#so all the colours look so RICH and CRISP now
Note
OOOO HI I CANT BELIEVE I DIDNT REALISE ITS OCTOBER!!!!! Im in time by like an hour i have been blessed, can I request Anthony + regency + FWB :,) lots of love x
Kinktober: Anthony + Overstimulation
Kinktober 2023 Masterlist
Paring: Anthony Bridgeton x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering.
Author’s note: hi lovely 🫶 to make FWB work in Regency reader is a young, rich widow enjoying some pleasure with her good friend, the Viscount 😂😁 I really hope you enjoy this 🧡
“What are you….?”
Your words die in your throat as he keeps going, his hand between your legs, your back pressed into a gnarly tree trunk. Crisp autumnal air swirls around the glazing on your thighs as the edges of your orgasm still buzz in your being. And yet, he has made no move to stop his ministrations. The very reason you are in such a torpid state.
“Once is not enough with all the delightful noises you make, Countess Sedgewick,” Anthony attests velvety against your cheek, the silk layers of your dress pooled over the forearm of his jacket as he keeps swiping a thumb over your throbbing clit.
“Don't call me that,” you frown even as you bite your lip. “Call me by my maiden name, Lady Y/l/n,” you add, a hand gripping the trunk behind you, licking your parched lips, eyes fluttering closed at his continued teasing.
“Of course, Lady Y/l/n. The unexpected delight of being widowed so young, hmm?” his response laconic, switching his hand position to sink two fingers into your dripping pussy. “Yesss, that's the noise,” he goads as you moan behind gritted teeth and writhe.
“No more Bridgerton,” you warn, making no attempt to fight him off, revelling in the gentle pump of his fingers stretching your walls that still flutter sporadically.
“I know you do not mean that,” he chuckles, bemused, with an arching eyebrow, and turns his hand back into a flurry of movement that has you crying to the skies, so overwrought from the pleasure mere moments earlier.
“Again, Lady,” he implores, but it sounds close to an order, greedy for you to break again so soon.
“How about you?” you pant, grasping his forearm to anchor yourself as you spiral quickly. “Do you not wish the favour returned?”
His fingers press more insistently, wiping out your ability to form sentences.
“My pleasure can wait,” he assures, even though he leans bodily into you a fraction so you can feel his cock heatedly press your hip.
You are powerless to stop the tide of a second pleasurable wave hitting you full force, slumping into his caged embrace. He makes triumphant noises as you fracture around his fingers again, limbs shuddering, your body and mind floating somewhere among the rust-coloured leaves above.
“Perfect,” he opines. “Just once more….”
You make a weak noise of protest, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder, the woollen fabric slightly scratchy on your dewy skin.
“Oh yes,” he counters, almost a tart edge to his answer. “You can and you will.”
You pull up to look into his eyes, which are blown wide, his lips flushed dark pink, aroused by your arousal, mirrored back in your inky black pupils. He shuffles closer, leaves scrunching under his heavy riding boot, holding all your weight now you no longer can rely on your own twitching, overwrought leg muscles.
“Come on, Lady Y/l/n,” he purrs. “What is a clandestine lover for, if not hitherto unchartered pleasures?”
You can see the pride in his eyes—that he alone has been the only one to ever do this to you. Make you mindless with pleasure. He knows he has won the argument even before you nod weakly and wrap your arms around his tighter.
Then again, his hand is a frenzy, fingers plundering your depths as he roughly strokes your clit with his thumb. All you can do is cling to him, robbed of your voice, whimpering, sweaty and frayed. Your body burning from overlapping accumulated pleasure, your skin zinging as if caught in a lightning storm.
Your third orgasm is almost serene, reaching a peak that makes your mouth fall open in a silent scream, your whole body stiffening and then bearing down hard upon his fingers, gushing into his hand as you let out a sob of release, completely overwhelmed, feeling your heartbeat in every fibre of your being.
“There it is,” he gloats, triumphant, kissing your damp temple as he finally gives you reprieve.
No taglist as these drabbles are so short
#kinktober 2023#kinktober#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton#bridgerton smut#bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x female reader#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x y/n
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Autumn (Sandman One-Shot)
GIF: Originally posted by @thisgameissonintendo
Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader
Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Pure fluff. Friends to more-than-friends. Morpheus has made you a dream based on one of your favourite things and you explore it together.
Warnings: Physical intimacy, kissing.
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: Happy First Day of Autumn Sandfam! Hope you enjoy this one, would love to hear what you think, and also to know which season is your favourite and why. All my love, Saskia <3
Sandman Masterlist
--------------------------------------
"Can I open my eyes yet?" You stifle a giggle with the back of your hand, feeling very much like a person awaiting a surprise on their birthday.
"So impatient," Morpheus replies with a teasing lilt to his liquid velvet voice that sets your laughter free.
"Is that a yes?"
"I am simply adding some final touches."
Ever the perfectionist, you think with a grin.
You inhale deeply, making use of one of the only other senses you could use in this situation. The air is crisp, fresh, with an earthy undertone; you are definitely outside, but where, you have no other clues to help guess.
Morpheus had certainly not given anything away when he had found you sketching in the Dreaming's orchard, charcoal in one hand, half-eaten apple in the other. He had simply told you there was something he wanted to show you.
Curiosity mounting, you had eagerly taken your friend's outstretched hand and promised to not look until he gave the word.
Finally, there is movement in the air beside you. Morpheus' fingers ghost your upper arm to signify his proximity.
"You may open your eyes now," He speaks quietly yet authoritatively by your ear.
You look, blinking to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the swaying branches of numerous trees, before taking the view in properly.
You notice the colours first, their vivacity and variety:
Umber, sienna, scarlet, amber, saffron. All under a pale blue, wispy cloud sky.
Leaves are falling thick and fast. They swirl and undulate in the soft breeze, coming to rest on an already leaf-smothered ground.
Little collections of chestnut coloured mushrooms are dotted next to the tree line. Droplets of dew have gathered on their caps, lending a gorgeous sheen to their already lovely appearance.
Everything you saw was a showcase of autumn.
"You remembered," You say breathlessly, referring to a conversation that had taken place a few weeks ago where you had professed your love for the season and all it entailed.
You look to Morpheus with a sunbeam smile, asking for permission to explore. He nods, extending his arm, communicating that it was all yours.
Your steps into the leafy clearing are gleeful and bouncy, creating satisfying rustling and crunching noises as you go towards the well-established trees. Melodic birdsong echoes from the canopy above you. Swathes of moss begin where the layers of leaves end. You carefully hop onto it and enjoy the way your shoes sink a little into the plush, verdant carpet.
Fingertips trail over the greyish, dappled trunk of a sycamore tree before you move to the tactile, deeply ridged bark of an ash.
You slip your arms around the second tree, close your eyes and give it a big hug.
Everything feels right in this moment.
You open your eyes to see Morpheus watching you from several paces away. There is a twinkle in his deep blue eyes; clearly he finds your display amusing.
The rich autumn colours contrast beautifully against his monochrome attire. None of the falling leaves come close to his person, reminding you that even now, even when he looks to be still, there are a multitude of responsibilities ticking away inside his mind, including the control of the objects within this tranquil dreamscape.
A dreamscape that he wanted to share with you.
It is times like these that you are confronted by the truth of just how special your friendship with Morpheus is. There are fleeting moments where you wish it could be more but for now you are simply an Endless and a mortal who find solace in each other's company.
Pushing yourself away from the tree, you come back into the clearing and find a spot among the leaves to sit. Morpheus joins you after you pat the ground and call his name.
No words are exchanged for a while. You simply pick through the surrounding leaves to find the most vibrant example. A scarlet one, fallen from an aspen is what you settle on. You tuck it in your coat pocket and meet Morpheus' wistful gaze.
"Thank you, I really needed this."
He nods formally. "When you said that you found yourself missing the autumn splendours of the Waking World, I decided to make a version for you to visit at your leisure."
You are taken aback. "You made all this for me?"
"Yes," His tone starts off measured as ever but gives way to something you have never heard before. "Does it have your approval?"
The sudden insecurity is impossibly endearing. You reach sideways to touch the back of his hand.
"Approval? Morpheus, it's - well, somewhere I could only dream of."
He bows his head. "It pleases me to hear that."
"I hope it didn't take up too much of your time to make it all, I know how stretched you can get."
"I cannot deny, it has occupied me a little more than the construction of other recent dreams, however, I believe it necessary to put time and effort into making gifts for those whose pleasure and happiness you find important. You deserve to feel those things, Y/N, and being able to contribute to them in some way brings me pleasure of my own."
You don't know if it the fiery colours around you heightening your reactions but hearing Morpheus talk about pleasure is doing something to you.
It is fuel to the embers that had been smouldering within your body for a couple of months now.
It makes you feel delirious. You find your attention languidly drifting between his eyes and his lips.
Blue to pink, pink to blue.
Then he mirrors your action and it all becomes too much.
"I really want to kiss you right now," You admit, the words rushing out without proper consideration.
"Very well," He answers instantly, not allowing you even a fraction of a second to regret your sudden divulgence.
Doubling down on this approach, he turns his body to face yours and gently cups your face in his long-fingered hands.
He's staring at you so intently, his thumbs run back and forth over your cheekbones, the unwavering attention and sensation causing you to shiver and sigh.
He moves closer and his pupils blow out from anticipation.
Morpheus' perfect lips are now mere centimetres from yours. Fluttery nerves fill your insides. You are so overwhelmed that this is actually happening.
You close the gap, testing the waters with a kiss that is soft and tentative. Morpheus is instantly hooked, initiating a second one that allows you to discover just how skilled he is.
Your hands move up to tangle in Morpheus' unruly hair. At present, you cannot remember how long have you been longing to do this but you are not disappointed by how silken it feels under your palms.
The kiss between you becomes intense, his tongue joining the dance with a bone melting deftness, and soon you want to feel more of his body against yours.
You go to lay back on the bed of leaves.
He pulls away, concern etched in his brows, forehead and eyes that questions if he has gone too quickly.
You smile softly to assure him that all is well.
"Come here." You draw him backwards with you, allowing him to straddle you. During the manoeuvre, his coat falls open enough for you to see the galaxies swirling within the lining.
He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you once more, starting at your lips and moving to your neck when he senses that you need to breathe.
The touches of his mouth, the feeling of his body covering yours protectively, the weight of his hips aligned with your own; it has you moaning appreciatively.
He withdraws but remains close, astute eyes drinking in every detail and emotion on your smiling face, the halo-like glow shimmering on your hair.
"So beautiful," Morpheus murmurs reverently.
"Your dreams always are," You say, looking past him at the translucent clouds hovering in the sky above you.
His deep voice rumbles deliciously as he speaks his reply, a false admonishment, "You know that's not what I meant."
He playfully nudges his nose against yours. "This dream pales in comparison to you."
You blush as brightly as the leaf that you had stashed within your pocket. Morpheus traces his fingers over the blossoming redness, marvelling in how the extra heat feels under his touch and how his words were the ones that put it there.
"Kiss me, please," You ask in a whisper.
He arranges his coat to cocoon you against the seasonal chill and then obliges you with a deep and passionate kiss that spreads internal warmth right out to the tips of your fingers and toes.
If your winter continues like this, with Morpheus to hold and bond with, it is shaping up to be infinitely more delightful and cosy than any that have come before.
#the sandman#the sandman 2022#the sandman netflix#sandman#the sandman fic#morpheus#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream#dream x reader#the dreaming#the endless#tom sturridge#fanfiction#consent is sexy#fluff#romance#autumn#fall#oneshot#lord morpheus#gender neutral reader#sandman x you#g/n reader
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Repaying The Debt
Chapter 3
Violet Williams, a typical rich daddy's girl who did nothing but spend his money and hang our with her girlfriends. Her life couldn't be better. But that all changes when her father gets in trouble with New Yorks biggest and most ruthless mob boss, James Barnes and she finds herself repaying the debt of her father.
James paced around in his office, his phone glued to his ear and his other hand buried deep in his pocket. His crisp, black, polished shoes scuffed the carpet slightly as he paced, listening to the never-ending ring on the other end. His patient's skin was slowly getting thinner the longer it went on. Finally, a voice replied to him, shaky and nervous, and he instantly smirked.
John Williams had a right to be nervous. His daughter has just been kidnapped, and he is in a whole lot of trouble. It didn't take much for James to put fear in someone, and John certainly was fearing for not only his life but also Violet's. He knew this would happen sooner or later; James had warned him so many times, and yet he carried on thinking he was the big dog; he was going to come out on top because he works for the government and he can get whatever he wants. He clearly didn't know the full extent of James Barnes's power.
"John, finally decided to pick up," James slightly grumbled as he took a seat on the plush sofa to the side of the office. His office was huge, with dim lighting creating a dark atmosphere and tension in the air. His rich colony flooded the room, giving off power and seduction. The fine pieces of furniture blended in with the colours of dark magohany and burgandy, with the gold accents adding a touch of class. James folded his long leg over the other, his hand resting on his knee, the glint of his ring from the sutble lights.
He was a man of money, power, and dominance. a man who could get anything he wanted with but a look of his eyes. Growing up in the family business, he always knew he wanted to be on top, in control, and have power over something as big as a city. Now he had it. passed down from his father, he earned the right to call himself the most dangerous man in New York. No one dared to cross him, not even the police. Like he said, they work for him. All they care about is a couple of extra bucks here and there, and he'd happily throw them a wad of cash to cover up their illegal doings. His power in this city was no match for anything else.
people feared by just by name. You wouldn't want to get into business with a man like James unless you knew what you were doing, and most people didn't. He had to set an example for himself. If people didn't take him seriously, they would walk all over him like a piece of gum stuck to the floor, constantly being trudded on without a care. No, he wasn't going to let that happen, not on his watch. He could pretty much get away with anything—murder, assault, smuggling, you name it. There was nothing James Barnes couldn't do.
Kidnapping daughters from fathers who don't pay him back on time was another one. It was a fair deal. Until he was paid back in full, he needed some leverage and something to give some motivation to this waste of space people call a congressman, and what better than for it to be his daughter? Something he would take seriously. It wasn't the first time he had done it.
Leila was her name. She was a sweet old thing, young, beautiful, shy, and a Christian by heart. She never did a bad thing in her entire life. She was unfortunate to have a drunk father with an addiction to pills. With only a small-paying job at a gas station, he barely earned enough for them to stay afloat, so he turned his troubles to James, hoping for a small loan to get them by. Of course, he wasted the entire amount on booze and drugs, and yet his sweet, loving daughter would go home every night and tuck him into bed while he was passed out, normally in a pile of his own vomit, and would say a little prayer for Daddy. In James's eyes, he was doing her a favour.
Nonetheless, a deal had been made and was broken, and James wasn't going to let him get away with it. If he truly cared about his daughter, he'd shape himself up and stop wasting his life on feeling high every night. It took nine months for the guy to pay him back in full, and he released her back into society, though, in his opinion, she would have been better off staying with him than going back to that drunk. But he kept his promise.
He could hear the husky breath of John on the other end, pacing back and forth and running a shaky hand through his greasy hair as big bags were looming under his eyes. It didn't take long for word to travel to him that his daughter had been kidnapped, and he wasn't a complete idiot; he knew it was from the hands of James Barnes; who else would it be?
"Is she okay?" he asked, and James chuckled. Of course, they always make demands.
"She's fine, and she will continue to be fine as long as you get me my money," James said simply. It couldn't be more simple than that. Get him the money, and his daughter will be free to go.
"Look, I don't have it all right now," John said in a fluster, and James rolled his eyes. Of course he didn't; this man was useless. How he ever got into government james would never be known.
"I'm happy to take monthly payments... but you know, the longer it takes to pay me back, the more I'll keep adding on," he threatened, and John sighed.
"Please, just give me so much time and i-ll-.".
"I've already given you plenty of time, John. What do you think I am? I told you from the start that you had six months to pay me back; otherwise, I'll be taking something as collateral," James argued, his frustration growing with every second of having to talk to this stupid fucker.
"Yes, I know, but I haven't been able to get it; money is tight at the moment with the government.".
"I really don't give a fuck about you, the government, or how tight your money is, John. You entered into an agreement with me, signed it, and now you're going to pay the consequences.".
John went silent, and James was pleased. It sounded like he was actually starting to listen to James now and take this seriously.
"You know who I am, right? I could have the FBI on you in minutes if I wanted to," Kohn tried to threaten, and James replied with a laugh, throwing his head back and shaking his head.
"You think the FBI is going to stop me? I'm sure you wouldn't want the rest of your team to know what a sleeze you are. I'm sure they wouldn't want to know that their fellow congressman was blowing their money away on strippers and losing at poker. Let's not play this game, John; don't be a fucking moron. and I'm sure you wouldn't want your daughter to know what kind of person you are.".
John went silent, and he took a shaky breath. james smirked. James had him wrapped around his finger, and he was enjoying it.
"Just please don't hurt her," she whimpered.
"As long as she behaves herself, I have to say you have a very fiesty daughter, not what I was expecting, and she's very beautiful." John groaned on the other end, wanting to come up there and punch him square in the face. James could tell he was getting riled up, and he chuckled evilly.
"I want the first payment at the end of this month. I'll send my guys round if you want to do cash; otherwise, you know what to do," and with that, he hung up the phone, dropping it on his leg.
This was going to be interesting. He imagined his daughter to be very shy, sweet, and kind, and from the small amount of time he had spent with her, he had come to learn she really was just a spoiled brat. Looking through her bag, purse, and phone, she led nothing but a life of shopping, spending money, and doing nothing. She certainly had an attitude about her, which he slightly enjoyed playing with. In fact, he imagined he could have a lot of fun with her.
Growing up the way he did, his parents taught him that things were to be earned. money was to be earned. Granted, his money came from smuggling drugs and weapons and lending out loans, but he still earned that money through work. Violet earned her money by asking her dad for it and spending it in seconds. She certainly could teach her a thing about earning.
James was a man who liked to be in control—in control of women, to be exact. He got off on the thought of taking charge and control, ordering them what to do, and having them serve him from their knees as if he were their master. If they misbehaved, then they would be punished. If they behaved, then they would be rewarded. He'd never let a woman take control of him; there's no way in hell.
And yet something inside him was trying to teach that little brat a few manners, a few pleases, and thank you, sir, to respect those around her. Yes, he could tell this was going to be an interesting one. It won’t be long until she kicks up a fuss down there in her little room, kicking and screaming to be released.
If there was one thing about James, it was that he would never give in. She could kick and scream and beg and plead for all she wanted, and he still turned around and said no. If she thought she was going to have any control in this situation, then she was dead wrong. He was in full control, and she was going to have to learn that.
Chapter 4
Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments
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#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fanfiction#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#sebastian stan smut#bucky barnes fanficiton#bucky barnes smut#mafia Bucky barnes#mob boss Bucky barnes#Dom Bucky barnes
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Vin Jin x Reader: Seeing Colours
It's odd the things you become accustomed to, and the colours you can forget.
You point out the pretty pink of sunset skies to Vin during a quiet walk at dusk, and he mocks your excitement at the banality of it all.
Never one to take things lying down, your fingers creep to the edge of his sunglasses. His body tenses and stiffens but he lets you remove them anyway.
It really is so very pink.
You show him clear blue skies, gloomy and thunderous greys. The deep richness of midnight and twinkling stars. The brightness of a full moon sometimes appearing impossibly close. You identify consellations with Vin beside you, his face naked and eyes squinting.
The colour of leaves during changing of seasons; reds and oranges and yellows signalling impending death or pale greens unfurling into new life. You pass him a a simple leaf one time, vibrant and rich and emerald. Vin scoffs at you even when he carefully tucks it into his pocket.
Dazzling whites of a city covered in snow, the freezing blue crisp of winter, grimy pewters of melting roadside slush. Your mittened hand in his, navigating slippery paths. Vin laughs as you fall, but his hand reaches out to help you up. He opts now to hold you around the small of your back. It's done casually and with teasing words yet he steadies you and provides balance.
And now he knows the shades of your bedroom walls by heart, the warm tone of your wooden floors. The hue of your eyes as you look at him, the rosiness of your cheeks when you blush, the bitten rouge of your lips after a kiss.
Vin sees the entire spectrum of colours with you.
#lookism#lookism hc#lookism headcanons#lookism x reader#lookism webtoon#lookism manhwa#lookism fic#lookism fanfic#vin jin x reader#vin jin#jin hobin#jin hobin x reader#wannaeatramyeon
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i would know you anywhere (CWFKB #10)
Kissing Through Smiles @codywanfirstkissbingo
Modern AU, University Graduation
“Cody!”
Rising on his toes at the call of his name, bracing his elbow against Rex’s shoulder in order to steady himself and ignoring the grunt from the other man, Cody peers over the crowd. The majority are dressed in the dark robes of graduation, flashes of colour and pattern from the clothes of their visitors, but Cody could pick Obi-Wan out in a concert crowd of thousands. The other man has braced himself against one of the lampposts in the corner of the square, waving his arm frantically in the air.
The dark robes look good on him, hanging open except for the thin golden chain at his neck that holds it closed at the top. Beneath it, Obi-Wan wears a crisp white shirt and Cody bites back a laugh in recognition. He knows that shirt well, Obi-Wan had been frantically ironing it earlier that morning, the small board balanced across the back of the sofa as it had been one of the only clear spaces in the flat, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he worked. Cody hadn’t been in much of a better state, having lived in the same hoodie and trousers for the previous week while his final exam had drawn ever nearer, but he had still kept out of the way of both Obi-Wan and the trailing cord while he cooked them both breakfast. It had been nice, domestic almost, bringing back memories of when Cody had still lived in his childhood home without such mundane concerns like rent and groceries.
“Obi-Wan!” Cody waves his free hand, leaning more fully onto Rex to do so. Rex, a begrudging support, snaps something up at him that Cody doesn’t bother to listen to, and widens his stance to better support Cody’s weight. He drops down after another moment, luxuriating in the way Obi-Wan’s grin had impossibly brightened even more after seeing him, uncaring that his own smile is beginning to cause his cheeks to ache. He’s happy, deliriously, utterly happy.
Jango chuckles, his back pressed to the broader one of Seventeen, using his bulk to hide the trailing smoke from his cigarette as he breathes in and then out. “You don’t need to hang around us all the time. I’ve got more than enough sons to be paternal to today if you want to go see your boyfriend.”
“Not my boyfriend,” Cody informs him, casting a glance at his smoke that Jango ignores with the same ease Cody has inherited.
“Life partner then. Now, off you go.”
Cody isn’t about to let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers so he brushes a kiss against Jango’s cheek and darts out of the close circle of his brothers and away across the crowded square. He twists around the other groups, careful to keep his shoulders in check and try to make his way across to Obi-Wan as unobtrusively as he could, but he doesn’t know how successful he was. A scattered handful of glares pierce his back, a few exclamations of annoyance, but none of that matters as Cody reaches Obi-Wan, his hands already extended to help Cody up onto the pedestal of the lamppost next to him. His skin is warm, his hands rougher than Cody would have expected still given the purely the academic lean of his course, and Cody wraps an arm around his shoulder as Obi-Wan’s grip falls to his waist, holding him securely.
“Hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his nose bumping against Cody’s as they centre themselves on the limited space.
“Hey.” Cody pulls in a breath through his teeth, tasting the sharp artificial scent of Obi-Wan’s shampoo — borrowed from Cody’s apartment and he’d never considered the impact of smelling something so familiar on someone else — and the rich scent of his cologne. There’s a faint sheen over his collarbone from it and Cody presses his cheek against Obi-Wan’s, hugging him tightly. “I thought you would be with your family.”
Obi-Wan chuckles, his breath warm against Cody’s cheek as he leans into his hold. “Grandfather is busy conducting a tour. I believe the student guide originally assigned the role is receiving quite the education on the history of the place, and Qui-Gon is joining him to reminisce about all the hijinks he has gotten up to. If we can make it to the ceremony without another feud erupting, then I will count the day as a success.”
“Such a low barrier for success,” Cody teases, drawing back slightly. He doesn’t move far, can’t with their limited space beneath their feet and, even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. The future that had been looming is barreling them towards them, both fragile and wide-eyed in the headlights. “Though I can’t say my classification is going to be any better.”
“Yes. It did make you easier to spot.” Obi-Wan leans back, waving once more to the huddle of Cody’s family. Cody looks as well, he can’t pick out individual features from this distance but he can make out the uniform shade of their skin, the majority dressed in pale coloured shirts and dark trousers, and the dark colour of their hair. They stand out and Cody grumbles something into Obi-Wan’s collar. “Rex is shouting something to you.”
Cody, reluctantly, looks.
“I’m going to kill him. Obi-Wan, let me down.”
Obi-Wan bites the tip of his tongue as he fights back his laughter, his shoulders shaking. His grip tightens on Cody’s waist, keeping him close. “We could always… follow his suggestion? If you’d like.”
Cody straightens. He feels like he isn’t breathing, like he hasn’t taken a full breath since Obi-Wan first called his name and he surged across a courtyard to reach his side. “If I’m kissing you, it’s because I want to. Not because of my brother’s suggestion.”
“Whatever you say, love.”
Obi-Wan grins and lowers his mouth to Cody’s who is also unable to stop smiling. The angle isn’t right, the tilt of their heads restricted by their close quarters, but they laugh together, kissing in the sunshine. The future can wait for a little while longer; they’re together here and now.
#codywan#star wars#commander cody#obi wan kenobi#cody x obi wan#my writing#cwfkb2023#codywan first kiss bingo#fanfic
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That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Langley farmhouse, they extended a special invitation to Mary Elizabeth and Josephine for dinner. It was a celebration, not just of the bountiful harvest but of the promising winter ahead, filled with warmth and plenty.
Wilhelmina and Mary Elizabeth set about preparing the feast, their laughter mingling with the aroma of freshly gathered vegetables and the sizzle of meat in the pan. It promised to be a spread unlike any they'd enjoyed in years, boasting an array of meats, cheeses, eggs still warm from the nest, and an assortment of crisp, garden-fresh vegetables.
As they worked side by side in the kitchen, Wilhelmina paused, her whisk suspended mid-air. "How are things with...?" she inquired, her eyes alight with curiosity, her voice soft with genuine interest. Mary Elizabeth, her hands adorned with the stains of honest toil, looked up from her task, a tender smile gracing her lips.
"Edmund. His name is Edmund" she replied, her tone suffused with a blend of wonder and joy. "Well... they're going quite well, truth be told. It's all still so surreal, Wilhelmina. To think that as a widow with a child, I never imagined I'd find someone who'd want me." Her fingers intertwined, betraying the swirl of emotions within her. "Especially at my age" she added, a mixture of pride and disbelief colouring her words, for though she was nearing thirty, the prospect of new love still felt like a wondrous, unexpected gift.
A soft chuckle escaped Wilhelmina as she listened to Mary Elizabeth speak of her budding romance. "And do you think he'll pop the question soon? You've been courting for quite some time now" she teased gently, her eyes twinkling with playful anticipation.
With a resolute nod, Mary Elizabeth's gaze sparkled with unwavering certainty. "We're meeting again next week, and I just know he'll take that leap. And if he does." she mused, her heart swelling with hope, "I could bid farewell to the toil of work, and Josephine... well, she'd finally have the father she deserves."
They meticulously crafted a rich mince pie, slow-cooking it over a wood fire in a skillet nestled in the oven. Alongside, they whipped up Bubble and Squeak using the freshly harvested vegetables, complemented by a selection of sausages Mary Elizabeth had brought. To conclude the feast, they indulged in a batch of homemade traditional custard.
As the fragrant aroma of their culinary creations filled the air, they presented the savory pie adorned with peas and creamy mashed potatoes. The children's eyes widened in wonder; such culinary delights were a rarity, savored only on significant occasions and when financial resources allowed. For them, accustomed to humble fare like porridge and hearty vegetable stews, the prospect of the sumptuous meal sparked eager anticipation.
Taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the pre-winter evening, they gathered around tables hastily joined together to accommodate everyone. Under the soft glow of the setting sun, laughter echoed across the yard, mingling with the clinking of cutlery and the joyful chatter of friends and family. It was a night to cherish, a fleeting moment of shared happiness and culinary delight amidst the tranquility of rural life.
#ts4#sims 4#ts4 legacy#sims 4 legacy#ts4 decades challenge#sims 4 decades challenge#ts4 historical#1830s#the langley legacy#wilhelmina langley#edwin langley#thomas langley#rosemary langley#winifred langley#robert langley#mary elizabeth aldridge#josephine aldridge
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.a court of ash and smoke | twenty-two.
pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader
summary: five years before feyre archeron ever stepped foot in prythian, another human girl found herself in the spring court. but the trials and tribulations of her time under the mountain left her with nothing but a certain red-headed high fae emissary, who had once resented her entire presence, to help and guide her.
chapter warnings: n/a
chapter word count: 2981
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Apple Kisses
“P-Perhaps we should talk,” Lucien said quietly, leaning back against the tree. You glanced up at him, hoping.
“Not here,” you said softly. He glanced back down to Tamlin, and nodded in confirmation, holding his hand out to you as he winnowed you away from the party, and away from Tamlin’s watchful eye. You found that you were instead in his room, now on your feet, still smelling of fresh flowers and crisp spring mornings. You glanced around the room; the one and only time you had been in there before, it had been dark, and mostly had been out of sight and hidden in shadows, but you were now able to see it properly. The walls were a rich hue of sunset orange, and the sheets of the four-poster bed were a bright red. A table was pushed into the corner that held weapons of all varieties, sharp and glinting. There was a dark under the window that looked out onto the South grounds, and through it you could still see the bunting and maypole from the party in the distance. There was that mirror leaning against the wall, the frame a glorious brass that reminded you of the mask he had once been forced to wear. Everything was a dazzling shade of autumn, and you couldn’t help but feel homey there. Your own room was light and breezy and airy, pastel colours and light woods, but this room was cosy and warm. Like listening to rain patter against the window as you warm yourself on the fire. Like Lucien.
You saw him behind you, in the reflection of the mirror as you once had before, open his mouth as if to say something and then close it again. You turned slowly to face him, blinking up at him expectantly, but you didn’t say anything; you would let him speak first. He groaned and pulled at the roots of his hair in frustration, before finally asking the question that you suspected he had wanted to know the answer to for a long time. “Why did you sleep with Rhysand?”
You swallowed your dry throat. “Because I was lonely.”
“So you slept with the enemy?” He asked, and you wined.
“He may be your enemy, but he has never been mine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady and calm. “He has helped me more times than I can count-”
“And I haven’t?” He blurted, and you froze, staring up into those eyes of his, mismatched but gleaming all the same, with anger, with pain, and if you weren’t mistaken, with jealousy. “Have I not been there every time you have needed someone?”
“B-But you rejected me,” you said quietly. “I needed someone then, and you weren’t there.”
“So you chose Rhysand.” He spat the name as if it was poisoned.
“He was there, and he was just as lonely as I was,” you stuttered. “And you didn’t want me.”
“Want you?” He asked incredulously, whirling around to look at you, taking a step toward you, hands clenched at his sides. “Of course I want you! Cauldron boil me, you’re the only thing I want! I can’t sleep without seeing your face, I fear I’ll go mad whenever you’re not with me, I forget how to breathe when you walk into a room! I’d give you anything you ever asked me for - I’d give you a beam of sunlight or the moon on a string, just to see you smile! You’re all I want!”
The breath hitched in your throat, your hands becoming clammy as you stared up at him, at his feral gaze on you. “You said you just wanted some fun,” he continued, voice quieter now, eyes drooping slightly. “And I couldn’t be just that for you.”
“I lied,” you huffed out as though it should have been obvious. “I just want…I just want you, in a way that you will give me. But I cannot come second to someone else, someone who is probably beautiful and ethereal and worthy of you. What am I, after all, if not just a whore?”
He looked as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, but thought better of it. “You,” he whispered. “Are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
You scoffed, turning away from him and sniffling back the tears that were threatening to spill. “And yet, you still have Jesminda, and I will always be nothing to you.”
“Jesminda is dead.”
The words hung in the air, almost echoing through the silence as he turned to you fully then. “My father had her killed when he found out we were…together,” he explained quietly. “All because she wasn’t High Fae, because she wasn’t faerie nobility, so that meant that she was less than him. Less than me. She wasn’t. She was perfect.”
You opened your mouth as if to speak, but no word came out. You were stunned. Jesminda was dead. Lucien did not have a lover that he had kept from you, and you had punished him for it. The guilt rose up through you like a wave, pulling at every vessel, every bone and muscle in your body. You had punished him for mourning someone that he had loved and cherished, and that had been ripped away from him. Perhaps you were a monster after all.
“Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?” He asked, taking a step toward you finally, closing the gap between you and letting his hands fall to your elbows. “I made peace with Jesmina’s loss a long time ago, but I have never found it in myself to forgive him, or my brothers who stood by and let it happen, who made me watch.”
You swallowed again, heart beating faster than was likely healthy. He had seen it happen, had watched as she had been killed. Suddenly everything seemed to make sense, to fall into place. No wonder Helion hadn’t wanted to tell you. No wonder Lucien had rejected you.
“They killed Jesminda - murdered her - because of her bloodline,” he whispered, barely able to meet your eye. “What do you think would happen if they found out about you? Someone who used to be mortal? If they found out that you are the most important person I have ever met? I could never put you in that situation. It’s too dangerous.”
The most important person he had ever met. A shiver slithered itself up your spine.
His hand slid down your arms to grab your own, running his thumbs over your knuckles; his skin was warm and soft, despite the roughness of his fingertips, and they left goosebumps in their wake that washed over your skin and tingled under the surface, like little sparks left by his each and every touch.
“I can’t go through that again,” he almost whimpered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “Because I need you to be safe. You’re the only reason this stubborn heart is still beating. But how could I, in good conscience, let you be put in that position, always wondering if you have a target on your back?”
“Do you think they would come after me?” You asked, letting your hands trail up his strong forearms, brushing over the auburn hair there. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, slowly and with intent; you wanted to smell every morsel of his scent.
“I think they would try,” he sighed. “Anything to add another nail into my coffin.”
Your bottom lip trembled as you tore your hand away from his and reached up, cupping his face. “I do not care about your family, Lucien,” you said softly, running the pad of your thumb over the bumps of his scar. His eyelids fluttered closed at the action and he shuddered, leaning into your touch. “I would face them, and one thousand other enemies - I would go through everything again, all of the fear, and the pain and the hurt we experienced Under that Mountain - if it meant that I could be with you, by your side. You are worth one hundred targets on my back.”
His shoulder shook slightly, and you wondered how long it had been since anyone had told him he was worth something like that. When he looked back at you, you couldn’t miss the tears glinting in his eyes as he reached up and tucked a curl of your hair behind your ear, fingers brushing warm against your cheek. “But I cannot protect you from them, I don’t know how. I cannot lose you-”
“You will not lose me,” you said softly, planting a gentle finger against his lips. “And you do not need to protect me. Whatever comes our way, we will face it together, as we always have. No more pushing me away.”
“You would really risk it? For me?” He asked slowly, cupping your face with his warm palm, and your heart almost shattered. “I cannot ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me,” I smiled. “I’m telling you. For you, I would do anything.”
And that was the truth.
Even if you knew every word in every language ever spoken you would still have been unable to describe the smile that pulled at his sharp yet delicate features in that moment. His thumbs caressed your cheeks a moment longer, and then he was leaning in, and his lips were on mine, and you were finally tasting him. To your surprise, it was not only apple that you tasted on his lips as you had expected, but also warm honey, and sweet tea, and pumpkin like the soup that you had eaten the day that you were freed, and those subtle spices that felt so much like home.
His lips moved over yours with such tenderness, such love. When he finally pulled away, tears were glinting on his cheeks, and you knew that your own were falling from your eyes too. Because you had waited so long, and he was finally here, looking at you with such adoration, such love. He pulled you closer again, lips on yours, arms wrapping tightly around you, pressing you close to him. His hands ran up and down your spine, along your arms, and yours wrapped around his neck, curling into the locks of his long hair. It grew more passionate, more longing, so many things that had gone unsaid being aired in that kiss, until he eventually pulled away, panting and with flushed cheeks. He still held you close, and planted a gentle kiss to your hairline.
“If we don’t stop now then I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself,” he whispered against your hair.
“Then don’t stop,” you chuckled into his chest. You felt his shoulders shake as he laughed, pulling away from you and letting his hand fall to wrap around yours.
“There’s a whole party waiting for us, and I don’t think Tamlin would like to think that we had disappeared someone together in secret,” he chuckled.
“Ah, yes we’ll have to sort that out too,” you huffed. He squeezed your hand, once, twice, three times.
“Later,” he said softly, smiling. “Come on, we suddenly have something real to celebrate.”
The party was still raging when the pair of you returned, although everyone seemed much more drunk and a lot merrier as you wandered over the peak of the hill and down into the meadow, Lucien’s arm wrapped around your shoulder. You let him lead you down into the festivities, past the dancers who called for you to join, and past the drunken sentinels that lounged in the grass. He led you first to the refreshments table, muttering something about needing wine.
The table was laden with various foods, platters piled high with special festival delicacies that you didn’t recognise. Lucien began piling a plate high for you, and when he was finished, he handed it over with a smug grin. You picked at a cake - sweet and airy - and tried a pastry roll that somehow tasted even better than the cake. It was then that you found a small tart hidden beneath, a pastry bottom filled with a stark purple berry jam, and a pastry flower on the top.
“What’s this?” You asked, not recognising the type of berry. It certainly didn’t look that blueberry or blackberry. Lucien looked up from where he was pouring wine for the both of you and smiled.
“Just try it,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him and bit your lip, but eventually shrugged and took a large bite. It was tarte and bitter, yet sugary and syrupy, rich and light and just lovely. You dipped your head back, and groaned in appreciation, and Lucien simply chuckled. “That’s witchberry tart,” he explained with a smirk. “Best berries in Prythian, and they’ll make you feel better than even faerie wine. Like it?”
“Mm, delicious,” you mumbled through your full mouth. He laughed again, and you watched as he grabbed another plate and piled four more tarts on it. A moment later a glass of faerie wine was thrust into your hand, and Lucien’s arm was slid around your shoulders once more. Alis was right about the faerie wine, richer and sweeter than any wine you had ever tasted. He led you over to where the sentinels were sitting, and you found that every footstep you took felt lighter, as if you were floating on a cloud with only Lucien’s arm around you to ground you.
“That would be the witchberry,” Lucien chuckled as you beamed dreamily up at him. He helped you sit down with the sentinels, and Silas was quick to join you, leaning back on his arm and stretching his legs out. You ate and drank and ate and drank, and Lucien whispered sweet nothings into your hair and held your hand tightly, his other arm leaned just behind you protectively.
“Lucien,” Silas said eventually, glancing over at you and the emissary. “How did you enjoy that sandwich today?”
Lucien frowned, cocking his head as he narrowed his eyes at the sentinel. You could hear the laughter of the other sentinels and guards from behind you. “What did you do to it?”
“Well,” Silas said, trying to hide a chuckle. “You didn’t look much in a party mood this morning, so me and the boys thought we’d amend that.”
“What did you put in the sandwich, Silas?” Lucien asked firmly, although you could hear the humour in his voice.
“Carline Mushrooms,” Silas finally said, and burst into a howl of laughter. There was a flash of something over Lucien’s features, understanding perhaps, but then his features contorted in feigned anger, and he grabbed one of the witchberry tarts, and with perfect aim, tossed it through the air and hit Silas directly in the forehead. That only made the sentinels laugh more, and you and Lucien couldn’t help but join in.
A few glasses of faerie wine later and you were certainly feeling it, even when Lucien rose to his feet and offered you his hand, the other tucked behind his back as he bowed low and said, “Would the lady care to dance?”
You could do naught but giggle and take his hand, letting him pull you from the ground and lead you to the maypole. The ribbons had already been done early that morning, but that didn’t stop the faeries from dancing, twirling and whirling around the maypole, laughing gleefully. Lucien came to a stop, glancing over his shoulder, likely checking for any sign of Tamlin, but your brother was nowhere in sight, likely gone off somewhere with Feyre, and so Lucien placed his hand gently on your waist and the other wrapped around your own hand. He held you close, and as the song began to crescendo, he began to move. You were wavy and hazy from the wine and witchberries, and you didn’t know the steps to the dance, but Lucien guided you in the movements, holding you close.
He spun you in circles as you laughed and danced and jumped and sang with the other faeries. Your hair was flying around your faces, your own mingling with his red locks, just like Autumn. Lucien kept his hand on your waist, and a smile brighter than even the Spring sun above you was planted firmly on his lips.
You danced and danced, the sweat dripping down your necks and backs, and didn’t stop until you had grown so dizzy that you could barely stand, until you had laughed so hard that your lungs hurt, until most of the other party guests had already returned home, and the sun had set, the night sky blanketing over the Spring Court.
He led you up that hill to the very top and pulled you down to the grass, wrapped an arm around you and pulled your head onto his chest, letting out a satisfied sigh as you listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart.
“Lucien,” you whispered, and he hummed in response, although neither of you looked away from the stars that glimmered in the sky above you. “I’m very glad that I met you.”
He chuckled, reaching down and grasping your chin in his fingers to bring you up to look at him. He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, kissing you under those twinkling stars, sweet and long and soft and passionate. “Me too.”
He walked you back to the manor not long after that and he walked you to your room, kissing you again in the doorway, and not arguing when you dragged him inside and pulled the door shut behind him. You curled up in his arms, cuddled against his warm chest, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly at peace.
#ACOTAR#ACOTAR fanfiction#ACOTAR fanfic#Lucien Vanserra#Lucien#Lucien ACOTAR#Lucien Vanserra fanfiction#Lucien Vanserra fanfic#Lucien fanfiction#Lucien fanfic#Lucien x reader#Lucien Vanserra x reader#Lucien x you#Lucien Vanserra x you#Lucien x y/n#lucien vanserra x y/n#rhysand#feyre#tamlin#elain#nesta#mor#cassian#azriel#amren#amarantha#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#a court of frost and starlight
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Hello! Do you have any advice with painting? Every time I start I end up just doing lineart with colours underneath, and when I do kindles art it looks kind of like plastic. Am I supposed to merge the two layers and then start shading? What would you recommend?
Hey anon!! I actually do have some advice for that!! I'll shove it under a cut because it got way longer than I thought it would, sorry for the infodump everyone _(:3 」∠)_
quick tl;dr: painting process should consider both personal taste & the desired aesthetic of a painting, & to avoid plastic-y colours, make sure your hues vary within your values (and layer modes are ur friend) ♥
there's a million ways to start paintings & its all down to personal preference -- the end goal for the illustration can often influence the approach you take; a crisp digital painting might call for meticulous layering & sharp edged flats, but if you want something to look like an oil painting, you should try and mimic that process as close as you can! here's some examples:
this is the sketch for my FYR zine piece from last year; i intentionally approached it in a way that looks like traditional underpaintings so that when I worked directly on top, those orange tones would peek through like this:
after doing that undersketch, i manually painted everything -- no fancy layer modes, just me, one layer, and screaming ಥ_ಥ it was hard but it worked for the vibe i wanted!!
now v.s something like this:
simple shapes, roughly blocked in shading that just gets merged and painted over, as well as lots of layer modes on top for those colour changes! this is by far the easier one & the one i'd probably recommend, solely because it lets you keep more control. i go more in depth here on that -- but to quickly answer, i personally block everything (including shading) in before I merge & render!
for the other thing you mentioned, a lot of the times that 'plastic' feeling can come from either a lack of transitional shades or only using white/black for your value tones. this tweet thread (direct image links 1, 2 & 3) by frozensoba demonstrates it incredibly well -- by adding certain colour shifts in your values, it can create extra depth which is what makes stuff look more alive!! don't be afraid to really push it and get wacky
an easy way to add it while you're learning is using gradient maps to add richness in your midtones. It's not perfect since different surfaces & materials diffuse light differently, but adding one at the end of a drawing can help tie everything together. If you can do both at once though it always looks best; here's some very quick 2 minute orbs as an example:
ok I'm almost done (and im so sorry for how long this got... special interest moment TM) -- one last thing is to try varying your brush strokes & adding textures if you want. using only an airbrush or heavily relying on blurring brushes can make things look plastic too; sometimes you want that, but for the times you don't, adding some texture & leaving brush marks in can do a lot!!
lastly, since this is just me rambling, here are some artists that are incredibly talented & i highly recommend looking at for their advice & processes because it will be much more coherent than this:
Marco Bucci -- amazing educational content. if you check out any of these artists, he's the one to look at first imo. his 10 minutes to better painting series is a great place to start
Sinix Design has some amazing tutorials on anatomy & the mechanics of painting! This video & the intermediate part 2 are super
Dao Trong Le -- a veritable goldmine of speedpaints
Bo Chen & any of the riot splash artists. If that's the vibe you're after, you can't go wrong with the LoL splashes as reference
i hope that helps!!!
#tutorial#any time i have the opportunity to barf out art talk i will do it#tysm for the question too ♥#not art#asks
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"Promise"
Chapter 2: Hatachi
> Chapter 1
Madara Monday!
Notes: This chapter is centred in the brotherhood dynamic of Madara (20 years old) and Izuna (17 years old). You may notice several references to being 20 years old (hatachi / 二十歳), which had been considered the age of maturity for centuries, both culturally and legally in Japan. Here you have two links on the subject if you’re interested: link 1 link 2
Hatachi
A cold breeze entered from the half-shut windows of a simple room, furnished by a desk and many shelves stacked to the top with documents. Two men were working together, opening the fancy seals of delicately crafted scrolls. Madara, who had just become an adult according to his clan’s custom, was scowling at the workload. Even more than usual. His eye bags were nearly the colour of his navy blue robe as it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping well for several days. As the sound of another seal being opened by his brother snapped him out of his choleric state of mind, he turned his head and read the message.
“If I get another damn marriage arrangement proposal from that daimyo once again, I will burn his lands to a crisp!”, he exclaimed as soon as he saw the title of the message. This particular daimyo had already sent him five requests. One for each daughter he had, trying to blindly guess what sort of woman Madara would like.
“Well, this guy is determined to get one of his daughters into this clan one way or another. Goodness, let’s hope I don’t have to deal with him once I’m 20!”, Izuna replied. The younger Uchiha shook his head and handed his brother a blank scroll for him to write a rejection letter once again.
“I will be blatant with him this time. I’ll make it clear that if I get another proposal from him, we will never provide services to his lands ever again.”
Madara submerged his brush on the suzuri, letting the black ink be soaked into the bristles and then he started writing with a frown. Izuna peeked at the contents of the reply and was quick to interrupt, slamming his palm onto the table.
“No, elder brother! Not like that! You can’t be so rude, he pays well for our services! Just say something like… um, you’re not looking for a wife? That you don’t want to rush it?”
“I’m done with this crap. You write the rejection letter and I’ll drink some of the tea before it gets cold.”
Izuna simply rolled his eyes and smiled a little. He knew that his brother was stressed and that it was best to let him relax before he got back to the many duties of a clan leader. After redacting a polite rejection letter explaining that Madara had too much on his plate to go and tie the knot, Izuna closed the scroll and closed it with a ribbon. Madara was finishing his mug of tea while gazing into the horizon through the window, so Izuna decided to snap him off of his trance by patting his shoulder.
“You should cheer up a bit, elder brother. Take the constant requests from many daimyo as a flattery or something. You think any sane, rich man would want his daughter to marry a bad catch? We’re a powerful clan, we have lands and prestige! I would safely bet a nice barrel of umeshu that the daimyo were counting the days until you turned 20 to start sending these.”
Madara, now more present in the moment, put down his mug and sighed as soon as he glanced at the mountain of similar messages on the desk. Sure, he had a big ego but this wasn’t the way in which he wanted to be appreciated. He lowered his head and ran a hand through his pitch black hair before speaking in a rather quiet voice.
“If Father was here, I wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nonsense. Instead of writing the same rejection letter over and over again, I could actually have time to find a partner for life and read my books. I don’t think I’m doing a good job at this clan leader thing, Izuna.”
“Oh come on, you’re doing amazing! You’ve been the youngest leader this clan has ever seen and we’re seeing an improvement in many areas. When was the last time we had more than ten trained doctors, hm? Or the last time we got over 30 customers?”, the younger man replied with a comforting voice to cheer the worn down leader while quickly skimming through another message. The mention of their father was a sensitive topic, as both men missed him dearly.
“Being the youngest clan leader ever comes with a downside. I don’t remember the end of my teens and the start of my adulthood. It suddenly came to an end as soon as I swore in that ceremony and renounced part of my independence. Would Father be proud of the way I’m handling things? Maybe I’m too immature and selfish for this.”
“Of course he would be proud. Don’t you remember what he used to say every single time he took us to battle with him?”
“You’d have to narrow it down. He was always saying that you tied your sash the wrong way, hah!”, he joked. Izuna grinned slightly as his attempt to lighten the mood was working. Then, the younger brother cleared his throat and made his best imitation of their late father’s voice.
“This clan crest entails the great honour of a caste of mighty warriors. It is a symbol of strength and duty”. Madara laughed as Izuna made a small parody of their father. When they were boys, they’d dislike having their father constantly saying such things. But now it was a fond memory.
Madara didn’t reply to that, he simply pondered silently about what it meant to be… himself. The prodigy, the wielder of a mangekyou sharingan, the clan leader, the son, the older brother. That was until he spotted something from the corner of his peripheral vision just seconds later. What caught his eye was the sight of his beloved younger brother piling up all of the leftover messages from daimyo who were in a haste to get their daughters married.
“Hey, what are you doing? Leaving those for later?”
“Um, technically I am. Or I am not.”
Izuna then held all the scrolls in both hands and channelled his chakra through his fingers, causing the paper to burst into flames and burn down into mere seconds. Madara was impressed, that was a dangerous move!
“No! We have to reply or we could lose the good relationships with those lands! You were the one suggesting that we reply politely!”, he cried out, using his hands and another piece of paper to try and make the fire die down.
“We can’t keep wasting time! These people know that you’re not interested and yet keep sending requests! I am indeed an advocate for harmonious diplomacy but this is getting repetitive and useless! I’ve read through them all and it’s the exact same daimyo as always!”
Izuna exclaimed with a hint of anger while throwing the remains of the burnt paper to a bucket that served as a trash can and shaking the ash off his fingers. While Izuna was the one who always helped Madara avoid unnecessary problems caused by the shinobi’s sharp tongue and disdain for weaker ninja, he drew the line at wasting his time with menial tasks. That was the only case in which Izuna would allow himself to have a more aggressive approach.
Madara simply sighed and looked at the pile of ash in the trash can. That must have been at least 50 scrolls, all of which were marriage arrangement proposals. He couldn’t understand why so many adult men, most of which were well educated, would be so eager to have their daughters marry a complete stranger only because of his power and status. It made the idea of marriage become shallow, as if it were only a tool. There were a series of important doubts clouding his mind: would he ever find someone that saw beyond the outside? Someone who saw his heart below the many layers of duty? What people would call a “soulmate”?
After two long hours of working side by side, the brothers called it a day and began to classify the scrolls into the many shelves of the room. One shelf contained the scrolls to be sent with a messenger hawk in the morning, another one served as an archive for the clan’s accounting, a third one was a record of the daimyo who had requested their service as mercenaries and so on. Madara arched his eyebrows at the many service requests that Izuna had handled, then looking at the much smaller amount of accounting and negotiating he had done that was now piled in the shelves.
“You’re quite the productive man, eh?”
“Oh please elder brother, taking care of the requests is simply saying yes or no. You have to do maths, economics and those things. You’re the clan leader, you deal with the main stuff.”
“I wouldn’t have the time to do this if you didn’t help me with those boring service requests. Don’t put yourself down, Izuna.”
“Hm. May I ask something, elder brother?”
“Shoot.”
“Was any of those proposals from… Fuyumi~?”, he said in a mocking tone to his brother. Izuna knew that Madara was slowly catching feelings for that young woman. And in fact, he would be glad if the two ended up together. They were a good duo in the battlefield and knew each other even before they learned how to speak. But Izuna was still in his late teens, so he would never treat the subject seriously at this point. What kind of younger brother misses the chance to annoy his older brother?
Madara had somehow sensed that Izuna would find a way to involve his crush on Fuyumi. So instead of saying a comeback, he jokingly slapped his brother’s nape and laughed.
“Shut up, you little rascal! Finish that so we can go greet Father!”
“Haha! Fine, fine, I’m almost done. But you can’t deny that you wish one of those proposals was from Fuyumi~”
“Hmph! I said shut up!”
Izuna continued to make jabs at his brother until they finally finished stacking the scrolls in their respective places. When the two men in charge of running the Uchiha clan stepped out of the office towards the little graveyard beside the house, the position of the moon indicated it was midnight. Both of them sat down before a long tombstone and placed incense in front of it, perhaps even praying for the soul whose name was engraved in the rock. Izuna broke the silence and nudged Madara with his elbow.
“Elder brother…”
“What is it?”
“Don’t put yourself down. I’m proud of you. And I’m sure Father’s proud of you, wherever he may be now.”
Madara smiled softly at his brother and put an arm over his shoulder. Izuna had been much too young when they lost their father, so the least an older brother could do was comfort a hurt and grieving young man. A single tear rolled down the clan leader’s cheek as many thoughts filled his mind. He remembered his father, all of his advice and what he should do once he grew up. One particular piece of advice resonated within his memories.
“Find yourself a good woman just like I found your mother. Someone whom you will love, protect and cherish. And help your brother find one as well when the time comes, after you both turn 20. You two are meant to stick together and watch each other’s backs.”
Being 20 years old and a clan leader surely did entail a lot of responsibilities, but at least his little brother was proud of him.
#madara monday#fanfic#madara#madara uchiha#uchiha madara#izuna#izuna uchiha#uchiha izuna#oc: fuyumi uchiha
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Meeting at the Masquerade
characters: Diluc
reader: fem!reader
warnings: none
word count: 818
a/n: i wrote only one character to warm up, tho i do plan on writing for the others too. too lazy to proofread, look out for any typos.
Diluc
You felt out of place at the ball. Being a lady entailed you to attend parties you didn’t like attending, but you did it for the sake of the family name. Your parents ushered you to every ball in the city, hoping you’d bump into a handsome suitor in one of them.
You cast a glance around the wide ballroom, seeing not handsome men or beautiful women but bejewelled, colourful masks. Right. You were attending a masquerade at the Dawn Winery, in honor of the owner, Diluc Ragnvindr’s birthday. You hadn't seen him all night, though you'd tried to find him. Not in hopes of catching his eye, oh no. You knew the Ragnvindr heir was famous for rejecting any who came to him, men and women alike. You simply wanted to thank him for the invitation. But his red mane was nowhere to be seen.
Tugging at the fox mask that fit rather snugly onto your face, your mouth formed a thin line. The invitation to the ball had reached your doorstep last week, sending your mother into a frenzy of dresses and jewels for the past 7 days. The crimson ball gown you wore, now fluttered behind you as you explored the ballroom in hopes of finding a familiar face.
But wherever you looked, you were greeted with glassy eyes behind masks. Of course, the Dawn Winery would not have a party without, well, wine. It disgusted you to no end but you could not leave the party before the birthday toast. Your shoulders were beginning to slump as you wandered alone, wine glass in hand.
You raised your glass to your lips, tasting the wine for the first time that night when it splashed all over your face and dress. You gaped at the glass, wondering what you'd done to anger it when someone offered you a handkerchief.
“I’m so sorry I did not see you there. I apologise for ruining your dress.” You looked up at the man who spoke, his piercing red eyes clear behind his owl mask despite the wine being served. You hadn’t realised he’d bumped into you, instead blaming the glass for somehow being sentient.
“It’s quite alright. I wasn’t really fond of the dress anyways.” The man grimaces as he estimates the cost of the dress, his scarlet ponytail swishing to the side.
“Don’t worry, I’m not much for dresses and riches. My family is well off to have several of these dresses ruined and not a percent of their coffers wasted.”
The man raised his brows, perturbed by your nonchalance to the wealth. Clearing your throat, you took a good look at him. He looked to be of nobility with his crisp suit and star studded mask. The owl plumes gracefully framed his face, the red stones standing out and bringing his sharp gaze to attention. Your hands itched to remove the cover, to see the man beneath.
You had to admit he was rather handsome, even with the mask on. Your palms suddenly turned clammy and your mind kept drifting to the ugly wine stain on your dress. Feeling self conscious, you asked him something before he had the chance to open his mouth, “Have you seen Diluc Ragnvindr by any chance tonight? I’ve been meaning to thank him for the invitation he sent.”
The question had clearly thrown him off, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. Puzzled, you thanked him for his handkerchief and went your way. Looking back, you realise you didn’t even know his name. Cursing your foolishness, you wondered if you’d ever come across the handsome stranger again. Without the mask, preferably.
A few days had passed since the ball at the Dawn Winery. Not wanting to stay in the sticky ballgown for the entire night, you had made an excuse to Adelinde before departing. You didn’t catch hold of Diluc after that and shrugged away the thought. That was before your maid brought a pretty little package to your room. You asked who it was from and she handed you a note.
You opened the wrapped box, dumbfounded to find a gown of the lightest purple, studded with pearls around the bodice. The sleeves were long but gauzy, loose and flowy around the wrist. It would have cost a disgusting amount of mora, but somehow you did not mind the price this time.
You quickly turned over the envelope, ripping open the cover and reading the elegant handwriting.
Dear y/n,
I apologise for spilling wine on your dress and ruining it during my birthday ball. The crimson colour rather dulled your appearance, I wouldn’t say I’m really sorry. I hope this colour suits you better, I had to ask Adelinde what would look good on you. Visit Angel’s Share anytime and ask for me. I look forward to meeting you again and talking.
Diluc Ragnvindr
#genshin impact#genshin fluff#genshin mihoyo#writing#genshin x reader#genshin diluc#genshin drabbles#diluc x reader#diluc ragnvindr#diluc fluff#fluff#genshin fic#genshin zhongli#genshin xiao#genshin childe#genshin lumine#female reader
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Eight
Aurelia
The next week was slow. But after a day or so I was up and moving again on my own. Still sore but moving. The rest of the court had leaped on me when they awoke, sending Genevieve into a fit, claiming that I needed more rest. So, I was bed ridden for a few days, until I couldn’t stand to be cramped up in bed. Reluctantly they had let me start to move and walk around. I had thrown my arms around Harper when she came forward holding up the necklace, and Beatrice when she came forward with my sword. Then we planned. We had everything planned out, to the very second, now we just waited.
_________________________
My legs were aching. I had been crouched into this position for at least thirty minutes waiting, waiting for the signal. I wanted to be out their hunting with the others, but they were still weary, so here I was crammed into a small crack in the walled designed for water flow. Harper was with me now, across the other side of the alleyway hiding as a news boy in dirty clothes, her ashy hair was tucked under an oversized cap. She had complained incessantly about it. So much to the point where Iris had threatened to pusher off the roof.
The tall, bricked buildings stretched to the night sky, the cheers and laughter of the crowds flitted down the street, the Autumn Solstice. The lanterns swaying in the gentle breeze that flowed through Edgefall, a crisp cool autumn breeze. More laughter and singing started up as another dance started up.
A low whistle rang out, low enough that the people dancing couldn’t hear it. Harper’s head sprung up and we both moved out of our hiding places. It took a second for me took get out, it felt like the walls were pushing in on me.
“You good there Aur?” Harper asked when I’d finally got out. I nod.
“Let’s go meet our new friends.” I say, as we start to make our way through the ever-building crowds, they laugh and dance, sharing food and drink, not a care in the world, except what was the next song. I smile. These are my people. We wind through the mass of colourful clothes and sweaty but smiling faces. I look into the crowd of dancers, a swirl of red hair catches my eye, Iris, and with her is Naomi, they dance in unison to the music pulling people into the circle. Their bodies twist and glide with the tempo. They’re doing well, keeping everyone distracted. She catches my stare and her already huge grin expands even more, her eyes shining brightly like small stars she jerks her head to the side motioning to Amithi who was waiting for us. Harper saw the movement and strode forward creating a path for me to follow in.
Amithi had her eyes locked onto Iris when we arrived. She was watching with so much love and passion that I felt my heart warm. Iris was dancing well by normal standards, but the way Amithi was looking at her, you would’ve thought she was the best dancer in all of Nystra. It took her a few seconds to peel her eyes away from her, but when she did, no longer was the sweet girl staring adoringly at Iris, now she was sharp and focused, ready.
“Quickly.” Her voice rich and soft. She moved quickly pushing her way through the crowd… toward the centre of the circle.
“Wait, Amithi!” I call out. She turns.
“What?”
“Where are we going?”
“To the meeting point.” She responds.
“Why are we heading directly into the middle of the circle then?” Harper asks over my shoulder.
“Because I’m not dragging you two around, through the crowds.” Amithi says “Besides, this way is quicker. All you have to do is dance for a few moments then exit over the other side of the crowd.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Why? Or are you two so scared to dance that you’ll go through this crowd?” She motions to around us, at the little room we have even now.
“Fine.” I raise my hands and drop them as Amithi grins and grabs our hands dragging us toward the centre. We reach the front line and Amithi looks to Iris and Naomi, who decide that it’s time to drag some new people into the circle just as a new song starts up. Us.
The song rises. A well-known dance of Nystrians. The music flows through the circle as all the ladies join us in singing and dancing. The music swirls as I let go. I let my body move to the music, let my body complete the steps of the dance as I laugh and dance and grin at the others joining in. Iris twirls past and grabs my hands.
“They’re waiting for you.” She lets go just as we reach the other side of the circle. I grin at her and Naomi who has dropped Harper and Amithi with me, winking as she spins away with another person in her grip.
The crowd closes in on the spot where we were standing. The colourful scents and sounds fading as we move away from the celebrations. Amithi leading, me following and harper afterward. Usually, we wouldn’t be in a line but since everyone is still cautious over my accident I’m still on probation. Amithi makes a turn down a darker street only a few lanterns light the walls, but even those are dimly offering a warm light. We walk along in silence not allowing anyone to learn of our arrival. A shadow moves above in the moonlight, Linette. Amithi stops and looks upward. A ladder hangs from an above balcony. She looks to me, I know what this means. They will keep going ahead on the streets and I’ll go along the roof tops with Linette. I nod to them and grip the first rung, pulling myself onto the balcony. Then gripping the railing and using a nearby pipe support I haul myself onto the roof, Linette grabs my arm and helps me onto the roof. She looks at me to make sure I’m alright.
“I’m fine.” I say, “I don’t need you mother-henning me all the time.”
“Well, if you didn’t nearly die the other day, I wouldn’t feel so inclined to mother hen.” She snaps back. I roll my eyes and look down to Harper and Amithi waiting for our go-ahead. I nod down at them, and they set off, Linette and I close behind. We creep over roofs, using chimneys and parapets to launch off to keep up with those below. We move in silence. They turn into an even smaller alley, with a dead end.
Linette stops me when we reach the turn they make. She mouths wait. So now we wait. I sit down at the apex of the roof and turn my head to the night sky. The moon shines brightly illuminating the world below. The stars twinkle like broken glass in the sunlight. They shine against the dark sky. The gentle breeze kisses my face and skin. Linette takes a seat next to me. I lean my head on her shoulder,
“So,” I say, “We’re about to break some very fundamental laws doing this.” She grins in response.
“That just makes it all the more fun. Besides that ass of a King deserves a kick to the pants sometimes.”
“More than a kick to the pants.” I mutter and we both break into a fit of quiet laughter. Well as quiet of laughter as you can get in the middle of the night on a roof in a silent neighbourhood.
A quiet humming sound interrupts our laughing and we’re both on out feet at the edge of the roof. Blaire. She is walking through the streets with her hands in her pockets, two shadowed figures follow her. She turns into the small alley way, they figures follow. Silence. Then, muffled yelling. I smile and creep to the edge of the alley way rooftops, Linette joins me, a wide smile on her pointed face, her hair falling down in a curtained wave.
The yelling stops, and both shadowed figures fall quiet, they’re dragged to the end of the way, to the brick wall. Below I can see Beatrice and Genevieve holding them, their masks and hoods covering most of their faces, Blaire, Amithi, Harper, Naomi, and Iris all stand to the side their faces covered in masks and hoods as well. They’re all waiting, waiting for me. Linette looks to me.
“Time to break some laws Aur.” She grins and pulls her mask up from around her neck covering everything but her eyes and above, flips her hood up and grabs onto a nearby pipe, using it as a stabilizer, as she leaps onto a windowsill and drops to the ground. She motions to the rest of the group who splits into two lining each wall, a fear tactic.
“Let’s do it.” I say to myself as I pull my own mask over my face, the breathable fabric still allowing some small fresh air, then my hood. I turn and leap down onto the pipe, sliding down it and using the windowsill to launch off before silently landing on the ground the ground. Right in the middle of both lines. A Silent Queen and her court.
~~~~~~~~
this one is one of my faves as well :)
this is again, so so so so so so amazing ems i want ur book rightneow omg its so good
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Chapter 3
Pairing: Din Djarin x reader
Summary: With another truth slapping you, you'll do anything to escape this hellish reality.
Themes: Angst (a lot of action)
Warnings: gambling, persecution, mentions of violence, swearing, kidnapping, typical show violence
Words: 10k (I regret nothing)
BTW, this ends here, at least for now. I all of a sudden have a ton of work in my personal life, so you'll probably not hear from me for a while, love you all though <3
Even though you had a brief idea of what and how your plan was going to dissolve, you had to be honest with yourself, you were stuck in yet another messy situation. Two guards behind you, one in each side, in addition to about another four guards scattered around the luxurious dining room. A table placed horizontally, long enough to fit about ten people, and in the very middle none other than the person that had put a bounty over your head, lord Denter.
The lord, sat on the other side of the table, and had an enourmpusly big feast. A range of meals adjusted to Denter’s refined and picky sensitive tongue, from local meals such as engine-cooked turkey with yellow berry souce placed irresistibaly on top of it, and you could see the little square cubes decorated within the berry sauce, and you’d recognized it as rocky fruit. And though you hated this place enough, you’d be willing to plot a fire and burn everything to a crisp, the yellow berry sauce was once of Maker’s blessings to you since you’d been trapped here.The rest of the plates you’d simply recognize as “rich fancy food” such as the golden stew within cascaded eggs seated right by the turkey or heat-style pudding which was further back to be eaten later.
The lord, with a noticeable smirk across his face, took his cup containing Sunvasus wine. It’s exactly as it sounds, tilts from dark red to the palest of yellows scattered throught the classic cava glass, sparkling bubbles shown across it.
Denter seemed like he was itching to say something, and knowing him, you knew it was to boost his already high ego, and most likely to put yours down at the same time. And once he took his final gulp of the wine, its warm colours reflecting onto his skin on his cheek, he spoke once again.
“I’m very disappointed in you” he called out to you rather loudly, and his accent slapped you in the face. You’d completely forgotten how strong his background accent actually was, or even how it sounded. And it froze you in place.
“Why so sad?” he was questioning you. You opened your mouth slightly, not because you were going to say something, but rather because you weren't expecting that question. But before you could go over your thoughts and think about what he was referring, he ranted on his little speech further.
“Remember you are still part of this little joyful town” you listened on, trying to ignore the way he would entonate the r’s and not let a giggle come out in the middle of whatever this was. And with that, you let a little silent sigh escape your lips, easing you slightly.
You weren’t sure why, but the moment you stepped on this very room, you were more relaxed than what you had anticipated, maybe it was because you felt you had some sort of control. You knew the blueprint of this palace like the back of your palm, and that thought gave you some sort of comfort.
“You have made me very mad over the past years” his tongue pointedly said looking straight at you. A smile still remained on his face, but his stare was hard on you, a very cruel-like one too. One full of hatred and almost longing-like, one described as resentment written across his stare. He meant everything he just said now, and oh boy, you knew you had to leave now or you woudn’t be able to later.
“And I’m delighted to see you back” he took a break from his staring to question which piece of culinary he’d take next. He grabbed the fork, and by his `playful nature, he spined the cutlery and land it onto his next meal, not before of course, sending you another threatening look.
“Only time will tell you, you belong to me” At this point far from being scared, you were slightly amused at his indignant regards of your persona. And you coudn’t even be offended, not with the royal-like accent. So you had to stay there just trying to close off the slight warm feeling crawling to your heart, and hope to the Maker it wound’t be shown on your face.
You really had a tragic life, your dad dies when you were just a teen, you are kidnapped and ensalved in this town, once you get just a bit of liberty, you have a bunch of bounty hunters chasing after you, and now you have to suffer through his delusional and egotestical monologue, honestly what came next?
“You’ll soon remember I served you well” he ranted on, but you kept to yourself. You weren’t about to listen to this whole thing, not when he spoke to you in such a manner. And so your eyes landed just below him, to the food. You had felt this before when you saw the amount of food scattered effortlessly across the gigantic table, but you were very much hungry. You hadn’t eaten since the morning of the incident when you came across for the first time with the Mandalorian.
Pupils focused straight at the pudding laying there, pleading and begging to someone to notice how lonely it was. Oh Maker, your stomach had sunk in even deeper at the sight of the delicious pastry. If you won’t do it to ensure your freedom, do it for the hunger. Escape with it and it eat, because your were damn sure Denter woudn’t just let you eat it here.
Ok, think, think, think, how do you get out of this situation? Your eyes scanned again the room, giving quick glances to Denter and your pudding, until your eyes just coincidentally landed on a window double your size and quite nicely decorated, with right angle lines plated in gold which shone even brighter at the sun that was bidding farewell near a rocky mountain at the horizon.
“And I won’t let you go again, becasue you’re my favourite pet” he shouted at you, earning your instant attention and gaze. A snakely smile metamorhped his previous smirk into something that could be translated as the literal Devil’s child. Curls at the corner of his mouth so far back, just about where the ear was, with many muscle wrinkles formed at the uncmounfortable and tense position of his mouth, his eyes were just like before, the same vengeful soul lurked between the yellowish irises of his.
But of course he wasn’t done, what were you expecting. And he didn’t disappoint either with his next little words.
“My sweet submissive and vulnerable pet” he’d calmed down the intensity of his stare thankfully, and you could only thank the Maker for that. You coudn’t take this seriously, Denter was just like any weird villain of stories your dad told you. So delusional, so annoying and so frustrating, to the point even your younger self woudn’t cower to him. But there was a tint of fear lurking within you. This was the reality afterall, the man in front of you may be plain weird and delusional, but you knew better than to feign ignorance of the last five years you had been exposed to his unstable character.
A quiet screech behind you had alerted your instincts, and while still frightful of the man in front of you, your gaze met up with the T shaped visor of your hunter.
That’s right, the Mandalorian is still very much present and part of the audience to this spectacle. It seemed he shifted his position, which led to his boots slide a few centimetres away.
You both didn’t need to talk, and quite frankly both you didn’t want to either. Interrupting Denter’s words was not a good idea.
You raised your eyebrow, your eyes still wide in dismay. A simple act to let him know you were cursing at him for bringing you to this place. And as you expected, he didn’t move and give any signals that he was responding to you.
“And I’ll love you until my dying days” he sing sang and you shot back to him at the words. He was in a new position. His legs rose up and rested on the arm rest on his left, as his back was placed to rest on the other. Noticing your gaze he just winked at you and continued on. A shiver run you cold at the little gesture.
“When you’re gone I’ll go mad, so don’t throw away this thing we had” your brain just froze, and you were petrified at his words, and the not in the good sense. Of course you knew better than to think he actually loved you, or you just wanted to tell yourself that. But the years you spent here were far from nice, and it that’s the way he wanted to show his ‘love’ you just started to realize in how much trouble you actually were. Previously you thought you were going to end up dead sooner or later, by which now sounded like Denter being merciful, but that wasn’t the case. He was going to keep you alive for a while longer, torturing you and humiliating you, while your sanity would decay and rot.
“Because next time I'm in the presence of your absence, I’ll go kill everyone” and there it was, the confirmation that you were in a worse position than you had anticipated. Your eyes becoming cold at the lack of blinking and wideness of it you had to fore it close. Looking up at the lord, you weren’t sure what to say, did you even need to say anything? You were simply at a loss of words. And you needed to leave now, not wait until you found a chance. Even if an army of people chasing after you in the middle of the dry Ryloth, you simply needed to leave.
The sudden movement somewhere behind you startled the lord, or he tried to seem surprised but it came out rather theatrically. Instantly, he called out a name, loud enough it seeed like he was yelling. While apologizing at the Mandalorian for forgetting about his presence. And honestly, even in this messy situation, a brief smirk came up your lips. You could only feel some sort of amusement that Denter practically made him stay for longer for no good reason. You could imagine it was to boost his ego and feel he could control him, and he wasn’t wrong entirely. The Mandalorian would stay until he had his credits afterall.
Finally, a man opened the golden traced doors by which you were guided in beforehand. The man looked older than Denter by a few decades, wearing many loose pieces of clothing, typical of the dry planet. A loose shirt and trousers with a belt made from another fabric, making the man look more fresh, comfortable and heat-proof.
“Bernard go and see our guest of honour” he ordered the man, before looking at the Hunter that brought him his little pet “35 000 was it?” he asked him, and he simply nodded his helmet.
“Oh you troublemaker, making me spend so much off this town’s money for your safe return” he commented as a way to end the conversation with the two other men. You were just thinking he had some sort of talent with words, but he was wasting it all with whatever he was doing, making you uncomfourtuble, humiliating you?
With the thud of the door shutting, Denter tilted his head to the other side.
“Excuse me I have been talking none stop. So tell me, what’s inside that sweet rotten mind of yours” you stared at him. You positioned you body more comfortably and try and ease the tension. And you smiled. Yup, you were using your cool guy tactic once again. And it worked, Denter’s face remained the same narcissistic smug that he wore throughout his speech, but his head tilted to the other side, a sign that he was at the very least intrigued at your change in character.
“I understand everything my lord” you reassured Denter, opening up your arms to let the tension flow through them. Making you seem not comfortable, but rather looking like your were talking to an old acquaintance of yours.
“Except that wig” you pointed out one of the unspoken rules within this town. Every one knew, they just never dared speak up about it. Denter’s baldness.
And just as everyone was starting to compute what you had just said, your arms that were slightly raised, pushed back in great force and hit the guards groin area. You turned back, the guards feeling the impact of your punch in their sensitive area, you swiftly grabbed the guard’s spear before he fell. Seeing the man’s had still gripped onto your only weapon at your disposal, you kicked him away. Two more steps, and you bashed the other guards head that was recomposing itself up, only for his strength to be robbed after the spear came in contact with his face before joining his companion.
A quick glace around the room to examine your situation told you to jump up the table due the remaining guards surrounding you, two by the lord’s side and two more behind you. Quickly finding your balance, an incoming knight with a blade similar to a vibroblade but double in size. The man charging at you, positioning his weapon to strike you dead, had his vision blocked shortly by the flying bowl of buns you kicked at him. You didn’t waste time as you looked at the puddding nearby. Using your feet, you slid the pudding at the end of the table near the enormous window.
You had to be quick about your next steps, now all the six guards were coming at you, and you had to make sure run and not trip on the culinary masterpieces at your feet. So you forced your gaze downwards and watch after your feet. Stepping on the turkey you eyed earlier a new sound entered your ears. Between the yells of the knights and your heavy steps on the table you heard the yelp of the lord after smashing his little turkey just in front of him. That thought amused you, and you would laugh about it later, with some Spochka in your system.
Coming close to the end of the table you slightly jumped on your side, grabbing onto the golden seat at the end to maintain your posture until your feet landed safely with a little striking pain underneath you feet from the high impact. But this didin’t stop, not when you had just created this mess in the dining table of this town’s sire. And so you grabbed onto the wide chair, forcing you to harden and toughen your stomach as another way to keep your strength for the big and heavy object in your arms, which as a result your breathing stopped for a moment feeling the slight but bearable nausea coming straight to your face. And as quickly as you held onto the chair, you launched it to the window, smashing it into millions of pieces and creating a big enough gap for your frame.
And before you jumped, you looked behind you, the guards already on your tail. This was the time to jump but you didn’t. Most likely, It was one of the stupidest things you done, but you made an internal oath, and the pudding three steps away was calling for you. And so, you ran to your beloved and swiftly ran back to jump to the floor level. All the while you looked at Denter, bit into the pudding and smirked up at him as your body reached outside.
The air waved at you as a quick realization that you didn’t have enough clothing for the night. And so you ran as fast as you could, plate of the pudding in your hands as a way too steady the gelatinous texture and keep it from moving too much.
You could hear some screaming in the distance, and you recognized as the knights trying to follow your lead. But fortunately for you, you ran quite fast and silently, and so you were far away, but not far away enough to guarantee they wouldn't find you within an hour.
You ducked inside a barn, very little lights present. Local farm animals stayed within their cage and locked. And you noticed the place was quite spacious. The barn was quiet, all except for the sounds of uneven breathings right around the corner. Your head tilted, leaving your body for protection on the wall as not to be seen. A man in his twenties sleeping against the wall, a bottle of liquor by his side and you wondered what happened throughout his day that he would drown himself in alcohol so early in the night.
Relieved that he wasn’t conscious as to find you and report it back to the knights, you slumped back with your eyes closed to breathe in. And a second later, you opened your eyes, and the air that was threatening to leave got stuck again, choking you slightly. Your hunter had once again found you, with a blade to your neck.
Instinctively you put your hand on your mouth as a way to muffle the chokes and hope it woudn’t wake up the drunk. And once your itchy throat had slightly calmed down enough for you to talk again without choking, you looked the man’s visor, you eyes read nothing but frustration.
“Do you just hate me or something?” you yelled whispered at him, earning you his head tilt to the side. He said nothing for a few seconds, and then he sowly saved his blade onto his side. You muttered a rush thank you when you saw he didn’t have any weapons in hand, happy that he’d become more docile with you.
“What?” left his modulated voice toward you, stepping aside for a little to give you some space.
“You already have the credits, why are you helping them?” a murmured spite came out of your spicy tongue. You stayed put against the wall, crossing your arms, and a look of annoyance written across your face. He looked back, one leg rested slightly forward and bent to the other.
“I’m not helping them” he said, almost stoic. And you huffed air out, glad that at least the Mandalorian wasn’t going to get you back to the lord. Your gaze rolled to the little lamp nearby, the only source of light in this area of the barn. And you closed your eyes. Your heart was beating fast from the chase, and the scare the Manadalorian gave you barely a minute ago. But your body was easing up, and it was yet another reminder about how tired you were.
“Thank the Maker-” you hitched up a breath. You were breathing deeply and slowly until you got your normal breathing pace. And while still huffing you looked up at him, him joining the staring contest. “Just never to that again” you demanded him, more like a plead. He just nodded his head to you in acknowledgment.
Last part of your plan was to escape, and you were almost glad to him again. He could be your escape ship, and a little giggle, one with a lot of huffing nosies in between, at the sheer luck you just had. Why he was still here was a mystery to you, but you didn’t care, what you did care though, was that he was here right now, and you were about to strike up a bargain.
“Hey, help me escape this place” you muttered to him, his head tilted to the side before he spoke. “Not happening” you pointed in annoyance at him and you stepped closer. Your eyes turning once again to the one in frustration.
“You owe me one after taking me here” he was silent and didn’t move either, he just looked at you. An it seemed he was almost guilty about the whole ordeal. His bounty hunter code forbade him from knowing the details of the bounty, but he had learned against his will. And listening through Denter’s monologue involving you, a sensation of almost pain needleed through his heart.
The cold air pained your skin, especially the area of your throat. And so, while awaiting his response, your fingers tucked onto your cape and slid it to the centre of your body. Creating this very thin blanket to protect you from the cold. When you bought this tunic, the seller had told its high price comes with the weather controller. Essentially, the cape was to be also used as a way to warm up or get colder, as well as being rain-proof. This was without a doubt one of the best investments you’d done, and if it weren’t for this fabric you would’ve freezed to death on many cargo ships.
“Are you a mechanic?” his voice joined the yelling outside and the commotion of the streets. His was stronger though, overpowering all the noises of the town.
“I’m not entirely a mechanic since I never worked as one, but I know how to repair things. And oh boy, you need some repairing on that ship, my friend” you spoke lowly, still trying to disguise yourself as better as you could. You smiled at him, trying to convince him to take you with him.
He groaned, and a fine escaped his lips.
Maybe it was the overwhelming emotion you’d been lately having, so much anxiety, so many things bad happening to you, and for once, it seemed like the Maker actually blessed you for once, and the warm feeling in your chest, spreading rapidly throughout your heart, made you smile grow wide. A little giggle left your lips, and not like the huffy one from earlier, this was livelier and full of emotion. And the Mandalorian’s response had completely made you forget about the drunk person just around the corner.
A slight burp bounced through the walls. Your had coming to meet your mouth and enclose any type of sound that would come out of it, staying still with your eyes open. It seemed due to your nervousness of being exposed enhanced your hearing, and you noted that the man that had just woken up, stood to his feet, or at least tried because the noise of something heavy slumped back down against the floor with a groan. And then more snores, almost as immediately as he fell down, he knocked himself out with a good night’s rest.
You looked at the man in Beskar, his hand was brushing against the baster in its holster, the same as the day he found you. And once he acknowledged the man was not a threat, he relaxed once again.
You looked up at him again. You had to do something first, and you coudn’t involve him. That thought made you remember of the pudding sitting on a chair nearby. And so you walked towards and chunked the piece you grabbed in your hand and into your mouth. It was disgusting, and the gelly feeling that remained in your hand made matters worse. But you didn’t have any cutlery and now wasn’t the time to be refined and modest with your table manners. And just as you savored the after taste of the delicious pastry, not regretting almost sacrificing your plan of escape by taking it with you. You got your robe, cleaning the remaining of your hands and some lingering in the corners of your mouth. Making what once was white, the previous shades of black, you added the pale brown and beige colours onto it. The caramel conquering pieces of the fabric as it absorbed it.
You looked back at he Mandalorian, still looking at you. And you guessed it wasn’t pretty the way you just ate a hand full of pudding. But you forced yourself to shake away that thought.
“I have to do something… it’ll be best if I go alone” You spoke softly, and he crossed his arms leaning against the wall. Questioning you with his stare.
“I thought you wanted to come to my ship” you could sense his raised eyebrow. And you looked up at him, pleading he would drop this without asking much questions. But he maintained his stubborn attitude for a few minutes. Him questioning you why you had to stay, the place where you were wanted by the nobles. But you didn explain yourself further from little words sentences, telling him it woudn’t take long.
And so, in the end he sighed, his arms raised in defeat. “Alright, but if by sunrise you’re aren’t by the ship, I’ll consider you good as dead, understood?” his question hit hard on you because of the way he spoke the words. Slowly, and lower, that’s how he said it. And it made you rethink if it was a good idea, quite frankly it wasn’t, but you needed to do that so there woudn’t be another bounty over your head. And remembering where you actions laid, you nodded at him. “Understood”
_______
The palace as still as the desert-like planet which contrasted with the city swarmed with knights, knocking on people’s home, interfering with the civilians nights, ransacking their home until they concluded you weren’t there and then got to another house, and thus this cycle would go at least throughout the night.
You’d been able to make it back to he palace, making sure your noise would be as quiet as the wind not waning to disrupt the sleep of the desert.
You had peaked over the entrance, just to see how the situation was inside the golden house. You were met the sight of guards keeping their master’s home safe. And so you opted in intruding another way, the you had previously come out.
And so, you fingertips had managed to get a hold onto the base of the shattered window, a smooth surface unlike the crystal particles you had to brush away so they woudn’t pice through your skin and take damage for a long period of time.
Your head peeked through the window, only showing up to your eyes and look at the mess you had created before. The dining room was dark, only taking in the light source coming from the lamposts from the town, and so you were able to make out the chair Denter was sat in an the table just in front of you. The shapes of painting decorated within the room, as well as the door that gave you access to inside the palace. And no one guarding inside the dining room.
With the little force you had in your arms, you tried pushing yourself up just enough to get your knee on the base of the window, and then you other one before. Your feet and legs came across the remaining cristal shards, these one bigger in size, and you were glad you wore long trousers and boots. Now that most of your weight was on the inside of the room, you easily got the rest of your body inside and safe. Leaving your arms sore from the climbing.
You looked around, to see any signal of anything. You weren’t just going to leave through the door as you assumed the guards must be guarding it the from the inside, and so you demanded your brain to remember the blueprint of this place. You knew a handful of secret passage ways, and one must sure go to Denter’s room.
You looked across the familiar walls, paintings showcasing the most desirable parts of planets, ranging from the lava rivers of Nevarro to the ice cold mountains of Hoth. Between these paintings, you also found faces, from men to women, children and the elderly, all scattered. The printing at the very middle though, the painting of the rocky mountains painted in a yellowish and brown palette, brighten by the red sun rising from the mountain, was bigger than the rest. Positioned exactly to be behind the lord’s the golden seat. You’d recogize this painting from your stay here, as you often times hid inside whenever you did something to guarantee the guards punishing you.
You brushed the thick golden frame of the bigger painting. Before you grabbed onto it and pulled it apart from the wall, the heavy frame making up for most of the weight it had on your arms and you simply dropped it on the floor.
The passageway was dark enough you coudn’t see anything, but you recognized the paths anyway. It had only been two years since you last had been here, and your mind was a stronger than ever. Like before, you crawled up to the hole, your arms propelling your body up to get inside. This was was more tricky though, due to the size of the painting, the hole had to adjust to its size. And so, the only way to acces to the other side of the path was through crawling. Boosting you feet so your body got into the little cave further, you began crawling as fast as you could. The little space around your body could end up being your grave if you didin’t hurry up and get out as soon as possible, especially when a sudden thought popped in your head. The little space would suffocate you enough until you passed out due to the decreased oxygen particles in this cramped space.
Once you were further enough, the place were the light was dead, you reached over to your trousers. Fumbling and shaking it in an attempt to grab onto the match that was hidden away. This match being one of the little things they let you keep when they considered the tiny pocket wasn’t worth looking through,
Holding the match on your fingers, and just like phoenix’s rebirth after its dying light. Warm calours shone brightly in front of you and you could see how far away you were from the other side. Crawling your arms forward with the help of your propelling legs, you got there faster than before, with sweat over your forehead, and with shaky breaths. The end was just a block of black which you assumed had to be another painting. Slightly you pushed yout fingers against it, andyou were glad to touch something that was wasn’t heavy, and so you slightly pushed it away to get out.
You sat on the floor for a little while, looking at the painting on the floor, this one with a hole you must have caused when you fell on it. And you got up to search around the dark room. And just like the dining room, the lights of the town reflecting on each surface in the room, the painting ont he wall, the chairs near the window, the door near at the ent of the room, the mirror with niclecy cut wardrobe and finally the bed with a sleeping Denter within it. His eyes closed evidence of being in a good dream. You looked up at him for a while. It didin’t feel right kill someone in their sleep like this, escpecially whe you weren’t a murderer, not now al least.
And so you froze in place, a the realization of the action you were about to make. It slowed you movements, making them hesitant, and your brain was just not functioning. You were nervous, like a little kid riding on a roller coaster for the first time, except you weren’t gidily inside. You heart dropped to your stomach, and its presence made itself known by beating so hard it was vibrating the surface of your belly.
The noise of the shouts outside awoke you changing the direction of your gaze to the window. That’s right, you had to do this. Killing someone shoudn’t face you that much, not when many people had tried to kill you, or seemed to want to kill you. But it was the fact that he was so vulnerable and defenseless, and the quiet of the room, made your head think twice.
But you had to do this, you coudn’t live in fear that Denter would plot his revenge on you. Not when he’d hire more bounty hunters to follow after your fresh blood, not when Denter would finally have you under him, controlling you, humiliating you, and hurting you. So you had to do it, for yourself, for your survival, this was your survival instinct so don’t you dare mess this up now when you’re so close from killing the cause of your pain and axiety.
You looked at the match gripped tightly in your hand. You didn’t have a weapon if it weren’t from the mandalorian taking them away from you earlier when you intruded his ship. But you had this, and the match would suffice.
You opened the window, the slight air coming in the room. Ready to start the fire and leave as soon as possible, but you didin’t, not when you could clearly remember how this little snake always got away with anything, and you wanted to ensure he died. Unpon decidin your next few steps, you walked towards him, so quietly it seemed you erased your very presence in this room, disguising yourself like a passerbyer ghost, and becoming one like the unmoving and soulless objects in his working desk.
It was this very desk you’d do you next move. It wasn’t the desk itself, but rather the content above it. With the slight illumination giving out shades of orange as a mix between shadows and the town lights. You made out made things, an arquitectorical piece and by the look of importance, it screamed like maybe it was town hall. The display was shown in blue light contrasting with the darks shadows behind it. An though everything was showed in the same cyan blue colour you could make out mosty if not perfectly what the sleeping man behind you had thought of building. A wide building, as well as tall, with other two blocks with the same width as the centered on, but not as grandiose. And that was about it, the design looked very unfinished.
Behind it, though it was harder to clear out with your eyes, were a set of what you thought wuld be essential for an architect. Some blank paper scattered, thrown and torn apart in the, with some pencils and rulers atop. But there was something else that caught your attention, a pipe. A metallic pipe of maybe one meters in length and maybe had a circumference of six centimetres. You snatched it away, happy with whatever you found, and made your way to the door.
You were sure there’d be guards on the outside, so you had to make an extra effort not to alarm them in any way. Raising your harm holding the pipe, you slid it through the door knob, which had the same shapen as a metallic golden pull. The pipe got stuck at between the rectangle shaped arcs, and it was long enough it woudn’t drop even if the door were to be shaken violently. And even though you were positive no one would be able to come in, you traced your steps to pull up the chair and lean it over the door handles. Positioning it just before them and at the right angle, it would create another force impeding the loyal guards to come after their sire.
You looked back at your soon to be victim, your movements as sharp as a robot, but your outer body experience made you look like you’d just been possessed by an evil witch, whispering to your ear things demons would crawl you to the furthest level of hell. And even in this position, you had to try and take control over your body, try to be neutral, calm or collected. Especially ignore the way your heart was vibrating in your chest.
That face you’d hope to forget once this thing was over, faced back to you his eyes still closed. So calm, so vulnerable and almost so innocent looking. You felt an almost sprrpful feeling just by thinking the way it would mark his end. The universe was wide enough for you two to live in, both of you away from each other, both of you in peace. But he coudn’t take it, he had to take you in and make you feel miserable for his ego, and that ego of his was what settled his grave of ashes. He was going to die in a brutal way, whether it was from suffocation, carbon monoxide poisoning or burnt alive. The result was the same, he’d become just the same as the dust in old houses. His royal bloodline would be nothing but ashes that would later be discarded away as just the rest of the furniture.
Maybe if you two lived by another society, followed other rules, maybe gew up in a democracy where everyone was meant to be equal, maybe then, this woudn’t have happened to him. Maybe his insatiable hunger to see others suffer would’ve never awoken, and maybe then you two could’ve become friends, or at least tolerate each other. But you hated him, and he hated you, even if he wanted to mask it as some sort of weird love, he hated you that’s why he did those things to you. The universe was wide enough, but he didn’t accept that. And in the end that thought shaped into obsession, and that sealed him for good. You weren’t sad he was going to die, it had to do more at the fact that it was you who had to seal him away. This would be your first time doing it as well. But if that was you fate, then you’ll carry through until the end.
Opening fire, you approached the lighter to the mattres until a small fire ignited and was the beginning of your ploy. You walked over to the painting, and by this point, you could feel the fire you ignited barely three seconds ago become this fierce beast you’ve heard about many times. It burned so well, so aggressive, all in mere seconds. But you knew better than to stop and be mesmerzied by the lightning magic, and you quickly caught the broken painting and lit it up. This painting being on the other side of Denter’s face, as a way to maybe to not wake up Denter, wether it would be from the initial fumes of just the shift from cold to hot.
You lept onto the window giving another glace to Denter, his sleeping form still unmoving and vulnerable, almost baby-like. He was remaining in his sweet dreams, and if Maker would allow it, he’d make his death painless by keeping him trapped in his realm of dreams, instead of the panicked wave of knowing he was going to die horribly in the next minutes.
Doing the same little finger movement, another click was heard. You’d noticed the curtain flowing elegantly through the little wind, and it didn’t take you long to decide to it would ake great igniting material. Partly, it was to prevent the fact that maybe Denter, in his panicked state, he would jump out of the window. Though that wasn’t the Denter you knew, no the lord you knew was lazy, not athletic, picky and refined. But you never know what anyone would do in a panicked state. What their instinct of survival whispers their pale ears, and what uncharacteristically actions they do in order to stay alive, to be able to look at the sky again, to laugh again, to weep over meaningless things That’s why you lit the curtains as well, even if you arm was starting to dangerously increase in temperature rapidly. This was your survival instinct, you had to make sure he was dead, for your own good, and make sure you woudn’t be chased again like a little frightened lamb hoping their killers woudn’t take her to the slaughterhouse.
And so, Denter’s room was in a mess of roaring flames, the fire conquering every bit of hunger and turning it into ashes, and soon enough he’d swallow whole the perpetuator of your suffering for so long. The amount of the shining light coming from the flames was enough that the townspeople beow you would notice another ball of fire, that was if the sun was present at the moment. You needn’t see Denter to know he was fucked. There was no way he’d survive, and by the amount of the ashy fume coming out from the window he’d mostlikely already died from ingesting it. So much fumes you had to move to the other side of the double window, and be protected by the closed crystal to your right. But the carbon monoxide did some effect on you already, as dry, just like if ashes were spread out on your throat, coughs came running out your mouth. You knew you just alerted everyone to come here. You you swallowed hard before you got moving to the Razor Crest, or at least that’s how you remembered the ship’s name to be. You weren’t completely sure. But the point was that you needed to get into the Mandalorian’s ship now.
Your fingers got a hold of the rocky wall of the palace. Your improvised plan was to get yourself on the streets of this accursed town and just run. Escape the inevitable fate of the guards following you to wherever you were going, which was the ship. And you were finding it difficult, between the flames the anxiety of he off chance something in the room would explode, you were having a difficult time finding your balance on the rocky wall. But just as you managed to get your smooth boots to get somewhat stuck on the wall, screams resonated in your brain. And not any ordinary screams, the same typ of screams you heard barely an hour ago. You looked down, and immediately after you regretted it. You wee indeed quite high, and you had tolook away to ake sure your head woudn’t do anything funny.So high in fact, if you decided to jumo down, you knew at least you’d break both your legs. And you weren’t about to sacrffice the only limbs that would guarantee your escape, and especially you didin’t want to hear the earsplitting sounds of cracked bones. And if that didn’t convince you enough, the swarming of guard just below you did.
“Dank Farrik” you breathed out realizing how they exposed your location, and so if you coudn’t climb down, you’ll just have to go up. After two attempts, and the bursting of fire threatening you, you found your footing and started to climb the little wall left to the open space area a top of you.
The sensation of the cold wind overpowering the hot flames brought great comfort, and while your body was tense from the free climbing your were doing, at least you were somewhere away from the fire. The sweat that the fire had created through your body, from your palms and neck to your knees and legs. The climb wasn’t going to be long either, it was just one room up from Denter’s. And once your hot hands from the soreness reached the railings, cold droplets cascaded down your back traveling alongside your collarbone. Though you were tired you needed just a little bit of extra strenght, propelling your leg slightly and get over the railings. With the sudden change in weight, it was just a matter of the help of gravity to help you get pulled down on the other side.
Your back layed there, with your eyes closed trying to breathe normally for a few seconds. The remaining sweat drops watered down from your nose until it reached your upper lip, before it got drowed in your mouth and the foul hot salty flavour spread throughout your tongue. Still breathing hard, and yet trying to slow it down to get some energy, you opened your eyes as you sat up, reminding yourself this was far from over. The guards underneath you saw climbing up the wall, and now you had to find a way down without getting caught, ideally without them noticing, but just escaping with a soul and all of your limbs was enough.
You sat there enough for two more breaths to escape your lips before you stood up and got yourself working. In any minute the knights would be surrounding you, and you needed o do something quick about it. With another deep sigh and let the tense muscles detangle themselves, you looked around to find something to help you, anything.
And you found something, something with the same mecahinism as a fish harpoon pleasantly came into contact with your eyes, and next to it a rope. The Maker must have surely given you this day as a way to redeem itself to you and all the years you’ve spent here, because the amount of luck you had in a single day were definitely more than all the years you’ve spent alive.
Already charged with a rope, you took the heavy mechanism and tightly strapped onto the edge of the poles, and without thinking to hard where to aim, you simply shot a place near the exit. The spealike end inemediately sprung out violently to meet up with a surfice and and hook it tightly enough. You had to be lying if you told yourself you were weren’t nervous, especially when the pounds of rapid steps getting louder and louder as you moved, and you knew the knights were about to find you. Taking away the white fabric surrounding you, you stepped over the long rope that had traveled across town with the spear. Throwing you cape over to the other side of the rope, finding said rope in the midde of the fabric, and your had gripped thightly for dear life onto both sides of the dirty fabric. You turned to look at your back, the steps were echoing through your head and you weren’t quite sure how far away the guards were, that was until, the sudden opening of the roof doors answered the question for you. The sudden noise made you almost jump in surprise and it helped you in tripping over the edge, and if it werent for the cape hanging onto he rope you would have fallen to your death.
Your scream could be heard further away than the accursed town, and you hoped that maybe the Mandalorian could have heard you, and luckily help get away from this situation. And even though some seconds passed your, voal chords gave it all and never decreased in it energy. Sliding down the town like a zip line, and you weren’t sure if it was the air hitting you or the fact that if you lossed your grip slightly you’d fall to your death, but your eyes were watering you and many droplet of salty wanter flawed dwn your cheeks and left you to meet the people below you. Something you weren't going to find out, the thought of looking how high you actually were gave you nausea and so you tightly closed you eyes from the rare instances of opening them again to see if you were nearing to the end.
But it was halfway through that the rope shook abruptly and you looked back, fear written across your face. You could only see the silhouette of the of a man, a darker shande than the sky, a nice contrast to see the guards actions. A blade on his hand as he motioned rapidly to where the rope was. This time, the rope fell apart and you’d fall dawn if the right texture of the rope had conveniently brushed your arm. You grabbed onto it before this chance disappeared. Once gravity had settled on you again, your arms almost passed out from the strength in which it was pulling you down, and an inner spark of determination to live made your hand remain a tighter grip onto the lace. You hadn’t realized you closed your eyes and you opened them, seeing the earth coming close to you as your lurching forward with the rope. You already knew the spot of where you were about to land, and so did the civilians who had plans for the night, as most of them got out of the way and take shield from the house. Except a woman, to blurry to know her age, she stood petrified as you came closer to her before the undeniable impact occurred. Her body felt like rocks against the rapid velocity you were traveling and both of you ended on the street. All of her belongings scattered across the pavement.
You were the first one to stand up, true pain hit you in the forehead, and you put your hand up to your bruise. And still a bit blurry and nausea form the impact you tried to run away before the knights reached to you once again. The exit wasn’t much further either, maybe ten meters away from you, and from where you stood, you could see the ship of the Mandalorian still standing, his ramp down. You walked toward your final destination, and the woman who was sent three meters away from you yelped when seeing you closening the space between you both. You looked at her confused, fear an pain could only be seen in her form. And then you found something else, a pendant of a rock, too dark to see the colour, but you did see the cut stone had been nicey decorated with a golden shine across from the cut, framing the mineral and shining along with the street lamps around you. You looked back at the woman before speeding towards the pendant, she screamed once again seeing again your incoming form but at a much faster speed. But once she saw you crunching down slightly to catch what was rightfully hers, she screamed this time more confident and indignant strained her voice. “YOU THIEF”
That’s what you were, and didin’t call yourself anything less. Your dad taught you to steal from the dead and abandoned, and you soon become a thief that would steal of the living as well if I so needed too. This pendant would be a great start of credits once the Mandalorian would leave you in some planet. You didin’t steal for pleasure like many did, you did it because you needed to provide for yourself somehow. You never claimed to be a good person anyway. If you were, you most likely wound’t be in this citation to begin with.
The sprint your legs were carrying felt strained at the beginning, with every action of your feet meeting the floor and you swore you could sense the inner working of your body working, arteries, bones, ligaments all of them unimanosly working and strained for the last bit of this escape. And as your mind was filled with the joy of knowing your were safe, the joy you were away from this place, the joy of freedom, that clouded your mind and fueled your veins, just the same as what charcoal did to some of the older droid prototypes. Determination to live. That very feeling numbed your legs and it felt like it was moving on its own, powered by this will to live.
The ship was near, maybe three meters from you. You could see the distinct feature the Mandalorians had. He was waiting for you, leaning from the wall. He did a slight shake on his helmet, an action you missed, and walked inside his traveling home.
It wasn’t long after your legs landed on the metallic ramp, a more noticeable heavy thump as you practically jump to get to safety faster. The change in direction, pace and speed from the inclination nearly gave your legs out. And just then you noticed the abuse your knees had to endure for the past hour. Sore and sweaty, that’s how you’d describe it. Each step, worse than the one before. You were so heavy, and yet your mind was so high. You coudn’t think straigh, and the pain was just striking your body. The veins circling your knees were vibrating uncomfortably around it, another sign of your heart racing rapidly other than the lungs thumpipjg your ears making it the only sound to exist at that very moment.
Your fuzzy brain, got ahold of the stairs inside the ship. How you gotten to that place already forgotten by the nauseating vision of yours. A mixture of yelp and sigh escape your lips, as your legs whine as your tried climbing up the ladder. Another dry huff came out, an action to comfort your legs for a second and try to propel yourself up in that milisecond of easiness. And again and again, you did that, each huff hurting your lungs further, and you had to almost ignore the electric shock from your legs after from the pulsating arteries surrounding it.
Maybe it was due to the lack of oxygen to your brin, but you coudn’t remember how managed to get into the cockpit and strap yourself into your seat, a little greenie sat on your lap and looking up at you. Your uneven breaths came out as heavy puffs, and now that you were resting you could feel the your hot cheeks from running that marathon. Looking back at the cape in your hand, you smiled slightly at the child as you covered him like a blanket. The heaviness of th whole ordeal closed your eyes. And as you felt the rise of the ship, you felt safe. This was finally done and dealt with. Best yet, you had your life, all of your limbs and you were free.
The night sky accompanying you in your dreams as you slumped in your seat and got comfortable. And as the child tried to get ahold of your attention, the Mandalorian called out to him and murmured sofly to let you rest after the long day you had.
___
Waking up to a sore body was not a fun way to start the day. Everything just hurt, from you hands that have been pierced by the little rocks as well as the burning sensation you had when you gripped onto the fabric when you managed to just escape the guards. Your legs from climbing and running. Your belly wasn’t necessarily hurt, but it was definitely numb, probably due to the thumping heart, your neck was sore from your sleeping position, and the worst one of all your forehead. It was sore, burning, hot and it gave you a terrible migraine so bad you could barely open your eyes.
Once your body started acknowledging your awakened form, your hand rushed to your forehead to rest on it, wincing slightly when you applied too much touch on it. You groaned again, and you closed your eyes again from the pain interfering with your eyes. You could tell, only by memory, that you were in the viewport. The cooing creature, doing what he knows best, cooed at the realization that you were awake. Another groan escaped your lips as your throbbing head just seemed to hurt and burn more, and you had to force down a gulp to quiet the yelp that was forming up your trachea.
“You okay?” the same raspy modulated voice questioned you, seeing your pained look. You stayed silent for a few seconds, hydrating your throat as to when you’d open your mouth your voice wound’t be shapesifted into a gran. Soothing once more the ball formed just above your throat, you spoke again.
“N- No, my head hur-” you stuttered along with with the scorching pain. Every throb felt like it was vibrating your mind, making it impossible to even think anything else other than the pain. You shut your eyes tighter, feeling the full blast of pain across your skin. You hadn’t even noticed how dry your voice was.
“Let me see” that’s what the Mandalorian said, and you obliged. You took in a deep breath and soon after deflated all of the air out of your lungs and removed your hands for him to see. You slightly opened your eyes to look up at him. The pain, though just barely, decreased slightly in soreness when the protection of the had was removed, feeling the cold air particles touching the very noticeable bruise.
His hard gloved hands took the sides of your head, and yu supposed it was to inspect better the bruise. He remained like this for a few seconds. An you wished the helmet was off, just so you could satiete your hunger on curiosity. What face was he making? How badly was the bruise? You were sure there’d be a mark, but how bad was it? Not even the reflection of his helmet gave away much. Everything was in dark tones, and you coudn’t quite make out the bruise itself.
He eventually sighed, standing up to walk aaway from the cockpit. You were about to question him, but he cut you off unexpectedly of him.
“I’ll get some bacta spray, your bruise looks nasty” he called out before he disappeared. You slowly, layed back onto the seat, trying best to soothe the angered bruise on your forehead, by breathing deeply and the exhaling it slowly.
But while your mind was rightfully on what mattered the most at the moment, the burst in your forehead you hadn’t seen yet. Your body relaxed in your seat almost too comfortably. The kid was looking at you, sad eyes written across it as he noticed the overwhelming pain you’re experiencing.
And you noticed how the kid’s presence was welcoming to you. It was like he was helping you, but rather, like a pet that was trying to comfort you after a long day at work, sitting closely to you, and you swore at some point he hugged you, or at least trued to with his tiny arms. You only looked down at the kid, grateful that he was nearby so you wound’t have to be feeling like crap alone. You tried to ignore how the past few days the presence of people clinged in your heart, starved for people. To have any social interaction, and to stop talking to yourself repeating it was a completely normal thing to do because you had no one to talk to. Now you had this green inspect thing, a cute one you have to add, giving you the starved attention you didn’t know you needed.
You had to admit it was tough, knowing you probably weren’t going to be with people in a short while. It was kind of unjust. You had something to didn’t know you needed, and soon after you it woud become non-existant.
You gulped again. You were gong to miss the kid, and the Mandalorian as well. As quiet as he was, he still listened, still made things to acknowledge you. Yeah, you definitely were goung to miss these two, or more specific, you were going to miss the feeling starved attention you never knew you had.
Or maybe, you could try talking to the Mandalorian. Convince him to join him and the kid. Afterall, it would be a win-win situation, you’d have a social circle and he would have his ship fixed. Yeah, you’ll try talking to him later. Your last thoughts dissipated as you heard the Mandalorian going up the ladder with something equivalent to a lifesaver. And though you couldn’t quite smile through the pain, the corners of your mouth slightly quirked up.
#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian fanfic#mando x reader#mando#mandalorian#The mandalorian#fanfic
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大家好! After the heavy meal with Mrs T, I ate qing dan (less oil and salt). A stall selling mixed dishes opened at the food court near the office; curious, I asked if they sold steamed fish. They did - I ordered that, firm tofu with leek, hairy gourd stirfried with eggs and mushrooms to go with zhou (porridge). There wasn't much gravy nor sauce, so the meal was much less salty and oily than it could've been; this suited me just fine, because I tasted the freshness of the fish and veggies!
The food was so qing dan, nutritious and tasty that I returned the next day. Besides steamed fish, I chose egg tofu, mixed veggies with hei mu er (wood ear mushrooms) and stirfried bean sprouts to go with zhou. In order to help you understand why I - and many Asians - choose not to solely focus on super foods, I'm sharing the nutrition profiles of some veggies eaten in this post. Different food stalls sell various types of fish, so I don't always eat the same old thing when dining out. This way, I give my body as many nutrients as possible.
Speaking of different food stalls, I explored a little further from my neighbourhood and ended up at a coffee shop. They didn't have steamed fish but assam fish is also delicious, so I ordered that, tomato scrambled eggs, stirfried kan choy (celery) with hei mu er and stirfried green beans with pork mince to go with zhou. Besides being very filling, the food was also yummy. I'll return to see what meals the other stalls have to offer. Pa likes hearing about my moderately healthy meal adventures and we chat about nutrition often so this gives us something more to talk about.
On a whim, I decided to walk to catch up with Grace and Douglas instead of relying on car or public transport. The hour-long journey tested the cushioning of the soles of my new Anta shoes. Good news: my flat feet didn't hurt at all and, given that my country IS the Garden City, there was green and colour along the way. I was amazed by the pale green tree, which was almost silvery in the sunlight. Life moves at a very hectic pace here; being able to appreciate flora and fauna is a luxury that I cherish.
youtube
youtube
My stomach was growling by the time I neared my friends' residence. Time for shui jiao tang mian (shrimp and pork wanton soup noodles) before going up to their flat. Already a delicious nutritionally balanced meal on any given day, the dish tastes even better when one is hungry! To eat qing dan, I skipped the soy sauce, adding only green chilli seasoned in vinegar to the clear broth. Why shui jiao tang mian is moderately healthy: 1. Protein, veggies (choy sum) and carbohydrates; 2. Less oil; and 3. Hydration hydration hydration.
Now that you have basic understanding of the nutrition profiles of some of the foods we enjoy in Asia, perhaps the recipe videos I share will be more helpful when you want a break from grain bowls, salads and chicken breast with broccoli/cauliflower or you just want to eat moderately healthy. The key word is: balance - nutritional balance, balance of oily foods and qing meals as well as balance of food with the exercise I do. I don't have the time to count calories/macros so this is more sustainable to me and, at 46yo, my blood pressure remains steady at 120/80, my triglycerides are normal and I'm not taking any long term medications. You can follow some 'experts', whose advice resulted in worsening health statistics in some countries, or you can just give what Asians here do a try. Like they say, you can't keep doing the same thing and expect different results; it's all up to you. 下次见!
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Oh Stanley, you didn't just activate the controls, did you?
After they kept you enslaved all these years, you go and you try to take control of the machine for yourself, is that want you wanted? Control?
Oh...Stanley. *sigh* I applaud your effort, I really do, but you need to understand; there's only so much that machine can do.
You were supposed to let it go, turn the controls off, and leave.
If you want to throw my story off track, you're gonna have to do much better than that. I'm afraid you don't have nearly the power you think you do; for example, and I believe you'll find this pertinent:
Stanley suddenly realized that he had just initiated the network's emergency detonation system. In the event that this machine is activated without proper DNA identification, nuclear detonators are set to explode, eliminating the entire complex.
How long until detonation, then? Hmm...let's say, um...two minutes.
Ah, now this is making things a little more fun, isn't it, Stanley? It's your time to shine! You are the star! It's your story now; shape it to your heart's desires.
Ooh, this is much better than what I had in mind! What a shame we have so little time left to enjoy it.
Mere moments until the bomb goes off, but what precious moments each one of them is! More time to talk about you, about me, where we're going, what this all means...I barely know where to start!
What's that? You'd like to know where your co-workers are? A moment of solace before you're obliterated?
Alright. I'm in a good mood. You're going to die anyway. I'll tell you exactly what happened to them: I erased them. I turned off the machine; I set you free.
Of course, that was merely in this instance of the story. Sometimes when I tell it, I simply let you sit there in your office forever, pushing buttons endlessly and then dying alone. Other times, I let the office sink into the ground, swallowing everyone inside; or I let it burn to a crisp.
I have to say this, though, this version of events has been rather amusing. Watching you try to make sense of everything and take back the control wrested away from you...it's quite rich. I almost hate to see it go!
But I'm sure whatever I come up with on the next go around will be even better.
My goodness! Only 34 seconds left...but I'm enjoying this so much! You know what? To hell with it. I'm going to put some extra time on the clock; why not!
These are precious additional seconds, Stanley. Time doesn't grow on trees!
Oh, dear me, what's the matter, Stanley? Is is that you have no idea where you are going or what you're supposed to be doing right now? Or did you just assume when you saw that timer that something in this room is capable of turning it off?
I mean, look at you, running from button to button, screen to screen, clicking on every little thing in this room! These numbered buttons! No! These coloured ones! Or maybe this big, red button! Or this door! Everything! Anything! Something here will save me!
Why would you think that, Stanley? That this video game can be beaten, won, solved? Do you have any idea what your purpose in this place is? Hahaha, heh, Stanley...you're in for quite a disappointment.
But here's a spoiler for you: that timer isn't a catalyst to keep the action moving along. It's just seconds ticking away to your death. You're only still playing instead of watching a cutscene because I want to watch you for every moment that you're powerless, to see you made humble.
This is not a challenge. It's a tragedy. You wanted to control this world; that's fine. But I'm going to destroy it first, so you can't.
Take a look at the clock, Stanley. That's 30 seconds you have left to struggle. Thirty seconds until a big boom, and then nothing. No ending here, just you being blown to pieces. Will you cling desperately to your frail life, or will you let it go peacefully?
Another choice! Make it count. Or don't. It's all the same to me. All a part of the joke. And believe me, I will be laughing at every second of your inevitable life, from the moment we fade in until the moment I say: Happily Ever Af-
(explosion cuts him off)
the autism and the add saw the word stanley and a silly guy has a busted lip now frm tryna not scream:3
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Thirty seconds until a big boom, and then nothing. No ending here, just you being blown to pieces.
Will you cling desperately to your frail life, or will you let it go peacefully?
Another choice! Make it count. Or don't. It's all the same to me. All a part of the joke. And believe me, I will be laughing at every second of your inevitable life, from the moment we fade in until the moment I say: Happily Ever Aft
Control Ending achieved.
Stanley stepped out of his office.
Stanley decided to poke around the office, but decided he was too good for anything he found.
Stanley went through the left door.
Stanley waited in the broom closet.
Stanley went upstairs to his boss' office.
Stanley entered the wrong code twice (7-8-4-5, 2-5-4-8) and then the right one (2-8-4-5).
Stanley entered the Mind Control Facility.
Stanley rode the elevator.
Stanley turned on the facility's power.
thanks for playing! sorry for not giving you enough freedom as a player
full narration:
Ah, now this is making things a little more fun, isn't it, Stanley? It's your time to shine! You are the star! It's your story now; shape it to your heart's desires.
Ooh, this is much better than what I had in mind! What a shame we have so little time left to enjoy it.
Mere moments until the bomb goes off, but what precious moments each one of them is! More time to talk about you, about me, where we're going, what this all means...I barely know where to start!
What's that? You'd like to know where your co-workers are? A moment of solace before you're obliterated?
Alright. I'm in a good mood, and you're going to die anyway. I'll tell you exactly what happened to them: I erased them. I turned off the machine; I set you free.
Of course, that was merely in this instance of the story. Sometimes when I tell it, I simply let you sit there in your office forever, pushing buttons endlessly and then dying alone. Other times, I let the office sink into the ground, swallowing everyone inside; or I let it burn to a crisp.
I have to say this, though, this version of events has been rather amusing. Watching you try to make sense of everything and take back the control wrested away from you...it's quite rich. I almost hate to see it go!
But I'm sure whatever I come up with on the next go around will be even better. My goodness! Only 34 seconds left...but I'm enjoying this so much! You know what? To hell with it. I'm going to put some extra time on the clock; why not!
These are precious additional seconds, Stanley. Time doesn't grow on trees!
Oh, dear me, what's the matter, Stanley? Is it that you have no idea where you are going or what you're supposed to be doing right now? Or did you just assume when you saw that timer that something in this room is capable of turning it off?
I mean, look at you, running from button to button, screen to screen, clicking on every little thing in this room! These numbered buttons! No! These coloured ones! Or maybe this big, red button! Or this door! Everything! Anything! Something here will save me!
Why would you think that, Stanley? That this video game can be beaten, won, solved? Do you have any idea what your purpose in this place is?
Hahaha, heh, Stanley...you're in for quite a disappointment.
But here's a spoiler for you: that timer isn't a catalyst to keep the action moving along. It's just seconds ticking away to your death.
You're only still playing instead of watching a cutscene because I want to watch you for every moment that you're powerless, to see you made humble.
This is not a challenge. It's a tragedy. You wanted to control this world; that's fine. But I'm going to destroy it first, so you can't.
Take a look at the clock, Stanley. That's 30 seconds you have left to struggle.
Thirty seconds until a big boom, and then nothing. No ending here, just you being blown to pieces.
Will you cling desperately to your frail life, or will you let it go peacefully?
Another choice! Make it count. Or don't. It's all the same to me. All a part of the joke. And believe me, I will be laughing at every second of your inevitable life, from the moment we fade in until the moment I say: Happily Ever Aft—
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