#Slate round pot

[digitalvision05]

The Timeless Elegance of Concrete Pendant Lights: A Design Guide

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2. Asymmetrical hanging light for your Space:-

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3. Round Delight made from concrete and Jute:-

The Concrete and Jute Round Shape Light brings a touch of organic warmth to the industrial mix. The natural jute rope adds a rustic charm, softening the concrete's industrial edge. Imagine this pendant light gracing a reading nook, its gentle glow creating a haven for relaxation and reflection.

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The Square Concrete Pendant Light exudes a minimalist aesthetic with its clean lines and geometric form. Its versatility makes it a perfect choice for modern offices, contemporary living spaces, or minimalist kitchens. Picture the pendant light casting a crisp square of light, highlighting the clean lines and polished surfaces of your modern haven. Finding the perfect concrete pendant light for your space doesn't have to be a daunting task. With The Brand Barrel's expertise and diverse collection, you're sure to discover a piece that reflects your unique style and elevates your space to new heights. So, explore our collection, let your imagination take flight, and ask yourself: What story will your concrete pendant light tell?

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[digitalvision]

The Timeless Elegance of Concrete Pendant Lights: A Design Guide

Hanging lights can effortlessly infuse a touch of luxury into your home, elevating the ambience with their stylish allure and creating a truly opulent atmosphere. Imagine walking into a space bathed in the warm glow of a hand-crafted concrete pendant light. Its textured surface whispers of industrial grit, while its soft illumination exudes a sophisticated charm. This is the magic of concrete hanging lights that elevates any space, be it your cosy home or your modern office.

For those who are looking to add a touch of timeless elegance and distinctive character to their hanging light arrangements, consider exploring the captivating world of concrete pendant lights from The Brand Barrel. Our collection offers a variety of styles, each meticulously crafted to enhance the ambience of your environment. Let's delve into four of their stunning offerings that are sure to captivate your senses:-

1. Angle Cut Pendant Light that Embraces the Industrial Chic:-

The Angle Cut Pendant Light embodies the industrial aesthetic with its clean lines and raw concrete finish. Its angled design adds a touch of dynamism and makes it perfect for illuminating kitchen islands, dining tables, or entryways. Imagine the warm glow highlighting the textures of exposed brick walls or reclaimed wood furniture, creating a space that oozes urban loft cool.

2. Asymmetrical hanging light for your Space:-

For those who dare to be different, the Asymmetrical Pendant Light presents a captivating interplay of light and shadow. Asymmetry is key with this piece, its uneven form exuding a playful charm. Picture it gracing your entryway, its off-kilter design sparking curiosity and conversation among guests.

3. Round Delight made from concrete and Jute:-

The Concrete and Jute Round Shape Light brings a touch of organic warmth to the industrial mix. The natural jute rope adds a rustic charm, softening the concrete's industrial edge. Imagine this pendant light gracing a reading nook, its gentle glow creating a haven for relaxation and reflection.

4. Stunning and Modern Square Lines:-

The Square Concrete Pendant Light exudes a minimalist aesthetic with its clean lines and geometric form. Its versatility makes it a perfect choice for modern offices, contemporary living spaces, or minimalist kitchens. Picture the pendant light casting a crisp square of light, highlighting the clean lines and polished surfaces of your modern haven.

Finding the perfect concrete pendant light for your space doesn't have to be a daunting task. With The Brand Barrel's expertise and diverse collection, you're sure to discover a piece that reflects your unique style and elevates your space to new heights. So, explore our collection, let your imagination take flight, and ask yourself: What story will your concrete pendant light tell?

#Slate round pot #Step Pendant Light #Slate Round Jute and Concrete Light #Asymmetrical Pendant Light #Angle Cut Pendant Light #Octagonal Concrete Candle for Table Decor

[julibellule]

“Stede. Stede. Woah.”

Hands are on his upper arms, bringing him to a halt. And Stede finally sees Ed again; his dark eyes hold Stede’s gaze. He’s wearing a black and grey plaid shirt and black jeans. How’d he manage to get changed so quickly? And, oh, look, Stede’s still in his pyjamas. And he’s holding a potted plant for no discernable reason other than mindless panic, apparently.

“What you planning to do with that, then?” Ed asks gently.

“Um. I don’t really know, to be honest.”

“Babe. [...]I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Unless your kids don’t know about the fact you like blokes, but then, they’re kids. They don’t need to know.”

[...]“I know. I guess I’m just caught off guard. I haven’t got round to sitting the kids down and explaining the whole gay thing. It just never felt like the right time.”

“Alright. No problem, mate. You want to hold onto the plant?”

“Oh. Erm, not especially.”

“I’ll take that, then. You whack some clothes on and I’ll leave you to it, yeah?”

“Wait. Why?”

For a moment, the two of them survey each other in the living room. [...]

“You’re not going, are you?”

Ed blinks and frowns at the floor. “I mean. I figured you’d. You know. Want me to.”

“No.” A very quick response, and it makes Ed look back at him. “I want you to stay. I want them to meet you.”

Ed grips the plant pot and swallows.

“Unless– that is, if it’s too soon for you–”

“Nah, no. I’d be fuckin’ honoured, Stede.[...]”

>>> Click here for more BlackBonnet fic recs <<<

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbeard #fic rec #fanfiction #quote #clean slated state #Justkeeptrekkin

[moralesispunk]

The Fire Between Us

Chapter Two - Inflame

[Masterlist] [Chapter one]

Din Djarin x Mandalorian! Female Reader (blank slate reader - mentioned to use the surname of Clan - Mardyn - as explained in Chapter One)

Summary: The plan to prove yourself to Din Djarin, once and for all, ends in both of you confronting feelings you would rather ignore

Word Count: 9.7k (whoops)

Warnings: mention of violence, reader and Din are both bounty hunters, mention of bodily injury and blood/ losing consciousness, a reminder that reader and brother - Adrean - are adopted so descriptions of Adrean are not descriptions of reader (if I have missed anything then please let me know!)

Read on AO3 here!

Mando’a translations: K’oyacyi - stay alive

*****

Sleep did not come to you that night.

After your run in with Din in the tunnel, his armor-clad body pressed dangerously close to yours as he taunted you until you stormed away, you tossed and turned for hours as you thought about how to begin your counter attack against him, far too awake to feel even the slightest hint of tiredness. You had laid in bed for so long as you rolled from one side to the other, threw one leg over the covers and then the next, flipped the pillow over before flipping it back again, that the sheets became far too warm to lie in comfortably.

While the rest of the Covert slept soundly, most of them dead to the world after celebrating the birth of the newest ad into the wee hours of the morning, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and padded barefoot across your room to the metal tub in the corner. With pots of water you quietly filled the tub with a mix of boiled and lukewarm water, adding a splash of rose soap, and the steam that was starting to fill the room was warding off the goosebumps that had covered your skin since the fire had gone out during the night. The heated water warmed the rest of your body as soon as you stripped, all the way from your feet to your calves up to your neck as you rested your head against the hard tub and let the water slosh around your ears.

The tunnels of the Covert usually carried some kind of noise - everything from quiet conversations to loud cheers - but at this time in the morning all you could hear was the soft splash of water every time you dragged the cloth against your soapy skin. It was quiet enough that you could think clearly about the day to come, the water changing from scalding to hot to lukewarm and then all the way to cold as you pondered your plan.

There was no way for you to return to the Covert in the lead when it came to your bounty count game - unless there was a rare two-in-one up for grabs - but there was a way to come back with a bounty so good that Din would be forced to respect you.

Every day, Karga - the newest agent of the Nevarro guild - had one top tier bounty puck that he would give on a first come, first served basis. Rarely, hardly ever in fact, did you beat Din to the prime puck of the day. More times than you could count you had watched Din walk out of the cantina with boldness in his stride just as you rounded the last corner, his shoulders tilting towards yours as he dipped his helmet down and whispered a quip of “better luck next time,” in your ear before stalking towards the Crest. You didn’t know how he did it - it seemed no matter how early you rose he would always beat you there - but you would then have to walk into the cantina after him and pick up whatever he didn’t take.

You knew that you would be first this morning, before Din or any other bounty hunter; you had to be. After counting Din pouring at least two - maybe three - jugs of tihaar last night there was no chance of him rising before the morning sun.

You weren’t giving Din the credit he deserved, you knew that and shook your head from your daydream as you stood from the bath and let the water splash back into the tub below you. You had to do this fast: get the puck, get off planet, get the bounty.

The bath was drained quickly, the sun still far from touching the sky, and you started the pattern you followed each morning as you got ready for a bounty; one that calmed you and made you stand taller as you walked out of the Covert feeling like you could take on the world.

Before the celebration last night you had sat between your mother’s legs and let her do your hair the same way she had when you were a child. Her hands were not nearly as agile as they had been when you were younger, taking twice as long, and while there was no need to go to her at your age she could rarely contribute to the Covert in any other way - years of battles and wars taking their toll on her body - and so you continued to let her do this one thing. It made it easy enough to wear your helmet without the worry that it would come loose while you were in battle and so you slipped on your hood once the rest of your under layers were on and you began to place on each piece of armor.

You followed the opposite pattern of the one you did while taking it off, starting at your feet and working up until you put your helmet on and your reflection in the mirror was a canvas of light blue save for patches of dark underlayers. 

The Covert was still silent as you strapped your rifle to your back, your boots thumping against the ground as you walked towards the archway into the hall, but just as your hand wrapped into the curtain a shuffling sound came from outside. You paused, your hand gripping the curtain even tighter as you counted out one minute, and then another, before sighing at the all clear and pulling back the thick material.

The shadow that was covering the archway, blocking out most of the light from the candles in the tunnel, made a scream catch in your throat. A hand hit against the middle of your chest, knocking you backwards before you had a chance to wake the whole Covert.

“Adrean!”

You hissed your younger brother’s name and he smiled down at you, his green eyes and fiery red hair bright even in the darkness of your room.

He was only a year younger than you but sometimes he acted like he was half your age; it didn’t help that he looked so young - not that anyone other than you or your parents would recognise him - but with his bright eyes and the freckles that had covered his nose and cheeks he was left with a boy-ish look that was not in line with the fierceness of his warrior ways.

“Going somewhere?” He sang, his shoulder bumping yours as he walked by you and hopped onto your bed.

You stayed facing the doorway now covered back with the curtain, your head turning over your shoulder as he walked further into your room and you could only grit your teeth and watch.

“No.”

“No?” He smiled, shuffling backwards until his back pressed against the wall and his ankles crossed over one another - a sign he wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon. “Often get dressed up in your armor before the sun rises?”

You sighed in defeat, pulling your helmet and hood off and turning to face Adrean before answering, knowing the sooner he got what he wanted the sooner you could leave.

“Like you would know anyway. I can’t remember the last time I saw you awake before midday.”

He stuck his tongue out and you did the same back, unable to stop the smile that now pulled at the corner of your mouth as your shoulders relaxed down from your ears.

“You forgot to bring me my drink last night.”

“Sorry,” you snorted, walking over and sitting down at the other side of the bed, balancing your helmet on your knee. “Is that what this is about? Hanging about outside my room for an apology?”

He shook his head before leaning back against the wall.

“I saw you leave last night… then Din Djarin follow you.”

You waited for him to go on but he just raised an eyebrow across at you.

“He didn’t follow me-”

“No?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, the intensity of his gaze making your eyes fall down to the helmet in your lap.

“So, I’ll ask again,” he said, waiting until you looked back up at him, “going somewhere?”

You sighed, your fingers tracing over your helmet - the dark scratches that have aged with you and the newer ones you might be able to buff away, not meeting Adrean’s eye when you spoke again.

“You know what he’s like. He followed me to tell me about his bounty yesterday, the one everyone is talking about,” you rolled your eyes. “He just- I just- I can’t take it anymore. I need to prove myself to the Armorer, to everyone who sees me as second best to him; I need to get a good bounty today.”

He just smiled at you, one that said a million things without even having to utter a word, and you finally looked up at him.

“You sure this isn’t to prove yourself to him?”

“To Din?” You felt a warmth creep up the back of your neck. “Why- Why would I have to prove myself to him?” 

You crossed your arms and he shrugged, the smile still on his face as he began to push off the bed and the mattress shook a little below you.

“I don’t know,” he grunted, jumping down to the floor, “only you would know that.”

You scowled back at him waiting for him to say something more, but he just stared back down at you.

“So… you’re not going to tell me this is a stupid idea?”

He just laughed, his head thrown back a little like he usually did. You had always admired how open he was with his emotions and willing to show them; most Mandalorians shied away from that, playing the role of being stoic and strong, but Adrean laughed and cried the second he felt like it in his heart.

“You already know it is,” he sighed, a smile still written across his face. He reached his hand towards you and as you wrapped your hand around his forearm he did the same to yours, pulling you off the bed. “You’re my big sister though, and one of the best warriors I know, so I won’t be standing in your way.”

You breathed out a laugh at that and he squeezed his hand around your forearm - just enough to send a reassurance through your chest.

“K’oyacyi.”

You nodded your head once, squeezing his arm back before dropping it.

“Thank you.”

As he walked back out, pausing at the curtain and peeking out to make sure no one was in the tunnel before slipping out, you carefully put your hood and helmet back on, making sure you had every weapon you needed strapped to your body before sneaking out through the tunnels.

By the time you were walking out of the Covert the sun was only just kissing the navy sky and lighting it with a lilac as you walked towards the cantina. The walk that usually took ten minutes was done in five, the door sliding open to reveal the cantina as being quiet save for a few stragglers from the night before who were half asleep at the bar and those who were here to set up business for the day. One of the latter was Greef Karga, perched at his usual table at the back of the room where he could look over everyone else.

His eyes were immediately drawn to you and there was no hiding the surprise that covered his face as he watched you walk in as the first customer of the day, the armor that had kept you warm in the cool of dawn now turning the heads of everyone else in the room too.

“You’re early this morning,” he nodded, waiting until you had stopped beside his table before looking you up and down, “and not even sitting? What’s the rush?”

His head tilted to the side, a smirk now covering his face, and you rolled your head to look down at the space opposite Karga, sighing as you dropped yourself - rather unceremoniously - into the booth. You had learned early on in your dealings with Karga to pick your battles with the man; to make him think you were indulging him to get what you wanted with only half the bother.

“What do I owe the pleasure of getting to…” he smiled over the rim of his glass, “hear your pretty voice this early in the day?”

“I’ll take whatever returns the most credits,” you replied monotonously, fingers tapping against the table pinky to pointer while hoping to dispel any further conversation. 

Karga raised an eyebrow across at you as he placed his glass back on the table, questioning himself whether or not to go on. He finally relented, pulling a puck from his pocket with a sigh and setting up the hologram in the center of the table.

A twi’lek blocked your view of him, bright red text below reading 25,000 credits. Adrean’s words from the night before as he spoke about Din’s praised bounty echoed in your mind - “I heard the bounty was for 20,000 credits,” - and your hand instantly reached for the puck. Before your fingers could touch it, however, Karga slapped his hand over it and the rest of the cantina looked over to your table.

“I promised this to your Mando friend.”

You stared back at him from behind your visor and your hand that wasn’t on the table skimmed over the blue armor on your thigh, coming to rest on the blaster attached to your hip that was just in his eye line.

“I don’t see him here,” you scanned the room for any sight of a beskar helmet, making sure to turn your head enough for Karga to notice, “and I’ve never heard about claiming dibs on a bounty…”

You lifted your hand from the table, holding it palm up towards Karga and curling your fingers back twice towards you. He looked quickly over his shoulder towards the door and you rolled your eyes under the helmet. When he turned back to face you he sighed, lifting the puck to place it in your hand.

“He’s not going to be happy about this, you know.”

“When is he ever?”

You stood, placing the puck in your pocket as Karga laughed.

“You got me there,” he raised his glass once more, the dark liquid receiving a returning eyebrow raise from you beneath the helmet, and tipped it towards you, “happy hunting.”

Usually there was no rush when you got a puck because, well firstly Din was usually off planet already but, despite being in a contest with him, you were still one of the best hunters in the Guild. 

Today, however, was different; today you needed to get as much space between you and Din before he woke.

You barely had time to think before getting into your ship, only taking enough time to check the last known location of the bounty before punching her into hyperspace as your hands worked skillfully over the controls. You knew that you had hoped for the impossible thinking that Din wouldn’t be up for hours and that he would no doubt be not far behind; he was, after all, one of the best trackers in the Guild so you were giving yourself two hours - at most - as a head start. It meant you had to use your time in hyperspace to read up on the bounty and try to get any clues for how this could go.

You flicked through pages and pages of information on your holopad, your gloves resting on the controls and your helmet in the chair by your side, as the blues and purples of hyperspace flashed around the cockpit. It turns out that the bounty owed some credits - or rather, a lot of credits - to his boss after smuggling some spice but disappearing before returning with the profit. It didn’t seem like he was violent, however, so that was a bonus for you.

When you finally landed on the forestry planet, the holopad switched off and your hands carefully navigating your ship into a clearing, the sun had already disappeared from the sky and the moon was high in its place. You could barely see anything between the thick trees and fog, the moonlight getting lost the second your ship was on flat ground and the engine cut soon after. You double and triple checked you had all of your weapons, your gloves and helmet placed back on as you kept a blaster in one hand and the tracker in the other as you stepped off your ship.

As soon as your boots touched the soil, sinking into the muddy ground, you turned the tracker on and it began to beep at a slow and steady pace. There was no sign of any heat signatures and you scanned through your visor, turning in a slow circle and looking in all directions, before you resigned yourself to the fact you would have to choose one at random and try that first.

You had noticed another small clearing as you landed, as though there was a small line between the trees where someone had trekked through the same path many times, and you headed in that direction first. After a while the tracker began to slowly, but surely, increase in pace and with the red flashes fanning through the fog you strapped it back onto your belt.

With each step you took you kept an eye out for any signs of life, looking for heat signatures or footprints. The first, second and third hour had come and gone without so much as a mark in the soil and only the slightest increase in the tracker’s beeps. The frustration was only building inside you as you realized that Din was most likely already on the planet and using your tracks to start off from, your grip on the blaster tightening as your feet began to hit the muddy soil even harder. 

You had, probably using too much wishful thinking, hoped that you could have dealt with the bounty before Din had arrived; you had even imagined already loading the bounty onto the ship as the Crest landed beside your ship. You pictured Din standing at the top of his ramp, staring at you wordlessly with his fists clenched in annoyance at his side and you threw your head back with a laugh before he stormed back into the Crest and took off before the bounty was even thrown into the cryofreezer.

You stepped over a fallen tree, muttering under your breath as your footing slipped an inch, but before your next step could plant firmly on the ground you heard the quiet snap of a twig from behind. Your whole body stilled, all thoughts of Din gone as you switched on the bounty hunter part of your brain and turned to look over your shoulder as you searched for who - or what - had made that noise. Holding your breath you counted to ten, your fingers loosening and tightening once more around your blaster, waiting to hear if anything more was to come, but when it didn’t you placed your foot on the ground and began to walk again.

It must have been an animal, something small and scavenging for food at this time of night, but before you could question it any more a weight wrapped around your middle, pulling you backwards against a solid surface.

You kicked and thrashed, unable to turn and see your adversary. Their arm had wrapped around your biceps and kept your arms tight against your side so you couldn’t reach for any of your weapons. Your mind was racing as you cursed under your breath, your heels kicking back to try and catch their legs, but no matter how hard you tried to get out of their hold… nothing worked.

“Verd’ika,” they eventually spoke and a shiver ran up your spine as soon as his voice reached your ears, “what a silly girl taking what’s mine, wasting an early rise when you know I can find you so easily.”

Your body froze when he finished talking, his voice dropping and words slowing towards the end. You swore you heard a chuckle from under his helmet, his arm tightening around you almost an unnoticeable amount but enough to pull your back even closer against his chest. With a sigh you looked down at his armor clad forearm that was digging in below your chest plate; the rusted red scratching against the light blue.

“Didn’t know we were placing dibs on bounties now,” you tutted, almost petulantly. “Worried you need to cheat to stay ahead?”

You heard him laugh again, clearer this time, and his grip on you loosened as he placed you back down on the ground again. His hands never left you as he turned you to face him, two palms pressing against your arms and holding you in place as he stared down at you. 

“Never.”

Before you could think of a retort his foot swiped against your legs and his arms pinned you to the ground, your head spinning at the fast movement and taking a moment to gather your bearings. One minute his helmet was in front of you and the next you were staring up through the trees, their leaves barely shaking in the wind as you fought to catch each breath, the way you had landed knocking you breathless. Your chest was in agony as you pushed yourself up, looking to the side and watching a blur of Din’s armor disappearing through the trees.

“Shit!”

You reached your hand out, your glove swiping through the dirt as you tried to find the still beeping tracker that had been knocked from your belt when his arms had wrapped around you. The beeps were reaching your ears at the same rhythm they had been before Din knocked you down and so you quickly pushed yourself up, your feet scrambling while you took off in the opposite direction.

Din was a smart man, there was no denying that, but sometimes he made mistakes when you were near; silly mistakes that a trained bounty hunter shouldn’t be making. He may have been heading in the right direction but it would take him twice as long as the way you were heading; he would have to climb over the steep hill while you could easily make your way around it.

Your whole body was aching, half from how hard you had hit the ground and half from exhaustion, but you forced your body not to let up; pushing your feet to continue to hit the ground at their unsustainable pace. You ducked and dived between trees as the tracker continued to beep from within your fist and you ran forward still until what looked like a makeshift shed was visible ahead through the trees. 

It had only just come into view when a blaster shot came from the window and you managed to dive behind a tree as it skimmed across your shoulder, your back pressed against the trunk as you drew in a breath.

*****

He could see you between the trees as he ran forward, his body ducking behind a trunk as the blasters continued to fly by. A smile immediately broke out onto his face, heavy breaths leaving his mouth as he watched you peek out from behind the tree before another shot flew past and you hid once more. You were too far away for him to hear but as he watched you shake your head he knew you would be muttering under your breath. It was something that had always intrigued him - how when you were deep in thought, even in the midst of battle, you spoke to yourself as you worked out what was the best course of action.

A lot of things you did intrigued Din, plaguing him so much that he was unable to go more than five minutes without thinking about you. He thought about how you could stand toe-to-toe with whatever enemy you found yourself in front of, your confidence not wavering even an inch as you took them on. He thought about how, even in a hall filled with the rest of the Covert, he could hear your laugh above all else. He thought about how when he teased you he got to watch as you clenched your fists and stared back at him. He thought about how when you trained together and he pulled you close against him to stop your attacks, even beneath the layers of beskar and armor, he could smell roses - fresh and sweet - and his whole body would be overcome with the want to rip off his helmet, press his nose against your skin and breathe you in.

Another blaster shot came, this time skimming across your shoulder pauldron, and as your body collapsed against the mucky leaves his heart stopped for a moment. His hand reached for his blaster and pulled it out, your name on the tip of his tongue, but then you pushed back up off the ground and reached for a dagger strapped to your thigh, throwing it from behind the tree. A moment later it crashed through the shed, a yell following, and Din smiled, stalking closer towards you while keeping hidden behind the trees.

He couldn’t stop the urge to draw your attention this way, despite the blaster shots firing between you both, and the only way he knew to do so was to annoy you some more…

*****

“Out of your depth a little, verd’ika?”

You looked over to your right to find Din crouched behind another tree, his forearm resting over his knee and his blaster loose in his grip. 

“Stop calling me that,” you spat back through gritted teeth.

“Little soldier”. He had called you that the first time he noticed he was taller than you after using his new height advantage to knock you to the ground. He clocked the way your helmet glared back at him, the annoyed shake of your shoulders unmistakable, and so he had made a point to call you that ever since. In fact, Din rarely called you by your first name - splitting his time between calling you verd’ika or by your Clan name, Mardyn. 

You knew he was smiling to himself under the helmet, loving the way he knew exactly how to get under your skin, but before you could think of another retort he sent a nod your way and pushed his weight up, running towards the shed with his blaster aimed in front of him. 

Like Hell he is getting your bounty.

You ran behind him, using his broad shoulders as a shield for the blaster shots that continued to fire at the pair of you. You heard the clicking of a blaster becoming jammed and smirked, picking up enough speed to tackle Din to the ground while the bounty struggled with his blaster.

“What the-”

“My bounty, Djarin,” you spoke down at him, his arms pinned by his helmet while you straddled his lap. 

In one quick move Din had flipped your bodies and pinned you on the ground, his weight hovering over you. Your breath caught in your throat, his hands easily wrapping around your wrists and his knee between your legs as he held you down. His whole body covered yours, the moonlight that was peeking between the trees and fog now completely blacked out as you stared back into his visor. 

“Didn’t know we were calling dibs, Mardyn.”

You groaned as he teased your words back at you and pushed off, your wrists pressed deeper into the mud as his legs were already carrying him towards the hut before you could raise your helmet.

With one last saving grace you reached over your head for his ankle, catching it and pulling him to the ground as you pushed your weight up and ran by him. You could hear his loud curse as you ran by, the smile on your face growing wider when you knew you were out of his reach.

When you burst into the shed the bounty was still crouched behind the window, jammed blaster in his hand but body stilling as he looked up at you. His hands immediately raised, the blaster dropping with a clang. 

“Don’t shoot!”

You caught your breath, putting your blaster back into its holster and pulling on his arm.

“Get up,” you sighed, wrenching his arms together and securing handcuffs around his wrists.

It wasn’t quite the victory you had imagined, the handcuff securing around his second wrist as Din finally stood in the doorway and you stared at one another both covered helmet-to-toe in mud. Nevertheless, you still got your moment of victory as his shoulders sagged, the blaster in his hand angrily pushed back into his holster.

“Better luck next time,” you spoke sweetly.

The words he had said to you a hundred times hung in the air and there was barely any time to register what he was doing before he turned on his heels and left, the glimmer of his helmet only just noticeable as you peeked through the window and watched him storm off through the trees.

******

You infuriated him; made his whole body writhe with anger and set a fire that spread out and made him uncomfortable beneath his usual, agreeable armor.

He had thought for a moment that he had won, when you were pinned beneath him and the bounty was frozen, but then he let his eyes roam across your body below his and he was distracted. For a split second he had forgotten all about the bounty - his mind clouded by the vision of you laid out beneath him and the anger that seemed to disappear as you relaxed against the ground and let your weight press down on the knee that was placed between your legs.

He had to fight back the choked sound that threatened to leave his throat, tense his arms to stop his whole body from collapsing against you while begging for you to do that again. He almost let all resolve drop, tearing down the wall he had spent nearly two decades building up to keep you at arm's length. 

At first he had done it because you were his biggest rival, the one who stood between him and the place as the most highly regarded ade of your Covert, but then it had become for a reason that was far more desperate. For years, Din had struggled with the same nightmare. It started the second his eyes closed and then when they opened he was a child, his house shaking with an explosion as mother ran into his room quickly followed by his father who pulled him from bed. It was a rush as they pulled a cloak over his head, nothing but worried glances shared between the adults no matter how many times he asked what was going on.

He hadn’t been carried by his father in years, not while awake anyway, and yet as they ran through the streets his father held him tight against his chest. Din watched over his father’s shoulder as houses exploded and other parents ran with their children, droids landing on every corner and making his parents turn and run in the other direction.

They ran until his father finally put him down, opening up two doors and placing Din inside the small box. The last thing he saw were his parents, telling him how much they loved him, before the doors were shut and another explosion came.

He then woke up with a start, safely in the Covert.

It would happen every night when he was a child until they became every other night, then once a week, a month… He still got them every so often but they didn’t shake him quite as much as they did almost twenty years ago.

When he first arrived at the Covert, Din had been upset that he wasn't adopted into a specific clan. He watched other children - like you - become close to their parents and live as a family. It didn’t take long for him to change this view - to find a way to be grateful. He had already lost two parents and so the risk of losing two more… This was a safe out.

He had avoided any strong, parental attachments and after ten years in the Covert and approaching his twentieth birthday, Din breathed a sigh of relief that he would never have to deal with the pain of losing anyone close to him again.

But then… there was you. Of course he had never realized the danger you posed as children - it was nothing more than a silly game you played to one up each other - but one minute you were just another Mandalorian and then you were… you. He found himself searching for you in every room he walked into, looking to protect you in every battle. He thought of you when he was awake and asleep, happy and sad, when he was with you and when he wasn’t.

The pain of losing his parents was still there, a piece of him that he would never lose, but it wasn’t as strong. It was more of a memory than a feeling. The thoughts he began to have of ever having to lose you, though, cut deep; it was a pain that spread out through his chest and made it hard to take in a breath, his vision darkening and hands shaking until he could look at you and know you were okay.

The realization of the power you held over him was enough for him to push you away even more so. He needed you to think that he hated you, or lived to annoy you at least, and he spent each and every day learning how to do so. He continued to do what he could to keep his real feelings hidden and keep you away from him. The relentless teasing did a good job, as did staying ahead of her in the bounty county challenge. Speaking of which-

When the bounty’s blaster became jammed again and your body stiffened beneath his, he pushed his weight off of you and ran towards the hut. He knew he had spent too long staring down at you when he felt your hand wrap around his ankle, his body hitting the ground - hard - soon after. He watched as you ran ahead, your body bursting into the hut as muffled words were exchanged between you and the bounty.

You had spoken those words he had used to tease you hundreds of times back at him; the words dripped in a sweetness as you tilted your helmet ever so slightly and he had to force himself to storm off or risk letting the walls drop for another second.

*****

The walk back to your ship took twice as long with the bounty in tow, his feet dragging as you pulled the rope that was wrapped around your wrist and tied around his handcuffs. Whenever he slowed even more and you gave the rope a particularly hard tug a muttering of curses was sent your way and you rolled your eyes under your helmet, picking the pace up even more.

As soon as your ship came into view he finally began to pick up the pace, walking a little too close behind but you were just glad to be getting off the planet soon that you didn’t stop him. You lifted your arm, scanning across the controls on your forearms to open the door and lower the ramp, when his sleazy voice met your ears.

“Hey, bet you’re pretty under there, sure I can’t help keep you busy on the way back?”

You looked over your shoulder, his hands that were bound together by the handcuffs already reaching towards you, but before they could grab at anything you lifted your hand and headed squarely for his nose. 

“You bitch!” He screeched, lunging for you. 

His body crashed into yours before you could even register what was happening, knocking you both to the ground. It was a flurry of arms and legs, punches and kicks, and the rope began to tangle between you. You felt his hands move down your side towards your belt and you tried to squirm away but with your hands now trapped in the thick rope you could only watch as he lifted a vibroblade from your holster and swiped it down at you.

He missed the first time but before you could roll away he sat with his legs at either side of your waist, trapping you against the ground, and he swiped down again, this time landing perfectly where your armor had been bent the week before.

The blade sliced against your skin and you screamed out as loud as you could with his weight on top of you, half in frustration and half in pain as you gritted your teeth and reached down to your thigh for your blaster, your hands fumbling around and able to lift it before he could attack again.

With one shot his body collapsed against yours, pressing you even deeper into the mud. You took a second to breathe, rolling his weight off you and letting your helmet rest back as you closed your eyes while trying to fight off the ringing in your ears from the scream that had bounced around your helmet. 

Your side hurt, you could feel your heartbeat pulsing down your ribs, and you knew it would hurt even more when you tried to get up.

There wasn’t another moment to think about how you could get up with it hurting the least when you heard a scurry coming from between the trees, getting louder and louder as it headed in your direction. You quickly pushed your weight up onto your elbow, ignoring the pain searing down your side as you aimed your blaster ahead.

“It’s me!”

Despite the corners of your vision darkening - that can’t be good - and the pain that was pulsing in your side now moving to your temples you could make out the silhouette, his beskar helmet staring directly towards you, taking a moment to look at the body by your side and back again, with his hands raised at his side.

As soon as his voice, slightly more panicked than usual, reached your ears you let your body relax back against the ground.

“What happened?”

“It was…” you shook your head, taking a deep breath and twisting your body as you stood so the large gash in your side would be turned away from him. “It was nothing, just a bounty trying his luck.”

You tripped over your feet and leaned a hand against the side of your ship, the familiar cool metal giving you a moment to steady yourself. By the time you turned to look back at Din he was by your side, an arm out ready to catch you if you fell again and you waved him off.

“I’m fine, he just knocked the breath from me a little.”

He stared back at you for a moment, his hand still held out as though he was deciding whether or not to trust you, before he nodded once and let his hands fall back to his side.

“While you’re here though…” you nodded over your shoulder back at the bounty.

Din sighed, his shoulders dropping as he shook his head and bent down to the bounty.

“You,” he grunted as he lifted the bounty over his shoulder, “owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, watching as he carried the bounty up the ramp before you let your body sag against the ship the second he was out of sight.

Taking a few deep breaths you tried to steady your legs that were growing tired, your hand coming to press against your side and making you hiss in pain before you pulled it back to see the stained red leather.

“Shit,” you muttered.

You needed to get Din off your ship as quickly as possible to sort this soon. The last thing you needed was passing out before you could deal with the serious blood loss you were now faced with. Taking three deep breaths you tried to make your voice sound steady when you called after him.

“What were you still doing here?”

You closed your eyes and let your helmet rest against the side of the ship while he put the bounty in your cryofreezer, his voice following the slam of the door.

“I… I had a problem with the Crest. I was fixing that when I heard you scream.”

You hummed noncommittally as you pressed your hand harder against your side, trying to stop some of the bleeding for now as your legs grew weak and your body slid down against the side of your ship.

“Mardyn?”

His voice sounded clearer now, like he was no longer in the ship, but you had no energy to turn to look at him.

He spoke once again, your name called and followed by the sound of his boots running down the ramp before he knelt in front of you.

“Let me see.”

His words were stern, your body relaxing more as your hand fell to the ground and you heard him swear under his breath.

“Stubborn girl, why didn’t you tell me?”

His hand replaced yours, firmer than yours ever had been, and you just about had the energy to wail before his helmet turned from the injury to your visor.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“’s fine,” you tried to push him away but he held firm, his hands shaking you slightly.

“Don’t.” 

You were clinging onto consciousness with the last of your energy but you could hear the firmness in his word and so you relented, your helmet rolling back as he fumbled around and managed to hold his hand against your side while lifting you against his chest.

You could hear his voice continue as he carried you up the ramp, your helmet resting against his hard chest, but you could no longer make out his words, your eyes closing and body relaxing as you failed to fight sleep any longer.

*****

You had been slumped against the side of your ship when Din had stepped back out into the foggy planet, an excuse of why he was still here - waiting for you - still leaving his mouth when he caught sight of the curled up ball of blue that thrust his body into action.

When you never replied, not even lifting your helmet after he had shouted your name, his whole body was in panic mode and before he knew it he was kneeling before you and pulling your hand from your side to see what you were hiding from him.

Oh shit.

There was a slice through your underclothes that showed the large gash of red on your skin that ran up your side, explaining why you could barely lift your helmet to look at him. Your whole body, usually held so strong and steady, was slumped against his as he worked hard and fast to stop the bleeding while also lifting you from the ground. All of his energy was going into not losing the last piece of resolve he was clinging to and so there was none left to soften the harsh words that were leaving his mouth as he ordered - not asked - you to stay awake.

He ran up the ramp with you in his arms, nonsense spilling from his mouth to try and keep you awake, before slamming the door shut with his elbow pressing against the button, the ship flooding with darkness for a moment before the lights came on and he lowered you carefully to the ground. He only took his hand off you for a second to remove your chest armor and rip your undershirt to see the full extent of your injury.

It was a lot bigger than he had thought - than he had hoped - and so he pulled his cloak from around his neck and pressed it against your side as he leaned over you.

“Where is your med-kit?”

He looked directly into your visor but as soon as the words had left his mouth your head began to roll to the side, a mumble only just loud enough for him to hear before he managed to catch the chin of your helmet between his thumb and forefinger as he pulled it back towards him. He couldn’t stop the harshness in his words when he spoke again, speaking through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

“Med. Kit.”

He knew he was sounding too gruff, too angry, but he desperately needed you to listen; he needed you to be okay.

Your arm barely lifted from the floor but it was enough to point towards a drawer that Din yanked open, pulling out a small but well-packed med-kit. He moved quickly but his hands were shaking as he pulled out everything he would need, one hand pressing his cloak tight against your side as he pushed his helmet up enough to rip open the packets of bandages with his teeth. It was hard to unroll the bandages with one hand, even harder to uncap the bacta, but he rathered that more than the thought of removing his hand from your side for too long.

With the bacta open he turned to you on his knees, your body slumped against the ground, and for the first time, as he lifted the bacta over to your side, he hoped you were unconscious.

“This will sting,” he said quietly.

When the first drop hit your skin your whole body came to life, arching off the floor with a pain groan as he used one hand to hold you down and the other to continue to pour the bacta over you. His eyes squeezed shut of their own accord, your pain slicing right through his chest, but he knew he needed to focus and forced his head to shake as he opened his eyes again and tried to focus on the injury.

“I’m sorry, shhh, I’m sorry.”

He tried to hush you as gently as he could muster through his shaking and he began to unclasp more of the armor that covered your arms to make you more comfortable and to distract himself. He could barely recognise his own voice with each soothing sound that had left his mouth but after a moment your body relaxed against the ground again and he let his words trail off.

He tried to focus on the injury and ignore the soft skin that surrounded it as he lifted your shirt up an inch more to wrap a bandage in place. He had wondered for years if he would ever get to see the soft skin that lay hidden beneath the layers of armor, if he would ever get to trace it with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue... but he never thought he would see it like this.

He lifted you from the ground, balancing your top half over his forearm as your legs stayed sprawled out on the ship floor, and he began to wrap the bandage around you, feeling and hearing your whimpers and moans of pain as he pulled it tight one last time before letting you back down to the ground again. 

Both of his hands were still shaking as he covered you with a blanket that had been in the drawer next to the med-kit, removing the rest of your armor and your boots so you lay only in your under armor and helmet. Your body was softer than the one he recognised, the barrier of the armor now gone and giving him a glimpse of something he never thought he could be lucky enough to see.

The adrenaline of trying to save you was wearing off and his body was growing weak, leaning against the wall as he slid down it until his legs were by your head. His hands hooked under your arms and pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his thighs and the blanket tight around your middle where the bandage was wrapped to keep you warm, and he watched each shaky rise and fall of your chest.

Quiet reassurances of “it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s okay,” were brushing past his lips as he let his hand rest below your chest to feel each breath. He didn’t know who he was reassuring but as his whole body began to relax with each rise of his hand along with your breath he knew that it was - selfishly - for himself.

After an hour of doing nothing but counting each rise and fall of your chest your breathing began to grow shaky and labored and, before Din could stop himself, words began to tumble from his mouth.

Ever since joining the Covert, Din had found his way into having a reputation of being the “silent but deadly” warrior. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a lot to say, in fact in his mind Din was constantly talking to himself and questioning things over, but he just didn’t know what to say. Even now, even while knowing you were unconscious and unable to hear what he was saying, he couldn’t find a way to form the words he had imagined, in his weaker moments, saying a million times over.

You have to be okay, for me, for your parents and Adrean. I can’t live without you in this world. I don’t really hate you, you know that? I don’t hate you. I- I-

He had never admitted the word to himself, to anyone else that was for sure, and he couldn’t find it in him to do it now. He had avoided saying that one word that truly described everything he felt for you because he couldn’t bear to lose you after he had ever admitted those feelings, it would kill him. No matter how much he wanted to admit it now, to know that if you weren’t okay then at least he had said those words to you; he knew that he would never survive it.

And so he stayed like this for hours, trying to stay distracted by counting each rise and fall of your chest as it began to steady and he felt himself calm along with it. At one point, around an hour ago he guessed, your hand fell out from the blanket and came to rest on top of his, fingers threading between his own. Even beneath the leather glove he could feel how cold you were, his other hand coming to tuck the blanket even tighter around you while holding your hand in his.

He couldn’t help but blame himself for this. Your armor lay on a messy pile on the floor and his eyes landed on the bent chest plate where the blade had hit your skin. He had been the one to bend it, too distracted by you to pay attention to your training the week before as he tightened his arms around your middle until the beskar bent, and now here you were fighting to find consciousness because of his foolishness.

You had a way of distracting him, a usually obedient warrior, whether it was in training or in battle - he was either enchanted by the way you fought or preoccupied by what lay beneath the armor, a sight only your future riddur, someone who would be the luckiest man in the whole of the galaxies, would see.

He was just thankful he had stayed on the planet and that the Crest was parked not too far away from your own ship, just out of sight behind a few rows of trees. He had waited on his ramp cleaning his blaster for a sight of your ship leaving safely before he would leave but then he heard your scream and he ran faster than ever before towards the sound.

With every minute that passed he could feel the life come back to you beneath his hand, slowly but surely beginning to wake up. You eventually groaned, your hand coming up to your helmet to hold where you were no doubt struggling with one hell of a headache as you began to sit up.

Your hands were still clasped together and now resting on the floor as he held his other hand out behind you should you fall back, not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat that was now steaming from your body.

“Please, just, don’t say anything,” you grumbled. 

“I won’t,” he answered defensively, a bite catching at the end of his words before he could stop them. 

Your helmet turned quickly up to his, taking a moment to stare into his visor before you spoke quietly.

“I didn’t mean anything by that.”

As a silence washed over you he looked down to where your fingers were still laced together, warm palm pressed to warm palm. He felt your helmet follow his gaze and he wished he hadn’t made it so obvious, your hand dropping his far too quickly with a mumble of an apology.

“You should eat,” he stopped your rambling, not wanting to hear you apologize so desperately for something he had enjoyed. 

“Yes,” you nodded, not moving for a moment before quickly sitting up straight, “yes, sorry, I can do that; you must have been waiting hours for me to wake up-”

“Stop.” 

He almost reached his hand out to stop you from moving but he was scared of letting himself touch you again so instead he started to stand, his legs weak from how long he had sat on the hard floor. 

“I’ll get you food. Then as soon as I’m sure you won’t go passing out again I can head back to my ship.”

He knew you didn’t like being told what to do, your shoulders held straight despite your tired body, but he wasn’t going to let you make your own food after only waking up a moment before. 

There was an uncomfortable silence around the ship as you moved to sit against the wall and he opened and closed drawers until he found something for you to eat and drink. In his very core, he hated how awkward this was and handed it to you in silence, only nodding when you thanked him before busying himself with tidying the mess of blood and ripped bandages while you took your helmet off to eat.

It pained him, down to the deepest parts of his soul, whenever his mind was confused with thoughts about you. This is exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? The logical part of his brain told him that didn’t want you to be close - he just wanted you to be warriors who fought alongside one another - so why should there be conversation flowing between you now? It was his heart that was the problem…

He scrubbed at the floor where your now dried blood was and after ten minutes he heard you place the helmet back on, your voice coming through the modulator when you spoke being enough confirmation for him to turn and face you.

“Din?”

When he stood in front of you, you moved to stand on shaky legs, ignoring his hand held out in front of you as you stubbornly brought yourself to your feet before leaning against the wall. You looked smaller now, the helmet still the only piece of armor covering your body while the rest of you was covered in your dark under clothes and the white bandage. He noticed that without your boots on you stood a good few inches smaller and he had to turn his helmet down more than usual to meet your eyes through the visor.

“Thank you. You- you didn’t have to do all that, I would have been fine.”

“Fine or dead?” 

No matter how much he knew that this… awkwardness is exactly what he had tried so hard to force between you he still felt the urge - the need - to protect you; he was only human, there was no removing that feeling completely.

You stayed silent for a moment, looking down at your hands and then back at him.

“You’re right, thank you.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed, “you would have done the sam-”

“Please don’t go back and tell everyone about this.”

His whole body froze and the logical part of him fought a losing battle to control the rage bubbling within him. 

Did you really think so little of him?

“Okay, yeah,” he laughed, but not his usual laugh that he - or you - could recognise. No, this was filled with anger, annoyance, venom. “Because that’s all I’m good for? I’m not that bad.”

He stepped towards you as the last word left his mouth and he watched your body jerk away, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Din, I’m sorry, I- That’s not what I-”

“No it’s fine,” he waved you off, bending down to pick up his rifle he had taken off hours ago, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He could hear his brain telling him to calm down, to stop being so hot and cold, and he could hear you calling after him but with his pulse loud in his ears he couldn’t make out your words. He stormed down the ramp into the planet that was still covered with a thick fog, the moon back in the sky after you slept through a whole day of the sun, and as he felt as you tried to follow him before stopping at the bottom of your ramp. He picked up his pace until he was almost running through the forest back to the Crest, his shaky breath fogging up his visor.

He had tried for years to push you away but he had never imagined how much it would hurt him for you to do the same.

*****

Notes: Aaaand thank you for reading Chapter 2! I have a specific layout for how each chapter going forward will go and I’m exciting to put it all out there for you to read!

*****

tags

@phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes  @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday @tintinn16 @pilothusband @voteforpedro09  @dihra-vesa @frankiecatfish @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @transias @peoniarose @pjkimrn @fangirl-316 @niki-xie @potted–ivy @phandoz @janebby @athalien @xocalliexo @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @iamskyereads @spacenerdpascal @mswarriorbabe80 @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @gracie7209 @lovesbiggerthanpride @lowlights @notabotiswear @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @bport76 @fangirl-316 @1andthesame @pedrostories @nyfeeer​ @morenoswife @nolanell​ @agingerindenial​ @hb8301​ @blub-senpai​ @darnitdraco​ @dragonsondragons​ @mysteriouslyfuzzypeach  @lovesbiggerthanpride​ @girlofchaos​ @dinsangelx @hallway5​ @stardust-galaxies​ @joelsflannel​ @nolanell​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @llilithmademedoit​ @quicksilvermad​ @kirsteng42​ @mandos-riduur-reading @dins-cyare​ @Magickfanatic @tortor-mcgee​ @torchbearerkyle​

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x oc #din djarin x female oc #din djarin #mando #mandalorian #the mandalorian #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfic

[originemesis]

@celestialfcllen cont. from xxx

Manifesting an apple in his hand Lucifer would carelessly take a few bites as Adam ranted on. Once he was done Lucifer would flick the apple core at Adam's face. " Well, it wouldn't be the first time I ate a heavenly ass. " Snickering his words out at his own crude joke. " I know she left but unlike you, I don't throw a tantrum over it and demand a new wife like a spoiled brat and still whine about it thousands of years after the fact. But that's okay, we all know how cranky you get when you don't get your nap. Isn't that right Mister big baby Adam? " Moving a hand over he'd pinch the angel's cheek while speaking in a way one might a small child or dog. " If you need Daddy to tuck you in, I'd be happy to. I know the best bedtime story, Charlie loved this one. " With a snap of his fingers, a children's picture book would appear in his hand and a chair for him to sit on.

"Figures you'd be good at that. Must be why your FACE resembles one so fuckin' much? You are what you eat and whatever ~ " Adam shot back with the same level of unphased aggression that his target seemed a lot more comfortable in than his sudden dunking into with feathers already trained into a frazzled state. A frog in a boiling pot didn't understand its surroundings very well, after all.

He bit his teeth together at the next musical chairs round of musings and gave a warning flap or two- a reminder for the other to keep his distance lest he wanted to catch some talons outside a Denny's parking lot at four A.M because that was likely where they'd fall if he lunged and managed to tackle him out of the skies and down to Earth. "Who's throwing a tantrum? And for your fuckin' information, I didn't have to demand shit! Did you ever have to wake up on a bed of frost with your fucking rib stolen? I don't think so!" And just talking about it was giving him a weird bout of pancreatitis which he grabbed at through his robes with his talons momentarily until the spasming stopped. "You ever have to nut on command? I don't think so!"

And like the 'big baby' he was slated as, he spat a quick raspberry at the fucker. Of course, the pinching and yanking and fussing at his face is a quick way to dispel that sort of attack. "E-EY!?" His space was like bandwidth...entirely too limited to an original version. So it's with a bit too much strength that he tries to slam his wings down and crush the other, but that serpent is too slippery and just poofs away to find himself a chair and a book read aloud, thumbing open some pages that has the distinct lettering of 'go the fuck to sleep' on the cover. Without a target to wing slam under him, however, he stubs his damn wings and let's out a sharp yelp along with a sucking of teeth as they curl around his stomach and hold him there.

"...fuck you- I don't HAVE a dad-" A close enough one to visit regularly anyway. "And tell that bitch to eat glass for me, mmk ~ ? Or I'll teach her about lion prides next time we meet. The pecking order, perhaps??"

#//ooo~ casually threatens ur daughter like #//come n get him #celestialfcllen #suggestive cw #long post

[incarnateirony]

Jensen is not in New Orleans, he is in Lafayette, which is 2.5 hours away. I do not know the significance of this, if any. I had speculated that the Ackles bought a house in Louisiana, maybe it is in Lafayette, maybe not? Maybe the filming, if it is still going, is in Lafayette? I do not view continued filming into the New Year, with additional stars as a bad thing. If they were going to cancel this after 13 episodes, why would you spend a significant amount of additional money on filming? You would only do that for a show you want to fine tune and line up for the next round. If you were already going to ax a show at the midway point, why go ahead and sign new contracts with their production company three weeks prior? I don't always agree with your takes, but you are so obviously dead on with this. I hate when TFW2 makes those "knowing" secretive comments, that say nothing. Either commit or get off the pot.

like i said, these people will catastrophize anything. They understand nothing they're looking at and in lack of understanding, think any perception can apply to the information, then glue their biases over it and call that facts.

But yeah I still consider that Nola area. I'm not gonna get any more clear on where Jensen's place is beyond it being geolocatable in proximity to a specific dental office as your only clue, go nuts

anyway

Yeah like, if a show was slated for doom, they'd have just punched up the schedule and worked a few long days or a weekend to finish it.

They're now trying to say SPNwin is "behind" because "they're filming today."

by "they're filming today", what they actually mean is, the crew was around for a wrap party and some promotional material while stunt guy threw a few more people around and now everybody's watching the premiere tonight.

That's what the unskewed reality here is, but everyone wants to dramatize it to make it seem like they know something and no, guys, it's really not that deep.

These folks are so desperate they're pretending SPNWin getting re-aired is a sign of failure. Ah, yes. That's what TV does, attribute a second primetime TV slot to a rerun of something that didn't do good just to lead it into a 2 hour timeslot. That makes perfect sense.

Goddamn delusional people been fucking up this place's conversation for years and they're finally being forced to face how delusional they are so they're just willing to look like the world's biggest dipshits on main hoping to send mating signals to other giant dipshits.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hi. Did I already request a song minific with Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” for Peter or Dagger (either or both is fine, your choice.)? If so, can I please request some 👀 + eyes for Peter? I hope this isn’t too much; your blog is a national treasure.

yes, you did, that one's saved and ready for when the inspiration for it hits me!

for this one... aaaaaaa~

it's never too much, I love Peter! <3

Send me 👀 + a feature or body part and I’ll describe that part of my muse!

On a surface level, his eyes are a lovely, cool shade somewhere between baby blue and gunmetal grey. Some people might describe the color as slate blue, the color of storm clouds rolling in. Thin eyelashes, a rounded almond shape; giving him a youthful appearance he doesn’t particularly enjoy. The saying goes that ‘eyes are the windows to the soul’, and for Peter at least this rings true. There’s no hiding if he’s feeling something when you look at his eyes. If he’s fairly at rest, though, a quiet anger can still be seen in his eyes, like someone’s set a pot of water on a burner at a low heat and never took it off the flame. His eyes are tired, with small stress lines and light bags from poor sleep visible if you’re within a meter of him. Often his eyes fall half-lidded, too exhausted from the weight of living and his own anger to even fake being chipper like his sister tries. Despite that, when he’s speaking to someone, his eyes focus only on them unless a loud sound or a touch breaks his concentration. If one were to wrap Peter’s eyes in a word, it would be intense. His eyes betray the rest of his childlike body; these are the eyes of a man, not a little boy.

#onehellofashadynerd #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Peter #headcanons #general #MY BOY!! #one hell of a queue

[arecaceae175]

Authenticity Ch. 9: Recharge (Wild & Hyrule)

Wild and Hyrule take a break in the forest.

When Wild had stepped through the very first portal, he had been practically vibrating with excitement. His senses had been blown away as he tried to take in all the new sounds, smells, and sights all at the same time. It felt like when he was first exploring the Great Plateau. Everything had been new and exciting, then.

As soon as he had determined he wasn’t in imminent danger, he had run around cataloging every new plant in his slate. At the time, he had known that he should probably be figuring out what was going on, but he couldn’t help it. He knew Zelda would want to hear about all the new plants he collected.

Even after meeting the other heroes and feeling entirely out of his depth, the excitement still lingered. It was a new adventure, with so many new things to explore. 

Now, though, as the chain was walking through another endless forest, in another nameless Hyrule in between eras, no closer to their goal and with no end in sight, Wild was just feeling frustrated. After the initial excitement of the adventure had faded, Wild often found himself missing his routines back in his own era. Everything was new and exciting, yes, but everything was also new. It was a lot. And sometimes, it was too much. 

As much as he has grown to love the others, being constantly surrounded by eight people was often overwhelming. His first adventure was solitary, for the most part. Any interactions he had were on his own terms. After he had rescued Zelda, and they began spending everyday together, Wild still had time to himself. Zelda understood him, like that. With the group of Links, on this adventure they knew so little about, alone time was simply too dangerous to indulge in often. 

Now, Wild stared blankly down at his cooking pot, stirring mindlessly. The other heroes were playing a game of cards, Wild thought, but he was having trouble following the conversation. Their voices were echoing in his mind, bouncing around and staying and collecting and all overlapping, but he wasn’t comprehending a single word of it. It was only making him more frustrated the harder he tried to focus.

A voice to his right startled Wild out of his haze. He flinched and turned wide eyes to the source of the voice. Hyrule was looking at Wild like he was waiting for a response.

“What?” Wild asked, and focused on Hyrule’s lips as he responded.

“I think your food might be burning,” Hyrule repeated, glancing down at the pot. It was, indeed, smoking more than it was supposed to. Wild cursed under his breath and quickly removed the pot. He held the pot away from the flame as he kicked a bit of dirt over the fire to calm it down. 

Hyrule said something else as Wild returned the pot over the flame. 

“Huh?” Wild asked. Almost as soon as the sound left his mouth, Hyrule’s words processed through his brain. Do you want any help?

“No, no, I’m good,” Wild said, just as Hyrule was about to repeat himself. “It’s done, anyway. Can you get the others?” 

Hyrule nodded with a smile and left to round up the others as Wild sprinkled the final herbs over the pot. The others eagerly raced to the pot with their bowls, filling them to the brim. They ate quickly, and resumed their card game as soon as they were done. Apparently, it was getting quite intense. 

“Wild, you going to join? You can be on my team,” Sky asked. Before he could answer, Warriors yelled triumphantly and slammed a card down in front of Legend. There was a mixture of groans and cheers from around the table, and it was nearly loud enough to make Wild cover his ears. 

He really didn’t feel like socializing, tonight, he decided, and declined Sky’s offer. Wild settled on the other side of camp with a book he pilfered from Four’s bag and tried his best to focus on the words.

Before the group turned in for the evening, Twilight and Hyrule both checked on him to make sure he was okay. Wild told them both that yes, he was fine, he just wasn’t up for socializing tonight. Hyrule took him at his word and seemed to understand. Twilight was skeptical, but didn’t press the issue any further. 

Wild was thankful he didn’t have a watch duty, and hoped a solid night’s sleep would be enough to refill his social stamina. 

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

Morning came far too quickly for his liking, and Wild was disappointed to realize he felt even more drained than yesterday. As usual, he and Hyrule were the first ones awake. Wild meandered over to the cooking pot and was searching through his slate for a suitable breakfast food when Hyrule approached. Wild raised his eyes to Hyrule’s face, but Hyrule put a finger to his lips and jerked his head in the direction of the forest. 

Wild’s eyes flicked to the forest, then back to Hyrule. Hyrule was bouncing on his toes slightly, and seemed excited. Wild wasn’t sure what he was trying to communicate. Hyrule jerked his head towards the forest again, took a step in that direction, and waved his hand for Wild to follow. 

It finally clicked in Wild’s brain. Hyrule wanted to sneak off for an adventure. Wild felt a smile grow on his face and he nodded eagerly. He held up a finger to communicate that he wanted to wait just a moment. He quickly flipped through the slate and brought out some dried meat and a pre-written note. The note read We’ll be back at some point! with a smiley face, and was signed by both Wild and Hyrule. 

Hyrule had to stifle his laughter through his fist as Wild leaned over and gingerly dropped the note onto Twilight’s chest. Wild took one last glance around the camp to make sure no one would catch them sneaking off. Four was on watch, but had his back to the camp, and none of the others were awake yet.  

Wild handed Hyrule one slice of dried meat, shoved one into his own mouth, then gave Hyrule two thumbs up. Hyrule returned his thumbs up with a wide grin and they carefully, silently, made their way away from the camp. They barely made a sound as they crept through the trees until they were sure they were far enough away from camp to be heard. 

Wild felt his shoulders sag with relief, and he offered Hyrule a grateful smile. “This was a good idea. I needed this,” Wild said. 

Hyrule’s smile grew. “I could tell. I get it, I get overwhelmed with the…” Hyrule waved his hand aimlessly, searching for the words, “social stuff, too.”

Wild nodded his understanding. He looked around at the forest, and let the comforting sounds and smells fill him up. 

“Whoever finds the coolest plant wins. Go!” Hyrule called, and raced off into the brush.

“Hey, wait!” Wild called, laughing and racing after his friend.

#ace writes #authenticity #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fic #lu fic #lu wild #lu hyrule #autistic wild #autistic characters #actually autistic #autistic chain

[twixtandshout]

@sparkingoverload So! Wild’s DnD sheet. :3c

I’ve statted him as a modified half-elf variant. I went with Eladrin first, because seasonal Even More Fey elf felt right – I love the idea of him having leafy ear-tips and other planty offshoots that change with the seasons, but being stuck in the castle and Zelda’s royal retinue and court year-round, maybe trimming those bits so as to fit in uniform or else just quietly wilting/molding because the environment really isn’t hospitable for his wildness – but he really didn’t need to be able to teleport in a rush of flame whenever he feels like it when I’m already lining things up to give him a more reasonable teleportation option. I gave him the basic Eladrin suite besides that, Aquan language proficiency thanks to growing up in Zora’s Domain, and then stole the half-elf’s extra skill proficiencies instead of teleportation. (He also knows Goblin and Celestial.)

Choosing backgrounds was a little fun because of the whole amnesia thing. Assuming this was post-Shrine, I went with the folk hero background, which gives him animal handling and survival proficiencies, land vehicle proficiencies, and a tool. I chose chef’s tools, which went well with the iron pot the background starts you off with! Also the various cooking-related feats I gave him, which I’ll get to later. The main trait the background gives him is rustic hospitality, meaning he blends in easily with common people and is generally well-liked, enough for them to do things for him if it won’t put them in harm’s way. (That’s a trait he shares with Twilight!) I didn’t make a tenth sheet for pre-Calamity Wild, but if I were gonna I’d probably go with some unholy amalgamation of the soldier and knight backgrounds.

Equipment-wise, I’ve given him twice-enhanced leather armor (thanks Great Fairies), manymany weapons, and a very kludged Slate, complete with runes. It’s very OP, but then again, he is level 20, and it’s a one-of-a-kind item that serves as system ID. It would be fairly easy for a concerned GM to have a Yiga or whatever steal it and let there be Consequences tm.

Despite the amnesia, I’ve decided that he retained a couple levels in the fighter class. Haven’t made any decisions about which levels came before and which came after, but either way, he’s got five levels as a Champion-class fighter, which is just enough to give him an improved crit threshold, an extra attack per turn, one-time HP regen, and bonuses for fighting with archery. The rest of his levels are, as mentioned, in fey wanderer ranger. He can deal extra damage to an enemy he marks in a fight, sense the location(s) of magical creatures within a mile, travel easily even through difficult terrain, melt into nature to become magically invisible for a turn, and reroll low damage rolls when he attacks with two-handed weapons. Thanks to his fey associations, he not only has advantage on charm/fear saves (and a bonus to any charisma check!) but can reflect the triggering charm/fear effect back on the caster. He can also deal extra psychic damage on practically every attack, and can’t be tracked except through magic unless he wants to be.

Cool spells:

On/Off (cantrip): Turns electronic devices on or off at a range of 60′.

Sudden Awakening: I love giving this to him, Legend, and Time, lol. None of them are gonna get caught in comas again if they can help it!!

Goodberry: Create a handful of magic berries. Goes well in cooking – well, presumably; I’m not sure there are any rules for how adding magic hp+ berries to hp+ cooking works, but it’s nice thematically at least.

Alarm: Good for setting up perimeters around camp! And for avoiding getting a Yiga surprise.

Summon Vehicle: Master Cycle, go! Plays very nicely with that land vehicle proficiency from his background.

Conjure Barrage: Technically you’re supposed to throw(??) a piece of ammunition to create a barrage of it that rains down on your target, but I think it’s way cooler to draw back one arrow and fire a whole 60′ cone. Being sick as hell is really the only reason I need for this one, but it also kinda maps to his whole air-archery thing.

Freedom of Movement: The toad cannot be contained. This would let him basically clip out of any restraint, including shackles. I can totally see the Yiga taking him and some of the others hostage and locking them up in a dungeon somewhere except. oops.

Summon Beast: Technically he shouldn’t get this one but I say it’s okay because it only summons Twilight.

Misty Step: Comes from the fey wanderer subclass. Twice per day, he can teleport <30′ for free, and as a bonus he can bring one other willing person with him! Tell me you can’t see him and Hyrule sneaking off like this.

The Observant feat gives him lipreading proficiency and bonuses to passive investigation/perception, and the Stealthy feat not only gives him stealth expertise but also the ability to openly move up to 10′ without being spotted so long as he ends the turn under cover. Excepting an ability score increase to Wisdom, his last two feats concern food and health recovery! The Chef feat lets him cook for the party during short rests to give everyone HP-replenishing food, and the Remarkable Recovery feat means he gets extra HP any time he regains any and bounces back easily from the brink of death.

I’ve given him the Boon of Peerless Aim, which lets him basically auto-hit one shot per short rest, and gave him the Champions’ gifts as spells (one cast per day free) instead of a blessing. He’s also got homebrew mechanics for ADHD, autism, scarring, chronic pain, and PTSD.

#linked sheets loz dnd thing

[cassieuncaged]

Uneasy Alliance - Chapter 1

Cassie Cage x Nyx (my oc)

Summary: When Kano decides he needs to hunt down a turncoat agent, it's up to Cassie to to protect her.

TW: canon typical violence, language, etc.

WC: 1.2 K

A/N: With the new MK game coming out, I decided to repost my old Cassie/Nyx story in hopes of continuing it. Also, Nyx might be back now.

Taglist: @roofgeese, @detectivelokis, @areyenotfondofmelobster, @poisonedtruth, @confidentandgood, @emotionalcadaver, @chadillacboseman @enightshade89, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @illiana-mystery, @unpetitoiseau, @spacestephh, @pinkcatminht

Cassie sat in command central, tapping her fingers on the counter. Incensed by being blatantly ignored, she snapped her gum aggressively. General Blade slammed a fist against stainless steel.

“What’s more important than this debriefing¸ commander?” Sonya looked up from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, equally tired as she was annoyed. Letting reflective aviators fall to the tip of a rounded nose, Cassie heaved herself up onto the counter. Classified folders were carelessly knocked to the ground.

“What’s more important is the Special Forces teaming up with one of Kano’s hired gun? This could really bite us in the ass.”

“Codename Nyx has some intel on the Black Dragon, commander.”

“Nyx? Is she going to hand over all of Kano’s secrets before selling us some shitty make up?” Cassie bristled upon receiving a cool silence. “You of all people should know what the Black Dragon is capable of, General Blade.”

Sliding to booted feet, the younger woman flattened her palms on her hips. Sonya pressed her tongue flat against her front teeth, counting to ten before turning her back to the commander. This was her subordinate first, daughter second.

Lest she say something she'd regret.

Cassie may have looked identical to a Blade though she acted and sounded like a Cage. Johnny would be proud, probably encouraging his daughter if he weren’t currently in Australia for a shoot. Now she was in charge of her entire faction and a kid that had never really grown out of her rebellious teen phase.

“Remember your station, commander.” Though the warning meant little to her daughter who only blew another bubble before obnoxiously snapping her gum once more before being swallowed by the sliding doors.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Wriggling, the burlap scarped against her cheek again.

Her breath was hot against her upper lip, cuffs chafing the fair skin of bony wrists. Understanding the constraints was simple though it did nothing to make Nyx any less anxious. But she’d had her slate cleaned before, this was no different.

Then why was she so nervous? It wasn’t an emotion to she was used to experiencing anymore.

An empty confidence had replaced anything she’d been before Kano, making Nyx a cold-blooded killer with a trained trigger finger. Yet, a ball of lead had settled in the pit of her stomach. All she’d known in this husk of a life was showing up at the Black Dragon once a week, getting her marks and cashing in the others that had been silenced.

Kano had groomed her, hardening her heart until it was icy and uncaring. Profiting off her duty to protect her family by becoming a ghost. Taking advantage of a troubled specter that did nothing but wallow alone in the night.

No. She wouldn’t cry. Not now, not because of him.

The armored truck hit a shallow pot hole, sending her sharply off the bench as the chains around booted ankles kept her grounded with a painful thud.

She wanted to scream at the military dunces that loaded her into this high-tech paddy wagon, to take back all the information she’d promised General Blade. Maybe they’d be forced to put her down like a dog in the alley.

It could all be over.

As soon as any cogent plan for escape came to mind, the truck stopped as the sound of several others followed suit. There was a cacophony of doors being opened then slammed shut, voices talking over others until booted feet stopped at the mouth of the van.

She could see nothing, only fabric as dark as night with her own white hair sticking to it. Doors creaked open, sunlight blasting into the compartment. Looking at the source confirmed nothing, as the sound of pointed steps came closer mixed with gum being snapped.

“General Blade?” the assassin attempted to sound cordial, especially to the one person who could keep her safe from the Black Dragon.

“ERRRR,” The imitation buzzer noise was enough of answer as the unseen figure pulled the fabric from her face. A blonde who was the spitting image of Sonya stood at Nyx’s feet. “The answer we were looking for was ‘Commander Cage’.”

Sporting reflective aviator sunglasses, it didn’t take long to put two and two together.

“I was expecting your mother.” Procuring a key, the blonde leaned down to undo the ankle restraints before bouncing back up.

“You got mommy issues too?” The prisoner stiffened as Cassie audibly sighed in annoyance, “Relax. You’ll be face to face with good ole mama Blade soon enough. Have to get you debriefed so let’s get on our feet and start walking.”

Shuffling onto heavy boots, Nyx couldn’t help but stare at the curve of the woman’s back side in a rather tight uniform. Damn, it had been a long time.

“Oh yeah, be on your best behavior. Got a couple pistols that are always itching to fire some bullets into a pretty face.”

Hopping easily to the asphalt, the woman followed in suit. Blinking as the bright sun burned sensitive corneas, she wobbled to the ground. The compound was filled with hundreds of soldiers, milling about or goose stepping.

It was enough to make Nyx uneasy, swallowing dryly at nothing.

What had she gotten herself into?

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“Jacqui was supposed to bring her out,” Sonya paced, “Not you, commander.”

“I outrank her,” Cassie shrugged, eyes glued to the young woman on the other side of one-way glass.

“What have I said about pulling rank?”

“Do it?” Kano’s turncoat was a similar build to the blonde, probably close in age. According to Sonya, everything about the woman had been wiped a long time ago and she wasn’t ready to share.

No concrete information remained. Other than her Black Dragon ties and her code name.

Nyx.

Cage liked it, though she’d never admit aloud. To be a shadow in the dark that no one could catch. It seemed more ideal than being the offspring of the Johnny Cage. In fact, she didn’t follow in her father’s footsteps in an attempt to sidestep predictability.

Keep everyone guessing.

“Little Ms. Night Shadow have an agenda?” Pulling her sunglasses away, the commander took a moment to study their captive. Long, stick straight hair that fell to broad shoulders. Dyed down the center, one half was jet black while the other was white as snow. A lot of black leather and fishnets, topped off by a Sisters of Mercy t-shirt and fingerless gloves.

“Did you listen to a thing I said, commander?” A few of the privates tittered, falling back when Briggs demanded they do so.

“What? No. But I want to know what we have on her.”

“Do you ever read the briefings?” the general sighed, becoming agitated by her daughter’s unprofessionalism.

“Skim. I skim. Why’s she here?” After a moment, striking eyes met her own. Nyx saw her own reflection though Cassie thought she felt a presence. Searching someone's soul unknowingly. Yet there was a gnawing voice in her own head that informed her next words. “Let me talk to her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please.” There was something compelling about the woman, “I can do it. I won’t fuck it up. Pinky promise.”

#otp: bubblegum goth #cassie cage x oc #cassie x nyx #mortal kombat #otp fanfiction #fanfiction

[filamentzine]

Thannos

Α piece of music that needs to be played loud

Audioslave - Cochise

A piece of music that moves you forward

Jason Webley - Train Tracks

A piece of music that gets stuck in your head

The Cardigans - Explode

A piece of music that makes you want to dance

Elton John - Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting

A piece of music that makes you feel badass

Tom Waits - Goin' Out West

A piece of music that you remember from your childhood:

Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake

A piece of music that reminds you of your hometown

Bright Eyes - Tourist Trap

The piece of music you’ve listened to the most

Green Day - Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Filament Zine, entry number ???: Thannos Funny how 8 pieces of music may offer more introspection than any therapist can promise... That's why my producer calls making records and performing them on stage "our therapy". Frankly, I agree! Still if someone asked me to describe the experience I'm sure my language would be harsher and a tad more profane. Thankfully no one did, so let's proceed to the bio question. I started out in Athens. I was, in fact, a true Athenian. The album "Rebels, Rogues, Traitors" (2018) probably describes my relationship with that town better than I could right now.A one-way ticket to liberty followed and rollercoastered me 'round Europe, sparking the next musical chapter: "Scarlet Road" (2019). Who's to say dreams don't come true? Free world, free travel, rock n' roll... Lucky enough to take an excessively big bite out of it just before it burst into f*cking flames.Damn straight, flames. 2020 happened. The big guys pulled the plug to "protect" us all, social-distancing trended, live concerts were banned, and contagion gave a generation of screen-addicts an excuse to move everything online. I named it "Clean Slate Planet" and we released it in 2021. The soundtrack to our very own dystopian sunrise. Hurray!And now? Well, the boiling pot is only getting hotter and I strive to keep swimming, wondering if my "therapy" still has the power to therapize others too. Hope that it does, and I'm looking forward to all the middle fingers we can raise together against our 21st Century drama! Thannos(Spring, 2022)

Facebook YouTube Bandcamp Instagram Spotify

#thannos #filament zine

[thepermanentrainpress]

PREVIEW: STARS ON ICE AT ROGERS ARENA - MAY 19TH, 2022

You’ll recognize the names Kurt Browning and Elvis Stojko, icons for what they’ve accomplished on both the national and world stage during their careers in the sport. Tour director/choreographer Jeffrey Buttle and former national junior champion Elladj Baldé will certainly bring flair and character to the ice. Baldé has done extensive work to bring the sport into mainstream culture, while increasing accessibility in BIPOC communities and supporting self-expression beyond competition. His activism alone inspires. 

Ice dancers Kaitlyn Weaver and Andrew Poje are slated to perform, in addition to two-time US champion Alissa Czisny and four-time Japanese champion Satoko Miyahara. Known for her elegance, grace and attention to detail in performances, Miyahara announced her retirement from competitive figure skating in March. She’ll be one to watch in her North American debut in Stars On Ice. Rounding out the cast is Kaetlyn Osmond, a formidable Canadian champion whose ‘Swan Lake/Black Swan’ program is still one of my all-time favourite free skates – you may remember it helping her win the bronze medal at the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang, and the World title a month later in Milan. 

Expect a jam-packed show with both individual and ensemble performances, costume changes, and great music. Across two acts, the skaters will perform to a melting pot of tracks including Noah Cyrus’ “Lonely,” The Rolling Stones’ “How Can I Stop” and Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5,” with a cast finale to an Elton John medley. I’m almost certain Messing and Baldé will show off their signature backflips, and there will be jumps, spins, lifts, and crossovers for days! 

Programs to watch for include Messing’s humbling free skate this season (to “Home”), Miyahara’s interpretation of Barbara Pravi’s “Voilà,” and any of the cast medleys that start and finish the acts. It’s chemistry and genuine happiness to be skating that can’t be feigned. 

Stars On Ice has captured fans around the world for over thirty years, highlighting some of the sport’s brightest talent in an interactive experience. Tapping into the athletes’ showmanship and athleticism, the night will prove that different (but equally rich) backgrounds can come together and create magic.

For further information, visit their official website and purchase your tickets through Ticketmaster. The tour offers discounts for groups over ten, so it’s the perfect opportunity for an outing with friends or family!

-

Photo credit to: James Bennett (cover) and Jason Thompson (bottom)

#Stars on Ice #Vancouver #yvr #Rogers Arena #preview #SOI #Stars on Ice 2022 #Stars On Ice Canada #Keegan Messing #figure skating #sports #Piper Gilles #Paul Poirier #Kristen Moore-Towers #Michael Marinaro #Kaetlyn Osmond #Satoko Miyahara #Alissa Czisny #Andrew Poje #Kaitlyn Weaver #Elladj Baldé #Skate Canada #Kurt Browning #Jeffrey Buttle #Elvis Stojko #skating #SOI Canada

[mycookwarereviews]

Top 2024 Picks for Braisers: From Cast Iron Classics to Modern Marvels - https://tinyurl.com/yq9447j4

[parksaversnews]

A Renaissance of Restaurants Coming to Downtown Disney

The Downtown Disney District at the Disneyland Resort is undergoing a remarkable transformation, promising to elevate the dining experience for guests with an array of exciting new culinary offerings. From world-renowned restaurants to innovative concepts by acclaimed chefs, this vibrant destination is poised to become a mecca for food enthusiasts.

Din Tai Fung: A Taiwanese Culinary Gem

One of the most highly anticipated additions to the Downtown Disney District is Din Tai Fung, a renowned Taiwanese restaurant famous for its exquisite xiao long bao (soup dumplings) and noodle dishes. This family-owned establishment, which has garnered international acclaim and Michelin stars, is set to open its doors between June and September 2024, nestled conveniently next to Disneyland and Disney California Adventure. Din Tai Fung's menu promises to delight guests with its signature offerings, including the coveted Kurobuta Pork Xiao Long Bao, a meticulously hand-folded and stuffed dumpling filled with top-quality, carefully seasoned pork. In addition to the soup dumplings, diners can savor a variety of family-style dishes, such as shrimp and Kurobuta pork pot stickers, braised beef noodle soup, and shrimp fried noodles. Danielle Alcock, director of marketing and communications for Din Tai Fung USA, expressed her excitement about the upcoming opening, stating, "We're hard at work getting ready for the opening, and we have a few surprises in store we can't wait to share soon." This standalone location, the first of its kind built from the ground up in the United States, marks a significant milestone for the brand, which has garnered a loyal following across the globe.

Michelin-Starred Chef Carlos Gaytán's Mexican Culinary Trifecta

In addition to Din Tai Fung, the Downtown Disney District will welcome three new concepts from Mexico's first Michelin-starred chef, Carlos Gaytán, slated to open in May 2024.

Paseo: A Refined Dining Experience Paseo, a full-service dining room and bar, promises to elevate Mexican cuisine to new heights. Guests can indulge in Chef Gaytán's signature dishes, such as lamb barbacoa, while savoring the upscale ambiance and impeccable service. - Located upstairs with a stunning staircase entrance - Decor celebrates Mexico's craftsmanship culture with rich woods, tiles, textures, leathers and custom accents - Menu will feature colorful ceviches, Mama's cochinita pibil (roasted marinated pork), lamb barbacoa, mejillones (mussels), and more - Chef Gaytán pairs his love of Mexican flavors with French culinary techniques

Céntrico: A Courtyard Oasis Complementing Paseo is Céntrico, an open-air courtyard bar and restaurant that invites guests to immerse themselves in the vibrant flavors of Mexican cuisine. Here, diners can sip on tequila-based cocktails while indulging in Chef Gaytán's authentic creations, all set against the backdrop of a lively and inviting atmosphere. - Serving upscale Mexican cuisine and tequila-based cocktails - Menu highlights include quesabirrias, chicken enchiladas, tlayuda (Oaxacan shareable dish like pizza), and Chef Gaytán's take on a Caesar salad - Lively atmosphere with indoor and outdoor seating

Tiendita: Street Food Delights Rounding out Chef Gaytán's culinary trifecta is Tiendita, a self-ordering kiosk that promises to bring the flavors of Mexican street food to the Downtown Disney District. Guests can savor staples like esquites (Mexican street corn) and fish tacos, all prepared with the same attention to detail and authenticity that has earned Chef Gaytán his Michelin star. - Self-ordering kiosk for ordering - Menu includes esquites (roasted corn), fish tacos, ice cream-stuffed chocolate tacos - Breakfast items like chorizo breakfast burritos and chilaquiles (marinated tortilla chips with egg) - Located below Paseo, with views of the culinary team at work

Expansion and Reimagination

The culinary renaissance at the Downtown Disney District extends beyond the new additions, with existing establishments undergoing exciting transformations and expansions.

Marceline's Confectionery Expansion Marceline's Confectionery, a beloved confectionery shop inspired by the hometown of Walt Disney, is set to expand its offerings, delighting guests with an even wider array of sweet treats and delectable delights. New Steakhouse and Barbecue Concepts The former Tortilla Jo's location, which closed its doors on March 31 after 20 years of operation, will be reimagined into a steakhouse restaurant and an adjacent barbecue eatery, catering to the diverse culinary preferences of guests.

A Multisensory Dining Experience

The Downtown Disney District's culinary renaissance extends beyond the realm of taste, promising to engage all senses in a truly immersive dining experience. Drawing inspiration from mid-century modern architecture in Southern California, the west end of the district will blend vibrant color palettes, multicultural design elements, and intricate patterns, creating a visually stunning backdrop for the new dining destinations. Guests can also enjoy live entertainment at the Downtown Disney LIVE! Stage while relaxing on the lawn and admiring a soaring sculptural tower designed by artist Nikkolas Smith. This tower pays tribute to the pioneering architects of color in Southern California during the mid-20th century, while staying true to its New Orleans roots.

A Culinary Destination Like No Other

As the Downtown Disney District continues to evolve, it is poised to become a premier culinary destination, offering a diverse array of dining experiences that cater to every palate. From the world-renowned Din Tai Fung to the innovative concepts by Michelin-starred Chef Carlos Gaytán, and the reimagination of existing favorites, this vibrant district promises to elevate the dining experience for guests visiting the Disneyland Resort. With its commitment to excellence, attention to detail, and dedication to creating unforgettable culinary journeys, the Downtown Disney District is set to become a must-visit destination for food enthusiasts from around the world. Get ready to embark on a gastronomic adventure like no other, where every bite is a celebration of flavors, cultures, and the magic of Disney. Read the full article

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Take the letters up up the barrow path

This is a story about the moors, about nature, and post-boxes in unusual places. It’s also a story about John.

John is a postman. He is also a walker, a watcher, a listener, a great consumer of tea, a successful if erratic gardener, and he is different. John lives alone, in a small cottage on the edge of the moors. The cottage has only two rooms, an outdoor toilet, and no electricity. Inside there is a kitchen, with a gasfired range, a potbellied woodburning stove, a deep sink, and a well-scrubbed wooden table. Next door there is a bedroom, with a single bed and a set of shelves for books, interesting stones, egg shells, and feathers.

In the morning it takes John precisely 5 paces to get from his bed to the kitchen sink, where he washes his face and fills a copper pan with water, another two to the range, where he sets his water to boil, and one more to light the stove in winter. He decants the water to a sizable white tea-pot - two teaspoons of assam leaves (not blended), three minutes to steep - and uses the rest for two eggs - softboiled for 6 minutes precisely. Two rounds of bread go under the gas grill and receive a strictly portioned scrape of salted butter. Replete with his repast and ablutions complete, the day now forks in front of John in two very different directions.

On a work day John sets out for the village shop. There, his load for the day will be waiting in the care of Mrs Stonehatch. There you are John, letters from your admirers, she’ll say. And more everyday, he’ll say, before setting out on his rounds.

The village first. Sturdy houses, built of gold coloured sandstone and roofed with slate. Huddled together over narrow snickets and flagstoned yards, they keep close to share their warmth and keep off the cold winds coming down off the hills. Here and there chimney stacks still send up streamers of acrid coal smoke, reaching tenuously for the lowering grey clouds above before being whipped off down into the dale below. Then further out.

The Big House, on the edge of the village. And the Vicarage, off by itself so that the villagers aren’t bothered by religion on a weekday, and then the out-lying farms.

Down rutted tracks, between hawthorn hedgerows. Grass springing up optimistically in the centre, between the hard packed tracks of tractors and battered landrovers. Disturbed by his passing, bull-finches, goldcrests, wrens and robbins call warnings and swoop low across his path. Flashes of colour among the deep green of the pasture land and hardy bark of the few windblown trees. John carefully doesn’t keep track of the species he sees and calls he hears, as he’s on the job. Just as he doesn’t notice the enticing deep blue gleam of sloes in a black thorn patch, or the brown banded feather of a sparrowhawk caught on a briar’s snags.

And sometimes, with no rhyme nor reason he can see, there are letters for the box on the Knowe.

On the days he’s not a postman, John is a scimaunderer. A walker, with no destination or set purpose. He packs a bag, pulls on his boots and departs. The day decides his direction for him.

Sometimes it’s up the moors, among heather and gorse and windworn mountain ash. Sometimes the dales, following deer tracks between copses of beach and oak, splashing through slacks and ings. Others the deep forest, where his feet sink into verdant moss and deadfall and cramble snarl the path. And he walks and listens and watches, until he finds his place.

Never the same place twice and he never knows his place before he finds it. There are some constants, the places are always quiet, always sheltered and always near water. That might be the rust red tarns up in the high places, lonely waters with only the sky for company. It might be the becks, burns and spouts of the upper-course, where water calls out ecstatically as it leaps from rock to rock. It might even be far down the dales, where he’s soothed by sill and keld, deep smooth waters with a voice that’s felt more than it’s heard.

Once in his place he sets down his pack, makes tea on his camping stove, and waits to become. It starts first with the sounds.

In his most recent place, a hollow on the moors between two stands of rasping reeds, it started with a curlew. The mournful, rising cry stilled him and pulled his mind away. His focus widened and found, distantly, the harsh, abrupt alarm call of a pheasant and the keening of a buzzard.

Underpinning everything was the susurration of the wind in the heather. Cresting over the edge of his hollow, the wind brought him the rich earthiness of mud, honeyed scents of heather flower and the sharper tang of bilberries in the sun. He sank deeper.

Beneath him roots reached and coiled in the earth. Around him branches swayed and spread in the sun. Voles and mice and beetles and worms, the desolate moorlands teemed with a myriad tiny lives. He drank it all in and became both less and more than a man.

An unknowable length of time passes. Slowly, he comes back to himself. His legs are cramped and stiff, his hands clumst with cold, and the sky has grown dark. With a groan he rises, packs, and sets out for home. By the time he reaches his front door he once again has a name he answers to, a house he owns, and a job to go to in the morning.

Once, way up in the high places, he became something deeper than he’d ever managed before. That time it began with the feeling of cold stone and warm lichen under his hands. Around him time poured like a force and he watched the lichen wage a terrible war. Battle lines were drawn, armies marshalled and yellow and grey came together in a deadly clinch. From the scrum, separate dramas unfolded. Two combatants duelled on an exposed spur, before both were worn away by the wind. Order broke down and swirling melees formed, wearing down the very surface of the stone as they fought and spun. A brave captain fought a rear-guard action in the face of a grey surge, courageous to the last until he was cut off and cut down.

Back and forth, across geological time, campaigns were waged and the man’s mind spread out and down and away. Finally, some banked ember of consciousness caught the air and flared. He came back to pain and cold. Too long sat cross-legged, he could not stand and had to drag himself upright against the rocks. Bright pain stabbed him as blood returned to his legs and he found himself too dry-mouthed to cry out. The sun shifted a full hands span across the sky before he could gather up his things and start the haik home.

For the first time he felt fear in his aloneness and sought out his peers. Slowly, in the village pub, surrounded by a babble of voices as welcome and meaningless as bird song, he came back to himself. Three pints of best cemented John firmly back in his body, but it was still a while before he went wandering again.

On some days he rises and the air seems different and John knows that there will be letters for the box on the Knowe.

No one else ever comments on these letters and they don’t come addressed. The thick, rich paper of the envelopes is as unbroken and featureless as a down-fall of snow on the upper slopes and the colour of sun bleached bone. On these days he’ll pick up his normal load, more letters from your admirers John, and walk his normal round. But when he’s finished, and only the letters for the Knowe remain, he’ll take the barrow path out past the outlying farms and up into the moors.

The Knowe box doesn’t sit on the Knowe itself, but in its lee. A burn comes splashing down from around the shoulder of the Knowe, through stands of mountain ash, silver birch and wych elm, before breaking on an obstinate rock and splitting in two. Set into the rock is the gleaming red of the Knowe box.

On John’s belt is a ring of keys. Two are for his cottage, one is for the village shop - for emergencies - and another is for the post-boxes on his rounds. All of them are brass and dull and plain. The last key is different. It has the slim ellipse shape of a single rowan leaf, an ornate ring handle in the form of twisting branches, and the bewitching gleam of silver. This key opens the Knowe box. The other keys came with John’s house, or from Mrs. Stonehatch in the village shop, but this one has just always been there. If John thinks too hard about when he got it, or who gave it to him, his mind grows foggy and the day dim, like a land-lash is about to break. So he doesn’t think about it, apart from on the days when he knows to take the barrow path.

The path, only packed earth to begin with, peters out when it reaches the burn. Handy stepping stones lead out to the water-festen box and John can normally keep his feet dry. On blashy days in the winter, though, the burn grows restless and breaks its banks and often John is forced to wade.

On this pleasant day in autumn, the burn obeys its bounds and John’s feet are safe. Letters for the Knowe go into a jaw-hole in the rock, left of the box. Whatever the weather, however strong the wind or heavy the pash, the fissure always remains dry and cool to the touch. Letters from the Knowe are collected from the box. John’s key turns smoothly in the lock and the door opens on oiled hinges. Inside the air is dry and scented with old paper and verbena blossom. It never occurs to John to wonder what’s in the letters, or where they come from or who they’re for. Just as he doesn’t expect to understand the song of the birds, the dance of the bees, or the barking of the foxes. It simply isn’t his place. And somewhere he knows that, should he ever wonder too hard, his mind will fog, the light will fade and the question will disappear like summer geese from the moor.

So he takes the letters, relocks the box, and silently leaves them with Mrs. Stonehatch on the morrow.

Except today the box contains only one letter. The same thick, creamy paper, the same sweet smell of dry decay. Except today, in a jagged hand like the stag-head of an old hawthorn, the letter is addressed. His name, written there. Stark against the whiteness. This time, when he wonders what it means, and why today, and what might be contained within, the fog doesn’t fall and the day keeps its colour.

He turns, letter heavy in his hand, to look back downstream. Beyond the stands of trees the sun is setting and a touch of coal smoke from the village taints the cooling air. Behind him, the Knowes’ presence has taken on a weight, stretching the fabric of the world like a pondskater on the water’s surface. John feels he has reached a fork in the road, forced, like the burn, to choose one path or the other.

Unless, like the burn, he chooses to break his bounds. With a smile John stretches his arm out over the water and lets the letter go. For a moment, it seems like it will refuse. It clings to the calluses on his palm, fighting gravity as John tilts his hand further and further. There is a pregnant moment, when the wind stills and the birds quieten and even the rushing of the burn seems to lessen. And then it falls.

A hand of spray reaches gladly up to take it and John watches as his name whirls and fades and disappears from view.

It occurs to him that this spot, in the lee of the Knowe and sheltered by the rock, would make an excellent place. He crouches and places his hand in the hill cold water and lets his mind run with the stream.

An unknowable length of time passes. Consciousness flares and flickers back to life. Smoothly he stands and stretches, the arch of his back mirroring the hills behind him. It is a pleasant day in autumn, the sun beginning to sink beyond the far side of the valley and a touch of coal smoke taints the air. He thinks he should probably go home, though he doesn’t feel tired, or cold or hungry.

The walk back down the barrow path passes quickly, and he revels in the bright colours of the birds that cross his path. He plucks blackberries from the brambles as he walks and finds a sparrowhawk feather trapped among the thorns.

The village’s snickets and yards are empty, and the light’s off in the shop. The coal smoke is thicker here and it catches in his throat. Further on, and to a cottage at the edge of the moors. His cottage.

Except that electric light burns in the windows and new rooms have sprung up around it like mushrooms after the rain.

A weight hangs heavy on him, that might have been loss, or might just have been the silver key that still sits on his belt. He leaves both on the doorstep and turns to face the moors.

A few steps takes him across the road and into the heather. A few more and he’s beyond the paths he used to take down into the dales. The sun passes beyond the western hills and gloaming takes the valley floor. He takes a deep breath of the night air, clear of coal smoke or the smell of verbena, and finally becomes.

#fantasy #low fantasy #magical realism #fiction #writing #microfiction #fae #micro fiction #stories #short story #creative writing #writeblr

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