#[ one day i will go at that water tower scene one line at a time on here rather than in discord. ]

[iniziare]

/breathes calmly. Tifa—

#[ tifa lockhart. ] she had buried the twinges of guilt beneath the narcissism of self-sacrifice. beneath the belief of 'the greater good'. #[ one day i will go at that water tower scene one line at a time on here rather than in discord. ] #[ and i'll do so coherently and logically. ] #[ touching on the word choice of teenagers-- their physical reactions. these voice actors' performances of these lines. ] #[ gestures-- everything. there is so much here but it infuriates me because so much is overlooked. ] #[ and then i'm asked to look at an analysis and i truly feel like i'm told to walk through a dense set of woods with two lit matches. ] #[ or like twenty. ] #[ i've been listening to a tower; a promise for the last hour after having watched the scene for almost 2 hours on the 2nd monitor. ] #[ feral. /feral/ i am about this scene. square enix is nothing short of incredible at depicting human nature. ] #[ the spot where she chooses to sit; what not seeing his facial expressions is indicative of. ] #[ when we keep in mind that they haven't actually genuinely spoken before that moment-- ] #[ like remember-- nojima specified (i will find this back i swear) that cloud's recollection of even younger tifa... ] #[ going 'are you ignoring me?!' during that flashback? is not a genuine memory. it didn't happen that way. ] #[ can we stop forgetting that cloud is an /unreliable narrator/? ] #[ but any way-- /stop forgetting they don't know each other/. not beyond being familiar faces. ] #[ but even just in the moment. she can't see him and /he can't see her/. ] #[ can we talk about how... her 'sadness' initially isn't just aimed at cloud leaving? she specifically says 'all the guys are--'. ] #[ i can touch on every line but lemme focus on a few here-- cloud's little attempt at getting a reaction from her... ] #[ 'yeah. so i won't be back for a long time.' the cool guy. not only does it fail-- 'guess not'. immediate. no thought. no hesitation. ] #[ and then immediately goes to 'think you'll be in the papers?' ] #[ this is the first moment she smiles. you can see it amidst the blur but you can especially hear it in her voice. her tone brightens. ] #[ she looks up; wistful. and it's still there when the camera focuses on her and she mentions the wish. ] #[ and her phrasing is interesting-- 'and when you're a famous soldier'. that on its own can be seen as just phrasing but... ] #[ the inclusion of 'please? just once'. just once. it's not about cloud in specific. it's about being saved. ] #[ and ALSO; can we talk about how it isn't cloud who talks about SOLDIERs being heroes? ] #[ she talks about a 'hero'. not him. he doesn't mention heroes at all; can we talk about that for a second? ] #[ u g h. tag limit again-- i keep counting. don't mind me. i'm not saying tifa is 'selfish'. but i'm saying tifa is being selfish. ] #[ and that makes her an increeeeeedibly interesting character. but i need people to realize and talk about this? u g h. ] #[ also-- ALSO-- did this scene even happen this way? nOMURA AND NOJIMA?? ]

[bby-deerling]

i'm sorry, women (platonic sanji & zoro's partner!reader)

yes this is based on that scene from diary of a wimpy kid, no i'm not sorry. part of my lil' zoro x reader cinematic universe, but as always can be read as a standalone

suggestive, 18+, mdni, wc: 1.1k masterlist

It was a beautiful morning, bright blue sky untouched by clouds and sun high in the air—a perfect day, in your eyes, for you and Zoro to take care of some laundry.  You take care of your own garments first, scrubbing them thoroughly in the soapy water before rinsing them and carefully hanging them up on the clothesline.  Feeling footsteps approaching, you tilt your head upwards to be met with a familiar blonde mop of hair.

“Hey, Sanji!  Thanks for the extra bacon at breakfast!” you chirp as you start on Zoro’s clothes pile, dunking a pair of his sweatpants under the layer of suds.

“Always my pleasure, sunshine.” he says, carefully blowing his cigarette smoke out of one side of his mouth to avoid directing it towards you or your freshly hung clothes.  You pull Zoro’s pants out of the washing tub and rinse them off, but pause when you notice the frown on the cook’s face.

“What’s up, blondie?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him and tilting your head.

“Nothing.  It’s just that you’re too good to be doing a man’s laundry for him.” he says, motioning to the pair of sopping wet pants in your hands.

You let out a sigh, setting them down and crossing your arms.  “He’s going to help me soon; he’s just finishing up his workout.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to sit here and watch you wait around for him all day until those bubbles are all popped.” he says, the look in his eye dancing somewhere between disappointment and pity.

“Quit worrying so much about what I’m doing—he promised to help me, and he will.” you snap back, picking the pair of pants back up and wringing them out before hanging them up on the clothesline.

You expect him to leave you be to get started on preparations for lunch, but Sanji simply stares you down with an incredulous look in his eyes until you grumble and make your way towards the Observation Tower to go collect Zoro.

Poking your head out of the trap door in the floor, you take a moment to soak in the delicious sight of a shirtless Zoro training his back before speaking up.

“I’m ready for your help with the laundry, no rush though!”  you say with a smile.  Despite Sanji’s scathing disapproval, you really didn’t mind picking up a chore for Zoro here or there; what you were really after was spending time with him, whether it was finishing the laundry together out on the deck or keeping him company while he trained.

He lets out a grunt as he lets his weight fall to the floor.  “Lost track of time.  I’m almost finished up here, I’ll be right down, promise.” he says, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders.

“Mind if I stay and watch?” you ask, propping your head up with your elbows and staring up at him with eager eyes.  He grins back at you, running his hand through his hair and wiping his sweat away with the towel around his neck.

“As much as I’d love that, I actually need you to do something for me.” he says.  “I’ve got a couple shirts in my dresser that I forgot to put in the dirty pile, you’ll know which ones.  Mind getting them for me?”

“Sure thing!” you say as you nod, knowing exactly which clean-up shirts he was talking about, and making a mental note to also wash all the shirts that had come into contact with them.  Descending the ladder and making a bee-line towards the men’s quarters, you hum one of your favorite tunes under your breath as you pull open Zoro’s dresser drawer, only for your jaw to drop and mind to go blank as your eyes drifted to Sanji’s bed.

Sanji’s sheets were absolutely littered with dirty magazines, naked women on the covers performing acts ranging anywhere from femdom to being tied up in bondage.  Grabbing Zoro’s shirts, you intend to bring them outside and add them to the pile of clothes to wash, but you find yourself frozen and slack-jawed at the sheer brazenness of him keeping this in a shared place—a place where poor Chopper could potentially see them and be scarred for life.

“Forgot about those.  Stupid pervert can’t even bother hide them well.”  Zoro says as he enters the room and notices your shock, annoyed at Sanji’s inability to be normal towards women, or discreet about his more devious tastes.

Lost in thought and still frozen, you take a moment to process the situation before a wicked grin spreads across your face.

“I’m gonna mess with him.” you say decisively, grabbing one of Sanji’s ties and using it as a barrier to pick up one of the more filthy shibari magazines and taking it out to the deck.  Zoro follows close behind you, a devious smirk pulling at his lips.

“Get out here blondie!” you shout, still red in the face from witnessing the sheer obscenity of the cook's taste in X-rated material.  As you wait for him to shuffle out of the kitchen, you take another quick glance at the cover of the magazine and cringe.

“You called?  Did you want something to snack on—” he starts, before turning pale as a ghost when you hold the magazine in his face.

“Found this when grabbing some of Zoro’s shirts.  Why am I not surprised that the so-called gentleman has all this dehumanizing filth spread on his bed for anyone to see?”

“It’s a high art form, dear.” he says, a visible bead of sweat running down his face as Robin giggles behind her hand, enjoying the show from her reclining chair.

“You can call it whatever you want, cook, but it looks like porn to me, and hardcore at that.” she says, amused. 

Sanji’s cigarette snaps in half between his teeth, turning back towards you.  “Men have certain urges, sunshine.” he says defensively, trying in vain to pull some smoke through the severed cigarette, eyes turning towards Zoro, implying he would understand what he was trying to say.

Zoro lets out a deep chuckle, greatly enjoying the torture session unfolding before him.  “Don’t look at me like that, pervert.  You know you’re not getting any help from me.”

“Do you have anything you want to say to women for having owned this type of magazine?” you say, not willing to let him go just yet.

“I’m sorry, women…” he mumbles, face pink and head hanging low as he stared at the ground.

Satisfied, you take the magazine into the kitchen and toss it in the trash can before returning to the wash tub to finish the laundry.

#one piece x reader #x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #sanji is pathetic man #this fic is also unhinged but i have literally been thinking abt this for weeks

[leafsbabe]

Justin Herbert - sparks fly (SMUT)

4.3k words, reader is described as not small height wise but the rest is hopefully vague enough

Coming to LA had been a spur of the moment decision but you never regretted it one bit.

You wanted an adventure and one of your friends needed an apartment sitter/somebody to take over their rent for a three month trip overseas so you packed a bag and headed to Hollywood. What you didn’t anticipate was falling in love with the city and so your illegal sublet turned into a small apartment of your own, your vacation into an unpaid internship into a paid internship into a job, and your adventure into a new home.

You didn’t live lavishly like the upper echelon but you could pay your rent, go to large outdoor flea markets on the weekend, and splurge on tacos from the taqueria at the corner while still putting away some money for savings so it was safe to say that life was going pretty damn great.

Justin and you bumped into each other on a hike. Or rather he bumped into you, causing you to stumble, fall, and skim your knee in the least sexy way possible… if there even was a sexy way to get hurt.

But Justin had been sweet, squatting down next to you and making sure you weren't seriously hurt before helping you up. You weren’t a short girl, never had been, but this handsome stranger towered over you in a way that made your thoughts run wild. You couldn’t help but look up at him while he helped you to the nearest bench. He sat down with you and you both drank from your water bottles side by side, sneaking glances at each other from the corners of your eyes.

He was the first to say something, his words stuck in your memory to this day. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

Later you would learn that this was supposed to be a pick-up line and the follow up would have been about him seeing you in his dreams but at that time you had just filmed a scene in a popular tv procedural as scared coffee shop visitor #4 (something you had told everyone back home and no one in LA, because it felt weird to talk about something like that here) so you just blurted that out.

Was it embarrassing? Yes. Did it lead to you two sitting there on that bench talking about shows until the sun started to set? Also yes.

Justin and you exchanged numbers and you even threw caution in the wind and let him walk you to your car, because pretty serial killers wouldn’t talk about the nuances of copaganda for hours and if they did you’d take you chances at knocking him out with your reusable water bottle even if he was over a head taller than you.

That night you sent each other a handful of messages. The next day he even called you after work like a total weirdo. The weekend after he took you to a restaurant in the hills and encouraged you to order something that wasn’t the cheapest salad on the menu because he was going to pay, like a gentleman. You shared a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice. Him because he drove, you because you wanted that gorgeous man to absolutely rail you and thought any perceived inebriation might prevent that.

He didn’t fuck you but there was a prolonged make out session in his car where he felt up your tits, so you didn’t even feel bad getting yourself off with your trusty vibrator after he dropped you off at your apartment. 

Your second date took you outside again with a small hike followed by a picnic. He had packed all kinds of food because he wasn’t sure what you liked and had forgotten to ask. Justin laughed about panicking and buying half a store worth of snacks just so that you’d have something you like. It was so sweet.

He didn’t kiss you like he did after the first date, wild and like he had to hold himself back. 

No. His kisses were sweet, hands never wandering above your waist or below you hips. He did accept it when you invited him up to your place for a coffee though. Half a dirty iced chai latte later he had you pressed against your couch, his large hands dangerously close to your ass.

Yet he still didn’t fuck you.

“Next time,” he promised with his head buried in your throat, “after our third date I'll take you home and won’t let you leave my bed for the next three days.”

It was sweet, in a way, and you hadn’t had sex since before you moved to LA anyways so what difference would a few more days make.

“Okay. Tomorrow?” You didn’t even care that it sounded desperate.

“Can’t.” Justin groaned. “We’re leaving for an away game the day after tomorrow and I meant what I said about keeping you in my bed.” 

You felt his lips against your pulse as he spoke.

“When do you get back?”

“In four days.”

Fuck. Maybe a few more days did make a difference.

He kissed your neck again, grinding down and showing you just why the wait would be worth it. Hopefully you would remember to charge your vibrator. 

He took you to an arcade style place for your third date and it was an absolute blast. With so many options of games to try out you barely had time to look at everything. Justin was a gentleman the entire time, a pattern you noticed during your last two dates. Even though you’d worn a short skirt (and safety shorts because tall girls and mini skirts didn’t always get along) and cozied up to him all afternoon his hands remained off your ass and solidly in PG-13 areas.

You were having fun, challenging each other while laughing the entire time, but you were looking forward to the end of the date when you could finally go home with him. You could feel the vibe shift, growing needier as time went on, with Justin reflecting his own desires back at you.

When you accidentally touched a sticky surface and had to go to the bathroom to wash your hands you had the genius idea to take off the shorts and shove them to the bottom of your bag. 

And boy did that idea pay off.

Twenty minutes later you were in the front seat of his car as Justin drove the two of you back to his place with his right hand on your thigh inching higher and higher. He didn’t look at you as it slid under your skirt, eyes on the road, but the smirk on his lips made it clear to you that he knew what he was doing. He was so close to touching you where you needed him the most when the car stopped and he withdrew his hand as you groaned. 

“Patience.” He teased.

You climbed out of the car before he could help you out, downright eager now. By the time you reached his front door you could barely hold yourself back. All it took was a split second, the door closed behind you and Justin unceremoniously pressed you against it as his lips landed on yours. 

You’ve never been a small girl but the way you had to tilt your head to kiss Justin had a way of making you feel tiny. He bent down, lips never separating from yours, and just picked you up, hands under your skirt somewhere between your plush thighs and your ass. You moaned and he continued kissing you, fingers kneading against your soft skin as he turned around and started waking further into his apartment. God, you hoped his hands would leave bruises.

A noise interrupted you and when you looked to the side you saw a cat looking back at you from where it was perched on a cabinet. Justin didn’t follow your eyes, lip finding your neck instead. “That’s Nova.” He mumbled against your skin. “I’ll introduce you two later.” Then he sucked hard and you forgot everything except him. Somehow you made your way to his bedroom, something you only noticed after he let you fall back against the pillows.

With Justin standing at the edge of the bed looking down on you, you felt even smaller. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, showing off his strong muscles. Oh, how you wanted them to hold you down as he took you.

You took off your shirt in one smooth motion, throwing it somewhere to the side of the bed and hoped that Justin wouldn’t mind. Judging by the way he was staring at your tits, he didn’t.

Justin soon followed your lead, stripping his clothes off as you watched. There was no denying that he was smoking hot, his body solid and you couldn't help but press your thighs together in the search of some relief.

“What do you need?”

Need. Not want. You had to take a moment to collect yourself. What did you need?

“I need you to fuck my mouth,” you started, “I need to choke on your dick until I cry and I need you to fuck me until I forget my name and can only scream yours.”

For a moment you worried that it would be too much. That it would be too rough for Justin or that you were too needy. But the look in his eyes showed you that he would give you everything you asked for. 

Justin stood in front of the bed, looking down at you while he stroked his dick. Precum gathered at his tip and a whimper left your lips at the sight. 

“You want it?” He asked, tone just mocking enough to make you close your legs harder, desperately looking for any kind of friction.

You nodded while looking up at Justin, moving on the bed to get closer to him. Finally you could almost taste him. The pink tip of his dick just barely touched your lips. 

“Please.” You begged for him to let you have it. 

“Be a good girl and show me you deserve it.” 

He gave it to you slowly. One hand holding his dick, the other cradling your cheek, as you took it.

Justin felt heavy in your mouth as you took more and more of him. He was big, yes, but you knew you would manage to swallow all of him. You looked up at him through your lashes until his muscles blocked the view and you could close your eyes, fully concentrating on making sure that Justin would give you everything you needed. 

Slowly you pushed yourself to your limit, fitting him into your throat until your lips wrapped around his base. Justin’s dick was a lot to take in and you didn’t know if you could take it should he try and fuck your throat but for a short moment —with him frozen in front of you— you managed to take all of him. 

You swallowed around him once, twice, and began to slowly pull back before Justin moved again.

“Fuck.” His voice was deep and low as the hand that had been cradling your cheek moved to now hold the back of your head instead.

You couldn’t help but moan around him, the vibrations around his dick only making him hold onto you tighter.

“Good girl.” His fingers flexed against your head and the combinations of both made you feel dizzy, happy that you could be good for him. 

With his other hand Justin reached out and trailed his fingertips from your shoulder down your arm until you realized what he wanted and gave him your hand. He brought it to his thigh, letting you lay your palm flat along the thick firm muscle before covering it with his own. 

“If I’m too rough,” Justin started, “or you need me to slow down, if you just want to take a break or stop for any reason, you slap my leg and I’ll stop. Understood?”

Nodding yes didn’t seem to satisfy Justin, instead he used the hand on your head to pull you off him. You barely managed to do that thing with your tongue before he had you looking up at him through your lashes again.

“I need you to say it.”

“Understood.” And oh how wrecked your voice already sounded. There was no doubt in your mind that it would be completely gone by tomorrow.

“Good girl.” He said again, before silencing your whine with his dick.

There was no denying that Justin was strong. He was thick with muscle, powerful, yet you never felt unsafe as he picked up the pace.

He was rough like you had asked him to. Thrusting hard and fast and pushing your head down to meet him halfway. It was maddening. Above you Justin said something but you were far too gone to listen.

It wasn’t until his movements got gentler and he slowly withdrew from your mouth that you tuned back in.

Justin hadn’t come and was still hard, was one thing you noticed, looking between his dick in front of you and his face high above you.

The fact that you had teared up like you had told him you wanted to, was another.

His hands came up to cradle your face and he gently wiped away the tears with his thumbs as you looked at him.

“So pretty.” His voice was soft, gentle as if to not spook you and the thought of him underestimating you made you want to protest but all that ended up happening was you pouting as he stroked your cheeks.

“Aw don’t pout. You can suck it again later. I just didn’t want to come until I got to fuck you.”

He had to bend down to kiss you, this tall man folding in half to reach you where you kneeled on his bed, and the reminder of your size difference made you squirm.

In response Justin kissed you harder, pushing forward until you lost our balance and fell back on the bed. In a fluid motion Justin followed, bracing himself above you as his lips found your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He made his way down your body, leaving behind a trail of kisses as he went. When he reached your chest he departed from his careful line of kisses. The two kisses, sweet little pecks almost, that he pressed to either boob, stood in stark contrast with his hand that bullied it’s way under your body so that he could unhook your bra. He tugged on the bridge until it became loose enough for you to get the hint and shrug it off while he pulled your skirt and embarrassingly soaked underwear down your legs in one smooth motion.

You didn’t even get the chance to think about hiding yourself from Justin before his large hands gently parted your legs enough for him to fit between them. His mouth fit itself against the skin on the side of your knee before he slowly, teasingly, kissed his way up to where you needed him most. Even though you anticipated the first touch of his lips against your pussy it still sent a shock through your body.

Justin didn’t waste any time pretending to tease you any longer. His lips found your clit almost immediately, wrapping around the small bud almost lovingly before sucking. His tongue toyed with it while you moaned his name. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled, hard, but not hard enough to dislodge Justin’s wonderful mouth. It took two more moans before he released your clit and wandered lower, dragging his lips along your skin as he moved. The first drag of his tongue was testing, exploring. The second one wasn’t tame at all.

Justin groaned against your pussy and you swore you could feel it through your entire body. He pulled away for a moment and a pitiful whine left your lips at the loss of his mouth, only for it to turn into a moan when you saw him licking his lips before diving in again. 

You got lost in the feeling of his mouth on you, the way his lips moved so similarly to when he was kissing you just moments before. His long fingers joined his lips in bringing you pleasure and you couldn’t hold back anymore, grinding against his face until you came with your thighs wrapped around his head.

Justin continued to mouth at your thigh as you started to come down before he stood up from the bed and you took a moment to just watch him. The aftershock of your orgasm still ran through your body and combined with the picture in front of you it felt like a high you never wanted to end. Justin was breathing heavy, his thick chest rising and falling hard. The last bit of sunlight shining through the curtains tinted the bedroom in a soft light making his face glisten and you realized with a jolt that the wetness on his cheeks came from you.

The fading light painted him golden, with his hair shining like a halo, a statue as a tribute to raw desire. His likeness could grace museums across the globe, giving other marbles complexes but instead of the Louvre he stood in his bedroom, looking down at you sprawled across his bed, waiting for him to take you like he had promised. 

When Justin finally moved it was in determined long strides. He was a simple man that kept his condoms in the first drawer of his nightstand. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget about them, to fuck you bare until you were dripping with him, but you didn’t want to spook him with your eagernes, so you resigned yourself to bringing it up the next time. Justin passed you on his hunt  for protection and you had to crane your neck back to watch him, but the view made up for it. His front was absolutely gorgeous but you had to admit that his backside was quite nice to look at as wel.You were debating whether or not you should reach out to touch him when he turned around, box in hand, before throwing it onto the bed near your head. It still had plastic around it and you couldn’t help but imagine Justin going to the store in preparation of your date, grabbing it not just in case but on purpose. Had he gotten it in preparation for this date? After the second date? After your first? The big box seemed awfully ambitious though. Perfect.

Instead of walking back to the end of the bed and working his way up your body again Justin just skipped straight to holding himself above you and you didn’t waste any time getting your hands into his locks and pulling him down until your lips connected. He kissed you hard and fast while slowly lowering himself until his heavy body pressed yours into the mattress. It felt so easy to let yourself be blanketed by his warmth, his solid body so close to yours that you could feel every inch of his desire.

“Fuck.” He exclaimed as he pulled away from the kiss. Justin didn’t venture far though, staying close enough that you could feel the strands of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Can you…” He nodded towards the box.

You nodded, eager, before reaching for the box and struggling to rip it open. When it finally popped open it did so in spectacular fashion, spilling an avalanche of little foil packets all over the bed and your body.

“Oh.”

You didn’t know which one of you laughed first but it took some time before the two of you calmed down again. Justin helped you clear the mess, swiping the countless packets towards the free side of the bed. It should feel weird, at least a little bit, now that the tension between Justin and you got broken. For a second you feared that your clumsiness had turned him off completely but then he kissed you again, slow and deep and like he wanted to devour you.

One of his hands reached for the pile of condoms while the other moved up your side, cupping one of your boobs when he reached them. His thumb barely grazed your nipple before Justin moved away but he still managed to pull a moan from your lips.

“Ready?” He asked, looking at you with hungry eyes.

“Yes.” You needed him so badly. “Please.”

The first push of him inside you was careful but determined. Justin gave you aloof himself until he was buried to the hilt, pausing once he was fully inside you and giving you time to adjust to his large size. Youwanted to tell him to move,to fuck you until you felt him days fromnow, butbefore you could ask-beg-demand he silenced you with another seering kiss. You learned why when he pulled away from the kiss, still buried deep inside you.

“I need to be careful with you.” He talked low, almost whispering. “Don’t want you to be sore when I fuck you again later.”

It made sense. Afterall Justin had promised to keep you in his bed for days. But with him filling youtube so perfectly, there was simply no room left for logical thinking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he started to move. Slow, meticulous thrusts that didn’t feel overwhelming at first but drove you wild after just a few movements of his hips. There was something otherworldly in the way he managed to hit all the places that needed to be hit, filling you up perfectly again and again and again. Justin stayed close to you while he fucked you, his hips grinding in deep and putting just enough pressure on your clit to send sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

Your hands tightened in his hair, making him groan before dipping down and encapsulating one of our nipples with his hot, wet mouth.

“Jus- Justin.”

His teeth grazed against the soft flesh of your boob teasingly before his tongue delved down, soothing the hard peak between his lips in gentle laps. Justin groaned when you tugged on his hair and the sensation of it vibrating against your skin just made you tighten your grip further. There was no denying that you needed him. Him and his soft mouth and his hard dick and his strong body pressed against yours. This perfect wave of pleasure just kept building with every single movement but you couldn’t reach your high.

“Just—” He bit down hard enough for it to sting before his tongue traced the slight indents. “Please.”

You weren’t above begging but your fucked out brain couldn’t think of any more words. Thankfully he seemed to understand what you needed even without your saying it.

“Fuck. Okay.” He lifted himself a little bit higher, chuckling when you whined at the loss of his weight and warmth. “You asked for this.”

He sounded just the right amount of condescending when you clenched around him and he rewarded you with a “good girl”.

You didn’t last long after Justin started fucking you properly, rough and fast like you had wanted him to. The power behind his thrusts was enough to move you on the bed, closer and closer towards the headboard every time your bodies connected. He had stopped holding back and made you come with only a handful of thrusts.

When you came to it was with Justin holding himself above your body —breathing hard— and your still shaking thighs wrapped around his hips. Part of you felt disappointed for missing what he looked like when he came but you knew there would be more than enough orgasms for you to catch a glimpse.

It took you a while to feel secure enough to remove your legs from him. After you did so Justin carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom. While he went to get a towel to help clean you up you were left in his bed. It took some energy to sit up but it didn’t hurt. You felt empty but that could be changed soon enough. 15 minutes. Maybe 20. Depending on when Justin wanted to go again.

Speaking of. Justin returned to his bedroom, still gloriously naked, holding water bottles in one of his hands and what looked like a washcloth and a towel in the other. You didn’t feel self conscious as he helped you clean up. He had seen every part of you already anyway.

He offered you a shirt of his to cover up but you didn’t mind being bare before him. There was the hint of a love bite starting to form on your chest and you hated the thought of covering up all his hard work. Still, you made a mental note to take him up on his offer later. You had a feeling that a shirt that fit his large frame would swallow you up and you wanted nothing more than to live out the big men’s shirt moment that had been denied you for so long. 

Instead you curled up with him, his blanket half draped over your bodies while you just laid there, enjoying the closeness between you. The energy between Justin and you continued to be magnetic, even after giving in to your desires, and you found yourself unable to tame a wide smile.

“Happy?” Justin looked at you with a soft smile on his lips.

“Hmmm. Very.” You let your eyes wander for a moment. “Want to make out?”

Instead of verbally answering Justin just cupped your face and brought your mouths together in a saccharine kiss.

#justin herbert #football imagine #nfl imagine #football smut #nfl smut #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert smut #...so this is twenty-five

[morallyinept]

A full transcribe of JOEL MILLER'S dialogue/lines from the TV show THE LAST OF US.

EPISODE 4 - PLEASE HOLD TO MY HAND

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

Gas breaks down over time. This stuff’s almost water. Back in the day. We’d drive ten, twelve hours on one tank. You could go anywhere. 

Pretty much nowhere. 

It’s a siphon. It’s when liquid… travels against gravity, because pressure-

I know it works. No wanderin’. 

Jesus. 

No. 

Feel free to wait in the truck.

__________________

Yeah, they used to stick big ass ploughs on ‘em and clear the roads for their tanks and such. 

You will. Tanks, choppers. All that stuff. Built to fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now. 

This is actually before my time. 

It’s a winner though. 

Oh, man. 

Oh. No, no, no. Put that back. That’s not for kids. 

Please!

Please get rid of it. 

Uhh… the-

__________________

Alright. That’s enough for today. 

__________________

Slow down. 

That is twenty year-old Chef Boyardee Ravioli. 

I actually agree. 

I figure I sleep tonight and drive tomorrow, all day, all night, get us to Wyoming by next mornin’. 

Now, why am I gonna tell you “no”? 

No, fungus isn’t that smart. This is too remote for infected anyway. 

They’ll have way more in mind than that. 

__________________

Well, that would be Frank’s then. 

What?

Yeah.

'Cause he was outstanding in his field. 

No. Now go to sleep. 

No-one’s gonna find us. 

__________________

You don’t like coffee?

__________________

Theirs was a lot fresher than what Bill saved up, but yeah, this is what they sold. 

Eyes on the map. 

Last contact came through a radio tower close to Cody. 

Yeah.

Then... odds are he’ll be near a settlement. Probably close to another city. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming. 

Cheyenne.

Whose name?

Tommy.

Younger.

Long story. 

Tommy’s what we used to call a “joiner”. Dreams of becomin’ a hero. So he enlists in the Army right outta high school. A few months later they ship him off to Desert Storm. It’s what they called that war. Doesn’t matter. Point is, bein’ in the Army didn’t make him feel much like a hero. Cut to twelve years later, outbreak happens. He convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did… mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. It’s where we met Tess.

And that whole crew, we uh… Well, for it was, it worked. And then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks in him to joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen. Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him, Fireflies, all of ‘em… delusional. Course, last I heard, he quit the Fireflies, too. So now he’s on his own out there, and… I gotta go get him. 

You haven’t seen the world, so you don’t know. You keep goin’ for family. That’s about it. 

No… You’re cargo. And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family. 

I will.

I’m persistent. 

You got up pretty early if you wanna grab more sleep. 

__________________

Stay put. 

Kansas City.

Screw it. 

We can jog right around this tunnel, take the next ramp, then we’re back on the road, a minute tops. 

__________________

Where the fuck is the highway?

Don’t look at the state map, look at the inset. 

It’s gotta be the right… What the fuck?

Put your seatbelt on. 

No. 

Fuck! 

Are you okay?

You’re not hurt or nothin’?

Belts off! Fast! 

Hey, you see that hole? Can you squeeze through?

When I say go, you crawl through to that wall, and you squeeze through and you don't come out until I say, okay? 

And they’re not gonna hit you. Look at me! They’re not gonna hit you. You stay down, you stay low, you stay quiet! 

Okay. Okay. Go! 

__________________

God. 

Get back behind the wall. 

Ellie. I gotta get in there, I can’t fit through. 

Well, can you move it?

Let’s go. Fast. 

We go up. 

Hopefully we spot a clear route out.

Stay close. 

__________________

People.

For a little bit, maybe. Looks like they’re checkin’ out apartment buildings first. But they’ll be coming through these places soon enough. 

Yeah. Saw it. 

As soon as we don’t hear a truck, we move. Fast as we can. 

I’m alright. Are you alright?

Thing is, is I didn’t hear that guy comin’ and… you shouldn’t have had to, you know?

You’re just a kid. You shouldn’t know what it means to… It’s not like you killed him. But, shootin’ or… I know what it’s like. First time that you, uh, hurt… someone like that. If you, uh… w… I’m not good at this. 

I mean, it was my fault. You shouldn’ta had to. And I’m sorry. 

Show me your grip. Finger off the trigger. Now who taught you that?

Figures. Thumb, over your thumb. Left hand… squeezes down on the right. You got it? There you go. Lookit.

Okay?

Uh-uh. You put it in your pack. You’ll shoot your damn ass off. 

We’ll get through this. 

__________________

You’re just gonna put your foot here. One, two…

Straighten up. I got you. 

Take a look around first. Ellie! Goddamn it. 

By now, Wyoming. 

Alright. We’ll make our way up, and come morning, I’ll take a look at the city and find our way out. 

Forty-five. But no, not all the way. 

As far as I can make it. 

I’ve been on both sides. It was a long time ago. We did what we needed to survive. 

And the people we were with. My brother, too. 

Come on. 

Yeah. 

It’s gonna have to be. 

Give me a minute. 

“Lazy ass.” I'm fifty-six years old, you little shit. 

__________________

What?!

I don’t want someone sneakin’ up on us while we’re sleeping. 

Of course, I’ll hear it. That’s the damn point. 

Yeah, goodnight. 

Hey.

When we were talkin’ about hurtin’ people… what did you mean it wasn’t your first time?

Alright. You don't have to. I’m just sayin’... it isn’t fair. Your age, havin’ to deal with all of this. 

No, not really. But still… 

Probably more from shootin’. So if you wanna keep your hearin’, you stick to that knife. 

Hm?

What?

Jesus.

That is so Goddamn stupid. 

I didn’t laugh. 

Jesus, I’m losin’ it. 

Go to sleep. 

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller dialogue #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal character dialogue

[shittybundaskenyer]

✹ ▬ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒

rating: Explicit pairing: Female Shepard x Garrus Vakarian summary: the Mako breaks down in a snowstorm on Noveria. Shepard is stuck with her turian friend after some things went sideways in one of the research labs. warnings: first time gone wrong (but then so right), sex pollen, so much kissing, just pure smut (what do you want from me??), does doing it in the Mako is considered car sex?, interspecies sex, love confessions, so much fluff, Garrus is too sweet for his own good word count: 3831  

a/n: I had Mass Effect Legendary Edition on my PC for like a year and I'm now cursing myself why I've waited for so long to play the trilogy. The Bioware brainrot took me once more under its influence so I guess I'm going back to my roots. This is almost entirely is pure smut, I guess I can't write anything else nowadays but I'm embracing it now. So have this very rusty, messy love scene I wrote in a frenzy after finishing the trilogy. <33

MASTERLIST   |   ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Noveria is cold and white and still beautiful in that strange way only death can be. It became the noose woven around Garrus’ own neck too, when it twirled his fate and Shepard's own together in form of a messy string. 

It only started becoming strange when Shepard started to tear her armor off of her body, but by then all common sense was out, laying dead in the relentless snowstorm. She became feverish, smelling so sweet, like summer, like sun-warmed earth, like arousal that Garrus had realized all too late. They were warned by the dangers of the labs surrounding Peak 15, the tower that was like an old pine ringed by fungi, all the rot and unethical discoveries blooming under the disguise of neat little buildings that twinkled in the darkened landscape—a constellation hiding in a thick cloud of dark matter. 

He knows she was curious. He knows she only wanted to help, but Spirits, it will be the death of her one day, N7 or not, she’s only human. And she’s fragile, a goddamn glass cannon that can blow up the whole universe and crumble from hands that grip her a bit too tight at the same time. 

Liara’s warning came too late, they had to cut to the chase and there was no time to think about the consequences of Shepard's stray shot breaking open the containment cell of an unnaturally lush, succulent little flower in one of the labs. It didn’t set in until they were in the Mako and she steered the dumb tank even more recklessly than she did it stone cold sober. A boulder came, then the half of the mountain too, raining down thick globes of fresh snow until the Mako was good and well stuck. She was sweating by then, skin hot and wet and her eyes wild and Liara offered to get help from one of the nearby labs, leaving Garrus to protect his commander with his life. From what, he didn’t know. There was nothing, only snow and wind and Shepard’s warmth all around them for miles. But time trickled by like water on a glass window after a storm, slow, sluggish, and Shepard couldn’t keep herself in line anymore. 

She pleaded for a caress she always wanted from him and he wanted to give her everything instead. 

(Maybe he loved her all along.)

And now, now Liara is gone and has been gone for hours, and Garrus pushes Shepard into the Mako's seat, his forehead meeting hers, something akin to a kiss only lovers do. Her skin is damp, her hair sticking to her face in messed up crimson ribbons and he tries to trace the constellations under her eye with a blunted talon when blood floods her cheeks, making them twinkle like stars adrift a sea of nebulae. The Mako is dark but not dark enough to hide the fire flickering in her gaze, shielded by a series of curved, dark lashes. Humans and their strange hair—eyebrows and lashes and thousands of fair fuzz that stand up as he moves his hand lover, to the vulnerable skin of her throat, swiping a thumb over her pulse that jumps wildly at the touch. 

"Kiss me," she whispers, barely audible for the translator to pick up, and it almost sounds like music like this, a series of hisses and high notes, so he nuzzles his way closer to hear it once more, now pleading, the sound buzzing in her throat. 

It's beautiful in a way.

"How?" he whispers against the side of her jaw, warm plates against cooler skin, and she puts a hand to his face, five fingers splaying over his colony markings, urging him upwards until her lips can brush over his mouth. It's strange. It's unbelievably soft. Then— wet as her tongue darts out and tries to coax his mouth plates apart. 

He takes the leap and lets her in. Even if he has all the sharp teeth, even if it's wildly different from his own experiences. And Spirits, it feels good. It's tender—even though they started to tear at each other's armor before this, even though he has to clench his fingers into a fist before he scratches her in his hurry. This has to be gentle where nothing in the world is. 

His tongue meets hers, and now he understands why humans like kissing so much. He does now too. Shepard makes a sound as he tastes the inside of her mouth, the blunt edge of her teeth and sucks in a breath when Garrus pulls back to gaze down at her and find her looking dazed. 

"Alright?," he checks, always, afraid of fucking this precious thing up and Shepard has the audacity to smile. Full of teeth and curving lips, a flash of white in the darkness. 

"I'm good," she knocks her forehead against his, nuzzling him, "really good."

Garrus kisses her again as an answer, bolder now, so much braver, and he kisses and kisses her until there's no more left to give, until there's no air in her lungs. Something new shines in her eyes, in the pool of darkness that is her pupils, dilated beyond belief, ringed by a thin strip of wild green, a black hole with a halo. Want. Need. Something more. Something unbelievable. 

Garrus rumbles deep in his chest, a sound so low she can only feel its vibration against her sternum, the crook of her neck where his face finds a home. His subvocals sing so many things at once, a confession she can't understand, not yet. Contentment. Gratefulness. Lust. Love.

(Maybe I love you.)

She drags her hand across his face again, that delicate, soft hand that is only calloused in places where wielding a gun made the skin harder. She touches his fringe, and under it, where plates turn into the most vulnerable patch of hide he has on his body. His voice grows louder, more like a growl than a purr, and she smiles again, so pretty something under his keelbone jumps and bursts and flickers—a star being born. 

"That's—," he starts and he's not proud of the way his voice trembles. "That's one way to give the night a quick start."

Shepard's fingers stop in their movement, but before she could pull away he takes a hold of her forearm and soothes a thumb over the inside of her wrist, guiding her back to that spot. 

"Am I hurting you?" 

"Spirits, no," he flicks a mandible at her, his way of smiling, and Shepard puts her mouth to his jaw as her confidence grows. Garrus can feel the plates at his sheath slowly parting and somehow he's hyperaware of her body trapped against his, her knee brushing his own, warm even through metal and ceramic plates. 

They have to strip down that damn armor, like, right now. 

But Shepard knows this, feels this too, and her hand disappears so she can grab the waist of his pants and tug on it, even though turian armor is not designed in a way that it could make it come off easily. 

"Help me, will you?" she asks against the side of his mandible, face and incredibly soft lips still so close, her eyelashes brushing his jaw as she looks down between them in the dark and Garrus desperately wishes that he could feel that fluttering. Instead, he's stripping. The rest of his undersuit that was hanging by his hips goes lower when he unfastens every little clasp and belt he has around his spurs. 

Shepard licks his mouth. He rumbles again, louder when the thin fabric of protective weave finally pools on the Mako's floor, and he's right up there against her, pressing close, so close, until his keel digs between her breasts and his side is framed by her knees and he kisses her the human way, with so much tongue and want it leaves her breathless. 

"How much time do we have?" he asks against the underside of her ear, finding a soft spot there, one that pulls a whimper from her. 

"Barely any," she hisses and lets him nibble on the curve of her neck. "Gonna make the most of it?"

"Trying to," he smiles, mandibles catching her messy hair, blood red on silver, hands going up to cradle her nape, to get lost in that soft sea of crimson. 

Shepard likes this, likes the feel of his hide on her skin and she wants more, wants no barriers in those minimal, quiet gaps the differences of their bodies create. Negative space filled with heat and some unintelligible emotion, something like summer, something like home. She melds her body to his and Garrus can't help the low resonance his subvocals start to make. 

"Am I hurting you?" she whispers as she lays tiny kisses on his neck, just beside the edge of the plates shielding his spine. "You're trembling."

"No, I just—," his breath hitches as those kisses turn into gentle nips. Right where a bondmark would go. Spirits, he's slipping. She can't know this, she can't— "You just found all the good buttons to push."

He feels her smirk on his hide. He wants to have her mark here, even though the thought terrifies him.

(Maybe I love you.)

"You know I'm good at pushing buttons."

Garrus chuckles but it comes out rasped. He doesn't care. Not when he can feel her body vibrating, shivering as his hands finally roam downwards, onto her sides, her hips, the soft of her belly that is so blessedly bare. 

He slides a talon along the muscles leading down, around the small divot in the middle, lower still where Shepard's already lifting her hips up to let him free her of her undersuit pants. There's still some fabric that remains, covering her most intimate parts but she grabs his hands and makes him grip the fabric of it in a hurry. 

"Pull this down too," she whisper-commands and he obliges, skims the tips of his blunted talons over the jut of her hipbones, a feature all too familiar on a body made of infinite curves. It traps his gaze, the small hills and valleys, freckled here too, and hairy when he gazes lower, a trail of tiny red curls disappearing between lush thighs as he reveals more of her skin. 

The undergarment only gets down one leg, dangles on the other by her knee when he pries apart her thighs, makes himself at home right in the cradle of them. This is all too fast and all too hot, but none of them complains as they meet in another heated kiss. She smells different like this, stronger, sweet and tangy and something else, pure arousal he realizes, and Garrus can't hold himself back any longer, can't will the swollen edges of his sheath to stay closed. 

"Show me how to touch you," he asks, almost pleads, because damn, he can't be selfish with her, not when he trusts her with his life and wants all the happiness the world can offer for her. That too, is a confession he's not ready to make, not for himself and not for her, but Shepard stops him in his thoughts as she puts her hand back right under his fringe, driving him wild. 

"None of that right now," she pants, breathless as his hands go bruising on her hips. "I just want you inside me."

Fuck, this was not the way Garrus thought he would die.

"I don't want to hurt—" she interrupts him with another kiss, then a hand on his stomach, low enough to almost graze the plates on his groin. 

"Please, Garrus," it's a plea. Broken and rasped. Raw, like a fresh wound. Why is she suffering? 

"Don't let me hurt you. I could not live with myself and the consequences."

"You're sweet," she smiles quietly, looking up at him from under the shadow of those long lashes, eyes burning with fire and want and that same thing that eats his heart alive, while it still beats a wild rhythm only for her. 

Garrus touches a hand between her legs, follows the trail of fascinating hair to where it parts in a seam of flesh, soft folds hiding a hot, wet warmth. It's familiar enough, so much more slick and so much smaller, but there's give in the muscle lower, where his finger finally dips inside her. Spirits, that’s—

She angles her hips, and moans, right beside his ear when his finger slips deeper, almost to the last knuckle in one go and damn if that's not something he'll remember for the rest of his life. 

"C'mon," her lips brush the word against his mandible. He puts his forehead to hers and pulls his hand away, moving her instead, three fingers splayed on the jut of a hipbone. 

It takes a little more shuffling, a little more angling and gripping for him to slot himself right at the apex of her thighs, her warmth scorching here, a sun, a red giant star, her wetness smearing on the bare hide of his stomach and then he's holding her firm and letting his sheath finally, blessedly open, his cock sliding out and into her in a slow, perfect motion. 

Shepard doesn't breathe. She can't. Garrus can feel her shuddering against his keel as he keeps filling her, making way for himself inside her even though there's barely any. He never thought she could— that she would have all of him, like this, with her leg cramping up around his hip, with her throat full to bursting with unsaid curses and whimpers. His subvocals scream, his mind fogged by the feeling of her oh so close, so perfect, so beautiful like this, with her hands bruising his neck and her lips open on some silent shout. 

"Fuck, Garrus I—," there's a hitch in her breath, then a fluttering squeeze right on his cock, her muscles clenching up. He's gonna lose his mind just like how he lost control of his voice. 

(I love you.)

“I got you,” he murmurs instead, eyes half-closed, hands still gripping her waist. “I got you sweetheart.”

Shepard squirms, pulls his face right down to her, then lower, into the crook of her neck and a deep urge surfaces in him, an instinct buried deep under centuries of civilized life and culture, yet it was never erased from his genes. He evolved like this, with the want, the need, to bite, to mark something that he wants to forever keep his own. Turians mate for life. If she leaves now, he thinks he will die. Can another soul be ripped from his own? He would gladly lay in a cold grave with her. Would follow her to the end of the universe and back, just so he can protect her. Shield the one that wants to keep the world from crumbling. Travel through all the stars and Mass Relays laying dormant, see all the wild emptiness and beauty of the galaxy and it would still be nothing compared to the way she looks up at him now. 

There’s water collecting at her pinched brows; sweat, he remembers, and he lifts a hand there to swipe it away. Her eyes are wet too, glossy, glinting in the low light like a starry night sky over home.  

“Garrus—” she presses out between her teeth, her face scrunched up in a frown of pain-pleasure he assumes, because she never makes a move to push him away, to halt this perfect joining. He hopes it’s okay. He hopes he’s not fucking this up. Losing her after this would be a killing blow. A heart-shaped bullet hole right on his heart. 

“Just tell me how,” he takes her cheek in his palm, angles her so that he can kiss her. Slowly. Softly. It’s a fleeting thing that ends with her nipping on his mouth, his tongue, just to get his attention. Like his every nerve was not focused on her anyway from the start. 

“Please move,” she murmurs against his mandible, her body squeezing him tight, making him groan. He pulls back a little, testing, careful, always so afraid of hurting her, his tough girl, but Shepard smiles and it’s enough to make him thrust shallowly into her. “Yeah, you feel so good.”

Garrus’ vision whites out for a second as her insides tug him back inside, so warm and so wet that a messy patch is already forming between their bodies, his sheath hitting her folds, the friction blinding, and the sight even more as he looks down, fringe tangled into her hair, and in the darkness he finds himself nestled deep, her cunt stretched around him, glistening in their combined want. 

He moves, spirits, he moves. And his chest rumbles and his hands shake and his mandibles twitch at her cheek and his heart aches so damn hard it makes his breaths get stuck in his lungs like trapped creatures in a bone cage. 

(I love you so damn much.)

She moves with him like a tide, like water rising on an endless black ocean alight with stars, then falling back, and even though he knows she's the most horrible dancer the galaxy has, she follows the steps of this tango by heart. Maybe because it's wanted. Maybe because it's with him. He desperately wishes that it would be true. 

"I won't last long like this," his voice is barely picked up by the translator and he knows this, hopes that she doesn't mind the sounds he makes. They're real. So perfectly clear in their meaning, so sure in expressing something he's not yet ready to say when she can understand. 

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

She puts a palm to his stomach, just above his sheath, five lithe fingers mapping out the narrow lines of his sides, and damn, it makes his cock twitch, makes him thrust in roughly for the first time. There's a sound of delight. It comes from her, head tipped back and lips smeared with spit and red strands of hair, like fresh blood after a good brawl. 

"Yes," she breathes out, dragging him down to her, clinging to him tightly as he finally moves his hips in a hard, steady rhythm. His knees are gonna kill him later but it doesn’t matter because he’s with her, joined like lovers, like mates.

She takes his hand, leads it over her body, to the divot of her collarbones, her sternum, the dip of her stomach, then the soft of her belly where she makes him press down a little, makes him feel the distinct shape of him moving inside her. That's something entirely new. 

It makes him even more aware of the fact that this small, fragile woman would take up a krogan in a fistfight and come out alive. It makes him lose his mind. It makes some sick, posessive part of him growl and rumble and hold her so tight he's sure her hips are gonna bruise. 

"Shepard," he hisses, one hand gripping the seat behind her to find more leverage, her sounds getting louder, out of breath and high-pitched, his name a silent mantra only muttered with gaping lips. “Show me how to make you come.”

She whimpers, clutches his fingers tighter on her navel. The talons of his other hand tear the Mako’s seat behind her. She drags his palm over the mound of hairy flesh where they join, and he enjoys carding his talons through the curls, then she takes a thick finger and places the pad of it just above where he’s stretching her open with his cock, on a small bundle of swollen flesh that instantly makes her tighten around him. This is something he could never get used to—the tight warmth clinging to him like a second skin under Palaven’s unforgiving sun. He swipes his thumb over it, then draws a slow circle. The tightness becomes almost unbearable. He keens.  

“Damn clever turian,” she hiccups, grinding into his touch, into his unsteady thrusts, her hand gripping his wrist instead, not guiding but trying to steady herself. “I’m so close, Garrus.”

He nuzzles her jaw at that, forehead meeting forehead after, then lips with plates, tongue with tongue. The kiss breaks off in a series of desperate gasps, and Garrus murmurs against her, “let me come with you. Senna, please I—”

“Love you,” she pants into the crook of his neck, teeth grazing him, and then biting in when he pushes his whole length into her, the stretch unbearable, her words ringing in his ears like endless echoes in a hallway made of dark matter and stardust, and he claims her, puncturing her shoulder and filling her cunt, his tie growing, the taste of her blood bursting on his tongue. Sweet. Salty. Iron. Just like her. 

She tightens on him impossibly so, and then there’s a fluttering, her muscles spasming violently in an orgasm that makes her legs shake and her stomach jump. His thumb slowly stops moving on the bundle of flesh she showed him when her short nails dig forcefully into his forearm. 

(I love you, I love you, I love you—)

Subvocals screaming, his whole body trembling, he finally releases her flesh, knocks his nose against hers until her eyes flutter open, dazed and unfocused, brimmed with tears, pupils dilated to infinity. She smiles, blunt teeth flashing white and blue in the low light, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s his own blood on her lips. 

He leans down to lick it off, to embrace her tighter, to feel the taste of her tingle in the back of his throat. She bit him. She marked him for life.

“I love you so damn much, baby.”

It’s out and it’s his own shot right through his heart, a shard of metal carved out just in the shape of her, and Garrus knows that nothing ever will be the same. The marks, the blood, his tie cradled by her fluttering warmth, his heart laying bare out in the snow, thawing in her warmth. 

Turians don’t like the cold, but Shepard scorches and it's just the right way.

“Thank you,” she whispers, weak now, entirely spent, but not influenced by the poison of want anymore. “I know this was… not how a first date should’ve happened but…” she bites the bruised swell of her bottom lip and he smooths a hand over her cheek, brushing away sticky hairs from her face. “Can we… have a next time?”

Garrus flicks out his mandibles in a smile and hugs her tighter, reassuring, eyes full of hope and wonder and her own disheveled reflection, “I want all the next times with you.”

“Good,” her grin tickles his hide, mischievous now. “I’m looking forward to it.”

(I do too. I do, I do, I do.)

#mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #shepard x garrus #garrus x shepard #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #oc: senna shepard #mass effect 1 #mass effect legendary edition #mass effect fanfic #shakarian fanfic #so um i wrote this while being sleep deprived #i'm so rusty #but heyy new babies i can obsess over #i cried so hard at the end of the trilogy i had to do something about it #you call it coping i call it the writer's muse

[rabarbarzcukrem]

Black Rose Musical save me

So they're starting with Mikage's backstory? Interesting

Actually, I wonder how they'll go about showing that Mamiya was Anthy all along

Mamiya doing that quick spin with Anthy, and then Utena with Tokiko...

I love the "Burn" song, it does a good job at setting the mood for this arc

Ok we're getting a reminder of Utena's story and what happened in the previous musical

I love the way Saionji tosses his hair lmao. Cunty. And how he runs away with that pathetic "UaUaAaaaa!!". he's such a loser

I like how these musicals really want us to associate "the princess was wrapped in the scent of roses" not necessarily with Dios, but with Anthy. She appears every time this line is sung

Ooooh even during the "on the previous episode" part, Mikage and Mamiya are already watching everything from the shadows

Btw, Mikage's voice sounds really similar to the original in my opinion

The parallels between Mamiya and Anthy are so clear, "if you say so, senpai" = "if utena-sama says so"

Akio being introduced so casually when it's obvious that he's super important to the plot also reflects how it happened in anime

Utena/Anthy and Mikage/Mamiya parallels..Mmmm delicious

I looooove how the whole cast is gradually presented (one relationship by one) and then at the end there's Akio with Anthy. Such an amazing way to show the way all these relationships connect and mirror each other

This musical's theme song being about light, mirrors and never letting go of something that might seem like an illusion...huh...

The scenes simultaneously happening on the stage impact each other - Akio is talking with Utena in the tower, but at the same time pushes Kozue towards Miki. Only a stage adaptation would be able to portray it this way

Wait....No kanae?? :((((

Holy shit Mikage's songs have such a creepy sound with the choirs in the background

(Also Mikage pushing Miki, imitating what Akio did to Kozue)

THE ROSE STABBING SCENE. Intense as hell

The contrast between Kozue entering her Dark Era and Wakaba whining about exams lol. Isn't that a perfect encapsulation of the spirit of RGU. The tragi-comedy of it all

The choreography !!

I wonder if there's any significance to the fact that when the cast is standing still singing zettai unmei mokushiroku, Anthy is copying the dance moves of the supporting dancers

The fact that Black Rose duelists have the same skills as the members of the student council showed by having both of them fight Utena at once?? Clever

Also, power of Dios possessing the sword showed by Dios literally fighting alongside Utena

Shame that Kozue didn't do that dramatic falling on the ground thing after her rose got pierced

The egg being called "a cage of freedom". That's a nice way to put it

Saionjeans appears!!

I love shiori already

I can't remember, does Shiori call herself a prodigal daughter in the anime too? Either way that's something I'll be thinking about for the next few days

They did the blood sucking scene 👀 while Shiori and Juri's gay shit was happening 👀

Shiori thinking Juri was reaching for the boy, when she was actually reaching towards her...

Akio walking with the same posture as Touga did... HMMM

They even managed to keep the water motif !

Shiori's horrified expression when she sees her picture...The actress is too good

SHIORI AND JURI FIGHTING SCENE

How did they manage to make them even gayer??

Shiori and Juri taking off each other's roses AAAH

I love that Nanami consistently breaks the fourth wall, it's a perfect thing for her character to do

Wakaba screaming after being stabbed was so heartbreaking...

Akio throwing away that hair clip in the exact same way Touga did with Saionji's exchange diary. Once again: HMMM

Wakaba singing the lines from the first musical about the book she'd read, but this time with her voice breaking, on the verge of crying. I can't stand this

Saionji and Wakaba both singing about a prince on a white horse - Saionji mocking Utena by this, Wakaba actually idealizing Saionji. God, it works so well

Wakaba's duel broke my heart. The actress is so good at capturing the desperation and sorrow in her voice

For the first time Akio is implied to actually have been the one to give Utena the ring...and the way he grabs the supporting dancer and shoves him to the ground. He gives off such sinister vibes

The friendship song is both hopeful and sad because it proves what Akio said - Wakaba had her moment of happiness and specialness but then she had to go back to her normal life of the supporting character. And also because of the fact that while Wakaba and Utena keep singing, Anthy had to go meet up with Akio.. So even though it's heart-warming to see them spend quality time together, none of them really understand what the others are going through

This killed me

"Do you have someone important to you?" And we see the duelists with their black rose counterparts

I almost feel like Mamiya in the flashbacks has slightly different mannerisms that the one in the present impersonated by Anthy.

Mamiya with the candlestick literally SITTING on the COFFIN

"Is (Saionji) going to waltz his ass back in here?" Lmaooo

Did I just imagine it or did Mikage slash Utena on her arm, similarly to how she injured his arm before the duel

Is "Imaginary living body" playing?!?!? Hell yeah!!!

Mikage actually seeing Dios helping Utena fight? Interesting! That's something I didn't expect

I loooove the curtain falling and revealing the projector. That's what I mean when I say that a stage adaptation brings the best out of this anime. There are so many fun visual things like this

I think this arc must have been incredibly difficult to pull off in this form, without being able to do quick cuts and transitions that could be shown in the anime. But they did such a good job! Actually, they kept surprising me with clever ways of adapting the themes of the show to fit this adaptation. I was constantly impressed

The last thing left to say is. PART 3 WHEN

#rgu #revolutionary girl utena #moje

[strawbubbysugar]

So uuuuuhh I was daydreaming in class today and I was imagining a scenario with Arche, so I'm curious about how this hypothetical in a different timeline/universe would play out! This is in the context of Elio still being on the front lines and the arrangement going as it's supposed to. Also this scenario would probs be years before the wedding, if that makes a difference. Here's the scene:

~~~

Arche's betrothed (not necessarily Dahmia, unless her personality is different in this world, up to you!) goes to Arche's tower and knocks on the door.

"Enter." Arche's voice is as grumpy as it usually is.

They enter the tower, closing the door behind them and standing in the middle of the room, holding themself for comfort.

"What is it?" Arche asks in a somewhat blunt manner, raising an eyebrow.

"I...I wanted to ask you something." They say quietly, not looking at him.

"Go on, then. Out with it," Arche says impatiently.

"Is...is it possible for me to somehow transfer my soul into a body built similar to yours? Perhaps...after the wedding?"

Arche's eyes widen, brows furrowed. "What-"

"We're stuck in this arrangement," They interrupt him. "Whether we like it or not. And..." Their eyes fall to the floor as they try not to get emotional.

"I don't want you to feel disgusted whenever you're around me."

Arche's face falls slightly as they continue, but he keeps his expression as neutral as he can.

"You're right," His betrothed chuckles emptily, almost embarrassed. "Humans are gross. We get sick, we have bodily fluids, weird smells, whatever. You were right as a child, and you're right now. I remember all of those times you made comments about my 'gross human stuff'."

They finally lift their eyes to meet Arche's gaze, their eyes slightly watering. "I don't want you to have to deal with that for the rest of your days. Hell, I don't want to deal with it either."

They take a step towards Arche, their face contorting to one of slight worry and sadness. "When we wake up in bed together, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable being close to me. When we have to kiss in front of everyone, I don't want you to have the feeling of wanting to jump out of the window in disgust. When we work together as rulers, I don't want you to keep your distance from me because you don't want to be around a 'filthy human'."

Arche thinks back to all of the times he made comments about humans being gross or disgusting when they both were young kids. He realizes now it's all manifesting into this very moment, and he's not sure what to say.

"Arche," They step a little closer, but give him fair space. "I know you hate this arrangement. I know you don't like me very much. I can handle that, honestly. Despite caring deeply for you, I can handle you not reciprocating that. But the thought of you being disgusted every moment you're close with me..." They shake their head, as if doing so would somehow rid them of the anxiety. "I can't stand it."

"I thought maybe...maybe I could make it more bearable for you if I wasn't human anymore. I want to make this arrangement the most pleasant it can possibly be for you. I know the whole point of us marrying is to unite the kingdoms, so it wouldn't make much sense if I wasn't human anymore. But...I don't know." They scoff in cold amusement, holding their head as they laugh at themselves. How silly. Why did they think it would be a good idea? Stupid. "I thought maybe...nevermind. I...I'm sorry."

They turn around and walk as fast as they can towards the tower's exit. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry for bothering you."

~~~

Sooooo yeah. I was imagining what I would do if I were in the arrangement with Arche, and I would feel soooo self-conscious after the whole "humans are smelly" thing during the dance, and just general comments/teasing every time I would sneeze or cough or something like that lol. Kinda like this moment in chapter 22 (Cubbies):

"At the mention of eating and feeling full, her stomach growled, as if to interject in the conversation. Her face flushed and she cleared her throat, hoping that he didn’t hear it. While around Beck she wouldn’t have been phased by such a small, human thing, being around an Atomaton it almost felt like admitting a weakness."

I was like "whoooa that's relatable af, i'd totally feel the same way" and then ended up daydreaming that scenario in class a couple hours later lol.

What do you think Arche would do in this hypothetical situation?

Sorry if this is kinda weird to ask about T_T

Awh this is so sweet!!! Def would be a y/n/other hypothetical princess rather than Dahmia, Dahmia (while occasionally embarrassed about human details) knows the significance of her being human and wouldn’t trade her body. She is very curious about it after seeing Cas, but if someone offered, she would decline.

I think in this hypothetical Arche would start to feel guilty about all the teasing he did as a child, and try to subtly make up for it without going out of his way to apologize. Complimenting how you smell, making a comment about how ‘interesting’ and ‘unique’ human biology is. He’d try to be slick about it so you don’t think he’s lying for your sake while trying to change your mind at the same time.

#ask #bethroned project #this was such a sweet lil ficlet omg

[goosewriting]

(this is for the prompts requests, so yeah, also sorry my english is too bad) Maybe mikey with number two from color orange (the scenarios prompts), where reader is talking with someone that tries to flirt a lot with them but starts to make them uncomfortable, and then when mikey walks near to them and notices this he decides to fake being reader's partner so that person can go away, so when they finally go, reader get a little concerned but also surprised on how good mikey did "performing" being their partner (cuz mikey has a crush on them but they don't know), and later reader actually invite him on a date, excusing: "I am really curious if you can be my partner for real". (Yeah they both have a crush on each other)

You don't have to follow all of this request, feel free to change some things (is your writing so ofc) i actually read the rules but if there's something i said wrong you can easily ignore this dw, have a good day and also congrats for 500 followers ⭐⭐ (sorry if it's too long)

Fake it till you make it (rottmnt Mikey x reader)

scenario 2: Character A comes to talk to Character B, pretending to be B’s s/o  when a stranger is making B uncomfortable. Leads to them asking B out on an actual date.

summary: a stranger makes reader uncomfortable, so Mikey intervenes by saying he’s the boyfriend.  

relationship: Rise!Mikey x GN reader

warnings: some yokai being a creep, fluff!

word count: ~910

A/N: aah thank you so much! i really hope this was along the lines of what you imagined :D

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

– – – 

You and the turtle brothers had decided to spend the afternoon in the Hidden City. Just like last time, everyone wanted to do something different, so you decided to split up and visit whatever you wanted to see individually. 

Mikey had suggested you go with him, and you had to hold back a squeal of excitement, as you had the biggest crush on the orange clad turtle. Wherever he chose to go, you’d happily accompany him anyways, but his idea actually interested you, which made you just the giddier to spend some time alone with him. 

The Hidden City had opened a new food court and of course Mikey wanted to go try it out, to have a “culinary experience”, as he called it. 

After looking at the different options and menus, you two wrote down everything you wanted to get on a phone note, and split up to pick up half the items each. After all, you were both hungry and efficiency was key. 

Once you had settled who would get what, you both went off in opposite directions, starting on either side of the food court, so you’d meet in the middle. You had suggested eating near the fountain at the park instead of here because of how packed the place was, to which Mikey had agreed. As you stood in line at the first shop, you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the thought of having an “almost date” with him. Perhaps one day you could go on a real one with him…

Not long after going separate ways, Mikey found himself looking at the contents in the paper bag, his mouth watering at the sight. He scanned his surroundings, trying to find you in the crowd. You were supposed to be at the shop to his left but he couldn’t see you. Worry slowly rose within him until he spotted you behind a big fake plant. You were talking to someone.

Or rather, someone was talking to you, while you tried to get rid of them politely, but they evidently weren’t getting the hint. As Mikey got nearer, he realised it was some yokai, and you looked very uncomfortable as they practically towered over you, obviously getting into your space.

Mikey went through several scenarios in his head in a split second, but all of those ended in causing a scene, which he knew you wouldn’t want. Besides, the food would get cold. So he did the next best thing he could think of and essentially materialised from behind you out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Who’s this?” he asked, clearly interrupting the yokai, who was forced to stop mid-sentence and looked at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Who are you?” the stranger retorted, giving him a mocking once-over. 

“I’m their boyfriend” Mikey responded without a single drop of hesitation to his voice, which made your breath hitch. You knew what he was trying to do and you were truly grateful, but you couldn’t stop the flush on your face. The yokai noticed this and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t trust your voice at the moment so you simply nodded.

They scoffed, clearly not buying it. Before being able to say anything else though, you felt yourself being pulled towards Mikey, who gave you a lingering peck on the cheek while glaring daggers at the stranger. Taking your hand, the turtle simply pulled you along, heading towards the park. You could hear some mumbling behind you about a ‘waste of time’, but paid it no mind as you were currently trying to regain control of your heart. You were sure it had bounced out of your ribcage and was soaring somewhere in the sky. 

After a couple of steps and some steadying breaths, the stranger was out of sight and you exhaled deeply in relief. You were about to extend your thanks to Mikey, when your eyes wandered down his arm to your joined hands, and you remembered the sudden kiss, which made you look away to hide your face from him. 

Once you arrived at the park, he brought you to an empty bench and sat down with you, the food in your laps. Only then did he let go of your hand, which you immediately missed.

“Shall we eat?” Mikey asked as if nothing had happened, and you didn't respond. 

He was starting to unpack the food, but at your lack of response he lifted his gaze to meet yours. You were looking at him with shy eyes and flushed cheeks, replaying what had happened earlier in your mind. Suddenly feeling an outburst of confidence, you finally asked what you had been thinking about for a long time now.

“The way you said you were my boyfriend earlier felt so… natural” you started, your eyes flickering to the food, then the bench, and finally back to Mikey’s curious eyes. “Maybe you could be it, for real?”

You had never seen something turn from green to red so quickly. Mikey was caught completely off-guard. Truth is, he also liked you, and the action before had left his mind spiralling and heart racing, and he was trying to play it cool. So now that you were asking the question, he couldn't quite believe it. 

Almost dropping the fries to the floor but catching them just in time, he chuckled nervously, but then looked at you with soft eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that”. 

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz

#goose feathers #500 goslings event #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #tmnt 2018

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #36

Batgirl (2000) #16 - July 2001 Writer: Puckett Pencils: Scott Inks: Campanella Colors: Wright

Another solo one shot, another resonant and memorable stand alone story that Cass fans from back in the day will remember clearly. Got a bit more time to work with, gonna try and pull some more images this time, because the art in this one is just really good. Honestly, this issue is peak early days Batgirl - the kind of story she was literally made to tell, and it's really well executed. If I had to pick a single issue of Cass's entire Batgirl run as sort of a 'this is what she's all about' encapsulation for someone completely new to Cass and her book, this would be on the short list. If you've never read her ongoing before, i strongly recommend you actually read the issue for yourself before the summary here.

The issue opens on a bunch of kids playing a mean game where they throw a rat in the air and get points if it lands in a circle they drew on the ground. The nerd in my has to point out that it's kind of unrealistic. Rats aren't quite as fall resistant as, say, cats, but while they could be hurt or maybe even killed by a fall from only as high as a grade school kid could throw them, most are going to scamper away and none are going to land so badly that they splatter like a water balloon.

Anyway, it's gross and its cruel but also kind of cute as the kids argue about the rules and 'nuh uh' each other, and Scott draws their faces really expressively, and the whole scene starts with a rat silhouetted in front of the moon mid toss in an image that's as aesthetically compelling as it is disturbing in context before plummeting back down

I could talk about how Cass is flying high through the city as Batgirl while her mental state is hurtling towards a painful crash, but that's probably reading too much into it.

Anyway, after the first splat there's this kind of cool sequence where the next kid throws the rat up and they all run back and look down at the circle...

Only the rat never comes down, and when they look up like 'where did it go?' there's Cass

The image of Cass swooping down from above with the kids all looking up is pretty cool, and the way the panels create a pacing for the scene is really good. Effective storytelling through sequential art.

Cass drops down, and the kids scatter. Not a situation that needs any more intervention then that, and we get a nice panel showing just her hands and feet as she crouches down to gently let the rat go. A pretty standard inverse kick-the-dog moment to establish Cass as the good guy by having her be nice to an animal, but for those who have been reading along from the first issues of her book it also reminds us of how Bruce once praised her for being 'gentle', and how despite everything that's happened that part of her is still in there.

As the other kids scatter, one stays behind to kick off the main plot for the issue. I like how awkward Cass is here, towering over this kid when she's used to being around allies and enemies taller than herself, not knowing how to talk to him.

Also, I haven't talked about it in a bit, but I just really love the way Scott draws Cass as Batgirl? Her proportions with her big head emphasizing her youth. The way you can make out her expressions despite the full face mask - and the way he gives her the same expressions that he gives Bruce. Her prominent jaw line making her feel tough and defiant and stubborn. The way you can make out her expression through the mask, the sleek lines of how her cape drapes from her neck to the point shoulders and then down, or the way the cape flows when he draws her in motion, all with an oil-slick feel that likely owes as much to Campanella's inking as to Scott's pencil work.

There are aspects of how others draw Cass in her batgirl suit that I like - most recently I love how Leonardo Romero draws the pointy ears on her cowl in the recent Birds of Prey run, it gives Cass a retro feel that really fits his vintage newspaper comic aesthetic. But Scott's version of Cass-as-Batgirl is always how I'll see the character in my mind.

The kid, Tim, takes Cass back to his home, a messy apartment with a mattress just dropped on the floor. You can feel the poverty, and start to form an image of this kid's dad in your head as, like, a decent man pushed into crime by desperation to provide for his kid.

An impression that Tim then explicitly reinforces.

The scene cuts to the bank mid robbery, and we meet someone who seems to fit the mold - Jake. The way Scott draws Jake's expressions, you can tell he doesn't want to be there, and when asked what he's going to do with the money they steal, he just says he's going to pay some bills. But when a security guard surprises them, Jake is startled and shoots him, almost by accident....

The boss, Chaco, compliments Jake on the kill, rubbing in how this isn't a guy who would normally do something like that with the 'didn't think you had it in you' line, and as they walk away you can see how horrified Jake is at what he's done.

In contrast, Chaco shows just how comfortable he is with killing by shooting one of his own guys point blank when he realizes the guy was stealing traceable jewelry from the vault, the way the panel suddenly goes red, and Chaco's calm expression just the panel before, emphasizing how sharp and sudden the violence is.

Chaco's a professional. Ruthless and dispassionate, about the job, about killing, even with his allies. He clearly didn't even feel any malice towards the guy he shot - he was downright friendly with all of his crew, even Jake, just a few panels ago, and that friendliness was probably even genuine. But this guy became a liability, and Chaco doesn't have any time or pity for liabilities.

It's around this time that they notice Jake is missing. More liabilities.

A couple of the crew find Jake in an alley, overwhelmed by guilt over killing that security guard, and again, I just have to say, the art in this issue is really good. The perspective in that first panel looking down, with the shadows stretching forward guns first, the expressions on Jake and the guy who has a gun drawn on him, the detail on the background cobblestones & brickwork. All really good.

Anyway, this is when Cass shows up, in terrifying shadow form, knocking out the two goons with the guns in as many panels.

Cass sees Jake, like us assumes he's Tim's dad, and takes pity on him. For Tim's sake.

But Jake is overwhelmed by guilt.

Guilt is one thing Cass understands.

Tim wanted Cass to stop his dad before he did something bad, something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for, something Tim wouldn't be able to forgive him for. But Cass was too late. Once again, she's failed.

Only, Tim isn't Jake's son.

He's Chaco's son.

Chaco the remorseless killer. Chaco who can be friendly one moment and commit murder the next. Cass wasn't too late to stop Tim's dad from doing something bad, Tim's dad had been bad the whole time.

And bad dads are also something Cass understands.

I need to take a step out of the story for a moment here though to talk again about how Scott draws Cass, and in particular the bit about conveying her facial expressions through the mask. Scroll up a bit and look at the downcast resignation on her face when Jake says he has to pay for what he's done, then the surprise when he says he isn't Tim's father, and then the absolute fury here.

The expressions are so vivid, and carry so much of the load when it comes to conveying Cass's thoughts and emotions and personality.

Bringing back another old chestnut of this blog, Cass can speak now, and think in words and sentences, but there are no thought bubbles or narration blocks in the entire issue. The book just doesn't need them, not when Scott's Art is able to put everything going on in these characters heads right on their faces.

Cass lays into Chaco, stopping only when she realizes he's already unconscious, and you can feel the sharp snap of her attacks in how the panels are layed out.

Bringing back another old chestnut, the action panels are practically perfunctory. They're there, and they're good, but there's no back and forth, there's never any question of the bank robbers so much as landing a hit on Cass. Who will win in a physical fight was never where the story's tension was. It was all about the emotional stakes.

Tim arrives on scene just in time to see his dad carted off on a stretcher to the hospital, and as Cass takes him home he looks back, through the spikes on her gauntlet, as through through the prison bars that are going to separate him from his father for the rest of his life.

And the last page is this somber, heartbreaking moment of Cass trying to console Tim that just because his father is a bad person, doesn't mean he is too, and it's obvious that Cass is thinking about herself and David Cain here, but while I might be reading too much into the panel, the way Cass's shadow forms Bruce's symbol to me draws attention to the fact that Cass has two fathers, and just because one of them isn't a murderer doesn't mean he isn't also bad.

...

So yeah, this really is more or less the archetypal Cass Cain Batgirl (2000) issue. A somber, contemplative tone. Street level / no super-villains or over the top scenarios. A focus on the individual humanity of the minor characters, including criminals who would be faceless mooks in any other bat book. Story and characterization conveyed through expressive artwork and deliberate panel use rather than blunt narration, taking advantage of the specific strengths of the comic medium. Violence and action scenes sharp, short and snappy rather than heavily drawn out, with the main conflict grounded in personal and emotional stakes. Narrative themes - guilt, parenthood - that tie directly back to Cassandra's core themes, history, and character motivations. All concisely contained within a single issue episode that works as a stand alone story.

Although there might be a bit too much emphasis on the stand alone part. Sometimes Cass's stories do come back to be referenced again later, we'll have an example of that next week, but we never see Tim again, we never see Cass following up or checking on him which is kind of a shame.

#Cassandra Cain #Batgirl #Sception Reads Cassandra Cain

[amooks-arc]

Honestly no matter how many times I watch the flashback scene of the fight between Vander and Silco I will always get upset.

I think they always wrestled with each other. They grew up together they were brothers, brothers fight. So Vander and Silco go down to the beach to talk in private away from Benzo and the others. They’ve been arguing, both drawing lines and crossing them. A lifetimes worth of resentment behind every barb.

Always quick to anger, especially in his youth Vander punches first. Silco pushes him back and they fall wrestling into the waves shouting and hurling insults at each other. It isn’t until they are waist deep in the water that Silco realizes Vander isn’t hitting just to hurt anymore.

And then the panic sets in.

Silco tries to flee but the water slows him down and Vander yanks him back.

Vander rakes his nails down Silco’s face tearing his skin. His eye is burning and bleeding blinding him. His brothers fingers tighten around Silco’s neck squeezing as he plunges him under. Silco fights to breathe desperately struggling to pry off Vander’s grip. He tastes the filth and salt of the river. He finds that peace before death. His vision is blurring, through the clouds of his blood he sees his brother.

Vander towers over his struggling brother holding him underwater as one might drown a clawing cat. His teeth are barred adrenaline and rage pumping through his veins.

Then Silco’s fingers find purchase on Vanders knife and he slices him on the arm. If he had not brought that knife out into the water that day, Silco would have died. Vander would have been victorious. Able to spin the story of their final showdown into one where he is still the hero. Maybe he would have come to believe the lie himself.

But as Vander roars in pain, Silco bursts to the surface. Panic propelling him forward Silco escapes from the water half blind and bleeding.

Vanders scar will mottle and darken just as Silco’s face did. Vander hid his scar behind a leather cuff that he never took off. Not even around Vi or the other kids. Unable to look at the physical reminder of his betrayal. He’ll stew in his shame till the day he dies.

But Silco grows and becomes something harder. Something better. More… himself.

The animators did such a good job at portraying his desperation in that moment underwater. He must have been so scared and confused.

Vander is not the hero so much of the fandom makes him out to be. He is morally gray just like everyone else. And there are plenty of criticisms to be made about his parenting style and how he ran the Uncercity.

Say what you want about Silco but he was never a bootlicker.

#arcane #silco #text post #vander #silco arcane #idk what this even is I just wanted to write down these thoughts somewhere #also episode three is my favorite if you couldn’t tell

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 06)

Rating: It's not bad, but maybe don't go reading it out loud to your mum or something. Or do, i don't know what your mum is into.

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings: I do not want to give too many spoilers so i'll just say: Mentions of alcohol, Foul language, Canon-level violence, Slight sexual content.

A/N: My friends I feel like I apologize for being late every time I upload. But again, sorry for being late. Maybe everyone should just come to expect this. In my defence, this part is long, and I kind of almost like it? There's an OC here lol, he might show up again, he might not. Tbh the plot just needed a guy. There also may be some mistakes, but I really hope not. As per usual, check the masterlist for tags and other parts. If you reblog, I'll manifest a Din shirtless in the living waters of Mandalore scene in S3. I know we all want it. Also sidenote: I saw Brittany Broski’s post on TikTok about how she’s in her Mandalorian era…. Anyone want to take one for the team and rec this fic?🧍‍♀️❤️

He had not been joking.

Tendrils of hair stuck to your face, and you reached up for what seemed like the millionth time to pry the strands off. According to the temperature monitor on the ship, it was the hottest time of day, and the sun beat down unforgivingly on the top of your head, the varying wooden overhangs offering little reprieve.

Din was only a step ahead of you, still clothed in full armour, giving no indication that the heat was a bother to him. You didn’t understand it. He must have been under at least three layers, counting the thick plates adorning his shoulders, arms, chest, and thighs, and yet he seemed as phlegmatic as ever. You wondered how the child was faring, tucked away in a bag at your side, still wrapped in his woolly cloak. He had taken a liking to the dragonflies that buzzed around the small natural pool in the clearing where Din had landed the Crest.

The two of you had, after flying over the cove and finding no open landing platforms, decided to set up camp just outside the bustle of town, hidden behind a long stretch of waxy tropical trees. The first wave of humid air had been so pleasant, and you had savoured the fragrant smell of the planet’s flora. But now, barely half an hour into your walk, you would have begged for the cool fan in the ship, and perhaps a bucket of iced water.

As if sensing your discomfort, Din twisted toward you. “We’re almost there.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, barely having the energy to string together a sentence. You didn’t know where ‘there’ was. All he had shared with you before you left the safety of the ship was that he had an old contact in the market, someone that he had worked with long ago, someone you could trust. That remained to be seen. You trusted Din, but you wouldn’t trust a friend of Din’s simply because they were a friend of Din’s. Din had some weird friends.

Overlooking the simmering heat and the stickiness of your skin, the area was quite beautiful. It was exactly what you’d expect from a locale dubbed Raider’s Cove. Towering wood structures lined the edge of sparkling aquamarine water, framed by trees of vibrant green. The forest behind the town seemed alive with noise, buzzes and chirps coming from every direction. The force was rich on this planet, you could feel it. You knew Grogu could too. 

The market was even busier, stalls lining the street, selling all sorts of wares from food, to weapons, to jewelry. Din turned right onto a quieter, more shaded lane, and you followed suit. He hung back now to walk alongside you; he had been worried earlier about someone spotting the two of you together.

He spoke to you like a knowledgeable tour guide or a HoloNet narrator. “This market dates back to before the Old Republic. Some families have been selling here for ages, passing their business down through generations. There’s and underside to it, but it’s also home to a lot of honest and genuine people.” 

You looked up at him. “I didn’t take you for a history buff.”

“I’m not, I just had an interesting conversation with a talkative shoemaker the last time I docked here.” You grinned at him.

“It must be because you’re so approachable.” His shoulders shook lightly with silent laughter.

Since you had left Tatooine, the dynamic between you two had been… more playful. Something had shifted, just slightly, and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. But you were content to fall into this comfortable mood with him. Honestly, it was a relief after the worry and angst of a few days prior. He hadn’t approached the subject of your almost departure during the long hours in hyperspace, choosing instead to enlist your help in the connection of a few cables in some small cavity just behind the carbonite log. Your hands were far nimbler than his, so he often got you to aid him with menial tasks like these.

After that, the two of you had put the child to bed and sat in the cockpit together, quietly conversing. Din had shared a few stories with you of his past experiences on Rishi, including the tale of a rather slippery Sullustan who had led him on a chase into the mountains, concluding with a near escape with a few of the locals. At some point you must have fallen asleep because you didn’t remember scaling the ladder back into the hull. But when you woke, hours later, you were curled on your side in the cot, a woollen blanket draped over your body and pulled up to your shoulders. It was a tender gesture, and one that made some part of you ache.

There was also the issue of that unspoken something between the two of you. 

Perhaps it was entirely one sided. Perhaps you felt that much stronger now simply because he had seen the darkest parts of you and not shied away from them. You’d be naïve to think he didn’t care for you, but you still doubted he felt the way you did. That undeniable pull, the yearning. Bursting into flames and yet shivering every time you could feel his attention on you. Maker, you wanted him. Badly. 

But you also understood the impossibility of it. His creed wasn’t the only thing that stood in between the two of you; there were many, very logical reasons as to why you would never take that step, despite so desperately wanting to.

His hand ghosted over the small of your back, stilling your thoughts. Having abandoned the thicker layers of your suit in the Crest, you wore only a light, loose-fitting undershirt, which was a blessing given the planet’s sweltering conditions. But it did mean that every touch felt like a brand, a sharp jolt of electricity that was so much harder to ignore. 

“Here.” He guided you left, into a narrowed, darker passageway. Only a few paces down, he opened a rather beaten door, ushering you inside before following. 

Descending old stone steps, the smell hit you first. It was an acrid mix of what you could only assume was piss and alcohol. You tried and failed to supress a grimace. The stairs were wet with something. You weren’t entirely keen to find out what it was.

Finally reaching the bottom, the narrow hall opened up into a dimly lit area. It was similar to some of the cantinas on Tatooine, but the usual sandy colour was replaced with grey stone and worn wood. The tables were large and circular, with strange, patterned squares in the center of each. Lining the wall to your right was a display of bottles, and a tall bar. The only light beamed down from thin windows along the top of the room’s walls. You could see the shadows cast by the feet of people as they walked down the sunny street outside. In here, it was quiet.

“It’s a gambling den.” Din’s voice travelled over your shoulder. “The contact I knew used to work here.” He moved beside you, further into the space. “It’s a long shot but I figured—”

A blaster shot rang out.

Hang circling your wrist, Din twisted you behind him in a flash, the laser bouncing harmlessly off his beskar breastplate.

“Don’t shoot! We’re looking for someone.”

 No response. He was braced, broad frame tensed, his grip on your wrist still solid. “We mean you no harm.”

“If you could just answer a few questions, we’ll be on our way.” How polite of him.

You could sense a heartbeat just to the side of a door behind the bar… human. You peered around Din’s shoulder just as—

“Maker, Mando is that you?” The voice was heavily accented, tinted with what almost sounded like humour. A man emerged from the doorway. Every muscle in Din’s body visibly relaxed. 

“I didn’t recognize you in that shiny new fit… man I could have killed you!” He came around the edge of the bar, slapping the blaster down on its surface. He approached the two of you, reaching a hand out and pulling Din in for a hug, clapping him heartily on the back. Your eyebrows just about hit the ceiling. 

Din was chuckling. “Yeah right, if it makes you feel better.”

It was then that the man noticed you, still standing somewhat awkwardly behind Mando. “Well, who have we here?” Up close, you took in more details. His skin was the richest brown you had ever seen, smooth and almost glowing, even in the near nonexistent light of the den. Dark hair was cropped close to his head, with a brutal, raised tattoo winding its way over his forehead and down the right side of his face.

He bent down and took your hand, lips meeting the back of it lightly. “It’s not often we have such beautiful ladies gracing this establishment.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. You had been called many things before, but beautiful… 

Mando answered for you, giving the man your name. Maybe you imagined the sharp edge to his voice. 

But you definitely didn’t imagine the way he stepped closer to you, before gesturing to the smiling man in front of you. “This is Castann. We met a few years back, when I came for that bounty I was telling you about.”

“My friends call me Cas.” He extended a hand, and hesitantly, you shook it. His palm was callused but warm against your own. “Apologies for the near-death experience.” He motioned to Din. “Last time I saw this bloke, he was in a much less flashy costume.” You almost choked on a laugh. “Bounty hunting must be treating you well; you’ve got new gear and a girl.”

You waited for a statement of denial from Din. It never came.

Instead, he said: “The last time I saw you, you were neck deep in debt. How’s that going?”

Cas waved his hand in dismissal. “Eh, owner died, I took over the place. You know how it goes.”

“Suspicious circumstances?” Din probed.

He placed a hand over his chest in mock indignation. “You think so little of me?” Cas turned to you again. “Honestly, how do you stand him? Is he always so—?” He put a hand up to his forehead in a salute, face devoid of emotion.

Hoping Din wasn’t looking at you, you nodded hastily. Cas laughed, a rumbling sound. “What brings you two around here anyway? Looking to sample Rishi’s wares? Couples retreat, perhaps?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that was breaking across your face. Considering you had been shot at just minutes ago, you already really liked this guy. He noticed your smile and winked at you, grinning as well.

“We’re here for information on a bounty.” Din’s answer was terse. You shifted your gaze up to him.

He didn’t mean to be curt. He wasn’t upset with anyone. Truly, it was no one’s fault but his own.

And yet, his voice came out sharper than intended, and it drew your eyes away from Castann, muting the smile that had graced your face just moments ago. He had tried not to let it get to him, but in the end, his efforts had been in vain.

It was just frustrating, the ease at which Cas was able to converse with you, connect with you so quickly, place a kiss to the back of your hand. These were small things, seemingly normal for anyone upon first meeting. 

But not to him. You had known each other for a long time now, and he had never been able to wink at you like that, to light up your face so easily, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his lips. 

He wondered, too often, what that might feel like. He wasn’t well acquainted with the feeling of jealousy, but it settled, oily and unwelcome, in his gut. Pushing his inner monologue aside for the moment, he continued.

“Have you heard anything about an auction? An anonymous source says someone’s here, in the market, trying to sell something important. We need to find them.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Always right to business with you.” He gestured to a table behind you. “Let’s sit at least… you two make me nervous.”

You both turned, Din sliding into the booth on one side of the table. He watched you as you carefully untangled yourself from the straps of the bag. Cas claimed the booth on the opposite side.

It would make more sense for you to sit beside Castann, with Din’s bulky armour taking up most of the bench space. But for whatever reason, you claimed the spot beside him anyway, sliding the bag in so it was sandwiched between the two of you.

Cas seemed to survey the dynamic, his eyes flitting from Din to you, and back again. With a single shake of his head, he slapped his hands down on the table. 

“I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t ask if you wanted something to drink. Spotchka, maybe?” 

“Isn’t it only just past the sun’s peak?” You asked. “It’s a bit early.”

Cas waggled his eyebrows. “Ah, but time is just a construct here in Raider’s Cove.” Din leaned back, stretching his arm out and over the back of the booth. Castann eyed him suspiciously.

“Alright, no spotchka then. Ruin my fun.” He ran a hand over his scalp absentmindedly.

“Unfortunately, I’ve got nothing super juicy for you.” Din sighed lightly, hoping the sound wasn’t picked up by the modulator. Another dead end. “The port’s been pretty busy, but business usually picks up around this time of rotation.” He sees you nod in his peripheral.

“There’s not much chatter in here?” You asked Cas. 

He rested both elbows on the tabletop, grinning at you. “No little lady, there’s not much chatter at all.”

He tapped twice at a worn patch in the stone of the table and the pattered square in the middle of it came to life. 

“It’s Dejarik. Do you know how to play?” Din watched you shake your head, carefully examining the holographic creatures flickering in front of you.

“Seriously? Have you been living under a rock?” He was joking of course, but Din noticed the way you tensed at his words, curious features turning blank in a second. He didn’t stop to wonder if Cas noticed too. Instead, he lifted his hand from the back of the booth, angling it just slightly so he could brush his thumb over your shoulder. You straightened.

Cas was still talking. He hadn’t noticed then. Din continued the movement until your shoulders started to relax. 

“The patrons of this fine establishment come to watch people play. It’s all about being able to trick the opponent, or bluff, so most of the time it’s pretty quiet.” You hummed in understanding.

Castann motioned to Din. “This guy played the last time he was here. Brought the opponent to his knees. I’ve never won so much money in one night.” 

Your eyes shot to him, lips slowly breaking into a broad smile. “Really?” 

Maker, you were beautiful.

He took too long to answer—because he was gawking at you—so Cas cuts in again. “Oh yeah, it was brutal. The other guy didn’t even have a chance. He’s lucky it wasn’t a Wookie… not sure he would have left this place with all his limbs intact if it was.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him. He felt a little dizzy. 

Finally, he broke out of his daze. He said matter-of-factly: “Ithorians blink too much when they’re bluffing.“ It was the truth.

Cas pointed to Din with his thumb, as if to say: Can you believe this guy? Your laughter pealed through the room.

Seeing as Castann had no helpful information on the bounty, Din was content to let the two of you converse for a while. He had noticed the signs of fatigue as you made your trek into the village, so he thought it best to get a bit of rest in a cool, safe place. 

Frankly, he lost track of the topic of conversation, zoning out completely in favour of simply watching you. There was something different about you today, not in terms of your personality, but in the way you looked. The flimsier, oversized undershirt you wore fell low over one shoulder, exposing the hollow of your collarbone. For some reason, he couldn’t stop staring at it. He wanted to trace it. With his hands. With his lips. Your hair was windswept and a little bit wild, falling in an unfamiliar way. 

And your face. It had goldened just slightly with the sun, a small tinge of rose brushing your cheekbones and nose. You were flushed and glowing, especially when that signature smile graced your features.

He could have watched you forever.

Maker, he loved the helmet.

He wanted to kiss you.

Maker, he hated the helmet.

His impulses were getting harder and harder to control. In a strange way, it made him feel almost guilty. Like when you stumbled and he would steady you, holding on for longer than necessary, or place a hand on your shoulder or back as he passed you in the darkened hull of the Crest. He hoped it didn’t make you uncomfortable. He wondered if you would say something if it did.

Even last night, you had drifted off in the jump seat beside him, lashes dusting your cheek and lips slightly parted. He should have left you to sleep there. Part of him would argue that he knew the lower part of your spine would ache on the morning, and it was for that reason that he moved you. But the undeniable truth of the matter was that he wanted the feeling of you burned into his palms for good, like an inescapable brand. So, he had moved an arm under your knees, scooping you up from the chair. Mercifully, you hadn’t woken. Your head had lolled to the side, coming to rest on his shoulder. He had cursed the beskar pauldron. But you had sighed contentedly, and part of him had turned to putty at the sound of it. 

He had used the lightest thruster setting on the jetpack to descend into the hull, landing so lightly that even Grogu didn’t stir.

Then, he had placed you in the nook, drawing the worn blanket up around your shoulders, and he had let himself wonder, just for a moment, what it might feel like to curl up next to you.

Of course he wouldn’t have noticed the wandering green hand until it was too late.

“What in the kriffing bantha shit—” Cas was letting out a rather impressive string of expletives as he beheld the creature emerging from in between you and Din.

Noticing where his attention had gone, you laughed and scooped Grogu up from the bag. The two of you had discussed this before you departed the Crest, whether or not it was safer to leave the child aboard the ship while you ventured into the port. Ultimately, Din had trusted Castann enough to pack the kid along; it was preferrable to leaving him alone so far out of town, when there were likely other parties circling around.

You placed him on the table surface, and he became engrossed in the flickering holograms of the Dejarik game. “Meet Grogu.”

Castann’s eyes were wide as he looked at the child, and then at you. “That didn’t come out of you, did it?”

He’d never heard you laugh that loud. Trying to compose yourself, you managed to wheeze out: “Stars, no! He’s older than all of us.”

Grogu’s attention had gone from the gameboard to now rest on the stranger at the table. His head was tilted, and ears perked as he focused on Cas. Cas seemed just as engrossed with him.

While the two of them engaged in their staring contest, you turned to face Din, still leaning back casually against the bench, arm over the edge, legs spread wide, still reeling a bit from his inner thought process. He could have sworn you tried and failed to keep your eyes from travelling. You averted your gaze quickly, visibly swallowing. Something white hot shot through him.

“Do I even want to know?” Cas asked, eyes still glued to the child. He cooed in response.

Din’s voice was rough. “Trust me, you don’t.” 

Grogu broke eye contact first, turning to you instead, a pleading whine cutting the silence. 

You looked exasperated. “He’s hungry.” To the child you pointedly said: “Again.” The kid’s head tilted once more. 

“You wouldn’t mind right?” You queried. Castann interrupted you immediately.

“By all means, go right ahead. There’s a bunch of snacks behind the bar.”

Rising, you plucked an excited Grogu off the table surface, tucking him into your arm as you turned and moved to explore the area he had indicated.

Din and Cas both watched as you rummaged behind the bar, finally prying the lid off a tub of dried fruit. Grogu squealed in excitement. 

He turned back to Din. “So, what, you’re the hired muscle?”

Din’s eyes stayed on you. “If anything, she’s the hired muscle.”

He huffed a laugh, surveying you again through an awkward period of silence before saying: “Wait, you’re serious?” Din shrugged.

Cas sighed. “You’re down bad, Mando.” He said nothing.

“I’m just saying… full disclosure… I was going to make a move.” So slowly, his helmet twisted to meet Cas’ eyes. The man continued babbling. “Of course, that was after I almost shot her, I mean—” Carefully leaning forward, Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet, the blue lights of the whistling birds blinking into existence along the top of his arm.

Cas immediately started to backpedal, hands held up in surrender. “Well obviously I get it now. Put those away.”

Din hummed, pressing another button as the weapons slid back into their sheaths. 

A moment of quiet passed between the two men before Cas asked: “Since I’m so good at prying, I have to ask… Why continue the bounty hunting if you’ve got them to watch out for?” He motioned to you. Din followed his gesture, noting your body language, that which he now understood was you communicating with Grogu. Mind to mind. Half a piece of chewed fruit dangled out of the child’s mouth.

“I know you’re not strapped for credits. Wouldn’t you prefer to keep them out of harm’s way?”

“Of course I would.” His answer was instantaneous. After a breath he amended: “It’s complicated.”

“Always is with you, Mando.” He contemplated saying something else, but you were already rounding the edge of the bar, carrying the kid, who was grasping two sticks of dried fruit in his clumsy claws like a lifeline.

“We should probably get going if we want to scout out any more of the market before nightfall.” You were right. Din got up, reaching to hand you your bag. The child seemed content to clamber right back in, having achieved his goal quite easily. 

Cas walked the two of you up the stairs again, nose scrunching at the mystery liquid you had noticed on the way down. He mumbled something about getting the droid to mop it up.

Reaching the door, he swung it open, letting you and Mando pass. “Mind the curve of the main road on your way out of town. There was some action there yesterday. Two off-worlders. Both wound up dead.”

You looked to Din just as he looked to you. Castann caught on quickly.

“Oh.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “Probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

You turned to him. “Thank you… for everything.”

“Anytime, princess.” He offered you a lopsided, mischievous grin in return. “Take care of each other.” Din watched you nod, and his heart strained. “Hopefully, I’ll see you guys around. Stay safe, yeah?”

“We will.” Din replied. “Let me know if you catch any info.”

“Will do.” He clapped Din on the back once, before re-entering the stairwell.

After bidding your final farewells, you ventured back to the main stretch of road, the heat only slightly more manageable after your short reprieve.

You had walked through the curve on your way to meet Castann, but frankly, you hadn’t been paying much attention at the time, too focused on not expiring from the warmth of the day. The two of you would do some rudimentary scouting today and come back tomorrow if you had no luck.

A light breeze drifted between the wooden structures now, carrying the salted scent of the ocean. You desperately wanted to go see it, but you weren’t going to badger Din about it. The two of you were here on a mission, not a vacation.

He walked a bit closer to you than he had on the way into town, allowing you to lead through the street. More than a few people averted their eyes as the two of you walked past. 

“I don’t like this.” Din’s voice rumbled from over your shoulder. “It’s too open.”

“You’re being paranoid.” You replied over one shoulder. “We won’t linger though. Let’s give the area a once-over and then head back.”

He hummed in agreement. The curve was just up ahead, slightly less busy than the rest of the stretch. On one side was a worn wooden structure, jutting out into the street. The concave side of the cobblestone road was occupied by two merchant stands, now vacant for obvious reasons. 

You rounded the corner, coming to stop in front of the building at the point of the junction. A weathered sign swung on rusty hinges atop the door. 

Rare artifacts was engraved on the wood in messy Aurebesh.

You huffed. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Din moved around you, approaching the darkened storefront. He ran his gloved fingers over a singed burn in the wood. “Blaster marks.” He noted. He tried the door handle. It didn’t budge. He yanked harder.

“If we’re going to try to break in, maybe we shouldn’t do it in broad daylight?” You hissed the suggestion.

A small Rodian child was watching a few paces away with interested eyes.

Din’s helmet turned toward the kid; it took off running down a side street at a startling pace.

He stalked back toward you. “Fine. We’ll come back later.”

“At least we know we’ve got the right spot.” The two of you continued down the road, taking a left fork that would lead you out of town.

“Probably.” He corrected. 

“Probably.” You echoed.

A few minutes of quiet passed as you walked. You could tell something was off with him; it had been that way since the gambling den. But you were so unsure of how to approach the subject that it forced you into silence.

You ran over the events of meeting Castann again, hoping to identify the cause of the uneasiness you sensed. But all your mind snagged on was the way he had brushed his hand over your shoulder to calm you. The way he had looked reclined against that bench, the portrait of calm. The way you had caught his helmet angled towards you, several times throughout the meeting, even when you had gotten up to find some food for Grogu. You were overanalyzing everything, but you had never really been able to think straight when it came to him.

Your thoughts stopped dead in their tracks.

He had abruptly grasped your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. His hand was so large it practically engulfed your own. You looked up in shock, bewilderment, but his focus wasn’t on you. And then he was turning, tugging on your arm to get you to follow, hastening his steps so much you had to take large strides to keep up. He must have noticed some sort of danger. You cast a glance over your shoulder.

“Don’t look behind you.” He pulled on your arm again. You stumbled to keep up. “Keep moving.” He practically growled.

“What’s going on?” His heartbeat was racing. So was your own.

“Hunters.” The two of you kept moving at a brisk pace, re-entering the busier part of the market. “They were the ones who were shooting on Nevarro. They’re part of the Guild.”

He turned a corner into another darkened side street, hauling you with him. Finding an inset in the stone wall, a residential entrance by the look of it, he pushed you up against the side, caging you in, leaning ever so slightly to look around the edge of the cavity in which you now hid. You followed his action, twisting your neck at an uncomfortable angle. You could only see a sliver of the main road. 

Swarms of people walked by. You scanned the crowd for the usual telltale signs. Weapons, weather resistant gear, advanced technology. Nothing. You waited with bated breath. And then…

A duo. You weren’t familiar with their species. The crowd parted for them as they walked, scanning their surroundings with lethal precision. The air almost seemed to cool in their presence. You were instantly thankful that Din had been so hasty in your retreat. 

It took them a few moments to pass by the street where you were hiding, the breeze slowly seeming to return to its stuffy temperature. You didn’t dare move a muscle. Still, you kept your neck craned back towards the road.

Relief flooded through you when you finally lost sight of them. That was far too close. With Grogu here as well, you had to be so careful. There was too much to lose. There could be others as well, having tracked the same information as you and Din. You would need to be extremely cautious on your way back to the ship—

A gloved finger traced the raised tendon in your neck, featherlight, painfully slow. You stopped breathing.

It swept down and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You were frozen in place, unable to move, to talk, to focus on anything past the sensation of leather on the warmth of your skin.

It took all of your strength and bravery to twist your neck back to him. Farrik. The visor was mere inches from your face, looking down on you, so close, as if he wanted to breathe you in. This was a very real boundary between the two of you, one that had never been crossed. 

Until now. 

You weren’t going to fight a losing battle. You didn’t want to. In that moment, you knew you would have done anything he asked; you just wanted him to keep touching you.

He had always been so good at reading you.

His other hand came around your waist, hitching you up against him. A beskar-clad thigh moved to rest between your legs. You almost moaned.

Holy stars, you could feel him against you. Everywhere, all at once. It was too much. You let your head fall back against the stone. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“Din.” It was both a question and a plea.

He continued, thank the maker. The curve of your shoulder, the edge of your jaw, the flare of your hips. He mapped them all with painstaking patience, as if he had all the time in the world. You were practically melting under him, a breathless mess. 

He had you, entirely at his mercy. There was too much armour, too many layers separating you from him. You wanted to have him. Your brain was going fuzzy. If only—

The door slid open abruptly. Mando had you behind him in a millisecond, those torturous hands now resting ever so cautiously on the weapon at his belt.

A plump lady emerged and waved the two of you away, yelling something in a language you didn’t understand. He retreated slowly, keeping you behind him, palms exposed to show he meant no harm. Still, she shooed at the both of you.

Your senses were in overdrive. The sun was suddenly too bright, the sounds too loud. It was some sort of fight or flight reaction and you wondered, distantly, if the heat that pooled low in your core had something to do with the adrenaline. 

Din led you out of the side street, but not back the way you came. The main stretch was too risky now, so you’d have to take a roundabout way out of town. He didn’t say anything. Neither did you. But the tension was so thick, so ever-present, that it clouded your senses.

You were both silent the entire walk back to the Crest.

Thanks to the time spent with Castann, the sun was already beginning its descent as you made it back to the ship. The sky took on a gorgeous coral glow, offset against the azul blue of the natural pond in the clearing where you had landed. 

Din was a few steps behind you, having kept his distance the entire way back. As if he couldn’t stand to be near you. You didn’t blame him for not saying anything. You weren’t quite sure what to say either. This was one of the many reasons why the more sensible part of you had refused to get closer to him. You had wanted to avoid… this. 

The uncomfortableness, the embarrassment, the hesitation, the doubt. 

The Crest’s door opened with a hiss, the ramp descending to touch the vibrant grass. You were to first to walk up into the hull. Fine. If you were trapped in the ship together, you’d have no choice but to talk it out… Eventually.

But as you set the bag down on the bunk, the child crawling awkwardly out of it, the ramp door began closing. He hadn’t followed you in.

Only when it sealed shut did you allow your head to fall back, an exhausted sigh escaping, and tears stinging in your eyes. How silly. Why did you suddenly feel like crying?

Grogu cooed once, and you offered him a phoney smile, trying to blink back the tears before they fell. Your minds connected easily.

He was confused. He sensed the unease between yourself and Din. And he didn’t like it.

“I know little guy.” You sat on the edge of the cot with him, and he cozied up to your side. His thoughts flickered through memories of the three of you, like a photo album. You, smiling down at him, Din a looming presence just over your shoulder. Playing catch, you and him using the force to pass, and Din… the only one actually having to throw the ball. Being reunited in Mos Espa, the Mandalorian and yourself fighting side-by-side to protect him. You knew what the kid was getting at; you could feel it, clear as day, in his emotions.

“We’ll figure it out.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. His ears twitched.

“Are you tired?” You already knew the answer. His restless energy was palpable, probably from having been trapped in a stuffy side bag all day.

You shifted further onto the bed, pulling him with you. “Well, let’s at least make good use of our time then.” You crossed your legs, watching him fall gracelessly into sitting position. Placing your hands on your knees, you took several deep, grounding breaths. 

Sith meditation had never really worked for you. It had always been about channeling your anger, focusing negative emotions, and forging them into weapons. Back then, it had been doable, the anguish of losing your father, the fear of the place you had lived, the rage towards those who had kept you trapped fueling your survival. But once you had escaped, once there was no one else to hate, nothing else to be afraid of, you had to find a new way to connect to the force. 

It had taken some time to learn how to quiet your mind and tune in to your surroundings instead, but the swamp planet had been as good a place as any to learn. You supposed it could be considered Jedi meditation, you had never really been able to confirm it with anyone.

Grogu was very good at it now, having learned so much from his lessons with Skywalker. A selfish part of you wished you could have met him too, asked him for guidance and advice. You had stayed on the ship with Boba that day, thanks to Din labeling you as last resort backup. But a part of you also wondered if Luke would have been distrustful of you because of who you were, or who you had been.

The child’s mind was already quiet by the time you closed your eyes. The two of you drifted together, and you thankfully let the anxiety of the day’s events fall away.

You so easily lost track of time like this, and it took the reopening of the ship’s ramp doors to jar you from your meditative state. Judging from the way the sky had faded into a deeper orange, you assumed about an hour had passed. 

The Mandalorian came striding up the incline, jetpack and weapons belts dangling from his left hand. Grogu’s eyes opened, and he let out a shrill noise, already reaching for his father.

He approached you carefully, and it took all your effort to not break eye contact with him. Memories of earlier came flooding back. You sincerely hoped your face wasn’t flushed.

���The water is nice…” He reached in to pick up the child. “…If you want to wash up.”

“Okay.” Your voice was too high pitched. Stars, you had been meditating while, mere metres away, he had shed the armour and flight suit… and probably the helmet too. You had never seen him without either.

His voice broke your treacherous train of thought. “Are you okay?” It felt like he was continuously asking you that, at least once a day.

Grogu was now tucked under his arm, staring back at you with wide eyes. “Yeah.” You replied. It was the most you could muster.

“Okay.” He exhaled, almost in… relief? An then he was moving towards the ladder. “I’ll leave you to it then.” You waited for the door of the storage room to close before you allowed yourself to get up.

He was practically stumbling over himself. He didn’t know what to do. Wasn’t sure what to say. The whole thing was a mess.

He had brought Grogu up to the storage room in the back upper level of the ship, to give you some privacy while you bathed. But unfortunately, that left him alone with his own thoughts, which wasn’t exactly preferable. 

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

He had been sitting on the floor for about a half an hour now, the child having climbed up on his lap, eagerly accepting ear scratches. Every second of the past 30 minutes had been spent picking apart what had transpired in that market.

It had been entirely spontaneous, about as unexpected to him as he assumed it was to you. In a dangerous situation as well, it had been so foolish of him. But it was almost as if he had relinquished the controls to his own body, the damn thing was on autopilot, and it was just aching to get caught in your orbit. But when he had felt you relax in his grip, watched you bare yourself to him, heard your breathing change, he realized he had never let himself consider it for more than a moment. 

The fact that you might want him too.

Even now it seemed absurd; you hadn’t even seen his face. And the tension afterwards, the way you wouldn’t meet his gaze, he second-guessed everything he had seen, heard, and felt in that alley.

The child was watching him quizzically. “Keep your wizard mind-reading to yourself.” He let out a string of unintelligible sounds in response. Din sighed in resignation.

He couldn’t avoid you forever; he knew that. And the embarrassment of this, it would be nothing compared to the dejection he would feel if he let you drift apart from him. The avoidance of the subject had already caused an awkwardness between the two of you; it would only get worse the longer he left it. So, it was decided.

Grabbing the child, he rose up on stiff legs. He’d wait in the hull for you, under the guise of tinkering with some mechanics and, after gauging your mood, would approach the subject.

He was conveniently forgetting to consider the fact that his brain consistently short-circuited whenever you were near. And the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

Several minutes later, you strode up the ramp. He didn’t even get a chance to breathe.

“We need to talk.”

Oh. Shit. Plan failed. Retreat.

He was crouched in front of an electric wiring panel in the hull wall, and you hoisted yourself onto a crate beside him. Your hair was wet, and you were scrunching it in a damp shirt, but your eyes were on him. Wasn’t that what he had wanted? He was so worried that you wouldn’t look at him, but now that you were… all the things he had planned to say ebbed from his mind, dripping onto the floor of the Crest like the water you had wrung from your hair.

He carefully put the tool he was using down, looking back up at you. Your features were determined.

“About what?” God kriffing damn it. He knew exactly what. He should have factored in that you would look like that. He also should have factored in what he had felt in the alleyway. Because right now it was back with a vengeance, and all he could think about was what your flushed skin—washed clean by the water of the pool—would feel like under his bare palms. He squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them, refraining from curling his hands into fists.

“You know what.” You attention hadn’t wavered, still fixed solidly on him. No turning back now. He got up slowly, steadily. You tracked him the entire way, eyes travelling the length of his body, just once.

Farrik, he was trying so hard to behave. But he was getting such vivid flashbacks, images bouncing around in his mind. The curve of your neck, tipped back against the stone wall, your body tensing and relaxing. There were other fleeting pictures too, things he had only imagined. Your legs over his shoulders, the way you sinfully moaned his name. 

He was already too far gone. 

He advanced on you, watching the look in your eyes shift. Were you scared? Of him? He stopped about a foot away, pulling at the leather on each fingertip, loosening them enough to slide the gloves off, and stacking them on the crate to the left of you. “What, exactly, did you want to say?” 

His voice was not his own. It was too rough. 

You were silent for a long moment, and he became consciously aware of the rise and fall of your chest. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale Inhale. Exhale. He was teetering over the edge. Inhale— Enough.

He stepped into your space, and you gasped sharply, angling your head slightly to keep your eyes on the visor. Another roaringly quiet moment passed. He took the damp shirt from your hands—were they trembling?—and placed it to the side. You seemed to have already forgotten it.

He spoke your name once, softly. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

You opened your mouth to reply… and then shut it. You were just staring at him, blinking rapidly, hands fidgeting. You were nervous.

Fine. He’d have to prompt you then.

“Did you want to talk about this?” He brushed the backs of his fingers against the pulse in your neck. Your body reacted immediately. So he hadn’t imagined it. A thrill coursed through him, replacing the trepidation from earlier with something bolder. Still, you didn’t answer him.

He followed the same path, dragging his hand down your neck and across your clavicle. “Or was it this?” He had been drunk on the feel of you through the leather, but without the gloves it was torment. You were so soft,of course you would be. Your eyes had gone hooded; even under the soft light of the sunset, they were much darker. He never wanted you to stop looking at him like that.

“Maybe it was this.” He circled your waist with one arm, pulling you to the edge of the crate, until your body was flush with his. Your legs parted for him, and he stepped between them. You were pliant under his palms, your own hands coming to rest on his breastplate.

“I want to talk about this.” He dragged his thumb down your bottom lip, drinking in the way your eyes fell closed and you leaned back slightly, bringing him with you. He was enjoying this far too much. “Is that what you wanted to talk about too?”

His hands continued their ministrations, roaming and exploring, even as you remained quiet.

“Come on mesh’la.” He grasped you by the waist, putting just a sliver of distance between your two bodies. “What did you want to say?”

Finally, your eyes opened again. His knees almost buckled. Your pupils were blown wide. “What is this?” you asked. It was barely a whisper.

“What do you want it to be?” Because he would be anything for you, even if it meant not revealing the depth of his feelings. If you wanted this, only the physical aspect of it, he would give it to you willingly. Absolutely anything you wanted. All you had to do was say the words.

“I don’t…” You paused and he could see another emotion creep into your eyes. “I don’t know.” He tilted his head. In a low voice, you admitted: “I’ve never felt this before.”

Truthfully, he hadn’t either. He said as much. He hadn’t expected you to look so surprised. 

“You don’t need to figure it out right now.” Your features softened. “Take all the time you need.” He’d wait for you until the suns of Tatooine reversed their trajectory. But you didn’t need to know that yet.

You nodded and took a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated. He removed his hands from your waist, but before he could pull them away, you grasped his left, flipping it over, studying it.

“What?” he asked, a hint of humour apparent in his voice. 

“I’m just trying to imagine what the rest of you looks like.”

Something in him fractured. He covered it up quickly, jokingly quipping: “Are you imagining certain parts more than others?”

You dropped his hand, face flushing, and smacked him on the pauldron. He chuckled and extended the hand to you once more, to help you down from the crate. Taking it, you gracefully slid off. He held on for a moment too long.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Night had long since fallen by the time you made your way back into Bootlegger’s Market. It was still busy but, as expected, the curved junction in the road was quiet. Having been the scene of a hunter’s gunfight not too long ago, people were wise to stay away. 

This time, when Din went to open the door to the rare antiques storefront, it moved easily. The squeaky hinges however, instantly put a wrench in your plan.

“There goes the element of surprise.” You hissed from behind him. He palmed at the saber hilt. 

You followed him inside, closing the door noisily behind you. A cringeworthy entrance. 

The two of you crouched behind a shelf, trying to get a feel for your surroundings. The room was dark and unbelievably cluttered. Trinkets of all shapes and sizes littered the surface of every table, shelf, and bench. Some creature’s horns were mounted on the wall, still attached to a portion of skull. You fought a shudder. 

It would be near impossible to find the crystal in this mess. But if the door had been left unlocked, that meant that someone was here.

Or someone beat you to it. You shut down the thought before it could fester.

Din looked behind him, signalling you to go left around the edge of the shelf, while he would take the right. You nodded in understanding. A voice cut through the silence.

“There’s no need for all that, you know. He’s already gone.” You heard the hiss of a match being lit and seconds later; a flickering light illuminated the store. Behind it was the face of a gorgeous, rich green Twi’lek. You stood, Din walking back around the shelf to come to your side.

“You’re too late. He left early this morning.” She placed the candle down on the table beside her. “He said I’d only need to watch the shop.” 

You and Din said nothing. She huffed and put a hand on her hip. “Can you believe I’ve been held at gunpoint four times today? You hunters have no morals.”

You were taken aback by her frankness. Din spoke for you. “Where did he go?”

“Wow, finally someone gives me the chance to tell them without threatening to kill me.” She collapses onto a stool, waving her hand in dismissal.

“He took a transport to Canto Bight. There’s an auction in the casino there in 50 hours’ time.”

“Thank you.” Din offered. She let out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah, good luck. You’ll probably have to fight to the death just to get a landing space.”

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @aavengingbucky @prismaticpizza @blub-senpai

#star wars #the mandalorian #sw the mandalorian #din djarin #sw fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandolorian x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin blurb #din djarin angst #din djarin fluff #din djarin series #din djarin drabble #din djarin x female reader #din djarin headcanon #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x reader #my fic #jreadswrites #unexpected constellations

[watcher-servant]

Chronicles of ARC: Hub

Dreams were always weird. At times, it showed what you wanted, what you feared, and what you missed. However, now the only thing that was shown was memories showing familiar scenes of a school in the shape of a castle only for it to shift to look like a clock tower. From clothing resembling a student only to change for more formal and professional like a teachers. The strangest scene, however, was that of a woman with red hair looking at someone, and when she reached her hand out, the vision warped to a woman with fox looking sad and desperately reaching, but only to be met by darkness.

Jaune would wake up feeling that he was on the ground and was greeted with green grass. Letting out a groan, he would try to go back to sleep only to be met by something licking his face, forcing him back up. "Wait, what?!" he thought, getting up from the ground trying to see what had licked him and was hit with a headbutt by the culprit, a giant jackalope with golden fur. "If this is dream I wanna wake now," He said only for the jackalope to get close and started to let out a whine a bit, asking for affection.

"OK ok ok I'm up," Jaune said as he was petting the jackalope, which took it with no issue. "Geez wonder where you came from....and where I exactly am i?" He thought as he finally took notice of his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of a farm, its boundaries marked by a stone wall, standing in front of him was a 2 story house painted blue with a grey roof and off to the side was a red barn and what seems to be a gardening patch. "This looks...kinda familiar where have i....no wait that looks like my family and this area its like my workshop in the countryside....even has my garden patch" Jaune thought as he started to walk towards the barn and the jackalope following him.

Entering the barn, Jaune was shown that it holds a line of big stables as there were big piles of hay, even seeing big tubs for what he assumed was for either washing or drinking water. "Let's go ahead and get you in one, you big ball of fluff," He said, leading the jackalope to an open stable seeing a hay patch for bedding and 2 tubs one for water and the other for food. "Guess that answers my question, but let's go ahead and get you water" He says as the stigma on his arm started to glow a deep blue color as a ball of water forms in front of him and letting it drop splashing him. The jackalope only seemed to laugh a bit as it passed him and started to drink.

"I'll come back in a little bit ok" He thought, closing the stable door and starting to walk to the house. He would walk up to the door as he was hesitant to open it. What was gonna greet him? Should he open the door? Was it gonna be folks, maybe his 'sworn brother'? Shaking away the thoughts, he opened ti the door to be greeted with silence and a furnished living room, connected to a kitchen that has a dining table along with a fridge, a big oven/stove and above it cabinets with a microwave in the middle. "It looks just like home....back on remnant," He thought as his eyes took in sight, seeing the stairs leading up along with 3 closed doors. If he remembered right his room was upstairs and taking up, he would past closed doors, reaching his old room. Opening the door, he saw his childhood room, a big bed that had a double door closet, a desk where his computer would be, and a dresser that had a surprising sight of a photo album. Picking it up the first sight to greet him was his family. Going through the pages, he had pictures of his birth, his sisters, and even reaching the point where it had shown beacon. "Wait, when did I take pictures?" He questioned, seeing the ballroom of the first night, his team room, the emerald forrest, the forever fall, and picture that almost made him tear up. It was a group photo of teams RWBY and JNPR after they had destroyed the cafeteria in a massive food fight.

"That was a crazy day....I hope they're ok," Jaune thought, turning the page as it showed his time at the clock tower. His induction to the school, meeting Zelretch and Waver, the El-Melloi class, and the summoning of...'her' as a tear had fallen, hitting the photo. Wiping his face, Jaune closed the album as he decided to walk towards the bath. Coming on the mirror, he would see his reflection only to meet with a surprising sight instead of seeing himself in his early forties of medium length hair and a full beard. Jaune saw himself in his late 20s with short hair and feeling the back of his head, a short braid ponytail, and a thin beard on his chin. "OK, now I know I'm dreaming cause thus just doesn't make sense," he yells out as he also takes notice of his clothes, that being his explorer outfit, a black button-up, white vest, red tie, white pants with combat shoes and a short black coat with what seems to be shoulder padding on it.

Heading back to his room and opening the closet, Jaune would see a full closet of his clothes during his time at the clocktower. Changing into more casual clothes of cargo sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. Walking back downstairs, a slight rumble would shake the house, making him run outside and see an odd sight that of a sword stuck to the ground bearing the exact same handle of his crafted mystic code and a stone blade. He would walk towards the blade, questions running into his mind as he tried to make sense of everything that happened. The house, the barn, the garden, the PHOTO ALBUM, and seeing his mystic code in the ground in front of him. The answer slowly dawned on him as he backed up and fell to the ground. "Did....did I die?" He questions, looking up to see a familiar blue ball with 2 rings circling it. The reminder of his oath and what stole him away from remnant....the counter force.

(From the wiki and visual of a manifestation)

#rwby #jaune arc #crossover au #fate series #counter guardian ARC #the beginning #of some sort #juniper #possible series #more to come

[direwombat]

happy halloween y'all! unfortunately, i haven't been able to finish act 1 of the werewolf au just yet (got two scenes left to write), so instead of posting the whole thing today, i offer you the scene where syb is bitten and undergoes her first werewolf transformation.

tw for blood and body horror.

Graveyard shifts are a special kind of Hell. Sybille tries to avoid them whenever she can, but with Earl undergoing a medical procedure in Missoula and Staci needing at least one day off this week to sleep, she bit the bullet and agreed to spend nine hours drinking coffee, watching in agony as time marches forward far too slowly for her liking. 

She doesn’t deal with quiet or inactivity very well. Two things that the graveyard shift has an abundance of. With most of its citizens tucked away in their beds, the sleepy little county goes from slow, to fucking dead. 

At least Joey is there to keep her company, and Nancy’s willingness to entertain their shenanigans while Whitehorse is away makes the mind-numbing tedium bearable.

It’s a quarter-past eleven p.m. and Sybille is poised to fire the rubber band looped around her fingers. Halfway across the bullpen, Joey has a precariously stacked assortment of objects, ranging from case binders serving as the base to an empty water bottle teetering atop the short-end of a tissue box. The bottle’s cap is unscrewed and standing upright, nestled in against the plastic lip. 

“Okay,” Joey says, once she’s sure the whole arrangement won’t collapse on its own. “Two points for hitting the bottle. Five points for knocking it down.”

“And if I get the cap without knockin’ the bottle over?” Sybille asks. 

The grin on Joey’s face widens. “Then drinks at the Spread Eagle are on me.”

“You’re on.” 

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, and squinting her non-dominant eye shut, she takes aim. With the same gravity she approaches firing her own weapon, she takes a deep breath, and on the exhale, she releases the band. With a faint twang it rockets across the room, and a split second later the bottle cap is bouncing and rolling across the linoleum floors. 

“Good job, honey!” Nancy calls to her, not looking up from the magazine she’s flipping through. 

Joey's grin falters as Sybille meets it with her own smug one. “Alright hotshot,” she says. “Double or nothing. Bet you can’t do that from all the way across the room.” 

“You want my drink order before or after we get to the bar?” Sybille pulls another rubber band from the ball on her desk and rises to stand on the far side of the bullpen. “I’ll give ya a hint,” she says, hooking the band around her thumb. “Top shelf’s got a bottle of bourbon from Louisiana.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey waves her hand dismissively and she retrieves the bottle cap from the floor. “Put your money where your mouth is, New Orleans.” 

But the second Joey gets her tower set up on the opposite end of the room, the phone on Nancy’s desk rings, causing the two deputies to freeze. 

“Hope County Sheriff's Department,” Nancy chirps, sounding far too awake for so late in the evening. “How can we be of assistance?” 

Both Sybille and Joey breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Non-emergency line. And then they’re locking eyes, their previous game forgotten in favor of a lightning round of rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to go out and who gets to sit around with their thumbs up their ass. Joey wins -- “Best two-outta-three?” -- and she pumps her fist into the air victoriously. 

But then Nancy says, “Deputy La Roux? There’s a call for you on line one.”

Joey’s jaw drops. “What!?”

Sybille frowns and her brow furrows and she hesitantly strides back towards her desk. Who would be calling the Sheriff’s Department to ask for her specifically rather than calling her directly? Falling into her chair, she picks up her phone. “Deputy La Roux speaking.”

At first all she hears is the caller’s rough and ragged panting, as if they’re out of breath. “Deputy,” comes the voice of Jacob seed and Ah, right. She did spitefully tell him to call the non-emergency line if he thought of any more information. After hearing nothing for a week and with the case being closed, she figured she wouldn’t hear from him. “You remember when you said to call in case anything came up?”

“She sits up a little straighter in her chair and snatches a pen from her cup holder. “Yeah,” she answers, flipping to a clean page in her notepad. “What’s goin’ on?”

Joey shoots her a questioning look, one Sybille waves away. 

“One of my workers didn’t show up for the final check-in. Thought he just left early, but no one’s been able to get a hold of him. Then we thought he maybe wandered into the woods so we rounded up a search party and…” he trails off. That ragged breathing returns, along with a barely audible, “Christ.”

She knows Jacob’s kind. Knows that people like them aren’t easily rattled. Whatever he and his search party found must be the stuff of nightmares. “Calm down,” she says firmly. “Just focus on my voice. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know but…well, he’s stew meat now.”

“Shit.” She drags her hand down her face. “Any evidence of wolves nearby?” 

Joey’s eyes go wide. 

“Yeah,” Jacob says. “Tracks are old, though. The wolf that did this looks long gone by now.”

“Goddammit,” she hisses, and jots down St. Francis - Wolf Attack? in her notes. “Alright, sit tight. I’m on my way up.”

“Much appreciated, Deputy,” he sighs. “Front gate’ll be open for ya.” And with that, he hangs up. 

Slamming the phone back into its cradle, Sybille stands up and grabs her jacket. 

“What’s going on?” Joey asks. 

“‘Nother wolf attack,” she says, tugging her coat on. “Same area as the last one.”

“Shit,” Joey breathes. “You want me to come with you?”

Sybille shakes her head and picks up a set of keys to the cruisers. “Naw, I’ll be fine.” Then she calls over to Nancy. “Hey Nance? Do me a favor and send a unit of EMTs to the Veterans Center.” 

“Ten-four, Deputy,” Nancy says, giving her a salute as she shoves her way out the station’s doors. 

Between the minimal traffic this late at night and the siren blaring, she makes it up into the Whitetails and pulls up to the old Veterans Center in record time. True to his word, Jacob seems to have left the wrought iron gates wide open, but curiously, it doesn’t look like anyone’s home. There isn’t a single light on in the large, imposing building, nor does she see any bobbing flashlights from the search party. 

The only thing illuminating her way is the moon, hanging full and bright in a partly cloudy sky.

She exits her vehicle and rolls her eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” she mutters to herself. “Bet he went after it like a fuckin’ fool.” With a shake of her head, she circles around and pops open the trunk to retrieve a rifle and ammo. She mounts a tactical flashlight to the barrel, and, slamming the trunk shut, begins to creep towards the building. 

“Mister Seed!” she calls. “Mister Seed, y’out there?” Gun raised, she cautiously passes between the gates and steps into the courtyard. The hell’re those EMTs? she wonders. “Mister Seed!” she tries again, “The Sheriff’s Department is here!”

Still nothing. 

The wind goes still and the world goes deafeningly quiet. 

The hair on the back of her neck stands on end.

Something’s wrong. 

A low growl echoes around her, bouncing off the brick and mortar. She feels the vibrations of it deep in her bones and her blood thrums through her veins. The ground beneath her shakes and emerging from the building itself, stalks a massive wolf. It’s larger than any wolf she’s ever seen. Larger than the ones she’s come across while out hunting with Eli. Larger even than the one she delivered to Dr. Lindsey.

Much, much larger. 

Its lips are pulled tight, bearing its teeth in a ferocious snarl. A number of scars marr its face, crawling down to its chest and forelegs where the rust-colored fur grows in patches. Piercing  blue eyes lock on her. Its muscles are coiled tight, poised for the attack, and just waiting for her to turn and run. 

Her mouth goes dry and her heart hammers in her chest, a frantic animal throwing itself against her ribcage trying to break free. “Okay,” she says, her voice trembling. She swallows thickly, and takes an instinctive half-step back. “I see ya, Big Bad, I see ya.” Steeling herself, she lifts her rifle and looks down the barrel at the hulking beast. “I ain’t wanna hurt’cha, but if you keep comin’ towards me like that, I will. Now get!”

But rather than startling and running at her shout, the wolf snarls and gnashes its teeth. The ground shakes as prowls closer, its lumbering steps leaving massive impressions of its paws in the soft dirt. A long tongue lolls out of its mouth, and it loudly licks its chops. 

“I said GET!” and she fires her rifle. The bullet rips into the fur and flesh of its shoulder -- she watches the blood bubble and ooze to the surface, matting the fur around it. But the wolf doesn’t even flinch. Her heart and stomach both drop all the way to the ground, and it takes every ounce of self control she has not to piss herself. 

“Shit,” she breathes.

All she did was make it angry. 

The single act of provocation is all it takes. The wolf lunges. It races towards her, massive claws and sharp teeth closing in with the blink of an eye. 

Sybille runs. 

She hears Eli’s voice in the back of her head warning her against her very actions. “Never turn your back on a predator,” was one of the first things he’d told her when he took her out hunting for the first time. “Make noises. Scream. Throw rocks. But never turn your back. The second they realize you’re not fully paying attention to them -- the second they see an opportunity -- they strike. And if they knock you down…?”

A sudden force strikes her, pushing her forward. She cries out as she stumbles. Sharp claws tear into the fabric of her uniform and draw long, deep scratches down the expanse of her back. The skin prickles before exploding into a raging inferno of heat and pain, and she feels the blood pulsing out in time with her racing pulse. The wind is knocked from her lungs in a loud oof! as she falls face first to the ground. She lets her rifle go in a futile attempt to catch herself with her hands. The gun flies over the dirt and pine needles before sliding to a stop well beyond her reach. Her chin knocks against the ground and her teeth rattle in her skull on impact. 

A heavy weight settles on her back, pinning her down. Breath -- hot, heavy, and wet -- fans over the back of her neck and thick globs of saliva drip onto her head  and shoulders. She can barely breathe herself, her lungs compressing under the immense pressure. 

“If they knock you down, you’re fucked.”

“No, no, no!” she sobs, clawing at the ground, trying to wrench herself free and crawl towards her gun. But then there’s a loud snuffling right by her ear, and goes tense when the beast’s cold, wet nose brushes against her face. Every muscle in her body locks, seizing, as her fight and flight instincts give way to freeze. Another breath washes over her and a choked whine pushes out of her throat, thin and reedy, when its tongue drags over where her pulse thunders in her neck. 

“No, no, please!” For the first time  in years, she begins to cry. She begins to beg. She begins to pray. “Oh, God…God, no…please!”

But God isn’t listening. He never has. Not to her anyway. 

Sharp teeth sink into the soft flesh of her shoulder like she’s made of butter and she howls in pain. It’s enough to shock her system, her fight instinct returning, but all she can do is claw at the ground and kick her legs feebly while the monster keeps her pinned down. Deeper and deeper, the teeth sink in until they graze bone, but instead of continuing -- instead of shattering it and ripping out a pound of flesh, the wolf releases her and the weight  on her back disappears. 

Her trembling hand flies to her neck, slamming down to apply pressure to the pulsing wounds. Blood gushes between her fingers, more and more of it pumping out with every frantic beat of her heart. Her breath comes out in short and ragged gasps. Her head feels light, her vision swimming, and as she rolls onto her back, she stares up at the wolf looming over her. Its lips are stained red with her blood, its tongue and teeth tinged pink as it mixes with its saliva. Its tongue falls out of its mouth again, running over its chops, savoring the taste of her before it lowers its head once again. 

Her eyes squeeze shut, anticipating the excruciating pain of having her throat ripped out. But instead of finishing the job, it lets out a soft, almost apologetic whine. With a bizarre amount of tenderness, it drags its tongue over where it bit her, laving at and nursing the wounds before pulling away and running off into the woods. 

It leaves her there, writhing on the ground and gasping in pain. No matter how hard she tries to slow her breathing, to reign in the frantic beating in her chest, she can’t quite seem to calm herself down. Sweat beads at her brow, and a frigid chill rolls through her, making her stomach clench and her fingertips go numb. She shivers and convulses. Her tongue feels thick and heavy, several sizes too large for her mouth. 

She has just enough wherewithal to know that she’s going into shock. 

Just as darkness begins creeping in at the edges of her vision, the moon, which had been hidden behind cloud cover, emerges, bathing her in silver light. A surge of energy washes over her and she gasps, the cool night air finally filling her lungs. Her vision sharpens, and somehow, beyond the thick, metallic stench of her own blood, she can make out the scent of pine and decaying leaves. The skin surrounding the bite prickles and she feels the tight, burning sensation of the flesh miraculously knitting itself back together. 

What the Hell?

Her jaw suddenly begins to ache and there’s a painful pressure pushing against her teeth. Blood fills her mouth and she sputters, rolling onto her belly and lifting herself onto trembling hands and knees. She coughs and blood erupts from her mouth. It splashes to the ground, thick and red, and she spits out a mouthful of her own teeth with it. She screams again -- first in terror and then in agony. Her back curls, the bones of her upper spine growing and pushing against the underside of her skin so hard that she’s convinced that they’re going to break through. 

She claws at the dirt, not stopping when her fingers snap and her nails rip free of their beds. And then her chest is on the ground, the shifting of her bone forcing her arms to pop free of their sockets. The ragged scream torn from her lungs is muffled by the mouthful of dirt, blood, and teeth that she swallows. Her back legs follow as her hips feel like they’re being crushed and forced into a new shape. 

She’s always considered her pain tolerance to be high. She’s been stabbed, shot, beaten, burned, and blown up, and only some of that happened while she was in the army. The pain she’s experiencing doesn’t come anywhere near comparable. 

Her own body is ripping itself apart. 

It’s excruciating. 

Her sobbing gasps quiet into hiccuping whimpers, until they can’t be heard over the sickening cracks of her bones snapping and reforming. All she wants is to give in. Let the pain wash over her and drown in it until she can’t feel anything anymore. 

No. We ain’t dyin’ here. Not ‘til we get the bastard who did this to us.

The words come to her the same way they did when she was baking under the Afghanistan sun after the IED strike over a year ago. She’d been bleeding out on the ground then too, buried underneath the weight of a corpse. She should have died then, but something kept her going. Something gave her the strength to shove the body off her, to hold her guts in place, and to stumble through the carnage and rubble until she found help. 

If there was one thing her daddy taught her -- God damn his soul -- it was how to keep fighting. 

Sybille La Roux is a survivor. 

It’s all she’s ever known. 

You’re almost there, something murmurs in the back of her mind. She doesn’t know where it comes from, but it speaks to her in her own voice. It’s almost over.

She tries to speak, but the attempted, “Who are you?” never makes it past the vibrations of her vocal chords. The sounds that come from her mouth are more the feral cry of a confused and frightened animal rather than words. Her palette is thinner; her tongue is long and unwieldy, falling out of her mouth. 

She no longer has lips with which to speak.

What’s happening to me?

Don’t worry about that right now, the voice answers. Just focus. 

So she does. She focuses on the taste of blood in her mouth. On the raw ache in her throat as she screams and screams and screams.

And then suddenly the pain is gone. She’s no longer doubled over on her hands and knees, but rather standing at full height on four massive paws. Her head lifts and the tail end of her cries become a deep, bellowing howl that rings out into the night. The wind rustles through the trees and while there are a number of scents carried on it -- deer, rabbit, skunks and the like -- there’s one that stands out amongst the rest. Damp earth and pine, wood smoke and musk, and something faintly metallic that isn’t part of the natural world. 

It’s familiar, although she has no idea where she’s smelled it before. 

That’s him, the voice that both is and isn’t her says. That’s the scent of the one who did this to us.

Her lips pull tight over her teeth and her ears slick back. She takes a few tentative steps forward on her new limbs. Her careful trot is quick to turn into a full run, following the direction of the scent. Powerful limbs push against the soft dirt, leaving deep impressions of paw prints in her wake. The wind whips through her fur, and the entire world is sharp and focused as she hones in on that earthy, musky scent. 

She’s fast. She’s strong. She’s free.  

She’s clear.

And she’s fucking pissed.

Bastard drew first blood, and this time both she and the voice are speaking as one. I say we return the favor.

__________

taglist: @inafieldofdaisies, @jillvalentinesday, @ladyofedens-blog, @strafethesesinners, @strangefable, @cassietrn

#wip whenever #wip: the horror and the wild #anyway. fucked up that nanowrimo starts tomorrow 😬

[whispersinthedawn]

House of Memories

“I wouldn't pick that if I were you,” a beloved voice commented.

Apollo’s heart faltered.

Stopped.

The voice echoed through his brain like a gong clanging right next to his ear.

He couldn’t hear anything but the hoarse tones quavering with apprehension, couldn’t focus on anything but the hint of steel as she bulldozed through all obstacles.

He’d heard this voice laugh, cry, choke, scream, whisper. He’d fallen asleep to this voice and woken up to this voice humming in his ear.

He’d never heard this voice in his life.  

Simultaneously shocked, elated, and horrified, Apollo whirled around.

Discombobulation threatened to overwhelm him.

What should have been a messy braid instead lay neatly pinned in place atop the young woman’s head.

The creases beneath her eyes from squinting at his phone and the laughter lines he’d delighted in etching across her skin had been wiped away by the brush of youth.

Instead of an overlarge sweatshirt (his, his, he’d begun wearing sweatshirts just so he could dress her in them and nothing else) and a pair of jeans faded from multiple washes, she wore a flower-print top expertly hand-stitched to her frame and a pair of cotton trousers so painfully new they still smelt of dye.

Her breasts should have been larger, his mind insisted. Her head should have come up beyond his collarbone, her hips should have been wider, and her body faintly translucent.

His vision flickered.

A stranger stared back at him with vibrant green eyes. “Leukaemia, you know,” she prompted.

With a jerk of his head, Apollo glanced back at the book in his hand. The white flower with its blood-drenched six petals looked back at him from the cover. The words Lost in your memory, emblazoned on the jacket in golden, spidery letter front, seemed to mock him.

“Really?” Apollo asked with a dry throat. “Must be contagious, the way it’s going around.”

“Love Story,” the woman said knowledgeably.

Nausea burbled up in his stomach – like the effervescent froth the one time he’d accidentally swallowed a bath bomb. (There was a reason Apollo entertained nothing but the strictest of hatreds for all soaps with aspirations towards appearing edible.)

“Eric Segal. Love Story,” the woman elaborated at Apollo’s continued silence. “Then there’s A Walk to Remember and the whole Nicholas Sparks epidemic. And suddenly, one of the leads dying after a suitably photogenic event is romantic.”

Death was neither pleasant nor attractive. The lead dying was …

Cracking, splintering, screaming Earth. Waters towering over an island that should never drown.

A determined face smiling at him for the last time before …

A tiny hand on his arm, the voice of knowledge filtering through Apollo’s panic, “If you go there, she'll burn.”

The horrified incomprehension as ichor lit up the body he'd traced with his hands and lips just that morning. The blank refusal to acknowledge the scene before his eyes as his wife glowed and glowed and failed to ascend.

As she flickered, and tottered, and collapsed, and …

Water.

Just … water.

Everywhere.

“That’s horrible,” Apollo muttered, unsure whether he was responding to the woman he’d one day marry and watch die or to the part of himself that sincerely believed he’d already lived through it.

The young woman made a face as she looked at the book in his hand. “I suppose it’s something about catharsis,” she allowed ungraciously. “Reading someone else undergo all the terror and pain of watching a loved one fade away, immersing yourself into the narrative until you’re shedding tears and – then to realise it didn't happen to you after all.”

“A purging of the emotions,” Apollo croaked, even though seeing the future play out as a particularly tragic play had never prepared him for the pain.

Sea green eyes gazed into his, a strange anticipation in them that faded the longer he remained silent.

She turned back to the shelf, a manic sort of energy filling her limbs as she reordered the books according to some criteria known only to herself.

“Of course,” she mocked, “only certain kinds of cancer are romantic. You get testicular cancer, and Disney will crop you off the frame altogether.”

“Princess Diaries?” Apollo guessed, inordinately thrilled to know this fact.

(Inordinately thrilled to focus on something, anything, other the puddle of water he couldn’t protect her from becoming.

He didn’t even know if he wanted to protect her.)

“Wonderful movies, but not the most faithful of renditions, you know?” she confided.

Apollo grinned back conspiratorially, even though he'd never seen any Princess Diaries. It seemed the type of thing one of his children would wax poetic over until he gave in and watched it just to know what all the fuss was about, but he'd yet to undergo that fate.

‘Anne Hathaway looked pretty. And the chemistry with Chris Pine,' Apollo’s foresight addled manifestation reminisced nostalgically.

“So, what would you recommend if not the book being launched today?” Apollo teased.

(The book launch she’d come to attend, for a book whose ending she already knew, while knowing exactly where Apollo stood like she’d put bugs on his clothes.)

She rocked on her heels while perusing the shelves. She raised a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, only to lower it in embarrassment as her fingers brushed against a hairpin.

“Well, not that one – it’s just too much confusing prose that glorifies stalking your person of interest,” she murmured while pointing at a book with a maroon cover.

Apollo chuckled.

She glanced at him shyly before turning back to a book with the word “Midnight” in its name and purple highlights against the cityscape forming the front cover.

“That one is supernatural too, but the main lead is just too … broody. And stuck in his neuroses. And also – it’s not her responsibility to be some breath of fresh air fixing up his life. Like, all he needed was love and hers was just pure enough while everyone else was just a one-night stand.”

By the end, her voice had risen in agitation.

“You don’t like love fixing people or broody leads?” Apollo inquired, uncertain why precisely her opinions on romance novels was important to him, but sure that it was.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not … love can help,” she tried to explain. “But it’s not enough. Knowing someone loves you is good – but it can’t be everything.”

“It can be the foundation you build your life on,” Apollo pointed out.

“It shouldn’t be everything,” she insisted. “Because that just reduces you to a caricature of a person who only exists as long as someone loves you. You can’t define yourself by the person you’re in love with, because one day they’re going to be gone and you’re going to be left alone, and that day …” she choked off.   

“That day,” Apollo told her softly, “the memory of the love would still remain. And it would still be the foundation, still be a bracing strut, still be the frame you build your life around. And one day, you’ll find a new post to twine around, and that would still be okay.”

She stared at him, eyes wide with a confused hurt.

Apollo turned back to the shelf, trying to resist the shame curling around his gut. He’d reassured her – that she’d taken it as assurance that she was so insignificant that even the pain of parting wouldn’t be enough to stop him from enjoying the present was … not his problem.

‘Don’t,’ Other Apollo warned in a strained voice.

‘Don’t what?’ Apollo mocked, the despair growing ever stronger at this proof of his misstep.

But the woman he’d one day like enough to sign a few useless papers, that would hopefully not gain Hera’s attention, with was stronger. She rallied, even if the bright smile on her face seemed all too fragile to Apollo.

“You’ll like the next one then. It’s got immortal mummies in it,” she told him.

Apollo looked at the name of the author and experienced nothing but awkward incredulity. “Bram Stoker?”

“There’s a curse too,” she pointed out gleefully.

Was this a hint at his own tendency to curse people? Because she should really resist being quite this ecstatic while pointing out his flaws. What if he took it badly?

“It doesn’t seem like a romance,” he intoned dryly.

The woman stuck out her lower lip in a pout that sent a frisson of heat down Apollo’s abdomen. “Romance is just another word for fantasies dreamt by someone who’s never actually experienced love,” she told him. “If it were real, there would be a lot more blood, emotional gore, indifference, missed opportunities, and in case we forget – boredom.”

“The tragedy of happily ever-after,” Apollo concurred, “every day is the same. No highs and no lows with any stakes worth risking everything for.”

The woman blinked owlishly at him before breathing out in the tones of one arriving at a surprising realisation, “Honestly? That sounds really nice. I’d love to lead a perfectly banal life with zero danger, where every day is just … a house with a family that won’t ever leave.”

I can’t give you that.

He didn’t say it. He’d do his best to pretend, wouldn’t he? He’d create a mould of what she wanted and pour himself into it. He’d cut off the pieces that failed to fit, all in a bid to make her happy.

Because he’d fall so desperately for her, for the him she made him want to be, that he’d kill himself for her.

***

Read on AO3

#perpollo #pjo #fanfiction #percy x apollo #fem percy #percy jackson #apollo #apollo x percy #books #time travel #Eric Segal's love story #walk to remember #princess diaries #Apollo's manifestation has travelled back in time but he doesn't know it #Comedy of misunderstandings

[barilleon]

My Emergent Narrative at Sandrock

Lately I've been playing My Time at Sandrock, a life sim where you are a builder who moves into a desert town and uses your construction skills to better the lives of its inhabitants. You mine ore, chop wood, build things, make friends, fall in love. It also has a lot of narrative content. Maybe even more than a Rune Factory game. And with so many sidequests, things are bound to clash into each other.

The main quest concerns a bandit named Logan, whose face is plastered on wanted posters all over town from the day you arrive. Once a beloved member of the Sandrock community, Logan now terrorizes the town in a series of very weird and flashy moves: hijacking a train, kidnapping the church minister, and blowing up the water tower. As the main character, it's your job to help the sheriff stop him. On the (in-game) one year anniversary of my arrival in Sandrock, I tried that. And something amazing happened.

Warning: Major Sandrock spoilers under the cut!

To set the scene: I'm dating the barkeep, Owen. He's a sweet guy, not too bad in a fight, and his cooking is unbeatable. He's also the town storyteller, and every Saturday night folks in Sandrock gather at the Blue Moon Saloon to hear him tell one. A few nights ago, he asked me if I would participate. Instead of storytime, he wanted to do a play he wrote. It was a weird play, but I'm a supportive boyfriend so I learned my lines and set the date for the performance: my one-year anniversary of being in Sandrock.

That morning, I pursued the main quest, chasing a lead on Logan across the desert. I fell off a cliff, a ledge so steep that the companions who were with me didn't believe I could survive. They returned to town to spread the news: Leon the Builder was dead.

But I wasn't. I miraculously survived, and had fallen into the bandits' hideout. It's here I learn, from Logan himself, that things are not as they seem: he and his crew are working to expose an international spy and saboteur in Sandrock. They need me and my expert building abilities for their next plot. And everyone in Sandrock is a suspect.

I agreed to help, and they warned me: trust no one, tell no one.

With my worldview completely warped, I return to town. Everyone celebrates because I'm not dead. But with the knowledge that I now have, it's difficult for me to stay optimistic. Which one of these characters is the spy? It could be any one of them.

I check my quest log and realize that the day isn't over. At 6pm tonight, I have to perform in my boyfriend's play. I head over to the Saloon to prepare for the part. We run lines a few times, but I have to admit: my heart's not in it. Will the spy be in the audience? Or worse: could he be on stage with me?

We come out on stage, and we perform pretty well! Things are going great. The audience loves it. But then Owen starts changing the dialogue, speaking to me not as my character but as me. It's then that Owen asks me to marry him.

Reader, in any other universe I would have said yes then and there. That Owen (or the game logic) managed to time this event on the anniversary of my arrival in Sandrock is meaningful enough-just like a real proposal! But the fact that this happened on the same day I was told I couldn't trust anyone--it was too much for my builder to bear.

I chose the "run away" option, which promptly ended the cutscene. I haven't spoken to Owen since, and I don't think I will until this business is done. I'm pretty convinced that Owen isn't the spy, but there's too much going on for me right now. I can't think about marriage. And I can't even tell Owen about it, because the bandits swore me to secrecy. And if he knew the truth - that I was collaborating with public enemy number one - would he forgive me? I hate keeping secrets from a partner.

I bet that normally that event is really sweet, but Sandrock really taught me a lesson in how important timing is. Sure, the main story beats will always be the same, but the order in which they're experienced can seriously change the context of the story.

I'm sorry, Owen. I know you deserve answers. But right now I've got none to give. But come hell or heartbreak, I'm gonna save Sandrock.

#my time at sandrock

[xserenemeadowsx]

Unconditional Love (Chapter 7)

By xSereneMeadowsx

Link for Chapter 6: https://www.tumblr.com/xserenemeadowsx/723682924934873088/unconditional-love-chapter-6?source=share

A/N: Thank you everyone for the likes and follows! I really appreciate it! :) My goal is to try and update one chapter each week. I did make this chapter a little longer. I hope all of you enjoy it!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7

The sun was nearing dusk as the princess, mushroom man, and the two plumbers reached the kingdom of the Kongs. Jungle Kingdom was at last in front of them. They were a bit tired from the day’s adventures, but relieved that they all finally made it to their destination. Princess Peach slowed her Yoshi down and got off it. The other three followed suit. They all had their Yoshies wait by the entrance and fed them some of the other fruit brought along with them.

Peach walked up to the large golden doors and grabbed the knocker. She knocked twice and everyone waited for someone to open the doors. The doors were thrown open with such force that Luigi jumped back terrified. A Kong with blond hair roared at them.

“De ja vu,” Mario said. He remembered when he, Peach, and Toad were all greeted this way not too long ago.

“Greetings, we need to speak with the king,” Peach spoke as she stared up at the Kong who towered over her and everyone else.

The Kong huffed and allowed everyone to enter, “Alright, everyone get in the kart.”

Everyone got into the kart. It was a tight squeeze for Mario, Luigi, and Peach. Toad took the seat that was propped out in the back. Again, de ja vu came to Mario’s thoughts about the seating arrangement with the addition of Luigi this time.

The blond Kong started driving the kart in a fast manner that everyone had to hold onto the railings in the kart tightly. Luigi yelped and had an iron grip on the railings. He was not used to this kind of thing.

“We’ll be out of here soon enough,” Mario said, trying to comfort his brother.

Luigi smiled at Mario.

The kart swerved as it followed the curves of the wooden road still staying on the tracks. It felt like a roller coaster. Toad was excited as he was lifted out of his seat when the kart would go up and down on the hills. Eventually, the wooded track ended, and the kart flew off it. The kart then had a paraglider come out of it and they soared above the open water below them. They then landed in an opening that was the entrance to the Kong throne room.

Once more, familiarity came up for Mario, Peach, and Toad with Luigi now part of the scene. They all exited the kart and the blond Kong drove out in a hurry. The throne room was spacious and on either side of the four friends, Kongs dressed up in armor were lined up. At the end of the throne room sat the king of the Kongs. He had a long white beard, and he eyed the four people walking up to his throne.

“King Cranky Kong,” Peach said as she did a curtsy. “It is wonderful to see you again.”

“Princess Peach. We meet again. I take it you’re here because you want my army?” the king spoke in a knowing tone.

“Yes, your majesty. Bowser has escaped his prison and he has taken a new friend of ours. We believe he is also plotting to find another SuperStar to destroy the Mushroom Kingdom. Possibly other kingdoms as well,” Peach explained.

“That seems to be a likely story. Well…seeing as how Mario proved his strength last time to my son, we could give you a hand again.”

“That would be most appreciated. Thank you!”

The king wagged his finger, “Before we do though, I have one request from you.”

“Uh okay. Sure. What is your request?”

Cranky stroked his beard, “I want to see Mario’s brother in action against my son.”

Luigi became nervous. He hadn’t known the king or his son for very long and saw his son’s strength. He had to admit the next king in line was very strong. “I uh…”

“Prove your strength and we’ll help you. That is my request,” Cranky said.

“Yes, your highness. I need a moment to speak with Luigi please,” Peach responded. She turned around and walked up to Luigi.

“I’m still learning how to use the power ups here and everything. I don’t know…” Luigi spoke sadly.

“You can do this,” Peach said as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Mario beat him, and I saw you in action beating Bowser before. You can take down Donkey.”

“Peach is right. You got this Lu,” Mario said. “We’ll be watching you and cheering you on.”

Toad gave Luigi a thumbs up, agreeing with Peach and Mario.

“Thanks everyone. Let’s a go,” Luigi said as he puffed up his chest.

The princess turned back around to face the king, “Okay, we will follow your request. Will you be providing power ups like last time?”

“Excellent and yes, power ups will be in the arena,” Cranky replied.

“Great!” Peach said smiling.

Everyone then began leaving the throne room. Cranky had his subordinates get everything set up in the arena. Luigi was led into a waiting area just outside of the arena. Mario, Peach, and Toad were all escorted to the arena and had seats by the king. The arena was huge and could fill the entirety of the Jungle Kingdom.

Luigi waited for the iron bars in front of him to go up and let him outside. He was still nervous, but he had to do this. He wanted to get Y/N back from Bowser as much as everyone else did. Plus, they did have to ensure that Bowser could not get another SuperStar.

‘We can do this. Relax and just use your instinct,’ Luigi mentally spoke to himself.

Just then, the iron bars lifted, and Luigi walked outside. He was walking along a pathway of square bricks hanging in the air. He looked up and could see all the seats filled. He then found his brother and friends. They all waved at him, and he smiled, waving back at them. The iron bars on the other side of the pathway lifted and out came Donkey, son of Cranky Kong.

Donkey ran on all fours before leaping into the air and landing just a few feet away from Luigi. The crowd cheered in excitement for the next king in line. Donkey looked up around him and smiled, waving at all his fans.

“Yeah! I’m DK! I’m Donkey Kong!” he exclaimed as he started dancing around and flexing his muscles.

Luigi felt a little intimidated but did his best to calm himself down.

“So, I get to fight the brother now huh? This’ll be fun,” Donkey smirked.

“Uh, hehehe…yep! Sure, will be!” Luigi chuckled and put his hand behind his neck, rubbing it out of nervousness.

“Let’s get this fight going! I’m pumped! Are you all ready?!” Donkey exclaimed to the crowd.

The crowd roared in response, stomping their feet, and clapping their hands.

“Alright. Let the battle begin!” Cranky said.

A bell was rung, and Donkey immediately pounced onto Luigi. The plumber in green was knocked down and tried to get the Kong off him. The Kong was smacking Luigi across the face and then got up and kicked him. Luigi was kicked back a few feet away from Donkey.

‘Ouch. C’mon Luigi. Look for the power ups and avoid the blue mushrooms.’ Luigi had remembered Mario telling him about his fight with Donkey and how he ended up eating the blue mushroom. Also, having witnessed it shrink Bowser, he definitely wanted to avoid it.

Luigi jumped up to his feet and saw another row of a square brick pathway above him. He jumped up to it and then saw a yellow box with a white question mark. Donkey followed and jumped at the other end of the pathway. Luigi punched the yellow box and out came a brown leaf. Luigi jumped to grab the leaf before it could be carried out of reach.

The leaf was crushed in Luigi’s hands, and he was now suited in a Tanooki outfit. To him, it looked like a racoon suit. He had remembered seeing Mario wear this before. He knew he needed to make himself fly by spinning the tail.

“Ah. The raccoon suit returns,” Donkey said.

“Yep! Here we go!” Luigi exclaimed as he worked on getting the tail spinning. He was then lifted in the air. He had a difficult time getting the suit to fly how he needed it to, and he ended up flying downward.

“Hey! Where are you going pal? Don’t tell me you’re giving up so soon!” Donkey taunted.

Luigi was trying to get the suit to stop flying downwards and then he heard his brother.

“Lu! Relax your body and the suit will work with you!” Mario shouted.

Luigi followed what his brother said and relaxed his body. The suit slowed down, and the tail did a gentle spin. He was then able to control the suit to have him fly upwards back to Donkey.

“Now, I’m getting the hang of this!” Luigi said happily.

“Welcome back. Now, time to kick your butt!” Donkey said as he ran toward Luigi.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N, having let her mind wander to happier times for a while, began to feel drowsy. She stared at the metal bars in front of her. Would she ever not see bars? She couldn’t take this prisoner role anymore. She really hoped Mario and the others would be here soon. She wanted to be out in the open air and be around friends who treated her kindly. Her wrists were hurting from the handcuffs. She could tell that her skin was getting irritated as well.

She sighed, annoyed about her wrists being chained together. Couldn’t they remove the chains? It’s not like she would be able to easily escape out of this cell anyway. She didn’t have magic and power ups weren’t nearby either. She shook her head. She decided to try and get into as comfortable of a position as possible to try to sleep. She wanted to try sleeping on one of her sides, facing the stone wall.

Her lids grew heavier and soon, sleep took over and she was brought into dreamland.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bowser had exited his music room and was now in a meeting room. He was sitting at a large table, discussing plans with his Koopas on how to go about finding another SuperStar. Yes, he had not forgotten that detail. As important as it was to make a song fitting for his Peaches, he still wanted to get the SuperStar and use it to make himself all powerful. Ensuring that the star would not be ripped from his grasp once again, he decided that he would keep the star near himself. He would use it if it became necessary to sooner rather than later.

“Since the Penguin Kingdom is destroyed, we could try searching for another SuperStar at the Yoshi Kingdom or even the Jungle Kingdom,” one of the Koopas suggested.

“Hmm…yes, I suppose we could do that. Send troops to both places,” Bowser said. He couldn’t help getting a feeling that his troops would run into Peach along the way to either of those kingdoms. “If you happen to see the princess, bring her to me immediately. I have a feeling that one of you will run into her somewhere.”

“Yes Sire,” the Koopa said. “Shall we make ready now?”

“Of course! I will have some of the other koopas prepare for a possible raid here,” Bowser answered. “Go now!”

“Right away!” The Koopa saluted as he and the others exited the meeting room.

Kamek, who had been quiet, turned to his king, “I sense you’re troubled Sire.”

Bowser turned to his MagiKoopa, “Gee, whatever gave you that idea?”

“My king, you have conflicting feelings regarding Y/N. You want her to like you.”

The king grumbled, smoke blowing out of nostrils. “I do not want her to like me. I want her to play her part of the hostage. As soon as Peaches comes here, I’ll be rid of her and the others. It will just be me and the princess.”

Kamek sighed, “Your majesty…” He was at a loss of words. He remembered what Y/N said back in the throne room. The princess will not feel the same way he does for her. He knew Y/N was right. The princess had been resistant and would continue to be. He wanted Bowser to have a true happy ending.

“If you have something to say, say it,” Bowser said irritably.

“I…I can have some of the other Koopas go to the Mushroom Kingdom. They can wait on your command to attack or not if all else fails with the princess.”

“I see. If she says no, destroy her kingdom.”

Kamek gulped. “Y-Yes, exactly.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I am not nervous.” The lump in the MagiKoopa’s throat said otherwise. He knows that the princess will say no, and that the kingdom would have to be attacked anyway. He didn’t want to say anything more to Bowser.

“Hmm…if you say so. Go now and send a few troops to the Mushroom Kingdom. Have one or two search the kingdom for the princess. Although, I feel she has left the kingdom.” Bowser wasn’t buying what Kamek said about not being nervous. He had his suspicions.

“Of course, your highness,” Kamek replied as he got up from his chair and walked out of the meeting room.

Bowser exited not long after Kamek. He made his way to his bedroom and decided to get an early night in for sleep. He closed his doors and plopped down on his bed. He stared up at his ceiling.

‘Just think about Peaches. She will love the song and she will love you,’ he mentally spoke to himself. He still had to fight down the regret he felt about Y/N. It was not an easy battle, but he figured busying himself with other things would help him out. His mentality was not so easily swayed to dwell on other things or people.

Y/N still appeared in his mind. He again knew deep down that he did want Y/N to have a fondness of him. He still wanted Peaches though. This is why he wanted Y/N to stay in the dungeon until it was no longer necessary to have her around. He closed his eyes in frustration. Sleep. He needed to sleep and go into the land of imagination. His plans would follow through in the end.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“C’mon Lu! You got this!” Mario cheered.

Peach and Toad also cheered for Luigi.

Luigi fought Donkey as best as he could in the Tanooki suit. He tried using the tail to swipe at him since he didn’t have claws. He also tried kicking at Donkey. The Kong was very agile and dodged most of Luigi’s moves. Luigi decided to grab a barrel and hurl it at Donkey.

Donkey, not expecting the barrel, was struck down and then Luigi swung his tail to hit Donkey and kick him. The Kong stumbled back and shook his head. Luigi grabbed another barrel and threw it at Donkey. The barrel hit the Kong once again and he was knocked down. Luigi kicked at Donkey and swung his tail.

The Kong was becoming exhausted and collapsed. Luigi landed on the brick pathway and sighed, also feeling tired from the fight. Donkey passed out and Luigi smiled in triumph. The crowds cheered with applause.

“Wahoo!” Mario said in excitement. “Way to go little brother!”

Luigi turned toward Mario’s voice and smiled at him.

“Alright. Alright. Settle down everyone!” Cranky said. “Luigi is clearly the winner. Now, everyone make haste. We have a battle to prepare for! We shall be helping the princess take down the king of the Koopas!”

All the Kongs followed their king, exiting the stadium and getting ready to prepare for battle or keep loved ones in a safe place for a while.

The princess, plumber, and mushroom man followed the king of the Kongs to meet back up with Luigi. They all reunited, and then went into a meeting room. The king explained that he would have the kongs develop karts with certain battle mechanics.

“The battle karts would be helpful. We also brought along a few Yoshies,” Peach said.

“Yoshies?” Cranky asked.

“Yes. We wanted to have some extra help from the Yoshies. They can be of use for battle as well.”

“Hmm…I suppose so.”

“Did you want some of the Kongs to have a Yoshi with them for the battle?”

“No. They’ll prefer to use the karts.”

“Very well.”

The king and princess continued discussing their battle plans. Mario, Luigi, and Toad all threw in their input here and there when it was needed. After some time, it was settled.

“We’ll make for the Koopa Kingdom tomorrow. I’ll have some of the Kongs prepare for the karts,” Cranky said.

“Sounds good!” Peach said.

“For accommodations, we’ll have you all stay here. Donkey,” Cranky called to his son who had been quiet during the discussion. Donkey had eventually woken up and joined the discussion staying silent the entire time.

“Yeah Dad?” Donkey asked.

“Show everyone to a room.”

“Sure.”

Everyone followed Donkey out of the meeting room, and he took everyone up a golden staircase. There were several rooms in the hallway they entered. Donkey showed Peach her room first followed by Toad, Mario, and Luigi. Donkey then went to his room.

The prince sighed as he laid down on his bed. Another battle? Donkey did enjoy battling, but the last time he fought Bowser, he was nearly killed. He didn’t want to let that stop him, but he hoped that the outcome would be in his and everyone else’s favor and not in Bowser’s. He also wondered who this friend of the princess and the others was. None of them really mentioned much about the friend. He decided to ask more about that in the morning.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N opened her eyes. She was surprised to have gotten a good amount of sleep. She figured she would’ve only gotten a few hours. Mental exhaustion was heavier than she thought it to be. On the plus side, it did make her feel a little refreshed. However, she wished she could stretch her arms. The pain in her wrists had increased and she could tell her skin had grown fiercer from the metal rubbing against it for so long.

She heard a door open and in front of her cell stood the Koopa who had placed her in there. She gave the magician a glare.

“I am not here to taunt you. I come in with news,” Kamek said.

“Before you tell me the news, could you please take off the handcuffs? I’m really tired of my arms being in this position,” Y/N replied.

“Yes.” Kamek then cast a spell for the handcuffs to break off and disappear.

Y/N sighed happily, finally her arms were free, and her wrists and skin could calm down. She moved her arm to stretch them out and moved her wrists in circles. Indeed, her wrists had an extreme color of red circling them.

“Allow me to heal that,” Kamek said. He cast another spell that eased the pain away and caused her skin to go back to normal.

Y/N, surprised by him, smiled, “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. The news I must share with you is that the troops have been sent out and they will be searching for the princess and SuperStar,” Kamek explained.

“SuperStar? Wait a minute…isn’t that…a power up?”

“Yes. It can make anyone who uses it unstoppable. Bowser will use the SuperStar if necessary to destroy the Mushroom Kingdom. Perhaps others as well…”

Y/N’s eyes widened. That would be horrifying. The devastation and the losses that would result from such a catastrophe is too much to comprehend. She recalled that Mario and Luigi had used the SuperStar to beat Bowser before. If Bowser were to use that power up…She shook her head. He really would be hard to beat. Although she had not gotten into battle with him herself, she could tell just how powerful he was when he had gripped her in his clawed hands before.

“I have had a lot on my mind about you. I know that the king wishes you to have a fondness of him,” Kamek continued. “He does not admit it out loud, but I sense it.”

“Yeah. Right. He really wants me to like him by locking me up. That makes total sense!” Y/N couldn’t help her sarcasm. She had a hard time believing him.

“It’s true. I have been with Bowser ever since he was born. I know him and I know he sometimes gets himself into denial with certain things.”

“So, what, are you telling me to try and get him to soften up around me again and have him forget about Princess Peach? I don’t think his highness would like to see me prance around his castle again so freely. He wants me to play the hostage and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I’m aware of his majesty’s orders. However, I want his happiness more than anything. He is lonely and he wants a companion. He is complicated, but he can be someone nice to be around as you know first-hand.”

Y/N shook her head, “I tried to help him. I can only do and say so much. It’s up to him in the end to walk towards happiness. I decided to no longer help him in matters of the heart. If he wants the princess so badly and to be rejected by her, that’s on him.”

“I do not like how he treated you either. I apologize-“

“He should be the one apologizing to me! Did he tell you to say sorry for him?” Y/N was irritated.

“N-No. No. I do feel bad for what he has done to you though. I’m aware that he should be the one apologizing to you and not me,” Kamek sighed.

“Why are you feeling bad for me?” Y/N was very curious as to why Kamek, seemingly, came down here on his own free will. Other than he obviously wanted her to try again with Bowser, why was he feeling bad for her? Shouldn’t Bowser be his only main concern? She didn’t understand why he was showing her care.

“I feel bad for you because I can tell you are a kind soul. You are the only other human Bowser has met who has managed to make him smile. He has only ever liked the princess and he felt that he didn’t have any other options which is why he stuck so closely to her.”

Y/N looked at Kamek with full attention.

“Then, I found you and I could tell he had an interest in you as soon as I showed you to him. I want him to be happy with someone who will genuinely like him. No pretending. Real and genuine,” Kamek said.

Y/N sighed. That was a lot to take in. Yes, she did like the moments with Bowser in the library and in the dining room. However, she already made a promise to herself to no longer help Bowser out with his love problems. She wanted to keep that promise.

“I understand that you do not wish to speak with him any longer, but I must ask this of you,” Kamek said.

“What is it?” Y/N asked with suspicion.

“I want you to be right there as soon as the princess rejects him. Tell him that he can have a happy ending with someone else.”

“Why would you have me do what I already did before? It doesn’t make sense. That would be a waste of time. Again, I really do not want to help him with his love issues.”

“I’m not asking you to be his queen, but to just be there for him. To give him comfort.”

“So, to help him with his love problems?”

Kamek sighed once more, “I sense in you that you do have a liking for him. Yes, I want you to help him with his heart. Not to be his love, but to be a friend for him.”

Y/N moved her head down and looked at the stone floor. Being a friend to him…everyone did need a friend. However, after the way he’s treated her…she was hesitant. “Do you really think he will want me around him as a friend? Remember, he only sees me as a hostage.”

“I think he’ll have a change of heart when he sees you there to comfort him. I know he hardened his heart, but I think you could help him choose to soften it again,” Kamek tried convincing her.

“I don’t know…I don’t know if…” Y/N felt pressured. She could see that Kamek was coming from a place of great care. Since Kamek said he had been with Bowser ever since his birth, he could be seen as like a father figure. She found it nice that Kamek cared so much for his king like a father would care for his son. However…

“I know that is a lot to ask of you. I just want Bowser to be happy. Whether he has a companion who is a lover or a friend at his side, I want him to see that others will come to him. I want him to see that he does not need to rely on having the princess on his side. He can have another beside him who wants to be with him,” Kamek stared down at the floor.

“I’m just not sure he’ll really want me though…”

“He does, Y/N. Of that, I can assure you. He denies it, but he does deep down inside.”

“Kamek, I…” Y/N still feeling hesitant, stopped herself. Part of her wanted to believe Kamek, but she wasn’t entirely convinced either. She didn’t want Bowser to toss her aside again. He was so quick to do 180’s and she didn’t want to experience that again.

“I can show you his mentality,” Kamek said. “I’d been working on this spell before to read minds and I just about have it down.”

Y/N looked at Kamek, “No. It’s okay. You don’t have to. I uh…” She took a deep breath. She decided to go ahead and believe in Kamek. He had known Bowser well since his day of birth. She didn’t know the king too well, but she felt that the happy time they had together was a good bonding moment. If he were willing to treat her as he had then, she wouldn’t mind trying to help him again. “I will help you out, but if he treats me poorly like before, I am done. I will not have anything to do with him again.”

Kamek smiled, “Understood. Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.” Y/N hoped that Bowser would see her as more than a tool just as he had before in their happy moment.

“I will have to have you stay in here a little longer until the princess is brought here. I will set you free when the time is right,” Kamek said.

Y/N nodded, “Okay…um Kamek?”

“Yes?”

“Is it possible for me to…to go back to my world at some point? I have family and coworkers that will be wondering about me.”

“Yes, it’s possible. I promise to send you back if everything does not work out here.”

“If everything does end up working out, could I still go back?”

“Yes. We’ll make a way for you to see your loved ones in your world.”

Y/N sighed happily, “Great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Oh! Let me conjure up some food for you. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Y/N’s stomach answered him. “Uh, hehehe…yep, I sure am.”

Kamek quickly cast a spell and food on a plate along with silverware and a cup of water appeared in front of Y/N, “There you go.”

“Thanks.” Y/N said as she began to eat.

“You’re welcome. I’ll check on you later. I’ll also be sure to have Bowser apologize to you properly.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

Kamek walked out of the dungeon closing the door behind him. He began walking down the hall to go to his room where he worked on spells. He felt that Y/N could soften the king’s heart. He knew she was right in saying that the king himself had to choose which path to take. He hoped Bowser would take the path that led to Y/N instead of the princess.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The notes wavered and ebbed as they tried to keep up with the tune of the piano. Bowser had gone to his music room to practice his song for his Peaches, but the song turned into a mixture of many songs. The scenery in the room had changed dramatically from the waterfall setting to a sunset on the beach to a mountain range that went on forever. His emotions were turbulent. Too much for him to control. He couldn’t concentrate on anything.

He could feel his heart shaking. Was he nervous? Yes. Why? Because he wanted his song to be perfect for the princess. Y/N was still invading his mind too. He had dreamt that he and Y/N were taking a walk through a cliché setting of a field with flowers. It was a lovely field. Y/N was dancing along as a breeze blew by taking a few flower petals with it. The petals encircled Y/N and himself bringing the two of them close together.

Y/N, with her (eye color) eyes stared up at him lovingly and he felt his heart swell. She had cupped his cheek and was leaning up to him. Before anything else could happen, Bowser had snapped himself awake. His emotions from then on became a mess. He stopped playing and closed the piano lid. The scenery in the room changed back to normal. He sighed and stared down at the piano lid. He had to get his head on straight. He had a lot of work to do.

Link for Chapter 8: https://www.tumblr.com/xserenemeadowsx/725602114025521152/unconditional-love-chapter-8?source=share

#bowser #bowser x reader #the super mario bros movie 2023 #mario #luigi #princess peach #toad #romance #adventure #fanfic