#I actually really like how I color the crystals sad that they don’t look that good with the background and stuff

[ymart26]

“It’s alright, there’s nothing to worry about! So why won’t you hug me?”

[box-yippee]

A Kind of Heart

BEETLEJUICE X READER!!

You sat on the edge of your bed, the dim light of your lamp casting eerie shadows on the walls. The day had been overwhelming—too many stressful encounters, responsibilities piling up like a mountain of unwanted paperwork, and feelings of isolation creeping in like the dark corners of your room. Tears streamed down your face, matching the ghostly atmosphere that surrounded you.

Suddenly, the familiar *whoosh* of a portal opened, and with a loud crash, Beetlejuice tumbled into your room, arms flailing and a wild grin plastered across his face. "Hey there, sad sack! What's got your ectoplasm in a twist?" he exclaimed, the chaotic energy radiating off him.

You looked up, sniffling as you wiped away your tears. "Not now, Beetlejuice. I just... need some time alone."

He plopped down beside you, the mattress creaking under his weight. "Aw, don’t be like that! I’m here to brighten your day!" He reached into his signature striped suit and pulled out a rubber chicken, squawking it obnoxiously.

The ridiculousness of it all only made your emotions surge higher. "Beetlejuice!" you cried, frustration leaking into your voice. "This is not helping!"

His eyes widened for a moment, then he laughed, the sound echoing through the room. “Oh, come on! Lighten up! It’s just a little clownery!”

With a deep breath, you felt the pressure build within you, and before you knew it, a fresh wave of sobs escaped. Beetlejuice's laughter faltered, realizing he had crossed a line. “Whoa, whoa! Easy there, buddy. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

As your tears intensified, Beetlejuice fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay, okay! So maybe the rubber chicken wasn’t the best idea. Let’s talk about it instead?”

But you were too far gone, shoulders shaking, feeling utterly defeated. Beetlejuice's playful demeanor shifted; he looked at you with surprising concern. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make things worse,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. “I’ll—I’ll be right back.”

He stumbled back through his portal, leaving you alone in your room, the silence enveloping you once more.

***

A few hours passed like a blur of emotional waves, but eventually, you heard the *whoosh* again. This time, a different kind of energy filled the room. You looked up, surprised to see Beetlejuice back, this time holding an assortment of items in his arms.

“I’m back, and I brought gifts!” he declared dramatically, his grin wide, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

He carefully set down a collection of strange trinkets: a glowing crystal that swirled with colors, a vintage comic book that you loved, and a plush toy—a goofy ghost with a big smile. “I thought these might cheer you up,” he explained, scratching his head. “I know I can be a real jerk sometimes, but I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re... well, you’re important to me.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. You’d hardly ever seen this side of him. “You actually thought of me?”

“Of course! I mean, who else would get my crazy humor if not you?” He chuckled, leaning closer. “Look, I know I can be a handful, but I just want to be your friend, alright? Friends don’t let friends cry alone.”

You felt a warmth spread in your chest as you took the items from him. “Thank you, Beetlejuice. This really means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it! Now—” He leaned in, grinning mischievously, “How about we put on a little show? I can summon some bats, throw in a little ghostly magic, and boom! Instant mood lift!”

You chuckled, wiping away the remnants of your tears. “Sounds better than rubber chickens.”

“Exactly! Now sit tight, watch this!” And with a flick of his wrist, he summoned a swirling mass of bats that filled the room, a cacophony of flapping wings and laughter erupting from both of you.

As the last bat fluttered away, you realized that perhaps Beetlejuice wasn’t so bad after all. After all, even in the strangest of circumstances, true friends will find a way to make each other smile again.

And just like that, amid the chaos of the Netherworld, you felt lighter, ready to embrace whatever bizarre adventure awaited…

[ezralovrr]

STOP ATTACKING ME! - A short Helluva Boss OC Drabble

Yeah I’m not gonna lie.. I don’t really like Stolas, I’m sorry. His whiny attitude about how Blitzo doesn’t love him is honestly really annoying. So here’s my frustrations being put into a small story!

(Also this basically serves as an origin story to Raya’s rivalry with Stolas.)

Stolas likers, I’m sorry in advance. This one isn’t for you.

.

.

.

.

The Goetia palace was lavishing as ever this evening; the crystal chandeliers sparkled in the evening light, the constellations painted on the ceiling seemed to glow, and the polished marble floor reflected the silhouettes of the avian royalty of Hell.

While Stella flounced about on the ballroom floor and squawked to her peacock acquaintances about her stupid husband, the owl prince Stolas stood 10 feet away from her, meekly sipping on some rich wine. “Witch.” He hissed under his breath. He was dressed in his bathrobes, as he couldn’t bother to get into his more formal attire. It’s not like anyone would care, anyways. Pity, pity, pity…

Andrealphus gave his brother-in-law a snide glare as he strode over to his cackling sister, who was loudly singing about what foolish things her husband had said this week. She did like to torment him, so this was nothing new to the owl prince.

Stolas huffed and ruffled his feathers, a look of sadness creeping up on his beak. If only his “star-crossed” lower-class lover Blitzo could whisk him away from the “Still Not Divorced” party, leaving his teenage daughter Octavia to sit awkwardly with her mother…

His train of thought was interrupted when he heard someone yelling mildly as they struggled to climb over the balcony rail. Stolas’s ruby eyes lit up, and he dashed over to the balcony he was standing next to, grabbing the arm to pull his lover up to the pala-

It was a human.

“Oh.” Stolas sighed. Regardless, he helped her up and into the palace, as he didn’t wish to be rude. “My apologies. I thought you were someone else.” He briskly turned to an imp waiter, trying to offer the woman something to drink or nibble on. She refused politely, though by the look on her face, she wanted to discuss something with the prince.

“It’s alright. I actually wanted to ask you about something regarding your.. affair.” The words “affair” seemed to haunt Stolas. Affair was far from what could be described about his loving, totally sincere relationship with Blitzo. “…Right then. Please, pray tell, what do you wish to query me?” Stolas adjusted his bathrobe to appear decent.

“Why do you still chase after that imp?” She shot him a subtle yet icy cold glare. Stolas felt his heart quake. “…What- What is your name..?” He asked the human. She gasped lightly and adjusted her corn-colored hair. “Raya. Why do you wish to know?” She tilted her head up at the prince. “I- …With all due respect, miss Raya… I genuinely feel a strong, warm connection to that little imp.” Stolas stared off into space as a sick warmth spread to his beak.

Raya clenched her teeth, clearly annoyed he was trying to change the subject. As he started to ramble on and on, she felt slightly agitated and wanted to square the conversation back. “No- no, you’re not listening to me, your highness.” She spoke out, causing the owl to hoot slightly and shut his beak in mild shock.

“…Like I said, you’re chasing after someone who isn’t interested in you. You deliberately harass the poor man, exploiting him for your pleasure and to keep his business afloat, and even prioritizing him over your daughter not once, but twice. You flaunted your first affair to your wife. And I get that she’s awful, but it doesn’t give you an excuse to do so. You spend all your time wailing and waiting for your imp prince to rescue you from the wicked witch, but you’re just living a fantasy. A sick fantasy in which you leave your daughter alone as feared. And no amount of coddling could change that, which is why you need to take the first step and accept that Blitz. Doesn’t. Love you.” Raya went on a long-winded rant, essentially calling out the Goetia prince for his attitude and actions.

Stolas was horrified, his legs were shaking like a great earthquake, his heart heavily beating as sweat trickled down his beak. It was true, but he didn’t want to accept it. He hated confrontation, he hated owning up to his mistakes and recognizing his flaws. And then, right before she could deliver the verdict…

“STOP! STOP IT, PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU! PLEASE, STOP IT!” Like a child, the owl prince screeched and stumbled back, crocodile tears streaming down his face as he made a scene. “No- wait- I- I didn’t mean to. Your royal highness, I apologize. Please, just breathe and think rationally for a second…!” Raya lightly raised her hand to soothe the prince.

“WITCH! SHE’S RAISING HER HAND AGAINST ME! SOMEONE, PLEASE TAKE HER AWAY!” Stolas cried out, dark blue feathers slightly falling from his body.

The orchestra paused as the royal avians turned to the scene. Andrealphus raised an eyebrow, mildly confused at the behavior of his brother-in-law. Stella, however, had a wicked, almost proud grin on her face. Two hellhounds grabbed Raya by the forearms while she was distracted from attempting to ease the prince.

“Ma’am, it’s nothing personal. We’d like for you to leave the premises at once.” One of them barked at her. “No, wait-! I’m not done! Octavia! Princess! Please just know that my door’s open if you wish to have a safe space!!” Raya called to the Goetia princess as she was dragged out of the ballroom. Octavia, while mildly confused, as put at ease as she went to go comfort her tantrum-throwing father.

Raya was tossed outside of the Goetia palace, and she hit the pavement upon impact. “Respectfully, you are disallowed from entering this palace again.” The other hellhound affirmed her as they shut the doors. “Damn it all…” Raya sighed and picked herself up. She shivered slightly, mildly irritated that her confrontational approach didn’t work out in the end.

Just before she was about to leave, the door opened and closed quickly. Raya turned around, finding a prideful Stella exiting the palace. “Well done. Really, darling, well done!” She slowly applauded the human. “What?” Raya mouthed to no one in particular.

“You really took the words out of my mouth. Although I’m still mildly disgusted that the imp-sucking excuse of my husband is being coddled right now back upstairs… you really said some things I wanted to hear for a long time.” Stella smiled lightly, offering a hand for the human to shake. Raya stared down at her hand, then pulled her lavender cardigan sleeve a bit over her palm before accepting the handshake.

“I’m… honored, I guess.” She awkwardly brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Well, I must head back to the Still Not Divorced soirée. Just keep in mind though… I admire your bravery.” Stella curtsied lightly before taking her leave and re-entering the palace.

Raya stood there, flabbergasted. Although her mission was unsuccessful, she at least felt satisfied voicing her thoughts on the prince.

.

.

.

.

And that’s the end! I’m gonna be honest, I’m not really keeping up with the show anymore, so I tried to write the characters to the best of my ability.

[signedjehanne]

dear white bandom tumblr, what the hell do you want us to say?

i’m tired. i’m really, really tired. 

look, what do you want us to say at this point? this was supposed to be a safe space, for the freaks and the outcasts, but we’ve long established that it is very much not safe. it’s crystal fucking clear.

and honestly, pretty much every white user on here is actively contributing to the hostility here. whether you like it or not, it’s not good to only reblog empty reassurances of anti-racism that do more service to yourself than to others. it’s not good to see poc on the dash trying to educate the white majority and doing everything possible to educate you, and either A) ignore it, B) like it, but don’t reblog it, because god forbid you sit with your discomfort for more than five seconds, or C) send racist anon hate to the original poster, or try to deflect their points. it’s not good to see something racist and let it slide. let me get this straight: none of these fans of color owe you anything. fans of color don’t owe you the time of day, fans of color don’t owe you education, and fans of color don’t owe you the dignity of a levelheaded reply in response to your racist comments. 

often times, we try to educate because we want this space to change. i mean, i didn’t have to write a five paragraph essay dissecting anti asian racism in mcr’s content. i did it because i was angry, and tired, and frustrated, and wanted the space to change. the same reason that every other ignored dissection and analysis that spent blood, sweat, tears, and emotional labor to make was created. a lot of the time you guys just don’t understand how much effort things like that take. and to be clear, this is not just the usual “oh my post didn’t go viral and i’m not a celebrity i’m so sad,” this is “i poured all of myself into trying to educate people that turned out to never care. i have been blatantly shown that the people around me aren’t interested in changing, no matter how much they claim to be.” 

and like, do you want me and countless other users to go in depth again? do you want us to jump from racist incident to racist incident? to hold your hand through explaining why making art of ray being arrested is bad, why gerard’s fetishization of asian people is bad, why making rising sun art and designs is bad, why reducing all of pete wentz’s work to being about mikey way is bad, why shaming people with non-european features for “not looking emo enough” is bad, why insulting and degrading pete and ray for their natural features is bad, why cropping ray out of tour videos is bad, why calling people slurs in their askboxes is bad? (and so much more that i didn’t add.) do you want us to go over the history of racism in alternative spaces as a whole? do you expect us to do all of those things for you on a whim, to make it palatable to you, as if we weren’t real people with real feelings behind the screen and as if we had infinite time and emotional energy? really? when there are many resources already out there, both online and offline? 

what all this tells me is you don’t see us as human. simple as that. you expect us to be able to take the abuse, to be able to silently let your racism pass, and if we ever speak up, you ignore the work we give to you and demand inhuman feats of patience and generosity, answering your every question and responding to your every debate and coddling you as you refuse to sit with the reality of the space you’ve helped to create. and that’s only if you claim to be on our side. 

it’s insane hearing you try to placate yourselves. trying to mindlessly agree without looking inward. i know this sounds harsh, but i know that most of you need to hear it. i just want this space to actually change, like i was begging for back in january and february. of course, i was foolish to believe that it ever would. and i’m foolish now, writing this as if people are ever going to pay attention. even if it does break a few hundred notes, it’s not like the message is going to stick around. sure, you’re “doing the work”, “listening and learning”, but how am i supposed to know that when your responses never change, and this scene stays the same as it ever was?

[quillyfied]

Things I’m noticing on this rewatch, which I’m hoping to take slow and ponder on but we will see how it goes, PART FIVE (obviously major Good Omens season 2 spoilers throughout, specifically for S2E5)

- Okay. Shax’s belt buckle certainly looks very snakelike, but her mannerisms are almost more lizard like to me? Very abrupt jerky movements. Straight lines.

- Okay but this whole discussion with Furfur is both hilarious and makes me wonder about the actual climate of heaven and hell post-Apocanope. Bc the idea that the actual legions of hell and hosts of heaven aren’t actually interested in fighting…yeah, seems supported by the text, actually.

- “Can I watch?” Always

- Alright the immediate way that Aziraphale is prepared to give away rare parts of his collection in order to get everyone there…unsettling? Surprising? Another drop in the bucket of suspense??

- Alright but the fact that he’s actually bothered by it is making me feel Some Kind of Way actually. Something something appears that he’s lost interest or is prepared to sacrifice his material comforts for The Greater Good, in actuality is doing his duty as a protector and guardian even if it hurts him. Don’t mind me, just need to lie down on the floor for a moment.

- Shax’s continued troubles with securing her demon army also continues to make me wonder what Beelzebub themself is playing at. If even Satan himself can’t command 10,000 killer demons into being, and would have to settle for about 70 creepy and unease-radiating layabouts…wtf??

- Unless Furfur is messing with her. For not backing him up in 1941. Entirely possible.

- FEZ. EVEN I KNOW THATS A DOCTOR WHO REFERENCE.

- Also Crowley’s goofing around with the crystal ball. Just want to bask in pure delightful silliness for a moment.

- Alright, back to Shax, who has a whole leather battle outfit? Certainly scary but all I can think is “did it take her an hour to squeeze into it?”

- Eric! Beloved Eric! And the manifold unfortunate ways his superiors dispose of him. Feels familiar and comfy, actually.

- Shax not knowing what she’s doing and being bad at winging it, Example 664

- Aziraphale persisting in French despite Justine really getting fed up with it: second clue that Aziraphale is putting this “night to remember” under more pressure than initially anticipated.

- Eric clarifying that they don’t really want to be fighting angels: lending more credence to my theory that The Big One/the Second Coming is going to fall apart due to out of touch management tbh

- I have deep curiosity about what the Christmas lights debacle is all about

- Nina! DRAG HIM.

- THE SHEER OUTRAGE OF AZIRAPHALE BEING CROWLEY’S BIT ON THE SIDE.

- Other people’s love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own. Coupled with melancholy romantic music. And a frankly heartbreaking expression on Nina’s face. I’m so sad for her. I’m equally sad for Crowley tbh.

- Lots of use of lightning this season. Noticing that Shax’s is dual blue and red…have to go back and see what color Crowley’s is.

- Shax’s shoulder pads remind me of a dragon or a lizard too tbh

- Something too about the opening that I can’t seem to articulate clearly but strikes me: when the bridge between the two planets breaks apart after Crowley and Aziraphale’s little dance back and forth (still on the wrong sides btw), the bridge reforms after a few seconds, but sideways. And one of the bridge halves is an entirely different bridge. Foreshadowing?

- This episode’s theater feature: The Ball, by Jane Austen. With the onscreen picture being, I believe, a couple of the demons?

- Can I just say—adore the pretty rose in Crowley’s shot. Also paused at the exact right moment to catch Aziraphale’s amused and fond expression while Crowley tries to express a real concern. Love that he cares, wish he would listen.

- The complexities of being in a toxic relationship. Even knowing you’re well shot of them, the ways they break you down don’t really leave. Nina is a mirror for Aziraphale.

- I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I do truly think that Crowley spilling the beans here will have consequences in the future.

- Crowley’s rage and hurt tho. Thank you for that, David Tennant, we have been blessed beyond measure.

- Shoutout to the person in the notes of my post about the second episode who said the little hissing chime happens whenever Crowley takes off his shades in an important moment, bc I caught it this time!

- The way Jim is so childlike in his un-Gabriel state makes me wonder if angels in their natural state are just Like That—joyful, trusting, full of genuine love and care. We see it in angel Crowley, we see it in early days Aziraphale, we see it in Jim, we see it in Muriel. Which makes the Fall feel all the more harrowing in concept. If any of the angels who Fell truly understood WHY they fell, just that they were loathsome in some way and deserved what they got.

- Crowley pulling back from causing actual harm because despite his very good and logical reasonings for not wanting Gabriel there…he’s still himself. Gabriel in his right mind would be one thing. This is Jim. He’s something else entirely right now.

- The understanding of the empty house metaphor though. Breaking my heart here.

- “Where is your memory, then?” Brings to mind immediately another John Finnemore quote: “you see, that’s a very stupid question that you just happen to have gotten lucky with.” And THE MATCHBOX! Aha! The plot continues to thicken!

- OH. I missed that the “institutional problem” line was something Crowley got to hear first before going to heaven was even on the table.

- I’m sorry Jim’s adorable little nod, GET THE MAN SOME HOT CHOCCY THEN

- Okay okay—the way Michael instantly dismisses Muriel’s assessment that Crowley fed them about love and humans being weird—brings to mind the meta I cannot find now of angels post-fall just. Not asking questions. Not questioning anything at all. Even taking credit for knowing things that are blatantly incorrect. They are just as broken as the demons tbh.

- I wonder at Michael’s slow glance to the side at Uriel’s insistence on labeling Aziraphale a traitor every time. Michael not liking Uriel stepping on their toes as acting supreme archangel?

- Muriel’s subtle little eyeliner. Love it.

- Also how they know a super powerful miracle occurred at the bookshop, how everyone seems to know or suspect that’s where Gabriel is, and YET. Jimbriel hides in plain sight anyway. Because a miracle that powerful is affecting even the archangels. Also interesting to note that they know a miracle occurred but they don’t know why. I know this is known but somehow I’m just now connecting the dots fully. They can track miraculous power. They can’t know the reason until the angel who did the miracle reports. What an elegant loophole to exploit for thousands of years.

- Nobody would believe you anyway XD

- WAIT AND SEE. I cannot believe Neil wrote that in after tormenting tumblr with it for months. I have such irreversible fondness for that phrase now.

- The soundtrack being so pretty ;A;

- Also, I know it’s actually not great the way Aziraphale’s ball moves forward in stealing away free will to a degree, but moment of quiet glee for how he gussies up everyone entering the shop, too

- MRS SANDWICH. I will be committing it to memory.

- “Everything else was taken” Nina what does that MEAN

- Okay the creepy fog and Crowley’s insistence that something is wrong—we are starting on the topsy turvy carousel of the night! Stuff is getting Weird!!

- Shoutout to the magic shop owner’s spouse! A lovely color on them indeed!

- How is it that Justine is reduced to stereotypical Frenchwoman? Aziraphale. Good grief.

- Also, Aziraphale: why is Gabriel dressed like Elton John?

- Aziraphale. Aziraphale you are sounding like the guy in Sense and Sensibility who keeps trying to push the Dashwoods into dancing and enjoying themselves when they’re emotionally distraught.

- Interesting how Maggie doesn’t notice the demons at all. Or Crowley shouting at them from across the street.

- Wondering how in touch Crowley is with hell to know that these are low ranking demons and if Shax is fully aware that Furfur likely screwed her over big time.

- The warm reddish interior at odds with the eerie greenish exterior. Love that framing.

- Mrs. Sandwich finding the best and most erotic way of getting around the language block Aziraphale has put in place now (SERIOUSLY, ANGEL), deffo a highlight of the second season for me. What a delightful little scene. With horrific implications re:Aziraphale’s unwillingness to break his own fantasy of helping to realize the actual danger he’s put them all in until it’s too late.

- Tiny miracle chime when Nina grabs Maggie’s hand

- Nina and Maggie not being entirely taken in by the atmosphere Aziraphale set. Intentional? Incidental?

- I can’t hear that wet slapping noise without thinking about Monty Python.

- Aziraphale and Crowley? Failing to communicate whilst danger draws near? NAAAHHH

- (I remember reading someone’s very innocent “I hope they dance this season!” pre-s2 prediction and having the reaction of “nice thought but there’s no way. Save it for fandom.” AND HERE I AM. WITH THE EGG ON MY FACE. FRIED BY THE WATTAGE OF MICHAEL SHEEN’S SMILE.)

- Okay but the way Crowley lets himself be led out though too

- SHAX TOOK THE ELEVATOR WHILE EVERYONE ELSE TOOK THE STAIRS. I DID NOT CATCH THAT AT FIRST EITHER.

- “I’m not afraid of hard work.” MAGGIE. DELIGHTFUL PRETTY EARNEST MAGGIE.

- “I think you’re overestimating how much trouble we’re actually in.” NOPE.

- Aziraphale, in trying to help solve the tangle he’s in, has just created the perfect storm of harm for all involved. France in a frilly frock coat all over again. Only worse.

- Jim being willing to go tho TT_TT

- “You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will.” HES. A. GUARDIAN. I. AM. CRYING.

- The fact that Shax sends Jimbriel back inside instead of trying to rip him apart is so funny. As is her attempt to spell toast XD apologies. Toste. (Throwback to Hastur and Ligur joking about toasting Crowley. Such fond memories.)

- Crowley throwing around rules he’s made up: the exact thing he would do and I’ve been deeply hoping he would do one day

- “I won’t leave you on your own.” “I know” WEEPING

- I was going to make a comment about the freaked out faces of Crowley and Aziraphale as Mr. Brown is quite possibly eaten or maimed, but I just found out one of the demons is named Skittles and I have to be joyful about that first.

- The miracles not working on Nina and Maggie!! WHY??

- “We aren’t leaving you on your own.” Maggie is brave and cares about her friends. Maggie is a mirror for Crowley.

- “But rescuing me makes him so happy” CANON. DECLARED. TEXT AND NOT JUST SUBTEXT.

- Crowley going James Bond with Muriel. ADORING IT

- The convo about tricking?? And then CROWLEY being the one to order the doors closed?? PARALLELS.

Okay. One episode left. Not many brain cells remaining. Time to grab a snack and buckle in, bc it’s about time to watch my heart get ripped out a second time.

[mellowmaidenhairs]

rad book review time because last week i got the new taz gn early and eleventh hour is my favorite arc so i wanted to jot down a couple of my thoughts on the book

TUMBLR WONT LET ME HIDE THIS SO ‼️SPOILERS FOR THE GRAPHIC NOVEL AND PODCAST AHEAD‼️

one thing is WOW this one is like a whole 100 pages longer than crystal kingdom and petals to the metal… it makes sense tho considering we are entering the latter half of the story. the previously on page is super cute i love the artwork….

stuff i liked ….<3

first of all designs …. and visuals…. the gns always have really vibrant colors and this has some very nice warm color palates which i love….

i have my ummm gripes with some designs in the gns to say the least bur i actually really loved most in here they were super good. also i liked the thbs cowboy out fits that’s all i will say on the main 3’s designs (clenching fist) i loved cassidy istus and ren

new scene at the start i loved that a lot … i will gobble up any redrobe foreshadowing i can get

THEY ADDED THE JOHANN AND VOIDFISH PART YAAAY!!!! i wish he played his harp tho like in the podcast…

i feel like the way they moved things around to fit the format was rlly well done here on my first read i was like oh my god they cut out the whole lunar interlude but they didn’t!!! i love how they incorporated it in between the loops a lot!!!!!!

nailed this scene i think … very pretty page so i will put it here

i loved the 100+ chapter gag i like a lot of the added gags and the jokes that were kept in too

THE CHALICE SCENE!!!! very anticipated scene and even tho it’s kinda condensed i feel like it’s pretty good.., stolen century foreshadowing aswell :-)

BARRY ALERT LUP ALERT ‼️‼️‼️📢📢📢📢

THE END SCENES!!! extended krav scene and merle writing the letter to his kids wjen the stars disappear and magnus ohhhhhffgfg…. so excited for suffering game ^_^

stuff i did not like….<\3

no fanart gallery this book?? maybe it has something to do with the controversy surrounding the payment of the artists which sucks a lot if so

no luca and redmond… they are cut entirely which makes me sad … i can understand this tho since they probably needed to cut something out to condense the plot a bit.. i do like that ren robs the bank tho even if it sacrifices the magic class lie taako does in the show

the diary of sheriff issak scene did not hit for me like it did in the podcast ok………..it’s alright but they changed the diary entry soooo much and didn’t flow as well imo…. i am not a fan of how much they slightly/completely alter a lot of lines from the show randomly but idk maybe they did it for a reason shrug

more nitpicky than anything: i love the chalice scene and the lup foreshadowing made me crazy but i wish the memory montage displayed taakos childhood of moving from place to place/not having a stable home better as it’s pretty important to his character

also nitpicky but i love the magnus redrobe scene a lot still BUT i wish they kept the part where he looks at it after june gave it to him and we don’t see it til later… idk why it’s changed but i think it would’ve been cool to see his silent reaction before we get to see what’s on the page…

ok that’s all for now…. these are just my initial thoughts after 2 reads (last monday and today) so my opinions could change but overall this one was probably a 8.5/10 best tazgn so far for me cant wait for the suffering game 🕺🕺🕺🕺

[hanatagami]

Dad! All Might x Ojamajo! Child! Reader (Part 1)

A ojamajo doremi x bnha crossover nobody but me wanted. Oh well. A certain song inspired this for me, but I may leave it and reveal it in another part...

 Part 2  Part 3

It was sad. This whole situation...it was sad. But it was supposed to be happy. As you looked at the Witch Queen’s veiled face you think back to how you got here.

You hadn’t intended on becoming a witch apprentice...when you had entered that magic store, you were earnestly only looking for a charm.

A charm that would improve your life at home...

You loved your dad, you loved him a whole bunch. But being Japan’s number one hero took a lot of time, and he placed that priority over you often.

Too often.

So you had entered Majo Rika’s shop in hopes of magic being able to help, cause you didn’t know what else to do. I mean you were a kid.

You vividly remember the scary appearance of the Maho-Dou before you came along, and Majo Rika’s fitting scary image before she was...frogged.

You had been slowly going over every single magical item, trying to find the best one to use. You can’t exactly remember what she had said in that moment, but you remembered it was rude. You remember not being able to hold back a snarky “witch” under your breath. Though looking back your glad you did, cause it was the moment Majo Rika became a magical frog and needed you to enter witch training to turn her back.

That was the start of being happy again. Happy you hadn’t felt in a long time. Majo Rika and Lala filled the absence of a parental figure you had been missing out on.

Though you could tell your dad tried, he really did. Every second he wasn’t working was spent with you, or resting, but mostly with you. It was really nice when he could...but as you got older that time got shorter and shorter. And you could see it hurt him as much as it hurt you, but at this point you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All the events he’s missed stand out even more in your head. A recital you had worked so hard on, missed. He promised he’d come but he didn’t. And as you played for the crowd, you hoped you hid the tears welling up in your eyes well enough. You hoped no one noticed the gaps in your performance, or the off notes. It wasn’t until you got to the Maho-Dou and both Majo Rika and Lala complimented your performance, watching through a crystal ball. You remember how they began to panic when you broke down that night, but now for two reasons and not just one. That night your dad had let you down once more, but that was also the night you had realized- Majo Rika and Lala have become more of a parent to you then your actual parent. It hurt to realize that.

Your apprenticeship really made you look back on your relationship with your dad and realize how flawed it really was. How do you not notice your child sneaking out at night to a random magic shop? Well its easy when your not home to notice. Though staying out of the eyes of patrolling heroes in a brightly colored witches uniform was hard.

It’s sad when you don’t need your fairy to help you trick your parents when sneaking out.

And speaking of your fairy, Soso, you were so happy when they had come to you. You had gained a family member! One you could take home, and make your home life less lonely. You guys had so much good times at home together, and you never had to hide them. You guys enjoyed having fashion shows together, it was always so funny to see your baby fairy in doll clothes trying to be modelesque.  It was nice.

Especially when your relationship with your dad had began to fall apart. You guys were fine. But as you got more into your apprenticeship, and your dad came home less frequently, you guys had begun to argue. It started off with small things, and maybe it was your fault but you had gotten so fed up. But they began to escalate with every broken promise. You would raise your voice, he’d want to defend himself and began to get angry and try to scold you for talking to him like that which only made you angrier. Your relationship of recent hadn’t been the greatest. But what could you do?

...

There were two parts of your apprenticeship that stood out to you the most in this moment. It strange how your tests bring up good memories with him, when your recent memories have been so bitter.

The first was your 6th level test. The test itself wasn’t all that significant, but what it did was. To combine an instrument that means something to you with your wand.

You were lucky that what you choose counted! It was a music box. Your favorite music box. You still remember the day you got it, even when it was so long ago. It was one of the few days your dad had off, and he took you out with him shopping. You were really young, but you remember having so much fun. You got to sit on his shoulders, which was incredible because he was so tall. He was in his skinny form too, so no one would interrupt you guys...

But the most memorable thing from that day was the music box. You had found it in a store, and had asked him about, confused. You had never seen one before after all.

He grabbed it and twisted the crank and you can still remember the magical feeling you felt when it started playing. The little woman began to turn on the box and the most beautiful song you had ever heard began to play and you were instantly enamored.

You think you remembered your dad laughing at you when he handed it to you, but honestly you can’t remember. You were so entranced by it you hardly noticed anything else! Needless to say, you had gone home with it, and it became your most precious item. You would sit and listen to it for hours. Your dad would play it for you when you went to bed, when you woke up, when you guys were just hanging out...

It was your guy’s special item. Your guy’s special song. No matter the situation, time, you guys made sure to listen to it together. Even recently, before it had merged with your wand, you guys had listened to it together on the rare time he was home. After you guys would fight. It would help calm you guys down. You couldn’t help but tear up at the new wand, completely full of seeds, and when it played your favorite melody for every spell you cast. It always reminded you of your dad and the good times you had, that seemed so few and far between now. But it also brought up the more recent times...the bad times.

The second test was your final test, the one that had happened just before this moment. Your test was to do something for someone using magic and to get them to thank you, and though it was risky, you knew exactly who you wanted to help. You followed him in secret all day, scanning for the best opportunity to help him. After a long time of waiting for your chance you had got it, though it was something small. He had sat down for a break and you magicked up a bottle of water. You made yourself invisible and handed it to him over his bulked up figure with a  “Here you go!” You made sure to put on some kind of voice, something he wouldn’t be able to recognize.

and quickly stepped back a bit when he grabbed it.

“Thank you!” He said turning around, and you took the moment to gaze at his confused face as he looked around, before he looked down to look at the water.

You were lucky you still had your broom out so you didnt have to make any noise when you left. You couldn’t bring yourself to stay longer then that.

With that you had finished your final test, and with that you had earned the right to become a fully fledged witch. But with becoming a witch came one consequence.

You must give up your life in the human world.

You must give up your life with your dad.

Perhaps the saddest part to you in this moment was how easy the answer came to you.

You would.

You would leave the human world behind...cause there wasn’t really anything waiting for you there.

Not anymore.

You could feel the heartbreak when your dad discovered you gone but...you just couldn’t bring yourself to stay with him when you had this opportunity in front of you.

So though you’d pick the witch world over your own, your found family over your blood...you hope you’d at least be able to watch over him from afar. Watch him find a groove back to life with you gone, without an answer to your disappearance. You weren’t sure if what you were feeling is regret. You don’t regret choosing to be a witch...

But maybe you regret leaving your dad so clueless of the situation. Leaving him in the dark. Leaving him thinking that things had been fine. Leaving the memories you guys had made together...but you won’t take it back. Maybe one day...

You’ll meet again.

[mocchimi]

Happy new year everyone ☆(•^-^•)☆

What better way to start the new year, than with a little Wingrod thingie. I wrote this as a part of the fanfiction I'm currently writing, but I think we need more Wingrod, so I'll just post it.

I am kind of hesitant because I'm not sure if I got the characters right, I hope so, if not I'm sorry.

Anyways moving on, the beautiful ship was introduced to me by @avoidghost so yeah, have more of it because it's great alright.

A warning aswell, I don't understand how cybertronian time works, it's different in every fanfiction I read and there are so many different ways that I found on the internet so I'm ignoring it for now and use earth time.

Enjoy reading this little thing :D

---------------------------------------------------

Candlelight looked incredible reflecting off of Wing’s plating.The light flickered across his faceplate, giving it a soft glow. He looked beautiful and Hot Rod really tried his best not to stare. Wing hadn’t noticed him just yet and instead looked at a crystal flower in his hands.

The light caught in it’s petals and broke into a thousand colors, dancing across Wing’s white plating. His golden optics were dimmed, making him seem relaxed. A small smile danced across the flyer’s lips, softening his faceplate even more.

Hot Rod wasn’t sure why exactly he was even here. Wing had asked for him, true, but he just didn’t get why. They had made some progress in the last few weeks, not something the speedster would call a success though. He didn’t ignore his friends and their tries to help him any longer, but really opening up and returning to his carefree attitude got harder and harder. Wing had opened a dam with his words and now he could no longer close it.

“I don’t think you can return to being ‘The good old Hot Rod’ because that mech is no longer you. He died that day you tried to save your brother and now you don’t know who you are yourself.” Hot Rod looked at the flyer, shock evident on his faceplate. "What?" He got out, his voice cracking. Wing looked at him with sad optics. "Hot Rod, you're lying to yourself and it's starting to hurt you. Let me help, I cannot bear to watch you destroy yourself." A gentle embrace followed the words, as Hot Rod felt tears dripping from his optics. He buried his face in Wings neck and clung to him as ugly sobs wrecked his frame.

The words still echoed in his head. He hated that Wing had been right. For all his talk and attitude, Hot Rod did not know who he really was. Finding that was harder than he imagined, and there had been more than one occasion where he just wanted to stop and leave it be.

Wing never allowed that. He stayed with the speedster and caught him when he tried to give up. The unending patience from the flyer was a blessing, but also a curse. No matter what Hot Rod tried, the flyer never left him truly alone, always there to listen and give him what he needed in that specific moment.

Hot Rod wanted to give him something back for all the trouble, but Wing never asked for anything in return. Not even Drift could help him there. Wing was happy with helping Hot Rod find himself and understand that he was worth something.

Now he stood here, in one of the many gardens Crystal City had, staring at Wing surrounded by candlelight and watching colors dance across his plating. The flyer was beautiful and breathtaking. Hot Rod nearly felt ashamed for the attraction he felt towards the other, but how could he actually be ashamed? Wing was so incredible and gorgeous. It would be more shameful to not feel something for the swordsmech.

But all that did no longer matter as Wing turned his head and smiled gently at him. Hot Rod felt his spoiler flutter and his spark racing. Never would he get over the sheer adoration he felt when Wing smiled at him like that. How had Hot Rod deserved such a perfect mech as his friend?

“Hot Rod, come sit down with me.”

His body moved on it’s own accord and soon he sat beside the beautiful flyer, staring at the others face. Wing gently pulled one of his servos up and interlocked their digits. The speedster felt energon rush into his cheeks, painting a flush across his face. The flyer raised his other servo and presented the crystal flower to Hot Rod. He took the flower hesitatingly from the other and looked at Wing in awe.

The swordsmech chuckled quietly and looked at Hot Rod with adoration filling his optics. “It’s a gift, don’t look so surprised.” He said, as Hot Rod looked down at the flower. A gift? “I wanted to talk with you.” At that, Hot Rod looked up at Wing again.

The other seemed nervous, staring at his free servo, while trying to find words. That was unusual. Wing always found words to say, ones that may not be perfect in that moment, but he never fought with himself to find words. Hot Rod wasn't quite sure how to read that behavior, considering he had never seen Wing like this.

Unsure, nervous and almost vulnerable. He did not like it.

Wing took a deep vent, before locking optics with Hot Rod. “I am unsure how to approach this whole situation correctly.” An awkward cough followed the silence. “I have never found myself in a situation quite like this, if I am being honest.” That did not ease the knot forming in Hot Rod’s tanks.

Wing squeezed his servo and nodded to himself. “In the past few months I found that I greatly enjoy your company. You have grown from when I first met you and I wish to stay by your side to witness the rest of it, to see who you’ll be. I don't know if you feel the same, but I want to know where this could lead us.” Hot Rod stared at Wing, energon warming his cheeks and his servo holding the crystal flower trembling. Did Wing just say that? He did and it seemed he wanted to say more, so Hot Rod stayed quite. “I like you, a lot. This is not quite love, but I'm sure it could developed into it." The flyer looked at Hot Rod and raised his free servo to the others cheek, gently stroking it. "I want to try being together as more than friends, if you're okay with that."

Hot Rod felt like his spark was about to burst from his chestplate. His hands were trembling and he could do nothing more than stare at Wing in utter disbelief. This incrediblely patient, gorgeous and nicest mech Hot Rod had ever met, had just declared that he wanted a relationship with the speedster. This had to be a dream, but Hot Rod knew that he wouldn’t let himself come up with something so beautiful. No, he felt to guilty to believe he deserved something like this. He tried to vent, but found himself unable to do it properly. Wing's face grew concerned and the speedster could hear the other call his name.

"You mean that?" He got out. His vocalizer cracked and filled with static, but he got it out and Hot Rod watched understanding dawn on Wing's faceplate. The concern was still evident, but was now accompanied with the softness of before. Wing closed his optics and nodded. "Yes, every word I just said. I mean it with my whole spark." He opened his optics again anf looked at Hot Rod with the earnest expression he had ever seen. It broke the younger one even more. Tears welled up in his optics, but a smile also formed on his lips.

Hot Rod sobbed as he fell into Wing's arms, clutching him like a he would disappear the second he let go. Wing soothed him, running his free servo over Hot Rod's spoiler and tightening the grip of his other servo still intertwined with Hit Rod's. "I'm gonna be a lot of work." The speedster mumbled into the flyer's neckcables. Wing nodded. "Yes, you will be." Hot Rod turned his helm to look at the older mech, seeing a loving smile instead if the disappointment he expected. "But I can be patient and you are worth it, don't ever doubt that." With that hr planted a kiss on Hot Rod's helm and they returned to embracing each other.

The candlelight illuminating their frames as they sat quietly in the garden for hours. Hot Rod felt happier than ever before, with Wing curled around him, holding him close to the flyer's spark. The speedster smiled and let himself fall into recharge, knowing that Wing would be there when he woke up, loving him. Coming to Crystal City had been a great idea.

[seokryuragi]

When a Winter Fairy is Your Best Friend.

It was a sunny day, perfect for lights fairies to work, it was 12pm, meaning the sun was at the perfect moment for light fairies to help garden fairies with the light, all of them were working, the day was going normal, all of the fairies tend to work together, by little teams, since it is easier and also more entertaining for them, a few had to help, there was this one exception, Light Fairy Matthew, he often helped garden fairies, but today it seemed nobody really needed him, he went down, and sat to just try to not feel so lonely that day, he was thinking a little too much everything about him and his light talent, “The rainbow I made last time was not as colorful…” he thought, and like that many thoughts came in. 

A little noise made him turn to the side… it was one of the message fairies “Message for you Matthew! Have a nice day.” “Thank you!” Matthew opened up the little letter, it was written in light blue and it felt cold, just by this feeling a wide smile on Matthew’s face appeared because he knew what it meant. 

“Matthew!! I am waiting for you at the barrier, I have extra free time today, I also have a little present for you. - jiwoong.” 

Matthew felt so happy to see his best friend, mostly when he was feeling so sad and unseen. Frost Fairy Jiwoong was a winter fairy. He made sure all the stations were protected when winter came in and also made ice crystals. Jiwoong and Matthew became friends one day at the changing station from winter to spring, a new Light Fairy Matthew who was just starting as Light Fairy was melting ice crystals, he was fascinated by the look of everything since it was his first time being there, he heard a subtle laugh behind him, “Do you like those? Those are ice crystals, made by first fairies like me.” “And how do you make them?” “After we end here I will show you, do you know where the winter barrier is?” Matthew just confidently nodded to then think to himself that he actually did not know what any of those words meant. “I will see you later…” “Matthew! My name is Matthew.” “I am Jiwoong! I will see you later Matthew!” That day Matthew continued to do his job for the changing station. After the day went, he tried his best to ask other fairies how to arrive at the winter barrier. After getting lost a few times, he arrived. “Are you looking for something here, warm fairy?” The king of winter fairies was there, kindly asking him. “I am looking for Jiwoong.” “Let me cover your wings with glitter so they don’t break, if you feel too cold, leave immediately.” Matthew walked looking at everything like it was the best thing he's ever seen. “You are here.” Matthew turned around to see Jiwoong, “Come here, I will show you what you asked.” That night without even realizing they spent it together feeling like they already knew each other for a long time.

Back in the present, Matthew arrived at the barrier, Jiwoong was already there. He covered Matthew’s wings, and started flying away. “I found a great story you will like.” “That’s the present?” “That and other thing I made, come here.” They entered Jiwoong’s little house, Jiwoong handed Matthew a book, and a little diary “Here! You could write whatever goes in that smart head of yours and even show me if you want!, also here.” Jiwoong handed Matthew a little bottle of perfume “This has a cold scent, just for you!” Matthew started reading the book Jiwoong handed out, making little additions from time to time, while Jiwoong paid all the attention in the world to his friend. 

Jiwoong also went to the warm side from time to time, with the help of the inventions of Tinker Fairy Ricky, but most of the time Matthew visited the winter side, he did this so often most winter fairies knew his name and who he was. Having a winter fairy as best friend was the best for Matthew, he always discovered something new to learn. 

[tequatls-favorite-spoon]

man i gotta figure out what to do with juyun :/ he’s one of my absolute fave ocs but his gw2 version is kinda boring which makes me sad! also here is a couple pics of him bc i know that helps me to remember what character ppl are talking about lol

so like, og juyun is the god of beauty in his world, and him being a literal god while eless is Just Some Guy, is something i try to keep the vibe of in most aus i make. so eless is a charr, and i made her from the olmakhan bc her family, and her decision to leave her family, is also important to her character. meanwhile, juyun is a norn in the order of whispers. and like, that’s all i gave him?? and like, there is the fact that he’s from mainland tyria and eless has been relatively isolated her whole life, that sort of fits their dynamic, but i want juyun to be more special 🥺 he’s my special little beautiful boy 🥺

so like, i have three ideas rn. i ended up rambling a bit, so here’s a quick list: juyun becomes aurenes champion/branded by aurene, juyun is actually a saltspray dragon, or juyun is an avatar of lyssa (could also be an avatar of a spirit of the wild, but idk which one)

the rest of my thoughts and rambles are below the cut

first is that he gets branded by aurene. the vibes fit him SO well, like god!juyun literally has opalescent skin, so aurene crystals are sooooo perfect for him. the issue tho, is idk why he’d be branded. like, i could go the route of him being aurene’s champion, but then i’d have to figure out who the commander is. i wouldn’t want it to be onyx cuz they’re from different stories for me? so it’s like. they shouldn’t know each other. having eless be the commander would be So Good, bc that lets me have them interact a LOT and i Love Them. but then i have to deal with the fact that she’s from elona so idk how she’d get to mainland tyria at the right time to become the commander :/ like, it could work? but it would almost be easier to make her from the legions, and that doesn’t feel right to me…

my second idea is that juyun could be a saltspray dragon! i like this bc the color scheme and vibes fit him really well, and bc he’s literally meant to be (half?) korean, so him having a direct link to cantha is cool. like, norn can be asian and stuff, but it’s mostly just looks at that point? anyway, the issues i run into here is that idk if all saltspray dragons can shapeshift? like there’s kuunavang/navan obvi, but idk about the others? and i don’t know a ton about the saltspray dragons in general, tho i think that’s just bc there’s not a lot to know? i also then have to decide if he left cantha, bc if he didn’t, then he and eless meet WAY late in the story. and if he DID leave, then i gotta figure out how, when, and why he did.

my last idea is that maybe he’s like. an avatar or something? i thought about him being linked to one of the spirits of the wild, but idk what one it would be, yknow? but then he could be an avatar of one of the six? like, he is sooo similar to lyssa! he’s literally a mesmer and i already associate him with illusions, glamours, and masks. the only issue here is that idk why he’d be here. like. i looked into avatars on the wiki a lil bit, but i still feel like i don’t know enough >:/

honestly, i think both the saltspray dragon and avatar ideas are stopped only by the fact that i don’t feel like i know enough. i think a lot of that is cuz i didn’t play gw1? (technically i played the free trial cuz my cousin played it, but that doesn’t really count) then again, i could always just. make stuff up. i can fill in blanks with whatever hand-wavey stuff i want! except that i’m rly indecisive lol and i like having characters like this be as canon-compliant as possible :(

returning to juyun as aurenes champion though, i think it might work the best? like, eless could have left the olmakhan and elona during the personal story. maybe juyun does the like, 10-50 story, and then eless shows up as part of the priory? and eless becomes the commander, and juyun is just like, there to help out. and then with lws2, maybe they split up? so juyun goes after the egg, while eless does something else? then again they don’t need to split up i think, cuz aurene could still just choose juyun.

so like, i think champion!juyun would be the easiest to figure out, but then his ‘special-ness’ takes a while to happen. saltspray!juyun gives him ties to cantha, but idk if it makes sense for there to be another saltspray dragon that can transform, and that he’d want to look like a norn. avatar!juyun is the most similar to his og version, but idk a lot about the gods and their avatars, and it being so similar might be a lil boring.

mm i think i might be leaning towards champion tbh, with saltspray dragon coming in second for now

[darkfrost-star]

Oh, I feel you so hard on that. Like just look at her, Leaf has NOTHING. She is the most useless female character and least loved and when we FINALLY get Green whose an awesome canonization for her people argue *squints* "they have a different number of eyelashes and personalities are different" <---- actual repeatedly pushed argument. I hope they put Kris in a hypothetical Let's Go Johto timeline (which may even be based off Crystal like LGPE was for Yellow) so I can make the "but noooo, look at the eyelashes, the clothes, the personality" argument right back at them. God forbid characters be redesigned or be given a "pre-make" bc that's what Lgpe IS it's the old designs! Leaf never had her own, she was just female Red! Green is the most canon she has ever been let me have this I've waited years. She's so clearly a blend of FRLG and the beta design for the Gen 1 female with the black dress. Sometimes I wonder how much even this argument matters if nobody cares about Green either. Curse of being female in a trio where people care about Reguri yaoi more. Her only content is fetishized ship art with Elaine and Leaf is just bubbly, grass loving ditz, or wingwomen. There was a time where Lyra was hated in 2014 but people adore her now, she has tons of appearances and relationships with other characters, even Kris gets more love. (She deserves it tho yay, but the point stands.) That Evolution ep was SUCH a win I tell you. She's quirky, she's silly, she's adventurous, she's a risk-taker and has insane shounen protagonist vibes, she's quick on her feet and improvises, she's brave and determined, she's kind, she loves the world, she has her own insecurities, in the japanese version Trace calls her BIG SIS. She's got cool Pokemon, not just cutesy ones, she's a badass in battle, she's got good sportsmenship and didn't just run off, she returned the favor of getting saved from Zubats. She is SO MUCH MORE than what we get in fan content. Her tumblr tag and ao3 is always dead. It makes me sad.

Tbh yeah, the whole eyelashes thing is probably the dumbest argument for them being different characters, like nevermind how that’s purely a cosmetic thing and people change the look of their eyelashes all the time via mascara and such, and besides that it’s just such a trivial and insignificant difference. You’re seriously telling me that just because Green has one extra eyelash than Leaf, that proves that she’s not her? Give me a break. Remake! Red and Classic! Red literally has completely different hair colors, yet I don’t see anyone arguing that they’re completely different people because of that! To be fair tho, I’ve only ever seen that Leaf fanboy troll guy (you know who I am talking about) use this argument, so I don’t think most people actually use it as a serious counterpoint, at least not from what I have seen. Besides, that doesn’t erase the fact that there’s still a crapton of overlapping design elements between LGPE Green and FRLG Leaf people!

I also never really got the “different personalities” counterpoint either. PMEX Leaf actually has a lot of the same personality traits that LGPE Green has especially if you compare her with her Evolutions counterpart. She has a lot of the same qualities that you described Evolutions Green having, such as being kind, smart, adventurous, brave and determined, being quirky (she likes to smell her mons for crying out loud!), and loves the world! Not to mention, she has similar possessive behavior with her Eevee as LGPE Green has with mewtwo, and is shown to have the same mindset of blurring the lines between humans and mons when she played along with Valerie’s desire in becoming a pokemon! And yeah, it is really disheartening that vast majority of the fanbase uses Leaf as shipping fodder and nothing more, whether it be shipping her LGPE self with Elaine (even though I actually kinda like that ship) or making her the “wingwoman” to Namelessshipping. It just comes off feeling very wrong, especially since female characters are infamously known for being used for romantic subplots and nothing more. It’s 2024 people should really be making more fan content of Leaf that portrays her as being as active and badass as her Evolutions self. 

Also yeah, if we ever get a let’s go Johto, Kris is definitely going to show up I think. The let’s go series is obviously based on the classicverse after all, so it only makes sense that Kris will appear and not Lyra. Not to mention it would give justice for her as she doesn’t have enough game representation either. I hope they make her some kind of knowledgeable senpai/mentor figure to the player, as PMEX has now established that she’s actually like her Pokespe counterpart. I don’t have much to say about Lyra but I’m definitely glad that she’s not as hated and bashed on as she was in the early 2010s fandom. It’s about time that we gave that girl a chance too!

[samwisethewitch]

Tapping Into Your Psychic Senses

Every single person on the planet has psychic abilities, but most people never realize that they’re using them. As Tess Whitehurst says in her book You Are Magical, “There is almost certainly something you assume that everyone can perceive that is actually a perception that is relatively unique to you.”

For example: you may be a gifted artist. Drawing and painting come naturally to you, and you have an intuitive sense of form and color. You probably know people who claim that they “don’t have an artistic bone in their body” or “can’t even draw a stick figure,” but you can’t bring yourself to believe it. Surely, those people are just psyching themselves out, because if art comes so easily to you, everyone must be able to do it to some extent, right?

Psychic abilities are similar. You’ve probably been tapping into at least one psychic sense all your life, but it feels so normal to you that you assume everyone experiences the world this way.

Once you become aware of your innate psychic abilities, you can start to harness them. For this reason, I think it’s a good idea to become familiar with (and comfortable using!) your natural psychic gifts before you try to learn any kind of divination.

Read over the following list of common psychic senses. Does one or more of them sound familiar? Once you recognize which of these you resonate with, focus on strengthening that gift over the next couple of weeks. You’ll be amazed by how easily you’re able to tap into it once you know how!

Clairvoyance: Clear Seeing

Contrary to popular opinion, the word “clairvoyance” does not describe any and all psychic abilities. Someone with clairvoyance receives psychic messages through their sense of sight. They may see these messages with their physical eyes, or see images in their mind’s eye. Seeing auras is an example of clairvoyance in action.

You may be clairvoyant if…

You often see flashes of light, blurred figures, or other visual phenomena that others do not see. [Note: This is NOT the same as visual hallucinations. Clairvoyants typically see things with their mind’s eye, not their physical eyes, and can differentiate between their visions and what is physically in front of them.]

You often experience random mental images that seem to have nothing to do with what’s going on around you.

Your meditations are primarily visual — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may see a bubbling fountain in your mind’s eye.

You are a visual learner.

Ways to Strengthen Clairvoyance

Keep a journal of the mental images you receive “out of nowhere.” Do these images mean anything to you? Do individual visions fit into a larger pattern?

Meditate on the energy systems in your body, starting from the feet and working up to the crown of the head. What does your energy look like? Are the colors bright and clear, or more faded and muddy? Does the energy move quickly, or is it slow and sluggish? Are there certain areas of your body where the energy seems to be tied up or stuck? How does its appearance correspond to your life? 

Do research into auras and what the different aura colors mean. Do you always seem to see or think of a certain color when you’re around a certain person? How does that color represent that person’s energy and personality? Write down your findings.

Clairaudience: Clear Hearing

Someone with clairaudience receives psychic messages through their sense of hearing. They may hear messages with their physical ears or “hear” them in their mind. A medium who hears spirits is an example of someone using clairaudience.

You may be clairaudient if…

You sometimes “hear” things in your mind, as if someone else was talking to you from inside your head. [Note: This is NOT the same as “hearing voices” or auditory hallucinations. Clairaudients usually “hear” messages with their mind, not their physical ears, and they can distinguish between psychic messages and physical, “real world” sounds.]

Sometimes, when you listen to music or watch a movie, a specific lyric or line of dialogue seems to jump out at you, as if it were a special message.

Your meditations are primarily auditory — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may hear a babbling brook.

You are an auditory learner.

Ways to Strengthen Clairaudience

Keep a journal of the messages you “hear” out of nowhere. Are they consistent, forming a larger pattern? Do they all seem to be “in the same voice,” or coming from the same source? (If so, this could be a deity or spirit guide reaching out to you.)

Do a meditation with the intention of holding a conversation with a helpful spirit guide. (If you are not comfortable working with spirits, you can set the intention of speaking to your inner self.) What does their voice sound like? Is it different from or similar to your own? Do they speak with an accent or have a unique inflection? Write down your thoughts.

Experiment with shufflemancy. This is a modern form of divination where you put a playlist on shuffle and receive a psychic message from the song that plays first. (You can find playlists specifically made for shufflemancy online, or make your own.) How does the song make you feel? Are there certain lyrics that jump out to you? Write down your thoughts.

Clairsentience: Clear Feeling

Someone with clairsentience feels psychic messages, either through their body or through their emotions. They may feel physical sensations, like an upset stomach, or may be very sensitive to emotional energies. Intuitively picking up on someone’s emotions without needing to ask is an example of clairsentience.

You may be clairsentient if…

You often feel physical sensations, like a hot flash or a cold chill, out of nowhere.

You are able to feel other people’s emotions — you can always tell when someone has had a bad day, even if they’re trying to hide it.

You can sense the “vibe” of a room as soon as you walk in. Do certain buildings feel “angry” or “sad” to you? Can you always tell the energy of a party even if you just arrived?

Your meditations primarily focus on tactile sensations — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may feel waves lapping at your feet.

Ways to Strengthen Clairsentience

Pay attention to your “gut feelings.” Do you feel a sinking sensation when thinking about something, only for it to go badly later? Do you feel a warm, fuzzy sensation thinking about something, only for it to go really well? Write down your experiences — and be honest. It’s okay if your gut feeling doesn’t always match the outcome.

Do a pathworking meditation (this is just a type of meditation that focuses on taking a mental journey) to a forest, or a beach, or some other location that appeals to you. Try to feel as many tactile sensations as possible, as if you were really there. Feel the grass or sand under your feet, feel the wind in your hair, feel the sun on your skin. Write down your experience.

Practice feeling the energy of a plant or crystal. Reach out and touch the plant/crystal, and try to feel it out. Does it have a calm, stable energy, or is it more bright and zingy? Try feeling a different plant/crystal and see how it feels different. Write down your experience.

Note: Some (but not all) clairsentients are also empaths, people who take on the emotions of others as if they were their own. All empaths are clairsentient, but not all clairsentient people are empaths. You may be an empath if you often find yourself matching the emotions of the people you’re around — you cry when they cry, laugh when they laugh, etc.

Claircognizance: Clear Knowing

Claircognizence is the gift of psychic knowing — people with this ability often “just know” things, even if they should have no way of knowing. They may know what someone is about to say before they say it, or know personal information about someone they just met.

You may be claircognizant if…

You “just know” what’s going on with your friends and family, even if they haven’t told you. For example, you may suddenly feel like you need to call your sister, only to find out after you call that she just broke up with her boyfriend.

You always know who a text is from as soon as your phone dings, or always know what song is going to play next on shuffle.

You often know things about new people as soon as you meet them, only for them to confirm it later. Did you know your friend was a vegetarian before he told you, even though you’d never shared a meal with him?

Your meditations often include “downloads” of information, where you feel like the answer to your question or some other revelation has just been dropped into your brain.

Ways to Strengthen Claircognizance

Every time your phone goes off, try to guess who the message is from. Keep a tally of how often you’re right vs. wrong.

Do a meditation with the intention of receiving the answer to a specific question. Retreat to a place of stillness and focus on your breath until the answer to the question “just comes to you.” Write down your experience.

This is a game I used to play with my sister before I knew what claircognizance was: have a friend show you a picture of someone they know, but whom you have never met before. Focus on the picture, and see if you get any info about the person — are they a jock? Do they like rock music? What’s their personality like? Get your friend to confirm or deny the info you got from the picture, and keep a tally of how often you’re right vs. wrong.

The Other Clairs

There are two other “clair” senses that are less common, so I’m not going to talk about them at length here. Clairalience, or “clear smelling,” refers to receiving psychic messages through smell. (If you smell roses out of nowhere, with no roses in sight, you may be using clairalience.) Clairgustance, or “clear tasting,” refers to receiving psychic messages through taste. (If you taste chocolate out of nowhere, you may be using claigustance.)

In my experience, these psychic senses are less common than the ones listed above. Most people I know who have clairalience or clairgustance seem to use it as a secondary sense, in addition to a primary sense like clairvoyance or clairsentience.

Conclusion

You are probably using at least one of these psychic senses every day, without even knowing it. Most people have two to three “main” psychic senses, but some may regularly and easily use all of them. For example, my primary psychic senses are clairsentience and claircognizance, but I also find myself receiving messages through clairaudience fairly often. It’s rare for me to receive clairvoyant messages, but it has happened.

Once you’ve identified the psychic senses that you naturally lean towards, you can begin to develop and strengthen them.

Resources:

You Are Magical by Tess Whitehurst [Specifically the chapter, “Reading the Signs.”]

The Fat Feminist Witch Podcast, Episode 68: “Clear Knowing”

The Angel Code by Chantel Lysette [Specifically the section on the psychic senses.]

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Chapter 1

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of sex, 18+,hitting, sad shit, break up, heart break, angst, cursing

Chapter Summary: reader and Lee breakup.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 //Chapter 3

The world felt as if it were shattering around you, crumbling beneath your feet like the rapture was upon you. Honestly, if the world did come to an end right now you’d be elated. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with your broken heart anymore.

You sat against a wall in your room, wallowing in your own self petty. It’d be three days since Lee Bodecker had broken things off with you. He had said that you were hurting his campaign, that he still loved you but needed a woman of power to help him become sheriff of this godforsaken town.

Lee had taken you out in the same field he took you to every time y’all made love. He kissed you so passionately, held you so closely. If you weren’t so caught up in the way his hands felt against your bare skin, you would’ve noticed how distraught he was the entire time he made love to you. It was his way of saying goodbye before he actually said goodbye. After he’d broken up with you, you felt disgusting and violated.

You’d never felt like that with Lee. He was your deputy and sinner in disguise. He was your rock and your soft place to fall. When the tears finally fill, the most empty feeling you’d ever felt emerged in your gut. One day you thought you were gonna be Mrs. Lee Bodecker. You daydreamed constantly of your wedding day and sharing a bed with the man you loved for the rest of your life ‘til you were old and gray. To know now that dream will always remain a dream.. that’s what hurt the most.

After Lee drove you home, you sat in your room for three days straight, not even coming out for supper. Your momma tried to convince you to eat and it worked once on the second day, until you threw up right after.

She didn’t understand. She’d never been in love, not really. Not love like you and Lee had. People told y’all all the time how rare and beautiful your love for one another was and you agreed. Just looking back on those memories made you sick. You listened in awe of how beautiful your love was not knowing Lee would only break your heart days later.

Today was Sunday, the lord's day, and usually you never wanted to go to church, but today you really didn’t want to go. The whole town, including Lee and his new arm candy, would be there. It’s the first time you’d be seeing Lee since he dropped you off. It was too soon, especially since you knew he’d already moved on.

As you sat with your head between your knees, your momma barged through your bedroom door.

“Jesus, girl. Why aren’t you up and ready to go? Church starts in an hour and you aren’t gonna make me late again.” She stomped over to your closet and shuffled through your dresses.

“Momma.. I- I’m not ready. I can’t see… him with her. I just ain’t ready for that kinda humiliation.” You sighed, trying to reason with your Bible-thumpin momma.

“Oh, no. You’ve embarrassed me enough this week. Disappearin’ for three whole days over a boy? You’re pathetic. You know, back in my day, we didn’t get to sit around and sulk the days away. No. We had to carry on like everything was fine and that’s what you’re gonna do. Now, get dressed.” She threw you a dress, one of your favorites actually. It was a teal blue, babydoll dress that you usually saved for special occasions, but you weren’t feeling very special at the moment and now you were just pissed off.

You stood and came face-to-face with your momma, “I’m not going. You have no idea how I feel. You can’t. You’ve never felt love the way we had it, Momma. No one ever loved you or me the way I love Lee. You couldn’t possib-“

Just then you felt a sharp sting against your cheek as your momma slapped you across the face.

“Not. Another. Word. You will be dressed and waitin for me at the car in ten minutes. No poutin’ and no sulkin’ in the pews. I don’t wanna hear another word about that boy.” She turned to exit your room but turned around to give you one last dig to the heart, “And, honey, a man in love would never have done what he did to you. Remember that next time you wanna preach to me about love.” With that she left your room. Your cheek still stung from the unexpected hit to the face. Your momma was cruel but she’d never hit you before.

The slap, in a way, was kind of refreshing. For a split second you’d totally forgotten about Lee. Only for a second, though. His crystal blue eyes and cheshire lips never leave your thoughts completely. You shook your head in defeat, trying to erase him from your mind. It didn’t work, but you took a deep breath and began getting ready.

//

The church parking lot was full when you and your momma pulled in. Rickety old trucks to brand spankin new, brightly colored cars littered the dusty lot. You spotted Lee’s car immediately, thankfully he was already inside.

The whole town came to this church, which wasn’t that many people. Nevertheless, everybody knew everybody and, even if you didn’t care, everybody knew everybody’s dirty laundry. Old Man Karl got pulled over last week for a DUI, Nancy from the library cheated on her husband with his brother and.. oh yeah, Lee Bodecker dumped his long time girlfriend for the mayor's daughter.

Lee and yours breakup was the talk of the town. You were the fresh, new gossip in this boring as hell town and there’s nothing you could do about it.

You couldn’t get two steps into the church without being bombarded by women you didn’t want to know but also knew too much about, asking if you were alright and that they’d pray for you on this ‘beautiful, glorious Sunday morning’. Yeah, same shit different day, different person.

One woman stayed to chat with your momma, so you went to find your seat. Your usual spot was next to Lee and naturally that’s where you headed, only to be greeted by Lee and His new girlfriend, Laura-Jean Mancon. She was one of those girls who’d been pretty her whole life. Blind hair, blue eyes and a huge rack. Everybody thought she’d go into modeling or start an acting career but she never did. Instead, she stayed and was now going to marry Lee. In your eyes, that’s the best path she could’ve taken. You’d take her place any day.

“Mornin’ Y/n.” Lee cleared his throat, unable to make eye contact with you.

“L-“ You went to say his name but found you couldn’t. It was only one syllable, only three letters and it pained you to even think about, let alone say aloud. You cleared your throat, “Laura-Jean, nice to see you again.”

Laura-Jean said nothing in return. She just hummed, waiting for you to talk away.

“I guess I’ll go.. find me a new seat.” You took a deep breath when you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, again. Lee stared straight forward the whole time you stood there, too cowardly to even look you in the eyes. Some Sheriff he’ll be.

You scanned the crowd of people and found your momma in the front row, of course. You made your way up the aisle and took your seat next to her. The chorus sang their hems and the preacher clapped his way in on the last versus.

“How are we doin’ on this fine Sunday mornin’?” he drawled to the crowd. He got an assortment of greetings in return.

“I said ‘HOW ARE WE DOIN ON THIS BRIGHT N’ SHINY SUNDIE MORNIN’?’.”

“GOOD” the people shouted in return. You could hear Laura-Jean giggling over something but you wouldn’t dare look back. Lee always made church bearable, making wise cracks at the preaches expense.

“Now, today I’d like to talk a little bit about love. Of course, we’re always talkin’ about love when it comes to our lord and savor, Jesus Christ. But just for a moment, it ain’t about him. No. This mornin’ I’m preachin’ to you about young love.”

Here we go.

“It comes and goes so fast, but when you have it, it’s one of the most beautiful things this world can offer you.. especially when you put a little Jesus in it.” The church laughed. You knew where this was going. Your stomach churned as you sunk down into the pew.

“I’d like to ask the newly engaged folks in the crowd to come and join me up here. You know who you are, soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Lee Bodecker.”

Your heart felt as if it were going to explode, a tear escaped through your lashes and you quickly wiped it away.

They walked up hand in hand, smiling for cheek to cheek. How could he be so happy, so calm after only being broken up for less than a week? Did he ever love you? Really love you. Like you loved him. Obviously not because you could never, in good conscience do this to him. You couldn’t stand on a stage wrapped arm in arm with another man while Lee sat, just as you were now, devastated and totally distraught.

“So tell us,” the preach beamed. “When’s the big day.”

Lee looked at you with a pained expression as Laura-Jean answered the preach.

“May 21st”

Your breathing heavies at the reply. Turning to your momma you whispered, “Momma, that’s in two weeks.”

“I know that. Now, hush.” She side eyed you with a full smile still pressed to her lips. Even your own mother didn’t seem to care about your feelings. You sat there, listening to Laura-Jean go on and on about their ‘big day’. Tears streamed down your face and you let them. You’d given up on trying to hide how hurt you really felt. When you looked up, Lee stared straight at you. He wasn’t crying but his pain ridden face told you everything. One look at him and you couldn’t breathe anymore. You stood abruptly, all eyes were on you and Laura-Jean had stopped talking.

“I- excuse me.” You said before booking it out the back door. Lee hollered out, asking you to wait. It was too late. You were half way out the door and couldn’t stand to be in that room for another second.

Your feet stomped against the grave, dust clouding up in your wake as you made your way to the road.

“Y/n!” Lee called out after you.

“Go away. I have nothing to say to you, L- fuck.” You cursed, trying desperately to get away from him.

“I said wait, goddammit.” He growled, capturing your bicep in his large hand.

“Let go of me!” You whined sounding out of breath.

“Not until you listened to what I have to say.”

“What, Lee? What could you possibly have to say?”

“I- I.. dammit. I know I put you in a tough position but-“

“A tough position?” You repeated.

“Let me finish.” He sighed and released your arm from his grasp, “I know I hurt you. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, but, doll, this is it. This is my only chance at becoming Sheriff. You know how hard I’ve worked to get here and you’ve always been so supportive of my dream. I- I just thought.. out of everyone you would understand.”

Your skin burned as you imagined smoke blowing from your ears. Did he really just say that? That you should understand the break up and go on with your life like nothing happened like he is? You stood there frozen, breathing heavier and heavier as your brain tried to come up with a coherent response while trying to also remain a lady.

“I- I still love you. You know that, right?” He asked, bringing a hand to your cheek and wiping a stray tear away.

You flinched at his burning touch and slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again. I don’t love you anymore. I can’t love you. Shit… seeing you was the best part of my day and now I can’t even look at you without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I can’t even say your name anymore. Everything about you, now, fills me with so much pain and dread. So if that’s what your love is, keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Doll,” A tear ran down his cheek, you now being the one who’s breaking his heart. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear.” He sniffles.

“Well, you did. I’m in so much pain.” You sobbed, “I’m in so much pain and I have no one to go to because you were my person. You have left me completely empty and utterly alone.”

“Y/n, I-“

“Save it, Bodecker. I’m done talking to you.”

Lee didn’t chase after you this time. He let the tears stream down his face as he watched you walk away. He was just as heartbroken as you but couldn’t show it., not when he was so close to winning this election. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and headed back towards the church. He knew you just needed time and that he’d still see you around town.

Seeing you today took his breath away. You wore your favorite dress that he bought you for your birthday so long ago. You didn’t have on any makeup, which he loved. You were so naturally beautiful and he did still love you with every piece of his shattered heart. He’d eventually come up with a plan to get you back, but for now he would respect your space.

//

Once you’d gotten home and shut the door, you couldn’t help but scream at the top of your lungs. Hoping for some sort of release from all this heartache you felt. Telling him you couldn’t love him was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You sat on the floor in the same position you were in before you left; head between your knees and sobbing like a baby.

There was no escaping him in this town. There was church and the grocery store and the diner you worked at part time. He was everywhere. He’d come in every morning you worked to have coffee with you. He had been a part of every little thing you do in your daily routine for as long as you can remember.

There was never a time you weren’t together. It was always just you and him. He was the one who held you when you were sad, but where was he now when you needed him most?

To you, there was only one way to fix this; get the hell out of here. Completely leave town and start anew somewhere else. You have an aunt that lives right outside of town. You can stay there until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you got up. Your aunt agreed to the plan and said you could stay with her for as long as you needed when you called her. You packed a small duffle bag and waited for her to pick you up.

When she did finally pull up out front, you hopped in the car and she drove off, leaving the dusty ole town you called home for so long. You took in a deep breath as you drove towards your new life. No Lee, no momma, no worries.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime

(Dm me to be added to taglist)

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

��………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[anime-alyssa]

genshin boys valentine’s headcanons!

figured i’d be at least a little festive. these are kind of long so sorry sdkfsdfsd gonna put a read more. implied spice but not graphic - and i’m pretty sure i for once in my life kept it gender neutral so go me

these were kind of hard to do since i dont do hc’s really, i make fics and yall can for sure tell where i started to struggle skfsdfsd

they are also on ao3 so do not be alarmed 

Diluc:

He’d be acting like he didn’t give a shit about valentine’s day but this mf is a softie

Thinking he didn’t care, you’d offer to just stay in for the day or something

Honestly as long as it was just the two of you, you don’t really care

“What? No, we’re going out to dinner. I already planned it.” 

You were really surprised, since he hadn’t voiced an opinion on the holiday before

To him this year was different - you were married, so he assumes it should be a bigger deal

You dressed up in your favorite outfit and met him at Angel’s Share later that day and  you swear you saw his jaw drop to the floor 

He regained his composure before he could tease you about it, taking you to dinner as promised

He held your hand from across the table and listened to you ramble about whatever

You’d try to ask him things, but he’d shake you off, not wanting to talk about himself

Nothing was out of the ordinary, just a normal dinner

Until the walk home, when he pulled out a present for you

“I had this made for you.” 

A necklace made out of a Crystal core, melted into the Pyro symbol like his vision

You started to get weepy as he put it on, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around your middle to embrace you

You turned back around to kiss him on the lips

After that he couldn’t get you home fast enough

You thanked the archons that everyone else at the WInery was home for the night

Namely because he fucked you right against the door once you got him 

And on the reception desk

….. And the table

Kaeya:

Listen, this man dotes on you 

We all know Kaeya is the romantic type to the max so this is his day

He wakes you up by kissing up your body and making you orgasm

After that, he has to go in and work for a little bit 

You don’t really mind, he gave you a bag of Mora and told you to buy something nice because he’s taking you to Liyue for a few days

He plans on celebrating for days, apparently

“We have a lot to celebrate, don’t we? It’s been quite a year.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that

When you get to Liyue, immediately your taken out to dinner and told to order anything you wanted 

You almost feel bad when you glance at the bill, saying it's not fair he did everything when it was supposed to be for both of you.

Later on that night, you and Kaeya walked around Liyue harbor together

“You didn’t have to do all this for me - really.”

He looked at you like you were crazy and smirked 

“But I did.”

Imagine the look on your face when he got down on one knee

After you stopped crying, you somehow managed a yes

Once you get back to where you were staying, he was on you

Except now it’s time for you to show him how you feel

He doesn’t complain when you do

The reminder of your days in Liyue are spent in a similar fashion: eating and fucking

Childe:

He has it planned down to the second

When you woke up he was gone, making you upset

But when you walked out of the bedroom and saw the dozens of roses, all was forgiven

He left you a note, saying he’d be back shortly but to get ready to go out.

Once he was home, he found you and immediately embraced you

He was always one to shower you in compliments to begin with but today he was extra complimenting on everything about you

He planned the entire day around your favorite things to do, from going to the tea shop and to the bookstore

You tried to fit in something he liked to do, but he fought you

“I’m happy seeing you happy, you know that!” 

God damn it, he made your heart melt 

You got home that night and he cooked for you

And it was actually really, really good

He got you a few presents too, of course

Custom made jewelry, of course 

You fell asleep on him that night, with his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest

You had been cuddling for what felt like hours, exchanging loving kisses between conversation

You didn’t miss how he said he couldn’t wait till next year

Xiao:

Thinks that it’s incredibly dumb 

“It’s a waste of time” he says

You get visibly sad, thinking now that you’re not gonna do anything for the whole day

You were gonna make him his favorite and everything, as a surprise

Now you’re just sad 

Oh fuck oh fuck why are you upset red alert Xiao - 

He asks Zhongli for advice, which isn’t any fucking good cause he tells him to show you how much he loves you 

How the fuck does he do that?

He doesn’t know

He settles for trying to comfort you in his own way, cuddling with you and apologizing for being an ass

You accept, and offer to make Almond Tofu for the two of you, but he says he’ll make it instead

It isn’t very good, but the thought is what matters

He tried and that was enough for you

After dinner he gets very touchy

That damn Harbinger was with Zhongli, he mentioned this is also something women like

He wasn’t too keen to believe him, but the way you moaned just now made his dick twitch

The rest of the night he shows you just how much he really loves you

Albedo:

You didn’t think he knew that Valentine’s Day existed, honestly 

Imagine your surprise when he woke you up with flowers, and saying he took the day off

…. But that you needed to go out for work first

You didn’t argue, he hardly ever took time off, so you’d go with him to get his supplies

Even if that meant you’d fucking freeze in Dragonspire

Once you got to his workstation in the mountain, he suggested a way to warm you up

Your heart skipped a beat, until he pulled out a warming potion

“What’s wrong? Drink it and you can be warm again.”

You drank it, and then explained what you had thought he meant

He laughed in your face, of course

“Don’t worry, that will come… after dinner.” 

Now you were fidgeting with anticipation the rest of the damn night 

(that was also something that didn’t happen to often, damn workaholic)

He started to notice at Angel’s Share, but you blamed it on the Dandelion Wine

He saw right through you, but of course made it up later that night

Right before you were about to go to sleep, you felt him slip something on your finger

It was a ring - obviously handmade. It glowed a pretty yellow color, much like his vision

“Happy Valentine’s, my love.” 

Zhongli:

He doesn’t quite understand what the big deal is 

“Why is there a day dedicated to love? I say it everyday, right?”

He thinks it's just a consumer-made holiday

Which it is, obviously

But god damn it you just want your boyfriend to treat you to fucking dinner

Even if it’s just Grilled Tiger Fish, that would suffice considering the former Archon never remembers his damn Mora 

You thought you had died when he walked you into the finest restaurant in Liyue

You refused to order until you had proof he had Mora on him

He agreed with a laugh and showed you that he had plenty 

He had arranged the table himself, apparently, moving both chairs next to each other

This was so he could hold you throughout the evening, make sure you were okay 

And whisper raunchy things into your ear while you tried to watch the entertainment like everyone else 

For someone who didn’t understand the hype he was feeding into it quite a bit 

He may be ancient, but he still had game 

By the time you were done, your thighs were red from you rubbing them together

You tried to make it into the bedroom, but he was quicker than you were 

He called the rest of the night getting his Mora’s worth 

Scaramouche:

“You’re kidding me? You care about that?”

You should have known that would be the reaction, honestly

After begging hard enough, he agrees to dinner

You claim he gave in, he claims he was going to do it anyway

(he gave in)

He spent almost the whole time irritated that everyone was lovey-dovey

“Scara, that’s how it is today. We look like the odd ones out.”

He couldn’t have any of that, so he moved his chair next to yours and ate with one arm around your shoulder the rest of the time 

You dragged him around to do things that you saw other couples doing

You know, like holding hands and going for walks, eating some street food

Couple things

He was quiet for most of the night, humoring you

You saw a nice necklace that you wanted while you were walking, but was offput by the price

They wanted how much Mora for that?!

You were eating a snack when Scaramouche walked away, saying he’d be back 

A few minutes later, he clasped the necklace around your neck

“I don’t want to hear it. Isn’t that the whole point of the holiday? Buying shit for your partner?” 

You tried to tell him it wasn’t just that, but he shut you up with some kisses

When you got home, he shut you up with more than just kisses

“This is what I was looking forward to today.”

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

SPOILERS! SORRY i wanna request another annie x reader, this includes spoilers like season 4 episode 8, and when annie comes out of her crystal in the manga so feel free to ignore! basically, reader was in sasha’s place and ended up dying when gabi shot her. after annie comes out of her crystal, the scouts explain to her what happened to reader. when annie and the scouts see gabi again, annie has a breakdown and screams at gabi how much reader meant to her? <3 tysm!!

You guys are sending me on an Annie brainrot, I’m not even kidding...

Also, the part where Annie comes out of the crystal hasn’t been animated yet (I already knew it happened cause of spoilers don’t worry), so I kinda just looked it up really quickly, so it might not be super accurate but ya know.

ALSO I LISTENED TO “I love you” BY BILLIE EILISH WHILE WRITING THIS AND IT HONESTLY ADDS TO THE MOOD SO MUCH BUT IT’S MAKING ME SAD

Tragedies of War

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon (Somewhat non-compliant)

Warnings: Slight violence, season 4 spoilers

Category: Angst

Summary: After coming out of the crystal, Annie searches for her s/o, and when she receives news of your passing, she searches for the one who ended their life in order to get closure.

Words: 5.0K

The sun shined harshly onto the parched dirt below your feet, and a swift pivot of your foot kicked a small cloud of dust into the space that surrounded your legs. You had dodged Annie’s punch flawlessly, and you held your hands up to your head defensively, just as she had taught you.

For a moment, a smile graced her lips. She was proud of how quickly you were catching up to her technique. She had taken up the task of teaching you basic martial arts and hand-to-hand combat after you expressed your dismay at being so inept at it.

Her fists raised to her face once again, signifying her readiness to continue.

You slowly approached her, preparing to land a strong hit, and hoping to get the upper hand against the experienced blonde girl.

Once you were in range, she swung her right fist swiftly towards your face, but a quick shift of your head to the right managed to have her arm swing right into the air above your shoulder. You acted quickly, not giving her the chance to recoil her arm or regain her stance, and delivered a harsh uppercut to the underside of her jaw with your idle right hand.

She stumbled backwards in a mixture of shock and slight pain. She had to admit, the late night training the two of you had been partaking in for the past few weeks was starting to pay off. Your uppercut was stronger than it had ever been, and a dull aching pain spread rapidly through her whole jaw, rocking her usually tense form ever so slightly. She brought her left hand up to rub her jaw, trying to sooth the pain as she winced.

“Impressive.” She muttered through her clenched teeth. Outwardly, she seemed annoyed, but inside, she was pleased at your performance. “You’re improving Y/n. Sooner or later, I might have to start to actually try against you.”

You chuckled nervously, reminded of how many levels above you Annie was. Still, a spur of confidence surged through you at the successful hit, and you raised your hands once again. You let out a satisfied huff.

“Well then, let’s see it!” You smiled confidently, high off of the delusion that you could possibly beat Annie’s master level combat skills.

You charged at her more recklessly this time, and reused your previous uppercut in attempt to catch her off guard once again. In response, she arched her back, tilting her head away from your fist effortlessly. Before you even had the time to acknowledge that you had missed, her left hand struck your stomach fiercely, and as you buckled over in pain, she placed her hands on the back of your head, and drove your face to her kneecap unrestrained.

You sunk down into a heap onto the dirt, clutching at your stomach in pain. You coughed dryly, trying to regain the breath that had just been knocked out of your chest oh so mercifully.

“O-Owww... That was... A little rough, Annie...” You choked out between pants.

“Well, you seemed confident. I needed to knock you down a peg.” She stared at you, unamused.

She waited a moment for you to stand up so the two of you could resume training, but you stayed hunched over on the dirt as crimson started to drip slowly from your nose. The small whimper of pain that left your lips ignited a twinge of sympathy in the girl, and she knelt down next to you to grab your hands and cautiously lift you up.

Her attention shifted to the blood that leaked from your nose, and she averted her eyes. It was training, you were bound to get hurt no matter what, but that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty over your minor injury.

She walked over to the small pile of towels she had set aside, originally there in case one or both of you got too sweaty and needed a break. She picked up one from the top of the pile and brought it to your nose to try and prevent the blood from leaving stains on your clothes. After all, you only had so many shirts, and they were seldom washed to remove stains.

“Maybe I was a little rough there... sorry...” She murmured, embarrassed at how soft the whole situation was making her feel.

An adorable giggle left your lips, and Annie looked at you in confusion. What is she laughing about? What’s so funny?

Her look of confusion didn’t help you keep your composure, as you started full blown laughing.

“Y/n??” Annie asked, accidentally bringing the towel away from your face. “What it is??”

Your laughter died down, and after letting out one final chuckle, you spoke up. “You’re just really cute, especially when you’re worried.”

She blushed at that, still not used to the verbal affection that you were so fond of giving her.

Flustered, she tilted her head down to rest her head longingly on your shoulder. You grinned once again as you felt a gentle smile curve upwards on her lips.

“Take it back...” Her voice faltered. She was deeply conflicted between accepting the compliment or insisting that she wasn’t cute.

You only chuckled once again. Her inability to think of anything to do in response to affection was even cuter.

You grabbed her wrist, and brought it up to your face. You started gently and endearingly ghosting kisses along her skin, starting at the wrist and moving wordlessly up her arm. You stopped for a moment though, just to hug her arm into your chest lovingly.

“I love you Annie...”

“...”

“I love you too...”

*CRASH*

Cold. That’s all it felt like. Cold.

Something was... wrong... very wrong... but she couldn’t place her finger on what.

Her eyes peeled open slowly, and the first coherent thought she would have after four years started to form in her mind.

Oh... I’m on the floor...

She sat up slowly, her tense joints and muscles refusing to give her an easy time of it. Once she stood up on her unsteady, almost shaky legs, she stretched, surveying the room around her.

Small fragments of icy crystalline shards lay scattered at her feet. It took one bewildered look behind her for her scatterbrained mind to form together an understanding of what was going on.

I... I’m free from the crystal...? Why?

She glanced around, confused and desperate for any indication of why she was free. There were no MPs in the room, nor any scouts or Marleyan soldiers. Clearly, no one was intentionally trying to set her free.

After assessing the situation to ease her mind a little, she shuffled backwards and slid down the wall, taking a deep, full breath for the first time in years. The air felt great, she had to admit, and being able to move once again was certainly freeing. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head in her arms tranquilly. She loved feeling free once again, but she felt her heart tug, as it was yearning for something... or someone.

Her head perked up abruptly, a memory flashing through her brain. She was training with you... her girlfriend.

It had been four years since she’d seen you... she wondered what you would look like now. Had you been having fun with everyone? Did you find out the truth and escape the walls?

An anxious thought ruthlessly tore it’s way through Annie’s brain. Did something happen to you? Did you take your final breaths cold and alone while she slept like a baby in the stupid crystal? Were you devoured by a titan that her own nation sent to kill you? Did you... die hating her?

She stood up abruptly, swinging her leg back and kicking a shard of crystal across the room and letting out a huff through her clenched. Surely not. She’s an extremely strong soldier. I know her better than anyone else would. Nothing could have happened to her...

But, still, a seed of worry had already planted itself in her stomach. Still, she just had to see you again. Not only did she need to make sure that you were unharmed by this senselessness, but just to see you once more. She couldn’t care less what become of her, especially now that she had escaped. She wanted to treasure one more conversation with her lover, and to hold you and whisper sweet nothings to you. God, she was missing those little things so bad right now.

Her mind shifted to the first step towards seeing you- getting out of this shitty dungeon. The wooden door was unlocked and unguarded, at least from this side. She took quiet, strategic steps towards the door, and creaked open the door gently, as to not alert anyone outside of her presence.

A lone guard stood with their back turned to the door. One look at the short and wavy cream colored locks and she was easily identified as Hitch, her old MP roommate.

She made a quick dash, stopping behind the unaware girl and placing one hand over her mouth to prevent her from making any noise, and the other arm was wrapped tightly over Hitch’s neck. She felt the girl tense up considerably out fear in her grasp.

“Take me to the Scouts.”

---

Within the day, she had arrived at the current residence of Scouts. She had convinced some of the higher up MPs to let her see them, with much pleading of course, and on the promise that she would do absolutely no harm, and she would be under MP supervision the whole time.

She walked along the worn dirt path quickly, an MP standing to either side of her, holding both of her arms as to prevent any chance of Annie attacking. She stepped right in front of the door, and her heart filled with both excitement and anxiousness as she thought about her lover, who was most likely waiting on the other side.

An MP dully knocked on the door, and a disgruntled Levi answered.

“Military Police? What are you doing here?” He asked, unamused at the sudden presence of guests.

Peering over his shoulder from inside, Armin’s eyes widened as he recognized the anxious girl in the doorway. “Annie? What are you doing here? Why are you out of your crystal??” He started to jog to the front door, standing next to a confused Levi.

“You know her?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, from our cadet years. She didn’t join the Scouts though.” His gaze shifted from Levi’s eyes to the floor, an unreadable expression painting his face. “She’s also a Marleyan Warrior.”

Annie’s eyes widened at the mention of the Warrior Program. Of course they found out...

Levi turned around to head back inside, deciding this was none of his business. “Take care of it Armin.” He let out a small chuckle before continuing. “I thought we were getting arrested again.”

Armin’s eyes followed Levi as he walked away, but he turned back to face the MPs and Annie once again. She admired him for a moment. He seemed more mature now, but at the same time, it seemed some of the childish wonder had left his eyes in place of a more hopeless, dead look in his eyes. Such was to be expected of a soldier long at war.

“What are you doing here?” Arming questioned, staring at Annie.

“I... uh...” It wasn’t until now that she considered that admitting the only reason she was here was her lovesickness would be a little embarrassing, but she had to explain. Still, she altered her motives just a little bit so she wouldn’t seem so hopelessly devoted to you. “I broke out of the crystal... somehow... and I just wanted to visit you all one more time.” Even if she wasn’t directly speaking about you, admitting that she missed any of the people from her cadet days made her fluster up a little bit.

Armin stepped out of the way, beckoning her and the MPs to come inside. She stepped inside curiously, gazing at the inside of the building. It doesn’t seem half bad in here...

The MPs followed her cautiously, and still held both of her arms securely behind her back. Armin saw this, and motioned with his hand for them to let go, before speaking calmly.

“She’s not a threat, you can release her.”

The MPs loosened their grip on Annie, allowing her arms to fall comfortably at their sides. The two officers stepped back and against the wall, deciding to stay there to observe the situation.

Annie took the time to gaze around at the soldiers surrounding her. People looked on at her with many emotions. Some were indifferent, since they didn’t know her, but many were weary of her Warrior status, and a select few stared at her with pity-filled expressions. She continued to look to see if she recognized anyone in the crowd. Most faces were unfamiliar, but certain people stood out to her from her memories. Mikasa, Eren, Connie, Jean, Sasha... she glanced around, searching for the faces of her old comrades, but more so, she was looking for you.

“Everyone has changed a lot, haven’t they?” Armin sighed, looking at the ground with a look of sad nostalgia.

After a few more seconds of searching, she failed to find your beautiful e/c eyes anywhere in the room, and the seed of worry in the pit of her stomach began to grow, her palms growing clammy with anxiety.

“Where is Y/n?” She spat out abruptly, worry evident in her voice. She couldn’t bear any small talk at this point, she just desperately wanted to see where you were.

Her eyes widened as she looked back to Armin. His mournful expression by itself answered her question clearly, but she refused to pay any attention to it.

She gazed around at the others in the room desperately. Everyone from the 104th Cadet Corps (in other words, everyone that knew about the Annie’s relationship with the h/c haired girl) had the same expression.

Their faces were all laced with the same emotion.

Pity.

The kind of pity that you see when a neighbor has to tell the little kid down the street that the family puppy got hit by a car, or the kind of pity that you have when somebody gets their life’s work stolen from them, or, in this case, the kind of pity where you are forced to tell a distraught individual that their lover died at war. That kind of pity.

She didn’t want to believe it. No, she couldn’t believe it.

She couldn’t be bothered to close her slacked jaw, or to hide the distress on her face as she waits for the possibility that she was reading the room wrong.

Armin looked to his side, averting his eyes. He truly couldn’t find it in his heart to answer the question.

It wasn’t until the distinct clacking of boots on the hardwood floor started to approach her that she snapped out of her trance.

The person approached Annie slowly, but calmly, and Annie took a moment to scan her face. The stranger was decorated with a Scout badge on her shoulder, and a shiny medal hung from their neck. They had auburn/brown hair that was tucked into a loose ponytail behind their head, and an eyepatch covering their left eye.

The person had a sorrowful look as they grabbed Annie’s limp hand and encased it in their own.

“I am Hange Zoe, commander of the Scouts.” They said courteously. They bowed her head in mourning and respect as she continued on. “It’s my displeasure to have to inform you of this, but during a semi-recent mission to the city of Liberio, Y/n was shot and killed by a Marleyan.”

All of the sudden, everything stopped.

No sound, no motion, no nothing. It had just... frozen.

She had a feeling that the person in front of her was still talking, based on the fact that their lips were still moving, but she couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear anything. All that enveloped her ears was ringing. Painful, painful ringing.

She had stopped shaking, and she was certain her hand had gone cold in the other person’s grasp.

She didn’t understand it at all.

“How...” A barely audible whisper ghosted from her lips, and Hange’s word stopped in their throat. “How did this happen?” She grit her teeth and spoke out shaky words of disbelief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “How did someone like her... die...?” The last word of her sentence was so light in volume, yet so heavy in emotion. It’s almost as if the blonde girl couldn’t even comprehend the word itself.

“It was a warrior candidate.” Someone spoke from the other side of the room, and both Annie and Hange turned to look. The speaker leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a scowl adorning his features.

“Floch, now isn’t the time-” Hange quietly tried to coax the man into shutting up and letting Annie grieve, but he continued to speak.

“That little bitch- she climbed aboard the ship using stolen ODM gear, took a gun, and shot into the crowd of soldiers blindly. Hit Y/n in the chest, she dropped to the ground in seconds.” He continued to explain so nonchalantly, as if the death of a comrade was just another casualty in his eyes. His calmness made Annie want to knock him out cold, but she wanted him to finish. She desperately needed to know.

“We beat the shit out of her for a minute- her and some other little blonde kid. They’re in holding cells downstairs as we speak.” Annie’s eyes widened as she thought about her girlfriend’s killer residing in the same exact building as her. Dark thoughts of violence flashed through her mind as she imagined all the things she would do to the murderer if she just got a chance. All she needed was a few minutes.

“I wasn’t with her when she died, but Mikasa, Armin, and Connie were. I think her last words were directed to you, but I don’t remember what she said.” He folded his arms and looked away, a subtle indication that he had finished speaking.

The room was still with tense, stagnant air. No one moved, nor spoke. Annie tried desperately to gather her thoughts, to try and think rationally about all of this- but she couldn’t. Rage and sorrow flooded her mind, and any other thoughts were just a blur. She was going to go confront this person. No, she swore, she was going to kill her.

Taking advantage of the stagnant environment (and the MPs questionable devotion to their guard duties) Annie made a mad dash towards the hallway.

The tears were rolling down her cheeks unrestrained now, and she made no effort to wipe them away. Normally, she would never let anyone see her this emotional. Well, no one other than you, of course.

She ran to the end of the hallway, and found the staircase that led to where the supposed murderer was- the basement. She swore she could hear chaos filled yells from behind her, but she couldn’t pick out if they were directed to her or this “Floch” guy, and frankly, she didn’t care.

She rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping because of how hurried she was, and reached the only jail cell that remained locked.

Gazing through the bars, she was met with two figures, both sitting slumped on the beds. One had short blonde hair, with a lost and confused look in his eyes, while the other had the same auburn hair as Hange, alongside chestnut colored eyes that were swelled over in rage. They looked battered and filthy, but that was to be expected of any prisoner of the Scout Regiment.

Still, their faces ignited a twinge of sympathy in Annie’s bruised heart. They were the faces of children. Lost, confused- they hadn’t began to even sort the world out. They still had lives to live, so much opportunity ahead of them. Opportunity that was not to be found in the Warrior Program.

Regardless, nothing could stop her from getting to that child on the other side of the bars. The anger in her eyes would easily single her out as the guilty party. No one with kind eyes, like the blonde boy’s, could have done this.

The children gazed upon her, mostly with confusion, but also a mix of fear and apprehension. Despite her relatively small size, she could look pretty damn intimidating when she was pissed.

A swift, but strong kick hit the ancient rusty lock, and it snapped open easily. The forced of the kick cause the door to swing wide open, and no longer did anything separate her from the monster that just crumbled her world from all around her.

Dangerously slow steps approached the girl as she gazed on with both fear and aggressive apprehension. The blonde boy could do nothing but watch bewilderedly.

“You...” A low whisper escaped Annie’s throat, like the shriek of a ghost trying to breach the worlds between the living and the dead.

She stopped walking when she reached the bed, and she gazed at the floor silently. She wondered if this was the sympathy that lay locked in her heart. She couldn’t say she didn’t understand the girl, after all, Annie was a warrior candidate once too. She knew what it was like, the desperation to get picked and become an honorary Marleyan, and to not disappoint your family- she got it. It led you to do a lot of things, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for anyone caught up in the twisted program, especially since she was only a child, twelve at most.

The flicker of empathy that burned quietly in her chest was quickly snuffed out, however, as images of your bleeding form crying out for her, alone and in pain, floated in her mind tauntingly.

She grabbed her right arm with her other hand, and let out hushed breath, before leaning her head back and bursting into hysterical, almost maniacal, laughter.

None of this was fair at all. Why did she lose you? Why did you have to die? Why you? Why? Why why why why why why-

“WHY?!” She suddenly screamed, tugging on the front of the girl’s shirt and throwing her across the room carelessly, adrenaline flowing through her and giving her all the strength she needed.

The girl collided with the wall with a thud, and fell into a heap on the floor with a yelp. But, Annie wasn’t done. She marched over and picked up the girl by the collar and slowly raised her off of the ground. She held her against the wall with fury in her eyes, and the girl winced in pain as her feet lifted from the floor and kicked helplessly into the air.

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO IT?!” Annie screamed, her eyes wide with trauma and lips frozen in a broken frown. “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HER, DAMMIT?! DID YOU EVER THINK BEFORE YOU CHOSE TO KILL SOMEONE?! WHAT THEY MIGHT MEAN TO SOMEONE?!”

Annie vigorously shook the terrified girl, trying desperately to get some sort of point across. Any point was lost in the translation of anger and grief, however. But for now, scaring the shit out of this girl would have to do.

“Dammit...” The tears that had been held back for so long started to flow once again. All she saw was you... your smile, your laugh, everything about you was just so perfect. She yearned to see you just one more time, and to have one final conversation with you.

“Dammit! Don’t you understand?! I was going to spend the rest of my fucking life with that girl! We were gonna get married and settle down and live a normal fucking life! That’s all I ever wanted! I was supposed to be there for her through everything, and you let her die cold and alone because of what?! What did you gain out of this?! Do you feel proud?! Satisfied?! Do you enjoy the blood on your hands?!”

Her hands stilled around the stiff fabric of the shirt that she still clenched in her hands. The girl had giving up on clawing Annie’s grip from her- Annie wouldn’t let go.

A final, lowly chuckle left her lips, her hands slowly relaxed, and the girl slowly slid down the wall, and her feet connected with the ground at last, but the girl didn’t run away. She could, if she truly wanted to, but she stayed there in the blonde girl’s grip. Perhaps guilt, or perhaps fear. Annie couldn’t tell, of course. Her vision was too blurry from tears to make out facial expressions.

Sobs started to wrack Annie’s body as she struggled to keep her composure, and one of her hands left the worn shirt to instead go up to her mouth, covering her mouth as she started to breakdown further into grief.

“I... I loved her...” She chocked out quietly. “I loved her so much... and now... I’ll never get to... see her again.” Her other hand finally let go of the cloth, and she leaned that arm against the wall for support as she leaned her trembling body onto it, her forehead meeting the cold stone.

The final realization of her lover’s death hit her like a brick as her sobs wrecked helplessly through her body, and she shut her eyes in mourning, or perhaps to pretend that nothing had even changed at all...

“I... I miss her...”

She stood there for a moment, and although she could feel the gazes of the two children on her, she didn’t care. She stood there in silence, crying silently in vain for her lover to return to her.

After what felt like hours, a gentle hand placed itself upon Annie’s shoulder. She turned around hesitantly, and was met with Armin’s saddened gaze.

“Annie, I...” He averted his eyes and gazed at the two children still inside the cell, as well as Mikasa, Connie, and Jean, who all appeared silently in front of the open prison door. “I think it’s time to go.”

---

“Her last words?” Connie questioned sorrowfully.

“Yes.” Annie leaned her back against the stone grave and gazed into the moon as it began to rise elegantly over the horizon. “What did she say?”

“Well...” His eyes darkened as he slowly started to recount the events that unfolded that day.

“When she was first shot... and I ran to her side to try and talk to her, and see how bad it was. She said your name, Annie. I thought it was a little strange at first, until she cupped my cheek and smiled at me. She lost a lot of blood, and fast, so I figure that she may have been hallucinating, and thought I was you for some reason.” He chuckled painfully at that, conflicted on whether to be sorrowful or nostalgic about that moment.

“I was screaming at her to hold on until we arrived at the island, but there was just too much bleeding. There was nothing that we could do. But, she told me something else right before she died...”

-

“Hey, Annie... Don’t be sad, okay? I promise you... w-we... will meet again sometime. Maybe another life, or in heaven... I don’t really care. I don’t really want you to forget me, but... let me go. You have your own life to live, even if mine ends... here. This is a senseless war anyways. But... if even just my sacrifice... can slowly bring... c-closure to all this fighting... than it’ll have been worth it, I promise you. So, in that regard, I don’t regret anything. Just... stay strong for me, Annie... I l-love you...”

-

Connie finished speaking, and turned his back away from Annie respectfully as the tears started to fall yet again.

“Try not to get too cold out here...” He stated bluntly before leaving.

After a few minutes, and she was sure he and anyone else was gone, she slowly shifted to lay right underneath the tombstone. The moon now shone brightly upon her, and reflected beautifully against the grave stone. She didn’t figure that this was how she would be spending her night with you, but she felt a least a little solace in being alone with you again, under the vast, unaware stars that freckled the night’s sky above.

Her mind having finally been cleared, she came up with a conclusion that she was honestly ashamed for not reaching earlier.

This was a senseless war. A war where everyone is a victim. It wasn’t Annie’s fault, nor was it yours, or Eren’s, or even Gabi’s- as she had soon learned was the girl’s name. All this fighting amounted to nothing but bloodshed and loss.

She peered around her surroundings, and pondered if every solemn gravestone belonged to someone who was loved in the same way that she loved you. She stopped to wonder, as well, about all the Scouts she had murdered during that time as the female titan. She thought back to Marco, as well. All of it was pointless. Every single person meant something to someone, and she was so cruel for ripping that away. This stupid war- she should say- is cruel for ripping it away.

War never felt so cruel until it affected her like this.

It was like your final conversation that she could ever have with you, one that she would have from beyond your grave. A conversation of ideas, and of hope for a future without bloodshed.

Truly, the reality of it started to set it. Even without you, she would do all she could to stop the bloodshed. It meant sacrifices. Sacrifices, most notably, like you. She would’ve given anything for you to be at her side- to end this conflict with her, but she sighed as she figured that it just wasn’t meant to be that way. Your death wasn’t in vain, though, as it helped her understand.

With or without you, she would fight to end this war, no matter the costs.

WHY IS THIS SO LONG HOLY-

i did this instead of maintaining a consistent posting schedule...

Still, I hope you don’t mind how unusually long and detailed this is, I may have gotten a little hooked on the prompt.

Hope you enjoyed it, after all that effort lmaooo