Cursed Content Generator

Lottie || 20 || She/They Writing romance AUs of unlikely characters since 2020. MASTERLIST

[cross-poison]

MASTERLIST

A GLITCH IN THE PROGRAMMING — (Human Ultron x Reader)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || TBC

CLARITAS — (Din Djarin x Original Female Character)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || TBC

Slumber Parties!  — (Harley Quinn x Reader ) ONE SHOT.

[cross-poison]

love ur ultron x reader story!! keep up the good work 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

!!!!!

Thank you so much!💕💕

[evermore-fashion]

Galia Lahav ‘Collection No. V’ Fall 2018 Bridal Couture Collection

[parttimehuman]

A few things I (a fanfiction writer) want you to know

 I write fanfiction because I love the characters and ships I write. I’m not a published author, nor am I trying to become one. I’m here because I got obsessed with a stupid tv show. That’s it. 

Kudos and/or comments fuel me more than you can imagine. 

Every day, I get a ‘You’ve got Kudos!’ email. Every day, I open it. I take note of which of my fics have been given kudos. I take note of the usernames I find there. If you’ve left kudos on one of my fics before, I’ll recognize you. I take a moment to appreciate your support. I feel validated and inspired after this. 

When someone comments on one of my fics for the first time, I go ‘Oh hey there, new friend. Welcome to my world.’

If you’ve commented on one of my fics more than once, I know you. I’ve checked out your profile, your works, your bookmarks. When I see your username, I feel like I’m meeting a friend. I’m like ‘This is the person who likes the same rarepair I do.’ - ‘This is the lover of fluff/smut/angst fics.’ I remember.

I read every comment I ever get, many of them more than once. I try to answer them all. I’m not always fast with that, but I promise you, I appreciate the hell out of your feedback. Sometimes people ask me why I’m grinning so dumbly down at my phone, and many times it’s because I just got a new comment. You’re making my day with this. 

Sometimes I get a comment on a WIP I haven’t updated in a while, and in most cases, it motivates me to get the next chapter out. You’re reminding me why I started writing this story. You’re making me want to finish it. 

When I feel down and unable to write, I go back to the comments on stories that mean a lot to me personally. They give me new life. I treasure them. You have no idea how long they stick with me. 

My ask box is always open. You want to express an opinion on my writing anonymously? You have a prompt, an idea, a wish? You probably don’t know how easy I am to persuade to write something. Honestly, try it. 

No fic is too old to comment on it. Never. 

If you’re too shy to leave a comment, you are valid. I’m happy to have you as a reader. I’m a crazy fangirl like you. I’m dying to talk to you. If you can’t, that’s perfectly fine though. 

If you don’t know what to comment, believe me when I say that it doesn’t matter as long as it isn’t rude. You’re too tired to leave a proper comment? I read fics at 2am too my friend, I understand. You don’t know how to put your thoughts into words? You can literally leave me a HI and I’ll be happy about it. 

If you’re too shy to comment in English because you’re not a native speaker, you’re valid. You’re good enough to read fics in this language, you can be proud of that. I know how to use a translator. You may comment in whatever language you want to. I’m not a native speaker either, I’ve long stopped trying to sound like one. I take no shame in that. 

If you have ever taken time out of your day to read one of my stories, I appreciate you so much. If you have ever hit the kudos button on one of my stories, I appreciate you so much. If you have ever written me a comment, shared your genuine feelings about my writing with me, you are responsible for a big, stupid smile on my face and a significant bit of motivation. 

Thank you!

[writefightandflightclub]

NONE OF MY IRL FRIENDS WRITE OR FAN. PLEASE KNOW THAT YOU ARE MY COMMUNITY. AND YOU ARE ALWAYS WELCOME ON MY BLOG AND IN MY ASK BOX. I APPRECIATE THE HELL OUT OF EVERY INTERACTION AND IF I MARIE KONDO-ed MY LIFE I WOULD KEEP ALL OF YOUR COMMENTS AND TAGS AND ASKS AND MESSAGES BECAUSE DAMN THEY SPARK JOY. REBLOGS ARE GREAT AND APPRECIATED AND THEY HELP ME AS AN AUTHOR. BUT YOU JUST BEING HERE? CHATTING TO ME ABOUT THE THINGS I LOVE DOING WHICH I CAN’T TALK ABOUT WITH ANYONE ELSE? THAT GETS ME IN THE DAMN FEELS. LIKE, I LOVE YOU. NO LIE. YOU MAKE MY DAYS LIKE SUNSHINE. MY FAVOURITE WEATHER IS WHEN IT IS RAINING EMOJIS. SO PLEASE COME AND HANG OUT FOR A WHILE, FRIEND! 🧡🧡🧡

[demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol]

I HAVE VERY FEW NERDY FRIENDS IRL SO I ALSO AGREE WITH THE ABOVE STATEMENT, YALL ARE MY COMMUNITY AND IVE NEVER HAD MORE FUN ON THIS SITE THAN THE PAST FEW MONTHS THAT IVE BEEN IN THE STAR WARS FANDOM

[ezrasarm]

[merfolke]

working on the plot: 🚫🙈🤢🙅

working on tiny worldbuilding/character details that probably won’t even make it into the story: 👌😍💯👁️

[dubblebubble]

do you ever read fanfiction so good you wish it was a book that you could buy and put on some shelf in your bedroom and gaze at sometimes and remember how amazing that motherfucker was instead of having to squint at it on your too bright phone screen at 3 am

[blindedjanus-deactivated2023122]

me making another post for my 12 followers knowing that it will get approximately 4 notes

[rymonaflowers]

The 4 followers

[ernieclem]

[cross-poison]

CLARITAS. (PART 9)

CLARITAS. Din Djarin/OC. (PART 9)

WORDS: 4.3k  || WARNINGS: None, just soft.

A/N: Thank you all for supporting this fic so far! The feedback has made me smile and tear up many times this week and I can’t thank you all enough for your kind words. 

Once Elliotte’s eyes were covered by a wrap of thick fabric, the Mandalorian held two fingers in front of her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Uh… three…? I don’t know,” came her response as her fingers sifted through the carefully aligned piles of flowers, all sorted by color, “You’re going to have to let me know what color I’m holding… and yes, it does matter.” 

Elliotte felt the faint shift in the air as the man settled in the grass across from her. “I will, I will,” he replied, “And you can’t see anything, right…?”

“Even if I could, I have my eyes shut… but please, if you’re uncomfortable with this, you don’t have to–”

“You’ve been nothing but trustworthy since I met you. I can offer you this much as thanks.”

Ell became silent at that, sitting back on her knees and fiddling with the hem of her dress. After a moment came a soft pop and hiss as his helmet disengaged, and a faint thump as he set it aside in the grass. She could hear him draw in a faint breath, and in that moment it was difficult to determine who felt more nervous.

In an attempt to break the uncomfortable pause, Ell lowered her head in the direction of the flower piles and began feeling around for them. “What color is your hair…? Do you have hair? Are you allowed to answer that…?”

Keep reading

[cross-poison]

CLARITAS. (PART 9)

CLARITAS. Din Djarin/OC. (PART 9)

WORDS: 4.3k  || WARNINGS: None, just soft.

A/N: Thank you all for supporting this fic so far! The feedback has made me smile and tear up many times this week and I can't thank you all enough for your kind words. 

Once Elliotte’s eyes were covered by a wrap of thick fabric, the Mandalorian held two fingers in front of her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Uh… three…? I don’t know,” came her response as her fingers sifted through the carefully aligned piles of flowers, all sorted by color, “You’re going to have to let me know what color I’m holding… and yes, it does matter.” 

Elliotte felt the faint shift in the air as the man settled in the grass across from her. “I will, I will,” he replied, “And you can’t see anything, right…?”

“Even if I could, I have my eyes shut… but please, if you’re uncomfortable with this, you don’t have to--”

“You’ve been nothing but trustworthy since I met you. I can offer you this much as thanks.”

Ell became silent at that, sitting back on her knees and fiddling with the hem of her dress. After a moment came a soft pop and hiss as his helmet disengaged, and a faint thump as he set it aside in the grass. She could hear him draw in a faint breath, and in that moment it was difficult to determine who felt more nervous.

In an attempt to break the uncomfortable pause, Ell lowered her head in the direction of the flower piles and began feeling around for them. “What color is your hair…? Do you have hair? Are you allowed to answer that…?”

When the Mandalorian spoke next, it was without obstruction--the first time she’d heard it so. “...It’s brown.”

“Then let’s start with… red.” Beneath her blindfold, Ell’s brows furrowed with concentration as she tried to remember the layout of her flower piles. “These are…?”

“Yellow.”

“And these…?”

“Blue. To the left -- there.”

Elliotte’s hand finally settled over the proper color. She took a few in her palms and shifted forward on her knees, reaching out to him carefully. Her knuckles lightly brushed his cheek and the Mandalorian recoiled abruptly. “Sorry--! I’m sorry--” she began, but he settled himself and drew closer again.

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” he answered slowly, willing himself to concentrate, “Here,” he bumped her wrist with his gloved hand, guiding her touch upward until her fingers brushed the softness of his hair. Mando was stiff beneath her touch as Elliotte carefully measured out strands of his hair, trying to gauge how long it was and how best to arrange a pattern within it. She’d cut longer stems on her flowers in case his hair was too short to wrap the way she did her own, but she’d quickly come to find his hair was curlier and a bit longer than she’d originally anticipated. 

Before placing each flower in his hair, she wrapped the bottom of the stem around her index finger and snapped it off, shortening it enough for her to disguise behind a curl of his hair. All the while, his eyes were on her blindfold, the anxiety that she could see through it never fully dissipating. Try as he might, though, his resolve began to crumble. Mando was able to watch the way she set her jaw in concentration as she looped a stem around her finger, and the way she chewed the inside of her lip as she fastened the flower securely in his hair.

Hearing her speak about artresmour before, he could not comprehend how the use of flowers could hold such a significant impact. How could putting flowers in one’s hair deepen a bond between people? 

As he watched his companion work through the process with him, he could understand now. 

The giver offered a piece of themselves within each flower; They hand-picked every flower, every stem, and each stem was finely woven between itself and other stems, invisible behind a curtain of hair. The giver was the artist, and the recipient, the canvas. The finished product was a work of art, but only the canvas knew the detail of every brushstroke and the genius behind it on a most personal level. It was a secret shared between the two of them. A silent dance of two souls in an empty meadow of flowers, and no one but the harpist and the Mandalorian around to know the significance.

How long had it been since someone touched his hair…?

Elliotte wove blossoms of red and yellow, alternating every so often and using nothing but her hands and muscle memory to guide her through the pattern. About halfway through her process, she felt the Mandalorian begin to relax. She felt the way his bunched shoulders loosened and how his breathing had mellowed out, and she knew if she could see him now without helmet or other obstruction, his eyes would be closed. He was no longer anxious.

She thought fondly back upon the countless nights her mother had tucked her into bed in a similar way, after Ell had been crying her eyes out over whatever trivial matter troubled her young mind. Her mother, always a patient woman, would sit at her bedside and sing nursery rhymes while speckles of white and blue flowers took shape around Elliotte’s head like a crown of petals. 

It seemed so long ago, and life hardly ever offered moments of security and sanctuary like she had known when she was little. Even still, the act of artresmour was one of the best ways to ease a mind into a sense of belonging. Everyone yearned for it in some way -- even metal-clad men from a distant planet. 

All good things must come to an end.

Elliotte fastened the last flower into his hair and felt briefly around his head to make sure everything was staying neatly in place. Once she was satisfied, she reluctantly retracted her hands from his hair. 

The loss of comfort was immediate for both of them. Just as quickly as it had started, the honey-sweet solace brought about by the simplest of human contact was severed, and the weight of real life came crashing back to the forefront of their minds.

“...Hungry?” Ell asked to break the tension, once again managing to draw the Mandalorian’s attention. She patted around in the grass until her hand brushed the roughness of the basket from the marketplace. She pulled the wooden basket onto her lap and opened it, fishing around until her hand closed around one of the palm-sized useme nuts. As she held it to him, he accepted it and the opportunity to eat a meal in the presence of another person without worry. 

Elliotte retrieved one of her own and again set the basket aside, shifting in the grass until she was facing the lake ahead. She crushed the thin shell in her hand and peeled off the shards, exposing the large seed within and pulling it out of the rest of the casing. Mando copied her actions and bit into the seed. It was rather plain in flavor, as most freshly harvested nuts were, but there was a hint of enjoyable sweetness to it.

A comfortable silence filled the air between them as they enjoyed the cool breeze wafting across the hilltop, sending ripples across the surface of the lake. Elliotte was still blindfolded, but she didn’t seem too bothered by it. Truth be told, as much as the Mandalorian wanted to remove the slip of fabric and be met with her blue eyes once more, he didn’t want to mess up the artresmour by putting his helmet back on over it.

“I’m sure it probably looks ridiculous,” Ell said, snapping him from his thoughts, “We’re taught to do it pretty much from the day we’re born, and yet… I’ve never had to do it with my eyes closed. It’s kind of a fun challenge.”

“It looks wonderful,” he replied, and he meant it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his reflection in the lake, and he especially couldn’t look away from the spots of red and yellow tucked into his dark hair. He looked like autumn. He looked like fallen leaves and a fireplace--like telling ghost stories and silhouettes bundled in warm furs, tucked away from the chilling bite of an evening frost. 

It’s like a picture.

Mando hadn’t realized he’d said the words out loud until he heard Elliotte shifting beside him. He turned his head to watch her discard the empty useme shell and reach up to her own hairline. For the briefest moment, he thought she was reaching for the blindfold and nearly sprang for his helmet, but her fingers instead wrapped around a curl of her hair that had become untucked and began playing with it between her fingertips idly. “In a way, it is,” she murmured, one shoulder lifting in a sort of half-shrug, “Me, I’ve always seen it as a sort of living poetry--just instead of weaving words, you’re weaving flowers. I’ve never been too good at putting words to paper, so artresmour makes for a satisfactory outlet.”

“And playing your instrument doesn’t?”

Elliotte gave a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. “The nobles make for a rotten audience. They don’t really listen to it anyway.”

“Then why do you play for them?” he inquired. 

“It’s less of an outlet and more of a necessity. The nobility are… difficult to work with, to say the least. They lack respect and common decency, but they pay better than anyone else. You said you used to be a bounty hunter, right? Surely you’ve had to deal with a number of unsavory people in order to get paid.”

“I have,” he admitted, unable to count on both hands the number of names that immediately came to his mind, “But… in a way, I’m able to remove myself from it. They have no idea who I am beyond a suit of armor and an empty nickname.”

“Is that why you can’t take your helmet off? To maintain some sort of anonymity?”

“Partially. The main reason is due to my religion. No living person has seen my face since… well--in a long time,” he explained, trailing a gloved finger over the t-shaped visor of his helmet beside him. “I blindfolded you not because I don’t find you trustworthy, but because if you did see… I would have to kill you. Or else never put the helmet on again.”

“You don’t owe me any kind of apology or explanation, if that’s what you’re getting at. I would never ask anyone to make that kind of sacrifice just because I was feeling selfish! There’s no amount of curiosity worth overstepping a boundary like that,” Elliotte answered simply, crunching away at another useme nut. 

“You’d be surprised at the number of people who believe they’re entitled otherwise.”

Ell angled her head toward him, brow furrowing in bewilderment. “You don’t say? Here I thought I’d seen the worst of people. A sprained wrist isn’t looking so bad right now,” she mumbled, lifting her wrapped arm to emphasize. 

Mando’s gaze watched the movement of her forearm. “How does it feel…?”

“It’s not quite as sore today. Hopefully is isn’t as bad as I originally thought. Then again, I’m really in no hurry to go back to the palace…”

“Ideally, you won’t have to,” he said, finally reaching for his helmet and slipping it back on over his artresmour’d head. It clicked into place, and the next time he spoke his voice was once again muffled by the vocoder. “I’m going to pay you the same rate for your guidance that you were being paid for your instrument.”

As soon as the blindfold was removed from her eyes, Elliotte shot him an incredulous look. “Yeah, right, I wouldn’t ask that of you. That’s ridiculous.”

Before she could further protest, Mando was already passing her a handful of credits. “Please. It’s the least I can do. You need it more than I do.”

Ell hesitated for a moment, looking as though she made to reach for them, but instead her hands gently folded his gloved fingers back over the currency. She shook her head slowly, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Your offer is generous--truly, it is, and I’m exceptionally grateful, but… the truth is, the money isn’t specifically for me. I’ve got some… people I’m trying to look after. People who are in much more of a dire situation that myself. I have enough in my savings to keep me fed and a roof over my head for a while…”

“Then give it to them--I don’t mind.”

“Mando, you are one of them,” she said, and for the first time he noticed the wetness forming at the corners of her eyes. Elliotte paused for a moment to compose herself, closing her eyes to concentrate on how best to continue. “People have been stranded on this planet for months. Acquiring Listronian fuel these days is no easy or cheap task, as I’m sure you’re growing aware. If you burn through your savings, you’re sure to be put in a situation just like them, and with your kid--”

“Ellie,” he said, and judging by the way she jolted, perhaps it came out a bit sterner than he intended. “It’s going to be alright. You’ve already got enough to deal with; The last thing you need is to start worrying about me.”

Elliotte gave a weak laugh, lightly wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I can’t help it--you’re very easy to worry about.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Am I? Well… you’d be the first to think so,” he stood and offered her his hand to help her to her feet. “You seem to have rotten luck of your own. First the wrist, then an attempted robbery… can’t seem to catch a break this week.”

“Well, it’s not been all bad. I got some nice company out of it, didn’t I?” said Elliotte, retrieving the basket from beside her and turning to begin the walk back down the hillside.

Another soft laugh escaped through the modulator. “I’m not usually what people would consider ‘good company’.”

“I suppose the armor would be a bit off putting to some.”

“That and my typical encounters with people aren’t exactly the ‘friendly’ kind. When you have a lot of enemies, it’s best to hold your tongue in their presence. It’s safer for you if they don’t know much about you.”

Ell didn’t respond, and they were overtaken by silence as they descended the hillside, enjoying the coolness of the air as Cietovus 8 sank behind the hillside and left them in growing darkness. Before long, they’d reached the bottom of the hill. 

Back on flat ground, Elliotte turned to give him a smile. “Thanks for humoring me all day. I know the market isn’t super fun, but it is essential to life on Listronus. Hopefully Listrona Hill was a bit more enjoyable.”

“It was… and thank you for showing me. You make one hell of a tour guide.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes as the countryside faded into darkness behind them and the lights of the city drew nearer. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop before we call it a night…?” 

“I don’t mind.”

On Elliotte’s route, they crossed through the center of the city, passed the palace and her house further down the street, and continued along a quiet path to the western outskirts. Mando recognized the area quickly as the place he’d rescued Elliotte from the would-be mugger the night before… what was she doing in this part of town so frequently?

His question was answered soon after when Elliotte turned up the pathway to a worn-down house surrounded by overgrown shrubbery and hidden from the view of the street. Mando followed her to the door as she knocked rhythmically on the chipping wooden. Before too long, a woman with hair like fire opened the door. Her brown eyes were soft and full of kindness, and her presumably long hair was tied in place by dozens of tiny yellow flowers. She couldn’t have been much older than Elliotte, herself, but her expression immediately lit up when she saw her. The woman pulled her into a bruising hug and made some comment about how she’d told Ell not to be out at this time of night. The Mandalorian shifted his weight from foot to foot, and only then did she seem to take notice of him.

The redheaded woman recoiled in surprise, “Ell, I truly thought you’d brought me a statue, but… this must be the Mandalorian you’ve told me so much about.”

Ell only had time to give an embarrassed “Rhy--” before the other woman stepped aside and held the door open. 

“Come in, come in. My goodness, you are tall.”

Mando gave a sheepish ‘thanks’ and stepped into the small building behind Elliotte. The interior wasn’t much more impressive than the outside; It was small and cramped, and the smell of wood rot was rather prevalent in the air. To his left, he was surprised to find a crowd of people huddled around the small fireplace. When they took notice of Elliotte, many smiled or waved in greeting. Hardly any of them were Listronian; Mando recognized a number of species from planets far off. All at once, things began to click into place.

The fuel crisis. 

Elliotte mentioned that she knew a number of other people stranded like he and the child were, and said that a large portion of her income went to providing for those in a worse situation than herself. All this time, she’d been aiding them.

“This is Rhythimi,” Ell said, once the door was shut firmly behind them, “My best friend. Rhy, this is Mando.”

“Mando. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Rhythimi answered kindly, extending her hand.

“Wish I could say the same,” he replied, shaking her hand whilst stealing a glance in Ell’s direction.

Rhythimi chuckled. “No, don’t be silly. If I’ve remained anonymous, that means Elliotte’s done her job. That being said, if you’re here that must mean you’ve found yourself in a similar situation to all these folks… low on fuel?”

“That’s right.”

“In that case, I’ll be sure to add you to the wait list,” said Rhythimi.

“Wait list?” Mando inquired.

“Of course. For fuel.”

“You’re able to get it?”

“Sure, but it’ll be a few weeks… or even a few months. We aren’t exactly following legal protocols here. But… We’ll do what we can to get you home.”

The Mandalorian inclined his head.

“Sorry to drop in on you with a guest unexpectedly, Rhy,” Ell chimed in, “…we’ll be out of your hair shortly, but we did bring you these. Hopefully they’ll come in handy,” Ell said, setting the basket of useme nuts on the table.

Rhythimi smiled gratefully. “Of course they will. Every little bit helps. And don’t you dare apologize… seeing you is one of the few things I look forward to every day.”

Ell smiled, and the two exchanged a quick hug before she bid her friend and the refugees goodnight and made for the door. The cool air returned as she and the Mandalorian crossed the porch and descended the few stairs to the grass. “I apologize for not telling you about her sooner,” she said in a hushed whisper, trying to keep her voice down in case anyone was attempting to listen in, “I know you need fuel--I’ve known that since we met, but I hope you understand… I had to make sure you were trustworthy first.”

“I do understand,” he replied, turning his helmet in her direction. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“Helping us.”

Elliotte turned to look at him, beaming with a smile that reached her eyes. “No worries… I’m glad to be doing something for a good cause.” The two reached the main street before she spoke again. “Thank you for your time today. I know it was… a lot of seemingly pointless information, but it feels nice to have someone to tell it all to.”

“Of course. I look forward to the lessons to come. In the meantime, I’ll walk you home,” he replied, and Ell looked like she wanted to protest, but he held up a gloved hand to quiet her. “No, you won’t be ‘troubling me’, stop it. You got mugged on this exact street corner last night. I’m not taking any chances.”

As much as she wanted to, Elliotte couldn’t argue with that. “Fine. But you have to take a cup of tea back to your ship with you.”

“Deal.”

By the time they began their trip down the street in the direction they’d come, the streetlights had begun to illuminate the ground around them. The Mandalorian felt much more at ease with the increased lighting the closer they got to the city, and much more relieved knowing she had agreed to let him walk her home at this time of night. Although his faith in her continued to grow, his faith in the city deteriorated. There were much more underlying issues here than he’d originally anticipated. 

Between a haughty nobility, a fuel crisis, a growing homeless population, poverty-stricken individuals, and a greedy king atop it all, Mando couldn’t help but wonder how gentle souls such as Elliotte and Rhythimi had managed to survive on this planet. They both were a light in a tunnel of darkness… a clarity. A brightness.

A brightness the Mandalorian had scarcely witnessed in his many years as a bounty hunter. Without Elliotte, he hardly believed he would have given this planet more than a passing thought. He would know nothing about their culture or the people, and not too long ago he wouldn’t have cared. However, more than anything he now wanted to learn more.

Mando reached this conclusion the same moment they reached her doorstep. “Thank you again for everything,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at him. She reached for the handle and tried to turn it, but the door didn’t budge. She cursed and patted the sides of her dress, and even her sleeves.

There was a long pause before her forehead thumped against the wood of the door. “The key. I locked the key inside.”

The Mandalorian went to respond, but he watched her gaze shift from the door to the overhanging balcony a few feet up. 

“Hold on,” she mumbled, crossing the small porch and taking a large jump. Her hands found purchase on the bottom of the balcony and she hoisted herself up with skillful ease.

“This hasn’t been your first time locking yourself out, has it,” Mando observed, watching with his arms folded until he was sure she was up safely. Then, he copied her motions and swung himself over the rail.

“First time while I had company,” she answered, pulling the balcony doors open. She stepped inside the revealed room without a second thought, but the Mandalorian hesitated. The room was surprisingly spacious, with a closed closet at one side, Elliotte’s harp propped against the wood of the door, and a large bathroom at the other. In the middle of the room was a small couch and coffee table, and to his left was a small bed encircled by a thin white curtain. It became clear rather quickly that he was looking into her bedroom, and he immediately felt as though he was intruding.

Elliotte seemed to notice his hesitation and lifted her hands to ask him to wait. “You don’t have to come in! You can stay there--I’m just gonna run downstairs to get your tea.”

Mando gave a single curt nod and graciously turned to busy his attention elsewhere… “elsewhere” happened to be looking out over the railing of the balcony. Without his helmet, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish the features of the buildings barely visible in the darkness, but he was able to recognize the shape of the palace down the street, and the neighboring homes on this stretch of road. The marketplace was empty, and the stalls were covered individually by large sheets to attempt to protect the wood from rain. 

Before long, Elliotte made her way back upstairs, cupping her hands around a mug of steaming tea. “Here you are,” she said, carefully passing the mug to him, “Freshest Listronian tea you’ll get this time of night.”

He thanked her and took the mug from her. “Same time tomorrow?”

“We’ll start whatever time you want. I kept you out longer than I intended today, so… sleep in and spend some time with your kid.”

The Mandalorian smiled behind his helmet and realized a bit too late that she was unable to see it. “I’ll meet you here.”

The conversation should have ended there, and yet neither one of them made a move to leave. Instead, Elliotte averted her gaze, looking out over the city.

 “Earlier today, you called me ‘Ellie’... I don’t know that you meant to, but you did. No one’s called me that since I was a kid.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

“No, don’t apologize,” she said quickly. She scratched her arm sheepishly, vision still focused on the flickering lights in the buildings across the street. “That was my mother’s nickname for me. It was my favorite.”

Mando didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes when she mentioned her mother, but even more so, he didn’t miss the fond smile that crept over her lips. He turned his helmet slightly to the side, still watching her through the visor. “...Thank you for today, Ellie... I learned a lot.”

The corner of her lip turned upward. “I did too.”

“You learned a lot about your planet today? Here I thought you knew everything,” he said, hoping his humor wasn’t lost through the vocoder.

“Not about Listronus,” Ell replied earnestly, “About you.” For a moment, her blue eyes were drawn away from the visor and moved to his shoulder, where a red flower petal had fallen out from beneath his helmet. She lifted her hand to brush it off and watched it flutter to the balcony’s floor. 

“Oh…” he responded lamely.

And then Ell did something that surprised them both. 

She kissed him.

A soft brush of her lips against the smooth beskar of his helmet’s cheek. She pulled back just as quickly as she’d initiated it, face flushed the color of a rose, before she cleared her throat, offered a soft “goodnight” and padded briskly into her room, shutting the balcony doors behind her. Whether she or the Mandalorian was left more flustered was debatable, as she’d immediately fled the area and he remained standing on her balcony for several long moments after she’d closed the door, a gloved hand pressed lightly against the spot on his helmet she’d touched.

After a few moments, he collected himself enough to turn his gaze from the doors she’d disappeared behind and back toward the view overlooking the city. Reluctantly, he eased himself back over the balcony’s railing and dropped to the street once again, ready to begin his walk home. 

“Goodnight,” he murmured to her front door.

[captain-lonagan]

A PERSON LEFT A REALLY SWEET COMMENT ON MY FIC AND I IMMEDIATELY OPENED MY LAPTOP AND STARTED WRITING I FEEL LIKE I COULD KILL GOD IM SO VALIDATED

[thebookishfeminist-deactivated2]

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE OUR FUEL

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

That's true. And only will take you a minute. If you like a fic, leave a comment or reblog it. For you it's a minute, for us is inspiration to keep writing 💕

[imagineredwood]

There really have been times where I’m like ok I’m done for the night, and then someone asdfghjkl’s in my comments and it’s like welp

Guess whose got motivation again 😂💗

[obscurilicious]

All of this.

[cross-poison]

CLARITAS. The Mandalorian/OC (PART 8)

WORDS: 3.4k || WARNINGS: spirituality/talk of (made up) religion

a/n: FINALLY finished this part. I hope the fact that it’s almost double my usual chapter length makes up for how overdue it is. 

As the Mandalorian stepped across the central aisle of the marketplace, he locked away in his mind the appearance of the nobleman Elliotte had pointed out to him. Lord Miryus. He’d not only been responsible for spraining Elliotte’s wrist, but also, apparently, a number of ongoing problems here on Listronus. Mando temporarily filed that information away for later, and he instead turned his attention to the fisherman behind the merchant’s stall as he approached.

The fisherman caught his eye and immediately poked at some of his fresh-caught fish, chattering excitedly about the quality and size of each one. 

Elliotte came to a halt beside the Mandalorian at the stall and occupied herself with admiring the variety of fish, giving him the amount of space and time he needed to lock in a trade with his merchant of choice. He held the spool of string in-hand, turning it over in his gloved palm. The merchant stole a look at it before shifting his gaze back up to the intimidating visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “A trade?” he said, “Are you looking for a trade?”

“Yes. We are,” Mando replied, turning his helmet in Elliotte’s direction. She simply offered him a reassuring smile. He could do this… it’s not like he’d never negotiated before. “This is… a very fine, sturdy material here. Perfect for stringing fishing poles.”

“Right. May I see it for myself?” asked the merchant, humming thoughtfully as Mando passed him the spool. He held it up, unrolling a little segment of it and pinching it between his fingers. “It is a bit stretchy—quite perfect, if you ask me. I wouldn’t mind making a trade for it. Has anything here caught your eye…? Or your lady’s?”

“She isn’t my–”

“How about five of these little zemmoks?” Elliotte chimed in, extending a finger to gesture to a long and thin fish, rather average in color, but distinguished by a needle-like protrusion from its lower jaw. 

Keep reading

[paperamericana]

me thinking about mutuals who I've never spoken to and admired from afar

[cross-poison]

CLARITAS. The Mandalorian/OC (PART 8)

WORDS: 3.4k || WARNINGS: spirituality/talk of (made up) religion

a/n: FINALLY finished this part. I hope the fact that it’s almost double my usual chapter length makes up for how overdue it is. 

As the Mandalorian stepped across the central aisle of the marketplace, he locked away in his mind the appearance of the nobleman Elliotte had pointed out to him. Lord Miryus. He’d not only been responsible for spraining Elliotte’s wrist, but also, apparently, a number of ongoing problems here on Listronus. Mando temporarily filed that information away for later, and he instead turned his attention to the fisherman behind the merchant’s stall as he approached.

The fisherman caught his eye and immediately poked at some of his fresh-caught fish, chattering excitedly about the quality and size of each one. 

Elliotte came to a halt beside the Mandalorian at the stall and occupied herself with admiring the variety of fish, giving him the amount of space and time he needed to lock in a trade with his merchant of choice. He held the spool of string in-hand, turning it over in his gloved palm. The merchant stole a look at it before shifting his gaze back up to the intimidating visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “A trade?” he said, “Are you looking for a trade?”

“Yes. We are,” Mando replied, turning his helmet in Elliotte’s direction. She simply offered him a reassuring smile. He could do this… it’s not like he’d never negotiated before. “This is… a very fine, sturdy material here. Perfect for stringing fishing poles.”

“Right. May I see it for myself?” asked the merchant, humming thoughtfully as Mando passed him the spool. He held it up, unrolling a little segment of it and pinching it between his fingers. “It is a bit stretchy—quite perfect, if you ask me. I wouldn’t mind making a trade for it. Has anything here caught your eye…? Or your lady’s?”

“She isn’t my–”

“How about five of these little zemmoks?” Elliotte chimed in, extending a finger to gesture to a long and thin fish, rather average in color, but distinguished by a needle-like protrusion from its lower jaw. 

Keep reading

[cross-poison]

CLARITAS. The Mandalorian/OC (PART 8)

WORDS: 3.4k || WARNINGS: spirituality/talk of (made up) religion

a/n: FINALLY finished this part. I hope the fact that it’s almost double my usual chapter length makes up for how overdue it is. 

As the Mandalorian stepped across the central aisle of the marketplace, he locked away in his mind the appearance of the nobleman Elliotte had pointed out to him. Lord Miryus. He’d not only been responsible for spraining Elliotte’s wrist, but also, apparently, a number of ongoing problems here on Listronus. Mando temporarily filed that information away for later, and he instead turned his attention to the fisherman behind the merchant’s stall as he approached.

The fisherman caught his eye and immediately poked at some of his fresh-caught fish, chattering excitedly about the quality and size of each one. 

Elliotte came to a halt beside the Mandalorian at the stall and occupied herself with admiring the variety of fish, giving him the amount of space and time he needed to lock in a trade with his merchant of choice. He held the spool of string in-hand, turning it over in his gloved palm. The merchant stole a look at it before shifting his gaze back up to the intimidating visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “A trade?” he said, “Are you looking for a trade?”

“Yes. We are,” Mando replied, turning his helmet in Elliotte’s direction. She simply offered him a reassuring smile. He could do this… it’s not like he’d never negotiated before. “This is… a very fine, sturdy material here. Perfect for stringing fishing poles.”

“Right. May I see it for myself?” asked the merchant, humming thoughtfully as Mando passed him the spool. He held it up, unrolling a little segment of it and pinching it between his fingers. “It is a bit stretchy---quite perfect, if you ask me. I wouldn’t mind making a trade for it. Has anything here caught your eye…? Or your lady’s?”

“She isn’t my--”

“How about five of these little zemmoks?” Elliotte chimed in, extending a finger to gesture to a long and thin fish, rather average in color, but distinguished by a needle-like protrusion from its lower jaw. 

The fisherman chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, dear. Four and it’s a deal.”

“Alright then. Four.”

The merchant tucked the spool away into his pocket and turned to package up the small fish. He passed them across the row of fish to her and she tucked the wrap against her arm, thanked him, and nodded to Mando.

Once again, the two returned to the open marketplace. “Very well done! He didn’t doubt you’re a local for a second! I mean… perhaps other than appearance-wise. In that regard, you do sort of stand out,” Ell began, “I apologize for butting in there at the end… I just know we’ll need zemmoks for our next barter.”

“How many more of these are there?” Mando said, perhaps growing a bit agitated at the grueling process. As far as he could tell, they’d made no progress toward anything more valuable. A toxic fruit to beads, to a spool of string, to a handful of too-small fish… this hardly felt like a successful endeavor.

“This is the last one, I promise,” she assured, picking up on his annoyance, “I know these don’t look like much, but pitch them to the right merchant…” Ell shifted her gaze to a stall toward the front portion of the marketplace, and Mando followed her gaze. A plump and older merchant woman was receiving a handful of silver coins from a customer before passing him a basket of brightly-colored berries. That was their next target?

“That there is Misa. She’s an old friend of mine… has a real taste for zemmoks, you see. She has some old family recipe that requires a bunch of them, so she’ll snatch them up whenever anyone offers. In return, she offers useme nuts by the dozen… they’re these fist-sized nuts that grow in her personal orchard on the other side of town... crisp and incredibly tasty, especially when they’re salted the way Misa prepares them! Pretty great deal if you ask me,” Elliotte explained as she weaved through the crowd and in the direction of their target merchant.

Mando followed her, offering nothing but a grunt in response. He’d be rather happy to be finished in this marketplace. The heat of the day was unpleasant in the stuffy crowd, and although he was used to drawing curious gazes toward the sleek shine of his beskar, the continuous feeling of eyes watching his every move was beginning to grow taxing. 

“Misa!” Elliotte’s voice drew him once again from his thoughts as the two of them came to a halt in front of the merchant’s stall. Unlike most of the other vendors in the marketplace, it seemed Misa specialized in more than one thing---berries, nuts, fruits, and even a few various animal products from creatures he’d never even heard of. 

“Good afternoon, Elliotte!” said the friendly-looking merchant, “What can I interest you in today?”

“The usual,” Ell replied, passing over the wrap of fish she’d obtained from the previous merchant. 

“You know me so well. A dozen per zemmok---that’ll give you forty-eight. Agreeable?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Misa grinned, turning away from her to set the fish down and began packing useme nuts away in a large basket. “So, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Mando managed to catch her eye for a moment before she offered a faint smile and turned her gaze back to the vendor. “This is Mando. I’m showing him around the market this morning… and the proper bargaining techniques.”

“That’s a handy skill to have,” Misa said, sitting back to blow a strand of hair out of her face. She reached over her table of goods in order to extend her hand, and Mando did the same, firmly shaking her hand. “Welcome to Listronus, Mando.”

“Thank you,” he answered.

“Well, here you are, Ms. Cantossan! Forty-eight useme nuts,” Misa added, lifting the basket off of the table and passing it to her. 

“Thanks again, Misa. See you later,” Elliotte said, looping her arm under the basket’s handle and carrying it off. Finally, they were able to leave the intense environment of the marketplace. As they drew further away from the noise, Mando was able to visibly relax, at least just a hair. “Okay, now I’m intrigued. What’s the purpose of so many of… those?”

“These are a great local food source here on Listronus. I figured you could take as many of these as you’d like back for you and your kid… and if it isn’t too much to ask, I’d like to ask if I could have the remaining ones instead of a monetary payment for this first day of guiding!”

“You can have them all,” answered Mando, tilting his helmet in her direction, “I have enough to get by on my ship. And the kid’s a carnivore anyway.”

Elliotte blinked, positively bewildered by such a thing. “We’re talking about the same kid, right? Th-the little green one? He’s a carnivore?”

There was a muffled almost-chuckle from beneath the helmet. “Yes. It took me by surprise too when I saw him eat a frog whole the night I found him.” There was a certain underlying fondness in his heavily-modulated voice that Elliotte didn’t miss whenever he spoke about the child. Spending so much time around politicians and noblemen, Ell was able to differentiate between fake smiles and genuine ones, and although the Mandalorian’s face could give her no true indication she could almost hear the smile through his voice. This child was important to him.

“I didn’t mean to assume. We can trade these useme nuts for some larger fish, if--”

“No, please… I can tell they have more value to you. I have enough food on my ship to get through several more weeks. Besides… I’d rather not go back into that marketplace again for a while.”

“Crowds aren’t your thing, huh?”

“Not really.”

Ell hummed thoughtfully, switching the basket of useme nuts to her other arm. “Well… I know a few places we can visit that are much less crowded. You up for a history lesson?”

“I don’t see why not?”

“It’s a good thing we bought these after all. We’re gonna need some for the trip.”

It turns out, “trip” was a bit of an overstatement. To the east of the city, the landscape gave way to hills and valleys. Most of the flat area had been developed into farmland while the hills were relatively untouched and wild. As Cietovus 8 climbed higher into the sky, the two cut through rows of knee-high crops, watching each step to make sure no plants were crushed in the process. Mando spent much of the walk admiring the change of scenery and enjoying the time away from the bustling city streets, but even he grew curious as to what exactly the destination was supposed to be. 

Ell, on the other hand, seemed to have the path memorized… which, he supposed, made sense in the grand scheme of things. She had lived here for all her life, after all. At first glance, the Mandalorian believed she was simply another haughty aristocrat. She certainly dressed like one and knew their mannerisms well, but upon getting to speak with her beyond more than a few passing words, he came to realize that she was kind, but without being naive and considerate without being a pushover. It was almost endearing in a way, the gentle balance she maintained. 

Mando must have been gradually slowing his pace, because once he’d finally drawn out of his thoughts, they were no longer walking side-by-side. Ell was a few steps ahead of him, still chattering on about the details and history of the landscape and pointing out specific structures in the nearby fields. By now, he’d come to realize that they were nearing the edge of the crop fields and approaching the base of a large hill. The incline was gradual, but scattered with trees and various rock formations that would make for some simple obstacles. Overall, it appeared to be a relatively easy climb.

“Where are we?”

“This is Listrona Hill. As the name implies, it has… incredible significance to the people of this planet. It’s also why the capital city is located so nearby,” Elliotte answered, already drawing closer to a narrow trail winding up the hillside, “But it’s not the hill itself that’s so important. It’s what’s at the top.”

Mando followed her, watching every step up the incline. “What is at the top?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Ell said, “Back in the early days of this planet, Listronians were known for their unique spirituality. We believed every creature and object had a spirit and essence that it offered to the universe in a way only it could. Our deity was Artres, goddess of flowers and abundance. According to ancient myths, this hillside was her home… to this day, we still hold many funerals and weddings at the peak, and many of the older generations still believe it honors Artres. I’m not very religious myself, but the sentiment is nice.”

Mando listened to her explanation quietly as they navigated the tricky hillside, and Elliotte continued to recite old myths and stories about the creation of the planet, the supposed death of the goddess, and her rebirth in the form of a meadow of flowers, but her organized storytelling quickly dropped off in favor of enthusiasm as they neared the peak. She increased her pace until she was jogging the final stretch and turned around to wave him on and beckon him to hurry up.

Eventually Mando was standing beside her at the summit of the hill, looking out over a vast meadow of flowers that varied in color from blues and purples to reds and yellows and whites. The thick trees didn’t seem to grow into the meadow; Instead, they outlined the hilltop from the edges. The only thing around to interrupt the expanse of flowers was a small lake filled with crystalline water so pure one could see to the very bottom. In front of the lake was what appeared to be a small shrine.

The shrine itself was made of old, deep brown wood that had obviously been replaced and refurbished multiple times over the years. Semi-fresh flowers, wilted beneath the heat of the sun, had been weaved into the lattice pattern. Perhaps the features that stood out most was the pair of large antlers against the back of the shrine and the two sets of silver claws that dangled from them. While the antlers looked natural, the “claws” were clearly manmade--composed of the same carved silver that wrapped Elliotte’s forearm. 

Ell seemed to pick up on his curiosity quickly. “The antlers are from the Warhara. They’re a large canid species native to Listronus. Their antlers are strong and sturdy, and are worn by our Kings so that they may embody the same traits.”

“And these?” Mando said, cupping his hand beneath the silver claws.

“These are similarly modeled after the Warhara. To represent the spirit of a warrior. Before modern times, they were worn by footsoldiers and guardsmen, but obviously this sort of weaponry is outdated. These days, they’re worn exclusively for ritual combat… Look.” Elliotte carefully took the silver pieces off of the antlers and turned them over so that her companion was able to see the thin loop made on the underside of each claw. She slid her fingers into each loop and flexed them to show off the new extension of her hand. “They’re pretty cool, right? Personally, I think we should bring them back as part of our everyday wardrobe,” she took the claws back off and draped them back over the Warhara’s antlers before turning to him. 

“Princes of Listronus can lawfully challenge the Kings for the throne, but the only weapons they are allowed are those. It’s a dangerous event. Those claws are excellent for speed, but they definitely don’t provide the same kind of protection as your um… ‘beskar’, it is called, right?” She asked, stepping away from the small shrine and crossing the meadow to the edge of the small lake. There, she knelt in the grass beside the basket of useme nuts and patted the space beside her to encourage him to join her. He did so, and not soon afterward, Elliotte reached up and began to pluck the day-old flower buds from her hair. She unraveled them one at a time and set them aside in a neat pile beside her as she stole a glance in the Mandalorian’s direction. 

“Anyway, I’ve chattered on about history lessons long enough. I’m curious to learn more about you, if you would be willing to share. You mentioned earlier that you were a bounty hunter at one point… surely you have some interesting stories to tell?”

“Plenty,” Mando responded, the chuckle that followed catching on the modulator of his helmet, “... I don’t suppose you’ve heard of a ‘Mudhorn’ before, have you?”

Ell hummed thoughtfully, then offered a small shrug. “I’ve read briefly about them in books and on datapads through the years, but they’ve never been something I’ve heavily studied… why?”

The Mandalorian leaned back in the grass, placing his hands behind him as his helmet tipped skyward. “It wasn’t too long ago, actually… I was on assignment when a group of Jawas in their sandcrawler stole all the valuable parts they could scavenge from my ship. In order to get them to agree to return the pieces, they had me bring an egg of a Mudhorn as a trade. These things are… huge and incredibly territorial, and it wasn’t too happy to see me near its egg. I was outmatched immediately; It nearly shredded my armor and my weapons couldn’t even touch it --- in all honesty, I really thought I was done for. But then the kid, he--” he reached out to mimic the gesture the child seemed to make with his hands, but hesitated before finishing his sentence. 

Perhaps it wasn’t wise to share this information publicly. But Elliotte was enthralled by the story, fingers paused over the stem of a flower in her curled strand of hair and eyes wide with wonder and fascination, and the Mandalorian couldn’t find it in him to withhold the rest of the story from her. “All of a sudden, it stopped. The Mudhorn, mid-charge. I thought I must have died, because I sure didn’t believe what I was seeing. The whole creature was just… floating in front of me in the air. When I looked over at the kid, he had his hand out like this--” he mimicked the motion, “Keeping it suspended. I’ve never seen anything like it. With him keeping it occupied, I was able to finish it off but if he hadn’t… there’s no doubt I wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

To his surprise, when he’d finished his retelling, Ell snickered softly and set the last flower aside. “That’s an interesting story, Mando.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Sure I do. The universe is so vast and unique, there’s no way we can possibly understand all of its inner workings. Just because something isn’t common doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” now that she’d finished removing the petals and buds from her hair, she turned away and began to pluck new ones from the colorful meadow nearby. “Priestesses in Listronian history have exhibited similar abilities. It was thought to be a given gift by Artres herself, you know. Not that I believe too heavily in old religion, but perhaps your child has just inherited something similar. It sounds quite extraordinary.”

The Mandalorian cast her a glance from the side of his visor. Not only had Elliotte responded unexpectedly well to such a story, but she believed it wholeheartedly. He was hesitant to call it naivety, as she really was knowledgeable about her planet and people, but trust was a difficult thing to come by in his line of work. “You’re unpredictably nonchalant about this.”

To that, Ell laughed softly. “In my experience, closed mindedness is dangerous. It lures one into a false sense of security, content in the idea they have all the answers, whereas open mindedness allows room to learn and grow… to fluctuate and move, like flowers in an afternoon breeze.”

This sentiment only served to further cast a ripple in the Mandalorian’s original judgement of Elliotte Cantossan. Despite himself being the one wrapped head to toe in protective metal, the one meant to be a mystery, he found himself more at a loss with her -- the harpist whose only armor was the band of silver on her forearm and the woman who willingly sought him for nothing but his company? 

She had trusted him enough to allow him into her house and enough to agree to visit his, and even enough to bring him to the holiest space on her homeworld… and yet, as he’d come to realize, he still knew hardly anything about her. She knew hardly anything about him. And yet he felt drawn to her -- comfortable around her -- as if parts of him could seep through the gaps in his armor without worry in her presence. 

By the way Ell’s smile brightened just a little when she saw the t-shape of his visor faced in her direction, he could almost believe she felt the same. As he watched her begin to tie fresh flowers into her hair, he could no longer keep himself from asking the question: “The flowers… they’re incorporated everywhere on this planet. What is the significance? Why do you put them into your hair like that?”

“Spiritually speaking, flowers are symbolic to Artres--”

“No, why do you do it?”

Ell seemed taken aback by his question, normally steady fingers faltering and causing the strand of hair to unwrap from the stem of a pink flower. She quietly cleared her throat and began the process again. “We call it artresmour. “Godlike love”. To put them on yourself is to express vitality and youth and self love -- to put it on anyone else is to express devotion and trust… it’s like saying… ‘you are important to me in a way words cannot describe.’ It’s not necessarily romantic; It’s romantic and platonic and familial. Some villages even use it as a greeting to strangers and newcomers. It unites us. Godlike love,” she paused briefly before continuing, “To me, it’s a way to deepen bonds; My best friend and I take turns every time we meet… it’s the way we acknowledge each other’s struggles and our fights to overcome them, and our way of assuring each other we aren’t going it alone.”

There was a brief pause between the two of them before the Mandalorian chose to break the silence. “How do you feel about… doing it blindfolded?”

TAGS: Message me/send me an ask to be added.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677540/chapters/60781519

[cross-poison]

“I really need to finish writing this next chapter” I say as I leave the document untouched for a month.