#I think I uhhh spent longer than I should have on this one

[outeremissary]

1, 9, and 11 for both balthazar and carmen for the oc ask game!!

It's like a mirror ask... exciting! From this list

Balthazar

1. are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

In my mind, there's a strong association between Balthazar and blue. His eyes are an icy pale blue, and that's really the theme color in a lot of ways. Cold and distant no matter what else he may seem to be. Not someone easily moved by compassion or affection, but more readily motivated by cruelty or self-interest. The washed out color also feels like it speaks to a lack of richness or vibrancy in his life. In a broader sense, blue is a color that's often associated with intellect and coolheadedness. It's heroic as well, if not as bold as red. Clever and acting in guise of someone trustworthy- it fits him.

It's hard to pin down what color he wears the most. I would like to believe that my sadly unvaried art does not represent the limits of his wardrobe, and he's very fond of lively colors of all types. I'm certain it must be a cool color- he favors things which are mostly cool colors, reserving warm ones for accents.

9. favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Balthazar's favorite food is portokalópita, a type of orange cake. He's not hugely fond of sweets, but he enjoys citrus and has fond memories of a favorite coffeehouse that served it with cinnamon. In general he prefers tart or spicy flavors. His new least favorite food is an absolutely wretched trout and hydra paté, which by virtue of containing eyes has displaced spider legs as the worst culinary nightmare of northern Avistan. He strongly dislikes the food in the Stolen Lands- so much of it is bland, and then the adventurous dishes seem adventurous in all the worst ways.

It was touched on in another ask once, but he can be a very picky eater (and was even before leaving Absalom) and has a tendency to eat less than he probably should. His appetite tends to be small as well. He doesn't have any dietary restrictions from allergies or religion or personal code, but it's hard to get him to take even a bite of something it he really hates it.

11. what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

Hm, I feel like in many ways Balthazar and I aren't very similar. I suppose we have similar aesthetic taste. It's an excuse for me to be self indulgent with things, really... I need someone to love pointless frills and ribbons so I can draw them. Both have a tendency to sleep in? Similarly restless spirits? Hm, what else, what else... Both have gone through a few names, and both have complicated relationships with a well-meaning parental figure. A partially self-imposed exile from home as well. Those are backstory details that were set well before they happened to me in real life... so eerily predictive that sometimes I think "are other unpleasant things I put in that backstory going to happen to me too?" How ominous... Oh, and we both have pale blue eyes.

I really dislike lying and can't hold most things in for long. I've got no poker face at all either. Obviously that runs quite counter to the core of Balthazar's skillset (and his indulgent satisfaction with using it). He's all around much more socially savvy than I am, and more outgoing as well. I think he's just a more adventurous person, even if he's certainly a less pleasant one. In many ways he represents something of a fantasy of being cool, charismatic, and able to act without fear of consequence. He's also far more stylish (and invested in being stylish)- I feel woefully ill equipped to represent that aspect of him!

As much as I'm fond of Balthazar, I'm not really sure I'd get along with him. Fun to think about, maybe not so fun to be around (at least not for long). I feel like he wouldn't be very nice to me... Besides, our interests are pretty different. I feel very anxious trying to connect with people I don't have much in common with who find my nerd shit Not At All Charming.

Carmen

1. are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

To me, Carmen is associated with the color red- I pretty much always depict her in red as well. There are a few reasons for this. The first is that red is a very classically heroic color, like primary colors tend to be. It conjures up the image of valiant knights in crimson cloaks and benevolent kings with ruby studded crowns, of Superman or Wonder Woman or Spiderman. Her image is supposed to be of a classic heroic knight. So she's in full armor, she's on horseback, she's clad in brilliant scarlet, and she bears a rose as her emblem- a romantic symbol if there ever was one. It fits that concept of a knight and flatters her heroic self-image as well. But there are other meanings red suggests as well. First of all, red is the primary color most often associated with villainy. If something is red vs. blue, you can be confident that red will be the less heroic of the two. Red also suggests blood: despite her chivalrous demeanor, Carmen is a very violent person and feels very little remorse for the blood she's spilled. Red also speaks to passion. On the surface her personality is quite cold and detached, but there's intense feeling bubbling beneath the surface, carefully contained. At times it leaks out in manic rage against favored foes or as violent fury leveled against her allies. She's lost touch with the better part of herself- and perhaps something or someone helped her along the way. And of course, the in-universe reason for the strong preference is that it's the color associated with a chivalric order she was (and in tabletop still is) a part of- the same order whose rose she bears.

As a side note aeon being blue is wreaking havoc on the aesthetic.

9. favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Her favorite food is rabbit pottage. Rabbit is her favorite meat, and there's something very homey about a rabbit pottage. She can remember the childhood excitement of gathering around when hunters came home to see the catch or of going out and checking the traps herself, and she fondly remembers the stew that was made afterwards. It's a good thing to eat with friends and comrades, especially with a fresh rabbit you caught yourself. Her least favorite food is cabbage chowder. She doesn't like to admit this because she feels it's an immature thing to dislike, and indeed she's disliked it since childhood. She finds the texture of cabbage slimy and unpleasant and the aftertaste foul.

Carmen was the type of kid to fuss about things she didn't like (onions and cabbage high on the list), but she's long since grown out of that. She's a pragmatist about food. If it's the meal, it's the meal. She'll always try to finish her plate even if she dislikes something on it. She has a mild allergy to mustard

.11. what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

Carmen and I have somewhat similar backgrounds. We both grew up in small farm communities which were largely conservative. I was much more adventurous as a child than I am now, a trajectory that also plays out over Carmen's life as she goes from a vibrant, irrepressible ringleader of village troublemakers as a kid to being a very reserved adult. We have the same fondness for nature and feel homesick in similar ways when separated from it.

Carmen's a very personally orderly person in a way I have never been and do not enjoy attempting to be; I can tolerate routine up to a point, but I chafe under monotony in a way she just doesn't. She's far less talkative than I am, and quiet for different reasons: while I'm very anxious around new people, she's simply uninterested in carrying on extended conversations. She's an early riser, I'm not. She's got a fairly spartan lifestyle, I have probably more silly little things in my room than I really should for how big it is. I graduated from my edgy teen atheism to a more chill and cool adult atheism, while Wrath Carmen seems like a champion of Not That. And of course I fear and dislike horses.

I would absolutely not get along with Carmen. I already don't get along with Carmen, and I'm the one who created her and played her in a tabletop campaign for like... two years? I find her black and white morality and unwillingness to interact with new ideas deeply disturbing. Among my evil RPG characters she is uniquely horrifying to me. Something about an evil driven not by selfish caprice or directed malice but cold, zealous ideology... She's the queen of bad vibes. Could I be in a room with her for an hour? Yes, the same way I could be in the room with a relative I really don't want to be around. Would I enjoy being in that room? Absolutely fucking not.

[lamiadrowned]

hi queen! i love ur page and i have a request! could you do headcannons for vi with an extremely honest yet clueless reader, i feel like that’d be so funny like ��jinx is no longer my sister” “uhhh yes she is??” anyway that’s it, thank you !! <33

*:･ﾟ✧ vi with a (slightly) airheaded girlfriend

violet x fem!reader | sfw

this is a hilarious request ugh thank you anon

first of all, she finds you so funny. especially when you aren’t trying to be.

it always leaves you stumped when you’re trying to actually correct her on something, and she just bursts out laughing like you told the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

the biggest arguments you’ve gotten into with her happen when you incorrectly correct her grammar or use of a phrase, but neither of you really have a good enough education to tell who’s right and who’s wrong, so most of your spats remain unresolved.

after all, two people who need to be right all the time are bound to bicker.

a lot of your ‘arguments’ don’t contain much bickering, though.

they’re mostly just a back-and-forth dialogue that devolves into mutual confusion and total disarray. as hardheaded as she can be, she’s also the first to admit that she doesn’t know as much as she might have thought.

you’re like her own personal fact checker! (but the facts have no backing and she just has to kind of choose whether or not to believe you).

“any updates on your sister?” you’d ask her after another long day of your respective work pertaining to jinx.

she’d spent most of the day scouring the streets of zaun for any sign of her, while you stayed in your apartment trying to piece together documents and records to track her down.

vi takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair at the dining table, which is covered in papers and blurry pictures. “as far as i’m concerned, she sure as hell isn’t my sister.”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “i mean, you have the same parents. how could she not be your sister?”

she immediately recognizes your tone, knowing she’d accidentally dug herself into a hole with one sentence. “i… i meant it more as a metaphor, i guess. that’s the word, right?”

you stare at her in complete silence, recalling her words and wondering if the metaphor had completely flown over your head. eventually, you shake your head and try to ignore the knowing smile on her face. “i don’t think you know what a metaphor is, hun.”

“hold on, what even is a metaphor, then?” she asks, now seeming to be just as confused as you, that smug grin now replaced with a look of total dubiety.

you lean against the dining table. “a metaphor would be comparing two things that aren’t related.”

“oh. well, there you go. me and jinx aren’t related. it is a metaphor.” she shrugs.

“you are related, though. same parents, remember?” you tilt your head. “something about biology and all that dna shit.”

she positions herself in front of you and cups your jawline with her calloused hands, tilting your head to look up at her. “it’s adorable and aggravating that you take everything so literally, you know that?”

for a moment, you totally forget what the conversation was about, given the fact that just looking into her eyes is enough to turn your brain to mush.

that is, until it finally clicks.

“oh! you’re using a figure of speech,” you wrap your arms around her shoulders, “which is not the same as a metaphor.”

then, she snaps her fingers and points at you with, smile beaming with success. “yeah! yeah, that’s it. a figure of speech. thanks, babe.”

she’s also quick to realize that you do the same to pretty much everyone else, so at the very least, she knows it isn’t targeted.

if anything, it’s free entertainment.

watching proudly as you squabble with a bartender about how a non-alcoholic drink should be called just that, rather than a teetotaler’s drink, because “90% of zaun’s population probably couldn’t pronounce that word, nonetheless know what it means,” simply because you happened to be one of the 90% who could not pronounce it nor define it.

also, she backs you up like her life depends on it, even if she didn’t hear half of the conversation, or generally have no idea what the conversation was about.

after any of your feuds with someone other than her, she’ll make a point to go up to them and respectfully throw down some corny defenses like “the misses is always right, capiche?” or “can’t really argue with that, huh?”

[widowwaddles]

Don’t Go Baking My Heart

Summary: After a breakup, you decide to pack up your life and move to Westview. A coworker recommends you join the local community's cooking class in order to settle into the new town. It sounded like a great idea, you could learn a new skill (that you desperately need) and meet new people. However, nothing could have prepared you for the green-eyed beauty you met during class. Maybe you'll end up leaving the class with more than just a basic understanding of cooking.

Masterlist

Part 2

—

Moving to a new town was never easy, especially immediately after a breakup, but it was a decision you decided to make. After being in a long-term relationship, you felt like you needed a fresh start and needed to find yourself again. It wasn’t the fault of your ex and you honestly didn’t notice at the time, but you slowly started to feel like you were drowning in the relationship. The wants and interests you had before started to fade over time in favor of the things that your ex wanted or what felt like the right moves for the relationship.

And that is how you ended up here, at the local community center’s cooking class. Since moving to Westview, you have been ordering takeout every day and while the restaurants around had delicious food, your wallet could no longer handle the late-night food extravaganzas. You couldn’t blame your past relationship for your lack of skills in the kitchen, so joining this class felt like a natural progression. A coworker recommended you check it out and you decided it was a good idea, plus it was a great way to meet new people in town.

As you walk into the room, you started looking around. There are 6 workstations, split into three rows with a much larger station at the front. Each station had a large amount of counter space with a sink at the end. You could see two small stools underneath each station. As you walk further into the room you observe a small group conversing near the front. You sit behind the farthest station, silently praying you aren’t taking someone's assigned spot. The longer you sit the more anxious you start to become. Everything is starting to hit you at once, all the decisions leading up to this moment.

Deciding to come here alone without knowing anyone else in Westview, besides your coworkers. What were you thinking? ‘Maybe it should have been better to come next month when you were more settled or at least able to bring someone with you’. Sitting here alone like the new kid in the class was bringing back unpleasant memories you wanted to forget. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer, you could even pick up the ingredients for sandwiches on the way home and just live off of that until then. Yeah, that actually sounds like a great plan’ you rationalize in your head. Coming to a decision, you rush towards the door, hoping you aren’t drawing any attention. Just as you were about to reach your final destination, you feel yourself crash into something...

More like someone.

“I’m so sorry” you rush out, extending your hand to the person you practically tackled. “I was not looking where I was going and-”

“Hey, I’m okay and it was an accident. I get it” they say while taking your hand. As you pull them up, you decide to get a good look at the person you knocked down.

Instantly you were mesmerized by green eyes.

Your heart immediately starts to race as you see her tuck the brown hair messily covering her face behind her ear. Your focus shifts to her lips, as her mouth, starts to move again, and you nod along lazily despite having no idea what she was saying. She eventually settles on a smile, and you feel your mouth forming into one as well when you look back into her eyes. She is looking at you expectantly, immediately snapping you out of the spell you were under. You felt embarrassment rush through your body as you thought of how long you’d spent looking at her without saying anything.

“Uhhh, I’m sorry. Could you repeat that again?” You say shyly, slightly diverting your eyes, knowing you would get lost the minute you looked back at hers.

“I said I haven’t seen you here before, are you new to town?” She repeats, with the same smile from before as she awaits your response.

“Yeah, I just moved here about a month ago for work. One of my coworkers had actually recommended this class to me and I thought it’d be a good idea to check it out. I’m hoping that by the end of it, my kitchen will actually look like someone uses it” you say jokingly, wanting to end your nervous ramble.

“I hope you are settling in well” she says. She turns her body to face the group that you originally saw when you first arrived. She smiles again. “This may be a small town, but everyone is welcoming. I don’t think you’ll have much trouble fitting in”.

Looking at her eyes, you can see how proud she felt about her fellow townspeople. As you follow her gaze, you can understand why. The group continues to converse animatedly before breaking out in laughter. You begin to feel more at ease, realizing this situation isn’t as intimidating as you had thought. You could do this. Feeling a new burst of confidence you turn back to the woman.

“I know we just met and I kind of ran you over, but would you… maybe want to sit next to me for class today?” You say, confidence slightly wavering as you finished the question. You quickly continue, before she could respond. “I mean, I don’t even know your name yet, but you’ve helped me feel more comfortable here than anyone else” you finish weakly, looking down at your hands. You can feel yourself being pulled into your thoughts as you start second-guessing the decision of asking her.

“Hey,” the woman says softly, interrupting the internal turmoil you were beginning to feel trapped in. You suddenly feel soft hands grabbing yours, only then do you realize they were slightly shaking. “Everything is okay, you haven’t done anything wrong,” she says as if she could instantly read where your mind had gone. “Just breathe for me, okay?” she asks softly. Looking back up and meeting her eyes, you a deep breath, following her request. She squeezes your hands after sensing you were much calmer than you were a moment ago.

“Feeling better?” she asks, with a small smile.

“Yeah, much better” You reply, smiling back. “Thanks”.

“No problem… and now is the perfect time to introduce ourselves,” she says jokingly, you laugh alone welcoming the change in topic. “I’m Wanda and you are…?” grinning as she awaits your response.

“Y/n,” you say, mimicking the grin on her face before continuing again. “And thank you again, Wanda. I’ve been a bit of a mess since I’ve been here, that’s kinda why I ran into you before. It’s been a long day” you confess, taking a long breath.

“It’s okay, I can understand how overwhelming it can feel moving to a new place. I remember what it was like when I first moved here. I wasn’t any better” she says, with a far-off look in her eyes. “But it gets easier.”

Before you could respond, you see her eyes widen as she looks at the clock. “Class should be starting soon” she rushes out. “But to answer your question from before, I-”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite new hire,” a voice with a familiar Russian accent, effectively cutting Wanda off before she could answer. Before you could turn around to see who had graciously interrupted your conversation, an arm is thrown across your shoulders. Your body jumps in surprise. Turning your head, you instantly recognize the intruder. The one and only, Yelena Belova, aka the only coworker you’ve gotten close to since moving to Westview.

“You look surprised to see me here, did you honestly think I’d recommend this place and leave you by yourself?” she says, looking offended. The shocked look on your face instantly morphs into a smile, relief flooding your body.

“I should have known you would be here” you admit. It’s never been easy for you to make friends so when you began working you had already prepared yourself for a lonely 2-3 months until you felt more comfortable. Yelena had been the one to approach you first and despite being much louder than expected, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.  If there was anything you learned about Yelena, it was that she was persistent.

Quickly she was able to worm her way into your daily routine by joining you on your lunch breaks. You bonded over your shared lack of skills in the kitchen, though Yelena would argue her Mac & Cheese recipe would say otherwise. Soon lunch breaks within the break room turned into excursions as you two unknowingly began eating out at every restaurant in town for lunch.  Despite spending so much time together, you didn’t know if she had actually seen you as a true friend outside of work. You were more than okay with just having her as a work friend, but seeing her now just proves that your friendship was much stronger than you had originally thought.

Turning your body around, you wrap your hands around her back and pull her into a hug. She slowly wraps her other arm around your shoulder, before giving you awkward pats on your back. “You did not just do that,” You say pushing her away, laughing. “I know you like me better than that Belova” poking her cheeks and smiling sweetly, knowing you’d get the perfect reaction out of her.

“HEYY-” Yelena begins to yell but you quickly cover your hand over her mouth, not wanting to draw the attention of everyone in the room.

“Don’t you dare start yelling in here” you say lowly while looking into her eyes, starting to regret the decision of even messing with her in the first place. There’s a silent agreement between you two as you nod and remove your hand from over her mouth. The moment of silence was interrupted by a soft giggle. Looking at the source of the sound, you both turn back to Wanda.  Her face is slightly turned down and she has her hand over her mouth trying to silence the laughs that desperately want to come out.

“It’s good to see you again Yelena” Wanda gets out after taking a breath, face still slightly red from laughing.

“Likewise, it’s been a while” Yelena replies.

“Okay well if you two are done here class is going to start,” Wanda says while looking between you two. Her eyes settle back on you and she smiles. “I think you’ll be just fine today” she finishes, before walking away.

“Let’s go Y/n, we have to get to our station ” Yelena says pulling you to the nearest empty station.

“But I had already asked Wanda to -” you began telling Yelena but a clap from the front cuts you off.

“Okay, everyone. I hope you all are settled. For this class, we are going to be making a classic, Chicken Pot Pie” the instructor says, enthusiastically. To say you were shocked would be an understatement, but it’s not from choice in food. As you look to the front of the room, you make eye contact with the instructor and they smile.

Wanda smiles at you.

Wanda is the instructor.

Wanda, the woman who you practically tackled in the process of trying to leave before the class started. The woman who you had a nervous breakdown in front of after asking her to be your partner. You groan, bending your head in embarrassment as you replay every interaction you’ve had with her since being here.

“Before we begin, as some of you may have noticed, we have a new face in town. Everyone meet Y/n” Wanda says.

Suddenly you could feel all the eyes in the room on you, knowing it didn’t take long to figure out that you were the new person. You awkwardly raise your hand and wave, praying your face isn’t making any weird expressions. Judging by the loud laugh heard from beside you, you know for certain that it definitely was not a pleasant look.

Yelena tries to cover her laugh with a cough “Don’t mind my friend here, she’s a little nervous. But very excited to get started today. We shouldn’t keep the newbie waiting, right Wanda?”. It was definitely an attempt to shift people’s attention away from you and it appears to have worked as Wanda nods.

“Let’s get started” Wanda says firmly, commanding the attention back to the front once more.

You sigh to yourself. This was going to be a long class.

[carefreemonk]

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is. Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing! Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: Key

Pronouns: she/her

Birthday (no year): jan 6

Where are you from? What is your time zone? west coast canada, PST

How long is your roleplay experience? between 25+ years

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? jesus uhhh that was like 25 years ago. started out “gming” worlds for friends as we ran around the neighbourhood throwing pine cones at each other n stuff. you know. the usual. then came the interwebs (i was like idk 11 and debatably should maybe not have been left to my own devices there). found avidgamers rp forums via neopets. medieval/fantasy, seattle alley cats, and pokemon rp were i think all my first written rp experiences in close/overlapping order

How were you introduced to TOA? old ferp pals on twitter kept making mention of it. eventually succumbed ha ha

Do you have any pets? black cat named cabbage. she was the 16th meow meow i fostered before i stopped (maybe get back to it some day…)

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) when the trees are bright red and gold and the air smells crisp and you can comfortably wear a jacket again… :softsmile: and the leaves are crunchy... tho i haven't crunched leaves since the wasp incident

What is your IRL occupation? admin/bookkeeper

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? webcomics, travels, ultimate frisbee, wanna try more sculpting

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? FFXIV, HSR, picross, zelda, smash bros sbeen a long time but shhh, stardew valley

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: ghost, haunter

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! only ever broke one bone (knocks on wood), it was my collarbone from being cross-checked into the boards in ice hockey. have "completed" two novels, no they won't see the light of day. have, over the years, drawn a cumulative 500+ comic pages' worth. i miss it

How did you get into Fire Emblem? fe7, shared a cartridge with my brother i think. just seemed in our wheelhouse w nintendo being what we had at hand

What Fire Emblem games have you played? 6 & up... i think? no spinoffs other than i guess?? feh? up to like. book 4 or smth

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: fe7 and fe7. nostalgia bias strong

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! matthew, henry, azama, louis, and. hector ig? idk

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! matthew. perky lil thief with a side of heartache… 

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 past key thought claude was p handsome i suppose

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: henry (100% still henry) - Fates: conquest- niles, birthright- azama, revelations- kaze. prob wouldnt change. - Three Houses: claude (prob felix in whatever next run i do) - Engage: louis/lapis (saved, finished one, went back for the other hahaha. maybe miss goldmary if i ever run again)

Favorite Fire Emblem class? thief or mage

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? maybe an archer? with p average stats. like i'd Wanna be a cool mage but idt it suits me hahaha

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Deer for sure

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? boon bow, maybe lance bane flying, faith budding talent in heavy armour, auth

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? Brodia? idk

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔 Tee Oh Ay

Current TOA muses: Hector, Azama

Past TOA muses? Ewan, Matthew, Henry, Florina, Goldmary

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Ewan, and nah. he was a delightful lil ball of sunshine but I don't feel I need that anymore

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? somewhat prickly, probably. also three of the guys i've written have canonically gone "Oho!" and another three i like w some overlap in there are the 'closed eyes' type so... whatever that means. In general tho: I like muses with whom I can explore aspects of human personality I wouldn't necessarily venture into on my own. (certain brands of conflict, responsibility, etc)

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could?  idk i think if i really wanted to write a kind of char i probably. would. but i guess the 'much more like Actually Super Intelligent than i can realistically pretend at' would be it i suppose

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? When you get to write characters with a shared history you've built together over time/across threads. When you can refer to past shared experiences, positive or negative... sobs. chefs kiss

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? A Hector near the end of his schooling arc might be neat (he's learned what he's came here for, he's ready to return to Ostia and do Uther and his people proud, and more competently than many mightve imagined at that) but. When that day comes he might really be actually going home soon lol.

Favorite TOA-related memories? lock and key jailbreak. bunker dead by daylight. unscripted both as a mod and as a player like. all of it. the first toa zine. the memes in all the discord pins (aka the laughs). really there's so much

Present or past tense? whichever my partner prefers idc that said have def written many more years in past tense than present despite toa's lean toward the latter

Normal size text, small text, no preference? normal but again idc i am perpetually zoomed in on any given window anyhow

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 sometimes matthew pokes his head up but he'd have to kill sampo so :shrug: living blissfully in my lane. sometimes think a genuine villain might be fun to try tho

[unnamedbblog]

#2 - Snowfall Connections

*You opened your eyes, having tried sleeping in further but being unable to. It didn't seem particularly bright out, but you didn't hear the sound of rain either. It also wasn't silent for once, for your parents were actually home, lazing off given they're always working. You got up out of bed to look outside and saw that it was snowing! Snow days were one of the few things you actively looked forward to. You didn't really participate in any snow activities, you just kinda liked how it looked. And a day off of school never hurt anyone. Probably.

*You went to approach your parents about going out, though they already knew you were coming so they answered before you could even say anything."

"Get back home before 5 P.M, don't get too far from the house.."

*You went to put on your winter clothes and went out for the day. You spent the majority of your time walking across the streets and analyzing the environment around you. It's a beautiful sight, really. The dead trees no longer having any leaves but excess amounts of snow on them. Not a single blade of grass in sight. You looked up to see a murder of crows migrating, likely to move to a place much less cold than this one. You didn't stop walking while you were looking up so when you looked back down you were pretty much an inch within walking into a stop sign. Silly billy.

*Along the way you encountered someone in their front yard in the process of building something with all the snow over the ground. From this angle, you noticed they were wearing a light blue jacket and had rather long, almost untamed black hair, with a black skirt to match the hair and light blue socks to match the jacket.. They were quite absorbed in what they were doing, seemingly not being bothered by the sounds of your footsteps

*You tried speaking to get their attention, although in a low, whispery tone.

"hello?"

*They didn't respond. You tried speaking just a bit louder.

"hello?"

*Still, no response. You figured you should get closer, so you did. You were about to just tap them on their shoulder until..

"HELLO!!” *They turned around almost in an instant

*You jumped at this sudden burst of movement and sound.

“SORRY, I have trouble trying to find a good volume For my VOice! I’m not the best SpeAker but hopefully the speech THERapy fixes that…”

“no worries….”

“Do you have problems WITh speaking too?”

“well, mainly that I don’t really like sp-” “Well, that’s Cool I guess! My name’s SAL! OR SALLY!! What’s yours??” Actually, hold that thought, wanna help me build a SNOWMAN??!?”

“i..uhhh, don’t know how to build a snowman.”

“I can teach you HOW! Just FOLLOW what I’m doing.”

*You were thinking about how, during that entire time, Sal/ly did not keep eye contact on you for more than 5 seconds at a time. You turned to take a quick look, and there wasn’t really anything happening besides snowfall. You were also a bit confused on whether they were a boy or girl, their name and voice conflicting with their outfit a bit. You didn’t want to badger Sal about it, though. Not like it’s your business.

“You COBBLE the snow together until it gets the SHAPE you want. The bottom should be bigger than whatever is above IT. Help me put this middle part together.”

*You went along with these instructions. Together you made a pretty good looking middle section.

“NiCELY done! Now, since you’re taLER than me, you should do the top section by yourself!!” “uh, but, i, ah…..”“You can do it!!!” “okay…”

*You start applying some snow on top of the middle section. Getting all that snow by yourself brings to attention how cold it is, though it’s not the worst. You were actually doing pretty good for someone that’s never done this before. It sort of reminded you of putting clay together, except the clay was fragile and it was made of little frozen bits of water. You were almost done a few minutes in, you felt confident, any fears you had were set as-*

[The top and mid section of the snowman fell upon you.]

“Ohshitohshitohshi-”

[Sally would get the snow off of you]

“Are you OKAY?!”

*You could only respond with crying and whimpering

*You were helped up by Sal and hurried into the nearby house where he lived. You were sat down on the couch “Wait HERE! I’ll be back in a minute.”

*You look around the room you’re in. Seems to be the living room. It was quite warm, though not stuffy. Near you were two other, smaller couches. The floor was distinctly made of brick but the walls were a solid gray-blue material. There was a T.V. in the middle mounted onto a wall, though it was turned off. Seems like something burned onto the screen, although you couldn't quite make out what it was. It almost looked like a face of some kind. There was a doorway into another room on your right, although the door was closed, which made your mind wander a bit about the contents of the room.

*Sal entered the room holding two styrofoam cups, steaming hot air emanating from it. As Sal gave one to you, you’d notice that it contained hot cocoa. “I hope this makes up for WHAt happened.... Sorry about that.”

"it's.... it's fine. i know you didn't mean for it to happen."

“So… Can we BE friends?” “i mean, yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“YIPPPPPPPPEPPEEEE!!! Oh wait! I never got your name! What was it?”

“yu.”

“Me?”

“what? no, my name is yu.”

“Ooh! You’re also named Sal? Or Sally? Or both?”

“Y-U. Yu.”

“Ohhhh!”

*As you'd roll your eyes, you would notice a clock on the wall. It was surprisingly silent. Every other clock made its presence known to you with its metronomic ticking, but not this one.

“hey…what time is it?”

*Sally would dart her eyes to that same clock.

“Four THIRTY seven”

“i have to go, then. i have to be home by five.”

“Can I come with?”

“sure.”

*You took the walk back home, with your friend in tow. He was rambling about tamagotchis and plushies along the way.  You only responded with small “yeahs” and “uh-huh” and nods, not out of disinterest but due to not being able to really keep up and process everything fully. By the time she piped down, you were at home.

“It was nice meeTING you!”

“so, uhm.. What school do you go to?”

“I’m homeschooled!” “huh…well, it’s not like you’re that far from me anyway.” “Talk to you soon?”

“i hope.”

*You would wave to Sally, still carrying a bit of hesitance in it as usual. Sal would respond much more enthusiastically. Besides a big pile of snow collapsing on top of you, it was a pretty good day overall. You made another friend after all.

[pricegouge]

Confession hour?

My dad's been present but uninterested in my life. My mom raised us till I could start helping then we all raised each other. He's not the greatest or the worst, he just really didn't love my mom and the "Best friends" lie couldnt keep up. Very much a do as I say and not as I do man.

Anyways my parents finally decided to divorced(got the paper signed the 17th) and I've been with my mom since the split. Shes used me as her rock (weve worked hard on our boundaries through this) but the main reason I can't stomach having him in my life rn (honestly since the split almost a year ago) is cuz he started his hoe "phase" openly before my mom was even fully out of his house, and with girls around my age and younger(21)

There's more too it. A man in my youth using the ig obviously lack of attention from him(my dad) and used that to get me. I blamed myself up until a year ago. Realizing giving permission doesn't make me the target in the first place.

I feel like he couldnt have a relationship with me, more then being in front of me, because he couldnt have sex with me. It would be wrong so/and he couldn't have emotions for me.

I feel pathetic for caring so much tbh. I wish I didn't at all. His porn addiction has been more important than me since I could remember. And when he caught me watching porn he calls Me a whore? I was 10.

I don't know what I want from this. I don't know if I even need him. I want him. My mom even wants him. I've had to remind her she's allowed to let herself love someone other then him and want love from someone other then him.

I could get the attention and affection I want from him from someone else. But I also don't even know I could stomach someone giving me all that. Or believe they weren't just putting on a face until they get behind closed door and the face falls.

I'm his first bio child. My older sis is from my mom's first relationship. He loved her so much more. Went out of his way to find things they could watch together and have in common. I wanted to be included but I was always talked into leaving for one reason or another. I thought when I got older he would do the same with me. But I did it for use. Finding shows I know he likes and watching them with him. Talking about his work first then my school second or not at all. Again the pathetic part is he was there, he wasn't a complete monster and I filled as much as I could at the time, he didn't full out reject me. But it's just not enough.

This is too long, I could keep going but I've spent to long on this already .

Well it's just a secret sharing ask game but it's kinda turned into confession hour lol

Anyway, Christ thats a lot. Okay first off Im so so sorry and uhhh I think you should kill him. It will set you free of the pain of wanting his attention when he's no longer around. I can't imagine the kind of manipulation on top of everything else he put y'all through if even after all that you guys still want his affection, yeesh. I say kill him and be done with it, even if it's just in spirit. And DONT find a person to replace him/give you want you want. That's not how it works and will only leave you with an even bigger void to fill. If it's an option, I think both you and your mother would benefit from therapy. Really work on who you were with him so you can figure out who you are without him. Because again, he should stay gone.

ALSO okay one gouge lore confession as a treat. Growing up, my step brother groomed and then later married my older sister. They were eleven years apart and iirc, my sister was in 7th grade the first time I saw them getting too cozy (also I was the only one paying attention cause my parents were so absent but that's neither here nor there) and I have to be honest, the way you described your father and your sister's relationship sounds wayyy too close to what my sister and my step brother had going on and even if nothing came of it/or if I'm reading too far into it, I'm kinda glad he never doted on you the same way

Anyway love you and please give this to your dad for me 🔪

[eye-of-yelough]

uhhh what would ur other ocs think of gort (me personally i love thinking about how he would break each one of my characters mentally & physically in a way specifically crafted entirely for them but that’s not an ask i should send i think)

so i thought the question was “how would gortash manipulate your ocs” and answered that question as well so. you’re getting the answer to both cos i don’t wanna delete. its kinda long so 👇

Leo Hawke, Dragon Age 2: kill kill kill bite devour mutilate. Gortash is everything he hates and everything she wants to be. cool, commanding, smart, feared, respected, loved, powerful. swag off the charts, i know he’d love the outfit.

How he’d manipulate him: easy. kill the only family he has left, Anders and Isabela, or keep them from her. actually yeah locking Anders up in solitary confinement, somewhere he spent an entire year before, that she regularly holds him about when he gets claustrophobic or has nightmares about. the thought of Anders in a small dark cell all alone with his thoughts would break him and he’d simply do Anything to ensure he’s not in there a moment longer than he has to be :/ that being said her first instinct would simply be to kill the man, and he’d definitely try, even if it’s a dumb idea. and honestly not to hype my own oc up too much but if anyone could, it’d be her. one woman (not really a woman) army of a reaver when a loved one is on the line. monster. could probably cleave his way through a dozen lackeys and at least 2 steel watchers solo before getting tired, and that’s only if they’re even in the way.

Slater Adaar, Dragon Age Inquisition: she’d be smart enough to know to be terrified of him. just be a useful tool while keeping as much distance as possible and keeping an eye out for the exits at all times. run at the first opportunity, no heroics.

How he’d manipulate her: i am realising i don’t actually know her all too well. autistic qunari sera romancing artificer pursedog butch lesbian who just wants a normal life away from politics and armies and magic and sainthood, damnit. that’s all i’ve really got on her. so, i guess using the promise of a normal life. tell ya what, she’d make a great deep cover secret agent. she is definitely an oc i could stand to make more interesting lmao

Vice, Skyrim: competition, quite simply. he has a thing about dragon imagery, right? subtler than the sun stuff, but it’s there? but is it about being a dragon himself, or subduing them. either way, they’d scoff at his posturing. underestimate him for sure, letting their ego and lack of respect for humans stop them from being smart. they have lawful evil no empathy aroace megalomaniac in common, so they’d definitely have an interesting time together :)

How he’d manipulate them: power. specifically the power to do their human experiments in peace. freedom from legal consequence, basically. it would be difficult to dominate or even get a good read on Vice and their desires tho, even for Gort. i mean. they don’t speak. and have pretty good control over their emotions. they’d be playing psychological 4D chess and it would be so entertaining. (remembers it doesn’t have to manipulation, it can be about breaking physically) OH YEAH. YEAH that’s the one. it would still be HARD to keep them down, draconic force of nature that they are, but i’m sure the gorster would be able to figure something out.

uhh . oh man is that all my ocs. i mean no, there’s my newish tav, “we have Romeo’s zeke at home” Ginger (half elf, same face shape, ranger, shart romancer??! i promise this is a coincidence idk how it happened) uhh i have a Khajit oc i’ve never talked about whose name is Ace and i have nothing else on him. OHHH GALE MY DRAGON AGE CIRCLE MAGE OC WHO DIDN’T WORK AS SURANA. uhh yeah he’d simply have no use for that old woman sorry. i need to change her name man can’t let her get confused with the bg3 wizard.

how could i forget Jack, Jack Valentine, my gta 5 guy i’ve had for like 3 years and also never once talked about despite loving him forever even if i’ve kinda forgotten him lately cos i haven’t played it in ages. kind of a self insert type, or at least the closest oc i do have to one, so. he’d make an alright lackey, i think. he’d probably hate the gort but ultimately fall for his shit after a while. like with gale he’d be very disposable.

man i need to think of better ocs these guys are boring

[unseisokel]

I wrote a thing, it's 💙🤍 x 🗡️

General rating uhhh nothing too romantic even happens you can read it as platonic

Everything is based off their in universe lore or in U-sans case fanon lore, its written abt the characters not the people you get the idea

U-san uses singular they/them pronouns

Vague allusions to U-san's pl, though nothing is explicitly stated or name dropped

Shoto hates chasing demons. He would much rather have every hunt of his start and end with a single confrontation. Most of the time he tracks them down based on reports coming into his guild and takes them by surprise, or on rare occasions a demon who thinks they're capable of striking him down will try to get the drop on him instead. He always taught his guild members that when confronting a demon, make sure you're aware of every possible escape route a demon might take if they decide to bolt. Tonight however he missed an opening, and of course the demon just had to take the one route he missed in his inspection of the location. His Guildies are gonna wring him out for sure.

This particular demon had been trying to squirrel itself away in an old dilapidated building now going through reconstruction. Equipment and raw materials laid about the premises, making this chase even more cumbersome as he jumped and weaved through the obstacles while the demon made fast and precise turns on a dime, their long quadruped legs attached to an emaciated, giant rat body.

Those precious moments spent avoiding construction hazards had now cost Shoto his visual on the demon. He steeled himself for a much longer night than anticipated as he made chase outside the building and into the alleyways of the city.

Shoto had been running through what felt like his hundredth alleyway he didn't know existed until now when suddenly he hears demonic wailing. Now sprinting double time in the direction of the sound, he cares not in the moment that a demon wouldn't be making such loud noises when they're actively trying to get a demon hunter such as Shoto off their tail, he's just thankful to be close to done with this supposed to be easy hunt.

He rounds a corner, and Shoto and the giant rat demon collide right into each other, both falling over. Shoto momentarily panics as the demon has collapsed on top of him, gaining the literal upper hand but bewilderingly, the demon spares only a glance down at him, before getting back up on its legs and running away once more. 

Shoto, now scrambling to get upright, takes a second look and notices that the demon is seriously hurt, limping and has what look like dents on a car, like they've experienced a volley of blunt force trauma. But he shakes off the weirdness of the situation for the moment and throws his signature knife, which lands cleanly in the back of the demon's skull, finally putting it out of its misery as it falls dead to the floor.

Shoto immediately deflates like a balloon, letting out a long sigh and trying to get his breathing back to normal. The chase had tired him out more than he expected, though it was compounded with the fact it was the dead of night and humans like him should be sleeping.

"Awww I was so close to killing it myself!"

Shoto whips around to see someone who he thinks is his friend U-san at first glance, but the more he looks the more he finds that this person is definitely not his musician friend. They have the same face and body type for sure, same distinct voice even, but this person's hair was a stark white, piercing yellow eyes and a disconcerting grin. The way they carry themselves is all wrong too, compared to the 'normally scared to take up space' U-san, as this human(?) coyly approaches Shoto. One hand holding their head cocked to the side in an inquisitive manner and the other hand dragging a long metal pipe, which leaves a trail of much too dark, too viscous blood to be anything from the natural world.

'Well that explains the state the demon was left in' Shoto thinks.

"Do I… know you from somewhere?" The stranger asks, stopping their approach a few scant feet away from Shoto, who has been frozen in confusion as he tries to wrack his brain recalling if U-san ever said they had an evil twin. Wait. They were attacking a demon, that's hardly a reason to classify someone as evil, but Shoto can't shake the feeling that somethings loose in this person's head.

"It's me… Shoto? Your friend?" He tries and internally cringes. He just established to himself that this was NOT U-san so why did he say that?

"OH! My bad, I couldn't recognize you with it being so dark." They give a half hearted chuckle. "Sorry about that Shoto." The stranger apologizes, despite both of them now under the bright neon light for a laundromat, well illuminating both of their figures.

…Well their smile does look like a sincere apologetic U-san smile, and they now let the pipe they've been dragging with them fall to the ground, the sound reverberating in the barren alleyway. 

'At least I'm probably not going to get brutally pipe murdered now.'

"No biggie U-san." God his Guildies are never gonna let him live this down, so ready to accept this person's story because they look like their musician friend. Well, he can simply not tell fans about this… if he makes it through this. Plus, who are they to judge him? U-san is undeniably attractive, they'd probably ditch him for a U-san that can also handle themselves in a demon fight in a heartbeat. Suckers for a pretty face that's competent in a fight, his Guildies.

Like fans, like oshi, as they say.

"Oh, you don't have to use that name when I'm here, just call me Shiro" 

'...What?'

"What?"

"It's just so you don't get us confused in your silly little mind of yours" Shiro playfully knocks their fist against Shotos head.

"No no no no," he starts, "THAT is what's confusing in this situation, why did you respond like U-san before but now are saying you're a different person?" Shoto's speech picks up speed like it usually does when he's flustered.

"Shhhhh…" Shiro brings a finger to Shoto's lips to stop his worrying. "Don't think about it too hard, okay? All you need to know… is that I'm a part of U-san, but U-san doesn't know about me just yet, yeah?" Their hand now moving to cradle Shoto's cheek, trying to be comforting.

"...You're not making it easy to understand you Shiro." Shoto says exasperated with this conversation already, but notably not moving away from Shiro's touch.

They giggle, that same giggle U-san has, the one that Shoto enjoys hearing so much. "Sorry, I'm not sure how all of this works either," Their hand moves to touch Shoto's neck. "I just take over when U-san is… getting stage fright, I don't know if that's the right way to describe it…" Their alluring demeanor drops for a second as they struggle to find the right words.

Something U-san does too.

"No no, I get it, that metaphor kinda makes sense" Shoto says encouragingly. He still has a lot of questions but he keeps them to himself for now.

"Ah, I'm glad" that smile reappears on Shiro's face. "Well Shoto, it was nice talking to you, I can see why U-san thinks of you so highly." 

"... They do?"

"Mmm-hmm, they like that you're easy to talk to…" Shiro's voice drops to a whisper as they lean in closer, their lips dangerously close to Shoto's ear, he closes his eyes as he feels himself getting flustered at their close proximity "...and that you're easy on the eyes."

"WHAT!?" 

Shoto snaps out of the spell he's in, his eyes shooting wide open and his hands shooting to Shiro's shoulders and pulling them away from his body. 

But instead of the white hair and yellow eyes he was just getting used to, he's greeted with black hair and fluttering blue eyes as U-san comes to.

"Mmm? Shoto? What're you doing here…" they start, talking like they're just waking up from a nap.

"Um well…" Shoto panics. "You- you were attacked by uh, t- that demon over there" he points to the giant rat demon corpse, his knife still embedded in it. "Y-you must've gotten your head hit on something running away from it" he cringes for a second time, wondering why his first instinct was to cover for Shiro.

"Oh… hope I didn't worry you too much…" U-san yawns.

Shoto sighs, typical U-san worrying about other people when they're the one in need of worrying. 

"Let's just get you home safely" 

"Mmm… it's late, you don't want to stay over? Your guild is a bit farther away than my apartment" U-san says, a bit more awake and alert, taking in their location. "My U-reis really like it when they hear that I'm with you."

"Glad your fans appreciate me at least, I don't get that kind of love from the Guildies..." Shoto is sure they're gonna worry if he doesn't return to the guild soon, he'll just have to send a guild-wide message to say he's sleeping over at a friend's since this demon hunt took longer than anticipated. 

"Awww but you like the teasing type of love…" U-san comes to Shoto's side, giving him a playful shove before locking their arm with Shoto's.

Shiro's teasing words echo in his mind- 'They like that you're easy to talk to… and that you're easy on the eyes.'

No sense denying it now, when it's just the two- 'or is it now three? Damn it he should've asked more questions while Shiro was here'- of them walking down the empty streets.

"Yeah… I do, don't I?"

—

It had been little over a month since the strange incident with U-san and self described Shiro and truthfully, Shoto almost completely forgot about it as slowly but surely demon activity was increasing throughout the city. Shoto and his guild were kept busy trying to hunt and deal with the new threats popping up, when U-san invited him to hangout, noticing his stress mounting and wanting to take his mind off from demon hunting just for a bit.

"You helped me deal with what was probably the most stressful time of my life, please let me return the favor" U-san pleaded with him after Shoto was dodging their previous invites, sheesh U-san could really be a sap when they want to. 

They both agreed to an evening of drinks and karaoke, Shoto walking through the city streets to the karaoke bar they agreed to meet at. But of course as he’s nearing the venue Shoto’s keen hearing and recognition of all signs demon related alert him to a disturbance. ‘Dammit, it's supposed to be my day off..!’ he grumbles to himself but makes haste regardless, sprinting with his dagger at the ready.

Shoto finds the source of the demonic disturbance in an alleyway corner, a large canine demon with  scales coating their body along with singed fur on its head and tail, who immediately recognizes Shoto as what he is, a demon hunter, and raises its head upwards. ‘Ah fuck its gonna try to call for backup’ Shoto more than familiar with the type of behaviors a demon might pocess, and reaches out to throw his dagger. 

‘Wait fuck it’s got scales to protect itself with’ he hesistates.

Then from the other entrance to the corner, a large ball of blue flames shoots toward the creature, immediately engulfing the demon in its entirety, it’s howl dying in its throat. Shoto comes in closer to peek around the corner to find the source of the flames, and finds- 

“Shiro?” the memories of that odd night coming back to Shoto.

“Ah! You remember me!” Shiro smiles almost genuinely.

“You’re an enigma. I hope you know that.” Shoto crosses his arms over his chest, trying to come off as authoritative but looks more pouty if anything.

“Ouch, what’s with the sudden cold behavior?” The smile doesn’t leave Shiro's face.

“This is the second time I’ve found a demon already showing signs of being attacked by you, so… are you really taking over when U-san’s in danger or are you doing this preemptively?” Shoto doesn’t have a clue as to why that would be the case, but this is technically U-sans life being brought into peril, he needs to sus out what the hell is going on with Shiro. He hopes the bluff will goad Shiro into trying to set the story straight.

“Woah woah don’t get the wrong idea man, the demons do come for U-san, honestly!” Shiro’s posture and expression turn defensive.

‘Gottem.’ 

“They just come for us because of deal U-san made to survive drowning, the big guy didn’t like how I- we- fuck, whatever you get it- were going around ruining shit, something about having a plan for us.” 

Shiro rambles, “When U-san decided to break away from the demon control, they subconsciously made a new deal as they passed back into the human realm, sealing off me, the manifestation of their memories and powers of that time.” 

They gulp in some air before starting again, “Guess the boss finally found out that we’re here…”

‘What the fuck.’ This is a lot of new information coming into stark contrast with what Shoto thought he knew about U-san. He never once sensed anything off or demonic about U-san, their pleasant attitude never suggesting a past brush with death or deal with a demon. 

“Okay, hold on, so let me get this straight- '' Shoto feels a headache come on as he tries to puzzle everything together. “You- Shiro, are what, U-san’s demonic half?”

“Mmmm well, the power and physical changes come from an angel who didn’t survive the fall into hell. Their energy was just laying there unused for a while before the Big One figured out how to repurpose it, giving it to U-san, saving their mortal life. Me as a person- do I count as a person? No nevermind that, I’m made of everything U-san knows plus the knowledge and power they had in their life working with demons.”

…Shoto was definitely gonna need a drink, preferably sooner than later.

“Okay- yeah. Sure, why the FUCK not!” Shoto’s frustrations of the recent demonic threat to the people here under his protection bubbling to the surface. He suddenly walks up to Shiro, grabbing them by their shoulders, and pushing them against the closest alleyway wall. 

“So YOU just think you can stick around here, letting yourself be a nice juicy target for any demon that makes it in this realm, endangering the rest of us!? And for what? Running away from the choices you made, expecting a deal with the devil to work out in YOUR favor!?” 

Shiro face falls, doesn’t bother fighting off Shoto’s grip, letting Shoto vent his frustrations.

“It’s not that I- we- fuck okay let me just speak as U-san for a second here- I knew it was a bad idea, but I had so much left to live for, so many songs left to sing, people I couldn’t let down, yeah?” Shiro’s head comes back up to face Shoto, tears welling up in their eyes. “You saying you wouldn’t do anything drastic to meet back with your Guildies if your life came to a sudden end?” 

God, his Guildies. U-san’s U-reis. He remembers them before they were the little blue flame balls they are now, how broken they were when the person they had grown so attached to seemingly wasn’t coming back. The burning away of their old form, when U-san reappeared, changing to match U-san. Confusingly both no longer the people they once were, but still with the memories and love in their heart.

“...you think of me as someone who made this choice for U-san, but I am U-san- fuck- no, ugh why is this so hard to explain-” Shiro’s throat seizes in frustration.

Shoto is brought back to the time right after U-san appeared how they had remembered him, but couldn’t go back the person they first met Shoto as, their sense of identity all but non-existent. 

~~~

“Listen, you don’t have to figure it all out now- Don’t worry about finding a name yet. Find a meaning behind a name, then decide. And whatever you choose will be you.”

~~~

“I think I’ll go by U-san, like, officially.” 

“Wh-huh?” Shoto looks up from his meal, cheeks comically filled with food like a hamster. He takes a moment to chew and swallow before speaking again. “Are you sure? Everyone is just using it as a placeholder for now…are you giving up on finding a name?”

U-sans’s body wilts a little, they pick at their own plate of food. “Well yes and no. I’ll keep Unnamed as my musician title, it works for what I want to do, to be recognized for my voice. But U-san is… cute. My fans made it because they wanted me to be more than a nobody…” U-san lifts their head up to look Shoto directly in his eyes, their own gaze filled with fondness, “...and it’s what my friends call me.”

Shoto breaks the stare with an awkward cough, as he feels himself blushing. 

“Sap.”

~~~

History seems to be repeating itself, Shoto faced once again with his friend going through an identity crisis.

“...but if I knew it would end with demons pouring in trying to hunt me for getting away, I would’ve never-”

Their pained pleas are cut short as Shoto goes from pinning them to the wall to hugging them. Shiro hesitates, before reciprocating the hug, burying their head into Shotos shoulder.

“Tell me what to do to make this right Shoto…”

“Well you can start by giving back U-san their memories and powers”

“B-but it’ll destroy them! I mean- look at me I’m- I’m a mess!” Shiro argues. Their playful and almost crazed demeanor they start conversations with, hiding what Shoto now guesses is a lot of trauma.

“Then we start slow, I’ll talk to them, tell them that the demons are after them, they deserve to know that much at the very least- and we’ll go from there.”

Shiro melts further into the hug.

“Thank you Shoto, you don’t know how much you mean to me...”

“It’s alright Shiro.”

“...who?”

Shoto very reluctantly pulls himself away from the embrace, and is met with black hair and blue eyes again.

“...I’ll explain later, U-san. Lets just head to the karaoke bar, I need a drink.”

U-san’s  face lights up at the mention of karaoke, they take Shoto by the hand and walk with him in tow towards the karaoke bar.

“We need to make the most of tonight, who knows when you’ll be able to make time for breaks like these again.” 

“Well… there's always the option of you learning to hunt demons with me.”

“Eh!? But I’m not a fighter, a- and I have no powers to speak of!”

“...Well, me and your fans are gonna have to disagree on that last one.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have the power… to make people fall in love with you!” Shoto gives his best rizzler smile.

“Oh, fuck off bro, that was so cringe” U-san breaks into cackling.

“What do you mean!? That was so smooth dude, I’ll have you know I’m called the Rizzler.”

The rest of the night is filled with many more laughs and bad pickup lines and flirting. U-san and Shoto sing their hearts out, and end up drinking quite a bit, they leave the bar in the early hours of the morning still giggling and just a tad drunk still.

“Let’s go back to my place, yeah?” U-san says, already linking their arm with Shoto’s dragging him before he even responds.

When they make it back to U-san’s place, they’re both bombarded with waves of u-reis, their blue flame bodies only leaving a warm feeling on both their bodies. 

“Wh- I was gone for a few hours! Why do you guys always act like this?”

Shoto gives an understanding smile to the u-reis huddled against him, their beady eyes staring at him in appreciation, no doubt glad for the protective eye Shoto always has for U-san.

“I think they’ll always miss anytime spent away from you, you just have that effect on people.”

[starwalker03]

On the last note, Has Kaldur spent more time as his father's prisoner or as Aqualad? How about M'Gaan has she spend more time at Bee's side or J'onn's?

ooooooooooooh boy.

So Kaldur being aqualad is different to the rest of the gang cause his origin involves literally being conscripted into the Atlantean defense force. So i gotta check the wiki for some timeline info.

Okay so. For some reason the atlantean population thinks mandatory military service should start at the age of twelve. I personally have reservations about this but uhhh. yeah. He became Aqualad at 14 according to the YJ timeline, which puts him at about three years of actively being Aqualad, as season one ends new years day 2011. So yes he's been prisoner longer than he was aqualad, and longer than he was actively a not-civillian.

M'Gaan 16, by human biological equivalence, during 2010 ( season one) but is actually born in 1962 (she's as old as my dad tf?) and it's explained that martian years are different to earth years in the show. so like, she was a civillian significantly longer than all this nonsense, but she was only operating as Miss Martian from season one. specifically, she started actively being a member of the team July 8th, which means she was only Miss Martian for five months and 23 days by end of season one (new years day). in-fic, she gets a couple more weeks tacked on for the time between the finale and the Mission to End All Missions. in-canon, she hadn't even met J'Onn before stowing away in a ship to meet him on Earth, so that's also pretty much the amount of time she's known him.

pretty fucking depressing tbh.

[just-absolutely-super]

Patch's adventures crack

(Same Anon for the others except the last one)

Mayl is sitting down next to Patch. A large heating blanket is wrapped around the mother and son as she tries to explain what happened to Lan

Mayl: We were having our usual shopping day when all of the sudden, the doors out of mall locked and the AC kicked on.... by a lot.

Patch: *sneezes*

Lan: Bless you, Patch. *to mayl* What happen next.

Mayl: It got cold, really cold. I couldn't feel my fingers. Then, I blacked out.

Lan: The paramedics said you were frozen solid. Any longer and the damage would have been irreversible. *holds her coldish hand* Are you sure you two are okay.

Mayl: We're fine. I think Patch got off easier than I did.

Patch: I'm just lucky, mom. *smiles as his new found thermal underclothes kept him from freezing*

Mega: *Walks to them* I'm back.

Lan: Did the investigation team find anything.

Mega: Definitely sabotage, but the cameras were too frozen to ID the suspect.

Lan: *frowns*

Mayl: Don't make that face

Lan: But--

Mayl: You couldn't have done anything, you were at work. And we're fine now, don't worry so much *gives a weak smile*

Lan: ...Okay. Hey, Megaman, go make some hot tea, I gotta check out Roll and Remix's PETs and make sure the cold didn't cause any bugs

Mega: On it!

*Lan takes some time to do quick diagnostics*

Lan: *sigh* Need to do some tune-ups to Roll, but thankfully it isn't serious. Remix though...

Patch: What's up, Dad?

Lan: I know I made his PET pretty resistant to the elements, but I'm surprise how functioning it still is... It's almost like he barely spent time in the cold...

Patch: W-Well, that just shows how good of a job you did for the PET, Dad!

Remix: Yep! Uncle Lan does great work!

Lan: Heh, I guess

Mayl: *sneezes and starts shivering more*

Lan: Damn, you need more blankets! I'll be right back!

Mayl: Laaaan! You don't need to go overboard! *weakly walks to stop him from grabbing every blanket they own*

Patch: ...Those assholes got away, but we'll stop them for good next time, Remix!

Remix: Too bad the security footage couldn't catch them, then maybe the police could arrest them

Patch: Yeah...but on the bright side, they didn't catch us stopping them

Remix: Our mamas got really hurt...maybe we should tell Papa and Uncle Lan

Patch: I know you're right but...I just hate making them worry

Mega, coming in with tea: Worry about what?

Patch, jumping: UNCLE HUB! Uhhh I don't want them to worry about...my studies! Because I don't know if I'll be able to go to school with this cold! ACHOO!

Mega: Oh... Well, don't worry! With what happened, Lan won't want to be away from you guys for too long, so I'll help you with your missed assignments :))))

Patch: ....On second thought I'd rather go to school miserably sick

[burning-sol]

^^ If I did hypothetically submit a dress it would definitely, most probably be a rerendering of this work to look a lot neater and better definied. Or perhaps this one. Or this one. Or THIS one. This one is nice. These are a couple of my favourites. Maybe I could compile some of them into one image actually... Wait wtf am I talking about, this is a terrible idea. No I will not include Exandroth in a dress.

Slapping everything else under the cut I'm going through posts and looking at old ideas. Read on if you wanna hear stuff.

Ooooh or maybe that one idea I had where Exandroth's core got obliterated but he's actually still stuck to the sword. The sword that got left behind. And he's stuck there, unable to move too far away from it or he starts to grow weaker. But since the sword isn't being maintained it's just sitting there and rusting. Quoted from myself:

"Worse than Exandroth just dying, I think about it being trapped in the sword. Her essence destroyed and no longer able to cast magic, but somehow still conscious and attached to it."

OH or maybe that one idea where Exandroth stays in the remainder of the celestial realm, but because he's not connected to Peter anymore she's losing the connection to humanity it'd built up over the series. Here's what I wrote about it:

Idea: Exandroth has stopped possessing Peter but this has caused Exandroth to slowly lose his humanity and emotions again. At first it panics but soon there isn’t even dread anymore. There’s only Exandroth the archangel and she doesn’t remember why he wanted those feelings anymore.

Or that alt timeline where the god slayers go to face Zuen. But there's infighting between them. And Exandroth pulls a this. That could make for a good short piece of writing. Or something about how Zuen was manipulating Exandroth. Maybe just fucking ANYTHING with Exandroth and Zuen interacting because god I need them to talk SO bad. It's so sad Exandroth didn't get to see Zuen again, that would have been such an interesting interaction.

Rewriting a section of Apotheosis but from Exandroth's perspective?

I wrote down in a post simply "Exandroth ego death" so righteous of me.

SPEAKING OF DEATH UHHH:

Becoming more human killed Exandroth. Humanity is a burden. Falling in love only to die soon thereafter. Dying when you only just started to feel alive.

AND UMMMM:

Do you think Exandroth feared death. Was it cold. Cold for the first time in its existence.

Maybe something like this post but platonically. Cause I like Exandroth being quiet and just being able to talk. Maybe expand this to include Thanatos too. Maybe even Peter could be thrown in.

Oh if I plan on including a comic page it HAS to be of this clip.

Holy shit what was I on when I wrote this one I love it:

"It’s kind of interesting that the first thing Exandroth does in episode 2 is… Heal someone. Exandroth is quite the destructive force, so it kind of stands out when something like that happens. And now that I think about it, I think that makes Exandroth stand in contrast against the gods and their blights who’ve only ever beget destruction, misery and plague wherever they go. It’s probably a bit of an ego trip for Exandroth, but I just find it notable Exandroth is capable of healing and chooses to do so of its own volition."

Maybe something about the half-year gap Exandroth and Peter spent before they connected with the other two god slayers.

Something about Exandroth's fixation on Rumi? Oh and I've found THIS about Rumi and Exandroth which I found interesting I should properly touch on this again sometime:

I feel like Exandroth knew about Rumi’s mask the entire time. Like if Peter got to the point of being able to see past it, I think Exandroth was already able to see behind it. But Exandroth didn’t question it because it wasn’t any of his business. If Rumi wants to be Rumi then there’s nothing else to say about it.

Bidet fight.

Oh this was a cool post I fuckin love OFF and I was so right here.

That's the end of my Exandroth posts that I went through. I'm positively buzzing from all these ideas. Didn't realise I had some of these written down. These are some neat concepts imho. I'll certainly have some things to think about.

Thinking about the zine again. It's going to be back to brainstorming once I hop until my computer.

[no-droids]

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi​

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly.  And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable.  This is home.  You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness.  Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream.  But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it.  Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault.  You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask.  Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression.  How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions?  You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense.  Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong.  You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room.  Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan.  As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you.  You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him.  You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest.  His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak.  You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out.  Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise.  Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet.  You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck.  You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed.  Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm?  No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that.  You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now.  You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter.  The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha?  No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up.  Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it.  “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers.  It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone.  “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound.  But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more.  Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince.  You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again.  If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs.  “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy.  Your voice is small and your words slur.  “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek.  Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this.  Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says.  You hear it.  You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange.  Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right.  It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now.  You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness.  You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed.  You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes.  Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep.  “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away.  “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy.  Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence?  Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close.  It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish.  Counting.  You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through.  Understanding words.  You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that.  Yep.  You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said.  Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that?  Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it.  Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery.  Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning.  You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay.  It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics.  You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed.  The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate.  Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat.  Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier.  No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point.  You need something newer.  Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened.  One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds.  You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression.  “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves.  Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection.  How many fucking…?  All this for just one person?  What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t?  They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming?  Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest.  A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan.  “Nope.  Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside.  You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood.  He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection.  He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster.  The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind.  His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib.  Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut.  You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck.  Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind.  You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all.  Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance.  There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay.  Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one?  Ah, yes, okay—safety, off.  Stance, find your stance.  There it is.  Alright, now lift.  Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up.  Hold.  Hold.  Hold.

Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!”  You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated.  What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what?  Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder?  Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope?  Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot.  It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here.  Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point.  Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah.  It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you.  “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger.  The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well.  Uh.  That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside.  Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow.  Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart.  In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing.  You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to.  Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay.  “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb.  Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold.  You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.  

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound.  Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back.  Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving.  Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently.  Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry.  You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm.  That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see.  He’s laying facedown in the snow.  There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him.  Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?”  You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him.  “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him.  He doesn’t respond.  He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him.  You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath.  His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy.  You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet.  You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder.  You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning.  But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do.  You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold.  He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff?  The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up.  Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments.  The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again.  Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you.  The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold.  It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now.  Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly.  So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor.  You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore.  The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit.  Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t.  Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now.  Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct.  His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding.  “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now.  His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now.  Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time.  You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm.  Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore.  It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving.  No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up.  Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in.  Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears.  He’s warm, what else can you do for him?  Why is he not waking up?  “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet.  You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in.  He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment.  He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull.  He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up.  It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed.  You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents.  Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much.  You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off.  If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower.  You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means.  You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly.  Again, just in case.  “I’m not gonna look.  Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both.  He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating.  “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall.  You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold.  His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck.  Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless.  He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do.  The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing.  Slow.  Shallow.  Barely able to be felt against your neck.  He’s here but he’s not.  And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize.  But you have nothing to say.  After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore.  The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull.  You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort.  Wake up.  Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it.  You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward.  You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it.  It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second.  A second where you dare to hope.  Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards.  You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present.  Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief.  “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers.  You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again.  You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that.  Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you.  He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking.  Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay.  The kid is okay.  Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether.  Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck.  Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline.  A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why.  But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t.  You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no.  That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside.  You know this.  You know it’s there, and you know he needs it.  Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty.  You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there.  And you’re the only one awake.  The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself.  For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought.  Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push.  You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer.  Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck.  You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident.  You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to.  You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock.  You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece.  When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship.  The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing.  You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow.  You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse.  A dead body.  That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite.  Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s…  It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why.  It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way.  Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to.  You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still…  Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up.  The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving.  As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband.  When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There.  Halfway done.  You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him.  Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly.  Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite.  And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there.  With your hands, you have to grab it.  With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart.  If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din.  If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din.  He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what?  If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative.  It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another.  You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place.  The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes.  You’re done.  You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait.  Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other.  “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight.  You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.  

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now.  You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him.  The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you.  Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy.  Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions.  “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either.  He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows.  Beyond a shadow of a doubt.  It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible.  “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer.  “We’re in hyperspace.  Everything’s okay now, I took care of it.  We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding.  “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue.  “I took care of it.  You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His.  Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…”  His hands are trembling harder than his voice.  “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers.  “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip.  Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull.  You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.  

Fuck, you’re not expecting it.  You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all.  He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up.  You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head.  The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…”  Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit.  He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again.  “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time.  “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing.  His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight.  He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin.  “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words.  Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours.  But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension.  Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you.  Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it.  You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now.  “It’s okay.  Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.  

“How d-did you find me?”  He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him.  Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him.  “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back.  “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore.  In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting.  The alternative is unthinkable.  Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him.  “I raided your armory.  We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason.  Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet.  Breathing.  So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it.  You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest.  In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in.  It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?”  He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding.  No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back.  The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours.  It feels like it was ages ago.  An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding.  “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer.  It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that.  So now what is he going to say?  What is he going to say?  You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work.  Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add.  You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore.  His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize.  He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range.  Which means he wasn’t just joking around.  He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you.  You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice.  Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness.  “Why did you say that?  On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual.  Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you.  “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you.  His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast.  “Earlier that day.  I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You?  Said something that made him ask that?

“What?”  You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue.  “What did I say?”

“Something about…”  He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold.  “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth.  “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily.  “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity.  “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth.  You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real.  You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it.  You do mean it.  Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you.  Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him.  His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation.  There are, of course, millions of things left to ask.  But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions.  You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time.  Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift.  It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.  

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know.  Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know.  Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue.  You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before.  All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape.  “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost.  The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?”  You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet.  Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated.  “Ni, for I or we.  Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person.  Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter.  Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all.  If that’s true, it’s unbelievable.  How do they differentiate?  Just context?

“How do you distinguish?”  You ask him.  Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive.  I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it.  “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it.  “What do you mean?”  You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of.  “We abandon our names.  We become… whispers, of the same voice.  There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms.  Interchangeable.  Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication.  Almost all of them are homonyms?  How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point?  That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?”  You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now.  “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…”  You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it.  Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested.  “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale.  “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason.  Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.”  He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest.  “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck.  “No witnesses, no celebrations.  We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look.  It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival.  Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing.  To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore.  Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably.  The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder.  “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone.  “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.”  Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way.  The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory.  You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt.  Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion.  “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier.  You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face.  Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot.  Unmoving.  Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it.  “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you.  The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you.  The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it.  You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them.  It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though.  You’re still behind.  “You knew I’d say no?”  You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly.  Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either.  Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right.  If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly.  Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment.  “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following.  Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him.  Respecting them.  Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull.  So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time.  His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him.  You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue.  He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves.  You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you.  But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here.  In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?”  You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

[marauders-venting]

I Love You

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 2304

note: based on a textpost by @moonyspadfoot45

a/n: yes i know disposable cameras didn’t exist until the mid 80s but i wrote that part before i googled it and i don’t want to change it so we’re gonna go with it

Remus sighed in the direction of the stack of boxes that looked like it was about to topple over.

“Sirius?” he called, walking into the living room.

“Yeah?” Sirius replied, peering at Remus around the stack of boxes from the couch where he was sitting.

“I swear to god if you and James used any of the boxes marked ‘fragile’ for your fortress…” He left the sentence hanging as he reached up to lower the box on the top. “How did you even manage to stack the boxes that high? Did you have to stand on a chair or something to reach up here?”

“Rude,” Sirius said, coming around to Remus’ side of the fort. “I’m not that short.”

“James had to do it, didn’t he?” Remus teased, turning around.

“Moony, stop making fun of me,” Sirius pouted. “Come on, we’re going into the fort.” The ‘fort’ was made of boxes that contained all of Sirius and Remus’ possessions stacked to form walls with a sheet stretched over the top. And it was right in the middle of the living room of Remus and Sirius’ new apartment.

Sirius grabbed Remus by the hand and pulled him into the fort. The sheet, which was their makeshift ceiling, was hanging so low that even Sirius had to sit on the floor. They sat down and Remus looked around. Then he spotted a box labelled ‘kitchen ware’ and turned to Sirius.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said. “I was looking for that box for like an hour! I nearly called the movers to ask them to double-check that they hadn’t missed any boxes!”

“I didn’t know you were looking for it!” Sirius said defensively.

“I literally asked you if you’d seen the box!” Remus said, laughing and shaking his head.

“Uhhh,” Sirius started, scrambling for an excuse, “I’m sorry, Remus, but you should know by now that I answer most questions wrong.”

“That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard,” Remus said.

“Then you obviously haven’t heard any of the excuses I gave McGonagall for breaking the rules,” Sirius said.

“What are you talking about, I was there 90 percent of the time,” Remus said.

“Yeah but when you were there you were giving the excuses.”

“Yeah, my excuses were good, they got us out of detention,” Remus said.

“Feels weird knowing I’ll never have another detention,” Sirius said, lying down on the carpet he and James had brought into the fort earlier. “I keep thinking we’re gonna go back at the end of the summer.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Remus said, lying down next to him. “It feels like just yesterday you were asking me to move it with you and now we’re here. In our living room. In a fucking fort.” Sirius laughed and kissed Remus lightly.

Remus remembered the day Sirius had asked him to move in. He’d never forget it. It was their first anniversary and they were up on the astronomy tower, the same place they’d gotten together the year before. Remus remembered how hard he was trying to put aside his anxiety about the upcoming exams just for that day. Sirius made it easier. Sirius made everything easier.

“Can I give you my present now?” Sirius asked. Remus had felt his cheeks heating, despite the fact that he was quite cold up on the tower, in the cool breeze stinging his face.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he muttered.

“I know,” Sirius said. “But I wanted to. Besides, you were the one who planned out this whole day. And you're the one who’s taking me out on the Hogsmeade weekend after exams.” Remus supposed it was true. He had planned out the day down to the last detail. He felt very cliche doing it but it was worth it to see the look on Sirius’ face. And to feel Sirius’ lips on his.

“Oh alright,” Remus gave in. He was curious now. Sirius handed him a small grey box. Remus cocked his head at him but Sirius’ expression was unreadable. He opened the box and inside it was a silver key and a disposable Muggle camera. Remus picked up the key and turned it over, examining it.

“Pads, what is this?” he asked finally. He was afraid he had ruined something. That this was something sentimental that he was supposed to understand.

“It’s a key,” Sirius said. Remus rolled his eyes.

“I’d figured that much out myself, funnily enough,” he said. “What is the key to?”

“Look at the camera.” Remus did. He picked it up and, glancing at Sirius to make sure this is what he was meant to do, looked through the photos in the camera.

“An apartment?” Remus said, still confused.

“Our apartment,” Sirius said. He was looking at Remus, his grey eyes alight.

“What?” Remus said, gaping at him.

“Only if you want it to be,” he added hurriedly. “I just thought… Everybody's been talking about living arrangements after school and I–I thought maybe you might like to live together. I mean, I haven’t finalised anything yet so we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Or we could still pick a different place. The owner’s of this one won’t vacate it until August so we’d have to figure something out for the first month and a bit after we graduate but I’m sure the Potters won’t mind if we stay there for a little while. And Lily and James might want to be alone in the beginning but I doubt they’d kick us out if we showed up but… do you hate it?” He had barely breathed in between words until now. He looked up at Remus nervously, biting his nail.

“Are you kidding me? I love it,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is… this is incredible. You’re incredible. I—” Remus hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say. But he couldn’t form the words. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“So you’re saying you’ll do it?” Sirius asked. “You’ll move in with me?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Yes, of course I will.” Sirius beamed at him. But then something occurred to Remus. “Sirius, you haven’t paid anything yet, have you? If you have I’ll pay you back, I—”

“Shh, don’t worry about that now,” Sirius said. “We’ll figure out all the technical details later.” Remus bit his lip.

“Okay,” he said. He could put it out of his mind for that night.

“Happy anniversary, Moony,” he said. And then he kissed Remus, there on top of the astronomy tower and Remus felt just as much excitement then as he had when Sirius had kissed him there for the first time, exactly one year previously.

And here they were now. In their apartment. They ended up deciding on the one Sirius had originally chosen, the one that he’d shown Remus photos of that evening. The owners had ended up vacating a bit earlier than they had said because there was still a week until August. Sirius had stayed at the Potter’s for the first few weeks and Remus had gone back home. But as they were spending every waking moment at Lily and James’ house anyway, they suggested that Remus and Sirius just stay with them. They had invited Peter to stay with them too, just while Sirius and Remus were there but he’d turned down the offer (“After seven years of sleeping in the same room with three other blokes, I think I’ll be good on my own for a while,” he had said). He still came over every day and stayed until around midnight but he always preferred to sleep at home. He said he’d never get used to it if he stayed at Lily and James’.

James, Peter and Lily helped them move in too. They’d been with them to Ikea a few days previously to buy furniture. And they had come over today to help start unpacking things. Well, Lily and Peter helped unpack. James was more interested in building a fort out of the boxes with Sirius.

Remus remembered worrying that he might spend less time with his friends after school since they’d no longer be living in the same big castle but so far the amount of time he spent with Lily, James and Peter had not decreased even a little.

But Lily and James had gone home now and Peter had gone back to his studio flat; Remus and Sirius were alone, together in their new apartment.

“Are you hungry?” Sirius asked, snapping Remus back into reality. “I could make you dinner.”

“You’re going to make dinner?” Remus snorted. “I’m sorry but have you ever made food in your entire life?”

“I have actually,” Sirius said. “Mrs Potter taught me how to make food when I lived there. I’m not as good at it as James is but I can make something edible without burning down the kitchen. Although I nearly did that the first time I tried to make food.”

“Well, that’s very convincing,” Remus said sarcastically. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m kidding!” he said. “I’ll be on standby with the fire extinguisher.”

“What’s that?” Sirius asked.

“Kind of in the name, babe,” Remus said and then he crawled quickly out of the fort before Sirius figured it out and elbowed him again.

But Remus was pleasantly surprised because not only did Sirius manage to not light the whole house on fire, but he even produced some pretty good food.

“You know, this is quite nice,” Remus said, taking another bite. “Mrs Potter must be a really good teacher if she managed to get you to this level of cooking.”

“Why can’t you just have a little bit more faith in my talents, Moony?” Sirius said. “But yeah, she’s a great teacher. James, on the other hand, is a terrible teacher. It’s not that he can’t cook because he can. He just can’t teach other people to cook. But don’t tell him I said that.” Remus snorts.

“As if you haven’t already told him that to his face.”

“You know me too well,” Sirius sighs.

After dinner, Sirius goes to shower and Remus continues unpacking boxes. The more boxes he unpacks, the more he realises how much crap they’re missing. But he’s not too worried about it. They’ll go to the store tomorrow and find whatever it is that they’re missing. It’s nothing essential. The only essential thing to Remus in this house is Sirius. As long as Sirius is here, Remus would be fine.

Remus opens another box with a utility knife. He looks inside and his jaw drops.

“Rem?” Sirius asks, coming into the room, his hair still wet from the shower. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus says. “Look at this.” He takes out the contents of the box and sets them on the table. It’s photos. Loads of photos of them from school.

“Wow,” Sirius says, looking through the photos. “Oh my god.” He holds one of the photos out to Remus laughing. Remus looks at the photo and starts laughing too. It’s him sitting next to a dog, a stag and a rat. His friends in their animagus forms and him in the middle, smiling awkwardly as Lily takes a photo.

They spent a little longer looking through the photos, laughing at how much they had changed since the first day they’d met each other in first year. They all looked so little. And now… well, now they’re grown up. Remus didn’t feel like it though.

He returned the photos to the box, deciding he’d find a place for them tomorrow. He was reaching another box when Sirius took his hand.

“Come to bed, darling,” he said. “It’s nearly midnight and you’re still unpacking boxes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said. He smiled and laced his fingers with Sirius’.

He showered and put on a massive sweater (despite it being midsummer) and clambered into their new bed, where Sirius was already waiting for him. Sirius pulled him in and kissed his forehead before resting his head against Remus’ chest.

As they cuddle in their brand new bed, in their brand new apartment, Remus is overcome by the urge to tell Sirius, to just say it. To say what he wanted to say months ago on their anniversary but had been too afraid. He doesn’t even care if Sirius says it back. He just wants to say the words. He wants Sirius to know. Sirius deserves to know.

He lifts Sirius’ chin with his hand so their eyes meet as he brushes his thumb against Sirius’ cheek.

“I love you,” he says.

“I– I–” Sirius stutters.

“And you don’t have to say it back or anything,” Remus assures him. “I just wanted you to know.” Tears spill from Sirius’ eyes.

“You’re crying?” Remus said, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“No, nothing wrong, I just—” Sirius hesitates, sniffing. “That’s the first time anyone’s told me that,” he admits.

“That’s a shame,” Remus says, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll always remind you how much I love you. I love you so much, Sirius.” He pulls Sirius into a tight hug. “You deserve so much love.” Sirius kisses him softly. It’s a quiet, gentle kiss, tears still flowing freely down Sirius’ face.

“I love you too,” Sirius whispers.

“You don’t have to say it just because I did,” Remus says.

“I’m not,” Sirius said. “I really do love you.” Remus smiles as he feels the blush blooming on his cheeks. And suddenly he can’t remember what was holding him back in the first place. He feels like an idiot for waiting so long to say this. He loves Sirius. He loves Sirius with all of his heart and he’s going to make sure Sirius knows it.

[hnychn]

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

pairing: poly! bakusquad x gn! reader

summary: why settle for one lover when you could have five? 

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 🐝: ugh i love the idea of all five of these assholes in one relationship !! it just makes my heart 😫. lmk what you thought of it, i appreciate any constructive criticism that'll help me improve 🤍 i'm also working on a shoto work next so!! PS. this ended up being a lot longer than i thought, so i'll be making it into diferent parts!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞

ur their baby

sorry

don't make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️

so first and foremost, how you became a part of their relationship.

surprisingly, it was bakugo who brought up the idea to the others 😳

you're not in 1a, but you are in the support class. you make them gadgets 😌

and bakugo met you when the last student who was supposed to be responsible for his costume design and other shit refused to work with bakugo anymore

that was the sixth guy to quit

so you offered to pick up his work 😌

otherwise the storyline wouldn't continue

so bakugo goes to you after school and is like, "listen here you fucking extra-"

and that's as far as he got before you interrupted him and was like:

"no yOU listen you hot-headed cyndaquil! the only reason you should be talking to me is if you want to submit a request for your costume. other than that, don't look at me. don't speak to me. don't even breathe near me. GOT IT?!"

and he was just. . .😳 damn

highkey thought your yelling was hot

so the weeks pass and surprisingly he listens to you and doesn't speak to you outside of making requests for his costume or giving feedback

and your relationship with him is relatively stable

you're not friends but you can live together without ripping each other apart

there's a term for it but i forget what it is

he starts coming by more often because there's a kink in one of your gadgets

so you ask him to stay after school to test it out and figure out what the problem is

you end up talking

and you realise he's not as much of an asshole as you thought he was

and your relationship turns into more of a "friendship" but not if that makes sense?

like, "ok so i don't hate you, but i still hate you."

does that make sense? i how it does

anyways,

the two of you start saying hi in the halls or nodding at each other

bakugo's babies see this and are like ??

yOU MADE A FREND??

yes. yes he did 😌

so kirishima and mina try and convince him to introduce them to you

"why would i introduce you to that dumbass? they're nothing special."

he doesn't mean it, he's just flustered.

so kirishima, mina, kaminari, and sero start looking out for you in the halls

and they start picking up on your routine

without knowing they basically know your schedule

it's bakugo who points it out when kirishima said it was time to go

🦈 "oh! it's time to go guys!"

💥 "why? lunch isn't even over yet"

⚡️ "y/n usually goes to that vending machine by their art class during this time"

💥 ". . . how do you fuckers know that?"

and they're all silent like. . . how do they know that?

that's when it hits then that without them knowing, you slipped your way into their heart

because here they were,

right next to the vending machine where you always go 20 minutes before lunch ended to get a small snack

and when you get there and see bakugo surrounded by a bunch of people looking at you with starry eyed

". . . hi?"

mina lunges at you and asks how the hell you tamed bakugo

"easy, i beat his ass."

"NO YOU DIDN'T YOU FUCKER!"

and you just snort at his reaction and put some coins into the vending machine

"why do you think your gauntlet backfired yesterday, dumbass?"

and he blanks like. . .wait. . . wAIT A MINUTE

"THAT WAS YOU?!"

you nod, "wish i was there to see it though."

and you pout

fUCKING.

POUT.

and they all just feel their heart go doki doki

so the bell rings for class to start and you say goodbye to them and kaminari promises to show you the video he took of bakugo's gauntlet backfiring tmr at lunch

and while they're walking to class, none of them are talking

which is very unusual

but they all know their thoughts are only of you

it's kind of like an unspoken agreement that they're all falling for you

they have a hard time paying attention in class that day.

OK NEXT DAY!!

so you rush over to the bakusquad and practically throw yourself at kaminari

because you wanna see that video

you don't notice he's a blushing mess and the others are staring a bit bitterly because

:I i want that

so he shows you the video and you start laughing so hard

and it's so contagious and soon they're all laughing

except bakugo because he refuses to laugh at himself

but they suddenly hear someone calling your name

and you all look over and see some guy who's also from general studies

they see you roll your eyes and mutter, "fucking hell" under your breath

so it's safe to assume you don't like this guy.

"hey l/n."

"hey tanaka. . ."

the boy shoves his hands in his pockets, "so about that date saturday-"

you might have slapped the bakusquad in the face with a fish because holy-

they never considered you were seeing anyone and now they're kinda heartbroken because oop-

caught feelings too quick 🙊

but you grind your teeth, "it's not a date tanaka. the teacher paired us up for a project because he knows you're so incapable of doing anything on your own you have to be watched like a child."

anD WHOO BOY THEY WERE NOT EXPECTING THAT

kaminari snorts a bit before slapping a hand over his mouth

mina grabs kirishima's arm and burries her face into his jacket to stifle her laughs

kirishima and sero and just staring at each other with wide eyes and slowly growing smiles like "bro did they just say that?" "dude i think they did!"

and bakugo. . .

he's staring at you with the proudest look in his eyes and a smirk because yeah, that's his baby

wait what.

now the boy is a bit embarrassed that you said that in front of some of the school's top heroes

so he sputters a bit before walking away with a red face

💥 "damn i didn't know you had that in you, spit fire."

you stare at him a bit with a small blush at the nickname

and you sputter out a thanks before making an excuse to leave (something about banana milk)

and they all stare at each other

⚡️ ". . .did they . ."

🦈 "was that a-"

🍊 "holy fuck that was-"

💥 "-adorable."

mina is took shocked to say anything

during this time, you bang to realise your feelings for the group as well

but you thought you were being selfish for wanting all five of them

so you kind of avoid them for the next few days in hopes of your feelings going away

you change up your schedule

and when you see them or one of then in the halls you turn around and go another direction

they were a bit confused as to what they did

but kirisima assured them that you were probably just working out your feelings and they should respect that

so they did

and they pretended it didn't hurt when you suddenly dart the other way when you see one of them

they gave you your space

and they thought you would come to them when you had everything worked out

until bakugo cane storming into the dorms one day

he was obviously pissed, but his eyes were also a bit glossy

so they all dragged him to kirishima's room since it was closest and asked him was was wrong

💥 "that dumbass quit from making my items."

and they were all kind of shocked

like wtf ??

uhm, for why?

you had assured bakugo that you wouldn't be another one of those losers who resigned because of his eccentric personality

and yet here we are

they spend the rest of the night in kirishima' room comforting bakugo

because he really took it the hardest

like sure the others liked you too,

but bakugo spent the most time with you

and developed a deeper relationship with you than the others

so the next day,

kirishima wants to talk to you

so he goes to the support room and bumps into hatsume as she was walking out

he asks her if you're in

"oh, yeah they are, I'll go get them for you."

this is a lot longer than i thought it would be uhhh oops

so you come out, not knowing it was kirishima asking for you because hatsume was vague

only telling you, "someone wants to talk to you"

like ok specifics??

anyways

you're like. . . oop heyyy. . .

because you knew what he was there for

the two of you don’t say anything for a bit

you’re just staring at your shoes and he’s looking at you with a small frown on his face 

lowkey he’s kinda disappointed in you

so he finally speaks first

“you quit.” 

it’s not a question, or something you were expecting 

but you nod 

there’s another silence 

“why?” 

you fiddle with your fingers for a bit. 

now this was a question you were expecting, though, you didn’t want to answer 

kirishima is a patient boy though, and waits for you to gather the courage to tell him 

he’s not leaving without an answer

“i just-” you begin, “i. . .” 

kirishima is still waiting patiently for your answer 

“i don’t want to be selfish.” 

now he surprised. wdym selfish. please explain.

“it’s just- you all already have such an established relationship and i don’t want to interrupt that. you guys have a schedule. adding myself into the mix would only mess all of that up, and no matter how strong my feelings are for all of you, i could never mess up your relationship like that. it would be so selfish of me to put my feelings before all of yours, so i thought the only way to get rid of these feeling as to distance myself from all of you...” 

“starting with bakugo...” kirishima whispered after your rambling came to an end. 

you nodded 

kiri was at a stand still for a bit 

and it was silent once again in the hall

kiri knew his lovers had feelings for you too, and would have no problem adding you into the relationship, 

but he also knew he couldn’t fore you into anything 

he was about to reassure you that you wouldn’t be interrupting anything and that they would love to have you in the relationship 

but then you were tackled 

to the ground 

by kaminari 

and smacked your head against the floor

really hard

like, you passed out 

ahaha. . .

when you wake up, your head feels like it’s going to split open

and the loud voices aren’t helping 

so you let out a groan, “shut the fuck up...” 

and everything goes silent. 

until someone SCREAMS AGAIN

“YOU’RE AWAKE!” 

it’s kaminari 

bless his soul

poor baby is a bit slow 

so you groan out again and clutch your head

bakugo slaps the back of kaminari’s head

“shut the fuck up, dunce face!” 

he whisper shouts

mina hands you some pain killers recovery girl said you give you when you woke up, and sero hands you a glass of water 

they’re all watching you as you take the pills 

it’s silent for a bit 

and it’s making you anxious, so you fiddle with the empty glass for a bit before bakugo snatches it from you, 

“dumbass...” he muttered as he refilled it and handed it back to you

sero rubs the back of his head, “so...” 

mina pulls at the hem of her sweater, “we heard everything you said to kirishima.” 

kaminari sits next to you on the bed and whispers, “sorry for tackling you. i just got a bit emotional...” 

I'm so sorry this is getting so long 😭😭 i'm trying to wrap this up so if it gets a bit jumbled, my bad

so they all reassyre you you're more than welcome into their relationship and wouldn't be interfering with anything

so you agree

and they're all so happy 🥳🥳

and while everyone is celebrating

(quietly because your head still feels like shit)

bakugo comes up to you

"you better start making my items again, dumbass. those other dipshits in your class don't know what they're doing."

bakugo only said that because they weren't you but he'd never outright say that to you

OK ITS OVER OH MY

IT GOT SO LONG IM SO SORRY LMAO

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

If you’re still looking for prompts, i would love to see DickKory with kiss prompt 20: Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference 😊👀

ily sunflower <333

this uhhh ended up being more emotional than I expected it would?? but it's dickbats so I guess that's to be expected. this AU is a cousin to canon, don't worry about the backstory or the future bc I sure didn't lmao.

also on AO3

---

Bruce’s rule has always been clear—no metas or aliens allowed in Gotham. The only exceptions were his Justice League friends, but even then, he got twitchy when they overstayed their welcome.

Dick can’t help but wonder what he would think of Kory being in the Cave so often. Standing over his shoulder as he works the computer. Training Robin in martial arts he could never learn from anyone else. Helping him guard and protect Gotham when she’s not needed elsewhere.

She doesn’t live in the Manor, or even Gotham itself, but neither of them like spending so much time apart. They both have so many responsibilities weighing them down that lately, all of the time they spend together has been spent multitasking. She’s got younger heroes to train, baddie groups attacking New York, and she’s still trying to keep up communication with her family back home. His own days are grueling; if he’s not busy trying to wrangle WE executives, he’s got three younger brothers running around causing chaos, not to mention Steph and Cass. Not to mention Gotham’s veritable hoard of rogues.

They’ve been good about splitting time. Damian can train with her students. It’s fun sparring with her, shedding the Batman suit for something more familiar. Batman has been helping out the Teen Titans here and there, Robin by his side. It’s not that unusual.

Okay, maybe Starfire flying around patrolling Gotham is weird. But Dick can’t find it within himself to care. Not about what the rogues think and not what Bruce would’ve said, either. He knows he wouldn’t be able to handle any of this nearly as well as he has without Kory by his side.

He also knows he has a lot to make up to her for. He just doesn’t know when, or if, life will slow down enough that he’ll be able to dedicate himself to that.

Yawning, he drops his head into his hands. The Batcomputer is so big, so bright, and so close it’s giving him eye strain, but he can’t stop working, even though it’s three in the morning and raining like hell outside. Just because there likely aren’t any criminals out and about right now doesn’t mean the longer cases stop needing attention.

Beside him, Damian sighs loudly. He’s a huffy little kid who acts like everything bothers him, but Dick knows it’s all just a front. Learning how to read him is like a full time job on its own.

Pressing his fingers into his eyes and refusing to look up, Dick asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This is boring,” he says, gesturing in frustration at the files he’s supposed to be studying in front of him. “If we can’t patrol, we should be training. So why aren’t we training?”

Because he’s exhausted. Because they need nights off. Because busywork is part of being Robin whether Damian likes it or not.

He doesn’t get a chance to pick one of those, or potentially a gruffer, more Bruce-like answer, before Kory is suddenly stepping up beside him. Instinctively, they press together, her body a line of heat against his arm. One of her hands rests on his shoulder, lending him some of her strength. Dick glances at Damian, unsurprised to see him straighten up, some of the annoyance wiping off his face. It’s clear he respects Kory more, or at least responds to her better. Dick isn’t sure if it’s because he’s always been around strong women, or because he and Kory are married, or if it’s something else entirely—frankly, he doesn’t care as long as he’s stopped calling her Dick’s mistress.

“There’s more to being a hero than fighting, Damian,” she says, a practiced line. It’s something they all have to learn eventually. “Sometimes, you’ll need to give your body a break.”

“We’re wasting a night of patrol doing nothing,” he protests.

“Learning to profile the hallmarks of criminal behavior is not a waste,” Dick says, then cringes internally when he realizes how much like Bruce he sounds. He does it intentionally at times, but others like this one remind him sharply of the many disagreements they had. How much Dick hated being on the receiving end of Bruce’s tunnel vision. Turning, he faces Damian. “Look, if you’re bored, go on up to bed. Let Alfred know he can too. If anything happens, I’ll come get you.”

Damian eyes him suspiciously. He only relents when Kory gently urges, “He won’t stay up much longer.”

“Fine.” He escapes to the locker room to change, leaving Dick and Kory alone for the moment.

He spins the chair the other way now, facing her. Her other hand comes up to land in his hair, free from the cowl; the feeling of her fingers ruffling through the strands, lightly scratching at his scalp is so soothing, he leans forward and face plans in her stomach. He just needs one minute, one minute to breathe, and then he’ll get up and be better, do better. Kory will keep him safe and grounded.

Damian returns soon enough. When he sees them, he squeaks in embarrassment, a noise Dick knows he’ll deny until the end of his days. They both wish him a goodnight as he races for the elevator, grumbling adorably.

Only once they’re sure that he’s upstairs, the Cave quiet except for the ambient noises of machinery and bats, does Dick sit back. Kory slumps a little, rolling her shoulders. When kids are around, she holds herself differently, almost like their expectations are a physical presence forcing her to stand taller, stronger. When they’re alone, she relaxes.

He’s lucky, so lucky, that none of this chaos has come between them.

He’s paranoid, so paranoid, that it’s only a matter of time before it does.

“You can’t stay the night?” He asks, no accusation in his tone. It’s rare these days that they get to sleep in the same bed at the same time.

She shakes her head. “I’m meeting Vic for breakfast. The League asked him to join them again.”

“Of course they did,” he sighs. “I’ll speak to them.” Not that it’ll work. All of the heavy hitters know he’s not the same Batman they’ve been working beside for over a decade. But he has to try anyway, if not for Vic’s sake, then for Kory’s, who hasn’t had to tell him how desperate she is to still have a friend on the team with her. But that’s a worry for tomorrow.

Standing, he wraps his arms in a hug around her waist; she curls around him, trusting him to take her weight. He’d gladly carry her for the rest of their lives.

“What time are you meeting him?”

“Eight,” she says, muffled into his hair.

It’s nearly four now. She wakes with the sun every morning; she’s lost another night of slept just to spend it with him. “I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’d rather be with you.” She disentangles enough so that they can meet each others’ eyes. In the artificial light from the computer, she tired but beautiful. Always so beautiful.

“And me, you,” he murmurs, twisting her curls around his fingers. “The girls are holding down the fort this weekend. I’ll ask them for another day. We can do the weeding together.” She always weeds her garden on Fridays, barring world-ending crises. He’s missed far too many of them.

Her smile is bright, her eyes crinkling with happiness. “I can’t wait, my love.” They meet in a kiss all-too-brief before she pulls away again. “Let me walk you upstairs.”

Like he’s going to say no to that. “I’ll get changed quickly,” he promises.

Within minutes, he’s out of the oppressive batsuit. Any other night, he’d take the elevator up, but the long staircase up to the Manor provides extra time for them to have together. It gives them time to prepare before they have to separate for the night.

They don’t say much as they begin the trek. Dick is too used to the steps to slip, and Kory floats just above them, their hands never falling apart. He reminds himself strongly that they’ll see each other again soon. Just a few days and then he’ll stay at the Tower all weekend. Things will get better.

None of it helps very much. Being Batman sucks.

He’s not ready to go to bed yet. He’s not ready to say goodnight and goodbye for the next few days.

He pauses on the steps, not far from the top, and turns to face her. Though he says nothing, she understands anyway—falling out of her float, she drops to stand on the stone a few steps below him. Like this, they’re the same height, maybe she’s a little shorter. It’s not a view he gets to see often, and though he wants to cherish it and make this moment before separation last forever, he also isn’t willing to make her stay up any longer than he absolutely has to.

His hands come up to hold her face, caressing her cheeks. He aches for their youth, when things were somehow more carefree even with all the destruction that followed them around. At least back then they could sleep beside each other every night and not have to worry about raising the next generation of heroes.

“I love you,” he tells her. “I love you so much. You deserve to hear that more.”

Tears well in her eyes. Her lip wobbles. “I love you too.”

“This won’t last forever. I promise you it won’t. I won’t let it. I’m gonna figure this out.”

“We’ll do it together,” she interrupts firmly. Her hands hold onto his wrists, gentle but clingy. She doesn’t want to let go anymore than he does.

He leans in, and down, their faces hovering just a breath away for an eternal moment, checking. When he’s sure, he closes the space between them, kissing her and trying to convey all of his love and affection and gratefulness for her. He always tries and he never succeeds. That’s okay; he’ll try again next time.

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispers when they pull apart again. He doesn’t want to ask, but he can’t hold the words in, either. “You have clothes and it’s really not that far away, New York, and—and I’ll come with you, if you want. We can see Vic together.”

“Yes, you silly man.” She presses their mouths together like she’s pouring her own feelings back into him. His arms twitch with the delayed urge to get them as close as possible. She does it for him, rising back into a float and pulling him into her arms. There’s no moment of fear, no scrambling to get his feet back on solid ground. They kiss and kiss and kiss. “Yes.”

[excujeemi]

D R U N K [ Ray X Reader ]

Age: around 18 Genre: Fluff Warnings: UHhh, adult jokes (??) and mentions of alcohol

Simple, you know, you were graduating high school and moving on to college of course there'd be parties. And there's only three words to describe this party you're in? Wild as fuck. Man, some were playing beer pong, some were making out, it was just so chaotic you don't even remember as to why you were here in the first place... Oh yeah, your parents forced you to get some human interaction every once in a while.

You thought this party would be very shit and unenjoyable but look at you now, everyone around you was cheering you on to chug , c h u g  , c  h  u  g . And chug you did.

You were already dizzy but you know this is that moment, that sweet moment of youth (??) perhaps and there's the adrenaline and the feeling that you're on top of the world, it's like you can just do anything you want for example, peeing in your annoying neighbor's backyard but let's not take that idea personally-

You were just about to open another bottle of alcohol but then someone stopped you, a hand gripped on your wrist which surprised you, you looked up to see whose hand it was and saw Ray frowning. That's typical, when is he not frowning anyway.

Well, Ray is one of your closest friends, your parents are also both close to each other so it just makes sense. And Ray being the most trusted person of your mother, she asked him if he could pick you up since it was getting kinda late. You know if they were just gonna end up worrying about you then why even force you to get some of that, "human interaction", they're just  exaggerating.

"Oh, hey Ray my beloved , what're you doing here?" You smugly asked as he helped you stand up but your feet kept on tripping and so you slipped, with your hand on Ray's shoulder causing him to fall on top of you while the people surrounding you both were teasing you, you felt Ray's hot breath hitting your neck while his large hands were supporting your back to protect you from directly falling. The close space between the both of you caused Ray's face to turn into a tomato, red flushed cheeks, wide eyes, he lowkey wished you both could stay like that for more time. "You idiot, get up already its almost 4am." He says as he quickly got up and tried to take your heavy ass up. "wAiT, mY bAg and mY phOne, And mY StufF are-" "Shh, shh. I got them all now shut it." He says as he shows you your bag from his other hand, he opened the door with his foot and kicked it close. "Hey Ray, aren't you getting to close, haah~?" You seductively whispered in his ear making him blush for the second time. He rolled his eyes, 'Patience, you must stay calm.' He thinks to himself. "Haah~?" Okay, he decided that was it. "Why don't you walk by yourself then, the parking lot is still quite far from where we are, walk by yourself good luck tripping over everything." He lets go of you while you had trouble tryna regain your posture. "I can walk, don't-d-don't you underestimate the power of this wild creature." You pointed to yourself while making a karate pose.

Ray was annoyed, his eye was twitching and he really did want to abandon you there. "Okay, I'll lead the way then." After a few seconds, everything was going well, he takes a few glances back at you to see how you're doing because apparently if you trip and die he'd be blamed  by your parents. Then he saw you weren't by his side, well obviously not because you kept on slowing down but you really were out of his sight and this worried him by a lot. 'If only Emma and Norman were here to back me up with this dumbass' But for real, he was worried, it had only been a few seconds--what if someone took you or something. He ran a few steps back and looked everywhere and there you fucking were, talking to a celebrity cardboard cutout. "Oh my fucking gosh, this dimwit. Y/n!" He sighs as he massaged his temples. He ran to you and pulled you by your arm. "Ugh, stOp, I'm still flirting with this hot man." You whined as you tried to wriggle your arm out of Ray's hand. He didn't know whether to leave you alone or laugh at you there. "You blockhead, that's...that's a Justin Bieber cardboard cut out for fuck's sake..." Ray was about to explode at this point, you were making him want to combust. "Please, dOn't take me way, I have no flirt with!" "I'll flirt with you all you want just--let's go already this is so embarrassing!" He said to improvise but your drunk self actually believed that he'd flirt with you. "Really?" You asked and he just nods while closing his eyes, annoyed. "YaaaY~, Ray my beloved will flirt with me, I'm the happiest person in the worlll ever." To be honest, Ray would love to hear those words while you're not drunk but he can't help but blush again remembering what Norman used to say, "Drunk people always say what they truly think." He shook his head and as soon as you arrived at the parking lot, he pushed you gently into the backseat. Thankfully, you spent that whole time without saying anything, you were literally just staring at the car's ceiling like a dead person which was creepy. He arrived at your house and it seemed that everyone was asleep so he had to use the spare keys he has. He then opened the door, carrying you bridal style and the hallways were quite narrow so he felt sorry whenever your head hit some walls or table. 💀 lmfao. He carefully placed you on your bed, while you were almost sound asleep. Boy, times like this remind him of deep in love he is with you. You know maybe he should just confess of something.

He smiled and tucked in some hair behind you ear. Very wholesome situation, well until you tugged his arm for him to come closer so he thought you had something to say, when he finally got close you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly which shocked him by a lot. It was comfortable to be in your arms, if only he could stay there a bit more longer. :'). "H-Hey what are you trying to do? Let go of me, Y/n." He softly whispered, his hot breath hitting you once again but a bit more closer which caused you to hug him tighter. "Dream on." And since you really wouldn't let go of him, and he didn't have enough will to force himself out of your hold, he decided to just stay there. It was 4am and your warmth was more than enough to make him sleepy. Next morning: You woke up with someone in your arms, it was very comfortable. 'Oh it's just Ray..wait what--RAY??' "HOLY SHIT RAY! WAKE UP! WAKE-" His hand covered your mouth as his half-asleep eyes stared at you. "What are you so loud in the morning for?" Man, his morning voice could kill. Shaking your head quickly to shoo away the simp thoughts, you built up the courage to ask him this one cliche question. "Di-Did we perhaps, you know? Do the thing?" Of course Ray was not dumb but he can be an ass. Smirking, he asks with an innocent tone, "What do you mean by thing ?" "Oh my--you know what I mean! Stop acting dumb-" "Oh you mean sex?" He stared at you for a while, keeping that smirk of his on his face while seeing you so flustered and red. "Why do you have to be so blunt, this is why I hate you.." You said as you buried your face into one of your pillows. "Chill, woman. We didn't do that. You did do something dumb last night though." He chuckles as he removes the pillow away from your red face. "Please kill me--what is it?" "Well you just flirted with a Justin Bieber Cutout, nothing new." "I really did that?" You cried as you started mentally smashing your head on a rock. "Yes, yes you did." As soon was those words of confirmation came out of his mouth, you started getting flashbacks again, "Dude, I'll never be drunk again." "That's a good idea. But if you never get drunk again you might never hug me again the way you did last night." 'The way I did last night?...' What did he even mean by that... "What do you mean?" "Want a demonstration?" ..... THE END lol bye this was so bad ahvdusvud - Follow me on wattpad - @excujeemi Join my discord server !! https://discord.gg/wXSuKBXMXt