon and Hibiki will meet us at the police station tomorrow morning,” Gray sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he slid down to the carpeted floor.

He looked at what should have been their dinner, finding he’d lost his appetite. Part of him kept wondering what Siegrain had meant by his parting words, while the rest searched for a way to forget the whole incident so he could once again focus on Natsu.

“Siegrain always could ruin a mood.”

“We don’t have to let him,” Natsu pointed out as he opened the champagne bottle, smiling at the noise the cork made when it popped and quickly filling two flutes with the bubbly drink as it burst out. He placed the bottle back in the ice bucket and handed one to Gray.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I ordered a few things,” Natsu offered him one of the plates, but he shook his head, earning a rare frown from his boyfriend. Despite his obvious disapproval, he didn’t push.

He could feel Natsu’s eyes on him, and afraid of what he might see, he quickly sipped his drink, attempting to smile in enjoyment before he could ruin Natsu’s evening too. But of course, he wasn’t fooled.

“I only know the little you’ve told me, but I do know this. You’re incredibly strong, Gray, and a great father,” Natsu put the plate back on the table and sat down next to him, “You don’t owe that sonofabitch anything, not after the way he treated the both of you.”

Gray absorbed that thought, recognizing Natsu was right. He had given enough of himself over to Siegrain during their marriage, and more often than not only gotten put-downs or backward compliments in return. He didn’t owe him a thing, but that didn’t change the way he felt right now.

“I’m sorry,” Gray studied the designs on the carpet, not wanting to see Natsu’s reaction to his words. “I wanted tonight to be special for you, but I— I just can’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Natsu lifted his chin, forcing him to look at him, “It already is special, I’m here with you, aren’t I? I don’t care what we do.”

Gray didn’t answer. While he appreciated the sentiment, he couldn’t help but feel like he was failing them.

Natsu got up and walked over to his suitcase, opening it up and rummaging through its contents until he’d found what he was looking for. He returned, holding a small bottle of some kind and placing it on the nightstand.

“I’d wanted to surprise you,” Natsu smiled, sounding shy, which was rather unlike him, “but now seems like a perfect time.”

Gray peered at the bottle curiously, but before he could read the label, Natsu had blocked his view.

“Gray,” Natsu sighed, “the way Siegrain treated you, it’s just like you once told me, it was emotional abuse. He made you feel bad about yourself for his own benefit. And he knows that if nothing else, he still has that over you, and he’ll continue to use it against you for as long as he can because he still gets off on having some semblance of control over you.”

“But that’s not what love is like at all,” he leaned down, capturing Gray’s lips in a gentle kiss, “Real love is warm and unconditional.”

Natsu began to pepper him with soft kisses, his fingers fumbling with Gray’s shirt buttons, kissing each newly exposed patch of skin until Gray started to giggle from the ticklish sensation, “What are you doing?”

“Showing you the love you deserve,” Natsu murmured, continuing to trail kisses down Gray’s chest, “but if I can make you laugh, that makes me happy too.”

“I’ve never had anyone see me the way you do,” Gray whispered as he felt his shirt fall off his shoulders. Natsu gestured for him to remove his pants, and Gray stood up and did so, finally realizing what Natsu was up to. He settled on the bed lying on his stomach, feeling Natsu climb on beside him, the weight of his body on his as he stretched to get the bottle which Gray could now see was some sort of scented massage oil.

The warming sensation on his skin as Natsu’s fingers worked on his shoulders, kneading at the tension that sat there, felt wonderful. For a few minutes, he was able to forget what had happened earlier, but then he turned his head slightly, wanting to catch a glimpse of Natsu only to be struck by the affection he saw reflected in those green eyes he’d come to know so well.

It made him tear up because in the nine years he’d been with Siegrain, he’d never once looked at him like that, and it brought up all the negative emotions he’d been struggling with since the moment Siegrain had shown up. Gray huddled into himself, not wanting Natsu to see him like this, not when he was trying so hard to bring him out of it.

“Hey, whatever you’re thinking right now, stop it.” Natsu tapped him on the head gently, before shifting his attention to Gray’s back and eliciting a deep moan. “Look, I don’t know what that asshole said to you over the years, but I do know none of it is true. He never understood how special you really are or how lucky he was to have you. But I do, every time I look at you, I thank my lucky stars that you came into my life, and I’m sorry it took me so long to understand how I felt.”

Gray found himself smiling at Natsu’s words, wishing he could just accept them at face value, but he knew he was in trouble. From the moment he’d decided to grab Aki and leave for Magnolia he’d only been focused on the safety and well-being of his son where his issues with Siegrain were concerned.

He’d been running and hiding non-stop, from Siegrain himself and from their shared past. As long as he focused on others, he could detach himself from his own emotions, stick his head into the sand. But both the disastrous confrontation and Natsu’s words had brought them to the surface, and as much as he’d wanted to, he couldn’t ignore them anymore.

“If anything, I’m the lucky one,” Gray confessed, “And I know you’re right, my heart even agrees with you but my mind... it just isn’t there yet.”

“We’ll get there. I know we will because I will personally drill it into your thick skull,” Natsu assured him with one of his signature grins, and Gray couldn’t help but snort in response.

“That’ll be a first. Usually, it’s me trying to drill things into your thick skull, Darlin’,” Gray teased, laughing at Natsu’s anguished groan as he was reminded of their study sessions.

Even though their usual banter had improved his mood considerably, Gray understood there was no way he could go through with his intentions of making love to Natsu during their getaway. Regardless of how excited he’d been earlier that day at the thought of them reaching a new milestone, or how eager Natsu might have acted. Siegrain’s presence still haunted him. His words had brought all of Gray’s insecurities to the surface, and he was determined not to let Siegrain ruin anything else for him, especially when it was something as meaningful as this.

Natsu put all of himself into everything he did, and Gray knew that when they finally had sex, it would be no different. But he also wanted to be able to do the same, and as long as they hadn’t dealt with their respective feelings regarding Lisanna and Siegrain, that wouldn’t be possible for either of them.

He was still a little disappointed with the outcome. It had felt so right that morning, and it was a bitter pill to swallow, this feeling that rather than moving forward, they had somehow taken a step back, but he recognized it was the right decision for now. To feel his concern for his welfare, and know that he didn’t care that Gray was in some ways broken, made him love Natsu that much more.

Gray let himself enjoy the rest of the massage, feeling his body surrender to those nimble fingers, and growing drowsier with every passing minute. He barely felt it when Natsu left the bed to clean up and turn off the lights, or when he climbed in next to him, wrapping them up in the covers and pulling him into his arms before kissing him good night.

And so cradled in the warmth of Natsu’s loving embrace, Gray drifted off to sleep, holding on to the thought that he was no longer going to grant Siegrain the power to hurt him.

To be continued in The Horrible Return of Siegrain…

A/N: This is quite literally the most infuriating story we have tackled since we started collaborating. As an example this was the original summary/plot idea:

Gray and Natsu finally reach a point where they both feel ready to have sex. Natsu is terrified, having never had gay sex before but Gray takes good care of him.

And that was our intention, to show how much they had progressed and maybe do some fluffy pwp. And we tried, we really did, we have plenty of false starts saved up that refused to go anywhere because the moment Siegrain showed his stupid face we knew they weren't ready, they were both still too vulnerable and they were literally screaming at us.

You often hear about characters having their own ideas and that is exactly what happened here and eventually, we stopped fighting them and listened, deciding they knew better than we did what was best for them after that confrontation.

It also set up the continuation to their story which as we said will be called The Horrible Return of Siegrain, keep an eye out for it but it will honestly be a while as we have other stories/events to get through first.

We hope you liked Gray and Natsu's story up until now!

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #gratsuweekend2020 #gratsu #ftlgbtales #fics #prompt: join #siegrain x gray

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elle-eedee · 4 years

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dcom daddies: ranked

whats up sluts i’m here to give you the content you did NOT know you needed: a foolproof algorithmic ranking of a mild selection of disney channel dads!

beast (descendants)

hotness scale: extremely tall (over a foot taller than me! this is Very Important to the scale) and he seems to be a mere thread’s width away from Unhinged at all times, which i love. i also think it’s very sexy of him to still have such a monstrous way about himself (what with the roaring and the growling) 20something years post-curse.... makes me wonder very vividly if such energies carry to the b*droom........ *clears throat* 10/10

quality of character scale: it eternally amuses me that beast seems to learn almost Nothing over the course of this trilogy. he’s literally pro-isle the ENTIRE time jsjdndjdjd..... not great considering it puts him directly at odds with his son (and, like, with social progress) but he Does seem to act the way he does with the kingdom’s safety in mind! plus when he’s not accidentally supporting magical fascism he’s super dorky. i love his goofy dance moves 7.5/10

total score: 17.5/20...... with this score alone you can tell this system isnt rigged bc if i had it my way he’d be winning

hades (descendants)

hotness scale: i hate his party city clown wig but i’m a total sucker for guys in makeup (EVEN THOUGH A DECENT SHADE OF LIPSTICK WOULD HAVE BROUGHT HIS ENSEMBLE TOGETHER. WHY DID THEY PROPOSE IT ON THE CHARACTER DESIGN WALL IF THEY WERENT GONNA FOLLOW THROUGH!!!) and i think the fact that hes Very Sleepy and doesnt own a dog makes him my dream guy 9.5/10

quality of character scale: he literally sings a song about how cool he thinks it is that he’s a shitty dad............ but he DOES come through when his kid needs him, so that’s nice i guess. i would have liked to see more of him but i’ll settle for reading and writing intricate fan works that delve into a hypothetical personality for him that’s mainly conjecture 7.25/10

total score: 16.75/20 i wanna see him in some preppy auradon clothes

jafar (descendants)

hotness scale: i wish i had nicer things to say about this man. he just....... bears so little resemblance to the original jafar it makes me :( maybe if he was more gangly, or if he carried himself w the same potent gay energy that og jafar has? itd also help it he wasnt a racist caricature. 4.5/10

quality of character scale: again, very much a racist caricature. jafar doesnt steal!!! why would This be what he chose to do with himself! but he does seem to be, perhaps, the least bad of the core four’s parents, which counts for something i suppose. 3/10

total score: 7.5/20 sorry bud

dr facilier (descendants)

hotness scale: listen. it’s dr facilier. what am i supposed to do, NOT give him a perfect score on the sexy scale? 10/10

quality of character scale: he just loves his daughter and wants to make sure she’s getting what’s hers!!!!! his dynamic with celia makes me really happy they seem so fun! though i guess you could argue it sucks that he’d send his darling babey dohter to do errands for big mean scary hades considering that Everyone on the isle seems to quake at the sight of him. but im sure facilier only does that to ensure that celia can hold her own! 8/10

total score: 18/20 and it’d probably be higher if we’d seen more of him

mr smee (descendants)

hotness scale: not only does this man fuck, judging by the ages of his kids he fucked RECENTLY. get it baby live your truth 7/10

quality of character scale: he seems to be SO kind and sweet to his baby sons..... holding their little hands and such!!! and judging by how nervous the kids are i’d imagine it was primarily smee’s idea for them to go to auradon. extremely noble sacrifice for their benefit even though he’ll miss them 10/10!!!!!

total score: 17/20 i want to kiss his hand, if he’ll have me

zevon necrodopolous (zombies)

hotness scale: every time i look at this man i think of this post. he’s the perfect amount of frumpy for my tastes and his voice is so unique!!!!! i’d let his z-band malfunction so he could *** ** ***** * ******* **** 9/10

quality of character scale: really really cares about his kids and wants them to be safe!! he raises his voice once which im not a huge fan of but i suppose it was justified given the circumstances. also that shot of him goofing about with d*le in the end scene shows remarkable capacity for forgiveness after decades of trauma and discrimination! what a guy. 9/10

total score: 18/20 an absolute dilf!!!!!

dale (zombies)

hotness scale: looks like an uncrustable. 0/10

quality of character scale: a fucking cop. die bitch! 0/10

total score: 0/20 get in since you wanna act clown

coach jack bolton (high school musical)

hotness scale: honestly pretty young for my tastes. and i literally Always swipe left on athletes, so..... fine looking, but not for me. 5/10

quality of character scale: obviously he grows as the series progresses but i feel like jack is Always in the way of troy getting what he wants, which sucks. i like that he’s kinda goofy on his off hours with his family exactly as much as i Hate how much he yells when hes on the job. i do wish we lived in the timeline where he and miss darbus actually had that duet about their disagreements, though. 5/10

total score: 10/20 truly an Average dcom daddy

vance evans (high school musical)

hotness scale: due to personal reasons i will be having bad taste. however, this man’s fashion sense in IMPECCABLE. i mean, the colors??? the unbuttoned collar???? come on now. there is also the gratuitous use of the d-word to consider......................... anyways 7.5/10

quality of character scale: it’s hard to tell how much of his interest in furthering troy’s career is out of sincerity and how much of it is sharpay nudging him. but either way the result is a man who supports his daughter unconditionally! he could be nicer to ryan, though (plus he’s an evil capitalist) 6/10

total score: 13.5/20 i feel like he and fulton have had Relations

mr gifford (lemonade mouth)

hotness scale: listen, i’m a simple guy. i see a basic-looking man pursuing age gap romance in the midst of a mid-life crisis, i support him unconditionally. also i am just Really vibing with that oversized denim shirt on him!!! there’s an egregious amount of arm hair poking out that just works. good for him! and this is a small moment but i’m very flustered over his natural Touchy Feely instinct after wen pokes out his eye... however: man has no eyebrows. 8.5/10

quality of character scale: i’m not a child of divorce so i don’t know how this stuff works, but i feel like he springs a lot of major decisions on wen? not ideal. on the other hand, we DO stan that he has sydney move in before they’re married. this is not a christian home!!!! 6/10

total score: 14.5/20 probably my favorite lemonade mouth dad, but mostly because he’s like the only one paid any attention by the narrative

mr banjaree (lemonade mouth)

hotness scale: men really have beautifully sculpted noses and we just let them, huh. i’m definitely overusing the word Handsome in this list, but in this case? i’m justified. mr banjaree’s beard suits him SO well and his hair looks so soft...... and we love the implicit cleanliness of a man who wears socks in the house! 8/10

quality of character scale: i super SUPER dont agree with this man’s Smothering-Adjacent Methods (and also i know firsthand that strict parentage just drives kids to be more rebellious, lmao) but all things considered he really just wants the best for his family PLUS he’s willing to meet mo halfway at the end! :’) 6/10

total score: 14/20 the way i feel about him is the way i feel when i get crushes on pastors in that You Are Complicit In My Trauma But We’re Gonna Kiss About It way

mr delgado (lemonade mouth)

hotness scale: OOOOH GLASSES! 5/10

quality of character scale: it’s sort of implied that the Wacko Energies of charlie’s family are mostly the fault of his mom so it’s cool of this man to distance himself from that. he is, of course, still complicit in Whatever The Hell Her Deal Is unless he is constantly fighting with her offscreen 6/10

total score: 11/20 would have loved to see more of him

mr yamada (lemonade mouth)

hotness scale: another chapter in the saga of unbuttoned collars! doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to show off his strengths but i appreciate that he is not the thinnest dad in town 6.5/10

quality of character scale: WOW fuck this guy. very dismissive of stella’s aspirations!!!!! i don’t like that he feels the need to talk Over her to her mom when he’s asking about her vegetarianism. dude she is right there.... however it’s a lil touching when he holds her guitar up at the end, so... 4/10?

total score: 10.5/20 *thinks about his slightly protruding tummy in his last scene* *thinks about his slightly protruding tummy in his last scene* *thi

bob duncan (good luck charlie: it’s christmas!)

hotness scale: in keeping this Specific to the feature-length xmas special, i will say that bob duncan is QUITE handsome! disappointed that he was wearing a shirt in the scene at the pool.... ill bet if this movie came out post-workout/makeover he’d have been shirtless >:/ i feel robbed... spare tummy, sir? spare tummy? additionally i love a man who rolls up his sleeves AND a man who stans kaiju movies!! also i love that he, quite literally, canonically fucks 8.5/10

quality of character scale: he’s about as charmingly incompetent as he is in the show, but the difference here is that he literally did not do a damn thing wrong! all he wanted to do was be civil with his inlaws and he frankly deserves MUCH better. its clear from his banter with the kids that he loves them very much (also i love how frequently he feels the need to jump/dive for things in this movie. silly slapstick icon) 8.75/10

total score: 17.25/20 this man’s mere presence oozes nostalgia

jerry russo (wizards of waverly place: the movie)

hotness scale: this man was MADE for me. the bottomless collection of hawaiian shirts....... the TWO tummy out scenes..........the fucked up evil thing his voice does when the kids try to steal the spellbook!!! he really has it all. also i love that he is truly just trying to have some beach intercourse 9/10

quality of character scale: i love that even when he doesn’t remember the kids he still maintains a little dadly rapport with them? the instincts...... it’s also incredibly good of him to relive his decision to give up his magic without hesitation once he realizes the severity of the situation :’0 10/10

total score: 19/20 i’ve never seen an episode of the show but im really about to start

neil morris (dadnapped)

hotness scale: handsome....... mr morris makes me feel simultaneously like a sapiosexual AND a morosexual because although he completed enough schooling to become a dentist, he also threw it away for a writing career like an absolute champ. also i find it unbelievably charming how Along For The Ride he is about the idea of being kidnapped. a man after my own heart 8.25/10

quality of character scale: this is a tricky one...... neil DOES show active concern for his daughter’s safety when push comes to shove, but he also has my least favorite type of redemption arc: “you THOUGHT i was neglecting you, but actually i was thinking about you the whole time and just never expressed it! we good?” so like. bleh. but he’s pretty mild mannered which i deeply appreciate in a man! 6.5/10

total score: 14.75/20 maybe talk to your daughter instead of writing a macgyver ripoff, dumbass

major joe mason (princess protection program)

hotness scale: prime dad bod, very believable for his line of work. also he has such a Gentle Way about himself when he’s around princesses....... i love all the hand holding when he’s escorting rosie. absolutely my type 8.75/10

quality of character scale: gosh.... where do i even BEGIN!!! his whole dynamic with carter is so ideal... i was apprehensive at first because his job would require him to be Absent a lot of the time, but upon reflection it’s clear that he’s raised carter well enough that he can totally trust her to be on her own, and also she’s only sad to see him go because she sincerely enjoys his company. everything about his profession is so noble and i love the way he can carry himself as casually or as politely as a given situation calls for. worst thing he does is say “i might have to stop calling you ‘pal’” because his daughter is wearing a pretty dress. i wish he was my dad but i’ll settle for him being my husband 9.75/10

total score: 18.5/20 i almost made a ppp self insert this morning specifically for Him

ted thompson (zapped)

hotness scale: athletes arent sexy!! this guy’s face screams The Only Websites I Know How To Use Are Facebook And Reddit and also he’s a dog person BUT he is sporting quite the tumbey if i do say so myself and for that i shall let him live. 4/10

quality of character scale: ok i know the whole point of this movie is Boys Bad but i hate men who are loud and i hate dads who get Weird about the inherent femininity of their daughters. when he calls zoey “sport” and then cringes like he’s made a mistake? dumb and unnecessary. HOWEVER all of his efforts to bond with zoey are really really sincere. like when he fixes her music box? that has NOTHING to do with the app he just Does It!!!! the movey mightve rubbed off on me a little too much but there are multiple ways to show love and just bc im not used to his way doesnt mean it has no worth! 6/10

total score: 10/20 mr thompson sir im sorry i doubted you at the start of the film

rob adams (radio rebel)

hotness scale: this man dresses 5-10 years younger than he looks and i respect that for him. but i was expecting him to be a bit more of a slimeball considering how tara talks about him in the opening scene... and you guys know how much i love slimeballs. regardless, pretty handsome! 6.5/10

quality of character scale: it’s nice that he goes to such a Public and Corporate effort to connect to his stepdaughter! even if it’s in a way that financially benefits him, it’s pretty clear that he cares about this family and wants to do right by them. nothing exceptional, though 7/10

total score: 13.5/20 i GUESS i’d be down to smash if he asked

ralph bartlett (read it and weep)

hotness scale: ok i was gonna say something mean about the fact that he’s balding but honestly he has really nice arms........ in addition he’s really quirky and optimistic which i am going to admire into my grave!! when he gets excited about having customers during the finale his voice quirks with an almost charlie day-esque charm. handsome. ALSO he calls jamie “princess” which is!!!!!!! something 7.5/10

quality of character scale: the way ralph parents his kids is Very 2000s in that he kinda babies his daughter but gets to pal around with his son, but i guess both dynamics come from a place of love and he could be doing much worse. plus he’s an honest hardworking small business owner! i support him 7/10

total score: 14.5/20 i would definitely go out for pizza with him

dr james hartley (how to build a better boy)

hotness scale: THIS. THIS IS WHAT DCOM DADDIES ARE ALL ABOUT. gosh..... this is truly the Most dad ive ever seen in my life. i love how his hair is always mussed..... how he’s so Desperate to relax that he falls asleep after Fifteen Seconds of smooth jazz..... and also. like. hes a scientist?? hello??? pretty sexy of him. i want to give this man the relaxation he deserves 10/10

quality of character scale: ok so,,,...,, kinda fucked up that he lied to his whole family (with the possible exception of his wife—sidenote, WHY did they make dr hartley married? his wife never comes up except when bart says she’s out of town. let him be single so i can slide into those dms) and EXTRA kinda fucked up that he works for the government? what a scab. BUT it’s very very clear that he cares about his kids (and gabby) and prioritizes their safety above all else! also, did you SEE how happy he was when mae won homecoming queen....... he loves her so so so much! :’0 8.5/10

total score: 18.5/20 i thirst tweeted about this man and roger bart replied ‘Aw, thanks!’ so i dont know where to go from here

#my worst post. look at it everybody #descendants #high school musical #disney channel #lemonade mouth #wizards of waverly place #good luck charlie #zombies #princess protection program #read it and weep #zapped #dadnapped #radio rebel #how to build a better boy #the term 'dcom daddy' was coined by poddin this together so nobody's allowed to get mad at me for it. also im right about each of these

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xxseekritsxx · 5 years

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Metroid Prime 2: Dark Samus Concept Art

Hello. Another Metroid post from me, and this time we’re going to see unused and early design concept ideas for everyone’s favorite Phazon carrying doppelgänger, Dark Samus.

Design 1: This early design of Dark Samus was a part of the Metroid Prime 2 concept art released to the public. This initial interpretation is a fleshy, grey humanoid with a glowing red visor. It looks like upon its initial regeneration following it’s near-death against Samus on Tallon IV, Metroid Prime took a new form that was featureless, but bipedal in shape. It’s simplistic in design, but its body immediately tells you that what you’re looking at is far from a suit of armor-it’s an exoskeleton.

Design 2: This Dark Samus design comes from the portfolio of an artist known as Andrew “Android” Jones but has no additional information provided. This interpretation took a few levels in scariness by going from “Simple gray humanoid” to “Monster from the lowest depths of hell”. It retains the gray coloring, texturing and visor of the first version, but that’s where the similarities end. Dark Samus has gone through a growth spurt and increase in musculature here. Her hellish organic armor apparently takes on physical traits from other beings as she mutates-evidenced by the Ridley-esque head that makes up her left shoulder, what seems to be a Luminoth face on her left knee-pad, the Space Pirate appendage that acts as a right arm, and her entire left arm having become an organic lance. When one considers the ending of the first Metroid Prime and how the title creature absorbed the Phazon Suit and residual DNA in it from Samus and made a new physical form out of it, this look seems to suggest that Retro at least considered playing with this whole absorption ability for the whole Prime trilogy. Dark Samus would have started as a featureless humanoid clone and eventually change over time by absorbing the corpses of her victims to become this alien abomination.

Design 3: Like any character in a video game, Dark Samus has gone through many design changes. Retro cycled through multiple designs before settling on the final version we’re all familiar with. Take, for example, these two designs. They’re arguably less terrifying than the previous one I showed you. The one on the left is a simpler version of the final design for the game, lacking much detail. The one on the right that’s composed of “bubbles” of matter suggests the idea of Dark Samus early on in a weaker and unstable form.

Design 4: This grey, heavily armored design for Dark Samus is the most sleek and streamlined version so far. The body shape (at least in the upper torso) is reminiscent of Space Pirate biology. If Nintendo wanted to make Dark Samus more mysterious to the player, this design would have served to make it less apparent as to what this creature is. With each encounter ending with more of the armor getting damaged or slowly destroyed, the player would see the transformed remnant of Metroid Prime underneath.

There is one more design, but before we get to that, I also wanted to show some concept art depicting a potential idea of what the final battle of Metroid Prime 2 could have been like.

These three images suggest a much more deadly final fight against Dark Samus. Assuming this follows the Emperor Ing boss fight like the final version, Samus just defeated it and retrieved the last of Aether’s energy, setting off the chain reaction that would go on to destroy Dark Aether and the dimension it resides in. Unwilling to give up, Dark Samus appears and channels the energies of the dying planet into herself in one last desperate effort to take Samus down. Dark Samus breaks the planet’s surface and absorbs material to formulate a massive suit of makeshift “armor” for herself. The cracks in the planet’s surface seem to suggest the need to leap between the platforms surrounded by molten rock to somehow defeat Dark Samus in this state.

Finally, we move on to show what could have happened in the game if Samus failed the final battle. Which brings us to...

Design 5: This particular design implies that Retro considered showing players the consequences of failure to defeat Dark Samus on Dark Aether. Based on this picture alone, it is implied that Dark Samus has absorbed the Light Suit from killing Samus, fully stabilizing herself, and has absorbed enough Phazon to fly away from Dark Aether before it explodes behind her. The consequence for the player losing the final fight is Dark Samus escaping and condemning two planets to die in the process. The fact that Dark Samus can absorb both light and dark energy now by wearing the Light Suit has doomed both versions of Aether.

Okay, that is the final part of this post. I hope anyone seeing this has enjoyed looking at these images and imagining the possibilities as I had finding these pictures and speculating on what could have been for Metroid Prime 2. It always amazes me what Nintendo takes out from the Metroid games and makes you wonder just how different things could have gone. Bear in mind, I am NOT saying that the way the Metroid series currently stands is “bad” by any means. I LOVE the Metroid games. Even so, it’s always good to take a look at what was being considered by the creative minds behind the franchise compared to what they have done.

All images found here:

https://www.neogaf.com/threads/my-research-into-metroid-prime-2-echoes-development-and-unused-content.471418/#lg=_xfUid-36-1549670389&slide=0

#Metroid #metroid prime #metroid prime 2 #concept art #dark samus

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thenightnurse · 4 years

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Benign Prostatic Hyperplasia and Prostate Cancer

First and foremost, what is BPH (Benign Prostatic Hyperplasia). It is an enlargement of the prostate gland which leads to the disruption of urine outflow from the bladder. The prostate (aka the male G spot and organ responsible for quite a few sex hormones) is located just under the bladder. The urethra (tube that carries urine from the bladder to the penis) passes quite literally, through the prostate, theres a little triangle it goes through. Well because the prostate enlarges it causes it to essentially clamp the tube shut.

As you can imagine, most patient with BPH will have lower urinary tract symptoms, such as difficulty starting a stream or decreased blood flow. Though we aren’t sure what causes it we do know it is related to hormonal changes, namely an excessive accumulation of DHT in prostate glands. Because of that, being of an older age is one of the greatest risk factors (then is obesity and alcohol consumption). It develops in the inner part of the prostate, and that’s the most important finding, the location, not the size. ;)

The clinical manifestation are what you would imagine, decreased caliber of urine stream, hesitation in initiating a void, nocturia, recurring UTI’s (since you’re also unable to actually fully empty your bladder) and the feeling of not emptying your bladder.

Complications that can occur involve bladder calculi, which are little stones that form in the bladder since it never fully empties, and renal failure caused by hydronephrosis. This is when the bladder eventually gets way too full and actually ends up backing up into the kidneys.

Diagnostic Studies: When the serum creatinine is below 1. That’s when we start to look into BPH, and when the PSA (prostate Specific Antigen) is above a 4. We start to look to see if the pt has cancer.

There are a few drugs and procedures we do to fix the problem.

One of the most common drugs is Finasteride or Dutasteride, which are 5 alpha reductase inhibitors. These drugs work by inhibiting the 5 alpha reductase enzyme which is responsible for making testosterone hit the way it does. Well since BPH thrives on testosterone, and we are preventing there from being a lot of testosterone, the prostate gland eventually begins to shrink in size. Emphasis on the word eventually, as it takes 3-6 months for any improvement to occur. Since there’s decreased testosterone, there are also hormonal changes that can occur such as decreased libido, decreased volume of ejaculation, and erectile dysfunction.

Since most people are unable or unwilling to wait that long, we often times give alpha adrenergic receptor blockers such as Flomax or Prazosin. They work by relaxing smooth muscles in the prostate which facilitates urinary flow. Improvements occur in 2-3 weeks instead of months. Since they relax smooth muscles though, they also decrease blood pressure, so if the patient has a naturally low BP, we might think otherwise about giving it. On a similar note, side effects include orthostatic hypotension, dizziness, retrograde ejaculation, and nasal congestion.

If these treatments don’t work, then we move onto surgery. Transurethral Resection of the Prostate, aka TURP. This is the golden standard for taking care of BPH. They thread a tube up the penis and into the actual urethra, shaving and cauterizing the prostate until there is enough room for liquids to flow. The catheter that is inserted actually is a three way catheter and provides irrigation and hemostasis to the area. Fun stuff. The urine post surgery appears Hawaiian punch in color, since it is tinged with blood and prostate cells. If it were to come out viscous bright red there would be a problem (a hemorrhage probably) and the doctor would have to get involved. Belladonna and Opium are two medications given to help relax bladder spasms from occurring.

So the question you might have now is, well why did you put BPH and Prostate Cancer together? Good question. It’s because they’re almost the same thing. Though we aren’t sure if BPH is a risk factor for Prostate Cancer (the science on it changes every couple of years), the effects almost mirror each other, except that Prostate Cancer has pain that radiates across the lumbosacral area, hips, and legs. To protect against it/to get diagnosed you should get your PSA levels checked every two years, especially once you hit age 55. PSA levels should be between 0-4. Most of the tumors occur in the outer aspect of the gland (remember that BPH occurs in the inside).

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postapocalyptic-narnia · 5 years

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Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 1, part 5 Word count: 775

“Testing fingerprints. Fingerprints accepted. Clearance level D. Identity unknown.” The AI paused. “Hello, friend of Narnia.” ---------- Shasta stared blankly at the words, unable to read them. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t a mistake.

“Will you come?” the bike asked. It wasn’t a mistake it wasn’t a mistake it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t.

“Give me-- I--” he shook his head, blinking rapidly. “I need a minute. To think.”

The bike’s screen silently lit with a ticking clock. 1:00. 0:59. 0:58. No! No, he couldn’t go! He felt panic rising in his chest at the very thought. The vast horizon seemed to fold in on him. The other friends of Narnia, the people who were meant to carry this out, were leaders and diplomats, impressive, smart people. He was no one. He was the idiot boy who no one was ever pleased with.

0:42. 0:41. He had to stay. He clung to the shreds of what he knew. The life of a fisherman’s ward. Weathering monthly hurricanes, raking seaweed, the narrow boat, the hot asphalt, the twisted thread that tied him to his guardian. It was all he was meant for.

0:30. 0:29. He knew his use, and he knew his future. If he stayed he would eventually set foot on the shore-- when the fisherman died, and Shasta took his place. He would catch fish for food until he sank to the bottom of the sea and returned the favor. In the pit of his stomach, something twisted.

0:23. 0:22. Or could he go? He could hardly wrap his head around the concept of leaving. Of course he wanted to. He’d been dreaming about escape for as long as he remembered, pasting magazine pictures of far-off places next to his hammock and sneaking to the roof at night to look at the dark coast across the star-covered sea. But there was an ocean of difference between dreaming about leaving and actually cutting ties. He’d imagined when the chance came, it would be exciting and clear-cut. This wasn’t.

0:17. 0:16. He inhaled deeply, the familiar smell of salt and sweat filling his nostrils. Across the sea, the setting sun set the sea afire. Behind him, if he turned, he would see the smudge of coast he’d watched for years and on which he had never once set foot.

0:09. 0:08. Maybe wasn’t a mistake. Maybe this was a sign that he was ready. The thought rang through him like a bell. He could truly leave, and not look back.

0:06. It was time.

0:05. All he had to do was ride a bike. Could that be so hard?

0:04. Unbidden, giddiness bobbed like a buoy in his spirit. He almost laughed.

“Three, two, one--”

“I’ll go!” he said, loudly, then again, in a lower voice, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ll go.”

Three hours later, Shasta hauled himself over the railing of the highway once more, dripping wet. Behind him, the seascraper was dark. Overheard, the moon was fat and bright. He slid his waterproof bag onto the ground and took out his most precious and dangerous cargo: a sealed tank of gasoline. He popped open the valve on the side of the bike and carefully refuelled it, the smell of gasoline sharp in his nostrils. He screwed the valve shut and tapped the bike’s nav screen. It light up.

“Hello, friend of Narnia,” the AI said quietly. If its voice had intonation, Shasta might think it sounded… pleased?

“You can call me Shasta,” he whispered. “And I got everything without them waking up.”

“Clothes? Food? As much water as you can carry? Ration stamps?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, carefully unloading each item from the bag. “I even grabbed some rope and bandages.”

“Excellent. Well done, Shasta.” Shasta searched the bike and found a low-slung trunk behind the seat, into which he quickly placed his belongings.“Tie the empty gas can to the back. It may be useful later,” the AI instructed. Shasta did, and then hesitantly straddled the bike. “Are you ready?”

“Good to go,” he said, his voice higher than normal.

“Alright. The throttle is on the right handle bar. Twist to accelerate. The little lever by your right hand is to brake. I’m calibrating the auto-stabilizer to your weight, so don’t worry about falling-- just go slowly and try not to crash. You can do this.”

“Can I, though?” Shasta asked, laughing nervously.

In response, the engine sputtered to a start. “Go.”

Shasta took a deep breath, took one last look at the seascraper he’d called home for so long, and then twisted the right handle bar and started towards the coast.

Tag list:

@lasaraleen

#post-apocalyptic narnia au #shasta #narnia au #any way the wind blows

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coup-de-maine · 5 years

Text

How to enter a fandom - RPC

Hey guys, time for a friendly PSA from yours truely~

So I’ve been in and out of a lot of fandoms, made friends, enemies, frenemies, grave mistakes and happy accidents. I also see a lot of people come in other fandoms. Most of yall do great but I see some people carry in this weird sort of self deprecating attitude that can immediately turn rpers away from them, which results in; more of that self deprecation. So Im here to hopefully help out with the best ways to enter a fandom or an rpc, make your presence known and make lots of wonderful friends.

Now the first, and most important thing, and I notice a ton of people struggle with it is:

General attitude.

Let me give two examples of some first time posts.

“Hey! I’m new to the fandom. I know my bio and my theme sucks but would anyone like to rp? Maybe?”

VS.

“Hey! I’m new to the fandom. My bio and rules are located here, though they’re still under construction I’m really eager to develop them with interactions!”

Now I know the first one is tempting for a lot of reasons. You might not even feel like its all that bad, but up next to the second one it actually sounds a little...depressing, monotone, dry. Even though they start the same, one ends with me feeling like: this person really doesn’t put effort into things, they dont even really want to be here. All my threads with them are going to be lazily written or probably written with half baked enthusiasm.

The second person is happy to be here, eager to interact, admits that since they’re a new blog not everything is perfect. Yet, they don’t talk down on themselves or make it seem like anyone who talks to them will only be taking pity on them.

This is actually a big problem I see in the rpc. Making people take pity on you for interactions and the rule with that is simple:

don’t make people feel like they have to take pity on you.

It’s a knee jerk reaction, I know. We’re all awkward humans on the internet who want to play up our faults. Who wants to say “My stuff is SO awesome! It’s the best”???

Well. You do. You’re new to a fandom. People already have established relationships, character arks, possibly with another version of the muse youre playing. Backstories so detailed it’ll make your head spin. You are literally selling yourself to these other rpers. Don’t sell them “A vacuum cleaner that sucks. No, not sucks up the dirt, it just sucks. Like me, Im trash and dont even have a working vacuum” No one wants to buy a vacuum cleaner that sucks.

Hate to break it to you, but when you say you suck, or your stuff sucks; people are gunna believe you. Or they’re just gunna pity you. And thats not great either.

Heck you might think; why not? So long as they rp with me, whats wrong with that?

Well... lots of things but mostly; pity isn’t a good feeling. Nobody wants to feel guilted into rping with you. Imagine seeing someone on your dash constantly posting about how no one likes them, their character or interacting with them. How they wanna die because they never get asks, no one likes their starters. (Sound extreme? I’ve seen it.) It makes you feel bad right? It makes you wanna like them but like- where do you even start??? They don’t even like them?? What common ground do you have?? “Hey, I see you hate yourself... uh... I hate you too?” Not great. Actually bad. You don’t know how to approach this person without becoming an emotional crutch, and you know they’ll latch on to you and suck every positive emotion out of your body so how do you win?

So lesson one is; People don’t want to be forced to feel so bad that they rp with you, they want to feel inspired to. Inspire some dudes! (or non-dude identifying people)

Presentation!

This is everything. Present yourself. You don’t need flashy icons or a cool promo- let me tell you, I’ve made some shitty promos in my life. See Here

That was my promo for a long as time. Until it was THIS that a friend made for me (A friend that I made. Through how awesome I presented myself. Thanks Vee, if you see this I still love you)

I can’t stress enough how important attitude is because I’ve had both a shitty attitude and a great one in the RPC and let me tell you, nothing kills a blog faster than a shitty attitude. Wanna make a self deprecating posts about that meme that you got 0 asks for? NUH UH. Think again. PITY = BAD, SHORT LASTING FRIENDSHIPS. INSPIRED = SUPER AWESOME HAPPY FUN TIMES FOREVER.

Yo, present yourself in a way that makes people wanna approach you. Get them interested, say something wacky or edgy or if your character is self deprecating then self deprecate through them but DO IT IN A FUN WAY. The people who care about icons and fancy promos usually aren’t worth lasting friendships either. Sometimes they literally spend more time formatting than writings something worth while for you. (some of you really balance it and just love formatting but u know im not talking about u Im talking about those that literally wont talk to us that dont)

So present yourself well and be genuine.

--- WAIT WAIT WAIT- be genuine?? What if my genuine self is self deprecating and negative?

[JOHNNY TEST NOISE]

HELL NO shut the what up I know you’re not, I know that’s a reflex to cover up how insecure you are, I know you hate how pathetic and small you feel so you point out all the things wrong with you before someone else can. That’s not you, and you are capable of more than that.

Dude. (and non-dude identifying peeps) I’m gunna say it again. I’m gunna say it a million times; one day it will sink in. Everybody feels that way.

What?? Octo ur so cool and confident tho

You know how you never noticed?? CANT SEE MY HANDS SHAKE THROUGH THE COMPUTER.

DONT KNOW HOW LONG I HESITATED BEFORE SENDING THAT ASK MEME TO YA.

The internet is a playground because you can trick people into believing whatever you want about yourself. YEP even good things!!! You don’t have to wear your flaws on your sleeve, and you certainly don’t have to wear them like a full body cast that prevents you from doing anything fun in your life.

Take the cast off, take a risk. You literally have nothing to lose. Especially if no one interacts with you as is anyways.

Be mindful

This is more of a trick I use to make myself feel better. I don’t follow a lot of people so my dash is pretty slow. It’s fairly easy to tell when people are and aren’t active/online so I literally have to trick myself sometimes but;

If you reblog a meme and get nothing, step back and ask yourself; am I sure anyone even saw it? and are the people who did maybe to shy to send anything? Or maybe nothing in that meme applies to their character.

As a mute character I am VERY restricted to what memes I reply to. As a character who speaks VERY LITTLE I am VERY restricted to what dialogues I can send at all. This means I’m required to edit memes a little (this is allowed by most meme creators btw) or I need a very good relationship with a character in order to say/sign that many words at them.

And worse case scenario, queue it and reblog it again/later. Its no biggie, some memes don’t make it.

Self reflect

Check out people on the dash. Do they have interactions? What are they like? Is their character more welcoming? Maybe you’re character is more intimidating. You might need to actually seek out interaction.

Tumblr has this huge enigma where everyone wants asks but no one wants to send them. Curious anons come from someone, magic anons come from your peers, followers, friends. Some of them are pretty obvious. Want asks? Send them. We really need to get the ball rolling with this because its honestly a problem. Show some initiative and reach out. It actually feels pretty good seeing someone react to your outrageous anon. And its a lot of stress relief if you play an otherwise very serious character to get to branch out and be silly.

So you send asks, you like starter calls- why isn’t it working?

Well, a stranger knocks on your door and tries to get to know you. Its a little awkward- it can work sure in some cases. But in most you’ll probably close the door and phone the police.

The RPC isn’t as strange as that but what’s easier? Talking to a muse you’ve never met from a blog you’ve never seen before? Or writing a thread with your best bud, throwing in inside jokes and references to your favourite shows- teasing each other about that one embarrassing thing that happened to your muse- yeah. Yeah you get it.

If you have history or at least an idea what someone is like, you will want to interact with them more. I don’t know if you’re some mean... meanie pants whos gunna smack my muse because he offered you a cookie. And maybe you are, but if I don’t know you, or know that your muse is deeply traumatized by cookies, I might take that as you saying “Ew no get away I never wanna rp with you”.

It sounds harsh, but I KNOW it happens. It STILL happens to me, even with people I’m friends with. Even if someone has multiple blogs and I get on fine with one muse, if the other hates me I might get uneasy about sending in asks cause I feel like I’m directly bothering the mun (who I love on this blog but WHAT IF THEY START HATING ME THERE TOO???)

Separation is tricky. We all get jealous or feel neglected when our partners focus on another thread/ship or send mean angsty replies which is why its important to check yourself remind yourself you have value, mun =/= muse and that it’s all in good fun.

Have Rules

UGH no!!! Not rules I hate rules, I dont want to restrict anyone!

Listen. I get it. I was a rule-less blog for a long time. But you know what? You need them. Not just for you, but for the people who wanna interact. I still feel the need to ask people who have rules what they are and aren’t comfortable with. You might not realize it but shit can go down in rps especially in certain fandoms. Even if its just the basics. Write them. They matter.

Unless you’re fine with someone literally controlling your character, or a blog you dont even follow who RPs David Letterman tags you in a smutty thread where your muse and him are married and he’s heavily pregnant with 4 narwal baby’s I- I think you can see where I’m going.

If its just the basics, thats fine, everyone loves seeing that. No god modding, not forced shipping, ect- great. Less for me to remember. Add to it if you need to. Everyone experiences rp different. Make your experience a comfortable one.

(And stay tf away from me Preggo-letterman)

Step away.

If you’re feeling negative, just step away. Do not make a big post about it alerting everyone who follows you because they might not all respond well. If you have close friends in then fandom you can go to, talk to them, vent a little, or just remove yourself and get those feelings out. But remember that no one here is equipped to be your therapist, and we cant all be expected to take the burden from you. It is up to you to regulate your emotions. Use coping skills but please don’t make the fandom or your blog a toxic place to be.

You don’t feel good, and no one reading your posts feels good, and building friendships on not feeling good is just... completely not good.

Im not saying you must be sunshine and rainbows all the time, but feeling bad feels bad and even though rping is just a hobby and a past time you are still reaching into other peoples lives. Leave a good impact, try to be someone you would want to meet in the rpc. Make it a better place.

Tips and Tricks

If you leave with nothing else, please take these:

Send Messages.

IM people, send them asks, get to know them before RPing.

Be kind.

Be generous.

Be enthusiastic.

Be happy.

#PSA!!!#Im so so so SO sorry its so long #I tried really hard to make it entertaining #anyways I just get a lot of people asking me how to enter the RPC and...#I wish I had heard this shit when I started lmao #rp #tumblr rp #roleplay

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ayearofpike · 6 years

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The Grave

Pocket Books, 1999 194 pages, 16 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-55077-2 LOC: CPB Box no. 1856 vol. 22 OCLC: 42262026 Released September 1, 1999 (per B&N)

Keri Weir has a rough life: her boyfriend bores her, her sister is dead of cancer, her dad has abandoned her to start a new family, her mom is addicted to cocaine and is slowly selling everything they own to get a new fix. That doesn’t mean, though, that she wants it to end. But when she meets a mysterious man at her workplace, and feels inexplicably drawn to him, that’s what happens. But the end itself is a new beginning, one that threatens to never end.

And so we come to the end of Christopher Pike’s output under the imprint of Archway Paperbacks, a solid 11-year run whose end was inevitable thanks to the increasing stature and importance of teen and YA literature. If you weren’t there, it’s really hard to understand what the climate was like, how books for young people were seen as less — less important, less prestigious, less work to read and write. Likewise, it’s kind of hard to overstate the importance of Harry Potter, what it did for not just the readers it aimed at but the whole genre of juvenile literature. Prisoner of Azkaban came out one week after this book in the US, which I remember as being the flash point for interest in the boy wizard over here. After that, nobody was going to underestimate the selling power of a kid’s book, and nobody was going to accept an underdeveloped story that stood alone and didn’t (or couldn’t) promise resolution over a series.

It seems like Pike saw the writing on the wall here. He’s talked a little bit about the market changing around him and not being able to catch it. We saw a lot of the crap we were pushed fall off around the same time; a whole bunch of the series I’d mentioned before became too fluffy or lightweight for the new generation of teen book-purchasers. Longer stories became de rigueur, as publishers saw the willingness of kids to push through four hundred pages of the third story out of seven in order to find out how that poor kid with the lightning scar was going to figure himself out and avenge his parents.

It’s not like Pike didn’t have the chops to write a longer book; his four adult novels illustrate how he can dive in more depth into a concept and really flesh it out. (OK, two of them do.) And it’s not like he didn’t have material to expand upon and really explain — if anything, I feel like I’ve been complaining that he doesn’t unpack ENOUGH here at the end. And maybe that’s the real problem. Christopher Pike rose to fame in a climate where it was OK and expected to not give up all your information and secrets, to not explore a thread that didn’t speak to a highly-focused theme, and above all else to keep your page count down. Adapting to the new model of kidlit would take him some time.

This book is no exception. It starts with a strong and promising presence, reaches a conflict point that explains and engages, and then ... just sorta falls off with no real resolution, or at least not a satisfying one, maybe with a mandate to get out of the book before page 200. It opens another door right at the end, one that would have been OK to leave hanging ten years before maybe, but which now is unsatisfying and frustrating to readers who are expecting to know where that door leads. And maybe there are some other problems with construction, but let’s get into the recap before we talk too much about that.

We start not with Keri, but with Ted Lovett, a college freshman who has fallen for a young woman at HIS work site. She is mysteriously charming and bewitching, and when Ted asks to see her again she promises to call. And she does, holy crap. But her calls are scattered and sporadic, and even though Ted isn’t sure whether he wants this kind of a relationship he finds he can’t stay away. The last call leads to a hike into the forest, where suddenly he is beset on all sides by monstrously strong humans and buried alive in what appears to be a Satanic ritual. He feels a prick in the back, pleads with a morose but determined beauty, and then smothers in a shallow grave.

Keri doesn’t know any of this. She doesn’t know Ted, even. All she knows is she’s stuck in a dead-end with no way to turn around or back out of it. That is, until she meets Oscar, a sensitive and quiet man who has some undefinable quality that draws her to him. He’s certainly a lot more interesting than her doofy boyfriend, who comes across as the worst kind of clingy shithead. We understand this through his behavior as much as we do because Keri wants to shake free of him. It helps that the next night after work she sees Oscar again and asks to go to his apartment to see his paintings. Like, leading up to much? Of course they have sex, and of course Keri’s boyfriend is waiting outside her apartment when she gets home, and of course he’s all whiny and shitty about it.

But then they find Keri’s mom inside, barely breathing after an overdose, and they rush her to the hospital. Once in the waiting room, Keri passes out from the exhaustion of not only having to take care of her addict mother but also from doin’ it all night. She has a dream about a beautiful garden full of happy people, and of journeying from it to a cave full of smoke, where a figure shrouded in shadow asks if he should come. This part was super confusing, because it’s literally a page of one-sentence back-and-forth unattributed quotes, and you almost have to mark it with a pencil to keep track of who’s saying what. But ultimately Keri says yes, and then immediately wakes from her dream to learn that her mother is stable and her relationship is over. Well, OK, she and the now-ex talk about it and agree that they need to be done. Which she should have said before, considering how long she’s felt that way, but I get it. (I’ve had my own relationships that dragged on longer than they should have out of obligation, on both our parts.)

So obviously Keri isn’t going to work today, but she does arrange to meet Oscar for a late dinner and maybe some more shpdoinkling. On her way to the car, though, she’s suddenly waylaid by a strong person who chloroforms her and drags her off. She’s aware enough to realize when she gets shot with a syringe in the butt, and fully awake by the time she’s carried from the vehicle she’s in and deposited in a grocery store freezer. She manages to break her bonds, but there’s no fail-safe to escape the freezer — even Pike’s favorite emergency ax has been removed from its hooks. So she feels her body freeze, go numb, and then inexplicably feel warmer as she blacks out for the last time.

And now she’s in her sister’s bedroom, back in the before times, when Sis was alive and Dad was around and Mom was coherent. This part is one of the times when I wish we’d gotten more. We learn that Keri has more or less completely blocked out any memory of her sister’s death, and won’t talk about it to anyone. Her sister tells her that she needs to come to grips with reality, that her death has led to so many of the problems and if Keri will just understand and accept this tragic end it could help her. Only maybe not now, because she’s in a weird place where she’s neither dead nor alive and is going to have to face the coming of the shadowed person. And then Keri wakes up, and we almost never talk about her sister again. Like, what was the purpose of this dream sequence? We just needed someone dead who could explain it to her? Shouldn’t the sister play a bigger part in post-death? I was dissatisfied, much like with the mom, who we’ll get back to.

But yeah, Keri wakes up, and she knows it’s cold but it doesn’t bother her, and she knows it’s dark but she can still see quite well (except suddenly without color), and she knows she’s locked in a freezer but a couple of stiff kicks get her out the door. She also knows she’s hungry, and she eats more food than she would have even been able to look at before she went in the freezer. What’s most disconcerting to her, maybe, is the fact that she doesn’t really FEEL anything about these changes. She accepts that she’s changed, that she should have died and didn’t and is now insatiable and powerful, but she’s not bothered by that — which is the thing that bothers her most.

She leaves the market and, after a run-in with a gang where she totally ruins the leader by kneeing him in the crotch up to his sternum, starts to go to Oscar’s house. Only, wait: Oscar was the only person who could have known she was leaving her place when she did, and he exhibits some of the same things she’s feeling now (colorblind, need to eat, unexpected strength). So maybe don’t seek out the person who made some weird manipulation that cheated your death, but then tried to kill you. Instead she goes home and calls her ex and talks about her concerns about Oscar, staying vague but still ominous and foreboding. She can’t sleep anymore either, so she basically eats all night and into the morning before she goes to see her mom. Mom notices a frightened, frail stance that Keri is taking (trust an addict, I guess), but she also wants to talk about a dream she had where they were all watching Sis pack for some kind of a trip. Keri apologizes for her distance, but then she leaves again right away, after determining that Mom can get home safely after being discharged. And this is the last time we see Mom too. Which I’m kinda OK with, because at least we get a picture of her being on the road to recovery, which allows us to imagine she turns out all right ... but wasn’t it the death of her first daughter that made her spiral to begin with? What’s going to happen now that she never sees her second one again?

But Keri has suddenly realized why Oscar looks so familiar, never mind that this was not foreshadowed or alluded to ANYWHERE in this novel. He’s a dead kid who disappeared last year, who had his picture in the paper next to a tragic article. A dead kid named Ted Lovett. And like, you saw this coming; we had enough foreshadowing that Ted was dead but back somehow. I’m OK with that. What I’m not sold on is Keri going to talk to Ted’s mom. Like, why? She doesn’t know he’s alive; if she did, wouldn’t that have also made news? But she does it, because I guess Pike just can’t leave the parents of dead kids alone, and then she goes to Oscar’s place because what the fuck else is there to do when you’re colorblind and hungry and strong and out of options?

Oscar’s not alone. There’s a scientist there, who explains that Keri’s condition is a clever manipulation of her DNA to prevent the body from being able to die unless it is completely destroyed. He created the compound to try to save his daughter, who was succumbing to leukemia ... only she went bad. In fact, she swiped the formula and turned a whole bunch of others, including her brother. The secret, it seemed, was to enhance the dying person’s fear, which would then manifest in cold brutality once they awakened from death. It didn’t work on Ted Oscar, for reasons not sufficiently explained, and now he and the scientist are trying to figure out how to stop the monstrosity that is these other monsters. They have help: an inexplicable vision of a shadowed man, who has indicated that they should impregnate a virile young woman and then turn her so that she brings him into the world.

That’s right: Keri is vampire-zombie-monster pregnant. And the baby she carries will determine the fate of the world.

The bad guys want the baby too, of course. All of a sudden they’re at the door, holding Keri’s ex hostage. Seems they followed her from Ted’s mom’s house. No one has to get hurt, the bewitching beauty daughter says, if they willingly go downstairs and get in the van. Obviously Oscar and the scientist aren’t gonna willingly anything, and Keri wants to get her ex out of harm’s way. Too late she dives after BBD, who calmly and effortlessly rips her ex’s arm off. There’s a monster of a shootout, and our good guys manage to escape (not the ex, who bleeds to death in seconds), only to find once they’re out on the ocean in Oscar’s boat that the bad guys have a helicopter and a flamethrower. So they have to bail as the boat goes up, and sure they have super strength and stamina but Keri can’t outswim a power boat, which is what BBD pulls up in, informing her that she has no choice but to be a prisoner.

They caught Oscar too, and drive the both of them to an abandoned military facility in a mountain somewhere. Their cell is a nice one, as far as cells go, but unescapable: the bars are too strong to break, and the back is raw rock that goes deeper into the mountain. They won’t be able to dig their way out before the baby comes, which thanks to Keri’s enhanced biology should take about a week. After that, the bad guys figure, they’ll just undo Mom and Dad and be able to use this baby for their own nefarious ends.

Of course it’s more complicated than that. BBD still has feelings for Oscar ... it seems that something about the undeath process might make us more susceptible to finding a soulmate or falling in love with a person. At least that’s what I feel like we’re supposed to understand, given Keri’s inexplicable and instantaneous affinity for Oscar; this is one more thing Pike doesn’t go into. Just like the brother, who is a total cocknugget but only really shows up at the birth, so he can menace the couple and torment the doctor before killing him. Seriously: we constantly hear about this dude and what an evil monster he is, but he’s only actually in the book for seven pages. Still, he acknowledges that our other prisoner needs to live, too, as the mother will be critical to feeding the baby while he matures.

And he also does this fast. In twenty days he gains twenty years, reads the entire Internet, and gets crops to grow in their underground cell. Shades of Last Vampire 4, a little bit. BBD tries to get him to explain his goals and doings to her, but he flat-out refuses. In fact, the only person he’ll try to explain anything to is his mom. She asks if he will draw a picture of how he might represent himself before he was born, and it’s ... caprine. Horns, a tail, cloven hooves. And now Keri is all, oh shit, I invited the actual DEVIL into my uterus. But the boy advises her: don’t panic.

So now they’ve been in this facility a month, and all of a sudden there’s sounds of scuffle. It seems that the scientist managed to get away clean, and has given up just enough info to the government that they managed to track these monster fighters to this facility and are now cleaning it out with firebombs. Luckily for our heroes, Oscar has dug up to a boulder that he’s pretty sure is the last blockade between their cell and an underground river. They can’t move it, though, before everyone comes pouring into the holding facility: BBD and Cocknugget with guns, Scientist with an obvious bomb, and then the military. But what if we ask the devil? So he moves the rock without any problem, just behind an explosion and expansion of fire, creating a swirl of water and a gush of ashes and a battering of rocks that leaves Keri unconscious.

She comes to in a beautiful garden, like the one in her dream. Oscar and their son are there too, so obviously they’re dead and in heaven, right? No, idiot, they can’t die, remember? And the son has decided he’s going to say in this nowhere and be one with nature, and that his parents have to go on without him. Keri doesn’t want to, but Oscar thinks they have to, and he has a rationale: he’s pretty sure that their son is not Satan, but instead is Pan, the ancient god of the wild. They both have goat legs and horns, after all, and look at how good this kid has been at making plants grow no matter the lack of water or sunlight. This doesn’t go any farther either, and I need more, specifically: how the shit does tampering with human genes equal giving birth to another fuckin’ Percy Jackson character? We never get to find out. Keri and Oscar leave, they run into BBD (who also somehow made it out alive), they tell her to fuck off, and then they keep walking, and the book ends.

So if you’re keeping count, that’s at least five people whose stories have not been satisfactorily explored in this novel, which pulls up well short of half of the page count that Harry Potter would get to lose a rat. If we’re looking for an inability or unwillingness to expand and explore both the narrative and the changing state of YA, this is it right here. Just like Pike’s career, it fizzles out unresolved and without warning. Couldn’t he have spent just a little more time on some backstory or character building, to explain just why these douche-monsters were so horrible but Oscar was good? Was there no chance at all of explaining the connection between technology and nature that would explore just how and why Pan reincarnated in the womb of a half-dead high school senior? What happened to Keri’s family that it fell apart so hard and was predisposed to forget about a dead sister through running from her? Is it any wonder that The Grave was his last book for four years?

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