#And another one to my collection of crack ships

[denjidenjiji]

I dreamt that cahara lost a coin toss and Joseph joestar strangled him to death.

#art #digital art #ibispaintx #funger #fear and hunger fanart #phone art #fear and hunger #fear and hunger cahara #funger cahara #f&h cahara #cahara #joseph joestar #joseph jojo #joseph jjba #this is satire. #And another one to my collection of crack ships #crackship #Exposing myself as a jojo fan rn #No i cannot make fanart of the holy scripture #It’s physically impossible for me

[aesthetic-bbyg]

LET THE LIGHT IN ~ Zoro

Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

IN WHICH the non-chalant pirate hunter cracked a smile for only you.

Nattie speaks: a Zoro fic was long overdue on my blog, I luv my brooding babe💋

ZORO WAS CONSTANTLY VIEWED as a quiet but moody man. He communicated through glares, punches, and the occasional words. It was known that the man hardly showed affection—no, he hardly showed any type of emotion at all. The straw hats knew that he was one to be left alone whenever a fight went wrong, or to leave as he napped in his hammock for the fifth time in one day.

To others, his muscly stature and three katanas glued to his side were enough of a warning to steer clear of the man’s path. It was fair to say that Zoro was intimidating, scary, even. His deep voice sent shivers down people’s spines, his eerie smirk when he was ready to cause mischief was terrifying, his incomprehensible strength was capable of killing people.

Zoro was dangerous, and it was known by all.

Yet there was a crack in his shell, right where his heart laid. He first met you in a village when he was on the search for pirate, the charming lady at the crystal stand, begging for passing pedestrians attention. He stopped, pretending to be interested in the many objects carved out of glass when he’d actually been attracted in by your looks. The beautiful puffy cheeks that had a natural red hue, the plump lips, soft eyes. You were beautiful to him. After hitting him with a few flirty comments, he’d finally told you the reason for his stop on the island. Luckily, you had all the details he needed to find the pirate and let him collect the couple million berries he was worth.

You offered him a date, disguising it as an innocent cup of tea, but the looks you two shared when you were alone spoke far louder then he’d ever dare to say. In exchange for ‘date’ you gave some information on the pirate he was searching for. In that moment you’d managed to slither your way through the crack in his chest and strike his heart, shooting a foreign feeling into his veins.

It was love.

The Roronoa Zoro had fallen for a crystal glass vender and her stupidly cute smile. He could hardly bring himself to leave you that night, spending the whole evening discussing far more then the pirate he was searching for. But he did, he slept that night with only you on his mind.

The next day, after he’d shoved the dismembered head of pirate into a sack, he went straight back to you, thanking you for the help and leaving a single kiss on the knuckles of you hand. You weren’t sure if you’d ever see him again as his ship sailed off into the horizon, but you knew that the love in your heart was enough to prove what once was.

The next time, Zoro didn’t have a reason to be there. No Pirate to hunt down, nothing. He only wanted to see you again, and he desperately hoped that you hadn’t found someone else to capture your heart.

You still stood in the same place as before, the time apart made you seem like you’d grown even more beautiful then the last time. Your hair was longer, he noted. But the smile you held as a little girl passed by, curiously looking at the shimmering glasses with wonder was familiar. He trudged up slowly, his heart beating straight out of his chest as he kept his eyes on only you, it was a strange sensation. He felt nerves bubbling up in stomach, a thin layer of sweat made his hands clammy and he hid kind with scrambled with the right thing to say.

“Do you know where I can buy flowers?” Zoro suddenly spoke up, making you shoot your head up from the little girl. A maroon shade had tinted your cheeks, mouth stuttering open as you gazed up at him.

“Uh..Mrs. Poppins can help you, right over there.” You pointed a shaky finger towards the stand just a few steps away, an old woman with a variety of flowers waiting to be bought.

“Thanks.” Zoro smirked, nodding as he walked off, not another word spoken.

“Is that your boyfriend?” The young girl asked innocently, round the staring up at you.

“No, no, he’s not my boyfriend.” You chuckled, staring over at where he was, exchanging some berry for a bouquet of tulips. You just watched in utter confusion, the man you couldn’t stop thinking about just casually dropped by to ask for some flowers?

Every since he left you’d been dreaming about marrying the man, but you just assumed he was a distant memory you’d hold on to forever. He’d remain your husband in just your own dreams, never to become reality. Zoro walked back, a his smirk now dripping into a nervous smile as he held out the bouquet.

“It’s nice to see you, do you have any more of that tea?” He asked so softly that if any outsider that knew Zoro would be absolutely flabbergasted at the sight of him being such gentle man. The fact that he was blushing, he was nervous, a love confession sitting at the tip of his tongue because you’d never left his mind since that one day.

You swallowed down heavily, shyly taking the flowers and probably blushing like a fool. You held a bashful smile, nodding in response as decided to close down your stand for the day.

“You sure he isn’t your boyfriend.” The girl whispered, super discrete, making you giggle and shake out head. You gently shooed her away, leaving the two of you alone while Zoro chuckled at her words.

That was only the first couple times he’d visited you, each time he’d open more and more. His cold exterior melted into a protective lover that kept you warm at night. You were very aware of his dangerous job and just how brutal it was, it definitely worked you but Zoro always brushed off your concerns. Each time he left to hunt down a pirate you’d constantly await, staring at the port whenever you walked past, it hoping you’d see a familiar boat.

As of recently, you’d been ripping your hair out with absolute worry. Zoro had promised that he’d be back home within a week, it was now approaching nearly three weeks. You were mortified, unable to know if he was dead or alive at the moment. You truly tried to rid your mind of the bad thoughts, you knew the sea was a complicated part of nature, it could throw any sudden hit that broke you down. Maybe that’s what happened, but despite tricking your own mind you still lived day in and day out with a anxious feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach.

Every night you cooked food that was just enough for two servings, making sure to be prepared in case he suddenly came home. You made sure his side of the bed was always made, yet every night it remained cold and empty. You’d dreaded waking up each morning without him there, and today wasn’t any different. You dragged yourself out of bed, got ready, made breakfast, ate as his empty chair glared at you from across the table, and went to sell some crystal glasses.

Your chants as pedestrian passed by echoed in the cluttered alleyway, people occasionally stopping, others giving you glared for your loudness. It was all part of the business, you served tea to those who’d spent the entire day wandering the hot streets. Or travelers that were curious, wondering how much of a difference a crystal glass made to a regular one.

“Pirates, incoming!” A bearded elder screeched, collecting a handful of working men to help dock the large boat. You didn’t even give it a second glance, you saw the Jolly Roger of a never seen before ship. They didn’t look to be threatening so you didn’t may it any mind. You would’ve been sprinting if it was a one of hose infamous crews that destroyed villages like the Buggy crew. Or, if you saw a familiar mess of green hair from ajar. But you saw neither, therefore it was best to continue serving the foreigner that had taken interested in a specific collection.

He eventually gave you some berry, placing the wrapped up pieces into his basket before he walked away. You sighed, leaning back against the chair and counting up how much you’d received. Some days were better then most, no glasses on the shelf, or you’d have all of them still waiting to be bought. Although, everyday you wiped them till they flowed in the sun and proudly showed them off.

You’d turned your to watch as the workers helped dock the ship at the small port, rushing around like madmen. It was a strange ship, it’s figurehead unlike any you’d seen before; a sheep. The Jolly Roger could hardly been taken serious, a very crooked skull with a hat atop of its head, nothing scream ‘not a threat’ more then that. It made you chuckle even more when a young boy in a straw hat skipped off, feet loudly clanking against the wood with a happy smile. He must’ve been the captain, his hat far too similar to the one on the flag to not be. He was

Followed by his crew, a unique set of people that you’d never even think to be on the same ship. A girl with fiery red hair, a boy with patched up overalls, a man in a slick suit, and finally a swordsman with a confident stride. You gasped, eyes focusing on the final man and his messy green locks. You bolted to your feet so quick that you’d nearly knocked over your precious crystals and shattered them on the cobblestone.

Zoro’s eyes scanned the village, a map of the whole place already embedded into his head as he searched for one woman. It wasn’t hard to find you, because you’d began sprinting for your life towards him which caught all of the crews attention. It was like miracle was suddenly born, a once in a lifetime moment seen, a one in a millón chnace of witnessing this.

Zoro smiled.

And not just a smug smirk he’d show off whenever Nami rejected Sanji’s compliments. Or when he’d defeated another enemy that had threatened the crew, nothing like that. His mouth completely widened, pearly teeth on display. His arms were wide open, inviting whoever you were into his warm embrace. You’d nearly tackled him, but Zoro was pure muscle and hardly even flinched as you tightly wrapped your arms around him, legs following but around his waist instead.

The same broody swordsmen they once knew was acting all sappy with whoever the hell you were. Your touch not even being questioned as it wandered from his neck to the tangled mess of his hair. It was truly a shocking sight to see, words unable to come out of the crew’s mouth.

“You had me worried sick.” You muttered into his neck, words muffled by the polyester shirt that smelt just like him. It filled your senses and relieved that pressure you had building in your stomach.

“I know, I’m so sorry, beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, leaving a light peck as your feet lowered from his waist to the floor. “But I always come back to you, don’t I?”

You smiled softly, hands resting against his chest as your neck craned up to look at his tall stature. “You do, and I thank the heavens everyday for that.” You glanced at the awkwardly silent crew behind him, “Who are they?”

“They, are the reason I’m so late.”

“We’re his crew!” A man in a strawhat happily said, waving enthusiastically as he bounced in the heels of his feet. “We’re on a mission to sail to the grand line so we can find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates!”

You stared in disbelief, a brow arched in confusion while the green-haired swordsman let out a loud sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM SO…” NAMI wasn’t sure how to pinpoint the word she was looking for as she watched Zoro casually chuckle and flirt with you in the kitchen. He new persona gave Sanji a run for his money, that glint of adoration in his eye far to familiar to the girl. “So…expressing?”

It was the best thing she could come up with. Never did she think that he’d be so loose and be smiling so much, especially towards a complete stranger he’d never even mentioned. There was years of built up love they’d never heard of from Zoro, and strangely, it was a lot to process. You’d been very kind and invited them into your home, allowing them to rest on the couch and use the running water for their needs while plating a few serves of your fresh soup. Nothing compared to the chef’s cuisines, but enough to soothe the hunger and give a comforting warmth that hopefully calmed any tense air.

After all, from what Zoro had told you, this crew was tightly knitted together due to all the strange adventured they’d gone through in the past month. Introducing yourself, an outsider, to them and immediately getting accept was unlikely. But it seemed as if one member was more then ready to accept, especially with the peace offering of food.

Luffy.

The young captain that lead them through their tough battles with a clown pirate, a man with an axe hand, a fast butler, and god knows what else Zoro told you about.

You nearly murdered him with your glare when he sheepishly told you about his battle against Mihawk. Huffing and rolling his eyes as you pushed past the fabric of his shirt and noticed the bandages wrapped around his torso.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re an idiot!” You hummed, walking past him to serve up the first plate to Luffy who’s eagerly ate more then half the fruits in the bowl adorned in center of your table. You gave him a smile as he thanked you, immediately gripping the spoon and shoving the hot meal in his mouth.

“You should join our crew!” Luffy muttered through a full mouth, “You’ll have the future King of the Pirates as your captain!”

“No, you should not.” Zoro immediately cut through, his tone stern and expression just as mean.

“That’s not a bad idea.” You shoot back quickly, walking towards the dish cabinet and opening it. “I always have to stay back, worrying for your safety as you sail for weeks.” You grunted as you attempted to reach for a bowl on the higher levels of the shelf. “Maybe being out at sea with you would be good for change.”

You suddenly felt the swordsmen’s warm presence clash against you back, toned arm easily reaching the said bowl. “I strongly disagree.” He placed a hand on your hip as you turned to send him a look.

That specific look where a message was sent in utter silence. By the furrow of your brow, the slight pout in your lower lip, the squint of your eyes, Zoro understood what you were trying to say. “I strongly agree.” You brushed passed him, filling up the bowl with your steaming soup, “but,” you set it down in front of the boy with the dark brown locks, Usopp. “We’ll discuss this later.” You whispered towards the green haired man, lightly patting his chest as you pointed up to the shelf.

After the dinner, you tidied up your shared bedroom, readying any blankets and pillows needed to make the crew comfortable for the night. The strawhats busied themselves with the kitchen, refusing to let you lift a hand after the delicious meal. Zoro walked in not to long after, recognizing his foot steps. Even without his boots his feet still dragged along the floor harshly.

“It is later.” He simply said as you rolled your eyes, folding up a fluffy, knitted blanket as he approached the bed. “I don’t think you should come along, it dangerous.”

“Do you want me to introduce you to my husband who’s capable of holding three swords at once, and even without them he can still kill someone in cold blood with his stare?” You looked up at him with a raised brow, “Because I feel like you two would get along just nicely.”

It was now his turn to roll his eyes, “I won’t always be there, y’know, I could be distracted with someone else and you could get taken from me.”

“Then I’ll learn to fight, besides, I already know a few moves just from watching your intense training lessons every morning.” You carried the load of blankets as you nodded towards the pillows, “Mind taking that, sweetheart?”

He immediately followed after you with the stack of pillows, “It’s not that simple.”

“It really is, you’re just making it harder then it has to be.” You reply over your shoulder as you set the blankets down, Zoro following just after. “Home knitted blankets for all, I have an open space in our guest bed room and on the couch!”

“Thank you.” Sanji gave you an appreciative nod, cupping your hands gently as he spoke. “You’re help has meant a lot.”

You took his physical gesture as a simple act of kindness, returning the smile he gave you before Zoro stepped in with an outstretched hand.

“Watch it, waiter.”

“I was only being nice, moss head.”

“This is my house you’re in—“

“Our house.” You separated the two before the blonde could spit out an insult, lightly pushing Zoro away and back into the bedroom. “Calm down, okay?” This action was just another thing to add to the list of strange occurrences. Nami and Usopp shared a mixture of shock and confusion. The you literally bossed around Zoro without an ounce of fear was…crazy. The swordsman, despite being very dedicated to the crew, was more of a independent man who made his own rules. He wasn’t one to listen, especially when someone tries to force him to do so.

But your light push and soft words immediately had him backing of, albeit a bit annoyed, but still complying. You sighed softly and turned back to the crew, smiling kindly. “I hope you all sleep well, if you need anything at all ask me.” You glanced behind you, making sure your husband was occupied with something else as you lowered you’re voice. “Don’t try to ask that idiot anything, trust me, he doesn’t know a thing.”

A mix of quiet chuckled and laughs were shared between the strawhats until Zoro appeared behind you with furrowed brows. “Did you say something?”

You shook your head innocently, placing your hands on his chest and making him walk backwards towards the bed. “Nope, just wishing them a good night.” You shut the door with one last wave to the crew before turning back.

He grumbled in response, rummaging through a small drawer for some sweatpants. You undressed and slipped on a short nightgown, a new one you’d bought not too long ago. You weren’t aware how a simple piece of pink Cotten had Zoro utterly entranced. His eyes burned a hole into your back as you smoothed out any wrinkles.

“Is that new?” He mumbled casually, climbing under the cold covers. “It looks good on you.”

You smiled bashfully, gaze lowering shyly while you played with your fingers. “Ya like it?” He hummed in responds, crawling across the bed to reach you and pull you by the waist. You giggled softly, collapsing onto the mattress, trapped in by his arms.

It’d been so long since you laid in bed and actually appreciated its coziness, how the blankets trapped in a perfect amount of warmth. You’d gotten so lost in the nights silence, but with the company of your husbands soft breathing and occasional peck to the neck you’d sunken back into a comfortable state. You no longer felt that aching loneliness, now you had him to keep you warm, it made you think back to the previous discussion.

Nothing was ever really discussed after Sanji got involved, no offical answer was ever thrown out. Though you knew that the aching loss of your lover wasn’t anything you ever wanted to experience again. It would be different now that he’s on a offical crew, a crew that was in a mission to a very dangerous place. And based on their current experiences so far he’d most likely be gone for far more then just a month or two. Whether Zoro wanted to accept it or not, the sea was just as much as a threat to him as to you.

You had to be with them when they left to continue their journey, even if you had to sneak on.

“WHEN I TOLD YOU THAT YOU NEEDED a shower last night this wasn’t exactly what I was referring to.” You mutter, smothering a handful of body soap onto your shoulder and arms. Zoro had decided that he’d join you for the lovely warm shower you were having that morning. Causally ripping open the curtain and stepping in like he payed the bills.

His sly hands came up to assist you in rubbing the soap, dragging in a painfully slow pace along your skin. His his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear as he spoke, “At least I’m doing it.” He mumbled, large hands cupping your tits which lured out a gasp. You melted under the warm water, unsure if the trickling of it was the cause for your the burning sensation pricking your skin. Or maybe it was his teasing touch, his light pecks against your neck, pinches to your sensitive nipples. You threw your head against his shoulder with closed eyes. “Can’t I just spend some time with you?”

“After these past months you can spend as much time with me as you want.” You could practically feel the smirk of his lips, he lowered his head to capture your lips, indulging in that fact that he could officially make out with you.

Three harsh slams to the drawer caught your attention, snapping your gaze to the side in confusion. “Luffy, please hurry, it’s my turn.” Nami shouted before her footsteps retreated away. You huffed, bending down for the shampoo bottle. This gave Zoro the opportunity to grip your hips, reminiscing on the nights he had you in the same position. Only the constant patter of the falling water was replaced with the slap of sweaty skin on skin. You shot him a smile over your shoulder, standing straight as you raised a brow.

“You heard her.” You teased, running your fingers through his wet hair while he rolled his eyes in response. “C’mon, the sooner we’re outta’ here the sooner we can have the bedroom to ourselves.”

With that he grumbled, leaning down a bit to let squeeze a blob of shampoo into his green hair. Despite his obvious hard cock, he’d hold back on any touches because of the utter relaxation that was your fingers scratching his scalp as you lathered the bubbly liquid. How smoothly you rang your hands through his tangled locks, giving him that innocent smile whenever he lets out a quiet moan. It’s like you knew the affect your touch had in him, which you probably did but chose to be a teasing shit about it.

His tender muscles were beginning to soften, he constant state of being on guard collapsing with each motion of your hand. You finally let the water rinse everything out after a while, continuing to detangle. His hair wasn’t too long, so it was a simple task that took less then ten minutes. He grumbled as your touch disappeared, going on to shampoo and condition your own hair.

There was a comfortable silence after, the both of you showered like it was any other, occasionally kissing whenever wanted. The only issue was that it took far longer then expected. By the time you twisted the knob and shut off the after Nami had returned to the door, now being even more agitated with her knocks.

“Luffy, seriously, I need to go!” She shouted, waiting a few seconds before groaning. “What the hell are you even doing that’s taking so long.” Another beat of silence. “Luffy!”

“Yeah?” The curly haired boy walked out the guest bedroom with a confused look, wondering why she’d been shouting his name in such a angered tone.

Nami face dropped, bries furrowing as she turned to the wooden door like it was doing to speak to her. “If you’re not in there, then who—“

Zoro swung the door open, toweled wrapped around his waist while water dripped from his bare torso to the floor. His eyes glared at the girl, brushing past her casually as you sheepishly followed after. Her eyes widened, mouth dropped open and words stuck in her throat, unable to say anything.

“Wha—were they..oh my god.” She stuttered confusingly, mind attempting to process what she’d just stumbled upon.

“Were they showering together?” Luffy asked curiously, “That’s really smart, it helps save on water.” He smiled widely, patting her shoulder before walking off into the kitchen.

“Gross.” The Orange-haired girl muttered, sighing as she finally walked into the bathroom and rethought her whole point of view on the swordsman.

That same day, the crew had begun packing all their things. Readying the ship with fresh supplies, food, and a potential new member. You’d already had a large bag prepared, determined on boarding the Merry whether Zoro liked it or not. Clearly, he didn’t, because he was throwing out every excuse to make you now walk any further out the house.

“What if someone breaks in while you’re not here, huh, all of our stuff and memories could be taken.” Zoro crossed his muscly arms, blocking the front door of the home.

“Zoro, this is a nice town, nobody is gonna steal from me, and they already know who my husband is, to even think about stealing from here foolish.” You once again attempted to walk further but were met with a solid chest, you hugged out a groan.

“Okay, but they clearly see me leaving so that would leave ab opportunity open—“

“Zoro.” You warned, “Stop.” The man let out a sigh, shutting his mouth and rolling his eyes. “I don’t care what you have to say, I’m going with you. I swear if I have to live another day waiting on an empty bed for you, not knowing if it’ll remain vacant forever or if you’ll come back, I will die.”

“I’ll write letters or something.” He countered, much softer now that he heard your sentimental reasoning. If he was being honest with himself, having you with him on the journey to the Grand Line would be amazing. Much more comfortable sleeping with you in his hammock then alone, but he refused to ever out you in a situation where danger could come any moment.

“Zoro, my love, please.” You whispered, staring up at him so beautifully, eyes gleaming with hope as your lips frowned softly. He examined your features, taking them in and finding any new details to burn to his memory. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” You lifted your left hand, gripping his own and showcased the rings. “We made vows, promises to each other, to always be together through anything.”

He eyes gloomed, leaning down to peck the stone on your finger. “I know.” He whispered, fiddling with your fingers as he went silent, mind attempting to finding another way, another excuse, but he couldn’t. The pros weighed out the cons in the on going battle of his consciousness. “Get your things, we’ll be leaving soon.”

The smile that took over your features was one that was more rewarding then any kind of berry he’d ever received. The way you jumped up and practically squealed, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek with the a constant repetition of ‘thank you’ was adorable. He cracked a small smile, because of you, chuckling softly at your excited state.

You’d taken all your pre packed bags and begun dragging them towards the boat, practically skipping with each step. Usopp was loading in boxes of supplies, glancing up at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“Woah, no way Zoro let you travel with us.” He smiled, taking your bags from your hands. “I’ll take these and out ‘em in his room, it’s good to have you with us!”

“Thank you, Usopp.” You nodded thankfully, looking back to see Zoro just a few feet behind you with a grumpy look. “Don’t mind his attitude, this wasn’t he choice..partially.”

“Why do you have her things?” Zoro asked, approaching the boy with a glare.

“Oh—I was just going to put in your room since she’s kinda new so she probably doesn’t know about the ship. But the great captain Usopp can help! Just being a good crew member.” The bit rambled nervously under the swordsman gaze.

“Yes, and I appreciate your help.” You said, emphasizing your words as you looked up at the man. “Now, would you mind showing me around, my love?”

Zoro let out a huff, allowing you to hook your arm around his as he trudged around the whole ship. He gave little explanations, simply stating what each part was and does, you had to ask questions for him to actually be specific.

“This is the kitchen, nothing special, no reason to be in here too long.” He walked in and was already stepping back out at the sight of the blonde chef cooking up a meal.

Sanji turned at sound of his voice, smiling brightly, but at you. He’d never dream of giving such a big grin to Zoro, “Ah, the Mrs, what do I owe the pleasure of?”

You pulled away from Zoro’s arm, who was clearly attempting to tug you away. “Just getting use to this place now that I’ll be on it for awhile.” You smile happily, “Smells lovely, can’t wait to get a taste of what everyone’s been raving about.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll be sure to put in extra love for your meal, our newest member.” It was in the French mans blood to be such a flirt, his charming smile practically imbedded into his features.

You nodded in appreciation, though quickly frowned when you heard the man beside you let out a low groan. “I told you to watch it, waiter.”

“Only being my usual self, no need to be so protective.” The blonde replied casually, turning back to his sizzling work. “It’s not like we’re in your house, anyway.”

“What did you say?” Zoro growled, “You give her another one of your stupid smiles I’ll cut off your lips, you bastard chef!”

“You’re just mad because you know she had the misfortune of marrying you, algae.”

“Okay, enough is enough, let’s move on to the next part.” You chuckled with humorlessly, pushing the man out of the kitchen before a hot pot was thrown at his head. “Jesus, you two really don’t get along.”

He lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes, “He’s just an ass who knows how to make me mad.” The two of you moved across the deck, walking into a small hideaway with little decoration except for a hammock strung up. You noticed your things piled up in the corner, already placed there by the lovely Usopp. “I’m happy you’re sailing with us.”

You were a bit taken aback by his statement, his soft tone familiar but unexpected. Nonetheless, you smiled, wrapping both your arms around his neck and craning your head up to gaze into his eyes. “And I’m happy to be here, with you.”

“I’ll finally have someone to properly sharpen my swords.” He said with a chuckle as you rolled your eyes and slapped his chest, walking back out to look at the view of the beaming sun. The door cracked open ajar letting the light pool in.

I have risen from the grave and graced you with the longest fic I’ve ever written on this blog. It got a little outta hand bc I just had so much time to put in thought and effort for this one. Comparing to the others where I’d come up with an idea and pull words straight out of my ass. I so sorry and I’m def trying to do better in writing but ideas for writing have little crashed and burn. This leaves me to highly encourage everyone to PLEASE send in request, I’ll drop a post in a bit about everyone I’m open to writing!

Mwah💋 ~ Nataly

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece show #one piece strawhats #straw hat crew #zoro #roronoa zoro #Roronoa Zoro x reader #zoro x reader #swordsman #moss head🫣 #fluff #pirates

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 8

Holy crap the amount of likes and comments and reblogs you all have left is amazing! Thank you so so much for enjoying!

Anyway! On to the next part.

Masterlist

The sound of the native birds of your island is what wakes Mihawk. He cracks his eyes open, wincing when his back protests him moving as soon as he wakes up. He stands and moises his way to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove. Mugs and tea bags are next, and Dracule makes sure to dump some sugar into your own cup. He then moves on, collecting fresh fruits and vegetables from your garden and investigating the smoke room. He finds very little inside and decides that his haul now is enough for breakfast. 

Fixing it up doesn't take all that long, and soon, he has a platter of foodstuffs that looks similar to the one last night. Dracule makes a mental note to try and bring you some type of livestock, though he dreads the thought of anything bigger than a house cat on his ship. 

The tea is placed on the tray, and Dracule makes his way to your bedroom. He eases the door open, and a soft smile crosses his lips at the sight of you curled up with an arm around Hank. The big pooch whines and drags himself off the bed and out the door, going to do his business. Mihawk takes his spot and sets the tray away from you but still on the bed. 

“Sweet thing,” Dracule rumbles and slides his hand up into your hair, scratching your scalp just the way you like it, “It's time to get up. I've made breakfast.” 

Those seem to be the magic words for you rise like the dead and look at Mihawk through squinted eyes. He thinks she looks adorable when you rub your eyes, pout on your lips from being woken up. 

“Hawk?” You mumble out and wince when your head throbs like a bastard. You whine and lay back down, not wanting to deal with the pain, “Don't feel good.” 

Dracule can't help but laugh at your pitiful state, “Oh, Darling. I'm not surprised you don't feel very well,” he coos and gently pulls you back into a sitting position. He shifts to sit behind you, back against the wall, as he drags the tray of goodies closer to both of you. 

“One must be careful when indulging in alcohol. Is this your first hangover?” Mihawk asks quietly, and you shrug, not really understanding what he's going on about. You frown when he laughs at you again and cross your arms over your chest, only to wince when you brush across your breasts. 

“Owee,” you murmur quietly and wonder why your chest aches so badly, only to drop your head in shame when you happened to remember most of last night. 

Mihawk gently lays you back and lifts your shirt, shushing you gently when you squirm and try to fight him, “Hush, let me look. There is nothing to be embarrassed by,” he chides and sends you a look that has you ducking your head and looking away from him. Mihawk examines the seldom hickies and love bites with a smug twist of his lips, hands reaching up to gently trace the bite mark that still lingers from last night. 

You look beautiful all marked up, and a dark feeling blooms in his chest at the sight of what he did. Mihawk wants to see more of them on you, proof that you want him. That you are his. 

“Just sore, sweet thing,” Dracule comments lowly and kisses your cheek, lingering to leave a trail of hot kisses all the way down your neck and to your shoulder, “We will have breakfast and then you will have a hot bath while I do my morning routine.” 

You nod, completely at the warlord's mercy as you glance down to see that he hasn't stopped his gentle ministrations, thumbs rubbing over your nipples over and over again until you can think of nothing but the man who holds you. Even your hangover doesn't seem as bad with Dracule here. 

Mihawk glances over the tray and picks up a cubed melon slice, lifting it up to your lips and grinning when you obediently open your mouth for him. He feeds you one piece after another until you are pleasantly full and ready to go back to sleep, “Tea first, sweet girl,” he orders when he feels you shift again. 

You nod slowly, wincing when your head aches at even the slightest movements. The tea has cooled, but it still tastes wonderful to your cottonmouth. You sip until it is empty, and Dracule takes the mug away from you when he notices you finished. He taps your thigh gently, “Up you go, Darling.” He encourages softly. 

He leaves you to find some clean clothes and a towel while he goes to the bathroom and begins to run you a bath. He is surprised by the amount of modern utilities he finds in your cottage and wonders who you really are. While simple, your home was filled with older but no less luxurious items. The hot water and plumbing were just one of the many things that he's noticed. 

Mihawk's thoughts are interrupted when you appear in the doorway with a thin robe and towel. You smile at the sight of your friend starting you a bath, “Thank you for taking care of me, Dracule,” you say, and step close to press your lips to his cheek when he rises from his slouch over the tub. 

Hawkeye feels hot satisfaction curl in his chest at your thanks. He turns and pulls you in for a kiss, hand coming up to tangle in your hair and pull you close to him. Mihawk likes the way you say his name. All breathy and full of gratitude, and all for him.

 You whine at the less than soft treatment, but you can't bring yourself to care or complain about it. Not when you love it when Dracule touches you like this. He kisses you breathless, leaving you a gasping mess as he turns away to fiddle with the knobs of the faucet. You pout a little, annoyed that Dracule is never as affected as you are after a kiss like that. 

Your annoyance disappears the second that Dracule steps behind you, hands placed on your shoulders as if to slide your robe down. Nerves surge through your entire body, and you clutch the thick fabric to your chest, “I um. I can take It from here, Mihawk.” 

You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck. Your hair is up in a messy bun, allowing the warlord to press chaste kisses to the flushed skin there, and thankfully, no more than that.

 “Take your time, dear one. I'll be outside if you need me.” Dracule assures you, and then he is shutting the door behind himself and leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You shrug off your bathrobe, and a relaxing sigh escapes you as you settle in the hot water, eyes closing as you do what Mihawk bid and take your time. 

It's an hour later by the time you step outside. It's nice and sunny like usual, and you grin when Hank bounds up. The big lug presents you with a stick, and you toss it into the woods for your dog to go running after. You glance around, humming wordlessly as you look for Dracule. 

You find him at the back of the cottage where the sun shines brightest. Your home is situated up a small embankment, leaving your backyard to drop off into a cliff face. Dracule stands at the edge of the cliff, looking regal and dramatic as the wind blows his dark hair this way and that. 

You wonder why he keeps coming back here. He's told you before that your island is like a safe haven from the rest of the world, but sometimes you aren't sure that you believe him. You don't know what the rest of the world is like, and when you first came to this island, you yearned to leave and explore the world. How much of the world has Mihawk experienced to say that your island in the middle of nowhere was a safe place for him. 

What did your friend go through for him to run and hide away from it all? 

“I can hear you thinking from up here, dear,” Mihawk says, and you nearly jump out of your skin. He turns and gives you a smug smirk, “What's on your mind?” 

You huff at him and step by his side, eyes flickering to the crashing waves of the ocean. Your devil fruit reacts to the sight, sending flurries scattering about the two of you. You debate asking the real question you've wanted answered since Dracule stepped foot on your island. Just who exactly was Dracule Hawkeye Mihawk? 

“Nothing, just admiring,” you say instead. You didn't want to give him any reason to leave early. 

Dracule huffs at you with a roll of his eyes, “Is that so?” He presses and eyes you, “You can ask me things, Dear One. I won't lie to you.” 

“Even if it's about who you really are?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You tense, flurries sticking to your skin as your nerves get the better of you. The silence is thick between the two of you, and you are terrified to even look in his direction. 

“I introduced myself when I saved you from those pirates, did I not?” Dracule's tone is one of forced calm, and more snow begins to fall when you hear it. You can't help but feel like you've messed up. A warm hand catches your chin, and you are forced to look into the golden, ringed eyes of your friend. His gaze is as cold as your devil fruit, and you find yourself shivering under it. 

“You did,” you agreed carefully, “But, you just… don't speak about yourself often, and I'm curious.” You swallow harshly and catch the bird following the movement of your throat. His eyes catch your own in the next moment, and you force yourself to hold his gaze. 

It feels like it takes an eternity, but Dracule relents, eyes softening just a fraction and grip becoming more tender, “I have a good reason for not doing so, Snow Angel,” he murmurs. 

You suck in a sharp breath at the new name, wetting your lips as you latch on to the pretty words that he spills. You want to say more, but your lips won't move. Your jaw won't work to form the words that you want to say to him. Dracule has you, hook, line, and sinker, just where he wants you. He traces the curve of your jaw with his thumb, then leans forward to press his lips to your brow. 

“Promise to not ask me again, and I'll tell you in my own time,” Dracule suggests softly and you lose yourself even more to him, “I do not take the sharing of personal information lightly,_.” 

And there it was. The nail in the coffin. Mihawk rarely calls you by your name, so hearing it in his sinfully melodic voice sends shivers of pleasure racing up your spine. The flurries melt, and you find yourself nodding eagerly.

“I promise not to ask again,” you say, and feel like you are about to explode when Dracule gives you a proud quirk of his lips. 

“Good girl,” Mihawk praises softly and brings you in for a quick kiss, pleased that you see his way of things. The tension in the air is all but gone, and the warlord leads his snow angel away from the cliff edge.

“Come, I didn't get those books for you for nothing, Dear One. How about you read one of them to me?” 

You let Dracule pull you back to the cottage, Hank meeting you with a happy bark at the door. His anger still lingers in the back of your mind, but you can let it go for now. 

@writingmysanity @foggyturtleknightangel @kenkenmaaa @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @djbumblebee

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader #op mihawk #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #peppermint tea

[ninjaturtlemaniac]

Part 10 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

This may be my last headcanons list, my friends. Will still do art and stuff but I am fresh outta ideas.

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9

Enjoy 💕

Sub Tribes - KPop/Reggaeton/Yodelers/Chaz etc. there's not many of them around because they came from overseas.

King Peppy - Didn't tell Poppy about Viva because he was in the early stages of dementia. (Canon?) For a while he thought Poppy WAS Viva. By the time he realised his 'mistake', Poppy was already grown.

Vacay Island - the brothers sometimes help Bruce at his restaurant. They have name tags with funny 'work names'. Flood, Big Fish, Classy, and Big Brunch. Viva and Poppy have done the odd shift as well, as Pinky and Vista. 😝

Brozone - they became world famous, argued and left BEFORE the cage went around the Pop Troll Tree. (Canon?)

Brozone - there was a rumoured 'unfinished' Brozone song that was supposed to be released after that tour. John finally finishes it and the brothers offer to sing it for Poppy's bridal entrance song. Poppy immediately faints. In my head the song is 'Helpless When She Smiles' by The Backstreet Boys

Brozone - whatever the Trolls equivalent of the Superbowl is, I feel like Bruce and JD would be very into it. Jerseys and face paint and everything.

Bruce - cameras make him self-conscious. If he is in a group he can tolerate it but hates being the only one in the photo.

Bruce - has caught his kids trying to do the Brozone dance routines. He tries to stay out of it best he can and let them have their fun but then they ask him to teach them and doesn't he just melt.

Bruce - has a wedding ring but it is Vacationer sized. He keeps it in his hair mostly but will braid it into his hair like an accessory for special occasions.

Bruce - 100% certain Poppy and Branch's first born would be a boy. "We're a family of five brothers! It took Brandy and I thirteen tries to have a daughter. Trust me, I have no doubt your first egg will absolutely be a boy." *They have a girl* Bruce 😑

Floyd - can only sleep comfortably near an open window. Sometimes can only sleep sitting up.

Floyd - will randomly stare off into space or mutter to himself.

Floyd - *clears throat* I ship Floom! 💕🏳️‍🌈

Floyd - can't stick to new hobbies for very long, he hyperfixates for a week or two then gets bored. Macrame, candle making, soap making, jewelry making, photography are some examples.

Clay - his brothers collectively tried to convince him that he was the adopted brother.

Clay - is quite squeamish. The sight of vomit, open wounds and bodily fluids; Clay will absolutely pass out. Snotty babies make him very uncomfortable.

Clay - gets Viva to braid his hair out of his face only when something really serious is happening *cracks neck* "Viva?" "Yah?" "Braid me" "Yes, Sir." Shwoooop

Clay - Found out the Classical Trolls have a library larger the Pop Village. "Viva, they have a whole wing dedicated to tragedies! Tragedies, Viva!"

Clay - okay, so he and Viva have never been a couple, even if he ever considered it, their work came first and he didn't want to jeopardize what they had. Buuuuuuuttt the thought that another Troll could one day be Viva's person, that she would go to them instead of him for comfort or ideas or laughs or safety or hugs... it makes Clay feel... weird.

Clay - at some point is named some kinda Troll magazines most eligible bachelor. Bro was in a boyband, co-runs a society of survivors, runs a business, is close friends with royalty, has been knighted, has a license to practice accounting and was part of the only known Perfect Family Harmony. He's apparently a hot commodity now.

John Dory - takes night classes to finally get his highschool diploma. Is too embarrassed to tell anyone until he graduates.

John Dory - doesn't get sick often. But when he does, he keeps going to the point of exhaustion.

John Dory - has indeed crossed paths with Delta Dawn before. Both of them have very different versions of the story. "I serenaded her." "The fool was whining something from the inside of a jail cell."

John Dory - has been known to sleep with his eyes open. Freaks people out.

John Dory - will drink milk straight from the carton and put it back in the fridge.

John Dory - teaches Bruce's kids all the swear words and does in fact tell them his rendition of where eggs come from.

Viva - tries to hide sadder feelings from Poppy. Worried that Poppy won't want to hang out with her if she isn't fun.

Poppy - sometimes feels guilty, if things had been different, Viva would have been Queen. Viva tries to reassure Poppy that she is "The right Troll for the role." 👍🏻 Also Viva tries to argue that they both technically get be Queens now anyway.

Guy Diamond - Trolls have eggs when they have powerful feelings of love. Guy Diamond was able to have Tiny because he loves himself so much.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls brozone #trolls movie #trolls clay #trolls branch #trolls floyd #trolls 3 #trolls bruce #trolls john dory #artists on tumblr #trolls headcanons #trolls guy diamond #trolls viva #trolls queen poppy #queen poppy #broppy #This may be my last headcanons list #So am trying to make it a good one #trolls cliva #cliva #brozone #viva trolls

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 17}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Din Djarin is not a remorseful man. Everything he's done, he's done for a reason. But he finds himself in an internal struggle as he tears through the galaxy for traces of you.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, use of narcotics, use of drugs, reader gets drugged, reader gets kidnapped, reader gets tied up, kidnapping, controlling parent, toxic parent / child relationship, toxic parent / child dynamic, din has a lot of feelings, din reflects on his time spent with reader, death, minor character death, infectious thoughts, negative feelings, feelings of inadequacy, issues with intimacy, religious guilt, feelings of religious obligation, religious contemplation, so much guilt for our tin man, violence, derogative language, insinuations of sexual favors, a few instances of shouting, din loses his hold on reality (1) time, references to past instances of self-harm, references to past instances of suicidal ideations, let me know if i missed anything please!

A/N: an all din pov chapter, baby! who's ready for ten thousand words on how this man feels? this was a fun different way to approach the story and i rather liked it even if i am afraid to post it. there are so many different interpretations of din that are all so great, and while this is my personal one for the character in my fic, i'm still worried about how it'll be received

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Mother, please.” You begged, voice absolutely wrecked. Desperation settled in your gut, making you dizzy and nauseous. The illness of it was debilitating even through the hum of drugs waning in your system. Sobs were wracking your body, exploding from your ribcage in painful bursts. You struggled against the cuffs on your wrists, the cuffs around your ankles, rotating them in hopes of finding weakness but they were strong. But they were made of beskar, strong and programmed to shock you should you jostle them too much. Using the culture of the very people who had meant salvation now for damnation. She had made sure they would hold you this time.

She just sat there, watching you from the chair by the door. Long hair pulled up into a knot atop her head, blue tunic and black trousers flowing and clean. Her hands clasped in front of her, resting her chin against them as her eyes took in the slump of your form across the small room. You were on the ground, legs numb from the hard, unforgiving stone underneath you. Boots removed and down to nothing but your simple clothing. She had taken the pendant from you, the one Din had gifted you in the wake of your confession to losing the one from Akiz. It glinted over her own chest, visible where she allowed it to drape over the front of her collar.

“Please. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to the ship. I want to go home.”

“Oh no, my darling, you won’t be going anywhere near that disgusting ship again. That Mandalorian has caused enough damage, stealing you away after taking your fob. I still had to pay the Guild fee for your bounty. Credits you know we didn’t have in the first place.” She paused, her hands clasped together, elbows on her knees, and she leaned forward to rest her hand atop them. A wicked smile overtook her as she eyed you across the room.

“Luckily, I found someone who was willing to cover the cost and offer to take you as their wife. They’ve put a lot of energy and credits into helping locate you. They will be here in two days’ time to collect you.”

She looked almost mournful at the idea of you leaving so soon after reuniting. Of sharing you with another after claiming to do everything she had ever done to you out of protection.

“But he swore to protect you from any threats, from the Mandalorians that seem to be obsessed with owning you, harnessing your power to help them crawl from the cracks of the universe they ran to hide in when their planet was destroyed. This man, he’s from a very important royal line that is deeply rooted in the New Republic.”

“The New Republic is a joke, they can’t even keep their own soldiers happy, let alone protect anyone.”

“Hush now, darling.” She got up and the black tin she kept in her pocket flashed in her hand. You began thrashing even more so, tears cascading down your cheeks as she approached you. The click of the tin opening sent you back to every other time you had heard that sound in your life, eyes going wide and your breath left you as if you had been hit square in the chest. “The time will fly by with this dose and then we’ll be off to our new home.”

He’d been searching the city for days.

Despite the thrumming of pain through his head, his vision blurring, and the helmet resting too heavy on the now soft, new skin that was his injury. Tender fingers carefully spraying bacta and skin itching as the tissue tried to heal with its aid. He wished for your smaller hands to be the one caring for him, but he was alone. Alone with a fussing child that was beginning to use his powers to get his feelings across since he was still learning how to talk and use his little voice.

Not taking any time to rest, instincts telling him something was wrong, that something had happened. You wouldn’t just run off, even with what had occurred. At least…not for this long. He hoped. He…hoped.

Stalking through the various casinos and cantina’s, searching for any traces of you to be found. Even in the hectic atmospheres of the racetracks and brothels, of seedier bars and establishments you may have ducked into or been taken to by the force of whoever had stolen you away. Snatched you from whatever you had sought out to calm yourself.

He sat in front of the tracking fob given to him when he first took the job to return you to your mother for hours. Set it atop the control panels in the cockpit, helmet removed and head in his hands as he contemplated turning the device back on. He had scoured the hotels and seedier hostels with it in his grip, to no avail.

It was as if you had simply vanished.

Your smiles and laughter, soft sighs and teasing quips a figment of his imagination.

Made up in the loneliness that accompanied the type of life he led. Missions, jobs, hunting, tracking, trading in criminals and runaways for next to nothing, refueling the ship and hitting the ground running again, taking to the air and space again. And again, and again. He didn’t realize how tired and monotonous it had all become, despite the thrill of his skills proofing to be elite time and time again. He didn’t realize how much he had been missing out on until you threw it all off track. Deliver the goods and credits to the covert, ensure they were safe and protected, collect another job, hunt, track, kill, injure, collect. Broke the routine he had been so accustomed to with an utterance of his dying language.  Rolling off your tongue with precision.

It had been striking. You had been striking and he had torn you down in a way he never wanted to, unintentionally with a fumbling lack of words. It was maddening, to search for days to find no trace of you anywhere.

There was no indication you ever existed aside from those left behind on his ship. The mug of caf sweetened with sugar and powdered milk at the table, the pack of your cigarras you always insisted on smoking outside while it was docked, the crate with your tools and materials used to make armor, the neat and organized labels you had applied to everything within the panels. The room he had set up for you….though you often split your time between his own and the hammock still hung up in the hold space.

He had left it all untouched, too afraid to erase the pieces of evidence that you were real. That you had been aboard his ship. That you had been trying to connect with him and he stumbled over his words so badly he made you feel unwanted on such a level that made you run.

Like the acts between you two had just been him seeking out pleasure with no real intent other than that behind them. The thought that you must’ve felt like he was just like every other person who had ever used you made his stomach turn and bile burn in his throat. Only his ploys had been steeped in honey and saccharine promises. He had frozen, the words he wanted to whisper to you lost in the panic of the moment, of wanting exactly what you were asking for. It had all been so overwhelming. It had been so real, felt so real, and it had been a jarring realization.

That he had wanted to remove his helmet and give into your request.

Despite the Creed he swore his life to. Despite the commitment he had made to you that would allow for him to do so in time.

But now it was too little too late.

After the third day, he was beginning to think you weren’t merely taking some time to yourself…

Maybe he was foolish to think he hadn’t messed up so monumentally that you had found a way off world and run even further from him. But he knew you weren’t the type of person to do that. To him, to ad’ika.

Burc’ya. Friend.

Ner kar’ta. My heart.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

Vencuyot riduur. Future husband.

You wouldn’t have run from him to that degree, loyal and devoted. Loving and caring, kind hearted at the very core of who you were. Even despite the tragedies and ill-natured things you had been subjected to in your life. Good. Too good, for someone like him.

He was beginning to think something had happened.

But without the aid of your communication, vambraces still set atop the makeshift table along with your main bag and armor, he had no way of knowing for sure. Just the niggling feeling in his gut that was burrowing deeper by the second.

He sent a transmission to Karga, asking if there was any news of your arrest before deeming the planet a lost cause and raising the ramp. He took the Crest up up up and into the air, helmet scouring the shrinking planet all the while, feeling an ache in his heart that he didn’t think he would ever get used to.

He had to push through, he had to focus. You needed someone to help you, wherever you had gone or been taken. You needed him to find you. He needed to find you.

Ad’ika had been in a constant flux from eerily silent to wailing as loud as his little lungs would allow, wide eyes brimming with tears the longer you were gone. Din had taken to wrapping the child up in the cloak he had bought you, securing it with the metallic flower latches and laying him down in the cot alongside him. Never sleeping, only laying down intermittently to pass the time. Rest evading him as his mind began to think of the things that could’ve happened to you.

Tatooine was his first stop, no response from Karga when he docked and secured the ship in Pelli’s hangar. Much to his disappointment, the travel through hyperspace hadn’t been too long, so a response was wishful thinking on his part. Spurred on by the endless possibilities of what happened consuming him.

He was silent as he handed her the credits from your bag, loathing that he needed to use them as he lacked his own. Even now, gone from him and hurt, you were still offering him help. Providing for him the way he should be for you, the way that he wanted to. The reality of having asked you to travel with him weighing heavily on his mind. Once ad’ika is settled with those who could train him, Din would need to take up working with the Guild full time again to provide for the covert. A life steeped in danger and endless threats, a life you already had far too much experience with. Perhaps…perhaps he could secure a tract of land somewhere, a place to return to after jobs. A nice cabin surrounded by trees and an endless supply of anything you may need. Or perhaps a shop front on Nevarro, for you to sell you wares. He would take extra jobs to provide that for you, work his hands to the bone and until he could barely move for how exhausted he was.

Because you deserved it. You deserved to be happy and he was beginning to think that may not be with him. Not if he was constantly away or you were left on the ship for days, weeks, months at a time while he tracked down his quarries. Constantly traveling through space and left to handle the ship alone.

Would…would you even want that type of life?

Wouldn’t it be another type of imprisonment, no reward but a tired and aching man in the bed beside you only a handful of nights? Half of him given to you, half devoted to his Creed.

I’d rather be dead than be someone’s captive again. Even if it’s as one to you, jatne vod.

Thoughts consuming him, there was no argument from him as he left ad’ika with her to look through the city.

The lack of your figure emerging from the ship didn’t prompt any questions from her, though he could sense them on the tip of her tongue and the front of her mind.

He set out, looking for the woman who you made friends with the last time he had landed the Crest on the sandy planet.

He found her, in the middle of a scuffle in the marketplace over a stolen loaf of bread. A child whose stomach was caved in and bruises over their arms visible when the sleeves of their tunic rose up. The vendor wanted the child to be taken in, punished for the attempted theft. But he could see how conflicted Sioban was with following that heated demand.

Diffusing the situation, seeing the form he had first encountered you in mirrored in the small child, he stepped forward and offered a handful of credits to the vendor.

“To cover the bread for the child, two loaves and that chunk of cured meat.”

“Sir, this has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to put yourself out for that ungrateful litte-“

“Take it.” Din’s head throbbed, exhausted and anxious, just trying to do something good. Something you would do. They were your credits, and he wanted to do this. At the fixed stare of his visor, the vendor released the child from her tight grip, nearly throwing the small frame to the ground as she did. Roughly, she gathered the loaf that had started the whole ordeal, a second one, and the wrapped meat. Holding it out for him to take.

Sioban ushered everyone who had stopped in their tracks to go about their business. Once the small crowd cleared and attention was diverted, Din turned to the child and crouched down.

“Here, for you.” He kept his voice a hush, not wanting the modulator to manipulate his voice into a threatening or menacing tone it tended to do, taking the emotion from his words more often than not.

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Now go and stay out of trouble.”

An enthusiastic nod and they were running off, disappearing down the street.

“Well, well, well. Mando is a softie afterall.” Sioban’s voice lightly teased. “Where’s Sarad and the baby? Or is this a solo trip this time around?”

“I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

“Something happened.” The woman’s features hardened, a slant to her brow as her eyes looked him over before settling on the visor. She didn’t look or feel like a threat, something proven further by your willingness to share a table with the woman. But Din was fighting his instincts, the ones telling him to chase chase chase, even with no actual leads as to where you had gone. And this woman might hold some clues or at least be able to offer Din a higher chance if he had someone on the ground of the planet you had run to once already.

“Yes.”

The conversation with Sioban hadn’t yielded any answers. If anything, it solidified that Din had absolutely no idea what to do. With no other leads, he fell back on his tracking tactics, searching for your last place of known residence.

Once back to the ship, he silently takes ad’ika from Pelli. Not responding to the looks or faint questioning he knew was on the woman’s mind. A nod, a formal shaking of the woman’s hand and he was guiding the Crest back into the air to comb over the planet as best he could. You had said you thought you were here when he took you from that compound, a home you had hidden away on this world after running from your mother years ago.

It took him nearly a week’s worth of days of flying low to the land before he caught sight of a structure.

Mind working overdrive as he strained his eyes through the visor with aided mechanics for any sign of life amid the vast stretch of the desert landscape. Sectors outlined and crossed out when they didn’t yield anything. Errant skeletons of a bantha, the Jawa’s traveling across the land, and Tusken settlements the only markers of time passing and the ship moving moderately along.

And then, suddenly.

There were two tall spires beside a moderate looking abode. Moisture farming equipment, the same you had told him about replacing shortly before your capture. Was all he had to go off of, a small conversation that you hadn’t expanded on in your time with him.

The structure was like most far out into the desert, mostly underground with a rounded and smooth stone roof, a door with a protected entrance to prevent sand from building up right up against it. It was modest, big enough for one person to have plenty of room. Abandoned, by his guess, the stone of the building chipped in places from sand and the spare storm weathering it down.

It had to be yours, it had to be, please let it be yours were his thoughts as he broke the lock still activated, ensuring the structure was protected even out in the middle of nowhere. Mos Eisley was an entire day’s travel away. Even more so in any other direction to another of the planets handful of moderate settlements. A good place to hide. Visibility on your side. A lonely place to hide.

I’ve always loved the forest.

The memory how your tired and injured features had lit up at the sight of Sorgan visible through the glass of the cockpit, the breathy gasp that had fallen from your lips sprung to his mind. You had been so calm, despite the precarious circumstances, stealing away moments to brush your bare fingers along the leaves reaching out from low branches.

You must’ve been miserable here. The land so dry and empty, the closest mountain ridges barely visible on the horizon. Even those were spotty with tangled roots that held little to no greenery. Sentencing yourself to the wasteland to live out your life in fear and comfortability, hoping the environment you weren’t fond of would throw those searching for you off your trail.

Glancing behind him, Din watched as ad’ika slowly made his way down the ramp. Little sounds falling from his lips as he took in the sight of his guardian in front of a new place he didn’t recognize. Raising his hands as he got to the bottom of it, Din retreated to it and lifted up the small child, holding him tight in the crook of his elbow as he descended down the few steps and through the open door.

It was dark inside, no lights on or power source even charged, no doubt. But definitely abandoned. Sparingly decorated, though he could feel that it was once your space. The kitchen equipped with a fancy caf maker, ample kitchen wares, potted plants and herbs that had long died and dried in the sunlight coming in through the windows. There was an impressively organized wall of shelving right above a desk in the large main room, presumably where you would work on crafting armor. The only way to support yourself in such an environment. Most likely making trips into town in order to sell or trade.

There were three interior doors at the back of the structure. A heavy duty one off to the side of the kitchen. That one contained a greenhouse set up, or as close to one as you could imitate underground and on so hot a planet. There was a large panel of controls beside the door on the inside, telling Din of the way you controlled the pressure and moisture of the room One to a storage room, more evidence of your time spent here. Full of large bins and crates, evidence of grains and dried food. Of the pieces of armor you lovingly and intricately crafted.

One to a fresher, the last to what was once your bedroom.

Underneath the bed is where he found it, with the aid of his helmet. The massive rug that took up most of the bedroom floor hiding it in plain sight. The trap door exposed when he moved the bed and folded the rug up.

It wasn’t secured with anything that he could see, even with the aid of his helmet. It looked just like score marks dug into the stone ground. And he recalled the way you could effortlessly wield the Force, the power you shared with the child. Perhaps you hadn’t wanted a way for anyone else to access what lay hidden beneath, using it to manipulate the hideaway you felt you needed even this deep in the desert alone. Forever paranoid and fearful of being tracked down and found out.

Sighing, Din tried to think of a way to break the barrier, knowing he needed to search the entire home.

“Ad’ika,” He called, turning to see the child had situated himself on the couch in the main room. Eyes wide as he toyed with a broken collar. He wondered if it had belonged to a creature you had cared for, run away or long since passed now. “Ad’ika, can you help me?”

Leaning down to pick up the occupied child, Din pointed a gloved finger to the marks in the stone ground.

“Ad’ika, see these lines?” A gurgle of acknowledgement, the tilting of his head. “There’s a door here, that leads underground. Mesh’la put it there, do you think you can open it?”

Din set him down in front of it, crouching down to hold his hand out in front of them both and mimic the way you would twist your hand in concentration to harness your powers.

“Just like Mesh’la, like how you take the handle from the lever in the control room?”

Wide eyes looked up at him, curiosity in them at the man’s words.

If this didn’t work…he could always resort to using the charges fastened to his belt. Force a way through the entrance, but he didn’t want to damage the space or the room below.

But the crackling of stone was sharp as it sounded in the air. The child’s small face scrunched up in concentration, his eyes clenched shut as he harnessed his powers. Quiet grunts falling from his mouth as he struggled to move the stone.

But it was working. It was opening, the telltale sounds of stone grinding on stone as the thick slab that acted as an entrance was pried open.

“Good job, ad’ika! It’s working!” He couldn’t contain the pride in his voice nor the rapid beating of his heart. Positive that any answers he was in search of would dwell below. He moved forward to help lift the heavy slab, shoving it along the floor and revealing a dark space into the lower level of the house.

Turning on the flashlight of his helmet, Din descended into the bowels of your hideaway. Dust enveloped him as he waved at ad’ika to stay put on the higher level until he cleared the space.

It was a large room, the same size as the whole top floor of the structure. Though it was only two rooms, a living room and a bedroom with a second fresher. The living room held floor to ceiling bookcases, filled to the brim with physical books. A holo net in front of the couch, signs that you spent just as much time down here as you did in the rest of the structure if not more.  He hated the realization that you felt the need to hide away even this far out in the desert, this far out in the galaxy. Forever paranoid and holding the fear that you would be tracked down. And he had been a part of that fear, he had been one of the many who had sought you out.

The crate in the bedroom caught his eye, beckoning him forward. Not only because of the hefty locks sealing it shut but because there was energy around it that made the tips of his fingers tingle. Much like his blood when he felt your body pressed up to his own, the sacrament of your trust in him personified.

Walking toward it, the small baby curls of his recently trimmed hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Snapping the thick locks, he kneeled on the ground in front of it and slowly lifted the lid.

His breath left him as the visor set into a midnight blue, almost black Mandalorian helmet peered back up at him. It was in pristine condition, as if it had merely been taken off for the man who he suspected wore it to partake in a quick meal and not the reality that it had been stored here for who knows how many years untouched. He hadn’t asked if you had kept it, after the man’s death, but he was felt the question bubble on his tongue more than once. But the answer was sitting obvious and blaring right in front of him.

Lifting it revealed the very same pendant he had gifted to you, attached to a thinly crafted beskar chain.

The one you had said you intended to show him in order to garner his help, to let him know of your connection to his way of life. Lost in the scuffle of being taken off guard and whisked away, but it was here, awaiting your return. He wondered why you hadn’t worn it that day, the day that set your paths up to cross. With slow movements, he began to remove the cowl about his neck, laying it down beside him.

With a held breath, he reached for the pendant and fastened it around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt and layers of protective ware fronted by his cuirass. The cowl going back in place.

Beside the helmet…beside it was a neatly arranged line of metal hilts similar to the one you carried with you at all times. Similar to the one you had tried to buy your freedom from him with when first meeting.

Similar but not identical.

There were four of them. Lightsabers, you had told him they were called. That he now knew were an integral part of the creed you had been trained in. But the fact remained that he didn’t know the why of how many you had in your possession.

You had said each person similar in skill and training crafted their own, each unique and personal to an individual much like the helmets and armor Mandalorian’s adorned. Carefully picking one up, tingling traveling further up his arms and settling down his back, he tilted it to see that it did indeed house a crystal like your own. Each one had a different hue.

He decided to stay in the place that you once called home that night, locking up the ship after checking to see if he had received word from Karga. But when there were transmissions waiting to be heard, he secured the ship. His head hurting and his mind overwhelmed at finding pieces of you, proof that you existed outside of his memories.

Settling into the bed, he knew it was a lost cause as he tried to feel close to you. Reality reminding him you hadn’t slept in either of the cots aboard the ship in nearly two weeks now, years for the bed he now lay atop, cover bunched underneath his arms as he curled on his side and regarded the journal you left behind in your haste to run. Ad’ika resting atop the pillow beside his own, wrapped in your cloak as if it was the softest blanket in the universe. The child trying to feel close to you as well, missing you and growing more concerned each day.

Sleep evaded him, your voice loud in his head, the way you had sounded so devoid of emotion when he had failed to communicate with you. Tipping into different memories, the most prominent of the events back on Nevarro.

It rang in his ears, over and over, layering itself until it was a buzz he couldn’t rid himself of.

Ner kar’ta.

The desperation in your voice, the tears in your eyes, the way your hands shook as they reached out for him, how gentle they were when they cradled his helmet. The soft press of your forehead to his chest, to his helmet, to his hands grasped in your own as he lay bloodied and injured, barely conscious and so tired. So ready for death after a life that had only allowed him a glimpse of you. To ensure you could escape and continue to live, to be safe.

You had told him, as well as you could, what you meant to him.

Had shown him, with trusting him to press his skin to yours, body tangled with his own. Nervous giggles sounding into the air and seizing his heart as he wanted for more of them. Of the breathy sighs and sounds that fell from your lips as you let him caress your skin, the soft give of your chest, the plush give of your thighs, the velvet smooth apex between them.

Trusted him with the most intimate parts of you, parts of human connection. Even in the face of all that you had endured.

And then you has whispered it, half asleep and safe underneath him.

I love you. Future husband.

And he shattered it. With a foolish blunder of words he hadn’t been able to reign in, to explain himself and his own desires in a more coherent way. That he wanted you just as you wanted him.

Jatne vod.

Contradicted with the emotion bleeding from your expressive eyes, the firm line of your lips as you closed your mouth, resigned to a notion that you gathered from his stupid, ill thought-out words. From his lack of words. The way your hands shook for an entirely different reason, the way you shrunk into yourself, away from him.

And then you had been gone.

And it hurt.

He left ad’ika in the room, fast asleep atop the pillows.

Removing his helmet and hanging his head in his hands, he settled on the couch. For the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian known for being so ruthless, for being so focused and emotionless behind his helmet, cried.  

“Mando, I’ve received word. But it is best relayed in person. I will be awaiting your arrival.”

Ad’ika was not having a good day, he didn’t want to leave the house he could feel your presence in. He had already wailed and shook his tiny fists as Din tried to pick up him. Causing the migraine addled man to lose his grip at the sharp pierce of his cries to his head. That had only resulted in the thump of ad’ika’s bottom on the stone floor and more crying.

Din already felt bad enough, but he felt like the worst guardian in the galaxy for dropping his foundling, for not being able to manage his own pain and discomfort to care for another’s. A pang of fear floods him, igniting his instincts in a way it rarely did. And he froze in his crouched position, having been about to scoop ad’ika up.

The child must’ve shared in his foreboding, a shriek sprouting from him and causing Din to cradle his head as best he could with the helmet, knees kissing the floor harshly as he fell to them.

Something was wrong. Low in his gut, unease bubbled and stuck to his insides.

He felt like he was going to be sick, his head throbbing, pain prickling from the healing scar at the back.

And then his body felt numb, like all sense of command was not his to control and his vision blacked out.

Nevarro loomed in the distance, approaching fast. The ship rattled at the harsh landing, Din’s steps hard and fast as he disembarked, the ramp closing behind him as he crossed the new archway that had been erected in the time he had been away. Months had gone by, one with you and one without. Having to spend another week resting in the place you once called home. He had fallen ill, though of what he didn’t have an answer. Only that his head felt like he had been electrocuted and his limbs had been hard to control. Adi’ka too, had been lethargic, crying out long into the night every time the suns had set and darkness took over the planet. The search for you stretching far too long, anxiety thrumming over his skin.

Karga was in the reconstructed city hall, reading over something laid out on the table when the door boomed open, revealing the determined figure of Din, a secretary behind him frantically trying to warn the man in charge of his arrival.

“Where?”

“Sir, please, you need to check in-“

“It’s alright, he’s got clearance.” With a nod the woman was closing the door behind her, knowing it was serious if all protocol was being ignored.

Din repeated his question, forgoing a formal greeting.

“Well, I wish these were better circumstances.” The man stood up, coming around the table and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the still form of Din across the room. The wide eyes of the child peeking out from the bag at his hip, small hands allowing him to climb from within it and jump from the moderate height. He cooed, walking the distance to Karga and lifting his hands toward the man.

“I’m still trying to get intel on that. But I do know that it was her mother, who struck a deal with someone of the Guild. He…was here still when we took back the city. He had taken the transaction separate from the Guild, not wanting word of it to get back to me. To you.” He relayed the information as he bent down to pick up the small being.

“I’ve got him locked up, but he’s not speaking.”

“He will.”

“Mando-“

He was gone in a blink, stalking out the door and toward the prison cells kept on the lowest floor of the building.

The stone steps opened up to a line of cells on both sides of the long room, Din stopped in front of the only occupied one. Body buzzing with anger that the inhabitant had not only hunted you down and captured you but did so on the orders of someone who’s voice triggered you through a transmission. He couldn’t begin to imagine the visceral reaction you’d have upon seeing her for the first time in years, having entertained the thought of killing yourself in order to not have to deal with her again.

And he feared, heat catching in his throat as he felt the prickle of tears.

I’d rather be dead than be shackled for one more second of my life!

You…you wouldn’t, right? Now that you had him to return to, someone to rescue you from being stolen away from the life you had carved out for yourself. It had been so long since you had been taken, days, weeks, and entire month. And he still had no clue as to where you had been crated off to. It would be more days, more weeks, maybe another month before he could figure it out. Did you already seize an unknown opportunity, try to escape? Or had you given up, too loaded up with whatever drugs your mother and intended pumped into your system to make you compliant? Would you have taken the endless out of harming yourself, seeing it as the only option as he failed to come to your aid thus far?

Would you be able to sense the desperation and endless efforts he was putting forth to find you? That he was trying, despite the way he was still healing, despite the sense of dread that he would be too late?

Would you be able to sense his worry and fear over you having to deal with something you never wished for? A forced reunion with your mother, back in her clutches and control. A forced marriage to a man you didn’t know, the obligations that came along with that notion…the very same acts that had caused you to turn to self-harm in the past, the scars of which were displayed on the skin of your thighs, the same ones that he had run his fingers over not too long ago…

A man bound in cuffs was slumped against the floor, back leaning on the wall behind him. He appeared to be alive, though if his answers didn’t aid Din in his search for you he wouldn’t be for long. Giving into the urge to startle the unaware man, Din banged a fist on the bars of the cell. Jerking awake, the man’s eyes flew open and his chest heaved.

The second he recognized the armor, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“It was just a job, nothing personal, Mando.”

“Is that why you went out of your way to hide it from the Guild records?”

“You’re too self-righteous, knew you’d come after me for hunting the girl.”

The snapping of metal was loud, sickening as Din’s shoulders forced the control panel to bend and spark.

The whine of the door swinging open deafening as the man pressed himself back into the wall, trying to get up on his feet. But he was too slow, Din’s hands hauling the man up by the front of his jumpsuit and slamming him into the wall. A crack sounded as the back of the man’s head connected with the stone of the wall. A wail punched from his chest as he lost the air in his lungs.

“It’s too late, her mother married her off to some high lord. She’s probably already knocked up with his heir by now. Living a cush life in some nice palace far away from here.” He spoke unprompted by a direct question. Knowing that it was useless to try and lie to the Mandalorian.

The mere thought of someone touching you had anger swirling in his chest and stomach, igniting him in a dangerous way. You didn’t like people touching you, you didn’t like anyone who wasn’t him touching you in any way let alone intimately. His voice was low when he breathed out his next question, an edge to it that commanded the truth.

“Where?”

“Don’t know, I told her mother you were probably going to find out, track me down and kill me for the information. Don’t know why.” The man flipped the stray hairs flopping over his forehead away, teeth clenching as he recalled the way you had slammed him harshly into the side of the alley.  “The bitch has a pretty face, sure, but she was a handful. Took a lot to take her out, but once I did, she begged so sweet for me to let her go.”

“Drugging someone isn’t something to boast about, it’s a last-ditch effort for those who don’t have the skill for the job.” Din’s words were a guttural sound, echoing across the floor. Blood dripped from the man’s nose, a vambrace knocked into it the longer the man talked. He didn’t know anything, but that wouldn’t stop Din from beating what he could out of the man.

“So what? It took her down and that’s what mattered. I saw her take down those Storm Troopers that overran the city, there was no way I was going to be able to without the hint from her mother. You’ll find another body to warm your bed. No need to fret over-“

Din’s hand was around the man’s throat in a flash, knuckles popping with the force. An ugly gurgle deep in his chest, body desperate for air, but he would never take another breath again. Windpipe crushing under his palm, Din took some comfort in the final, choked sound the man made before his body went limp.

Before it could even crumple to the ground, Din was walking out of the room and going straight toward the stairs.  

“Mando, I sent communication to Cara, she’s-“

“I’ve got what I need.” Din was careful as he lifted the child from atop the desk where Karga had set him with a snack. Exchanging adoring coos with the tired little being. Making sure to offer the rest of the pack of dried fruit to the claws reaching out for it, a whine falling from his mouth at the idea of leaving it behind.

“Not so fast-“

“I don’t have time. I need to find her.” Din snapped, fists clenching and ad’ika ducking down into the bag at the boom of his voice. “She’s been sold like a slave by her mother.”

“I’m going with you,” Cara was firm in her decision, not wanting to take any chances of your distance becoming permanent. Of it leading to the demise of the person who you had begun to develop into that she had glimpsed.

“No, I have to handle this myself. I was the one who failed to protect her.” He moved to continue through the room, toward the door. But Cara was suddenly in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips a firm line.

“Mando, you’re gonna need help. And she’s important to me too.”

It was a quiet trek back to the entrance of the city, more ships having landed around his own. He was about to engage the ramp when two of the attending guards approached him. But they spoke with Cara at the sharp gaze of the visor on them. Another ship was offered for them to use, curtesy of the city and of Karga. Something a little smaller, a little faster, nondescript and wouldn’t give away the presence of an enraged and desperate Mandalorian searching for his partner.

When the argument for a different ship didn’t take, Karga approached through the archway.

Cara was hesitant to point out that the ship was as obvious as Din’s armor. A sign to tip off those keeping an eye out for threats. She had been quiet, sitting in the office with the magistrate and the child while the body of the now deceased Guild member who had hunted you down was taken care of. Waiting for Din to emerge from the containment level. But now she stood beside him, urging him to see the benefits to changing ships, just for the time being.

“Do we risk docking the ship in a hangar?”

“Yes, we lie about the model.” Din insisted, not wanting to leave the Crest behind.

“What if someone knows?”

“It’s an old ship, pre-Empire, no one will know.”

“They’ll run it through the system.” Karga spoke up, wanting to be a voice of reason for his friend determined to rush, to not take a beat and think things through. “Mando, you owe it to her to be as stealthy as possible. If they know you’re coming, once you track down where, they may hurt her. Take it out on her.”

Din closed his eyes, hand coming to the front of his helmet and over the visor. He didn’t want to part ways with his ship, even temporarily. It would mean he wasn’t surrounded by the things you left behind, the proof that you were real, had been with him, shared in a life with him even for a moment.

With his words more of a grunt than anything, he conceded, knowing the two beside him were just trying to help.

“What did you do Mando?” She asked quietly, the book from your crate in her hands and pages flipping as she looked through it. Hoping to find some light on how to connect with you. Din had gathered supplies from the Crest, things you may want once he managed to find you and rescue you.Your armor and more of your clothing, the first things he packed into your bag. An insistence for you to never leave the ship without the pauldrons again that he would plead with you until you conceded. People would be less likely to confront you with the tell-tale signet of a clan and the Mandalorian armor. But then again, he never planned to stray far from you outside of the ship. He knew you were capable, more than capable, but he…he wouldn’t be able to handle loosing you again if he was able to get you back.

When he got you back, he argued against the self-depreciating and negative thoughts that were attempting to consume him.

The ship was in hyperspace, a three-day trip ahead of them to make it to the mid rim coordinates of your home world. Neither had been there but knew of the inhabitants being an uneven mix of humans and a reptilian race. Oceans and sprawling fields of tall grass making up most of the environment. It was a moderately size planet, had seen bases for both the Resistance and the Empire in it’s time. Though the more recent had been the former. Most likely spurred on by your suspected return to what you knew in the wake of the Temple’s attack. An event in your life that you had yet to open up completely about, allowing him small glimpses before it became to much to talk about. But it was easy to connect the fall of Mandalore and the fall of your Temple being equally devastating, an attempt to take out entire cultures.

“I…I made a mistake.”

“…how big of a mistake?” Cara didn’t look up from the journal in her hands, not wanting to make the armored man feel cornered. Allowing him the privacy and space to turn away from the question should he want to, feel the need to.

“She fled the ship, to get some space. She must’ve been distracted, too worked up to keep her head up and on alert. It…I’m the reason she was taken.”

“Mando, you know that’s not true.” Cara tried to placate him, knowing he carried a lot of guilt over what had happened, whatever it had been to cause all of this. “She didn’t have her saber?”

“She does- did. She.. they drugged her. Like you said, it’s the only way to take her down.”

“Wait, this looks like Basic. They’re the only characters written differently…”

Din was hovering, making out the words on his own.

“Betrothed.”

He recalled the same words falling from your lips, the reason that prompted you to make an escape. You hadn’t wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s property. The name was in Basic as well, something you didn’t want to forget lest they come after you themselves. A shadow of your past hovering over you and hidden in the back of your mind as you set out on your own, determined to hide yourself away to prevent anyone from having power over you. Of belonging to someone, anyone ever again.

And yet…you had so readily agreed in his commitment to you, knowing that was the only way Din would be able to share in your affections and wants. Mandalorian religion and culture strictly forbade the removal of one’s helmet unless it was with family, with a spouse, with children of the same clan. To do so outside of those conditions would result in the label of an apostate. Striped of their involvement in the lifestyle and Creed. It was a serious thing you should hold reservations about, with your past.

And while he hadn’t pushed the parameters of it….he had wanted to. For you, for himself, to share himself with you in the way that you had felt safe enough to voice. The realization that you had agreed to such an all-encompassing thing, being with him made him reflect. Why were you willing to do so with him, for him? He was just a bounty hunter, one who had actively sought you out and intended to turn you into the very person who had stolen you away. Sold you like an object to someone for their wants and needs, to fill a space in their life whichever way they commanded it. He had been of the same mind when first encountering you, seeking you out for a trade of currency.

Din was not a good man, though he tried to be for his people. But being a good man to his people, being the sole provider for his covert allowed him to be fast and loose with what it meant to be good in order to do so. What did it matter if the person whose puck he had was truly guilty of the accusations calling for their surrender if it allowed him to delivery credits and supplies to his people? What did it matter if the job warranted for the person he was tracking to be delivered dead or alive and he chose to kill them based on the simple notion of them running and it allowed him to bring a ration of meals to his people?

What had he ever done to deserve someone such as yourself willing to let down your walls and allow him entrance? He had been at internal war, whether or not to turn you in the second you spoke Mando’a to him, healed him, saved him from that second raging Mudhorn even when you had to reason to do so. You easily could’ve let the cut on his arm fester, let the rampaging creature take out his already spent form.

But…it wouldn’t have been easy, he knows now. How you cared for those around you: from friendly vendors to women you seemed to see yourself in, to children who are simply hungry and have no choice but to steal, to ad’ika in bounds and waves, to him. The constant swivel of your head while out in crowds and among people, sousing out threats and people who may be on the lookout for you. The swiftness with which you turn into a fighter when threatened and your freedom is at stake.

The thoughts swirled around and around in Din’s mind as the ship traveled toward your home world. The last known location of your mother and potentially holding clues as to who she struck a deal with. The now dead bounty hunter not having gotten a name, only concerned with the exchange of credits for your capture. No questions, no concerns. The quarry’s capture the only thing that mattered. The man had taken the job and completed it. Had died as a result of it.

Din had been like that too, not that long ago.

Could have easily been the one being imprisoned while someone who cared about a quarry sought answers and revenge. But he was the one realizing how fragile things where, had been since taking two fobs from Karga and altering the very meaning of his life.

Something about the wide, beseeching eyes of the child had activated his heart. Opened it up and made room for the small being to fit into. The uncertainty he had sensed from the child once its eyes had looked into his own, spurring a sense of concern from the armored man over its life well beyond the need to deliver it to the client healthy and alive.

“She asked for something, for a…kiss.”

“But…your helmet.” Cara weakly argued, knowing how strongly he adhered to his Creed. Not even removing it in the face of grave injury and offered aid. Not even removing it in the threat of death.

“I know,” His words were carried on a heavy sigh. He sat heavily in the seat beside her, the hull holding a small set up for longer travels. Ad’ika crawled from her lap and over the table, situating himself in Din’s arms, claws reaching for the helmet to try and sooth the man. “She- she called me ‘jatne vod’ before she fled from the ship.”

The cracking of his voice was not lost through the modulator.

“She must’ve felt so rejected, so unwanted. And I- I just stumbled over my words so badly she ran.”

“She knows you care about her, Din.”

The sound of his name from her lips, so different from when you spoke it, whispered it, breathed it, was too much for him.

“I really messed up, Cara.” He admitted with shaky words.

“We’ll fix it, I’ll help you fix it.”

K’ath was a beautiful planet. All endlessly sprawling ocean, sandy beaches, and small clustered villages.

Simple. Life here was simple. Crops being tended to, the oceans being fished in, no signs of the war other than an abandoned base on the edge of the largest cluster.

Din hadn’t ever wanted to enter the planet’s atmosphere, to step foot on the sandy land. It was a place that held painful memories for you, the crumbling of a life you had been hopeful to return to in the wake of losing everything that ever meant anything to you. A hopeful refuge after a life of hardships, but it had only provided you with more. The stripping of your freedom and the control over your own body.

It was simple enough to find your home, your mother’s home. Asking after the armorer, claiming he was in need of repairs. A Kath woman had been kind enough to try and use her broken Basic to tell them where he could find the store front, but that no one had been tended to it for some time now. That the woman who was known to run it could be approached at her personal residence. That she was kind and could be persuaded to help even though she’d long retired from working.

It was empty, signs of disuse obvious from the outside. Tall reeds of grass sprouting up at the foundation, the windows thick with grime. It was humble, despite the ways in which Din had seen you return from a shop front, a bag heavy with credits in your possession. A skill that you learned from your mother lending you a way to support yourself and indulge in all the things you had to go without for so long.

There was only one transmission on the communication radio set up in the corner that Cara had rushed to once the door had creaked open. Sand was collected in the corners, another sign that no one had occupied the residence for some time now.

“She’s on Maldovan.” Cara shuffled into the bedroom from the main one, aware that the man was focused on something she couldn’t see. He was as still as a statue, peering into the darkness of the doorway in front of him.

The visor allowing him to take in the room you had been held captive in. There was bedding on the ground, no frame for it to sit upon. A chair on the opposite side, close to the door. No windows, no other entrance or exit. A small room that was bathed in darkness lest someone bring a lantern into the room with them.

“I don’t know that planet.” Din admitted, shifting from where he was standing at the doorway of what had been the locked room hidden behind a large wardrobe to look over his shoulder at her. The shifting of it had popped a drawer open, revealing needles and syringes, vials that had been long emptied. All signs that this was truly the home you had been kept in.

“Is that-?”

“Where San was kept locked up, yeah.” He was surging forward, hands reaching for the chains secured to the walls above the bedding and he pulled. Using all the strength he had to rip them from where they were bolted, the wall cracking and splintering as he did so. The heavy chains fell to the floor with a clang, metal that sounded eerily familiar as it collapsed on itself. Kneeling down, Din reached for one of them, the cuff in his hand heavy and he sucked in a breath as he realized why such a simple contraption had been able to hold you: the chains were made of pure beskar.

Far too heavy for your drug addled body to fight against.

Programmed to shock you should you move too much, the sensors lining the inside of the cuffs telling him as much. With a shout he tore the second, lower set of chains from the wall, throwing them across the room in his rage.

The image of you shackled to the wall of this dark room, consumed with thoughts of ending your life kept him on his knees, forced his arms to support him as he crumpled to the ground completely. His modulator crackling with the heavy breaths.

Surging up, he activated bright flames to flow from his vambrace. Intent on tearing down the entire house to the last stud and beam. Cara was quick to retreat back outside, letting the man do what he felt was necessary. She stood behind him as he made his way outside, the structure entirely lit up and beginning to collapse in on itself.

Dark smoke whipped around in the breeze coming off of the nearby shoreline, doing nothing to quell the licking flames. Cara was doing her best to sooth an equally agitated child in the bad slung across her shoulders. Though she knew it would take time for them both to come back from seeing the evidence of your heavy past.

They watched as it turned from burning wood, the outer stone walls crumbling from the heat that had been trapped inside, to a pile of rubble and ash.

He knew it was against the Creed, that it was a sin to leave behind something of his people. But the beskar that had contained you glowed hot amongst the ash, left behind as he walked away from the plot of land and back to the ship.

“The holonet has little information on Maldovan. Citing that it’s a desert planet with white sands, crystalline oceans that bring in a lot of visitors.” Din announced as he exited the control room, the ship constructed of only that and one other room off the hold space. One level, but enough for them to be comfortable traveling. Cara had tried to get Din to retire to the room once they returned to the ship and left K’ath behind, but he had insisted he was fine. Though the door to the cockpit had been closed and locked for hours now, well into the trip since the ship had been jumped into hyperspace.

“And their walled city.” Cara added, as she brought up a hologram of the planet to life from her cuff. She had reached out to Karga, asking him for any aid he had to provide them on the place they were traveling to.

“Yes… and if her mother knows about you then it will be hard to make a plan. Your armor isn’t exactly common and I’m sure she’s told the royal guard to keep an eye out for you.”

“Haran.” He cursed, knowing Cara’s words were true.

Shit.

It was entirely possible, and he wouldn’t put it past the woman he personally knew nothing about, going off of the words of her that you had shared with him. But surely the only city on the planet wouldn’t go out of their way to screen the many tourists that sought out the picturesque world.

Time seemed to be moving slowly and far too fast all at the same time. Thoughts continued to consume Din, all the possibilities of what could occur, what had already occurred making him feel like he was a child once again who knew nothing of the world or how it worked. The ship’s system beeping before it shifted smoothly from traveling through hyperspace and back to sublight settings.

The planet in view was covered in vast expanses of white sand and bright blue. An ocean planet as much as a desert one. It was small, a moon to a larger planet visible in the sky even within the atmosphere as the ship descended. The only city was surrounded by a large wall, protection from the two outcroppings that looked to be a racetrack and the well-established tourist destination on either side.

Maldovan was known as a resort destination, an entire smaller sector off set from the main city. The sector looked to be abundant with hotels, spas, shopping, anything and everything to keep individuals occupied and a steady supply of credits flowing into the local economy.

Cara had suggested she be the one to guide the ship through the planet’s atmosphere, handle the communication with the intake group, and land the smaller ship into the hangar. She suggested he stay behind on the ship while she registered the ship, paying the station fee for several days. And when she returned, there was a frown on her face and a worried furrow to her brow.

The woman was frustrated, that much was obvious. Din merely watched her as she closed the ramp, turning to him and explaining what information she had gathered during the short interaction.

There were two glaringly obvious problems:

Everyone wore light, flowing coverings and outfits in order to gain access into the main part of the city.

And there were wanted posters depicting Din’s armored form.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers: by the lovely @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls

#dev writes #fic: of beskar and kyber #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin series #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin pov #din djarin character study #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #cara dune #greef karga #din and grogu #grogu #angst #bounty hunter din djarin #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 link #archive of our own #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom

[robinette-green]

Robin's Mer DCA Romance Fics

These are fics I’ve started that involve Mermaids and aquatic life!

Unbreakable Chains:

You’re a mermaid captured by pirates. Scared and injured, two strange metal men care for you while you’re trapped in this scary place and slowly an unbreakable bond is formed between the three of you. ________________ Wind and rain pelted down on the ship as the men scrambled to lift their catch from the water. The waves rolled, tossing the ship back and forth, slamming water down onto the decks as ropes were pulled and the net was lifted from the water. A screech rang out over the waves as something much larger than your average fish was raised from the black depths. Lighting forked across the sky, illuminating sharp teeth and claws as the beast fought to free itself. The shout of pain, as claws met flesh, was drowned out by the rumble of thunder, but the sharp crack from the pistol rang clear across the water, followed by a scream. Another shot and cry of pain, and the men were finally able to lower the beast into the belly of the ship. 

Caught in a Fish's Net: (tag)

what if I wrote a story where a human is kidnapped by mermaids. And they were forced to marry two mer princes because of a prophecy that said if the princes married a human they would be able to end the plague killing their people. But the marriage seems to do nothing and now the human is trapped deep in the ocean with these mer because mer bond for life and now magic ties them together so if they’re apart for too long they’ll grow sick and die. OH! And there’s a sea witch who creates chaos. The sky had been cloudless when we'd set out this morning. The sun shone in the sky, causing sparkles to ripple across the waves as my father and I set out to sea in our small fishing boat. We cast out the nets and had a good laugh as we waited to pull them back in, Father at the rudder and me by the tethers we'd connected the nets to. Neither of us noticed how still the water had gotten. Neither of us saw the shadows below the surface. 

Bubbly:

A little waterlily mer guppy is trapped, home destroyed, and taken to a pet store to be sold. After spending some time living in a fish bowl, our little guppy is saved and moved to a tank that has been dubbed the daycare by the human tending to it. The daycare tank is set up to rehabilitate fish before they are released back into their natural habitats. There our guppy meets Sun and Moon, two fish that live full time in this tank taking care their healing guests. Sun and Moon and our guppy fall in love and then shit goes down.

Fish Fry: (tag)

Pulled from the sea 5 years ago, I was tied up, beaten, and sold to owner after owner, each deciding I was too dangerous to keep. Back then, I was strong, able to break bones and tear flesh with ease, singing to lure humans to their demise. It's what my kind was made to do, kill humans. But no more. Kept in increasingly small tanks, barely fed, and unable to swim, I started to weaken. Eventually, I was dumped here. It was some kind of oddities collection. My owner had other humans pay to look at his strange assortment of items he had gathered from around the world. Then one day I encountered two strange humanoid creatures that resembled the Sun and the Moon and my life started to change for the better.

Monster in the Sea:

Sun and Moon are human and go by Solaris and Lucien. The MC is a water dragon. Water dragon reader finds Sun and Moon lost at sea during a storm

Dark Waters:

When your parents died all their debt fell on your shoulders. You did everything you could but in the end, you were penniless and without a home. Reaching out to what relatives you had left, your uncle offered you a place, living and working at his little circus in the middle of the desert. It wasn't long after you moved into this little community that you found a strange abandoned tent hidden at the back of the grounds, a large tank inside. Posted just outside was a sign that read 'DANGER! KEEP OUT!' If you had headed the warning maybe you wouldn't be in this predicament but you also wouldn't have met the two most amazing creatures you have ever laid your eyes on.

Fishy Business: (tag)

Attacked and almost killed, I manage to escape my attackers and hide in a cave only to be found by something... not quite human. Too weak to get away and with the beasts that wanted to eat me waiting outside, this non-human kidnaps me, taking me to his ship. This is where I find that there are not one but two of these metal creatures. A story where the main character is a mermaid and is rescued/kidnapped by Sun and Moon

Some of these won't be finished and some are OLD writing of mine. you have been warned. Please don't let that stop you from reading these and enjoying them <3

#glitter rock #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #dca fandom #sun and moon x reader #fnaf sun and moon #dca fanfic #fnaf security breach #glitter rock writing #fnaf mermay #dca mermay #fishy business #fishy business au #fishy fry au #caught in a fish's net

[hey-august]

When it's time to party, we will always party hard

I wrote this one-shot a while ago and held onto it as a lil reward for getting 200 followers. I know that's not the usual milestone, but omgggg it's so amazing to me!!! To everyone who enjoys reading my nonsense about this goober - thank you, ily, I appreciate you lots and lots! 🤗🥰❤️❤️❤️

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, not an established relationship, drinking, oral - buggy receiving, anal sex - reader receiving, protected sex, *glitter*, a bandana is not enough aftercare (but it's the thought that counts). All parties are consenting adults.

A/N: I originally imagined that the song playing in the background is Custer by Slipknot. It just seems like the kinda shit they'd put on after a while because 'lol cut cut cut me up' but the silly chop chop man will always put himself back together. I'm curious to hear what music you imagine!

Title comes from "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Pirates and drinking - already an overwhelming combination. Add loud music, rowdy jokes, lighthearted arguments, tall tales, drunk fights, a disco ball, sea shanties, and terrible dancing? Then it’s a full-blown we’re-gonna-get-fucked-up party.

Your crew was celebrating a successful treasure raid - overflowing chests led to overflowing cups. Buggy had ordered for all the alcohol to be pulled out and cracked open for tonight’s festivities, the tantalizing smells of wooden casks, sharp rum, and wine becoming a siren’s call for everyone on the ship.

This was your first time experiencing such a blowout and it quickly went to your head. The main party was contained in the mess, but the festivities quickly spread across the ship with people constantly coming and leaving. Clusters and cliques found everywhere and anywhere, like rowdy dust bunnies. Some groups gathered to sing loud choruses, others to conduct drinking challenges, one lot took over the crow’s nest to smoke, and countless others that simply enjoyed the fun.

The group that adopted you stayed in the mess, talking and chatting. Unfortunately, the concentration required to follow a conversation that could hardly be heard over the pounding music was far out of your grasp. Instead, you just pretended to listen. Nodding when it felt appropriate, chuckling when the others broke into laughter, and taking shots alongside the others. Meanwhile, you watched the crowd. It didn’t take long for someone to start a game of darts, but with throwing knives. Fun and dangerous. Someone else began collecting empty bottles to juggle. By this point, he was up to 5 bottles cascading through the air, with one balanced on his head. Delightful!

You took another shot and broke off from your group. You wanted to get a closer look at the juggler. He made it look so easy and you wanted to try. Sure, you never juggled before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Navigating the surging crowd was a challenge that you succeeded in overcoming. The victory was short lived when you misjudged your next step. Your foot caught the corner of a chair like a ship hitting shallow coral. The momentum propelled your forwards and you grabbed onto the first thing that touched your hands. A person. A person who grabbed you back, trying to fix your incoordination. It took you a moment to realize that the hands steadying your body didn’t line up with the arms you grabbed. Shit. That was when you finally recognized the coat in your grasp.

Buggy’s hands brought you back to your feet as he turned around to survey the damage. Your face was flushed, but you were fine. The red tint was probably because of the alcohol. And embarrassment from losing your sea legs. Even worse, the humiliation made your body feel weaker, like your knees were going to give out. At least you thought that’s what it was, until the butterflies in your stomach took flight. Stupid blue butterflies with cute red noses. 

Buggy felt your grip tighten so he slipped an arm around your back, propping your unsteady form against his. Having lived most of his life above water, it took a lot for the captain’s sea legs to falter. Although, the sweet look of shame on your face did make him feel a little woozy.

“S-sorry, Captain. I didn’t see you there.” Feebly, you tried to pull away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t really want to. And Buggy didn’t want to let go yet, either.

“Damn and here I was thinking that you fell for me,” he joked. 

You didn’t think your temperature could get any hotter, but now you were hoping to melt a hole in the floor and fall away. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious how fucking flustered you were. A floating hand came by holding two shots and the expectant look on your captain’s face told you that one was for you. 

“C’mon, it’s a celebration,” Buggy encouraged, squeezing you and kicking back his shot. 

You took yours and winced as it hit your throat. It almost felt cool, soothing the torrent of thoughts raging in your body. Looking back at Buggy, you noticed a few drops trailing down the corner of his mouth. Sloppy. Adorable. Without thinking, you reached over and wiped the liquid with your thumb. Before you could pull away, the clown flicked out his tongue to lick your thumb. He apologized for wasting alcohol and winked. That fucker.

The bashful frown on your face was too much for Buggy. It was fun pressing your buttons, but this was quickly turning into a dangerous game. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on your body to release you back into the wild of the party. He watched you sway slightly, as if your body forgot how to stand without him. His body tensed as he resisted the urge to pull you back into his embrace.

Thoughts swirled in your head, carried on the current of alcohol. If your captain was acting so forward, why couldn’t you? It is a party after all…

“Captain, would it- would it be okay if I kept thinking about you? At night?” you stumbled over the words, eager to get an answer.

Buggy cocked his head to the side. This was a surprise - albeit a welcome one. He pointed at himself questioningly and you nodded. His eyes narrowed and his grin broadened dangerously. Leaning forwards, Buggy whispered in your ear. His voice sent chills down your spine, conflicting with the heat between your legs.

“How about you do more than thinking?” 

His breath was warm and you wanted to feel it everywhere on your body. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You nodded.

Buggy grabbed your hand and strutted away, leaving you with just a hand. You followed the direction his appendage pulled, trailing behind your captain like a puppy. He guided you both to the closest empty corridor, dragging you the last few feet by summoning his hand. Spinning you around in a clumsy two-step to the muffled music that reverberated through the ship, he pressed his lips against yours and moved past a few crates stored in the dead-end hallway. Still with wobbly legs, you grabbed his coat to stay upright and held your mouth tight against your dancing partner. The taste of rum and spit coated your tongue. He tasted sweet and bitter. And a little dirty. 

Breaking the kiss, Buggy tilted your face up with a finger on your chin. He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation. It wouldn’t be the first time the pirate clown misread a situation and he wasn’t in the mood to be slapped in a not-sexy way. Your crashing mouth against his was enough of an answer and he eagerly reciprocated the affection. The next break was initiated by your breathlessness and dizziness. Pulling away, you saw that Buggy wore a similar expression with stars in his eyes.

“Why don’t you show me what kinds of things you think about?” Buggy prodded in a low voice. He placed your hand on his erection and used you to pet himself.

“Fuck,” you whispered, surprised by the pirate’s large mast. Although you said that for yourself, his cock twitched in appreciation.

“Please? Show me,” he whined, grinding against you. The begging tone in his voice made your throat tight and put your stomach in knots. That was nice. You liked hearing that.

Sinking to your knees, you undid Buggy’s pants and shimmied them down enough to access the treasure you’ve only dreamt about. The tip of his fat cock glistened, coated in precum. You blew on it lightly, enjoying how it swung and bobbed. Buggy hissed in anticipation.

“D-don’t be such a tease.”

You blew again. He groaned in pleasure and frustration. Holding the base of his cock, Buggy pressed it against your lips. At the very least, this should keep you from treating him like a fucking whistle. Your eyes fluttered as it throbbed against your lips, smearing precum like chapstick. You gave in and let Buggy into your mouth, relishing the soft moan he rewarded you with.

You sucked, licked, and caressed him until your jaw ached and your chin was coated in drool. Needing a break, you dragged your tender lips down the side of his cock. Kissing the base, you worked your way down to bathe his balls with a wide lick. You just barely hear Buggy muttering sweet nothings over the faint music. He placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed your face against himself. Spurred by his encouragement, you gently sucked and kissed his balls, coating them in your spit. You like how his cock rested on your face, accidentally tapping you a few times when it twitched.

Nearby voices broke your concentration. You looked up and saw Buggy eyeing the end of the hallway. He looked back down and - fuck - you looked so good down there. Obscene and beautiful.  He blinked a few times trying to clear his mind.

“N-no one can see anything as long as they don’t come down here. Crates are in the way,” he mumbled while thoughtlessly grinding against your mouth.

The voices got louder then softer, soon they were drowned out by the ambience of the ship. Whoever it was didn’t pay any attention or pause. While it felt naughty and a bit exciting, neither of you were in the mood to play a fucked up game of hide-and-seek. Before anyone else could come by and interrupt, Buggy brought you into the storeroom at the end of the hallway. One hand led the way, opening and closing the door, while the other pulled you along, taking you to one of the barrels kept in the room.

The hand you held pulled you across the barrel, your stomach and chest pressed along the top. You let your head drop into your arms for a moment. You were breathless, excited, and overwhelmed. Afraid that you would forget to live in the moment by being too interested in what might happen next. But this moment is more than you ever fucking imagined. The taste of Buggy’s cock in your mouth, your face coated in precum and spit, and now, here you were waiting for his touch.

Muttered profanity and rummaging brought your attention to your frantic captain. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Buggy patting and checking his coat pockets with floating hands and arm stumps. One hand seemed to emerge proudly until you both noticed the glove was covered in glitter. That is definitely not what he wanted and his hand actually looked disappointed in itself. You laughed at how dramatic Buggy is, even when it’s just a fraction of himself.

The clown cast a joking sneer your way before being interrupted by his other hand. Why he’s interrupting himself, you don’t know, but it makes you laugh again. Pulling himself back together, Buggy told you to get ready. You undid your pants and pulled them down enough to grant him access. Meanwhile, Buggy took the condom and lube he pulled out and prepared himself. The crinkle of the foil packet had your heart pounding.

A slap to the ass let you know that the fun was about to begin, the sound of his bare hand on your body was sharp. A rough hand pulled your ass cheeks apart as he kneaded your doughy skin.

“Fucking amazing,” he sighed while stroking his lubed cock.

Buggy leaned in and spit. You shuddered as it trickled down. He swiped the liquid with his thumb and pressed it against your asshole. Teasing you. Applying just enough pressure to make you feel delirious. You bucked your hips, trying to get something more. More pressure, more movement, something, anything.

“Tell me what you want, use your words,” Buggy crooned, rubbing circles that went to your head, dizzying your mind. You could still hear the dull sounds of music carrying through the ship. The heavy bass made you feel like your heartbeat was echoing everywhere.

“F-fuck me! I want you in me, please!” you cried.

“Keep going. I need to know what you think about~” he said in a sing-song lilt. 

Impatience and need raged in your body, consuming all rational thought. You took a deep breath, preparing to say things that you had only planned to keep contained in your fucked up head.

“Captain, I want you to fuck me in the ass,” your voice was shakey, but you kept going, “I w-want to feel your dick stretch my ass while you fuck me stupid. I don’t want my body to forget what you feel like.”

While you couldn’t see the brief surprise flit across his face, you could hear it in his husky voice.

“Damn, I didn’t expect you to be so filthy. You fucking pervert,” Buggy said as he pulled his hand away and slapped your ass again. It stung in a delightful way.

A breath lingered in your throat at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressing against you. Buggy entered, eased by the lube and spit. He could see your body soften with the sensation.

“Y-yeah, like that please,” you whined, wanting to encourage your captain.

Panting, Buggy grabbed your waist and thrusted in time with the music floating through the walls. Hitting quick and deep, as if he knew what your body craved. It wasn’t long before the wet sounds of your bodies connecting filled the room, accented with moans of pleasure.

“I-is this wh-”

“Yes! You’re d-doing so good, Captain. So much better than I imagined.”

“Of-fucking-course,” he grunted, insulted by the insinuation that your imagination could be better than the real thing. He snapped his hips into you harder, wanting to pulverize those measly thoughts and replace them with memories that would make your legs shake. The high pitched whine you released let him know that he was hitting a good spot.

“Ooooh, that feels s-good…” Your words slurred together, strung with ecstasy and alcohol. 

Buggy’s hands pawed at your hips as he continued slamming into you, the movement jostling the barrel beneath your bodies. The ferocity in his movements were numbing your mind and body to everything except his touch. Each thrust loosened all thoughts that weren’t about your captain. The constant jiggling of your body dulled everything that wasn’t extreme - that wasn’t his bruising hands or his hard cock that refused to relent to your tight ass.

You were in absolute bliss, drifting on golden waves of lust, desire, and cock. You could hardly lift your head up, choosing to rest it against the wood grain and drool.

“D-do you think about coming while I screw you? I bet you fucking do…”

Buggy’s taunting words lit a fire in your body. While you were content to be fucked senseless, it wouldn’t take long to come and you absolutely imagined it before. Countless times. Sluggishly, you wiggled your body, moving a hand between your legs. It took a moment to get comfortable, since you didn’t pull your pants down far and your unsteady hand had to navigate through that blocker. Once you were in an okay position and playing with yourself, you tilted your head to the side so Buggy could see you nod.

“M’close,” you whined.  

You didn’t have to tell him, Buggy could feel it. Your body was tight. Tense under his hands. Your ass was squeezing against him, increasing the pressure and friction you both needed. Your orgasm was at your fingertips, just waiting for the final push.

“Where d-do you want me to finish?”

“-in me, f-fucking come in me, please. Want you to come too. W-wanna feel it.”

Buggy’s body threatened to fall apart at the sound of those words. He’s pretty sure his neck split a fraction when he tilted his head back in delight. Worried that he might actually fall apart entirely, he hunched over your back and leaned into his impending orgasm. He was in a frenzy, bucking his hips against you, while also rocking your body and barrel against him. Going so deep it ached. Making your body confused, believing this is what it was created for. 

The way your sweet hole accepted him so readily each time he slid into you, but gripped him tightly when he pulled back was more intoxicating than anything else Buggy had tonight. Your yelps and cries of pleasure carried him higher, closer to the precipice until he tipped over. His weak seams threatening to break again, Buggy slumped over your back as he fucked through his orgasm.

You felt Buggy’s cock pump inside, flexing against your already strained hole. That sensation and the weight of his body collapsing on yours, which felt surprisingly intimate, were the final pieces you needed - wanted - before you came. You had imagined what it would be like to come on his throbbing cock, feeling it twitch inside you, and holy shit. Your hands and toys were a depressingly pale comparison to the real thing.

Buggy kept moving until you finished with a deep breath that gently rocked his body. Finally letting go of your hips, Buggy braced against the barrel and pushed himself upright. Reluctant to pull his softening cock from your body just yet, he ran his hands along your lower back, thumbs pressing into muscles that must be tender. A shudder coasted through your body, causing your asshole to pulse and flutter. Buggy hissed, feeling both overstimulated but craving more. He definitely didn’t have another round in him just then, so he pulled out.

You felt empty. Satisfied. Messy. But also empty. You stayed resting against the barrel, not trusting your wobbly legs or the spinning in your head. Both were probably from getting dicked down so successfully, but it could still be the alcohol. You listened to the sound of snapping rubber, which was followed by the sound of rustling fabric. 

Groaning, you pushed yourself up and turned to see what the pirate captain was looking for this time. He was unsuccessful so far. And then that damn hand emerges from the glitter pocket. But this time, it was his bare hand. Which was sticky. And now it’s sticky and covered in glitter.

“For fuck’s sake,” Buggy growled, swatting his arts-and-crafts hand away with his arm. You found that fucking hilarious and threw your head back in laughter. Although Buggy wasn’t keen on being laughed at, he did like the sound. Giving up on his quest, the clown used his other hand to tug the bandana off his head and straightened his hat afterwards. He held the square of fabric out towards you.

“Sorry, I can’t find something else. This should be enough until you get to the showers,” he explained.

This was like a dream. Better than a dream, really. You never would have thought Buggy would hand off one of his bandanas for post-sex clean up. Dirty, like a pirate, and you liked it. You accepted the gesture and gingerly cleaned yourself, clearing away just enough that you could get dressed.

Buggy waited by the door until you were ready. You walked over and before he could open the door, you stuck out your foot. Tonight had been full of surprises and cause for celebration. Even though you had already pushed your luck, maybe there was room for a little more. Trailing your fingers on Buggy’s coat, you leaned in and pressed a light kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“You know, I’ve thought about what the captain’s personal shower must be like…” you said coyly.

Buggy reached up to grab your chin before realizing it was the glitter hand. Rolling his eyes, Buggy matched your gaze instead.

“I never woulda thought you were such a greedy slut for your captain. Seems like there are a lot of thoughts in that head that I need to deal with.” He flashed you that dashing, mischievous smile that always turns you into putty.

Buggy pushed past you to exit and tilted his head, inviting you to follow. And you did, without wasting another thought.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut

[becauseplot]

(Alright I know everyone’s got their own lore reasons as to what their qsmp characters are up to while the qsmp Brazil meetup is happening but I have this stupid crack silly fluffy headcanon(??) alternative rattling around in my brain that brings me much joy. So.)

It starts with Roier and Cellbit.

Like most others on the Island, the past couple weeks have been tough for them both. With Cellbit spending most of his time in his office at the Ordo and Roier out working tirelessly (ceaselessly) on Bobby's city, neither of them are home very much, and neither of them are sleeping very much either. When the do make it back to the castle to sleep, the other has either already left or leaves before the other can wake up beside them. Two ships passing in the night. It's awful on several levels, not just physical.

Cellbit broaches the subject first because he knows Roier won’t---neither of them can keep going like this. It's just not sustainable. They're both exhausted. It's becoming increasingly clear that the situation on the Island with the missing eggs isn't going to be improving anytime soon. (If at all; he doesn't say that, though.) Cellbit's brain needs a break, Roier's heart needs a break. They need to regroup. So Cellbit suggests that they sleep.

It's not unheard of for someone on the Island to just conk out for a few days; it's pretty commonplace, actually. (Cellbit teases Roier that he's a pro at oversleeping, and Roier calls him an asshole in three different languages.) They get everything prepared to spend a long weekend asleep, then Cellbit goes to Forever and Pac, Roier goes to Jaiden, and they explain why they're going to be MIA for a bit.

Forever, Pac, and Jaiden totally get it. In fact, they understand all too well. With everything that's been going on, being passed the fuck out for a few days doesn't sound too bad, actually...

One way or another, Roier and Cellbit end up extending an invitation to their friends, saying that there's plenty of room at the castle if they want. They could make a little get-together out of it. And all three accept. So now Forever, Pac, and Jaiden are staying over too.

But of course, Forever, Pac, and Jaiden have to tell their friends where they'll be, so Forever talks to Baghera and Bad, and Pac talks to Mike and the rest of the morning crew, and Jaiden talks to Slime and Foolish and Mouse and anyone she bumps into, really, and Cellbit and Roier see the global chat messages of other tired people on the Island bringing it up in conversation with each other, and they decide, well fuck it, and they make an announcement:

Long depression nap sleepover at the castle this weekend, everyone is invited, bring your own blankets :D

Not everyone goes, of course. Etoiles doesn't feel he can afford to nap when the codes are still prowling about, Tubbo is getting ready to set some big plans in motion, Bad is...doing whatever it is that Bad does nowadays. People have matters to attend to.

But a good chunk of the island decides it's time for a collective fuck-this-I'm-goin'-back-to-bed break. They all show up at the castle at or around the agreed upon time, bringing food to share and drinks to pass around. It's a surprisingly good time, all things considered, casual but still playful and chaotic as all gatherings on the Island tend to be.

After some shenanigans getting the furniture moved out of the way, the guests get themselves set up in the foyer and main hall downstairs, having brought whatever they need for their respective sleeping arrangements: the avians bring blankets and personal belongings for their nests; Foolish drags a massive mattress out of his inventory to accommodate his full, un-shape-shifted height; Fit has a strange, sagging semi-hammock contraption that allows him to sleep without setting his spawnpoint. Cellbit and Roier think of their bed upstairs, shrug, and get themselves situated down on the floor in the hall with everyone else with a spare mattress they find.

Everyone gets cozy. Some people (coughFelpscough) peace-out immediately. Others stay up and chat and tell stories and gossip and giggle and shush each other like little kids at...well, like little kids at a sleepover. It's fun. But one by one, those people drift off as well, and eventually, it's just Roier and Cellbit who are left awake.

As they lay there in the darkness on the twin-sized mattress they pulled out of storage, they stare up at the vaulted ceiling high above their heads, and they listen to them breathing. All of their friends breathing---sleeping, shifting, sighing. Murmuring things, names, in their sleep, dreaming dreams. Good dreams, they hope. They could all do with something good right about now. Just a little something.

Roier whispers this was a nice idea. Cellbit hums in agreement. He closes his eyes and turns and curls around his husband and drags the blanket up to their chins. Roier pulls him in, and they slot together like two puzzle pieces, not a hair's width between them. Cellbit gives Roier a soft kiss. He feels his husband smile against his lips.

Maybe things can get better. Maybe.

They sleep.

#it is late and im am sleeby and delusional and the meetup is making me feel things. anywya have whatever this is lmaoooo. #qsmp headcanons #qsmp cellbit #qsmp roier #qsmp #my writing #to be clear I don’t actually think this is what’s happening in the story rn it just makes me :)) #so I guess ‘headcanon’ isn’t the right word here but i couldn’t think of anything else

[accidental-king]

BURYING THE NOT QUITE DEAD: A DISCO ELYSIUM FANFIC

My take on the events after the game featuring a multi-fic HarryKim slowburn. I'm also just a sucker for case fics. This is just a snippet from Chapter 1 but I actually have several chapters written. I'll be posting them on AO3 eventually but I'd like to run it by some beta readers first. Feel free to DM me if you're interested!

SHIVERS - As the sun begins to lower over Jamrock, the dome of an old silk mill shines like brass in the golden light. It's not difficult to see a time in which masses of workers filed in and out of its entrances, and the motor lorries lined up along its western wing to collect their wares. Miles upon miles of lustrous textiles to be shipped across oceans and isolas to glide across the skin and furnishings of those few who can afford it. The Revacholiere will never be one of those people. 

The long and blocky building projects off of either side of the dome like a russet brick ladybird, splitting its chitinous hide and stretching its wings between half-demolished tenements and modern high rises alike. Its masonry tells tales of a time before the deathblow. A time when even the utilitarian still showed a thread of residual vanity in the form of granite steps, sharp stone arches, and molded concrete cornerstones. Original varve clay brick, brown like dried autumn leaves, sit in contrast to newer, coppery replacements, highlighting the scars of war and neglect in cracks, blotches and even an entire end of one wing. Always visible like a reality you can't unsee. 

ESPRIT DE CORPS - It has been a Police Precinct longer now than it was ever a Silk Mill but its old purpose still lingers in the bones of its columns, trusses, and long abandoned smoke stacks.

INLAND EMPIRE - It’s all that you have left.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the North?

SHIVERS - A peninsula. A district left abandoned by its surrounding infrastructure. Bombed out ruins and mountains of shipping crates slowly turning red. The harbor has been locked up tight since shots rang out in the square. Blood and heavy fuel oil paint an old mosaic red and hang in the air like a fog that dares to challenge the sunlight. Motor lorries still sit abandoned in the circle, where you left them. A bookstore is no better now than your last visit, and a hostel is now empty of guests minus a few lucky souls who now grieve their lost brothers in the Union booth.

INLAND EMPIRE - It was your home for the past week.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - It is your birthplace. Born of a drug and drink deluge, on a floor covered in a lifetime of mistakes. 

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - An islet of crumbling concrete and steel. The wind whistles through water reeds and swathes of tiny white petals that push through the last spring snow. Ashes of a fire long gone out blow out into the sea to be swallowed like the memories of the cause that built it. Its only resident is gone now, taken away for medical treatment and for a prison sentence that will see him to his final days.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the south?

SHIVERS - An apartment building. Mostly stone, though partially the ivy and wisteria that have done their part to claim it in an attempt to reach the heavens. They are a part of one another now; inseparable without either coming to ruin. Inside, a marriage has been strengthened thanks to an unusual discovery made by an unusual officer of the RCM. Husband and wife embrace as they look over the colorful image between them.

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - A wind whips down the long stretch of Boogie Street that barely contains the buildings and crowds on either side. Neon signs illuminate dark windows that are rattled by the music within. Lively chatter fills the air both inside and out. A young woman walks out with her lover in hand. She presses close to his side to fight against the chill of the spring air as her dark brunette curls whip about her face. The man flashes a charismatic smile and he pulls her in closer to lead her away to a shiny white lacquer motor carriage parked just off the main street. They each know something the other does not.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the south?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the east?

SHIVERS - Seemingly endless blocks of brutalist apartment buildings that tower over the residences that survived the revolution 43 years ago. The whole district lies in a millennium old riverbed, leaving it forever in shadow of Jamrock to its west, the GRIH to its north, Grand Couron to its east. Grand Couron and the Old South district maintain their borders with two of La Delta’s canals. 

INLAND EMPIRE - A mark of constant probability. Everyone of Revachol West is just one bad couple of weeks away from moving to the Eminent Domain or the Burnt Out Quarter.

SHIVERS - Across the water, a woman in a satin robe sits with her elderly dog, surrounded by shining white marble as she peers out her 11th story window. The glass leaves the evening in an emerald tint. She would have the Eminent Domain wiped from the face of the Earth if it meant sparing her view. The canal and a financial cushion are all that separates her from the proles.

And beyond that?

SHIVERS - La rivière Espérance and Revachol East

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the West?

SHIVERS - A home you will never see again. Trees and underbrush devoured the old hospital and surrounding buildings of the Pox long before you even had a chance to remember it. Stray vagrants find their way through the bombed out ruins, shuffling past abandoned wire bed frames and rusted carts of broken tare. There is nothing left to be found here but a little bit of shelter from the wind. But the Valley of Dogs lurks nearby and most know never to stay unless they’re entirely out of options. This place will likely never be safe again.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s in this building?

SHIVERS - As day begins to fade and the lights begin to slowly begin to blink on across the city, multi-story factory windows will slowly transition from the concealing darkness to exposing illumination of what is no longer the East Insulindic Textiles Company. The loading docs have now become the motor pool for the 41st Precinct of the Revachol Citizens Militia. An old Coupris 40 whirs past a vehicle of a similar model and one of a decidedly newer model as it turns into the garage for the evening. Both MCs it passed do not belong to the 41st.

Inside the building proper, a stern looking man in a well tailored uniform walks toward the elevator at a brisk pace. His left breast is heavily decorated in medals and ribbons. One from the Suzerain, three from the Commune, most from the Moralist International. He bears the weight of the whole city on his shoulders but he carries it with an air of pride and authority. He’s heard tell of some strange happenings and without seeing it for himself, he’s not sure he believes it. 

Across the precinct, in the East wing, tucked into the far end of the first floor an eclectic group of men sit inside a dimly lit Lazareth. Three surround one in a way not too dissimilar from how the interviewee had been earlier in the day.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - A violent shudder passes down your spine and you find yourself suddenly aware that you have been staring off into the ether for about 3 minutes. You are one with your body once more.

PRECINCT 41 - The Lazareth Office of Dr. Nix Gottlieb is small despite the size of the precinct that it maintains. Cabinets and shelves line just about every surface in some manner or capacity. And each and every surface was crammed packed with medical supplies, specimens, and piles upon piles of folders and textbooks. There isn’t much space to move, let alone work. The center of the room is dominated by a surgical table that is currently sporting a flimsy pad that serves as a cushion for your injured ass.

INLAND EMPIRE - This is the closest thing to private healthcare you’ve seen in years.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your bullet riddled leg has already been looked over. You’d managed to pull your stitches and partially reopen the injury during your little jaunt about Martinaise and the islet.

PAIN THRESHOLD - You wish you’d been unconscious like the first time you got sewn up. Gottlieb is quick and efficient but he’s merciless in the empathy department. In other words, you cried. And your leg still hurts like a bitch.

EMPATHY - Kim radiated pride and relief behind his subdued expression when the doctor had complimented his work.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - [legendary: failure] He’s just glad it wasn’t worse.

NIX GOTTLIEB - The doctor is a bespeckled elderly man, dressed in civilian clothes, a dark, woven turtle neck covered by a brown blazer that stopped fitting him in the shoulders about 10 years ago. His forehead and brow are permanently creased by stress and a deep look of concentration. His brow deepens when you shake yourself out of the thought. “Welcome back, Detective.”

RHETORIC - That was sarcasm. He doesn’t care.

PERCEPTION [smell] - On his breath, mingled with the scent of Tioumoutiri cigarettes, you catch a whiff of peppermint schnapps.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - If we play our cards right, maybe he’ll share a belt.

VOLITION - We’ve been clean this week. Don’t fuck this up now.

NIX GOTTLIEB - He scratches at his wispy white hair and beard as he speaks over his shoulder at two other men. “And how long would you say these episodes tend to last?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your partner of the last seven days looks between you and the blue notebook in his hands, occasionally flipping through its pages. He still stands in his field attire; Orange nylon bomber jacket zipped up to his collar, white crew shirt hidden beneath it, brown aviation mechanic pants tucked neatly into his black boots, and his brown leather driving gloves. 

KIM KITSURAGI - He thumbs over a couple of pages before answering, “Anywhere between a few seconds to several minutes. This… is one of his longer episodes.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Wait! Has he been taking notes on you?

LOGIC - [medium: Failure] Of course not. We’ve already established that this is his method of working through his thoughts. This is likely a method of recall for him.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - A lean blonde man in a tailored suit looks over you from where he stands, with fascination glittering in his hazel eyes. You saw a similar light when you spoke with him in front of the defunct Feld R&D when he spoke of their pre-revolution efforts. He was also one of the only ones in the fishing village who stood up for you against your partners onslaught of insults.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - This man is a special consultant taken onto the Major Crimes Unit in C-Wing. His well-traveled knowledge and personable demeanor has lent itself invaluably to the task force.

AUTHORITY - /Your/ task force.

INLAND EMPIRE - Not anymore. You’ll be lucky if they’ll even let you back into the field as a patrol officer, given the circumstances.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - “And what do you experience during these… lapses, Harry?”

HALF LIGHT - Don’t. This is a trap.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

+1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 This sounds insane

[VOLITION: legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -1 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - Really? Anything else?

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Nope.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

RHETORIC [challenging - Failure] What spills forth is a vomited spew of half finished sentences, aborted gestures, and some words you’re pretty sure you’re misusing. You throw in some apologies and self-depreciation for good measure like a dog half-heartedly trying to bury its own shit.

NIX GOTTLIEB - “Try again. But in Vacholian this time.” His arms cross and his fingers drum impatiently on his bicep.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

[VOLITION - legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -3 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -3 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - “Just a real shit show of an internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “It’s inconvenient at times, but he often comes through with concepts and ideas I never would have considered. Unorthodox as it may be, it was invaluable to the investigation.”

DRAMA - [Medium: Success] He means it, sire.

EMPATHY - He’s concerned about your well being, but he also doesn’t want to see you misrepresented in the eyes of these men.

+1 Morale

#disco elysium #fanfic #my art #my writing #harry du bois #do not repost #post martinaise #slow burn #kim kitsuragi #harry x kim #harrykim

[callmebrycelee]

9-1-1 REACTION

This week’s episode marks the 100th episode for 9-1-1 and it is a total banger! I figured nothing could get better than Bobby and Athena trapped inside an upside-down cruise ship, but this week’s episode walked up to the bar and said, “hold my beer”. If you’re reading this, you know exactly why this episode is truly *that girl* and I promise you we’re gonna talk about those last 4 minutes and 23 seconds that had us collectively clutching our pearls, pillows, and pets and left us with nary a hair on our scalps. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover so let’s not waste another second. This reaction is for the season 7, fourth episode “Buck, Bothered and Bewildered” which originally aired April 4, 2024. The episode was written by Andrew Meyers and Bradley Michael Marques and directed by actor turned directed Chad Lowe. Spoilers ahead!

“She has anthrax! Or glitter.” – Bachelor Producer, to everyone

We start things off at the Bachelor mansion where we see real-life runner up of season 20 of The Bachelorette and star of season 28 of The Bachelor, Joey Graziadei. I have never seen an episode of The Bachelor, but I have watched the first two seasons of VH1’s Flavor of Love so I’m quite familiar with the concept of a bunch of women competing for the affections of one man. The opening to this episode does a great job of parodying the hit ABC dating and relationship reality television series while also being respectful. After all, the show and it’s many spin-offs are beloved by many, including 9-1-1 viewers. 

We see a handful of hopeful contestants pull up to the mansion in limos, each of them providing a cheesy introduction very reminiscent of RuPaul’s Drag Race and the Real Housewives. I love that two of the contestants are named Ashley because of course there would be two Ashleys cast in the same season of a show like this. My favorite contestant, however, is Ashley A., a flight attendant who looks like she just stepped out of the one-season wonder Pan Am starring Christina Ricci, a pre-Barbie Margot Robbie, and Mike Vogel. Now that I think about it, wasn’t Pam Am an ABC show?

The last contestant arrives with a bottle of glue and introduces herself as Conchata. Joey is all of us and asks her about her name because for those of you who haven’t seen the episode, this woman is the whitest shade of pale and is the last person I expect to have the name Conchata. The producers (played by Jamie Denbo and Rique) scramble behind the scenes trying to find out who this woman is because she is definitely not Conchata. The contestant comes clean about who she really is and introduces herself (again) as Bailey, an aesthetician from Sheboygan, Wisconsin. She takes the bottle of glue and pours it all over the cobblestone driveway. She then lies flat on the driveway in attempt to glue herself to the surface. Our two producers attempt to remove her, but her skin has adhered to whatever glue she poured on the ground. 

Cue title card.

“I love dalmatians.” – Ashley C., Bachelor contestant, to Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz

Our favorite 911 dispatch, Maddie, gets a call from the season 5 bachelor and host of The Bachelor, Jesse Palmer. We learn Maddie and Josh (played by Bryan Safi) are uber fans of the show and I cracked up when Josh commandeered the phone call and started grilling Jesse about the new bachelor. Maddie deploys the 118 to the Bachelor mansion and it’s heavily insinuated the location of this particular emergency is outside of the area the department usually responds to. Way to keep it professional, you guys!

The 118 arrive on the scene and Chimney and Hen attend to Bailey (played by Sarah Fletcher). Chimney sees Joey and he is awestruck. I can totally see he and Maddie piling up on the living room sofa after they’ve put Jee-Yun to bed to watch The Bachelor. There’s a funny moment where the other contestants flirt heavily with Eddie and Buck. Eddie tells them he’s taken but points to Buck and says that he is single. Buck tells them he has a rule about not dating people he meets on calls which is hilarious considering he nearly got fired in the first episode of the series for taking one of the firetrucks to a booty call with a woman he saved. 

Eddie and Buck breakout the jackhammer to cut away the piece of driveway Bailey is stuck to so she can be transported to the nearest hospital. Meanwhile, Chimney answers a FaceTime call from Maddie and Josh who want to know the identity of the latest bachelor. Chimney flips the camera around and tries to be sneaky about filming Joey, but he gets caught. He ducks behind the limo Bailey pulled up in and sees another woman passed out in the backseat. We learn this is the real Conchata and she has been chloroformed by Bailey. Speaking of Bailey, as she is loaded into the ambulance, she yells for Joey to visit her in prison. Yeah, I don’t think Joey Graziadei is going to be visiting you, Bailey.

“That night was the most fun I’ve had since getting struck by lightning.” – Evan Buckley, to Tommy Kinard

We next head over to Air Operations One which I’ve learned is a part of the Los Angeles Fire Department. Tommy Kinard (played by Lou Ferrigno Jr.), our former 118 firefighter turned helicopter pilot, is giving Buck a tour of the unit. I got so excited seeing these two share a scene together because it’s no secret that Buck is my favorite character on the show, and I really like how they’re brought Tommy back into the show this season. Buck is in awe of everything Tommy’s telling him, but the latter believes he has ulterior motives for being there. He asks if Buck is thinking about changing career paths. Buck tells him that he really got a thrill flying in the middle of a hurricane to save Bobby and Athena. It’s the most fun he’s had since getting struck by lightning. 

Buck asks Tommy what got him into flying. Tommy tells him that he used to be a pilot in the Army. Buck lights up and tells Tommy that Eddie was in the Army, too. Tommy already knows this. Buck then tells Tommy that he met his ex (Taylor) responding to a helicopter crash and then realizes in that moment that maybe that was a sign of things to come. Tommy agrees that saving someone’s life and dating them never turns out the way you want it to. Upon second (and third) viewing of this episode, I find it interesting how the both of them are ambiguous about the genders of the people they are speaking about. Buck could’ve mentioned Taylor by name, but he chose to just say ex instead. Now back to the topic at hand, Buck says he isn’t sure if he’d want to leave where he is now to pursue being a pilot and Tommy assures him he can do both which seems to be the thesis of this episode. Tommy offers to teach Buck how to fly for fun. Buck offers to buy him a beer and Tommy says he’d love that. Again, how did I not pick up on the subtle flirtation the first time I saw this episode. These two’s chemistry is off the charts. 

However, our little meet cute is cut short when Eddie arrives. Eddie is surprised to see Buck there and asks Tommy if he got three tickets to the fight. Tommy says ‘no’ but he wishes he did. Here’s another thing I really liked about this scene. I’m sure, by now, Tommy knows that Buck goes by Buck but each time he addresses Buck he calls him ‘Evan’. I’ve always equated the characters on this show who refer to him as ‘Evan’ as having more of an intimate connection with him, i.e., Maddie his sister or Eddie his best friend. Anywho, Buck is surprised to learn that Tommy and Eddie have tickets to a big fight in Vegas and they’re taking one of the helicopters there. Now I have a question. If Buck wasn’t allowed to drive the firetruck to his hookups back in season one, how is Tommy flying to Vegas with Eddie in one of the LAFD choppers okay? Also, I didn’t know helicopters could fly that great of a distance. Anyway, Tommy and Eddie leave to board the helicopter and our poor Buck is left behind feeling both a little confused and a lot jealous.

“It is so good to have you back.” – Athena Grant, to Harry Grant

Speaking of surprises, Athena does not sleep with her hair wrapped. No shade, but no Black woman I know is going to lay her head down at night without doing something to protect her hair. Okay, I’m gonna leave Athena alone because she is thrilled to have her son back home. Yes, you read that right. Harry Grant is back home but he looks a bit different. The character is now aged up played by a new actor – Elijah M. Cooper. Now, in case you forgot, Harry went to live with his dad in Florida back in season five and we really haven’t seen him since then. When Athena says she can’t believe Michael didn’t say anything about Harry coming to visit. Harry tells her his dad has been really busy and had to fly back to Haiti. Bobby is immediately suspicious of this because he figures that Michael would’ve called about something like this. Athena doesn’t seem to concerned about any of this and is basically just happy to have her youngest back under her roof. 

“I saved a baby in a pipe once although it was a preemie and it didn’t speak.” – Evan Buckley, to everyone

Meanwhile, Buck, Eddie, and Ravi (played by Anirudh Pisharody) respond to an emergency at a restaurant where the dishwasher (played by Jibre Hordges) claims he hears a voice coming from inside the sink. Ravi doesn’t think it’s possible that someone could be trapped inside a drain but Buck reminds him of the time he pulled a newborn out of a sewer pipe. The firefighters do finally hear someone yelling for help and the restaurant manager (played by Cesili Williams) shows them footage of a motorcyclist being struck by a car and knocked into a storm drain. 

Buck, Eddie, and Ravi head outside and Ravi, being the newest member of the 118, is lowered down into a manhole to extract the poor guy. During this time, Buck grills Eddie about his outing with Tommy. He learns that in addition to going to Vegas, Tommy is also teaching Eddie the Muay Thai style of boxing and they’ve even worked on Eddie’s Chevelle together. Buck does his best to hide his jealously, but he can’t help pressing his best friend for more details. He asks Eddie when he plans on seeing Tommy again. Eddie tells him that Tommy has this karaoke/trivia thing he does on Wednesdays and asks Buck what his plans are for that day. Buck perks up and says his schedule is wide open. Eddie asks if he would watch Christopher for him. He would ask Marisol, but she’s already watched Christopher twice already. Yikes! So, a lot to unpack here. First, is Eddie using his girlfriend as childcare? Second, does this mean Buck’s level of importance to Eddie has decreased now that Tommy and Marisol are in the picture. Lastly, is Eddie really that oblivious? I get wanting to have a new friend, especially one who you have a lot in common with, but he knows Buck, or rather he should know Buck, and him saying these things, even though Buck technically asked him for this information, is hurtful for Buck to here. This, I’ve noticed, is a continuing trend of certain characters getting upset whenever Buck does something wrong, but having little to no regard when it comes to his feelings. This isn’t the first time Eddie has done something like this and I have to believe that he really is oblivious because the alternative means that he’s doing these things because he’s trying to get his friend all riled up. Of course, Buck agrees to watch Christopher because of course he’s going to watch Christopher. 

“Is it circled with a heart around it?” – Maddie Buckley, to Evan Buckley. 

A few days later, Buck updates Maddie on Eddie’s new friendship with Tommy. Buck is so jealous of the new friendship that he’s gathering intel from Christopher. Although Buck is being a little bit extra about all of this, a part of me can relate to the emotions he’s feeling. He worries that Tommy has made such an impression on not only Eddie but Christopher in such a short period of time. What I find fascinating is that while Buck is jealous, he harbors no ill-will towards Tommy.  In fact, he agrees with Eddie and Christopher. Tommy is cool. Buck tells his sister that Christopher would not stop talking about Tommy. Maddie wonders if it’s because Buck kept asking him questions about Tommy. Buck mentions that Eddie has a date written down on his calendar and it’s for a weekly pick-up basketball game with Tommy and other first responders. The date is circled. Buck mentions that Eddie has asked him to this before. Maddie reminds Buck that he doesn’t like basketball and he agrees and says that’s why he always tells Eddie ‘no’ but now Eddie is going with Tommy. Chimney hears the tail-end of their conversation and tells Maddie that Tommy flew Eddie to Vegas for a fight in a chopper. Chimney teases Buck by saying that Tommy’s so cool. 

“We have a problem.” – Bobby Nash, to Athena Grant

Back over at the Grant-Nash household, Bobby tells Athena he talked to Michael. Michael is not in Haiti, and he also had no clue Harry had left and come to Los Angeles which means Harry lied to the both of them. Athena wonders why Harry would lie, and Bobby says it’s because the police is looking for him. They showed up to Michael’s house while he was on the phone with Bobby. Bobby tells his wife that Harry got into a fight and assaulted someone. There’s now a warrant out for his arrest due to him fleeing the jurisdiction. Yikes! Poor Athena. You think you know your kids.

“That’s Jeremy. That’s my son, he’s a doctor.” – Dorothy Nelson, to Athena Grant

Maddie receives a call from an older woman named Dorothy Nelson who is reporting an intruder in her home. Maddie instructs her to stay calm and tells her to find a place to hide until the police get there. The woman panics and tells Maddie she has a gun. Maddie tells her that arming herself can only make the situation she’s in more dangerous. Dorothy starts screaming and then we hear a gunshot. 

Athena, Hen, and Chimney arrive on the scene and find a man dead in the Dorothy’s living room. Chimney tends to her and learns she recently sustained a fall in her garden. Athena looks around the room and sees a photo on the mantle above the fireplace. She realizes the man in the photo looks an awful lot like the dead man on the floor. Hen posits Dorothy has face blindness which means she wouldn’t have been able to recognize the guy even if she does know him. This emergency reminds me of a similar one on Lone Star where a kid locked himself in the bathroom because his dad thought he was an intruder.

Athena goes over to Dorothy (played by Meagen Fay) and asks her if she recognizes the man in the photo. She tells Athena that the man in the photo is her son, Jeremy, and he’s a doctor. So, this lady has killed her own son, and the sad part is, she still thinks that it’s an intruder she shot. This is beyond sad, and I felt so bad for her. I also feel bad for Athena who will have to be the one to tell her the truth. Hen asks her if she can imagine looking into her own child’s face and not even recognizing him. Athena says yes she can.

“That’s how they wake you up in jail for sleeping in. Except the water won’t be clean and it probably won’t be water.” Athena Grant, to Harry Grant

Athena returns home and confronts her son. I did not like the way Harry was talking to his mom and I was wondering why Athena didn’t slap him across his lips. Then I realized, she already did this back in season 5 when Harry started mouthing off at her. Athena is extremely patient in this scene while Harry tells her about the incident involving him assaulting a man. The man, in question, is the manager of a convenience store. Apparently this man was following Harry around while he was inside the convenience store and accused Harry of stealing. The man wouldn’t let Harry leave and got aggressive with him which is why Harry hit him. Harry is upset because he believes she is taking law enforcement’s side over his much like he thinks she did when his father was pulled over several seasons ago. Athena reminds him she is a cop, and he counters by reminding her that he is still his mom. He asks her which one is more important to her but says he already knows the answer to that question. 

“Hey, what are you doing on Thursday?” – Evan Buckley, to Howard "Chimney" Han

Over at the 118, Buck is trying his best to get Eddie’s attention, but the latter is too wrapped up in his phone call with Tommy. Buck tries to impress by bench-pressing a lot of weight but he’s clearly struggling with isn’t too believable for me because have you seen Buck? The guy is a tank! Ravi asks him if he needs help and Buck declines. I wish Buck wasn’t so short-sighted because as much as he wants Eddie and Tommy to notice him, I think Ravi wants Buck to notice him. For him, I think, Buck is the cool one. Chimney brings Buck a package addressed to an M. Buckley which I found funny because either Buck doesn’t have his own Amazon Prime account or maybe he shares one with Eddie and didn’t want his friend knowing what he’s ordering. Turns out, the item Buck has ordered is a new basketball. When Buck sees Eddie again, he suggests that they can get a basketball hoop. Eddie barely acknowledges this before returning to his conversation. Yeah, I’m beginning to think Eddie is doing this on purpose. 

“He was shot when he was mistaken as an intruder.” – Athena Grant, to Dorothy Nelson

Athena puts her cutest outfit and goes to see Dorothy Nelson at the hospital. She rips off the Band-Aid and tells Dorothy her son is dead. When Dorothy asks what happens, Athena tells her that he was killed because he was mistaken as an intruder. I like how Athena delivered this news because it wasn’t accusatory. She lets Dorothy figure out the rest and the moment it dawns on her that she is the one who killed Jeremy she is rightfully devastated. Kudos to the actress playing Dorothy Nelson because she really sold this scene for me. This is the most devasting thing I’ve seen on this show since the story back in season 5 where two best friends were struck during the middle of a parade and one of them died. The scene ends and I’m left wondering what will become of this woman. I can’t imagine the pain she’ll have to live with knowing she killed her son. 

“So, I’m your basketball beard. I feel so bonded.” – Howard “Chimney” Han, to Evan Buckley

Buck convinces Chimney to go with him to the pick-up basketball game. Buck pretends to be surprised to see Eddie and Tommy there. Eddie asks Chimney how he managed to talk Buck into playing basketball because every time he asks him, he says ‘no’. Chimney decides to play coy and tells Eddie he has his ways. I love seeing Chimney being supportive of Buck because very soon they are going to be brothers-in-law. The two square off against Eddie and Tommy and the latter are dominating. Buck lets his jealousy get the better of him and trips Eddie up right as he’s about to make a lay-up. We hear something pop as Eddie falls to the ground. Chimney goes into paramedic mode and assesses Eddie’s injury. He thinks Eddie may have a fracture or sprain. Tommy says that Eddie rode with him, so he’ll be the one to take him to urgent care. Eddie gives Buck a hurt look and Buck immediately feels horrible. Tommy lifts Eddie up and takes him away. Chimney looks at Buck and says, “Well you bucked that up, didn’t you?” Geez, I really feel bad for Buck. He is spiraling!

“It seems unjust, but in reality that’s just the way it is.” – Athena Grant, to Harry Grant

With a cooler head, Athena decides to talk to her son. He apologizes for how he spoke to her. He tells her he is not sorry for hitting the convenience store manager. Athena reminds him that he is not only representing himself and their family, but also his community, which means he can’t go around punching people. He tells her that’s a lot of pressure, but she says that’s the reality of the world they live in. She tells him has to be smarter and he asks her if that means he’s not allowed to be angry. Athena tells him it’s okay to be angry because at the end of the day, he’s a human and that’s what humans do – they get angry when they are upset. However, she reminds him that things could have been worst for him. What if the convenience store manager had a gun? Harry asks her what would have been the right thing for him to do in the situation and I like that Athena admits she doesn’t know. At the end of the day, you have to do whatever you have to do to make it home alive. That’s sentiment is so sad to me but as a Black man living in America, in the South to be specific, I totally get it. It’s not fair but it is what it is. 

Athena shows him the footage of what happened at the convenience store. Harry watches as the manager confronts him and even gets aggressive. He also sees himself punch the man. It’s sobering for him to see this video. He says it’s like watching someone else. Athena tells him that everyone has something they’ve done that they aren’t proud of (you hear that Buck?) but the true test of character is being able to face the consequences of one’s actions. Harry tells her he doesn’t know what to do and she tells him they’ll figure it out together. Whatever happens, she will be right there with him because he is her son, and she loves him no matter what.

“I’m not a fourteen-year-old girl.” – Evan Buckley, to Maddie Buckley. 

Buck brings Maddie lunch at the dispatch center and catches her up on what happened with Eddie.  She asks Buck how Eddie is feeling, and he tells her he doesn’t know because he hasn’t talked to him. Maddie is surprised to hear this considering Buck and Eddie are so close. Buck tells her he doesn’t think Eddie wants to hear from him since he’s the one who hurt him. Maddie says it’s an accident, but Buck tells her he was pissed about Eddie and Tommy hanging out so much that he allowed his jealousy to get the better of him. He’s the reason why Eddie got injured. Buck says he was only trying to get his attention. Maddie tells him that is not the way to get someone’s attention. When I first watched this scene, I thought Maddie was going a little overboard with her disapproval of what Buck did. Then I realized, violence is how her husband Doug would get her attention back when they were married. Buck tells her he feels awful for what he did to Eddie, and she tells him not to do it again. 

She admits she knows how he feels because she had a similar situation with her best friend growing up. Her friend became friends with another girl and Maddie did everything she could, including dyeing her hair blonde and attempting to change her name, to get her friend to notice her. It never occurred to her that she could have still been friends with her friend even if her friend was friends with someone else. Maybe they could have all been friends. But Maddie was too jealous to realize this. The situation made her look desperate, and she would’ve been better off just explaining to her friend how she felt. 

“It’s good to see you Harry.” – Captain Elaine Maynard, to Harry Grant

Athena accompanies Harry to the police station, and they are met by Captain Elaine Maynard (played by Claudia Christian). The captain tells Athena and Harry she spoke with the Miami Dade Police Department, and they have no interest in extraditing for a misdemeanor assault. However, both jurisdictions recommended Harry remain in Los Angeles with Athena and complete 100 hours of community service. Harry is surprised he isn’t going to jail but Athena makes it known that him being under her watchful eye will be worse. 

“It’s not like I could ever replace you.” – Tommy Kinard, to Evan Buckley

Now, we’ve finally made it to my favorite scene of the episode. We head over to Buck’s loft. There’s a knock at the door and when he goes to check, he finds Tommy on his doorstep. Tommy asks if they can talk, and Buck invites himself inside. I love the subtle detail of Tommy being in awe of Buck’s loft. Buck offers him a drink and reminds him that he owes him a beer. Tommy declines and says he won’t be staying long. He tells Buck he wants to clear the air between the two of them and he didn’t want to do so over the phone or through a text message. Tommy calls him Evan and says it was never his intention to cause any bad blood between him and Eddie. Buck assures him there’s no bad blood and owns up to his bad behavior. He tells him that he and Eddie make perfect sense as friends. Tommy agrees and reminds Buck that Eddie can have more than one friend. 

Tommy says that he would never be able to replace him. He says that Christopher cannot shut up about Buck. I love the smile on Buck’s face when Tommy says this because it’s a reminder that Buck, seven seasons later, still craves the approval and the acceptance of those around him. Even Christopher. Buck asks Tommy if Eddie is mad at him. Tommy tells him Eddie is not mad at him. If anything, he feels bad (they both do) for excluding Buck. He tells Buck that he and Eddie hanging out was never about Buck, but Buck says that’s the problem. He admits he can get pretty jealous. I’m so proud of Buck for just owning everything in this scene. Lisa Rinna would be proud. 

Tommy admits that Buck isn’t the only one who’s been jealous. Buck is surprised to hear this. Tommy explains that he’s jealous of what’s become of the 118. When we were first introduced to Tommy, it was back during the ‘Begin’ episodes for Hen, Chimney, and Bobby. The 118 didn’t use to be the family it is now. In fact, the previous captain went out of his way to cultivate a highly toxic environment and it’s because of Chimney, Hen, and Bobby that the team is what it is today. It’s the reason why Buck and Eddie and Ravi were able to be accepted right away without having to be hazed by the other firefighters. Tommy admits he wishes he were a part of what the 118 has become and Buck reminds him that he is. He reminds Tommy of how he made fake mouth static at the fire chief during their daring mission to save Bobby and Athena. Tommy says he’s renowned for his fake mouth static, but Buck says it wasn’t very convincing. The banter between these two men is so cute I could actually explode. Buck tempers his teasing by reminding Tommy that he was willing to put his job on the line to help the rest of them out. That was the moment Buck realized that Tommy was cool and that he liked him. He tells Tommy that’s the reason he called him for the tour. It’s not because he’s thinking about leaving the 118; it’s because he wanted to get to know him. It’s Tommy’s turn to be surprised. Buck says things took a turn when Eddie arrive, but he understands why Tommy wants to hang with Eddie. It was so cute the way Buck gushes about how great Eddie is that he’s known Eddie is great since the first day he worked with him. Aww! At this point, I’m literally yelling at my TV.

“That was better than fake mouth static.” – Evan Buckley, to Tommy Kinard

The flirting is turned up to level 100 when Buck tells Tommy it’s his attention he’s been trying to get and frankly he’s exhausted. Again, Tommy is surprised to hear this. Buck reminds him that he maimed his best friend, and that Maddie told him there are better ways to get someone’s attention. Before Buck can even finish the statement, Tommy leans in and kisses him. There’s a brief hesitation in Buck, most likely because he is shocked, the Buck starts to kiss him back. This moment was beyond shocking to me and even now, three days later, I still have to watch the clip to remind myself that Tommy kissed Buck and Buck definitely kissed him back. I spent years thinking something like this would never happen and I’ve gone back and forth with Buddie shippers online telling them that Buck or Eddie coming out as anything other than straight was an impossibility. Yeah, maybe that was the case when 9-1-1 was on FOX but this is a new network baby and ABC said, let them boys kiss! And yes, it’s not Eddie and Buck that are kissing but in my opinion, this is an even better direction for the characters to go in. I’ve always believed that if either character were to come out as queer, it would be Buck. We’ve only seen Buck in relationships with women, but he’s always struck me as someone who is open to whatever experiences come his way. Perhaps this explains why he's always had difficulty in the relationships he’s pursued on the show. Eddie, on the other hand, is a lot more reserved than Buck and the writers are going to have to put in work to convince me he is anything other than a heterosexual man. I’m not saying it’s out the realm of possibility, but I think the writers did a good job getting us where we are now, and they’ll need to do the same for Eddie in the future should that be the direction they want to go in for that character. Also. bringing Tommy into the equation is a brilliant move on their part because rewatching those ‘Begin’ episodes, there are insinuations there that he may be gay or bisexual. 

Okay, back to the scene. The way Tommy is looking at Buck gives me all the feels. The way he’s looking at Buck tells me that if he didn’t have to leave for his shift, they would be going at it on Buck’s new sofa. I’m so happy this isn’t just a one-sided interest. After the kiss, Tommy asks Buck if he’s okay with the moment they just shared. Buck is looking every bit of the bewildered that’s a part of the title of this episode. He tells Tommy that the kiss was better than his fake mouth static. Tommy tells him he has a shift, but he wants to take Buck out on a proper date. Buck tells him he’s free and man is that statement layered. Free to go out. Free to be who he wants to be. Free to kiss anyone he wants to kiss. Tommy tells Buck he will come around on Saturday at eight to pick him up. Tommy goes to leave but before opens the door, he tells Buck to call Eddie. We end the scene with Buck looking the happiest he’s looked in a long time. 

This episode is hands down one of the best of the series and that’s just not recency bias. I feel that way about all the episodes we’ve gotten this season. 9-1-1 is firing on all cylinders at this point and things feel fresh and new again. The plot with Athena and Harry was perplexing at first but then I grew to like it by the end. I like that the show reminds us that Athena being a Black woman and a cop is controversial, especially in today’s climate, and I like that her kids aren’t afraid to call her out. I love seeing Athena reckon with both identities and how they relate to each other. I especially loved her conversation with Harry because it’s very reminiscent of conversations I’ve had with my own mom. Her telling Harry that it’s unfair that he has to always be on his best behavior but necessary rang so true to me. Athena has always known this, even before she had kids, yet she chooses to continue to work within a system that reinforces this kind of thinking. 

The storyline with Buck was also fun. It was a nice balance to the sadness of the story with the woman killing her son on accident. I like how Buck is never afraid to be vulnerable, even if it’s to his detriment. I hope we get a conversation between him and Eddie next episode because I love their friendship and I don’t want it to ever change, and something tells me Buck is going to lean heavy on his friendship with Eddie now that he might be dating Tommy. And I hope that Eddie continues to be supportive of his friend when he finds out the truth about his sexuality. I don’t think Eddie would have a problem with it. After all, Hen is an out and proud lesbian, and we also have Josh who is gay. I do know that some people do question the legitimacy of bisexual people but again, I don’t think Eddie will have a problem with whatever Buck labels himself as. Maybe we’ll even get a double date between Eddie, Marisol, Buck, and Tommy. That would be fun.

Lastly, I wanted to talk about Buck and Tommy. I think the show did a great job getting us to the moment where they shared a kiss this episode. As I mentioned earlier, I have seen this episode quite a few times and I’ve watched the scenes involving Buck and Tommy more than that. If you watch the scene where Buck is visiting Tommy, there’s so many little looks the two are giving each other. I think at that point that Buck is only infatuated but Tommy is clearly interested. Also, if you go back to the previous episode, at the end once everyone has been rescued, there’s a look Buck gives when he is telling Tommy goodbye. I love things like that and it’s proof to me that this isn’t just gaybaiting or queerbaiting. This is the show telling us that one of their beloved characters is queer and they have taken special care with letting us know that. I love how Oliver Stark and Lou Ferrigno Jr. are invested in this story. In fact, the cast is supportive of Buck going in this direction. I’m so happy that the fans have this moment. It’s been so fun engaging with people online about this episode and while there are viewers who have and will balk at Buck being a queer character, I say screw those people. If a character’s sexuality can make you that upset, you clearly haven’t been watching the show and you’re not a fan.

Okay, this reaction has gone on way too long. I’ll say it one last time. I’m so happy Buck is bi!!!! I can’t wait to see what happens next! Until next time …

#abc 911 #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #lou ferrigno jr #oliver stark #maddie buckley #athena grant #bucktommy #howard chimney han #hen wilson #bobby nash #eddie diaz #ravi panikkar #buck x tommy #buddie #911 7x04 #blw reactions #buck is bi #911 reactions #bisexual buck

[talkingparrotkee]

Re: Namor x Shuri working from a storytelling standpoint

I stumbled on a post trying to give an analysis of how Namor and Shuri "don't work" from a storytelling standpoint. After reading several of the objectionable points made and realizing I've seen them all before, I felt like trying my own hand to exemplify why these kinds of criticisms against "Nashuri" don't actually work. I didn't directly reblog to avoid being convoluted or dogpiling, but I'll be responding to specific points throughout.

Direct quotes are in orange

Linked sources and further information are in green

Warning: This article has many layers, musings, and points. After all, it's essentially a master collection of material. If you just want to jump to a certain point, you can. There are subtitles for every point.

The Oxymoron of Improbable and "Non-Sensical" Story Writing

In the context of specifically Wakanda Forever's story and nothing else, yes: as of now, Namor and Shuri being a romantic couple does not make "sense."

However, there is no such thing as a ship that doesn't make sense from a story-writing perspective.

With your pen, reality can be shaped according to your whim, or elements can be bent to fit the mold of a given reality. Story-writing-wise, anything can happen, and anything can work with the proper execution. A good writer knows how to suspend the reader's disbelief and make the seemingly improbable, seem probable.

Namor and Shuri already have the ingredients for chemistry and compatibility as characters, which are the two essential requirements in relationships. The media they're in gives you the room to potentially address their circumstance, like reviving Ramonda (coming back to life is no foreign concept to Marvel) or building off of the concepts already there (e.g., the Ancestral Plane or "dead not meaning gone"). There are also AUs.

Saying otherwise is simply putting a cap on your creativity and demonstrates a sheer lack of imagination.

Why Do People Ship Namor And Shuri?

To answer this question, Namor and Shuri:

Have undeniably strong chemistry. That was the first thing that had people question what their relationship would be. You don't have to register this as inherently romantic, but they have chemistry nevertheless.

Deeply connected with and paralleled-equaled one another. Shuri opened up to only Namor about her true grief. With Ramonda, Shuri closed herself off. When her mask cracked, she lamented that if she sat and merely thought of T'Challa, she'd burn the world and everyone in it. The ancestral plane, tethered to her subconscious and emotional state, lit up on fire the moment N'Jadaka mentioned T'Challa. Yet... Shuri felt that she could be emotionally vulnerable to Namor, seeking solace and answers within him. She could not only think of but also talk about T'Challa with Namor. This is after Namor was, in exchange, completely vulnerable and honest to her, showing her his scars and his cherished nation. Both characters did things they wouldn't do with anyone else. They felt seen and heard by the other. That is a beautiful testament to the bond they were forging before uh, yeah.

Shuri was healing in Talokan. It is directly said in the script Shuri was better than she was before she left, but the movie let it be a "show, don't tell." We already established she was finally unveiling her grief to Namor, but Talokan was also an escape for her. Her behavior and attitude were a sheer contrast to how she was earlier in the movie. Shuri was shown beaming, marveling at, and practically glowing as Namor showed her his world. Approximately, she genuinely smiled 11 times in under 3 minutes. She forgot her worries. The tension rolled off of her and let herself go "with the breeze". Her admiration and sense of wonder made him smile too. She was taken care of, a shame that her reason of stay wasn't preferable.

Shared several purposefully intimate moments.

Look hot and are hot together. Argue with a wall.

Can be the strongest, most unstoppable MCU power couple to date.

Create a rich, ethnic, and main poc ship and representation between a black African woman and a brown-skinned indigenous man. That's not common at all, and the thought of their cultures being connected, becoming one through their union is hair-twirling inducing. The idea of them creating a new era filled to the brim with their respective cultures and identities together, with them learning from one another, is very interesting.

They have many, many classic romantic-fantastical tropes poured into the batter that is their dynamic. You may have heard the comparisons to Beauty and The Beast (say thank you, Riri!), Aladdin ("I Can Show You The World"), Peter Pan and Wendy (Namor is deemed of a "Peter Pan" archetype. "Peter Pan" lost his Wendy, who is Shuri in this case. See Inframundo.) and Hades-Persephone.

The only reason why they're on opposite ends is due to outer forces and unfavorable circumstances at work. There's something interesting about their nuanced tragedy. There's a fun intrigue to find a way to "fix" what seems broken beyond repair, through understanding, love, character development, and healing.

Have a romantic anthem: Con La Brisa is a tender love song specifically created based on the underwater scene between Namor and Shuri. Foudequesh revealed that the meaning of the song was showing someone the sun for the first time.

Additionally, Namor and Shuri having romantic chemistry is not baseless. It was initially toyed with. Though they decided to characterize their relationship a bit differently and focus on grief-shared trauma, elements were still left in to give their relationship complexity. The way they relate and the things they did gave romantic undertones you can't just pluck out. Micheal P. Shawver, a colleague of Ryan Coogler and an editor of Wakanda Forever, said this much when asked about the possibility of Namor and Shuri having romance in their cards.

Note how Ryan Coogler, a writer and director of both Black Panther, even apparently thinks that Namor and Shuri are not unsuited for one another even then.

You can also view the original script where Namor is described as "charmed" and "smitten" with Shuri. It's only natural people pick up the pieces purposefully left behind.

Clarification Notes

Before we jump into this, there are things you need to know.

Note 1: None of this is bashing or permission to bash Ramonda, Riri, Shuri, or Nakia. They were justified and operating under grief and dramatic irony if you look at it from every perspective. Currently, this is just clearing up Namor and Talokan's perspectives because that is what's being targetted and unceremoniously characterized, but everyone has a case for them.

Note 2: This doesn't mean you need to ship Shuri and Namor. It's explaining why some do and clearing up misconceptions about their dynamic as well as individual characters. Your takeaway should be this and valueable information on Black Panther, not a decree of what you should or shouldn't ship.

Positive and Negative Chemistry

"Positive" and "negative" chemistry is confusing terminology at best and doesn't exist at worse. It's either you have or lack chemistry. There are also two different kinds of chemistry: platonic and romantic.

When describing how characters wouldn't be compatible in a given relationship, you may be looking for the term, "compatibility".

Chemistry: magnetism, attraction, and natural connection. Compatibility: a more "logical" component: your degree of harmony and cohesiveness.

You can have chemistry without compatibility, and compatibility without chemistry. Healthy and long-lasting relationships have both.

Namor's view of Shuri

Namor does not view Shuri as an equal, despite their similarities.

Pause. Namor does view Shuri as an equal. Shuri is arguably the person he respects the most.

The idea That Namor-Talokan does not relate, respect, connect with, or even view Shuri-Wakanda as human directly goes against the meta-pillar theme of Wakanda Forever.

You said it yourself:

"these are fictional characters (who represent real-world dynamics)"

“We talked to so many experts and really made relationships with them, because there was a lot to go through,” says Beachler. “There are a lot of parallels between Africans and Latin Americans as far as the colonization of their communities and cities, the enslavement of their people, the lies that were told about their culture, the misinterpretation of their words, and the ways they were made out to look demonized in order to elevate a European country.”

Besides honoring Chadwick Boseman, motherhood, and the dead not being gone, grief, trauma, the effects of colonialism, and the connectivity between African-Mesoamerican indigenous culture are central points of the film. Namor and Shuri and by extension Talokan and Wakanda are explicitly supposed to relate and be equal to one another for this reason. You are supposed to struggle with choosing a side, and Namor is a complex antagonist or even anti-hero rather than an actual villain (An antagonist just opposes or challenges the protagonist in the context of the story, they're not inherently good or evil. Villians are inherently evil and with malice.) Their fight is supposed to feel wrong, intimate, and emotionally charged, unlike most generic action hero fights. They are natural allies, and therefore unnatural enemies.

Namor bent in ways he wouldn't have with anyone else.

This is why it's an in-fandom joke that he was whipped or smitten. What he says on his throne when waging "war", was "Máansa'ab u nej miis tin wich." Josué Maychi confirms that this means, "They passed the cat's tail in front of my face with the hope of an alliance."

"If you see cats, jaguars or panthers when they go hunting they wag their tails because it is a way of hypnotizing the prey, then that image is what happened to Namor, that someone did like that with the tail."

Namor virtually said he was hypnotized, but the Spanish and English translations didn't quite convey that cat-involved metaphor (although keeping the crux of his lament.).

Namor could have killed Riri the moment she touched Talokan grounds, but he showed temporary "mercy" because of Shuri and Shuri alone. He didn't need Shuri's permission nor did he have to communicate with Shuri. Riri was in his domain, Shuri did not really have much power there, yet he treated her as if she did.

"It goes back to the point of him never seeing Shuri as human or recognizing her feelings as valid."

Two of Namor's quotes in the movie alone prove this wrong:

"I know you wanted me to spare the life of the scientist (recognizing and acknowledging what she wants), but now you see what I have to protect."

"So you can understand why I need to kill the scientist."

He didn't need to seek her approval or give her the ability to negotiate with him, yet he did and on top of that dressed her in the finest silks fit for royalty, consistently trying to convince Shuri like her opinion mattered, and that he wanted her on his side. It wasn't that he didn't "recognize her feelings as valid," he just felt that, based on how many of their lives are at stake, he couldn't risk it (Movie quote: "I cannot risk that, princess...").

He was absolutely gobsmacked when she said, "Take me instead." He wouldn't speak then, uncharacteristically breaking eye contact. When he could finally speak, he couldn't answer her directly, his voice awkwardly raised an interval and suddenly, unnecessarily, speaking with his hands.

Shuri wanted to see Talokan, and Namor, the pessimistic isolationist who never let a surfacer step foot in Talokan, immediately caved into her desire. There was no reason for him to do that and it demonstrates an immense level of trust. He also, quite literally, showed her the keys to his kingdom. He waited until she was beside him, looked to see if she was watching him, and then did his hand sign in the rock to open the "doors" to Talokan.

As writer Joe Cole said in The Movie Report panel interview, Shuri demands him to make the right choice that was yielding, and he does yield to her, which wasn't something he'd ever consider in his hundreds of years of being alive.

Namor gives his beloved mother's bracelet to Shuri

Fen was Namor's beloved mother. Her memory is something he held dear to him. The bracelet he gave not only was the last piece of her left with him, but it directly signified his birthright as king, was a priceless national object, and was made with their sacred plant's fibers.

He gives it to Shuri twice. One immediately to hold when he sees she's attracted to it, two he ties on her (after receiving her non-verbal permission, another sign of respect) for her keeping as a "gift of gratitude."

Namor saw his mother in Shuri

Namor saw his mother in her highest state, induced by Shuri. She was unchanged, young, and in their homes, outstretching a hand to him as Shuri metaphorically did.

Namor paints the mural of their fight

in his personal hut no less, where he preserves their history and culture. He paints them entangled in a battle with neither side besting the other. She is the Jaguar-Black Panther, a revered, highly respected animal in Maya culture with connections to godhood, and he is a mere human, humbling himself in a sense. That speaks volumes, and it's furthered when he tells Namora that Shuri had every single reason to kill him. He also speaks very highly of her, stating she's the strongest person on the surface, of the strongest nation.

None of this makes sense AT ALL if he supposedly did not view Shuri as a respected equal, let alone "human." If he somehow doesn't see her as a "human", then he sees her as higher than.

Talokan's "Violence" to Wakanda's "Pacifism"

"Namor and the Talokanil, immediately resort to violence and war when they feel a threat from the surface world. But since no one knows they exist, this threat is hypothetical for now."

This is not true. Talokan has constantly been evasive with relocating being their immediate resort. In the film, Namor says, "Talokan will not move, again" for a reason. They didn't "feel" a threat, there was a threat. People found the Vibranium within their domain and were drilling to seize it. War was a later development after Shuri took killing Riri off the table, which is what Namor initially wanted to do (in the script, this is furthered, with him saying he'd prefer picking off one person to outright war.).

"A direct contrast to Ramonda and Shuri, who in the face of real eminent threats, resorted to peace and showed their aggressors mercy."

Ignoring the insinuation that Namor was not faced with real eminent threats when he was, there is a reason for that contrast. Remember that while Wakanda was being threatened, they have never been conquered or forced to move. They're confirmed less vulnerable than Talokan, who does not have shields and lives in the ocean. They can afford to reveal themselves. Talokan cannot, and they're collateral damage to Wakanda's choice of revealing themselves and the power of Vibranium to the world.

The beginning village of Talokan has been conquered and mass murdered before the rebirth into the blue people we see now, with their ancestral lands plundered and made into slave houses. Namor almost died and was sick in the womb because the conquistadors brought smallpox. His father who he never met died due to their disease. He witnessed countless treacheries, betrayals, and wars from the surface lands. Namor spent his entire childhood watching his mother grieve due to them. As a result, Talokan has a more pessimistic perspective compared to Wakanda's privileged optimistic one.

So yeah, Talokan isn't going to play patty cake with their active aggressors who are trying to plunder them. Nor should they, because Namor is proven right with America actively seeking to destabilize Wakanda under the guise of retrieving Riri (see the meeting Ross has with government officials), and the ending with Val.

Wakanda wants to delay inevitable war and minimize the loss across the board but will go to war if pushed, which is fair. Talokan is tired and ready to give the smoke, striking fast and hard to merely end what threatens them once and for all after centuries of patience and displacement. That is also fair.

"Namor, despite wanting Wakanda’s help with his mission, ultimately doesn’t view Wakanda with anymore sympathy than he does the rest of the world. He has made it clear that he hates the surface world and everyone in it, which includes the Wakandans."

You're right, he doesn't sympathize with Wakanda. There's nothing to sympathize with. He empathizes with them, a stronger feeling and sense of connection than sympathy. He admires Wakanda and feels a sense of kinship, maybe a bit of jealousy (Joe Cole). To him, Wakanda was a threat if they weren't on his side. Why?

A) Wakanda (unintentionally) compromised them by revealing themselves to the world and the power of Vibranium. Now everyone else, armed with that dangerous knowledge, is looking for it to wield it. Wakanda can more or less protect their Vibranium, claiming ownership of it when it's on their lands, they have the power to, and they're the ones who revealed it. But what can Talokan do? They'd be forcefully revealed in some way and be subjected to attacks just because they dared to also have Vibranium.

B) Wakanda is compromising them again by harboring Riri, who is the one source capable of the machine the FBI is currently chasing down. There is no guarantee Riri would stay with them (Riri is not their citizen, and America can easily use her as a means to undercut Wakanda and force them to either give vibranium or fork Riri over, so she can build the machine, and they'll get vibranium anyway through Talokan) or wouldn't rebuild her machine. The solutions Namor could fathom were either taking Riri out of the equation for sure (a case of killing one person and saving everyone else) or taking out the threat of those who seek to exploit her.

C) Wakanda was already shaking hands with nations that wanted to destabilize and plunder them, and will want to do the same with Talokan.

D) Wakanda is the only nation that can rival them that now also knows of their existence. If they're not allies with that information, that's dangerous and makes Talokan vulnerable.

With all things considered and understandably from Namor's perspective, there's no "in-between" here. You can't be "neutral." You either are with them or facilitate your own and their destruction.

This doesn't mean he hates Wakanda or Shuri. It is nothing he wants, but something he perceives he has to do for his people, as their protector, father, god, and king. In the script, this is only further exemplified, by his, "I don’t want it to come to this. But I will not hesitate."

Namor Killing Ramonda

His line of "You are queen now" showed that he was never willing to conduct business with Ramonda likely because she was the only person on the surface world who bested him when she lured him out of Talokan(...). He was simply looking for an excuse to get her out of the picture."

At that point, Ramonda threatened to reveal Talokan. Ramonda purposefully played decoy with him and sent in a war dog to infiltrate their nation and retrieve not only their national threat but the princess who has all of their secrets without a sense of closure. The result of this act was the death of two of his "children". Did you just gloss over that fact, because Ramonda didn't just "lure" him away? He wasn't throwing a fit because he was bested. People literally died? He was cradling a dying child in his arms?

Namor was "willing" to conduct business with Ramonda, proven by the simple fact that he approached Ramonda and gave her the shell to contact him. Namor went out to answer Ramonda's call in the first place when he could've just ignored it when he had what he wanted and more in Talokan.

Namor saying "You're queen now" doesn't at all connect to him not seeing Shuri as an equal. That doesn't make any sense. If anything that undermines your point, because before Shuri is officially crowned, he immediately sees her as the sovereign leader, much like himself.

He says "you're queen now" because Shuri is likely the queen now. It's simple math: Shuri is the heir apparent. There's no royal before her now that is leading.

"It's also another reason why he killed Ramonda with no hesitation despite knowing what he knew about Shuri"

Again, Namor did what he did with no hesitation or care if Ramonda is collateral damage because in his eyes, Ramonda betrayed him, he was acting as a vehicle of vengeance for two souls, and he was defending Talokan. When she stepped in front of Riri glaring him down, that was his final nail in the coffin (no pun intended, please, no pun intended.). It was never personal to him nor did he look at it as him killing Shuri's mom. He was playing the role of a protector and king in conflict with another royal, but of course, it's inherently personal to Shuri because that royal happens to be her mother.

Ryan Coogler confirmed it was not personal for him in the Disney+ movie commentary, Tenoch Huerta says killing the queen was never in his initial plans, and Namor says this himself in the script, explaining he did what he did because the queen "betrayed" him with not only a guard, but a child dying as a result when Shuri was never in danger ("you were safe in my care").

Recklessness With Grief

No, Shuri did not have a better handle on how she externalizes her grief until the final of the movie.

"She recognizes that even though she is angry at T’Challa’s death, the rest of the world doesn’t deserve to feel the extent of her wrath."

That's not at all what she recognized at any point. "It will not be these clothes, I'll burn. It will be the world. And everyone in it."

"Even when Namor does kill her mother, she rightfully directs her anger at him."

At the expense of her people's safety and risk of eternal war. She tells M'Baku straight up that nothing else matters except what she wants, and she wants Namor dead. She threateningly pointed a finger, giving M'Baku no choice and leaving him with the command to help her in her endeavors, even if it meant sending them all to their watery graves.

Nakia: "If you go to war for vengeance, it will not fill the hole left from your loss. It will only grow larger, and it will consume you!"

Shuri: "It already has."

With every blow she landed and exchanged with Namor, we cut back to Wakanda receiving blows and being backed up into a corner.

Namor and Shuri were on collision courses where they were destroying themselves, each other, and their people by not handling their grief properly, being consumed by their vengeance, and committing destructive actions ignited by their pain.

Shuri just later had the strength to break that cycle by recognizing what he said to her back in Talokan ("broken leaders"), their connectivity, and shared traumas. She saved them both and quietened Namor's own flames in the process.

"Sure, she has some outbursts at Nakia and M’baku, but she never really alienates them."

Do not downplay the fact that Shuri is dangerous and was not healthily dealing with her grief, but instead was on a path of destruction. Ryan explicitly states that Namor shares this with Shuri: they're both trying to process and similarly struggle grappling with their grief.

Why else do you think Ramonda took Shuri outside to touch grass and do a ritual? Shuri was not ok. From the moment her beloved brother died, she was not ok. She was not magnanimous to the world. She was angry at it. She thought that there was no point in the Black Panther mantle or herb when T'Challa isn't there. As M'Baku even pointed out, she buried herself in her technology as a coping mechanism, which she ought to stop.

Shuri does alienate Nakia. Not only does she snap several times and harshly shove Nakia off of her after she took the herb, but it's also shown at the beginning of the movie she's ignoring all of her calls. In the script, she explicitly considers Nakia dead, immensely angry she missed T'Challa's funeral.

She doesn't listen to M'baku, but consistently tries to push him and his wisdom away during Ramonda's funeral. She even pushed away and tried closing herself off with Ramonda in the lab and river scene.

Namor's Desire

"All he wanted to do was push her to the extremes of grief so she would become reckless as she was."

Namor's true desire was safety for his people. He didn't want to move again or have to change who they are to survive. Namor later had a genuine desire for an alliance with Wakanda, a nation he canonically admires. Namor didn't want to "push her to the extremes of grief to become like him" because she already was like him. He just wanted to channel their shared feelings of reaping "destruction" to the common enemy.

“I think that a lot of the emotion that I was trying to put into it [Talokan] was this idea that Namor is not wanting to move his people again,” says Beachler. “So there is also, this sense of grieving, even there, of this idea of being encroached upon by humans, who are somewhat inconsiderate of them.”

"Instead you see a mutant emerging not out of genetics, but out of the crucible of oppression. Whereas mutants in the comics are born, in Wakanda Forever, they are made. And that history isn't the side story, it's the entire story. It explains Namor's rage, his desperation, and the path he takes which eventually leads to a collision with Wakanda."

It was never a case of Namor only loving and can love his people while hating everyone else, seeing them as inhuman. Namor was prioritizing what he loved the most above what he may also like, admire, or empathize with. He was fulfilling the role given to him he was forced to take from the moment he was born.

"I mean, “no love” is literally his name."

Let's slow down a bit and mayhaps rethink a little on using the meaning of his alias "Namor" as a point about him being loveless, no? That was a "name" given to him by a racist, slave-owning Conquistador priest who also called him, "son of satan" all the while he was burying his mother, the only and last immediate family he had. Namor took that alias to empower himself and take away the sting. He clearly does have love when all of his life he has been a selfless agent for his people. He thought a single or two lives were worth war over. Yes, he explicitly said it was to convey he had "no love" for the surface, but there is context to that.

"Wanting to destroy the whole world, funny enough, including other Mayan descendants who were enslaved or colonized"

When Namor burned down the Hacienda, slaves ran free. Only the Consquisdators were killed. The village elder relayed that they know of Namor's existence and were able to live with that knowledge. The only ones who died were the ones who sought him out with ill intent. The script also featured the factoid of Namor saving the elder and her husband from drowning on their wedding night, if that's worth anything. In the movie, he doesn't want to include Wakanda in the mix of the nations they're at war with either.

Clearly, he is discriminatory with who he'd kill. Who said he'd include Mayan descendants that were enslaved and colonized? The last time I checked, the only person who said anything about burning everyone was Shuri.

Namor: "It is no longer about the scientist. For centuries, the surface nations have conquered and enslaved people like us. Over resources. Since the day I buried my mother, I have prepared my people for the time they would come for us. And that machine? Is the sign that the time is now. I need to know if Wakanda is an ally, or an enemy. There is no in-between."

Shuri: "So you plan to wage war on the entire world, and want Wakanda to help you?"

Namor: [leans in and nods slightly]

Shuri: "That's madness!"

Namor: "There isn't a nation that wouldn't plunder Wakanda if given a chance. If we make an alliance, we can protect each other by striking them first. Then, when the threat of these nations have been eliminated, the scientist will be returned to Wakanda."

Namor wanting to remove the teeth from the lion's mouth and hitting first isn't the same thing as destroying everything and anything. Mind you, he is being chaotic, but he clearly has a concentrated target. Don't get it twisted.

Namor's Regret

It is suggested that Namor in particular felt regret and dislike for the situation in interviews, script, and in-film.

A) Namor is seen pensively on his throne, touching and cradling the shell phone as he awaits contact.

B) Namor's, "It could've been different."

C) Interestingly, Ryan and Joe Cole corroborated in The Movie Report panel interview, more regret was in every blow exchanged. Namor in particular did not want to exchange a fatal blow until he was pushed to impale Shuri on the rock in a desperate attempt to his life.

Equaling and Relating

Relating to someone is different from equalling someone. Out of all who were listed, whether it was Peter Parker, Riri Williams, or Namor, Namor is the only one out of those that is explicitly and purposefully depicted as equalling and relating to Shuri.

Namor And Shuri

The reasoning given for how Shuri works paired with Peter Parker or Riri Williams strongly applies to Shuri with Namor, so operating under the same logic, they largely work too.

"What makes both of these pairings work to a degree is the idea of them being equal in some regard(...) They clearly see each other as equal. They more or less agree on a common enemy and how to deal with said enemy, with morals and values that more or less align."

They do agree on a common enemy. That's literally half of the premise for Namor proposing an alliance where they protect one another. The problem just was how they go about handling things. Tragedy, trauma, and dramatic irony unfavorably played factors.

Otherwise, they're practically the same, and are now on the "same page". Their morals and values aren't far off either. Wakanda and Talokan are eerily similar, whether it be in having spying channels, an isolationistic approach, finding jurisdiction wherever they feel it (aka, if it regards and threatens them), only wanting to protect what they love, embracing-involving their culture-traditions, being environmentalists, and using defensive-offensive means if provoked by a perceived threat.

In visuals alone, they took great care to portray Shuri and Namor as Parallel Characters.

The "boy without love" and the "child who scoffs at tradition." They do have a few healthy differences (I'll save that for another article), but they are equal and deeply relate.

As said on The Movie Report panel interview, Shuri became the Panther god (the Black Panther is canonically Bast's avatar), while he is the god of his civilization. They're both royals and leaders of their own nations. Said nations are sister nations, both having the power of vibranium and the highest levels of advancement. They are both broken and with a shared trauma etched deep in their hearts. They both have a righteous, divine fire and an acute sense of avenging. They both were haunted by similar grief and pain that pushed them to seek solace in one another.

Namor is described as lonely and with loneliness by Ryan Coogler, and that's exactly how Shuri felt in the beginning as well (see her Interlude), and unfortunately, later in the movie after Ramonda "dies" (but in the end, it's revealed that Ramonda, like T'Challa, is not gone.). They brought innovative technology and a new era of living to their people. They share the same love languages: acts of service and gifts.

There was an entire montage near the end of the film showcasing this.

Riri Williams

Riri Williams relates to Shuri in a sense of being young black women whose intelligence and talents aren't always respected by their elders. They can also relate to their fathers being murdered (if they take a page out of comics for Riri, see Ironheart #9) or the loved ones that taught them what they know being ripped away from them. Maybe they also know about diffusion too as geeks, but it stops there.

Riri, like Peter, is a teenager (19 years old) new to college (the same college Okoye states is the equivalent of a Wakandan elementary school), trying to grapple with her emerging life and school. Shuri is a princess of the most powerful nation and head of Wakandan Technology. She completed the journey of school and became a college assistant at the age of 13. Wakanda Forever was Riri's debut and entry into the game. Wakanda Forever was Shuri, who is already a non-teenaged adult at this point, journeying through her womanhood and immense grief. Shuri is not new to the game, having been in countless wars and accumulated countless experiences Riri has yet to touch.

Throughout the film, Shuri acted as the voice Riri didn't have that Namor would hear, largely due to T'Challa's influence. At the end of the film, Riri invites Shuri to a basketball game. Shuri says no, prioritizing her duties and having a full plate compared to Riri's less uncomplicated, lighthearted one. This alone highlights their differences in placement and mental space.

Big sisters do not "equal" their younger siblings. They guide and protect, having some level of authority and experience over them.

And That's Perfectly By Design

Riri and Shuri are not equals and have noticeable divergences where one cannot ever relate to or feel what the other does. Shuri won't know how Riri feels the need to prove herself as a black woman in a society where black people, black women, are given the shorter end of the stick. Shuri doesn't know anything about how it is for African Americans and law enforcement. Riri won't know the privileges or how it feels like to carry the burdens Shuri does to the extent she does. Riri does not entirely relate to Shuri's grief either. Riri was a fish out of water who constantly wanted to go home despite the beauty and safety in Wakanda. They belong to two different worlds.

It is great that they have these differences because, in the words of Dominque Thorne, they can learn from each other. Their relationship in the film is contextualized as Shuri perceiving Riri as her reflection and then taking on a mentor role. Riri is, in Letitia's words, a reflection of T'Challa's choice. There are several parallels between Riri-Shuri and T'Challa-Shuri. It gives Shuri more of a personal incentive and investment in the outreach program her brother enacted. T'Challa had the connection, learning experience, and realization of the Lost Tribe and their struggles through N'Jadaka. Shuri now has that with Riri, but positively! Riri also can offer a breath of fresh air every now and again, fulfilling the chemistry she had (bubbly, plucky younger one) with T'Challa (the more composed, older, responsible one).

Whether you want to mold and configure this into a romantic dynamic, is up to you. The point is that yes they relate, yes they do have chemistry, but no, Riri and Shuri aren't equals.

Peter Parker

Hypothetically, Peter relates to Shuri in their intelligence (although I'd argue Shuri is smarter, Shuri's probably smarter than everyone), but that doesn't at all suggest they'd have the same interests. It doesn't work like that.

Peter (2001 baby) is younger than Shuri (1997-1998). He is just starting college. Shuri is around 22, 23 years old due to the snap. She was 19, 20 in Infinity War. Peter was 16. It's not a big age gap, but I wouldn't say they're peers. Age proximity doesn't indicate relatability either, especially if the maturity levels and experiences differ.

However, I will say, I think Peter and Shuri can relate to being orphans that do feel lonely (although Shuri lost and later gained family, Peter is left off completely alone), going through personal dark arcs, and suffering immense pain that changes the trajectory of their lives. They used to be more lighthearted, but now were forced to grow up and their perspectives darkened.

That's about it though. They aren't on the same wavelength or of the same caliber when it comes to their types of threats, challenges, and predicaments. Namor could entirely relate with her being another nation of vibranium of a culture the other nations seek to destabilize, destroy, or conquer, as well as someone with a similar depth and sense of grief. Riri could relate as a black woman living in America (lost tribe) who'd know a thing or two about persecution and was thrown into the mix between the Talokan-Wakanda conflict. Peter?

This isn't factoring in their standings either, with Shuri being an heir apparent and leader of the strongest nation on the surface with Peter being "your friendly (and now depressed) neighborhood Spiderman" that occasionally gets thrown outside his payroll.

Peter and Shuri can probably relate and it's easy to assume they'd have chemistry and may do a little chemistry together. But they do not equal either.

In Conclusion

Yes, ship and let ship. These are all great fictional characters with compelling dynamics. Shipping is largely for fun and often depends on the person's taste.

Looking at this from a perspective of a writer and storyteller, there's no such thing as it "not" working or "making sense" unless you have, excuse my language, shit and uninspiring writing.

#Parotkee's Musings #wakanda forever #princess shuri #shuri black panther #mcu namor #nashuri #namor shuri #shuri riri #shuri peter #seaprincess #black panther #Update tag: this isn't “fighting” or if Nashuri “should” be shipped #read properly next time before subtumblring lol #bpwf #namuri

[amuseoffyre]

I did a thread on the bird site last night about Ed's world being so tied up in sea/water analogies and connections but realised I didn't put together a full list of the references I can remember off the top of my head. Now, I will attempt to do so.

Before I get into the details, there's also recurring symbolism of Ed standing between two worlds and this is reflected in the above/below of the sea but also the tidelines/shore/docks as a place where land and sea meet and overlap.

There's a lot happening.

"treading water, waiting to drown" (1x03)

"Be a lighthouse" / "cracking up on the rocks" (1x04)

throwing unwanted people/hopes/dreams/fears into the sea (1x05, 1x10, 2x02, 2x03, 2x07)

the dock and lighthouse in his flashback to his father's death - the first sea versus land metaphor, where the horror rises from beneath the surface (1x06)

"something stirring in the brine" (1x06)

"plumb the depths" / sirens and krakens (1x06) being the thing to trigger a breakdown

"Edward Teach, born on a beach" (1x09)

the kiss happening on the shoreline (1x09)

the abandonment happening on a dock (1x09)

marooning the crew on a sandbar - a temporary island, which is what Stede and his crew were for him (1x10)

"sunshine one moment, cataracts the next" (2x02)

his purgatory begins with him waking at the high tideline - a symbolic meeting point between the land and the sea (2x03)

collecting paua on the beach with ties back to his mother (2x03)

"Jeff's Inn by the Sea" - another place on the edge of land and sea (2x03)

reveal about the Gravy Basket while standing on the shore (2x03)

becoming the cataract - the chaotic surge falling over a cliff and full submersion in the sea as a way to end his life (2x03)

mer!Stede - a creature of both land and sea who can be there with him when he's in his dark watery doom (2x03)

"caught in his whirlpool" (2x04)

"hanging out on this ladder" - again somewhere between the sea and the safety of the safe space ship (2x05)

"Man against beast - I'm the man and the beast was beneath the sea" (2x05)

"we're the fish, I think" (2x05)

"storm's coming but I just can't see it" tied in with flashbacks and a shot with a 50-50 split of sky and sea (2x06)

another abandonment that is planned on the dock by the water's edge (2x07)

"pirates and fishermen are nothing alike" - subtext of the entire conversation ties to "you can't catch the fish unless the fish chooses to be caught" (2x05) and Ed is choosing not to be caught and fleeing (2x07)

the opening of 2x08 on the water's edge, away from the sea

reclaiming an identity cast into the sea (2x08)

rising from the waves on the shoreline, a place where he becomes himself instead of trying to split himself into different sides (2x08)

finding one another on a beach - Ed Teach, reborn on a beach (2x08)

choosing to leave the sea and make a home on the line where the land meets the sea (2x08)

I love the symbolism of a man who has spent his life trying to be this *or* that realising that he can become this *and* that. Blurring the lines, moving away from the binary rules.

He can be both land and sea. He can be both Ed and Blackbeard. He can have leather and silk. He can be strong and soft. He can be the big spoon and the little spoon. He can have it all :)

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd meta #ed teach #blackbeard

[mariistyping]

The Glamorous Tale of the Soul King

(art and also story prompt by @elizabeths-storytime)

Summary: Luffy, worn out but excited from the days events, rallies the crew on the deck and asks Brook to tell them a story. As the crew’s resident showman he spins a tale of the difference between being human and being a skeleton.

Word count: 1146 words

Genre: fluff (?) with some angst thrown in because I can’t help it.

Tags/TW: obviously talks about brook's death. A little sadness tinged with skeletal puns.

((Note: I love brook 🥹 when I saw their post about this it broke me and I thought. What better way to start actually writing on here again. I hope you enjoy))

As the thrilling battle winds to a close, the straw hat crew follows Luffy as he laughs in the direction of the thousand sunny. The sun setting over the horizon set the perfect backdrop for another hard earned victory for the crew. As the last member graced the deck of the beloved ship, Sanji calls out loudly.

“Someone start a fire while I start dinner!” He said to no one in particular. The crew set off in various directions to perform tasks before the set off back into the waters of the new world to find their next resting place. Brook walked over to start the fire like Sanji asked, and Usopp followed behind him to help. The two worked in silence until the fire roared bright and they both sat back and sighed.

“Rough day out there huh?” Usopp said with a slight groan. Brook nods back at the man. “My bones are exhausted. All I want to do is close my eyes…” he paused for a moment before following up with “if I had any eyes!” Earning a boisterous laugh from himself while Usopp groaned again, a small smile playing on his lips.

The crew all meandered over to the fire as they finished up their tasks, the conversations growing into a collective small roar as the men and women gathered around the fire. Brook brought out his violin a soft grin on his mouth as a skeletal finger ran over the chipped wood. Many memories were made on this instrument. If it could talk the stories it would tell could hush bars filled with the rowdiest pirates. Brook sighed to himself in pleasant memories as he started up his favorite song.

“Yooooo yooo ho ho. Yooooo yooo ho ho~”

The skeleton man stood up and pranced around the group as he continued to play the song, gathering loud cheers and whoops as he played louder and more carefree. The sounds of the straw hat pirates bring forth still shot memories in his mind of his crew from long ago. As much as he loved the straw hats, he did mourn the way his fingers sounded when he still had human flesh. The strings sounded nasal, high pitched without the hard earned calluses of a flesh and blood musician. His playing faltered for just a second as his thoughts ran wild, but it was enough for Luffy to notice the off key note.

As Luffy sat in the spot next to where Brook was once sat, he eyed the skeleton quickly. He couldn’t help but crack a smile a the man’s enthusiasm as he bounced around, at times bouncing on one foot, playing his violin. To Luffy it was the greatest sound in the world because Brook was his musician.

As he finished up the song and the crew cheered, everyone dispersed into their own conversations filled with laughter and excitement. Brook took his seat back, a somber look on his face as he took a drink from the glass Sanji had placed before him.

“What’s up?” He heard a young, husky voice ask him. As he turned he was instantly greeted by the Luffy’s head extended to where he could look the man in the eye sockets without ever leaving his seat. Brook tried to feign innocence in the face of the young captain, attempting to wave him off.

“Oh nothing Luffy. Just memories of a bygone era lurking up on me.” The skeleton laughed mirthlessly, no smile to be seen on the bottom half of his skull. Luffy cocked his brow and patted a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Come on Brook. Tell me why you’re so sad!” The captain clapped his hand a few times before sitting up in his seat hushing the rest of the crew. Luffy knew that Brook had a deeper story to tell and he wanted to hear it clearly.

Brook, suddenly aware of all the eyes on him, felt what would be heat run up to his face. That was the worst part about being dead, he thought. He could still imagine the sensations of emotions in his bones, but he couldn’t actually felt them. He shook off the thought and looked around grateful no one could tell he was blushing.

“Ok. Ok..”

~over 50 years ago~

As Brook walked out onto the deck of the ship he shared with the rest of the crew of the Rumbar Pirates, the salty sea air encircled him in a warm summer breeze. He breathed in the smell of the ocean and sighed as he felt the sun shine down on his tanned skin. He held his violin in one hand, and as he woke up a little bit more, he started playing a joyful melody comprised of his favorite song. As his calloused fingers masterfully picked over the chipped strings he felt truly at peace, the music washing a soothing glow over the entire area.

His musical ramblings spurred his crew mates from their various places on the boat and they joined him, a rally of singing, dancing, and drinking, the exertion causing red cheeks and boisterous laughter. The crew in that moment really was a picturesque view of brotherhood and friendship.

Then the accident happened.

Brook remembers waking up cold and alone, his fingers only bones. He would’ve cried had his body been able to produce tears. He missed how his skin felt in the sun, how his sweat rolled down his cheek, and how his fingers picked gently and carefully over the strings of his now ancient instrument.

Every night Brook played his favorite song to put himself to sleep, but instead of the feelings of joy and camaraderie he now only heard melancholy and remorse as he plucked his boned fingers against the weathered strings of the violin. His fingers slipped too often to form a coherent song and the notes were too different for him to like anyways. At least his voice still worked.

~present~

As Brook spun his melancholy tale, the crew had varied reactions ranging from understanding to crying. Brook paused and looked at the faces of his new crew, and for a brief second he thought he could see the faces from long ago. He blinked and they were gone again, but as his current friends faces returned to view he could help but feel a strong sense of love.

While his old crew’s time had passed, he still had his, and the new bonds he had made would stand by his side like the bonds of the Rumbar Pirates once did.

“I thought once that these boney fingers of mine would never make another soul happy again.” He said stretching out his fingers in front of him. “I have to say you guys made me hear my notes differently again.”

He smiled a boney smile. “You put the soul back in the king.”

#one piece #the humming swordsman #brook #soul king brook #one piece fanfiction

[spenglersglasses]

❤️‍🔥🎙️SINNERS REJOICE!!!! 🎙️❤️‍🔥

⚠️ FLASH WARNING ⚠️

Here is the next installment of our beloved Radio demon and his Princess of Hell….

A few disclaimers/reminders before we begin!

While I know it is canon that Alastor is asexual, in this fic he has a rare sexual attraction that develops for a certain someone in particular and is NOT aromatic. If this is something that bothers you or if you are not a fan of the Alastor/Charlie ship (Charlastor/RadioBelle) then this is not one for you my fellow smut enjoyers.

If you aren't bothered then be prepared, this will be a wild ride!

Also, when Alastor has moments of "glitching" or that infamous radio cracking to his voice, his speech will look like this (Ĝ͎͍͓͌͠l̡̟̩͍̐̐̕͞ì͓̞̗̜̇̿͝ẗ̼c̬̮̹̔̒́h͚͇́̓ ̙͕̮̣̎͑͛̚s̟͇̽͞p̫͉͆̈e̡͇͉͐̑̊e̻͞c͙͇̆̏h̺̗̭̙̑̓̄͝), I will be making a note of what is being said, so those who have a harder time can understand it, but I thought it was an awesome effect lol.

Anyways here we go for chapter 2!!!!

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the GLITCH dividers!

Now without further ado!

D̢͙̯̦̙͎̎̽̇̔̾͊̿̚͜͟A̜̱̫̭̽̌̔̄R̫̬͊̈̊͜Ļ̮̗̲̤͎̙̅͒̿͒̿͊͡Í̱̮͑́͢͜͠N͔̗̘͈̲̤̳̉̅̉̀͗̔͠͝ͅG̢̻̱͐́̆͜͠ (Hazbin Hotel)

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect…what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal.

Chapter 2: Back On the Air

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Beginning HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut!!

Deep in the Pride ring, the music was blasting. Club Hell 666 was popping, neon lights flashing and packed with demons, whose thirst for all that's debaucherous was at an all-time high. Vaggie had been zoning in and out at the table. Her eyes, fixed on the blinking “Powder your nose” sign. Her thoughts, miles away from their celebrations.

Angel, Husk, and Cherri Bomb doing their best to enjoy the night out. They had all taken a moment before that first taste of liquor to pay their respects to Sir Pentious. Even Cherri was unable to hold back the emotion. As the night went on, things had begun to be less somber. 

The group was enjoying the night out, with the exception of Vaggie who still seemed unable to shake things off. She just stared off, the reflection of the sign burning a permanent image in her eyes as things went on around her. Her attention only grabbed when she saw Angel pull a bag of dope from what seemed like nowhere. Hoping to do a few lines with Cherri at the table. Vaggie, unable to help herself from shooting him a look of disapproval. 

“Listen, I said I would behave—never said I’d be a saint.” Angel huffed, both he and Cherri ready to party the night away.

“You sure didn’t bitch.” Cherry Bomb laughed, playfully punching Angel’s shoulder before doing a line herself. Husk rolled his eyes, turning away when he got a good look at Vaggie. Letting out a sigh as he mustered up the will to ask her about how she was feeling. He could read the best of them, and it had been clear to him for some time that the fallen angel had a lot on her mind.

“What's got you all down in the mouth?” Husk inquired. Vaggie shrugged, acting nonchalant. The old cat knew better, shooting closer to her in his chair so they could hear one another a little easier. “Now you know I ain’t buyin’ that bullshit.”

“Hmph…” Vaggie groaned. Damn bastard always knew too much. “It’s Charlie.” she confessed, after all there was not much use in trying to keep things from Husk. It was only a matter of time before he’d have teased it out himself. 

“Ah—figured it might be.” he sighed, relaxing back more into his chair. “You know, we’ve all been through a lot these last few weeks. Give her some time.” he assured her. Vaggie smiled back at him, taking in a deep breath and exhaling hard. Hoping to let go, even if it was just for the night.  

“You’re right…just I feel like things have been different between us… even before all the stuff with the hotel and Heaven. Just seems like it all exacerbated it.” Vaggie explained, Husk nodding his head. 

“Welp, thing is…” he began. Vaggie looking over to him expecting to receive more comforting or reassuring advice. “Sometimes people change… ain’t much we can do about it. All you need to do is be you. If it’s meant to be, she'll come around.” he reasoned. It was hard to hear it, but Vaggie knew it made a lot of sense. So much had happened between them and there was no going back to how things once were, no matter how hard she might try. 

“Will you two stop yapping and live a little!” Angel yelled across the table. Vaggie, smiling over to Husk who sent her back a wink.

“Why the Hell not!” she cheered, raising her glass and deciding to enjoy herself. Her troubles could wait until morning. 

Charlie’s pacing had all but burned a hole in the rug. Back and forth she transverse the lobby. Charlie’s mind spinning with thoughts of Alastor. What was he up to? Why the special broadcast? 

It was still early in the day and Charlie was alone downstairs. Everyone else seemed to be dead asleep. The gang, having all been out into the late-night hours. Not that Charlie had a clue when they had actually come home. Only sign that they’d returned was Angel’s harness thrown haphazardly in the entryway. 

Charlie was exhausted and had once again not even bothered to return to her room. Instead, it had been another night of sleeping in the parlor. Charlie was beginning to wonder if she was subconsciously trying to widen the distance that had been growing between her and Vaggie. Had anyone else noticed?

While she absolutely still loved her, things between them just weren't the same. Though Charlie couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened–it did. She was no longer “in love” with Vaggie. Her heart had changed. Though it both frightened and pained her to think it, her feelings had moved on to another. Someone who no one would have guessed and that she’d never truly have. 

It was a cruel twist of fate. Falling out of love with Vaggie, who had been so loyal and true. Despite all they had been through together Vaggie was always by her side. Why now would she be falling hard and fast in love with the radio demon? She wondered if something in her knew it was happening from that first moment, when he stood in the doorway. Offering up his services to her and the hotel. 

His eyes, his smile—had sent shockwaves through her. Of course, he was being dapper and charming Charlie, that's his schtick, she thought to herself. Wondering if that could really have been enough to win her over? No, it had to have been more than that. There was a vulnerability there. Deep down Alastor had a heart too. His commitment to Charlie and the hotel—to helping all the others. That had proven it—hadn’t it?

“Argh…” Charlie huffed, dropping back down on the sofa. So flustered and head aching. Her hands, coming to rub at her temples. Unable to shake the thoughts of him from her mind when she felt that someone else was nearby. Then feeling the pressure of a small foot across the toe of her shoe.  

“Ope! My bad.” Niffty said, scurrying over Charlie’s foot before incessantly scrubbing down the table. Charlie smiled, Niffty was such a big help, it was nice having her around. She had been the only one who stayed home last night–with the exception of Charlie and Alastor. 

“It’s alright.” Charlie chuckled, watching the vivacious little demoness in her duties.

“Thinking about Alastor again?” she asked, seemingly out of the blue. Charlie’s heart felt like it had stopped mid-pump within her chest. She couldn't believe it. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked, hoping to laugh it off. Niffty stared blankly at her, as if she was confused at why Charlie would ask. 

“Because you have a crush on him. I don’t blame you…he’s such a bad boy!” she smiled, continuing her work as if it was nothing. Charlie felt the heat hit her cheeks. How did she know? Did anyone else know?

“Ha ha… you had me going there. Hey why don’t you check out room 237. I hear there is an issue with the bathtub again.” Charlie suggested, trying her best to hide her embarrassment, when she heard the telltale sound of footfalls on the stairs. 

“Just fixed it again this morning. Good thing I like to stay on top of things.” Alastor mused from the staircase. Approaching the two of them, all while dandily twirling his cane. Even though Charlie had just spent the last few minutes adamantly denying it, her heart once again began pounding away at the sight of him. 

Come on Charlie… hold it together, she said to herself. Alastor came to sit down beside her on the sofa. Using his cane to tap Niffty’s busy little hand, causing her to stop and look over at him. Niffty, blinking her one eye and smiling up at him as he patted the top of her head. 

“Listen my little sprite, why don’t you run along. I have some important matters to discuss with our princess.” Alastor suggested. Niffty nodding and running off like mad up the stairs with his request. Charlie wondered what the relationship between the two of them was, though she dare not ask.  

“Everything alright?” Charlie asked, grooming her ponytail with clammy hands. Alastor was unsure what to make of her nervous disposition. Did she somehow know what he was about to say?

“My dear you seem so discontent… whatever is the matter?” he asked her. Charlie smiled, her lip quivering a bit. She didn’t want him of all people to know what she was really thinking—feeling.

“Just excited for the broadcast today!” Charlie cheered, thrusting her fist in the air. Hoping the fanfare would be enough to help move the conversation along. 

“Ah, yes. Well now that you mention it, I wanted to talk to you about it. You see our scheduled programming very much involves you my dear.” Alastor explained. Charlie’s eyes widening, her head tilting to the side–completely confused.

“Me?” she asked, raising her brows at him. 

“Of course… Who else?” he laughed, just before lifting off the sofa. Walking towards the fireplace. Flames, crackling and popping as Alastor stood before it. HIs infamous smile, glinting in the light as he placed his hands behind his back. 

“Al, what are you ta-talking about? What–what are you asking me?” Charlie stuttered. Alastor spun around and bent down to meet with her eyes. The green light of his power illuminated him as he reached out his hand. Waiting for Charlie to take it. 

“It’s time to pay the pied piper…” He explained, “...we had a deal Charlie and I͙̭͛̚'̙͔̦̭͖̆͊̅̎͡M̗̼̪̙̓̒͗͊̀͟ ̨̦̝͕̥͎̐̆̍̐̄̈́͘͢Ň̡̼̔̇͢O̺̍T ̥̱̮̮̫̐́̇̇͌͆͘͟ͅA̻͔̎̑Ş̪̙͕̮̂̅̏̉̃̅͢K̺̩̩͂͐͡I̺̙̗̲̖̯̊́̏͒͗͂͜͡N͔̳̲̮͕͙̩͊̊́͌͊̔͡G͈̫͉̥̲̳̫̔̾̑͒̐̽͘.” Alastor cracked, dials spinning and his voice thicker and more intense than usual. Charlie felt icy running through her veins. Both frightened and intrigued by him though Alastor quickly returned to normal before speaking again as he continued. “Well, I suppose, technically I am asking… for your hand. Your hand in marriage.” the radio demon crooned. 

“Marriage?” was all Charlie could say, staring down at his hand. Feeling like the breath was stolen from within her lungs. “Al, you can’t be serious?” she asked. Wondering to herself if this was some cosmic joke. That while her feelings for him had only grown deeper, she’d be subject to his proposal for nothing but political gain. Alastor having felt nothing for her but as a means to an end. 

“Oh, but I am. Quite as a matter of fact. You marry me and together we become the talk of the town. Alastor and Charlie Morningstar. Princess—and Prince of Hell.”

“What about?” Charlie began, her heart leading before her head could remind her to keep quiet. 

“About what dear…” he asked, waiting impatiently for her to continue, “...go on now, spit it out.”

“About love?”

“Who said anything about love? Love has nothing to do with this. Remember Charlie…Y̱̺̓͞O̳̣̰̐̈́̈́͡ͅU̘̜͐͝ ̡̨͔͍͇̇̓̇̎͋O͇̭̥̫̒̚̚͡W̮̔È̺̞̜͙̍̀͌͟͠ ̙̜͈̮͚̃͌̀͘̚M̡̖̫̺͖͂͗͆̀͡Ȩ̨̛͉̤͚̰̐̆̀͋̑.” he hissed. Charlie swallowed back, reaching out her hand to take his. She had no choice. Alastor quickly grabbed onto her and shook. The deal was now satisfied, Charlie would be set to marry Alastor, or she’d lose her soul to him. 

Alastor was thrilled. His plan, now set in motion and there was nothing the Princess or anyone else could do to stop it. Not even Lucifer himself. He would tell the whole of Hell about their nuptials during the broadcast and soon be in a position to take back his freedom. Though Charlie’s mention of love had him curious. 

Did she love him? Who could ever love a thing like him? He was in the breaking and taking of dreams and souls. Nothing that Charlie was feeling would make him change his mind, would it?

As they’re eyes locked, Alastor’s face was still plastered with a smile. The room flooded over with his eerie essence, the thoughts bubbling up in his mind still at a low simmer. HIs shadow began laughing as it traveled the walls, veve appearing all around them–glowing hot and red. Charlie’s eyes filled with tears. The warm liquid, streaming down her face as she realized what she had done. In helping save her people she may have gone and damned them to a worse fate. 

“Damn, must’ve taken it a bit far last night.” Vaggie groaned, rolling over in bed. Her head pounding from the ferocity of her hangover. All she could remember was the pep talk from Husk and powering back shot after shot as Angel and Cherri egged her on. She decided she’d try to get away with lying in bed all day. That was until she felt the weight of an arm slinging over her shoulder. 

“Good morning sweet thing.” Sev whispered in her ear. His tail swayed softly as a big cheshire cat-like grin spread across his face. He was clearly satisfied with the events of the previous night. Vaggie felt sick to her stomach. Suddenly her memories came rushing back. 

They had run into Sev and his sister Trix at the club. Vaggie doing her best to keep a positive rapport, asked them to join the group. After what could only be described as a gluttonous amount of drinking and partying, she remembered them all returning to the hotel. They had staggered in at almost 3 am. 

On the way through the lobby, Vaggie caught sight of Charlie passed out on the sofa. How beautiful she looked when she was sleeping. How content, Vaggie thought, she was without her around. Vaggie’s emotions, running even higher now with the complication of her inebriated state. She allowed them to get the better of her. Angry at Charlie for having given up on them, she had decided she’d had enough. Following Sev, Husk, and Angel upstairs as the anger continued brewing inside her heart.

She remembered walking down the hall, still seething with pain and anger when she began to notice that Angel had been hanging off Husk’s arm. Hearts, practically dancing in his eyes as the two of them made their way to Angel’s room. She was upset—jealous even. Here Husk and Angel were, finally letting the obvious sexual tension between them flourish, and she was left out in the cold. Alone on yet another night while her so-called girlfriend avoided her.

What did you expect? That she’d wait up all night for you to come home and welcome you back with open arms? She thought to herself. She stopped just at her door, staring a moment at the handle before she took a moment to glance down the hall. Watching as Sev went to unlock the door to his room.  Sev happened to see her watching, waving a moment before sensing something was off. 

He approached her, wanting to say good night when Vaggie grabbed onto his arm. Pulling him towards her. Needy eyes painfully staring into his. The two strangers who desperately wanted to feel, leaning into one another. 

Before she knew it, Vaggie had invited him inside. Allowing him to share her bed. The night spent tangled up in each other's limbs. It was something she would have never done, or even considered, when sober. 

That was it. She remembered it all. Feeling the heavy weight of regret when Sev brushed back a bit of her hair from her face. Pulling Vaggie from her thoughts and forcing her to face the present situation. 

“You, ok?” he asked her, clearly having guessed something was wrong from the look on her face. She was tearful, wincing even. Sev was beginning to feel as if maybe he’d crossed a line, but Vaggie had asked him in. He never forced anything. Still, he figured redemption would be off the table had he not at least tried to take responsibility. “Vaggie—I didn’t mean to—” he continued, Vaggie began curling up tight into a ball. 

“It’s alright Sev… it’s not your fault. I just need you to go.” she sniffled back. Sev pulled Vaggie over to face him. The tears, now falling freely from her eyes.

“I’m sorry. For what it’s worth…” he continued, feeling awful about what had happened. He knew Charlie and Vaggie were in a relationship. Still, he had let his lustful desires get the best of him. 

“Just go!” Vaggie yelled, unable to stop herself from sobbing. Sev did as he was asked. Quickly gathering up his things and heading out the door. Vaggie left alone to deal with the consequences of her actions. All she wanted to do was numb the pain. To stop all the hurt from this thing with Charlie. In doing so, she knew she had ruined everything. 

As if things couldn’t get any worse there was a knock on her door. “I said go the fuck away Sev!” Vaggie yelled, forcing herself up out of bed to go scream at him. Angry that he didn’t seem to be getting the point. When she swung the door open, ready to throw hands, she was met face to face with Charlie. 

Vaggie went pale, staring into Charlie’s doe eyes. Eyes that had clearly been crying themselves. This can’t be happening… not now , Vaggie thought to herself. Charlie took a moment to look down the hall. Noticing Sev disappearing into his room. 

“Uh... Vaggie… why was Sev just leaving your room?” she asked. Vaggie held onto her head. Still wrapped in only a sheet from the events of the night before. Her hangover, having a tight grip as she tried to think of what to say.

“Charlie, I—I don’t know what to say.” Vaggie admitted. Charlie had come to tell her about what had happened with Alastor. To find solace in her girlfriend who at one time was also her best friend. As she saw Sev leaving Vaggie’s room, it was clear to Charlie what had happened, but she needed to hear it from Vaggie. 

“Did you—did you sleep with him?” she asked, the look on Vaggie’s face confessing it all. 

“It was an accident. I was just so upset about things between us… You’ve changed Charlie.” Vaggie cried, realizing how awful she sounded, only after the fact.

“Wrong answer!” Charlie hissed, turning around without shedding a tear. Angry at Vaggie’s betrayal, but even more so that she was to blame.

“That’s not…argh… Charlie I didn’t mean!” Vaggie said as she tried chasing Charlie down the hall.

“It’s over Vaggie. Stay or leave. I don't care, but it's over.” Charlie hissed. Running off as Vaggie stood there in silence. 

Notes:

I͙̭͛̚'̙͔̦̭͖̆͊̅̎͡M̗̼̪̙̓̒͗͊̀͟ ̨̦̝͕̥͎̐̆̍̐̄̈́͘͢Ň̡̼̔̇͢O̺̍T ̥̱̮̮̫̐́̇̇͌͆͘͟ͅA̻͔̎̑Ş̪̙͕̮̂̅̏̉̃̅͢K̺̩̩͂͐͡I̺̙̗̲̖̯̊́̏͒͗͂͜͡N͔̳̲̮͕͙̩͊̊́͌͊̔͡G͈̫͉̥̲̳̫̔̾̑͒̐̽͘- I'm not asking.

Y̱̺̓͞O̳̣̰̐̈́̈́͡ͅU̘̜͐͝ ̡̨͔͍͇̇̓̇̎͋O͇̭̥̫̒̚̚͡W̮̔È̺̞̜͙̍̀͌͟͠ ̙̜͈̮͚̃͌̀͘̚M̡̖̫̺͖͂͗͆̀͡Ȩ̨̛͉̤͚̰̐̆̀͋̑- You owe me.

#new chapter! #Hazbin hotel #Hazbin Hotel fanfic #Hazbin Hotel fanfics #Hazbin Hotel fanfiction #Alastor x Charlie #charlie x alastor #Radiobelle #Charlastor #Hazbin Hotel #charlie morningstar #Alastor #Romance #Angst #Drama #Power Play #Ren writes #vivzieverse #Canon/Non-Canon AU #vivziepop #A Deals a deal #Love is a helluvah thing #Asexual Alastor makes an exception for Charlie (non-aromatic) #Sex time with the radio demon #Unconventional relationships #political marriage #Frienemies to lovers #consensual/Non-consensual relationships depicted #flash warning

[demonsplendor]

18+ reader x alien - “Collector” (NSFT) Pt 2.3 (Pt 2 finale)

Pt 2.3/3

The final part to “part 2”; the end of watching Orion Mar and learning pertinent exobiology

Word count: 2.6k

pt 1 pt 2.1 pt 2.2

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Orion Mar gestures for you to give him your hand, and uses his to shape yours into a cupped shape against the bottom right below the head. You can see the tip’s opening only expand now, no longer pulsing closed and you can hear his breath quicken.

Previously using long, controlled push and pulling that was even in cadence, was now only jerking himself at the very base, frantically teasing with shallow, desperate strokes.

“I’m—“ he cuts himself off with a whine that must have escaped, to his own surprise. The remaining snap of clarity is short lived, he shudders back into himself before looking back up.

You are preoccupied, a captive audience; he need not tell you with words that he was close, for you can see the pearlescent blue green membrane of his globular deposit of sperm begin to push through. 

Now that you see it from this angle, it does look a little challenging if not outright uncomfortable to pass. It stretches him until you think it can go no further, but is only just partially through.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“No,” he sounds tense and shaky, “I’m just trying to get just the one to come out right now.”

You had shared a lot of things out loud to this public stranger today, but you would not be sharing how you wouldn’t mind him spilling entirely into your hand. 

He tries to raggedly gasp out, "You may need both hands. S-slippery." This is what breaks you of your seriousness, this sentence causing you to laugh out loud. It found the outer edges of all the tenseness and emotional valleys you've felt during this experience and weaves together into giggles. The absurdity of all of this hits you, but you are not cracked and mean, you can just momentarily embrace it with abandon. 

He had not once stopped looking at you even though your eyes were fixed entirely somewhere else on him. He warmly muses, "Ahh, not too bad." You don't know what he means and glance up only to flinch again when your eyes match his, he laughs with another delightful chitter, "Reveling in the unknown. Do not feel ashamed by that." 

It is oddly sobering at a moment like this, yet you can feel in your hand how the glob crests completely, careening into your welcoming palm accompanied by a thick coating of the remaining components of semen. 

He was not kidding, this thing was slick. 

You felt for a moment like you might drop it, like you were trying to hold a bar of wet soap on a rocking ship but you quickly followed his advice to use both hands. 

You marvel at it, "Woah it's quite firm, I thought it would be more gelatinous?" 

You turn it in your hands, but similar to letting a cracked egg slide around in your fingertips to separate the egg whites, the thick milky coating that came out with it slipped off and onto his leg. You can see it slipping along the chitinous plate until it streams onto the stretchy flesh in between to adhere to. 

You instantaneously graven, walking a couple steps back, "Oh my god, I am so sorry." 

He is not angry with you, his eyes tell you that much. Instead it makes him laugh boisterously. When he chitters his mandibles spread wide, he playfully growls, "How dare you." 

He stands up, it makes your entire body waver as he once again towers over you. Orion is not like this for long, he inexplicably kneels onto the blanket, fussing a bit with how he and it are arranged before looking up to you. 

This, this was a strange feeling.

He now had to crane his head to look up at you, you were the one towering over him. You still have the mass still protectively cupped in both of your hands but he sees your face turn red and inquisitive.

"Collection requires a surface, they have to remain clustered together. You cannot collect them individually and you cannot let them drop in succession into a container, they have to be scooped up afterwards. You technically could, but they will not be viable."

You had actually never encountered any information about this. There were no videos, they were not in any textbooks that you had available to you, and you'd think that even the collection clinics would have pamphlets to explain but they didn't. 

You forget that he's still not done, forgetting why he was in this arrangement and why he provided you that information to begin with until he begins to run his hand up along himself again. This brief break had softened him a bit but he quickly perked back up, this time also using the blanket to rut against. 

This was shocking enough, but when he looked up at you and again glued his eyes to yours was almost entirely too unbearable. You could not handle being the one standing above, him needing to crane his head to match yours. But he is unflinching, kneeling on the ground, pleasuring himself, all while he watched you as though he were the captivated audience. 

He can tell that this change in scene was overwhelming to you, he tries to break the ice but you question his choice of inquiry, "What kinds of things do you like? Do you and your partner still... still do anything?"

"Yes we still do things that I like too." You blurt out, "I peg him," but grimace the moment that you say it. 

"Oh?"

It makes you feel knotted with shame, but he does not let you descend entirely. He continues, "I like that too." 

"What?" 

"Mm, to be pegged." 

Your expression is blank and reaching, you had never ever seen this reflected in a video. Not that you've seen all of them, but you had seen... the majority. He reads your face all too well, laughs but this time you can feel he does laugh at you, your secret was not well kept earlier but now it was entirely dissolved: you were all too familiar with his tapes. 

"It's never been recorded before. It's not what people want to see, at least, that's what those who make the commercial decisions say. They only want me to be filmed taking another, or to exercise power on the audience, doing things while I stare into the camera."

You're kind of sad hearing this, and to be honest you would have maybe had the exact same assumptions about him before you met him. He was obviously charismatic and charming, you hadn't met another film star before but you imagine that's a prerequisite, but he was very considerate and engaging in a way that you wouldn't have expected.

You throw it back at him, "What kinds of things do you like?" 

"Hmm.. To be watched, first of all," he chitters in a knowing way when you keep your eye contact but go flush again. "I like to be taken. I like to be towered above, made small."

It is entirely too much for you to take in, you end up beside yourself and gasping out loud. You can't do much to conceal it, like hiding your face or mouth, you still keep protective hold over the originally passed glob. 

It seems like it may have been too much for him too, he tries to say, "I'm sorry," but it comes out huskily and ragged. He intermittently rubs himself but mostly begins grabbing the blanket to pull it closer against him, his thrusts now are short and hard as he fucks the fabric. 

"You need to--he needs to--hhn ugh hahaha--," he hitches and breaks his face away, looking down to gather himself, "at least one of you, you need to make sure he is worked into an absolute froth. The outer coating, it's needed too."

He cautiously looks back up but the ball is in your court, you could either maintain the eye contact or you could break it away. Another slip of your best judgment, you give in and stare back trying your best to not blink or let your eyes wander. He is humored by this, and immensely please, it doesn't take long until the final wave crashes into him and with a shudder and chitter, he begins to spill onto the blanket. 

He severs eye contact first so that you felt free to look and watch, he rolled his hips desperately onto the blanket, curling edges over to keep the increasingly growing mass all together. There was suddenly two, four, eight, glistening, handful-sized globs that drained out of him with a surprisingly pleasant sound of suction at the end. 

Beads of gel continue to drip as he grows flaccid, the slime you accidentally let ooze onto his leg has remained as a sticky sheen, but his first action was to carefully bundle the fabric around the clumped deposit as though it were a bindle. Seeing the amount of gentleness and care endears you once more, and you note to yourself that you should do the same if your own method succeeds. 

“Could you help me? In the kitchen, there’s a cupboard under the counter right next to the fridge that has containers. Can you bring one here?”

“Yeah, of course.” But you look down at your hands.

“Here, I can hold that for you.”

Your face squirms into an uncomfortable expression, you just try to nod and slowly crouch down while extending your hands. He keeps one of his hands clutching the fabric while he offers you his other. What took two of your hands sat nearly paltry-looking in his, you carefully dropped the ball into the center of his hand; it rolled off of yours with a schlorp and into his with a plap. It makes you laugh something sharp and hyena-like, somehow this hand off felt like the most bizarre part of the day and you unsuccessfully try to cover your face with the back of your hand. 

He seems a little bit sedated, and why shouldn’t he, but his throat rumbles in agreed spirits, “We are a bit beyond formalities. It’s good to find humor in these moments.” 

You straighten up and seeing him crouched over this wet satchel, holding his own singular sperm that was handed to him no less, you just about break into a sob when you laugh.

“I’m really, really sorry… Orion,” you still feel weird calling him by his name, but think better than to call him “Mr. Mar” in this moment, “I am taking this seriously. I just…”

“I know that you are. This must have been an overwhelming experience, I hope not a bad one, but now tension is breaking one way or another. It’s okay to laugh.”

You nod pathetically, another laugh surges through you that causes you to squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. 

“I’ll go… I’ll go get a container now.” 

You feel so amused and overwhelmed that you almost feel sick. Now that it was… over… you cannot believe that it happened. It wasn’t a bad experience, at least you don’t think so. But you can’t confidently tell him right now that it was a good one. It was challenging territory and something completely new. You’d have to sit on it for awhile to process it all. 

Even though the kitchen is a straight shot away you still feel awkward walking through this gorgeous and expensive home unaccompanied. You walk unnaturally in an effort to knock over things that were not even there, there was nothing lining you path, and certainly not anything breakable. You wash and dry your hands before opening the cabinet and could just about cry again, laughter bubbles out of you horribly and without stop. 

On the shelf in the cupboard under the counter next to the fridge were empty gallon ice cream containers. The kind that were a sturdy clear plastic with a lid and a handle. 

You had to sit on the floor, doubling over and nearly winded. You knew that he could hear you, you weren’t that far away. In fact, he calls out to you, “We need another one for this standalone. There’s one in the cabinet next to it.”

You are too frightened to look but hesitantly commit to opening the neighboring cabinet, only to see empty and cleaned yogurt containers. 

You shake your head frantically, this is total madness. 

You don’t want to leave him waiting but your hands are comically shaking as you grab a lidded ice cream bucket from the one shelf and unstack a yogurt container and fitting a lid from the other. Your legs feel like jello and the journey back to the room felt your own personal walk of shame. 

Your face is tear stained, your eyes puffy and red, and your mouth crinkled into something between a smile and abject terror.

He does not react coldly to you, asking only softly, “What do you do at home? I know they’re pierced but surely that makes more… mess?”

“We use… a bucket…”

“So this isn’t entirely unfamiliar.” 

You carefully place the ice cream bucket under your arm while you take off the lid from the yogurt container. He might not be making fun of you, but you feel like the printed on label is.

“Yes but… it doesn’t say ‘vanilla Greek yogurt’. Or ‘family favorites neapolitan swirl’.”

Your hands are absolutely trembling when you lean the container in his direction, you still think this is all terribly funny but it begins to swing in another direction, you start to feel sweaty and panicked. 

He cannot let go of the blanket, it seems, so you must navigate the lid after he carefully but still sort of unceremoniously let’s the singular sperm slide into the cup. You carefully set it down onto the ground next to to you and hand him the un-lidded bucket.

“You look exhausted,” you can’t believe that after watching what he’s done that he says you’re the one that looks tired, but there is no disagreement. You nod, feeling dizzy. You manage to feel soothed when he urges you, “sit down.”

You nod again and sit down, feeling relieved by doing so. 

He begins working at unwrapping the bag, angling the container so that he can slosh the contents into it. 

“You just need to be careful that they don’t get jostled from too high up. Try to keep them cushioned as best you can. Once they’re in the container though, they can mostly insulate themselves.” 

“Have you— are there— do…?”

“Just ask.”

“Do you… have… children?”

“Yes,” but he quickly corrects himself, “there are children that I have sired, by means such as this. The collection. I do not know them though and I have no idea who carried them.” 

“Is that why you know so many best practices?”

“Yes. As you know, the birth rate is critically low. There are these clinics and programs for collecting, but the first few times I submitted there was low success. It’s low success for most. Over time though, I got confirmation that I had high success and I would be asked by request to collect.”

“If there’s such a low success rate, why isn’t there more information available on how to best prepare them?”

He tumbled the last of his mess into the container and put on the lid before handing it to you. While doing so he conceded, “I think it’s just a numbers thing. We can produce many of these at once, multiple times. Even successful couplings, not indirect means, take many deposits before one takes. Whatever pharmaceutical that takes interest also doesn't care about their viability.” 

You carefully take the container from him. It definitely had weight to it but you were surprised when you gently raised and lowered it in the air, “It’s lighter than I expected!” You lift it up to eye level and see an layer of air on top, so that there was just enough room to prevent the contents from sloshing out through the lid. 

You gingerly set it down next to you near the yogurt container that housed the singular one. “You’ve put so much consideration into this, maximizing the rate of success on your own.”

He is still nude and sticky, his thick fingers nearly shellacked to his thighs but he remained alert and present. Often the things that he said had a confident tone, but this sounded almost pleading, “I’m motivated by the scientific method too.” You realize that yes, you can see as much, but you still tilt your head. “I hope that the process that you develop, it could increase it even more.”

“I’ll be diligent to follow exactly what you showed me and be mindful of where things can go wrong. I may only have once chance, and now that I know it’s way more sensitive than I previously thought… I will get to lead with our foot forward.” 

His eyes flashed and mandibles relaxed in a way that you knew was a smile. 

“Could you hand me a towel? They’re behind you on the left.”

You twist around and can see a woven basket with rolled up towels. “Oh yeah, sure.” You reach over to grab one and hand it to him.

“Thank you,” he wipes his hands off on a small patch of blanket that had remained unsoiled, before beginning to drape the towel around his waist. When he stood up, his would be otherwise eye-level cock was completely concealed and he wrapped it the rest of the way around his waist while taking a step back. “I’m going to clean up and change real quick. I’ll also get a bag that you could put the containers in.”

Something had been eating away at you, he stays in place to invite you to ask. “These… are viable.” You glance over at the container, putting your hand on top. “And you want to… let me just take them with me?”

He laughs throaty and deep, you see the plates on his chest rise while he does so. “Another calculated risk. I thought that you just wanted to see the process of them passing through, but when you brought up collection, I wondered if maybe you could figure something out that I can’t. It all still has room for improvement and you seem really dedicated, I think you could glean something unique.”

You're still kneeled on the ground, this time he’s the one towering over you but there is no strange feelings or tension. You find him admirable. This was all innately sexual in nature, but you did find it fascinating. You just had a hard time grappling with the fact you felt like you were perverted for wanting to try, for wanting to go the distance and learn everything that you could. Yet, here in front of you was someone who was so much more charismatic, confident, and proud than you. He had a sexual prowess and curiosity that you could never hope to achieve yourself, but he made you feel more than valid; he made this all feel like impactful, collaborative efforts.

You feel small when you tell him, “Thank you for saying that, and for trusting me,” but you do mean it. 

He makes another playful noise, his eyes darkening, “After all, you’re not going to do anything weird with them right? Try to hawk a celebrity’s semen on the internet?”

You utterly balk, “No! I won’t do that!” 

He chuckles, “I know, I know. I’m teasing.” He backs away more before turning around, “I’ll be right back.” 

He comes back 10 minutes later completely cleaned off and in fresh clothes. He walks in with a reusable grocery bag and sits on the other side of the containers. He turns the back upside down and crumpled newspaper spills out. 

“We want to keep the bottom one as stable as possible. Obviously, I’m giving these to you, so it’s not as though they’ll be used. I just want to try to give you a good specimen, in the most conducive conditions.” 

His efforts were not lost on you, they were well appreciated. He finished stuffing newspaper around the sides of the ice cream container at the bottom of the bag before setting the yogurt on top and also padding with newsprint. He stands up and gestures at the bag, you twist your body and lift it by both handles and confirm that it feels level. You stand up entirely, understanding that this is when you should take your leave.

“Thank you for… everything. For meeting with me, for… um…” You must look away in order to get out, “for showing me…” You wince but can bottle up the awkwardness, at least for now, “for explaining everything. You’ve really given me so much. I hope that this wasn’t too… weird.”

“It was absolutely weird.” 

Hearing this makes you shatter, your face crumpling. 

“But that’s not bad. That’s not a bad thing at all.” He says it firmly. “This was the most interesting thing I’ve gotten to be a part of in a really long time. Thank you for contacting me and for rolling with it. I had a very pleasant afternoon with you.” 

You are both relieved and tickled to hear him say that. You hadn’t completely wasted his time.

You bend over to pick up the bag for good, angling your body towards the unobstructed door way. “How do I…?”

“I’ll walk with you down.” 

He led the way back to the elevators and down you went. The ride remained silent but not necessarily stuffy. This whole day you felt anxious by his eye contact but now that you would be parting you felt anxious to meet eyes again, but he would not look back at you. The walk towards the doors back across the lobby was similarly distant, you imagined that you would just walk through the doors with an unmet wave but he stops short. 

He fishes his wallet from his pocket, and thumbs through it for a card. He hands it to you between two of his fingers, “Here, this is my number. Emails can slip by but I can be reached directly by this.” 

You’re astounded, taking the card and looking at it dumbfounded. You glance back up and this time are met with his unwavering eye contact. “It doesn’t have to be about everything but… could you please keep me updated? I’m curious about this upcoming workaround of yours, or if that’s too personal then even if you find anything interesting to the cluster.”

You’re slack jawed, not knowing how to reply other than nodding. After pocketing the card you sheepishly offer your hand for a handshake. His mandibles move in a silent laugh, clasping yours in a warm and familiar way.

“It was nice meeting you, Orion Mar.”

You said it as confidently you could muster up, even though you winced a bit at yourself. It was impossible though not to melt into a small smile, when he sends you off with ample wind into your sails.

“The pleasure was all mine. Please do not be a stranger.” 

#exophilia #terato #alien x reader #Monster imagine #Monster nsft #human x alien #alien boyfriend #speculative biology #voyerurism

[ealeczander]

Rating KinnPorsche ghost ships:

PetePorsche - 10/10

Adorable, amazing, brilliant, showstopping, spectacular! Best friend to lovers to soulmates for the win. Really pure ship. What else is there to say? Pete and Porsche will sneak away on little dates, mostly to eat and smoke. They will be partners in crime to all sorts of crazy ideas. Pete will definitely go and open a restaurant by the beach with Porsche. Pete and Chay will be best friends. Chay will also have to be the mom of the group because the other two morons don’t know what self preservation is. Pete’s grandma will be so happy that Pete has found such strong and beautiful boyfriend, she will start sending food to feed a small army claiming Porsche and Chay need to grow even stronger.

MacauChay - 7/10

Love them! I really do! But those little gremlins will kill each other if they date. I see why people ship them. They’re both from a broken family with only one brother to rely on. They’re both trapped in their circumstances and may find comfort and understanding in one another. They will absolutely hate each other at first, though.

ChanBig - 10/10

Did someone said Daddy Chan? I think we all saw that scene in ep1 and we collectively went - yep, they fuck. It’s the way Chan has all the power, the way Big doesn’t want to disappoint him. My daddy issues could never. It’s their power dynamic, it’s Big refusing to look at Chan’s eyes, it’s Chan being firm but gentle. I don’t need to say anything more, there are already amazingly slutty fanfics about them.

VegasTay - 10/10

This ship gets bonus points for the aesthetics alone, they are both gorgeously styled. I can see it happening as a one night stand. When Tay has finally had enough of Time’s bullshit, he goes to a club and sees Vegas there. Tay is ready to make some bad decisions. Vegas on the other hand has no idea what is happening, but one of Kinn’s best friends is flirting with him and he’ll be a fool to miss that opportunity. Vegas wrecks Tay’s world that night. Tay tells him he can leave marks. Vegas knows that his definition of “marks” is different from most so he controls himself. It will be so much more satisfying if Kinn’s friend does not regret this in the morning. Afterwards Tay tells the story of his shitty relationship and Vegas suggest murdering Time. Tay should have found that calm statement frightening, but he didn’t. He actually found it quite funny. Having his friend’s hot psycho cousin care more about his feelings than his actual boyfriend. Tay suggests doing that again, gathers his things and leaves. Vegas doesn’t know why he never told anybody about that night, maybe he forgot.

ArmKhun - 8/10

I’m taking points out because of the power imbalance and I’m giving points back because of the aesthetic. Diva Khun and Bodyguard Arm! Yes, give me more. The scene of them fighting the minor family with Arm’s car-bombs which were bedazzled in gems by Khun is what sealed the deal for me. They are an amazing team. Khun is such a fun and crazy character and I would like to see him in a more serious situation. What if he gets a gun pointed at him and goes into a ptsd episode while Arm has to be the best bodyguard and protect him but also later calm him down. The crack but also angst potential is astonishing.

KenBig - 6/10

Someone said they are the Mean Girls of KinnPorsche and it hasn’t left my mind since. Yes they are! Them just gossiping around and making everyone’s life miserable, love to see it. Don’t know if I can see them as something more serious than fuck buddies but I see the angst potential of both of them dying without knowing about what happened to the other.

ArmPorsche - 7/10

I’m seeing this starting as one sided love because notice how Arm looks at Porsche, that boy is in loooove! He was ready to go against his boss just to help Porsche. If Kinn was actually cheating on Porsche, those two boys would be game.

KinnPete - 6/10

Pretty sure this ship became famous after VegasPorsche left KinnPete in the dust in that alley. I can’t see this ship working, surprisingly because Kinn is a cinnamon roll when he’s in love and Pete is a psycho when he’s in love. But there is something really homoerotic about Kinn having trust issues and Pete being the only one he trust unconditionally. I can see it if the story takes a “dead dove do not eat” approach. With Porsche betraying Kinn and Kinn turning dark, and Vegas betraying Pete and Pete turning desperate.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #macauchay #kinnpete #peteporsche #vegastay #armkhun #kenbig #chanbig #armporsche #chay kinnporsche #pete kinnporsche #arm kinnporsche #chan kinnporsche #big kinnporsche #tankhun theerapanyakul #kinn theerapanyakul #tankhun kinnporsche #not including armpol because this ship is literally canon and you can’t convince me otherwise