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brighttears · 1 year

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Liberation II: Reason

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: You continue to travel with Joel and Ellie. You catch a break and get too comfortable before you are startled back into how fragile your lives really are. You are faced with a decision when you learn more about Ellie.

Warnings: Violence, drinking

Word count: 4.8k

A/n: I literally went on Google maps and marked down an actual route from Kansas and Wyoming and made notes of all kinds of stuff along the way, so the locations and stuff are real lol … I’m officially invested in this story. Feedback appreciated pls tell me what you think !! I feel like this chapter is boring … 3:

Edit: DAMN ok apparently this is the worst thing I’ve ever written lolll

@boofy1998 @theclassicvinyldragon @amberputh <3

–

The air outside of Kansas City feels fresher as you lead Ellie and Joel down to the bridge. It’s dusk by the time you make it to the rocky bank underneath it.

You were doing alright but started to pale by the time you got to sit; it isn’t a deep wound, but it’s not recommended to walk on a leg injury for half an hour. You had the idea of finding a way to boil some water but you hadn’t come across anything even remotely bowl shaped, let alone anything like a pot that could be set over a fire. So there exists a small amount of tension surrounding the issue.

Ellie tries to offer a suggestion, “I feel like you’re over complicating this. Why don’t we just use the water straight from the source?”

“Ellie, tell me what color that water is.”

“...Brown.”

“That answer your question?”

“You mean this is like shit water? Smells pretty good for shit water.”

“No, it’s dirt. And whatever else. If she puts her leg in there she’ll get an infection and we’ll probably have to amputate it.” Joel sounds very annoyed.

“Okay, fine.” Ellie puts her hands up and backs away. She turns to you, “He’s like this all the time, by the way.”

You chuckle and Joel looks back at the two of you, kind of pursing his lips. Sure he’s a grump and that makes him easy to make fun of, but you feel a little bad, don’t want him to feel rejected. Though reluctantly, he has been kind to you since the very start, taking risks he didn’t have to that have kept you alive.

“Alright, start buildin’ a fire. Ellie, practice.” he instructs.

“What for? Aren’t we supposed to be being all discreet?”

“We only need it long enough to boil water. It’ll be out before dark.”

“I think we should probably hold off on the fire until we figure out how we’re going to do that.” you look at Joel from your seat on the rocky ground.

Instead of answering, Joel pulls a flask out of his bag and hands it to you. “For the pain.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

When you hand it back, he takes a drink and then pauses. Sighing, he reaches it out to Ellie, who is watching him as she stacks her driftwood. She grins before taking a long sip, like she’s trying to appreciate the taste, but she does not.

“Bleh.” she passes it back, “What was that for?”

“Just get that fire going.” Joel takes a couple more sips until a flame gets going, then pours the rest of the whiskey into the river. Both you and Ellie remain silent, watching, perplexed. Joel fills the flask with water, shakes it, and pours it back out. Then he fills it again and screws the top back on. Catching on, you help Ellie to build up the fire.

“Okay, what am I missing here?” she asks.

“Boilin’ the water in the flask.” Joel answers. “It’s stainless steel, which is the best material for it. When the water’s boiled–”

“It’s clean, yeah, I get that part.”

“Smart man.” you comment, looking to Joel.

He looks back at you for only a second, “Common knowledge.”

Once the fire’s built up enough to sustain itself, Joel sits with you and Ellie and tosses the flask on top.

“Dinner time?” Ellie asks.

Joel nods, reaches over to grab his pack and digs out a couple wraps of crinkled baking sheets, tossing one to Ellie. You look at your feet. That’s when they notice, “Where’s yer pack?”

“I um, it’s still in Kansas City. I didn’t forget it, I just had to leave it. When all hell broke loose I didn’t have a chance to go back to my place for anything. Just had to get the hell outta there.”

You don’t look up, but Joel’s hand appears in your eyesight, holding out one of his crumpled baking sheet wraps. You hesitate, feeling guilty, but there's not much room for that anymore, so you just take it and thank him.

“So, what did happen back there, when all hell broke loose?” Ellie asks you.

It’d been heating up for a while before tonight. Kathleen is much less organized than her brother and definitely crueler. You don’t trust her at all, and while you can understand why some people do—mostly out of desperation, the need for a leader, for hope—thinking she’s going to fix everything is a fucking pipedream. And now that Micheal had been tortured and murdered by FEDRA, all bets are off. You know something’s going to go down and that whatever it is is going to be very, very messy. You have a pack ready to go, though, hidden in the wall of the spot you’ve been holed up in, which basically a broom closet up high in one of the buildings that FEDRA never touches anymore. It’s not home, you just still haven’t figured out a way to escape this prison of a city.

The sun is setting as you make your way back to your little cubby. In the middle of the street passing between alleys, you’re almost relaxed because of how quiet and still everything is. Until it isn’t.

You hear a few clinks, louder and softer from a few different directions, you can’t identify where you’d heard them before. Then, from all around you, pops, booms, shouting, and gunfire erupts. Startled, you hesitate for only a second before it becomes clear: the game is on. The ground beneath you shakes as trucks start roaring. You turn to run, so fast that you almost trip, feet sliding over the asphalt, and good thing you moved so fast because as soon as you’re out of the street, three big trucks fly past. You can’t identify whose side they’re on. Your heart races. Automatically, your gun is out.

Being completely removed from both sides was not the wrong decision, but now you have no idea what either of their plans are. If you’d known the resistance was going to come in guns a blazin’ today, you would be long gone by now.

What the fuck do I do? You thought you’d be ready, you were sure of it, but your plan never involved being miles away from literally everything you have, save for the clothes on your back, one pistol, and a bobby pin. Thank god it’s fully loaded. Shit fuck fuck shit fuck. How long would it take to get back to your place? Do you even have time to try to figure it out? Nope, fuck it, you’ll worry about supplies once you’re out. Right now, all you need is a gun and a clear head.

Straining to remember, a rough image of the city materializes in your head. You’re near a corner. The chaos loudens. There is no grace period, you need to find a way out as soon as possible. Get to the corner ahead of you, then work your way across so you can come out at the highway. The Missouri River sounds like a good amount of distance between you and this godforsaken concrete box.

You make yourself take long, deep breaths. Now is not the time for panic. You need focus, and also some luck. Think fox, think jaguar, think fucking cockroach. Alright, break! You move as fast as physically possible between buildings, even fucking faster down the sides of open streets when necessary. The ground shudders with what must be a full on explosion, and then, the sound of breaking glass and the ‘foom’ of fire. The sudden raging noise jumbles your brain and you strain again to figure out where you are and where you need to go. It is getting fucked up fast. Daylight is running out like toilet paper on outbreak day. You press yourself as flat as possible against the brick wall of an alley (which are your new best friends) as a rumbling of trucks grows closer. A bead of sweat drips from the tip of your nose. As you continue on, you have to take more and more breaks hiding and waiting out threats as the city explodes in the overthrow. Rounding the corner of a building, all you need now is to go straight, but in front of you a stretch of parking lot creates a complication. You snake your back against the wall to peer cautiously past it, and the sight revealed makes you gasp. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen so much violence. You blink yourself back into reality and flick your eyes around to strategize how to cross the dicey expanse. Five big, deep breaths, and your run, hunched, to behind one of the cars spread around the parking lot.

“And then you were about the third alley past all that, and you know the rest.” you finish, chewing on the jerky Joel gave you. “Not that exciting. Just wrong place at the wrong time kinda thing.”

“Sounds pretty exciting to me.” Ellie says.

“‘Exciting’ is the wrong word.” you correct, “It was… very stimulating,” Joel briefly chokes, pounding his chest, “...just not a super unique experience, you know what I mean?”

Ellie nods as she tears off a piece of jerky with her teeth.

After a few moments, Joel clears his throat and gets up, kicking the flask off of the flames, “Should be good now. Just let it cool for a bit.”

You get up and kick it to be just covered by the water, leave it for a few seconds, then pick it up, now only slightly warm. Drying it off with the hem of your shirt, you tell Joel, “Thanks for sacrificing the whiskey.” He nods. They both watch you as you sit back down, bending your leg for better access, unscrewing the lid to drip just enough water onto the fabric covering the gash for you to peel it off without ripping too much congealed blood off. The bleeding has mostly stopped. You throw the dirtied fabric off to the side and then realize, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I just fucking told you that whole story but forgot for a second I don’t have any of my stuff,” you chuckle, “no bandage, not even a cloth, not even a pad, for god's sake. Nothing actually clean."

As you ponder what your best option is, Joel speaks up. “Wait.” When you look up at him he pauses, then looks down, taking the hem of the flannel under his jacket and tearing off a good sized piece.

“Hey! That’s Frank’s!”

“Well, he won’t be needin’ it. Wha’d you care, anyways, you didn’t even know ‘im.” Joel hands the piece to you, “Cleanest thing we got. We had some supplies but they’re in a truck we had to leave in the city.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him when you take it.

“Don’t mention it.” He looks off to the water.

Ellie watches you pour the water over the wound as sparingly as possible, wiping some of the blood off of your calf and ankle with the palm of your hand. Once you’ve flushed the gash out as much as you can, you go to cover it with green flannel. You reach back for the first strip to tie around it, but struggle to hold the piece in place while wrapping the strip around.

“Here.” Joel rummages through his bag and produces a roll of duct tape. He comes to kneel in front of you, “Just hold that down.” He rolls out a piece of tape and tears it with his teeth. Joel’s hands are rough, calloused, but run smoothly over your skin. He holds your calf in different places as he wraps the tape around and you can’t help but watch his face–brow furrowed slightly in focus, his eyes on your skin, even just in the way his head turns and angles and his eyes follow. Feeling his hand glide down your shin makes your heart skip a beat. Once he’s done, he doesn’t look at you, just clears his throat and tosses the tape back into his bag.

He goes back to sit by the fire, which he leaves going for a few more minutes as the cool, early September night air darkness into night.

You go to the river and place your hand under it, the blood streaming away from it in whispy veins. Sitting down again, you pull your legs up to your chest, resting your chin on your knees. You find your eyes wandering up to Joel’s face, lit up by the golden glow from the fire. You almost lose yourself admiring his features until you make your way back up his face and meet his gaze. Caught, you flip your head to the side, laying your cheek on your knees, trying to hide your blush.

After a few seconds, Joel stands and stamps the fire out. “Alright. We should get going.”

You’re all quiet as you gather your things (they gather their things, you wait) and then you lead the way up the bank to the bridge.

You walk for less than an hour before stumbling on gold—an auto shop. There aren’t many cars left but most of them are in relatively good shape, and the cherry on top is the gas station right across the street. Joel tries to hide his Christmas day joy. He picks out a white pickup truck, fashioned with a rusty rack. He pops the tailgate and grunts getting himself up onto the bed, standing to admire the metal poles. With him standing, the rectangle of poles come up to his armpits so that he can comfortably hang his arm over. He smooths his hands over the bars and then grips them. You comment, “Woah, cowboy, not in front of the kid.”

He hides a chuckle. “This is just perfect. C’mere, I wanna see somethin.” Joel squats at the end of the bed, offering his arm to help you up. “Alright.” He guides you with a light touch on your waist to stand like he had, arms over the poles. “Fuckin’ perfect. See?” He takes the rifle off of his back and hands it to you so that you can position it over the poles. Like this, you can easily take long shots from the back of the truck.

“Now all we need’s a machine gun.” You mime shooting an automatic, “CHKCDJCHKYDJCHDJDJ. Right? Huh?” you laugh and he can’t hold his in. “Mm, you know, a smile looks good on you.”

“Shut up.” he mumbles, still smiling, and eases himself down to the ground, you follow by jumping off. He eyes you for a second over his shoulder, shaking his head again and walks to the front of the truck to pop open the hood.

You stroll into the shop past him and up to Ellie, who is inspecting a mess of rusty tools on a dirty wooden table with her flashlight. “What’s your favorite?” you ask.

“Hmmm. This one.” Ellie lifts up a massive monkey wrench with some effort.

“Beautiful. You wanna take her with us to loot that 7/11?”

“7/11?”

“Yeah, it’s the little, like, store at the gas station.”

“Weird name. Let’s go.”

You and Ellie walk across the street, calling out to Joel, who is still making googly eyes at the truck. There is very, very little, but you leave with a few cans, plus some scratch offs, which you explain to Ellie, blowing her mind. When you walk out Joel is lugging a couple gas cans back to the truck. You don’t have much right now, but as you travel through the states you’re bound to pass some Walmarts and such, and now you’ve got more space than you could ever even need.

“Did you know this is my second time in a car, like, ever?” Ellie asks you excitedly from the backseat once you all pile in.

“What’d you think of them?”

“They’re innnnssaaaaanne.”

“Today must be my fuckin’ birthday.” Joel comments, pulling out a thick road map from the map pocket. He passes it to you, “You know how to read this?”

“Sure do.”

“Great, cause I am in desperate need of a copilot that’s older than 14.”

“Offense taken.”

“Cry me a river.”

Ellie sticks out her tongue.

“Ok, go left.” you direct. Then you open the glove box and dig through it until you find a pen. After about a minute of scratching circles into the corner of the map, red ink blesses you. As Joel continues straight, you flip through the map’s pages, figuring out an interstate route towards Wyoming. Joel is delighted when you show him your finished masterpiece of map directions.

“Hope for us yet. Startin’ to like you bein’ here.”

After about five hours of driving, a lot of it in comfortable silence, you reach an interchange in a small town in Nebraska.

“Alright, I need to stretch my legs.” Joel announces, turning to pull up into the town. Apparently, this is a historical ‘need to stretch my legs’ type town because you spot at least three Inn’s before you’re a mile in.

As you roll through, Ellie, face against the window, damn near shouts, “Does that sign say Fun Center?”

You look out, “I think it does.”

“JOEL.”

He sighs, glancing back and forth from the road ahead and her in the rearview.

“JOEL, pleeeasse, pleaspleasepleasepleasepleeeeaaasse, I’m not gonna stop until you say yes pleasepleasepleaseplea–”

“Christ, fine.” Joel makes the turn, Ellie replies with “Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes”, making you laugh.

“Did you ever go to one of these?” she asks to whoever.

“Yeah, I did. They’re full a germs.”

“Are you allergic to fun, Joel?” she returns.

“No, I’m allergic to germs.”

“That’s doesn’t actually make any sense.”

“You want me to turn around?” He glances over his shoulder at her and she mimes zipping her lips.

You laugh, wanting to make a comment about their kinship but decide you’re not that close with them yet, so you just keep laughing. By the time you pull into the lot of the “Fun Center”, Ellie is essentially wiggling with excitement from the backseat.

Joel gets out first and then catches her as she hops out, “Ground rules.” he raises his eyebrows, emphasizing. “This goes for you, too.” he looks at you. “We don’t know what’s in there yet, it’s a big place, could be crawling with Infected, even if there's just one or two, I don’t want one surprising us. I am going to go through first to check it out. You stay out with her–”

Ellie interrupts, “I don’t want to go in there. Anymore. I changed my mind. Can we go?” She hops back in the car and closes the door, staring straight ahead.

Joel and you share a confounded expression at this sudden change of mind.

“Uhh, ok, sure.” Joel stutters as you both get back in. He pulls out and away in silence. You debate whether you’ll bring it up to her later. You are also the one to break the awkward silence, “You ever been in a hotel, Ellie?”

“No.” You can hear excitement start to bubble back up in her voice.

You glance at Joel with a smile and he returns it, turning back towards the way you came in and slowing to window shop the many available hotels. When he pulls into the lot of a wide, four story hotel, Ellie’s jaw drops.

“Ho-ly shit.”

You and Joel share a look, not much less excited than Ellie is to be staying in a five star hotel when the nicest place you’ve stayed in since the world fell apart has smelled like piss and rat shit with sheets that haven’t been cleaned in over 20 years.

Joel pulls right up to the front doors and when you get out you grab everything from the truck. Joel sighs at the automatic sliding doors.

“We can’t break through these. Leaves it open for anyone to walk in.”

“I got it.” you stride up to the door, producing a bobby pin from your pocket, sliding it into the lock and jiggling it in and out until it clicks, allowing you to slide it open.

“Bad. Fucking. Ass.” Ellie says, stepping into the foyer. From inside, she shouts, “UN-FUCKING-REAL!”

“God’s sake, Ellie, would you learn to keep your voice down?”

“Sorry.”

Everything is a smooth shade of gray save for the bright splashes of color from the furniture and rugs. Ellie walks up to the reception desk, smoothing her hands over the marble, and you slide behind it to face her. “Good evening, ma'am, welcome to our Very Expensive Hotel. Can I interest you in a tour?” Her replying grin is ecstatic.

The first thing you show her is the magical joy of running down hotel hallways. You sprint from one end of the building to the other, cutting through the lobby, her essentially chasing you with the most childlike, pure laughs pouring out of her, your feet bumping over the carpet. Joel tries to calm you down, but he can’t get a serious tone in his voice, smiling and chuckling to himself. Most of the room’s doors are unlocked and you do a quick sweep and clear every one of them. The next thing you show Ellie is how to jump on the bed until the white sheets are ruined by your dirty boots. Then you explain washers and dryers, treadmills, hair dryers, and ice machines. For about an hour, the three of you wander around the hotel, Ellie and you chatting with Joel periodically cutting in. He follows behind you, unable to wipe a smile off of his face. Not a single Infected rears its head and you all begin to relax.

Eventually, you end up at the pool. It’s pretty small, only a few feet deep, and empty. Joel eases himself down, grunting, and hangs his feet over the side. You sit down next to him. Ellie stays on the other side of the glass doors, messing around in an open snackbar further up in the hall but within eyesight.

“Don’t wander!” Joel calls after her.

“I won’t!”

It’s all quiet now as you and Joel relax on the edge of the pool.

After a couple minutes, wanting Ellie to be out of earshot, you turn to Joel and ask him, “What do you think that was about earlier? With Elllie?”

He sighs. “No clue.”

“I gotta ask… what’s the deal? I mean with you and her?”

He glances at you, pondering, before replying “It’s complicated.”

“Ok, that's fine. You don’t have to tell me. But, now that I’m your copilot, I think I have a good reason to know what’s in Wyoming.”

Joel looks on into the empty pool, not saying anything for so long you think he might be ignoring the question.

“She’s immune.” he says eventually, turning to watch your expression. You’re at a loss for words. “I saw her get bit. On top of another, older bite. That was weeks ago. It’s real. She’s real.” He takes a deep breath. “She was with some Fireflies in the Boston QZ but they couldn't take her, so they asked me. I didn’t want to… but I did. They wanted me to take her to meet with another group of Fireflies but it went bad.” he looks away from you and pauses. “So now, I don’t know where to take her, where the Fireflies are, but I have a brother somewhere out in Wyoming. I’ve gotta go get ‘im, that's where I was tryna get to in the first place. He used to be a Firefly, so I figure he’s gotta know somethin’. So, that’s the plan… If you’re not interested, that's fine, I can drop you off somewhere, now that we’ve got a car–”

“No, I want to stay. Let me–I can help.”

He looks at you for a while before saying, “Alright.” then clears his throat, the sound echoing some in the small pool area. Only a moment after, you hear a click coming from the locker room on the opposite end of the pool. You lock eyes.

You and Joel stand at the same time, not breaking eye contact, and then he steps in front of you to lead careful steps hugging the wall until you get to the open doorway of the locker room. You’re right behind him as he peeks his head around the corner. When you cock your gun, Joel whirls back from the corner to face you, now only a couple inches from you, eyes wide. You hear three loud, distinct clicks, and your blood runs cold, eyes widening with his.

Slowly, you raise your arm to point your gun at the Clicker’s head as it emerges from right behind Joel, turned not at you but in your direction. Your finger edges the trigger but Joel is shaking his head. You don’t understand, but relax your finger. And then, fright drowns out everything other than the second set of clicks reverberating from deeper inside the locker room.

Joel slows out a breath through his nose and you can feel it on your neck. You search each other's eyes for what to do. You can’t move at all right now, and if you shoot this Clicker, the one behind it will have its teeth sunk into one of you within seconds. If you call for Ellie, Joel is dead. You are completely stuck. As you study Joel’s irises, the thought pushes through that these may be your final moments.

Having dared not to even move your hand, pleading your muscles not to shake, the barrel of your pistol is centimeters away from the gap of the Clicker’s teeth, gums split and pulled apart by the periwinkle roots of its fungal crown.

You keep your eyes on Joel as the second set of clicks grow closer, unable to help the knitting of your brow from the fear of having no idea how you’re going to survive this. Out of the corner of your eye, the second Clicker appears from behind the first, contorted in a half hunch, knees bent, walking past you. The one closer to you, almost directly next to Joel, twitches its head towards its friend.

Joel's breath is on your skin and he has yet to look away from your eyes. You feel his touch on your hand and are refocused on his fingers slowly sliding to your palm, his thumb skimming over your knuckles.

But then, icey fear shooting through your brain interrupts the warmth of his hand in yours as you watch Ellie ever so carefully ease the door open from the opposite side of the room, entering the pool, eyes wide and shoulders tense. Just before the door clicks shut behind her, she raises the rusty monkey wrench and slams it through the Clicker’s head, and it tumbles over the edge of the empty pool. Just as the closer one whirls its body towards her, you pull the trigger and it falls to the floor, the echo of the shot causing your ears to ring. Terror releases you and you lean forward, hands falling onto your knees, heaving gasps of relief.

“Ellie.” Joel breathes out, having turned to her.

Her breathing is uneven, still tense and eyes wide. You rise back up and rush to embrace her. She wraps her arms around you, the wrench falling from her hand with a clang. Once the wave of relief has washed over you, you pull back from Ellie and demand, “Show me your arm.”

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess.” She sighs, looking at Joel as she rolls up her sleeve, producing her scarred forearm. You take it into your hands to inspect it. Two bite marks are nothing but scarred indents, and the veins that spread from them are skin colored—they’re old. You turn her arm in the light, staring dumbstruck. When you pull your eyes back to hers, she looks smaller, younger than before. There is still some innocence left in her eyes. She looks more dangerous yet much more vulnerable than how she had before. You are overcome with a requirement to keep her alive, protect her, care for her. You realize how lost you have actually been now that Ellie bleeds into you as your purpose.

Snapping back into reality, Ellie is watching you anxiously. You release her arm. “No, Ellie,” you pull her in again, “It’s okay. Fuck.” You pull her away and hold her shoulders, “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m with you.” You let go and turn to Joel, finding his eyes to emphasize your earnestness, “I am with you.”

#the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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thattimdrakeguy · 1 year

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Frankly, I don’t even give a damn about that whole thing with Gunn and his involvement with that certain company

If anything, this will be a cinematic universe equivalent of the time Bryan Singer directed a 2006 film for WB after the success of the first two X Men films. I bet it’ll maybe flop so badly just in the first try before it even has a chance because of the bad behavior and baggage surrounding it

Not something I give a damn enough to pay attention too. I’m only paying attention to when Godzilla Minus One and Godzilla x Kong are coming to theaters but that’s it

First of all, Superman Returns is an underrated classic. So how dare you. It has beautiful set design, music, movie moments, performances, and cinematography (Well, sometimes the movie looks oddly gross, but mostly). It's main flaw is not realizing the importance of trimming a plot down so you can keep things exciting and not lose people just long enough for them to not care.

Also, you don't have to agree with that. I don't actually care that much. It was directed by a pedophile for fucks sake. But y'know, sometimes terrible people make great work.

Even when those terrible people should be put in prison and shunned by society.

'Cause I'm not defending that asshole. Fuck him. I just liked a movie.

Fuck Kevin Spacey too. The way people talk about him, I'm led to believe he might be responsible for murders. But I ayy, that's just a theory. Just...just a theory. Let that meme that probably came to some people's mind die, because no one laughs at it anymore, it's getting sad.

But as far as Superman Legacy goes? Will probably be the best DC movie since The Suicide Squad.

James Gunn is capable of making awesome movies. And his sudden decision to make the Guardians care about killing at the weirdest time they could, will at least work for a Superman story that will presumably not have a bad guy who has killed billions upon billions and billions of people.

So, that's good, I guess.

It's so far everything else I am worried about. Not the quality of Creature Commandos, or the Green Lantern show, or the Booster Gold show. I feel like it'll be fine.

My gripe is absolutely ridiculous decisions with the greater DC Universe he's attempting to create.

For example of his most recent stupid statement, of saying stuff will carry over, but Superman Legacy is the first canon film.

Like what does that mean? If you're going to be carrying stuff over, presumably that means it is also canon. Or are you going to be retconning stuff as it goes along to serve your own desires, while mostly using stuff from past things on some occasions? Because that's confusing as hell.

It's like a kid doodling or day dreaming. They can follow and not follow what they want. They're a kid and their enjoyment is to be theirs's and usually theirs's alone.

Not so much when you're making an expanded cinematic universe, that people will want to comprehend so they can follow and enjoy themselves as it's further expanded.

Then his first slate is this:

Superman Legacy, which again I think will likely be great, if overcrowded.

The Authority (Who I heard will also be in Superman Legacy. So why is that coming up so soon? Seems self-serving and unnecessary, but I'm not judging it that badly. I'm only a little confused, and shrugging there. Not absolutely baffled or anything. They could easily do something to warrant it that makes sense.)

The Brave and the Bold:

Which is a movie directed by the dude that did the Flash, a movie that makes no sense logically, even in its own plot, and has so many bad moments and effects that it's difficult to sit through. That is also (Meaning Brave and The Bold here) ignoring most of the gold given to them from the source material. So they can have a Batman with a full family, that's likely to be too crowded for anyone to give a shit that isn't a pea brain who only needs to see something vaguely representing something they kind of know. When they have a much fresher Superman. Which creates a very similar problem the DCEU id to begin with. And is also bastardizing and missing the whole fucking point of the story it is trying to adapt. And on top of that, even if they adapting it in a way that makes more sense, would still be a TERRIBLE STORY TO ADAPT FOR THE FIRST BATMAN FILM IN THIS UNIVERSE.

Then there's: Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow.

Which makes me questioned why the fuck Batman, and later on Swamp Thing are going to be in it, when whatever plot it could possibly have seems to be mostly Superman related.

'Cause if we're having a movie where we have Superman, the entirety of the Authority Team, and the whole Bat-Family, as well as Supergirl, and Swamp Thing...THEN IT'S GONNA BE A MESS. This isn't the damn MCU where we had 10 years of time to make sure things worked.

And if this is not building up to anything that's only them, why waste a chapter (what they're calling phases) on that then? If you're going to take more time, shouldn't the chapters be bigger so people can get a clue what's going on in your messy messy mind? 'Cause that'll also waste people's time.

Also, also, and, and, why Swamp Thing?

That has James Mangold directing, so I trust that to be quite a good movie potentially. Maybe even the best of the whole chapter.

But who the fuck starts off the CINEMATIC UNIVERSE's first phase, with a character that largely only interacts with stuff in a very specific subsection, that I highly doubt will be able to be used in a way that makes that specific movie happening so fast worth it.

If I have to eat my words so be it. Because I don't want to expect things to be bad, nor do I want them to be bad. So eating my words would be a tasty dessert. I just can't imagine what bullshit he's planning, unless he's going about something in an extremely messy way.

Then we got the TV Shows, but whatever. I don't need them to be all connected, and I doubt they will be more heavily connected, since it'd be a bitch decision to expect people to watch the shows to care about the movies. When Marvel has been going on for nearly 15 years, and can't get people to bother with their shows that will explain very imperative stuff that needs to be understood and enjoyed fully.

BUT WAIT, OH NO

Lanterns IS supposed to tie in to the greater DCU story.

So he is expecting people to care that much for a universe, that is built on major cracks, and tarp that was put up to cover the collapsing walls of the place.

And I did see someone else also say that James Gunn is making a universe for himself (While I think also making many bullshit statements which made no one care about that part), and the main liked response is "Isn't that most movies?"

No, no it isn't.

Most people that make movies, make movies expected to make sense, and be enjoyed by a larger audience.

So no. And that's very stupid to say. But it sounded like a nice defense, so whatever I guess.

And regardless, that doesn't mean he's making good decisions, and while you can say "Yeah, but making stuff for himself by default isn't bad", I would be telling you in my brain since I'm not that rude in actual conversation to shut the fuck up, because the obvious implication is that he doesn't give a shit in a way that matters for it all to work out and be good in a way that feels properly fulfilling like we may have tapped the potential finally that DC has to offer.

So we're left, instead of that, a cinematic universe that at best is going to have a Batman movie that's going to be okay enough maybe at best, despite the many heinously asinine decisions behind the making of it. And a story that is either going to be super forced, or told in a very unsatisfying manner, or at least a confusing matter.

Should I wait to see? I do not care. I don't want to watch a universe that skipped straight to Damian. Because beyond the fact I don't think he's been a good character since the Dick Grayson led Batman and Robin--and that's ONLY during the time Grant Morrison wrote it. Wasting what might be dozens of good pieces of source material to create an emotionally effective, dazzling, well-woven movie trilogy (possibly behind) for the sake of making a movie, basically because some guy who has no experience actually crafting a cinematic universe (And seems to have issues with the one he did work on when it comes to how his specifically created stuff was intertwined. Maybe not big cry baby ones. But still), wanted to make an adaptation of a story that was only good for a small fragment of time, for specific reasons, and was surrounded by massive piles of dog shit directly because of the decisions that let that series be made in the first place, while also NOT adapting the parts of it that worked--is (One massive sentence later) MOR-ON-IC.

People that write the comics CAN'T EVEN WRITE THE BAT-FAMILY, most of the Bat-Family fandom (As in the vocal parts that are obsessed with the fandom) DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY'RE LIKE.

Am I supposed to trust this movie, given all of that, to get the characters right to begin with? I don't feel like I should. It would seem to be too much to naturally assume they'll get it right given preceding evidence.

Anyways, I think Superman Legacy will be a success. James Gunn carries a lot of weight.

But I don't think Authority will do well. Hardly anyone knows who they are, and they don't have a cool hook like Guardians of the Galaxy.

People act like it's a surprise Guardians of the Galaxy was successful 'cause no one knew the comic.

I think that's also silly. Not dumb, but silly.

A lot of movies have been adapted from things people don't know. It doesn't effect anything one way or another. It just has to seem interesting enough to watch on it's own terms.

At the same time, though, I'm not sure I think people want an ultra cynical super hero team right now. Nor one that is very much of the time it came from.

Unless they're going to have Superman teach them the lesson of optimism. In which case, why the fuck are you doing an Authority movie, where they don't act like what people liked about them to begin with.

Seems lose lose.

I can't help but feel like they're either going to lose the box office, or the soul of the property.

If the Flash, a well-known character can't do it. And Shazam 2, a movie that is a sequel to a successful movie people loved didn't do it. Or Black Adam, a movie starring one of the highest grossing movie stars of the current day couldn't do it.

Then I'm not sure I can see how The Authority is going to do it.

And with competition from a sequel spawning from a critically acclaimed Batman movie, I don't think Brave and the Bold will do extraordinarily well, especially when they got the people working on The Flash behind it. 'Cause unless James Gunn magically knows they actually know how Batman works and for some reason didn't show that before, it's not going to be a great movie, or a movie the greater fan base will like. It's going to be a movie that fandom people like--maaaaybe. The fans that aren't really as vast as people think, but are simply loud, and only cares about the brand names in the end. As shown by how little true successes DC has lately. Their 'successes' are mostly based on the standards of how low they fallen. Which is de-press-ing.

Supergirl likely won't do well, since we just had Superman, and most people don't care about Supergirl that aren't comic people to begin with. Even the television series struggled a bit, and people who watched did like it--I think. Well, sometimes. It has a fandom obsessed with it, but no shit. That's what a fandom is. I can't take anything out of that, general view wise.

Swamp Thing I imagine will be great, but it's so niche I don't think it will make big money. But if they're smart they'll use just enough money to make it look good and leave it at that. So it could make money if they're smart. People like horror flicks, and monster movies. There's natural potential there.

It's a TV series' world out there, with people enjoying serialized storytelling more than ever. So I think the series' will do okay.

If I'm proven wrong, I won't be totally shocked. But I would be surprised.

When James Gunn was announced as head of the DCU, I was happy, quite happy. The Suicide Squad is my favorite DCEU movie by a large margin. I love the Guardians of the Galaxy movies. All of them. Even if I have issues with the 3rd one hardly anyone seems to talk about. Like that movie really wasted Adam Warlock. He might as well have never been built up if he was going to do so little that could easily be switched out with someone or something else.

It so happens, that I am not a man of bias though. As that may sometimes seem. The last time my blog had relevance, and wasn't used as the dark void I scream into, I was actively shitting on one of my favorite comic book writers series' that was starring my favorite DC character.

I've learned over the years of being in a fandom that acts like a cult sometimes, that just accepting what you're brain tells you is closer to reality than the nonsense mental gymnastics you came up with to convince yourself otherwise.

So I'm not letting my love of other James Gunn movies make me ignore all these weird decisions, that are weird, and to an extent awful at least in enough of a way to mean something no matter how you swing it.

Also best of luck with Zilla shenanigans. I have no upcoming movies I'm eagerly awaiting for that's coming out anytime soon. I'm abiding my time 'til Deadpool. A movie that is directed and written by people who make continuously great movies that don't make me scratch my head. Because thankfully they just have to work on one hero's story, not look over all of them, where they'd probably also mess up.

You can't have a guy who treats creative properties like toys run your cinematic universe. He has a great mind for some things, but I don't think he has the sense for this.

#Long Post

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thewul · 3 months

Text

designer notes: it turns out that this console is actually 185 in width, while we set the console stand at 180

3% more is within a workable margin, and so we will carry on and say that our console stand is now 190.55 width, since our initial diameter is an estimate

it is one big console

speakers wise we are going to apply the new cabin interior diameter of 248cm to arrive at their actual scale

no but it's nice the 3% more, that means the cabin is slightly more roomy, 4.83sqm vs 4.67sqm previously or 0.16sqm more

although we might say it's not much, in practice we find that the smaller the scale of things the more any increase is significant, especially for the benches where it matters

we had a little more space in front on the console stand so we tapped into that, it's just centimeters but it counts

the plexiglass enclosure is extra, and of some 3cm width, now the cabin still allows for hearing outside of it by switching on its exterior microphones

ok so we can move on to the speakers now, and for that we are going to tap into the shapes that we have already

first we get the air cooling vents out of the way, no one likes to have them overhead and so we placed them at the entrance and on the opposite side

incidentally when exploring the roof decoration we produced roof lighting, so yes we have a roof projector in there reproducing the floor motives which can be any color we want, pretty neat

next we need to place the speakers

the subwoofer is 13% of 248, it's got a cool backlit insert and custom grill, red means the cabin is live

the 250W units are 56.66% of the subwoofer

so less is more always, and it seems we have both our cooling vents, roof lighting, and our 3300W

I think tomorrow we can do the cabin's rooftop which is pretty straightforward, although the roof was going to be transluscent there's a change of plans, so it's just the cooling unit that connects to the vents we have placed inside the cabin

Thank you for having followed

design notes continued: is it a cone, I have been asking myself that about the cabin roof, probably others did too, well yes it is with the subwoofer in its center, its panelled with acoustic material and that can be great for our sonorisation as it should help the sound propagate better, at any rate that's the experiment

sometimes I have the feeling that all of these drawings since BCS started somehow prepared me for other things, yet unknown, they've been an excellent training so far and I can see quite an improvement from my first drawings

my advice to would be designers or conceptors, draw draw draw, as many things as possible and nevermind if they are average, remember that average is a norm it's not a destination

on to the cabin's rooftop

actually it is an air exchanger not just a cooling unit, it is going to pump clean fresh air from one side and vacuum used air from the other side, looks doable it is a closed environment that allows for operating air exchanges, it is also an air purifying unit

a pretty complete setup for cooling this cabin and keeping the air fresh inside, maybe redundant with the same functions the Sky Deck has

the general ideal is to be able to provide a different environment inside the cabin, a little bit cooler and fresher especially when the Sky Deck is packed

Thank you for having followed

#ionosphere X #OPUS

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pencilofawesomeness · 3 years

Note

For the ask game, how about 001 for either fairy tail or fullmetal alchemist?

Fam, I couldn't decide, so I'm just going to do both XD. I'll separate them on different posts though, so here's the first:

Fullmetal Alchemist

Favorite character: Greed. 100% Greed.

Least Favorite character: Uhhh... General Ravens I guess? He was just a bitch (and not an interesting one) but he got what was coming to him so it's all good.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Royai (Roy x Riza), Royai, Royai, and Ro— Okay so I'm biased towards Royai, but for realsies, it would be them, Maes x Gracia, Izumi x Sig, and definitely Winmail.

Character I find most attractive: *aroace start-up noises* ...low-key Hughes, ngl.

Character I would marry: Frickin Kain Fuery. Man’s just a nerd who loves dogs? I vibe with that. Just chilling with a bunch of rescue puppies and kittens and play video games or whatever. He seems like a thoughtful and chill dude.

Character I would be best friends with: Al. We would be snarky little shits together and befriend allll of the cats and team-up to be everybody’s support group.

A random thought: Al 100% has several named and cared for strays in East City. Fuery or Hawkeye probably care for them when the Elric brothers are gone. Ed has no idea.

An unpopular opinion: I don’t feel strong about this (and I don’t know if it’s could be considered “unpopular”) but I actually wanted a “power of friendship” ending to the series, in a way. Essentially, instead of Ed trading his ability to use alchemy for Al, after Hohenheim offers his life for Al’s, people start chipping in that Ed could use some of their life force instead of taking it all from Hohenheim. So it would be a call back to that time Ed used some of his life force to get out of being impaled, as well as a reflection of how Father made the homunculi. So instead of any one thing being traded, it would have been offered bits of dozens upon dozens of people that Al and the Elric brothers touched in some way, which also would have been a parallel to the philosopher’s stones (i.e. a mirror of the many lives for one method). So the culmination of “what is worth a life?” question would somewhat literally be all the different ways that life can affect others, represented just by little pieces of everybody else. I thought that would be neat. Though the somewhat tragic ending of Ed giving up his alchemy is also meaningful in its own way, so I’m not mad or anything. It’s just something I think about.

My Canon OTP: Roy and Riza, all the way. Very few ships make me actually invested in them, and they are one of the few. They’re so close and they trust each other wholeheartedly but also tease each other relentlessly. They’re friends and partners and the care they have for each other is palpable. The “ship conflict” isn’t about whether or not they will kiss or not, but rather, it’s just a matter of them vocalizing what they both know, and freaking surviving until the end of the manga. I just think they’re neat. A+ power couple imo.

My Non-canon OTP: Uhh, I don’t really ship much at all in FMA (or many shows), but you know what? Heinkel and Darius. They got mad dad energy and they work well together. Yeah, I’m going with them.

Most Badass Character: Ooo this is a tough one. There are lots of contenders, but it’s a close battle between Olivier and Riza. Olivier girlbosses gatekeeps gaslights stabs a man and cements over his body, but Riza is just an all around badass sniper and she keeps Team Mustang afloat. Yeah, I think Riza wins for sure, but shout-out to Olivier’s sheer metal and audacity.

Most Epic Villain: Kimblee. Man wasn’t even involved in anything, he was just crazy, but in the most compelling way possible. He wasn’t random. He had some points. But he was just the incarnation of human apathy in a show about being driven by emotions and ambitions, and that was really interesting.

Pairing I am not a fan of: Uh, besides anything that ships the kiddos with the adults, or siblings together, I guess I’m not a big fan of Al x Mei or Greed x Ling as ships. I like the friend synergy but it doesn’t feel deep enough to be a ship I guess? That and Greed is an adult imo so that’s just... mmmm noooo

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Honestly? I can’t think of anything. Arakawa out there slaying.

Favourite Friendship: Now the friendship between Green and Ling is interesting. Greed’s the bad-influence big brother and Ling is the crafty young one that ends up teaching Greed how to have his cake and eat it too. They’re both on the same page low-key and they both use the other to learn how to care for people more? It’s just neat. The childhood friends dynamic of Ed, Al, and Winry is also nice. Like Al and Winry teaming up at Ed’s expense? Ed and Al being gremlings and Winry being responsible? Ed and Winry bantering and Al choosing sides at complete random? Classic.

Character I most identify with: Winry, probably. She’s just chilling, focusing on her interests, and her friends pop in with problems without warning and suddenly she’s got to deal with it, but she loves her friends greatly and she’s not about ribbing on them. I get it.

Character I wish I could be: Xiao-Mei. Oh, to be a smol panda, capable of rational thought but also not obligated to do anything. Jaws of steel. Can win fights and make grown men cry. Yeah.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #for the record I am talking about #fma:b/the manga #never actually seen 2003 #ask #ask game #anon #I need to do a full reread sometime #did a partial one for a college paper #but between two of my fics #I should probably get fresher material #yes I'll get back to everything to me one day #I just keep getting distracted

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queen--kenobi · 2 years

Text

Night Call

Story summary: It’s been a while since you’ve seen Thorn since he’s on a mission. He makes sure you aren’t left wanting, though.

Warnings: Heavily NSFT (m!masturbation, f!masturbation, phone/video sex, sex toys, cum eating)

Author’s note: @fett-djarin put this idea in my head, and I had to make this everyone else’s problem. This is a tie-in to Candy Girl since reader is referenced as “Kau’ra” a couple times

Your comm blinks from its place on your nightstand.

Hot air rushes from your fresher into your bedroom, keeping your back warm. You toss your towel into the laundry basket before heading over to your comm. The night cycle on Coruscant has started, and you were ready to collapse into bed. You still are. You swipe the comm off your nightstand and fall back into your covers and pillows.

Oh! You brighten visibly when you see it’s from Thorn. He’s been off-planet escorting some senator or other. It’s hard to talk to him. Between him being the main point for the senator, and the day cycles not matching up, the two of you are only able to grab stolen moments.

The comm is a simple message with an attachment linked to it.

Miss you Kau’ra ;)

Maker. You roll your eyes and let out an audible snort at the winking face. Despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Knowing him, it’s more to fuck with you, but it’s still in-character for him to send it seriously.

You settle back into bed and tap on the file.

The still it opens on is a view of Thorn’s black compression shorts.

Fuck. Your mouth goes dry. You can see the outline of his cock through the material. Beyond Thorn’s thick thighs, you can see he’s laying on a cot. It looks cheap and uncomfortable. For a second, you worry he might get caught. You realize he probably won’t; he should have his own tent. You hope.

You shift. A flare of arousal lazily curls itself through your insides. After a moment, you reach behind you and adjust the pillows so you’re more comfortable. It takes you a couple minutes to get comfortable. Once you’re settled, you press play.

At first, Thorn’s breathing greets you. It’s soft and rhythmic. The video seems to be from his helmet. Something about the audio makes it seem that way. He brings one of his hands down. He doesn’t go straight to the outline of his dick. Thorn trails his hand down past his navel, along the planes of his happy trail before finally stopping where you want him to. It’s a slow descent, one intended to make you squirm. You press your thighs together as you watch. Eventually, he presses his palm over dark fabric.

“I can’t...” A whine enters his voice for a second. His vocorder picks it up perfectly. You shift. “I want to hold out until I got back, but I- Fuck, I miss you.” He curls his palm some. His hips jolt at the added pressure. You can see the bulge grow a little bit. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. “Keep on thinking about you. Can’t keep you off my mind.”

Thorn starts palming himself over the fabric of his compression shorts now in earnest. It’s slow at first. He’s really out to tease you. Eventually, his movements become faster. For a second, you swear you can see the tip just underneath the waistband of his compression shorts.

You pause the holo. The heat building inside your body demands attention. The pressure of squeezing your legs together isn’t enough. You need more.

After a moment, you set your comm down and grab your favorite vibe. Bunching the baggy shirt, a stolen undershirt from Fox, to up just above your belly button gives you enough room to work. Carefully, you place the vibe over top of your panties. You don’t turn it on yet. Instead, you let the weight of it press into your clit, the sensation tighter because of the fabric between your body and the toy.

You press play again.

“I miss you. Miss your voice and your pussy. Maker, I keep on thinking about how you taste.” As he speaks, Thorn hooks his thumb in the waistband of the shorts. He starts to ease the fabric down past his hips slowly. You shift. The sound of your covers rustling feels so far away as you spread your legs more and press down on the vibe.

After a moment, Thorn stops. He lets out a sound of displeasure before shifting. Both hands come down to the waistband of his shorts, confirming what you thought all along. He’s absolutely recording this on his helmet. The knowledge sends a thrill through you. Your fingers hover over the button to turn the vibe on.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” Thorn confesses. He lifts his hips a little as he slides his boxer down. At first, you just see more hair until the fabric catches on the tip of his dick. Your breath catches in your throat. After a moment, he starts tugging his boxers all the way down.

Fuck. You can’t help your inhale when his dick is finally revealed. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, but this is the first time you’ve seen it over holo. He throbs, the tip nearly slapping against his belly. He’s leaking pre-cum already. You wish you were there, or at the very least this was a call. If it was a call, you could tell him what you wanted to do to him.

Instead, you have to settle for pressing the vibrator down harder. Thorn shifts. The view changes as he looks for something off to the side. He makes a small noise when he sees it. He plucks the bottle of lube out of the pocket.

The ‘snap’ of the cap seems so loud. He squirts some of the liquid onto his palm before rolling onto his back again. Thorn takes himself in hand. He pumps himself once, twice. You press the button on your vibrator. The sensation instantly makes your body thrum like a livewire. It takes you a minute to find the wherewithal to turn down the setting; this is something you want to take your time with and enjoy.

Thorn begins leisurely, as if he hadn’t sounded desperate for you already. The slick noise of him fucking up into his hand are obscene. He lets out a few quiet grunts. You feel yourself fluttering around nothing for a moment.

“You have no idea how much I wish you were here.” He keeps his helmet trained on what he’s doing to himself. “Can’t stop thinking about how I want to, ah, eat you out. Maybe have you suck me off at the same time.” He snaps his hips forward a little faster. You can’t help your grin. Oh, he likes the idea. “Could have you sit on my face. Can’t get enough of your pretty pussy, wanna drown in it.”

He tightens his grip around himself a little. You pause and wriggle out of your panties. It’s hard because you don’t want the vibrations to stop, but fuck, you need something more direct. You let out a hiss when you press your vibe down onto your fully exposed cunt now.

Yeah. Shit, yeah, that’s better. That’s a lot better.

“ ‘t’s not the same.” Thorn’s voice is almost a whine. “You’re so hot and wet and tight, fuck.” His head lolls back for a second. He pushes himself back up when he realizes you can’t see anymore. His pace is faster now, hips starting to push upwards more. The muscles in his thighs are more pronounced now.

“Wanna fuck you so bad. Keep on dreaming about you. What you feel like. What you smell like.” He lets out a breathless laugh. “Dreamt about you all last night. Swore I could smell your shampoo on my pillow one morning.”

You gasp. His words send a pulse of arousal through you, one that almost burns. You kick your legs out further, adjusting your vibrator so it's better placed against your clit. His movements are less fluid, bordering on desperate. His breathing is now harsher. You wonder. Could you see the cords in his neck stand-out? Would he whine if you dug your nails into his chest? How would the pre-cum leaking from his dick in a steady taste and feel on your tongue?

Maker above. For a second, you consider adding your fingers as well. Your desire feels like a live wire. You're almost starting to ache with how much you want. You want this. You want him. You want everything and more right now.

“Need you, Kau’ra.” He sounds so desperate. Every little noise, every word, sends an almost obscene pulse through your cunt. The vibe helps ease some of the empty feeling. You still want nothing more than to be split open on his cock. “I just- shit you have no idea how much... how much I miss you. Not just the sex but everything about you. I wanna...” He takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“I hope you’re touching yourself.” Thorn collects his thoughts. “Thinking about you getting off to me jacking off. Shit.” He lets out a hiss. His hand is moving up and down at a fast pace.

Thorn's pants and broken moans make your toes curl. He's clearly starting to lose himself to the feeling. The noises from him fucking his own hand is obscene. You can see his chest heave. His dick twitches, and fuck. You whine.

"I'm gonna..." Thorn's thighs flex and squeeze. His hips cant into his fist. On the other side of his body, you can see him digging his fingers into the cheap, threadbare sheet.

The sound he makes when he comes makes you clench your thighs together hard. Several spurts of cum hit his chest. His hips arch off the bed almost entirely.

The holo stays still for a second. The view suddenly shakes. Noises let you know Thorn's taking his bucket off. He sets it by his side. After a minute, he gingerly turns. Thorn looks into the lens and, keeping eye contact, swipes his fingers through the mess on his chest. Your mouth falls open as he dips his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean.

Thorn winks.

"Can't wait to be home." His tone is teasing but also earnest. It makes your heart flutter. “Miss you.”

The holo cuts there. Your head falls back onto the pillows. To say that was hot was an understatement. All sorts of thoughts start to run through your head, all kinds of ideas. Mostly ideas about what you’re going to do to him when he gets back.

Getting fucked silly is the least he deserves.

Tag list: @baba-fett @thefact0rygirl @ashotofspotchka @twistedstitcher27 @purgetrooperfox @rain-on-kamino @sainteredhood @rosmariner @nativeomega369 @sugarpuffsstuff @mavendeb @galaxyglittering @fennccshand @frietiemeloen @bucketbrigayd @boomtowngirl @dawdreygore @sarasxe @aerynwrites @madameminor @zazzysseoul @oastertoaster @grievouus @nyravioppri @spaceydragons @caitlynmarty @deewithani @rubytotherebellion @rexandechosandwich @ellichonkasaurusrex @snarwor @forget-me-goblin @iamacat01 @bucketbrigayd @kimageddon @seriowan @misogirl828 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @galacticgraffiti

#Commander Thorn x reader #NSFT #Fic: Candy Girl

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 3 years

Text

What I Want - Part 2

AO3 Link

Chapter Title: What I Need

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: Following the awkwardness of the night before, you go to an old friend to try and process your feelings for Crosshair.

Click here for Part 1

Warnings: 18+, a bit more frisky business but not full on so rated 18 just to be safe. Swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: You ask, you get!! Thanks so much for all the support and love for part 1 ❤️. As a thank you, I bring you part 2, I hope you enjoy! If this one takes off a bit as well, I do have an idea for a little bonus chapter around the Bad Batches' reaction. As always, feedback/comments are massively appreciated along with reblogs. Fic is below the cut off, thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @aerynwrites @shannon-lynn-21 @saltywintersoldat @tired-night-owl @wille-zarr

A comm alarm beeped softly, slowly pulling you out your slumber. Giving the device a sleepy glare, you shut it off and huffed back onto your bunk. Wrecker’s snores were echoing off the small ship barracks, you rolled your eyes at his sleeping form across the room as you swung your legs over the side of your top bunk. Below you, Tech slept soundly, he managed to fall asleep with his goggles on which were now sitting wonky on his relaxed face. He also had a datapad clutched to his chest, almost like a teddy bear, which made you chuckle to yourself.

You’d barely slept after getting back from the mission but being a General stopping over on Coruscant meant rest would be a pipe dream. Your alarm was set to get you out of bed and ready for the first of what you were sure would be a hundred and ten briefings today. You were always happy to shoulder the politics for the team, removing that burden from Hunter so they could keep to themselves. But today, you could really do without it.

You looked over at Hunter and Crosshair’s bunks, the former sleeping up top with an arm over his eyes. Probably to block out the few small coloured lights on the ship that shone from critical systems, preventing the room from being truly pitch black. You didn’t envy Hunter’s enhanced senses, they seemed to cause him quite a bit of discomfort when they weren’t on missions. You should probably pick him up an eye mask one of these days.

Below him, Crosshair slept with his back to the open room. One of the few times you ever saw his body relaxed was when he slept. You cringed as you remembered yesterday’s awkwardness with the sniper and mentally cursed at yourself for causing, what was, an easily avoidable situation.

Shaking your head you jumped silently off of your bunk, mindful to not wake any of the batch. You gently removed Tech’s goggles, placing them in their usual spot before moving over to grab some fresh robes and head for the fresher. Today was going to be a real drag.

—————————————————

“Hey! Look what the Lothcat dragged in” someone called after you as you trudged up the steps to the GAR Headquarters. You turned around to see none other than Anakin Skywalker jogging up behind you.

“Nice to see you too Skyguy” he chuckled at the nickname as he threw an arm around your shoulders.

You fell into companionable chatter as you made your way to your first meeting, the dark halls of the military headquarters looking indistinguishable as you attempted to find the correct room. Members of the Coruscant Guard patrolled the halls, nodding politely to you both as you strolled past.

Eventually you found the room where Mace, Plo and Luminara were waiting, along with some clone and human high command. You stood outside the door for a moment, readying yourself to seal your fate of being talked at for a solid eight standard hours.

Eventually you caved, mostly as you were on the verge of being late if you debated standing outside any longer. Begrudgingly, you sat through briefing after briefing. All the voices and different rooms blending into one grey blur as you tried to take in what information you could, but your tired and stressed mind was having none of it.

While it was nice to catch up with some of the other Jedi, you always felt a bit out of place among the perfect members of the council. More so now than ever.

You ended up wandering back to the temple with Anakin where you both retired to his room and you flopped down onto his simple bed with a whine.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been off all day” Anakin was the closest thing you had to a brother, you trained as Padawans together and due to your similar age you became fast friends. You knew about his marriage to Padme and decided that if you could offload your dilemma on anyone, it’d be him.

“I fucked up” you groaned out from behind your hands.

“What’d you do?” Anakin replied in a playful tone.

“I might’ve got a bit hot and heavy with one of the clones in my squad, led him on and then cut it off” Anakin raised an eyebrow at your confession. “And now he’s pissed at me”

“Why?” You weren’t entirely sure which part of that entire thing he was questioning.

“Because I started the whole thing, I wanted it. Then all of a sudden I did that whole guilty Jedi, must follow every word of the order thing, gave him some pathetic look which said really sorry I can’t have attachments mate, hope you understand. He called me out on it before I could even utter the banthashit excuse and then he stomped off and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“In his defence, seems like he was probably wound a little tight” Anakin replied with a chuckle which you just groaned at.

“He has every right to be pissed. Hells, I would be if the roles were reversed. Whats with this whole self-righteous act us Jedi have going on?”

“Look, it’s hard being a Jedi at the best of times. It takes an inhumane amount of self-control, which is why its not a path for the weak. But being a Jedi while at war… it’s a lot. You’re emotions are running high, you’re forming bonds with soldiers on the battlefield that you shouldn’t be, but none of us can help it because it’s uncharted territory. Maker knows I’d hunt down anyone who hurt Obi-Wan or my Captain. Yes, It’s not the Jedi way, but neither is fighting a grand-scale war.” Anakin’s eyes were alive with emotion as he spoke, be he quickly caught himself and then it was gone.

“My point is, don’t beat yourself up so much. No one is getting kicked out the order or in his case reconditioned if that’s what you’re worried about. Figure out what it is you want, and then just be discreet about it” you looked at Anakin like he’d grown two heads, he just winked at your confused stare.

“Okay let’s keep it simple. Are you attracted to him?” You thought back to the night before and firmly nodded in response.

“Do you like him as a person?” You pondered his question.

“Well, it’s Cross. I wasn’t sure if he even liked me for a long time. He’s closed off, anti-social, but he’s also a good guy, cares about his brothers, has saved my ass multiple times, and he is kinda funny in his own, snide way” you rattled off with fondness in your words.

“Well then I suggest you go and talk to him.” Anakin replied, giving you a knowing look when he spotted the small smile on your lips as you spoke about the sniper.

You took a deep breath, glad to have finally gotten that off your chest and feeling content that you now knew what to do next. “Thanks, Ani”

“Ugh please don’t call me that” he moaned back, apparently only Padme was allowed to get away with that one.

————————————————

Your walk back to the Marauder felt like it dragged on and on. Your brain ran over a thousand scenarios of what to say, how he’d react and you were about to short circuit. There was so much risk, so much possibility, that you did your best to shut your mind off and let yourself handle it in the moment. These things never went as planned anyway, it was best not to guess.

The large door to the ship hissed open, your boots clanking on the metal surface as you cautiously walked into your home. It didn’t take you long to find Crosshair, he was sat in the main hull methodically cleaning his hand blaster. Everyone else must’ve been asleep. He was just in his blacks, the material hugging him in the most wonderful way, it’s like whoever designed those things was trying to trip you up. The contours of his arm muscles flexing as he worked, his strong chest looked practically chiselled at the heart of his lean frame. You had to force yourself to calm down a little bit.

“Uh, hey” you greeted awkwardly. “Mind if I join you?”

You took his silence as a well he’s not saying no. He didn’t spare you a glance as you walked in and took a seat opposite him. As a General in the GAR, you rarely got nervous. War, as a concept, was simple. You knew your purpose, your objective, you had a job to get done and you’d do it. The risks never stopped you, rather they fuelled you. Probably why you’re such a good fit for the bad batch.

But this right now, personal feelings, not knowing where you stand with someone you care about. Because if you were honest, you really did care about Crosshair, the same as you did the rest of the team. You’d only been with the squad just under a year but you’d gladly lay down your life for any of them in a heartbeat. If you could at least get back to where you were before the other night, you’d be over the moon.

You weren’t used to being so nervous, you let your hands fiddle with you dark Jedi robes as you readied yourself to speak again.

“Look, I’m not here to throw some crap about being a Jedi at you, I promise. And I’m sorry for trying it before” he still didn’t look at you, finding his blaster much more interesting. But you could tell he was listening, you had his attention. Might as well keep babbling.

“In terms of an explanation for what happened yesterday, well I guess I panicked.” You sighed as you tried to find the next words “The way you made me feel that night, I… I’ve never felt like that before and everything i’d been taught over the years screamed at me that what I was doing was dangerous and wrong. I now realise that I’m just an idiot. I make my own decisions and I… uh -well, I stick by that one, starting something that is.” Still nothing.

“I know this is probably a long shot. But in the interest of being transparent” you rambled “uh… if you want to go down that road again, I’m up for seeing what happens, can be as casual as we like. I promise I won’t freak out on you again.” You chuckled and thought you almost spotted a slight pull in the corner of Crosshair’s lips “But if you want to go back to how we were before, I’d also really like that.” You watched him for a while as he gave no acknowledgement of your words, his cleaning finished as he now gave the weapon a once over in his hands. Having said everything you needed, you got up from your seat, looking away from him.

“Well, if I can do anything else, let me know” you turned on your heel to leave, feeling slightly defeated but glad you’d at least made the first step.

“I could think of a few things” he finally spoke as he leaned back into his seat and continued to stare at his blaster, still not meeting your gaze.

Well that caught your attention, you turned back around to face him as he carried on ignoring you. While his tone was unbothered as he spoke, you knew him just enough to know his words held a meaning. He was playing with you, back to his usual teasing and you could’ve laughed at the relief that washed over you. This you could work with. A cheeky idea popped into your head and you’d decided to run with it.

“Oh really?” Throwing caution to the wind, you strode over to the sniper slowly. His gaze finally meeting yours after all this time, watching you as you got closer and closer. Practically drawing you in with his amber eyes. You pushed him back by his chest, creating enough room so you could straddle his lap. “Care to elaborate?”

He huffed out a short laugh at your words, his face overall unbothered but his eyes, they were burning into you. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure it out”.

You hummed in response, deciding to kick things up a notch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your faces just breaths apart. “Something like this?” You asked, pausing for another second before bringing your lips to his in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. You felt his hands come up to rest on your back, pulling you closer as you continued your slow dance. This was so different from the other night, where before there was desperation and lust, now there was something more… tender, passionate. You were quite glad you weren’t standing as the way he moved against you would’ve definitely made your knees weak.

Dragging yourself away from his lips, you searched his face. His mouth pulled into a barely there smirk “That’s a start.”

“Who said I was finished?” And just like that, the last few strands of tension between you both snapped and you relaxed in his arms. You fisted your hands into the front of his blacks and pulled him back to you, his tongue slipped between your lips, curious and demanding. He was everywhere again, filling your nose with the scent of the standard cheap GAR soap but mixed with something earthy, something so distinctly Crosshair and you couldn’t get enough.

You could tell why the Jedi order frowned upon such activities, kissing Crosshair was intoxicating. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the handsome clone in front of you and just how much you wanted him in that moment.

His hands wandered lower and lower down you back until they rested comfortably on your backside, pulling you further up his lap. Feeling mischievous, you started trailing kisses along his jaw. Setting a teasing, languid pace as you mapped out the spots that made him squirm. Crosshair was never a man of many words, so you made it your mission to see just how vocal you could make him.

As your lips met his pulse point, he gave a loud exhale and you smirked in victory against his skin as you continued the onslaught on his senses. You definitely seemed to be doing something right as his hands found themselves in your hair, clutching slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you. Even while trying to gain the upper hand in the situation, he always had some control over you. It was maddening in the best way, setting your veins alight with desire.

Determined to get another victory you traced your tongue against the base of the side of his neck and trailed it all the way up to the bottom of his ear, which you teasingly took into your mouth, teeth grazing the soft skin. A strangled moan escaped the clone and that was the moment where you knew you were hopelessly and utterly gone. Your mind filled with nothing other than wanting to be closer to Crosshair.

“Not very Jedi of you” he commented, slightly breathless when you finally stopped teasing him and came back up to meet his eyes. Looking down at where your bodies were pressed against one another, you chuckled.

“What exactly about this situation led you to believe I was ever a model Jedi?” You smirked, though it was only visible for a second before his mouth was back on yours, devouring you as his hands greedily roamed your body.

You continued making out like teenagers for most of the evening, taking the time to explore each other, enjoying the closeness. Contentment settled over your body, almost as if this was were you were meant to be. If Crosshair’s arms were where you belonged, well, you could think of worse places to be.

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Sword and Shield

Part 1: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/652827986465275904/sword-and-shield

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on.

Warnings: Only some mentions of war, otherwise have at it!

2: Familiarity

You took in a deep breath, then slipped off your bag and set it down on the ground. Turning, you looked pleadingly to Rex, who decided to help you out behind his hidden smirk.

He held out his hand to you. “Permission to Transfer?” he asked the initial question to begin the Transference.

You took his hand readily. “Transfer Granted,” you said quietly, feeling that familiar tightness in your gut as the process began.

“Blaster,” Rex’s voice became a sharp command.

Almost without thinking, used to the process, you allowed the sensation of your cells shifting to complete their movement. With an odd sort of sucking sensation, you closed your eyes and Transferred.

Startled noises made you open your eyes to note your point of view from right above the blaster now held in Rex’s hand. The Transference had been completed successfully. Rex spun the blaster, using the Bond you’d forged between you and him to request a switch of weapons. You morphed the weapon in his hands into an IWS, hefting it in his hands. Another request as he swung his arm behind him, feet shifting in practiced movements to reveal that you’d Shifted into a giant scythe. One more request, and Rex straightened to hold out a Vibro-shiv in his hand.

“Hence why she’s called Shiv,” Rex remarked somewhat dryly, flipping the shiv in his hands.

You let a silhouette of your head, shoulders, arms, and torso materialize over Rex’s shoulder. It was a method of easy communication with others and a way to reveal your presence a little more visibly than just through a mental Bond with a Handler.

Rex nodded at you. “Bond Dissolution,” he said, allowing you to begin the Dissolution of the Transference. He tossed the Shiv, allowing your body to replace the weapon before it even hit the floor.

You shook your head a little to reorient yourself. Reaching down, you picked your bag back up. “I’ve been working with Commander Rex and the 501st for a while, but it’s a bit difficult to work with a large force and manage being passed from one person to another. Being a living weapon requires not only an intimidate knowledge of the weapons themselves but also a close working relationship with a tight-knit group in order to cater to their own individual strengths and preferences,” you explained, reaching up to rub your eye briefly. Your vision always felt a bit... off, after a Transference.

“She’s been stretched thin trying to understand and learn the fighting patterns and preferences of the entire 501st, and limiting her usage to just a few isn’t exactly the best scenario for an entire squadron’s unity,” Rex said, picking up your thread. “I thought putting her in an already-established, smaller, special-forces group would perhaps be best for increasing her effectiveness and bringing her to her best. It’s a commitment, but I’d appreciate it if you gave it a try.”

“Whoa, that’s super cool!” The large one bellowed, giving you an exhilarated grin.

A little startled, you gave him a shy smile. “Th-thanks.”

The others seemed to glance at each other almost in a non-verbal conversation, but seemed to come to a pretty swift agreement. The tattooed one turned to Rex.

“Since you’re recommending it, Commander, I suppose we’ll give it a go. Our next mission has been assigned tomorrow morning, so if she decides to join, she’ll have to probably move into the ship tonight.” He glanced at you.

Rex nodded. “Thank you for giving it a try. What do you think, Shiv?” He turned to you.

You nodded. “Of course, Commander,” you murmured, stomach flipping a little. After so long, it was actually happening. You were going to be transferred to a special ops group.

Rex nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Go and pack your things, Shiv. I’ll get the transfer settled and let the General know.”

You nodded, then turned to the group. “Um, should I just come back here? It shouldn’t take me long to pack,” you asked timidly.

The leader nodded at you. “We’ll be right here. I’m Sergeant Hunter, if you need to ask for me.”

“Oh, right! Name’s Wrecker!” The burly guy said with a wave.

You had to smile, waving back.

“I’m Tech,” the one with glasses introduced, adjusting his goggles.

“Crosshair,” the white-haired one grunted, seemingly disinterested in the whole affair. Though, he did glance at you.

“Thank you. I’ll be back,” you promised, looking to Rex.

He dismissed you with a nod, and you headed back to your bunk.

Sinking down onto the bunk, you stared down at your trembling fingers. You hadn’t even realized how nervous you’d really been until it was all said and done. Shaking your head, you dropped your head into your hands and tried to work through the muck of feelings that stuck in your chest.

You were... scared. Excited. Apprehensive. Curious. Nervous. Glad. Sad.

“Yo Shiv- hey, what’s wrong?”

You started, looking up to see Fives and Kix approaching your bunk. You gave them a bit of a sad smile, looking down at your hands now clasped in your lap.

“It’s... it’s finally happened,” you whispered, trying to wrap your own mind around it.

“Happened? Wha-“ Kix paused, eyes widening. “Wait, are you getting transferred?”

You nodded shakily. “Y-yeah.”

Fives slung his arm around your shoulders. “Well. Congrats, Shivvie!” he tried to cheer, but it came out a bit sadly.

You smiled up at both of them. “I’m gonna miss you guys, you know,” you said with a light laugh.

Kix sighed. “We’re gonna miss you too, Shiv. But I’m guessing that since this opportunity is one that you’re taking, so it must be good, right?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah... yeah, it’s... it’s a good one,” you admitted. “I’m- I’m joining Clone Force 99.”

“Whoa,” Fives blurted. “You’re joining the Bad Batch? That’s great for you, Shiv! I heard they’re weird but pretty good at what they do,” he said, clearly impressed. “I mean, Commander Rex helped create that force.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I...” Still, you had to let your shoulders slump a little. “I... I hope it goes well.”

“You’re gonna knock em dead, Shiv,” Kix encouraged, patting your shoulder. “We’re gonna miss you, but you have our commlinks. Come and get drinks with us at the 79s whenever you stop by for a break or something.”

You nodded, smiling up at both of them. You’d miss their company, no matter what happened. Kix and Fives had really been your pillars of support throughout your time with the 501st, and you’d really supported each other through... well, the Battle of Lola Sayu.

With a sigh, you looked around. “I have to pack. I have to get to the ship by tonight.”

“We’ll help you out,” Fives offered immediately, standing.

You shook your head at him. “Thanks, but... you mind just telling the others I’d like to say bye? If they’re around? I kinda... I need some headspace,” you admitted.

Kix nodded, grabbing Fives’ arm to keep him from protesting. “Got it, Shiv. We’ll send ‘em over. Good luck!”

You waved, biting back tears as you tried to smile.

New beginnings, after all, usually meant leaving something behind.

Taking a breath, you headed into Hangar Bay Six again. You’d said goodbye to the rest of the 501st, promising to keep in touch when possible and wishing them the best of luck. They’d been sad to see you go, but they’d all been encouraging and hopeful.

After all, you reflected, they were the ones who knew the difficulties you all faced working together. They’d seen how thin you’d been spread trying to accommodate and learn to work intimately with all of them.

Walking up to the Havoc Marauder, you headed up the ramp with your bags. “Hello?” you called uncertainly at the mouth of the ship, not wanting to just barge in.

Hunter rounded the corner, nodding to you. “Welcome aboard. Your quarters are just down here,” he said, heading down the corridor.

You followed him, glancing around at the ship in order to get familiar with the layout. It was a pretty standard ship by all accounts, so you figured you wouldn’t find it too hard to learn where things were. You followed as he ducked into a room, the door sliding open.

The room itself wasn’t too bad, a bit small but that was to be expected. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d asked you to share quarters, so it slightly surprised you that they gave you your own personal quarter. A small fresher was tucked into the corner, though it only had a sink and a toilet.

“The showers are down the hall, they’re shared.” Hunter jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

You just smiled, setting your bags down on the bunk. “Thank you. I honestly kinda expected having to share quarters. This is really nice,” you said honestly.

He blinked at you. “You shared bunks with the 501st?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything else. “Feel free to get comfortable. You can look around the ship and get used to it whenever you want. The galley is on the other side of the ship, and everyone’s quarters are on this side.”

You nodded, belatedly realizing that he didn’t even stop to see your reaction before ducking back through the door and walking off. With a glance around, you decided to unpack. This would be your home for a while, after all. Might as well make the best of it.

After looking around the ship and getting familiar with it, you found yourself wandering into what seemed to be a common, shared space. You’d taken your mug to the galley and made some caf, stowing away some of your own tea paraphernalia in an empty shelf out of the way.

Tech sat in the room, going through datapads in his own corner. He looked up, observing you through his goggles with a blink.

You gave him a hesitant smile. “Um, do you mind if I sit?”

He blinked, then nodded. “Oh, sure. Anyone can come in here, it’s a common room,” he said, motioning to the seats that were scattered around. “Oh, uh... Hunter said to give you the rundown, by the way.”

You crossed the room, sitting in a chair close to him. “Rundown?” you asked, setting your mug down.

He handed you a datapad. “This is the data I’ve gathered and compiled about Force 99. I thought it might be useful to you since you said you need to work closely with a group, and I’ve been meaning to create a profile for a while now anyway so it was a good excuse,” he seemed to be babbling a bit, reaching up to adjust his goggles and avoiding direct eye contact with you.

You glanced down at the display screen to see Hunter’s name at the top, a chunk of material following it.

Tech was still rambling on, fiddling with another datapad. “I mean, I know we’re also supposed to get to know you, but I guessed that letting you know about all of our desired mutations and details about our weapons preferences might be a good way to start, you know? Since you also said you’re a weapons expert, I mean. I added some footage of our missions as well for reference and all, since I tend to record most of them.”

You smiled, deciding to cut in and stop his nervous rambling. “Thank you so much, Tech. Oh, is it okay if I call you that?”

He blinked, looking at you briefly. “Oh, sure. I mean, it’s my name. Uh, what should I-?”

You laughed a little, tucking your feet up onto the chair. “You can either call me (Name) or Shiv, I like and answer to both.” You pulled out your own datapad. “Do you mind if I transfer this data to my own pad? That way I can make notes without stealing yours.”

He nodded. “Oh, sure, of course. The information was compiled for you, anyway.”

“Thank you, Tech,” you said again, touched that he’d gone that far. “I appreciate it, a lot. It’ll really help me try to integrate myself in the best way.” You gave him a smile.

He hesitantly nodded, taking back the datapad from you after you’d finished transferring the files.

You quickly lost yourself in the wealth of information, making notes and highlighting some key characteristics that you noted in the files. Tech had really done an immaculate job, considering that you’d been an unexpected arrival and addition to the group. As you continued learning more about the group, you began to understand why they were nicknamed the “Bad Batch” by the others. It barely irked you, though you knew that the premise of the whole name was rather... derogatory.

You’d already been treated much like a clone for most of your life, anyway. You’d been born a weapon, a tool, nothing but cannon fodder ever since this war had even started. Here you were, at twenty-something years old, and all you remembered was a life of surviving, living, fighting, and forcing yourself to be a tool.

The clones had welcomed you in, had given you a sense of camaraderie, understanding, and family. You’d found a sense of purpose despite your status as an outcast. And the more you read about the Bad Batch, the more you found yourself understanding why Rex might have specifically considered this particular group to assign you to.

You completely lost track of time, going over the information and committing it to memory, taking time to make meticulous notes about their weaponry. You only stopped once you’d gone through the written information, turning to Tech.

“Excuse me, Tech.”

Starting, he looked up at you owlishly as though he’d forgotten you even existed in the same room. “Oh- y-yes?”

“Is there a holodeck I can link to? So I can get a closer analysis of the footage?” you asked, motioning to the datapad.

“Oh, right!” He shuffled over to the other side of the room, grabbed a holoscreen, and handed it over. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” You gave him a fleeting smile, then hooked up the datapad to the holoscreen display. Putting the footage on complete mute, you began to scrutinize it frame by frame, expanding some scenes and rotating the screens to get a different vantage point. You did notice that sometimes it was harder to catch Crosshair’s movements since he was, after all, a sniper, but you did manage to isolate quite a few moments of his meticulous shots and get a bead on his location and vantage points.

You were so immersed in examining the footage, highlighting reels, and going through your well-versed motions that the feeling of someone tapping your shoulder well and truly took you off-guard. You instantly froze, eyes narrowing as your awareness instantly honed in on your surroundings. It only took half a second to recall where exactly you were, and you shook yourself with a sharp inhale.

You turned to the person who had tapped you. “Sorry-“

Hunter observed you with a piercing look. “Why did you freeze?” He demanded.

You blinked, mouth opening, scrambling for an answer. “Um- I lost track of my surroundings and had to regroup myself, Sergeant,” you found yourself answering almost mechanically, the tone of his voice forcing an answer from your conditioned mind.

“Why would you freeze? Why wouldn’t you immediately react in order to assess a threat?” Hunter asked ruthlessly, crossing his arms.

The question felt oddly familiar. It didn’t take much for you to find an answer. “As a weapon, sir, my first reactions are necessarily different from most other people,” you said quietly, heart pounding in your chest. It didn’t help that you now knew that his enhanced senses most likely heard it. “If I were to immediately react, I would end up thoughtlessly killing the person or object that had surprised me.” You swallowed, looking down at your feet. “I learned my mistakes the hard way, by completely destroying everything and everyone within five meters of me.”

A silence fell in the room, while you ruthlessly tried to push away the memories that loomed at the edge of your mind.

Hunter finally spoke. “Understood.” He cleared his throat. “I... apologize.”

You looked up, eyes widening. “N-no need to apologize, Sergeant. You should know, especially since I-I’m supposed to be working with you.”

He nodded, then glanced behind you at the frozen footage. “I see that Tech has given you the files he compiled.”

You started, then turned around and scooped up the datapad. “Yes sir, I’ve been going over the information and trying to compile all the necessary information I can before the- the mission tomorrow,” you explained hurriedly.

He nodded. “I appreciate the dedication. You’ve been here for four chrons. You might want to get some food.”

You stared down at the clock on the datapad, realizing that it really had been hours since you started. Reaching up, you dragged a hand through your hair a little ruefully.

“Thank you.” You gave Hunter a sheepish smile. “I probably should. I tend to... get lost in my work.”

He nodded, then wordlessly stepped back out of the room.

Tech glanced at you, still working on his own stuff.

You sighed and set down the datapad, turning to Tech. “I should go get myself something to eat. Can I bring you something, Tech?” you offered.

He looked up at you. “Oh- that’s- I mean, you don’t have to, I-“

You just quirked him a smile. “You’ve been here the whole time, too. I’ll go get us both something to eat.” Giving him a wave, you headed out to go find the galley and something to eat.

You poked around the available ingredients in the galley before deciding on a quick but filling dish, whipping up enough for everyone. Hesitating after you finished cleaning up, you decided to at least try. Leaving two portions on the counter, you grabbed scrap paper and scribbled Crosshair’s and Wrecker’s names on them. Leaving them for the other two to find, you grabbed the other three portions and headed back to the common room.

Setting down the bowls, you handed one to Tech. “Nothing fancy, but it should go down easy,” you laughed a little.

He took it, surprise flickering over his face. “Th-thanks.”

You nodded, then grabbed another portion. “I’ll be right back.” Leaving your own bowl on the table, you went to go find Hunter. You found him in the cockpit after ten minutes of searching, making him look up as you approached the doorway.

You gave him a hesitant smile, holding out the bowl. “Um, maybe you’ve already eaten but... I made some for everyone, if you’re... hungry,” you said, trailing off and starting to second-guess yourself. What if he didn’t like that kind of food, or thought you had some sort of ulterior motive? What if-

But after staring at your for half a minute, he got up and approached, almost gingerly taking the bowl from you. “Thanks,” he said.

You nodded and skittered away, barely waiting to see his response or hear anything else. Mortified, you paused in the hallway and clapped your hands to your cheeks, shaking yourself. It was fine. You didn’t have to be thatnervous, honestly. It wasn’t like you’d done something ridiculous, just offered him some food is all. It was normal. Completely normal. Right?

You decided to return to your spot and drown your embarrassment in your research again. After all, you did have good motivation. Tomorrow morning would be your first mission.

#The bad batch #tbb #star wars #Clone wars #the clone wars #sw #my writing #x reader #crosshair #echo #tech #wrecker #hunter #the bad batch x reader #Writing #my fic #fanfic

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joshslater · 4 years

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Almost Frozen

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Suddenly everything stopped. Literally stopped. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. At the back of my mind the small monkey brain was freaking out, screaming at the bigger brain that can handle complex issues and unforeseen novel events to get its fucking act together and continue exhaling. As scared as the big brain was, the small brain told it to be scared, it was also fascinated by the hovering bird in front of me in the distance. Not flying, but hanging still in the air, immovable with its wings frozen solid in a downward wing motion. There was also none of that feeling of running out of air, that buildup of carbon dioxide in the body if you don't exhale.

It was like being stuck in one of Einstein's thought experiments, his Gedankenexperiments. I couldn't move at all, even my eyes were fixated straight ahead towards the small ice cream hut just opposite of the road that acts as a barrier between the beach and the overpriced beach apartments. It made sense that I couldn't hear anything. Even if the air wasn't frozen the parts of my ear that could register it wouldn't be able to move. Given the bird ahead of me I doubt anything was moving. But I could still think, and leaving Descarte's musings for a less stressful time, it did mean that electricity was still flowing. Unless the philosophers arguing that consciousness was a different property altogether, not bound to the material world were correct after all. But to bring us back to the Gedankenexperiment I could also see, which means light waves are still moving and receptors in the eye are still registering them and sending signals to the brain. Or is there some chemistry involved in sight? I couldn't remember that much physiology. I could still feel the heat of the summer sun on my body. Perhaps someone just stopped the simulation we are all living in, and the subroutine for my consciousness for some reason wasn't halted. Man, it would suck to be stuck like this for...

Suddenly something went past me, interrupting my train of thoughts. "Hunted! Flee!" monkey brain shouted, unsuccessfully trying to engage fight or flight mode in the autonomic nervous system. Raise heart rate. Dilate pupils. Rerouting blood. Tensing muscles. Pump out adrenaline. None of it worked.

I could feel the sun being blocked out. Someone, something, was standing next to me. Something just outside my peripheral vision. Or was there something there I hadn't seen before. Hard to tell. So far in my 23 years my eyes have always been able to move in the direction of peripheral movement to get a better look. Not so now.

When all the clothes disappeared it wasn't a tactile experience. Apparently and quite logically the sense of touch didn't work, but I could feel the sun hitting me even harder. The lack of any sensation for what must have been minutes by then made the next thing even worse, though it would probably be pretty bad on its own. Bone-crushing pain all over the body hit at once. I couldn't scream or flinch or anything, just stand there motionless in agony. Perhaps not motionless. Somehow my vantage point was shifting, as if I was gaining height. Then came a sharp pain, like a bad headache. I twisted in pain and shouted out "fucking hell".

Some of the nearest sunbathers looked my way to see what was up, but quickly resumed whatever they were doing since I was just standing there. Everything was moving as if nothing had happened. As if nothing had just changed dramatically. But looking down I didn't see my Damian T-shirt, or even my pasty old body, but a meticulously sculpted, smooth, and evenly tanned body. "Fucking hell," I said again, but this time under my breath. This was like one of those events from the Bible where Jesus does magic tricks, but without Jesus. I turned to walk back to Simon. Would he freak out? Would he even recognize me? We've been roommates for like two years, but I don't know what I look like now.

"Hey, airhead! Where's the ice cream?" So he did recognize me, but he doesn't appear upset. I touched my head, why I don't know, and find a snapback. That's new. "Bro, do I look different?" Simon changed expression from annoyed to... what? Concerned and smiling? No, that’s not it. He got up from the beach towel and stepped towards me. He looked better than just minutes earlier. Just small changes though. A bit more toned perhaps. Fresher haircut. "Honey, you're an annoyingly good-looking beefcake as always. The ice cream is well within your macros. Don't worry. I keep track, as always." He planted a kiss on my mouth and got back on the towel and continued to read his book. Why did he kiss me? And come to think of it, why was he wearing my Damian T-shirt. No, Debian it says. Fuck. It felt like pulling memories out of mole asses. I know macros are the stuff in food you should eat enough of. But not too enough. I couldn't think of anything I knew about Damain. Debian. Whatever. I know I should. It's my job, isn't it? It's not the stuff with music and porn in. I know that much at least. That's the Google. "Do we fuck?" "Not before you've bought the ice cream."

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hannaswritingblog · 3 years

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Imagine: studying together with young Remus Lupin

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders era]

Requested by anon (x/x)

A/N: I don’t know why my instinct was to try and make this romantic. I tried to remember the request didn’t imply it straightforward so spoiler: it’s as neutral as it gets and I think to decide if the romance hint is there is mostly up to you. (It definitely didn’t help that I low-key have a crush on Lupin, although more on professor!Lupin, but nevermind.) Anyway, it’s one of my longer works here so far (at least in terms of a gif imagine), but I hope, as always, that you’ll enjoy it.

After spending a solid half an hour roaming around Hogwarts and looking for Remus, you decide to check in the library. Right when you enter the room, you see him sitting by one of the tables.

‘Here you are!’ you exclaim, taking the seat next to him. ‘I looked for you everywhere.’

‘Sorry... I was sure we decided to meet here.’

You try to remember the last conversation you had with him, the one where he asked you to study together. The longer you think, the more you believe he might have actually mentioned he would be waiting for you in the library. Despite having difficulties to admit to your wrongs most of the time, you can’t do it with Remus.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ you answer. ‘Of course we were supposed to meet here.’

You see a shy smile appear on his lips. It tends to be hard to get him to smile, especially that you still don’t know each other that well, so you appreciate that your words managed to put this small yet so nice change on his face. But making him self-conscious about it doesn’t feel like a good move, so instead of commenting on his smile, you get to the point:

‘So, what do you need me to study with you?’

‘Um... I need to prepare for History of Magic O.W.L exam, but I can’t remember anything, even when I actually try and study. I know from Lily Evans that you’re interested in History of Magic, that’s why I thought I could ask you for help.’

It was a bit of a flex to say you’re interested in History of Magic, but in opposition to most students, you rarely have trouble focusing in class. You probably mentioned it to Lily one day, but you didn’t expect it to turn into a rumor that would reach any other student in your year.

Since you weren’t sure before what Remus wanted to study and didn’t want to carry too many of them around the castle, you don’t have any textbooks on you. Luckily, he has thought about that.

‘So, how about we go through the book and I read excerpts I find the most important to you, and from time to time I’ll check if you remember anything?’ you propose, taking the book from him. ‘Hearing a fresher voice reading to you might help you focus.’

‘I like this idea,’ he agrees. ‘Let’s do it.’

Given how anxious he seemed about the exam, studying together goes surprisingly well. Remus remembers all the dates and names you ask him about in short revisions, even when you’re trying to trick him and go a huge chunks of material back or mention the things you haven’t gone through yet.

Before you realise, the afternoon becomes the evening. You two agree to meet for a study session the next day.

‘Tell me, Remus... Do you really need to study with me?’ you question him as you’re leaving the library. ‘You did so well today, I feel like you should be the one to teach me.’

‘Okay, you got me,’ he admits. ‘Once I focus, it’s not that hard for me to study History of Magic on my own, and I did some studying before we met here today. But... you’re nice, Y/N, and I wanted to spend some time with you.’

You’re trying not to show it, but his words flatter you.

‘You know you could’ve just told me you want to hang out?’ you say. ‘We would do anything else instead of studying then, something more interesting.’

‘With you, even studying is interesting,’ he says and winks at you, ‘and I felt I needed a revision. But we can find something better to do on the weekend. I believe there’s the Hogsmeade weekend trip this Saturday.’

‘Yes, it might be. I’ll join you with pleasure.’

He nods and gives you a wide smile goodbye, warming your heart for the rest of the night.

#Hanna's writing #hannaswritingblog #fanfiction #imagine #gif imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #young remus lupin #the marauders #marauders era #remus lupin x reader #gender neutral reader #requested #anon request

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foilfreak · 3 years

Text

BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

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spc4eva · 4 years

Text

Star-Burned: Chapter Four

Wordcount: 10,570

Rating: M (18+) for smut

Masterlist

Crossposted on AO3

They were burning it. They were burning your farm.

Bound and gagged, you had to watch as the two generations of work was being obliterated at the hands of the Empire. Tears ran down your nose, not noise escaping you as you shook on the ground, heat curling off the back of your neck, sweltering and making you swoon. Sorrow, fear, misery, agony. Your greenhouse, the water vaporators -- so much wasted. What was the point? Why would they just burn it? Destroying evidence. Smoting your existence as if it'd never been there, as if you'd never made memories here and grown up in that house. You didn't have much, but all your holobooks, your stupid rock collection, and your clothes were in there. Most of the clothes were just coveralls, but they were still yours.

It wasn't the material things you sobbed over. No, it was deeper than that. You'd done so many things here and it was all you'd ever known. Now it was ash in the wind, nothing going to remain other than the steel that wasn't burned out, standing as a gloomy sentinel to hint at the atrocity committed. And why? Because you had been kind to someone, healed them, taken care of them... and where was he? He'd said he would be right behind you and now you were beginning to doubt that. What if he'd seen the mess and decided that you weren't worth it? He was still hurt, so you didn't blame him for not wanting to fight five people at once.

Your heart ached, because you thought that... with all that you'd shared, the fact that he'd taken his helmet off... maybe it wasn't that special. Who cared about you? He knew that you were alone and you'd fixed his ship up for him. He was gonna leave and you'd fallen for all his sweet words. Mandalorians killed for a living, he wasn't going to care if you were just another amongst his tally. You had probably been the biggest sucker of them all. Healing him, feeding him, helping him to the fresher, giving him everything you had --- even your body, maybe even a little bit of your heart too. And for what? Fire and death?

"Ready to tell us where he is?" the death trooper bent down in front of you as you wept in the dirt.

"Fuck you," you sniveled. Everything was gone. You gained nothing out of turning him in.

"Maybe later," he stood back up and you shuddered at the thought.

"Hey, looks like we've got movement up ahead."

You jerked your head up, neck aching and cheeks definitely bruised from where you'd been slapped. Narrowing your watering eyes through the smoke you thought you saw... a dewback? What the kriff. The creature rumbled, upset by the fire and smoke, threatening to charge.

"What do we do?" the white stormtroopers were looking for direction.

"Well shoot it!" the black one exclaimed as if it were obvious.

You got to see the truly unimpressive shooting ability of stormtroopers in action. Dewbacks had thick skin, so all they were doing was agitating it. And then -- fire was returned. What!? How was a dewback shooting? How -- oh, it wasn't the dewback. Even through the haze, the opponent shot back with stellar precision, striking down the two troopers to the left before the dewback reared and charged. Trundling forward, the death trooper tried to square off with it before leaping out of the way. White hot flames ignited, followed by a hissing wine as the death trooper was flung several feet back. The dewback hadn't hit it, but someone else had.

Flames beating high behind you, so searing that you thought you were being burned by the inferno, the dark blue armor appeared almost black in the manic illumination. The trooper was back on their feet, blaster in hand as they began pacing circles with the opposing Mandalorian. You were mildly delirious and uncertain if what you saw was actually happening pace for pace.

This wasn’t a normal death trooper. Paz knew it as he matched the strides, ignoring the other two stormtroopers who were trying to deal with the rampaging dewback. He’d heard of this from his sister, that there were Mandalorians who had switched to the Empire’s side to be paid for their work, despite the fact that the Empire had gutted Mandalore and slaughtered many vod. Now, in the feral line of his opponent, he knew instantly that this masked fiend had once been a vod in the precise manner they moved. But he was in dark plastoid, not beskar’gam. And Paz still overstepped him by more than a head.

The smoke continued to churn forward in a dark cloud and he was wasting time while you choked on the ground. He drove forward, the death trooper knocking aside the muzzle of the rifle before it could find him. The pistol flashed in the mad light of the fire, but Paz’s left hand snapped out gripping the arm of the trooper as he fired, the bolt pinging uselessly off his armor. Had he been a second later, it might’ve struck between the protection of his beskar. Before the trooper could disengage with a well planted kick, Paz twisted, the dominant hand of the Imp making a sickening crack. Dancing backward, the trooper grunted and gripped the broken wrist, blaster having fallen from his fingers in the scuffle.

Ripping a vibro-blade out, his bad wrist was pinned to his chest as he levied it. “Are you ready to go to Manda?” the trooper taunted.

Even between the curling fronds of his fury, Paz managed to laugh spitefully. “At least I’ll be going there one day. You’ll never walk amongst those halls, dar’manda. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Any Mandalorian who’d chosen the Empire over their own was weak. Paz thought the man in front of him was chuckle worthy as he leveled a blade, as if he’d have the skill to plant it before he was gunned down. He only knew one person who could pose such a threat to him and she loathed the Empire.

The two clashed, your eyes widening as you couldn’t make out between the smoke and carnage. But as you blinked through the bleary wet tears, eyes burning. A blaster bolt went off and you shifted, waiting for the haze to clear just as the other two stormtroopers broke around the edge of the dewback that had started its descent back into the canyon. Stepping through the haze was the dark, non reflective glare of beskar. You were already crying, but the tears were now of unadulterated relief that Paz had won the fight and not the death trooper. With your mouth gagged, you couldn’t warn him about the stormtroopers that were now lining up, taking a knee to begin firing at him.

Only one blaster bolt hit him and it bounced right off of his armor. Turning around, he gave them an unimpressed tilt of his helmet before leveling his pistol. The troopers tried again, but were taken down in a laughable fashion, as if they were stationary targets. Once he gave the scene another hard survey, Paz hurried over to you. "We have to go, Tranyc. We have to go-" he cut the bindings on your wrist and pulled the gag down. You were covered in dirt and soot, tear lines running gashes through the darkness on your face. "Stars, what did they do to you?"

You started crying again as his glove met the side of your sore face. "I-I wouldn't t-tell them-" you sobbed hoarsely. "I-I-I'm scared."

"Shh," he scooped underneath your arms. "Hold on tight. Close your eyes if you need to, but you have to hold on." Pressing you to his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clung as best you could, hooking legs to his hips despite the uncomfortable seat of his utility belt. His jetpack ignited again, the source of the white flames you'd seen through the smoke. The ground was spiraling away, your eyes dropping and you felt... nothing. Just watching the farm become a quavering light in the night, like a single candle's flame across a remote landscape.

He landed by the Kote, your limbs shaking from exhaustion and being utterly overwhelmed by the most action you'd ever seen in your decades. Wrapping both arms around you, he hurried into the ship, didn't deposit you, but took you up into the cockpit before starting the ship. Flipping switches, the engines starting, and continuing his ministrations as you pressed your face into the cowl of his cloak, trying to dab your tears that kept coming. He had come for you. All that doubt and he had come to save you. You didn't know if you should be happy or upset. He'd come too late to save your home, but he'd come.

Paz guided the ship out of the canyons and upward, breaking atmo without an afterthought. His skin was hot, rolling with primal fury as you clung to him, crying softly into the fabric of his flight suit. You'd done nothing to deserve this. But he couldn't stop right now. Not until the two of you were in hyperspace. It had taken the Empire weeks to catch up with him, but they'd managed to do it. Fuel was low, he'd need to make a pitstop and Tatooine was grudgingly close. Maker dammit, that was the last place he wanted to go. He charted the navigation and punched the hyperdrive. Fuel was fuel. That's all he'd stop for.

"Tranyc?" he entreated gently, prying you off enough that he could get a look at your soot stained face. He tried to rub some off, which made you flinch. No, that wasn't soot -- deep purple bruises were on your cheeks from where you'd been struck repeatedly. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a thousand yard stare, the shock of what had occurred glazing you over completely. "Darling, look at me."

You finally blinked, a few tear drops cascading as you glanced up toward his visor. The troopers had done this to you because of him. There was no other reason they would’ve bothered a farmer or beaten them. Not without orders to conduct interrogations. And you had defended him. People’s resolve crumbled for less, especially when their entire livelihood was on the line. Paz already hated the Empire for everything they’d taken, but the fire was rekindled anew. He was livid, looking down at your wet, bruised face, shame and guilt overwhelming him as he hadn’t gotten there soon enough to protect you. Just after promising you that you were safe with him, he’d let you walk into a den of wolves.

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner-"

"Where were you? I-I thought you weren't coming," your voice broke and your lips trembled. "I thought you'd left."

Hearing those words broke his heart, but how could he blame you? Paz hadn't realized anything was wrong, never thought it until he'd spent the better part of his day picking up around the ship, taking a shower, and running a few checks on the engine before stepping outside and noticing a hellish glow emanating from the upper echelons of the canyon. Smoothing your curls, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd lost them, I never thought they'd find me out here, let alone go after you. I should have been there. I should have never left you."

You nodded slowly and pressed your cheek against the beskar chestplate, the cold metal soothing to your ailing skin. What were you going to do now? Everything you'd owned was gone. "Why were they following you? You never gave me a straight answer, but I didn't think to go poking around..."

"The Imps attacked my covert after I helped one of my brothers escape with a baby that they wanted. Don't know much other than that, but I was one of few who escaped and they must think I know where said brother is," Paz explained. "Whatever they want with that child, it's part of something much bigger than I ever thought."

"One of those troopers... the black one... he said he was Mandalorian. But... he doesn't look like you," you pointed out.

"He was dar'manda. Maybe he was Mandalorian, raised that way, but he forsook his people to become a death trooper. Many death troopers are dar'manda. Looking for the easiest path with the least resistance, betraying our ways to make credits and be on the right side of the law."

"It's not the right side anyone. The New Republic rules now."

"Where was the New Republic when the Imps attacked you?"

You didn't have an answer, instead you sighed and closed your eyes. "It's all gone," you warbled miserably. Even innocent Jumbles was gone. "W-where do I even begin? I don't know anything about the galaxy. Just home. How to farm and stuff-" Your chest felt as if you'd taken a full on sucker punch and you whimpered in discontent.

"You can stay here. With me, Tranyc. As long as you need..." he drawled off. This wasn't how he'd wanted to convince you to come with him. He'd wanted it to be a choice, not because everything had been ripped out of your hands. "I won't leave you again. Not unless you ask me to. I promise.”

You had somewhere to stay and a person to take care of you. That felt like such a foreign concept. For so many years you'd taken care of yourself, carrying the burden of you solitude, and tending to your animals. The idea was queer, confusing, and in your mental state it made you scowl, mind filled with a thick fog that you couldn't see through. You had wanted to spend more time with him and part of you had also wanted to see other planets. Maybe one day you would have asked him to take you, once you had a better solution for the farm in the meantime, but it was gone. You were here now, leaving your dustball planet for the first time in your life and that petrified you. Because as much as you rolled with the punches in your day to day life, this amount of change was overwhelming.

Paz could tell you were on the brink of passing out from a combination of exhaustion and mental distress. Aside from going to your home planet when you were young, he doubted you'd been off of it since.

"I-" you started up again, trying to formulate your thoughts, but the ideas were evading you, running too far ahead for you to catch up and speak. "-don't want to be a burden."

Burden? You were worried about being a burden? Paz's lips tightened underneath his helmet and he stifled a sigh, rubbing circles on your lower back with his palm as he sank into the seat. "What do you want, mesh'la?"

You didn't know right now. Your wounds were still too fresh and deep to make a decision like that. It was such a broad question and honestly, too much for you to handle in that moment. "C-can I help you?" He had just saved your life. In that second, you'd entirely forgotten that you had done the same for him and that technically, this should have made you even. But you were accustomed to working all your life and without that rock solid foundation of regiment you found yourself losing more grip on reality. You couldn't just pitter around the ship or you'd find ways of letting the churning maelstrom of your darkest thoughts beginning to smother you. "Can't fight, b-but maybe I can do things? B-be your mechanic or somethin'?"

Work. You were asking to be put to work. The first bit of direction. You craved it. Everything except for the Mandalorian had come crashing down spectacularly and you were trying to find the first piece to begin rebuilding your foundation on. Work was the most logical place to start. Because you had to work for a living, to survive, and it wouldn't be any different because you were on a ship now. You needed a job for your own sanity.

"I could use a mechanic," Paz revealed, which made you perk up hopefully. "You said the Kote still needs some work. I can make that your job."

Your head was bobbing enthusiastically, hyperfocusing on the distraction from the trauma you'd just endured. Rapidly, you began considering what you remember being on the ship and what you'd require to be capable enough to fix it. "I'd need supplies," you comment, chewing your lip and paling as you realized you needed more than just work equipment. You had lost everything. "A-and stuff."

"Mm," he hummed in agreement, continuing to pet your hair. The sensation was soothing and you melted back against the cool beskar as you rattled out a long exhale. "We'll take care of everything. Maybe not on Tatooine. We'll need to make another stop on a more suitable planet after we fuel up. Why don't you make a list before we arrive?"

A list. You could manage that, but not right now. You didn't want to move right now. Sitting on a man clad in full armor shouldn't have been comfortable, but it was. And you were absolutely drained, face aching, and lungs burning from the smoke inhalation. "Ok," you mumble, clinging onto your Mandalorian as he rubbed you. You were lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest, swaying gently like the rocking of a boat on the ocean, reminded once again that you were safe. As long as he was around, you were safe.

---

He put you to sleep again and when you woke up, you were in one of his oversized shirts. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the chamber before getting up. It was cold. Why was it so cold? You grabbed the fluffiest blanket and drew it around your shoulders as you left the captain's quarters behind and stepped out into the hull. Mentally, you had it together a little bit better now, but with that came a soul crushing headache. You were thankful that the ship wasn't brightly lit, mostly just a few amber lights here and there that cast a dim ambiance across the shed.

You wouldn't call it a kitchenette, because that's not what was beside the table. It was more like a flip down hotpad, a caf machine inlaid on the side, a nozzle for potable water, and a little disposal unit for any trash. From helping rearrange the ship, you knew that the nearest drawers contained rations. Which at best, were meh. They were relatively tasteless ways of gaining the nutrients you needed. Sure, they came in flavors but mostly that was savory or sweet. The differences between something like chocolate or peanut butter were almost negligible.

You sat down, not really certain where you were going, but you plopped down on a pillow and just stared at the durasteel table. So... this was it now. You were the mechanic for a Mandalorian with nowhere else to go. You knew the other farmers around your home planet, but asking for boarding seemed like an incredibly ludicrous and cumbersome thing to do. You also didn't know if the Empire would attack your neighbors after what had happened on the farm if you tried to stay on planet. It was safer for everyone if you left.

Funny, you had wanted to have more time with him and your kriffing wish came true. Now you wouldn't be lonely! Your stomach rebelled at your poor attempt to be wry. This was not Paz's fault. From the sound of it, he had been helping his brother escape the Empire and your father had told you before that the Empire never needed a good reason to do terrible things. You'd brushed it off, believing that your dad was just being overdramatic. No one could be that awful. Right?

But they were and now you felt hopelessly adrift amongst an ocean of things you didn't know. You thought you knew how people reacted, but then again you'd only ever met nice people until the stormtroopers. You knew Tatooine was a skug hole. You knew that there was Hutt activity and slave trading there. See, you knew a great many things from reading and watching galactic news, but you'd never experienced any of it first hand.

Paz will protect you.

The very thought made you inhale and exhale at a normal pace. You rubbed your face, cheeks still stinging from where the death trooper had slapped you around. Slapped. Not punched, not kicked. He'd slapped you around and you'd been bruised pretty badly.

"Oh, you're awake," Paz stepped out of the cockpit with a datapad in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired still," you reveal wearily. "But it's more... mental."

He trotted over, sitting down beside you and pulling you into a warm embrace. Maker you had needed that, just the confirmation that you weren't alone through this. No words were needed. The display of comfort, his powerful arms carefully encircling you and hiding you from the galaxy... You sighed and pressed into him, uncertain why the small gesture was bringing you to tears. "Talk to me when you need to," he offered softly.

"I like this," you tell him, preferring the way he shielded you and the heat of his body chased away the cold. Oh, the cold. "Why is it freezing on this ship?"

"Hm?" he loosened his grip enough so that you could glance up at him. The two of you were close enough that you could kiss his helmet if you wanted to. "We're in hyperspace. Space itself is quite a bit colder than your home planet. Are you cold?"

You gave glance at your blanket, arching a brow at him to make a point. The silly twist of your lips made him laugh. "You're not cold?"

"No, but I'm used to this," Paz returned and you comprehended a little better. He was dressed from head to toe and had the additional layer of his beskar.

"You are warm," you grumble, pressing your face into the fabric of his flight suit. He was big, warm, and totally cuddlable and honestly, you were kind of a greedy bitch for his cuddles. The first taste you'd gotten nearly a week ago had set you up for disaster. At least all the tears you had spilled hadn't been over him leaving and one good thing had come out of all of this. But... you were working for him now. What did that mean for the two of you? Well, you were nearly on his lap right now, so clearly there wasn't too much to worry about, but you wondered if there were any logistics you should worry about. "And quite a bit? It never gets this cold in the canyons. Maybe not as hot as Tatooine, but we still orbited around two suns."

How the heck could a planet be so warm, but the space from one to another was this cold? You weren't an expert on planet stuff, just like you weren't a medic. Seems you had a lot to learn. "Tatooine," he muttered, fingers tightening around you subconsciously at the thought. "We just need fuel and then I plan to leave that awful place."

"I know the Hutts used to be pretty active there before the war. What's so awful about it?" you inquire curiously.

"You might not mind the climate, but it is very hot and dry there. And even with the fall of the Hutt syndicate, there's still remnant activity, slavers, and the overall atmosphere of the planet hasn't shifted much in light of the turn over to the New Republic. It's too far and not much worthwhile for them to chance coming out here just yet," Paz elaborated.

"Wow there's still slavers?" Again, another foreign concept to you. Of course you knew what slaves were, but you couldn't understand how people could do that. How they could treat someone as if they were dirt, less and baser than an animal.

"Not just on Tatooine. There are other places that still allow slavery. Technically, the New Republic has their own form of slavery for criminals. Most have to work in indentured servitude to pay off their crimes."

"But that's... different," paying off crimes and debts in exchange for hard labor seemed fair. Not being held against your will for being unlucky. "Are you wanted by the New Republic?"

"Don't think so," he shrugged. "I try to keep my bucket out of anything that has to deal with them. Fortunately for us, it's only the Empire."

"Yeah, fortunately," you drawl sarcastically, rolling your eyes, but his words make you smile. "So... what are we going to do once we fuel up?"

Paz had a good amount of time to consider this while you were resting. He had been contemplating his course of action and knew that returning to the covert might not be the best idea until the activity with the Empire had settled down. "I know a Guild Master on Dadrus," he began slowly. "The ship costs a decent amount to keep running. Until we're certain that the Empire isn't tailing us, we can't stay in one place for too long. My original plan was to return to my Tribe."

He had very briefly mentioned his people to you and part of you expected the secrecy surrounding them was for their own protection. But now... you felt as if you could ask. "What's it like... with you Tribe?"

"Comfortable. Home," he sighed wistfully.

Immediately your thoughts hitched and you stiffened. You'd not thought to ask it, but now you were really thinking about it. "Uhm... y-you don't have an-nyone-" Anyone that might be waiting for him like a partner or a wife. Would he have slept with you if that were the case? Honestly, you didn't know how Mandalorian culture worked and if that was allowed.

"Aside from the Foundlings that haunt my every step like an army of ghosts, no, mesh'la," he purred. "It's been a while for me too."

That was hard to believe given how dexterous and experienced he was in that field. But his words relaxed you, glad that you weren't homewrecking or expecting to stand toe to toe with another lover. You still didn't know what this was, but maybe it didn't need a tangible name or label. You were content in his arms right now. "So children like you?" You assumed that's what Foundlings were, sounded a lot like Younglings and your father used to refer to children -- of all races and species -- as Younglings.

Wasn't hard for you to imagine why children might like Paz. He was patient, a good teacher, and gentle when he needed to be. But he was also strong and... you thought back to how easy he'd made the fight between the five Imps look. The very death trooper that you'd been unable to writhe free from, he'd kicked to the ground using his jetpack as propulsion. Stormtroopers weren't known for the prowess in battle, but it had been more than you could handle. Easy enough for a Mandalorian.

"Well..." he pittered off, as if bragging a little bit was not suited for him. "I teach the Foundlings, so they are keen on me."

"I can see that," you murmur against his shoulder. "You're a very good teacher."

"You're just saying that."

"No, you were very thorough."

"Helps that you're an attentive student," he rumbled, pressing his helmet into the side of your face, the same type of kiss that he'd done before.

"You should teach me more... sometime," you suggest. "I'm a pretty poor shot and if I'm going to be running around with you, I should probably know how to shoot a blaster."

"Yes," his voice was quiet, barely picked up by the vocoder, crackling with static. "You should know how to shoot."

"I bet I'll get the hang of it in no time with you as my teacher," you gave him a big smile, earnest and bright. While you said these words, you also highly doubted it. Given how well you'd reacted in the face of danger last time, you knew you were just as likely to shoot yourself with a blaster as it fumbled through your sweaty fingers than actually be able to point it at someone with the intention of killing. But you liked the way he taught and it would give you more reason to steal his time over something he was very knowledgeable in. And... your intentions weren't completely innocent. You knew that subject was a bit of a turn on for him.

"Here," he cleared his throat, trying to blink away the haze of arousal that had blindsided him as your sweet smile. "Use this to draft up a list of what you need. After Tatooine I was thinking of bringing us to a supply stop before going to Dadrus."

"Where we going?" you inquired as you took the datapad. Maker, you were going to need everything. From toiletries, to clothes and underwear, shoes, proper attire that would keep you from freezing your tits off on this ship. Then there was also the question of how many tools you'd need.

"Dadrus is on the other side of the Outer Rim from here. I was thinking Gala would make a good stop before we arrive on Dadrus," at your clueless look, he continued. "It's a wealthy planet and under the rule of the Republic. There should be plenty of supplies and we shouldn't run into any issues while there. The Empire wouldn't show face on Gala."

"Why wouldn't we just wait on a planet that is governed by the New Republic then?" You point out.

"I'll attract unnecessary attention."

You hadn't thought of that. Mandalorians were not a dime a dozen and on a safe planet, people might grow incredibly wary of his linger presence. The New Republic may even question his intentions. They were typically bounty hunters, so it didn't make much sense for one to stick around in one place for a long time. "So... what if we go between planets that are New Republic?"

"Because the ship costs credits to run," he reminded you gently.

Ah, right and these planets weren't just going to top off the ship with fuel and supplies. Frowning slightly, you chewed your lip and nodded. Damn, there really was no easy way to manage this. You suppressed a sigh, turning your attention back to the datapad as you began drafted up what you'd need. "We should get real food too," you said out loud, not realizing that you might be rude in saying that. "I-I can cook it."

"I do like your food," Paz contemplated before nodding. A warm cozy feeling settled into your stomach at the compliment. "We might be able to find some salvageable food on Tatooine. It's going to take the better part of a fortnight to reach Gala once we leave the sector."

"Wow? Really?" You had no concept of space travel.

"Gala is hundreds of thousands of light years away. Requires navigating through a few different hyperlanes to get there. Even Tatooine takes the better part of a day to get to from your planet."

"Then we must almost be there," you realized.

"Few more hours," he confirmed. "Here, you should put a little more of this on. I applied it when you were sleeping for your cheeks-" he picked up a bottle on the table, which appeared to be a bacta lotion. You hadn't looked in a mirror since waking up... or since you'd taken a shower a couple days ago. But you didn't feel grimy, so you wondered if Paz had cleaned the soot and dirt off of you while you were a limp noodle. Accepting the bottle, you stood up, immediately feeling the cold of the ship press back around you as you headed over to the fresher to assess the damage.

Flicking the switch on, you had been correct in your assumptions. The ash was gone from your face and the blackened bruising had faded to a sickly yellow. Your cheeks were still raw, but the lotion had done a swift job of erasing the trauma. Still, your eyes were a bit puffy from all the crying you'd done, nose tinged red as if you had a cold. You felt like a kriffing mess, clutching that bottle and staring at yourself for a few long moments, finally blinking and shattering the spell that held you. Just put your foot forward as you'd done everyday on the farm. This was life now and you just had to accept the hand that fate had dealt you. Even if you were afraid, naive, and felt completely unprepared to start exploring the galaxy, you had Paz beside you and he knew what he was doing. He promised he'd never let anyone hurt you and you believed him. Not just because you were too kindhearted and gullible, but because he'd saved you and took care of you.

Opening the bottle, you lathered your cheeks, the tingling sensation tracing electricity over the bruises and numbing them. You distracted yourself by putting a little too much on, creating big circles of white on your cheeks, making a few faces in the mirror, earning yourself a giggle at how stupid you looked. Shooting. Paz was going to take your dopey ass shooting. Taking your elastic band off your wrist, you put it on your index finger and thumb, cocking it like a gun. Maybe you wouldn't be half bad with a professional guiding you. You made a bam motion in the mirror and the scrunchie flew off, ricocheting off the mirror and slapping you in the forehead. It didn't hurt, but you stumbled a few paces back in surprise. Crap, if that was any indication on how shit of a shot you were, Paz was in for a long day at the range.

---

Tatooine was hot. Way hotter than home. Like ten times hotter than home. Holy shit, why did Paz think you'd like this place? You could feel the suns glaring down at you with the full intention of giving you a sunburn. You'd not gotten a sunburn in years. Usually only your face and arms were bared, so you definitely had one heck of a farmer's tan, but you were feeling it coming on now with each second you stood roasting like bantha meat on a spit. Your hair was probably the worst thing about all of this. You tried to find a way to finagle it, because it was getting sweaty and damp on the back of your neck, but you only had one scrunchie and that was not enough to tie all that fluff into a bun.

So you suffered, flanking Paz as you started down the sand swept streets of Tatooine. People here dressed similarly to back home in robes in earthtones. There was a lot of haggling, bustling, and activity. What you picked up on immediately was the fact that people parted easily for you. Well, not for you, but for the Mandalorian. No one wanted to touch him as if they were afraid that he'd burn them if they so much as brushed by. He kept you close, hand hovering protectively by the small of your back, almost holding onto your belt. You weren't going to wander away, but you were very curious about everything around you with your eyes stretched wide.

You hadn't seen many other races aside from humans and Jawas, so getting to see Toydarians, Rodians, Dugs, and a motley of aliens was an absolute delight. Maybe Paz did need to hold onto you, because your legs had a mind of their own and you had never feared for walking somewhere unsafe before.

"Nope, this way," Paz guided you from the direction you had started to list toward, which was a shop of junk, mostly salvaged droids and parts. Not any of the more reasonable places on the strip that had things you might actually need.

"Where are we going? Is it inside? It's hot."

How was he not overheating in all that clothing? Did beskar have some secret high tech that allowed for him not to sweat his balls off? Hmm, you didn't think so, but also didn't know why he wasn't complaining.

"We're going to the range. The stations are in the shade," he told you, which was somewhat of a relief. The range? Thinking back to your battle with the scrunchie you grimaced a little. Dear Maker, you prayed, please, please, please don't let you make a fool of yourself. "Fueling up takes a few hours and there will be a delivery of food too. So we have a little time to kill."

The range was outdoors made up of several lanes with targets. Controls were situated in each booth, allowing for the targets to be turned on to create popup simulations. There was a mild bit of activity on site, a few other shooters amongst the two dozen lanes. The worker for the range gave Paz a dubious look, which made you giggle. Almost as if to say 'Why in the Maker's name do you need to practice?' But you two were assigned the middle lane labeled 12.

"Now, you know basic gun safety, right?" he set his blaster on the shelf in front of him, which met the top of his thighs and was tummy high for you.

"Keep the weapon pointed away from anything you don't intend on shooting. Finger off the trigger until you're about to shoot," you recalled those very basic lessons from your father. "Weapon on safe until you intend to fire. Treat every blaster as if it's loaded."

"Good," he nodded, making you smile slightly. At least you weren't an absolute idiot. "We'll start with closer targets-" he pressed the range controls, turning up the popups at 25 meters. "I need to get a better idea of your form. So go ahead and take the pistol and fire."

Now you were smiling nervously, reaching over to where the pistol that you'd taken apart the other night was. It was heavy and too big for you. He had mentioned that it was custom built for him and he was more than double your size. Finding the most comfortable way to hold it, you held your arms out, fumbled the safety, and then scrunched up your face as you tried to aim. Pulling the trigger, the blaster shot made you jolt, elbows bucking and blaster smacking you right in the face.

Paz caught your arms before you could do anymore damage, setting the pistol back down on the counter. "Let me see-" he tilted your head up, pulling down the hands that had automatically went to where you'd yammed yourself.

"Did I hit it?" you garbled, having not been looking. Oh stars, you'd closed your eyes when you shot at it, hadn't you?

Paz was quiet, confirming your suspicions. His thumb brushed the tiny bit of ripped skin where you'd taken the blaster, but you weren't bleeding. "You locked your arms out, which caused them to buck with the recoil. You're too tense. And... you should keep both eyes open."

You knew that, but your body had reacted on its own and you'd ended up getting hurt in the process. Huffing, you glared back out at the target that you'd whiffed. "What should I do differently?"

"Watch me first," he instructed, picking up the blaster and pressed the range controls to allow for the targets to move in their popup rotation. His arms were not locked out and his stance was wide, supportive, and straight aside from the tiniest lean forward. The first target popped up and his finger was on the trigger, squeezing and hitting square on center mass. The target fell down in defeat, his shoulders turning as one further out popped up. One by one, he took them down, your eyes tracing between him, his form, and then the successful quick shot that he rained down on them with expert precision. His breathing was controlled and he wasn't tense. He was acting as natural as if he were sitting up in the cockpit or relaxing. He was Mandalorian and weapons were his religion, so of course he'd not exert any effort in a skill that was as mundane as walking or breathing.

He reached and swapped the cartridge out before resting the pistol on the counter.

"Now tell me what you observed."

"You had a wider stance, relaxed, easy breathing... and you weren't afraid of it."

"You're afraid of the pistol?"

"I mean it did come back at me like I insulted its mother, so yeah," you admit sheepishly.

"My breathing was controlled, but it may have looked natural to you," he began explaining breathing cycles and how it was important to shoot at either the top or bottom of your breath. Experts could without adhering to the guidelines, but beginners who weren't familiar with bolt pathing needed the extra stability with their sight pictures. Everything sounded so logical and simple, but putting that to practice wasn't as easy as wiring and programming. Usually those things couldn't kill you.

After running down bullet pathing, trajectory, and math - you liked the math aspect - Paz had the pistol back in your hand. It was a tool. It didn't have emotions, you did. But that didn't change the fact that it made you nervous. You tried applying what he told you, but your arms were shaking as you held the pistol out and you were still jumpy. You fired at the 25 meter target and hit the sandy burm beneath it.

"That was better," he encouraged, but it didn't feel that way. "Here, I'm going to help adjust you-" he came up behind you, utility belt brushing up against your back as he clasped onto your wrists. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax," he eased, guiding your arms out from their rigid position. The back of his cuirass met you and for the briefest moment, you did relax completely. His soothing deep voice filled your ears, rumbling like the earth being shaken by thunder in the wet season. Then you remembered you were on the range and started to panic again. "Now both eyes open. Slow controlled breathing. Go for the bottom of your breath, when your shoulders are down rather than the top when you're naturally more tense."

Following the instructions, you narrowed your eyes at the target, promising to give it a piece of your mind as he helped steady you. You sort of imagined that the target had a clever quip about kissing it's ass or something stupid, but your finger brushed the trigger and you fired. For the first time since starting, you hit it. Not center mass, but enough to the side that it caused the target to fall down in mock defeat.

"There you go! Good job!"

You were beaming, absolutely splitting the biggest smile since leaving your home planet. You envisioned yourself as somewhat of a sharpshooter now, wondering how soon it'd be before you were the quickest draw on Tatooine. Ok, admittedly you were getting ahead of yourself with your dumb daydreams, but you were so ecstatic that you'd actually kriffing hit it. Leaning back, you craned your head up to look at him. "That was me? You weren't helping?"

"I wasn't helping you aim," Paz assured you. "Do you think you can try a little further? Without me holding your arms up?"

Try? Sure you could try. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. "But can you... stay there?" It felt nice having him right behind you, making certain you didn't hit yourself in the face again.

"I can stay," Paz agreed, which caused your shoulders to relax immediately as he lowered his own hands and moved them to your hips. Oh, stars you liked that so much better. A pod of butterflies erupted in your stomach as he pressed the next set of targets and you had to focus on them. But at this point you were just focusing on him and the nice cool press of the beskar against the inside of your back, chasing away the bitter hottest of Tatooine. You shifted your weight as you went to aim for the first and closest target, grinding into him more than intended.

Paz kept a close eye on how you were lining up your shot, suppressing a huff as you leaned into him. You were inexperienced and green, but he'd taught Foundlings how to shoot for their first time too. But you weren't a Foundling or a child, and so when you pressed into him the codpiece pushing into his groin, he felt a rush of hot white desire as you fired again, missing the target, but undaunted. You tried again and grazed it before making the next attempt at a further target. The pistol was too big for you, he knew that, but he didn't have anything smaller. With the right amount of practice, he knew you could shape up. You weren't a natural and that was fine, he didn't want you to have to use these skills, they were just a safety measure.

But there was a baser hunger in him that was stirred as you applied yourself, the huffing of air as you tried to blow a few stray, sweaty curls out of your face, the absolute focus you'd come under when you were really applying yourself. You'd looked much the same while working on the ship, but this time it was in his field of expertise. Shooting was just... shooting. He didn't derive any excitement from doing well, which he always did. Practice like this was more of a waste of ammo than beneficial at this point. However, when he watched you, there was a thrill in observing you get better, get more familiar with the weight of blaster, and your valiant attempts to not be daunted by the fact that you probably only hit the target once out of every four shots.

And you were flush against him. Each tiny movement from your breathing to the way you shifted your arms, he could feel it.

"I think," he started carefully as the trigger clicked, indicating that the cartridge was spent. "That it's time to go."

"Hm?" you glanced up, pinning him with those big eyes.

"Time to go," Paz repeated again, voice hoarse and staticky as it came out of the vocoder.

"Already?"

He smiled at your enthusiasm, wondering if you'd caught the husk in his tone or the breathy edge. You couldn't feel him, he had a codpiece on, but he wanted to leave -- now. "C'mon mesh'la, let's go-" he brushed some of the scattered curls out of your face tenderly, despite the beast threatening to overwhelm him in that moment. Maker, why were you so pretty? He was careful not to be pushy as you handed over the pistol and he reloaded it with a swift click, jerking it down into his holster. Placing a hand at the base of your elbow, he began whisking you away, his own open strides too large for you as you struggled to keep up.

His eyes snapped upward, helmet tilting as he felt a growl rise in the back of his throat. He had intended on beelining for the ship, but he noticed something -- rather someone and had to readjust his pathing. Nearly picking you up, he dragged you over into an alley, causing you to yelp in surprise. "W-w-what's going on?"

"Old friends," he muttered, glancing back out toward the road before continuing further down the alley.

"Friends? You don't sound very friendly," you observed as he held your hand, bringing you deeper into the labyrinths between the main street.

"Ok, they're not friends," Paz admits, pausing around a corner and letting out a deep exhale. "They didn't see us." At least, he didn't think they had before he darted down the alley. He felt incredibly hot, not just because of the dual suns of Tatooine, but because of how dolefully you stood in front of him, looking for guidance, imploring him. "Mesh'la-" he groaned, crowding you against the wall. "I wanted to go back to the ship." Now he was just complaining. It wasn't your fault.

"We'll get there eventually, won't we?" you point out brightly.

"But that's not-" he pressed his helmet against the wall in aggravation. "Mesh'la?" He brought his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You were dewy, a little sweaty from the heat, but all smiles and sunshine. He dragged the pad of his gloved thumb over your lips, tracking the lower down. "Fuck."

Now you were beginning to comprehend why Paz had wanted to get back to the ship and your cheeks began to flush as if the sun really had burned you. You let out a soft breath, staring up into his visor as you were pressed against the wall of a building, boxed in by his impressive form. You knew that you got aroused from teaching you about weapons, but in your own little world, you'd not remembered until now and his insistence to get the heck out of the range. Now you were waiting for the coast to be clear in a dirty alleyway and your own legs were beginning to tremble as a surge of heat -- not from the climate -- rocked your knees.

"P-Paz?" you're stammering, eyes half lidded as he traces his thumb down your chin and against your throat. You weren't really going to...? Not in an alley? Where could anyone see you? Your heart picked up a few beats, ears rushing with the sound of your pulse at the dizzying idea of him taking you in the alley where someone could walk in on the Mandalorian fucking you. Why was that exciting? Oh Maker, that should not have been half as exciting as it was. You should have felt dirty and ashamed by these thoughts as your hand planted against his cuirass, throat bobbing against his fingers as you wondered what was about to happen.

"Do you want it?" he muttered.

You were in your coveralls, not exactly the best article of clothing for a tryst in the alley. But you nodded, chewing on your lower lip. "I... always do."

"Mesh'la," he growled plaintively. "You can't say things like that to me."

"Why?"

"Because I won't be able to control myself."

"I know you'd never hurt me."

"Hey!"

The voice caused the both of you to jolt, necks snapping in the direction of a gesticulating hand. "Fuck. Time to go," Paz grabbed you, hoisting you up like a child, your chest colliding with his pauldron. Air bursting from your lungs, he was running beneath you, blaster in his other hand, arm encircling you from under your ass as he made a mad dash through the alleys. You were wondering why he didn't just use his jetpack. If he did that, everyone would see the two of you.

He was fast, charging through the side streets like the dewback on your home planet. The two of you were back at the hangar, the Kote's gangplank hissing downward before he burst into the cockpit. There wasn't a moment to spare, he was flipping switches, grabbing the controls with you still in his arms, and taking the ship the hell off of Tatooine before you'd even managed to fill your lungs up fully. When you finally lifted off the ground a loud laugh popped out of your throat, hair frazzled and snapping in all directions as you looked up at him.

He was still tense, coiled and ready to strike, but at your giggling he eased, cocking his helmet to the side. "Friends?" You poked.

"Mm, friends," he hummed, unable to keep himself from chuckling as you continued to snicker.

"I'm going to go wash some of this sweat off while you set us back on course," you told him, bending forward to press a kiss to his steel cheek. The sensation of the metal on your mouth was refreshing. Climbing down you left him to that bit of work, checking on the few supply crates that had been loaded onto the ship with fresh food. You weren't really certain what some of it was before ducking into the fresher to wipe your neck and between your boobs with a damp rag.

"Mesh'la?"

You fumbled the rag. How the hell could he sneak up on you like that? Sure, you weren't hyper sensitive about your surroundings, but he was still quite large and you expected to hear his boots carving their path toward you as he crowded you in the fresher. "Hm?" He grabbed your waist, pushing into you, your hips hitting the edge of the sink. You floundered, gripping onto the edge of the metal as you gasped. His codpiece was gone and you could feel the rigid line of his hardness against your ass.

"You were going to let me take you in that alleyway, weren't you?" His helmet fell on top of the crown of your head, lolling slightly as he huffed through his vocoder. Maker, you'd done this to him?

Face sizzling, you gave a small nod. "I..." You hadn't been thinking straight, perhaps the heat had gotten to you and you'd agreed to something so incredibly dirty when you usually wouldn't. His hand glided up to your chest, pushing the shirt up, revealing your perky breasts to the mirror where you could see your own face shifting and your lips parting as you let out a soft whine. The sink was cold against your tummy, but the rest of him was a hot blanket above you. "Yes."

"I would have," he was quiet, mumbling almost as he rolled his fingers over your nipple. "Out on the range you were such a good girl. Listened to everything I taught you. You'll get better. You were doing so well today-"

You moaned louder, leaning into his hand, crushing your stomach into the sink at his praise. Fuck, why did you like it so much when he told you how well you'd done? You knew you were shit at shooting, but the way he said it... he wasn't saying you were amazing, but he was still praising you somehow.

"What if someone saw us?" you managed to squeak out.

"I would have shielded you. You're so small," he answered simply, reaching down to palm between your legs. "I wouldn't have let anyone see you. Do... you want me to show you how? How I would've done it?"

You knew you had to be soaked at this point, his fingers digging in against the material of your coveralls. Each sentence he uttered made your skin blister, heart steadily picking up in tempo, and threatening to give you a heart attack at this point as you were squished to the sink. The ache was awful, so needy and desperate that you could barely answer him. You manage to bob your head when words evade you.

Drawing you off the sink, he pushed you up into the opposing wall, boxing you in just like he'd down in the alley. His helmet fell against your brow and you could hear his heavy pants coming through the modulator. He hooked a finger in your waistband, tugging both the coveralls and your underwear in one fell swoop. Skirts. You definitely needed skirts. The logistics of pants were too much of a hassle, they were --- you keened to his hand as he brushed your bundle of nerves and came down in between your folds.

"Mesh'la you're already soaked," he realized, watching as you pressed your head back against the wall and gnawed on your lips. "You really wanted it that badly in the alley?" He was taken aback by this as you continued to kick off your pants and boots. He'd have to buy you a dress or a skirt, pants wouldn't have worked in the alley. "I would have leaned against the wall and picked you up like this-" he ran down his thought process, steadying himself against the wall by bracing his right side, swinging his hand beneath the supple curve of your ass, before lifting you up, encircling your leg, bringing it to rest up on his hips where the edge of his belt was. Balancing you with the wall as a leverage point, he undid his belt and dug his cock out, which sprung readily, throbbing in anticipation.

Your hands fell on his shoulders as he guided you down, slicking his length against you before holding you by your hips, lower back not touching the wall as he tested his entrance. You quivered, thighs clenching as he fought the resistance of your cunt and buried himself. Both of you gasped, but he moved first, beginning to fuck you against the wall. If he thought you could've been quiet at all when he did this, then he was sorely mistaken. Almost immediately you began to cry out, each fervent lock of his hips to yours stretching and hitting into your molten core. Maker, it felt so disastrously good, your fingers tightening around his shoulders as your heart fluttered anxiously, not wishing to fall.

"And if you were being too loud-" he continued, pushing closer to you on the wall, nearly crushing you beneath his form so that he had more support, he covered your mouth, stifling the hitching whines and yelps. "Mesh'la," he growled in your ear, so gritty and animalistic that it set your teeth on end and stood up all the fine baby hairs on your body.

Your eyes were watering, shadowed beneath him as he breathily pounded into you. Had you not been held in place by his hand your neck would be limp. He was in all beskar, his helmet against the side of your face, glancing down as he fucked you, beginning to mutter in Mando'a as you struggled to keep your legs encircling his hips. He moved a little harder, your muffled gasps punctuated as you dug your nails into his shoulder viciously.

Paz barely felt it, the marks you were leaving through the layers of his flight suit and cowl. You were a shaking, whimpering mess against him, tears spilling from your eyes as your walls tightened. He knew it was coming, pounding harder as you whined and your lashes danced against your cheekbone. He moved his hand, let you scream his name finally, the vice grip of your cunt around him thrusting him over the edge as your orgasm assaulted him with a wave of pleasure.

His hips stuttered and he caught his own moan in the back of his throat as he blissed out, forgetting completely that he was still inside of you, unable to hear you saying his name more insistence and not with the same slurred pleasure as usual.

"Paz!" you were panicked as he panted against you, in his own debauched daze.

He rolled his head, visor looking at you, before he stiffened. "Fuck!"

"I-i-it's," you were stammering as he pulled out of you, setting you down on your feet. Your knees buckled and he caught you, but you were beginning to run down the last time you'd had your period. Theoretically, you should be due in a week. When was the most fertile time for a woman? Fuck you didn't know that, you'd never tried to get pregnant before.

"Tracyn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Uhm," you were glancing down at yourself, wondering what might happen... You had liked the sensation of him finishing in you, the way he'd reacted, perhaps even better than when you'd given him a blowjob. But still... you weren't on any contraceptives. "I think... I think it'll be okay."

He crouched in front of you, capturing your face in his palms and framing you. "I wasn't paying attention. I should have been paying attention. If you become pregnant-"

"Then I do," you say dolefully, glaring down at the floor. "We should have a better idea in a week. That's when I'm due for that time of month."

Paz was quiet. So quiet that it frightened you.

But his own mind was reeling. Had you just stated it would be fine if you got pregnant? No, you were trying to stop him from finishing inside you, so it wasn't that. "You wouldn't...?"

"No!" you grabbed your stomach reflexively, defensively. You were of the age where you wanted children, but you and Paz hadn't established any sort of idea for what the two of you were. "I-I mean, I don't think I'm ready, but that wouldn't be the child's fault for our own stupidity."

He wanted children, desperately, but that hadn't been his intention when he spent himself in you. That was something that needed to be discussed prior to a frightening situation like this. But your reaction warmed him. You would have his child if this accident resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. "You're so beautiful. Your ka'rta, your face, everything about you, Tracyn."

You were still holding your stomach, drawing a shaky breath as you tried to combat your anxiety. It was going to be at an all-time high until you had your period. What if it didn't come? Fuck. Then you were having Paz's child, you'd already said it. You were healthy and you knew you wanted kids, you just... wanted something more permanent and to not be on the run while it happened. "If I'm not, then I should really get an implant when we get to Gala. Even if... a short one."

Your suggestion made him smile. You weren't planning on leaving and you wanted to be with him, maybe even have his children one day if the two of you worked out in that way. Paz wanted it. He wanted everything to work out and keep you forever. But proclaiming such things now might frighten you when you were trying to cope with the fact that you might get pregnant. "We'll do that." While he wanted children, you being pregnant during this running from the Empire escapade was not a good idea. You were already a distraction enough and if you were pregnant... He shuddered at the idea, having to worry about protecting an unborn child and deal with whatever sickness that came with that. But he'd do it. Without a fucking doubt he'd do it.

"Can I take a shower?"

He nodded, standing up before planting a keldabe kiss upon your brow. You were doing better since losing your home, but he knew it might come up again later. He hoped the Kote could become your home. "Let me know if you need anything, cyar'ika. I'll be just outside."

Translate: Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - Today is a good day for someone else to die.

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #smut with plot #smut with feelings

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pedrobois-fanfic-collections · 4 years

Text

MandoxReader The Escapee: Pt3

Please comment, thank you so much for those who have commented

“This looks like a good one, don’t you think?” You asked, glancing down at the child. Standing on your toes, you reached into the fruit tree, trying to grab the plumpest fruit and tug it from its stem.

You nearly screamed as you felt a hand on your shoulder, spinning around and all but stumbling to the ground. Soft laughter came from somewhere by your knee. Thankfully, Mando seemed to have anticipated this and kept a firm grip on your shoulder, keeping you upright.

“Kriff, you move quiet.” You glanced down at Grogu.

“Sorry.” Mando tilted his head. The visor fixated on your face.

You felt your cheeks heating up, wondering what his eyes looked like underneath it, knowing something underneath gazed at you with some sort of intensity. Surely if you could feel it through his helmet, his gaze had to be as strong. Clearing your throat, you glanced away, only now realizing he still had his hand on your shoulder.

Mando seemed to realize this and quickly pulled away, clearing his throat.

Grogu looked between the two of you, a smile on his face. Soft noises came from him as he gurgled at the two of you, raising his hands up at Mando.

Mando knelt down and picked Grogu up, resting the little guy on his hip and allowing Grogu to look around from waist height and view the world. Smiling, Grogu gripped Mando’s thumb and stared at you, tilting his head and twitching his hears, waving his free hand.

“He’s taken a liking to you.” Mando said softly.

“Oh, you think so?” You reached over and rubbed the little guy’s ear. Grogu cooed in response.

Beneath the helmet, Din smiled. “You’re an excellent cook. He and I have gotten along well enough just the two of us, but, it could do us well to have another.” Mando trailed off.

You looked up from Grogu. “Huh?”

“If you wanted.” Mando hesitated, “I could pay you handsomely. I know you have an established home here, a settled life, but Grogu has taken a liking to you and I don’t want to upset him.” He seemed to be stumbling over his words, as though speaking so many in a row was painful.

“Are you kidding? A reason to get off this wet jungle? Of course I’d take it. And the little guy is so sweet.” You held your arms out and Mando hesitantly handed Grogu over to you. “Do you hear that? We get to go on adventures together!” You glanced up at Mando and felt your heart flutter as you saw him looking protectively down at you cradling the child in your arms. You tickled Grogu’s stomach with your finger and he giggled. “So I get to see the galaxy, with uh, you?” You paused, “the two of you, I mean, Mandalorians are bounty hunters right?”

Mando inclined his head.

“That’s an awfully dangerous profession for a little guy.” You looked down at Grogu, “Is that what you were doing here, when he wandered off?”

Mando nodded.

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando looked up towards the sky. The rain increased its intensity. “I think sometimes it might be best if he had a chance to avoid some of the extreme parts of my job though.”

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head knowingly. “Yea, I could tell you that.”

Mando looked back down at you. He didn’t seem very amused. “Did you get what you needed from here? We need to leave, you should go back and pack your things.” He paused. You hadn’t actually agreed. “Assuming you want to.”

“Uh, yes, of course I want to.”

Mando nodded, “Ok. Then let’s go.” He gestured to take Grogu back and you reluctantly accepted before turning and leading the way down the path.

As you walked, you talked. “So, does that shiny armor rust? Bheskar?”

“No.”

“Oh that’s convenient. Does it keep you dry here?” Your cloak was, at this point, just keeping the rain plastered to your skin. You wondered about Grogu, and you glanced back. Mando had wrapped him tight in his cloak. The cloak seemed treated with some sort of waterproofing chemical but even that was quickly permeated with the damp.

“Yes.”

“Your cape?”

“Not so much.”

You nodded, “I have some extra dry cloaks, I’ll change when we get back. Hopefully we can rig something up for the kid.”

“Thank you.” Mando sounded grateful that you were already thinking ahead for Grogu.

You fell quiet, wondering what he looked like underneath the armor. He cared a lot for the kid. Were they related? Partially related? You stifled a giggle at the thought of Mando taking his helmet off and large green ears popping out.

It took all your willpower not to turn around and stare at that moment.

Then again, Mando was tall and imposing, and the kid was… very small.

‘Children are very small.’ You thought to yourself. How often are Mandalorians non humans? ‘Quite a lot.’ From what you had heard. Zabraks, Mirialans, Twi’leks maybe? He’s probably not a Twi’lek, couldn’t hide the lekku. Could be a Mirialan, would explain the green son. Then again, he had never outright called Grogu his son…

You cast a glance over your shoulder.

Mando walked in silence, holding his cape over Grogu and trying to keep him dry as possible while Grogu whined pitiably.

Finally the three of you arrived at your home.

You quickly ducked inside with Mando following shortly after.

Reaching for dry materials, you tossed them to Mando and he vigorously dried at Grogu, trying to warm him up and get the rain off him as you tried to do the same for yourself.

You gathered up a bag of your belongings, sealing it tight. At first you considered changing, but you knew you would just head back out into the rain only to be soaked again. No, that could wait until you got to his ship.

When you were happy with all your possessions in your meagre existence, you found the last of your cloaks. You wrapped one snug around Grogu, and a fresh one around yourself. You hung your old one to dry in case any weary traveler came across your home and needed it. Then you shut out the lights, turned back to your new employer, and began the next chapter of your life.

After a long trek, your trio reached Mando’s ship, the Razor Crest, soaked to the bone. Between your extra cloak and Mando’s cape, Grogu was relatively well off.

You were not so lucky.

You sopped into the ship, rain coming off of you in streams, your hair matted to your face.

“There’s a spare bunk over there. Sorry, there’s not much space. The Crest isn’t exactly designed for a large crew.” Mando muttered, the helmet fixated on you. Din’s gaze eyed you up and down as you took the cloak off. Your clothes stuck to your figure.

You glanced back at him, feeling exposed as you searched for a towel. “Uh right.”

Mando turned, “’Fresher’s over there, if you want to,” his voice deepened, sounding gruff, he jerked the helmet towards it.

You smiled, pulling your bag towards yourself, more for modesty’s sake. “Thanks.” Slipping past him, you entered into the ‘fresher and closed the door, all your possessions in one small bag.

Din watched you go, wishing he could stop staring.

Grogu cooed in his arms, tugging on Din’s finger, looking up at his dad. Din glanced down. “Don’t be like that.” Din muttered.

Grogu giggled.

Din shook his head, “C’mon, let’s get you dried off. I don’t want you getting sick with something.” The sound of the ‘fresher turned on made his stomach tighten and he forced the thought from his mind, turning towards the ladder and climbing up the cockpit, Grogu in hand.

Once in the pilot’s seat, Din turned on one of the heaters full force, setting the kid in front of it so it would dry out his simple tunic. Din handed Grogu his favorite ball to keep him occupied, then set about starting up the Crest and finally started takeoff, glad to be off that blasted wet planet.

You leaned against the wall of the ‘fresher, sighing heavily. This was one of the first decent showers you’d had in ages. How many years had it been since you didn’t have to have a bath? You held your face under the hot water and let it pour down on you, washing the filth of the forest and the trudge through jungle, soothing your pores and just coming alive again with the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time water had been something of comfort to you.

The shower water beat down on your skin in a soothing rhythm, warming and massaging you, and you let out a soft sigh, just relaxing into the heat of it, letting yourself soak it all in.

You glanced down at the soaps you had brought, which you liked well enough, then hesitated. This was a job you had been hired for. You were going to exotic locales, marketplaces, new planets and cities, maybe even Coruscant, the home of trade and produce.

You would have credits to spend. What could you buy?

What would you need?

You had a home. You would have supplies for food, you just had to make it. You’d probably be expected to pitch in for food, but exotic food that you had never tried before to make new dishes and recipes? That’s not something you were going to complain about. Medical supplies probably, another complaint you wouldn’t raise. Surely that stipend wouldn’t be too great after the initial purchases.

Then, what would you spend your money on next? You wouldn’t be some magistrate, rolling in credits, but you knew you would have enough money.

You bit your lip.

Glancing down at your herbal soaps and shampoos that you had had to make yourself, you smiled. You could buy something that was maybe just a touch fancier than these.

Just as you bent to pick them up, the smell of the shower caught in your nose and you realized something: a heady spicy aroma. You glanced over and saw the soaps that Mando must use. Again you bit your lip and looked around suspiciously. He would notice, absolutely. But to know what he smelled like? To be coated in his scent for just a few hours while you slept? Just this once?

You grabbed the rough bar, designed for exfoliating and raised your eyebrow. He was no stranger to taking care of his skin it seemed. You quickly lathered the soap bar up in the hot water and worked it into suds, scrubbing it on your skin, until you were fresh and clean. You felt fresh and soft all over, and best of all, you smelled intoxicating. The air in the bathroom flooded with him. Lolling your head back gently as you reached for his shampoo you ran your fingers through your hair, wondering just what his felt like. Though this did answer your question: he had hair worth washing. You rubbed vigorously at your scalp ‘til it tingled, and you sighed.

At long last you were forced to exit the shower and redress in your clothes.

Smitten as you were, you wished you had something of his to wear. Some excuse that your clothes were wet.

A thin haze of steam followed you out as you stepped out of the room as well as a bit of guilt but for how relaxed and refreshed you felt, you weren’t going to feel that guilty. You felt like a whole new person.

Tossing your things to dry on a random crate, that seemed not in use, you made your way to a lone ladder. You climbed to the top and knocked on the ceiling gently before finishing your ascent.

Mando turned around in the pilot’s seat as you climbed up.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me use the ‘fresher, I finally feel human again. It’s been years on that backwater planet. I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt warm water and had the chance to actually dry off.” Your voice fell to a hush as you saw the kid dozing by the heater.

Mando scooped him up and set him in a floating pram, closing it with a button on his forearm. “It’s soundproofed. And you’re welcome.” The visor stayed fixated on you a moment too long before he turned the pilot’s seat around and once more resumed facing back towards the infinite abyss of space.

You walked over and sank into the copilot’s seat, mouth falling open as you gazed at the myriad of stars. “Wow.”

Mando glanced towards you, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen space.” You whispered breathlessly.

“Well, you’ll be seeing a lot of it.”

You beamed at him. “Where to next, boss?”

#Mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #Din Djarin x reader #Din Djarin #Mando #baby yoda #grogu #fanfiction #reader insert #no y/n

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cat-brodsky · 4 years

Text

Turkish coffee: beginner edition

(A cezve. Picture from Wikimedia commons, by Eaeeae)

I’ve been brewing and drinking Turkish coffee for most of my life. I’m biased and I’ll gladly admit that.

Turkish coffee is a method of preparation, not a specific cultivar. The coffee is unfiltered and prepared on a stove (or in hot sand, but that isn’t an option for the average beginner) using a cezve.

How about a tl;dr first?

Sure.

grind your coffee beans finely

put the powder into a cezve, along with sugar and spices if using any, then fill with water

stir before brewing, not during

put the cezve on low heat and keep a close eye on it

do not let the water boil

when foam starts rising, give the cezve a gentle nudge to make sure it rises properly

as soon as the foam rises to the lip, the coffee is done

An overly detailed explanation to follow.

Picking a cezve

A cezve is a small pot with a narrow “neck” and a long handle. A cezve is often called an ibrik, but that’s not entirely correct - an ibrik is, simply, a pitcher.

Cezves are traditionally made out of copper or brass, but modern ones might also be glass, metal, or ceramic. Depending on where you live, you might have some trouble finding a cezve - check your local Middle Eastern store or try to thrift one.

Size: pick the size you need, no more and no less. You should always fill your cezve up to the “neck” to make sure your coffee brews properly, and that means you can’t make one cup of coffee in a cezve that makes two or more cups.

Shape: a wider bottom and a narrow neck. A wide bottom is important for proper heating. A narrow neck ensures that crema (foam) forms properly, which prevents coffee from boiling. A cezve without any narrowing is no good.

Material: ideally copper or brass. Copper has high heat conductivity, which means it heats faster and evenly, but also cools down fast. Ceramic or clay cezves release heat slowly, which results in carryover heating, and that means your coffee is prone to boiling over once it’s off the heat. Stainless steel is a compromise.

Important: copper is an excellent material for cookware, but copper salts are toxic. All copper cookware should have an internal coating, typically of tin. Do not use your copper goods if the coating is damaged.

Handle: should be long enough that you can hold the cezve safely, should never heat up while you’re brewing, and shouldn’t be so heavy that it can tip the cezve over.

If you own a cezve, take care of it. Avoid using metal utensils on the inside, especially if your cezve is copper. Don’t use it for anything but coffee - because of the narrow neck, the inside is very difficult to clean. You don’t need to use dish soap, just rinse it out the best you can. An invisible layer of coffee oils building up on the inside is normal.

Ideally, you will also have a grinder. Turkish coffee begins with a very fine grind, finer than espresso or french press, so store-bought coffee will most likely be ground too coarsely. In addition, the beans lose flavour quite fast after grinding, so the fresher the grind the better - a few hours in advance is fine, right before brewing is ideal. (Experiment with that. You may prefer one or the other.)

Coffee enthusiasts usually recommend you buy a burr grinder - they’re right, but not all burr grinders can grind finely enough. If you’re on a budget, look for a hand grinder.

Key points:

use the freshest beans you can use

grind very finely, preferably right before brewing

water quality is important - use filtered or pre-boiled water, if possible

don’t let the water boil

try to be as consistent as possible - same amount of coffee and water, same temperature, same preparation time, same grind size, et cetera

adjust things one at a time so you can learn the effect they have

Best practices

This isn’t a recipe as much as it is a set of guidelines to follow. I’m going to do my best to explain why I do things this way. You might disagree, and that’s okay. Experiment with things. See what tastes good.

Turkish coffee is quite strong, but it doesn’t have to be quite bitter - excessive bitterness is a sign that you over-brewed, or worse, boiled your coffee.

Roast: pretty much any, not too dark and not too light.

Grind size: fine. Powder, but not dust. Experiment with it; the darker your roast, the coarser you should grind. If your grinder is terrible, you’ll want to throw out the stray bigger bean pieces - they don’t make for a good drinking experience.

The reason why is that darker roasts are less sweet, less fruity. The grind size influences extraction - the finer the grind, the more you get out of your beans - but over-extracting the coffee makes it unpleasantly bitter.

Cultivar: again, pretty much any. You don’t have to buy a specific “Turkish” blend - that’s not a thing. I’d probably suggest arabica over robusta, unless you really want your coffee to pack a punch.

Keep in mind that lighter roasts have more caffeine than dark roasts. Bitterness does not equal strength.

Grind your beans, then put an appropriate amount of coffee powder into your cezve. I put in one heaping teaspoon per small cup. (Again, this is a guideline. Adjust to taste.) If you want to add sugar or spices, add them now. Make sure they’re evenly mixed with coffee.

The reason why is that Turkish coffee is unfiltered. If you stir the sugar in after brewing, you’re going to disturb the grounds and end up having to wait for them to settle again.

Then add water, filling up to the “neck” of the cezve. If your cezve does not have a neck, you’re holding a saucepan. (If you’re making do with a saucepan, fill up to about an inch from the top).

In some online guides, you’ll see people putting water first and then adding coffee. I haven’t had good results with this method. Depending on what your cezve is shaped like, the powder might just not dissolve properly and this means you’re getting weak coffee with a layer of burnt grinds on top.

I give the cezve a swirl like you would to a lab flask to make sure the coffee is mixed in with water. If you need to give it a stir, a wooden utensil is preferable to make sure you don’t scratch the inner coating.

Wait, which temperature water should you use?

...I don’t know.

I usually use room temperature water. While testing things for this guide, though, I brewed several cezves starting out with warm water. The results were very different from each other. Starting with warm water means shorter extraction time, means less bitter but less complex flavour, so... I think the “right” water temperature will depend on the beans you're using. Start with room temperature water and adjust from there.

Professional brewers say two and a half minutes brewing time per (small) cezve is the proverbial gold standard, so the water temperature should facilitate that. I don’t feel like getting obsessed with exact numbers, though.

Anyway. If you have a gas stove, put a cezve on low heat (high heat makes coffee very likely to boil, which is quite bad for the taste). If you have an electric stove, making coffee will be tougher, because electric stoves don’t keep consistent heat - they heat and cool in cycles. Try putting it on high heat and adjusting the temperature by removing the cezve from the stove as needed.

Now stay in the kitchen and watch your coffee like a hawk. Yes, that needs to be specified. Turkish coffee overflows suddenly and explosively, and if you get distracted for a second, you can end up having to clean your stove.

If your coffee does overflow, that’s okay - it happens to everyone. Don’t try to clean it up immediately, let it cool first.

So ideally what’s going to happen is your coffee will start forming a head of foam - you’ll see it appear in the neck of the cezve and then begin to rise, slow at first and fast as temperature rises. At this stage, you might want to give the cezve a gentle nudge to make sure the foam can rise freely. (What might happen otherwise is that it overflows suddenly.) Don’t stir it, though. The foam prevents the water from boiling and some volatile compounds from evaporating - in short, it makes your coffee better, so you don’t want to disrupt it.

When the foam starts rising, the coffee is very close to being done, so get ready to take it off the heat. It’s done when the foam reaches the rim of the cezve.

Again, some online guides will advise you to do the following: after taking the coffee off the heat, let the foam go down, then put it on the heat again, repeating this cycle two or three times. In my opinion, that’s unnecessary. It doesn’t improve the taste or let more foam form.

Professionals actually advise you to use a chilled cup to pour your coffee in to make sure the coffee doesn’t overbrew. If you do that, be careful that your cup doesn’t crack from the sudden change in temperature - don’t use glass.

You’re going to want to wait some time to let the coffee cool down and let the grounds settle to the bottom of the cup. For that reason, don’t drink the entire cup - coffee grounds do not taste good. I like the mouthfeel of unfiltered coffee, but if you don’t, you can certainly put it through a fine strainer or even a paper filter.

Tradition says that the foam (if this were espresso, it’d be called crema) is a vital part of coffee experience, therefore, pour a little in each cup first to make sure it’s evenly distributed among the drinkers.

Serve in any way you like - I’m not going to tell you how to best enjoy your coffee, because that’s definitely a matter of preference.

some philosophy

some people can get obsessive in their quest for the perfect cup. i’m certainly one of them, or else i wouldn’t have written this guide. but coffee, no matter how delicious, is a means to an end, not the end goal.

sure, you may want to serve your friends the perfect cup, but if you care more about the coffee you’re drinking than about the conversation you’re having, then you’re doing something wrong.

Coffee grounds divination

If you can see the coffee grounds at the bottom of an empty cup, then your coffee was delicious.

If you can’t see the coffee grounds in an empty cup, then you might have drank them.

If there are tea leaves at the bottom of a cup, then you weren’t drinking coffee.

Dorm room coffee (part 3) coming 32nd of October. I’m going to talk about which poisons go well with coffee and how to dispose of the body of that roommate who used a metal fork on your best non-stick pan.

#coffee #turkish coffee #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #dark academia guide #dork academia

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

The Guardian and Saviour (Favored Ones, Part 21.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “Kill or be killed? What a way to live and to die.” - Shawn James

Part summary: Seattle was just starting to show its true colors to you - the things you were going through were just the begging. It was all going to be worse when you found out that Seattle is in a middle of a war.

A/N: So... I didn’t know we’re going to spend so much time in Seattle, but at this moment, it seems to last at least eight chapters before we even get to Abby? I mean, that’s a lot. But I want to stay true to the cannon... At least partially.

Warnings: Gore, blood, murder, infected, guns, shooting... Bros... This is going to be gross... And it will be worse than this.

Word count: 5.6 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme @peakymarvels @davnwillcome @pickleriiick @jodiereedus22 @gladiosamicitias @tamkashi @eternallyvenus @avengerssstuff @fangirl-inthe-us @avery-miller @mikah-writes @mad-hatter-98 @sadiaafrin99 @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day first - afternoon:

Waking up while your head is dizzy and your body is covered in sticky, warm liquid always feels strange - especially when you can't recall what happened earlier. Naturally, the more you stressed when you realized you're between someone's legs and their palm is covering your mouth. The first instinct was to drag to hand down immediately, so you started to wiggle and jerked around to free yourself because you felt endangered. Soon, you realized you knew material of the jacket you've been tugging on. Joel's thighs tightened around your waist to hold you in place as the man looked behind to corner to see if your awakening attracted some attention.

But soon, it was apparent that the people who Joel heard outside, didn't know about you. So finally, he put his arm down, letting you go. But you didn't move away from him - your eyes got frozen on your jacket covered in the blood. Slowly, you looked around to see the dead animal. It was your fucking horse you've been riding for the last few years you lived in Jackson. Sure, Sadie wasn't your property, but Cat never gave you a different horse than your girl. When you rode out of Jackson, you rode out on Sadie's back. And now, it was dead.

You saw what happened. She ran into a shop window and cut her throat open. But you couldn't recall what had caused it. Slowly, you wanted to stand up, but your stomach turned upside down and you almost fell back on your ass. The man reached out for you and caught your elbow. He put his hands around your face to see what you've been looking like - if you're seemingly alright at least. And you were. But as you slowly gathered consciousness, you noticed a big piece of glass in his upper left arm.

"Are you okay, baby girl?" - The man furrowed at you, smoothing a sweet spot under your eye. - "Do you see me twice, your head spinnin', does somethin' on your body hurt real bad?" - He whispered. Jesus, that guy could be so sweet when he wanted to. And he usually did got sweet around you.

"Just... A slight headache, but I'm fine, I think. What about you? Any other wounds other than this thingy sticking out of your arm?" - You asked back, still trying to remember what even happened back there - there was something that had to happen for Sadie to just run into the glass, right? She didn't panic on her own.

"No, the road blowin' up didn't do a number on me, I swear." - Joel looked at you. Oh, damn, that was what happened. The road under Ellie and Dina blew up - and because you and Joel rode quite back behind them, you were fine. More or less. With a furrow, you walked to the horse saddles and went through it. Your feet were sticking to the floor because of the blood - and Sadie's body was still warm. You couldn't be out for a long time.

"What are you doin'?" - Joel asked and you pointed at his upper arm. - "'s nothin', I swear. We take care of it once we find Dina and Ellie. They took 'em." - The man wanted to stop you just when you took out one of his fresher shirts. His jacket was more or less fine, when you ignored the tear in the sleeve, so that didn't need to be changed. But it was drenched in blood too. No way in fucking hell he would be going after the girls in that state. Your man maybe had the right balls to do so, but he wasn't going anywhere with blood flowing out of his arm.

"You sit your ass down. We'll take care of it and then we head out to search for them. Who took them?" - You asked and waited until he takes the jacket off. For a while, Joel was staring at you with a furrow, but then he sighed and sat down, taking off the jacket so you'd have full access to the wound. It didn't seem to be too drastic or deep, but that didn't mean it was a nice sight. You hoped that Joel would be able to lift his gun at least.

"WLF, I suppose, but I just know it were some strangers." - The man sighed, watching as you just ripper the torn apart sleeve off the shirt to get a good look at his arm. Gently, you pulled the glass out, focusing on being the gentlest you could, but a few grunts left Joel anyway. When that was done, you cleaned it up and waited for the blood flow to stop. There was no time to waste, so you only provided him with quick, yet precise stitches and covered the wound in a few bandages, making sure it's at least cleaned up properly. - "You heard where they're taking them?" - You asked and gave him the other shirt to change into, pulling a few of his and your pieces of underwear and t-shirts out of the bag in case you'd tear some apart or something.

"Yea, some building a mile from here. We should be there quickly. Do you still have the map on you, girl?" - Joel asked back as he buttoned up the shirt. You nodded, pulling it out of a small pocket in your backpack, opening it up. You were both watching it for a moment before Joel pointed in the direction of the downtown - "'kay, so we should be here. And they put them... Here." - He mouthed, looking down on you. You nodded with a furrow, counting the streets.

"How do you know where they took them specifically?" - A whisper left you as you arched your eyebrows, licking your lips. Quickly, you made a small X on the map to remember where Joel pointed. You both put together some basic supplies like ammo, food, and first aid kits for the case of an emergency. - "They weren't exactly quiet 'bout what they were about to do. These people are... Gatherin' supplies to attack some spot near Seattle. Don't know who they are attackin', but that's it. And they put them in one of the hoardin' centers to be sure girls won't try to escape." - The man explained to you. That... Made sense, you guessed. So, this was your first official encounter with the WLFs, huh? They just blow up the road under your asses. You probably weren't even meant to blow up, they prepared the place for someone else - but they took what they could get.

"We're lucky they didn't notice us. We could've been in limbo for hours before they came to check the spot... They probably just noticed Dina and Ellie." - Joel told you again and you had to say that it would make sense. Hunters usually didn't check around their booby traps - the went straight just for the big prize. Sadie rode off the road when Joel lost control over her - she could've run quite far before riding into the glass. - "And 'bout what happened earlier..." - Joel whispered when he put the jacket on, following you outside the building.

"Not now, Joel." - A tired whimper left your lips as you tried to shake the dizziness out of you. Your perception of the reality around was still a bit shaken, but it was slowly getting better and better. But the man didn't seem to want to drop the topic at the moment.

"I want you to know that I will guard you the whole time. At any cost. And even though I'm not an ideal man, I love you." - The man poured his heart out just to meet a wall of a cold stare and emotionless expression. When you said you're not in the mood for this sort of heart to heart talk, you meant it. And Joel had to respect your boundaries. The sight of destruction showed you exactly where the bomb had blown up - and Shimmer was laying there, lifeless as well. Someone had to take everything out of the saddlebags in a hurry. There was no sing of Dina or Ellie ever being there other than two silhouettes of woman bodies printed into the stiffened horse blood.

"Nothing other than Shimmer here." - You told Joel when you inspected the area around the body, hoping Joel knew where you two were going. Every second could cost the girls their lives. There was a while of silence when you walked through Seattle's downtown, trying to find the way to the street. Not even for a second, you let your guard down. Every leaf scratching the road, every drop hitting the ground or just the sounds of corrosion and ruined buildings filling your head. It didn't take too long before you walked to a dead end. - "Fuck..." - You groaned, taking the map out of your backpack to take a look at it. - "The street is right behind it. We need to get through somehow, or walk around the barricade, which can add up hours." - A sigh left you as you noticed that Joel had already left your side. His head was moving as he searched for any possible way - and being the survivor he was, he found what he was searching for. His finger pointed at a hole in the wall which was pretty high up.

"You'll go in and unlock the door for me, okay, doll?" - The man asked you, leaning his back into the wall behind him. Gently, he slapped his thigh and prepared you a small parry space out of his palms. This probably wasn't a good idea, but, what else were you supposed to do? There was no way in hell you'd walk around the city to look for a different way to get to the WLF place. But the house could have some infected inside who would kill you in an instant. The true question was - what other options you had? None. That was the answer. None.

So you nodded, lifting your foot to Joel's palms, catching his shoulders in the process, waiting to be lifted. With that, you caught the old man looking at you. - "What?" - "Just... Open the door for me. No scavaging, if you'd see infected, we'll finish them off together, yea?" - Joel asked which had you nodding against your will. And so, he straightened up, helping you climb through the hole. Yeah, sure, you were caught off guard and surprised with what you've found out about Joel, but... The care he was giving you was making you sure he cares about you a lot.

With a muffled sigh, you slipped into the building, falling straight on your knees because your balance fucked up for a second there. You've stayed silent for a moment to hear if anything has noticed the noises you made, but the house seemed to be silent - until you've heard the silent voices coming from the other building standing to your right hand. - "That was a fucking loud bang, Emily. I'll go to look at what it was." - A man told a woman before you heard first footsteps coming your way. For a second, you panicked, until you saw a big cabinet pushed to cover the door - you could take cover there before the man leaves the building alone. You'd swear that you hadn't breathed so loud ever before. Forcefully, you pushed a hand on your lips to calm down a bit, trembling as a dog kicked into its stomach.

The heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer and you'd swear that you couldn't hear anything but your heartbeat and the blood rushing through your veins. Dina was right - the adrenaline rush was intensive. If Joel wouldn't be waiting behind the door, you most likely would search for your gun or just try to stab him with your knife do defend yourself. But you just pressed your back into the wall more, straightening along the side of the cabinet. Your only luck was that the man didn't go to the back of the room - his flashlight illuminated the floor just a few inches in front of your boots and you tried to hold your breath.

"It's clear here. Let's get done with the crates!" - The man yelled at Emily and the sounds of footsteps started to recede into the silence of the house. When you were sure that he's far away enough, you leaned your shoulder into the door, pushing the cabinet away. Your ears heard it so loudly and clearly - every small sound the wooden floors made, every creek of the cabinet, each of your inhales. But the man or the woman didn't hear you, which made you breathe out when you turned the lock and opened the door for Joel. The man looked visibly agitated, yet as soon as he saw that you're okay with his very own eyes, he let out a long breath. He nodded at you, smoothing your cheek with his palm.

"Can you stop for a second?" - Joel asked you when you made your way throughout most of the ruined and corroded buildings, having a clear sight of the WLFs outside. At least a portion of them. - "If you want another heart-to-heart, I swear to motherfucking God," - "Do you know how to take someone out silently?" - The man whispered back at you, have you completely lost in what he was saying for a minute. When you weren't answering, Joel kneeled, pushing you down as well. - "Listen. It's not as complicated as it seems do be, but if you fuck up any small thing, they know about us, rite? We need to do this simply." - The man slowly pulled your knife out of the holster on your leg, showing you how to grab it.

"Your free hand goes for their mouth. Cover their lips and push your elbow into their shoulder to hold them in one place. Sure, they will be tryin' to wiggle out, but you need to try to get them on the ground, you with me?" - Joel asked, looking you in the eyes. Slowly, you nodded, watching his palms toying around with the knife. - "First, you catch the knife like this," - The man told you and put your fingers around the handle, making sure you're holding it tight. - "And to push it in, lean your palm into the top. Just like when you hammer nails." - His palm moved, showing you what he meant by that. The instructions were too much for you to remember. Of course, Joel noticed the panic in your eyes.

"Listen." - His palms held both your shoulders, his head leaned into your forehead. - "You know most of this. Clickers don't stand a chance against you - but these people have a system and safe words, so you can't let them make any sound. You'll know what to do once you get into it. Stay behind me - see those two?" - Joel pointed with his fingers to show you two WLFs on your right. - "I have the right one, you have the one on the left, 'kay?" - The man asked and gave you the knife back, taking out his knife. He didn't give you a clue when he started to crouch forward, so you followed his lead.

The woman who was showing her back was a human being. But previous experience showed you that she wouldn't waste a second before aiming straight for your head. These maniacs had Ellie and Dina cuffed somewhere inside the building - and they even blew up a motherfucking road. They were something like Clickers. It was you, or them. Survival of the fittest... Of sorts.

So when Joel jumped for the guy's neck, you went to grab Emily as well and tried to do as he instructed you to. You put your palm over the woman's lips so only muffled curses and sounds coming out of her filled the surroundings for a moment. She was struggling a lot, almost pushing you to the ground - and in the passion of the moment, you grunted and pushed the knife inside the side of her neck. It was weirdly stiff when it went in, and again, you've listened to Joel's advice, hammering the blade deeper in. The body was still twitching when you felt the first drops of blood on your fingers. Soon, as you took the knife out, drops changed into gallons of the liquid. And dear Lord, did you want to throw up at the moment. The liquid was hot and sticky on your skin.

To stay quiet, you slowly lowered down with the weakening body, laying it down on the asphalt. Quickly, you wiped the blade into on your thighs, looking at Joel. His expression was unreadable as he nodded at you. You followed his lead through the ruins of an old office complex - you both tried to stay as quiet as possible, motioning in the direction of any WLF with your eyes or your head.

The man tried to take out as many as he could to protect your consciousness and to stop the incoming remorses - but you took out a few more guys who almost detected you. And soon enough, you heard gunshots - and Ellie's voice screaming some loud curse words. A relaxed sigh came out of you. The girls were alive, so none of it came in vain. Any time you got the courage to kill one of the WLFs, you repeated that you're doing it for them and that it's you or them. As soon as Joel was sure that your way will cross Ellie's, he got in his feet and loaded his revolver. Still following his lead, you pushed the knife back, taking the bow off your back. - "Stay back. Hide if you want." - Joel whispered, putting his hand on the doorknob. Yet your daring grin as your finger stretched the bow chord.

"Move forward. We have people to save here." - You whispered and tugged one arrow out of the quiver, getting it ready. This reminded Joel of Maria and of the day when Baldwin happened - just like then, there were two lives on the line. And you weren't giving up on them. Joel led you through another maze of office rooms until you had a girl on your gunpoint. You almost let the arrow go - but in the last moment, you realized you were looking at Ellie. And when that information clicked inside your brain, your eyes teared up as you walked to her and hugged her.

"Jesus fucking Christ." - Ellie mumbled to your hair, checking your face briefly. Your cheek was bruised - which happened when Sadie rode into the glass, but you seemed to be more or less okay. Quickly, you both hid under a wall. - "What's that on your hands?" - Ellie mumbled and leaned out to check on the situation, seeing Joel and Dina already regrouped in the corridor. There was a long silence, but as she looked at you, she saw the numb expression you had on your face. Which told her not to ask more questions.

The escape from the building was hasty, you barely got a moment to take a breath. But when you did, and there was no possibility WLF could follow you, Joel barricaded the door and you fell flat on your knees and tried to puke. But nothing came out of your lips. Ellie was mumbling about some letter she found in some boy's pocket, but Dina wasn't listening to her. She kneeled, helping you back on your feet. - "Breathe for me, come on. In and out. In and out. Just like that, baby, yeah. You did well." - The girl caught your cheeks to her palms, smiling at you. - "If there wasn't for you and Joel, Ellie and I would have died." - She mumbled, kissing your forehead. Ellie followed Dina and kneeled next to you, smoothing your upper arm. - "She's right. You saved our asses. Both of you." - Joel was standing a bit away from you, watching the whole situation. He'd expect that you'd freak out after killing the woman, but you got into it pretty fast.

What was strange was that now you weren't that bothered. The remorse wasn't as deep as it was before, which was almost scaring you more than killing someone. Was your consciousness getting numb to taking someone else's life? That was too fast. No. Maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline flowing through your veins, making your hands shake and stomach contract. But... It wasn't as bad as before.

"You good now?" - Ellie asked when you sat on your ass, waiting before you nodded with an exhale. Quickly, you stretched the back of your next before letting Dina pulling you up on your knees. - "'kay. You still have that map with you?" - The girl asked and pulled out the letter again, showing you a picture of some random girl. Dina chuckled upon seeing that photograph, whistling nastily. - "What? She's hot." - The girl grinned and showed you a photo with her name. Some Leah or who the fuck that was.

"She's with them." - Ellie mumbled from reading the letter and looking at the map. At that, Dina looked at the photograph once more. - "Well, fuck her too then." - Ellie gave the photo back to Ellie as you watched the girls talking about the map and the letter. Slowly, you licked your lips and walked to Joel, smoothing his shoulder, checking on him. Only that alone made him smile at you, kissing the top of your head as he pulled you closer.

"The TV station. It's here, behind the tall buildings. Does anyone see tall buildings?" - Ellie turned her head back at you. To look around, you both turned your heads from the collapsed wall, but Dina was already pointing back to the downtown. The redhead snickered, nodding at that. And so, you were set on your way once again. You were walking through Seattle at a fairly fast pace - there were for of you, so you could overcome barriers easily. With meeting some infected and one small group of WLFs, it took you two hours before you saw the horse. Some bodies were shot - the blood was fresh and it was mostly the infected laying around. You walked straight to the dead horse, closing your eyes when your fingers graced over the burnt in mark on the animal's thigh - this was Tommy's horse. And the saddlebacks were empty.

Yet when you woke up from the small trance again, Dina was puking on your right hand, having Ellie smoothing her back. - "This isn't too old, so we better stay sharp. Maybe Tommy isn't that far off and maybe we'll meet him inside the TV station." - You looked at the others. Because there was no reason to stop, you continued forward - and the TV station was closer and closer. Oh boy, the road to the building was filled with booby-trapped explosive - one wrong step and you all would end up in pieces. But Joel and Ellie gladly took out the bombs for you, since they had some experience with it already from someone that they called Bill.

In the end, you were all climbing inside the building. First, it seemed that it's just empty... Until you noticed the small puddles of blood on the ground and drops of it on the walls. Ellie noticed too and both figured out the same conclusion - someone was there recently. Which was confirmed when you walked to the former TV news studio. Your breath hitched when you watched the scenery. Four people were hanged on cables coming out of the big camera machines. Each of them had their belly sliced, so there was another big puddle of blood under them. - "Did... Did Tommy did this?" - Dina mumbled, watching the dead people. - "No." - Joel mumbled, and just when Ellie was about to ask why is he so sure, he pointed on some form of a ritual symbol drawn from the WLFs' blood.

"This doesn't look like Tommy's work." - Joel assured all of you, still looking at the hanging bodies. This was bestial, brutal almost. Ellie came closer to the scenery, looking at it. - "They said they have some... Kind of a problem here in Seattle." - She told you and Joel when you left the place, searching for where to go next. - "Listen, I didn't hear all of it and I certainly didn't know what these fuckers are talking about, but there's someone called the scars. I've seen a drawing back there, so I tried to draw it." - She said, getting her notebook out for Joel and you. It was some old, black-haired woman inside white flowers, doing some religious mumbo jumbo. - "I have a feeling this is her people's doing." - Ellie put the notebook down and you all got silent again.

As you made your way through the building, there was a lot of fucking stuff on your mind. So, there wasn't only the WLFs in Seattle. There was another group that you didn't encounter yet - some religious motherfuckers, as it seemed. Dear Lord, were these shooting on sight as well? You hoped that at least with these people, you might have a chance to talk it out somehow. That would be just perfect. What you'd stubbled into? It seemed that the WLFs are at war with someone. Which sucked shit in your opinion.

And dear Lord, you found Leah in the next five minutes. She was laying there in a huge puddle of blood, her body was pierced with arrows. Which somehow managed to look even more savage than the ones Joel taught you how to make. - "Jesus, the universe wanted this girl dead, huh?" - Dina mumbled upon watching the dead body while Ellie went straight for the bag. - "Is this the girl who..." - Dina looked at you as you kneeled beside Leah as well. Quickly, you shook your head, watching her. Someone wanted her dead and it was plausible that it could be the religious sect who hanged the people on the lower floor. It was a more probable solution.

"Look at this. Y/N... Can you come here?" - Ellie asked upon finding of ten Polaroid photographs in Leah's bag. There were the people who managed to escape them. And these photos were taken near Jackson. Each of them. Dina looked on the photo as well, stopping Ellie at one particular one of a short-haired woman who was sitting there in a tight winter west, sending the camera a big smile. She was the one who asked you if you're doing okay.

"This one. Jesse, Diego, and I met her just a moment before we found you down there. She wasn't armed and she looked so scared that before any of us rose our guns, she managed to get away." - Dina told you the small backstory. - "If she wasn't with the people who had done... That to you and Tommy, she'd be quite nice." - The black-haired girl assumed, looking the woman's face. Her name was Melanie. Melanie.

For a moment, Ellie went through the other photos. And when you saw their fucking faces fairly close to each other. Both of them were smiling, looking straight into the camera. Ellie was the first to realize who you've been looking on. The corners of your lips started to twitch as your brain searched for any word that would come to mind.

"Owen and Abby." - She whispered when she leaned in to inspect the picture over your shoulder. Gently, her fingers took away the photo, looking at these two fuckers smiling into the camera. She already felt her breath hitching as anger started to cover her consciousness. - "We hunt them down like fucking animals. I promise." - The girl whispered just when you heard sounds coming from the lower floors. The WLFs had arrived after the massacre done by the cultists.

Joel wanted you to stay back for the sake of your mental situation - but you weren't planning on staying back. Seeing Abby smiling, being happy just hours before she massacred you was offending you. It had woken up hatred inside of you.

Each life you took brought up a different set of feelings. You weren't as shaken as you were the day you've met the hunters in the woods with Joel. Sure, you still weren't feeling the greatest about taking someone else's life - but these people were affiliated with Abby. All you were going for was leaving a message for the woman. You were after her and you weren't slowing down. Each of them met her at some point, they had joked around, greeted each other, or ate their food together.

The anger woke up the animalistic side you didn't know you had inside of you - with every stab to the neck, you desired to hear them scream, beg for their lives just to feel the satisfaction growing inside of you. Thank God the more rational side didn't leave you, telling you to cover their mouths properly. And in the end, when the building finally got quiet, you were just standing there and looked at the path of the dead bodies you left behind. This was all Abby's doing. She got inside your head, making you thirst for revenge. The thirst wasn't even that strong until you saw her fucking face again. With a sigh, you massaged your face, taking in a deep breath without realizing that you're smudging the blood all over your cheeks and forehead.

"Are you good, baby girl?" - Joel asked you, making you look at him. Tiredly, you nodded, cleaning the knife on your trousers again. - "We need to leave. Let's go." - The man told all of you, already making his way out of the place.

You hadn't been tired as much ever in your life. Seattle was taking its hold on you - the whole day, ever since you arrived, you hadn't stopped to take at least a shallow breath. Your muscles hurt for a fair amount of time and the more you were walking, the more you were feeling the horse incident taking a hold on you. Again, your stomach was clenching and your head was aching. But you met another group on your way and crossing the former subway track was a living nightmare since it all concentrated there - Jesus, you'd swear you'd never seen so many enemies in one place.

"'kay, we have spores ahead, so keep your masks on." - Joel turned to everyone and in the next minute, each of you adjusted the masks on your faces. Yet this time, Ellie took the role of the group leader on her shoulders again, leading you through the old subway wagons. It was probably for the better there was four of you. Dina was puking a lot, you were feeling as if you'd pass out any minute, Joel had fucked up upper arm and Ellie was just fucking tired. But even if you were all done in a sense, you could still help each other to overcome the barriers. The day way settling down, so you needed that you had to find some safe place where you could rest. As you looked around on the empty wagons, suddenly, one of them collapsed under Ellie.

"I'm coming!" - Dina screamed and ran after he immediately as she saw the some infected ran to her girlfriend laying on her back. Joel first checked on you and then, he helped you down from the steep, wet metal. Dina fired a few rounds, but when you climbed down, she was looking at Ellie in shock. And you saw Joel's eyes widen as well. Soon, you realized why.

Ellie's mask was broken. She was breathing in spores that were everywhere around you. But, weirdly, she wasn't coughing. The words that were said? You couldn't catch one because you were just staring at Ellie taking off her mask - and the sounds of incoming infected were making you unfocused as well. - "I'm immune. I'm immune. Fuck." - Ellie muttered out, holding Dina's palms as you changed the magazine inside your gun and Joel did the same with his revolver rounds.

"Kiddos, y'all need to talk about this later. Can y'all run?" - Joel asked, shooting the first infected on sight to their leg. Each of you nodded, both the girls taking out their guns as well. - "Then run!" - The man yelled at each of you, which turned some switch inside of you again. You still were tired and your thigh muscles were on fire as you ran on escalators and stairs with Dina right behind you, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop. It felt like a miracle when you saw the exit. There was a horde of Runners and Clickers tight behind your fucking ass, you couldn't stop to take at least a short breath. The sounds were getting closer and closer as your body crashed into the security gateway. Just after you ran through it, you fell on the ground and crawled away so the others could come through it as well. All you did was that you put your head down on the ice-cold wet tiles of the subway station floor, closing your eyes.

So, to recapitulate the whole day... Your horses were blown up, you lost and found Ellie and Dina, you killed at least twenty people, found out Ellie was immune and were almost killed by the horde of the infected. Well, when it thrives, it doesn't slow down, does it?

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mister-lady · 3 years

Text

I did fic gmkfkdkfr. And it what, only took me several weeks to write a fic for Dice? Mvgkdkkf. This was still fun and I liked it :3 and sorry if ttheres a lot of typos, I only seemed to be able to write this before I went to bed or before I woke up so it might be a little sloppy fkdkdkdk this was also a lot longer than I intended so ubm,, sorry about that

AU: uhh.. I dont know if theres a proper au name? Store clerk au? Idk but you'll get it cjfms

TW: talk about food, mention of blood, mention of looking like someone got murdered, talk about sharks eating someone

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Matt had a party he was invited too, and for Matt this was a special occasion, so he decided to go out and get some formal wear! He had a few dresses and such at home, but he wanted something with a newer and fresher feeling. Lucky for him, there was a nearby tailor shop that he knew about. He's never been to the tailor shop because he's never really needed anything from the place, so he was a mixture of excitement and nervousness at going. Thankfully for him, the nervousness wasn't too overwhelming this time.

As Matt stepped into the tailor shop, he was quickly hit with the smell of strong perfume- or was it cologne? Either way it was powerful enough to give him a small headache the second he walked it. He couldn't help but notice the small bell that jingled as he walked in, and smiled at the noise. Matt decided to look around, and caught a glimpse of a perfume stand that had it's own counter and shelf to it. Matt could only guess that's what was causing his headache. He couldn't help but also notice how big the store was too. He expected it to be some small tailor shop like the stores you would find inside a mall, but this once mind as well be the mall. He could only imagine how much money this place was gaining to be so big, and the concerned him because that normally ment it was pricey, and Matt wasn't really in the mood to go 50 miles elsewhere because he was a broke sucker. The interior had bright white walls and white floor tiles too, and the lights made the whole place seem to glow, only contributing to his minor headache. Though, it did make sense that they would need good lighting if it was a tailor shop, which seemed to have mini stands inside that sold other stuff, like the perfume one he had spotted earlier. Matt walked further in to get a better look and saw some other people that were presumably with store clerks that were taking their measurements or picking out clothing that would work with them. Matt also noticed that the majority of customers were females, which made him grow a little self conscious and contrary to what the website said, he almost started to doubt if this place had items for more masculine customers like himself. Matt hadn't gotten too far into the store before being abruptly stopped by someone. Matt shrunk a little, the person that stopped him looked rather intimidating, they were wearing mostly black clothing that hugged his body and had a scarf wrapped around his neck even while indoors, and also had a pair of shaded circle glasses that made it harder to see his eyes, again, while also indoors.

"And what brings you here?" The mystery person had asked.

Matt quickly scanned the person for a nametag, and found one on his chest with his name written on it. "Uhmm… I came here to maybe find an outfit for a party I need to go to later?" Matt was debating if he should bother using the person's name, as he wasn't ready to potentially butcher it.

"A party? Tacky; but fine. Come with me I'll help you pick out something." The man waved his hand, signaling Matt to follow him.

"T-tacky??" Matt blurted out before wishing he hadn't spoken up.

"Uhm, yeah. Tacky. We sell things like dresses and suits, not poorly colored and terrible silk clothing for a party no one is going to remember." The person didn't even turn around to face Matt while speaking, and kept walking.

Matt was left speachless, he didn't even know how to respond to that, especially because it was a slightly true statement. After a few minutes of Matt not knowing what to say, and feeling stupidly shy, he decided to at least look around and see if anything caught his eye. Matt didn't realize that the person he was following had stopped, and almost bumped into him.

"Here, stand on this stool." The guy pointed to a small stool that was set infront of a mirror against a wall.

Matt obeyed and stepped onto the stool. He looked at himself in the mirror before quickly looking away for several reasons.

"Stand up straight." The idiot wearing glasses indoors ordered.

Matt quickly shot up and fixed his posture and stretched his arms out straight and was quickly filled with embarrassment. The worker pulled out a tape measurement and quickly started taking Matt's measurements. Matt, like the dork he is, felt his cheeks flush at someones hands being so close to his body, especially when taking measurements for clothing, which that normally required waist and bust measurements. Matt looked away, avoiding eye contact like it would kill him. He was probably making the situation seem worse that it probably was. The worker stood up and put the tape measurement back into his pocket before seeming to think about something.

"Don't you need to write the measurements down?" Matt shyly asked.

"I do this every day as a job, I have it in my head." The worker spoke with a tinge of sass in his voice. "What are you particularly looking for, anyways?"

"Uhm.. well, I was mostly looking for a suit, though I normally don't wear the overcoat with it so maybe just a fine button-up shirt with a tie?" Matt had subconsciously reverted back to being slightly hunched over and his hands were fiddling around with the cuffs of his sleeves.

"I'm sure I can find something for that. Any particular color you're looking for? And what type of tie? Are you allergic to any fabrics? I need all the details."

Matt was overwhelmed by the sudden burst of so many questions and almost immediately blanked on anything he was just asked. "Oh I uh.. I'm not allergic to anything, uhm.. I'm not too picky about color, and I'd prefer a bowtie."

"Very specific, aren't we?" The worker teased.

"Well I don't want to seem too picky, I mean I don't want anything too expensive." Matt stumbled over his words.

"Darling, being picky here is what we need. Lucky for you I'm not someone that just throws anything on you for money."

"Ah yes, how lucky I am." Matt muttered sarcastically.

"So, are you sure you don't have a preference? Becuase I don't want to pick soemthing for you and you go complaining."

"I won't complain!" Matt stubbornly said.

"Fine, fine. You're words not mine." Then he walked off, probably to go and find something for Matt.

Matt couldn't help but think how oddly the place was ran. Matt didn't expect it to be that they pick something for you, he thought it'd be like any normal clothing store, where he could pick out what he wanted to wear. Of course, if a customer pointed out something they liked then the worker would probably get it for them or allow them to look around, but Matt would rather die than speak up like a normal person. Plus, this guy seemed to know what he was doing anyways, so Matt didn't mind too hard. While Matt was thinking about looking around he decided to see what was around him anyways. There was a small jewelry section nearby which probably had necklaces and earrings and chains and bracelets. There were also shelves on either side of Matt, not too close to him, but if he stretched out both of his arms fully, he could probably touch the two shelves. They looked like they would be shoe wrecks, but actually had folded clothing on them. Matt noticed an orange Hawaiian shirt with pineapple print all over it and three white buttons extending down from the collar of the shirt. He couldn't help but giggle as he picked it up, but made sure to not unfold it in the process. I mean, it was a party after all, right? Not some elegant ball. And it's not like a silly pineapple shirt hurt anyone anyways, right? He carefully set it back where he had grabbed it from, and eagerly scanned the shelves for anything else that might catch his interest. Most of the things on the shelves, as for the rest of the store, were all silky material stuff or fancy and were probably meant for more special occasions rather than a party that Matt was going to sit out in the bathroom all night. Yet… something felt different about the clothing on these shelves. Most of the shelves were a beaming white, and only had three or four shelves near the bottom for shoes and some folded pants or socks and stockings, and had hangers at the top for skirts and dresses and shirts and gowns and such. The shelves near Matt were brown and only had folded clothing on it. And Matt just noticed the prices were a lot cheaper too. It was like he found the discount regect section of the store. Though, Matt didn't mind it too much because he found a shirt he liked.

Matt was so lost in thought, he didn't realize his "buddy" had already came back. Matt actually didn't even know until a shirt got tossed at him, causing him to almost drop it. Matt held it up and examined it. It was a green button-up shirt with black buttons. Matt glanced up at the worker, like he was expecting him to say something, which just lead to them kinda blankly looking at eachother for a little bit.

"Well?" The worker prompted.

"Well what?" Matt echoed.

"Do you like it? I found a pastel purple one too, and you could maybe wear brown slacks with them, but I think black would better suit you."

"Well I don't mind it, than sounds fine."

"Don't mind it? We need something you'll love, not just feel neutral towards." The worker said it as if he was offended. "Did anything catch your eye maybe while I was gone?"

Matt hesitated for a moment, and shyly glanced at the pineapple shirt and pointed at it as if he wasn't allowed to touch it.

"Really? That?" The worker questioned and furrowed his brows.

"W-well you did ask…"

"Yeah it's just… theres a reason it's in a separated section from everything else."

"I assumed so, but it's pineapples.."

"But you'll look like a a torrist that got lost."

"Ouch, thanks."

"Look, I'm trying to say it nicely, but you'll look like a complete dork."

"No dorkier than your name."

"Hey! My name is not bad, if anything it's plenty better than whatver yours is."

"I didn't say it was bad! I said it was just dorky." Matt said defensively. "I like dorky things. I am a dork." Matt added.

"Yeah, uh, you do realize normally dork isn't a compliment, right?"

"Emphasis on normally."

"Look, if you like my name I'm not going to complain, alright?"

Matt huffed out a sigh. "I just wanted a shirt how do these situations happen to me."

"Here, I found this too." The worker said and tossed another shirt into Matt's arms.

"Jesus christ." Matt muttered.

"What?"

"Dice- can I call you that? I mean it's your name but..- Anyways, this shirt stinks."

"How? I mean if you think it's bad you don't have a sense of fashion."

"I mean, I don't but…anyone looking at me far away will think I got stabbed."

"And then they come up, see what it really is, and want to try it themselves. It's perfect."

Matt shook his head in silence. The skirt was white, but it had big flowers on it that were a deep red color, making Matt look like someone tried to shank him all over. Matt loved flowers but this was just asking to mess something up.

"If it helps, it's better than your pineapple shirt that you wanted." Dice said, like that was supposed to help somehow.

"If you don't like the pineapple shirt so much, cant I just buy it then?"

"No, I'm trying to save you."

"Save me? The only saving I'll need is from when someone calls the paramedics cause I look like I swam with some sharks."

"Oh yes, because being dressed like a fruit helps. It's not even a floral print it's a pineapple. I don't even need to explain what's wrong with that."

"Do you do this with every customer or?.."

"No, just you."

"Wow"

"Theres so much good clothing in here like suits and dresses and better patterns and nicer clothes and things that compliment you, than some pineapple shirt you can get at a Dollar Tree store."

"Y'know, you almost make me want to thank you."

"Well, you should be thanking me."

"I'm not going to." Matt made sure to say this in a rather playful tone, even though most their conversation had been teasing banter.

"Here, how about we just find something we can both settle on?"

"You're best idea yet. That sounds fine."

"Good." Dice walked off to go and look for something for Matt, but this time Matt decided to follow him as well.

It didn't take long for Dice to spot something and show it to Matt. "Here, how about this?" Dice offered.

Matt recoiled a little bit when it saw it. "It's not bad but..-"

"But?" Dice cut off Matt.

"Well.. it's so scratchy looking!"

Dice looked over Matt as if he was trying to check if Matt was being genuine or not. "You haven't even tried it on yet!!"

Matt timidly reach out a hand and rubbed it across the shirt before cringing back a little bit. "No."

Dice sighed before putting the shirt back and going off the hunt for something else suitable for Matt. Matt glanced around, he felt a little bad and a little afraid that he was being annoying, but he tried to push it away. Matt let in an excited gasp as he spotted something, before scampering off to go and pick it up.

Matt picked it up with a wide grin and held it up to show Dice like he discovered something new.

"That one?" Dice questioned.

"I am not letting you talk me out of this one! It has a space theme and that is final." Matt pointed at the shirt he was holding up, which had stars and planets all over it.

Dice held up a hand to his chin and looked over the shirt like he was considering it. He ended up giving in. "Okay, it's not too bad and I suppose it's better than that pineapple shirt…"

"I don't know what's with you and pineapples but I'll take it!" Matt was beaming and was bouncing on his heels from happiness.

Dice gently took the shirt from Matt's hands and checked for a price tag. Matt frowned a little, he completely forgot that prices were a thing since he was so caught up in his excitement. Dice glanced around and snagged a pair of long purple jeans and handed the clothing to Matt.

"How much will it cost?" Matt asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

"....I'll just say fifteen dollars." Dice responded.

"For both?" Matt asked, surprised.

"I want to help you pay for it."

Matt was surprised by the answer. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"Isn't that illegal in a way though?.."

"Maybe if you want to look at it like that, but you're cute so I'm letting it slide."

Matt felt himself get flustered at the comment, whether it was supposed to be flirtatious or not. He decided to not respond and just shake his head in response, though he was pretty sure Dice had noticed anyways.

As Matt ran up to the nearest counter to pay, he couldn't help but feel the need to Wave goodbye to Dice. Things like that happen when you become attached to people after five minutes. Matt was oddly surprised to see Dice wave back but was warmed by the feeling. As Matt ran off to his car so he could try on his clothes sooner, he noticed a small paper hanging out the pocket of the shirt he had just picked out. He grabbed the paper before it could fall out and got deeply flustered and joyous at what was written on it. There was a small drawing of a single die cube, and a phone number written next to it. It didn't take long for Matt to quickly punch the number into his phone and pray it wasn't some rouse. He decided to just send one small message saying "hi :D". Right as Matt went to put his phone back into his pocket, it buzzed signaling he got a new notification. Matt checked it and tensely checked if it was what he was truly hoping for. He read the message so fast he had to read it a second time after not picking up what it had said. It read:

Already texting me right as you just left? Someone's clingy and in love.

Matt sighed and smiled and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He had a feeling this was going to end up being something he needed to buckle in for, but whether that was necessarily a bad thing? He didn't think it was.

#geez what is wrong with my TW section for a store au- JDJGKFKG #future edit: i scanned over it and my gosh its littered with typos hhh #im too lazy to fix it sorry gkkgkg #:||D #decided to show a bit of my saltiness which u might not see a lot of gngjfjffk #yyeyeyee :D!!!!!💖💖💖

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