#do not tag as ship or i will hunt you down with my sword

[droserraa]

I do like the idea of Hollow getting some closure and catharsis, even if just within a dream or something

#hollow knight #pure vessel #the hollow knight #hk pale king #the pale king #hk thk #the pale king may suck but i love to be sad #do not tag as ship or i will hunt you down with my sword

[gingernut1314]

Little Game Pt. 2

Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader

Summary: Mihawk has found you once more after a month of hunting after you--a month of playing your little games. Found you in yet another poor excuse for a bar, except it seems you have forgotten all about your game. Forgotten and were dulling your usually sharp sense away with drink after drink. But Mihawk hasn't forgotten. Your game is still on and he plans on winning.

Tags: angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.9K

Setlist:

Emotions

I Wanted to Leave

A/N: I'm soooo sorry it's been such a long time! I'm in my last year of college and it's absolute hell on earth and the work is insane. Anyywway, there's no spice again, but I'm slowly getting there! I hope you all enjoy! 🩷

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Mihawk had traveled thousands of miles from his Marine-ravaged home. Had smuggled himself onto cargo ships and luxury vessels to get to island after island. Had begged to join the first pirate crew he could find so he might learn to sail and build his strength. Had begged on his knees, forehead bowed so low it had touched the ground with anger-fueled tears in his eyes to the first swordsman he could find to teach him the delicate art of the blade. 

Had begged on hand and knee to every swords master he came across to teach him. To help him draw closer and closer to that end goal he would do anything to achieve. 

He would become strong. Become the greatest swordsman the world had ever known and then he would lay waste to the Marines. He would spare them no mercy, just as they had spared his home no mercy. Just as they had spared his mother no mercy. 

It was a goal--no, a vow bound by blood and death herself that led him here to this small island. An island covered in ancient, towering trees. An island home to a secluded and unknown people. Home to the greatest swordsman of a long-ago era. A swordsmen who had lived 180 years and had never lost a fight. 

His yellow eyes scanned the dark wood he had been warned was full of monsters--devils waiting to tear any traveler brave enough to enter its thick, fog-filled brush. His last master had warned him many men had gone in looking for the great swordsman to learn from him, just as Mihawk, but they never reached his log cabin at its center. They had hardly stepped foot into the wood before its guardian attacked. 

Mihawk calmly stated he would be the first to make it. Would face this Guardian of the Wood and all its devilish monsters and win. He would find the great swordsman and prove to him he was worth his teachings.

The forest hardly looked dangerous. Especially when he spotted the yellow-gold petals of marigolds that he could see littered the leaf-covered floor. 

No monster in sight. No devil. No Guardian. 

Mihawk placed his hand over the hilt of his sword at his side and started into the dark forest. Had just passed a rather large bunch of marigolds when someone landed on the ground before him, having hopped down from their spot amongst the treetops. 

Mihawk scolded himself for not having spotted the figure, knowing he would have seen them had he not been so preoccupied thinking about devils. The tip of a naginata pressed into his chest.

“Are you a pirate?” The voice that came from the figure was silky and calm, yet held dark danger within its melody. It was a voice unlike any other Mihawk had heard and its wielder was just as rare. You looked like some wood nymph. Like the mystical yet deadly creatures Mihawk had heard sung on the lips of pirates and sailors alike come to life. 

“I am here for Rivers Achilles.” You frowned deeply, that sharp blade never leaving Mihawk's chest. He looked you over carefully. Looked over your well-trained stance, one only gained from practice and patience Mihawk knew all too well. Took in the fact you must be around Mihawk’s own age of fourteen. No. He could tell you were older. A year--maybe two. 

“Do all you pirates have a monthly meeting to discuss such originality?” Mihawk narrowed his eyes the slightest bit. Watched your eyes spark like you enjoyed his small reaction. 

“I do not have time to waste on some dirt-smug girl.” Mihawk saw you were hardly dirt smugged. You were pertinently clean as if you had washed before climbing up into that tree. He said it to snuff out that spark of enjoyment you had gotten from baiting his temper. An anger he was slowly training himself to wrangle away. “Now. Move before I move you.” 

You laughed. A small thing that grew into an all-out bellow. It was a laugh that matched your darkness. Your rareness. It had Mihawk blinking, as if stunned at its sound.

“You step another inch in my wood, pirate, and I will break your nose.” You threatened, that dangerous tone laying in the background of your voice pooling thick like venom to its forefront. It was--intoxicating to hear. A sound Mihawk wanted to drag from you again and again. 

“Are you the Guardian of the Wood?” Your shoulders rose and pride swelled in your eyes.

“If you have heard of me then you have heard of what I have done to many a pirate such as yourself. I make them disappear--vanish them from the face of the earth.” Mihawk watched you slowly. A slowness that sparked anger in your eyes. 

It was an anger that Mihawk knew too well. An anger that matched his own in intensity and fury like some twin flame. Someone had hurt you--had taken someone from you, just as those Marines had taken his mother. Had left you feeling so weak and empty it left that anger to fester and grow out of control in you, just as it had in him. It was an anger he wanted to lash out at. One he wanted to direct his own anger at. 

“I thought you would be--” He paused, letting his eyes roam over your body again in a bored manner. “--more.” That fiery anger flared brightly. Had your knuckles going white wrapped as tightly as they were around the staff of your naginata. “How disappointing to find you are just some feral, dirt-covered girl.” Oh yes--yes there it was. Such anger. Anger to match his own. Anger that would rival him like none other ever could.

Mihawk had hardly seen you move before you were bringing the staff of our naginata to ram into his nose. A sickening crunch sounded in Mihawk's ears as pain flared in his face, nearly blinding him. 

A pain that blinded him from seeing you move to kick him hard in the chest, sending him flying out of the woods and back onto the black sand of the beach he had just landed on near minutes ago. 

His anger flared then, but he could only blame himself. He had been distracted by your own anger. By your dangerous voice and your rare beauty. Stupid, idiotic distractions on his part. 

“A runt such as yourself should know his place.” You hissed as Mihawk shoved himself to his knees, wiping the blood from under his broken nose as he laid his yellow eyes on you once more. Found you had left the darkness of your wood and stopped before him looking like some vengeful goddess fallen straight from the heavens. “My father does not wish to waste his time training the likes of pirates. Weak pirates such as yourself, runt.” 

Your father was Rivers Achilles--yes, it made sense now. Your rarity made sense. Your strength and skill. Your father was no ordinary man, therefor his offspring would be just as inordinary--spectacular. 

“I am no runt and I am not weak. I will pass you. I will bow before Achilles and he will train me.” Mihawk declared, cold sea water spraying at his dark leather boot-covered feet. “Your little game will do nothing to stop me from becoming the greatest swordsman this world has ever seen.” 

That excited spark flashed in your icy eyes again. A spark that flickered and twirled with your anger. A wicked, cat-like grin crossed your face--a grin that was so stunning it nearly stole Mihawk's breath away--did steal it.

“Game on.” 

Mihawk had been tracking you for a month now. A month longer than he liked, but you never gave up the chase. Never slowed or stopped long enough for Mihawk to grab hold of you. All he ever saw of you was the trail of perfect chaos you left behind. 

He had followed you through the North, South, East, and West Blues. Had followed you into the Grand Line, full of all its dangers, and back, only to follow you right back into its mysterious waters. And just when he thought he had caught up to you, would have you within his grasp, you had disappeared like smoke between his fingers. 

Despite how long his pursuit of you had taken, he found it excited him. Had him looking forward to the coming dawn, something he had long ago started to dread. 

He assumed it was because you excited him--had always kept him on his toes. You were a rare woman. One that had always challenged him in skill and wit--that matched him as perfectly as one could match another. 

Part of him wished you would just give in. Come with him back to Kuraigana Island and let him indulge you in every luxury he had ever wanted to give you. It was a foolish wish, but one he held regardless. One he knew would never come true unless he won this little game of yours. 

A game you seemed to have forgotten for the night, because here you were, in another run-down, dirty, overcrowded bar on some backwater island in the Grand Line, drunk out of your mind. It was unlike you, to be this careless. Not when it came to your games--when Mihawk was playing them just as you had wanted. 

But there you were, downing the last of your beer, hardly grimacing at the taste as he knew you usually would, too drunk to even taste it. There you were, looking so--exhausted. It was an exhaustion Mihawk knew too well--that weight heavy on his shoulders as it seemed to do you. An exhaustion that had Mihawk pausing. Almost had him leaving this too-small bar and all its too-drunk inhabitants. 

Almost. 

A drunk man bumped into Mihawk with a slurred apology, but he hardly heard it. Hardly even felt the pathetic man running into him. Not when he was so close to you. Not when he was so close to winning the game you had started. 

“Why is it you continue to frequent such nightmarish establishments?” Mihawk's voice should have had you sobering up. Should have had you scrambling to escape back out to sea and leave him and this island far behind. But his voice--so smooth and calm and utterly bored had you tingling in excitement. 

You had missed his all-too-calm dementor. Had missed him, his face, and his stupid hat. 

On a small hiccup, you turned to look up into those piercing yellow-gold eyes you had missed the most. Eyes you wished you could look into forever.

With your thoughts fogged nicely thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed, you had no embarrassment or strength for good decision-making when you placed your palm over top of his hard-earned abs. The warmth of his skin seeped into your freezing fingers as you ran them over his skin. 

“Mi-hic-hawk.” You purred up at the unamused man, all but fighting against your hiccups. You flashed him a sly grin. “How’d you find me?” You slurred horribly. 

“You are being sloppy.” You hummed as you brought your other hand to run along his skin, taking in his warmth and power that all but radiated off of him in dangerous waves.

“You always know just how to--hic-- sweet talk a girl.” You said, running your hands around his waist, where they disappeared under his dark jacket. Where they felt the equally as strong muscles lining his lower back. “Say something mean to me again, Mihawk. Pretty--hic--please.” 

Mihawk blinked down at you for a single moment before swiftly removing your hands from his body. You pouted, going to grab for him again, but he brushed you off once more. “Stop.” You whined pathetically, “You’re being mean.” 

“You asked me to mean,” Mihawk said the fact simply in that overly bored manner he hid behind. With a huff, you stopped your attempts at touching him and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I didn’t say sh-hic-oo me away.” 

“You are drunk, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes dramatically, turning back around on the bar stool you sat on to find the bartender again. 

“And you’re not. It’s --hic-- boring.” You hissed as the bartender came over. “I will have your finest beer and my --hic-- best friend will have your oldest wine.” The woman’s eyes darted to Mihawk making you fix her with an icy glare. Her eyes looked a little too long in Mihawk's direction. Had looked over his face and body for too long. “Don’t look at him. I can only look at him.” She was quick to snap her eyes away, her face going pale in utter fear.

“Y-yes ma’am. We-we only have a red blend from a year ago.” You sighed.

“He will deal with it.” 

“Y/N, we are leaving,” Mihawk said as the woman rushed off. You gave another dramatic sigh, turning back to face him. Those yellow-gold eyes had never once left you and you couldn’t help but enjoy being in their sights. 

“Mihawk, we are--hic--not. I just ordered.” He continued to look unamused. Continued to fix you with his own sharp stare. One that never quite seemed to overpower your own. “Is it because I ordered you bad wine?” 

“Bad wine or not we are leaving.” You narrowed your eyes up at him. Narrowed them so sharp you willed them to cut him open. 

“It’s my--hic--day off. If you are going to be a party pooper then you should --hic-- leave.” It was the exact opposite of what you wanted him to do, but you had landed on this island to get drunk. So drunk you would hopefully wake up with dark spots in your memory.

“I will. With you.” He insisted. You rubbed your eyes roughly, that exhaustion you had come here to escape returning with a vengeance. 

“You are such an --hic--asshole.” 

“Poetic.” Mihawk monotoned. You hissed, yanking your hands away from your face and flinging them up in the air.

“I’m drunk, Mr. Smarty-Pants. Leave me be.” Your beer was placed before you and you were quick to scoop it up. The bad glass of wine went untouched by Mihawk. “Do you want to know --hic-- something?” You asked the bartender who hesitated. Hesitated and stayed after you fix her with your icy glare once more. “This--hic-- guy acts all tough but really --hic-- he wants to leave because all these people are making him--hic--itchy. He’d rather just sit on his pert little ass in the dark.” You said, a giggle leaving your lips. 

The bartender’s eyes darted back to Mihawk and you slammed your fist on the countertop, making the glasses rattle and the bartender nearly jump out of her skin. “I said don’t look at him.” You watched her chest heave up and down in fear as you took a long sip from your beer. “Talking about pert little asses. Mihawk once ran naked--”

“Enough, Y/N.” Mihawk all but commanded you, making you tense. It was a command you bristled at--made your anger begin to heat in your chest rather quickly. Too quick for you to grab hold of and control, especially when you were this drunk. “We’re leaving.” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck the Marines and --hic--fuck you again.” You hissed, standing from your stool only to nearly fall off it in the process. Mihawk stayed planted in his place, even when you ran into him during your oh-so-graceful fall. “You can’t tell me what to--hic--do.” 

“You are stumbling around like a no-good drunkard. Collect yourself.” You stomped your foot and pushed Mihawk with another hiss like some child. The swordsman hardly seemed to even feel your attack. A fact that had you seething and going to do it again, but he grabbed your wrists in a tight hold. “Enough.” He commanded again. You yanked against his grip but it stayed strong. 

“Let me go.” You hissed at him, yanking again. 

“We are leaving. Whether you do so on your own two feet or I carry you out makes no difference to me.” Your anger surged in your chest. Surged in defiance at his orders. You were not one to be ordered around. Especially by him. 

“You will unhand me this instant or I will--hic--break your nose.” Something flashed in Mihawk's golden eyes. Something--sad. A sad that called to your own sadness which had been welling and pooling within your chest for years now. Pooling to the point of near flooding. A flood you resorted to drinking to dam it up. 

Mihawk’s grip around your wrists fell, but he made no sign of leaving. Made no sign of moving a single muscle from his spot before you. Made no sign of giving up on his declaration of leaving this bar with you in tow.

In your drunken state, you thought this was a perfect opportunity to draw your black blade, which you had left uncovered at your hip. You swung, your muscles moving on near memory, at the frustrating swordsman before you, causing the bartender and a few people around you to scream out in fear. 

Mihawk sidestepped your attack and before you could blink, your sword was skillfully pulled from your grasp and you stumbled forward with a roar. “Give it--” Your words were cut off by a yelp as Mihawk grabbed you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder. 

Your right shoulder hit Yoru’s hilt painfully and you had to quickly throw your hands out to stop your face from colliding with the black blade strapped to his back. Mihawk wrapped an iron-like arm around your thighs to keep you in place before starting for the exit.

Your vision blurred from the sudden movement, but it didn’t stop you from pounding on Mihawk’s powerful back and kicking your feet as best you could in your weak attempt to escape. His hold on you never lessened, only seeming to tighten in your struggle. 

“Let me go, Mihawk!” You shouted, pulling yourself up enough to try to catch of glimpse of his face, only for his stupid hat to hit you in the face. You gave a frustrated little growl. “This is not fair! I’m drunk!”

“Drunk or not, you started the game. I plan on finishing it.” You huffed in frustration, punching his back once more to no avail. 

The bar fell away and soon you were being carried through the night-filled streets of the backwater village you had found. You continued to fight against his hold until your stomach stirred nauseously and your vision blurred to the point you could hardly see. 

With a pathetic moan, you let your body go limp against his back, your body bouncing with every graceful step he took. It only made your nausea grow, but you were too dizzy to do anything about it. 

“Tire yourself out?” Mihawk asked something like amusement finally filling his smooth voice. 

“I’m going to vomit all over your fancy little sword.” You murmured, making the man sigh deeply through his nose. 

“Are you serious?” You moaned, feeling bile rise in your throat. Your world spun and blurred around you as Mihawk dragged you off his shoulder, a movement that only had that bile rising sharply and your mouth filling with hot spit. You were placed on your feet, but your knees gave out with little warning. Tiny rocks dug into the flesh of your palms and into your kneecaps. 

You cursed, taking deep breaths of the chill night air, hoping to settle your upset stomach. Maybe you had overdone it on the drinks--but unfortunately for you, this is what you had set out to accomplish, and sober you knew she wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nastiness. 

You had just opened your mouth to relieve your aching stomach when strong hands collected your hair away from your face. Hands that held your hair in a manner so soft you hardly felt it. You vomited before you could think much more on whose hands were holding your hair up. 

“Why were you in that bar, Y/N?” Mihawk asked, voice low and so--gentle. As gentle as the man could make it seem. You huffed in and out deeply, catching your breath.

“Why do most people go to --hic -- bars? To get drunk.” You hissed as best you could between breaths. Bile rose in your throat and your stomach rolled once more. Gods--

“Yes,” He sighed, annoyed at your comment. “But you don’t go to bars to get drunk. Not when you are set on a task. Not ever.” You huffed a moan before throwing up once more. 

“I’ve changed.” You huff out, catching your breath once more. Mihawk was quiet behind you. A quiet that ate at you more than you wished to admit. Your vision blurred again. But it was a blur that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the tears welling in your eyes. 

You had drunk too much. Way too much if it was bring you to tears. Tears you could do nothing about to control, not in the state you were currently in. Not when the man making you cry was behind you, holding your hair like there was nothing wrong between the two of you. Like you were back on your home island, stealing alcohol from your father and sneaking off to the only bar on the whole island. 

Your home. Your father. Your forest. All gone. Just like that in the blink of an eye. How had it happened? How had you let it happen? You had been your home's Guardian, just as your mother before you, and her mother before her. It had been your job, your responsibility to protect it from such dangers. 

It had been your life's purpose and you had failed. Failed and lived. Lived when you should have died protecting it.

“Y/N--” Mihawk started, but you swatted his hands away as you turned your body away from your puke. You buried your face in your hands to keep the swordsman from seeing your tears. From seeing your weakened and broken state. 

“Leave me be. Please.” You all but begged. Gods you were pathetic. So far from the proud and strong person you had once been in your youth. So old and angry and tired.

“I’ve seen you at your lowest. Some sick and a few drunken tears are hardly going to deter me.” He said on a sigh like you should have already known that. 

You pulled your face from your hands to glare at him where he knelt behind you. To tell him to leave on a venomous hiss--to throw insults his way, but his hand disappearing into his jacket pocket caught your eye. It reappears with a golden hair clip, diamonds sparkling in the lamp lights as he showed it to you. 

“That’s my--” You started in disbelief. 

“You forgot it on my ship when you left.” He said, handing it to you. You took in gently in your hands and before you could even begin to process everything, his hands were in your hair once more. He gently pulled and twisted it, mimicking how you had done your hair a million and one times before without so much as a thought of his ever-watchful gaze. His free hand plucked the golden clip from your hand and nestled it securely in your hair. 

He had kept it. Had not only kept it, but had kept it on his person. Kept it close and ready to use if you ever needed it once more. 

When he was done, you turned to stare bug-eyed up at him, tears still refusing to halt their endless fall. Calm. He was always so calm. A calm that frustrated you and grated on your nerves to no end, but was such a familiar, comforting presence. A presence you had yearned to be around more than you yearned to hunt down every last Marine you came across. 

Hesitantly, he reached for you. So hesitantly he gave you enough to slap him away, but you made no move to do so. Made no move to stop him as he brushed your tears away with his thumb. 

His touch sent your eyes watering all over again. His touch and his actions were so gentle and kind and so utterly unfair. So unfair because you couldn’t give in. Not now. Not for a long, long time. 

Gods how you wanted to give in. 

“I can’t--I can’t go with you.” You said in a low, grave tone. Mihawk brushed his thumb over your cheek once more before pulling away, making you feel that cold aloneness you had been trying to chase away with drink. He gave the slightest of nods. 

“I know.” He said just as lowly, his face seeming to harden further. You watched him grab your black blade, which he had placed on the ground beside him. He resheathed it at your side skillfully and reached for you again, grabbing you under your arms and lifting you to your feet. You swayed like a great gust of wind had blown into you, your drunkenness having yet to wear off. 

Mihawk hardly made a single sound before he was lifting you off the ground once more. Made no sound as he prompted you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You did so without much thought, the action having been memorized by your body.

It was something the two of you had done many times over the years, whether it be you clinging to his back or front. Whether it be because you were too drunk or injured to walk, you would cling to him and he would hold you tight. It was something he had grumbled endlessly about the first few times you’d insisted upon it, but had slowly grown used to it to the point he would pick you up as such without your prompting. 

Your eyes catch his own briefly. Eyes so bright they were like the sun. A sun your soul begged to orbit one more, but your pride beat it down. Had you looking away and placing your cheek on his shoulder, taking his rose and expensive cologne scent deep into your nose so that you might hold on to it for that much longer.

Mihawk felt like a teenager again, holding you like this. It was--refreshing, though if anyone of importance saw him in such a way, there was sure to be trouble. But for now, in this small village in the middle of the Grand Line, he could get away with it. Could hold you close and keep your seemingly ever-cold body warm. 

He had marked where your ship was docked before he had ever docked his own, so finding it again was hardly a chore. 

Your ship was just a tab bit larger than his own, still designed for a single crew member to sail, but large enough for a much more spacious sleeping quarters and kitchen. That had been something you had complained about endlessly when having sailed with him on his own ship. 

He readjusted his hold on you so he might open the door that led to the inner workings of your ship. It was neat and tidy, just as his own was, though the walls covered in numbers and markings were unlike anything on his own ship. 

They were Marine branch numbers, ones you had come across during your journeys. Underneath each number were tally marks which he assumed represented how many ships you had destroyed flying those same numbered flags. The branches you had completely whipped off the face of the earth he found were crossed out. 

It was impressive how many Marines you had wielded your perfect chaos against. Impressive and worrisome because he knew as the number grew, the more you would be noticed. And the more you are noticed, the more likely it was they would send another one of the Warlords to slaughter you. 

Garp had warned him of this the last time they spoke. Had commanded Mihawk to get you under control or you would be spared no mercy. It was Mihawk's first and final warning to stop you before you got yourself killed. 

And as much as Mihawk wanted to take you away to his new home, to keep you out of the prying eye of every last Marine and pirate that sailed the seas, he knew he needed to wait. To play your game and win it, or there would be no victory. No having you back by his side. 

You had fallen asleep sometime during the walk, so you made no fuss as Mihawk placed you in bed. You merely grumbled something in your sleeping state as he pulled your boots off and took your sword from your side, propping it against the wall.

He watched you for a long moment. Watched your softened features as you slept. 

So rare. You were too rare to let go. To give up on and allow to die. You were Mihawk’s twin flame. A flame he would fight and die for if given the chance. You were the only person alive he would truly bend to. 

And bend he did by letting you go. By playing your little game. A game he vowed to win the right way.

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#mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x Y/N #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x Y/N #one piece #opla #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #dracule mihawk opla #dracule mihawk one piece #dracule mihawk #dracule “hawk eyes” mihawk #hawk eyes mihawk #little game #divider by saradika graphics #divider by saradika

[robinette-green]

Robin's Guns and Swords DCA Romance Fics

These are fics that involve battles, pirates, mob bosses, cowboys, detective and so much more!

Light in the Darkness:

You fall into the debts of the Aperture Science Facility and find the remains of the past. Aperture’s repeating history. To your surprise, at the deepest part of this salt mine of science, you find two robots that should have stopped working long ago. Will they help you find a way top the surface?

Black Sea Glass: (tag)

Trying to escape from a group of mercenaries hunting you down to catch you and collect the bounty on your head, you stow away on what you think to be a merchant ship. Unfortunately for you, you end up on a ship flying under the king’s flag. The two captains decide that you can work on the crew while aboard. Over time you find yourself falling in love with the Captains. This is bad news for you. You have so many secrets to hide and the two captains despise lies. If they find out who you really are will they leave you? Would they turn you in?

Bits and Pieces:

A cop buddy invites you to a speakeasy for a good time. You go to drown yourself in booze. Little did you know that not only would this make your problems so much worse, but you would also gain the attention of the city's two most dangerous mob bosses. You just wanted to run your little coffee shop and leave your life of danger behind, but fate has other plans for you.

Hellfire to Warm the Heart:

There I was, standing in the rain, my ears still ringing from the door slamming behind me. Everything had gone downhill so fast. First, my job fired me without warning or reason then, unable to find a new job, I was evicted from my apartment due to being unable to pay rent. With my suitcase at my feet, I stared blankety down the street. What was I going to do? I had nowhere to go. My family had cut ties with me years ago, and I didn't have a friend to speak of. Was there a shelter I should go to, or would I be sleeping on the street tonight? "Oh, dear! Are you okay?" I flinched, not expecting anyone to speak to me. Looking around, I saw an expensive black car parked at the curb, and a back window rolled down. As I watched, the back door opened, and a man, preceded by a large black umbrella, exited the car. As he straightened, I took a step back, gazing up at a towering individual standing before me. Dressed in a pale blue suit, this guy had to be almost 7 feet tall, towering over me. His hair was shimmery gold, making him look like a sun. Golden eyes glittered as, with a soft smile, the man asked, "You look to be in a bit of a bind. Would you like some help?"

Fish Fry:

(tag)

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

Two Hunters and a Bloodsucker: (tag)

My life is good for what it is. Except that I’m dead. Well, undead. I’ve been undead for about 15 years now, and I haven’t aged a day. Being a vampire hiding among humans can be difficult at times, mainly dealing with sunlight and avoiding mirrors, but I manage. I’ve been living and working in this little town as the town blacksmith for about 7 years now, and I’ve become a full-fledged member of the little community here. I thought I had been doing a good job hiding my presence among the humans, but one day two of the most well-known vampire hunters came into town. If they find out what I am, they will kill me, but both of them have become intent on becoming my friends and maybe more. How can I keep myself from being discovered when two hunters are trying to romance me?

Cosmic Detectives:

I skid to a halt, a brick wall blocking me in. Turning around, I hoped in vain that I had enough time to backtrack and take another path before I was trapped. Two sets of glowing eyes met my gaze as I faced the entrance of the alley. One set red, the other blue. It was too late. Two guns were leveled at me, ready to fire.

Blood and Stars:

Wedged into my little hiding nook up in the second layer of book shelves, I could hear Sun whimpering somewhere below me. Over excited as he was, he had tripped and fallen face first over the sofa on the main floor, giving me the chance to escape. I was currently on the upper balcony of the library room, hidden behind the reading chairs that adorned one corner, pushed up against the wall. The whimpering turned into sniffles and I could almost believe that he was genuinely injured but I knew better. He had caught me this way before, coming out of hiding to see if he was hurt from whatever fall he had taken, clumsy as he was. He was just toying with me, seeing if I would come out of hiding on my own. Sooner rather than later he would get bored and start his search for me, calling out for me to come play, he wouldn’t bite. He would. The boys usually did. Vampire AU. Sun and Moon have a thirst for blood.

Me and My Flirtatious Pirates (LateNight DayDreams):

Naked cuddling with pirate Sun and Moon.

Astrological Bullets (LateNight DayDreams):

A Wild West story. You’re tied to a set of railroad tracks somewhere in the desert. You’ve accepted your fate, waiting for either the heat or a train to take you, when a strange metal individual happens by.

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

#glitter rock #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #dca fandom #sun and moon x reader #fnaf sun and moon #dca fanfic #glitter rock writing #two hunters and a bloodsucker #black sea glass au #fish fry au

[starboy-acer]

"outlaw, traitor, exile" (chapter one)

(this is longer than most because this is a full fic on ao3!! please go check it out there if you prefer to read there! but if you prefer to read here and want to keep track of the chapters, follow the outlaw traitor exile tag!)

Captain Black was infamous on the seas of Mana. He was one of the newest and youngest Pirate Lords and everyone knew of his name. They knew his ship and the black sails that cast a shadow over any ship that he approached. They didn't know his face. They didn't know his real name. All the people of Mana knew were his title and the fear that he struck into their hearts.

Admiral Jay Ferin, daughter of the revered Jayson Ferin, was known by everyone in the oversea. She was known to be a lot more empathetic than her family. She cared for people. She didn't want to be feared. All she wanted was to make a change in the world. After getting reprimanded for the millionth time by her father for showing empathy for "criminals" who were just fighting for their freedom, she was sent to the sea and tasked with hunting down Captain Black.

Gillion Tidestrider, "Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep", was exiled from the only place he knew. Since then, he's done nothing but get in trouble with not only the navy but pirates too. One night, he stumbles onto a large ship after escaping a fleet of Navy ships. Only to be met by Captain Black's shadowed face and his glowing smile.

"What do we have here?"

Captain Chip Black paces around the short blue man who washed up on his ship, his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His long red coat dragged behind him and his matching hat tipped down at the perfect angle to cover his eyes. Gillion glanced at his hand on his sword, then at his lack of a shirt. His eyes traced over the flame-like tattoos across his chest as they swirled and spiraled. In the dark, it almost looked like they moved. Maybe they did, Gillion couldn't tell.

"Hello there! I am Gillion Tidestrider! Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep. Sorry about the... intrusion. I'm just passing through. You know how it is." Gillion rambled on. Usually, when he jumped on a ship, he was attacked right away by either the Navy or pirates. The fact that this man was simply circling him like a shark scared him a little.

The man chuckled slightly. He stopped in front of Gillion. "I know who you are." He said with darkness in his tone. His voice was like shadows; it was dark, slow, and seemed to creep up on you and send shivers down your back.

"Oh?" Gillion questioned and laughed nervously. "Well, I don't know who you are. I am curious about how you know me but I guess that being a Champion gets you that kind of recognition!"

Suddenly, Gillion was pinned to the ground with a sword to his throat. He had no idea how or when this happened. Chip had managed to, without a sound and as quick as lightning, push the heavily armored triton to the ground. Chip knew who Gillion was. He knew what Gillion had been up to since he had been exiled. He knew that Gillion had somehow sunk plenty of ships of pirates that he knew and plenty of ships that he was seeking out. Gillion had somehow caused a rift in some of Chip's plans against the Navy. However, Gillion had absolutely zero clue that he had caused as much destruction as he had. He just thought it was bad luck that the ships kept sinking after he showed up and was attacked by them. 

"You're the damn fish that's been sinking ships all over Mana." Chip's hat had fallen off in the altercation and now Gillion could see his full face. Gillion could now see his stubble that framed his mouth with shockingly white teeth along with his brown eyes that were now scowling at him. "Do you even know what you've done? All the plans that went to shit because of you? All the pirates that I recruited to my cause that lost their ships because of you?"

Gillion just stared at him, his eyes wide. "Uh. No. No, I didn't. Wait, what cause? Who are you?" Gillion was always moist, but now he felt like he was sweating. He had absolutely no clue how that worked, but it did. Chip looked at him in shock. Was this guy really that stupid? He had no clue what he had done. Was he lying? Did this fish not recognize Chip's ship or his sails? Chip leans up, still straddling Gillion so that he couldn't stand up. His arms drop to his sides and he squints at the fish man under him while a million questions run through his mind. Gillion just laid there like a rock. He, for once, had nothing to say. He didn't know what was going on.

"You really have no clue, do ya?"

Gillion nods and slightly shrugs as he replies, "I have no clue like most of the time." Chip scoffs to hide a laugh. Deciding that Gillion wasn't a threat, he stands. Chip puts his hat back on, but places it high enough where his face can be shown. Gillion stands up and brushes himself off.

Chip puts his sword away and crosses his arms, his entire figure lit up by the moon. Gillion took note of the swirling tattoos on his arms. They were definitely moving, no doubt about it. Chip noticed that Gillion was staring, hard. Chip walked up to Gillion and leaned down to look in his eyes. A light pink spread across the triton's face as he felt Chip's breath in his face. "What're ya starin' at?" Chip smiled.

"Your tattoos. They look like they're moving." Gillion stated as he took a step back. Chip looked down at the tattoos that flowed like water but were the color of fire. "Yeah, they're movin'."

"How?"

"You have an awful lot of questions."

"Yes. Now answer them."

"And if I don't?"

Gillion's jaw dropped and he looked in disbelief. This man was really testing his patience. "I, Gillion Tidestrider, will sink your ship!" He decided to declare.

Chip's eyebrow raised and he looked Gillion up and down. This was a 5'8 fish against a 5'10 pirate lord. Chip could not picture a timeline where Gillion would win this fight, and because of this, he did one of the stupidest things he had done thus far.

"Fight me then. The loser has to answer all the questions that the winner has." Chip smirked and Gillion's eyes lit up. If there was one thing that he was good at, it was battle. Gillion picked up his sword from the ground and then took off the glass bowl that he had at his side and set it to the side. "Pretzel, stay right there and watch, okay?"

"Pretzel?" Chip questioned while stretching.

"Win and I'll tell you who she is." Gillion took his battle stance.

Battered and bruised, Gillion stood over Chip. He pushed Chip's chin with the tip of his sword so that Chip was looking up at him. Gillion's lips turned up in a smile. "Still got it." He said triumphantly. He then pointed over to the glass bowl with the pink frogtopus spinning around and chirping happily. "That's Pretzel. My best friend and companion!" Gillion picks her up with his free hand and she squirms to rest on his shoulder.

Chip scoffed and pushed the sword out of his face. He stood up and brushed off the back of his coat. "I thought the loser answered the questions."

"Yes, that was the deal. I was just being nice." The fish man smiled and sheathed his sword. He was all bloodied and was breathing heavily, but he still kept a naturally positive aura about him. All Chip could think about was how useful this man would be as a part of his crew. He's strong and he's positive enough to boost morale on low days. It wasn't often that Chip got beat on his ship, but that fish somehow did it. That fish man, Gillion Tidestrider, beat Captain Black on his own ship and is still smiling. Frankly, Chip was amazed. He refused to show it, however, as he stood and adjusted his clothing. He gestured over to the starboard side of the deck where a square crate sat. Chip sat down on one side of it and Gillion sat on the other. Chip opened up the crate, pulled a dark green bottle out of it, and uncorked it as he took a swig. He closed the crate and set the bottle on top of it as it acted as a table between them.

"So, fish guy, what do ya wanna know?" Chip asked as he took another swig of the bottle. He offered it to Gillion, but he refused and looked up at the sky, pondering his questions.

"What is your name?"

Chip looked over at Gillion. He was almost baffled before he remembered earlier when Gillion very clearly had no clue who he was. "I'm Captain Black. My real name's Chip."

"Captain Black?" Gillion questioned. He had heard the name before, but he can't seem to remember where he heard it from (failed history check, obviously). Chip shook his head and chuckled quietly. It was almost refreshing to meet someone who had no clue who he was, but he found it funny nonetheless.

"Captain Chip Black. The lone survivor of the tragedy that struck the Black Rose pirates 'round a decade ago. Ring any bells?" Chip looked over at Gillion, still confused. "Youngest pirate lord in Mana at only nineteen years old? Seriously, that doesn't set off any alarms in your undersea mind?"

Gillion thought about it as hard as he possibly could. He looked to Pretzel and she chirped something at him that Chip couldn't understand. "You're right, Pretzel! That's where I heard that name last!" Gillion looked back over and Chip. "I've only heard your name on some of the ships we've come across. The last time I heard it was on a big Navy ship!"

Chip coughed as he fully turned his body to Gillion. "A big Navy ship? Please, do tell!"

"This big guy I had seen in the undersea right before my ex- I mean, before I left for my adventure! Yeah, that's what I mean. Anyway, big guy with orange hair and some other lady I had never seen before, also orange hair, were talking about you. Big guy seemed pretty angry at her. All I heard was 'YOU'RE NOT COMING BACK UNTIL YOU HAVE BLACK'S HEAD ON A STICK WITH YOU!'" Gillion stood and deepened his voice to imitate the voice of the man he was discussing. "But then these guys came up to us and tried to capture us, but Gillion Tidestrider refuses to be a prisoner! You can't imprison the champion of the undersea, after all. We managed to get off that ship before the big guy saw us. Few days later, we end up here!"

Chip's jaw seemed like it had hit the deck by the time Gillion had sat back down. Before he could come to any conclusions on who those people were, Chip had to ask some follow-up questions. "Wait, these orange-haired people, did you catch their names? Ranks? Last names? Any information about them?"

"I thought I was supposed to be asking the questions!"

"LISTEN, MAN," Chip yelled, maybe a bit too loudly. He collected himself and took a deep breath. "You can ask more questions in a second, but this is important. I need you to answer me. Do you have any information on who those people were?"

Gillion thought back to his surroundings on the ship. He remembered seeing a plaque beside the door to the room those people were in, but he was having a hard time remembering what it said. "There was a plaque next to the door. It said... Ad- Admiral? Admiral something..." Pretzel chirped up and then flapped her tentacles like wings. Chip didn't understand what she said, but he definitely knew what those motions were. His face went cold. "Ah, that's right! Admiral Ferin! And there was a bird engraved under it. The big guy also had a pin with this bird on it. Good eye, Pretzel!" Gillion stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of fish to feed to Pretzel.

"Oh. My. God." Chip stood up and laughed as he ran his hand through his hair. Gillion felt his face slightly heat up at the sight of it, but he shook it off. "Hah! Admiral Ferin! THE Ferins are sending someone after ME!" Chip turned and crouched down to Gillion and squeezed his face. "You gorgeous fish, you! You just gave me SO MUCH information." 

Chip stood upright again. To other pirates, having the legendary Ferins after you might seem scary. To Captain Black, it was nothing but good news. He's spent the past ten years trying to be the best pirate in Mana. He's been working his hardest to live up to the hype that came with the Black Rose pirates. He wanted nothing more than to make the late Arlin James, his mentor and almost-father figure, proud. Chip wanted to be not only a legendary pirate but a helpful one. His infamy comes from the liberation he's spread along his way. He's freed hundreds of people and handfuls of towns from the grasp of the Navy as they've encroached on neutral- and even outlaw- land lately. He saw the beginnings of tyranny bloom and decided to try and stomp it out before it bore fruit. Having the Ferins say his name, to have the Ferins hunt him down? That was his opportunity. This only proved to him that what he was doing was right. This proved to him that he was on the right path.

"I'm a little lost here," Gillion spoke up, snapping Chip out of his trance. "What is happening?"

"Gillion Tidestrider, do I have a story for you!" Chip smiled as he looked back over to Gillion. His smile then fell as he looked out to the dark horizon. "Oh, fuck."

Gillion stood up and looked in the same direction with a quizzical look on his face. "What? What do you see?"

Chip then quickly put his hat back on and rushed to the door to the below-deck cabins to gather his small crew of ex-Navy turned to his cause. "JOHN, GET THE CREW AND GET UP." Gillion could hear some mumbling before Chip started yelling again "IF THIS IS WHAT I THINK IT IS, THEN WE NEED TO BE READY TO EITHER FIGHT OR GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE."

"Chip, what can I do? What is happening?" Gillion asked with his hand on his sword as about five men came out from below deck. The first of them was a big, burly man with a tattered Navy uniform and what seemed to be tribal tattoos across his arms. The man looked at Gillion and then at Chip.

"Who is this, Captain?" He asked, his voice deep and gruff.

Chip looks at Gillion and back at the man then back at Gillion. "Gillion Tidestrider, meet my first mate, Marshall John. He's ex-Navy, lookin' to make a change in the world. John, this is Gillion. He washed up on the ship and beat my ass in a one-on-one then told me about how the Ferins are after me now, so he's stuck with us for now. Now, John, get the crew ready." Chip pulled out a spyglass and looked out to the distance as he spoke. "It looks like she's alone, so we're not gonna run just yet, but be ready to hoist the sails as soon as I say the word."

Marshall John nods and runs to direct the rest of the crew as Chip walks to the edge of the starboard. Gillion follows. "What is going on?! I'm so lost."

"Gillion," Chip gestures for Gillion to stand beside him and hands him the spyglass before pointing out in the distance. Gillion holds the spyglass up to his eye and Chip moves it to where he's pointing. "See that ship? Does that look familiar to you?"

Gillion took a second to look over the ship before spotting the Jolly Roger that was flying high. It was none other than the Navy's flag. He then caught a glimpse of orange before Chip took the spyglass from him. "Navy ships."

"Bingo." Chip just stared out at the ship as it got closer.

As it got closer, Gillion could clearly spot more orange. Then, he saw a face. Then, a shiver ran down his spine as bright blue eyes pierced his soul, even though they weren't looking at him directly. He looked at Chip, who had a cocky, bright smile across his face.

"Gillion Tidestrider, you're about to meet my very best friend," Chip said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"And who would that be?" Gillion asked, still clueless as to who this was.

"None other than the youngest Navy admiral and youngest of the most ruthless Navy lineage." He waved as the only other crew member on the Navy ship put down the anchor as the ship was now within range of Chip's. He cupped his hands around his mouth to project his voice farther.

"Jay Ferin! Good to see you, sureshot!"

#outlaw traitor exile #jrwi #jrwi chip #jrwi gillion #just roll with it #chip bastard #gillion tidestrider #jrwi fnc #fish and chips #jay ferin #jrwi jay #jrwi angst #jrwi fanfiction #chip jrwi #jrwi riptide #jrwi podcast #jrwi fluff #jay ferin angst #chip angst #gillion tidestrider angst #jrwi jay ferin #jrwi gillion tidestrider #albatrio #just roll with it gillion #riptide #no beta we die like men #no beta read #no beta we die like ava ferin

[thorfluke]

nine fandom people to get to know better 💖✨

thank you @lunaaaylin for the tag, ur my favourite :D

THREE SHIPS YOU LIKE:

ai di and chen yi from kiseki: dear to me (taiwan dramas always know exactly how to do angst to such an extent that i also actively suffer and i'm not even part of the relationship, but the reward is so delicious scrumptious yummy to me that it's worth all the headaches it causes)

tang yi and meng shao fei from history: trapped (it's the first history series i watched and perhaps you might think that's why it's my favourite but you'd be wrong. it's actually because it's the best <3)

bai lang and jin xun an from my tooth, your love (another taiwan drama to complete the trio but omg i binged this show in the weirdest way possible (backwards) for my own personal silly reasons but yes. they're up there as some of my favourites because of their silly boy communication but also because of the trope of cooking for the one you love which i'm utterly enamoured with just like xun an is enamoured with bai lang)

FIRST SHIP EVER:

i had to go check on ao3 who the oldest pairing that i've got bookmarked fics for and it's merlin x arthur <3 i watched bbc merlin when it aired so i'm guessing it started around then but i wasn't reading fic at the time so idk sjfdks. if we're talking first true otp it's probably thorn and daphne from scooby doo and the witch's ghost :D

LAST SONG YOU HEARD:

i'm currently listening to fall in love again by p1harmony who i've been getting into a lot more recently so <3

FAVOURITE CHILDHOOD BOOK:

there's a book called the secret island by enid blyton and that's the first book i physically couldn't put down because the storyline had me hooked from the first page ksdhfks but also a book called numbers by rachel ward, which i read as a teen but i still think about to this day. in fact, i still have it somewhere.

CURRENTLY READING:

the sword of kaigen bc i saw it mentioned on tiktok and it's actually so good like worldbuilding is mwah <3 but when i'm not reading that, then i'm hunting for good fics (mostly the untamed bc those characters are my comfort boys)

CURRENTLY WATCHING:

anti reset, 1000 years old, deep night, 23.5, and i feel you linger in the air rewatch that is absolutely krilling me <3

CURRENTLY CONSUMING:

fresh orange juice and bourbon biscuits <3 i haven't been able to have either for so long bc of treatment so now i'm indulging a bit :D

CURRENTLY CRAVING:

this specific chocolate cereal that is like. little chocolate bowls and it's so good but i haven't had it in so long.

i'm tagging @patchanons, @universe-club, @lwjenthusiast, @jimmyysea, @junghaesin if you haven't already done this and want to! no pressure ofc <3

#tag games #thank u for the tag bestie <333

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Find The Word!

This time tagged by @sleepyowlwrites here! Thanks Sleepy!

Quick no-pressure tags out to: @winterandwords @circa-specturgia @tryingtimi @incandescent-creativity @moonluringfrost

If you want to play, find the words Plane, Herb, Method, Air, and Choice.

Now for my words...Pulled from Abracadabra.

lendBorrow?

I snorted, still watching the inner light flicker and dance as the sun faded. “What about the kid? Won’t she notice her father’s sword suddenly missing?” “I’ve already talked to her,” Kashi answered. “She’s agreed to let your borrow it for a short time.”

strain

The other two had fled by now, but I could hear reinforcements coming. Running back to the portal still open on the operating table, I leapt inside and quickly found myself back under the protection of my jacket. Kashi was crumpled in the corner, unconscious. The strain of passing through the portal my way must have been too much.

forget

“And if my sister finds the truth?” “We’ll either explain,” I said, pulling another few cucumbers free, “or we’ll make her forget.” I stood up with a small bundle in my arms, looking them over. “You’re a good caretaker, despite first impressions.”

best

“It’s the best I could do in short notice,” I answered, studying the green cucumber bit along the table. Thinking through my next plan of attack. “You said danger, you said irritated cult master, you said ‘will hunt us down relentlessly for what we did’.” “Right. And you heard ‘flying ghost ship’?” “I heard flying is the best way to get him to lose your scent, and even better if it’s on a ship that may or may not exist. You know my terms. You ask for help, I get you help. Keeping us off the ground for any length of time before we set down somewhere completely different is only going to help.”

BONUS:

pounce(sad face)

goodbye

“What can I say?” I asked, pulling my arms through the sleeves. “You should have known your limits.” I tipped my head to him and slid my feet into the portal. Something exploded in the distance, others suddenly screeching in pain. A wave of heat washed over us and I gave a short half-bow. “Goodbye, Afanasiy.”

#find the word #tag #tag game #writeblr tag game #Rod #Abracadabra

[doks-aux]

Bellhands ask! I'm torn between Bellhands having met young, with Izzy still with some softness anyone would find lovable so of COURSE Sam would love him too, and thus still loves him even once he's hardened as an adult; and Bellhands meeting as adults, Izzy already a fully formed shouty grumpy guy, and Sam just being sprung for him immediately for reasons that baffle everyone ("why is the actual Prince of Pirates, Robin Hood of the Seas, handsome and charming Sam Bellamy for whom the universe bends backwards, so smitten with... that"). I've read some fics/your posts that explore them having met as youths, how do you feel an adult first meeting between them would go, and do you have a preference as to how/what age they meet, should it be explored in canon? Thank you for introducing us all to such a great ship and fascinating pirate!

Eee! Thank you!

First, I can't really take credit for the ship. I got into it because @thegreatblondebalrogslayer and a few others had written some very nice fics and he kept coming up during "Izzy needs a boyfriend" discussions with friends. I just researched him, got obsessed, and starting running my mouth in the tags about it.

It is a tough choice. Most folks do go the "met in childhood/youth" route, as do I for my own little AU--though I have kid Izzy already a prickly, stubborn little cuss who probably pushes Sam off a dock the first time they meet, and Sam is instantly smitten like "Friend??!! New best friend??!!!" I think it's important and fun that Sam (or anyone that falls for Izzy) likes Izzy for the rougher parts of him as well as the hidden softer center rather than despite them. So that is a big appeal of them first meeting as adults. Izzy is all briars and nettles, and the famed Prince of Pirates looks at him and thinks "I am going to love and cherish the SHIT out of this little man."

I've only seen a couple of fics/posts have them meet as adults. It would probably be tricky to have it happen during the Kraken era since Izzy's probably not in a good place for meeting new people. Maybe if he somehow got banished again or struck out on his own, maybe to find Stede? It might be best if they met while Izzy was separated from Ed and the others so he doesn't have the stress of dealing with them all or the pressure of performing his role. Maybe the Whydah fishes him out of the ocean. Maybe Sam is in the same port Izzy is seeking information in. Sam seems keen on quests and adventures; maybe he's heard tales of the Gentleman Pirate and of Blackbeard's strange behavior and figures, hell, he and his boys are plenty rich enough for the moment, why don't they help out this fascinating angry man in the leather trousers? If it's something post-BlackBonnet reconciliation, maybe the Revenge crew runs into or turns to Sam and his fleet while trying to outmaneuver the Royal Navy who are almost certainly hunting them down.

There are a lot of possibilities, and I don't know which I'd prefer. But I love the whole seeming opposites attract appeal of it all, Sam with his grand and romantic ideals appreciating Izzy's more practical concerns. Sam showing Izzy that it is possible to balance successful piracy and a formidable reputation with a more humanitarian approach to captaining and altruistic notions (Sam's known for his compassion but that doesn't mean he can't and won't take absolutely all of your shit); Ed and Stede were just too far up their own and each other's asses to have really genuinely tried to find that balance for awhile. They'd share a loathing of the aristocracy. Sam would respect Izzy's experience and sword fighting skills, and Izzy would respect how Sam brought himself up from nothing, how the luxuries he enjoys were properly earned (re: stolen) like they should be. This is a match that could actually work.

As for when I'd prefer them to have met should Sam show up in canon, I'm not sure. On the one hand, we know so very little of Izzy's background, that having an old friend show up has so much potential. On the other, it'd be nice for Izzy to bond with someone who has no connection to his own or adjacent baggage. The really important thing is that Sam be someone set apart from the Revenge and its shenanigans, someone who can see Izzy as he is and not as an extension or reflection of or in comparison to Ed or Stede or their merry band of lunatics. Someone who sees Izzy's own personal brand of lunacy and thinks "That. That is what I'm into. This is what I want more of."

Thank you so much for the ask!! I'm so glad to have people to talk to about this ship that doesn't exist. 💖🏴‍☠️

#ask #BellHands #lordess-dickery-doof #Izzy Hands #Israel Hands #Sam Bellamy #pirate husband #first mate of my heart #Reunion AU #doc's headcanons #doc's stories #pirates #Our Flag Means Death #long post #doc posts pirates

[screenviolense]

all my ship tags as of now (romantic and otherwise) they are not alphabetized

✦ ZATANNA & JOHN        *    no grave can hold my body down; i’ll come home to her

✦ MILLIE & ROSAL        *    she lit a fire and now she’s in my every thought

✦ KINSEY & FLOYD        *    you left a note in your perfect script: stay as long as you want. and i haven't left your bed since

✦ LIZA & JASON        *    i hope you die. i hope we both die

✦ SASHA & TIM        *    as if i am alive only because i remember you

✦ ANAIS & MAHANON        *    you and i are not the polite people who live in poems

✦ JEAN & DILUC        *    is this the place we used to love? is this the place that i've been dreaming of?

✦ JEAN & KAEYA        *    meet me at our spot. they can't find us there

✦ ARRI & CULLEN        *    you put your hand in mine and pulled me back from things divine

✦ ANYA & ANDI        *    i walked with you once upon a dream

✦ CAROLINE & RICK        *    we’re gonna die and maybe it’s gonna be alone

✦ IMELDA & HECTOR        *    i remember that feeling. when my husband would play and i would sing and nothing else mattered

✦ SOPHIE & HOWL        *    i know how to help you now. find me in the future

✦ BECKETT & CASTLE        *    stop and stare: i think i'm moving but i go nowhere

✦ ELENA & NATHAN        *    we were strangers starting out on a journey

✦ ROBIN & CHROM        *    you are the wind at my back and the sword at my side

✦ ROSEMARY & JACK        *    and at least in this lifetime we're sticking together

✦ CAMILA & JOSE        *    i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight

✦ REBECCA & JEROME        *    for if i am not their shepherd then i must be the wolf

✦ SARAH & DEACON        *    but i’ll walk beside you love. anywhere the wind blows

✦ JULIET & SHAWN        *    since i met you i've been thinking about getting a car

✦ CAT & VINCENT        *    do you know what loneliness does to a man?

✦ ROSE & MELISSA        *    can i dream for a few months more?

✦ PENNY & ALEX        *    woke up in a safe house singing let’s get married

✦ PENNY & HALEY        *    go ahead let your hair down

✦ JULIET & LASSIE        *    i’ll be going to get my partner now

✦ CINDY & ZIGGY        *    i won’t let anything pull us apart again

✦ ALBERT & AMELIA        *    me and mrs. jones we got a thing going on

✦ RUTHERFORD FAMILY        *    to be cut off from one’s family is its own very special sort of loneliness

✦ MORTIE & KEATS        *    you don't hear me saying anything crazy about their weird little relationship!

✦ BARBARA & DICK        *    does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes?

✦ GUSTAV & JACQUELYN        *    i’m sorry i had nothing to say that night

✦ BENEDICT & SOPHIE        *    in her heart she longed for this man; dreamed of a life that could never be

✦ KATE & ANTHONY        *    you are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires

✦ TAYLOR & LESLIE        *    i knew you were the one

✦ DANI & JAMIE        *    you said it was a ghost story. it isn’t. it’s a love story

✦ CASSIE & NATHAN        *    treasure hunting runs in the family

✦ JOYCE & HOPPER        *    watchin' in slow motion as you turn my way and say take my breath away

✦ LAURA & MAX        *    can we go home now?

✦ LAURA & TRAVIS        *    you think this is over? this isn’t over

✦ KINSEY & AARON        *    everything's growing in our garden. you don't have to know that it's haunted

✦ MILLIE & JOHN        *    our whole lives have been wasted just staring across the church

✦ BILLY & TRAVIS        *    i dream most every night that i never left you

✦ VERONICA & TRAVIS        *    but i never lost this feeling or this pounding in my chest

✦ SNOW & BIGBY        *    you are the moon that breaks the night for which i have to howl

✦ LEIA & HAN        *    captain; being held by you isn’t quite enough to get me excited

✦ GARCIA & LUKE        *    maybe there was a slight chink in your fluffy armor

✦ LEIA & FLOYD        *    i read the graffiti in the bathroom stall

✦ KINSEY & LUKE        *    damn i wish i was your lover

✦ KINSEY & DC        *    i never did believe in miracles but i've a feeling it's time to try

✦ NANA & HAURCHEFANT        *    i would rather break the world than lose you

✦ AUSTIN & SPENCER        *    i never did believe in the ways of magic but i'm beginning to wonder why

✦ LOIS & CLARK        *    here i am like a kid out of school. holding hands with a god

#✦ OOC

[silvanoir]

What even is my life?

My life has become insane.  I though things might calm down after my mom died but the things that happened while she was sick and then after is.  Man oh man.  It’s the stuff of a primetime drama.

I lost hearing in my right ear for 4 weeks.  I thought it was due to loud noises in work and permanent, and was weeping over it.  Turns out it was a bad ear infection, cured by antibiotic pills that were half the size of my pinky finger.

My dad has no idea that he doesn’t have life insurance.  Because looking though paperwork the financial advisor found out my mom cashed it in in 2003 to pay for my college.  I had no idea.  He still doesn’t.  He’s 84 with a blod clot in his heart (and multiple other health problems), it was decided it was best he never knows.

I went from worrying that I’d live in my car last year to .... well the opposite of that.

My mom is leaving me $20,000 in life insurance.  Which sweet!  I can finally get energy efficient windows in the basement (the main floor has updated windows, basement has its original thin 1960s windows, one of which is cracked).  With money leftover to hire the neighborhood lawn service so I don’t have to mow in the summer heat anymore, just tend to my garden (was getting hard, physically, due to the nerve damage in my right foot, to push the mower along).  Among other things I want to get fixed up around the house.

But that’s not all.  Searched my parents’ old house with the financial advisor.  We found my dads coin collection, which dad said I could have, and the Advisor looked the values up.  Some of them go for $1,000.  EACH.  Too bad the collection is only half the size it once was because in the 1970′s some teenage guys on drugs broke in and stole half (to buy more drugs of course).  There’s also an old Lionel Train set that might go for a lot.  And one of my mom’s collector dolls still had the original price tag on it.

We were also there to get rid of old weapons.  There was my dad’s gun, which he was given by a farmer in Indiana, from the 1930s (the gun is from the 30s, I don’t know when my Dad was in the Midwest).  And my uncle’s rifle, from the 1960s, which my uncle told me “I meant throw that into the ocean years ago”  which leads us to suspect it was .... involved in something.  We wore gloves and bagged them up and were going to turn them in to the no-questions-asked gun return.  But then the financial advisor, with his gloves off, had to check if the rifle was still loaded.  Fingerprints, dude!  Which then lead me, with my gloves still on, to take the guns and a shovel and bury them in a swamp an an undisclosed location.  I am keeping my dads old hunting knife, though.  Always wanted a hunting knife.  I don’t hunt, just like pointy things (I also want a sword!)

But back to the money.

When the financial advisor sat me down and added up everything.  What the collectables will sell for.  What’s in my checking and savings (not including the house value, which I’m still paying the mortgage on).  What’s in my parents checking and all their stocks and investments.  It all comes to....

[above: “One Million Dollars” Dr. Evil gif]

Once my dad dies, and everything goes all to me I’ll be a millionaire.  I still haven’t mentally processed it.  I’ve always lived like I’m lower middle class, shopping at bargain and thrift stores and buying things on sale.  Now I can afford stuff?  But I still go to bargain stores out of habit?  I ranted against “Those damn rich people” but now I am a damn rich person ????  (or will be in a some years).    But its not yet, NOT YET! I still have to get up at 2 am to be in work by 3am at a shipping warehouse and pretend like everything is...  well not the way it is?  Not the way it will be?

It also feels like a Last Unicorn situation.  Molly.  “Why do you come to me now, when I’m like this?”  Not when I was younger and had my health and ambition .... instead I’m so mentally and physically broken down.  My doctors say with my health problems that I’LL BE DEAD BY MY LATE 60S.  I just turned 40 this year.  But I don’t have to worry about money in the future I guess ???  I’ll be able to enjoy the next 20-something years before I croak?

Also, I know there’s mutuals who are reading this who are struggling who’d probably like me to give them something, but I can’t right now.  Still going through paperwork and again, I haven’t inherited or received money from anything yet!  Much of it is years and years ahead. I still only have my car and bank account solely in my name, dad’s still alive.  And still dealing with so much in life beside that.  Someday, I’ll help you out.

Right now my brain is spinning around like it was put in the dryer.

#real life #long post

[ofavernus]

I DID NOT FALL. I ROSE TO SHOULDER A COSMIC BURDEN.

ind. semi-selective, private rp blog for zariel of dungeons and dragons (as well as a few related characters, such as BG3's mizora) est. 8 / 21 / 2023, and written by fawkes ( he/they, 27 ). i’m mutuals-only, and low-activity. timezone is GMT-8. follows back from @voxdraconis.

rules and info below.

information.

this is a blog for antagonists, so it'll be relatively low-activity and will be, y'know, treated like an antagonist blog. this one isn't here to be friends. it might be here to turn you into a warlock. (:

zariel doesn't leave avernus much. she has a blood war to fight, after all. she speaks on the material plane mostly through servants or agents. i'm going to be including one sub-muse on this blog (mizora, wyll's patron cambion from BG3) as well as the following that i've used in my own d&d game:

sharptongue, a red-brown furred imp with the head of a bat, who acts as one of zariel's mouthpieces for when she needs to speak to warlocks or hunt down runaways directly. he has no character of his own, he's just for zariel to talk through, more or less.

dame surila, a tortoiseshell tabaxi paladin, dressed in the light leathers of a knight of Lathander and armed with two shortswords. she was a hellrider of the ancient past once. she's also more or less an empty husk (died, after pledging her swords eternally to zariel) and the archdevil puppets her body for when she needs a mouthpiece on the material plane that's less obviously infernal. dame surila looks like an adventurer until inspected with magic like a paladin's divine sense, which reads her as both fiend and undead.

rules.

not doing shipping on this one, though mizora may be down for shenanigans. would you, though? would you do that to wyll? you gonna bang his patron and then look him in the eye about it?

i encourage you to send me asks on this blog, it's the easiest way to interact with me. all my stuff over here (askmemes, open posts) are free game.

always feel free to ask me to tag something it if makes you uncomfortable or otherwise. i'll try to tag common content warnings as best I can, and i'd appreciate if my mutuals could do me the great service of tagging anything related to cancer, real world terminal illness or hospitals. (fantasy/fictional diseases and such are fine.) this blog won't have any full-on smut on it, though it may include mildly sexual content. it will, most likely, have canon-typical mature content around the same level as in the actual game. violence, darker themes, ect.

i have a full time job. i am a low-activity blog that may take a long while to reply (& an especially long time to answer asks). please bear with me, and always feel free to poke me and ask about a particular reply—i actually prefer if people let me know about threads they're particularly invested in. but also, know that i'm not ignoring people, i just have limited time. sometimes i will hyperfocus on particular threads and take longer to get to some than others. it's just how my brain works.

i don't care if you don't use formatting, all i ask is that you proofread your posts, and trim threads so that they don't get too overly long.

have fun & be yourself ect ect.

#pinned post.

[dat-carovieh]

Self Defence

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

Tags: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, injury, fight, training, getting together

“Geralt!” Geralt sliced the head from another Nekker as he heard his name shouted behind him. “GERALT!” Much more desperate now, accompanied by the sound of breaking wood of someone running through it. He swung his sword once more and hit the last creature in front of him, before he turned around and saw the Bard stumbling out of the trees, immediately followed by five more Nekkers. He sighted. How the hell did Jaskier always managed to get himself into trouble?Without missing a beat, he walked past Jaskier and swung his sword again. Behind him he heard heavy breathing and he smelled fear radiating from Jaskier. Probably a normal human reaction, he wouldn’t know, he himself rarely felt fear. It didn’t take long to kill the other creatures, Nekker weren’t that strong, luckily. But instead you would never encounter just one or two. Which wasn’t a problem for the Witcher but certainly for an unarmed and untrained human. Geralt turned around to look at Jaskier who seemed much calmer, now the monsters were dead. The smell of fear was gone now. “You alright? They didn’t hurt you?” Geralt asked. “No, I got to you quick enough,” the Bard replied. “Good, you can help me, we need the eyes, hearts and claws, we can sell them later”, Geralt explained and tossed a knife to Jaskier who caught it with one hand. Geralt looked a bit impressed, maybe he had more skills then singing and seducing married women. “Oh man, these things are quick, for a moment, I really thought, I wouldn’t make it to you in time. I didn’t mean to run into them. I just didn’t want to be in your way and I must have gotten distracted and walked to far away. Then suddenly they were running at me. I’m sorry Geralt,” Jaskier started rambling, while he tended to the Nekker corpse in front of him.

Geralt had given up, trying to get rid of him a couple of weeks ago now and actually started to let him help a bit. Just with cutting out the valuable parts, since Jaskier obviously wasn’t a fighter. He never even had swung a sword. But he had to admit to himself, it was nice having someone with him who actually seemed to like him and didn’t see him as a monster. They had packed up everything that was somehow valuable and could buy them a bed and some food. For dinner Geralt had hunted down a young deer, it would even be enough to feed them the following day since they would probably not be able to get to an inn before evening. Now they were sitting at the fire, enjoying the meat. “You were clearly afraid earlier, why are you still following me?” Geralt asked, “you can’t defend yourself and we are constantly in danger.” Jaskier looked up from his meat. “I’m not sure, I think it’s kind of exciting, I get great ideas for new song. Your adventures are well received in my audience. Also, I feel like you need a friend, someone who is there for you, oh and if you believe it or not, I actually like you,” Jaskier explained, after a moment of thinking. Geralt snorted at the last bit. “I don’t need a friend.” That’s what he always said, but it was far less believable then it had been when they just met. Jaskier didn’t believe it for a second. “Everyone needs a friend and especially you, if you want to admit it or not.” Geralt didn’t respond to that, he just let out a deep growl and took another bite out of his meat. They finished the rest of their meal in silence. Geralt put the leftover meat away, so no animals would try to steal it, sat back down at the fire. Jaskier had taken his lute and started playing some notes, composing a new song. “Jaskier,” Geralt demanded the Bards attention, after listening for a while and got a questioning look in return. “This cannot continue like this,” Geralt started, but was interrupted by Jaskier. “What do you mean? Are you sending me away?” “Shut up, Bard and listen to me. It cannot continue like this, that you wander of, find some monsters and then come running and screaming to me to have me fight them of. One day I might not be fast enough to save your ass. If you want to continue traveling with me, you must learn how to fight, at least a little bit, because if not, one day you will get killed out here.” Jaskier was lost for words for a moment, something, that didn't happen often to him. Geralt wanted him to learn to fight? And he didn't want to send him away. And also, he seemed to actually worry about Jaskier safety, which made him unexplainably happy. He had always known, the whole talk about Witchers having no emotions was bollocks, even thought, Geralt rarely showed them. But after spending some time with Geralt, one just notices the small signs. "I'm not sure if I can do that. I've never used a sword before," he answered. "I'm not taking you with me any longer, if you can't defend yourself at least a little. I don't want to risk losing you." Jaskier smiled, he really did care about him, a warm sensation spread through his body. Also, Geralt was probably right, he should be able to defend himself, he could at least try. "Alright, you teaching me?" "Hmm," Geralt hummed, in an agreeing tone, "tomorrow." With that he lied down and closed his eyes. It was late and the day had been exhausting. But they would have more time tomorrow. He didn’t have an open contract so not really much to do. They could train in the morning and ride back to the town in the afternoon to collect their reward and hopefully sell some of the stuff they collected.“Take that sword, Jaskier,” Geralt said and handed him a simple steel sword. He had taken it from a bandit who had tried to rob them two days earlier. “That’s a lot smaller, then your swords,” Jaskier complained, turning it around in his hand. “Well, you can have one of mine but they are much heavier,” Geralt suggested and picked up his own steel sword. Jaskier took it and it was obviously too heavy for him. The

Bard grinned and tried to pretend everything was fine. “Swing it,” Geralt said, suppressing a smirk. Jaskier lifted the sword over his head and as he moved it down again, he nearly fell over, pulled down by the weight of the weapon. Now Geralt wasn’t suppressing his grin anymore. “Still want to use that one or maybe one that’s better suited for your weight and strength?” he asked. Jaskier looked at him a bit hurt but switched Geralt sword for the smaller one again. Geralt now took his own sword and positioned himself in front of the bard. “Alright, let’s start. First you position your feet like that, to get a secure stand and so you can move quickly,” he explained as he put his feet shoulder width apart and then one step back with his left foot. Jaskier did what he was told and screamed when he suddenly fell backwards. Geralt had made a quick step forward and pushed him. “Not secure enough. Again,” he commanded and offered the offended looking Bard his hand. “That was not fair. You could have warned me,” he complained, while he was pulled back to his feet. “In a fight you will get no warning”, was the short answer. Jaskier positioned his feet again, bending his knees a bit, this time. He seemed a lot steadier now. “Ok, I’m gonna push you now,” Geralt warned him this time. Jaskier lost his balance for a moment, but did not fall. Geralt started walking around him and pushed from each side. As he stood in front of him again and the Bard was still on his feet, Geralt looked impressed. “Good, now I will push harder and you will use your feet to avoid falling, like this,” he explained and showed him how to effectively move around. Jaskier nodded, but he didn’t look to sure about it. Geralt could barely bring himself, to push the guy who stood there, clutching his sword and looking at him with these puppy eyes. He told himself the ground isn’t too hard, there is a lot of grass growing so Jaskier would hopefully not hurt himself in case he fell. He pushed with more strength than before and Jaskier stumbled two steps back, it took a couple of seconds until he regained his balance but he did not fall. “Good, you will get better at this with time,” Geralt explained. He realized, the Bard hadn’t really talked in a while. “Is everything alright?” Geralt asked, “You are awfully quiet. Usually, you can’t stop talking.” Geralt was right, he has been really quiet but he tried to do everything right and learn quickly, because he really did not want to leave Geralt for anything in the world. Focusing was hard enough with the Witcher standing in front of him with his tight pants and slightly open shirt. He couldn’t really spare any brain cells for talking much. “Everything is fine, I’m just trying to focus,” he explained. “Ok, then now let’s see how you can work with that sword, get a bit used to it. Try to hit me, I will not fight back for now, just defend myself,” Geralt explained and raised his sword. Jaskier nodded. It felt a bit weird, that he was supposed to try to hit Geralt, that was the last thing he would want. But of course, he wouldn’t have a chance to actually hurt him. He raised his sword, made a step forward and swung at Geralt. It was blocked easily. He made some more, of course each one was blocked instantly. “This is good, really, for the first time,” Geralt said approvingly. Jaskier smiled, it felt good hearing that. “This is really tiring, it looks so easy, when you do it,” Jaskier admitted and took some deep breaths. “It can be exhausting but it gets better with more training. Should we try it the other way around? I will attack you and you will try to block”, Geralt suggested. Jaskier’s face suddenly changed and he looked scared. He never looked scared when he looked at Geralt. Geralt had to swallow for a moment, because Jaskier looking as if he was scared of him actually hurt him a lot. He was not used to feelings like that but Jaskier had changed so much about what he felt. “Don’t worry, I’ll tone it down, I'll be slow and I'll stop before I hit you,” he promised, “do you

trust me?” Jaskier visibly relaxed. “Yes, yes I trust you.” His grip around the sword tightened. Geralt would never hurt him. “Ready?” Jaskier nodded. Geralt did as he promised, he started really slow and increased speed a bit after he realized, Jaskier was able to block his strikes. He was still moving slow but it seemed like the Bard actually had some talent for sword fighting. Geralt advanced slowly on Jaskier who backed off at the same speed. Until he hit a tree and couldn’t back down any more. Geralt made one more step and pressed him against the tree with one arm across his chest. He raised his sword and held it against Jaskier’s throat. “And you’re dead”, he exclaimed. Jaskier gasped, Geralt was so close and he didn’t step away. He just stared at him, his arm still pressed on his chest, nothing in his face gave his emotions away. He could feel Geralt’s body heat, the yellow eyes staring at him. These eyes had always fascinated him. Most people would probably be intimidated or scared by that but he wasn’t. He just felt warm and save and maybe a bit confused. Why didn’t Geralt stop staring at him? The sword that had been dangerously close to his throat had now been lowered. The arm that pressed him to the tree loosened and he could relax a little. Geralt’s hand stroked his arm really softly as he lowered his arm. A shudder went down Jaskier back. He could hear Geralt exhaling the air, he apparently had been holding in. And finally, he stepped away a bit. “I think we should stop for today, you look like you need a break,” Geralt decided. Jaskier was still a bit confused and overwhelmed from what had just happened and he was relieved, that Geralt suggested to take a break.They had been riding back to the town and arrived there in the late afternoon, with enough time to get some things done. Like always, not everyone was pleased to see them, some of the town folks made snarky remarks about seeing a Witcher and how he should better leave again. Geralt was used to it and just ignored it, Jaskier on the other hand wasn’t really used to that and had difficulties dealing with it. They went to collect their reward and after that they found an alchemist who was happy to buy the Nekker parts from them. Now they had enough coin for two rooms, some food and they even some left for later. And maybe Jaskier could earn a bit later by singing about their adventures in the tavern.Geralt was sitting alone in a corner of the tavern brooding and drinking beer, while Jaskier drew most of the attention to himself singing and playing his lute. He had written a new song, the past couple of days while they were hunting in the woods and of course he absolutely had to find out what the audience thought about it. It was so obvious Jaskier loved music so much. He looked truly happy, completely caught up in what he was doing. It was really great to see him perform and it seemed, people appreciated his music. The corner of Geralt’s mouth twitched a little bit, it could almost considered a smile. He normally didn’t admit it but he quite liked Jaskier’s singing. The next song was ‘Toss a coin to your Witcher’, which was for some reason really well known and popular. And to Geralt’s disappointment it drew a lot of attention to him. Many people turned around to stare at the Witcher which seemed to make Jaskier even happier. Geralt quickly adjusted his face to a glare. He had a reputation to maintain. Jaskier laughed a little between two lines. He obviously had seen the Witcher smile and quickly changing his expression when people started to look at him. Geralt took another gulp of his beer and continued to stare at the people until they turned around again. Apparently, the people in that town liked Jaskier’s music since they were able to gather quite a bit of coin by the time, the Bard had finished his performance. Jaskier had just finished going around, collecting coin from the audience and his hat was really heavy. He decided to spent a bit of it on some beer for Geralt and himself before he

would get to the table. Geralt beer was nearly empty. He was taking a sip and watching Jaskier walking up to the bar. As soon as Jaskier had ordered, a woman approached him. Geralt watched them skeptically. The woman was smiling sweetly at Jaskier as she greeted him. Jaskier turned to her and smiled back. Geralt let out a low growl. “You are traveling with the Witcher?” she asked. She didn’t smile that sweetly anymore. She looked more confused as how someone like Jaskier would travel with someone like Geralt. Jaskier face on the other hand lightened up as she mentioned Geralt and he quickly glanced over at the Witcher who still stared at them not completely emotionless anymore but a bit angry. Jaskier didn’t seem to care and turned back to the woman as he agreed with her. “But why would you do that? He’s a Mutant and dangerous. Isn’t he the Butcher of Blaviken?” She probably thought, Geralt couldn’t hear her, a normal human wouldn’t have been able to, but since his senses were much stronger than human senses, he could hear every word. Jaskier looked properly offended. “These are just mean rumors. He might be a mutant but he’s not dangerous and what happened in Blaviken was not as bad as people claim. He walks around, killing monsters and saving people and people treat him so badly.” Geralt mouth twitched a little at hearing Jaskier defending him. Jaskier had already turned away from the woman again considering the conversation over, but she put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. That’s just what I heard, but you probably know him better.” Geralt knew immediately that she was lying she believed every word she said, she was just trying to hit on Jaskier and Geralt absolutely did not like it. She inched a little bit closer to Jaskier and had gotten her sweet smile back. “So, you have anything planned for tonight?” she asked and slowly stroked Jaskier face. Geralt looked now at them really closely to see how Jaskier would react. He pulled back, Geralt realized a bit relieved. “Yeah well sleeping was the plan, I’m really tired.” She looked a bit taken aback, apparently, she didn’t expect to be rejected. “Oh, but not on your own? Let’s have a little fun,” she tried again and wrapped her hands around the bard’s neck, who tried to push her away. The Witcher sighted and loudly put his mug down. Everyone in the tavern were turning heads and staring at him but he ignored them and just walked up straight to the bar. The woman had dropped her arms and stared at him like the rest of the people. “I think it’s time for you to go,” Geralt suggested, looking at her and put an arm around Jaskier. She looked scared and finally backed of, leaving them alone. “That Witcher guy really is not nice,” Geralt heard her complain after she returned to her table. “Thanks Geralt but I think I would have managed on my own,” Jaskier explained. “Hmm,” Geralt hummed “, maybe so but I didn’t like her, all over you.” “Geralt? Are you…” he looked up at him questioning, “are you jealous?” “Of course not,” Geralt answered, took his beer and led Jaskier back to their table. Jaskier smiled at him. “Alright, sure.”While they were sitting and drinking someone had come up to them, asking for the service of a Witcher. Apparently, there were something out there, killing sheep every day. The man couldn’t say what it was but Geralt agreed to look into it on the next day, before they finally went up to their rooms for the night.They had left early the following day to meet with the client and take a look at the herd and especially the dead sheep. Geralt couldn’t exactly say what it was, but they were now tracking it through the woods. Jaskier couldn’t see anything but Geralt’s Witcher senses seemed to pick up on traces. As the sun began to set Geralt suggested to make camp, Jaskier was thankful for it since they usually traveled a lot more in one day and he always ended up completely exhausted. “How about another lesson,” Geralt suggested after they had settled in. Jaskier didn’t seem to pleased about it. “Jaskier, you need to

train and it’s not to late I specifically wanted to make camp early for that reason.” “Alright,” Jaskier answered and got up to get his sword. At first Geralt instructed him, to get in position like he taught him the day before. Without a warning he pushed Jaskier again but he was prepared this time and only stumbled a little. “Good, next lesson,” Geralt started “now we both try to fight, don’t worry, I go slow on you. Don’t let me hit you and try to get through my defenses.” “As if I could get through you defenses,” Jaskier countered. “Probably not but that doesn’t matter, the better the opponent, the quicker you will learn,” Geralt assured him. A moment later the swords loudly clashed together. It was hard for Jaskier to even get a hit in between protecting himself and of course each one was easily blocked. Geralt got through his defense’s a lot. He would touch him lightly with his sword and immediately go on. Jaskier looked extremely focused the whole time trying to do what he was told to and trying to learn. His blue eyes following Geralt sword. He was sweating and breathed heavily. He looked really good with his hair hanging into his face and the red cheeks, Geralt caught himself thinking. For a moment he was distracted and he realized, Jaskier didn’t block his last strike but it was to late to stop it. He was able to slow it down a little bit but he still hit his thigh. “Ow,” Jaskier shouted and looked shocked at Geralt. “Fuck,” Geralt exclaimed, dropped his sword and ran up to Jaskier to check on him. He could see a little cut in the bard’s pants and a little blood coming from his leg. That absolutely should not have happened, Geralt thought, internally panicking. “Take for your pants,” he ordered quickly. “Excuse me?”, Jaskier asked, a bit overwhelmed by the upset Witcher. He couldn’t even pay attention to his hurting leg. “Take of your pants so I can look at that cut,” Geralt explained. “Ok, maybe we should go over there and sit down before.” Geralt took a quick glance back to their camp, placed one arm behind Jaskier back, one under his legs and picked the Bard up. “I can walk, you know?” Jaskier asked but he still put an arm around Geralt’s neck to hold himself up a bit and maybe also as an excuse to be closer to him. He felt a bit betrayed at first, since Geralt promised him, not to hurt him, but he couldn’t be mad at him, now while he was panicking around him. Geralt didn’t say anything, just put him down. “Pants,” he commanded again. Jaskier rolled his eyes but complied. Geralt calmed down a little, since Jaskier didn’t seem seriously hurt but it was still his fault so he absolutely had to make sure, that he was alright. He rummaged through his bags and produced a bottle with herbs and some clean rugs. As he touched Jaskier’s leg near the wound the bard breathed in sharply, of course it hurt. Luckily it looked like it was a clean cut and it also didn’t seem to be dirty. He took one rug and wiped the blood away, before he but the healing herbs on it. “Ah shit that hurt,” Jaskier complained. Geralt was sure it did, at least for someone who is not a Witcher and also not used to stuff like that. “It will soon be better, the herbs will help with the pain and healing. Let me just bandage it and then we can eat. He took another rug and wrapped it tightly around the leg. “I will have another look at it tomorrow,” he explained and looked up to the bard who was watching him with a slight smile on his face. “Thanks,” he whispered. “You don’t need to thank me, I’m the one who injured you,” Geralt objected. He couldn’t take his gaze of Jaskier face. Jaskier lifted his hand and gently laid it on Geralt’s cheek. As the Witcher didn’t pull back and the corners of his mouth even twitched a bit, Jaskier took all of his courage, leaned in and kissed Geralt, just a short moment before he pulled back again, but Geralt didn’t agree with that, he took Jaskier head between his hands and kissed him again. Jaskier could barely believe that Geralt would really return his feelings. He buried

his fingers in the long white hair, losing himself in the kiss, never wanting to let go. He slowly dropped back into a laying position and pulled Geralt with him, now the Witcher was laying on top of him, feeling the comforting warm weight on top of him. Finally, Geralt pulled back and looked at Jaskier. “I love you, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt just let out a low growl. Jaskier hadn’t really expected an answer. Just the fact that he put his head down next to Jaskier’s in a way so that their cheeks brushed against each other, the way Geralt put his arms more around Jaskier, pressed himself against the bard, that was answer enough for him. He didn’t need more. He had already forgotten he had an injured leg. He couldn’t have been happier than right in this moment. Geralt laying on top of him, gently stroking his hair.

This has been my very first Witcher fic that I wrote in early 2020. Would love to get some opinions. I will put the AO3 link in the comments.

Thanks everyone for reading.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #Geraskier fic #Geralt x Jaskier #my writing #my Witcher fic

[fanfic-corner]

Destiel

It’s my birthday tomorrow, and to celebrate, I’ve compiled a list of my favourite fics! I’ve read a lot of Destiel fics over the past year, but these are the ones that have stuck with me the most. I’ve not put as much detail in as I usually do because otherwise we would be here forever, but I am begging you to read these fics. They’re all amazing.

Kiss You When It’s Dangerous by zoemathemata (@zoemathemata) on AO3. (57,593 words).

It’s adorable. The plot is fabulous. It’s my all time favourite fic. Please, I am begging you, just read it.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings (@whelvenwings) on AO3. (31,252 words).

The first Destiel fic I ever read, and it’s managed to stay with me this whole time.

Angel’s Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseoftefallenone on AO3. (389,271 words).

The pining is unbearable but it’s all worth it in the end. The ultimate slow burn.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood (@tomhardysteeth) on AO3. (3,673 words).

Cas is adorable. Eileen is adorable. Everyone is adorable.

a turn of the earth by microcomets on AO3. (95,274 words).

Of course I’ll rec the ultimate John Winchester bashing fic. The plot is so amazing and it is written excellently.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance on AO3. (31,820 words).

This was beautifully written, made me cry, and the ending haunts me to this day.

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison (@aaziraphales) on AO3. (68,689 words).

Jesus Christ, I have not read another fic where these two are such blatant idiots. That being said... I love it. Everything about it is amazing.

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering (@wanderingcas) on AO3. (74,198 words).

So cute! All the angst! My all time favourite trope and absolutely the best take on it!

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact (@vanishingactblog) on AO3. (67,950 words).

Okay this is adorable and you can’t convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with Gabriel in, I miss him just a bit more.

Down Like Water by museaway (@museaway) on AO3. (14,512 words).

I reread this occasionally just to feel something. I literally had to check if I misread the tags like 3 times and I cry every. single. time.

Partnered by K_K_TiBal (@thebloggerbloggerfun) on AO3. (28,112 words).

This is so fucking cute. The artwork is gorgeous. And, now I ship Jody and Donna. All round win.

Black Swans by omphalos and Wolfling on AO3. (66,455 words).

Okay so maybe this is more Sabriel than Destiel, but it was written amazingly and the plot was phenomenal!

this is a good thing, dean (prayer is a sign of faith) by cascountsdeansfreckles on AO3. (529 words).

The one time Cas can’t hear his prayers... I had to include a 15x18 fic in here somewhere, and this one set me off.

Purgatory, director’s cut by runsinthefamily on AO3. (23,722 words).

This was beautiful. It felt hypnotic, almost like poetry, and I absolutely cried at the end.

The House on the Ocean Road by coffeeandcas (@coffeeandcas) on AO3. (111,351 words).

This was gorgeous! Dean and Cas as parents was adorable, and Jimmy was such a fucking icon I don’t even know where to start. Also, not the weirdest past Cas ship I’ve ever seen (but it’s up there).

Broadway Musical by Griftings on AO3. (12,453 words).

The King and Queen of the crack fics. I adore the ‘did you fuck the Michael sword’ vibes and the formatting just makes everything so much funnier.

How Many Slams In An Old Screen Door [podfic] by Tenoko1 (@tenoko1) on AO3. (1hr 50mins).

Before we were shoved back into lockdown, I used to listen to podfics on the way to/from school, and this has to be my all time favourite so far. The asexual representation was fantastic, the plot was hilarious, and (as always) it was read beautifully.

When Charlie Met Cas by riseofthefallenone on AO3. (24,666 words).

This has to be thee funniest fic ever written. I don’t make the rules.

Boneless Wings by PallasPerilous (@pallasperilous) on AO3. (4,333 words).

The art is gorgeous (I’d literally just finished watching Pan’s Labyrinth which was terrifying) and it was such a brilliant parody of all the other wing fics out there (not that I don’t love them too!)

Grace by july_19th_club (@july-19th-club) on AO3. (5,164 words).

This was gorgeous and now I really want to see it filmed! It is so much better than the ending we got. I would say the author should work for them, but... frankly, they deserve better.

It Started With a Fanfic Competition by Tenoko1 (@tenoko1) on AO3. (124,487 words).

This was written beautifully. It was so wholesome, not afraid to call the characters out on their usual bullshit, and has genuinely more character development than the entire 15 year long show.

Serendipity by whelvenwings (@whelvenwings) on AO3. (23,891 words).

I absolutely adored every character in this (and thoroughly enjoyed guessing who was going to show up next!) and the plot was fabulous!

The Mute!Cas ‘verse by Princess_Aleera on AO3. (148,656 words).

Oh man. I wasn’t sure at first, but this is now maybe my favourite universe out there. The fluff was unbelievably fluffy, the angst was quality pain, and that’s without mentioning the fact the end had me ugly sobbing. On Christmas Eve.

When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth by Mishafied on AO3. (68,926 words).

Oh my lord, what about this isn’t amazing? The casting was fabulous, the amount of research was obvious and really paid off, and I mean... Jurassic Park AU! It made me desperate to rewatch the films, too.

The Passion of the Christ (and his angelic ex-boyfriend) by Bzzee (@clarafordahwin) on AO3. (4,972 words).

I am going straight to Hell, and it is because of this fic right here. That being said, this is top quality crack and I’ve sent it to everyone I know just for the trip (two of them had never watched SPN. One asked me if Jesus was actually in it).

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow on AO3. (352,388 words).

I won’t spoil it, but one of the best plot twists of all time! The exploration of Dean & Cas’ relationship, the detail put into the lore, the foreshadowing... amazing.

Apres by imogenbynight (@imogenbynight) on AO3. (24,045 words).

This was so adorable - Cas and Dean deserved a holiday in France!

I hope you enjoyed them! I’ve really been struck - especially over quarantine - with appreciation for all the writers out there who are giving us this professional quality content for free. I genuinely don’t know what I’d do without you, which is why I’ve done my best to hunt you down and tag you so you can take my love! There are a hundred other fics that I could have included on here as well, or ones that I’ve read since making this list. Thank you all so much for giving us these wonderful stories!

#fic rec #favourite fics #destiel #supernatural #sabriel #spn #fave

[what-the--curtains]

There Are No Wolves in the Desert

Part 2 - The Tell Tale Knife

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

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Summary: After the death of his paramour Oberyn seeks out a local mercenary known as the Shadow Hunter, but who he finds is more valuable than he could have imagined.

Authors notes: Thank you for all the comments, likes and reblogs! I’ve loved Robb and Oberyn since I read the books like 10 years ago now (yes my parent gave me that book when I was like 13 😂) I’m so happy to finally write down whats been in my head for years! Thank you for letting me share it with you💕💕 as per usual let me know if youd like a tag (or untag)!

Tw: Alcohol, violence, threats of sexual assault, swearing, nudity (implied), mentions of sex.

Word count: 4.5 k

Tagged: @evyiione @ayamenimthiriel @xsadderdazeforeverx @agingerindenial (if i missed anyone please let me know im the worst for tagging!!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 years later

The days passed slowly while you remained tucked away, out of sight from those seeking to do you harm. A generous payment kept you safe in the attic of a local blacksmith, the promise of more ensuring you wouldn't be sold out. Once the imminent threat of assasination was over you focused on staying alive, finding the dragon queen becoming a distant memory, one that would have to wait until a more opportune moment presented itself. You used the last of your funds to purchase a horse and sought out work where you could. For a while you served as a healer to those returning from the fighting pits and other skirmishes occurring between nearby cities, until a Lannister soldier showed up searching for you. After that you moved further out of town finding work at a tavern miles from the city walls catering to a variety of characters travelling from near and far.

The owners were good folk, a retired sculptor, her wife and two young children. You’d stopped in for a drink with plans on heading further south, but an incident changed your course. A man came in threatening the owners demanding a payout when you’d stepped in, the man thought it would be easy, and it was at least for you. You helped them bury the body and they’d asked you to stay and so you did; tending to bar, training the horses and offering protection when needed. In return they offered you a bed, hot meals and a small salary despite your insistence that room and board was more than enough. It was a quiet life, a simple life, but one you enjoyed greatly. The noise of war and murder a ditant cry. Only in your sleep were you reminded of the cruelty of the world. The restful days quickly turned to weeks and it wasn't long until a year had passed, as had the memories of who you were.

The rumour of your murder had spread slowly from king landing, uttered from between the poisonous lips of Cersei Lannister, a lie you prayed one day would come back to haunt her. The day the news reached the ears of your employers you knew it was time to leave, and you rode back through the golden gates of the city. You’d resold the horse to a palace guard whose wife worked with the royal stables, training them, breeding them, caring for them, a good place for a faithful friend to live out its days. Noticing the weapons on your back the guard offered you a fee to find and kill a man who had snuck into the palace and murdered three of his wife's favourite horses after their daughter had refused his hand in marriage. He was dead within the hour, and from there the word of your skill in both tracking and murder got around amougst the nobility, and you fell haphhazourdly into mercenary work. If there was one skill you could rely on, it was your ability to unabashedly kill and you quickly became one of Dornes finest assassins. You fell into the work, the ease at which you became accustomed to it frightened you at first, but you had been hardened by loss, and it wasn't as if you hadn’t killed before.

Any semblance of emotional morality long forgotten, unable, or not wanting to have it all come seeping back, fearful of what may surface as a result. Most of your money went to keeping you fed, well rested and off any enemy radars. After the first month, money became more lucrative and you had splashed out on new armoury and weapons, nothing flashy like some of the more ornate dornish assassins who made a show of their profession. They were harmless, though admittedly annoying and from what you heard, not nearly as impressive as they boasted. Your armour was simple, lightweight leather over loose, breathable cloth, and a dark cloak, Its hood heavy and kept drawn well up over your eyes obscuring your face from prying eyes at all times. A shadow on the wall. Your weapons were similar to your clothes, your short swords and longbow were well crafted and durable, no decoration but for a few carved vines wrapped around their ends. Your only remaining identifiers were your eyes, and the dagger belonging to your late husband which stayed with you at all times, always within reach. Any remaining money was hidden away about the city, a retirement fund if you will, assuming you lived that long.

There were bonuses beside finances in your line of work, your ability to disappear into a crowd kept you in touch with the rumour mill. Words and secrets would fall from drunken mouths carelessly. Most of it stank worse than the horse's field after rain, but there were some that rang true, and a few that even brought a rare smile to your face. A young woman had spoken loudly about Tywin Lannister's death and how he’d supposedly died on the privy, causing you to snort into your soup, a fitting end for a coward of a man.

A month later you heard that the prince of Dorne had gone to King's Landing to fight for Tyrion, where he supposedly defeated a man standing well over 12 feet tall. A tall tale of a tall man you think, knowing how royal always sought to increase the truth of their abilities. You had also heard the unfortunate news of Ellaria Sands poisoning , the venom not reaching her veins until the ship had sailed out, no remedy to be found on the vaste seascape. It was a shame, she and the Sand Snakes were skilled adversaries here and they had since scattered in search of answers and allies around the seven kingdoms, to help avenge their mother. The prince apparently had to be restrained to stop him from turning the ship around, that was a story you found more believable. From what you’d heard the prince may have many lovers but he would go to war for any of them. You’d never seen his face, except for on the back of coins or from a distance. If you had you may have noticed him enter into the tavern where you sat awaiting your payment from your most recent client.

Your eyes stay on the table, your hood pulled up well over your forehead giving you a frightening silhouette beneath the candlelight that was beginning to glow more prominently as the sun set. The young man who commissioned you entered, he stank of wine and privilege, but he was rich and the payment promised was well worth putting up with his unsavoury personality. His true odor protrudes through the thin veil of perfume attempting to mask his stench, alerting you to his presence well before he’d sat down. Your time alone had heightened your tracking skills, a side effect of living under the constant threat of being hunted. The wiry man sits down next to you, his thin fingers snapping under your eyes in an attempt to get your attention, you inhale deeply, drawing yourself back to your displeasing reality and forced social interactions.

“Where's the money?” you ask, knife whittling a notch out of the table's leg with Robbs dagger.

“Where the head?” he retorts, and you pull out a small sack, shoving it into his hand watching as he pulls at the drawstring, opening the velvet bag. He raises his eyebrows and pulls out the index finger you'd removed from the corpse.

“Head was…. indisposed. I hope this satisfies,” you murmur, this job had been messier than you intended. You typically weren't so reckless especially with a noble.

“ Very much so, ” he says taking it and turning it in his hands

“The money then,” you restate, tone flat.

“Well there's one more... proposition I had.” He states, hand resting down on your thigh.

“I'll take the money for this job then you can hand me the next target,” you respond, sighing heavily, used to people getting handsy with you.

“You can make extra on this job if you play your cards right,” he whispers, hand running up your thigh. The other reaches up to pull back on your hood within seconds your dagger had impaled his hand, pining it to the table. His wail of anguish causes the heads in the tavern to turn briefly towards the scene before returning to their lively chatter.

“You stupid bitch,” he spits making a grab for the knife but you reach forward pushing it further into the table leaning in towards him.

“The money, or I cut off your head and mount it on the wall of this tavern,” you say, louder than intended.

Oberyn watches from the bar in amusement , the last time he’d seen fire like that had come from Ellaria. He needed someone to help get his revenge, someone willing to murder a man in front of witnesses, his birds had been right, this mercenary was the one for the job.

You rip the knife from the man's hand as he throws you the coinpurse you were owed you reach for it as he stands.

“Bitch,” he spits, liquid hitting the side of your face as he pulls down your hood “you better watch you back mercenary, I'll be taking you from behind in no time.” He snarls, as you hurry to pull your cover back up.

“Clever,” you retort, wiping your face, shaking out the purse and counting your pay out. Empty threats. Or threats you didn’t care about, you could kill scum like that in your sleep, and you had. You mutter another curse under your breath at being exposed, the latest delay in dye shipments had allowed the roots of your white hair to protrude through, lucky everyone inside was too drunk to notice. The money from the job was enough to keep a roof over your head for the foreseeable future, maybe even enough for a bath, it was getting to be that time. You go to stand, you had an ‘appointment’ in town, one with a handsome payout. Before you can stand you see a pair of hands adorned in jewellery slip into your view a scent of sweet fruit and honey indicating a cleanliness and a high status, a very high status, your appointment could wait.

Obery was observant, his eyes had been glued to you even while conversing with the beautiful patrons of the bar, not wanting to lose you in the crowd. “The shadow tracker”. That’s what you had been dubbed by those residing in the city according to his sources, clients of yours pleased with your services, services he was in need of. It seems you may bear more than one secret identity, it may have been for the briefest second, but the colour of your hair stood out against the dark fabric you wore. It intrigued him, white hair was uncommon in those of your age, very rare. In fact he only knew of one person still alive with such a trait. The other, one whom he’d sent a wedding gift to years prior, was long dead, or so the Lannister would have him believe, and when has he ever trusted the word of child murderers. He may have come here in seek of a mercenary, but what he found may prove to be even more valuable to his cause.

“Payments 50 for a nobody, rate goes up with each class, royals are above my paygrade, and nobles will cost you at least 6 of those fancy rings on your fingers,” you list, taking note of the martell sigil embellished on one of the larger rings.

“How much would it be to convince a wolf to take down a Lion,” he queries, hunching his head down to try and catch a glimpse of the eyes under the hood. Your heart drops.

“Above the pay grade, couple down at the docks have a death wish, you might try your luck there,” you explain, deepening your voice slightly in an attempt to disguise yourself.

“And what would be your wish, if you could have it?” he queries, leaning back kicking his feet up onto the stool beside you. As he does the yellow of his robes come into your peripheral the suns intricately stitched on, shining against the murk of the tavern's tile floor.

“To be left alone,” you chide, this was someone well acquainted with the royals here, you didn't deal with royalty, more trouble than they're worth.

“What's that old saying? The lone wolf dies, or am I mistaken? ” he returns, chuckling slightly.

“I don’t know who you think I am but I assure you…” you say, eyes finally raising, only then realizing the prince of Dorne sat before you, at least based on his impression on one of the coins in your hand.

“Lady Stark, I was hoping we’d meet face to face,” he remarks, the long forgotten address catching you off guard causing your eyes to shoot back down.

“Lady Stark died, the Lannisters ground up her body and fed it to the king's direwolf before killing it, haven’t you heard?” you say sarcastically, pulling your knife out of the table, unsure if he’d recognized it.

“Propaganda, set to diminish the power of the north,” he says, watching the blade intently as it's pulled from the table.

“I do not know if Lady Stark is alive, but for a price I could find out, granted you tell me what you need her for,” you mutter.

“I did not come here in search of Lady Stark. I came seeking a mercenary, the so-called “shadow tracker” however, this is a most welcome surprise, as for why I need you, or her, the answer is revenge plain and simple.”

“Is that what they call me?” you remark “ So you seek out a mercenary only to find something better, something you can trade?” you pose shaking your head.

“No, I needed an assassin, but found something better. Something more lethal.” He pauses.

“Which is?” you prompt, hoping to end this conversation sooner rather than later.

“One they think is dead. Besides I figured Lady Stark would want the opportunity to take down the Lannisters.”

“I assume she would, though she may think the offer stands too good to be true,” you state, gathering up your payment and making your exit he follows suit, stopping briefly to gently nudge his hand under the chin of an attractive man standing near the door, no doubt planning on returning later.

“The desert is no place for a wolf,” he calls after you, a significant distance between the two of you now.

“I shall let you know if I see such a sight, my prince,” you shout, dramatically curtsying before turning on your heel and walking off. He smiles before re-entering the tavern.

A week later

You stroll through the dark alleys of the city, a few years ago you wouldn’t have dared ventured out so late. The woods were known to you, their dangers and sights predictable, but the city was uncharted territory. While a bear could be trusted to do as bears do, the movements of man were less predictable. Your work kept you attune to the veins of the city and the people that coursed through them. You knew where to go and where to avoid depending on the day. You knew the sounds, able to pick out when something was amiss and tonight something was. The usual scurry of the rats below or the call of the parrots from above were absent, someone had been through here and not long ago. Your hand dips into the folds of your cape and you throw your dagger catching a man in the neck. You lean over and remove it from his jugular, the blood flowing out from the wound. Before you can turn him over, something hits you knocking you forward onto your stomach. You’re lifted from the ground by the nape of your neck. Your hoods pulled down and your head pulled up to see the foul smelling client and two other assassins standing before you.

“Dirron, Brant, always a pleasure” you snarl

“No hard feelings Shadow, you’re taking out all the business” Brant responds.

“How much is he paying you? Not enough I bet he didn't pay me enough. I'll double it if you let me walk.” you plead, but they shake their heads.

“I paid you more than your worth,” he spits, gesturing to the man behind you and he lifts you up slamming you into a nearby wall pressing your face against the rough brick. You can taste the blood beginning to gather in your mouth. He releases you, handing you over to the unpleasant smelling man who brings the dagger you’d dropped into your view, pressing the steel against your cheek as he begins to speak.

“This dagger belonged to Robb Stark.”

“Did it? I stole it from a client months ago,” you say, elbowing him in the stomach causing him to drop the blade. You catch it, and drive it deep into his knee. He falls, and you unsheathe his sword and throw it catching Dirron in the chest. The large brute gets to you before your next move knocking you in the stomach and pinning you back up against the wall.

“Told you I'd have you from behind,” the client says, limping over to you and spitting on the side of your face. As the moisture hits your flesh a spear pierces through his chest , pinning him to a nearby crate as the remaining two men scatter. You push yourself up spinning to see the prince standing in the alley picking up your dagger.

“Of all the souvenirs to keep, this…” he starts, examining the blade before continuing “ is the most telling. Even with your distinct traits, the Young Wolf's knife is well known, especially by those who saw it made. Dornish steel,” he explains tossing it in the air catching it by the blade and handing it back to you by its handle.

“As I just finished explaining to your dear friend there, I stole that,” you lie, taking it from him.

“No you didn’t,” he says, eyes bright even in the dark, a familiar smirk on his lips, clearly bemused by your attempts at lying.

“Yes I did,” you retort, refusing to let up on your façade.

“Shall we debate it over a drink?” he asks, retrieving his spear from the client's body which falls to the ground with an unpleasant thunk.

“A prince slumming it with the poor?” you ask watching as he uses the dead man's silks to wipe his weapon before turning back to you.

“My enjoyment of life precludes class,” he says offering you his arm

“As you speak from your riches,” you point out, watching him run his tongue along his upper lip.

“We are not as antiquated in our ideologies here, class here is less pronounced” he assures you.

“Is it?” you argue, pushing down on his extended arm and he shrugs his shoulder in defeat, pride faltering only for a fragment of a second at the notion of being rejected. The streets are busy tonight, the warm weather bringing the people out en masse to enjoy the city's nightlife. He brings his hand up to usher you into a nearby tavern by the small of your back, but thinks twice and drops it, not wanting to lose it. As you enter he raises his hand and winks at the barkeep before following you towards the back near the window sill.

“What will it cost you?” you inquire as he sits down, watching over his shoulder as the person behind the bar pours out a decanter of wine.

“What?” he asks, the downturn of his mouth and creased forehead painting a picture of confusion.

“To let me leave here, to keep this a secret, the two men who escaped know who I am now. My time here is up.” you confess as the decanter is placed on the table the bartenders hands trailing across his shoulders causing him to smile fondly up at them.

“I do not wish you to be found. It would ruin the plans I have,” he says, slowly turning his attention back to you, offering you wine. You stare at the decanter, then to him before shaking your head causing him to chuckle

“What? Have I said something amusing? “ you question, almost annoyed.

“Untrusting,” he remarks, taking a sip of the liquid before offering it to you once again. You reach over the table grabbing the cup from his hand.

“I am untrusting because in my experience people cannot be trusted,” you explain taking a sip.

“You husband certainly lied about marrying the Frey girl,” he remarks, leaning back into his seat, arms spreading out across the chairs back.

“I’ve never been married,” you state, wanting nothing more than to punch the smug look off his face.”

“You're good,” he says, eyes giving you the once over.

“At what?”

“Lying, well perhaps not good per say but committed, i'll give you that, you fight in a similar manner.” he presses, hoping to get a rise out of you.

“So, you think I can’t fight,” you say, shaking your head with a laugh

“Your words,” he states.

“I did not come here to be insulted by the likes of you, prince or not,” you scold, sitting up.

“I didn't mean to offend,” he remarks, eyes watching your movements, evidently he’d touched a nerve.

“Didn’t you?” you query, tilting your head.

“No, truly it was not my intention, I merely believe upon improvement,” he explains.

“Hard to improve without practice, hard to practice on your own,” you state, moving to leave, the prince drawing too much attention than you wanted on you. You down the rest of your wine and utter a ‘thank you for the drink’ before bidding him a farewell and exiting the bar. You don't make it far, seemingly unable to shake him.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“That’s privileged information,” you say, turning to face him walking backwards along the cobbled streets. His eyes fall to you before looking up to the heavens, the stars were bright tonight illuminating his features. The rumours of him held true in one area undoubtedly, he was handsome.

“Come back to the palace with me.” He says, eyes still gazing up at the sky.

“I have no intention of divulging in your pleasure my prince, my heart belongs to another, I swore I wouldn’t stray from him even in death,” you reply, turning back to walk forward spitting blood out onto the street, sure one of your teeth must have been knocked out in the earlier fight.

“While I disagree with more than one of those statements I did not mean to imply, though I would be remiss to say it wouldn’t be of great honour. I heard the Young Wolf betrayed an entire kingdom for you.” he says eyes once again on you, trying to catch a glimpse of your features obscured by the hood.

“Are you suggesting I got my husband killed?” you muse, hearing him tut in disagreement

“You’re dirty, you’re tired, you’re injured and at risk of murder, the palace offers you a safe place to recuperate.”

“And what do you expect in return?” you ask.

“I simply wish to offer you a proposition once you are rested, if you decline, you are free to leave. I will ensure you are transported to a safe location where no one knows you.”

Perhaps it was the itching of your skin, or the way the dye was clinging your out of control hair or maybe it was being allowed to be who you once were, but you agree.

“This is Shana she will help you, unless you prefer a male companion, though I would gladly offer my services” he says, gesturing to an older woman of great beauty.

“I can bath myself, thank you though,” you say, turning and nodding to the woman who bows her head and exits the bathhouse.

“Whatever you wish, I'll have her bring you clothes while we clean yours... if we can clean yours” he muses, the remark cracking a smile in your icy demeanour. He leaves and you undress placing your clothes outside the door as requested. Your bare feet feel refreshed against the cool orange tiles of the bath house, the area evidently meant for the use of many people. Multicoloured tulip petals float atop the water filling your nostril with an aroma unlike one you’d ever known. The steam from the water rises in the cool air of the night and you dip your toe in water proceeding to the steps.

You stride into the water allowing your lower half to adjust to the heat before fully sinking in to cover your shoulder. Immediately the dye in your hair begins to leak into the water blending together with the built up mud and blood that has been stuck to you since your last clean. You scrub your skin until the scars scattered across your body are once again visible in the moonlight. Your hand pauses over the wound above your shoulder, memories of Robb flooding back in, as you assume your true identity for the first time in years.

You dunk your head under the water, scrubbing to remove grime from your face and to work out the last of the dye until it's all gone, your hair returned to its original state. You stay in the water for a while enjoying the heat, but sitting in your own filth is no longer a luxury and you stand up and dry yourself off. Pulling on a robe hung up for you as if they knew you’d be there that night. The cool air hits you as you exit, a welcome relief compared to the heavy heat carried around while wearing your armour. One of the palace guards leads you to your bed chamber, the bed is large and the room even larger. Tiles from floor to ceiling apart from the windows which opened up to the balcony allowing the breeze in at night. You step out onto it, hand trailing through the flowers growing along the bannisters. You thank the guard and he closes the large wooden doors leaving you to change into an orange gown true to the style in Dorne. The thin material leaves little to the imagination, but it would prove good for sleeping though not much else. You turn your head to the room's table where clothes better suited for your line of work sit. Your weapons had been cleaned and lined up across the corner of the room, your dagger shined and stabbed into the wood, holding a note in place.

“Dramatic,” you chuckle, pulling out the knife retrieving the note and opening it ‘winter is coming’ you recognize the handwriting immediately, it had been years but you'd never forgotten the letter you'd received the day at the docks. Perhaps the prince could be trusted after all. You hesitate before folding the note up and placing it back down on the table, walking over to the large bed and falling asleep with the knife tucked securely under your pillow, just in case.

#oberyn martell x you #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #There Are No Wolves in the Desert #part 2 #pedro pascal characters

[writing-frenzy]

Plz let Airplane be EVEN MORE Awesome - Fic Rec Part Duo

*Stares at all the notes my last post got* Nice to know we are all just as Thirsty for the good boi as Mobei-Jun is.

So Thus, I have decided to make another! (Smashes the post button) Since there was a lot, I just decided to make another post.

here we go kids, more of that good Airplane love... alongside that good quality Moshang because I am biased~ 

(Plz share if you find more!)

a cup of vinegar, a spoon of sugar by Shamelesscooper - “Your timing certainly is impeccable, my lord,” Wei Wuxian groans, rubbing his back. “What brings you here for the second time in as many nights…?” “I left my cloak,” Mobei-Jun says, shooting Wei-Wuxian a dirty look as the bird demon shrugs his robe back on.“You certainly did!” Shang Qinghua exclaims, crossing his arms quite crossly. “You can’t just leave your things everywhere, my king!” Mobei-Jun’s hard stare refocuses on Shang Qinghua, and he can’t help but shrink back, hurriedly rummaging around in his qiankun pouch for the offending garment. As soon as Shang Qinghua finds it, Mobei-Jun takes it from his hands and throws it over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh as if it relieved him to have it there again. If you miss it so much, why did you even leave it behind?! Shang Qinghua almost wants to say, but he is quite fond of his head, actually, and would rather Mobei-Jun not take it off his shoulders, thankyouverymuch. 

--Shang Qinghua is tasked with escorting the leader of the Yiling Carrion Tribe to Gusu, and it'd be fine if only Mobei-Jun would stop poking his (gorgeous, beautiful, drop-dead handsome) head in!

*Evil grin* here we have a delicious rare side of Jealous Mobei, Shang Qinghua doing something that most MDZS fans dream of doing once, and a side of shamelessness from our favorite ‘Lovebirds’ XD Not to mention how steamy it gets~

-

You Will Never Step Lightly In The Dark by Janusoverlord - Shang Qinghua wakes up in the aftermath of Tianlang-Jun's rampage on Cang Qiong Mountain and has to navigate the delicate political situation he now finds himself in. Luo Binghe is building a harem with Shen Qingqiu as his first, and honestly most terrifying, husband. Yet, Luo Binghe seems to be turning his eyes to Shang Qinghua as a possibility as well. Excuse you? What is this? He didn't sign up for this!

Okay, make sure you read the tags kiddies because uhhh, this has some themes to it. It is also part of a series as well, but I read it stand alone and it does good with how it explains things; as it is...

Let me just say, Luo Binghe does not know what he just got into; all mortals will bow to the might of our lord Airplane! I really did like this and I am tentatively on the fence about reading the rest of the series, because the writing is so damn good but we will see how my ship cravings twist.

-

With Ink and Sword by xnemone - Shang Qinghua is appropriately nervous when he passes the Imperial Exams only to be assigned not to the Emperor’s palace, but to the barren lands ruled by a lord known to be as ruthless as he is cold. Although his friend and confidant Shen Qingqiu gives him a sympathetic smile and a mountain of furs before he sets off, Shang Qinghua feels less than reassured.He expects ridicule, a harsh regime, even rejection. What he does not expect is for Mobei-Jun to take one look at him among all the scholars and servants of his palace, and proclaim him his.

Now, this is such a good story, I love it, is makes me feel happy and squishy inside with the good Moshang, and you know what? It has my new favorite thing in the world!

Shang Qinghua calls Cucumber bro out! AND IT IS GLORIOUS!!! (Seriously, why does this not happen more often?)

-

Good Vibrations by Feynite -  In Shang Qinghua’s defense, this whole trope was originally something he’d only ever written in for Sha Hualing, for precisely one scene.

In which I actually feel ashamed for forgetting such a treasure. Like, Feynite is a wonderful wordsmith, invoking so many thoughts and good shit with their words and characters, and by god do I end up just loving them even more then before.

This story passes the Vibe Check! (Luo Binghe also gets a Vibe Check~)

-

From Your Perspective by cozycitywitch - It was nothing more than a curse, probably, and surly the witch doctor could fix it? So what else was Shang Qinghua to do inside Mobei Jun's body until the end of the night? He couldn't be blamed for his curiosity! He was only a man! Or the one where Moshang switch bodies and Shang Qinghua can't help himself.

Now, this is a lovely, spicy lime where while there is no big action or technical awesomeness going on, it does have some wonderful images; Shang Qinghua’s hamster body with the aura of a king, him showing off being intimating which means Shang Qinghua can indeed be scary, it is something that could happen if he has the motivation for it.

Not to mention this is just a hot story all around~ (My kingdom’s for My King’s POV on this~)

-

ham hunt by jets_adjacent - There's a wolf at Shang Qinghua's heels and his only thought is: Northern mating rituals are a pain in the ass.

This is a really, really good A/B/O fic; it also shows just how tricky and sneaky our Shang Qinghua can be, as well as a mischievous side I just love seeing in our favorite Peak Lord. And let’s not forget the spicy goodness of this fic, which is really tasty~ (And can I get a shout out for consent and negotiated kinks!)

-

In which healthy relationship skills are forcibly brought into Proud Immortal Demon Way by two bros by Rafaela271412421 -  Look, if no one is going to give these people friends and healthy relationships then by GOD, I WILL do it myself! It's about two bros bringing healthy relationships into PIDW both intentionally and not. Gods and deities, accidental and not, will also be included. Also, it's in bullet point format, so you’ve been warned.

ahahahahaahhahahahaahaha! I love this fucking outline/bullet points presentation, it is something I always end up going back to and giggling like an idiot. The is really a healing piece, my crops have been watered, my face is clear, and Airplane and Cucumber Bros go completely feral~ I love it, I want to propose marriage~

-

trinkets for a king by jets_adjacent - Shang Qinghua gives many extraordinary gifts to his King. His King finally catches on. --aka: Mobei Jun has never been courted by a human before.

So, this is a wonderful subversion of the ‘Mobei-Jun courts/plans his wedding to Shang Qinghua all the while said man is unaware’. like, it is so cute and I love jelly Airplane; it gives me life. Also, one of the few we see Airplane taking full advantage of all his author knowledge and using it for the devious plans~

-

The Southern King and The North Star by Luuplup - A series of meetings between the Southern King and a cultivator. The happy moments, the romantic moments, the sad moments.  

Another really cute Role Reversal I find I greatly enjoy, with a very competent, beloved Lord Demon!Airplane :D it makes me happy when I read it, I end up wanting to hug something~ It seems like it will be a slow burn, what with our favorite moronsexuals, but oh is it delicious seeing the buildup~ 

-

under a wicked star by tagteamme - Caught unaware, Mobei Jun is kidnapped for leverage. On the eighth day, Mobei Jun is broken out of his trance by the sound of something being tossed into his pit. It’s a lot lighter than what they throw food down in. He realizes that today, he is not tied down.When he moves off the bed, he does not need the canopy post to support his weight as he stands up. The object on the floor glints in the firelight, and Mobei Jun crouches to pick it up. His face is immoving; slowly, he turns the An Ding peak lord crown in his hand, looking at the blood-soaked metal through the light.

SQH to the rescue! Alongside some good old fashioned angsty Moshang miscommunication but with Mobei-Jun’s POV this time, and some absolutely good steamy good times for all XD 

-

we seal our fate by ketolic (corrose) - All things considered, it really was sort of obvious. Hey! Anyone can be a genius in retrospect. Hindsight is 20/20! Besides, who can blame him! He'd never written about this facet of Mobei Jun's life before! Still...considering all the times he'd gotten his hands on Mobei Jun's sealskin, he's sort of shocked that it took him so long to figure it out.

:D This story makes me giggle uncontrollably, and still finds ways to unexpectedly stab me in the heart. I love it! Not to mention we get to see SQH be awesome! Sure, he flails around as he does it, but busts out the fighting moves and even fits a rescue in there! So good, so in character, I love every watery moment of this fic... good thing I’m so thirsty- (Is shot)

-----

But yeah! These are some more good stories I found, some a bit more- urrrr- thirstier then others~ you can find the first thing of Fic Recs Here! And Plz, share more awesome Airplane whenever you have a chance~

#SVSSS #Scum Villain Self Saving System #Scum Villain Self-Saving System #Shang Qinghua #Moshang #Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky

[morganas-pendragons]

Willow | Din Djarin

life is a willow and it bent right to your wind.. 

long story short | no body, no crime | song #3: willow 

this got away from me, i am not sorry 

tags: @snippy-tano​ / @mackstrut​ / @majorshiraharu​ / @sacred-things​ / @wonderlandgabby​ / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ / @roseofalderaan​ 

set during chapter 14

Din. 

His name still rolls around inside your head like the waves of a storm building over the ocean. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming. He had bared himself, soul and all, for you to know the most intimate details of a life that no one else has had the privilege to know. 

But someone can only bend so far before they snap. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind..

It should have been easy. You and Din had brought Grogu from Corvus to Tython so the baby could use the Force Conduit to call out to any of the remaining Jedi left in the galaxy. It was supposed to be a means that would further lead him to his people. 

And lead him further away from you and the man he called his father. 

  “What’s he doing on the magic rock?” Din questions skeptically.  

  “Entering a meditative state, you di’kut.” You reply, eyeing The Mandalorian who stands at your side as you both eye your child. Grogu was young in terms of his species. You knew that. Despite his limited experience with formal training during his time at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, his reach to the other remaining Jedi was remarkable. The field he’d created was impenetrable. You and Din couldn’t get through it. “It’s a conduit. A conduit that’s powerful, Din. We can’t get through it.” 

  “You can’t either?” Din asks. “You’re-You’re a Jedi too, you should be able to get through!” 

The desperation in his voice is palpable. Seeing Grogu in the midst of the act is forcing Din to realize just who his son is - how powerful he is, and how he is so far out of his depth right now - and that, eventually, he will lose him too. Just as he’s lost everyone else, and will inevitably lose you. 

  “Grogu.” 

It’s so hard not to fall in love with the man when he holds that beskar ball the baby loves to play with up between two fingers and gently calls out his name. Grogu has made it abundantly clear that he is a daddy’s boy and thus never fails to make his father laugh with the response he gives to his name. 

You’re too busy focusing on the fact that he made Din laugh to hear anything else. 

Din won’t lose you today. Not tomorrow, but someday. Men like Din Djarin don’t get happy endings, no matter how badly they want them. 

And as you sit there tucked into his side, head tilted upward towards a helmeted face that’s most likely beaming beneath the mask, you realize that this is where you’d like to spend the rest of your life. 

You and him. Him, when you had no one else. Sounds like the ideal happy ending. 

  “Until he’s done communicating to the other Jedi,” You reach down to the belt at your waist and remove one saber, then two, and ignite both blades as you peer over the side of the hill. “We have to protect the child.” 

The two of you take off down the hill. 

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow

Over the treeline, Slave One lands in the clearing with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand on board. 

I’m begging for you to take my hand 

Wreck my plans 

That’s my man 

Din yanks you behind one of the largest boulders as a series of shots rings out. It’s most definitely the man who had landed the ship over the hill, and he seems interested in Din. “I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.” He calls out, unaware of your presence as Din clamps his hand down harder on your mouth. 

  “Are you Jedi?” 

  “Are you kidding me?” You seethe through your Bond -which is always fun because Din is never expecting it - eyes narrowing in annoyance as you tilt your head upward to see if you can glance a peek at the newcomer. “Does everyone look Jedi to you?” 

The minute Din lets go of you, the newcomer removes his hood and you are greeted with a face you’ve seen multiple times before in your dreams from when you were younger: The same face that over a million soldiers for the Grand Army of the Republic had shared. 

  “Boba Fett?” 

That definitely catches the newcomer off guard. You’d only seen him in passing - only each other’s faces, never names -  since the last time you’d been on Tatooine, well before you’d met Din, but you had failed to mention to the Mandalorian that you had been part of the reason that Boba Fett had lost his armor to begin with. 

  “You.” 

***

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneakin' in

You’d give Boba Fett credit for his ingenuity. You had known upon meeting him that he was a talented bounty hunter, but he was lethal. You’d never in a million years anticipated him being so deadly in the face of storm troopers. 

Then again. He was a clone. 

As if you were a mythical thing Like you were a trophy or a champion ring But there was one prize I'd cheat to win

  “If you were given the option, what would you cheat to win? What would be your prize for falling in love with him?” Cara had asked you idly when the two of you had returned to Nevarro. 

  “The best one. The one I already have.” You had murmured in reply. “His heart.” 

  “Din!” You yelled. The Mandalorian’s head snapped into your direction, wild and alert, as you rolled in front of him and held your sabers in an X formation. “Sword and shield!”

Din removes the second blaster from the holster against his thigh, and together the two of you mirror one of the very movements you had perfected with your clone troopers during The Clone War. You had been young.. but you remembered. 

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

When it’s evident that Boba and Fennec have control of the valley in which the Stormtroopers are trying to overrun them on, the two of you sprint back up the hill hand in hand to try and retrieve your child. 

Grogu is still in contact. The sight of him so at ease as he reaches out to the ends of the galaxy in search of another Jedi - one that is not you, because the person acting as his other parent cannot be the one to warn him against attachments - makes your heart ache because that ease is what he should know. What he should’ve been able to live on a world where the Empire wouldn’t try to hunt him down and slaughter him for simply being alive. 

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

  “Sarad!” Din yells. “It has to be you! I-I can’t-” The tips of his boots dig into the ground as he pushes himself forward, lifting each foot as he does, because Din is simply desperate enough to fight a cosmic stone. “I can’t-hold onto-him!” 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

They count me out time and time again

You trudge forward. It’s so difficult to fight this, but you do. You trudge forward despite the pain, despite the gnawing fear that you won't be strong enough to retrieve your son, and with a bloodcurdling scream you push your hands through the field. 

Your fingers touch his robes before you’re thrown backwards and land right on top of Din. 

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

  “Sarad, please.” Din’s hands cradle your cheeks as your vision swims in and out, and your head is aching and you want to sleep but your child is in danger, the man you love is in danger, you cannot just- 

  “I’m here.” You murmur, pressing your aching forehead against that of his helmet as he slowly hoists you to his feet. “Life hasn’t broken me yet.” 

He’s so kriffing proud underneath the stupid beskar. Din only hopes you can feel it through the Force. 

Head dried with blood, you throw your hair over your shoulder and cast a look down into the valley. One saber ignites, and then two. 

Din watches your back as you both retreat back down the hill. What you both remain ignorant to is that the moment you turn around, Grogu disengages and the field dissipates. 

Your son lays his weary head to rest. 

*** 

Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Your heart aches for him. The minute that things seem like they’re starting to go right, a single shot rings clear from the sky and blows The Razor Crest to kingdom come. Your home. Grogu’s home. Din’s home. 

The Mandalorian doesn't say a word. He just stands there and breathes in the wake of the destruction. 

  “The kid!” 

You, Din and Fennec turn around and take off back up the hill to try and reach Grogu before whoever is coming above him. There are four of them - robotic in nature - and they are coming in fast. 

  “DIN!” 

Lungs heaving, blood pumping, heart pounding, your feet slam against the Earth as you use the Force to launch yourself in the direction of the baby-- only for him to be taken into the arms of the dark trooper as you make a less then graceful landing. 

Your knees give out beneath you as your face nearly collides with the rock beneath your hands. Gravel bites into your palms. You don’t care. 

They took your son.  

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

  “Grogu.” You whisper. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut, you wish away the overwhelming feeling of tears that pool in your eyes - you’ve gotten alot more used to heartbreak since the genocide of the Jedi - and focus on the thrumming Force signature of the baby. “Stay safe, ad’ika.” 

You don’t dare tell Din the emotions that radiate from his tiny form. It’s not fear. It’s anger. 

When all is said and done, the three of you find yourself back in the ashes of The Razor Crests remains. Din sifts through until he comes up with an object, tiny and silver in nature, and you swear your heart drops into your stomach when he pockets it. Grogu’s ball. 

  “They took your son, Jedi.” Fennec murmurs, almost as if she can feel the way you are trying so hard to keep yourself composed, and lays a hand on your shoulder. It’s not the comfort you’d take from the man you love but it is more then enough. “You are allowed to grieve.” 

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow

As Din talks with Boba and Fennec, you disappear over the hill back in the direction of the rock and ignite your sabers. Jedi are not supposed to deal with their anger this way. You don't care. 

They took your son. 

The first one goes flying down the hill by control of your capable hand, arcing through a cluster of trees at its base until there is nothing left but smoldering limbs. 

You don’t care. 

They took your son. The son of you and Din. His son. 

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

  “You abandoned me.” You whisper. When no one replies, you say it just a little bit louder and with alot more force- “YOU ABANDONED ME! After everything I did, after all I lost-” Images of your final days in the Jedi Temple flash before your eyes like the images of a holodrama played out frame by frame as you are forced to watch clones murder your teachers, your friends, your family..  

A hand comes up to clasp your own, stained in blood. 

A scream echoes down a empty hall. A gun fires. Clones shout orders at one another. 

A bloodied body collapses at your feet, lightsaber rolling from limp fingers. 

These images flood your mind until they dissipate like smoke and leave you in a shattered reality where you have again lost everything you care for. “You have the audacity to take him away from me?! Why?!” 

The Force hums in your ear. You see the clones who murdered your family, who killed your Master, all the clones you had been forced to kill because it was them or you. 

Just like right now, it was the child or you and din. They chose The Child. They chose the one who could barely defend himself. He was so innocent. So gentle. 

Why did the Empire have to ruin all the gentle things? 

You throw your arm as far as you are able and send the second saber in the same direction as the first one, using bloodied hands to guide the arc made between the two as they dissect the trees in half. “Have I not suffered enough?!”

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

A small voice echoes in the wake of your anguish, “What about me?” Din asks through the vocoder and catches you so off guard that your sabers come soaring into the sky and disengage with a snap of your fingers before returning to your hands. The valley beneath you is nothing but ruin. How appropriate. “Have I not suffered enough, Sarad?” A pause before his trembling hands at his sides clench themselves into fists. Your eyes follow the defeat in his body language until your eyes are high enough that if the helmet were not on, you’d be looking directly into his own. “Have I not paid enough?” Din crosses the gap between you and lightly taps the beskar’gam. “Have I... have I not lost enough?!”  

It’s not like him to yell. Not at you. Not around you. 

Was the price not high enough? What else can they take from me?

Your lips quiver as you eye the man in front of you. Without uttering another word - and in spite of the tears that fall freely down your face - your gaze never tears away from his own as you remove his glove and link each finger, one by one, until your hands are linked. 

Then you lift them to your lips, unlike your fingers, and kiss each fingertip. 

  “You haven’t lost me.” Din wraps an arm around your waist to gently pull you into his hold, fingers curling around your hips as he peers at you through the visor. You can’t see his eyes, but you imagine there’s tears reflecting in them. 

  “I will. I lose everybody. That’s why I’m lone wolf, that’s why until I met you... I was always alone.” He laughs bitterly. “A Mandalorian and his ghosts. What a pair we make.” 

You wonder if Din’s ghosts are anything like your own, wearing the faces of the people who’d left you. Who'd sacrificed themselves for you. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as he exhales shakily and rests his forehead against your own. Fennec and Boba are waiting for the two of you in Slave One, but they’re not in a rush. You have work to do in order to rescue your son from Moff’s Cruiser. 

As much as you hate it, the rescue of your child can wait for a moment if it means you can comfort Din. If Din can get to be human and grieve. He needs this moment so you can reassure him that no matter what The Empire - or the remnants of it - tries to take from him, you refuse to be a victim of it. You refuse to break. 

You won’t give them that satisfaction. 

  “You won’t.” You promise. “I belong to you. I am imprinted on you, Din. Heart,” You take one hand and press it against your chest, spreading his fingers over the pounding of your heart as you take your other hand to curl your fingers around the bottom of his helmet. You won’t lift it though. Not until he gives you permission. “Body, soul.” 

Those words ring in his mind as he takes his helmet off and allows it to clatter against the ground. The seeing stone looms behind him as his focus shifts away from that which has been taken from him, and that which is in front of him. 

You. 

  “We’re going to get him back.” You murmur against the shell of his ear as, for that sole moment, he allows himself a luxury he is so often denied. “We are going to bring our son home.”

Din’s face falls to your shoulder and he hides himself away from the world there. For that sole moment, he allows himself to be... human. 

What a luxury that a galaxy this one cannot afford him. What a luxury. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x Reader #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots

[amintyworld]

Denial - Dream SMP SMPsona Oneshot

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of content lately, I've been on a bit of writer's block. Anyway, this one-shot is inspired by my OC SMPsona Flower! If you'd like to see more content of her let me know and if you have questions about her character or story my ask box is open! I hope you enjoy it! - Minty

Summary: After losing her first cannon life, Flower visits Phil as she usually would for tea. She ends up finding comfort in the only true friend she has left.

TW: Major Character Death, Mention of Major Character Death, Slight blood/gore (Not too severe, just a few sentences), Betrayal (If you squint), denial, loneliness, self-blame. (LMK if I need to tag anything else!)

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Flower grasped the basket of goodies awkwardly, taking a deep breath she wasn’t aware she needed. The other day was… it wasn’t great, but today’s a new day. A clean slate. That doesn’t mean everything was the same, however - Fundy and Quackity glared at her as she passed, and when Ranboo tried to walk up to her to say hello it was like he realized who it was and just froze in his tracks. Murmurs floating around didn’t exactly help the large pit that grew in her stomach. Traitor, they said. How could she be something she never wanted to be? She never tried to be? L’manberg was her home. These were her friends. She.. she wasn’t like Eret, or… or Wilbur. She was just defending someone who couldn’t defend himself! She was just trying to help.

Despite it all, one thing was for certain - she’d give anything for things to be normal right now. Maybe that was why it took her so long to meet up with Phil for tea.

Gathering courage, she raised her arm and knocked. For a moment she wondered if Phil was mad at her too. He didn’t see everything, maybe he thought she’d lead them there. Shuffling could be heard beyond the door, muffled with voices inside. Voices. Did he have someone over? She didn’t want to impose, he’s been through a lot, maybe she should just-

When Philza finally opened the door, blonde hair framing his face perfectly with that same tired warm smile, she’d tensed up. “Hey, Flower.”

“Hi, Phil.” She swallowed, mustering a small smile. “Sorry I didn’t come by earlier, I was, uhm… busy.” She heard a distinct ‘Baa’ come from inside, which proved to only raise more questions to add to her ever-growing list. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no no please.” Phil moved aside, holding the door open. “It’s been quite a while.”

Flower walked inside, her heart dropping in her chest seeing materials scattered all over the floor, chests busted and broken. The walls and floor were littered with axe and sword marks. They really weren’t kidding. She remembered only a few weeks ago Phil finally was fully moved in - he’d organized the chests to his satisfaction and somehow lugged his bed up to the second floor. It was pristine. Did… did they really-? “Phil… Phil, what…?”

“Sorry for the mess, everytime I think I’ve gathered it all I find more material in a corner somewhere.” He shrugged, moving toward the furnace and grabbing a kettle from the chest. A lump formed in her throat when she noticed the bulky and seemingly heavy ankle bracelet on his right foot. The blinking red light taunted her. “Can I get you some coffee, tea…?”

After what felt like forever, she found her voice again. “Some tea would be great.”

“Of course. Make yourself at home, I’ll be right over.”

“Right. Thanks.” As she moved to go sit, she’d been so distracted she hadn’t noticed a blue-wooled sheep sniffing around her basket. It looked up at her with big brown pleading puppy-dog eyes, and she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the creature, even to relieve her worries for just a moment. “Excuse me, little guy, but what exactly do you think you’re doing in there?”

“Ah, I see you’ve found Friend.”

“Friend?”

“Ghostbur’s pet.” Ghostbur? She hadn’t heard of him since he got shipped out with Tommy after the exile. He was... back in L’manburg? The teenager turned to the winged creature.

“Phil, you’re sheepsitting?” She smirked slightly, hand combing through Friend’s soft fur.

Philza chuckled, turning briefly to face his friend. “It wasn’t exactly as if I had much of a choice. He didn’t trust anyone else.”

“That’s… kinda cute, though.” she admitted, moving to sit and put her basket upon the table. “You know, in a Ghostbur kind of way.” She shrugged.

“He’s been visiting a lot more lately. I gotta admit, it’s nice to have the company.” Phil carefully picked up the two mugs, bringing them over and setting them down on the table to cool.

“Sorry about that, I really should’ve told you-”

“Flower, it’s okay. You don’t have to look after me. I know you’ve got things going on.” Flower couldn’t understand how Phil kept smiling, throughout all this. How he kept his voice even. Why wasn’t he mad, no, furious with her?! She was the one who tried to protect him! She was the one who couldn’t fight back. She was the one who failed.

It’s… it’s okay..? It’s okay?!

“But this… your house, you… you have a fucking ankle monitor, Phil! That’s NOT okay.” Flower raised her voice. “You didn’t do anything!”

Phil winced at her outburst, looking down at the steam rising up from his mug. “I... didn’t tell them where Technoblade was.” He breathed. Flower deflated, looking over toward her friend, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s why. They demanded to know where he was so they could kill him, and I wouldn’t tell them. Not like it mattered, they found the compass he gave me anyway.”

“This isn’t like them, any of them,” Flower added, breaking the brief moment of silence. “I don’t... agree with what Techno did, but… going after him, organizing a witch hunt… Tubbo said he promised we’d get peace. No more fighting, not after the 16th.” Tears welled up at the edges of the teen’s eyes. “This isn’t, this wasn’t like him. They were never this violent, Ranboo would never hurt a fucking fly, I…”

“People change. Sometimes it’s… it’s just not for the better.”

“But I know them, they’re my friends…” She took a deep breath. Friends. Yeah, the same friends who won’t talk to you anymore. “This doesn’t make any sense, they wouldn’t… they wouldn’t…”

They wouldn’t kill me on purpose.

...Right?

“I told you, get out of the fucking way!”

“No! I won’t let you hurt him! If you’re gonna kill him you’ll have to kill me first!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, Flower.”

“Guys, can we just… uh… talk about-?”

“Back off, Ranboo.” Quackity warned.

“Flower, please. Please, just step aside. You don’t know what’s going on here, you don’t know what he’s hiding!”

“Yeah, you’re right, Tubbo. I don’t have a clue about what Phil knows. But I know netherite has never mixed well with a simple conversation, has it?”

“We’re not gonna hurt Gramps-”

“Then drop the weapons.”

“Flower…”

“You don’t wanna hurt me? You wanna talk to him? Drop the weapons now.” Her eyes narrowed. “That means you, Quackity.”

Something darkened in his eyes, anger flared from a place Flower never knew existed. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t take orders from you. MOVE!”

“Make me.”

It was so quick. A second of pure pain. A whimper escaped her lips. She felt the blade slice through her body, the blood well up on her throat as she choked. For that one second, she looked at them. Her friends.

Tubbo merely looked at the ground, eyes shut.

He didn’t care.

Phil looked over at her, squeezing her arm in a bit of comfort. “Are you… are you okay, Flower?”

The scar across her chest throbbed in pain at the memory, her eyes wide and a knot in her throat as tears fell down her cheeks. “I… P-Phil...” She sobbed, tea long forgotten as she curled in on herself.

“Oh, mate…” Phil’s warm gaze turned to sympathy as he moved over toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug pulling her to the floor. The teenager sobbed, heartbroken. Tears pricked at the edges of the winged creature’s eyes. “I know… I’m… I know…”

“He didn’t even look at me Phil… they killed me and he…” She sobbed. “He…” Phil’s hands laced through her hair, his wings moved slightly to wrap around her as well, like a soft, warm blanket. Protection. Protection the Angel of Death couldn’t give her then, but he swore he would now. They sat there for hours, surrounded by destruction and hurt, their only real comfort being each other.

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