#<- for my self ship post. I have no place to link it….

[nudystar]

#𝐍𝐔𝐃𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 ✩ side ( personal ) blog for @romiantic !

STAR GIRL, HER WORLD ★ ˚𓂅₊‧⁺˖ mia morales !

✩ — twenty year old black hottie :: she!her :: carrd !

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗇𝗎𝖽𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[clockwaysadmin]

City Pigeons Bleed Green

Update Subscription Post

(Since apparently this is going to be my Trauma Tuesday fic...)

Ship: gen batpham

Ao3 Link

CW: canon typical violence, blood, stitches, panic attacks, bad parent Fentons, experimentation, dehumanization, self esteem issues, more tags to be added

"Do you have a place to go to?” The kid laughed again. Somehow it sounded worse this time. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.” “Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?” Tim asked. The kid looked up. Jason felt Tim tense against him. Hell, Jason tensed. They were the wrong color, but Jason knew those eyes, those brows, that slope of the nose. Everything was just a little sideways, but Jason knew that face. He knew what the kid was going to say. “I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

All parts are being posted here on Tumblr in their first draft version. The fic will be posted to Ao3 after it goes throughan edit.

All things related to this fic can be found in the 'city pigeons' tag on @clockwayswrites. Major links are below.

Part 1, Part 2 Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6 Part 7, Part 8 Part 9, Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14, Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18, Part 19, Part 20 Part 21

How to Subscribe:

Website: click on the ... in the upper right and 'Subscribe to Conversation'

App: click on 'notes' in the bottom left then the bell icon in the upper right

(For those very few with ability to comment on this post, DO NOT.)

[powerfulblob]

puts on my clown hat

behold, as requested: The Trans Franky Essay. Like most of this is still jot notes and I wrote this when half-asleep so like. I don’t know

Please don’t shoot me.

Section 0: Most importantly...

Due to the Somerton stuff, I really am trying my best not to plagarize.

Unlike TikTok user @theyboss._.franky, I’m not planning to talk about if he’s trans based on physical features, personality, etc.

I’m here to talk about the narrative in particular, and allegory.

also kudos to @punkitt-is-here

[ID: A screenshot of an X post by @punkittdev that reads “this is also partially why i am a franky one piece trans man truther” It features Franky, a cyborg with a shirt that reads “I HRT”.with a sun between the words “I” and “HRT” Franky is a tall man with tan skin and blue hair, and has part of his arms replaced with blue metal with a star at the end. end ID]

Section 1: Cyborgs are inherently trans

I’m literally just going to link The transgender cyborg: an inexhaustive primer because the article does a much better job than I can, but to summarize:

Trans people are not only cyborg-adjacent because of the transphobes who call us that, but primarily because we are used in the same way cyborgs are in text: As a talking point, a disruptive metaphor about humanity as a whole.

That brings us onto the next place...

Section 2: Cyborgs are extra trans in this case.

The reason why I latched onto this in the first place is this character’s backstory.

Franky, who eventually becomes the Straw Hat’s shipwright, starts as a joke character in the Water Seven Arc.

He’s a 40-ish year old man who runs around in a speedo and shoots lasers at people, making a living off of dismantling ships.

However, as more information is revealed, the story starts to humanize and give him a backstory.

quotes from Chapter 358:

“My body got wrecked and parts of it weren’t working anymore... So I transformed myself using scrap metal. It’s how I survived!” 

“Waste wood, scrap iron... I fit right in. First I’ve got to... ... Do something about this useless body of mine!” 

What do these have in common? Retrofitting the self, and rebuilding the body. I think there’s something trans there but IDK

Deadnames (partially joking here): As said by another character “Cutty Flam of Tom’s Workers is dead. As long as you don’t use that name... ... There’s nothing connecting us”  (for context, Franky was changing his name to evade government capture, but shhh let’s just pretend we’re talking about deadnames)

Actual Section 2: The Boats are trans now

speaking of the self as a construct...

I think it would be giving Oda too much credit for doing this on purpose.

But, he also accidentally created one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard for gender identity and against gender essentialism:

And of course, it has to be boats.

chapter 353: “Franky, there’s no such thing as blueprints for a pirate ship!! If the sailors who board that ship run up a skull-and-crossbones, then it’s a pirate ship. If they fly a seagull flag, it’s a navy ship. Build whatever you want to build, Franky.”

Like again: It’s the idea that there’s no instructions for a person, it’s what you decide to create out of oneself?

Alright. So, in terms of most manga, he actually does a rather good job. One Piece is primarily a series about misfits and outcasts: The series is goofy and over-the-top as a rule. So, one could argue the extreme way in which he portrays trans people up until the Wano arc is just a part of the series.

yeah idk

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

[the-afterparty-au]

[✨*ABOUT✨]

The Afterparty AU is briefly summarized as taking place in a party within the void, lasting forever after a genocide route that was never undone. After many months of nothing but wind, our first fallen human realized the world was not going to be reverted by the player, and they stayed true to their word of Erasure. Chara however, simply getting bored decides to play a game framed as a experiment & brings back all the monsters you failed to befriend in a Genocide route back for a encore. Allowing everyone to reside in the void, a space between files & between deltarune and UNDERTALE. The amount of monsters that are happy about this is uncertain, but all of them are certainly questioning literally everything that brought them here.  (Lightly Inspired by these fanworks so, Thanks to @garbagechocolate, @djsmell & @jazze-bee for accidentally inspiring me to make a whole AU)

By; Modphys (They/them) (Main Blog & Art Blog: @kates-cave & @ryzies-ralley)  Modtaton (He/they) (Main Blog + Art Blog: @spiltmilk34 & @spoiledcheese34 | Instagram ) Papymod (She/they) (Main Blog + Art Blog: @theartistthatcantraw & @fail3dexp3rim3nt) Also thanking this for the text boxes haha

[*TAGS]

#ModAlphys🍍 #ModMTT🦝 #ModPapy💀 - Content from specific Mods

#OutOfVoid - General out of character posts/Asks/Announcements Etc.

#PostsFortheVoid Reblogs of any Fanart or random posts I/we might reblog

#PostsOfTheVoid Extra Content asks lore etc. not relevant to the actual plot Or announcements

#TheAfterPartyAU In universe & Main Story posts

#AskAfterparty is any asks in character

#ModsQ&A, Any Asks directly for the mods + #ModsArt is any Art Directly from the mods (not counting story)

[📋*RULES 📋]

[*Current AU Status: Active]

- No SERIOUS NSFW media. Swearing and certain (Chara Frisk & Flowey are all children) jokes are allowed but actual sexually explicit content & HARD GORE is prohibited. Plus the mods are minors 

- Harassment towards me, Or anyone of Any group, will not be tolerated

- Repeat asks will probably be ignored, sorry.

- Please Be patient, This blog does not have a schedule & updates come out when they’re ready (aim for at least 2 weeks) 

- No Magic!Anon please, While this story is a bit aimless it’s still there, plus Keep Roleplaying limited maybe. Makes my life easier.

- Technically not a hard rule but If you’re asking & have an ask blog I recommend you add your @, Love seeing other AU/Blog’s Out there in the wild!! Doesn't matter the fandom either :D 

- Probably will close the ask box if it gets too full, might cap it at 20 0r 25.

* Have funnnnn. =)

[*⚠️ *WARNINGS ⚠️]

This AU is estimated to be 15+  

While I don't plan to include shipping, it might sneak its way in here, who knows.

Swearing in Asks Is allowed plus the mod swears. (Steer clear of slurs, even if you can reclaim them.)

Scarring, Blood, Death, themes of unreality trauma & gore is around, Everyone was brought back from the dead. Additional CW for mentions Genocide considering this au is after one. 

potential mentions (& possible depictions) of suicide & Self harm, Fratricide, Mind Control (Possible Manipulation), & Divorce.

While this aims to be (kind of) joke au, General CW for potential disturbing content is out there. 

Feel Free the DM With any warnings I missed & should include

[*ACT - ASK] - ASK BOX STATUS [OPEN]

*Chara - 💔 *Frisk - ♥️ *Flowey 🌻 *Toriel - 🔥 *Papyrus - 💀 *Mad Mewsy - 💢 *The Undying - 🦈 *Muffet - 🕷️ *Mettaton NEO -  👾 *Sans - 🦴 *Asgore - 🔱

 DNI LIST

Homophobes, Terfs, LGBTQIA+Phobic, Racists, Xenophobes, Pro shippers, Anti-Anti's, Misogynists', Cancel Culture & Cringe Culture, NSFW/18+Blogs, Abelists, Zoophiles, Anti Semitism, Hate speech, MAPS/Pedos, Discourse Blogs, Y’know the basic DNI criteria stuff  (Just don't be a dick man this feels dumb to make.)

[*LINKS – 📎]

Beginning - N/A

Arcs  - N/A

Character Sheets - N/A

Most Recent - N/A 

[fourswordsannotated]

akira himekawa are unbelievably cool.

soooo here's the thing. i was looking at akira himekawa's website on a whim and found a public blog, with posts that go all the way back to 2009. many hours of google translating later, and i've developed an even stronger admiration of these two women and their exceptional career as manga artists. they share so much in these posts about the creative process, their thoughts on social justice, their connections with nature, and their most major original story, gliding reki, which seems to have always been a passion project in the midst of commercial work.

from what i could gather, reki is unique in that they were determined to do it in full color. and they did it, because after reading about their career, it's clear to me that when these women set their mind to an idea, they make it happen. see also: they just recently produced and distributed their own art book, because no publishers were offering to do it in a way that pleased them.

their stated goals for reki were to make something more adult than their previous children's manga, taking place in a city, involving a lot of mechanical art, and featuring stronger romantic and self-described erotic subtext. good for them. before i get into the four swords-related stuff, i'm sharing what i could find on the internet about reki.

more under the cut, because there's quite a bit to discuss :)

not much that i could find on the blog specifically references four swords, but they have many fascinating insights about nintendo, the zelda fandom, and the franchise as a whole. i can't know for certain because this information was surmised from translated text, but it seems as if their manga with chibi link made them feel a little stifled, which is why they took a long break before returning to do twilight princess. it's not lost on me that even a work like four swords, which they may regard as not their favorite or best, still has inspired and brought together so many passionate, creative, and diverse people. this is especially sweet because it seems as if they met each other, and formed their creative partnership, because of a shared fandom interest of their own.

honda and nagano have shared their thoughts and feelings on this blog for more than a decade, and they have a lot of thoughts and feelings. throughout their entire career they've made commentary on work-life balance, their experiences as women in a male-dominated field, and their desire to create original art while simultaneously enjoying some commercial work as well. they are passionate about social justice, particularly re: women and indigenous people, and offer insights on aspects of culture and history and the state of the world that really could resonate with anyone. and they really seem to appreciate fans of their work, and emphasize repeatedly the care and thought they put into their manga in the hopes it will inspire and bring catharsis to readers. they love animals (especially wolves), being outside in nature, being nerds about art they enjoy, a certain subgenre of romantic manga that appealed to and empowered female readers in the 90's and 2000's, and traveling around the world to partake in activities like horse riding and falconry.

the coolest part is, they're still updating the blog to this day :) in fact they seem to have recently returned to it, reflecting that twitter is not their preferred manner of sharing things online. they seem very familiar with and fond of older-school blogging culture.

there's a lot more i could say here about my findings, some of which do pertain to... certain ships 💜🖤 . but i don't want my genuine appreciation for these authors to be overshadowed by that kind of conversation. in addition to a link to the blog itself, i'm including a few translated posts of interests, which you can interpret and incorporate into your perception of the media however you please. at the end of the day, it's a really cool gift that these artists have chosen to share so much over such a long period of time. by making their personalities, beliefs, and insights more visible to fans of their work, i hope it brings new context to the stories we already love.

a modern-day insight:

re: the zelda mangas. these are from several points throughout their career. please note that they have so many fond things to say about zelda as a franchise and their work on the mangas, especially regarding the way they've affected fans. i encourage you to look for yourself, on their blog and their other socials!

re: gliding reki

re: the creative process (and in the latter two, the fandom that seems to have inspired them!)

re: their two goofyass adorable tiny dogs that they dress up in outfits while also loving wolves like a lot, they love wolves (both domesticated and wild), they really love wolves

re: wolf day (every day is wolf day,)

re: indigenous rights

re: painting serious works on commission vs their manga. i can't know for sure exactly what it means, but it really does kinda hit

re: a fan and manga artist in training bringing them art and a note

and a moment from a twilight princess manga interview i found very sweet :)

okay. you've made it to the end. i know you're wondering. here you go. please remember that this is and always has been a public blog, and these posts are actually from 2009 and 2010. also please remember that the point of this post is not to cause or fuel fandom discourse, but to appreciate these authors and the things that they choose to express.

(also, this is the column they were referring to in image 1. it's FASCINATING. give it a read if you'd like!)

the dots are there. you're welcome to connect them.

thank you for your beautiful work and insights, honda and nagano. please never change.

[ellecdc]

IDK why I feel so shy about this rn, but I wanted to share something with you all *hypes self up*

I’ve decided to start selling the cat bandanas I’ve been making for birdie and digby - I’ve opened shipping internationally but I’m not sure how much that costs for every country, so if anyone was ever interested in ordering from me, please send me a message first with how much shipping looks like it’ll be BEFORE you place an order so we can make sure it’s still worth it for you 🫶

There’s no pressure at all, I just figured maybe there’d be someone out there who was interested & even if you didn’t want to or can’t buy, it’d mean the world to me if you even gave my shop a little ❤️ and favourited it! 🥹

The link to my shop is here, and I’ll post some pictures too!

Along with some more generic patterns, I also have hogwarts house themed bandanas available 🙈

Anyways….thanks for listening guys; this is a way for me to try to continue supporting myself while I’m in school and travelling back and forth from the city to my moms place in the country to help her with the property without having to compromise my time/ability to live between the two places, write, preform well in school etc. I’ll link this post in my master list, and won’t post anything promotional again. I know I’ve sometimes wondered how to support my favourite creators online who produce content for free, and I wanted to give you a chance to do that (if you’re willing and able) while still feeling like you’d get something out of it 🫶

Love you xoxo

-L

[sarahsartistportfolio]

Sarah's Genshin Masterlist

AO3 Link Here

Ok two important forewarns. #1 I don't write imposter au and cult au. Sagau characters will have yandere tendencies but not full on yandere behavior. Reader is always AFAB/female. SAGAU universe takes place post end game.

#2 I am new to writing fanfiction. Please be patient with me. Some writing is very just self ship, I will use my name, but sometimes I want to use Y/N. Its a learning process 🙇‍♀️

Multi Characters

The SAGAU post that started it all

Self Ship Children with the Men

SAGAU: A Rumor Spreads 18+

SAGAU: Which Characters would offer themselves up to you 18+

(UPCOMING) SAGAU: Mispronunciation

(UPCOMING)SAGAU: Them calling YOU a good girl

SAGAU: Which characters would have no reservations about being in a relationship with goddess you

(UPCOMING)SAGAU: Asking them for a baby/breeding

Single Characters

Venti

Sharing a bed with him

(UPCOMING) Venti eating you out in his church

Albedo

(UPCOMING) Albedo will help you <3

Knight X Princess AU

Xiao

Sharing a bed with him

(UPCOMING) Falling asleep on his lap

Kazuha

Cyno

Making Out 18+

Fucking to de stress 18+

(UPCOMING) Falling asleep on his lap

(Honestly I have a ton of SAGAU fics ideas for Cyno so if you're also a fan of yu gi oh man you'll love it here💜)

Heizou

Kaveh

(UPCOMING) Artist!reader X Kaveh

Wanderer

Scaramouche X sagau goddess situation 18+

(UPCOMING) Biggggg long virgin!reader smut piece with Wanderer like seriously its been in the wip stage for months lol

Childe

Tighnari

Fucking to de stress 18+

Lyney

(UPCOMING) "Lyney fumbling the bag"

[detectivenyx]

(have to link to my friend's version because the person who wrote it deleted the og post)

so tumblr is apparently about to go down as run by a skeleton crew because the almighty capitalism didn't happen.

the staff are requesting 'pwease be nice to us!' but while the idea of tumblr ever reaching above pre-2019 levels of usage was a fucking pipe dream even when elon musk shoved his entire dick into twitter, the staff isn't entirely blameless. certain things that got blamed on staff (pornbots for example as an ever-evolving war) were unfair but the staff were absolutely guilty of having terfs on-staff that would then influence decisions, such as censoring tags to do with transgender people and especially transgender women, while daring to call themselves the queerest place on the internet. they also outright erased the existence of the person who brought the knowledge of the terfs on staff on their website, including all traces of the post in question beyond screenshots. they did it more than once.

more recently, tumblr started censoring tags about palestine - whichever tags suddenly became trending would be mysteriously no longer trending after a few days even when they were bigger than some of the trending alternatives.

with knowledge the self-professed queerest place on earth was banning and suppressing transfemme content with nsfw warnings and trying to suppress the palestine tags, goodwill staff had built up in 2022 spent a year in a free-falling nosedive. of course things were never going to reach pre-2019 levels, there was no reason trans women felt they'd be safer on tumblr than on any other pile of shit website on the internet.

it is a bit sad because in a couple of months i would've been on tumblr for 10 years but whatever the case, my jump-ship of choice is cohost. it's the most similar to tumblr, but it is legitimately better in almost every way. all the 'no pressure to become famous' of tumblr's heyday, the modern layout of tumblr, and most importantly, is actually run by queers - trans queers at that.

my cohost is nyxxy and i just kind of Shit over there

[tubbytarchia]

Just a bunch of Doc and Jimmy thoughts as to why I find them so appealing and endearing. I wanna draw them more but regardless I have too many thoughts on them to ever visualize them all. It's a lot and very self-indulgent. This is your warning

TLDR Jimmy in a father/son type of dynamic (as opposed to a romantic relationship) would do him good and Doc would be very perceptive and gentle and awesome about it

These are pretty much all reliant on a hypothetical scenario in which Jimmy is on Hermitcraft (after Secret Life?), temporarily or permanently or accidentally etc. I'm also gonna refer to Jimmy's relationships with Tango, Scott etc as romantic just for clarity

- Firstly I don't mind them as a ship, its all cool with me (cause I know at least a few of you ship them haha), but to me their absolute main appeal is the fatherly aspect. It being a father/son dynamic eliminates so many of Jimmy's struggles off the bat - ones that are prevalent in his romantic connections, mainly the inherent anxiety and inability to open up to his partners as a result (at least fully)

- Because of said anxiety, none of Jimmy's partners up to this hypothetical unexplained point of time would fully "get" him. Even if Jimmy trusts them, he's been conditioned to see himself as the faulty link by default and the people around him, however good they are and however much they COULD help, aren't the type to pick up on or be able to understand exactly what he needs (Tango's rather oblivious, Martyn's hot-headed etc), and Jimmy isn't exactly going to tell them in the headspace that he's in, he doesn't know how to. Yet Doc has had one, ONE notable interaction with him, and in that one interaction, even as Jimmy's just jokingly calling for Etho, Doc immediately and immaculately picks up on what Jimmy needs: "I want to take you into my hands and take you to a safe place"

- There's a quote(?) exchange that goes "You're free, (referring to a bird whose gate has just been opened), why don't you fly away?" followed by the bird "the cage is all I know". Sorry to use some "I'm 14 and this is deep" quote but that's just Jimmy. He needs time and gentleness, and a safe place that'd allow for that. A safe place to heal until he's ready to step out into the world of his own accord. He's helped out of the cage with patience and understanding, not by pushing him. Where Doc understands to be patient, some of Jimmy's partners post-3L would push - of course just trying to help but failing to grasp Jimmy's needs fully - or fail to realize there's (still) a cage there at all. Sorry what are we talking about again

- Add-on to the above points: Doc being able to pick up on Jimmy's wants and needs without verbalization. He'd be able to offer Jimmy desired comfort, and, comparing to Tango for example, without their time necessarily being cut short and without the failure to recognise that it's something Jimmy continues to need. (I've said it before but Tango's oblivious, and that's partially why he and Jimmy work well together, but it also means that he doesn't pick up on everything, especially when not near and soulbound to Jimmy, and by virtue of being a romantic partner, Jimmy's too anxious to ask for help too, because of previous relationship experiences). Doc would pick up on it all though, eliminating Jimmy's need to explicitly ask for help, because that's the one thing he's not able to communicate however desperately he's needed to to kickstart any kind of healing

- We all know how Doc gets when he's being a dad so. This father/son dynamic only means more softness and gentleness from Doc you know... Again, something Jimmy is in desperate need for!! And what he's gotten from people like Tango as well, but once again, this isn't a romantic relationship so Jimmy's feelings about physical affection are a bit different. Doc would have the utmost mindfulness of approaching Jimmy in any physical touch scenario though and never push or pressure. He always watches out for signs of discomfort, and will hardly touch him if he thinks that there's a chance it could upset Jimmy further. He understands that Jimmy needs time and patience and he doesn't want for him to draw more into himself, thus reversing any progress they might've made, especially if in Jimmy's current mindset, an even remotely unwanted approach could make him feel unsafe. If there are defenses that he's learned to and needs to keep up, then Doc won't take that away from him and give him space as needed

- When Doc IS to offer physical touch and such, he'd still have the utmost gentleness and pay attention to where he's situated near Jimmy just so he can ensure that he's using his organic arm to pat him or to have the organic half of his face towards him, not only to minimize intimidation but to also put them on more equal footing - If Doc can just look over and read Jimmy's eyes at any moment, he wants Jimmy to be able to see his too to help him feel more comfortable (and thus encourage opening up)

- Back to the "safe place" thing specifically, Doc would totally take Jimmy under his wing and thus also into his base - his huge and scary full-of-machines barely-resembling-a-house-to-any-degree base. Jimmy would be naturally intimidated by Doc and his base in kind, but just as he grows more used to big scary goat man, he grows more used to big scary goat man base. He'd be intimidated but not past the point of intrigue, and combined with his need to prove himself, Jimmy would very much try to study Doc's machines and learn the layout of his base etc. I'm tickled by the idea of no one understanding Doc's base as per usual, except this one lost guy he took under his wing

If Jimmy were to mess anything up (he inevitably would I'm sure) Doc would be all grumbly about it in the moment but never hold a grudge towards him. And Jimmy would either flee but quickly return and/or be very insistent on making it up to Doc, which Doc would refuse because there's no need

- Again, with Jimmy's need to prove himself but also out of genuine interest, Jimmy would very much try redstone whilst at Doc's. He'd ask Doc to be honest and not to praise his work just to be polite, but Doc would believe in him and find his efforts genuinely endearing and worthy of praise for the work that he'd have put into it. Not once would he have complimented Jimmy's work without meaning it. I don't think he'd be able to live with himself if he stooped to disingenuousness like that (though Jimmy wouldn't know that)

- Doc would be protective and rightfully so. If he were to see Jimmy bullying becoming too prevalent, he'd very much step in to say that that's enough of that. He might tease Jimmy a little himself, very lightheartedly, but otherwise not find much comedy in it. And we all know how he holds grudges if he's to single anyone out for going over the line... Jimmy would be opposed to Doc calling anyone out or anything of the like and Doc very much wants to respect Jimmy's wishes but... There's no way he isn't going to speak his mind at least out of Jimmy's earshot

- Doc has always understood that Jimmy's in need of help, but of course he can only entail so much without hearing it from the man himself. And when Jimmy does inevitably open up, Doc would be totally taken aback by the amount of things weighing on Jimmy's heart, and just out of disbelief he'd go "and you haven't told anyone??", which may make Jimmy curl in on himself a bit, but Doc would be quick to reassure that he's not questioning Jimmy's actions nor blaming him for bottling his feelings up, merely expressing sadness that Jimmy hasn't felt like he could tell anyone up until now. Doc would remember everything he's told with precision and keep it all in mind constantly. Very self indulgent but for example, Jimmy having felt the need to dress up as a maid as payback just to stay on SOS would make Doc pay even more attention to any potential signs of discomfort in Jimmy presenting himself to others or feeling pressured to do something etc

- Before reaching the point of being able to open up, Jimmy would inevitably tear up at some point when he gets stuck thinking about just how kindly he's being treated for whatever reason that remains a mystery to him. Even if he tried to hide it, Doc would immediately notice the unusual body language, or something like his headwing moving to cover his face. And he would become very panicked lol, quickly reassuring Jimmy about whatever he thinks caused the reaction, like his redstone attempts for example, only for Jimmy to be unable to express why he's really crying, but at the very least Doc would understand that there's more to it and will just do his best to comfort him regardless

- Jimmy has and will absolutely call people his dad as a joke, but when he inevitably refers to Doc as such by accident, he'd become embarrassed about it. It'd be awesome and cute I think

- Ok so Hermitcraft, of course Tango's there!! And with no death game looming over his or Jimmy's heads. Still, that doesn't erase Jimmy's anxiety even when he opens up to Doc about it. Doc would offer suggestions for how Jimmy could approach Tango (And maybe Pearl too), but if Jimmy expresses his inability to do so because of anxiety and such, then Doc will let it go and just comfort or reassure him for the time being instead. He'd ask if he should talk to Tango all menacing and Jimmy would be vehemently opposed to the idea lol. Doc would probably still take it up with Tango at some point and Jimmy wouldn't find out until much later into him and Tango talking again, at which point he'd become embarrassed that Tango had to deal with that (but of course there would have never been any malice involved and Tango can easily laugh about it). Added drama if we go with the idea that Jimmy's time on HC is limited which would only stress him out more about talking to Tango

- Doc would pay so much attention to Jimmy's wings' welfare. He'd ask Grian and do all kinds of research on his own too to make sure they're properly cared for whilst fully understanding their personal importance and potential intimacy that caring for them entails, giving Jimmy whatever space he needs whilst still keeping an eye on his wings. In a different hypothetical scenario where Doc is in the Life series and not much else is changed, he'd take note of Jimmy's wings being clipped (3L, LL), then growing (DL, LimL), and then becoming ragged (SL, with Jimmy's increasing hostility, restlessness etc)

- You are insane for reading till this point. Take my hand, we can be insane together

[shakespearean-dream]

last of the big five yall!!!!

happy late fourth of july! remember to keep boycotting, speak out and listen to palestinians, the people of congo, native americans, queer/trans people and women currently being oppressed this independence day because america fucking sucks!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥

here are a couple good places to donate! please remember to do your own research and take care of each other, it’s getting scary out here.

ohhhh nimdok, where to start with you….

i have been dreading doing him because he pisses me off so bad but i actually had some decent fun with him :D. designing him and branching out farther away from his canon self was nice, but im not touching his backstory or personality really, that stays about the same for me in my head.

speaking of whichhh! like benny, i understand how the game makers had a short amount of time to fit an entire character arc of an old man undoing his deeply internalized racism/xenophobia/ableism in a singular short scenario, but unlike benny i actually somehow like his better?? nimdok had a lot more to get over (well not saying being a dickhead murderer isn’t a lot but 😭) and i enjoyed seeing him actually help out the people he would’ve previously turned in. it still feels a little hollow/unrealistic because again, he’s been like this his whole life, but considering how much AM takes him away from the group to (most likely) psychologically torture him for his actions he’s probably had a bit of a revelation.

doing his scenario was unfortunately funny at times because of the strange way we had to go about redeeming him with the golem guy😭giving him a smooch caught me off guard but ykw? i’ll take it for being able to kill mengele like immediately afterward. also speaking of whichhhh…

i would go into more detail about nimdok and mengeles relationship to give it some depth because god i love me some queers, but that is??? a real fucking guy???? a real life monster???? im less than comfortable picturing the fucker in my mind, much less giving him depth with a character who i also don’t like. like why ship ur essentially OC with a REAL LIFE N/AZI??? just another one of the reasons harlan elision creeps me out. (if that just pissed you off google search him s/a-ing 2 people, marrying a 19 year old when he was in his 40s and defending a child r/apist i really don’t feel like arguing with you. the guy was a horrible fucking person and he makes me sick, i just like this franchise.)

i cannot cough up anymore thoughts about this fella pls forgive me; these past couple days have been rough on my 3 brain cells. AM will for sure be next and after that fully rendered/decked out full bodies are in order!! so look out for that:]]]] i may also start posting some art fight things since i was just complaining about the lag a post or so ago☺️ jk ily artfight. team seafoam lets goo

ok i love u guys!!! if u have any requests for me drop a comment or an ask, and thank you so much for the continued support on my art❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ lots of links on this post but one more quick reminder to take a look at my commission page if you’d like!!! yolanda is still in the shop because they cannot figure out what’s wrong with her :(

have a good night friends 🫶

[factual-fantasy]

29 asksss

Yes

@britneyt

Aw! Thank you! :DD

@gilbertsphotography

The elven style ears are meant to make them look less human and to match the Wario bros. :0 My AU's Peach and Daisy are these tall elf like creatures, not humans. They are the same species as the Wario bros.

Jangles would prepare himself for this brutal duel in "put em up" type battle stance. Ready to give this fight his all.

Only to be squashed by Jangle. Alas, he is made of plastic <XDD

@pinkpenguin88888

XDD Thought that was a bunny at first-

:DD Thank you! But hey, nothing's stopping you from book marking the post or saving the link to it somewhere :0

@whereismycupofcoffee

Honestly I have no hope. I'm thinking its gonna bomb like the Ruin DLC did, lore wise. Calling it now there's gonna be a character named VANESSA and her nickname is VANNY even though this movie is about the first game and has NOTHING TO DO WITH VANESSA. There's gonna be a kid named Cassidy, another kid named Gregory, circus baby is gonna come out of nowhere, there's gonna be a nightmare animatronic reference, one kid is gonna look like the crying child for no reason, Springtrap is gonna talk a lot and take away the horror- its gonna be a mess. The lore will be a terrible. mess.

Horror wise it might be awesome but I am NOT looking forward to all the crap they're gonna mix in with the lore. Its soooo simple, just make a spooky movie that captures the terror that the first game created. Recreate the mystery and horror. Bonnie disappearing, Foxy running down the hall. Freddy's music. Maybe Golden Freddy?? Hints of a darker past with dead kids. It would be awesome. They don't gotta complicate the lore by adding all the other games into it but I know they will-

@palettepainter :DD Thank you!!

@randox-talore Nope! The flowers don't make them bigger. They just give the bros ice/fire powers :}

@devastatorst

Pretty much XDD

@andysalleyway

:DDD Thank you so much!! Honestly I'm surprised by the number of my followers that are into the same fandoms I'm into. Sounds like I've found my people! XDD

Thanks, I'm hoping it finally gets through to people and they'll just leave me alone..

It is! But ya gotta DM me for it so I can sus out your blog :x

I need to have some idea of who I'm letting in-

:DD Thank you so much! Also sorry, I don't take requests :/

@montygatorshusband

THANK YOU! I don't support any ships from any fandoms, I just personally don't like them. So having people harp on me and my AU because a "canon ship" isn't in it was really annoying.. 😓

Glamrock Bonnie and Foxy would be thinking "Wow, they look different/great! :00"

Glamrock Freddy and Chica are like "WHY IS BONNIE SO LARGE"

Oooo that would be cool! All my versions of Bonnie are slow, so having him throw things at Gregory would be terrifying-

@ocinstituterep

The reason why I haven't drawn any classic mermaids like that is because it felt kind'a weird to add a half human creature into the Octonauts universe. Considering humans don't exist in it.. Now that post with the mermaid thing actually has the creature looking humanoid for sure. Because it would look more alien if it was human. But I kept the scales because a straight up half human mermaid would just feel out of place-

@mashmellowy

Firealpaca! :}}

@oddesto

XD Thank you!! Also my WHOLE BLOG?? Dang. I apologize for all the Gravity falls cringe you had to see-

XD Factual Fanta, that's great 🤣🤣

@citrusfruitman

I think those people are just salty because they wanna draw my stuff but I wont let them. My true fans will have basic human respect and just not draw fanart without sending me hate and rude comments.

@danman22ful

Monty is much more mellow and kind in the Partial swap. Although he still can be a bit of a grump sometimes. The way Bonnie is treating everyone (mostly Foxy) really angers/upsets him.

Roxy hasn't changed a whole lot tbh. Full of grief and self loathing. Except I don't think she'd have this "I'm better than you" attitude. Her thinking that Freddy's death was her fault would crush her. Just like Monty was crushed in the OG au.

:DDD Thank you!! Also really? :00 Wow, great minds do think alike! XD

Aw, I'm sorry that you relate to Bonnie's struggles, <:(

I was thinking he would do 1 of 2 things.

Either this bombshell that his late friends of 10 years are alive, would be so emotionally overwhelming that he would completely shut down. Literally. They would break into his room and Bonnie is collapsed on the floor. And cannot be reactivated. And when he does eventually reactivate, he absolutely refuses to acknowledge or speak to anyone in anyway..

OR, hearing that Chica and Freddy are alive, would completely drown out any other feeling. They're alive, he would rush out of his room to go see them. All of his stress, all of his anger would be swept away in favor of his anxiousness to see his friends again. And finally, he would talk to people again somewhat. Every day would get easier knowing that once its over he can go see Freddy and Chica again.

I haven't decided which one is better <XD

@burningmusicfunnygiant (Post in question)

Oh a whole mix of emotions. Mostly joy and sadness though.. Joy to see them alive after all these years. But sadness too see the horrible states they're in.. Mostly Freddy's state-

<XD Don't worry I wont. I know some of the angsty bits of Bluey but not enough to draw stuff and traumatize you all-

You are spared this time! XDD

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 17}

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

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

Word Count: 10.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d been searching the city for days.

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

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

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

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

It was as if you had simply vanished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now it was too little too late.

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

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

Burc’ya. Friend.

Ner kar’ta. My heart.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

Vencuyot riduur. Future husband.

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

He was beginning to think something had happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would…would you even want that type of life?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Now go and stay out of trouble.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

And then, suddenly.

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

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

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

I’ve always loved the forest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Similar but not identical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ner kar’ta.

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

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

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

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

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

I love you. Future husband.

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

Jatne vod.

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

And then you had been gone.

And it hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?”

“Sir, please, you need to check in-“

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

Din repeated his question, forgoing a formal greeting.

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

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

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

“He will.”

“Mando-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not so fast-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if someone knows?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…I made a mistake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Betrothed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She knows you care about her, Din.”

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

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

“We’ll fix it, I’ll help you fix it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were two glaringly obvious problems:

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

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

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers: by the lovely @cafekitsune

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

[alekthefox]

This is about my post about a future fanfic where Aventurine beats Dr Ratio in chess. What you're reading now however is canonical proof+my theories on Veritas' opinion on Aventurine's intelligence.

@resagini You're right absolutely, however Dr. Ratio already knows Aventurine is extremely intelligent! (I'm not sure if you were implying he doesn't realise it in canon... But if that's not the case... then for those people you mentioned in the last few tags here's a little info :)

Penacony spoilers underneath, with receipts.

First of all why he wears the bust:

(Source of image: Honkai Star Rail wiki, under Dr. Ratio, voice-overs.)

He has never ever been seen wearing it when with Ave. Aventurine even teases him about it in Penacony story with the line of (I love the stupid pun, the word "bust" fits both of them):

This also means Aventurine has seen it before this. I'm unsure the time placement of Final Victor light cone as of right now. But it is possible Veritas changed his mind multiple times. Since Penacony though he's not worn it when with Aventurine. It is also possible he wears it when the two of them are with others who Ratio finds to be blubbering fools.

Note: Aventurine is a high rank P45, and a Stoneheart, within the STRATEGIC Investment Department. Whyyyy, pray tell, do people think of him so lowly????

Then there's Dr. Ratio in the Aventurine showcase saying they're not exactly friends and he's not so bad to work with unlike those insufferable fools. (And I adore the callout he gets from Aventurine and how flustered he gets urgh this man <3)

Official video

Friends quote: 0:50

Veritas admitting Aventurine is in control then getting flustered when the two are described to have "mutual understanding" ("wait... mutual? What did he say about me???? 🥺"): 5:30

YESSSS YOU CAN PUT ITALIC ON EMOJIS!

And I would love to remind everyone of the lines:

Yep. Dr. Ratio knew Aventurine's plan, or the majority of it. (PEOPLE PISS ME OFF WHEN LISTING THAT BETRAYAL AS A REASON THIS SHIP IS TOXIC.) That means Dr. Ratio knew that this extremely layered, thoroughly thought through (i did NOT just use those three words like it's normal what the hell) scheme, all came from Aventurine's mind (literally nobody else would think of this bullshit, from the self-destruction to the breaking of a cornerstone to the THREE cornerstones in use in the same place without the people, in possession of the Family etc etc). I believe extremely little parts of the Penacony situation was luck. Aventurine is lucky, yes, insanely. But he uses his luck as an advantage, not main weapon. He uses it as a mask, he is a gambler to many eyes. The doctor knows this. He doesn't believe in luck but in probability, a controlled and calculable version of luck. He didn't trust his luck, but his mind. So Ratio played his part.

Another thing is that during Penacony you can retrace, during story, Aventurine and Ratio's steps. Literally. Playing as Acheron you can examine the footprints and it's stated that whoever was walking there are equals.

Despite Aventurine having full power over Ratio through the IPC authority and the cornerstone power and having him always follow his lead (begrudgingly or not), they walk side by side.

Even with Ratio being much taller and therefore faster, they walk side by side. (An easy excuse that doesn't involve feelings that both could use to avoid this respect.) Even with Ratio thinking a lot of people are morons, he walks side by side with Aventurine, without his statue mask. Even with Dr. Ratio's many accomplishments proving he's above quite a number of individuals.

In both opinions on who is greater, they choose this.

Link to wiki page

There is so so so so much more but I do think these instances alone are enough to prove my point.

[not-goldy]

Hey Goldy,

Just re-read your post on bts ships and ITS, and I was wondering if you had any thoughts about why Hybe allowed or thought it was a good idea for Jikook to do the travel show? I’m thinking in the round because they haven’t really promoted it on their channels, sold it to Disney and left it, so what was in it for them? How do you think Jikook approached them with it?

Thanks

Oh I should have linked my other post that predicted jikook was likely gonna get their own reality show after BTS was done!

Someone like it so I can find it and link it🥴

I think even if Jikook hadn't approached them with it they would have approached Jikook with it. The chemistry they have is highly and easily marketable and Disney housing them only means more money and autonomy for them.

And guys please watch the shit out of it so Disney knows there's an audience for such content.

You see think of this again as a business, and Jikook are the product. The usual strategy of such businesses is to invest in the product and sell it not to keep the product for ya self and or keep investing in it forever. The eng game is to sell and generate revenue from it.

If jikook are able to pull this off it only means more investors more brand deals and an evergreen content that's gonna make more and more money

Hybe will either use the money from investors they attract to reinvest in it's business and with little costs cos cost of production of the content would have been paid for.

There's so many places in the world they can visit. Which means they need someone to pay for flights accommodations health insurance traveling insurance and so on.

It's a business.

All they need is for jikook to keep jikooking and like Jungkook said for them to learn to be better entertainers and make sure the content they put out is engaging

And I think on that Jimin can make a lot of input. He knows what sells and he knows how to work an audience.

And if they are out of ideas I have plenty of ideas to last them a life time and yall trust me right??? Tsk I gatchall😌

About promoting it, a you have to consider the co nflirt of interest their platform is a competitor you know??? The whole idea is to have people run to Disney and watch Disney. If they showing it in their platform that would defeat the purpose

Two since it's Disney's platform they trying to promote, Disney would have to pay hybe to promote the content on hybe's platform 🥴

The least they can do is to agree to post say highlights every now and then and make a post about it every week

You get that people get paid to post stuff on their own platforms rights??? Hybe is no different. They've amassed a lot of following and traction and they have monetized that traction. If Disney wants them to promote Disney hard they gotta make it rain on them

It's why they "accidentally" post other artists to Army on weverse. It's not an accident they trying to make money off their platform.

These artists join weverse because they hope to tap into Hybe's huge user base.

There's plenty in it for hybe. If jikook is a success they would have to replicate that success or find a way to monetize the other members through units or solo shows like what Jin is doing.

Sope could come up with an idea for a show for example. In such a situation even if they fund the show by themselves and search for investors by themselves or sell the show to disney by themselves, hybe still earns a commission on their earnings as their agent. As their agent hybe earns a commission on allllllllll their earnings regardless of where that earnings come from.

But if hybe also provide the money for their show or find investors for them, (this is extra work done or extra investment) so when all is done hybe can either enter a partnership agreement with Sope to air the show on hybes independent platform like weverse but sope would have to pay hybe for airing it on such platform and also split revenue with them because they are the investors and on top of that hybe still earns a commission as their agency in charge of managing their career.

Or sope can choose to go with a third party platform like Disney instead of weverse and if Disney buys the show sope gets paid and then they have to pay back hybe for that initial investment in their show on top of paying them a commission on their earnings as they are their agent.

Or Sope can get bought out by Netflix or any other such platforms and it would be the same process.

Jikook are not doing this for free and neither are hybe or Disney or Netflix. They have a business relationship between them and everyone gets to take home something

Edit

Though I must add that it's not always the case that their shows will be bought by third party platforms. Sometimes they can enter an agreement that benefits both sides or even pay Disney themselves if they want to tap into the audience of Disney rather than Disney tapping theirs.

[masterwords]

masterwords halloween party

Welcome to my Halloween party!

From October 1st - 31st, I'd like to challenge you to create something with October/Halloween vibes. Anything from a bucket full of sweet treats to roll around in to a total bloodbath. The catch?

It has to be Criminal Minds.

You can write fic (any ship, gen, self-insert, world-building, AU, meta, headcanons, crossovers...whatever you want to craft with words), create art or moodboards or playlists or whatever your heart desires. I want to keep it simple and easy to participate, just have fun.

If you're interested, read below the cut for a list of prompts you're welcome to use, details and a few simple rules!

🎃 Tricks:

As if the case isn't grisly enough, now the hotel might be haunted.

Alternatively: The BAU is haunted

Anderson? There hasn't been an Anderson here in thirty years.

Childhood fear exposed

New fear unlocked

A near death experience acquaints a character with the Grim Reaper

Unsub AU

Back from the dead

Spooky campfire stories

Horror movie AU

Vampire AU

Zombie Apocalypse

The team plays with a Ouija board

"That isn't fake blood."

Power goes out during a thunderstorm

Someone's costume triggers Character A and Character B helps

The entire BAU ends up in a murder castle ala H.H. Holmes

🍭 Treats:

Taking the kids trick or treating

Office Halloween party

Pumpkin Patch/Corn Maze/Hay Ride

Cozy backyard bonfire

Haunted House/Carnival/County Fair/Spook Show date night

Characters make their relationship public with couples costumes

Operation: make Derek Morgan like Halloween

Character A is hurt/sick and has to skip Halloween. Character B brings Halloween to them.

Masquerade Ball

Character A surprises Character B with a sexy costume

The team is traveling on Halloween and makes the best of it

Scary movie night at Reid's place

Pumpkin carving contest

Doing yard work is unexpectedly fun when you have piles of leaves to jump into

Two people show up to a work party in the same costume

Character A relentlessly tries to scare Character B.

I have a bunch more prompts, so if you don't see something here but want something a little more specific you can send me an ask and I'll try to help you out. You do not have to use any of these to participate or ask permission to use them. Just take them or don't, totally up to you. I'd love to help you brainstorm so feel free to reach out! (You are welcome to combine these with Whumptober, Kinktober, etc. Double up! Triple! Quadruple!)

Please note: This is a challenge for you to do the creating, not a list of items to request of me. (I will be participating though.)

👻 Rules:

Must be Criminal Minds. Any character or ship, gen, self-insert, OC...whatever, but it has to be CM. This includes the main show, Suspect Behavior, Beyond Borders and Criminal Minds: Evolution.

Explicit sex/smut is allowed but you must be 18 or older. I will not add your fic to the masterlist or interact at all if there isn't clear indication that you are 18+.

Please warn/tag appropriately

No ship shaming, kink shaming, character hate etc please. This is a Halloween party, it's bound to get dark but let's not be mean!

Please tag me in your creation so I can add it to the masterlist and share it with everyone! (You can post here or send an AO3/other app link, up to you!)

Happy Haunting!