#This ship is killing me slowly and tenderly

[lady-phasma]

I felt compelled to cite my sources for Armand and Lestat being an item off and on over the years. I’ve been in this fandom too long to get involved in ship wars or to really have an OTP for these crazy-ass vampires. I happen to love Armand and Lestat from the books and think that Assad and Sam make it work so well on screen. I hope we get loads more of them for season 3.

Anne wrote all of her characters as deeply flawed, we can all agree on that, but the nearly fanfiction level of “let’s see what happens when two of my most flawed characters get together” writing she did in TVA is brilliant. Book spoilers below.

Here's a link to a post I made about Lestat's perspective of Armand from TVL. (I have included one quote from TVL below because it's too precious to exclude.)

Lestat spends almost a full page describing how he sees Armand at a ball at the Palais Royal:

Yet never had Nicolas, mortal or immortal, been so alluring. Never had Gabrielle held me so in thrall. Dear God, this is love. This is desire. And all my past amours have been but the shadow of this. - The Vampire Lestat, p. 275

They literally feel the same about each other: instant attraction, love, desire, and so on. And it is powerful.

So powerful that hundreds of years later (in one of my favorite passages from any of her books) Armand is the only person allowed to approach an unconscious Lestat. Not only approach him, but allowed to lay down next to him and cuddle, caress, and console Lestat, to cry onto him.

I looked down on Lestat, who was unchanged, his hair fallen as before, a little over his left eye. His right arm was out, and his fingers curling upwards, and there came from him not the slightest movement, not even a breath from his lungs or a sigh from his pores. I knelt down beside him again. I reached out, and without flinching or hesitating, I brushed his hair back from his face. I could feel the shock in the room. I heard the sighs, the gasps from the others. But Lestat himself didn't stir. Slowly, I brushed his hair more tenderly, and I saw to my own mute shock one of my tears fall right onto his face. It was red yet watery and transparent and it appeared to vanish as it moved down the curve of his cheekbone and into the natural hollow below. I slipped down closer, turning on my side, facing him, my hand still on his hair. I stretched my legs out behind me, and alongside of him, and I lay there, letting my face rest right on his outstretched arm. Again there came the shocked gasps and sighs, and I tried to keep my heart absolutely pure of pride and pure of anything but love. It was not differentiated or defined, this love, but only love, the love I could feel perhaps for one I killed or one I succored, or one whom I passed in the street, or for one whom I knew and valued as much as him. - The Vampire Armand, pp. 368-369 (emphasis is mine)

But the contrasting absolute annoyance Armand has for Lestat is hilarious! He loves him but can barely stand him sometimes (that isn't unusual for Lestat's admirers).

Lestat, not a bad friend to have, and one for whom I would lay down my immortal life, one for whose love and companionship I have ofttimes begged, one whom I find maddening and fascinating and intolerably annoying, one without whom I cannot exist. The Vampire Armand, p. 276

But it's the way he describes things that happen to him that maddens me, the way that he connects one incident to another as though all these random and grisly occurrences were in fact links in some significant chain. They are not. They are capers. And he knows it. But he must make a gutter theatrical out of stubbing his toe. The James Bond of the Vampires, the Sam Spade of his own pages. - The Vampire Armand, p. 288 (emphasis mine)

Though Armand's head on Lestat's arm might be the most beautiful image of the two of them from any of the books, this line gives me chills every time:

"Lestat, my Lestat - for he was never theirs, was he? - my Lestat was crazed and railing as the result of his awful saga […]" - The Vampire Armand, p. 320 (emphasis mine)

Yes, your Lestat.

[fallowtail]

So curious what you thought of last night's Ghost episode! I LOVED Trevor's tenderness with Escarghost (lol) but wasn't a big fan of the Isaac storyline. Plus, it was a reminder that the writers really aren't revisiting H-money---even when he thought he was being sucked off he didn't seem to have any sort of special goodbye for her or register her as anything more to him than the other ghosts are, and Hetty was kind of rude to him most of the episode.

Long reply incoming because I have a lot to say about the current status of H-Money and you gave me an excuse to think about it >:) Loved it, but I love all the episodes- there really hasn't been one I've walked away from disliking outside of a some "aw, I wish they had done that differently or gone into it more" disappointments here and there haha. Shelly the Escarghost was a stand out snactor who portrayed this ethically dubious snail very artistically and he is a very good boy who deserves to slowly rotate his way up the shaft over the next few days. The Isaac plotline did fall a little flat for me but I don't hate it at all and I am genuinely really interested to see where they're going to go with it. Hetty and her desire for appliance erotica may be one of my favorite moments of the season, lol, and the Jay & Pete shotgun argument is delightful.

(read more because this got a little long and i don't want to clog the tag)

Re: H-Money, I don't see it that way personally, but I also view them as a ship a bit differently than it seems the current main consensus/desires for them has turned into this past year- I do not personally think they are currently secretly in romantic love with each other, and are still at the stage where they're still working through realizing and understanding that they're actually friends and that they genuinely care about each other and do have things in common. Him not having a monologue for her specifically doesn't ring as anything that "dooms" the ship or whatever to me personally- if anything I think him pronouncing a deep affection for her or having anything meaningfully specific would be pretty out of character at this moment- their canon relationship isn't the same as what their fanon one is, the canon one is going muuuch slower and is not really as standardly romantic as people seem to want it to be, which, don't get me wrong, I love the fluffy fanon stuff, I really do, I've written some of it and encouraged a lot of the others!- but their canon-dynamic of ["enemies" to friends with benefits to exes to girlfriend/boyfriend to "exes" to friends with benefits again to exes again and now back to friends who are maybe sleeping together again (no idea! could be, could not be, i love the mystery!)] is endlessly more fascinating to me and I do think it's something important to keep in mind that what the show is doing with them is not the same as what the fandom is doing with them haha. Hetty was rude to him, but, well, that's just...Hetty, her social skills despite being a socialite are...not the best, and I do think she actually was genuinely trying to express interest and empathy for him, just in a very...Hetty-like way, lol. Hetty is rude, Hetty is blunt, she makes inappropriate comments, that's just inherently part of her character and mutually part their relationship, even- like yes, she makes the comment about his dog being wormfood by now ("sorry, your dog is 35 years old, my bad" absolutely killed me) but it followed a scene where she is gazing at him very empathetically and tenderly and giving him space to be vulnerable with them about his guilt and grief, and gives Alberta a scolding look for commenting about his friends body dumping him, lol. (For a toss of hope for you that is not just me going "I don't see their relationship the way other people do" LOL a lot of their current interactions are very interesting to read into if you want to read it through the lens that they're sneaking around again, because this sort of behavior is exactly what they were doing last time!) Keep in mind this is only episode 6 of 22, we have a long way to go just yet, we're not even at the half way point! Thank you for the ask & I hope any of this makes sense <3

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

🖤 + ship of your choice?

kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

I keep thinking "I'm so bad at writing angst and anything upsetting, I hate leaving my stories as anything but lighthearted :/" but then I consistently end up writing angst into everything, including fic chapters that are supposed to be comedic and fluffy so uhhhh lets see how I do when deliberately going for emotional devastation :D !

And since I've been thinking about it lately we'll go with a premise of:

A Jason who knows he's come back from death many times but has no guarantee he'll come back from death again volunteering for a suicide mission and Tim knowing this might be his last chance to confess

There's nothing graphic, but this is all hurt no comfort, angsty as fuck sad shit with an ending that leaves it ambiguous as to whether or not this death sticks. Hope y'all enjoy!

Jason states in a flat, calm tone, "It needs to be me."

They all turn to look at him, their bodies backlit by the glow of the reactor's slowly worsening meltdown.

"What the hell are you talking about," Dick asks, while Tim's blood turns to ice in his veins.

"I didn't survive that plane crash into the meteor. I didn't survive that fall into the ocean. I didn't survive the warehouse. I've been killed over and over and come back from it every time, so if one of us has to die tonight it needs to be me."

"A terrible argument," Damian declares resolutely, standing firm despite his trembling, "We have no reason to suspect that those instances were anything other than circumstance. Random chance and dumb luck runs out. What we need is certainty, and... and Father would bring me back again. We all know it. I can take it."

"I did not come back just to throw another kid to their death! Maybe when you're gnarled and grey and about three hundred years too old to live without a lazarus pit we can talk, but until then I am not about to let you die in my stead."

Damian backs down quietly. He looks relieved, and guilty.

"Then let me do it," Tim demands, trying and failing to sound light and fearless, "Everyone else has had a turn with death, seems a little unfair doesn't it? Hogging all the afterlife experiences for yourselves?"

Jason says with quiet vehemence, "If that's how fairness works, then I will be as brutally unfair to you as I can be."

A long silence stretches between them as they stare each other down. Tim fights to keep the lump in his throat from spilling out into tears and Jason struggles between the need to see himself grieved and the yearning to comfort him and make this all easier somehow.

Finally Dick breaks the silence, "What would you like us to do for your funeral this time?"

"I want to be cremated on the bank of the Ganges with proper rites. Mild preference for a Shaivite or Shakta sect, but I'm not really picky."

And that was it. His fate was sealed.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Tim grabs his hand before he can step into the airlock leading to the reactor's emergency maintenance tunnels.

Jason glares at him, "You aren't stoppin-"

"I know!" Tim lowers his voice to a whisper, "I know..."

"Then what...?"

"I'm sorry if this isn't anything you want, but I can't let you go without saying it. I- I love you. I'm in love with you."

He looks stunned, shocked, almost hurt. Then he kisses Tim fiercely, pressing every bit of affection he can into him with the slim moments they have left. Salt stings their dry lips and they cling to each other with vain desperation until their arms ache.

When he finally pulls back Jason roughly scrubs the tears from his eyes, "Fucking cruel of you to give a dying man something to live for."

"Promise me, please, if you can, if you get a choice, if you're at all able to, please promise me you'll come back?"

"No. I love you more than bread and wine, but my death is mine and I utterly refuse to allow your feelings or anyone else's to sway me in this. However..." Jason's voice grows soft, and he lifts Tim's hand to tenderly kiss at his palm and wrist, "If I am brought back? I swear that it will be you I come back to. I swear that I will give you my heart and everything else you ask of me; this will be the only thing I ever deny you."

Tim grips him tight, squeezing his eyes shut, tears and sweat rolling down his cheeks as the reactor burns itself ever hotter. Then he shoves Jason away, into the airlock chamber.

"I hope it's quick," He knows it won't be, "I hope it doesn't hurt," He knows it will, "I hope you get what's best for you," Just as long as it's not the end you want.

"Goodbye Tim. I love you."

"I love you too. So, so much..."

The blast door swings shut between them.

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

15, 17, B, and 💋 for the OC/ship ask game! :D

AH, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK! Thank you so much for asking about my blorbos, so happy to see a new mutual rollerskating! 🥰

I'm going to answer for Jia, my Last Dragonborn, and Miraak, her pathetic love interest!

☀️ask game!☀️

15. First thing they remember feeling proud of

I think, for Jia, her turning point was probably when she killed Alduin. The thing with her is that she has the lowest self-esteem there is. For years, she didn’t believe she mattered at all, and even after she was revealed to be the Dragonborn of legend, she still carried the ‘stain’ of unworthiness in her mind. The fact that she was somewhat green regarding her skills and the capabilities of her Voice at that point didn’t help her confidence either…

But when she killed Alduin? That was another story entirely. When Tsun Shouted her back to the Throat of the World, and she heard all the dragons roaring as one for the World-Eater’s fall and her triumph, when they gave her her dragon name—Shulyolviim, meaning Sun-Fire-Glow—and she was told how the sky itself seemed to blow out as she fought Alduin and all the stars went supernova when she finally prevailed... I think something sparked in her. For the first time, she felt truly proud of what she had done, of having borne the weight of Nirn on her shoulders (even if one of them was broken by that point! 😅). 

17. First favorites - favorite color, animal, movie, etc.

Oh, Jia has always had a soft spot for the warm, rich colors of autumn—shades of red, earthy browns, fiery oranges, and golden yellows! These colors are her color palette, too. As for animals, she’s undeniably a bird lover at heart: she has a special fondness for swallows, and she’s also frequently connected to this specific bird for Plot Significance…🥰

B. First impression of each other

OH, EXCELLENT QUESTION. For Jia and Miraak, I think they were unavoidably drawn to each other because of their dragon souls. They’re both neither fully mortals nor fully dragons, the sole individuals that seem to teeter between these two natures. There is an equal Fascination, for sure. Miraak is especially captivated by Jia’s eyes—which is not at all random to their story…👀 

Strangely, they’re both able to see through each other’s proud facade, their snappy back-and-forth or arrogance (or even insults!), they both detect one another to a level that it might seem they have already met somehow… as if they hide in each other somehow…👀

💋 - Favorite "first kiss" scene you've written between two characters

GAH, WHAT ABOUT SHARING THE ‘FIRST KISSING SCENE’ SNIPPET WITH YOU?

“Look at me…” He repeats once more, whispery and gentle-deep, this time in Tamrielic, and he cannot help but revel in her view: for, as much as he feels her shivers underneath his hands, Miraak hopes with his heart whole, that her soul sees behind the words he uttered, unequivocally, clearly, deeply. Or maybe, she can even distinguish the color of his eyes now, along with his renounced humanity—from when he was an ordinary Atmoran young man before he was sold like a slave to the Dragon Cult, before his face was covered by a vacant veneer and he became a stranger among strangers, and, above all, before he was plagued by Herma-Mora and almost transformed himself into a Seeker. “I want to see, to understand,” Miraak tells her, and they are so close to each other that only the sharpest of breaths separate them, and his lips scarcely skim upon hers with every word spoken, “what parts of me have buried themselves within you, or yours in me, because—because you see, I don’t know whether it was worth it, condemning yourself to me, I don’t know—” —but his words are cut off short when she entirely closes their small gap, and she swallows them down with her lips instead.

JUST. THEIR KISSING SCENE. It happened after a Grand Revelation between them and it happened slowly, tenderly, hesitantly, even awkwardly, as both are quite numb and oblivious about love and affection, but they make it happen here because they need it, more than anything in the world…🥹😭 My stupid idiots...

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 27

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26

Warning: Buggy x femreader Smut. Minors do not interact.

He stays silent for a moment, feels that his gesture might have interrupted your word flow. As he slowly takes his hand back, you quickly reach for it, holding it tight with your unbandaged hand, leading it gently to your chest. Buggys face softens as he can feel your heartbeat through your clothes. 

“I am a bad leader and my impulsive decisions have killed people in the past and made me a wanted person. I started all this to make a peaceful change but in the end there is nothing you can do when there are people around you who get misled. And now, siding with the Buggy pirates, probably becoming even more dangerous to the world government, my bounty has probably increased and Baroque works are also informed about this.” 

You gulp, breathing heavily as you say this, squeezing his hand tightly on your chest. 

“Maybe I am the reason you have been constantly in danger. Maybe because of me there are more people now pursuing this ship, your crew and you as a captain.”  To your surprise Buggy starts laughing, he gently removes his hand from your grip and cups your face with it. 

“I am a pirate, little girl. If I would not be prosecuted for my crimes, I would do something wrong.”

You see the fire in his eyes, you suddenly realize that your honesty and your vulnerability has sparkled this desire in him again. As your lips try to form his name, he quickly presses his mouth on yours. This kiss is less sloppy and more intense than last time. In fact, it feels like heaven. You can feel all his acceptance and his approval while he gently pulls you toward him to deepen the kiss. He shortly interrupts it to whisper gently: 

“Since you have been so honest to me, I allow you to act shamelessly tonight…” 

Something in you seems to break, you cannot endure this desire any longer as he just uttered these words. You wrap your arms around him, you lean into him, all your senses are attune to Buggys smell, his taste, his touch. You can feel his hands wandering over your body, he is taking his time today, wanting to make you feel good. Without hesitation you take off your shirt, you want to be close to him, want to feel your skin on his heated body. He starts kissing your neck, you can hear how his breathing is getting quicker, you gently throw your head back to give him all the access to your neck and chest, to kiss you, to fondle you. He is more careful this time, taking off his coat, his hat, but keeping his clothes and his bandana on. You yearn to see him not just as your captain, but as your lover, and so you tenderly reach out, gently unraveling the bandana that conceals his identity, allowing his long blue hair to fall free on his shoulders.

His mesmerizing blue locks spill around him, framing his face and accentuating his features. The sight of him in this unguarded state evokes a sense of intimacy and authenticity and you can only feel deep admiration and affection for him in this moment.  Buggy gradually eases himself backward, enveloping you in his embrace as both of you sink into the inviting bed. His tousled hair cascades across the pillow, creating a halo of disarrayed strands. You delicately position yourself on top of him, the connection between your lips unbroken as the kiss deepens. Mindful of his nose, you tilt your head ever so slightly to maintain the intimate contact.

With his body beneath you, a newfound sense of empowerment courses through your veins. It's as if the weight of the world has momentarily lifted, and in this intimate moment, you feel a rare sense of control. It's a sensation that is both exhilarating and liberating, a departure from the uncertainties and struggles that have defined your journey thus far. He has allowed you to finally make a decision. He has given himself to you even for this short moment. You smile as you realize that he trusted you completely.  

Breaking the kiss for a second you take off your underwear and your pants. You sit completely naked on your captain, he is still fully dressed, blushing even through his makeup at your sight. He has not seen you like this before, the other day when you were intimate it was just to please him and to blow off the steam and desire he had felt without taking notice of your body. 

Now, his gaze traces every contour, capturing the delicate curve of your hips, the graceful shape of your breasts, and the stories etched into the scars that adorn your skin.

You kiss again, he slightly lifts his head, wanting more of you and you can feel the bulge in his pants pushing against you again as you lower yourself on his lap, longing to feel some friction. 

You slowly start grinding on him, feeling how he stiffens up, pushing into you. He wants to give you the lead, but you can feel his impatience. As you trace the lines of his face with your fingers, you can feel how he has opened up his pants, taking out his throbbing cock. You smile as you realize he cannot wait anymore. But you don't want to make it too easy for him. His gaze follows you all the way as you slowly lower yourself on the bed, crawling between his legs like a little kitten. You take his cock in between your hands, feeling his heat underneath the hardness. You can hear him hissing your name as you take his member in your mouth, carefully sucking down the shaft, carefully touching his balls with your right hand. He has been very patient until now, but you can feel he is at his limits. With detached hands he grabs for your head, fingers in your hair, gently but firmly guiding you. “That feels so good, Y/n…!”, he gently moans and you feel so much happiness from him praising you and wanting more.

As you feel him growing more impatient, you slow your movements down, he willingly lets go of your hair and you crawl up towards him, gently pressing another kiss on his lips. “I want you.”, he finally manages to utter this and you feel like not wanting to waste anymore time either. You lower yourself on his hard cock and moan as you can feel his hardness filling you completely out. This time you feel no pain, but only pure pleasure running down your spine, you immediately start to move, seeing your captain so submissive and helpless in his lust in front of you is almost driving you mad. He is holding on to you, hissing your name while pumping into your hips from below. You are riding him really good, slowly grinding down and his only half opened pants give you all the friction you need to become even wetter. You try to be silent as you realize he is also muffling his groans, making sure the crew does not hear you both being sunk into complete lust for each other. Buggy who had been looking at your body slowly jumping up and down on him now closes his eyes, completely enjoying you taking over. It doesn't take long until he suddenly stiffens under you, grabbing your ass with all might, pushing relentlessly in you until his climax. His moan is the loudest you have heard him uttering so far this evening and you quickly bend over to shut him up with a kiss as you can feel his hot juices flowing inside of you. He eagerly kisses you back, still holding your ass, you can feel his fingers grabbing on tight, so tight that it feels like he is leaving some marks on your skin. “You're too good to me…”, he lets out a tired sigh, trying to grasp his breath. For a moment you look deep into his eyes, wondering if you should try saying “it” again or if he would shut you again just like last time. You stay silent, biting your lips, smiling as you see he is smiling at you as well. You roll down from him, on the bed, next to his long blue locks. “Gonna make sure to protect you from the world government and anybody else who tries to take you away from me…” Buggy murmurs this more into himself than saying this to you, he doesn't look at you as he says this, but reaches out for your warm hand, to hold his very tight. You cannot remember when you finally drift into a warm dark sleep, but you remember feeling full of bliss before sleep took over you. 

[uneeku]

Ramble

I don't ship canon CANON [i only see squip as crushing on jeremy due to an error in his software,, and jeremy jsut doesnt like the guy..] but,

Squip × Jeremy isn't. Pedophillic?

" Ohh!! SQUIPS an old man!! "

No. He isn't? He's an AI pill.

" Well, he takes the physical form of an old man! "

No. He doesn't, as he HAS no physical form. He can be anything and everything Jeremy needs him to be, wether it be a tiny pill, or a 'sexy anime cat girl with a tail' (<< /q)

At the very most, it's weird. But people have AI partners who are just chatbots, people marry anime characters and fan over some in media.

On a side note, people ship Veronica × JD, but find Squip × Jeremy odd. They're the same person, except JD did a LOT worse. Let's go over their similarities !

SQUIP + JD

- Isolated the main character

- Manipulated them

- Tried to do a life-changing event (Squip; Take over the world. JD; 'Clense' the world)

- Tried to do said life changing event WITH the main character (Squip and JD both wanted Jeremy and Veronica by their side)

- Wore a trench coat and/or long coat

- Came into a 17/18y olds life

- Tried to convince the main character that they were going to fix everything and take them with them and they'd be all happy and amazing and stuff

The majority difference is that JD KILLED PEOPLE. 3 people!! And threatened to kill Veronica!!

Also. Hot take(?), but they could've both been rehabilitated. JD obviously had the biggest soft spot for Veronica, and definitely could have been talked out the majority of things with a bit of a silver tongue. While SQUIP just needed to have his coding fixed, obviously jealous of Jeremy's feelings towards Christine. Not knowing how to cope with his feelings, ended up trying to isolate Jeremy, manipulating/mind controlling Christine to say what SQUIP always wanted to say to Jeremy, and trying to sync everybody together. (They did slowly become unsavable though)

SQUIP wanted Jeremy so bad I swear to god. what the fuck do you mean ''i'll tenderly guide you, just take me inside you, foreeeverr'' are you trying to be gay. Are you trying to be gay. Are you trying to be gay?? SQUIP is also canonically faulty,, and is definitely confused about his feelings for Jeremy ( "You are the person I want to be with every day, and this is something I've been afraid to say." "You are the person I want to be with every day" "And this is something I've been afraid to say." "This feeling is new" "Jeremy, I love you." )

Also. Squip was unbelievably desperate to be with Jeremy. ("I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy. If I have to take over the entire school body to do it!" "it's the only way to achieve what YOU want!") It's giving JD, when ("You carved open my heart, can't just leave me to bleed!" "I was meant to be yours! You were meant to be mine!" "You chucked me out like I was trash, for that you should be dead, but! What if highschool went away instead?")

They both wanted to take out their obvious love interest, and than decided to take out something else. To 'benefit' the others life.

[seadeepywrites]

Part Two

Character: Haven Vasselon Words: 1888 tw: blood, wound care

The cool glassy surface of a plane beyond the Shell stretches out in every direction to an indifferent horizon. Haven sits at the center of her Leomund's Tiny Hut and tries to stay positive.

One: She is alive, and she has stayed alive long enough to bring up the Hut around her — neither of those were a guarantee when she was wrenched unwillingly from the only reality she's ever known.

Two: The creature that appeared, bearing brilliant light beneath its feet, was simply a friendly gnome from Kyndra and not a monster intending her harm. Haven aches to follow him, and find out where he went after the color suffusing him faded away, but blood is still leaking in sticky, clotting patches through her clothing. His fate will remain a mystery — although Haven knows what it usually takes for mortal souls to pass beyond the Shell, and it doesn't bode well for his life back on Thiuhm.

Three: Haven has time now, sitting in this Hut, to bind her wounds and attune to the Amulet of the Planes. The Amulet is shining serendipity, a treasure looted from the caves below Veville that may now hold her only hope for returning to her party and her ship.

So even though the world around her is starting to tilt and spin — and Haven's pretty sure that's just blood loss, not some new quality of this plane — things could be a whole lot worse. Haven digs in her backpack and fishes out the amulet, which is wrapped carefully and buried below most of her other possessions as insurance against pickpocketing. She slips the chain over her head, struggling for a moment as it tangles with her antlers, and touches the strange, spiky metal of the amulet itself.

It is cold to the touch, which she expects. What she doesn't expect is the strange pulse of heat that suffuses it for a few seconds, bringing it from icy to warm against her skin. It cools again, then pulses hot again. Cold again, hot again. The rhythm is almost consistent, but not quite.

"Huh," Haven says out loud.

Bundling the Rod of Absorption away into her pack and removing the few medical supplies she has, Haven makes an effort to bandage and salve her various cuts and bruises. Her ministrations are clumsy at best and incompetent at worst — Whisper and Klaus are usually around, and both of them are better than she is at this, but she's not going to bleed out here. 

The thought of her loved ones reminds Haven, with a dull throb of misery that goes far deeper than any injury, of what she intends to do next.

Moving slowly and tenderly, Haven rummages for a sheet of parchment and a pen. She flexes the fingers of her writing hand a few times, though they are no more stiff than the rest of her. Absently, she notices she has begun to shiver, and raises the temperature of the interior of the Hut by a few degrees.

And then she places the gleaming tip of the pen to the parchment and tries to marshal her whirling thoughts into some sort of coherent language. She swallows, tears trembling on the end of her lashes, and she writes:

Klaus,

It's not that I wish you'd never met the Kraken. Obviously if you hadn't he probably would have just killed us all when we first met him, and also I wouldn't want to take away such an important person from your life. I remember we already talked about this a little, but I know that I'm very different than I would have been without meeting you all, and I wouldn't want to ever assume that I know what's healthy for you—

She crosses out the last part of the sentence, and tries again.

I wouldn't want to ever assume that I know everything about what people should do in their own lives. It's kind of the exact opposite, really. You're a lot smarter than I am when it comes to making good decisions, and staying alive, and I don't think that I thank you enough for it. We all know that we'd be dead a dozen times over if you weren't around, but me especially.

I've spent a lot of this letter so far writing about what I'm not saying, and maybe if I do that enough I'll be able to figure out what it is that I am trying to say. My point is that my personal feelings about the Kraken don't matter, but we do. Your crew matters.

Haven hesitates for a few long seconds, looking at the word "your." Eventually, she leaves it as she wrote it, but the tears begin to slip down her face without a sound, leaving dark spots on the parchment and blurring the ink.

I should have known back in Tillnete, she writes, then crosses it out furiously. The pen rips through the parchment, and she makes a small noise of frustration deep in her throat.

The Kraken is not a good person, but you know that already. That kind of thing is important to me, but like I said — that's not what matters here. The part I don't understand and maybe won't ever understand is that we also all know that you can't trust him.

Haven strikes out the entirety of that sentence. She replaces it with, What does matter is that he's proven twice now that he'll hurt us even when we try to play by his rules. Even when you try to talk him out of it — and I do believe that you tried.

Memory swirls up, and Haven's fingers twitch with the echoes of a thin gold ray of arcane power.

I know you'll be alive to read this when I get back, she writes. I can only hope the rest of the crew is as well.

The next part requires more thought. Haven touches her hand to her face as she deliberates, realizing only after she lowers the pen again that she's smeared black ink across her lower lip and the curve of her chin. She swallows hard when she touches pen to parchment, but she's stopped crying. Her hand is steady as she begins writing again, her handwriting clear and even.

It's my job to protect our crew. You keep us safe too in so many ways, with your caution and your arrows from nowhere, and as long as you're traveling with us I will try my hardest to make sure you're happy. You're my friend, Klaus Graves. I care about you so much I can't even write it all in words.

For the safety of our crew and our ship, we can't work with the Kraken anymore. It seems obvious when I put it like that, after what just happened, but when he broke his word in Tillnete Isle we let you talk us into meeting him again. And look where I ended up. Look what happened to Whisper.

Haven scribbles over that last part, because it's not entirely fair. Her sense of justice would have sent her chasing after the Nightweaver anyway, and the Munafik's cannons are the only reason the Nightweaver didn't disappear into the night as abruptly as it arrived. But Haven can feel her heart beating in her fingertips, because she's getting at a larger truth here, and it scares her senseless.

I won't make you pick between us, she writes, and doesn't add that it's because she suspects she knows the answer Klaus would give.

I won't give you any advice on your relationship with him. But I will say, in this letter, before you give me a hundred practical reasons why it just makes sense to forgive him, that you can't play both sides. Not even in the short term, before the world ends. You have some sort of decision to make, before someone you care about gets hurt in a way you can't save them from.

I've made my own decision about this, Haven writes, fingers pressed so hard against the pen that it leaves indents. Whisper says a lot that we can't change how other people act, only how we respond to them. So this is just my opinion I'm sharing with you, because you've helped me so much in the time I've known you. It seems so long to me and so brief to you, but I hope you'll at least take the time to consider what I've said. I'm pretty sure that even people with really long lifespans can still change things to make themselves happier. But I guess that part is up to you.

Love,

Haven

Signing the letter with a flourish, Haven caps the pen and sets it aside before blowing gently over the ink to dry it. In the soft golden light of the Hut, the letter looks as messy as she feels. There are dents and blots where she crossed out sentences, and her tears have diffused some of the words into indistinct, feathery patches. Haven considers copying the letter onto a cleaner sheet of parchment for a few moments, but eventually decides against it. She wants to be honest with Klaus, and this is as honest as she can get.

The Amulet of the Planes is still cycling between hot and cold, but Haven recognizes the rhythm now. It has slowed and aligned to match her pulse. Perfectly in sync, almost eerily so. She wraps her fingers around the amulet, holding it close like the lifeline that it is, and breathes deeply. Tilts her chin up. Some of the uncertainty that has churned inside her for months is settling, channeled through her pen and out into the world at large. The view is beautiful here on this unknown plane, and even the oddities she's encountered so far are beautifully unique and unexpected. She wishes she could explore further, but what matters right now is staying alive long enough to return to the Material Plane — to return home, whatever that might mean.

In the space her uncertainty leaves behind, a twisting vine of sorrow begins to put down roots. She can admit it now, in this silence: the Kraken's betrayal has chipped away at her faith. Not in the Kraken, whom she's never liked nor trusted, but in Klaus. It's a hairline fracture for now, one small imperfection in an otherwise unshakeable foundation, but it's tarnishing the edges of Haven's affection for him, and she hates it. If Klaus was so spectacularly wrong about how this would go — enough to be caught and caged, a feat Haven didn't think was possible — then what else might he be wrong about?

It's insidious, this doubt. It burrows its spidery filaments through all her worries and fears, and then deeper still, wending its way through her hopes. Her plans for the future. Her half-formed yearnings and her tendency toward blind devotion. Haven can feel the tides changing, slow but inexorable, beginning to wash away the sand beneath her.

Haven waits for the hour to pass, ready to cast Plane Shift as soon as she can. She isn't afraid to channel altogether unfamiliar arcane magic — that part is intriguing, even exciting.

What frightens her is that she's no longer as certain in the people to whom she'll return.

[zoeykallus]

Crosshair – My Beloved Enemy 33 – Hero Of The Day

Crosshair x Female!Reader (FF)

Warnings: Harassment / Angst/ Tension / Violence /Blood /Strong Language (Tell me if I missed something)

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

As suspected, you fall into Rampart's clutches again. This time he chooses a different approach that he is sure will break at least one of you, you or Crosshair. The situation seems hopeless, Rampart is ready to cross some boundaries. Is there any hope?

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

What Happened Before:

Part 1 - Crash Landing

Part 2 - Hot And Cold

Part 3 - Hello Kitten

Part 4 - Look Who’s Back

Part 5 - Rebel Darling

Part 6 - Burning Anger

Part 7 - Love And Pain

Part 8 - A Difficult Reunion

Part 9 - The Bitter Taste Of Blood And Failure

Part 10 - Where The Dead Ships Dwell

Part 11 - A Lonely Firefly In Space

Part 12 - Broken Wings

Part 13 - A Helping Hand

Part 14 - The Justifier

Part 15 - The Bounty

Part 16 - Trapped

Part 17 - I Love You Too

Part 18 - When The Past Catches Up With Us

Part 19 - I’ve Never Been Good At Goodbyes

Part 20 - Unexpected

Part 21 - The Question

Part 22 - Sleepless Nights

Part 23 - Sleepyheads And Making Up

Part 24 - Crosshair’s Conclusion

Part 25 - Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Part 26 - I’m Sorry Kitten

Part 27 - Bracca

Part 28 -Rampart

Part 29 - It’s All Tactics

Part 30 - CT 6116

Part 31 - Of Wolves And Sheep

Part 32 - Dying Hope

Part 33 - Hero Of The Day

The first thing that happened when you were on the cruiser was that Wolffe and you were separated, even though you both protested. You didn't want to be alone on that damn ship, that was the main reason why you didn't want to be separated from him, another reason was that you couldn't bear to worry about another ally and friend.

As expected, Rampart came to see you in your cell a few minutes after you were locked up.

"Where's Crosshair?" was the first thing you asked before he could make a sound. "Where are Echo and Tech?"

Rampart smiled unperturbed and said, "I'll do you one better; where's Hunter and the chunky one, um Wrecker?"

Anger and despair flared within you, the latter you tried to keep in check.

"You think you're funny? You're not!" you growled.

Rampart tilted his head slightly to the side, an amused glint in his light brown eyes.

"Oh, you're much more fiery this time, I like that".

As he stepped toward you, you didn't flinch this time, and he moved in so close that his chest bumped against yours, just slightly, but quite noticeably. Breathing slowly and with control, you looked up at him, in your eyes as much hatred as you could feel, but underneath was a fracture, a fracture that Vice Admiral Rampart's experienced eye could well perceive. There was fear, there was a slight tremor.

"I'm not afraid of you," you said coolly.

He smiled, a confident, somber smile.

"That's a lie and we both know it, my dear".

Crosshair and Tech were still in a cell. Both were sleep-deprived, visibly, dark-rimmed eyes, some visible bruises from previous interrogations. But Rampart had now taken a different approach.

Crosshair and Tech, stood in front of a monitor that had been brought to their cell. The Sniper groaned heavily as an image appeared on the monitor and he saw you in a cell, apparently they had caught you again, presumably trying to free him and the others.

"Dank Ferrik!"

Tech put a hand on his shoulder.

"He won't kill her, he needs her to get to us".

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. That's the only reason that monitor is here, he wants me to watch, he thinks that way he can break me.... maybe he's right"

Tech frowned worriedly. The two watched and listened to what was happening in your cell.

When Crosshair saw how close Rampart came to you, he clenched his hands into fists.

"She didn't even flinch," Tech commented.

The Sniper nodded.

"She wants to stand up to him, not show weakness, but Rampart wasn't born yesterday, he'll see through her," he growled.

Rampart's hand lifted, slowly, almost tenderly he grasped your jaw, then he squeezed, hard enough that it was uncomfortable.

Struggling with his grip, you pressed out, "I'm not afraid to die, I won't betray the others."

The Vice Admiral chuckled, "Is that so? Well, it doesn't matter, there are other things you will be afraid of".

He pointed with his free hand to a corner, above him on the right. A camera.

"Your beloved clone is watching you right now. So, either he will cave in and tell me what I want once he sees the things I do to you, or I will break you. Which do you think? Which will happen first?"

You blinked, your gaze darting to the camera again and again, as if some irrational part of you hoped Crosshair would jump out at it at any moment.

"Like I said, I'm not afraid to die," you said defiantly.

Rampart seemed unimpressed.

"That may be, but as I said, there are other things you will be afraid of. Pain might be one of them, or something almost every woman is afraid of"

Your heart was beating up to your throat from one second to the next. Was he implying what you thought he was? Silently you still looked up at him defiantly, but when his free hand moved to the buttons of your jacket and opened them, you felt cold panic climb up your spine. Now it was no longer a question in which direction his hint went.

"That may be, but as I said, there are other things you will be afraid of. Pain might be one of them, or something almost every woman is afraid of"

Crosshair pressed out between clenched teeth, "He wouldn't dare.... he's just trying to provoke us."

Tech by now had also clenched his hands into fists and felt the same helpless anger rising within him as Crosshair felt. You didn't like to be his anymore, but his feelings for you were unchanged, even if he held back for the sake of you and his brother.

Crosshair's gaze searched Tech's. It was obvious to see that the Sniper was struggling with himself. Not much had happened yet, but the hint was there and Croshair knew he couldn't let this happen, Rampart would get what he wanted one way or another.

"You're thinking of telling him what he wants to know, aren't you?"

Crosshair gritted his teeth, then nodded slowly.

Tech rubbed both hands over his face, finally saying with a heavy sigh, "I don't blame you."

Rampart leaned down to you, smelled your hair unabashedly, while the hand that had previously opened your jacket slid very slowly under your shirt and brushed across your stomach. You held still as if you were frozen, the touch made you flinch briefly, but that was all you were capable of at the moment. Your intimidated mind had paralyzed your body, at least temporarily.

The door to the cell opened, a Storm Trooper, appeared in the doorway.

"Sir, sorry to interrupt, but a message has arrived from Grand Admiral Tarkin, you said you wanted to be informed when he reports in. He will be at the rendezvous point in 12 hours as scheduled."

Rampart glanced over his shoulder very briefly and murmured, "Good."

When the trooper didn't leave, he did look over his shoulder again, an angry glint in his eye.

"What else?" he snapped impatiently.

The Trooper sighed and said, "With all due respect, I know it's not my place to question your methods, but what's this going to be when it's done?"

A small glimmer of hope sprouted in you, there was one person who questioned Rampart's approach.

Rampart pushed you off him without warning, you stumbled backwards and fell on your butt.

"Stay right there," he growled at you, turning to the trooper.

"You. Take off that helmet. Now!"

Two more troopers stood to his left and right at the door. The Trooper hesitated, seemed to look left and right at his fellow Troopers, sighed softly, and then complied.

KIX, you thought, relieved and panicked in equal measure.

"A clone," Rampart spoke, surprised and visibly amused "One of the last currently in service to the Empire. Why have I not sorted you out yet?"

Kix looked directly at Rampart, not daring to look at you, afraid he might make things worse.

"I don't know sir, maybe because I'm a good medic and a decent soldier".

Rampart snorted.

"You're redundant here"

He nodded to the other two troopers.

"Get him out of here, let him freeze in Carbonite, maybe I'll have a use for him at a later date after all".

Kix looked from one to the other, his first impulse was to fight back, but he knew that wouldn't get him far, he thought about submitting, but then his eyes met yours. He saw your fear, your worry, and he made a decision. He might not be able to save you a second time in the long run, but at least for now.

"Fuck it," he growled and lashed out, hitting Rampart square in the face, you could hear the sound of his nose breaking.

You winced and widened your eyes in disbelief, watching as he was instantly taken down by a trooper with a stun hit. Kix slumped over and growled, "Worth it" before hitting the ground and losing consciousness.

Rampart, had gone to his knees, blood gushing from his nose, and not a little at that. He straightened up staggering, the punch had hit home. The Vice Admiral cursed loudly, his face contorted with pain and anger.

"Freeze that motherless son of a bitch," he rumbled before turning to you, a hand on his broken nose and saying " Don't be to happy about your hero of the day, I'll talk to you later, don't think this is over."

With these words he disappeared with the troopers dragging the unconscious Kix with them.

Quietly you said: "Thank you Kix..."

@twinkofthedink @tazmbc1 @kristinainspace @ladykatakuri @inthemoshpitt @whore4rex @anndraco0523 @revan-posting @dwarfnip @ben-is-a-hoe @ttzamara @ilikemymendarkandfictional @kaminocasey @brynhildrmimi @photowizard17 @moondust-24 @clone-whore-99 @dumfanting @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@moonstrider9904 @chxpsi @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @kaliel2310 @eternalwaffle

[stackthedeck]

53+101 for any matt ship

I am kissing you tenderly on the forehead thank you so much for the prompt! Okay we're aiming for 1k but 2k at max (Yes under 2k!)

53. "you smell really nice"

101. "Define normal"

so here's the Matt flirting with Foggy by describing his smell ficlet

“So, we never really talked about your powers,” Foggy says. 

They’re at Matt’s apartment, working late on a case. Papers in braille and the sighted alphabet are spread across the table, but Foggy didn’t turn on a light when he walked in. Maybe the sun was enough when they started, but it’s late now and surely Foggy can only see by the soft glow of the billboard outside Matt’s window.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Like, can you see normally with them?”

They’ve had a beer each and with Foggy’s pension for alcohol, he’s definitely not drunk enough to ask that question. But, Matt’s not drunk enough to take it personally. 

“Define normal.”

Matt removes his glasses, turning his head in Foggy’s general direction. He blinks slowly. He remembers his eyes being hazel and he knows the doctors described them as cloudy and scarred. He wonders if that changed their color. Most people flinch at his eyes, but not Foggy.

“Like can you tell what color my hair is?”

“Nope.”

“How tall am I?”

“You’re a little shorter than me?”

“Anything about how I look?”

Matt shrugs and reaches for another beer. “I don’t know, you’re a bigger guy with longish hair. Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know, you always go home with attractive people, I figured you could make out something.”

Matt snorts then passes another beer to Foggy. He’s not sure why he started this conversation, but Matt is more than happy to have it. This will be funny.

“How would I know?” Matt pushes their case papers aside, leaning back into the couch.

“I don’t know, it’s spooky, like actually really spooky!” Foggy takes a long sip of his beer, no doubt glaring at Matt. Or maybe he’s brooding. Either way, the muscles in his face are tense and warm.

“What’s your secret man?”

“No secret.” Matt hums with a smirk.

“Bullshit.” Yeah, Foggy is definitely glaring. Matt ignores him.

“You really want to know?”

“Obviously.”

Matt leans closer to Foggy and he can hear his heartbeat spike, nonetheless Foggy leans closer too.

“I don’t care if they’re attractive or not,” Matt whispers.

“Yes, you do!” Foggy shouts right into his face. “You are only pulling major hotties, man.”

“I have an idea of who’s good looking. Heart rates spike around them, I know vaguely what shape and size are supposed to be attractive, but that’s not important.”

“So what is?”

“Intelligent conversation, compassionate, ni—”

“Oh wow, you’re a real saint Matthew.”  Foggy gestures with his beer bottle and his face does something, probably rolling his eyes. “I just rolled my eyes by the way.”

“Yeah, I could tell from your sanctimonious tone.” Matt rolls his eyes back at Foggy, glad that he took his glasses off earlier.

“But seriously, if you were just into personality, you’d keep a relationship going for more than a month, a week, a night—”

“Okay, I get it,” Matt smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, I think it’d kill me if you weren’t actually shallow.” Foggy leans back into the couch, taking another sip of his beer.

“You really want to know?” Matt lowers his voice into a hush like they’re sharing a secret and Foggy’s breath catches. He leans forward, snaking his arm over the couch so that his fingers almost graze Foggy’s shoulder.

Foggy nods but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t catch himself and verbalizes his gestures. It’s okay, Matt can pick up on the movements of the air to tell. He doesn’t need to though, he can hear Foggy swallow dryly, hear his heart skip.

“I don’t care if someone is easy on the eyes, but I’d prefer if they were easy on the other senses.” Matt takes another sip of his beer, letting some catch on his lip.

“Oh?” More a strangled sound than a question.

“Soft skin.” Matt reaches out to brush his hand over Foggy’s knuckles. The gesture is small, could be accidental. Foggy’s hands are soft, he treats himself to nice soaps and lotions and Matt is grateful for it. Desk work has kept his hands soft, but there’s the idea of strength behind them too, like maybe he could have been a butcher. Foggy’s hands would have force behind them if he was a butcher, but they’d be rough like sandpaper instead of silk.

“Nice hair.” Matt’s hand ghosts over Foggy’s shoulder, just catching the edges of his hair. That gesture couldn’t be mistaken for accidental. Maybe he could have passed it off as fumbling blindly years ago before Foggy knew. He likes it better this way, likes that Foggy can read into his movements. “Not pretty, but soft. Hair that isn’t scratchy, but smooth. No bleach, no 2-in-1. The kind of hair you can grab.”

“Oh,” Foggy whispers to himself and it’s almost lost in the race of his pulse.

“Pretty voice,” Matt hums. His hand is already on Foggy’s shoulder, it’d be so easy to drag a finger across his throat. But Foggy’s heart is already beating out of his chest, he doesn’t want to scare him. Not yet. “Someone that I really like listening to, someone that could—well, you get the idea.”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think I do,” Foggy almost gasps, and yeah Matt’s got the idea too. The air smells of the salt of sweat and the spice of adrenaline. 

“Someone that smells nice.” Matt bites his lip as he takes a deep inhale, a part of him hoping Foggy catches it and another hoping it’s a secret just for him to cherish.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Foggy says and he almost pulls off nonchalant, almost maintaining the illusion that this is just friendly.

“Ask anyway.” Matt leans forward and suddenly his hand is hooked around the back of Foggy’s neck and he’s pulling him close and he is filling his lungs.

“Do I smell…” Foggy swallows and Matt can taste his breath on his lips. Their faces must be so close, but somehow Matt can tell that Foggy is looking anywhere but at him. “...like alright?”

“Oh Foggy,” Matt smiles, “you’re better than alright, you smell…well you smell really nice.”

Heat rising in his face, pulse racing, adrenaline spiking. Matt likes to think that his senses give him the ability to sort the wide range of human emotion into easy facts and fiction, but if he thinks he’s a human lie detector, he’s only lying to himself. All that input could be what he wants or it could be fear, anger, shame. But it’s something.

“Nice how?”

“You wear an expensive cologne, just a little bit to make it last. I’m not sure if anyone else can smell it, but I can. Hints of jasmine and lemon and it doesn’t clash with your fancy shampoo.”

“Hygiene is important,” Foggy mutters like he’s defending himself, like Matt’s complaining.

“And I appreciate that.” Matt takes another inhale and there’s no doubt that Foggy notices.

“Right now, you smell like cheap beer and even cheaper coffee—”

“Wow!” Foggy huffs.

Matt squeezes the back of his neck, just a barely-there touch. “Can I finish?”

Foggy nods, their heads so close together that Matt doesn’t need him to say it, doesn’t need radar sense to feel it.

“Underneath it all is always something sweet, something that’s just you. You smell amazing, Fogs, you smell familiar, like home.”

“So…” Foggy licks his lip and Matt can almost taste him in the air “...touch, sound, smell, any other sense that’s important?”

Matt could say that there’s more than just five senses. That he likes people that run warm, people with a deep thundering heartbeat, people that fill a room in a way that Matt can’t help but gravitate towards.

“Well, taste usually only comes after I’ve brought them home.”

“You’ve brought me home.” Matt can feel the heat in Foggy’s cheeks, but his voice is finally unwavering. Finally flirting back.

Matt kisses him and his hair falls into Matt’s face, his lips are just as soft and sure as his hands, and he tastes as good as he smells.

[bambiswriting]

Consequence of Krell - Part 1

Part: 1, 2

Captain Rex x Tactician!Reader (she/her) 

Summary: You have joined the 501st and 212th in the campaign of taking Umbara, and now you have to apprehend and arrest the turned Jedi, Krell. But what happens when Krell turns his sights and hurts you?

Warnings: Descriptions of heavy injury, strangulation, choking, vomit, blood, burns, lightsaber wound, head injury, angst, hurt, death. Not a light one!

Word count: 2k

-

The shield dissipated to reveal the imprisoned clones. You watched as Jesse and Fives took the blasters outstretched in Rex’s hands while you stood on the elevator pad with Tup and Kix. The nervous energy was thrumming from each of them. You were of equal mind. Fives, your best friend, glanced over Rex’s shoulder at you. He nodded and attempted a comforting smile. You dipped your head in a sedated reply. Your stomach sat heavy, a weight ready to pull you under. But… no. You couldn’t focus on it. Not now. You had to do right by them. The grief was already at a mounted peak, but there would be time to sit in it with them later.

You didn’t comprehend the sensation of the pad rising until a blaster bumped against your left side. On your right, Rex’s eyes casted sideways to search your glazed ones. Your pupils were involuntarily flicking left to right, searching the empty space between identical heads for a solution. Anything other than this - an alternative to the loss that would continue once you reached the upper level of the command station. Rex grasped your two fingers closest to him and tenderly squeezed. You squeezed back. A silent promise of companionship to one another.

The doors opened, a cruelty from the Force, and clones immediately filed out, surrounding Krell. The objective was to cut off each inconceivable exit, but every man in the room knew it would make no difference should the Besalisk ignite his sabers. Many of them would not leave the tower. And perhaps you would go with them. You took your stance between Rex and Fives, with a desperate plea to the galaxy to allow you to maintain their safety. A hologram by the door pulsated back online, and the noise made you jump, setting the lump in your throat deeper. You aimed your blaster at the fallen Jedi.

Rex straightened. “General Krell, you’re being relieved of duty.”

He turned, slowly, and somehow that was equally as terrifying as staring him directly in those sickly yellow eyes. His two pairs of arms persisted in a fold behind his back, with optimal access to his weapons. The pressure in your head was building. Rex hadn't yet raised his DC-17s. He was the most vulnerable person in the room. You unknowingly squeezed down on your trigger.

"It's treason, then." Those words carried the condemnation of a death sentence. He bared his teeth in such a way that it would have appeared he was smiling.

Finally, Rex pinned his blasters on the target. "Surrender, General."

If the situation owed to it, perhaps you would have laughed. The mere use of a title, still, was abhorrent to you.

Krell initiated a stalk towards Rex, centering himself in the room and widening his stance by the parting of his feet. Please, no.

"You're committing mutiny, Captain."

"Explain your actions."

The clones moved deeper into the room, cutting off the window at which Krell was just policing the Umbaran landscape.

"My actions?"

"For ordering your troops against one another."

"Oh, that." He raised his head, proud, and gestured nonchalantly. "I'm surprised you were able to figure it out… for a clone."

Your clench around the trigger was building.

Out of your left eye, you had identified movement from Fives. You assumed it was a gesture of advancement. But you didn't turn to confirm this. You couldn't move. Your limbs were paralysed.

“Surrender, General. You’re outnumbered.”

You felt the air around you turn stagnant. A rushing noise built in your ears, and then your feet tipped forward, toes dragging along the floor. The gravity shifted underneath you, and you were pulled towards the beast at full speed.

Quicker than it began, you stopped, making contact with one of Krell's fists. Nothing you had endured in this war thus far compared to the instantaneous pressure around your windpipe. Within seconds your eyes felt close to bursting. You couldn't hear the commotion around you, as your blood was pulsing rapidly in your skull.

Safety mechanisms released in every which direction. Rex pinned his pistols, now gripped in a vice, on Krell's skull. "Drop her."

Krell turned to you, talking steadily along the shell of your ear. "Your feelings for him - all of them - are strong, but they weaken you. They compromise your resolve." He raised you off the ground, your legs squirming as you frantically clawed at his fist.

"She intended to shoot me, for you," he squeezed again, sight tunneling on Rex. A noise like a whine escaped your mouth. “Half-breed."

Rex couldn't make the call. Krell's movements were quick and precise. Any one of his blaster bolts timed with a purposeful shove could hit you. His blood was turning acidic.

"Yes… I sense the fear in you. The anger. The fury. Take your weapon. Strike me down."

Your helpless wheeze cut through the rest of Rex's resolve like glass. Your arms had slowed their fight to return the stolen air to your lungs. You were going limp. Your heart was trembling. His hands shook.

"This is the art of war. Executive decisions must be made."

You felt something in your neck crack.

Krell bowed his head. "And you lack the ability to instigate them."

His arms at his back frayed and thrusted forward, sending the men hurtling to the ground. Rex hit the door and his blasters fell with him, skidding out of reach. He leapt with speed to his feet, in time to see the green blade of a saber come down against your back, splitting your armour, through to your jacket and then along your back. If you could breathe, you would have screamed in agony. The image of your eyes wide in torture would haunt his nightmares forever. Krell threw you carelessly across the room, slamming against the wall. Your head suffered the brunt of the contact, and your body collapsed in a heap.

Fives' voice broke into bottomless rage. "I'll kill you!"

The clones needed no instruction. They opened fire. A second double ended saber entered the battle. What followed was a myriad of needless lives lost. Krell cut down men with no remorse. His sabers spun and pivoted, deflecting blaster fire and creating a shield around him. The plasma shuddered audibly, sound reminiscent of gunship engines, faulting, stuttering and eventually declining in an air battle. He leapt between men, massacring war heroes. Most were fortunate, decapitated or impaled immediately and granted an instantaneous passing. Others were left with pieces missing and didn’t have such a luxury of a fast death. They bled out until painfully slipping away. Orange and blue chipped armour was diced and thrown every which direction, 501st and 212th assuming a role of puppets, and Krell was the master. The Besalisk sliced one clone through the gut, and kicked him at Rex, who jumped aside in a dodge. Krell ceased momentarily, just as the remaining men dragged themselves back on their feet, and his eyes bore into Rex.

“I will not be undermined by creatures bred in some laboratory!” His exit was open. He turned and jumped through the window, glass shattering around him and falling to the ground below. He spun in the air and landed on both feet, the shards from the tower raining around him. Then the clones below began shooting.

He should have run straight to the elevator and pursued the fallen Jedi. But the stability of what would normally be his auto piloted instincts had fragmented. The smell of your burnt skin crippled Rex's mind. You were face down, and the wound across your back was glowing as it continued to melt the area in its circumference. Kix ran over then, seemingly directing his focus to you. Unbeknownst to Rex, the medic had already done a sweep, and concluded that no one else in the room who had been on the end of Krell's sabers had survived. He hadn't registered that Kix was speaking to him. Everything sounded muffled. "I've got her, go!"

"Rex, come on!" bellowed Fives.

He staggered on his feet, bile threatening to spew over his lips. Rex clasped a hand over his helmet, shaking his head violently. Damn it, snap out of it! He just… needs to see your face. He needs to see that you're alive.

"Rex!" followed Jesse, taking a large step forward and tagging him on the arm. Rex finally jolted, and cast his eyes to the elevator. The men stood, waiting expectantly for his lead, all of them far worse for wear. He picked up his fallen weapons, ran in and spun to face the door, casting another pained expression on your failing body as the level ascended out of view and he went below.

-

The 501st and 212th sprinted out of the command tower, Rex in lead. They followed the trail of broken glass, passing by a cluster of Umbaran ships. Just then, Dogma stepped out from behind one of the transports, blaster trained on his brothers. "Hold it right there!"

Rex whipped out his DC-17s. "Lower your weapon, Dogma," he commanded.

He hesitated briefly, shaking his head. "I… I can't do that, sir."

Rex's patience was already worn into the ground. "That's an order!"

“It’s my duty.” Dogma flicked his aim between them. "You're all traitors!"

Rex deposited one of his blasters into its holster, then removed his helmet, an attempt to show some relation and find a common ground. "I used to believe that being a good soldier meant doing everything they told you. That's how they engineered us,"

Tup lifted his blaster to Dogma.

"But we're not droids. We're not programmed. You have to learn to make your own decisions." He stared intently at Dogma, his brow pinched.

Dogma switched his barrel on Tup. "Dogma, don't do it."

"Damn it, we don't need this right now!" Fives threw his arm down and scowled. "He hurt (Y/N)!"

That broke something behind the tattoo across his eye. "Is… is she alright?"

"We don't know," Jesse said dejectedly, angrily stuffing his blaster into his other hand.

Tup shook his head. “He just… cut her down. A civilian.”

“He’s the traitor, not us! (Y/N)’s not a clone. She wasn’t made to die this way!”

“That’s enough.” Rex’s words weren’t meant to come out as pained as they did. It was like there was a thick wad of sandpaper in his throat, grinding his voice down to a pained shadow of his usual resonance.

The truth is, you were no longer a civilian. You made the choice to enlist in this war, to try and make the galaxy safer for the future generations. It’s one of the things that drew Rex to you - your selflessness and willingness to join a battlefront, to do the right thing, where others would turn and run the other direction. You were hands on like that, believing in doing it yourself, or not at all. Others would have called you mad.

As much as he admired that about you, it was also his downfall, because he knew you wouldn’t walk away. You wouldn’t leave his brothers. You loved them like family. Hell, they were your only family. And they loved you. Perhaps that would mean he would lose you to it all one day. Perhaps he had lost you already.

Rex squeezed his eyes shut and drew his brows tightly together. He sucked in a breath.

Dogma lowered his weapon, and he was tackled by troopers without any protest. He stretched his arms out in front of him and released his blaster. They pinned either arm behind his back and secured his wrists together with binders.

Rex hesitated. "Take him to the brig," he ordered, pulling his helmet back over his head, then pointing to a couple clones.

"You two, get up there and help Kix! The rest of you, don't let General Krell escape!"

"Yes, sir!" They shouted as Rex and the others ran into the treeline.

[razorblade180]

Sunshower rambling

This post exists because I just might explode if I don’t talk about this. I fucking love this ship. This ship is 100% copium but also 1000% comfort food. The shear amount of joy I gain from Sun and Ilia cuddling is amazing.

It’s so gentle yet intense at the same time. Especially from Ilia’s pov because of awkward and scary self discovery. Like she undeniably loves and prefers women, but here comes this person that doesn’t fit inside what she knows about herself, yet makes her feel so warm inside. Which I think can be pretty relatable for some people.

Feelings are hard enough when you know yourself but are even harder because she’s know dealing with new unique situation that she doesn’t want to dismiss, or necessarily confront either because it’s blooming love. Nobody just wants to chuck that away when it’s obvious the other person’s feelings are mutual. All the little things like glances, brief touches, and gestures all add up to internal questioning. Meanwhile Sun understands this is very different and unexpected. They’re both finding comfort after heartbreak but it feels more than just filling a void. It feels right, and he has to actively go at a slower pace than he’d like because he respects that this is a lot for her.

Ilia is a touch starved mess that finds herself surprisingly enjoying his hugs or when he touches her face tenderly. Prolonged cuddles automatically means she’s going to sleep because she’s typically stressed out. Both of them are dorks that make dumb comments about similar shows and songs they sing. Even though Sun seems like the ultimate extrovert, this is first actual romantic relationship so he is winging it incredibly hard. It makes Ilia laugh until she remembers most of her prior experience didn’t prepare her for gaining an emotional connection with boy. She can’t even explain completely why it’s Sun, but it just is. Kali thinks it’s a little funny and slightly concerning the girl is over complicating love. Nobody is going to yell at her for discovering a single boy that makes her happy.

I really love how the entire experience feels like an ongoing core memory. The blind are leading a blind but that can’t be helped. Ilia is still more experienced at the end of the day and many boundaries are the ones she built up overtime so now she has to let him in slowly. There’s also the slight fear this ends miserably and she’s not only heartbroken again but loses her first friend since leaving the WF

I will be a degenerate for a moment

Yo…I’ve never been a hoe for height differences or anything like that, however, it hits different when everything else is also a new experience. It’s one thing to have the mental crisis of “oh I feelings for someone I typically wouldn’t” but to have that on top of “why does my torso fit well in their hands?” Kills me. It’s over stimulation on another level. Ilia might as well be chewing 5 gum because every aspect of figuring this out is an assault on the senses. Both of them are actively pumping the breaks but only makes them more eager to get close with one another until they eventually stop thinking and lead with emotions. Both of them can’t help but melt a little because they know everything the other person does isn’t an act. They’re a genuine mess of emotion; desiring to be adored by the other.

They ruin me and I love it. Ilia being a bumbling Demi sexual for Sun why he’s a nervous mess trying to express his love gives me serotonin. Maybe I’m just a sucker for two people finding comfort in each other after heartbreak? I don’t know. The idea of Ilia introducing him as a partner because calling him boyfriend is a little much to handle in the beginning I find adorable. Meanwhile he calls her girlfriend and it sends them both to cloud 9. I also love them minding their own business and being pretty personal with their relationship. Lots of home dates and quiet places for them to comfortably find their footing without worrying about what other people might say or ask. I don’t know if wholesome possessiveness is a thing but that’s how I describe it lol. Ilia likes alone time with him and so does he. There’s emotional freedom in it like a safe place.

I love them. I’ve cried writing this ship before and I can’t express why coherently. They just make me feel a lot of things.

[vanishedangels]

Thicker than water

Summary: Darth Vader goes to Tatooine believing he finally found Obi Wan Kenobi. After realizing his former Master isn't there something calls for him through the force. He ends up meeting a little kid named Luke.

Relationships: Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker. Darth Vader & Owen Lars.

Rating: M.

Characters: Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Owen Lars, Beru Whitesun, Third Sister.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Kenobi Series Part I Alternative Take, Father's Day 2022, One-shot.

Chapters: 1/1.

Excerpt:

Vader stopped next to the kid's bed, leaning forward in slow motion. That made Owen's stomach clench.

The Lord reached out and caressed the boy's blonde hair tenderly.

Owen gasped, feeling his heart racing fast.

The kid stirred under the blankets, Vader traced his face with his gloved fingers. "He looks like an angel." He said. "How old is he?"

The Lord spent the last decade plotting his vengeance. His waking hours were torture, plagued by memories and ghosts that belonged to a previous life.

The light that once embraced him was now gone. Flashes of her face, of the sound of her voice, Padmè was a distant memory, a dream that died between his arms.

He knew he could use his new power to hunt down the brother that betrayed him, the man he hated the most, Obi Wan Kenobi.

Ten years of silence, ten years is a long time. He developed an obsession, the only thing that occupied his mind was that man that vanished into thin air. The one that broke his heart and killed his soul.

He blamed him. He cursed him. He suffered him. He ached for him in the most unhealthy way a man could.

Deep inside he knew he loved him and that was the reason why he couldn't let him go.

Unlike Padmè, this loved one was still alive, hidden somewhere, unseen but not forgotten.

Ten years he waited. Ten years he perished until The Imperial Inquisitors finally had a lead. Tatooine.

The ruthless spies failed him over and over again, but something inside him was telling him that this time they might been right.

He knew The Third Sister was as fixated on Kenobi as he was, she has been hunting his former master for years, she seemed to hate him as much as he did.

He saw himself in her. That was why he decided follow her to the outer rim, to that scummy forgotten planet that once was Anakin Skywalker's homeland.

He leaned forward staring at the holo, sitting on his throne on Mustafar. "Kenobi is all that matters now. Is that understood?" And he ment it.

"Yes, my Lord." The woman in the holo answered reverently.

"I have been watching you, Third Sister. Fail me, and you will not live to regret it."

~

The dusty streets of Tatooine had never witnessed such a spectacle.

The dark Lord walked down the streets forcing the villagers to clear the way for him, so intimidating, so imponent, all dressed in black, nightmarish.

Suddenly he came to a halt. The silence surrounding him was deafening. "He is not here." He turned around looking at The Third Sister "He is not on planet."

The inquisitor stared at him undaunted. The Lord held a hand out and she was gasping for air. He continued force-choking her until he was satisfied.

She fell on her knees taking her hands to her throat.

"Keep looking for him, Third Sister."

An army of stormtroopers was waiting for him to return to the ship. But something was off.

The Lord still felt something through the force, some weak connection. It didn't taste as Kenobi though, but he was intrigued by that fragile link all the same.

He looked around, his cape enveloping his form.

"Wait for me inside the ship, I will take my time. If you leave this planet before I return I would find you and I will play with you until I get tired and then I will kill you." He said to The Third Sister before turning around, walking into the Tatooine desert.

~

When the twin suns went down, the weak presence in the force slowly decreased until it vanished.

Vader considered going back to the ship but he found himself in the middle of the desert and so close to a familiar place.

He didn't know why but he felt the need to head towards the Lars homestead. The last home of his late mother and the place where he gave himself to the dark side for the first time.

~

Owen heard a noise outside when he was getting ready for bed, he put his robes on again, he ventured out against Beru's plea.

When he went upstairs and he was out in the open his heart skipped a beat.

The gray sky, cloudy and heavy, surrounded a dark figure, a human figure, at the distance. A long cape was flapping around the body, a robotic heavy breathing was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. His hands were curling into fists at both sides of his thighs. He was about forty feet away, just standing there, not making a move.

Owen's blood went cold inside his veins, his heart thumping against his ribs. Staring at the ghostly apparition, thinking that this was the material that nightmares were made of.

The Lord started walking towards him, Owen took two steps back instinctively, although he knew that he couldn't avoid whatever the ghost was planning on do to them.

Consequently, Owen stood still when the man finally stopped inches apart from him.

"Owen Lars?" The Lord asked, his modulated voice accompanied by a heavy breathing.

Owen nodded dumbfounded, not breaking eye contact with him.

"I'm Lord Vader." He walked towards the house entrance, Owen grabbed his arm as a reflex, thinking that he was already dead.

The Lord looked down, staring at Owen's hand, the man didn't withdraw it from his arm. This man was bold, he respected that.

"Owen Lars, if you want to live you will invite my to your house." He didn't look up, his eyes behind the mask fixed on the man's hand.

Owen loosened the grip around his arm slowly, cursing himself.

~

Beru's eyes went wide when she saw the Dark Lord ducking his head, entering their house.

"Si-Sit down, please." The woman said almost shaking.

The Lord sat down, he fluttered his black cape and then he rested his forearms on the wooden table.

Owen sat across from him, holding Beru's hand in a silent petition. His wife understood immediately, taking the seat next to him.

"What can I do for you, Lord Vader?" The man asked with a firm voice trying to hide his agitation.

"Absolutely nothing." Vader deadpanned.

Owen and Beru stared at each other's eyes in confusion.

They went silent.

"I knew Anakin Skywalker." The Lord said, Owen's eyebrows raising. "I knew him well. You were his brother, is that correct?"

Owen swallowed hard, his eyes betraying him as he looked at the half opened door the other side of the dinner room.

Vader's head followed the direction Owen's eyes drew seconds ago.

The dim light entering the room allowed him to catch sight of a child peacefully sleeping in a small bed.

Owen's mind clouded with thoughts, he was certain that this man was there to take the kid away from them.

"Yes, Anakin Skywalker was my brother." Owen answered to distract the Lord. He failed.

"You have a son." Vader said still staring at the little boy in his slumber. "What is his name?"

"Luke..." Beru squeezed his hand "Luke Lars." He added, hiding the boy's real name.

"My wife was with child when she died." Lord Vader said absently.

"I'm sorry." Owen said feeling chills all over his body.

The Dark Lord stood up swiftly, Owen mirrored him. He walked in the child's room direction, Owen followed him thinking of his possibilities, he didn't care they were null, he knew he would die protecting his boy.

Vader stopped next to the kid's bed, leaning forward in slow motion. That made Owen's stomach clench.

The Lord reached out and caressed the boy's blonde hair tenderly.

Owen gasped, feeling his heart racing fast.

The kid stirred under the blankets, Vader traced his face with his gloved fingers. "He looks like an angel." He said. "How old is he?"

If this Vader man was here to collect Anakin Skywalker's offspring nothing would stop him, the only thing Owen could do to protect Luke was lie about his identity.

"He's twelve." He said without hesitation.

"You're a lucky man, Owen Lars." The Lord took his little hand between his fingers thinking that he was holding his nephew's hand.

He was jealous of his once stepbrother, Owen. He had everything he ever wanted. This child in front of him was as perfect as he imagined his own son would be.

His son.

A broken promise. A pain that would never fade away.

This angel could easily be his own son, his and Padmè's son.

He wanted to take Luke in his arms and walk away. He wanted to raise this kid as his own.

He had the power. He could cover the kid's eyes and kill Owen and his wife right on the spot.

Owen's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Thank you, my Lord. I couldn't do it alone, Beru is the backbone of this family."

Vader thought about Shmi Skywalker, the only mother he knew, he gently squeezed the boy's hand thinking that he couldn't do it. He couldn't deprive Luke of his mother.

Vader knew he will give everything to just see his own mother one last time.

The child was fluttering his eyelashes, slowly, revealing his beautiful blue eyes. He startled when he saw The Lord, Vader let his little hand go, regretful. The terror he saw in that little boy's eyes was a painful reminder that he was now a monster.

The kid was seeing him. Really seeing him.

Beru ran towards the bed and held the boy in her arms.

Vader looked down, hearing his own heavy breath. He was breathing fast. He frowned behind his mask, that was new, the kid's reaction was affecting him beyond imagination.

He was feeling rage, he was hurt. The kid's sobs were making him lose his temper. He could kill him, he could kill them all.

He squeezed his eyes shut and thought about his Padmè, how he hurt her when he felt the same anger he was feeling right now.

Rejection.

He knew that feeling very well.

Owen was shielding his wife and little Luke with his own body. They were shuddering beneath him.

Owen opened his eyes realizing that everything around them was again in silence. He looked around expecting the worst.

But they were alone.

The Lord was gone.

"Uncle Owen? Aunt Beru?" Luke asked grasping his uncle's arms desperately. "Who was that man?"

Owen soothed him, caressing his hair and wiping his tears with his thumbs.

"Everything is alright, Luke, you were having a nightmare." He lied.

We were having a nightmare.

"He looked real." Luke said blinking back tears. "He looked so real."

[softpadawan]

imagine mer kanan actually getting caught by bad humans and mer ezra manages to free him by using his trademark sneakiness to distract them and cut kanan loose

Oh yes, this is a great idea. Kanan, whose deepest darkest fear is Ezra being caught, ends up caught himself, and Ezra has to come to his rescue by utilizing those “dangerous” landfaring skills he acquired. 

I love this because it allows Ezra to shake off the “damsel in distress” image that so often happens when you’ve got a younger, smaller, naïve character in a relationship with an older, bigger, more experienced partner—especially when the latter is a big strong sharkman. The small fry will save the day!

Kanan, trapped in a net on the deck of a ship, eyes dilated black and teeth bared, maybe a little bloody because we like our men just a bit tenderized, his long wet hair plastered to his face, snarling and swiping uselessly at the cruel poachers around him. They close in on him slowly, clubs raised to deliver that killing blow, when from out of nowhere they hear a hideous ripping sound and whip around to see a—a merboy!—who has somehow managed to climb up into the rigging and is gleefully riding a knife from the topsail down to the mainsail, shredding the canvases in half with the ease of a well-seasoned pirate.

The crew abandon their catch with startled cries and proceed to chase after the merboy, who leads them on a wild goose chase through the rigging, absolutely dismantling the ship as he goes. He makes these salty old seadogs look like absolute landlubbers as he leaps from mast to mast, working his way from top to bottom, whacking the men with his tail if they get too close, sending them falling to their deaths on the hard deck or over the side of the ship.

Meanwhile, Kanan has chewed his way out of the net and is now free. By the time he’s spotted, it’s already too late. 

A captured sharkman is dangerous, but a freed one is deadly.

In just a few short minutes, the entire crew of men is dead, dying, or drowned. Kanan has worn himself out. He can’t take being out of the water for so long, and the sun has sapped him of his strength. He collapses onto the deck and closes his eyes, utterly spent.

Ezra, proudly scanning the havoc he has wrought, notices Kanan and flops over to him. He’s pale and parched, drawing wheezing gasps through his dried lips. Ezra immediately hooks his arms under Kanan’s and drags him to a splintered hole in the bulwark, leaping back into the water with him. Kanan rallies once he’s down in the cool depths and opens his eyes. Ezra grins at him, but that grin fades when Kanan raises a critical finger.

“You shouldn’t have come after me. That was a stupid, reckless, insane thing to do. You could have been killed!”

Ezra wraps his hand around Kanan’s finger. “You would have done the same for me,” he says tenderly. “In fact, you have.”

The anger drains out of Kanan, and his eyes develop a film of unseen tears. Face crumpling under the weight of his emotions, he throws his arms around Ezra and embraces him tightly.

With a contented smile, Ezra closes his eyes and hugs him back as hard as he can.

[myonepiece]

Smoker, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Sanji cuddling gif + drabble

Hello again! I hope im not being a bother! Ive been feeling depressed...so...i was wondering if you could do Law, smoker, crocodile, doflamingo, and sanji cuddling their fem s/o either as gifs or hc up to you ! I appreciate it... :)

Smoker x Reader, Crocodile x Reader, Doflamingo x Reader, Sanji x Reader

requested

description: Law, Smoker, Crocodile, Doflamingo, and Sanji (seperate) cuddling drabble and a gif of the cuddling position

warnings: none

A/N: omg I love this, cuddling with Smoker is like one of my “comfort daydreams”. and I hope you feel better! you can talk to me if you want <3 but I’m sorry I don’t do more than three characters but I wanted to do this so I just did everyone except Law I hope that’s okay! 💕

the cold air of the ship’s biggest cabin nipped caused goosebumps on your skin, unbeknownst to you because you were sleeping- but Smoker noticed it, when his hand ran along your arm so softly.

he pulled you closer and tightened his hold, his body heat warming you up. he kissed the crown of your head, then your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips.

laying back with eyes on the ceiling and his body engulfing yours, he felt more at peace with the world- while also fighting the urge to go and kill anyone who would be a threat to your safety.

but he knew he couldn’t do that, so instead he settled for keeping you trapped in his embrace peppering light kisses every few minutes- he knew there you would be safe.

Crocodile crawled into bed carefully, peeling the covers back to settle next to you. you stirred slightly and he placed his arm under you, lifting you momentarily to pull you into his side.

your bodies lay flush against each other, your legs brushing against each other made Crocodile smiled- such a small insignificant sounding action made his cheeks burn.

he brought his hook up ever so carefully and slowly, running the golden hook gently over your cheek and chuckling at the way you shyed away from the coldness.

he moved his hook away from your face, settling it on the bed behind you while his arm rested on your shoulder- his lips met yours momentarily before he rested his forehead against your own and closed his eyes.

he smiled devilishly as he leaned over you, his hands ghosting over every inch of your body while he only stared into your eyes- a great contrast to what he would usually be doing.

Doffy lowered his head and kissed your cheeks, his heart fluttering at your heavenly laughs.

he kissed tenderly down to your jaw, followed by a trail stopping at your collarbone when you wrapped your hands over Doffy’s head and pulled him against your chest.

he laughed and buried his nose into the crook of your neck- flipping you over quickly and reversing the position so that he was squishing your cheek against his muscular chest, basking in the beautiful sound of your giggles.

Sanji burst into a grin when he saw you swing the door open, quickly opening his arms with a yell of

“______-swaaaan!”

you scurried over and leaped onto him causing him to basically squeal at your adorable actions- and promoting the next 5 minutes of fawning over your cuteness.

you lightly hit his chest to make him stop, which he does and he looks down at your hand resting on his chest. he picks it up lightly and brings it to his lips, intertwining your fingers after pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

you lean up and kiss his lips, running your thumb over his cheek while you cup it- the moment is ruined however, when a stream of blood shoots forth and your lover falls back with a dazed lovesick look plastered across his face.

[detroitbecomeyandere]

Another day another dollar at Fish'n Things, today you were waiting on a new shipment of Angelfish. Recently there had been a boom in angelfish sales so you had to keep ordering more, the sales for them was more than enough to prove to your parents that opening a fish store and dropping out of college was the right idea. Normally by now you would be home having dinner but your shipment was delayed and you didn't want them to just be left out in the alley behind your shop.

You kill the time by watching the news, apparently there was a huge mermaid smuggling ring that was just broken up. There were horror stories about underground restaurants sticking them in fish tanks and let people pick out which mermaid they wanted for dinner. The thought of that just made you sick, sure they weren't human but they were close enough to it that many people considered it cannibalism. Before you can get too much into the report the delivery bell rings, popping up from your seat you jog to the stockroom and open the delivery door.

 A man in khaki hands you the signature forms and goes back to the truck, by the time you are done signing he already dropped the package off into the storeroom. He loads up and pulls out of the alley behind the shop, after shutting the door behind you you finally notice the giant crate. You for sure didn't order enough fish to be delivered in this big ass crate, you scan the address printed and see that it is in fact your package but a different breeder logo was on it. "Guess they got a new breeder or something, this must have cost a shit ton in shipping. Do I even have a pry bar?" 

After searching for about 10 minutes you find a hammer and start to pry up the nails in the crate.

"Fuck!!"

The side panel comes down hard on your toes causing you to let out a string of swears as your toes throb. While you were doubled over you see a hand reach out for you out of the corner of your eye.

Wait, a hand? Bolting up right immediately you follow the webbed hand up and see it's attached to a whole body, and immediately you are face to face with a mermaid.

~~~

After the shock that you had inadvertently thought a mermaid wore off you quickly took the rest of the crate apart and opened the top of her tank. Her head pops up out of the water and she just stares at you, her eyes full of curiosity when really we should have been for fear of the unknown. Her short hair falls over her eyes as she cocks her head to the side, a little grin on her face "Hey you okay there? You look a little shocked."

"Am I okay? Are you okay, how did you get in there?" 

She flicks her tail out of the tank and props her head up on her hands, "I'm an angelfish, you ordered me. The name's Kara by the way, not that you asked." 

"Oh God I'm so sorry, yeah hi. Sorry I've just never seen a mermaid in person before. I'm y/n, are you okay in there? You look a little cramped?" 

"Yeah I could use a bigger tank, you got any food around here?" 

~~~~

Several hours and most of your food stock gone you realized that this time you ordered from the wrong place, somehow you found a black market site for merpeople in your search for higher quality fish. You debated on calling your local merfolk authorities but decided against it when you realized you'd be arrested. So you decided to keep Kara, your small apartment wouldn't be big enough to house her so you decide on buying the largest aquarium you can fit in your shop and keeping her here. 

It was kind of nice to have someone else in the shop with you, even if that other person was a smart mouthed mermaid. If anyone asked you why there was a mermaid in the shop you'd just tell them that a rescue had reached out to you to house Kara for a little while. 

Having Kara around boosted your sales even more, though you made sure to buy from real fish breeders this time. Over the weeks Kara got extra clingy, anytime you were with a customer for too long she would splash water over you and them. When it was time for you to go home she would complain about a new pain, when stopped listening to her complaints about phantom pains Kara started wailing and begging you not to leave her. One time she threw herself out of her tank and gripped your clothes so tightly she shredded them, that night you stayed with her and slept on the floor next to her habitat.

Her behavior was getting more extreme, today she threw a shell at a man asking about a betta fish. His hand brushed your's when he reached for the food you recommended. 

That night you decided you had to talk to her, try and set some boundaries with her. Climbing the ladder to the top of her tank you lean yourself against the cool glass "Hey Kara, we need to talk okay?" Within seconds she surfaces, her webbed hands grabbing the edge of the tank. "What's up?" 

Taking a deep breath you push back the anxiety gnawing at you, her behavior was not okay but at the same time you didn't want to upset her, she is your friend after all. " Kara the way you've been acting isn't okay. You can't just throw things at people, it was kind of cute when you just splashed people but now you are hurting people. We could get sued, you could get taken away and shipped back to wherever you came from. Do you want that?" 

The little grin she always wore when talking to you dropped and a frown took its place. "Well they shouldn't take your attention away from me, I'm the most important thing here." 

A sigh of frustration escapes you "Kara that's not how this works, this shop is a priority. If you keep this up I'm gonna have to find something else to do with you." Before you can say anymore her clawed hands shoot up and drag you into the water with her, her tail wedges itself between your legs stopping you from kicking her off you, pressing her scales covered breasts to your chest. She tangles one hand into your hair and jerks your head to the side, with your neck exposed Kara sinks her teeth into your soft flesh. You hear a pop and your skin breaks under her sharp fangs, you try and pull to pull her off of you but all it does is cause her to dig in even more.You thrash in her grip, screaming at her to let you go. 

"Kara what the fuck, get off of me!" Slowly your fighting fades and Kara pulls away from your neck, red smeared across her face. Her grip on you loosens and she cradles your head in her hand, Kara places soft kisses over your face and then presses her lips against yours tenderly. When she pulls away she gazes lovingly at your blood smeared face, Kara lays on her back and lays your head against her breasts. Her scales cool on your face, she starts to hum a song and rubs soothing circles into your back. "You can't get rid of me y/n, I can always do worse. Remember that, okay?"

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

My Heart Is With You Two

Request: Do you think you could do one with an older reader, like 17 or 16, where they have a nightmare and Din comforts them afterwards? maybe like a hunt gone wrong? Like Din dies in the nightmare or something bad happens to him and Grogu?

Summary: Din comforts the reader after they have a nightmare about a hunt going wrong. 

Pairing: Dad! Din Djarin x teen! Gender neutral reader

Warnings: non descriptive mention of wounds and picking of skin. Nothing too descriptive, but still in there :)

Word Count: 1,692

Rating: G

A/N: I had a really fun time writing this, I wanted to try and write this in more of Din’s point of view and explore his thoughts as he navigated through parenting. I hope that was okay! And I really hope you like it!! Sorry if the dialogue is kinda meh, I don’t know how adults talk lmao. Din let alone rarely says a word unless you talk to him lmao. Hopefully I did ok. Please let me know what you guys think <3

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Din sat across from Y/N. The pair sat on the walking ramp of the Razor Crest, taking a brief moment to enjoy the natural habitat of the planet they were currently on. It had been a long day for Din. Bounty hunting was dangerous, sure, but as he played with the bandages wrapped around his knee Din couldn’t help but reminisce the particularly difficult parts of his day. It seemed that other bounty hunters caught of the valuable bounty he was pursuing, so while he was trying to get a hold of the Geonosian he also had to fight off more than he could chew. Y/N threw a fit when he stumbled to the ship bloodied, in need of medicinals and rest. It took him promising that he’d take a day off for them to feel better about his condition.

Din sighed and lifted his helmet a little to take another sip of broth. Hm, it was starting to get cold. 

“Suns are going down.” 

Din hummed. “Seems like it. We’ll need to head inside in a moment.”

Y/N nodded, standing up and dusting their pants. They let her hand out toward Din and collected the bowl from his hand before heading inside. 

Din watched them leave before turning back to take one last look of the view. The forest was a plethora of greens and little critters running about. On his way into the nearest town Din considered taking the next day off so that his foundlings could go out to enjoy the scenery, maybe even swim in a lake he’d passed not too far away. Grogu would have had a field day, terrorizing small critters by chasing them around the grass.

The Mandalorian frowned at the involuntary wince his body experienced. He placed a hand on his knee and tenderly touched the muscle that ached. This was why he knew the kids can’t have a day off tomorrow. Not on this planet, at least. It was too risky. If Din learned anything today it was that the planet was crawling with dangerous beings. Some who may want to seek revenge for the people he’d killed today while on the job. 

He was too deep in thought to realize that Y/N had been watching him. They stood silently against the wall, focusing on the way he held himself. Injured leg raised a little, hands gentle to the touch, rigid movements. He was in pain and didn’t want to show it. But this was all a part of the job. They shuffled in their spot, floorboard creaking underneath them. 

“Y/N, you should go to bed.” 

They shifted their weight, “Are you not coming in?”

“In a moment... I’d like to enjoy the view a little more.”

A lie. He needed another moment to rest, to avoid putting any strain on his leg. One could argue that this behavior of defiance toward his injury was out of pride, but in reality Din didn’t want to worry Y/N. They were 17, sure, they could handle seeing their guardian like this. But he’d rather not let them know about the reality of his state. Besides, another’s day’s rest and he’ll be fine. 

He waited, and didn’t hear Y/N move.

“You should go to bed.” His voice made this sound more like an order rather than a statement. 

Y/N said a quite goodnight and left. Din turned back to the view. He waited until the sky began to turn purple to stand up and launch the ship. The Crest was set to autopilot after reaching a suitable cruising altitude. The clan should be at their destination by the time they wake up. Din stumbled out of the cockpit and made his way to the hull, wordlessly removing the heavy beskar and grabbing new bandages. Replacing bandages were harder to do when the wound is still relatively fresh. Hopefully the next time they’ll need changing the task will be easier. Finished, Din stood up from the box he was perched on and made his way to the cot he and Grogu shared.

 Something soft squished underneath his foot. What was that? Din lifted his foot and chuckled softly. He leaned over to pick up a little frog plush. A smile spread across his lips. The plush was a favorite of Grogu’s, as his sibling made it special after their meeting with the frog lady. Now he carries it around everywhere he can. It even went to the school with the children when they were left there during their time in Nevarro. 

Din walked over to where his son was snoring in his hammock. Maybe he was dreaming of frogs. Din liked to think so, smiling and perched the plush next to Grogu for him to find in the morning. 

A small sniffle made its way to the hull of the ship. 

The Mandalorian turned to the closed cot that sat parallel to theirs, tilting his head curiously. He took a step forward and knocked on the metal surface. 

“Y/N? I thought you’d gone to bed.”

“I uh... got woken up when we took off.” Din didn’t miss the way their voice hitched. He waited a couple seconds.

 “Would you open the door please?”

A pause. Then a beep before the cot’s door opened up and Din came to be face to face with a teary-faced foundling. He froze, taken aback by the sight of the tears that raised questions. Are you hurt? What’s bothering you? You’re not alone, I’m here. But he didn’t say any of that. For once he found himself without words as he took in Y/N’s expression. Their skin was paler than normal. Eyes that were swollen and stained red avoided his gaze, downcast as they picked at the skin on their knee. 

Din tilted his head ever so slightly. Were they… anxious? 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

The teenager in front of him didn’t make a move, beginning to shut down.

“Y/N.” He said once more, catching their attention. 

Din slowly knelt down in front of them and placed a hand on their knee 

“You’re going to have to communicate with me, Y/N. I can’t read minds.” He patted their knee reassuringly. “But...take your time. There’s no rush.”

Y/N blinked several times, rubbing their eyes and making Din realize that they were still crying. The sleeping quarters were slowly filling with quiet, ragged breaths of a foundling trying to control their breathing before it got worse. A hand rubbed slowly against their back, belonging to a patient Mandalorian who’d sat next to them and pulled them close, quietly reassuring them that they were in the ship with their clan and that they were safe, that everything was okay. Din found himself mimicking the way that his guardians had comforted him during his childhood. They were the ones who’d watched over him when his parents were no longer able to. Now, he was relying on their hospitality to care for his own foundling. He’d hoped he was doing it right. Y/N deserved a guardian that would provide for them in all aspects. 

When the hull was quiet again Din dared to speak once more, softly so as to not startle the teen in his arms. “Are you ready to talk now?”

“...yeah.” Y/N sighed, pulling their blanket further around them. 

“I had this… dream. It didn’t feel like a dream. It just, you- something happened when you left for a hunt. Something terrible.” Their breath hitched slightly, making Din frown as they continued. “Grogu and I were at the Crest like we always are when you leave when someone comes to the ship… with you.”

Y/N quickly looked at Din through their peripheral vision, averting their eyes when the two’s gaze locked. 

“Did something happen to me?” Y/N nodded, gulping. They sniffed as they quickly rubbed at their eyes again. Din gently pulled their hand away. “Don’t do that. It’s not good for your eyes.”

“S-sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you with this.”  

Din took a moment to think of his next words and placed a gentle hand on their chin, making them look at him. “You’re not bothering me, Y/N. I don’t want you to have to feel like you need to bottle this up. It’s my job as your guardian to be there for you-- you can come to me for anything. Do you understand?” 

“Mhm,” They sniffed. 

The Mandalorian took a moment to think once more. It became clear to him that Y/N was more than just worried when he returned home bloodied and worn from battle. They were scared. Scared that one day he would never return. It was hard for him to remember that Y/N knew underneath all of that beskar, he wasn’t invincible. 

“Ever since I’ve come of age I’ve never had anyone worry for my death,” he started, catching their attention. “It’s comforting to know that I have two very important people who do, and they wait for me everyday. Right here.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Y/N chuckled sarcastically. “What if-”

“Let me finish,” Din ruffled their hair, “What I’m saying is that I’ll do everything to go back home to the two of you, my little womp rats. You two motivate me in more ways than you think, little one.”

“Really?” 

“Really. Though I’m not as strong as my beskar, I would fight my way through Chaos if it means coming back to the two of you. Okay?”

“Okay Din. Man, I didn’t know you had such a heart under that armor.” Y/N shoved Din’s shoulder playfully, earning a hearty laugh from the Mandalorian. 

“No, no I don’t.” He shook his head and patted Y/N’s shoulder, beaming proudly at his foundling before averting his eyes to where Grogu was sleeping. Y/N followed his gaze. “It’s out here, with you two.”