#setting it aside as a Treat for me to read once i finish my work jkdsgdg

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr imagines #honkai star rail imagines #star rail imagines #jing yuan x reader

[kinkandkreep]

♡︎ 𝐂𝐖: 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬

♡︎ "__" 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

♡︎ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

♡︎ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

♡︎ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @missgab @sucidalbutpretty @kawaiimusiccollection @nekogeisha-blog @k-cris @dreamsygirl @fishisahappydog @mikeyaki

Ken closed the shop a little earlier than usual following his confrontation with Mikey. 

It wasn’t that he was too hurt to continue working, not at all. He’d been in much worse fights in his youth, and sustained much more serious injuries. 

Ken figured he’d need to message you and do some damage control. After all, he had promised that he would control himself when Mikey came over.

Locking the entrance door and flicking the brightly blinking “open” sign off, Ken shut off the lights in the showroom, did one last check to ensure everything was secure and began making his way upstairs, phone in hand. 

Me:

Hey __, I’m sorry, I really tried to rein in my temper but it got the best of me. Aside from the obvious, is everything ok?

Ken’s not expecting you to answer immediately, so he moves to pocket his device, surprised when he hears the chime indicating he’s received a message before he can do so. 

                                            __ 🐥:

Yeah, everything’s fine. Honestly, I should be the one asking you if you’re alright. Manjiro didn’t hit you too hard, did he?

Ken chuckles reading your message, having momentarily paused on his way up the steps to respond. 

Me:

No harder than he usually does when we get into spats. I’ll be fine. Is he still with you?

                                            __ 🐥:

I’ve retired upstairs for the evening. I can hear him shuffling about downstairs. I also heard his phone ringing, but it stopped pretty abruptly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left soon.

Me:

Tch, that asshole. Well, if he leaves and you need me, let me know. I’ve decided to close up shop a little early today.

                                             __ 🐥:

Thanks Ken. Tell Seishu I said hello, and make sure you get patched up. Call you tomorrow? 

Me:

Of course. Night, __. 

                                            __ 🐥:

                                         Night night.😚

Ken can’t help the small, fond smile that curls his lips upon reading your final message. Finishing his trek up the stairs, he calls out for Seishu, watching as the man ambles quietly out of his room.

“You call-...what happened to your face?”

Shaking his head, Ken waves away Seishu’s concern. 

“Mikey and I got into a little disagreement is all. You mind grabbing the first aid kit for me?”

Nodding, Seishu sets off to retrieve the kit he keeps under his bathroom sink. Once he has it, he approaches Ken, already making moves to treat and dress his split lip, bruised nose and swollen eye. 

“This looks like the result of more than just a “little disagreement” to me. You wanna share what it was about?”

Ken considers doing so for a moment, but ultimately decides against it. 

“I would, but it’s really not my place to share details unnecessarily. Let’s just say Mikey made a really shitty decision and I refused to cover for him.”

Seishu hums, lightly dabbing a cool, clean cloth against Ken’s lip. 

“Sounds serious. I won’t pry, but if at any point you do decide to share, I’m all ears.”

A little smile lifts the corners of Ken’s lips, somewhat exacerbating the laceration there and causing Seishu to quietly fuss. 

“Thanks, Seishu. Oh, and __ said hello. I talked to her a little earlier.”

Seishu’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of your name. 

“How’s __ been? It’s been so long since last we spoke.”

Ken prepares to speak, then grimaces at the memory of your current situation. 

“She-...she’s been better, but she’s strong. I know she’ll be alright.”

Seishu can sense the unease accompanying Ken’s words. He’s half a mind to press for details, but thinks better of it. 

“Well, you let her know that I’m here if she ever wants to talk. We should still have each other’s numbers.”

Ken nods. 

“Will do.”

You’re tired. And not only because of your husband’s stupidity. 

Hanma was about as rough as you expected him to be, which is to say, quite. 

Not that you mind of course, quite the opposite. 

A pleasant sort of ache radiates through your upper and lower halves. You stretch, thighs and abdomen quivering slightly from the movement. 

Laying still for a moment, you listen for Manjiro’s movements. You honestly expected him to be gone, given that you’d heard his phone ringing. 

‘What is he doing?’

Your curiosity getting the better of you, you lift yourself up from the bed, quietly making the trek downstairs. Peeking around the corner, you see Manjiro maneuvering around the kitchen. He seems to be cooking, which strikes you as odd because he normally avoids tasks like that like the plague. 

‘Does he really think that this is going to make up for what he’s done?’

You roll your eyes, making your way further into the kitchen. 

“Manjiro.”

The man startles the most minute amount, turning to level you with a surprised stare over his right shoulder. 

“Oh, __. I uh…thought I’d make us dinner.”

You have half a mind to spoil the treat and say that you and Shuji had already eaten, but Manjiro appears to be almost finished, and you’d hate to let all that food go to waste. 

So, you decide you’ll entertain him for the time being. 

“Ok.”

With that, you take a seat at the dining table, not paying any mind to Manjiro’s gaze, which follows you before returning to its previous place. 

About 5 minutes later, Manjiro is setting a plate loaded with your favorites before you. You’re surprised to admit how good everything looks, and perhaps Manjiro can tell as well. 

“Thank you.” 

Manjiro shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“My pleasure.” 

Taking his seat, you both say a quick “itadakimasu” before digging in. 

It’s mostly silent between the two of you, the only audible sound that of your utensils occasionally striking your plates.  You can see from the corner of your eye that Manjiro keeps throwing glances at you, and for a second, you deliriously worry that he’s done something to the food and is waiting for a reaction. 

“Is there something on my face?” Your words come out amused and slightly harsher than you intended, and Manjiro quickly averts his gaze. 

“No, I just…I was just lost in thought.”

“About what?”

It takes him a few seconds to respond. 

“Where we go from here.”

This gives you pause, and you slowly set your utensils down, leveling Manjiro with a critical stare. 

“I think the answer is fairly obvious, Manjiro.”  

His eyes widen, and you can see the most minute amount of fear begin flooding them. 

“W-what do you mean, __?”

“I want a divorce.”

You could swear the temperature takes a sharp nosedive following your words. Manjiro is frozen, mouth slightly agape. He flounders for a bit for words, before shakily smiling. 

“B-but __, I thought…we, I thought we were even. You slept with Hanma right? So now it’s even? Right?” 

You can’t help the loud guffaw that erupts out of you, causing you to double over.

“Even, Manjiro? Really? What are you, 5? I didn’t sleep with Hanma to get “even” with you. I did it to feel good. I wanted him to help me forget, even just for a brief while, about all the shit you put me through.”

Silent tears have begun streaming down Manjiro’s face, his chin wobbling as he listens. 

“No, no __ please. I don’t want a divorce, I-””

“I don’t care what you want!” You’ve never raised your voice at Manjiro before, but now you can’t help the overflow of emotions threatening to spill. 

“I have spent the better portion of my entire life thus far catering to you Manjiro. I have been nothing but selfless the entire time I’ve known you, always bending over backward to make sure you were accommodated. I’ve given you everything! My body, my heart, my very soul, I gave it all away to you the moment we first exchanged I love you’s.”

Your own tears have begun falling, and you furiously wipe them away. 

“But despite all that, you still found it in yourself to cheat on me. After all I’ve done for you, after how I loved you. I would’ve given you anything if only you’d asked.”

Manjiro has begun to sob, head tilted downward and shoulders shaking, fists clenched tightly on the table. 

“I’m sorry __, I-I’m so sorry. I love you, I swear I do, I just…I just couldn’t-”

You don’t care to hear what excuse Manjiro is going to try and give you. With a last scrub at your still wet cheeks, you abruptly stand, pushing back your chair and carrying your mostly emptied plate over to the sink to be washed at a later time. 

“Wait, __,where are you going?” There’s an edge of panic lacing Manjiro’s words, and he stands as well, partially full plate forgotten. 

“Upstairs. I’ll be spending the night at Ken’s.”

You try to brush past Manjiro, but find that he’s blocking your path. 

“What, so you can fuck him too?”

Your hand’s never moved so fast in your life. Manjiro’s head snaps to the side, an angry red print beginning to form on his cheek. 

“Don’t equate me to you, you piece of shit. I’m not some whore that doesn’t know how to keep their legs closed, unlike someone.” 

You quickly maneuver around the still man, rushing upstairs and pulling out your overnight bag. You speedily but meticulously pack everything you’ll need, even packing extra in case you decide to extend your stay. 

You can hear Manjiro ascending the stairs, stopping just outside of your bedroom. You can see him watching you out of your periphery, dark eyes made darker with some emotion that you can’t quite place. 

Ignoring him for the moment, you finish your preparations, making your way to the door and finding that Manjiro is blocking your path once again. You roll your eyes, exasperated. 

“Move, Manjiro.”

“No __, you are not leaving me.”

He finally makes eye contact with you, and his expression sends a chill down your spine. 

Manjiro’s eyes are empty, lacking any light or emotion. They stare through you, leaving you feeling uncomfortably exposed. 

You can see the slightest clench of his jaw, and his breathing, though quiet, is audible. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m staying cooped up in this house with a monster like you. Now move. I won’t ask again.”

Prepared to strong arm your way past him, you soon find the wind knocked out of you and your picture of the world flipped as Manjiro tackles you back onto your bed. 

“L-let me go! Manjiro!”

“I said, you are not leaving me!”

Manjiro appears deranged- eyes wide, brows furrowed and teeth clenched. The two of you wrestle, but Manjiro is, of course, leagues stronger than you are. 

“You belong to me __. You’re mine. Not Hanma’s, not Kenny’s, not Izana’s, you belong solely to ME.”

Leaning down, Manjiro forcefully covers your lips with his own, trying and failing to snake his tongue into your mouth. 

Pulling back, he growls beneath his breath, before speaking once more. 

“You’re the crazy one for thinking I was ever going to let you go.”

Dipping back down, he tightens a hand around your throat, causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, engaging you in a sloppy, one-sided kiss. 

Fearing that things will escalate, you do the only thing you can think to in the moment. 

Biting down with all the force you’re able to muster, you feel more than hear Manjiro’s muffled scream. When he begins pulling away, you rear back, proceeding to headbutt him. 

Now, groaning and clutching his face, he’s retracted from you fully, and without taking another moment to consider it, you grab your bag and bolt out of the room and downstairs, quickly slipping on your shoes and ignoring Manjiro’s pained cries of your name. 

You rush out the door, quickly dialing Ken’s number as you begin heading in the direction of his shop.

It’s 30 minutes later when you find yourself curled up on Ken’s couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket and trying not to think about what transpired earlier. 

Ken has retreated into the kitchen to prepare cups of tea for you both, and every so often he throws concerned glances your way. You haven’t yet told him what exactly had happened, but you sounded distraught over the phone. 

Finished with preparing your tea, Ken carefully carries both cups to the couch, silently offering you yours. You accept with a quiet “thank you” and allow the steam rising from the cup to soothe your nerves. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ken watches you from the corner of his eyes, his own cup sat on the coffee table. 

You shake your head. “Not right this moment. Maybe a little later.”

Ken nods, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. You immediately snuggle into his embrace, head laying on his shoulder. 

“I slept with Hanma.”

You can feel him nod. 

“I figured.”

“I thought it would make me feel better, and it did, for a little while. But now I just feel…dirty. Like I’m no better than Manjiro. We’re still married after all.”

Ken listens quietly as you vent, hand rubbing soothingly up and down your arm. 

“Normally, yes, two wrongs don’t make a right. But Mikey left you in a vulnerable place, __. It’s understandable that you reacted in the way that you did. And besides, he’s the one who betrayed you. I wouldn’t be so worried about returning the favor.”

A small smile curves your mouth. 

“Thanks Ken. You know, I really, truly appreciate you being here for me.”

The man grins, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. 

“No problem __, it’s my pleasure.”

ᵃ/ⁿ: ᵐⁱᵏᵉʸ ⁱˢ ˢᵒ ᵖᵃᵗʰᵉᵗⁱᶜ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ, ᵒʰ ᵐʸ ᵍᵒᵒᵈⁿᵉˢˢ. 😭 ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ᵏⁱⁿᵈᵃ…

Aɴʏᴡᴀʏ. 🙃

ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵒʷ ᵠᵘⁱᶜᵏ ⁱ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ᵒᵘᵗ? ⁱᵐ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿ' ʸᵃˡˡ, ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ 6 ʷᵃˢ ᵏⁱᶜᵏⁱⁿ' ᵐʸ ASS.

ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ'ᵛᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵃʳᵉ! ᵃ ⁿᵉʷ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ 3 ᵈᵃʸˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ. ʷᵉ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᶜʳᵒˢˢ ᵒᵘʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃˢ ˢᵗᵉᵃᵈⁱˡʸ. 😂

ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵉᵈ! ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿ'! 👋🏾

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokrev #tw cheating #cw cheating #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #cheater mikey #cheating sano manjiro #cheating manjiro sano

[sugarpasteltmnt]

I've been compleatly OBSSESED with neon void so far!!! It's by far my favorite fic of any I've read!! After every chapter I have to take a second to do the happy stimmies because you write all of the scenes so well. Whenever I see a new update I clear the next hour for reading it and the subsequent geek out sesion for how AMAZING it always is. You write extremely well, you convey the characters so acurately, the fight scenes are creative, the way you write Leo's perspective is AMAZING, love the font changes, the angst PALPABLE, and just over all I love everything you're able to do with this concept. The way you can see Leo's mental state deteriorating through out the fic is just *chefs kiss*. There's so much I love about the fic that I can't possibly list everything.

Also the established difference between teleporting and portaling is so great, it adds to the pure panic that void causes for the boys aside from, y'know, crazy dude capable of beating Big Mama within an inch of her life and STRAIGHT UP OFFING a buch of other yokai. It does wonders for establishing him as a threat even though he technically isn't for the turtles. Plus I'm sure that once they find out who Void really is, it will add a bunch of tension since they'll need to stop Leo from literally SCATTERING HIS ATOMS ACROSS SPACE.

AND THE CHAPTER PREVIEW ISTG I've never gotten so much serotonin from being in this much pain ;0; The gif is perfect to set the mood, I can't wait to see what happens. You're ablility to choose just the right thing to stab so many people directly through the heart is nothing short of super-natural. BUT PLEASE give the boi some happiness, if not for his sake, for mine-

ANYWAYS this is all a VERY long way of saying, I absolutely love this and I had to draw the silly boi being the silly boi. I needed to draw him happy for the health of my heart ;-; (don't worry though, I'm working on some tasty angst right now)

Can't wait to see where everything goes, GOOD LUCK TO CASEY but there only six chapters left so we're getting to the end game now >:D

Please have a wonderful rest of your week :D

THANK U SO MUCH ;w; I’m so so happy that my fight scenes are followable/enjoyable, and tho they are a binch to code I’m so happy you enjoy the funky fonts and formatting ;w; i know reading blocks of text can be intimidating/tiring for readers, so i try to break it up to help with the pacing and sprinkle in some fun, spooky fonts as treats 🩵

Something i really, REALLY loved about Rise was the fights. Not only was the animation amazing, but it was always so creative. I try my best to make the fight scenes as silly as the boys can be, while utilizing their adaptive skills to use their surroundings to their advantage.

And bruh trying to balance Leo’s insanity in a believable way has been such a (fun) challenge so it makes me so happy to hear you like it 😭🥺 and I’m so glad people seem to like the ‘teleportation’ gimmick I’ve got going on (and that it hopefully makes sense omg)

(And i will admit I’m a little proud of my chapter previews because they are so fun to write, and i like to reassure readers that 1) i have a plan and 2) I’m keeping myself accountable to finish LOL)

Also aksdlaskdhaksdh thank u for this art this part especially is SENDING ME WHEEZE 🤣🩵❗️

#he is so SILLY!!! #akasdaksd THANK U SO MUCH I LOVE IT #you translated this moment so well LOOOOL #I’m glad that my attempts at comedic moments are funny to others lmao #he’s my silly little guy your honor #tnv asks #pastel prattling #tnv fanart #the neon void tmnt #rottmnt #the neon void #tnv tmnt

[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts. 

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely. 

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!” 

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered. 

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–” 

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow. 

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state. 

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing. 

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions. 

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you. 

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble. 

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in. 

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his. 

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything. 

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?” 

No response. Argh. 

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!” 

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you. 

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state. 

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet. 

“You are… good with him.” 

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.” 

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing! 

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly. 

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged. 

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.” 

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly. 

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it. 

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.” 

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.” 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness. 

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way. 

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii, part iii, more coming soon!

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din grogu #grogu #baby yoda #clan of two #the mandalorian #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fandom #fem reader #reader insert #friends to lovers #slow burn #strangers to friends to lovers

[sabo-has-my-heart]

You're open for request 🥰🥰

Ok ok. Could I have a Katakuri x female reader? Katakuri being out and doing his duties and she wants to surprise him with Donuts for his Snack time? But she gets distracted in her mind, imagining New donut Decorations and ends up with WAY more Donuts than she thought and Katakuri Breaks her out of it, making her sigh and apologize for her head being in the clouds? That would be utterly adorable fluff

Thank you in advance and have a good day/night, and take enough Breaks! P.S you're amazing 🥰🥰🥰

This was so fluffy and sweet. Don't worry, I'm taking plenty of breaks, only one or 2 fics out a day, 3 if I'm really motivated (trust me, that's very few for me). I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: 

Word Count: 1470

     Working the dough, you couldn’t help but hum to yourself, you’d decided to make your boyfriend’s donuts today and had gotten a very early start, having started almost the second he left. You knew how many he could eat and his love for the pastry, so you wanted to make sure you had enough by the time his merienda came around. Moreover, while he wasn’t exactly picky about his donuts, he’d been eating the donuts made by the chateau chefs for years meaning that you wanted these to hold up to theirs. It had taken you weeks to get everything you needed without Kata noticing, wanting the pastries to be a surprise, but you knew it would be worth it when you saw the look on his face. You even had some planned out. Jelly filled, glazed, sprinkles, powdered, nuts, everything you could think of had been prepared for your beloved’s snack time. All that you had to do was make them and put them together!

     Pulling the last of the donuts out of the particularly large frier, you smiled. The ones you’d cooked first had already cooled enough to start glazing, meaning that you were still on schedule. Grabbing one of the bowls of glaze, you started in. Everything was going according to plan, you had everything planned out. You’d start with standard glazed and sprinkles, then you’d do powdered, after that you’d do miscellaneous toppings, and finally, jelly filled. You even had enough leftover dough for more donuts if you managed to finish early. Stopping, you suddenly grinned, putting the glaze aside and grabbing some colored donut frosting and the chocolate frosting. This was going to be adorable! Making the donut didn’t take long, setting it aside proudly. It wasn’t over the top or flashy, but it was covered in little pink hearts and read ‘to my beloved’ in burgundy. Frowning, you looked at it. On second thought, maybe it was too plain, perhaps something a little more grandiose would look better? Huffing, you grabbed more frosting before glancing at the unglazed donuts, if you kept decorating these ones like this, there wouldn’t be enough regular chocolate covered… maybe a few more donuts? It’s not like Katakuri wouldn’t eat them and he’d probably be touched that you made so many. Smiling, you quickly turned the fryer back on before returning to your decorations. This one was going to be a bit more extravagant, something more worthy of your astounding mochi boyfriend… mochi… would mochi taste alright in a donut? Running over to the fridge, you pulled some of the stretchy, sticky treat out. While mochi wasn’t Kata’s favorite treat, he might like the pairing between donut and mochi. Just one or two would be alright, right? Hurrying around the kitchen, you set the mochi down before picking the decorations back up, a gleam in your eyes as you returned to your donut making. 

     Wiping your brow, you smiled as you looked down at some of your decorations. Glancing at the time you nodded, you still had plenty of time to properly glaze and decorate the others as you’d planned. At worst, you’d be just a couple minutes late, you might even be early if you ran. Pausing, you turned to see how many donuts you had, making sure that you’d have enough, frowning and huffing once more when you double counted and noted an excess. You’d made too many… well, it would be okay, so it was a few too many, if worse came to worse, you could give them to the chateau chefs or something as a reward for their constant hard work. Besides, you still had so many decoration ideas! Putting the extras aside, you rolled up your sleeves. The special ones would be for Katakuri, the chefs could have the plain glazed ones if there were too many, but your darling Kata came first! 

     Finishing up the specially decorated donuts, you smiled. There! Now he had plenty of decorated donuts plus his regular donuts! Turning, you panicked, where… where were the donuts made for plain glazing. Spinning around, you looked in slight horror as you counted the special donuts. You’d had so many ideas, you’d just kept grabbing donuts! No, no, it was fine! It was… that was a great idea! Grabbing another donut, you went to work again, starting to fry up yet another batch. You still had time, right? You didn’t even bother looking at the clock, the decorations hadn’t taken that long, it would be fine. Even as the clock ticked the seconds away, Katakuri’s merienda was only half an hour away now. 

     The chateau chefs cowered under Katakuri’s hard glare. His merienda hadn’t just been late, it hadn’t shown up at all! This had honestly never happened, the chefs too afraid of his mother and in awe of his power to dare ignore his sacred merienda.

     “I-it’s not our fault, Katakuri, sir! We were told to not deliver your donuts today!” one of the chefs piped up, still cowering before the man.

     “And who holds enough authority over you to dare interfere with my merienda?” Katakuri demanded, looming over the poor, terrified chefs.

     “I-it was Lady Y/n, sh-she said she had it covered today! W-we swear it, sir! Said she was gonna do something special!” another chef squeaked, surprising the mochi man. You’d told them? You were doing something special for him? Then… where were you? It wasn’t like you to forget. His mind immediately jumped to the worst, running out of the kitchen before the chefs could even take another breath, the group sighing in relief at the man’s departure. Maybe they should ask Big Mom for protection from her son, the man was terrifying. 

     Slamming the door open, Katakuri was immediately greeted by the smell of donuts, the man rushing to the kitchen. Standing in front of one of the counters, completely oblivious to the outside world, was you, in the cutest apron and humming as you decorated more donuts. Why, however, he wasn’t sure. Every free spot on the counters was piled high with donuts. Racks stacked on top of racks holding more donuts! Even with his love of donuts, this was a bit much! Sighing, he walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Whirling around, you looked up at him, your heart pounding. You hadn’t even heard him come in! Why was he even here? It was only… your eyes widened as you looked at the time, it was well past his merienda and, knowing Katakuri, he very well may have killed one of the chateau chefs for not delivering his donuts. 

     “I’m so sorry, Kata! I… I meant to show up with these sooner! I just wanted to make you a few donuts today!” you said in a panic, watching as he raised an eyebrow before looking around. Uncertain what he was looking at, you took a look around as well, finally noticing the sheer amount of glazed and decorated pastry you really had. It was certainly more than the ‘few’ you’d wanted to make for him. You sighed, hanging your head. Not only had you not shown up with his donuts, but you’d made far, far more than you’d intended

     “I… I’m sorry Kata, I didn’t mean to.” you said softly, your shoulders sagging. Giving a small smile, he caressed your cheek, lifting your head, making you look at him.

     “Thank you for the gift, maybe next time get help from the chefs so you don’t make too many. Even I can’t eat this many.” he said softly, pulling his scarf down to give you a gentle kiss on the forehead. You smiled and nodded in agreement, letting Kata grab a large plate of donuts, heading towards the living room, “Could you do me one last favor and get me some tea?” he asked sweetly, making you smile. You nodded, turning towards the tea pot. It was the least you could do after all the trouble you’d probably caused. Katakuri just smiled as he set the donuts on the coffee table. It might be a late merienda, but he’d definitely have to do something nice for you after all the hard work you’d put into this. Besides, the donuts would probably keep for a day so it’s not like they’d be going to waste. It didn’t take long for you to enter the living room with the tea, sitting down with Katakuri as he took a bite of one of the donuts.

     “Delicious, worth the wait.” he said sweetly, making you blush. Honestly, you didn’t believe him, but you’d accept the compliment as he enjoyed his treat. You’d have to set an alarm or something next time so you weren’t late again, but you definitely wanted to make him more donuts in the future.

#one piece #one piece Katakuri #one piece kata #Katakuri #katakuri x reader #katakuri charlotte x reader #charlotte katakuri #charlotte katakuri x reader #katakuri charlotte

[lesbii-enne]

Di’kut

(Part three)

I am so sorry, this is taking a lot longer than expected.

Part one: Part two:

Translations below

“I appreciate the hospitality of your covert but I do have a job I must get back to. Hod knows if Jawas stripped my ship already.”

I said to the armorer.

She nodded but insisted I stay the night as it was becoming dark. I agreed to stay the night and she summoned alor Vizsla to show me to my temporary quarters.

Neither of us talked as we walked the way to my quarters, once we made it I thanked him. He simply nodded and left, I opened the door walking into the undecorated small dormitory.

Locking the door behind me I began to strip my armor off of my body. I saw another door in the small room, opening it there was a small small washroom equipped with a small tub. Stripping my flight suit I turned the water on and slipped in the warm water soothed my aching muscles. Taking my helmet off and setting it beside the tub I began to wash up, soon after I put a clean set of clothes on.

Dimming the lights I sat on the cot, thinking about all that has transpired today I soon felt tired and laid down, falling asleep quickly.

Waking up I felt a familiar dull ache, it did in fact hurt like Mustafar. Pulling on my flight suit and attaching my armor I made sure to tidy the room before leaving. Walking the halls of the caverns I made my way to the forge. Seeing the Armorer already working, I stood by. Soon enough she put her work aside and turned to me.

“I thank you for your hospitality and kindness, but I must get back to work.”

I bowed my head and turned to take my leave.

“Wait.”

I paused and turned back to face the Armorer.

“You are a mechanic are you not? We have use for your skills if you will have us. We will compensate you handsomely and you will be treated with utmost respect.”

I took a moment to think, I could stay and be with my kind once again, have my work respected, and finally have a home. However, I would lose the excitement and thrill of traveling to far off planets seeing so many beautiful sights.

“I have made my decision, I will stay and work for the covert under one condition-”

She cut me off

“You will be free to leave the covert on trips for most anything.”

She nearly read my mind.

I bowed my head once again and said

“Thank you for accepting me into the covert and for this opportunity.”

She nodded.

“Have you any experience in repairing and cleaning weapons as well?”

“I do.”

“Excellent, your help will certainly take some of the stress off of some of the other mandalorians.”

What I didn’t know was that ‘some of the other mandalorians’ was the one and only alor Vizsla.

Several cycles passed since had decided to stay and work for the covert. You were nearly always covered in grease, grime, and oil. alor Vizsla had begun to warm up to me; acknowledging me when I entered a room, letting me clean some of his grimy weapons when they started to work improperly, and allowing me to call him by his first name; Paz.

After working nearly all day on most of the coverts’ weapons including Paz’s overly large and weighted blaster my back was aching. Crazy enough but sitting hunched over a desk cleaning and maintaining weapons all day really makes your body ache. Rolling my shoulders for what felt like the twelfth time in a row on the way back to my dormitory ,I arrived. Walking into the washroom I drew the bath water and began to strip my armor off; my cuirass, pauldrons, shin guards, and other miscellaneous parts, laying them gently under the vanity. Peeling my sweat drenched flightsuit I made my way into the bubble filled tub. Getting ready to take my helmet off I hear the door to the bathroom open. Snapping my head towards the door I saw alor Paz Vizsla. He didn’t move, quickly realizing what had happened he adverted his gaze. I spoke up.

“I will be out in a minute please close the door.”

He swiftly turned away and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I removed my helmet and finished bathing. Quickly throwing on slightly more appropriate attire I stepped out of the washroom with my helmet on my head. He stood in the middle of my dormitory looking at his shoes. He heard the door open and slowly looked back up. Stepping out into the halls, he said

“The Armorer requests your presence.”

I nod to him and he begins to walk alongside me. After a painful silence he says

“You’re a woman?”

I tilt my head at him

“Yes, I figured you would have realized rather quickly.”

He said nothing further the rest of the walk, arriving at the forge I walked in

“You needed to see me?”

I said, she turned around with a case of whistling birds

“Yes, while overseeing the target range I heard of a few faulty whistling birds, would you mind taking a look at them for me? The foundlings are to start practice with them soon.”

She spoke

“Oh course, I can take them to the workshop and examine them now if you don’t mind.”

She agreed and thanked me

I took the case in my hands and headed to the workshop. Paz accompanied me to the workshop, making sure I arrived he turned and left to his dormitory not far from the workshop. Observing the weapons for quite some time I couldn’t find anything wrong with it. So, testing it was my next step. Putting the vambrace on, I aimed and fired. As quick as I fired I let out a scream.

The whistling bird wasn’t able to shoot out as it was intended to instead it went the only other way it could go; into my arm. Blood began to seep into the fabric of my shirt. Pulling the vambrace off I could see scorch marks and a hole in the clothing and my arm.

The door slammed open as I stood there holding my arm in pain, Paz Vizsla stood in the doorway, he rushed over to me and took hold, albeit more gently this time, of my arm. Sitting me down on the work table he quickly got gauze, forceps, and bacta-spray from an aid kit. Using the forceps he pulled the painful piece of beskar from my forearm, wincing as he did so he set it aside and whispered to me

“Gar atin’la cyar’ika, gar tayli’bac.”

I recognized most of the words, one I couldn’t quite remember

‘You’re tough —- , you’re okay.’

Pulling the cap off of the bacta-spray he dressed my wound, I clenched my teeth. Once he had finished with my arm he insisted he take over and work on the whistling birds. I tried to protest but he demanded I not work on them any further. I obeyed but refused to leave the workshop, we stayed in the workshop throughout the night and well into the early hours of the morning.

I eventually fell asleep on the counter of the workshop with my helmet still on. Waking up a few hours later I noticed a small bit of extra weight on my back, lifting my head up I noticed it was animal furs. It was rather warm but I didn’t own any animal furs. Looking over I saw Paz still working on the whistling birds. We’re these furs his? He noticed that I was awake and nodded to me.

My face felt suddenly hot, odd. Getting up I stretched and made my way over to Paz I said

“Thank you Paz, you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

He faltered for just a moment and shook his head to me, I assumed he meant ‘no problem’

I figured I may as well bring him food as he helped me out the night before. Warming up a stew in the dorms was harder than you’d think. Walking back to the workshop people started to stir awake, it must have been later in the morning than I realized.

Stepping into the shop I see Paz still working on one of the last whistling birds. Setting the stew down he looked up at me and said

“Thank you cyar’ika.”

My face went hot for a moment again, what did that word mean again?

“Was that an insult?”

I asked

He looked back up at me and said

“What?”

“Look it’s been a while since I’ve seen or been around other mandalorians, I can’t remember some words, I remember the basics, some words have just been lost to time.”

I laughed nervously, soon after I left to go back to my dorm. Trying to collect my thoughts I paced around the room

‘What is wrong with me?’

‘Am I attracted to Paz?’

I thought

‘Oh no, this is not good.’

‘I should distance myself until I figure out what is going on.’

For the next few cycles I tried my best to avoid alor Paz. Working during the night instead of the day, staying in my room for most everything other than reporting to the Armorer. I tried everything to dissuade myself from him, but I couldn’t seem convince myself that I wasn’t attracted to him.

I groaned into my cot, getting up I would continue to work during the night. It was almost dawn when I left the workshop to head to my dormitory, when I suddenly had my back pressed to the walls of the cavern. Looking up I saw the familiar blue of Alor Paz’s beskar helmet.

“Why are you avoiding me, Verde?”

I swallowed

He leaned his helmet closer to mine, pressing the front of his helmet to mine trapping me in a keldabe kiss. My face ran hot once again, He pulled back.

“I apologize for that, that was inappropriate of me.”

He paused

“Why are you avoiding me cyar’ika?”

There was that word again, I mustered up my courage and said

“I believe I may be attracted to you.”

I realized my words and quickly sputtered out

“ I am sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly

“Do not worry, that certainly makes things easier.”

Quickly he produced a blue pauldron, the same color as his own armor, from a pocket of sorts.

“I would like to begin courting you, if you’ll allow me to. As a sign of my devotion I offer you a new pauldron with my clan signet.”

I looked at him in shock quietly whispering out

“Yes, I ,, I would appreciate that.”

Heyy, it’s finally done! Look at that I’m so productive! Possibly more to come in the future like the armorer.

Translations:

alor: leader, boss, basically anyone of higher ‘rank’ than oneself

Gar atin’la cyar’ika, gar tayli’bac: you’re tough darling, you’re okay

Cyar’ika: darling

#the mandalorian #paz viszla #paz vizla #paz visla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x reader #the armorer #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian reader

[potatomountain]

TLaM CH 7

“Steps”

mutant reader x human ateez

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: there will be potential triggers for anxiety and mental illnesses all throughout this story. Not all characters are nice at first.

AN: Sorry this took so long but here we go! i keep telling myself ill write longer chapters, but i guess its just not in it for me. Maybe when (if) i finish TLAM ill combine some chapters or perhaps when i get far enough ill do that when I move TLAM onto other platforms. Currently this is the only platform its on and only place to read it

a reminder a lot of the times i don't edit my works and that this is a slow burn, its going to take awhile for mc to meet and trust each of the eight but she’ll get there!

This is a work of fiction, in particular Fan fiction, and in no way is this a representation or an accurate depiction of ATEEZ or any other idols/people used for this work.

Any feedback is always appreciated and adored! Comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist <3

Masterlist

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> I'm just not afraid to speak the facts 🤭 <

> So did you head inside? <

> ??? <

> you aren't ignoring me now are you? <

> hey, is everything alright? <

> did you freak out and run? You can tell me if you did. <

> come on, at least reply. <

Staring down at the multiple messages from Jongho I was a bit shocked. It had taken me longer to calm down in the unfamiliar shower than I expected, and truthfully I had taken my time to dry off and pick up my phone once more. Nearly an hour had passed since my last message, and ten minutes since his which was simply my name.

I wasn't sure if this was a show of concern, was this how people showed concern? I would send him multiple messages in my own panic, but in the last few days Jongho would usually only ever reply with one message until I had responded. Even if it had been longer than an hour.

> No I didn't run, I was using one of their showers. I apologize I should have informed you rather than stop mid conversation like that. <

Setting the phone aside I sat up from the bed and finally began my search for my clothes. "Has to be here somewhere…" I managed half the articles of clothing before there was another string of texts.

> showers? They have showers? <

> never mind that, are you still there then? <

> are you alright? <

I frowned at the last message, my chest tight. Am I alright? He wasn't one of the doctors at the lab, my wellbeing shouldn't matter. He wasn't the first person to throw me off with such questions, as even Seonghwa had asked and shown concern during the last time I had been here, and even now.

I could not fathom why either of them would, or why my chest felt a bit warm that they were. 

> I am alright. It is a shelter, he allowed me to occupy a room to get my bearings together. Hot showers and steam in particular help my nerves. I haven't left the room yet. <

Part of me did not want to. Would that energetic man be down there? Would he show similar behavior as before, invading my personal space with no regard for his own safety? I did not want to harm him, yet I knew it was possible I would.

Seonghwa would show no concern then.

The thought jostled me enough that I dropped the hoodie I had just picked up. The loss of his kindness was an idea that filled me with dread and disappointment, followed by confusion. I was used to people being unkind to me, to treating me as I am: a monster. Why would I care if he does?

Because I needed this tavern? And needed it to work out for me? That seemed like a valid reason but it didn't exactly feel correct. 

Before I could overthink it, the soft ding of my phone drew my attention.

> So what is the plan now? <

That was a good question. Biting my lip I weighed my options. I was calm enough that I could attempt to socialize, or at least stay for tea and something to eat but… quickly my thoughts spiraled into what if's. What if they didn't want me here now? Did they think I was strange? Were they used to Typhon's like this? Would I be able to eat? 

> and don't overthink it. <

Jongho's message pulled me out of my head once again, the corners of my lips lifting. I was grateful he seemed to read me so well, up front and honest. I wasn't sure if I had shown enough gratitude for what he was doing. On impulse I sent a message, not bothering to look it over despite the anxiety that hit the second I hit send.

> if it's alright I would like to try a call later tonight or tomorrow. That is the next step, yes? <

Jongho was unusually quick to read and reply today, leaving me no time to unsend the message as the little “read” by the chat bubble popped up and further twisted the anxiety in my gut.

> Are you sure you are ready for that? <

The thing was, I wasn’t sure at all I was ready at all. I wanted nothing more than to go home and exist in those four walls alone, letting the rest of the world forget I existed. I wanted San gone and my safe space back, life was simpler like that. But… It was lonely. Talking with Jongho, even over the texts, had pulled a veil off my eyes to my situation and my true thoughts and feelings on the matter.

It was easier to be alone, yet it was painful. Being aware of that now, knowing what caused the constant cold sting in my chest, made it that much more unbearable. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, I wanted what I saw in the humans around me so often: Family, friends, laughter and joy brought out by those around them.

Love.

The realization hit like a cold shower, limbs a bit weak so I sat down. Was that perhaps what I wanted here? The idea was to have this be a safe space I could go to, as well as learn to communicate so I could co-exist with San in my home without the constant strain of nerves. Those two things were not something I could get by doing what I was comfortable with, if so I wouldn’t have stayed to calm down or even think about staying longer to attempt to socialize.

It was no longer a matter of what I was ready for, or what I could handle, but a matter of how far I had to push myself. No more did I want to waste away in a pile of blankets oblivious to the rest of the world, no matter how much I felt that was what I deserved.

> I trust you Jongho, I want to learn the next step. <

Winning this battle with myself was only one small step; stepping out of this room and confronting Seonghwa and the new human was a larger step and the true next step I needed to take. That just made it all the more overwhelming. 

> Then tell me when you get home, and if you feel up to it I’ll call. If not, we can do so tomorrow, I can call in between classes. <

Right… Jongho was a college student studying music theory. When I first found out that little fact about him I was taken aback, part of me expecting him to follow his father’s footsteps; but it seemed Jongho enjoyed singing. I still didn’t know enough about him to imagine that, but I would like to someday see it. 

> Alright. I’m going to leave the room now, talk to you later. <

I ended the conversation there, stood back up and pulled my hoodie back on, leaving the room before I lost the courage to do so. I was both relieved and nervous to see the empty hall, taking a second to really take in the number of rooms there were; roughly four to my left towards the front of the building, with three to my right and stairs up one more floor. Each door seemed thick, a keypad next to each. It reminded me of the rooms back at my father’s lab, although those felt more like cells. Only because I had just left one of the rooms did I know they were not the same. While the room was simple, nothing more than a bed, tv, desk, mini fridge and the bathroom; it did not feel like a cell at all, but a cozy place to make your own. The bare bones needed and yet it was more than those too bright cells could ever be. Remembering Seonghwa’s words when he had led me to the room, I debated on where to go. He had given me the option to roam and explore, but I felt as if I had enough surprises for one day. I headed downstairs for the kitchen then, the smell of something delicious filling my nose and grumbling my stomach in response. I hadn’t eaten today and it felt wrong to leave without acting like a proper patron and purchasing something; even if Seonghwa had made it clear that it wasn't a requirement. However I was surprised to find the ground floor empty and quiet, glancing around the hall to find no one around. The door to the kitchen was shut, but I couldn’t hear anyone on the other side despite the smell of meat coming through the door. I stood frozen on the last step, listening for any sign of life, using my heightened senses to the best of my ability. But it was only a slight difference, not enough to really sense anyone’s breathing or presence. 

I was listening so intently the click of the door across from the stairs startled me back, tripping over the stair behind me and my butt falling onto the stairs at an awkward angle. Whimpering as pain shot up my back, I looked up to find an unfamiliar face in the doorway, our eyes locking and his seemingly nonchalant expression twisted with just a bit of shock and concern. The tumble I took on the stairs was enough to stir movement elsewhere, but it was the unfamiliar man’s deep voice that drew more attention.

“Are you alright?” He shut the door behind him and moved around the desk just as Seonghwa emerged from the kitchen with the red haired man poking his head up behind him. Before the newcomer could approach any further, Seonghwa was holding up his hand to stop him and taking a step closer but not too close.

“That’s Yeosang, he handles the security here. Did you hurt yourself?” The introduction eased some anxiety, but the fall on my rear had jostled the nerves on my back enough to make tears spring in my eyes. “Blue, where does it hurt?” I don’t know how he did it, how he knew just what to ask or say to ease my anxiety, or how he managed to read me like this but it was comforting. Quickly wiping away the blue tears, I pulled myself up a bit weakly, a hand moving to my back. “My back is… more sensitive than the rest of me so the fall hurt a bit. I was just startled, nothing else is wrong.” 

Seonghwa sighed with relief, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Then if you’d like to sit down, Wooyoung made you something to eat and I have the tea ready for you. Is that alright?” My stomach’s rumble answered for me and I could feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. Nodding, I stepped down and kept my head lowered as I made my way to the lounge and spotted the familiar table I had sat at before. It was still the best option for my back so I sat there once more, looking around and finding myself alone.

For a Typhon shelter, I couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not that it seemed so empty each time I’ve been here. It was comforting to say the least, less people around so less new things and people to be anxious about. But also, the lack of people was somewhat eerie. For how welcoming this place seemed, there didn’t seem to be many people who wanted to be here.

Before I could over think it further Seonghwa stepped in with a tray, setting it down on the table and taking a step back for space. Not that I paid attention to anything other than the meat dish and tea pot, more primal instincts winning over my other senses.

Still not wanting to be rude however, I bowed my head a bit. “Thank you Seonghwa, it looks delicious.”

“My pleasure Blue. Would you like us to leave you alone to eat or-”

“Yes please. But um…” I looked up, spotting the two other humans watching around the wall behind Seonghwa. “I feel like I got off on the wrong foot, with all three of you now. I want to apologize for my rude behavior and the distress I’ve caused you, and thank you again for your care.” The words felt heavy on my tongue, but it lifted a weight off my shoulder, making it easy to continue through the doors they opened. “I would like to… I mean I hope you wouldn’t mind but I- Well you see…” Okay, not as easy as I would like.

Noticing my distress as usual, Seonghwa offered a reassuring smile. “We can continue this after you've eaten if you like?”

Nodding, I motioned to the two behind him. “All three of you?” Seonghwa turned in time to see Wooyoung dart away but Yeosang seemed to remain with an unreadable expression, giving a half wave.

“I am fine with that, are you Yeosang?”

The man shook his head, stepping more into the archway without entering the room and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Truthfully I don’t think it's my place. I don’t want to scare her more than I have, not with how nervous she already is thanks to the idiot.” “True true. Then will you stay for my sake? Help me keep said idiot in check? I don’t think she would find the way I tend to handle him relaxing at all.”

“You… have a point. Very well.”

Seonghwa turned back to me as I was taking a sip of the tea, a softness to his features. “I’ll let you eat for now, just call out when you’re ready to talk.”

With a nod I watched him head out, only to call out before he completely disappeared from sight. With as much courage as I could muster, I thought of all the kindness and care he had shown, how he had done his best to ease my worries and make me comfortable every second that I have been here: both times. It warmed my chest, tingled my nerves, and I found myself genuinely smiling. “Thank you, for everything. I think I am glad to have met you at least.”

His eyes went wide as saucers, mouth agape as he floundered like a fish for words. I found the expression a bit humorous, but otherwise turned my attention to the food. I had said what I wanted to say, and my stomach demanded to be fed with no more interruptions.

The first bite was heavenly, and when I looked up to once again offer thanks, I was alone.

=============================================

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[kabillieu]

This post turned into writing about my kid's autism, so I'm putting a cut here.

After a bumpy start to the school week with my eldest, he finished it out great. Last week we had a long talk about how to manage meltdown triggers at school and what tools he could use to help him come down from a meltdown. This is the biggest issue with my kid's autism. As he's gotten older his meltdowns have gotten shorter and less chaotic (which is so, so great!), but he still occasionally has them at school. After a great start to the school year he started having issues about two weeks ago, and it escalated until I had the principal calling me multiple times asking me to come intervene or even to bring him home. (An aside: I resent that she's asked me to come get him because my kid is entitled to an education just like all the other kids, and he has demonstrated over the years that once he's out of a meltdown he has the ability to be self-regulated and calm the rest of the day; she keeps asking me to come get him because she knows this is his last year at her school and she's tired of him. I get that my child is A LOT for educators, but, again, he's legally entitled to an education. Taking him home just reinforces that he can get out of school. It's not a good strategy.) ANYWAY, he had a meltdown on Tuesday, and the principal called as I was just about to start my Zoom class. After his last meltdown, my kid had come up with a special plan to help him snap out of one--a plan that was his idea and the result of a long conversation we'd had--and I had emailed her this plan earlier. She had apparently not remembered or had not read that email. I said I would not come get him and to please enact that plan, and thankfully it worked.

One of my goals as he gets older is to start being more transparent with him about how his autism and ADHD affect his every day life, as well as to begin teaching him how to advocate for himself because he will always need accommodations for certain things, especially in education but almost certainly in his adult life as well. It can be very difficult to be upfront with people about what you need to succeed, especially in our individualistic, boots-strap culture, and especially because many people are still skeptical that neurodiversity is even a real phenomenon. I'm so proud of him for coming up with a two-part plan to help avoid (if possible) meltdowns and then once in a meltdown to help himself come out of it. Autistic meltdowns are incredibly stressful involuntary states that people cannot usually control. My kid is going to have them sometimes, but we really need to have a plan in place to help him when he's in public and at school. That plan worked on Tuesday once I reminded the principal to enact it. It might not work ever again, but it worked once, and my kid was in control of making that plan. So I feel like I'm finally starting to do my job as his mom by teaching him how to speak up for what he needs to keep himself safe and calm.

I think his meltdowns will always be upsetting. Especially as he grows older, they begin to look more and more like defiance from a (soon-to-be) adolescent boy of color. And adolescent boys of color don't get to be boys. They're treated like dangerous men. I don't even know that I should be writing about this on the internet because I do wonder about trespassing on my kid's privacy as he gets older, but his autism affects so much of my own life. I've started involuntarily jumping again any time my phone rings during school hours. I'm always on alert, always waiting for bad news, always prepared to immediately start problem-solving with people who always, always judge me and think I'm a bad mom. I'm not a perfect mom, but honestly I'm usually a really good mom to my particular kid. He's a great kid, too. He's just not neurotypical. He can't comply in group settings like other children can. He can't control himself when he gets deregulated and stressed out.

This is all a lot, and I don't usually write about it so baldly, and maybe I'll make this private later. But I am so, so proud of my kid for being able to tell me what he needs in a meltdown (communication for kids like these is soooooo difficult), and I'm so proud of him for using the plan when he needed it. It worked!

[wiltking]

ok i didn't share specific thoughts on the 4th book of the Big Bad Wolf series but i went ahead and finished the 5th too, so here's a somewhat of a series wrap up.

honestly it's hard to say if i would have enjoyed these books as much as i did were i not very specifically in rare demand for simpler (happier) contemporary books that i can chew up quickly and with less attention than i typically like to give. but, given the circumstances, this series gave me exactly what i needed and then some. it wasn't perfect - it was a little too happy and perfect at times for what i usually like to read (if you hate reading about communication issues, you'll love seeing how well cooper and oliver's communication skills develop) but you know maybe its okay to read something nice and hopeful and sappy for once. and there was still plenty of drama and violence and dead bodies (and secrets. and trauma) to keep my attention piqued whenever things started to get a little too soft.

another thing that surprised me was how much i enjoyed the way kink / their sex life was portrayed. their ways of checking in on each other were so, so sweet, while simultaneously managing not to lose any of the eroticism of spur-of-the-moment desire and nonsensical lust. i'd say it even added to it, in a way. and resulted in some very sexy, very memorable, very personal scenes. from their very first encounter to the last, each one felt so special. each one had something to add to the dynamic, to say, to offer. and each one was hot as all hell.

i've said it before, but i consistently found cooper to be an extremely likeable character too. from the way he approached his work, to his interest in learning about werewolves (and how to treat them good), to the way he coped (or didn't) with his past. the way both he and oliver would pass submission and vulnerability back and forth between them like the tides, to culminate into something of legend. it was nice. and if i ever started to get bored by my typical aversion to contemporary settings and problems, there was always something just around the corner to either pluck at my heartstrings or string me up in fearful mystery all over again. whenever i wasn't sure if i would enjoy the direction of a certain plot or character or detail, my expectations would be gently twisted aside and be offered something unexpectedly intriguing in its place. and that, at the root of it all, was probably my favorite part of this series.

in the end i'm happy with how the both the romance and mystery plotlines culminated, i'll miss them greatly, and i'm glad this series hit me at this very specific time. i'll definitely be checking out the sequel spinoff.

#... but first i have to check back in on larkin and doyle real quick #book thoughts #big bad wolf

[herorkgk]

Now I'm curious. What's YOUR favorite OW2 skin??

i'll do you one better, here's my fave skins (that i own) for all the heroes

i opened up my game for this, if anyone reads through this good luck im sorry.

d.va - shin-ryeong

i can't even begin to describe why i love this skin so much but my fave part of it is the candles on her cannons

doomfist - saitama

fun fact i became the very thing i hate for this skin (doomfist player)

junkerqueen - zeus

i literally do not care this is her best skin and nothing that could come out for her will EVER be as good as this

orisa - reindeer

another case of they can never make something for her as good as this

ramattra - poseidon

honestly again. ik he doesn't have many but its just. how can they top this? i'm very into greek mythology so this event was really awesome for me tbh

reinhardt - cardboard i've wanted this skin ever since ow1 btdubs bc my fave spray for him was always him as a kid trick or treating with cardboard armour and i wanted him to have a cardboard skin so bad. when they came out with it i caved... it was just everything i ever wanted

roadhog - pachimari

i do not play roadhog.

sigma - maestro

i like scuba too bc of his rock hard abs but this one is just so unique

winston - werewolf

i also do not play winston but i love werewolves and i got this in a lootbox once

wrecking ball - horizon

i don't play this stupid thing but i like lore skins

zarya - totally 80's

DONT CAREEEEE best zarya skin

ashe - little red

this has been the staple ashe skin for me. ashe has a lot. a LOT of really good s tier skins and i think she has the most best skins out of other characters aside from like. tracer and genji.

bastion - coffin

bird is a freaking skeleton. best skin

cassidy - riverboat

i've been wearing blackwatch lately and i keep losing so i think its a skin issue. going back to tried n true

echo - kkachi

she's actually the cutest

genji - genos

i really like one punch man....

hanzo - casual

i remember the controversy over this skin back in the day it was so funny how grandpa they made him look. i think i like this one the most on hanzo bc i just like him as a character. i also like how this skin is him finally just being himself and in a subtle way showing how he's grown into himself as a person. means a lot to me

junkrat - dr. junkenstein

DONT CAREEEEEEEE BEST SKIN IN THE ENTIRE GAME NEXT!!!!!!

mei - jiangshi

best mei skin ik melon exists but be serious

pharah - orbital

pharah has a bunch of good ones too but i can't help loving her being bald

reaper - lü bu

best reaper skin. do not care

sojourn - cyber detective

people who pretend sojourn has no good skins are delusional this is peak

soldier 76 - grillmaster

do i need to say more. i will this was the first skin i ever worked really hard for in ow1. when i started playing again i grinded for days to get enough coins to get the full set golf swing pose, highlight intro and skin. i prayed i would get it in lootboxes but i never did so i worked really hard for this. corny but it means a lot to me, that was probably the most fun i ever had playing this stupid game

sombra - face changer

i wear bride a lot too but nothing can beat face changer. imo this is one of the top 10 skins in the game if i was rating them. i love the mythology, i love the colour palette, i love the animations as the face changes, i love that you can see which face she is currently wearing on her gun in real time. its a really impressive skin

symmetra - oasis

best sym skin its so elegant and pretty and cunty

torbjorn - cybjorn

kraft mac n cheese.....

tracer - comic book

i loveeeeee this one the panels from london calling.... eats this skin

widowmaker - ange de la mort

as a widow main this skin makes me hot

ana - night owl

goth bird. best skin

baptiste - funky

dude i will never not love this skin the custom music when you select it and the gun colours. groovy

i've hit my pic limit unfortunately i will need to rb and finish the rest

#.answered #i'm so sorry you've activated a neuron in me and i've become the most annoying person to my followers

[writingformyblorbos]

It's cloudy above (Part 2) [< previous chapter] [next chapter >]

Steven Grant × gn!Reader × Jake Lockley ( Marc × Reader and possible Layla × Reader in the future) Summary: You go out to a pub with a friend to process what happened yesterday, and you have a date tomorrow. Word count: 2.8k Warnings: Canon-typical violence (stabbing, knives, you know the drill), mentions of DID, mugging and death, swearing, drinking, not proof read. a/n: This chapter is sort of a combination between fluff and angst? I really don't know how to categorize it. It's a mess. I laughed, I cried, it was better that Aristocats. Btw, why didn't anyone warn me to the fact that it's fucking hard to write date scenes? *sigh* Anyways, enjoy!!

“Let me see if I’m getting this right: mystery man from Cairo came all the way to London just to kill the bloke who stole your bag?”

“Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that”.

You were at a pub with Colt, your friend from work. You’d just told him about what had happened last night with the mugging. He’d noticed you seemed distracted during the day, almost paranoid, which is why he invited you out for the night.

“Did you see what he looked like?”, he took a sip from his pint.

You exclaimed. “Of course not! He’d just shot a man; I wasn’t going to hang around!”

“Then how are you sure it was the superhero from the news?”

“The costume was similar,” you explained, remembering the scene from last night, “It had a moon on the front, and he was wearing a large cape,” you listened to yourself, feeling like a lunatic.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” you fidgeted with your drink.

“Actually, I do. Weirder shit has happened,” he paused, “Did you call the police?”

“Yeah, but they also were like ‘What would he be doing in London if he was in Cairo?’” you quoted sarcastically, “like heroes can’t travel?”

“They told you anything else?” Colt asked.

You finished taking a sip of your drink. “They told me they would keep me updated if anything happened.”

“So they just ignored you,” he scoffed, “Fucking pigs.”

You both stayed silent for a bit, taking in the ambience of the pub, drinking your respective beverages. After a while, Colt broke the silence.

“On a higher note, you finally got bus man’s phone. Steven, right?” he sang and poked you, to which you nodded in response, “Congrats! Never thought you’d do it.”

You smiled at your friend’s mention of Steven. You had texted him a bit during the day, just talking about regular stuff. And…

“So what? Are you just keeping his number as a memento or are you actually going to ask him out?” he mocked you with a look of impatience.

“Relax, I was getting there!” you giggled, “We already set up a date. I’m seeing him tomorrow after work at the pastry shop near Hyde Park.”

“The tiny place owned by the old couple? Oh, that’s lovely!”, he wrapped his arm around you congratulatory, “I am very happy for you, y’know?”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Colt cheered, “I’m glad my friend won’t have to keep going on dates with dodgy twats on Tinder for the time being!”

“If I’m lucky enough, I might never have to use that stupid app ever again,” you sighed as you got up from the stool, hearing a little 'Oooh' from Colt.

You reached out for your wallet before Colt pushed you aside and left a £20 bill on the counter.

“My treat,” he winked, “so you can spend it tomorrow on you man.”

“Oh, shut up!” you slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

You were inside your job’s bathrooms, changing to clothes you deemed more fitting for a date. You glanced one last time at the mirror to make sure you still looked presentable. Once you'd fixed up your outfit a bit, you headed out of the bathroom to meet Colt outside.

“Ready?”

“Not really. I’m nervous,” you gulped, “I really don’t want to fuck it up.”

“You definitely won’t; I mean, look at you!” he gestured with both hands, “He’d be a moron if he didn’t ask for a second date. I’m dead serious.”

“Thanks, Colt,” you hugged him. After that, you took a quick glance at your phone to see the time, “Guess it’s time for me to go.”

You both started walking towards the exit. “Alright, but don’t forget to send me your live location and a picture of the guy, just in case.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” you insisted, “he seems like a sweet guy.”

“Oh yeah? Like the ‘sweet guy’ that took you to the exact place he was conceived?” he argued making air quotes, “Or are we talking about the other lass that ripped a scab from her head and ate it while you two were having dinner?”

Touché.

You both said goodbye and left your separate ways. You kept busy on your phone on the way to the pastry shop, already feeling as if your stomach was doing summersaults inside of you. You checked inside your bag to make sure the chocolate box was still in there. It was a box of Thorntons chocolates you’d gotten at Tesco. Not the fanciest thing ever, but you still hoped he’d like them.

By the time you’d gotten there, Steven was already sitting on one of the tables outside, holding a bouquet of flowers. His leg was jumping up and down and it seemed he was talking to himself. You carefully approached him as to not startle him.

“Steven?” He turned to look at you and smiled.

“(y/n)! Hello!” he stood up with relief, almost as if he expected you to not show up. He was wearing a patterned shirt, along with a black jacket and grey trousers, looking as handsome as ever, “I’m glad you could make it!”

“It’s so good to see you, too!” You hugged him, feeling his heart jumping from his chest.

He reached out the modest bouquet towards you. They were a mixture of yellow and orange roses and green hibiscuses.

“I know they’re not much, but…” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” you were shocked this man thought so little of himself, minimizing his nice gesture, “They’re gorgeous, Steven.”

Speaking of which, you reached for the chocolate box inside your bag and handed them to him as well. “I didn’t know what to get you, but I also didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

After receiving each other’s gifts, you offered to see what you would order to eat.

“(y/n), how have you been?” the old man behind the counter smiled as you both drew nearer to the display of pastries.

“Very well, Mr. Ungur!” Mr. Ungur was the owner of the shop, along with his wife, “How is everyone doing?”

“Oh, same old, same old,” he dismissed, “What can I get for you and your friend, hmm?” You turned to Steven, who was examining the counters.

“I’ll just get the usual, Mr. Ungur, and… Steven?” he was still looking at the counters and pointed towards a soft-looking bread with brown swirls on the inside.

“Can I get that one, please?” he requested.

“Cozonac! Of course”, he knelt to get the piece of bread, “you’re lucky you got one, they’re almost out of season.”

Steven offered to wait for your food at the counter, leaving you to get back to the table. You glanced at your phone and saw Colt was still insisting on getting a picture of Steven.

“Are you sure you want it for my safety or do you just want to see him?” you wrote.

“who knows? maybe i want to call dibs on him 😉”, he texted back.

You grabbed your phone and sighed, feeling like a teenager trying to sneak a picture of their crush. You aimed the camera at Steven and took the picture, having his face be recognizable enough, but not being too obvious you were photographing him. You hit send.

“There, happy?”

“very much”

Just as you put your phone down, he brought the plates with your pastries and to cups of coffee.

“Mr. Ungur says the coffee is on the house,” he smiled.

Once you were both settled, Steven asked you what you did for a living. You explained to him what it is that you do exactly, and even though you were sure you weren’t saying something that interesting, he still remained captivated by your words, his eyes glued to you. He would even go as far as to make more questions, invested in getting to know you better. After a bit of talking about yourself, you felt it was only fair to give him a chance to speak.

“What about you, Steven? What do you do for a living?” he immediately looked like you’d put him on the spot.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Well, I used to work in The National Gallery, at the gift shop.” Used to? Suddenly, it clicked. Of course, the National Art Gallery is right in front of Trafalgar Square, and it made sense why he would no longer take the bus since he didn't work there anymore. Steven proceeded to get into more detail.

“I…” he stumbled upon his words, his gaze directed towards the floor, “I got fired.”

You were surprised, to say the least. Steven didn’t seem like the troublesome type, which made it hard for you to explain why he would get fired. He was clearly embarrassed talking about the subject, so you decided to shove the topic aside.

“Well, that’s a loss for them,” you tried comforting him.

A giggle slipped from Steven’s lips, scoring a victory in your books. It was short lived, though; he pressed his lips together, preventing something to escape his lips. He wasn’t telling you something.

“Everything alright?” you inquired, leaving your cup on the table.

Steven tensed up, bracing himself for something you couldn’t quite wrap your finger around. “I can’t keep this a secret,” a quiet whisper fled his mouth, “Can I tell you something? And if you’re not comfortable, we can just” —he threw his hands up in defeat— “end things here, y’know, no harsh feelings.”

Impending doom loomed over your head. Was Colt right to be worried? He was probably going to tell you he was into something weird, or that he was married, or something of the sorts. You nodded, sobbing quietly inside of you, hoping whatever he said didn’t make things awkward.

“I have dissociative identity disorder,” he blurted.

You clutched your hand to your chest and sighed. “Oh! I thought you were going to say something else!” you felt ashamed of your reaction, “But no, I’m okay with that. Don’t stress about it!”

Poor Steven relaxed a bit as well. He was likely expecting you to tell him that was a dealbreaker and to walk out right then and there. You wondered how many times that had happened to him.

You knew next to nothing about DID, but what little you knew was that it involved childhood trauma, so definitely sharing childhood memories was a no-no; also the fact alters are involved. You had many questions, but you just wanted him to be comfortable sharing what he felt okay with putting out there.

He still looked anxious, his leg jumping once again like it did before you arrived. You decided to reach your hand out across the table, offering it to him. He glanced at it and carefully slid his own hand into yours, easing into your touch like butter melting on a pan.

Both of you continued talking, not only about Steven’s disorder, but about your interests. Yes, he mentioned that there was only one alter asides from him: Marc, the host, and that he'd only found out recently; but you also learned Steven always wanted to be a tour guide at a museum, unfortunately, he had no formal qualifications to be one; still, by just hearing him talk to you about ancient history with such enthusiasm, you were certain he would excel as a tour guide. The way his deep, brown eyes would sparkle, and his chocolate curls would fall on his face as he gestured spoke great lengths to how passionate this man was. And that was enough to have your heart long to hear more of him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t fully invested on Steven’s words, having your full attention as he spoke.

It was almost 7:00 pm, about two hours since you had arrived, your pastries and coffee being long gone. Steven excused himself from the table to go to the restroom. A woman was sitting in front of you was looking suspiciously over to you and your table, she immediately turned her gaze away from you when you noticed she was staring. There was nothing weird about her, though. Perhaps what stood out the most was the tattoo on her forearm: a scale with two crocodile heads; asides from that, she looked normal.

A buzz started emerging from your bag, you grabbed your phone out of it. It was Colt. You answered.

“Hey, Colt.”

“Oh, thank God you answered! I’ve called a dozen times already!” you could sense his desperation through the speaker, “(y/n), you need to get out of there, right now!”

You were confused as to what was getting him so worked up. “Is everything alright?”

“No, nothing is alright!” he almost shouted, “Didn’t you see the text I sent you?”

You scolded him, telling him you obviously wouldn’t be checking your phone in the middle of a date. You told him to wait and opened your messages. He’d sent a link to a tweet.

“Seriously? A tweet is this urgent?”

“Just open it, bloody hell!!”

You clicked on the link. It took you to a tweet that read ‘BREAKING NEWS: Video resurfaces of Cairo’s masked vigilante seen in the streets of London’. You proceeded to open the article attached. Inside, was a video of the masked hero who you had met on Sunday, except he was wearing the fancy all-white suit. Out of morbid curiosity, you played the video.

“…plug-ugly coyote. You’re re in the wrong ends, mate! You’re in my yard now!” the man threatened as he threw his white coat to the ground, his voice sounding worryingly familiar. He continued mumbling intimidating remarks to the air until he said something that gave you goosebumps, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name’s Steven with a V.”

Holy shit.

There’s no way that could be your Steven, though. The lad looked like he wouldn’t even hurt a fly! You paused the video and returned your phone next to your ear, reluctant to even think about what you were about to ask. “Wait, are you implying— “

“Have you gotten to the end of the video?” Colt interrupted.

“No, but—"

“Keep. Playing. It.”

Your alleged Steven then punches the air, proceeding to exclaim in victory. A short lived one since he immediately gets thrown into the open street by an invisible force. He continues throwing out punches, getting slammed into the bus several times and finally getting ran over by a car. By all means, whoever was getting thrown around had zero experience fighting. A hand suddenly hits the glass of the bus, prompting the person recording to violently jump to the back of the bus, but it’s still very clear who’s in front of the window. It is Steven. His face is filled with pain, rightfully so. He turns around to see the crowd that gathered outside the scene and glances at the glass once more. Steven mumbles something to the people inside, or at least that’s what it looks like and violently jerks his face up, changing to the other variation of his costume. The video ends.

With your jaw on the floor, you draw your phone back to your ear, your voice trembling. “Colt?”

“Don’t even say it, I’m going to pick you up,” keys rattling, and a door slamming shut indicated he was indeed on his way to get you, “stay where you are.”

You hung up, unable to muster up any words. Was that the reason he killed the man on the moped? Was he following you? But whoever it was you saw that day didn’t sound like Steven; his voice was raspier, with a Hispanic accent. Maybe it was Marc?

You would have to keep your worries to yourself, though, since Steven was heading out of the restrooms and making his way towards your table.

That was until the woman you’d seen earlier intercepted him. Her look was one of anger, resentment, as if Steven had spit in her food. From her pocket, she drew a knife and suddenly dug it into Steven’s chest, blood spreading into his shirt.

“This is for trying to kill Harrow,” she twisted the knife, almost as if she was getting some form of twisted satisfaction from doing so, “Praise Ammit.”

She drew out the blade and made a run for it. You managed to catch Steven before he fell completely into the ground. He looked like he was gasping desperately for air, eyes wide open and blood coming out of his mouth. “Hey, hey, stay with me!” you cried out as you tried to keep him awake, before yelling desperately to a pedestrian, “Please call 999!”

However, when you turned back to check on Steven, you could see his demeanour shift completely. The look on his eyes was no longer one of panic but of anger. He held onto the concrete for support as he struggled to get up, a suit materializing around his body: the same suit from Sunday night. You could see his eyes glowing as a mask formed around his face when he turned around to see you, standing up without any struggle whatsoever.

That wasn't Steven anymore.

Another a/n: Tysm for reading! I'm planning on introducing Marc and Layla into the next chapter, so yayy! (also not me actually making a fake screenshot of the tweet mentioned in the story for the cover) One more thing, I was wandering if I should make a taglist application? Lmk if you think it's a good idea. Taglist: @dont-feel-so-good-peter @stilllivindue2spite

#moon knight #moon knight disney+ #moon knight series #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon night x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight x y/n #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x y/n #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x y/n #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x gender neutral reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x you #i hate writing tags it's the worst part of the process

[bunbunbillion]

not sure if i already did this before here, but consider this a formal introduction to the transfer of my twitter media thread to tumblr. and im starting it with a really special one!!!

Tonight............. i finished Super Lesbian Animal RPG by Bobby Schroeder (@ponett / @slarpg) with my friends. I shared the experience with two who had played the game already, and another who was as blind as me.

i will say without going into at all, but if you are a gay furry (especially trans) and love stuff like sonic, or MLP:FiM, or just gay fantasy in general, go play this game. It's REALLY GOOD! going in blind was a treat. That being said, here's my thots.................. theres a LOT!!!!!

i didn't actually find out about SLARPG until i began reading the sonic archie comics a year or so back. i needed a reading order and by GOD did I find one. not to start this post about slarpg with a ramble about sonic archie, but it was genuinely such a great read, and all the stuff on Thanks, Ken Penders ( @thankskenpenders ), made it all the more enjoyable! that ASIDE it's also how i saw the author of the blog, who i realized i was following already for awhile, was making her own game! and one so shamelessly gay and furry as well! i was INSTANTLY interested...

after the game came out, it took me awhile to get around to it. it wasn't until someone very close to me got really into it that i decided i'd commit the time. it took 20 hours of gay activity, but i started it having silly fun voice acting a bunch of animals with my friends, and ended with tears in my eyes and love in my heart.

the game is written in a way that just gels perfectly with me. everything is both very casual feeling, but also genuine. it's never really ashamed of what it is, and that's all i can ask for from a game with a name like Super Lesbian Animal RPG.

The characters are easily the highlight of the game, never once feeling like simple cutouts or stereotypes. Everyone is just a delight to read. My favorites were easily Melody, Allison, and the man himself Javis. Being a gay ADHD filled bunny with a love for hitting things with sticks and hammers, Allison especially spoke to me.

The world of SLARPG is only seen through a small vertical slice, with the vastness left to your mind, which works very well in its favor. Slowly as you explore the areas your presented, you learn more and more about the world just through your own intuition. Discover the races that live on the planet, where the characters all came from to get here, the power structures put into place, how magic has effected such a modernized world. It makes you want to learn so much more, really. I found myself really interested in the vague lore we get of the supposed Gods that make up the powers of the world, which I hope can be further expanded on one day.

As a Video Game(tm), id say it does exactly what it sets out to do. I'm an RPG Girl, i love Figuring Shit Out in them. I play them headfirst and love to make strategies for silly bosses especially. SLARPG is a RPGM VX Ace game that doesn't exactly do anything CRAZY, as much as it does use its platform incredibly well. It is a SOLID RPG, it sets out to have a concise and simple battle system, with a lot of fun tools to play with. Even if I recognize all the scripts being used, how they get used always felt great. There were very few slipups in the way the game was put together when i played too, which as an RPGM dev, is always impressive to see. I think my only point of contention while playing was the random encounters getting a bit monotonous near the final stretch of the game, and the bosses being a bit too easy for my liking, but otherwise, mwah great rpg!!

one of the BIGGEST highlights, outside of the writing, is the amazing art, and i really mean it!! EVERY character has an amazingly cute character portrait, and every single sprite is so full of life! the backgrounds/tilesets tend to take the cake though, some of the best I've seen in a game like this personally. The dungeons are incredibly visually striking, and every single character design sticks in my head as memorable. MAJOR props to Javis and all his boys too. god bless those freaks.

and finally, i can talk about the writing in specific. it is... special. and i mean that in the best way i can. the story is pretty simple. Melody Amaranth and her girlfriend Allison Goleta join their friends guild to go on adventures, and are granted magic by their mage using a forbidden ritual. From there, hijinks ensue, involving a sociopathic VHS headed cipher-like individual, the worlds most jerkish butch, and a proclaimed Goddess of Magic coming for YOU!!! Despite all that though, the story to me felt focused much more on the relationship between the protagonists. Especially Melody and Allison.

I'm not sure how much I could go into specifics from memory alone, but it is... really good, what they do with the two main girls. Exploring the ways relationships blossom and mend. It's never all drama, nor is it all flowers. It's very real feeling. I connected to it a lot, in ways I never thought I could. Recently, I've been re-exploring my sexuality, what I want in romance, if I can even FEEL romance. This game helped a lot. It helped me be a lot more honest about my feelings, and let myself open up a lot more.

It wasn't just Melody and Allison either, there's multiple other great relationships in the games story. They're ALL adorable, and ALL amazingly written. We see a perfect mix of childhood love, new love, and trained love, each one shown with both strain, and triumph. As a girl who longingly read countless yuri manga and scoured plenty of garbage yuri anime as a kid desperately looking for something I could see myself in... and then this game comes along not only with that amazing representation, but two of the main characters are like VOCALLY transgender!! they don't play around SHTI!! This game is like a cup of cold, refreshing, root beer. god BLESS!!!!!

im about done rambling now though. if you got this far reading and still havent played slarp, WHATRE U WAITING FOR!!! GO KISS SOME GIRLS!!! GOD BLESS!!!!!!!

ADDENDUM: THE MUSIC FUCKS HARD AND CRAZY STYLE I ALMOST FORGOT EVEN AS THE TUNES PLAY IN MY HEAD!! THIS SHIT IS SOME REAL VGM CLASSICS OF ALL TIME

#bunny media bin #one of many to come #please play this game #sorry the next one of these will probably be about one piece netflix. i will be watching

[driftward]

A little eavesdropping never harmed anyone. Ser Zoissette de Vauban has returned to help my sister with her research, and I found a place in the stacks where I could listen to them a bit. Ah, how my ears must have perked up when I heard these most delectable morsels of information. It’s interesting, listening to them. I don’t think my sister has ever gotten on nearly so well with hardly anyone. Maybe not even Thancred, whom she needles quite a bit harder than she does this Ishgardian. And Zoissette, well, sometimes she’s canny, sometimes she’s an idiot, and apparently tonight was the latter. It’s weird, though. I’ve rarely known Shtola to be so indirect, so circumspect in how she treats with another. I’m thinking there’s more here I don’t know.

Part of me wants to press Zoissette, but I think her wary of me. Another part of me thinks my sister is about due another lecture, but she never listens to me. I fear I may just have to content myself with seeing how this plays out.

~*~

It was getting past late in Nuomenon, and so Zoissette set down a cup of a tea and a plate next to Y’shtola. The tea was a Doman blend she knew the Miqo’te favoured, and the plate held a fruit tart, to feed the woman’s insatiable sweet tooth. Y’shtola smiled up at her, gratefully taking both of them as Zoissette sat down next time with a biscuit for herself.

“Ah,” said Y’shtola. “I seem to have lost track of the time again. You simply must forgive me.”

Zoissette just shrugged, and nodded, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes as she ate her own morsel. A quick nap here next to Y’shtola, and when she awoke, she would gather the dishes back up, and both could then retire to the Annex. She’d be up before the Archon in the morning, ensuring that a hearty breakfast was waiting for her upon awaking, and then they both could get back to work.

She finished her biscuit, and opened her eyes, to gaze lazily over at Y’shtola, who had already returned to her reading. Sitting cross legged on the floor so as to better cradle a book in her lap, hunched over it, her tea in one hand and biting thoughtfully at her tart with the other. Her starlens rested on the pages, she reached down every once in a while with a pinky to nudge it to the next passage.

Gods, thought Zoissette, to anyone else Y’shtola must have appeared a mess, a bedraggled researcher, up too late and fraying at the edge of consciousness. And she was, with bags under her eyes, and her ears beginning to droop. But one only had to look at her eyes to see that even in their gray, they retained their sharpness, crinkles at their edges showing the focus of her concentration. She was passionate in the pursuit of truth, and she was beautiful for it.

Zoissette resisted the urge to sigh, and instead settled in. They had a routine, and she had her part to play in it. But something tickled at the back of her mind.

Well, few people ever had shown more than a passing tolerance of Zoissette’s never ending stream of idle questions, and one of them was right in front of her.

“Archon Y’shtola, I do not mean to interrupt your studies, but I am wondering about something.”

Y’shtola looked up at her, and sat up straight, setting her tart aside.

“Whatsoever is on your mind?”

“You started this research even before we knew of the risk to the star. I think, back during the experiment with the nixies, you said you wanted to cross the rift. Not just go to the thirteenth, but the rift, as a general goal.”

Y’shtola nodded, not interrupting.

“Since then, the scope of what we are doing has expanded. The elemental lords. Vrtra’s sister. To say nothing of your own penchant for curiosity, in the pursuit of uncovering almost any mystery.”

“My, I wonder whosoever enabled and nurtured that tendency of mine?”

Zoissette blinked, then ignored her interjection and kept going. “But for all that, I feel like there was more to what started all this than just a passing hungry desire. You are pushing. Hard. You do not just want to succeed here, you almost need to. More than I have seen in many of your pursuits, I think. I mean, you have always been intense, but… I just feel like I am missing something here. I am wondering what it is.”

Y’shtola tilted her head ever so slightly, before clearing her lap, setting book, tea, starlens, tart and all aside, and shifting to sit more comfortably.

“Well. That is no short answer, but I owe you one nonetheless.”

Zoissette turned red and suddenly turned her attention to her biscuit. “You do not owe me anything, and you do not have to answer. I am, uhm, I am just curious.”

Y’shtola made a thoughtful humming noise.

“I made a promise.”

Zoissette blinked slowly.

“There were a people I met in the First. The Night’s Blessed. It was in their company I spent most of my time whilst there. I was first drawn to their midst in the search of answers to my queries. They rebuffed me, at first. But when tragedy visited them in the form of those creatures we called ‘sin eaters’, I was quick to answer.”

Zoissette shifted how she was sitting, leaning closer, any trace of sleepiness fading from her mind to make space for her interest in this story.

“I answered the threat in kind, and carved a path to safety for them. Afterwards, they took me into their confidence. They had been suspicious of outsiders, a sentiment I understood well, and their people have had every right to be so. However, they warmed to me, and I to them, and I found them to be a kind people. They came to treat with me as one of their own, even to look to me for leadership, as they struggled to recover from their losses. In turn, I suppose I began to view them as a sort of family, lost though I was in that land.”

Y’shtola looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “They looked to me for leadership and called upon me as someone they could learn much from. In truth, however, I learned just as much if not moreso from them. One lesson in particular remains with me.”

Y’shtola looked at Zoissette, though Zoissette already knew she would not have to ask.

“I learned that duty should not be its own purpose. It should serve something greater than itself and oneself. I no longer see my tasks unto themselves. I do it for those that I love, and that which I care about most deeply.”

The first duty, thought Zoissette, but she did not speak it out loud.

Y’shtola smiled. “I learned that from one of them which I came to know personally and especially well. A man named Runar. I consider him as like unto kin, in a way. He was ever reliable, much like you. He became a leader of the Nights Blessed in his own way, though I am full certain he would never admit to such, even as he shouldered so much responsibility. I will say, he was rather more earnest than you, and his good nature perhaps came a touch more from a childish youthful vigor rather than your well-earned steel resolve, but in that, it is a matter of differences of degree, not of kind. A good man. He relied upon me to help his people, and I in turn learned to rely upon him, much as I oft have you.

“And he did remind me so much of you, my friend. Took care of those around him. Ever doing what needed to be done. Curious, but perhaps not so feckless as you are in the pursuit of such.”

Zoissette made a put-upon disdainful sniffing noise, and Y’shtola laughed at her. But as she kept going, her smile seeming to turn small and wistful to Zoissette, and her voice softening. Even as Y’shtola looked directly at Zoissette, making sure she was holding her gaze. “Kind, perhaps to a fault. Always assuming the best of everyone. Always seeing the best in me.”

Y’shtola’s eyes were piercing, and Zoissette felt as though something was aimed straight at her heart.

“It is to such a person I made my promise, that I would see them once more. And it is to that end I have placed such efforts in our research, that it may yet come true.

“Have I given succor to your wonderings?”

Zoissette sat up straighter as she answered.

“Yes. You have. Thank you. You will keep your promise. I believe that, and I believe you will meet him again, and I would like to be there when you do,” she said. “I will help you see this through.”

Y’shtola smiled. “With you at my side, how can we help but succeed?”

Zoissette nodded, feeling a surge of inspiration and renewed vigor. “Thank you, Y’shtola.”

Y’shtola tilted her head at her, and tapped her knuckles against her chin.

“…Archon?”

“You have reminded me of a curiosity of their culture,” said Y’shtola. “They believed that all things must be hidden from the light, including their own true names. However, it was permitted to use the name of another - thus, children were oft referred to by the names of their parents. Or disciples, the names of their masters. He will know me as Master Matoya. Though he may know my given name, he certainly never had cause to use it. And even if so, he does not know the formalities of Eorzea regarding it.”

Zoissette was bewildered, but nodded. “I, uhm, will make a note of that,” she said, pulling out a notebook and doing just that. “For when we meet him once more.”

Y’shtola nodded, looking thoughtful.

“As for you, you may call me Shtola, if you please. We’ve certainly known one another long enough, have we not?”

Zoissette looked at her dumbfounded, and then found herself nodding again.

“Shtola,” she said. Then a moment later, she smiled around the name, saying it once more. “…Shtola.”

The Miqo’te smiled softly at her, and began to gather her materials up to put them away. “Well. We’ve spent more than enough time here, and I well know you rather appreciate an earlier bedtime. We can return to this once more on the morrow.”

“Oh. Uh. Yes, of course,” said Zoissette, hurriedly standing to her feet, and helping to gather the plates and cups that would need to return to the Annex with her.

“…Sette.”

“Pardon?”

“You - you can call me Sette. Hardly anyone does. Just - just my brother, really. But… Sette. When you want to. If you want to.”

“Sette,” said Y’shtola, looking thoughtful. “Sette and Shtola. Very well.”

“Thank you,” said Zoissette, feeling slightly foolish for doing so.

“Well then. Shall we retire?”

Zoissette nodded, and the two headed back to the Baldesion Annex. As they went, Zoissette felt filled with new purpose. She would always be Y’shtola’s stalwart second, her quiet shadow, a reliable assistant.

She would see Y’shtola succeed.

#The Incident #The beginning and the end

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two 120

Morning came to Nyota slow and quiet, which surprised her after how much effort yesterday had taken. After a lifetime under Miniknog rule, she was by no means surprised at how hard it was to choose words with such care. But it did surprise her how easily she could recover now. It wasn’t a matter of being used to using caution, she realized, as she got up and washed the sleep off her face. She would have woken up gently for most of her life if all it took was being used to that. But the answer still eluded her as she finished working a comb through her mane, so she set it aside for now. It would come to her later.

“Ya get beat half to heck and back again, and ya still get up earlier’n the rest of us?” Lumen asked, voice hollow and echoing in something like a Novakid yawn as he caught up with her in the kitchen.

“I took a few days to sleep in,” Nyota said mildly. The sugar was still in the right place, which meant Namina had been busy last night.

Lumen made a funny whirring sound and swiped the egg out of her hand. “Sure ya did. An hour ain’t sleepin’ in enough, ma’am. Now sit, I’ll treat today.”

Nyota gave him a curious look and took up another egg. “You can help, but I won’t ask you to cook. We will be feeding quite a few people today.”

He neatly cracked the egg one-handed, which was admittedly impressive, given that she’d never seen him make anything but mixed drinks before. “Ya still oughta sit. You’re favorin’ that leg again.”

Nyota hissed a short curse as she realized he was right, and another as her half-conscious attempt to shift her weight to hide it sent a shock of pain up through her hip. Through sheer force of will, she managed to not to crack the countertop with an involuntary grip, but it was a near thing.

Lumen hissed softly, sympathetically. “Worse than I thought, huh? Hold still a tick, ma’am.” He slid a stool over to her and helped her sit down. “Easy does it, there ya go.”

“It’s from using it so much yesterday,” Nyota said with a sigh. Her face was a little tight from pain, but she made her voice relax again with long practice. “I nearly forgot. This happens sometimes if I go too long without walking, then try too much at once. Don’t worry about it. I can work it through. It is temporary.”

Lumen shook his head and knelt down to lay his hands on either side of her knee. The warmth smoothed away the remaining needles of pain, leaving just the dull ache behind as Nyota sighed in surprised relief. Lumen looked up at her, glowing a little brighter. “Still don’t like to see ya in pain, ma’am. But I know better’n to stop ya from cookin’. Talk me through this. Bet we can still make breakfast if ya stay put in yer cozy seat.”

Nyota learned very quickly, as she talked Lumen through cooking, that he was not used to cooking for organic people. Or very good at it, either, despite his trick with the egg before. But there was love in what he did, and he followed her directions close. By the time a sleepy Arjun shuffled in, on the hunt for caffeine, they had three batches of muffins steaming on the counter, and Lumen was pulling a fourth out of the oven.  

“Finally got her to sit back a bit?” Arjun asked with a raspy chuckle, swirling coffee in the pot to gauge how full it was before he poured some into his mug.

“Much as she lets me,” Lumen replied before Nyota could think up a remark that would defend her honor. “And I didn’t burn down the kitchen.”

“Only because she’s minding you,” Arjun said, pointing his mug at Lumen. “Sonny’s told me stories.”

“What sort of stories?” Nyota took a sip of her own coffee to hide her smile as Lumen made a sound like a deflating accordion.

“The fun sort.” Arjun took a long drink, letting the steam fog up his reading glasses. “Made it strong today, huh? My Nana’d say this would put hair on your chest. So. We got a plan?”

Nyota lowered her mug to watch him, thoughtful. “I doubt Lumen will let me do much. Why do you ask?”

The old man smirked at her. “You only brew coffee this strong for three reasons. Tormenting me, stripping paint, or to get your mind sharp. And there’s easier ways to torment me than wasting good bean. You got a plot cooking.”

“Perhaps I do.” Nyota sloshed the dregs around the bottom of her mug, thinking. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, brewing it strong, but… Arjun was likely onto something. “I know I need to rest a while more. But… we should still work out our next move.”

“After breakfast,” Lumen said firmly. At least he didn’t shut it down. “If we go anywhere, ya gotta tell the whole crew.”

“I will. Well, let’s test these muffins, shall we? The smell might lure them down.”

#arc two

[voyaging-too]

WIP Amnesty - Study in Emerald, Watson POV

Before I wrote this fic, I had a few false starts, and this is one. The premise was that Sherlock Came Back Wrong from Reichenbach and was in dire need of an exorcism, but I couldn't get the story to work and so discarded it in favour of a less ambitious character study.

Case Notes Pertaining to the Early Demise of High Priest Adair and the Unlikely Reappearance of Sherlock Holmes on the Shores of England

If you are reading this manuscript, you have already dirtied your eyes and hands with sedition. You could not have found its hiding place by accident, I guarantee that. Therefore you either believe as I believe - in the execution of all those who dare call themselves kings and queens over us, in the restoration of the world – or you are an overzealous servant of royalty, ready to murder in their name. Either way, the following text may prove instructional. I have put it down on paper solely to ease my own mind, and I planned to consign it to the flames, like I have so many other case notes, pamphlets and love letters. But I thought of those who might follow after me, my unknown comrades in this long and desperate war, and wished to leave it to you, not as a gift, but as a tool.

My name is John Watson. You have almost certainly read some of my previous writings, published under a variety of pen names. In earlier days, when money was scarce, I have spun stories of the glory of our benevolent rulers, grand loyalist lies for the pages of the Strand, I wrote airy, insubstantial comedies to keep a theatre troupe solvent, but my best works were never signed, not even by an alias. They were crinkly little penny dreadfuls printed on the cheapest, thinnest paper, telling the truth, or as close to the truth as I could put into words: the story of my dearest, wisest friend and the monsters he hunted, the story of the Adler woman with the Butcher of Bohemia, the story of the kidnapped child at the centre of the Norbury rituals. I cannot state the truth openly about who and what our dreaded monarchs are, but I can tell stories that remind the reader of what they have already known: that this is not the only way to live, that even now, in this world of abjection, one can be keen and brave and true.

So in the hopes that this hasty set of notes might benefit some future reader, let me tell one final tale before I am forced to set my pen aside for the foreseeable future. I apologize if I am less eloquent than you are accustomed to – if you finish reading my story, you will marvel that I have mustered as much coherence as I did, instead of blurring the pages with tears or shredding them with my nails.

It started with the death of High Priest Adair. Or it started long before that, but that was when I became aware of what had begun. At the time, Sherlock Holmes had been gone for three years. I had seen him plunge off the cliff and fall into the gaping maw of what waited below the falls, the misshapen, monstrous duke Reichenbach, a being of malice and flesh that had grown too corpulent to leave the creek where it awaited its victims, its sacrifices, continuously roaring its ravenous hunger to the skies – but no. I have told that story already, and this is another tale to tell.

I had once been lost and without a reason to live – Sherlock Holmes found me and gave me a cause. Now Sherlock was gone, but the cause remained, and I still had a war to fight. I returned to England, and did what I had promised to do if he was gone. I disappeared. When I reappeared, I was someone else, just an unremarkable middle-aged doctor running a dingy little medical practice in the East End of London, treating those who couldn’t afford to go somewhere better. I was also married, to a young woman who had her own good reasons to discard her old name and seek shelter in a facsimile of respectable matrimony. I could not continue the hunt without Sherlock, not as I have in the past: I did not have his connections or his cunning, and my leg slowed me down as well. But if I could not go out to rid the word of the plague of monarchy, I could still help in my own way. I was a doctor, I treated the needy, the poor, the desperate, all sorts of people who ended up on my doorstep, and if a few of them came to me in the dead of night, asking for help with afflictions that came beyond the bounds of this world, that spoke of the malice of our rulers, I was ready and able to help. Sometimes I could offer comfort and hope for eventual recovery from whatever shattered their body and scattered their mind. Sometimes all I could offer was a quick death. And sometimes those that came to me did not even need healing – only a place to lie low, a message to pass on, a change of clothes that were not spattered with bright emerald ichor. I obliged, I helped, and I waited, for what, I did not know.

High Priest Adair was a restorationist, of course. That is why he was killed. He was a high-ranking member of Her Majesty’s Church, and every now and then, a little snippet of information about the habits, movements and secrets of royalty found its way to those who needed it. May brave assaults and ambushes were made possible by Adair’s intelligence, and the few restorationists who actually knew the identity of our friend in high places would have bit their tongues off rather than reveal his name. And yet, the man was found dead in a locked room. I could not fathom it.

The incomprehensibility of Adair’s death had me think of my lost friend, thinking of his keen eyes, his bright thin-lipped smile, the scoff in his voice when he explained how absurdly simple it all was. Thus preoccupied, I did not watch where I was going, and ran straight into an old man while crossing the road. He dropped four books into the mud – I tried to help him picked them up, but my bad knee does not bend easy, and evidently, I was too slow for his liking, for he murmured some oath under his breath, scooped up three books and was off before I could stop him. I eased myself down and lifted up the fourth book, a slim, battered volume all covered in slush: the cover was illegible, but the title said Consolamentum in blocky handwritten letters. To this day I am not sure why I chose to put it into my coat pocket before picking my way through the narrow streets of my home and back to my practice, where another day of sore throats and sprained wrists awaited me.

#a study in emerald #sherlock holmes #john watson

[epitomees]

Thank god Yomenaido bookstore was open today. It was his girlfriend's birthday today and he couldn't meet her at Aiya's empty-handed, aside from paying for an extra large beef bowl and anything else her enormous appetite craved. It was all on him. He still had quite a lot of money left from last year.

Yu entered the store and browsed through the various books lined up until he reached the manga section. Now, given Chie's bubbly personality, it only made logical sense to pick something adventurous and fun to read through. Finally, after a few minutes of careful consideration, he found one: Akame Ga Kill, featuring a female protagonist with a strong sense of justice.

He's sure that she will at least find it enjoyable. He paid for it in no time, asked the clerk to wrap it up nicely, and quickly made his way to the Chinese restaurant where it seems that she best him to it.

"Sorry I'm late." He looked apologetic for a moment and sat down beside her, planting a quick peck on her cheek. "Happy birthday, honey bun. I'm treating you today and I also got you something nice to read." He handed over the mystery book with a smile. "It's a long one, but I hope it's to your taste."

Somehow, Inaba's well-known steak skewer and Topsicle combo tasted much better with it being her birthday. Tough, chewy meat combined with the sweet, icy flavors made for one very happy brunette. Her second lunch was complete, and after waving goodbye to the counter clerk Chie made her next pitstop...right next door. Aiya's couldn't be missed on this important day, and this time she expected a guest to accompany her for this meal.

Although...she didn't see a familiar grey bowl-cut hair anywhere inside, not that many people were currently lounging or eating up their fill of noodles. By the time dinner came around, the scenery would drastically change. Nevertheless, she asked the teenage waitress for a two-person table, then patiently sat with her line of sight in perfect view of the door. He didn't forget their meetup. Yu wasn't like that. Friends and family always came first for him. Perhaps he was putting the finishing touches on his birthday gift to her?

Whatever the case, the brunette hunkered down and kept herself preoccupied browsing the presents in her current stash. Of course, she took a few nibbles of some store-bought sweets and homemade candies from the other shops in the area, just to snack on in preparation for her third lunch. It's after she finished a piece of mochi her chocolate brown eyes casted towards the doorway, hearing the little bell sounded the arrival of her wonderful boyfriend.

"Over heeeere!!" Her shouts carried over the customers' heads and the clattering sounds of a working kitchen, just to get his attention. Once he meandered towards the table Chie rose up quickly to embrace him tightly, complete with an eager smile and light giggle. "My sweet, sweet kitty is finally here, heehee~. Don't feel bad about being late, I was already checkin' out some of the swag I got from Yosuke." She pressed her lips against his cheek, returning his affection in kind and releasing her tight hold. "And I see you brought me something too, riiiiiiiight?" It's snatched away already, paper flying in every direction since someone couldn't hold their excitement in much longer. Friend gifts were special, but a boyfriend gift had that little extra bit of love in it.

"Oooooooooh, I've heard of this one before...but I never had the chance to start reading it." Chie didn't read too far into the pages, only briefly skimming the first chapter then setting it aside. It's a thoughtful gift, and one fitting the brunette's own tastes too. "Maybe I'll start reading it tonight after we party! Heehee~! I'm glad you wanted to spend some time with just me today, though." Oh she couldn't help herself! Screw sitting across from him!

Chie took the seat aside Yu, immediately locking lips with the boy and letting her arms drape over his shoulders. Did they make a bit of a scene? Ah, she didn't care! "I love you, sooooo so so much, you know? I probably told you that a zillion times now but...it's true." Her nose briefly brushed against his, and she let their foreheads gently rub together.

"I love you a whoooooole lot. You being here has already made this birthday the best I can ask for..."

#ic #Chie #fatexbound #Better Days - Post P4 Verse #Chie's Birthday 2023 #((THEY'RE SO STINKING CUTE!!! #love me so good wholesome yuchie <3))