#I mean a kid I know is from basically the same place as I am and they're also insane good already after only five years of art

[bloggerspam]

A little treat, from the other side of the glass!

===

Steph and Jason stand there in silence after the natural disaster that they just witnessed dipped like bats out of hell.

Steph's mouth is dry, and she feels deprived of a hunt she only just started.

"So, did you hire her because you guys match?" Steph finally says, after watching Jason moon after his new boytoy for a couple seconds to make herself feel better.

Not that Jason keeps boytoys, but really, he should. Danny can be his first.

"What?" Jason blinks at her in confusion, no doubt still suffering the effects of lovesickness. Ugh.

"Val." Steph clarifies, enunciating because she likes the way it sounds on her tongue, "y'know, yay high, hot as sin, hair like—" she twirls a finger towards her own bangs, signifying the two starkly white dreads the other woman had framing her face.

Jason scoffs. "No, she's good. Knows her shit." Jason gives her a look. "I wouldn't hire someone who couldn't do the job."

"Figured," Steph placates, picking up a random nut on the table "She work the weekdays?"

She doesn't know who she's kidding. They both know Steph's panting after Jaybird's new mechanic like a dog eyeing a particularly tasty looking bone.

Two minutes ago, she watched Val suplex Danny in picture perfect 4K, and lost control of her own goddamn mouth.

"Gods, I wish that were me." Steph had said then, out loud.

Thankfully, Jason was too preoccupied watching a basically shirtless Danny pinning Val to the ground and saying "Satan, I wish that were me." to really make fun of her for it.

But Steph's not stupid, and for all the violence and muscle Jason's made up of, that doesn't mean he's stupid either. Or deaf.

They both heard the other, and are pointedly not talking about it.

Who the hell says "Satan" instead of "Gods" anyway? Jason literally worships the ground Wonder Woman struts on, and she's basically a God. Goddess. Whatever.

Power positions shouldn't be gendered. It's all the same.

"She works when she works." Jason finally says, not at all fooled by her innocent demeanor. It hasn't worked for years. Not since she was still dating Tim, but it won't stop her from trying.

She gives up.

"Come on Jaybird, you saw her!" Steph immediately whines.

"I did. And I am not letting my very talented, very valued employee fall into the clutches of a harpy!" Jason throws his hands up, strolling back to her car to get it sorted. He's no doubt under the impression that the faster he fixes it, the sooner she'll leave.

They both know it's a lost hope.

"I am not a harpy," Steph sniffs, ignoring Jason's responding scoff, "And I just wanna get to know her, is all."

"Know like what, her three sizes and what she looks like on a bed?” Jason snarks.

She kicks him in the side. “First of all, crude. What would Alfie say?”

Jason pointedly ignores her, but she’s used to that treatment from him. “Plus, it’s not like you’re any better!” 

Jason stands up abruptly to glare at Steph. “You met Val today. I’ve met Danny a handful of times this week and yeah, I like what I see,” Steph feels a triumphant glee take over her, but Jason shuts her up by pointing a greasy hand at her threateningly, “but I like how he's funny and smart more.”

Steph lets that percolate for a moment, trying to keep a straight face, before a shit-eating grin takes over her face. “And it doesn’t hurt that pretty boy can throw down.” 

Jason rolls his eyes, but he can’t fool Steph. She sees his get a little red as he turns back to sink into the hood of her car. “He made that bike, y’know.” 

That surprises her. “He did? By himself??”

“His friend Tucker tricked it out with him—Danny can code, but his friend’s a certified genius apparently.” Steph feels warmth flood over her as Jason continues to talk about Danny, about the handful of things the two men have talked about during the scant moments Danny’s there waiting to pick up Val. "We're only three years apart, and he's already got a lot goin' on for him."

"Hey, you got this place all on your own, without Bruce's help, and got back on your feet." Steph jabs a threatening finger at him, "You're barely legal to drink, and you have what, 6 employees?"

Jason sniffs, muttering something about college and pit madness. Steph rolls her eyes and promptly tells him where he can shove that kind of talk.

Namely: where the sun don't shine and Gotham smog don't go.

In truth, she’s happy. She’s never seen Jason this relaxed about meeting someone new, though she’s sure it’s not the first time. She and Jay have never been too close, despite the fact that he tolerates her more in casual hangouts than the rest of the bats and birds. 

They trust each other with their lives, of course, but Steph wasn’t exactly there when Red Hood first made his debut, and she’s one of the few in the Batfam that didn’t know Jason before. 

Sometimes she thinks that the only reason he can tolerate her as much as he does. Can't make comparisons to a dead boy if you didn't know the dead boy, after all.

So she listens to him redirect the talk back to Danny, to the shop, and when Jason runs out of things to say they sit together in comfortable, familiar silence. The only noise being the city ambience and Jason tinkering around in the guts of her car.

Steph basks in it, breathing slow and deep, contemplative.

"So. Vigilantes?" Jason finally utters, Steph's eyes snapping open so she can point a finger at him frantically.

"Right!? Phantom?" She asks, watching as Jason turns toward her with a wrench from god knows where.

"Huntress?" Jason counters.

"Cujo????" Steph almost screeches.

There's another silence, as Jason and Steph stare at each other, confused beyond measure. It's the kind of pause that people who've just been through a baffling moment together can commiserate in, a moment that really takes one aback, rare for borne and bred Gothamites like Steph and Jason are.

"Tim?" Steph offers.

"Babs?" Jason pleads.

A long moment, and Steph nods, pulling out her phone.

She pretends not to notice Jason's shoulders slumping in relief as he turns back to her car—probably thinking he's just dodged a bullet on brotherly nosiness. Tim might be able to lie to Batman's face, but he's still a sucker for Dick Grayson's pouty whines.

Jokes on him, last she heard Dick is hanging out with Babs today, so he'll find out anyway.

The second she presses send, she belatedly remembers that she's also probably going to be subjected to the nosy.

Gods damn it all.

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[pomefioredove]

may I request headcanons of the overblot boys + Adeuce reaction to a younger yuu that tells them that they’re like a big brother to them? Platonic obviously—

thank you!

awww ofc!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ brotherly (again!)

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, short

Having been torn from your home, separated from your family and friends, and spit back out in a new place with new people, isn't really as fun as it sounds.

After months at NRC, though, you've managed to make yourself a life here. A new home, new friends, even new family.

Now, sitting close to the person you've become fondest of, you let slip that you seem him as a brother.

His reaction?

I am of the (kind of depressing) opinion that Riddle's life would be much better if he had a sibling. he hasn't really thought about it, per se, but he's always had this feeling...

so, when you tell him as much, he just... 🥺🥺 you know?

he's in protective brother mode from this moment on (for better or worse, lol)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bond you have with Ace and Deuce has gone unspoken, but all of you know what it is. you saying it, though, makes it all the more real

as warm and tender of a moment as it is, Ace still feels the need to make a joke about how sappy you're being (affectionately, of course), and Deuce can only hum with excitement at the acceptance and warmth between the three of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

admittedly, Leona is a little... put off. at least, he is at first. he doesn't exactly have a great relationship with his own brother, and with no other examples to go off of, it feels kind of like an insult

he... gets what you mean, though

and, reluctant as he is to be so vulnerable, he'll say you're just as much of an annoying little sibling to him

lovingly, of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul had friends before you... kind of... but none as near and dear to him. he could never quite explain what this feeling was until you said it

ah... that's it. family. he almost feels embarrassed, being so vulnerable all of a sudden, and he can barely get out that he feels the same way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil has younger siblings already, and he could tell the two of you were forming a similar bond before you said as much. he'd caught himself treating you just how he treats his sister on multiple different occasions (for better or worse, lol), and...

he's glad that you're here with him. that's all he'll say... for now

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

many people would think you'd have to hit your head to say something like that to the Vil Schoenheit

he's untouchable! he's godlike! he's... lol. just kidding. he's quite fond of you, too, and hearing those words come from you is better than any amount of likes, any award or role. you're his favorite person, after all

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

dude, are you trying to make Idia cry??? because he will! and then he'll bubble-wrap you and Ortho so you can never go anywhere or get hurt ever

he... has some things to work through. obviously. but, really, he and Ortho have basically adopted you already, so hearing you say it... in a good way... call him cringe, but he could get a little emotional over that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you think of Malleus as your brother? then you must also think of Silver the same way. and Sebek... would you be interested in adoption, because Lilia-

yeah. you get it. welcome to the family, lol. Malleus has already decided you're his best friend forever and ever, and hearing you call him family... hohhh that overblot is going to hit hard when you guys get there

[secretsofafangirll]

video star

summary: the time when Olivia appeared in a blind, deaf, mute baking video with the triplets and Matt couldn't keep his hands to himself.

warnings: touchiness in front of people/on camera, suggestive language, suggestive content, use of pet names.

a/n: the song doesn't have any significance, it just plays in o.c.'s headphones.

"Hey guys, welcome back to another Wednesday video," Nick blurted at the camera posed several feet in front of them, "Today we're doing another Deaf, Blind, Mute Baking Challenge."

"However," Chris butted in, sticking a mocking finger in the air, "We have a special guest for today's video," He drawled out and looked off to the side where I was standing. Matt was still leaning back against the counter and smiled at me.

"Come on out, sweetheart." Matt beckoned me over with a flick of his fingers and a nod of his head. I jumped into frame and smiled at the camera.

"Hi guys!" I waved enthusiastically and placed my hands on the counter in front of me.

"For those of you who don't know, Olivia is our best friend in the whole world and Matt's girlfriend. If you didn't know that, you've obviously never watched a video because she's in all of our vlogs and we never shut up about her." Nick summed up the basics for the viewers at home.

I've been friends with the triplets since my freshman year of high school. Chris and I instantly clicked one day in Math when our more extroverted personalities found their ways to one another. He introduced me to his two triplet brothers at lunch that same day, and the rest was history. We became inseparable and spent every second of every day together since. Things became interesting with Matt and me as we got older and grew into ourselves but we officially started dating after we graduated high school. We were always scared to announce our relationship to his fans because they can be volatile to their female friends, but once we did and they accepted that we loved each other, we've been so open and comfortable expressing that love physically on camera.

"So, how this is gonna work is..we're gonna draw out of a hat and three people are gonna be either blind, deaf, or mute and one person won't be able to use their hands. Let's hope that person isn't Olivia, because she's the only one of us that really can bake, like at all," Chris addressed the room and the camera.

"Dude, if I get fucking handcuffed, this is gonna be awful," I raised my brows and turned to Chris.

"Have a little faith, kid," Chris bumped my hip with his. I heard the car keys rattle on Matt's belt loop as he pressed himself away from the counter and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my neck. My hands subconsciously reached up to grip his muscular forearms.

"Alright, well, let's get the fuck on with it," Matt spoke.

"Okay, relax. We've been rolling for two fucking minutes." Nick stuck an accusatory hand up at Matt.

Nick reached around the counter for the hat and we all drew a card.

"Matt, you say yours first," Nick assigned.

"Mute," Matt chuckled, "Too easy."

"Deaf," I read aloud, "Yay! I just get to listen to music." I ran over to the couch and grabbed my headphones, working to connect them to my phone and find a playlist.

"Noo!," Chris whined, "Handcuffed."

"Loser", Nick teased.

"Which means that I am blind." Nick concluded, "Olivia wanted to bake something from scratch but that's a bit too hard for us, so we just got boxed brownies with, like, an extra cookie thing that we have to do too."

As Nick started to read off the contents of the box, I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed "shuffle" on Spotify. The first song to grace my ears was "B.Y.O.B" by System of a Down. A loud, scream-y nu-metal jam to deafen my sensitive ears. If I listened to anything too quiet, I'd be able to hear them. I watched as Matt tied the blindfold onto Nick and then Chris tied the bandana onto Matt. Matt then locked the handcuffs onto Chris' wrists behind his back.

I watched as the three of them tried to talk to each other, myself trying to read their lips and body language. I knew Matt well enough to know he was frustrated and Chris well enough to know he was giving Nick directions.

Quickly, when they started to struggle too much, they called me over. However, my eyes were closed as I mouthed the words to the song and I couldn't hear them.

"Everybody's going to the party have a real good time," I sang with Serj and wagged my finger to the Ooh.

What made me open my eyes was Matt pushing a hand against my lower back to guide me to the counter. The sudden jolt and touch startled me and I lurched forward, almost falling into the hard counter top face first. Matt's hand quickly shot and gripped my waist, pulling me back into him.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, my hands shooting out in front of myself to stop me before he did. He spun me around in his hands and I placed my extended hands on his chest, "Thank you!" I yelled, unaware of my volume. He just pressed a finger to my lips to tell me to be quieter. I whispered a faint apology in return.

I looked over to Chris who was probably spewing some bullshit at us about how cheesy we are, seeing as how his left cheek flexed up slightly in annoyance. Matt ushered me over to the counter where they handed me the box to try and fix what they already messed up. I took one look at the batter and knew they added too much oil.

"Okay," I started, "I think you guys just put too much oil, but it's not hard to fix. I just need a dehydrator like flour or cornstarch to dry out the oil." I turned around to grab the flour from the cabinets that I stock for them, because if I didn't they'd either starve or waste all of their money on eating out.

Due to my shorter stature, I had to stand on my tip toes and stretch the life out of my arms to reach the flour. Matt came up behind me and placed a hand on my side to tell me to relax and he reached up and grabbed it for me. I thanked him before turning around and continuing to mix the brownies, Matt's front just brushed my back the whole time as he watched over my shoulder, his hand resting gently on my hip.

Once I was done with the brownies, I needed to grab a bowl for the cookie part. I wasn't planning on making it, since it's supposed to be a challenge, but I still grabbed the equipment needed. I bent down in front of Matt to grab a smaller bowl from the cabinet below the island. When I leaned over, I didn't realize two things; one, how close I was to Matt and what he wouldn't be able to resist doing when he noticed the position we were in, two, how it would look on camera.

Both of Matt's hands found my hips when I unexpectedly stuck my ass into the air right in front of his dick and he subconsciously pressed himself a tiny bit further into me. Soon, his hand left my hip and it braced itself on the counter above my head so that I wouldn't hit the counter when I got back up.

"Okay, so you guys need to do this, because this is supposed to be your guys' challenge." I started clearly over the sound of Evanescence’s "Going Under”. I sang the words under my breath as I turned away to let them do what they needed to do. I hopped up onto the counter behind them and enjoyed my music as I watched them yell at each other.

At least I thought they were yelling at each other...

Turns out they were yelling at me to preheat the oven that I was sitting next to. I watched as Matt stepped closer to me. He placed his hands on my thighs and nodded to the oven dials. I quickly understood and turned the dial to 350 degrees. Matt's eyes darted all across my face and down my body that was only clothed in shorts and a tank top due to the intense Los Angeles heat. I knew exactly what look he was giving me and it was killing him that he couldn't kiss me.

"Later," I mouthed to him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He dropped his head to my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulder to squeeze him into me.

Soon after, the brownies had made it out of the oven safely and we were all stripped of our sense-depriving shackles. I was kind of disappointed to be done with the music, but I missed hearing my favorite boys talk.

"Okay, the brownies are done and they look fine," Nick began to the camera, "But we did fuck them up a little bit, so hopefully Olivia's fix was okay."

"Bro, she's literally a professional chef at this point, I'm sure they're still gonna be great," Chris said matter-of-factly. Nick began to cut the brownies, which they should've baked on parchment paper, and got a piece for all of us. He slid it in front of me and we all tried a bite. They still tasted great and they looked like boxes.

"Obviously, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have boxed anything, but for a boxed brownie mix," Matt came up and hugged me from behind and my hands fell to his that wrapped around me, "I would give this is a solid 8 out of 10." I said giving a thumbs up with the camera.

When they had all given their notes and feedback, they said goodbye to the camera and turned it off.

"You guys need to practice a little something called self-control, you horny fucks," Said Nick as he shook his head and took down the filming equipment. 

"Shut the fuck up, Nick," Matt spat as he pulled me closer, "Hi, my girl. D'you have fun?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled back slightly and leaned up to kiss his lips, "Mhm. I always have fun filming with you guys." I smiled up at his stunning face.

"What'd you listen to?" He asked, pulling away from the hug to reach over and grab a cup from the cabinet, but keeping a hand on my waist. I turned to watch him as he got what he needed.

"I listened to System of a Down and Evanescence. I wish that, like, Nirvana or something came on though." I sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing my attention back on him.

"S'nice. I need to branch out, broaden my musical horizons," He said as he filled his cup with water from the fridge.

"And your kitchen horizons, because, my God, you guys suck at baking." I teased exasperatedely.

"Hey, watch yourself," He tutted, "They suck at baking, I, on the other hand, can whip up a good dessert."

"Alright, mister, I bought already-been-smoked salmon and tried to cook it anyway, Sturniolo." I accused, rolling my eyes jokingly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to play it that way?" He smiled smugly and slowly stepped toward me, setting his water down on the kitchen island.

I backed away in response and put my hands up in defense, "I'm not playing anything. M'just sayin' it how it is. S'not my fault your egos too big."

"You little-," He cut himself off and reached for me. A high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth as I dodged his hand and I backed away from him before running to his bedroom. I might be more agile than him, but his legs are much longer than mine. He caught up to me as I was trying to slam his door shut, and he stopped the door before I could close it. He swooped in quickly, picked me up, and tossed me onto the bed, kicking the door shut somewhere in between.

"Matt!" I giggled, as I sat up, bracing my hands behind me. He crawled onto the bed in front of me and shoved my chest back down.

"Those brownies might have been good," He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss right below my ear, "But I know you're gonna taste even better," He whispered into my ear and began to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck...

//

author's note: alright...how'd we like it? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put something out. I liked the concept but I'm unsure of how it turned out. let me know what you guys think.

all the love, she <3

[mlyscha]

↳ DRESS TO IMPRESS? ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. in which you convince your boyfriend to play dress to impress with you, will they slay the runway? 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. fluff, crack, trendy. 𝔀arnings. curse words, not proofread, riki is that annoying player and almost all the members are bad at this game ㅠㅠ, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 1k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: oh gosh i had so much fun writing this, especially because i am addicted to this game lol anyway, do you guys have any headcanon request? i am curious...

― 𝓱eeseung: gets upset but doesn't quit playing.

you might be wondering why heeseung changed his mood like that, and that's because placing on the podium in dress to impress is hard ― for him. in the beginning, and sometimes unfair. when you told him you wanted to play with him ― your boyfriend was feeling very happy and giddy, creating his account the same second, not knowing how he would feel a few rounds later...

"BRO?! HOW DID SHE PLACED?!" he screamed after standing up from bed while his hands rested against his head, indignant. "LOOK AT ME, I LOOK MUCH PRETTIER!" and heeseung turned his ipad screen at you after laying back on his stomach on bed. "hee, baby... your skin is literally blue, that's not what coquette means..." you replied. "nonsense, even my fit is better! and you placed second you can't say shit! i am not playing this game anymore." he argued, throwing his ipad away from him. "don't quit, continue playing with me," you pouted, waiting for a new round to start. "i'm sorry, baby, but this game is absolutely dog shi- a new round has begun?" when the sound of a new round starting echoed, his mind seemed to have changed. "... yeah?" "okay, maybe one more round won't hurt..."

― 𝓳ongseong: gets into arguments with 8 year olds.

jongseong is a good, caring, handsome and mature boyfriend, however, immatureness possesses him when playing dress to impress. just to clear things up you had asked him to play the game with you before, so nothing was new to him ― neither to you: hearing him raging about a girl talking shit about his fashion sense. i can't forget to mention that he takes this game very serious ― especially when his girlfriend has an awesome ranking.

"look at me, i look so good," "yeah... you do..." you couldn't ignore how terribly your boyfriend's makeup was done. "give me five stars, okay?" "'kay..." "baby, if this girl tells me i look terrible one more time i'll do something really bad." "babe-" " 'you look ugly'...?" he read the chat. open his microphone: "SHUT UP, YOUR FIT LOOKS LIKE A TRASH BAG AND A PIECE OF SHIT JUST HAD A BABY," "JAY! she's a kid!" "and i am eating with this outfit- tha-that's how you guys say right? eat and all...?" "yes, you ate that outfit up babe."

― 𝓳aeyun: you have to be patient.

don't get me wrong, jaeyun is good at games, however, not in this one specifically. it took him about two days just to learn how to walk on roblox's games and how to jump, etc. imagine when you introduced this fashion game which you have time to dress yourself up, oh boy, he was confused. if learning the basics from controlling your avatar on roblox took him days, it took jaeyun a week to understand how to put on items, take them off, where you choose your hair and face... well, it was a pain, but he was able to get through it and play it almost normally.

"babe, why you're skin is grey?" "i didn't know where to change it," shrugs then tries to pose. "oh my god, babe, i showed you where a minute ago!" "okay, chill...! where do i pose though?" "oh my god, jaeyun..."

― 𝓼unghoon: has lots of difficulties but doesn't give up.

sunghoon is like a mix of heeseung and jake, which means he gets addicted, angry but can't stop playing and still has to be handled with patience and love. with that being said, be prepared to hear a bunch of questions and him leaving and then joining your server a few many times. also! can't forget that sunghoon is still a english learner, so the themes might be misunderstood by him sometimes heh... (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

"y/n~" he whines. "i'm done with this game!" leaves "babe, the theme was baggy and you literally dresses up as a trash bag..." "baggy means... bag? what did i do wrong?" "baggy is a style, not a trash bag," "should've told me earlier, y/n!" "hoonie-" "now everyone on the server thinks i am stupid! let's change server, join me now."

― 𝓼unoo: is the one who places first.

sunoo is undeniably the best dressed on the game among the members, usually winning against you. he has almost all the poses, knows how to layer and is always creative, even reaching top model before you.

"baby, can we play dress to impress together? i'm so close to reach top model." "yeah, su- WAIT! TOP MODEL?!" ― ooohhh, i might have forgotten to mention... sunoo plays dress to impress without you sometimes. "baby, just join me 'kay?" "sunshine, explain me how'd you reach top model before me? i play more than you do," "uh... i surely play more than you do, but okay," "wait, wha-" "babyyyy just join my server, i want you to celebrate this with me, alright?" "okay..." your heart softened when you realised he wanted you to be part of his reaching. "can we duo?" you asked. "we can, but just once; i would much rather vote you five (5) stars."

― 𝓳ungwon: jungwon.exe stopped working.

jungwon is like jake and oh gosh why i feel like every single one of them is a bit like him?!?! anyway, jungwon would be more than happy to join you, but has already told you that his skills might not really show up in this dressing game ��� discreetly admitting that he doesn't know how to play it. he actually heard about the game because the other members seem to enjoy it. still, it's just not his cup of tea. however, since you were so excited about him playing with you, sigh, he might make this sacrifice ― in which he slowly gets very excited as well.

"wonnie, baby, why are you posing? you have to dress up before the times is up!" you warned him after spotting him on the game. "huh? it doesn't make sense, we have to dress up? where?" "there, baby," you gently took the ipad out of his hands and guided him to the changing booth. "oh... but is too far away from my spawn and why do i walk slower than that girl?" "because she bought a walk faster pack, now dress up wonnie, hurry up...!" "i want to buy that, how do i buy her pack?" "jungwon, dress up now, you have literally one minute." you spoke between your teeth. "okay, okay... y/n, where do i get the items though?" "jungwon..."

― 𝓻iki: it's that annoying giggly kid who doesn't follow the theme.

if you ever played dress to impress you probably came across to one of those annoying players who never follows the theme, with that, you might refuse to believe riki is this type of player; but trust me, he surely is. and why? because he doesn't take the game that seriously, doing whatever he wants and trolling people ― making them believe he's gonna gift them vip or one of the other packs.

"RIKI? HOW'D YOU PLACED FIRST?" "i'm just too good, i guess," your boyfriend shrugged, but you couldn't believe him. "you're lying." "are you saying i am not good at this game?" "..." "y/n," he would call you after suddenly bursting out of laughter. "what?" your annoyed tone of voice echoed and it sounded like his favourite music to his ears. "wanna know how i placed first?" riki looks up at you, hiding just half of his face with his ipad. "mhm..." you hummed, confirming. "i tricked a few girls saying that i would gift them vip if they voted me five (5) stars," he giggled, knowing you were about to get angry at him. "RIKI! you can't do that, imagine if that was me..." you pouted. "oh, yeah? i should've done worse then." "RIKI!" "OKAY! SORRY, enough of riki now, okay? i am baby, not riki..."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[thatfrenchacademic]

"The biggest issue is students using it, me spotting it and having no recourse whatsoever to do anything about it." can you elaborate a bit further

Hello !

So to explain a bit more: we [aka your lecturers, teachers, teaching assistants, etc...] know that some students will use ChatGPT.

And there is a discussion to be had about how to work with this, how to design assessment which allow students to leverage something which may simply become a fixture of writing in a workplace environment, but that is not the discussion we are having here. Because that is not what we are worried about.

The defensible, problematic situation is: a student straight up entering the essay prompt on ChatGPT, and using the grand skills of Ctrl+C / Ctrl+V, submits it as their own paper.

And our main worry, I think, was for a long time that we would not be able to catch it. That students would, actually, be able to fool us and that we would actually think this was a student who understood the course, who put in the work, and who deserve to be rewarded for their grade. That was the main fear.

But here is the thing.

And listen up, students :

Essays written by ChatGPT :

Suck

Are spotted from a mile away from the person reading it

For real. They suck.

I cannot stress enough how easy they are to spot. You are NOT fooling anyone. I do not need the platform's AI-detecting tool to know when an essay was written by Chat GPT. It is so, very painfully obvious when that's the case.

But the problem then becomes : ok, I have spotted a student who cheated.

What am I even supposed to do with it.

It is one thing to KNOW that an essay was AI-generated, it is another to defend it to a plagiarism committee. First of all, does it actually count as plagiarism ? Second, how do prove, with certainty, that the student did not write it ? How to I convince the plagiarism committee that this is worth looking into ? I am in the role of a police officer, who needs to convince the DA that this is a winnable case, that prosecuting will not be a waste of their time. But I don't have a Similarity Percentage to rely on. I don't have an original source to say "look, this is the exact same wording!" like in a classic plagiarism case.

Best case scenario, I can make my case for thee student to actually be called to the plagiarism committee, where we probe into how, exactly, they wrote their essay, until they fold. Unlikely, morally questionable, and in all likelihood, ineffective on students already so confident in their bullshit that they have the audacity to submit a fully AI-generated work for their finals.

Now, students, gather up, especially if you have considered using Chat GPT this way. Because right now, you might think it means you can get away with it.

But let me tell you something. First, that essay is getting the shittiest grade we can give you. Because you know what is more difficult than a lecturer proving that a student used AI to generate their essay ? A student proving that they deserve a better grade. Once we give you a grade, burden of evidence is on you to prove that you have not been graded properly. And we can come up with 15 reasons why an essay is a shit essay. We put on kids' gloves, when we lecture and give feedback. We give the simplified version of most theories, we give the basics of how to structure an essay, the bar we set is spectacularly low, because students come in good faith, they are learning, they will not be held at the same standard as academics. But if you try to argue that you need a higher grade, when you had the audacity to not write a single word of your work, the kids gloves are going to come off real quick, and your lecturer will be able to very convincingly explain why, actually, giving you a passing grade was a mercy in the first place.

Second. Academics, especially angry academics, are a gossip machine.

You may get a passing grade, and there may be no official note of it in your file whatsoever. But I can guarantee you that your lecturer will chat with their colleagues. That every single one of your essay that year, and the years to come, will be looked at with so much scrutiny I hope your referencing for every single work reaches perfection. Every single paragraph will be looked at with the knowledge that you are likely to have had it AI-generated. Lecturers will tell their TA to look at for That One Student when they grade you .You will not be getting any flexibility from us, no extension without full documentation to support it, no letter of recommendation from any member of the faculty, no word in your favor if you are bordering a grade bracket. If we are feeling especially petty, we might even forget to answer your emails or answer any question you have with such warmth and kindness you really still never feel like asking a question again in our class. And I know that, because that's already happening. I have the name of three undergrads that we know, for a fact, did not write their own essay. Two are not even in my modules at all.

Now. That's pretty mean. But if you have the absolute audacity and lack of ethics required to submit an essay for which you have not written a single word, and thought it would actually work, when your lecturer spent probably more that 80 hours working in this module this term, gave you the opportunity to meet for office hours, to ask any question in person or in email, to have extensions, accommodations, additional time ? When you decided that putting exactly zero second of your time, considered that you were above that - and above other students- and yet we were not able to officially sanction you for it, we had to give you a passing grade, the same passing grade as students who actually made an effort?

Yeah, sorry, you are not getting any sympathy from your lecturers anymore.

[topguncortez]

Set Up For Failure - J. Halstead

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: "I Warned You"

synopsis: Life with Jay had never been easy, and you knew that being with a police officer wasn't going to be easy. But when a newly released criminal starts repeating the same patterns that got him put behind bars, Jay starts to worry about your safety.

warnings: cursing, robbery gone wrong, attempted murder, mentions of large amounts of blood, crime scenes, pregnancy, kidnapping, mentions of a non-consensual c-section.

word count: 2.9k

Being married to a cop wasn’t easy. Being married to a detective that belonged to Hank Voight’s Intelligence department wasn’t easy either. When you first met Jay, he did everything he possibly could to shield you from the life that he lived. In fact, you didn’t even know his name was Jay until about six months into your relationship. It was by accident that you had figured out his name, who he was and what he did for work. 

At first, you were pissed, you didn’t talk to him for about two months, completely cutting him off. How could you be with someone who had lied to you so easily? Who didn’t think you were worthy or trustful enough to tell you what he did every single day? Jay had groveled, showing up at your apartment every day with a bouquet of flowers, begging for you to talk to him. You had got so annoyed that you left a note on the door telling him to take the flowers and donate them to the nursing home. But after the third month of him waiting outside your door, you finally decided to hear him out. 

“I have an explanation,” He started. You crossed your arms over your chest, “Everyone who has been close to me ends up getting hurt or worse. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I have been living in this darkness for so long, and you come and. . . you brought the light back,” Jay shook his head, “I was terrified of what would happen if the light went away.” 

“No more lying,” You said, pointing at him. 

“None, I swear,” Jay said, putting his hands, “Does this mean I am forgiven?” 

“This means you are on probation.” 

Four years later, you were now Mrs. Halstead, and in your final month of pregnancy. Life with Jay had been everything you dreamed of and more. He was attentive and caring, always calling you on his way home from the station, or texting you if it was going to be a late night. He did everything he possibly could to provide for you, buying a small fixer upper house near Hank’s place. Will had accepted you as his sister-in-law almost instantly, loving to have someone on his side during petty arguments with Jay. The whole squad had basically adopted you as one of their own, even though you didn’t have a single thing to do with the police force. You had been a teacher until you got pregnant, and decided to spend the first year of your baby’s life at home. 

"There's been a series of break-ins in the Sunset Hills neighborhood, which has residents on alert. Channel 10 news is-"

The TV had clicked off from behind you, causing you to gasp and look over your shoulder at your husband. You smiled sheepishly before turning back to the pile of baby clothes that you were folding. 

“You’re home early,” You said. 

“Mhm,” Jay answered, crossing his arms over his chest, “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, you know,” You lifted up a pile of folded onesies, “Kid has more clothes than me.” Jay’s eyebrow raised, “And I was just catching up on the local happenings. . . have I told you how much I love you?”

Jay huffed, shaking his head, “I told you to quit reading into that. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

You sighed looking down at the pile of clothes, you had been caught yet again. Ever since the first break-in in the neighborhood, you had been on high alert, even though both Jay and Hank assured you that it was nothing to worry about, but you still felt uneasy every time you were in the house alone, which happened to be a lot. Hank told you that the thieves weren’t hurting anyone or going to houses where they knew people were home. The only thing they were guilty of was breaking in and stealing thousands worth in property. 

“I have the right to know what’s going on,” You crossed your arms over your chest, “I need to know what is going on in case-“ 

“Nothing is going to happen,” Jay walked over towards where you sat on the couch and kneeled down in front of you, “Nothing is going to happen to you. We have the best security system money can buy. We are blocks away from the station, uniforms are doing patrols up and down this street, hell, Hank lives right next door,” You chuckled at that. Jay’s large warm hands landed on your belly, gently rubbing over the stretched skin, “You are safe, I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” He placed a kiss on your forehead, “To both of you.” He then placed a kiss on your belly, earning him a kick in response, “Chill out in there, rambo.” 

“She gets excited when you’re around,” You smiled, “She can hear you.” 

Watching Jay become a father has been your favorite thing in life. From the moment you stood in the door of your shared bedroom, tears running down your face as you told him, you knew he was going to be the best dad ever. The next day he went out and bought as many books as he could on parenting. You had to basically force him to keep his mouth shut from telling the squad, as he wanted to shout from the rooftops he was going to be a dad. Now it was count down mode until his little girl could be in his arms. 

— — — 

“It’s going to be a late night,” Jay huffed out from the other end. You could hear the faint sound of a radio, and knew he was probably sitting in his patrol truck, Hailey next to him, waiting for some movement or clue. 

“This past week have all been late nights,” You sighed, letting the warmth of your bath water seep into your bones. In the past week, it seemed as though your baby was getting ready to make their move to come into this world. Your last appointment your doctor pointed out that your belly had started to drop a bit, which sent Jay into a full on panic. Your back had been killing you, and the only place that seemed to help ease the pain, was the clawfoot bathtub you made Jay put in the bathroom. 

“I know, baby,” Jay sighed. He hated the late nights just as much as you did, especially being so close to your due date. He knew that Natalie and Will were right down the street, and would be over in a flash if you ever needed anything, but Jay hated the fact that he couldn’t be right there. His paternity leave wasn’t set to start until after the baby was born. 

“Just tell me, you’re going to catch whatever bad guy you are after,” Although you still disliked some aspects of Jay’s job, you loved that he was part of keeping the beautiful city safe. 

“Always, baby,” Jay smiled on the other side of the receiver, “I promise I’ll be home as soon as Hank cuts us loose. Tell Rambo she can’t make her appearance tonight.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Quit calling her Rambo.” 

Jay’s smooth laugh filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound, “I love you, Y/N. I’ll be home soon.” 

You spent probably another half hour, until the bath water had run cold and the candles burnt out before you climbed out of the bath. You grabbed a pair of Jay’s boxers and one of his Chicago PD shirts, which seemed to be all that fit you at this point, and some of the only things that felt comfortable enough to wear. You propped the pillows up behind your back as you climbed into bed. Most nights you would fall asleep in the recliner, sitting up nearly straight felt better than laying in a bed. But for some reason, you felt safer lying in your shared bed than being out in the living room. 

Sleep didn’t come easy to you. Being almost 40 weeks pregnant, moving around trying to get comfortable wasn’t something new to you. But it wasn’t the feeling of your daughter kicking your ribs that kept you awake. You couldn’t turn your mind off, every slight howl of the wind or the creek of the old house had you jumping slightly, and looking around your dark bedroom. At some point you had drifted off to a light, fitful sleep, but were awoken by the sound of smashing glass. 

You gasped, looking around the room, your hand on your pounding heart. You sat still in your bed, straining your ears to hear if maybe it was Jay. But the sound of a groan, had you climbing out of bed, going straight to the safe in the closet. You punched in the code quickly, grabbing the gun and the magazine that Jay kept in there. You had only ever loaded a gun a handful of times, and prayed that you had done it right, as you grabbed your phone, and locked the bedroom door. You dialed 9-1-1 with shaky hands as you heard footsteps and a male grumbling. 

“I’m armed and calling 9-1-1!” You yelled out, hoping to scare off whoever was in your house. The trill of the line seemed to go on forever, until you were met with the sound of a dispatcher. 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” 

“I think someone broke into my house,” You said, trying your best to keep your voice steady, “I-I’m Detective Halstead’s wife.” 

“Alright Mrs. Halstead,” The operator said, “Can you tell me where you are at?” 

“I’m in my bedroom. I locked the door and hid in the closet.” 

“Are you armed?” 

You looked down at the black gun on the bedroom floor, tears filling your eyes, “Y-Yes. But please hurry, I think-” 

The sound of the bedroom door banging opened caused you to gasp. You clamped a hand over your mouth as the footsteps grew closer to you, and prayed to anyone listening that you were going to make it through this. 

— — — 

Jay felt like he was about ready to fall asleep. The unit had been tasked with trying to find out who was behind a series of break-ins. It wasn’t their normal gig, break-ins were unfortunately common in their district, but the last two break-ins resulted in two homicides. Hank was going to right off the two homicides, saying that they still didn’t catch the eye of the intelligence unit, but the last two crime scenes had similar patterns to a case that Jay had worked several years ago. 

“Have you guys settled on a name?” Hailey asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

Jay shook his head with a smile, “She’s still set on Ophelia. But I think Sammy is better.” 

“Sammy?” Hailey asked, already guessing what Jay’s answer was going to be. 

“For Sammy Sosa!” 

Hailey shook her head, “Yeah, I agree with Y/N on this one.” Jay scoffed, and the silence stretched back across the cab of the truck, “Why do you think this is a revenge thing?” 

“I don’t know if it is a revenge thing, but I have a feeling it is,” Jay sighed, “The pattern just fits. 13 plain home invasions, then two homicides. The writings in blood on the walls of the crime scene? That wasn’t public knowledge.” 

“But why would Roger Sterling wait this long? What has it been, six years?” 

Jay nodded his head. It was one of his first cases in the intelligence units, and Hank was right when he said the first one sticks with you. Jay thought he had the facts right out in front of him. Roger Sterling checked all of the boxes for the home invader turned murderer, except one. The night of the third homicide, Roger had a solid alibi that was backed by his wife. But not having an alibi for two out of three murders was good enough for the jury to convict, and sent Roger to prison for two years. That was, until the conviction was overturned on the grounds of ‘not enough solid evidence’. Roger was let go, but he held a vengeance for Jay. 

“I don’t know,” Jay ran a hand down his face, “I’m guessing he was probably stewing in his anger. He was proven innocent of all the crimes, but that still doesn’t give him a clean bill. He’s probably been angry for years and is now acting out.” 

“It just doesn’t make-” 

“All Units, All Units, we have an active call for a home invasion and the sound of gun fire.” 

Jay cursed, grabbing his radio, “This is 5021 George, what’s the address we’re in route.” 

“Address is three-twelve south Cleveland street.” 

Jay felt like his heart had stopped in his chest, as his radio fell from his hand. The only sound in his ears was the sound of his blood, roaring in his body. Everything had frozen, his hands began to shake and his vision went black. He couldn’t even hear or feel Hailey shaking him out of his trance, trying to get his attention. It was like Jay’s body moved on autopilot, as he pulled the truck out of park and sped towards his house. 

His house. 

The house his wife and child were home alone in. 

The house where there were gunshots fired. 

Jay barely put the truck in park as he arrived on scene, and didn’t even bother to shut the door as he jumped out and ran up the yellow police tape. The bright lights and sounds of sirens were making his head pound as he tried to push his way through to his house. He was brought out of his trance when he felt a hand on his chest, stopping him from approaching. Jay looked down, anger coursing through his bones. 

“Let me fucking go,” He sneered at Hank. 

“I can’t let you do that,” Hank’s gravelly voice sounded out. 

“That’s my wife!” 

“And this is a crime scene,” Hank barked back, “My crime scene.” Jay felt like he was going to throw up, as his knees gave out. Hank quickly wrapped an arm around him, helping him down to the curb. 

“Is she-” 

“She’s alive,” Hank responded, “But barely. They took her straight to Med, I called ahead and told Will to meet her there.” 

Jay felt like he could breathe a little bit better, knowing that his baby brother was going to be in charge of his wife’s care. It was as if Jay’s mind went blank, a factory reset as he looked at the members of his unit jump right into working the scene. 

“I need to see it,” Jay said, his voice lacking any emotion. Hailey, who stood behind him, gave Hank a look, but the older man knew Jay well enough. 

“C’mon,” Hank turned and walked towards the house, Jay hot on his heels. The two of them pushed through the yellow police tape, and Jay felt his heart tick again. 

The perfect house that Y/N had spent so much time on, was destroyed. Pieces of glass from the windows littered the floor, pictures on the wall had been skewed, bloody footprints left on the hardwood floors that took Jay way too long to fix up. 

Jay clenched his jaw, “Where was she?” 

“Perp came in through the back,” Adam explained, pointing to the open back door, “Looted around down here for a little bit, from what we can tell, nothing was taken.” Jay couldn’t even focus on seeing if anything was missing, he was more concerned on how Y/N ended up the victim. “Then he went upstairs,” Adam nodded his head towards the bloody footprints. 

Hank then led him up the stairs, where more uniforms stood around taking pictures, and putting numbered yellow place cards on the blood splatters. Normally, the coppery scent of blood didn’t bother Jay, but this had him feeling sick as he approached his bedroom. 

“The 9-1-1 call was dialed from in here,” Hank said, “Her phone was found in the closet along with a nine mil.” Jay felt some sense of pride that Y/N knew to get the gun from the safe. He could remember the day he had first brought it home and how much she had protested having a weapon in the house. But Jay promised it would be the only weapon they had and it was going to be under lock and key at all times. 

“Did she fire it?” Jay asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Hank nodded, “Bullet embedded in the wall.” 

“She missed,” Jay shook his head, his blue eyes looking down at the huge blood spot on the bedroom floor. “Is th-that her. . .” Hank nodded his head again. Jay let out a shuddering breath as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was as if time had finally stopped, and Jay came to a sickening realization about the blood on the floor, “The baby. . .” His eyes widened as he looked at Hank, who had a grime expression on his face, “Where is my baby?” 

Hank looked at Adam, who stood in the doorway, “We have an amber alert-” 

Jay stood up from the bed immediately, but Hank put a hand on his chest, “Get your fucking hand off of me.” 

“We found this next to her,” Hank handed Jay a note. 

Jay took the yellow piece of notebook paper, which was folded in half and a polaroid picture was in the middle. The picture was of Y/N, and it looked to be taken not that long ago, her round pregnant belly protruding out as she stood in front of the large bay window of the living room. Written in what Jay prayed was red ink were the words: 

“I warned you.”

[redsrooftopprincess]

Could you do anymore headcannos for the tmnt 2014/2016 boys? Idc what the headcannon is but I love it hc so much

Sleeping Headcanons

Headcanons you say? Let's get into it!

Warnings: mental health, drugs/alcohol

We spend nearly half of our lives asleep, and the boys are no different! They're a little backwards, being basically nocturnal, but they sleep (and struggle to), just like anybody else.

Leo

Bed. Leo is a traditionalist and sleeps on a firm Japanese Futon. He sleeps on his plastron because that's the most practical. He's usually on his side, hugging a pillow, by morning.

Temperament. Even as always, unless he has a migraine, then he's in his room the second he gets home. Dark and quiet. If someone disturbs him, he'll get up and address whatever it is that needs seeing to, but don't expect conversation. However, he *is* a morning person! They all hate him until about 10 am.

Routine. If he has a headache he'll usually have no choice but to just lay down the second he's off the clock. If he doesn't, he has a very strict routine that is *always* adhered to, or he can't sleep (no, that's not a joke):

Tea (usually jasmine) with Dad while processing the day.

Shower.

Teeth.

Undress.

Meditate for 30 minutes.

Sleep.

The morning is much the same but in reverse:

Wake up.

Meditate for 15 minutes.

Get dressed.

Downstairs for coffee/breakfast/discussing the day with Dad.

Training.

Sleeping with a partner. Having someone around to upset his routine is ROUGH. Don't ask to sleep in his bed. Seriously, don't. Sharing *his space* is a HUGE step for him and if you push it, it'll just take longer. He'll start small, inviting you into his room for tea. Be PATIENT with the boy. Once you start sleeping in his bed it'll take him a while to get used to it. The first few times he doesn't sleep. But eventually, you worm your way into his routine, and he can't sleep without you. Until then, he will happily hold you until you fall asleep, even stay watching over you until morning. But he won't sleep.

Mikey

Bed. Pillow pile! He started collecting pillows as a kid to add to his hoard, which is now comically large and takes up 1/3 of his room. He loves the weird ones and has ones with tassles and beads and insane shapes. It's actually pretty impressive and could probably double as a modern art piece!

Temperament. It's all good! No matter what state he's in, he's always the life of the party. Always.

Routine. He's usually parked in front of the TV until everyone disperses (video games/tv/ect). Then, depending on how hard his depression is hitting that night, he'll either grab a bong (hard) or a bottle (harder). He'll drink in his room , but he'll skate down one of the south tunnels to smoke because he doesn't want to hear about it from Leo. Splinter knows about the weed, but doesn't have a problem with it, because it really does seem to help. He would, however, have a problem with the liquor. Once Mike is thoroughly gone, he tosses himself on his pillow pile and attempts to pass out. Sometimes he does. He gets hangovers from the alcohol, but the second he wakes up that mask is firmly back in place and he's good to go! 😃

Sleeping with a partner. ALL. THE. CUDDLES. Expect him not to let go. Like, pee beforehand. He may not be as big as his brothers, but he's still pretty damn heavy. You are HIS Angel. You are HIS miracle. And you aren't going ANYwhere. Lots of nuzzling/scent marking, LOTS of churring, and when he does eventually fall asleep, he snores like a diesel engine. Just poke him in the side and he'll shut up.

Don

Bed. What's a bed? You mean the cot in his lab? On the rare occasion that *someone* convinces him to actually sleep in a bed, it's pretty much whatever bed or bed-adjacent thing they bring him to. By the time he's tired enough that he can be convinced, he's too far gone to care.

Temperament. When Donnie is tired, expect to be snapped at. He'll apologize immediately, but his temper is a hair trigger when he needs sleep. And my dude goes until he stops. Don's body wakes up before he does. Expect mumbled one-word answers that may or may not make sense as he gradually comes to consciousness over the next half-hour.

Routine. Donnie doesn't make the decision to go to bed. He just wakes up and it's later. When he does wake up, his body has been conditioned to perform all the necessary morning tasks without him having to actually be fully conscious. Sit up. Grab freshly brewed espresso from desk next to cot. Shotgun espresso. Wrap joints. Stand up. Go to kitchen for second cup of coffee (because Raph has already brewed a pot, and because at some point in his teenage years, his father insisted on seeing him at least once a day). Make/drink coffee. Eat the closest edible thing. Go back to the lab. By this point, his conscious mind has usually kicked in and he can get back to work.

Sleeping with a partner. I hope you like to be lulled to sleep by computer fans! You'll get used to the phrase, "go and lie down, Dove. I'll just be a minute." It's always a lie. You know it. He knows it. The wall of computer towers behind you knows it. But he does the song and dance, anyway, because he thinks it makes you feel better. It doesn't. If he does happen to fall asleep with you, of COURSE he's the big spoon. He wraps himself around you and holds you as close as he can (he's still working on getting past all those pesky air molecules), with his beak buried in your hair so that he can breathe you in as he falls asleep (at least the air molecules are good for something).

Raph

Bed. My guy is BIG, and needs a ton of support. A traditional flat mattress is uncomfortable unless he sleeps on his plastron which he HATES doing. His carapace is HEAVY, and it feels like he's literally being crushed under his own weight. Besides, he's in enough pain when he wakes up, and as much as he loves working out, he really doesn't want to have to do pushups first thing in the morning. Instead, he has a carbon fiber hammock that he wove himself. It hangs from a reach stacker arm modified with two lifting jacks bolted to the floor, all "liberated" from the shipyard. It supports all of him with the added benefit of pressure on all sides due to his weight, which helps him sleep, especially when he's in a low.

Temperament. When he's tired he's a grump. He's not quick to anger, but expect a lot of grumbling and begrudging acquiescence to things. He doesn't usually push it too far before heading to bed, because let's face it, pain is exhausting, and if he's laying down he's not having to hold himself up. He's not a "morning person," but he's usually okay as long as he knows there's a cup of coffee in his near future.

Routine. Pretty standard. Shower, teeth, etc. Once in bed, he'll mess around on his phone for a while, watching movies/tv/anime, before eventually falling asleep. In the morning, he rolls out of his hammock and heads to the kitchen for coffee with his Dad before everyone else emerges. After that it's his morning workout and he starts the day. Honestly the mostly boring/normal out of all of them.

Sleeping with a partner. He won't sleep in your bed. He just won't. Don't ask. He'll hold you until you fall asleep, no question, but he won't stay. The only hope for a sleepover is at his place. He likes to give you a big hug around the middle and roll into the hammock with you, and it always leaves you giggling as you snuggle up against his plastron. That's when he sleeps best, with you laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around you. Not only is it added pressure, but this way he knows you're safe.

.......

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

[ckret2]

Is current day Bill aware that he was technically dead? Does anyone else know?

"Welcome to the mindscape, kid! Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost!"

He knows what he is.

He knows he's a being made of pure energy (with no weaknesses!!) only visible in the mindscape and he knows he doesn't have a physical form despite previously having one. He's willing and able to get in a long philosophical argument with you about whether or not that makes him "dead."

The Axolotl's a psychopomp. The Axolotl's definition of "dead" is "legally, a ghost," because as a psychopomp it's his responsibility to escort ghosts to afterlives (like the Theraprism). The Axolotl's legal definition of ghost is "is a soul (a sentient entity composed entirely of energy with no physical matter); was not always a soul (was born inhabiting a physical body); is from a dimension where the mindscape and the landscape are on separate planes, and physical beings live in the landscape while energy beings live in the mindscape; and is from a dimension where the local culture/god(s) want the deceased to 'move on' rather than cohabitate with the living, and have set up afterlives and/or reincarnation programs to facilitate this."

So from that perspective, death can be subjective. If you have, say, a species of caterpillar with a physical body that enters a cocoon and emerges as a butterfly made of pure energy, whether the Axolotl defines them as "a species that metamorphoses from physical beings into energy beings" or "a species that enters a cocoon when it's time for them to die" depends on how they treat their energy-butterfly forms: do they consider their energy-butterfly forms "adulthood," or do they go "welp! Bob's cocoon cracked, he's gone forever now. (Bob, I swear, stop beating your wings at me, you're supposed to fly on up to The Next Place In The Sky)"? If the same caterpillar species has two different cultures that consider their butterfly forms differently, the Axolotl wouldn't know whether to consider an energy butterfly dead until he'd found out which culture it came from.

Bill isn't a psychopomp and he hates laws. What does he care about bodies? He determines whether or not he's dead via "am I still living?" Is he still doing stuff? Going to parties? Making plans, talking to people, pursuing his ambitions, running from cops, affecting interdimensional politics? Thinking, feeling, acting, eating, touching, living? Then he's alive.

(He feels more dead visiting Earth to manipulate humans than he does in the Nightmare Realm; because in the Nightmare Realm, physical beings and energy beings interact on the same plane, so he can do all the same stuff anyone with a physical body can. But if he can open a rift from the Nightmare Realm to Earth, then he can make a physical body on Earth and it won't be a problem anymore!!)

He's far more powerful now than he was before the Euclidean Massacre when he became an energy being; shouldn't that mean he's more alive now? ALSO, even if he DID die, then he "died" like BILLIONS AND BILLIONS of years ago, and he thinks he should be considered alive just for still being around now! Would anybody dead still be around so long after they died?! If Bill had been born an energy being, rather than becoming one later in life, nobody would accuse him of being dead—and that to him is proof enough that the whole system is bogus!

Bill and the Axolotl have been arguing about this for literally a trillion years.

[heavenlee773]

Fairly Odd Parents; A New Wish finale spoilers!!

Okay so am I the only one who didn’t like the fact that Hazel’s friends now know about the fairies?

Because like, how do you go on from that? Maybe it’s because I never really got attached to her friends the same way I did with Dev, but it’s just racking my mind over how the episodes in season two will go.

It kind of feels like them knowing about the fairies will only cause troublesome situations like “oh it’s fine! Hazel can just wish us out of this mess” or “Hazel can you wish this for us please?” Which will probably cause a lot of problems, and there’s no going back from that.

It could be because on every site I watched FOPANW for free, it’s missing “The Wellsington Hotellsington” episode which I’m pretty sure is the episode where Winn gets formally introduced, and the trio’s friendship cements. I’ll probably have to buy that episode since websites don’t want to add it for some reason…

But now Season 2 most likely will be focused more on the trio and their shenanigans, so I don’t knowww… I’m really biased though, I love Dev as a character and I love his and Hazel’s dynamic (before the whole taking over fairy world thing)☹️

I like Jasmine and Winn but I just don’t care for them, you know?

And onto Hazel’s brother Antony, he’s cool and all but why does he need to know about the fairies?

Like I know this makes it SO much easier for Hazel, and it’s basically a huge weight lifted off of her, but story wise?? Eughhh I don’t know😖

I mean, if they explore his and Deja’s relationshipppp hmmm okayyyy😋😋 But I just know how they’d segue way into that, and thinking about it makes me uncomfortableeee!!

Basically what I’m saying is, I CAN’T WAIT FOR SEASON TWO AND I HOPE THERE IS MORE DEV CONTENT!!!

PLEASEE don’t have Dev just be a one off antagonist☹️☹️

The theory that Dev keeps his memories because of his shades (and also his similarities to some other rich kid that was in the original series of whom I forgot his name) is cool, but also awkwarddd— because what does he do with that information?? Like okay buddy, you remember. Now what? He never had the best relationship with Peri in the first place!! I’d prefer if maybe season one went on WITHOUT Irep interfering or at least appearing but not appearing again until the next season, because THEN Dev and Peri could’ve connected at least a little, and Dev could have more realizations about “maybe I don’t need my father’s approval” or something— then in season two when Dev goes on a spiral or something, let’s say his dad ticks him off;

Dev tries to have a heart to heart with his dad after Hazel and Peri push him to,

“I feel like you don’t care about me, and all I want is for you to be proud of me—“

And his dad is like,

“Come back to me when you do something I can be proud of.”

SO THEN he becomes bitter at Hazel and Peri for “making” him go do that, and turns to Irep to take over Fairy World.

Eughhhh but this is a kid’s show after all, and they want to cater to their attention spans so a show that takes a while to fully flesh out their characters would probably go right over some kid’s heads (or not, they could probably become smarter.)

I still love the show, and fanfiction exists for this exact reason—

I guess that’s enough of my Ramb-Lee’s for now, if anyone wants to talk about FOPANW, I’m here😝.

(Dev looks so CUTE in this scene🥺)

Peace!!

-🤍

[phantomantz]

some changes i would have made to the characters storylines in tua s4

disclaimer: i am no writer, it's just fun to think about the possibilities. btw anyone feel free to use any of these ideas for fics idc

lila doesn't cheat for starters. instead she and diego have both been secretly doing vigilante missions and keeping it from the other because they think they'll be mad. on one of these missions the two run into each other and rekindle their spark. basically the five and lila story but with diego and lila instead thanks. maybe one or both of them almost die or their kids are put in danger, and they decide to find a much less dangerous hobby, because while its thrilling in the moment they realize they wouldn't sacrifice their family for it

luther is shown to be much more depressed about sloanes absence (if there really is no way for her to come back) but he's trying to hold it together to be there for his family. would be nice if he bonded with characters like klaus, viktor or allison who have also lost their lovers. diego and lila shenanigans means they need luther to babysit a lot and luther finds happiness caring for his nieces and nephew. maybe he also finds a fulfilling job where he can meet a lot of people and help others.

five still finds the time subway but without lila. we get more time exploring the alternate timelines and seeing different ways the apocalypse has happened including ways the other sibs have ended the world. his PTSD and reliving his trauma is also explored. he eventually ends up in the five diner where he's told that they end the world every time but instead of excepting defeat and making everyone sacrifice themselves he finds another way (what exactly that is im not so sure) and becomes the first and only five to successfully prevent the apocalypse forever

allisons relationship with claire and ray are explored more heavily as well as everything she did in s3. i like the idea that she takes care of klaus because 1: hes the only sibling that will still talk to her and 2: because of the guilt she feels after getting him killed. i just wish her arc focused on something OTHER than saving klaus because thats basically all she did this season. would be nice if she spent more time with viktor and luther the two people she wronged most heavily in s3.

i would keep viktors confrontation with reggie but alternatively i would make this reginald umbrella reginald so it has much more weight to it. either that or have viktor express that even though he said his piece toward this reggie he will never actually get closure with their real father and nothing will remove the pain from his childhood. the rest i would keep pretty similar. reginald wants to kill ben and viktor wants to stop him at any cost. viktor knows what its like to be "the bomb" and doesn't want the same thing that happened to him to happen to ben. instead of working together to find ben however they're more in a race against eachother. maybe allison joins him and they make up on the way. i would have liked for ben and viktor to have had a heart to heart in the beginning of the season, maybe about how ben felt like a monster sometimes because of his powers, and viktor relating. idk how this would work with sparrow ben because he doesn't seem to hate his powers the same way brelly ben did but it would have been nice to show another reason why viktor is going through so much trouble to save him. and the ending where he trys to talk him down would be more impactful i think.

for klaus i would keep everything pretty much the same up until he runs into that quinn guy. instead i would have him travel to the subway with five in lilas place. five and klaus' powers are the most mind boggling out of the bunch not to mention time and death are inherently intertwined and this needed to be explored. also, you're telling me klaus literally has the power to talk to GOD and this never has any plot relevance???? klaus should have been involved in finding the solution to the apocalypse imo. also we needed klaus and ben interactions. idk how or when but it NEEDED to happen

ben and jennifer being the catalyst for the apocalypse is making it very hard for me to figure what to do with him tbh. i just wish he had more time with the other sibs and didn't turn into a horrific blob monster at the end 😭he felt less like a character this season and more like a plot device and he deserved to have some scenes that actually fleshed him out. it would have been cool if the reason he causes the apocalypse was actually because of his powers and not just because he happened to be the one to make skin contact with jennifer. i really thought that the twist was gonna be that the squid that jennifer was stuck in was the one that ben summons and that was why they were connected. not the fact that they both just had reactive magic particles in them that anyone could have set off. like what if jennifer being cut out of the squid was what killed ben?

OH! what if jennifer was an eldritch horror from the same dimension that bens tentacles are from and for some reason she wants to kill the brellys/end the world and because bens powers are linked to her she can control his mind ???? c'mon i feel like i've got something here

a have a couple of other ideas but don't know where they would fit in rn so yeah.

[mysticheathenn]

What's You're Soul Contract?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about what your soul agreed upon coming to earth. Did you come here to be successful? Break Generational Trauma? Did you come here just for the fun of it? This pick-a-card may help give you more clarity and guidance on why you are here on Earth.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

Ko-Fi Donations

NEXT PAC: Patreon Related (I just don't know what as of yet) If you have any suggestions feel free to send them.

Sorry, I have been M.I.A. Depression really is a bitch, but I'm doing better still under the weather but better. I hope everyone is doing well. I missed and love you guys.

Pile l:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot: 6 of Cups, Ace of Swords, 3 of Wands, 10 of Cups, 10 of Wands, Page of Cups.

Breaking Generational Trauma/Curses. You have a lot of cups and wand energy pile l. This means your pile is all about pent-up fiery emotions that have been denied an avenue to being expressed whether in your lifetime or over the many generations before you. You probably grew up in a household where you are supposed to "stay in a child's place" or "you should be seen not heard." Some of you have to deal with constantly seeing your parents, grandparents, or family in general struggling with money or hating what they do for work but it puts food on the table and clothes on your back but at the end of the day they took out their frustrations on you. I'm hearing "Money is burning a hole in my pocket." Maybe you have one of those parents where you went to your room as soon as they came home because they were always in a bad mood because of how stressed they were or they are penny pinchers like Julius from "Everybody Hates Chris" I heard "That's .49 cents of spilled milk dripping on my table. Somebody is going to drink this milk. Clip Link." They may even hit you for spilling juice even if it were an accident. Either way, you vowed long ago that you were going to break the chains of what your ancestors have passed down. You want to live a life where you can come home to and feel at peace and happy. You want to be that parent that lets your kids feel like they can express themselves while establishing healthy boundaries. Some of you I am even hearing will never stay with someone for the sake of the kids like some of your parents have done. You overall want to live a life where you don't have to apologize, walk on eggshells, or be miserable. Your soul contract is basically to live your life outside the boundaries of what your ancestors have placed on each generation and to pass that same freedom on to those around you or your kids. You are meant to live out loud and maybe even cut off family members if you feel called to do that. I am even hearing that some of you are in the process of re-parenting your parents. Helping or teaching them that the ways of what they knew are wrong and that if they want to remain in your life they need to make changes.

Pile ll:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot: Page of Pentacles, The World, The Sun, 8 of Pentacles, Queen of Swords

Independence/Financial Abundance. Your soul contract reminds me a bit of pile l but only 1% of it when it deals with breaking trauma/curses surrounding money. You probably grew up if not poor you grew up okay. While you weren't poor your family wasn't rich or even middle class, they were a little above working paycheck to paycheck. For some of you, this has nothing to do with growing up poor but more so with wanting a better life for yourself so you can provide for those around you especially if you are close to family. If not family you may just want Fuck you money to lavishly spend. Some of you want to pay off your parent's mortgage or buy them their dream car. Whatever it is as everyone has their personal reasoning for why they want financial abundance or independence, you are placed here to experience riches and create abundance. I am hearing that some of you want to make a change within the world. You want to grow a business where employees are treated fairly and paid a living wage. This reminds me of the CEO who took a pay cut so he could give all his employees including himself a starting salary of 70k. You want to help out the needy and give back to whatever you can, I'm hearing about finding new solutions to food waste for very few of you. Either way, you are meant to be your own boss. You were never meant to work underneath someone and I feel quite a few of you have been feeling that feeling for quite a while now but don't know how to break the chains, don't have a business idea/where to start, or don't know how to get the funding to start your business idea. Just remember to ask and you shall receive speak to your guides and ask them for help, a sign, or to put someone in your path who can help you out. In the meantime, please be careful with who you share your ideas with. Some of you are too trusting with your friends and family group not knowing they are waiting to see you fail or talk you out of the idea because they want you to remain in the same position as them knowing they could never amount to half your potential. Some of them remind me of the popular TikTok trend from Snowfall "Me. I built this shit. Brick by Brick and I'll be dam if you tear it down because you don't like the way another n*gga talk." Some also just want to latch onto you, remember not everyone is meant to walk the same path. Some people are meant to be left behind or they will keep you in the same place as you are now with wanting handouts, filling you with limiting beliefs, etc.

Pile lll:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot:10 of Cups/10 of Pentacles, The Wheel, 4 of Cups, The Tower (clarified by the Chariot), The Hermit

Divinity / Spiritual Growth/ Light & Love. You may be seeing the number 1010 everywhere pile lll. You have the 10 of Pentacles, 10 of Cups, and The Wheel is the 10th card in my "The Muse Tarot Deck." The 1010 angel number serves as a guiding light, illuminating your journey in love, money, and spiritual growth. You were placed on this earth to spread light and love, becoming the embodiment of it, and to walk a spiritual path. For some of you this spiritual path may be a religious path, take what resonates and leave what does not. I mostly feel this is a spiritual group because of the symbolism on each card that came out for you. Some of you are leaving your religious background for spirituality because you saw how religion has turned the people around you into the complete opposite of what they teach during Sunday service, some of you are leaving because you felt that the religion doesn't align with you anymore and you feel lost but somehow spirituality has been calling your name and has done some things for you but you feel some type of guilt surrounding it because of your upbringing. For others of you, this may be vice versa where you decide to go back to church, etc. Again take what resonates and leave what does not, either way, you are finding your way back to god (Universe, Allah, Source, etc) and wanting to bring more harmony, love, and community into your life. You probably have been going through some changes recently and for some of you who are atheist or agnostic and experiencing the feeling of being lost, like the way you are living can't just be this, or feeling that there is no way that you are here to just take up space and struggle. You are trying to find more meaning in life because you are on the verge of a mental breakdown or may even have thoughts of suicide because of how alone you have been feeling. Overall you were meant to find yourself. You are meant to come back to yourself through spiritual or religious means. Finding a community that shows you that there is light and love in this world and you aren't alone nor placed here as a waste of space or to struggle. I heard God loves the little children bible school song and this little light of mine. I feel those two songs are to let you know that within the darkness there is always a bit of light at the end of the tunnel you just can't see it because you're honed into the darkness not looking for the light. Also that you are loved whether you feel that way or not. Your community is out there, don't give up.

Pile lV:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot: Queen of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, 4 of Swords, 4 of Cups, 10 of Wands (reversed)

Love/Beauty/Life. You may be seeing 44 or 444 everywhere pile lV. That is for just a few of you not everyone but pile lV your soul contract, the reason you are here is to experience all of life's beauty, glory, and love. Your pile somewhat reminds me of pile lll but only 1% of it is about finding yourself, but for a few of you the whole reading might resonate also. Anyway, you are here to experience being human. I mean after all, you are a spiritual being having a human experience. Some of you probably wonder why you go through tough times or maybe get pissed off at even small inconveniences and I'm here to let you know it's all a part of your process, mission, and experience. You are meant to see life's beauty, travel, fall in love, get your heart broken, make life-long friends, have your first fight, lose all of your money, win the lottery.... all of it...do you hear me? You are meant to experience the good with the bad. The small details of life like Starbucks's pumpkin spice lattes to the smell of books in the library or book store. You signed up to also find yourself amongst experiencing all the large and small things in life. To live your life unapologetically and to be free from what society has placed on what it is to being a human, an adult, etc. If you haven't seen the movie Soul by Pixar/Disney I highly recommend it as this is literally your pile. You were meant to say what goes for your life and what does not because everything is temporary. You know the question "If you were on your deathbed what would your regrets be? What would you have wished you would have done more of? What would you have done less of? Those questions that people love to ask old people.....that is your soul contract. To be asked on your death bed some of those questions and being able to say you lived life exactly how you wanted to live it: Beautifully, authentically, boldly, and filled with love and freedom surrounded by those you love and who deeply love and express their love for you. While you are meant to experience some struggle as it is a part of the human experience you are not meant to live one that is traditional, rigid, or stale. Go bungee jumping, get a tattoo sleeve (or fake one), take risks and ask out the guy first, and write that book that has been on your mind even if you don't plan on sharing it. Overall, do you boo, do you. Live life with no regrets. Live life as if Wes Anderson was the director. If you were a book genre it would be coming of age.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[thewalkingthread]

"I've been thinking" - D.D.

pairing: daryl dixon x f!reader

summary: After witnessing how good Daryl takes care of Judith and RJ, you think it's about time y'all have one of your own.

warning: fluff

a/n: I love soft Daryl.

You and Daryl had been through more than your fair share of hardships, having faced the trials of the apocalypse together. Your bond had only grown stronger over the years, and now, after the war in Commonwealth settled, you and your community found a place to call home. Despite the chaos of the world outside, you had finally had a semblance of peace and security among friends, new and old. Hell- you guys even had a dog now.

It was sunny today, Judith and RJ ran around on the street with some of the other kids. They screamed and hollered as they played tag, a heart melting smile spread across their faces. Just kids being kids.

You and Daryl sat on the front porch of your house with Dog. Daryl's crossbow rested against the wall as he sharpened the points of his arrows. You watched the kids, you had a smile that mirrored their contagious ones.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, his voice soft, he glanced at you briefly before he continued to work on his arrows.

You nod your head, your eyes still fixated on the kids. "I've been thinking,"

"That can't be good," Daryl scoffed, teasingly. You roll your eyes, reaching over and bumping his shoulder with your fist. "Bout wha?" He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, glancing down at the glass of water in your hands. "The future." You said simply.

Daryl looked up, curiosity evident in his stormy blue eyes. "The future, huh? What's on your mind?" He placed the arrow on the table, giving you his undivided attention.

"Well," You began, a faint blush coloring their cheeks, "I've been thinking about this for a while, but it never seemed like the right time. I mean these past few years have been so... crazy." You wince.

"But now, everything feels right. We're safe. Here, in commonwealth. The kids are safe here, we've got something good going. Something real." You hated saying it, knowing you felt the exact same way with the prison, with Alexandria. I don't think anywhere in this world would ever be safe, but here felt like it.

"We've been dealt some shitty cards. With Rick and Michonne gone, we've basically been given all their responsibility. I know we have to lead these people. I know we have to keep Jude and RJ safe. But I can't help but notice how great you are with Judith and RJ. You're a natural, Daryl. We take care of them like they're our own and-" Your voice trails off, losing the confidence to finish.

"Spit it out, woman." He grunts, staring into your eyes knowingly.

"I want to expand our family... Have one of our own?" You raise an eyebrow, "I wouldn't mind a little Dixon running around."

Daryl paused, his hands grasping yours. He looked at you with the softest eyes, his heart swelling with love and tenderness. "You serious?"

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "Yeah, Daryl. I am. I think we're ready. I mean you're obviously going to be one hell of a dad."

Daryl's rough exterior couldn't hide the softness that your words had brought out in him. He scooted closer to you, holding both of your hands tightly in his. "You really think that?"

You smiled, your love for Daryl shining in your eyes. You've been with Daryl from the beginning. Him and Merle found you alone in a convenient store the day everything went to shit. After months of pining over each other you finally bit the bullet at the prison and made it official. Though the two of you been through hell the past 10 years you're here, together.

"Absolutely. I've seen the way you protect and care for those kids, the way you take care of me. It makes my heart ache with how much I love you. We're building something here. I want to start a family with you."

Daryl leaned in, capturing your lips with a tender kiss. It felt just like it did the first time all those years ago. "I love you too, Y/N. Let's do it. We'll make it work, no matter what. Us against the world. The way it's always been."

His arms wrapped around your body and pulled your close to him.

"Are you two okay?" Judith's voice caused the two of you to pull away from each other. Her eyebrow was raised suspiciously at you two. You and Daryl both burst into a fit of chuckles.

"How would you feel helping Auntie Y/N out with a baby?" Daryl's voice was scuffed. Judith's eyes just about popped out as she jumped into y'alls lap.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She cheered. "About time!" She laughed. Dog barked, oblivious to what was happening but happy to see everyone happy.

You and Daryl exchanged amused glances. Deep down inside you both knew you'd be okay. Whatever happened next, you'd handle it together.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my girlfriend to lose weight?

Okay, so that sounds horrific, but bear with me.

To be clear, I (23M) could not care less what weight she (27F) is or what she looks like. I love this woman with my whole heart and none of it is about her appearance. We’re pretty much engaged in all but name, the only reason it’s not official is because we don’t have money to even think of weddings right now, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with her.

Thing is, she’s obese. Like, medically, not in a derogatory sense. This is massively affecting her health. She’s constantly out of breath, constantly in pain, constantly struggling, and it’s leading to other conditions such as sleep apnea. She thinks she has asthma because she’s always struggling to breathe, but I’m 95% sure it just comes down to weight and her doctor has said the same, but she tends to write it off as doctors being fatphobic.

Much of this is due to the fact that she used to struggle with binge-eating disorder. She no longer binge eats, but she does overeat in general because her body is so accustomed to constant food, so she gets painfully hungry and dizzy after 2-3 hours of not eating.

I’ve tried to encourage her to exercise with me, diet with me, count calories etc., but she gives up super easy when she doesn’t see immediately results. She also says herself that she finds it very difficult to see herself accurately - she has the reverse of “typical” body dysmorphia, where she sees herself as thinner than she is, so she genuinely sees herself as thin or like slightly curvy. (To be clear, she is very visibly obese, people comment on this often, and while I’ll be the first to go fists up if someone’s a dick to her about it as people have been I also am genuinely worried about her health.) Because of that she has no motivation to lose the weight because she just doesn’t see it. It’s bad enough that she’s been told by doctors she WILL likely struggle later in life with heart failure, diabetes etc if she doesn’t lose weight, yet her POV is more, “It can’t be that bad because I’m not that big so I don’t need to worry about it”. She has occasional reality checks, most recently she put her measurements into some site that shows an image of what you look like from a third person perspective, and she was completely shocked like “I can’t look like that. Do I? This is a wake up call”, but days later it’s completely lost and she’s back to saying she’s not that big again.

She wants kids with me, and I just absolutely do not want to commit to having children with her when I know there’s a not-insignificant chance she’ll have serious health issues in the future that could mean she’s not with us for as long as she could be. Both for the kids’ sake, and selfishly because I want her around! I don’t want to think about something happening to her earlier in life and being without her.

But I just don’t know what to do. Gently suggesting it hasn’t worked, saying I’m worried about her health hasn’t worked, saying I don’t want kids until she’s healthy hasn’t worked (even if she’s still overweight I really don’t care as long as she’s not in a “danger zone” y’know?), trying to meal plan with her hasn’t worked, trying to get her to keep track of calories hasn’t worked, trying to exercise with her hasn’t worked.

People I’ve asked in the past have told me to be firm about it, but I’m incredibly reluctant to do that - I struggled with anorexia for most of my teenage and adult life and I know how deep it can cut to have your weight criticised or commented on. I don’t want to be that dick who basically calls someone I love very much unhealthy and fat and tells her to lose weight or no kids or some horrible shit like that.

But I just. Can’t work out what to do. She does express a willingness to lose weight, she says she wants to, she just doesn’t have that motivation to do it. I don’t know what else we can try.

AITA for focusing on this in the first place? Like am I actually just being fatphobic, or is my own past with EDs influencing my thinking? Am I going about it all wrong? Should I just accept it as something that’ll be a potential issue in future and deal with it then or am I fair to worry about it early on?

What are these acronyms?

[fanfreakinfiction]

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 1: Don’t Cry

Ch. 2 | Masterlist 🖤

14K words // Din Djarin x Pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles to find certain words. The reader is pregnant!

Tags: SMUT virginity loss, con-non-con, made-up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, 18+ DNI.

Warnings: Child loss, Pregnancy, Birthing, Blood, Death?, explicit mention of child loss and grief, guys this is dark.

A/N: I got this idea as I was dying in the shower from period cramps & also from a bot I used to use on Janitor AI before it was privated (RIP Din Bot). For logistics, we will just pretend that the Razor Crest didn’t get absolutely obliterated. For timeline reference, this takes place after season 3. Im convinced Din & Grogu are gonna have fun son/dad bounty-hunting adventures as Din teaches Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. Slight flashback in the middle of how reader and Mando met. Grogu has been working on his force flips lmao. I imagine the reader having an accent kind of like Gal Gadot, idk just roll with it. Also, I am so sorry if you cry reading this, I know I did writing it.

His hands ghosted over the silky skin of her back as he watched himself disappear and reappear from her stretched cunt. Slick mixed with blood pooled at the base of his cock in a ring, and the sound of her whimpers reached his ears through the thick metal of his helmet. The feeling of her tightness was so inviting, so hypnotizing, he felt possessed. He didn’t even mean to finish inside of her, he’d have to pay extra for that. 

From the incense heavy room he found himself standing at the edge of an enigmatic forest, encircled by black rock. An ethereal silence enveloped the scene, leaving him with an eerie sense of detachment.

His eyes shifted as he looked up on a pool of steaming water, obscured by the thick veil of steam, he saw her. The woman he’d been with on Tattooine so long ago. She struggled, her words lost in the hissing steam as her trembling hand gently grazed her belly. And there, in the midst of the dream's uncertainty, he witnessed the miracle of life itself—a whisper of cells coalescing into a fragile existence, pulsating with an otherworldly vitality.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The gentle whisper transformed into a nightmarish wail—a blood-curdling scream that tore through the tranquility of the woods. It was a scream of agony, of despair, and it emanated from her trembling lips. Her lips, soft and inviting, the same ones he'd yearned to kiss that night when he had ventured into the pleasure house.

The piercing screams grew louder, echoing through the dream, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with torment. As he watched her agony unfold, he was jolted awake, his head colliding with the unforgiving overhead storage. The sudden transition from the surreal to reality left him momentarily disoriented.

In the dimly lit living quarters of the Crest, Grogu, the young green child who had become an unexpected but cherished presence in his life, cried out from his sling, hanging above Din's bunk.

With a heavy sigh, the sound reverberating through the vocoder in his helmet, Din rose to his feet. The aging joints in his knees protested as he reached out to comfort the child, his gloved hands gently lifting Grogu from the nest of makeshift fabric.

"I know," Din murmured softly, his voice a quiet rumble as he cradled the child in his arms. "You saw it too, didn't you, kid?" Grogu, with his large, expressive eyes, gazed up at Din with a mournful look and reached out, tiny green fingers brushing against the Mandalorian's helmet. 

After the tumultuous events that had reshaped his life, Din Djarin had never allowed your memory to occupy his thoughts. Amidst the whirlwind of reuniting with Grogu, aiding Boba Fett, and playing a pivotal role in the reclamation of Mandalore, you had become little more than a faint blip on his radar—a passing connection that had provided a brief interlude of solace in the midst of his relentless journey.

But now, as he cradled Grogu in his arms, looking into the innocent, sorrowful eyes of the young child, he couldn't deny the awakening of something deeper within him. It was a sensation that transcended the confines of his dreams, a connection he felt as profoundly as the vivid dreamscape that had woven itself into his consciousness.

The realization slowly dawned upon him: you were more than just a fleeting memory. You were an integral part of the enigmatic tapestry of his life, and the threads of fate had woven your presence into his destiny in a way he had never expected.

Breaking free from his reverie, Grogu's tiny green form squirmed wildly in Din's arms, his latent Force abilities propelling him away from the Mandalorian's grasp. With agile grace, he leaped and bounced his way through the ship's cramped quarters, a small but energetic whirlwind of curiosity. Din could barely react before Grogu vaulted into the cockpit. 

Din's boots thudded on the ladder's metal rungs as he followed the young one up into the cockpit. A chorus of wild babbling reached his ears, punctuated by the frenzied pressing of buttons on the navicomputer.

"Don't touch that!" Din exclaimed, a hint of exasperation in his voice, his heart racing as Grogu's tiny hand hovered perilously close to the power reset button. He couldn't help but be wary of the mischief the child could unleash.

The young one looked up at Din with eager eyes, babbled something incomprehensible, and tentatively touched the screen. Din cocked his head, his tinted visor reflecting his curiosity. With a resigned sigh, he walked over to the console and entered a code to initialize the navigation system. "Is this what you want?" Din asked, studying Grogu.

In response, Grogu emitted a single, distinct "Patu" sound, his tiny fingers now reaching for the code panel. Hesitating only momentarily, Din bent down, lifting the child to eye level with the buttons. Grogu began to press a sequence of buttons, his small, green hands navigating the controls with surprising precision. Din's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts racing.

"You know where she is?" his voice came out raspy. Grogu completed the sequence, and his innocent gaze met Din's as the navicomputer diligently calculated the numerical sequence. After a few moments, a series of beeps indicated the successful completion of the calculations. Din turned to read the result, the Aurebesh characters on the screen spelling out "Kith."

"It's in the Baxel Sector of the Outer Rim," Din murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty, as he looked down at the child now resting contentedly in his lap. Grogu gazed up at him, then shifted his gaze to the navicomputer.

With a reluctant sigh, Din pressed a sequence of buttons to engage the hyperdrive. Whether he liked it or not, the path ahead was clear. He had to check on you. As the ship surged into hyperspace, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that this journey was far from ordinary.

—

The path up to the Mountain of Mothers was a grueling journey, especially with your feet swollen and aching. It wasn't just a hike; it was a trial, a test of endurance to prove the worthiness of those seeking parenthood. The heavy pack you carried pressed on your lower back, making each step a test of your will. Normally, the pack was shared by the "Irrit" or father, but "Illa-ishi" or lonely mothers like you were compelled to carry it alone. The remnants of those who hadn't made it to the Mountain of Mothers were marked by the skeletons you passed on the way up.

The lower pool of the mountain lay two days away, and the upper pool required an additional five days of journey. Yet, something in your heart told you that this child would be with you in two days. As you followed the ascending trail, you crossed paths with an "Illa" or mother, accompanied by her Irrit. He bore their pack with pride, walking just behind her. It was a sight that warmed your heart, a testament to the culture you held dear.

"Noona" or baby was the foundation of your beliefs, the embodiment of the life you and your "Manna" or partner created together. Reaching the Mountain of Mothers and returning with a child was the highest honor, a symbol of worthiness.

The Illa halted on her descent and, with an air of pride, revealed her noona, wrapped in the family cloth. "Noona asa illa-ini!" (it’s a girl) she declared with joy, unveiling a beautiful baby girl. You couldn't help but smile down at the tiny noona and the Illa who showed her off with such pride.

“Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit,” (baby is worthy of her mother and father) you responded with the customary blessing, bowing your head in reverence. The mother and father returned the bow, acknowledging the blessing. However, the mother's eyes soon drifted to your belly and the heavy pack that weighed you down.

“Asa Illa-ishi?” she asked softly, her face clouding with sadness. (Are you a lonely mother?)

Summoning all your strength, you fought back the tears that threatened to well up. With your head held high and a tender hand resting on your belly, you spoke resolutely, "A illa-ishi."

I am a lonely mother.

—

The journey through hyperspace had indeed stretched far longer than Din had anticipated. A full day had elapsed since that haunting dream, leaving him with the unsettling sensation of being trapped in some unseen, cosmic rotation of time. However, that ceaseless ticking eventually brought them to the end of their journey as the ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of a smaller, mysterious planet, its surface adorned with sprawling waters and lush forests. As he guided the ship into the planet's atmosphere, the Mandalorian noticed a stark absence of the usual signs of civilization—no traffic control, no spaceports, not even a refueling station. The setting felt eerily reminiscent of the world of Sorgan.

Din hovered uncertainly in the atmosphere, his mind racing. Grogu, seated in the co-pilot's chair, played with the mythasaur skull around his neck, seemingly unfazed by the situation. As Din stared at the green child, he let out a sigh and rested his head against the back of his chair.

"Now what…?" Din muttered to himself, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the details of the dream, seeking any hint or clue that could guide their search.

In his mind's eye, he saw you, your form shrouded in mist and glistening with sweat. The dress you wore clung to your figure, the fabric a soft white-grey that accentuated your curves as you breathed heavily. His brow furrowed in concentration. There was water, almost like a waterfall, surrounding you, with black jagged rocks supporting your form. Your feet were immersed in milky water, reminiscent of a hot spring.

Din's eyes snapped open. A hot spring. It wasn't much to go on, especially for a planet that could potentially be dotted with such natural wonders, but it was a lead worth pursuing. His hands sprung into action, deftly pressing a sequence of buttons that initiated a signal, a ping to any electronic communication device on the planet's surface.

Grogu's focus shifted from the mythasaur skull to the Mandalorian, the child's curious gaze following Din's swift movements. Din soon located the nearest signal on the planet's surface, and as he brought the Razor Crest lower, he was struck by the intensity of the landscape. Towering thick trees covered nearly every inch of land, a vast, unspoiled wilderness that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The planet's terrain was marked by colossal mountains that sliced through the canopy of green like serpents in water, their peaks jutting out in sporadic bursts.

It was a breathtaking and untamed landscape, like nothing Din had ever witnessed. His gaze scanned the vast expanse below, tracking the signal as he searched for a suitable place to land the Crest. Finally, he spotted it—an elevated landing pad erected above the treetops. It seemed to be a small station, but it was a potential refuge for refueling and gathering information, a step closer to finding you

"K1 to RC 4577, you are clear to land at dock 7," a thickly accented voice echoed through the Razor Crest's comms system, providing the coordinates for their landing.

"RC 4577 to K1, recieved," Din responded, his gaze shifting to meet Grogu's eyes. The Mandalorian leaned over to offer a piece of advice to the child, "Always be kind when you land; most landing bay employees often know the most information." Grogu looked at Din, his large eyes brimming with understanding, and he babbled something that Din accepted as an acknowledgment.

With precision, Din guided the Razor Crest toward its designated dock and gently brought the ship to the surface. As he withdrew his hand from the control lever, he noticed a subtle tremor in his own fingers. It had been a long time since he had felt such a physical manifestation of emotion, not since he had lost Grogu to Moff Gideon.

In response to the tremor, Grogu cooed softly and reached out for his protector. Din's gaze locked onto the child, his trembling hands cautiously reaching out to embrace him. Grogu instinctively placed his tiny hands on either side of Din's helmet, offering comfort and connection. A sense of relief washed over the Mandalorian, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The small hands on his helmet made a soft "plink" sound that resonated through his interior comms.

"Thanks, kid," Din murmured, his voice laden with gratitude, but his words unable to fully convey the depth of his feelings.

Exiting the ship, Din carried Grogu in his sling, the child's presence providing a grounding force amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. A young mechanic in worn-overalls approached, his basic broken but comprehensible. "Need refuel?" he asked, to which Din nodded in acknowledgment. The mechanic, unfazed by the Mandalorian's helmet, started toward the fuel hose.

"Hot springs?" Din inquired, his voice barely audible above the wind that whipped violently across the landing pad. The mechanic turned, his eyes reflecting confusion, but Din simply nodded and reached for his credits, preparing to tip the young man for his services. Glancing around the landing pad, he spotted a few other ships—a transport vessel and two cargo ships.

The pad itself had clearly seen better days, and the gusts of wind whipped violently across its aged metal surface, causing a tumultuous symphony of sound. At the front of the landing pad stood a small rectangular building, featuring one set of large bay doors. It seemed to be the station's main structure. Adjusting Grogu in his sling, Din began to make his way toward it, his steps determined.

The small building served as a cover for various ships, a mix of those dusted and covered with the weight of time, and others gleaming with newness. Inside, a modest diner and café shop hummed with activity, a few patrons engaged in quiet conversations. At the front, an older man sat at a makeshift desk, engrossed in the workings of a peculiar-looking computer. As Din approached, the man stood abruptly, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Hello, traveler! Welcome to Kith!" he greeted with a giant smile. "I am Don Mai, the residing Mayor. We are humbled by the presence of a great warrior such as yourself!" With a reverence that bordered on adoration, the old man bowed deeply.

Din suppressed the urge to laugh, already forming an opinion of the enthusiastic mayor that he made a mental note to tell Bo Katan about later. Before Din could utter a word, Don Mai thrust a paper pamphlet into his hands, his speech transitioning into a rehearsed spiel about Kith's culture and history. 

"Kith has a rich culture and even more intense history! Women from all over the galaxy come to experience the Mountain of Mothers and—"

“The Mountain of Mothers?" Din interjected, his tone cutting through the mayor's ramblings.

Don Mai's eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, the Mountain of Mothers has been around since the dawn of life on our humble planet, and its springs offer—"

"Hot springs?" Din interrupted again, his focus unwavering.

"Uh, well, yes, you see, the springs offer—" Don Mai began once more, but Din's impatience grew apparent.

"Where?" Din's voice was firm, demanding answers without the unnecessary embellishments.

Don Mai huffed, "The Mountain of Mothers is the largest mountain range on Kith. You should've seen it from your ship. If you take the elevator down to the planet’s surface, there is a speeder rental that can take you to the base of the range," the old man explained, his tone slightly deflated by Din's lack of interest in his detailed lecture.

Din places the paper pamphlet in a storage pocket on his bandolier as Grogu watches closely. 

“And the elevator?” Din asks not looking away from the old man. 

"To the left of the fuel pump on the landing pad. Just remember to pay your respects to the Gods as you visit the—"

The old man's voice dwindled into the background as Din walked away from the building and back onto the landing pad. He made his way to the fuel pump and, as instructed, looked to the left to find a rickety-looking elevator, seemingly manually operated. The metal showed signs of rust in various spots, and the wire pulley appeared to be in need of greasing. The flooring of the elevator was a grate that revealed the ground thousands of feet below. Grogu emitted a series of frightened squeaks and coos as Din hesitantly stepped onto the grating.

"I know, kid… let's just... get down there," Din muttered through gritted teeth, steeling himself for the precarious descent.

Din's hand gripped the elevator crank tightly, his patience stretched thin as he began the painstakingly slow descent. Halfway through, he had to switch arms, the anger at the archaic contraption bubbling beneath his calm exterior. It was unusual for him to get frustrated with inanimate objects, but this elevator was testing his resolve. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator reached the bottom of the landing pad. With a forceful yank, Din opened the rusted gate, stepping onto soil that felt surprisingly soft underfoot, reminiscent of the sands on Tatooine, albeit less yielding.

The area below was like a forgotten tourist hub, the shops standing silent and forlorn, each manned by a lone shopkeeper who stared into the emptiness, boredom etched across their faces. It was a desolate sight, a place trying to be lively without the visitors to make it so.

Walking further, Din noticed a row of rusted speeder bikes, the rentals. His heavy boots left imprints on the sponge-like earth as he approached. A few of the shopkeepers stirred from their boredom at the sight of the silver-clad Mandalorian passing by.

Reaching the speeder rental, Din was met by an old Aqualish man, the grey of the hair surrounding his face telling tales of years of service.

"How much?" Din asked, his voice reflecting his growing impatience.

"Fifty credits," the Aqualish garbled back.

"Thirty-five," Din countered, his tone firm as he shifted his weight to one side. Grogu cooed softly from his sling, his wide eyes observing the bartering process.

The Aqualish nodded in agreement and walked away to retrieve the speeder keys. 

As Din adjusted Grogu in the sling to access his credits, he caught sight of a couple approaching from the earthen road. The man carried a hefty pack on his back, and the woman cradled a baby in her arms. The pride in the man's eyes was evident as he helped his wife walk toward the shops.

"Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit!" the shopkeeper, an elderly woman across the street, shouted at them. The couple bowed softly in acknowledgment as they continued walking. Every shop they passed echoed the same foreign phrase, and Din watched with curiosity. Upon reaching the elevator, the man removed his pack, fashioning a makeshift seat for his wife as he started cranking the elevator back up to the top of the landing pad.

The sound of a throat clearing broke Din's concentration. The Aqualish man stood, hand outstretched, waiting expectantly for the payment. Din sighed inwardly, realizing he had been lost in his thoughts. He paid the credits and received the keys to the rusted speeder. Adjusting Grogu in the sling, ensuring the child was safely nestled in his lap, Din ignited the speeder and set off down the only trail leading out of the market.

The only path to the Mountain of Mothers.

— 

The pain in your swollen belly intensified as you stood at the base of the last incline leading to the lower pool. The journey had taken a heavy toll on your body, leaving you exhausted and in constant discomfort. Your feet were swollen, your hips ached, and everything hurt, but the cramping in your abdomen was what worried you most. The night before, you had barely managed to rest, opting to lie on the soft ground without bothering with your bedroll. Restlessness had plagued you throughout the night, and now the cramping made it clear that your time was approaching.

Today would be your last day on this arduous journey. The lower pool was just above you, but the pain in your body seemed unbearable. You knew it was all part of the gods' plan for you, but you never expected the pain to be this intense.

As you struggled up the final incline, a sharp pain ripped through you, and you stumbled. Your pack felt impossibly heavy, and your breaths came short. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as a wall of rock loomed ahead of you. 

"Itta non a dashi," (I will not die here) you whispered defiantly, mustering the strength from the deepest part of your being. As your emotions surged, you felt the baby shift within you. With renewed determination, you regained your balance, placing a loving hand on your swollen belly. 

The next incline lay ahead, one of the most challenging parts of the journey. You could see evidence of past mothers who had slipped or stopped, their bones scattered in the crevices of the rock. For Illa-ishi, like yourself, the task was solitary, without the help of an Irrit to assist with the ascent.

You stood at the base of the rocky cliff, gazing up at the tantalizing promise of the lower pool. The rhythmic thunder of the waterfall beyond the peak urged you forward, swirls of steam rose into the air, a tantalizing promise of the lower pool just a short climb away.

Thankfully, the rugged rock face bore shelves that made the treacherous climb more bearable. Growing up you heard tales of a time a century past when an Irrit, a kind-hearted soul whose manna, a young woman, could not walk. In a display of unwavering determination and love, he took chisel and hammer in hand, carving these sturdy, stone steps into existence. With these ledges, he could secure her safely to his back and ascend the daunting precipice so she could birth their child.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you surveyed the ascent before you. The harsh sun beat down, casting long shadows across the rocky surface. Determination burned in your eyes as you figured out the best plan of action. With a surge of resolve, you slipped the heavy pack from your sweat-covered body, feeling an immediate relief as the oppressive weight fell off you and onto the gritty dirt below.

With your pack discarded, you dragged it to the base of the wall where the first of the man-made shelves jutted out, a mere foot of space cut into the unforgiving rock face. Despite the fatigue gnawing at your muscles, you carefully planted your foot on the ledge, finding just enough space to stand. Bending down carefully you pulled the pack onto the ledge beside your feet. Your birthing gown, gauzy and light, provided a surprising ease of movement. Once you’d made sure the pack was secure you looked up and examined the next shelf. It was a little high of a stretch but you gripped the wall above to steady yourself, your gown billowing slightly with the effort.

Your hips protested with each movement, but the primal instinct to survive drowned out the pain. With staggering determination, you raised your leg, using the hold of the wall to leverage yourself onto the rock shelf to the left. Your arms, weary but unyielding, lifted your body until you were safely on the shelf.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you glanced back down at the last shelf, now below you. Gathering remnants of your strength, you reached down, hands trembling slightly, and lifted your pack with both arms onto the shelf beside you. Only one more shelf remained, higher up and to your right, a final obstacle before hauling yourself onto the top of the cliff. 

After a short rest, you locked eyes with the next shelf, determination burning in your gaze. With a swift motion, you reached up for a gap in the wall to get a grip. Sliding your right hand into the sharp crevice, you pulled with all your might, grunting with effort as you lifted your right leg onto the shelf, which was higher than the last. But in that moment of triumph, a sudden jolt of pain radiated from your lower back all the way to your fingertips, and you lost your hold, a gasp ripping through you.

Stumbling backward, you were saved only by your pack, which you used for leverage to steady yourself. The contraction was fierce, so intense that it was only when you absentmindedly touched the dress covering your belly that you realized you'd sliced your palm on the unforgiving rock. Scarlet red stained your gown, creating an almost perfect handprint. Oddly, you felt no pain in your hand, your senses consumed by the tightening in your abdomen, which worsened with every passing moment.

“Issa non a tishi noona..” (its not time yet baby) you groaned out in pain, your voice strained and breathless. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to endure the relentless waves of agony.

You stood trembling on the shelf of the wall for a good minute or two before the contraction finally subsided, leaving you panting and exhausted. It was then that the sharp sting in your hand dominated your senses. You examined your hand, the crevice in the wall had sliced deep, and you could see the gash, making your stomach turn uneasily.

Reaching into your pack, you found the medipack, fingers trembling as you carefully opened it to retrieve the gauze and a bacta spray. With great care, you held your injured hand out in front of you and applied the bacta spray to the gash, wincing at the initial sting. Then, you gently wrapped the gauze around the wound, ensuring it was secure. The sharp pain began to dull as your trembling hand capped the spray, carefully returning it to the medipack. 

With a sigh, you straightened up, taking a moment to regain your composure. The pain in your hand was no longer the foremost concern, and you couldn't let it distract you from the task at hand. You knew that each moment counted in this climb, and you needed to find the safest route to reach the next shelf.

Reassessing the situation, you examined the uneven rock wall before you, trying to identify the most secure handholds and footholds.

An idea crossed your mind and it could be great, or the worst idea ever and you could fall to your death but you were determined. You carefully maneuver around your pack and push it closer to the end of the shelf. You carefully placed a leg on the pack and then another, standing precariously on your pack which provided you almost a foot of extra height, you used the wall to steady yourself. You prayed to the Gods and reached with your right hand for the crevice that had so rudely marred your hand. Finding more traction with the gauze you confidently pulled yourself extending your right leg so your foot found purchase on the shelf. A victorious smile crossed your face as you then pushed off your pack with your left leg and hoisted yourself onto the shelf. A quiet laugh left your lips as you clung to the wall you were now facing. 

Looking to your left, you bent down carefully to grab your pack. This shelf was a lot shorter, jutting from the wall maybe only eight inches. You had to precariously grab your heavy pack with one hand and quickly cram it under your left leg to prevent it from plummeting to the ground below.

You were so close now that you could feel the cool mist from the water above, and the deafening roar of the falls filled your ears. Perched roughly 15 feet above the ground, you took a moment to catch your breath. You dared not look down, fearing that it would disrupt your balance. Instead, you pressed your belly tightly against the rock wall in front of you, your heart pounding with both exertion and anticipation.

After a brief moment of rest, a surge of adrenaline coursed through you. This was it, the final leg of your treacherous journey. You had one more pull, one last push, and you would reach the lower pool, your goal within your grasp. But you also knew that a single mistake could lead to a disastrous fall, a fate you couldn't afford.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arms above your head, your palms resting on the ridge above. With utmost care and precision, you hoisted yourself up, quickly placing both feet on your pack. The pack provided just enough height to get your elbows onto the smooth rock above. You pulled with every ounce of strength you had, feeling your belly scrape against the unyielding stone as you lifted.

Luck was on your side, as your feet managed to find a foothold through the worn leather of your boot. This newfound leverage allowed you to push yourself up, resembling a sea lion clambering onto a rocky outcrop. With sheer determination and the last vestiges of your strength, you quickly pulled your right leg under you and pushed yourself onto all fours on the smooth rock face. Your heart raced, your hands and knees trembling from the exertion, but you had made it. You had reached the final stretch of your perilous ascent, and the pool ahead awaited, a shimmering reward for your indomitable spirit.

A sob escaped your lips, a surge of emotion you hadn't anticipated as the reality of your accomplishment finally caught up with you. You had done it. You had managed to make it to the lower pool, and the inviting, milky-warm waters beckoned to soothe your weary body. Steam swirled around you, creating an ethereal atmosphere as you lay there, taking in the moment.

Rolling onto your back to face the sky, you watched as a giant silver ship soared high above the mountain. Your eyes followed it for a brief moment before it disappeared into the vast expanse of the blue sky. Tears welled up and trickled down your cheeks, their salty warmth mixing with the refreshing mist from the pool. You felt the gentle movements of the babe inside you and couldn't help but smile through your tears.

"Noona...we made it," you whispered in basic, your hand tenderly caressing your belly. The connection between you and the life within you was stronger than ever, a bond forged through this incredible journey.

After some time, you stirred, realizing that you needed to retrieve your pack. With some effort, the pack proved easier to handle than your own weight combined with the growing life inside you. You unzipped the pack and reached for your bedroll when another sensation, different from the earlier contractions, radiated through your core. This time, it felt like pressure, a clear sign that the moment you had been anticipating was drawing near.

After finding the bedroll, you took a moment to survey the area for a suitable spot to lay it down. The relatively flat rock surface encircling the spring was a dark black, a stark contrast to the frothy blue of the hot spring's waters. The ancient, tranquil pool was surrounded by old, tattered bedrolls, some empty, while others still held the silent remains of Illa-ishi who hadn't been as fortunate as you.

You sighed softly, the weight of the past and the solemnity of the place pressing down on you. You knew what lay beneath the surface of this hot spring – the resting places of those who had undertaken the same treacherous journey but hadn't emerged victorious. Out of respect for their memory, the people of Kith never dared to touch the remains. Instead, they left the bones where they lay, allowing them to become one with the planet's core, a final return to the world from which they had come.

Gently, you found a clear space amidst the bedrolls and laid down your own bedroll. It felt strange to rest among the remnants of those who had gone before you, but you also understood the significance of this place.

It was believed among your people that the Mountain of Mothers was the handiwork of the divine God of Kith, a deity whose love for his wife, Illa-ishi, was as vast as the universe itself.

Illa-ishi’s womb had cradled life for what seemed like an eternity and her body bore the weight of years, while her heart bore the burden of unbearable pain. Witnessing his beloved wife suffer, Kith, with his divine hands, crafted a pool at the mountain's base. Its waters held the promise of relief, a balm for Illa-ishi's agony.

While Kith labored tirelessly to raise the Mountain of Mothers, Illa-ishi, driven by a desperation born of unending torment, embarked on a solitary climb up its slopes. With each step, she ascended toward the heavens, seeking solace that seemed perpetually out of reach.

At the pinnacle of her journey, amidst the tranquil waters of the divine pool, Illa-ishi's child was born. Yet, there was no cry of life, no breath to fill the air. In a heart-wrenching moment, the lonely mother, overcome by despair, embraced the waters that had promised relief. She allowed herself to be consumed, seeking peace in the depths of the pool.

Kith, returning to find his wife and child lost to the pool’s embrace, was consumed by an anguish that eclipsed the stars. In his sorrow, he performed a deed both divine and sacrificial. In a resolute act, he harnessed the remnants of their life force, infusing it with the very essence of his divine being, and breathed life into the creation of the upper pool atop the Mountain of Mothers. 

This upper pool, borne from his profound sacrifice, was destined to be a reward for those who completed the arduous journey together. It was a testament to the strength of unity, the enduring love that bound families and lovers, and the rewards that awaited those who surmounted the trials of life.

Yet, even in the splendor of his divine creation, Kith's sadness consumed him. He recognized the fundamental truth that Illa could not always survive, and that Noona may not always breathe. And so, the first pool, at the mountain's base, remained untouched, preserved as a sanctuary of rest and respect. A place where Illa-ishi, and Illa could find solace amidst the beauty of the Mountain of Mothers, where the waters whispered stories of love and sacrifice, and where their weary spirits could find respite beneath the endless expanse of the starlit sky.

In history there was only one illa-ishi who succeeded in birthing a breathing babe at the first pool, and she had birthed an evil so strong it was said to last generations. 

You knew your heart, and you knew your babe. You had come here to rest.

—

The hike was hard. Din was breathing heavily under the weight of his armor and the burden of Grogu, who looked around the desolate landscape with a sad curiosity. How many skeletons had they passed? What kind of place was this? Why were you here? The guilt gnawed at him with each step he took. Why had he even gone to seek out pleasure from solitude in the first place? He thought back to that night… 

The night was dark and heavy as Din sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the cantina in Mos Eisley, his thoughts consumed by a yearning for Grogu. The scorching sands of Tatooine outside were a harsh reminder of the precious time he had spent here with the child and Peli Motto. They had been moments of sanctuary, where the galaxy's chaos seemed miles away.

Nearly a year had passed since he'd entrusted Grogu to Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a decision made with the best intentions. But that choice had left a void within him that he could hardly bear. Sleepless nights had become his constant companion, and the craving for both rest and peace had grown unbearable. And yet, he found himself agreeing to help Boba Fett in the midst of a brutal war, a commitment that seemed at odds with his desire for tranquility.

But in that cantina, he made a solemn decision. He had to seek out Grogu one last time, he had to give Grogu the chain mail that he had made for him. Just, as a way to protect him nothing more… He ran his fingers over its cool surface, a gesture that silently conveyed his unbreakable resolve before he pocketed the beskar. 

As the night deepened and the alcohol flowed, he realized he had indulged in more Corellian Whiskey than he should have, knowing he needed a clear head for the journey that awaited him. But the whiskey's burn was a welcomed distraction, a temporary escape from the overwhelming pain of missing Grogu.

In the midst of his solitude, the cantina's atmosphere began to change. A group of scantily dressed women, draped in silks and adorned with gold, entered the establishment. They moved with grace and charisma, engaging patrons in conversation, flirting, and distributing holochips for a nearby pleasure house. Din snorted at the thought. When was the last time he even had time to fuck anything but his palm? 

When was the last? He wondered trying to think back over the years since he’d acquired the responsibility of caring for Grogu. 

Years. Actual, years.

In his inebriated state, Din found himself clutching the holochip, his steps unsteady as he navigated the narrow streets of Mos Eisley towards the establishment advertised on the chip. He had given in to a reckless impulse, fueled by a desire to escape the pain of missing Grogu, and a fleeting sense of excitement at the prospect of companionship, even if it was just for one night. The weight of the impending war, as Boba Fett had described it, loomed in his thoughts, and he couldn't help but wonder if this might be his last moment of solace.

Entering the dimly lit and shady establishment, he was met by a greasy, overweight man berating a young child. The sight of the child sent a wave of unease through him, casting a shadow over his already troubled conscience. What kind of place was this, where children were exposed to such depravity?

"Not for sale!" the greasy man barked at Din, as if reading some unsavory intent in the Mandalorian's eyes, he shielded the child, pushing her back behind a tattered curtain.

“I wasn’t…” Din’s words faltered, the very thought of such exploitation sickening him to his core.

But the foreman, undeterred, eyed Din up and down, his gaze lingering on the gleaming beskar armor. “You’ve got money, I’ve got girls,” the man said, his voice oozing with a repugnant confidence.

Din struggled to find the words, his thoughts a jumbled mess, still reeling from the shock of seeing a child in such a place. He stumbled, his voice faltering.

The foreman, undeterred, went on, "I have a girl who just became available. She's not been with anyone, you'd be lucky to find a deal like her on this side of Tatooine." He reached into a box of hologram pucks, selected one, and placed it on the desk. Activating the hologram, he presented it to Din.

Din's gaze fixated on the static image, his eyes locked on the visage.. Strangely, he felt a deep pull within him, as if your image was both familiar and enigmatic, stirring emotions he couldn't quite place.

"How much?" Din's voice, though filtered through his modulator, held a heaviness, a mix of curiosity and longing.

"Four thousand credits," the foreman stated, avarice evident in his words.

“Four?” Din repeated, incredulous, his disbelief met with a dismissive glance from the foreman. “How much does she get?” he demanded, his tone sharp and unwavering.

The foreman's look turned defensive, his response sharp, "Two thousand. My girls are lucky to get any at all."

Din's resolve hardened, and he leaned in, his voice taking on a threatening edge that he usually reserved for bounties. "I'll pay six thousand, and she gets four thousand."

The foreman's eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard, but a vile smirk soon crept across his face. "Deal. Right this way, sir," he beamed, all too eager to make the transaction.

The foreman led him through a maze of dimly lit hallways filled with disturbing moans and an overpowering, artificial perfume that hung heavily in the air. The cacophony of voices from behind the closed doors was a haunting reminder of the grim reality of this place, and the perfumed scent was a failed attempt at masking the despair that lurked within.

At the end of the corridor, the foreman unlocked a door and gestured for Din to enter. "I'll send her in," he grunted, closing the door behind Din.

Din stumbled into the room, the alcohol coursing through his veins, muddling his thoughts. He took in his surroundings, finding himself in a chamber that seemed a stark contrast to the rest of the establishment. A makeshift bed of luxurious pillows lay on the floor, richly woven tapestries hung from the ceiling, creating a semblance of privacy. Incense burned intensely, casting a hazy atmosphere, a chair rested by the door infront of a towering golden-framed mirror that rest to the right. 

This must be a more expensive room, he thought, his mind reeling with the absurdity of it all. He couldn't help but question himself, wondering what he was truly doing here, and if this was the way he wanted to fill the void left by Grogu.

As the room's fakely lavish atmosphere weighed upon him, the door behind him swung open gently. He turned, his movements slow and heavy from his armor, to see you enter. Your form was meek, draped in a light blue silk garment that covered more of your body than the women he had seen in the cantina. Gold metal accents adorned your wrists, ankles, and neck, casting a subtle glow in the dim room.

Din's breath hitched as he observed you, his gaze tracing your figure from your feet to your face. Your flushed face and the nervous way you looked down at the floor beside him made it clear that you were unfamiliar with this line of work. He saw you absentmindedly running your index and middle finger along the material of your flowing skirt.

He couldn't explain it, but something about your vulnerability, the innocence you still carried despite the circumstances, touched him. For a moment, he entertained the thought that the foreman had lied about your experience, but as he watched you in silence, he knew that the greasy man's words were painfully accurate.

Din shifted slightly, causing your gaze to snap to him quickly. His visor concealed his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. He observed for another moment, considering his next move. Slowly, he began to remove his gloves. The process was deliberate, one finger at a time on the right hand of his glove, until he was able to pull it off, revealing his bare hand. His eyes never left yours as he started to work the other glove off, the tension in the room growing palpable.

Your gaze drifted from his visor to his hands, watching intently as the gloves came off. As soon as he removed the gloves, he walked to the chair by the door and set them down gently. Your gaze followed him as he approached, your hand never leaving the doorknob the entire time. It was as if you were waiting for him to make a move, to confirm the fear that had taken root in your heart.

Din stopped a few feet away from you, his gauntleted hand hanging by his side. There was something in his stance, a subtle softening in his normally rigid posture that made you feel he might not be the threat you initially perceived.

He straightened as he turned to face you, extending his tanned and calloused right hand as a peace offering. It hung there in the space between you, a bridge across the vast divide that had separated your worlds. The look you gave him that night pierced through his then-buzzed haze, and as your gaze moved from his visor to the palm of his outstretched hand, you ever so softly smiled.

Your hand moved slowly, with a slight tremble, as you placed it in his. Maker, it was so soft, so... loving. In a way, it reminded Din of his mother's hands. He remembered the feeling of her hands on his face when she would kiss him on the top of his head or brush his hair back. It was a memory buried deep, one he rarely let resurface in the harsh reality of his life. 

He watched you, unknowingly holding his breath, as your eyes flitted from his hands back up to his visor.

That night was almost eight months ago, and in the span of those months, the galaxy had shifted beneath Din Djarin's feet. He had fought with Boba Fett, gotten Grogu back, found his covert and embarked on the perilous journey to reclaim Mandalore and his Mandalorian status. The weight of leadership, the responsibilities, and the relentless pursuit of his beliefs had clouded his thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.

As he walked through the dense forest, the guilt that had been gnawing at him grew ever more oppressive. He'd been so preoccupied with his own mission, his people's future, and the legacy of Mandalore that he hadn't even spared a thought in your direction. He had foolishly assumed that the foreman would handle any potential consequences of their night together, perhaps naively believing that you would choose to remain silent. However, what if you hadn't told the foreman? What if you carried something precious from that night, a part of him he was yet to know about? He had neither your name nor any means of contact, and that realization weighed him down like a camtono of beskar. 

With every step, the burden of his guilt pressed down upon him, and he mentally berated himself for not knowing your name or sharing his. He deserved this guilt, for in his quest to rebuild his world, he had unintentionally left a piece of himself behind. If you were pregnant, how were you supposed to find him in the vastness of the galaxy? He couldn't shake the thought that he might be a father, and yet he had no way to reach out to you.

Lost in thought and oblivious to his surroundings, Din hadn't even realized that he'd strayed from the trail until a blood-curdling scream pierced through the forest's silence, shattering the walls of his introspection. His eyes darted ahead, and the only thing he saw beyond the thick undergrowth was a rocky precipice. Steam rose from somewhere below, and the scream, unmistakably human, sent a chill down his spine.

— 

After doing your best to set up a makeshift camp amidst the unforgiving terrain, the contractions began to increase in intensity and frequency. Drenched in sweat, your body ached with fatigue, and desperation for the comfort of the hot spring surged within you. In your birthing gown, you summoned every ounce of strength to embark on the journey toward the soothing waters.

With slow, measured steps, you made your way to the spring, determined to find solace amidst the throes of labor. The contractions continued to grip you, and you fought to maintain your composure, focusing on deep breaths as you moved closer to the source of relief.

As you neared the milky waters, the soothing sound of the waterfall dumping cool water into the far end of the pool filled your ears. The natural geothermal heat emanated from the earth beneath the water, warming the fresh, chilly stream. You gingerly lowered yourself to the spring's edge, wincing through the persistent contraction that clawed at your strength.

With immense effort, you managed to sit on the edge of the pool, your feet dipping into the perfectly warm water. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the soothing waters enveloped your aching limbs. Slowly, you eased yourself into the warm embrace of the spring, its shallowness just deep enough for you to sit comfortably, your head above the waterline.

The warmth cocooned you, providing the much-needed respite your weary body craved. In the midst of your struggle, the hot spring became a sanctuary, a place where the pain of labor met the healing balm of nature, and for a fleeting moment, you found solace amidst the turmoil, embracing the precious gift of warmth and comfort in the midst of the wilderness.

You had lost track of how long you sat in the soothing water, your fingers pruning as the serene ambiance of the hot spring washed over you. Contented sighs intermittently left your lips as you found a momentary respite from the relentless contractions. The world around you seemed to blur as the hot spring cradled you in its gentle embrace.

But all too soon, your tranquility shattered like fragile glass. A pained cry tore through the rocky landscape. Your eyes shot open, searching for the source of the distress.

Your gaze darted towards the rugged ridge you had labored to climb mere hours earlier. Two voices reached your ears, one male and one female, carrying on the wind. Panic surged through you as you observed a hand ascending the top of the ridge. Your heart quickened, and you realized there were people approaching, their presence entirely unexpected.

With haste, you sprung up from your spot in the spring, water cascading off your birthing gown as you clambered to the edge of the pool. 

A man, seemingly oblivious to your presence, ascended the ridge, a pack strapped to his back. He reached the flat rock and extended his hand below him. Your bare feet met the cold, rough surface of the gravely rock as you hurried over to the edge, your heart heavy with empathy for the woman in dire need. Down below, on the third rock shelf, you saw a woman, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her birthing gown stained with the evidence of her struggles.

“Isa a happis” (I will help!) you called out, your voice resolute, your determination evident. You easily crouched down next to the man, extending your hand to the one who was suffering. She gazed up at you, gratitude filling her eyes as she grasped your outstretched hand.

“Ona tice!” (On Three!) The man standing beside you declared, his voice strong and determined. You locked eyes with him, sharing the gravity of the situation, and both of you prepared to pull the distressed woman to safety. With a shared resolve, he began to count down, and on three, you pulled the woman up with surprising ease, your muscles working in harmony to lift her to safety. 

Wide-eyed, she arrived at the top of the landing, blood staining her birthing gown, a visceral testament to the life that sought to enter the world. She cried out in agony, her body in the throes of birthing pains. Your attention shifted to the Illit, his face etched with desperation as he removed his pack, his hands trembling as he tried to assist his manna.

He grabbed her, his touch gentle yet urgent, realizing that there was no time to lose. Even as you watched, you could tell the baby was coming, the process inevitable now. The woman screamed, the sound echoing off the rocky walls, a symphony of pain and life in the midst of nature's raw beauty.

“Noona essa comesei ittina!” (the babe is coming now!) you urgently announce, your voice steady and commanding, as you motion for the father to cease his movements. He gazes at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and sadness, the emotions palpable in the misty air.

Your own contractions, once so overwhelming, are now distant memories as you shift your focus entirely to the woman and her impending delivery. You position yourself between the woman's legs, and she leans back on her husband for support, the bond of love and trust between them evident in the way they clung to each other during this moment. 

With gentle but purposeful hands, you begin to move the gauze of her birthing dress out of the way, revealing the sacred space where the new life is making its entrance into the world. The sight fills you with a profound sense of awe and wonder, the beauty of life in its most raw and unadulterated form.

As you catch the first glimpse of the emerging baby, a smile naturally graces your lips, a radiant reflection of the profound beauty you are about to witness. You look up at the father, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding and connection as you prepare to assist in guiding their child into the world, an act of grace in the heart of nature's splendor.

“Noona essa comesei! Attari noona bassi?” (The baby is coming, the baby cloth?) you urgently conveyed to the father, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy in the air. He blinked, momentarily caught in the whirlwind of emotions before comprehending your words. With careful haste, he gently leaned his wife back, supporting her amidst the agonizing pains as he reached for his pack against the wall.

Desperation etched on his face, he hurriedly threw various items from the bag, scattering them around in his search for the baby cloth. Every passing second felt like an eternity as the mother cried out in pain, her body instinctively bringing forth the baby as your hand supported its head. 

Finally, after emptying the entire bag, the Illit father's shoulders slumped in defeat. His frustration boiled over, and he struck the rock wall with his fist, a primal cry of helplessness escaping his lips.

In the midst of this despair, you remained calm, your instincts taking over.

“Asa Passi! Attara noona bassi!” (In my pack! I have the baby cloth!) you shouted at the father, your voice carrying the urgency of the moment. With a quick motion, you pointed to your own pack, signaling where the much-needed baby cloth could be found. Your other hand remained cradling the head of the newborn, offering support and comfort to the laboring mother.

You ran a soothing hand over her leg as she summoned her last ounce of strength, pushing with all her might, and then, in a powerful moment, the babe broke free into the world. The father, having located the cloth meant for your own child in your pack, rushed over, his eyes wide with anxiety. You accepted the plain cloth from him, wasting no time in wrapping the baby in it.

The newborn lay still and silent, not letting out the expected cries that heralded a new life. A sense of despair washed over you, and you shared a helpless glance with the father, both of you fearing the worst.

The mother's wails of agony resonated in the rugged landscape, echoing the heartbreak of a life not granted breath. The anguish in the air was suffocating as she reached for her still baby, her hands trembling. With a heavy heart, you gently transferred the infant to the mother's waiting arms. 

She cradled her lifeless child, tears streaming down her face as she caressed the baby, whispering soft words of love and heartbreak. Her cries mingled with those of her husband as they shared the unbearable moment of loss.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tore yourself away from the heart-wrenching scene of the manna. You felt a surge of emotions, a profound sense of hopelessness, reminiscent of the day you had received the news of your own pregnancy. 

— 

The anguished screams pierced the rugged terrain, reverberating through the rocky expanse, and Din felt his heart plummet through the soles of his boots. Grogu, sensing the turmoil in the air, cooed softly from the safety of his sling, nestled beneath Din's protective hand.

Carefully and quietly, Din approached the edge of the rocky ridge, his heart pounding with trepidation. As he looked down into the precipitous drop-off, his eyes fell upon a scene that nearly froze his heart in his chest.

Down below, amidst the harsh and unforgiving black surface of the rocky cavern, he saw you kneeling, a stoic presence, between the legs of a pregnant woman who was hemorrhaging profusely. The woman's anguished cries filled the cavern, echoing against the unforgiving walls.

Din's eyes then shifted to a man, who appeared to be the woman's partner, desperately rummaging through a pack, panic etched across his face. You spoke urgently in a language Din didn't understand, the words punctuated by fear and sorrow. The man seemed to heed your words and swiftly abandoned his fruitless search, rushing over to another pack that lay nearby. The man retrieved a gray cloth from the second pack and hurriedly approached where you were crouched.

Din observed, his eyes transfixed, as you, kneeling on the rocky cavern floor, expertly assisted the pregnant woman. With a mix of awe and sadness, he saw you pull a beautiful, newborn baby from the crying mother, delicate and fragile in your hands.

His gaze lingered as you carefully, almost mournfully, opened the grey cloth. To his dismay, he recognized the symbol displayed on it – a mudhorn. It was the very same symbol etched onto his own pauldron, the only identifier that you could tie to him. He watched as you used the cloth meant for your child, his child, to wrap the now purple baby in the blanket with meticulous care.

Cries and sobs filled the air as he watched from his hidden spot on the high cliff above. His sounds were likely muffled by the nearby waterfall, but he felt Grogu pulling at him, desperate for attention. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to look away. He continued to watch, hidden in the shadows.

He observed as you struggled to stand, your belly full with his child, and as you respectfully walked away to what he could now confirm as your pack. He could see the pain etched on your face, the tears in your eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt deep within him. The weight of his past actions pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Din had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of; he'd walked a dark and treacherous path. He had hated himself when he handed Grogu over to the client for a camtono of beskar, but now, seeing you here, in this vulnerable moment, he hated himself more than he had ever thought possible. 

The symbol on that blanket, the mudhorn, was a reminder of the choices he had made and the lives he had affected. As he watched you cry softly, he knew he couldn't change the past, but he could choose a different path now, one that might bring redemption and peace.

— 

Hours passed by as the mother and her lifeless baby lay on the rocky outcrop. The father, now solemn and determined, prepared the pack for their descent. He spared you a thankful glance as he gently helped the mother stand, their shared grief connecting them. With cautious and uneasy steps, they began their descent down the cliffside.

The mother cradled her unbreathing babe, her heart heavy with loss, as she slowly made her way towards you. With some effort, you rose to your feet and met her halfway. Tears welled up in your eyes as she kissed your cheeks in gratitude.

“Illa-ishi, missa.” (Lonely mothers, sisters.) she said mournfully, her words heavy with the weight of shared sorrow. She placed a gentle hand on your belly, a silent acknowledgment of your pain. Overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment, you couldn't hold back a sob, and the two of you embraced tightly. In that moment, she became your sister in grief, and your shared loss bound you together in a way that words couldn't express.

As she and her husband began their descent, you watched them with a heavy heart. The blanket you had intended for your own child now wrapped around her lifeless baby, providing some small comfort in their time of mourning. 

Left alone once more, you couldn't hold back your tears as you watched the husband carefully guide his grieving wife down the steep cliff and out of sight. As they disappeared from your view, a profound sense of isolation settled over you, and you wept softly, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Returning to the healing waters, you couldn't help but notice that your contractions had inexplicably ceased. Confused but hopeful, you gently felt around your belly and were met with a delicate, reassuring movement from within. A smile, albeit a tearful one, graced your face as you carefully lowered yourself back into the pool, ready to embrace whatever destiny the Gods had in store for you.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. From your elevated position, you had a perfect view of the sky as it transformed into a breathtaking canvas of purple, pink, and orange ribbons. As you smiled to yourself, entranced by the beauty of nature, an unusual sound suddenly pierced the tranquility of the moment, snapping your attention to the cliff edge. Your heart raced as you strained to identify the source of this unexpected disturbance, a sense of both trepidation and curiosity gripping you.

As if by magic, a form suddenly flipped up onto the solid ground level with the pool. A small, green being emerged, making noises that were nearly drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Yet, an overwhelming feeling of joy washed over you as you beheld the sight of this tiny creature toddling towards you.

Driven by curiosity and amazement, you pushed yourself up and out of the water. Your birthing gown clung to your body as you moved, but you paid it no mind. Stepping onto the rock, you slowly rounded the corner of the pool to greet the small being.

To your astonishment, you realized it was a baby, with wide, innocent eyes and a furious babble. The baby lifted its tiny hands towards you, and you couldn't help but crouch down as best you could, your heart filled with warmth. "Noona?" you asked the little creature with a soft, amused laugh. In response, the tiny being gave you a toothy grin, and it made you laugh even more.

Your attention, however, shifted from the small being to a pair of gloved hands gripping the side of the rocky cliff. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized those gloves, and heat rushed into your face. With wide eyes, you watched as a figure clad in silver beskar, a Mandalorian, lifted themselves effortlessly over the cliff face and stood there with an almost regal grace.

From your crouched position, you observed as the green baby waddled over to the Mandalorian and tugged on his shin armor. The Mandalorian, with his helmeted face turned towards the child, bent down to pick up the little one, and you couldn't hide the confusion that replaced your initial joy.

—

Din's eyes remained locked on your form as he swiftly pulled himself up onto the flat surface of the cliff. He saw you kneeling down, fingers outstretched towards Grogu, the shock etched across your face. But his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the wet dress that clung to your swollen belly, a stark reminder of your impending motherhood.

As he felt Grogu tugging at his shin armor, he silently bent down to pick up the child. Still, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he struggled to find the right words to explain this unexpected reunion.

“I... I had a dream,” he finally managed to say, his voice choked with emotion.

Your eyes softened, and he witnessed your composure crumbling before him. Your confused and shocked expression melted into a soft frown as tears welled up in your eyes. Before he fully registered it, his feet carried him closer, and he knelt down in front of you with Grogu still cradled in his arms. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hoping to offer some form of reassurance.

"Please... don't cry," he implored softly, the tenderness in his voice evident. However, he watched as you recoiled from his touch, your reaction sharp and violent, like a wounded animal cornered in fear.

— 

"Don't cry," his voice was a gentle whisper from behind as he reached out to sweep your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with his left hand. His thumb, soft and reassuring, brushed away a solitary tear that had collected in the corner of your eye, preventing it from descending down your cheek.

The cold, unyielding embrace of his armor pressed against your back, a constant reminder of his presence, as if he permeated every inch of the room. You lay face down on the makeshift bed within the opulent suite, placed there by him in silence. His helmet tucked against the back of your head as his right hand reached around the front of your body to work open your tight entrance. He smelled like musk, metal, and something floral.

You didn't know his name, and in truth, you knew very little about him. All you knew was that he had paid a considerable sum for your services and bore a mudhorn symbol on his pauldron. The hushed whispers from the other women in the establishment painted a picture of a bounty hunter, a formidable figure who held the favor of the new Daimyo. He was a source of fear and fascination, and the idea of him both terrified and intrigued you. But, above all, you craved freedom more than anything else, and this was a means to an end.

As the moments unfolded, you couldn't hold back the tears that escaped, mingling with a confusing mix of emotions. It wasn't bad; he wasn't unkind. In fact, you found him surprisingly polite. He had said nothing, just removed his gloves and led you to the makeshift bed, where he now pressed into your body from behind.

It felt fine, maybe even surprisingly good, but your stubbornness held strong. You were determined not to give the foreman the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed the path you had chosen to earn your freedom. The thought of succumbing to pleasure and surrendering to the moment felt like weakness, and you clung to your resolve with unwavering determination.

However, as his fingers moved softly, so softly, you couldn't help but feel your resistance slowly crumbling. Each touch was skillful, and the sensations they evoked were impossible to ignore.

You could feel a pleasure building within you as he continued his careful thrusting into your tightness. His thick fingers curled slightly as his thumb worked your clit. His left hand rests by your head as he made sure to move any hair out of your face. You had no idea if he was watching you through his visor, but you had assumed so because he wiped your tears and told you not to cry. The build up turned into a tightness that needed to be released, he could tell by how hot you’d gotten under him and how your walls fluttered on his fingers. 

He felt a pride well up in him at the knowledge that he still had the ability to bring a woman pleasure but also that you’d finally relaxed enough to allow yourself to feel this. He closed his eyes for a moment just to focus on how your walls felt around his fingers, he willed himself to listen to your body. Upon each drawback of his fingers he worked to spread your tight cunt just slightly- three, four, five more thrusts of his fingers and he felt you tremble under him. 

His eyes snapped open, and he observed you biting your hand to stifle any sounds. He felt the flutter of your walls on his fingers as he stilled in order to relish in the feel your softness. He watched you come back from wherever you had gone in your high, his hand moving gently to caress the hand you had bitten, the teeth marks already leaving a faint purplish hue. As his thumb brushed over the marked area, he felt the slight tremor in your body, your vulnerability laid bare, and saw the glistening tears welling up in your eyes once more. 

“Don’t cry.” he said again before moving to sit back on his heels. He admired your form, the way the flame lit room made your skin look like silk. You were totally bare to him, he’d undressed you slowly and carefully placed your clothing next his gloves on the chair. He was still fully clothed save for the gloves he’d removed. He watched as your form began to stir, and he carefully placed a hand on your lower back to keep you down. You immediately complied. With a sigh he slowly ran his hand down your back to the curve of your ass and to the back of your thigh. He could see the slick from your arousal glimmering in the soft light. 

He could see everything, every intimate part of you, and yet he didn’t allow you the joy of seeing him. He couldn’t. 

You sat, staring at the wall ahead of you, the seconds feeling like hours, with him seated behind you. The situation was embarrassing, and you could only hope he wasn't disgusted. You had assumed he was finished with you after whatever had just happened, only to be gently pushed back onto the bed, not harshly but rather in a silent, pleading manner. After a moment, you heard him stir behind you, and you froze, your ears attuned to his every movement.

You heard a soft rustling of fabrics and buckles. He came to rest on you again, with his left hand resting by your left hand. His right hand gripped your waist as he shifted you back towards him. This position shifted you more so your backside was resting against his thighs while your chest was flush with the pillows beneath you. He was able to bend over you more like this so he comfortably rested on his left arm above you. 

His right hand left your waist and you felt the warmth of his hand in between your legs. You could feel the soft head of his hard cock turn to velvet as he ran it through your slick folds. You clenched the pillow underneath you as you braced yourself for the pain the other women had told you about. You felt pressure against your entrance and instinctively you tried to move away only to feel his hand move like lightning from between your thighs to your waist as he anchored you in place. 

He didn’t say anything just held you there as he slowly pushed the head of his cock deeper into your entrance. His grip once iron on your waist turned soft as his thumb brushed circles into the skin there. Slowly he sank deeper and that’s when you felt it, the sharp uncomfortable sting. You tensed under him at the pain and you felt him freeze above you. His left hand moved to grab your face beneath him, turning your cheek so he could see you. You looked over your left shoulder to peer up at him, his cold visor returning your gaze. You couldn't help the tear that fell as you clutched the pillows.

"Don't..." his voice was strained through the vocoder, and you knew he was holding back, for you.

—

"Do not say that to me!" Your pained and thickly accented voice ripped through the air as you swatted his arm away. The green child yelped softly at your sudden movement.

Din's eyes widened. It was the first thing you had said to him. You hadn't spoken a word that night. He recoiled from you in shame.

He watched as you cried, emotions swirling within him like a chaotic storm. 

"You shouldn't be out here," he managed to say as he stood abruptly, his words tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. He glanced around, finally taking in the grim surroundings. Blood still pooled on the rocky ground where the woman had given birth earlier. Even worse, the remains of skeletons lay strewn about, their shattered bones mixed with the gravel under his boots.

"This is a graveyard, not a place for a woman in your condition to give birth," he grumbled, regretting the harshness of his words. The eerie desolation of this place was overwhelming, and he couldn't make sense of anything. The grim reality of death and birth intertwined in this forsaken corner of the galaxy was too much for him to bear.

Your face, your soft, beautiful, and glowing face looked up at him then. 

"This is where I am meant to be," your broken voice hit him right in the chest.

For a moment, Din just stood there, his helmeted gaze locked on you. Grogu stirred in his arms and he set the child down. His gaze shifted from Grogu to the pack leaning against the rocky wall, the very same pack he had seen a man carrying at the market, with his wife in tow. It was the same pack he had witnessed being carried by the man who was desperate, carrying his bleeding wife. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place in Din's mind.

"Did you... carry that alone?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked from you to the pack and back.

You huffed, annoyance coloring your features, and moved to stand. Din instinctively reached out to help you, but you swatted his hand away. You stood, resolute, and locked eyes with him through his visor.

"Yes. I am illa-ishi," you declared firmly, your words laden with meaning.

Din furrowed his brow, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Illa-ishi?" he repeated, the word alien to him.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized he didn't understand. "I am a lonely mother," you tried to find the right words that could translate to Basic.

He continued to stare, his helmet giving away nothing. You huffed in frustration and attempted again, simplifying your words. "I am alone." you finally settled on, hoping he would grasp the essence of your situation.

Din just stared at you, seemingly uncomprehending. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and the green child peered up at you, as if offering a sympathetic glance. Frustrated with the language barrier, you turned to walk towards your pack and bedroll.

As you began to walk away, Din's gloved hand gently gripped your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks. You shot an annoyed look back at him, silently demanding an explanation for his actions.

Din's gloved thumb moved soothingly circles on your arm, his gaze locked on you. He took a moment to search for the right words, his voice barely rising above a gravelly whisper.

"Is...is this mine?" he questioned, his words weighted with uncertainty, his voice low and husky.

Your eyes fixated on his hand caressing your arm, and tears welled up again, threatening to break free. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to hold them back, forcing yourself to look directly into the reflective visor of his helmet. You saw your own tear-streaked face in the cold, mirrored surface of the Mandalorian's armor, and it was a sight that turned your stomach.

"Yes. I've... never been with another. Only you," the confession tumbled from your lips, the words feeling strange and heavy in your mouth. Your body tensed, and you felt a sudden, sharp tightness envelop you, a contraction, your first since the bleeding mother had shown up. You gasp in agony as your knees buckle under you. 

"Dank farrik!" Din's initial worry had given way to frustration as he cursed under his breath. He reached out and grabbed you, his gloved hands steadying you gently while Grogu made a sad noise from his perch on the ground.

"We have to get you out of here. Is there a medcenter near here?" His voice trembled with desperation as he crouched down to meet your gaze.

"What?!" You hissed exasperatedly through the pain, your frustration and agony making you bristle.

"Medcenter!" Din almost yelled, and his eyes widened when you shoved him away.

"Issa noona ibaniss a plantissia ata mountina as illa! As illa a ma a iss!" you shouted at him in anguish, your words foreign to his ears but laced with undeniable determination. (My baby will be born on this planet, at the Mountain of Mothers, like my mother and the one before her!)

Din stood there, still as stone, as your scream washed over him. 

He looked at you, his gaze falling to your trembling hands, one of them wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself and regain control.

He was going about this the wrong way. You had climbed the treacherous cliff, your cloth bore the sigil of the Mudhorn, and your pack was identical to the ones the men had carried. You had a well-thought-out plan; he just hadn't been part of it.

With newfound determination, he approached you, taking careful, measured steps. Kneeling down beside you, he spoke softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"How do I help you?" he asked, his words breaking through the haze of pain that enveloped you.

You slowly looked up at him through your tears, your eyes locked onto his helmet. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mouth slightly ajar as you processed the situation. With a trembling hand, you pointed towards the spring nearby. "Take me there," you said softly, your voice heavy with the weight of your suffering. 

In an instant, Din's strong hands found purchase under your knees and behind your back, and he lifted you with great care, not wanting to cause you any harm. You flushed with the ease of him carrying you, a thought flickering across your mind of how much simpler scaling the cliff might have been if he had been there. But you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, focusing on the immediate task at hand. You wrapped your left arm around the back of his neck and placed your right hand protectively over your belly, the hard surface of his armor uncomfortably pressing against your side as he carried you toward the inviting hot spring.

"I can go from here," you said in thick, broken Basic, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp.

Din regarded you, confusion clear in his eyes as he tried to understand. His gaze alternated between the steaming water and your face. "You want to go in the water?" he asked, as if seeking confirmation.

"Yes, I can go from here," you repeated, pushing against him with a touch of defiance. His grip tightened, surprising you with its strength, and you nearly yelped in response. Shooting him a displeased look, you tried to assert your independence.

"What, and let you slip?" he asked, gazing at you through his visor before looking ahead. "No." He had made up his mind, and there was no arguing with the Mandalorian's decision.

As you were lowered into the hot spring, the initial shock of the water's heat gave way to a soothing relief. Din was surprised by how inviting it felt, and he understood why pregnant women sought refuge in such places. The water enveloped his boots and rose just above his knees as he carried you into the pool. You held onto him with a newfound intensity as he descended, afraid that he might lose his footing. Your disbelief mixed with gratitude as you realized the extent of his support.

Finding solid ground beneath the water, Din gently released your knees, allowing your feet to dip into the warm embrace of the pool. His hand slid from your back to your waist, ensuring your stability, and he positioned himself behind you in the water. You stood just below his chin, and if he desired, he could easily rest his chin on your head. His right hand remained on your waist, his gloved fingers splayed out on your side, providing you with a reassuring and protective presence.

A powerful surge of emotion overcame Din as he felt the subtle movements of the life within you under his fingertips. He stood there, motionless and transfixed, as you faced away from him, both of you submerged in the comforting warmth of the spring. His eyes traced the contour of your back, the gentle rise and fall as you breathed, and then slowly, as if compelled by an invisible force, he found himself resting his forehead against the back of your head, his helmet touching your soft hair.

He grappled with where to place his left hand, uncertain of the right way to provide comfort. His gaze drifted downwards, fixating on the water where he saw your dress floating softly as it began to soak in the pool. Carefully, he moved his left hand to the small of your back, gripping the back of your waist with a gentle touch.

In the midst of his turmoil, a soft, barely audible sob escaped his lips, and tears welled up inside his helmet, tracing their way down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice broken and full of guilt. It was a plea for forgiveness, an attempt to convey the overwhelming regret that consumed him. He clung to your form, feeling the life inside you, the life he had a part in creating and then abandoned. 

His wallowing in self-recrimination was shattered by the sound of your voice and the tender touch of your hand as it caressed his right hand.

"Don't cry," your words were soft and filled with sincerity. In that moment, as the tears flowed within his helmet, you offered him understanding and forgiveness. He felt worthy of neither. 

[hallietblr]

same time, next week? | c.fisher x reader

a/n: inspired by the tiktok trend! might MIGHT turn this into a mini trilogy but not too sure yet so let me know what you think!

warnings: fluffy but kinda sad:(

—

summer was quickly coming to an end, saying goodbye to a few of our new friends we made this summer as they return back to their home. cousins was always a place associated with fun and the carefree life. from waking up at dawn to catch the sunrise, being at the beach all day, family barbecues, parties every night, and to do it all with my best friends.

my mother, elisa, used to come to cousins every summer with her family and she immediately became friends with the girl next door, susannah, and her best friend, laurel. the three of them would always spend every moment of the three summer months together in cousins before leaving back to their normal lives.

cousins was almost like an alternate reality, where everyone is happy. where summer love is born and new friendships are made.

once my mom inherited her parents’ summer home, we started coming to cousins every june until the end of august. just like how she used to do it when she was younger, it was to continue the family tradition and i hope i can show my children too.

luckily, susannah had also inherited her family’s summer home and was still in very close contact with her two best friends.

i basically grew up with conrad and his younger brother, jeremiah. conrad and i were born in the same year, only a month apart. we were destined to be best friends since we were in diapers.

i’m also very close to laurel’s kids, steven and belly. moreso with belly than i am with steven since her and i are the only girls out of the five of us. she was a few years younger than me and honestly, she’s like the little sister i never had.

currently, i was lounging on the beach chairs by the poolside of the fisher’s home. conrad had his head on my lap, quietly napping and enjoying the summer warmth. i had one hand playing with his golden hair while the other flipping the pages of my book.

jeremiah, steven, and belly were all playing in the pool, the occasion yelling and screaming coming from them. they all had smiles painted upon their faces,

“y/n! get in!” jeremiah yells at me, splashing water in my direction. i use my book to cover conrad’s face in hopes that he won’t wake up,

“maybe later!” i say back to him, “i can’t really get up right now anyways.”

steven shrugs, “just push him off.”

belly gasps and hits her brother, “that’s so mean! but seriously, y/n, i’m leaving the day after tomorrow and you leave on tuesday next week.”

“i know” i sigh, part of me knows that there’s a chance i won’t be back in cousins with my favourite people for a long time. with college coming up and moving across the country to go to stanford, i knew that i couldn’t visit them as often after this.

nobody except for my mother knew, and i made her swear to not tell a soul that i had accepted my offer to stanford. especially the fact that i won’t see them all for possibly years.

“kids!” laurel calls out from the window, “dinners ready!”

the three from the pool scream as they all shove each other, trying to get out of the pool quickly. i gently shake my best friend awake, “connie, dinner”

his eyes flutter open, he rubs the sleep away, “okay.”

he offers me his hand when i stand up, which i gladly take. i feel butterflies in my stomach from the physical touch from him.

conrad has a soft hand on the small of my back as he guides me into the familiar home. we all sit around the large dinner table, all passing the delicious looking food around. i have conrad on my right and jeremiah on my left.

“y/n,” my mom says, i look up to match her gaze. the second i do, i see what she’s silently hinting at.

tell them.

i shake my head, swallowing the spoonful of mashed potato in my mouth, “no, mom”

jeremiah lifts an eyebrow at me, “she didn’t even say anything”

steven nods in agreement, his mouth full of food. laurel and susannah both look at my mother, trying to read her face,

“come on, honey.” she pleads, “you owe it to them”

this caught everyone’s attention, all eyes on me.

“what’s going on?” belly asks, placing her fork down, “mom?”

laurel shrugs, “i’m not too sure, bels”

i sigh, putting my hands onto my napkin covered lap. i didn’t want to tell them, but i also knew that i should,

“i’m going to stanford.” i tell them, after moments of confusion and silence.

susannah jumps up from her seat and runs over to my chair to squeeze me, “oh my goodness, y/n! that’s incredible news! congratulations, sweet girl!”

laurel was right behind her, “awh, my second baby! i knew you could do it.”

“wait, so why were you so hesitant on telling us?” jeremiah says as he hugs me, “this is good news!”

i frown slightly, “it’s easier for me to stay there for all four years, rather than flying back and forth for the summer…”

it took them a moment to digest what i said before steven pushes his chair back from the table,

“no, you aren’t saying…” he pauses, “you’re not coming back next summer? or the summers after that?!” steven exclaims, “what about christmas?!”

i shake my head, “flights are too expensive, i can’t”

i look over to conrad, who’s eyes haven’t left me since i broke the news. his expression was unreadable.

belly had a tear running down her cheek, “so, tomorrow is goodbye then?” she whispers, “we won’t be able to see each other until you’re done…”

“yeah, tomorrow is goodbye” i slowly nod, “my mom is planning on coming to visit so maybe you guys can too?”

jeremiah grins, “of course we will! i cant stay away from n/n for that long, i can barely handle a school year without seeing you!” he laughs, even though there’s evident sadness in his words.

“i’ll be sure to bring connie and jere to visit, honey” susannah promises me, “congratulations again”

i smile at her before everyone resumes to eating their food and making small conversation. i look back at conrad who’s playing with the food on his plate, i grab his hand under the table and squeeze it.

he looks at me and i ask, “beach after?”

dinner wrapped up quickly, steven and jeremiah getting ready for one last party of the summer — conrad and i agreed to go a bit after them.

conrad has his hand wraps around mine as we walk down towards the water, our arms are swinging while he laughs at some joke i made. we sit on the sand and watch the sun slowly lower into the horizon. we don’t say much but it’s never needed when it’s us two. we enjoy the comfortable silence and each other’s company.

i rest my head on his hoodie covered shoulder, him resting his head on mine soon after. he kisses my hair softly, “so stanford?”

i sigh, “yeah, stanford”

i can feel him smile, “congrats pretty girl”

my cheeks blush at the nickname, but i say nothing. all i want is to stay here with him on this beach we grew up on, forever.

“i always love the sunsets here,” i say, finally breaking the silence, “i swear they’re so much better here than they are in maine.”

he laughs, “i think i like them better here, because then at least i can watch them with you. back in boston, all the sunsets remind me of you.”

“you’re so cheesy” i giggle, gently shoving him with my shoulder.

he rests his cheek on his crossed over arms that are on his bent knees. he looks at me with sadness in his eyes, “same time, next week?”

i feel my eyes starting to water from his question, fully knowing that we don’t know the next time we’ll be able to do this, “im not here next week” i whisper out, tears crawling down my cheeks.

conrad has never been much of a crier, i think i’ve only seen him cry three times in my life. but right now will add to that count as a few tears fall from his eyes,

“im going to miss you so much, pretty” he tells me with his lips quivering, i reach over to wipe the tears off his face with the sleeve on my sweater.

“we can call anytime, okay?” i reply, giving a sad smile, “we always text each other too, but whenever i want to hear your voice, i’m going to call you.”

he chuckles, “so i guess i’ll be calling you 24/7”

i move closer to him and he wraps his arms around me into a tight hug.

“i’m not sure what summers are going to be like without you, y/n.”

“i don’t even want to think about it”

as the sun disappears beyond the horizon, we slowly get up to head back to our rooms to get ready for this party. my phone was blown up with snaps and text messages from jeremiah and steven, begging us to come and join them. one last summer party with them, one last chance to watch steven get black out drunk, one last opportunity to say goodbye to my summer friends, and only a few more sunsets to watch with conrad.

[hopeastrz]

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍🐚🧁

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 periods is basically extreme cramps + heavy bleeding

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 can’t hide their hatred or jealousy, especially if aspected to Ac. If you literally said anything mean to them no matter how small they’re going to keep it in their minds forever!, even more than their happy memories with you.

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐂 should get an award for this fascinating disgusted stare they pull whenever they see your face and you happen to be on their hate list. Istg it’s more degrading than 10 Capricorns glares combined, it’s just.. makes me wanna cry.

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 + 𝐀𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 literally have no respect to authority figures.. even if it isn’t shown (which is hardly) they hate on them 24/7, especially if these individuals have Pluto, mars, Uranus in the 10th house!, we don’t wanna talk about it trust me… especially if they are into politics.. oh jesus

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 know how to relate to you in a conversation, even if you literally just met them like 10 minutes ago, they are the type of people whom you’ll just feel like you’ve known them for an eternity.

𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 isn’t really that magnetic as portrayed, tbh as an individual who has this placement, i think it gives you a very weird relationship with men.. like you may be scared of them or just can’t make a conversation with them, it’s kind of uncomfortable when your around them. I think that maybe because im still young i can’t understand the power of it?..

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬 are the people who grew up in a shitty neighborhood, but it’s lowkey hard to believe because now they have 10 mansions in the best community out there.. like it’s impossible to figure they were living in such a place from how much they changed. It’s really admirable🤍.

𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 knows how to make everyone’s life better, but not their own, they help everybody but can’t solve their own problem.

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 babies mothers might have had a near death experience while giving birth to them, these are the type of kids who might get born early, or born accidentally, it’s just a painful birth in general, same thing with saturn 1st housers, your mother might’ve gone through a difficult birth.

𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬 feel that their brothers hate them constantly, but trust me it’s not, also they might feel like they aren’t special in their families, they feel like they have nothing unique.

𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬… why do you just like sadness???? Please im begging you stop playing the victim😭 however i don’t really blame them since crying makes them release their anger or just unwanted energy.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 🤝 validation bitches Its me i am bitches btw.