#and my throat feeling like theres a knive in it

[bobendsneyder64]

I fucking feel like a walking virus

[stevie-petey]

could we perchance get a lil blurb about why/how reader and dustin started their code blues, or maybe just one of their code blues before all the upside down stuff started ? love seeing their sibling relationship always and i think seeing them talking and sharing emotions with each other would be really sweet <3

dustin n reader <333 babies <333

enjoy !

"just because dad left it doesnt mean you can be a bitch."

dustins words cut through you like knives.

"okay, first off, never use that word towards a girl ever again." he rolls his eyes at you and you flick his nose, which he scoffs at. "secondly, i have no idea what youre talking about."

dustin again rolls his eyes. "yeah, you do. youve been a real b- i mean, a real jerk lately."

you want to argue with him, but the words dont seem to come. all you seem to do lately is argue with everyone. and now, confronted with your little brother calling you bitch, you find that youre exhausted.

"i have, havent i?" you finally admit.

dustin nods. "yeah."

you forget sometimes how smart the kid can be. hes only nine and yet here he is, calling you out for actions you shouldve noticed yourself. hes too young to be worrying about this.

"im sorry,"

"its okay. i get it. he sucks, doesnt he?"

"he does, but im still sorry for being such a bitch."

"i thought we couldnt use that word."

you ruffle dustins hair. "nope, youre not allowed to. i am, though."

he sighs, as if expecting that response, and starts to walk out your room. the conversation doesnt feel finished yet, however, and you call after him. "wait!'

"i gotta pee."

"okay, and i told you to wait."

he groans but sits back down on your bed. "do you wanna... talk?"

"ew!"

"i know, but... im serious, buddy. we havent really talked since dad left and i realize i kinda suck as a big sister right now." you feel guilt crawling up your throat, one of the few emotions youve felt these last few days. your dad left a few weeks ago, but sometimes it feels like its been a lifetime.

"you dont suck," dustin reassures you. "youre just... scary right now."

you snort. "yeah, like thats any better."

its quiet now, and dustin sits stiffly against your bed. he seems scared being so close to you, as if you could erupt any second, and you feel horrible for it. youre not sure what you can do, though. theres still so much anger within you, resentment and betrayal, and you dont know how to express so much without hurting those around you.

then, an idea comes to you.

"what about this. we'll call it a code blue."

dustin looks up at you, curious. "whats a code blue?"

"well, my dear brother, its something we'll do when we cant express how we feel or when we think the other sibling needs to have a talk. whenever one of us calls a code blue, the other has to answer honestly and listen as best as they can. once its over, we never bring it up again and we conclude with a hug. hows that sound?"

he thinks for a moment. "honest about anything?"

"mhm,"

"alright. i think that could work. seems less emotional."

you laugh. "i figured youd like that part."

"so... code blue?" dustin asks hesitantly.

"code blue."

you tell dustin everything, explaining why youve been so destructive and bitter and mean. he listens as best as any nine year old can, and as you tell him everything, the weight that had been pressing against your chest these last few weeks begins to lessen. slowly, during the code blue, it becomes easier to breathe.

when youre finally done, right as the last words leave your lips, dustin throws his arms around you. "i love you."

you bring a hand to his hair and kiss the top of his head. "i love you, too. dont let me get all mean again, yeah?"

"i wont."

"good."

[marumarielle]

im having brainrot about my TWD DR. (jk its basically 100% carl grimes)

- FOR CONTEXTTT, im mute because of a throat injury and ever since then, carl and i made up this sign language to communicate and ever since then he never left my side because he wants me to feel included in convos by translating whatever i would sign and it just JSBSJBSHSBSJSBS

- carl likes comics while i like books (we have constant 'arguments' about how our choice of literature is lame)

- oh, i steal his flannels. but the cyclops literally steals my fooken knives

- late night talks on the swing in the abandoned kids park outside Alexandria

- me and carl made up this kind of whistle that resembles a bird call. its fun because its our secret language used to alert us if we're near each other, theres danger near, etc. (spoiler: it saved us ALOT during the saviors era)

- is actually interested in my books, he just doesn't want to admit it.

- so random (idk and idc if its ooc) but he references deadpool a lot.

- walks around the house without his bandage because he's comfortable around me

- TRACING EACH OTHER'S SCARS RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

- i have a long vertical scar on my neck that tilts upwards towards my jaw at the end and he'd trace that gingerly while we're cuddling. i would caress his cheek on the injured side of his face in return

- letting him braid my hair all the while i try convincing him to braid his in return

this is just a ramble rlly, I NEEDDDD to get it out of my system b4 I go insane 😭

[aslongasimhereyoureinvincible]

haikyuu!! the dumpster battle ramblings

saw it earlier today and am going to see it again tomorow with a friend, am very Full Of Thoughts, if u dont wont spoilers for the movie well take this as your warning ig

okay first of all the sound direction, the sound direction was INSANELY good

this is absolutely a movie that needs to be experienced in cinema, the soundscape of tokyo gymnasium and the karasuno v nekoma match felt so vividly real it was like i was at an actual game

the soundtrack was great too, i mean it always is w/ hayashi yuuki

there were i think two tracks that used the leitmotif from 'above', good shit

the animation was also really great, overall it didnt look massively better than season 4 of the anime

which is fine, season 4 looked great imo (minus that outsourced episode)

but holy shit when the sakuga hit it hit HARD

tsukki and lev blocking, kageyama doing his thing, kenma and kuroo's quick, there were lots of really great sakuga moments

they also reused some shots from earlier on in the anime and idk maybe thats 'lazy' or whatever but i liked it, it was very nostalgic :')

they did re-animate and i think re-voice hinata and kenma's first meeting tho, framing it from kenma's POV, loved that

i think my favourite sakuga shot had to be hinata and kenma with the knives at each other's throats tho, that ate

not sure how i didnt know about this before hand but it made perfect sense to me when i saw studio trigger in the end credits, some of the sakuga, esp the blocking, had a bit of that trigger flair to it

so obviously they werent gonna fit in everything from the manga, and the movie definitely had kenma as its focus, but i think overall they did a decent job in picking and chosing what to cut

the one thing im annoyed about is the removal of old coach ukai and coach nekomata's backstory, i really i think it makes the handshake at the end of the game hit that much harder

other than that tho i dont think the movie suffered from not adapting everything in the manga, i mean obviously i wouldve LIKED it, but i dont think the movie NEEDED it to be a good movie

it very much felt like kenma was the main character of the movie, and the main focus, with kuroo and hinata as his deuteragonists

which i liked!!! i think framing the match from kenma's POV for the most part makes sense, and its fun to spend more time in outsider POVs of karasuno

rlly loved the adaptation of kuroo and kenma's childhood flashback, im pretty sure kaji yuuki voiced kid kenma too

watching their friendship grow and seeing them play togther now as high schoolers, AUGH RIGHT IN THE FEELS

theres also a montage of kid kuroo barging into kenma's room to demand they go play volleyball together that ends on kuroo doing so whilst kenma's changing/putting on trousers which was rlly funny and silly

the stuff with kuroo and tsukki was so good too

'thanks to everyone, occasionally it's fun', 'thank god i wasnt wrong', 'he's a man who walks ahead of me'

AUUUGHHHHHH IT WAS SO GOOD :')

the scene that completely stole my breath away though was kageyama setting the open toss to hinata

i know ive already lost my mind over the whole 'threat of trust' thing and truly, the inarizaki match goes insane with that concept i will always adore it

but holy shit that scene smacked me over the head, HARD, with the concept of 'setting as a love language'

i just... i literally dont even have words for it it was SO amazingly good, i legitimately teared up in the cinema

speaking of other great scenes;

'stay interesting, 'kay?'

OHHHHH GODDDDDDDDDD

they did it perfectly

the music and the soundscape completely cutting out, the background whiting out so its just kenma and the net, kaji yuuki's delivery of the line

it genuinely felt like something out of a horror movie, it was creepy, and unsettling, and PERFECT

also;

hinata's reaction after kenma collapses and says 'that was fun'

murase ayumu's delivery was so VISCERAL, dude got in that booth and CHEERED

you really felt hinata's sheer utter come through in that little scene, same with kuroo's incredulous laugh

the end of the match was slightly a mixed bag for me

on the good hand;

having done from kenma's first person POV was cool, i dont think haikyuu's ever really done that before, and it looked awesome

cutting back on the music and background soundscaping so we just focus on kenma's breathing and the sound of the ball/players jumping/shoes squeaking etc was a great way to really immerse the viewer in the scene, and put us inside kenma's head

on the bad hand;

it was anticlimatic, and i KNOW the whole point of the end of the match is that its anticlimatic,

but i had always imagined the scene with dramatic swelling music and the characters running frantically, only for it to all cut away when the ball slips and all you can hear is kenma's 'ah-' and there'd be a close-up of his facial expression

the stage play did a very similar thing and it worked EXTREMELY well imo

instead by doing it in the first person POV and already not having music it just,,, didnt feel quite as impactful as it shouldve imo??

like the match points for the seijoh, shiratorizawa, or inarizaki matches were done really dramatically

and i know the whole point is that the nekoma match is kinda an outlier in that it ends in that anticlimatic way with the ball slipping, and theres that big beat with hinata calling out 'nice serve' to tanaka before the realisation sets in that theyve won, but jusstttt

idk like it certainly wasnt BAD, i still DEEPLY DEEPLY enjoyed it, but just personally if i'd been the director i wouldve done it differently

also!! because it was from his first person POV we didnt get to see kenma's face on the 'idiot! the ball hasn't dropped yet!!!' line, which was pretty disapointing ngl i rlly love that scene how it is in the manga

ok enough complaining tho back to the infinite list of stuff i loved about the movie

the camera work! good god the camera work was so fucking cool

it really made the space of the gymnasium feel 3d and real, the way the camera would move over and through the net with the ball helped emphasise the physicality of the players and the court

i know jack shit about cinematography but yeah, after the sound design the camera work was prolly the best thing

the post credits scene was great!! daishou trying and failing to neg kuroo cracks me up every damn time

and the set up for the kamomedai match was so hype

speaking of; the very vague forshadowing for hinata's fever of him having flushed cheeks and not being all exhausted after the game like the others, auughhh my heartttt

if he isnt already, this movie will make kenma one of your top 5 haikyuu characters

seriously i love how they switched the perspective and framing so it was a bit more like kenma was the 'main character' of this match and hinata was the 'rival'

overall the movie was cool, creative, and a really clearly loving adaptation, im more than happy to be paying to see it again tmr lol

i'll probably have even more to say after seeing it a 2nd time so tune in for that ig

[moonsun2010]

It's finally over.

Other portraits:

Mina | Jonathan | Dracula | Lucy | Lucy...? | Lucy (Final) | Jonathan (3 Oct) | Mina (3 Oct) | Dracula (Final)

[lord-explosion-baku]

Sparrow

Prince!Satoru Gojo x assassin!reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, suggestive themes, dubious themes, blood

A/N: request numero dos is done! It’s kinda silly, but I think it’s pretty fun! I think it can be read as pretty lighthearted, even if it gets a little violent! it’s a little different that what was originally requested! I had the elements for a sword fight set up, but it wasn’t working out the way I wanted it to, so I took a slightly different route! theres still fighting though! I hope you like it!

It’s been a long journey to get where you are now, silently scaling the castle towers towards the prince’s bed chambers. An extra long journey, considering how many royal guards have been posted on top of kingdom rooftops. Like a shadow in the night, using nothing but the black elements to mask your presence, you’ve managed to slip by them, as well as the gatehouse soldiers, undetected, leaving only four men incapacitated, and not a vestige of your presence. All this sneaking around has been a trying job thus far, but it’s almost over now. You’re about to finish what you came to do.

Light as a feather, quiet as a dormouse, you swing your body up and over the limestone-clad palace window. The room is adorned with priceless artwork watched over by gilded ceiling paintings. Framing the biggest bed you’ve ever seen is a corona with royal blue drapery that hangs down to each corner. In the center of the bed lies the sleeping and wonderfully unaware prince.

His body is lopsided, and only partially covered by silk sheets. One of his feet hangs off the bed. Tousled white hair sticks out in every direction while still managing to frame his admittedly attractive face. Long white eyelashes. Peaceful and full lips. He’s young, you think, although you’ve been aware. But seeing him in the flesh solidifies the thought: you are about to be the end of his short life.

However, this mission comes with little remorse. There have been rumors that the Royal Gojo Family has been dabbling in alchemy for over a century now. To you, there is nothing more disgusting than the use of the unnatural sciences. It’s ungodly. And even then, this kill shouldn’t matter much since you can call it what it is: a job. This is what you do. Do as your master commands, kill without question, leave no trace, get paid, repeat. It helps that there have been rumors specifically centered around your charge; rumors that Prince Satoru is a complete and utter womanizer.

Well, not for long.

The bed doesn’t shake the least bit as you climb on top of him. The prince sleeps soundlessly and doesn’t stir when you situate your thighs over his firm hips. Normally, you’d simply slit your target’s throat, quick and easy, but since there are those rumors about the use of alchemy, you need to work a little differently tonight. To kill an alchemist user, one will have to pierce them directly in the heart with a silver blade. You don’t particularly believe that the prince is a user; his focus has primarily been on balls and parties and other social events, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. So, your primed weapon of choice, a silverlined dagger, slides up your sleeve and into the palm of your hand. You grasp its hilt, then line it parallel to his heart, pull up, and plunge it in.

Rather, you would be plunging it in, if it hadn’t been for the swift-acting hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“Drop it.” The low, sleep-crackled utterance sends shivers up your spine. Acting fast, you use your free hand to push on the hilt, your strength against his, but it doesn’t budge a centimeter, and instead, both of your wrists are captured by the prince. His grip tightens, squeezing you so harshly that you feel the tips of your fingers tingle, but you don’t relinquish your weapon.

Vibrant blue eyes blink up at you, narrowing into a scowl. You try pushing harder, ignoring the fact that his eyes seem to glow in the darkness, ignoring the fact that they are the prettiest eyes that have ever gazed at you, ignoring the fact that those pretty eyes are now trailing down your body. Your skin burns at the attention. You can’t let yourself believe that he’s checking you out in a life or death situation, but then you figure it’s in your head when he says, “if you wish to keep your wrists intact, you will drop. Your. Dagger.”

Surrendering is not an option. It’s either kill or be killed, because even when you choose to not kill, your termination will be absolute. You will be tried by the king with his son at his right side, then you will be hanged for your crimes. So with shaking hands, you attempt to exert more pressure, trying to keep your breath steady to not raise a commotion.

Surprisingly, the prince chuckles. “Has a little sparrow flown through my window to try to kill me?”

In one fell swoop, Satoru manages to flip you onto your back, his hands bringing your wrists down on the side of the bed, forcing you to drop the dagger to the floor. He eyes you speculatively for a moment, then his mouth turns up into a half-grin.

“A woman, no less.” He muses incredulously. Then his eyes dart back down your body, and by the way his grin widens, you’re sure he actually is checking you out. “Are you supposed to be some kind of peace offering?”

What an odd man. Although you've just made an attempt on his life, he’s smiling down at you like you’re some kind of acquaintance—no, friend.

“I mean…sending a beautiful woman to my bedchambers says a lot, wouldn’t you agree?” Prince Satoru asks after taking in your dumbfounded expression. “Not much for words?” He asks. “That’s okay, little sparrow. We don’t need to talk.”

You gasp when he begins to lean down, eyes trained on your lips. Without a second’s hesitation, your feet meet his bare chest, and with all of your might, you kick off, throwing him back a couple meters. You flip back onto the floor and attack him with throwing knives while you search for your dagger. If he is in fact an alchemist, your other weapons won’t do much damage, but could slow him down if you could manage to hit him.

“You’re strong,” Satoru gleefully appraises, dodging another one of your throwing knives, and catching the other. He throws it back at you, but you manage to duck behind the corona curtain at just the right time. “And fast.”

The dagger is under the bed. You grab it, gulp some air, then use the curtain as a distraction before charging at the prince, using the same swiping technique your master has taught you. Your blade cuts through the air with one swipe, and another. You’re barely missing him, and it’s frustrating because that goofy grin stays plastered to his dumb, pretty face!

In a moment’s notice, he grabs your outstretched arm, pushing down on a pressure point that has your limb lock up. “But you’re messy and unrefined,” he says as a hand slides up your arm. Now behind you, he places his free hand on your waist, moving you into a stance similar to what your master has shown you. “Don’t you fret, little sparrow. It’s nothing a little polishing won’t fix.”

His breath is hot and fanning your ear. Your stomach knots when he squeezes your waist, and to your utter horror, his lips graze down to your neck, tongue sliding over your skin. “Mmm…sweet.”

“What! Are you—?!” Bouncing away from him, you cover your slick neck with one hand while the other continues to point the dagger outwards. What’s even worse is that he doesn’t look the least bit jaded!

He laughs. “Even your voice is cute!” In the dim light of the room, you can see pink beginning to bloom across his cheeks. “Won’t you speak more? Say my name, pretty please.”

“Prick,” you hiss, once again charging forward.

“Do you kiss your master with that mouth?” Satoru begins using his arms to block and redirect your attacks, until he’s twirling you around as if you’re dancing and not trying to kill him! You fume, hating the fact that the prince knows you have a master to begin with. “I should hope not. The only person I’d have you kiss is me!”

He dips you down low, your dagger somehow tucked between the junction of your arm, and very smoothly places his lips against yours. You’ve been kissed before, but never in such a way that made you feel like floating. Like gravity ceased to exist. Like you were falling into a black hole that you didn’t want to claw out of. Prince Satoru Gojo’s kiss is different. It’s light and it’s heavy. It’s heaven and it’s earth. It’s a blessing and a curse.

He hums into you, making the knot in your belly tighten. For a moment, you don’t struggle. Instead, your lips part, and you allow the prince to cup your face to pull you in deeper, tasting you, relishing you. You wind your fingers through the soft strands of his starry hair, and lose yourself in the moment. When he breaks the kiss, pulling away with an expression you can only call beguiled, his thumb moves along the bottom of your lip. Your mind is the fog that clouds the streets at night. It doesn’t mean anything to you when you kiss the tip of his thumb, but when that grin you hate so much comes back, your body erupts in blusterous rage.

Realizing what you just allowed to happen, you snap at his hand. He pulls it away just in time for you to reach for your weapon and slice it across his chest. You push him back, only allowing yourself a second to collect yourself before aiming the dagger at his heart. He catches your wrist before it makes contact.

“So passionate,” he says with a smile, but through gritted teeth. “I must admit, this has been the most fun I’ve had in my bedchambers in a very long time. You might even be spoiling all the fun that the future entails as well. And I don’t even know your name yet. How sad.”

Satoru throws you against the wall, pinning your dagger-wielding arm against one of his extravagant paintings. He nods towards your weapon. “Throw that away.”

“You scared, alchemist?” You bite back.

“I’m only afraid you might hurt yourself, little sparrow. Sharp objects are dangerous, you know. Wouldn't want to clip your wings.” He winks. “And you should be referring to me as your royal highness. I am a prince, afterall.”

“With the dark craft that you and the royal family use, you’re no higher than me.”

Satoru chuckles. “Won’t you please tell me your name? Or at least join me in bed before you insist that I need to be killed.”

“This is not on my insistence.” It’s a slip, but it’s a big one. You’d cover your mouth if your hands were free.

“So, who sent you?” The prince prompts. “It can’t be a scorned lover. Hmmm. The Fushiguro clan? Pshh. No. They’d do it in person.” He flashes his teeth, omniscience glowing in his beautiful blue eyes. “Master Suguru Getou?”

You suck in a breath and he reads it all too well.

“I already know,” he purrs, lips brushing against yours. “Your fighting style is very similar to his. I’m just surprised he sent somebody with so little experience. It certainly proves how much of a coward he is.”

Your blood boils. How dare he insult your master to your face! Satoru Gojo, the sleazy prince and a lowly alchemist. He is scum compared to Master Getou.

You ram your head into the prince’s. Pain shoots down your spine, but you ignore it and thrust your dagger forward. Satoru grabs your arm and pushes it down, and soon, you scream after hearing a tearing sound, and feel a very sharp stinging at your side. Sticky warm fluid seep through your fingers at your side. It’s not a deep cut, but it’s just enough to make you bleed.

“Oh no,” Prince Satoru says in earnest. “Oh, this was my mistake. Dear sparrow, that was a reflex of mine. I didn’t mean to—“

There’s a knock on the prince’s chamber doors, followed by someone’s low voice asking, “your highness, are you well? I heard screaming.”

Shit. This is it. You’re dead. Sure, the prince wants to play with you, but anyone else will have your head in a heartbeat if they see what you’re doing. You should say your prayers now and kiss the world goodbye. You’re sending a silent apology to Master Getou when Satoru lifts you up and carries you to his bed.

“Sir Nanami?” The prince calls while he throws the sheets over both you and him. He climbs on top, pressing his chest into yours. The side that’s injured seers with pain, so you let out a little whimper the moment you hear footsteps enter the room.

“Don’t tell me you have a woman in here,” the man groans. “You know the king has forbidden any partner of yours from walking through these palace doors until further notice.”

“She flew in through my window, actually,” Satoru slyly admits. “But she’s no ordinary woman. She’s very special to me.”

Both you and the knight scoff at the same time, though you hope he doesn’t hear you. If he can believe this charade, perhaps you can get on with your night. And once you kill the prince, there will be a knight who will think that his murder is nothing but a lover’s quarrel gone wrong.

“I see.”

You’re staring at Satoru’s chest, and you realize that his wound from earlier is nearly healed. If you had any doubts about the Gojo family using alchemy, they’re out the window now. You run a fine finger across the red line that contrasts against his ivory chest, feeling the smooth bump where you’d cut him. Will it scar? you think. Disappear completely?

The prince squirms and grabs your hand. “That tickles!” He exclaims, bringing your hand up to his mouth to pepper kisses all over it. Even though the attention burns the back of your neck, you let him, since it’ll only convince the knight that the two of you are in fact being intimate.

Finally, Satoru says, “did you need something, Sir Nanami, or are you ready to confess your voyeuristic sins?”

Sir Nanami sighs, but you hear him back up a few paces. “Then, nobody’s hurt, your highness?”

“No,” Satoru says dubiously, “however, if you could fetch the healing medicines, that would be appreciated. She’s a little feisty!”

You slap his chest and he yips playfully back at you. It would be good fun if the two of you weren’t enemies.

Once the knight leaves, you’re quick to slink out of the bed, albeit wobbly. Dots of blood line his sheets, the sight making you feel a bit dizzy, but it doesn’t stop you from picking up your weapon.

“You don’t tire, do you?” Satoru asks impishly. “As admirable as that is, I simply cannot allow you to try to kill me anymore! You’ll get more hurt!”

“You’re nothing but a dirty alchemist.” You weakly thrust the dagger forward, nearing the window.

“Well, and a dashing prince, but that’s besides the point.” Satoru steps forward and you step back, your legs hitting the window’s wall. “Your master is no better.”

You bare your teeth at him. “Don’t you dare say a word to me about my master!”

“Please, little sparrow, you’re injured. Step away from the window and let’s bandage you up.” He reaches a hand out, and you swipe through the air, splicing his palm. More blood falls to the floor. Unafflicted, Satoru says, “you can’t hurt me.”

“Then let me leave, so that when I return, I can hurt you!”

There’s a purse on his lips. A pensive pause. Then the prince raises both of his hands, one of which is already healed, in defeat.

“There’s a medicine man who lives south-east from the gatehouse,” he says. “His name is Kiyotaka Ijichi. He’ll be asleep by now, but he’s a bit of a pushover and a sucker for a lady in distress. If you wail a bit outside his house, he’ll come out to offer you aid.”

“I don’t need anybody’s help,” you spit as you begin climbing out the window. You half-expect him to push you then. It’s a wonderful opportunity, one that you would seize if you were in his position. But the prince just watches you begin your descent.

“Do try to not bleed on any of the garden flowers,” he calls.

You wordlessly growl back at him.

“Oh, and little sparrow! Should you return here tomorrow evening, or perhaps the next night, or even a week or a month from now, shall I prepare red or white wine for you?” Prince Satoru offers you a charming smile. “And would you like there to be a violinist present? Anything to set the mood?”

Once you’re on your feet, you glare up at the beaming prince. He’s far too confident, but you make a mental promise to ruin that confidence someday, somehow. You don’t answer him, like you’re sure he doesn’t expect, but you allow him to watch you disappear into the black from whence you came.

[acourtofsnakes]

Kov’nyn - Rogue, Chapter 13| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: The night after Din rescued you from your nightmare, you realise you have a lot to think about… and you might just reach a decision that could change your fate. 

Word count: 7k+

Warnings: None I think, in this one. Like one swear? Weapons/knives – not used in violence - Mainly just soft fluffy times! 

AN: This one is pretty gentle, nothing super big really happening. I thought I’d give you all a rest after the rollercoaster of the last chapter~

Also, time to play Spot The Easter Egg again!! Theres a quote in here from Six of Crows... can you find it?

Gif belongs to me♥︎

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad | 10: Tome | 11: Aliit ori'shya tal'din| 12: Mar’eyce | 13: Kov’nyn| 

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey​ @what-iwish-you-knew​ @queenofthefaceless​

Mando’a Translation: Kov'nyn  - Keldabe kiss

You stirred to the feeling of a pleasantly heavy arm resting over your torso. 

You froze, body going rigid on instinct at feeling the intrusion. Further inspection revealed a leg slung over yours and you could feel the line of armour digging into your calf. 

Armour?

Oh. Of course.

The Mandalorian. 

The previous night came flooding back to you in full technicolour, sending a slow wave of heat across your skin and relaxing your body. You remembered the horror of your nightmare, and then the Mandalorian coming in, soothing you, laying with you and then…

Everything that happened after. 

It didn’t even take that much concentration to imagine his hands again, those delightful touches. The husky roughness of his voice as he praised you, coaxed you to the edge and held you as you tumbled over. 

And then… he told you his name. 

He had given you a part of himself, something that was so poignant and personal. It made him who he was, gave him his identity and separated him from “The Mandalorian.” 

Din Djarin. 

Din. 

It was a gorgeous name. Simple, to the point. 

You had to admit, it suited him in that sense. But it felt like starlight on your tongue, and it was yours. He had given it to you, entrusting you with such a precious part of himself. 

In your opinion, tt was as significant as taking off his helmet, and it had settled in a place tucked against your heart, curled there and warmed you from the inside out. 

Din was still asleep next to you – you assume -  on his side. You had since rolled onto your back in the night, which did mean you were precariously close to the edge of the bed. 

Din hadn’t moved at all, presumably used to having to be still from all the times he spent wedged into the medical bay compartment on his side, with no room to move and Grogu in his hammock above him.

You could get used it, waking up with him. 

The modulator in his helmet allowed you to hear the soft, deep rhythm of his breathing and his armour had warmed overnight where it lay against your skin. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you woke up next to someone and had such an immense feeling of safety and comfort. 

This truly was home – wherever the Mandalorian was. 

Wherever Din was. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid there for, but you did know you were staring to get uncomfortable. The thin mattress – if you could even call it that – was irritating you, making you feel a little restless in this position. 

You could feel Din’s hand against your side, but you weren’t sure if his hands were still bare or not. Sleep had taken you before him, so you weren’t awake to witness him pulling them back on. 

You didn’t dare look properly, not wanting to lay your eyes on his bare skin, to break his Creed. So, you opened your eyes to slits, carefully peering across the room and you didn’t see any sign of his gloves. 

You tried to concentrate, to see if you could feel if he had his gloves back on. The blanket and your top didn’t really provide much help in that matter, naturally. 

Maybe you could wriggle a little? See if that did anything?

Of course, you could touch his hands, and then you would know. But the two times you had felt his bare skin previously, he was awake, and you had his consent. He was asleep, and therefore couldn’t tell you if it was okay or not.  

Wriggling it is. 

You began your movement, gently squirming with your hips shuffling side to side, to see if that would provide any knowledge on the matter – not that you thought it would. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you were doing. It was possible your brain still hadn’t engaged after being thoroughly wrecked last night in all ways. 

Unfortunately, a bed that was barely wide enough for you, combined with wriggling around and trying not to wake Din… Well, there was only one way it could end. 

With you dumped on the cold, metal floor. 

And taking the blanket with you. 

And yelping in surprise. 

“Cyar'ika?”

So much for not waking Din up. 

You groaned, rubbing your elbow where you had landed on it and then tried to untangle yourself from the blanket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

The helmet appeared over the side of the bed, “Don’t be, I was already awake. What are you doing on the floor?” 

You rose to your knees and sighed, resting your chin on the edge of the cot, “I was uncomfortable, and I wanted to move, but I didn’t want to open my eyes in case you didn’t have your gloves on. And I didn’t know you were awake.”

Din tilted his head at you, “And that made you fall out of the bed?”

Resting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you shook your head, “No, I was…” Here we go, “I was trying to feel if you had them on. Without touching you.”

Din was silent. 

It sounded like he sucked in a breath to speak, only to let it out again. 

He made a thoughtful noise. “I see. So… Instead of turning your cheek against my hand which was under your head by the way, you instead decided to try and… wriggle.. to feel my hand.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, having completely not realised his arm was still beneath your neck. “Yes.”

“Through the blanket.”

“Yes.”

“And your top.”

“… Yes.”

Din made a thoughtful noise again, “I see.” 

Then he started laughing, that gorgeous, rare sound that he had made only a few times in your presence. Sure, you sometimes got a chuckle, but this laugh was like liquid honey. 

Even if it was at your expense. 

“Hey!” You crossed your arms, trying not to laugh too, “Do not laugh at me! It’s your fault! You were awake and watched me struggle!”

The laughter still echoed out of the helmet as he laid back, a hand on his chest, “For someone who has so much grace in everyday life, you are terrible when it comes to night-time and early morning.” 

You rose to your feet this time, pushing your weight onto one leg and copying his ‘hands on hips’ pose, “Oh, because you’re so smooth?” You stuck your tongue at him, “Tin can.” You turned your back on him, meaning to walk from the room. 

You heard movement, and then he was suddenly behind you, catching your hand and lacing his fingers through yours, “Hey, come back to bed.” The laughter was still in his voice, turning it a little softer – and that combined with the coaxing tug to your hand… 

How could you say no to that?

Without turning around, you tried to carry on walking to the door and at least appear strong-willed, “After you just laughed at me? You think you can use that honeyed tone and I’ll come falling into your arms?” You arched an eyebrow, looking over your shoulder

Din gave your hand another gentle tug, stopping you in your tracks “I believe you were falling into my arms last night.” His chest bumped up against your back gently, and his other hand trailed lightly on your hip, just the barest touch in case you didn’t want it. 

Maker.

Heat creeped along your cheeks, and the ghost of his touch trailed over you again, leaving you speechless. 

He had you there. 

The grin on his lips was obvious even through the helmet as he succeeded in tugging you back into his body, winding his arms around your waist. His head ducked down, and you felt the cool beskar brush your ear, “How do you feel...? After last night?” His voice was soft and tender despite his teasing. And you knew he wasn’t just referring to the moment. 

Your body instantly turned boneless, and you melted back into him, fitting against the planes of his body, “I feel… good. Really. A little shaken up still but… you really helped me. Thank you for coming to me… again.” Your heart beat a little uncomfortably in your chest, anxiety trembling in your belly as it always did on the rare occasions you spoke about your darker emotions out loud. 

Din either felt or sensed this, because he rested the chin of his helmet on your shoulder, holding you back into him with his thumb running over your hip, “I’ll always come to you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be right there. And if for some reason I don’t wake up, you can come and find me, okay? Don’t suffer alone.” 

A lump rose in your throat and you nodded, not trusting your voice to speak. 

It was still so new to you, this care and attentiveness from someone. And even more so, letting someone care about you. 

It was always just you, on your own. If you got hurt, you had to fix yourself up. If you were hungry, it was either hunt, gather or steal your food – or go hungry. 

And if you were having a day that things were overwhelming you… well, you had to deal with that on your own too. Usually, you would just push it to the back of your mind, keep going on and on and on. If you didn’t stop, you didn’t feel. 

Which is probably why everything had caught up with you a lot more these past few months. 

For the first time in your life, you were slowing down. Stopping to breathe, to take note of your surroundings and to listen to what your body wanted for comfort rather than survival.

And so, everything that had been bottled up and restrained had begun to seep out. 

Including your powers. 

Din ran his thumb over your hip again, in lazy circles, “It doesn’t make you weak, needing help.” He always seemed to know the direction of your thoughts, “It makes you strong. Being able to admit that you need help, letting yourself feel everything. And I’ll always help you with whatever you need. And however much you want to give me, that’s okay too.” He squeezed your hip lightly, “We’re a clan, remember?” He let you go gently, and you would never know that he was referring not only to your trauma, but your powers too. Trying to tell you subtly that it was okay. He wasn’t scared of you, or what you could do. And he would wait. 

But, instead, you turned to him, smiling softly with the light back in your eyes that he adored to see, “Okay… thank you.” You reach up, gently caressing the side of his helmet, “And you remember that you can share with me too… always.” You rose up on tiptoe, kissing the side of the helmet and then dropped back down to your feet. 

Din nodded slightly, his hand caressing up your side once more and then he let you go, “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” He grazed the back of his finger to your cheekbone and then left the room.

~~

~~~

A few hours later, you were back travelling, playing with Duru’s tail as she laid across her spot next to the big open window. 

Din turned around in his seat to look at you, hands resting on his thighs in that achingly familiar pose, “I have to pick something up from somewhere today… Would you mind staying here to look after the kids? I’m not shutting you away or keeping you grounded, it’s just that it’s not the kind of place I want Grogu in… and it’ll only be for about an hour or so.” 

The vagueness of his explanation piqued your curiosity and you looked over at him, “Pick something up from somewhere? My my, Din, you have such a way with words!” Playfulness filtered through your tone, but it didn’t quite hide the small hitch in your voice as you said his name. 

You would never get used to it, you didn’t think. 

The fact that you knew his name. That you could say it, whenever you pleased – as long as you weren’t around anyone else of course. 

By the way his chest stuttered, you knew he wouldn’t either. You could sense the eye-roll though, “Ahaha. I have to keep a few things to myself; you know. How else am I going to keep you around?” 

You blinked at him, feigning surprise, “Oh, you – you think I stay here for you?” Shaking your head rapidly, you held up Grogu, who had been toddling around on the floor in front of you, “Me and Duru stay here for him. You’re just an added body.” 

Grogu cooed brightly, raising his arms in the air and patting your cheeks as you lifted him. To you, it sounded like he agreed. 

 You smiled widely at him, lifting your eyes back to Din, “He agrees with me.” 

Din mock sighed loudly, turning back around with a mutter that sounded something like, “Maker, save me.” 

You chuckled, leaning back in your seat and holding out Grogu’s ball to him, “But yes, that’s fine. I don’t mind staying here whilst you go about getting things from places.” 

Truly, you didn’t mind. You needed to sharpen your vibrobrade which was looking a little worse for wear lately. And besides, you would be more than happy playing with the kid and Duru for an hour or so – you needed some privacy to have a little meltdown over last night. 

~~

~~~

A few hours later, Din had landed the Crest and had set off to ‘pick something up from somewhere.” 

Before he left, he’d ruffled the kid’s ears, stroked Duru’s chin and then ran the back of his finger across your cheekbone, giving you a lingering look – through the helmet, of course – and then set off. 

You’d then brought your blade up to the cockpit where the kids were, and settled into the pilot’s seat, beginning to sharpen your blade. 

The Crest was sealed tight, so you were all safe, and the landscape outside of the windows provided you with a dusty, barren view. 

As you sharpened your blade, you let your mind wander, allowing it to take the flow of whatever thoughts it decided. 

Naturally, it was going to be one of two things. 

Din, or your powers. 

Today, your mind chose the topic of powers.

You knew that you couldn’t hide them from Din forever. It had been months now since you’d met, and he still had no clue about it, about why you had such a bounty on your head. 

And he’d given you so much, not only by choosing to spare you and keep you safe, but by also given you his name.

And not only that, but every single little thing in between. From making sure you were fed, to coming to check on you after your nightmares. 

He would give you his cape if you were cold or offer up extra blankets. 

And it wasn’t that he thought you were incapable of doing those things yourself, or that you needed to be ‘cared for’. He knew that you were capable and resourceful, and he knew how strong you were. 

He knew that you were stronger than you believed yourself to be, so it wasn’t that at all.

 You knew it was because… he liked having someone else there. 

Sure, it disrupted his routines and he still wasn’t used to it, which you could tell because you felt exactly the same. You still hadn’t become accustomed to waking up in someone else’s presence or going to sleep and trusting another person to stay awake – and not kill you. 

And perhaps the biggest change for him was that now, with you there as well as the kid, there were even less chances for him to remove his helmet and armour and let his skin breathe. 

He had mentioned as much to you before in passing, that he had to be more careful with Grogu around, and even though he hadn’t said it, your presence meant those times were even rarer. 

He didn’t even have the privacy of his own room to do so – he had given that up for you. 

Another thing to add to the list. 

He deserves to know. 

You knew the voice was right. He did deserve to know. 

And not because you felt you owed him for what he’d given up for you – that wasn’t it at all. 

This journey you were on, the way your lives were tightly woven together… who were you to watch him put a bigger target on his head – and not even tell him why?

A sigh heaved its way out of your chest. 

You wanted to tell him so badly, you felt it in your chest. 

But you didn’t know how. 

How would you bring it up? 

“Hey, Din? I have something to tell you… The reason I have the highest bounty ever on my head is because… well... I’m Force Sensitive. I’m not a Jedi or anything but I have the ability to use the Force. Oh, what’s the Force, you ask? Well, it’s the energy that flows in and around every living thing.” 

That just sounded cringey and ridiculous, and you doubted he would even know what the Force was. He didn’t even know that’s what the kid had. 

Hell, you had never even acknowledged to yourself out loud that it was the Force. 

It just… seemed ridiculous to you. 

The Force belonged to the Jedi. If you had the power, you trained to be a warrior and a guardian of peace and life. 

You didn’t go on the run and kill people. 

You didn’t deserve to be associated with that kind of honour. Even if you never trained to be an actual Jedi… you didn’t deserve it. 

But you couldn’t go on like this, hiding it. 

Every time a silence fell, it was sitting there, waiting to burst out and just finally tell him, tell someone. And you knew that once you started, you wouldn’t stop. 

The whole story would come out. 

Your parents, the market, the first time you killed to save your own life and every time after that. He would learn about how good it felt, the sick power that washed over you and then the horrendous shame and guilt that had you vomiting for hours after. 

The story of how you ended up on top of that cliff and then in the water would come out. 

All of it, every single thing that had tied you to this life would be revealed. 

It would all be laid bare to him, leaving you as open and exposed as if he had removed his own armour. 

And that’s what terrified you. 

He would know every single thing, and it would be his decision how to take it. 

And you would respect it, whatever it was. 

If he wanted you gone, far away from himself and his kid, then you would go. Willingly. 

Sure, it would kill you, but you would understand why. 

But if he looked over it all, the darkness, the running, your power… If he looked at it, acknowledged the bad but saw how it had created the good, the fun, the way you’d gone from tripping over a bow to being able to shoot with your eyes closed and the light that had grown in you… If he saw every single thing, and still wanted to be with you…

Well, you didn’t quite know how to take that. 

You might well cry. 

And… if you were honest, you’d built yourself up to telling him. You decided yesterday that you were going to tell him this afternoon. 

But then you had that nightmare. 

Of course, you knew that he would never harm you, never hold a knife to your throat and drive it into your heart. That wasn’t what you were worried about. 

It was your reaction. 

The way the power had exploded and destroyed him. 

What if you got too worked up when you told him, and you couldn’t control it?

You’d restrained it for so long, for twenty years and it was started to come out. 

And you hadn’t admitted it to yourself but… it was becoming agony. 

The aches and pains that you had tried to write off as from hunting or the thin bed… 

You knew it wasn’t. 

It was the strain of holding back your power. 

You needed to let it go, to finally open yourself up and accept it, whatever it may be. 

You just didn’t know how. 

A soft coo brought you out of your rapidly spiralling thoughts. 

You lifted your attention from your knife, and found Grogu holding his metal ball, sitting in your usual co-pilot’s chair. He waved it in his hand, gurgling and you just knew, somehow, that he was asking to play catch. 

A broad smile lit your face, and you sheathed your knife, stowing it to the side, “Of course, little guy, I’ll play catch with you.” You turned your attention to him fully and held out your hand, “Whenever you’re ready, Gu.” The affectionate nickname had developed a few days ago, and the kid loved it. 

He lifted his hand, his little forehead furrowing in concentration, and then the ball lifted, floating in the air slowly toward you where it dropped into your palm. 

A feeling of warm pride filled your chest, and you laughed a little, clapping your hands, “Well done!! You’re getting better at that!” 

Din had told you that sometimes he struggled to use his powers and if he used them for a particularly long time, or for something intense, it would completely wipe him out. 

He told you he’d been gently coaxing him to use them, to be more confident with them and praise him for every small achievement - at the recommendation of a friend. 

You lifted the ball up, “Ready to catch it?” You threw it across the cockpit, gently, so he would have time to stop it. 

Which he didn’t. 

It fell straight into his lap… but that may have been because he didn’t even bother to lift his hand. He just looked at you. 

You tilted your head slightly, remembering Din’s words, “That’s okay, you can try again!” You held your hand out ready. 

A few moments later, it plopped back into your palm. You praised him, then threw it back, but yet again he let it land in in his lap without trying. 

Four turns later, and he started to huff every time you threw the ball, his ears twitching like he was annoyed. 

You sighed a little, “Gu, c’mon buddy… Try at least? For me? You send it to me perfectly, why won’t you catch it?” You raised your eyebrows a little, voice still encouraging but a little firm – again, as Din had relayed back to you as the best way. 

The kid just grumbled, his ears raising and falling again, and he pointed at your hand. 

Lifting the ball, you nodded, “I know you want the ball, but you have to try and catch it with yo-“

His rapidly shaking head stopped you. He pointed more emphatically at your hand, his glossy eyes wide and then you realised exactly what his problem was. 

He wanted you to throw the ball, sure… but not physically. 

He wanted you to use your power. 

Shaking your own head, you feigned innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Grogu simply wiggled his little feet and waited. 

And so did you. 

You stared him down, rolling the ball in your hands, “You know, I really do not know what you’re referring to. You’re mistaken. Now, catch the ball, you little womp rat.” You let your affection for him show in your tone, so he would know you weren��t being mean. You tossed the ball toward him. 

His palm lifted and it stopped mid-air, before whizzing back at you with speed, straight toward your head. 

Your own hand whipped up and you caught it just before it could bonk you on the nose, “Hey! Don’t throw things at me!” 

His ears flapped in annoyance and he make some kind of noise, waving his hands. 

And then he opened his mouth to cry. 

With a groan of defeat, you rubbed your forehead, “Fine! Fine. You’re right. I have the same powers as you.” 

His mouth immediately closed and broke into a wide grin. 

Cheeky little thing. 

You held yourself very still, gazing down at this tiny creature, who had apparently guessed your one big secret. Tilting your head the other way, you narrowed your eyes a little, “How did you guess?” 

Grogu mimicked your head tilt but revealed nothing. He just watched you, smiling happily and patting his hands together to wait for the ball. 

All of your life a secret, and a tiny green baby with an affinity for frogs and space macarons had managed to work you out. 

You couldn’t help the laugh, shaking your head at the whole situation, “You are a clever little baby aren’t you, huh?” You watched him for a little while, and then lifted up your hand flat, letting the ball rest in your open palm. 

You took a deep breath, focusing on the ball. 

Easy. Just concentrate. 

You closed your eyes, slowing your breathing, allowing it to relax in time with the beating of your heart. Ignoring the beeping of the Crest, the worry of using it, you focused simply on the ball, and the air around it. Imaging it rising from your palm, gliding across the air and landing in Grogu’s little hand. 

As simple as that. 

You swallowed, and then opened a tiny gate in that cage, a small gasp releasing from your lungs as the power thrummed through your blood, letting you feel the space ahead of you, the empty air becoming a malleable thing, and you tried not to flinch as the weight of the ball vanished from your palm. 

A breath in, a breath out. Focus. 

Like an invisible hand, you began to guide the ball across the open air, as if it caressed the ball like a boat and carried it across the ocean. 

You were nearly there; you could feel it. The ball was nearing Grogu’s palm, and you were dimly aware of his delighted noises, pride in his own glee like you had for him. 

Nearly there. 

You were doing it. You were controlling that wave, keeping it restrained and focused where you needed it. It was easy and it felt… it felt good. Natural, like breathing.  

This was what you’d missed for the last twenty years, being able to spread it wide or bring it in narrow. 

You didn’t need to be scared, if you could focus it in minimal amounts like this. 

It was okay, you were okay and –

“Sweetheart? Grogu?”

The suddenness of din’s voice broke your concentration and the ball fell to the floor with a soft thunk. 

Your eyes snapped open as your heart leapt into your both and you looked toward the entrance to the cockpit, hoping he was below, hoping he hadn’t seen. 

It was empty. 

The sound had come right from below, as he looked for you. 

You swallowed, keeping your voice even, “Up here.” You turned your gaze to Grogu, knowing you looked as pleading as you sounded, “Please don’t tell him…” You whispered the words, but you knew he understood, the ball zipping to his hand as if he had been playing with it the whole time. 

Gratitude for the small creature flooded your heart and you smiled at him, a little shakily as Din’s shiny head popped up the ladder. 

“Hey, sorry I was a little longer than expected…” He reached the top of the ladder, rising to stand at his full height. He saw you in his seat, one of his hands coming to rest on his hip, “Oh, I see it didn’t take you long to replace me.” He motioned to you in his chair, the husky tone of his voice teasing. 

You leant back in the chair, swaying it from side to side slightly with a grin, “Nope. Not at all. We don’t need you. You can go back out if you want. Shut the door on your way out.” You tilted your head back against the chair, one leg lounged over the arm like it was a throne. 

He called you princess still, so why not play on it?

Did you not deserve a fancy dress and a crown?

Of course, you had no idea what this sight was doing to him, playing on a fantasy he’d had for a while now about this cockpit and that particular pilots chair. 

He laughed, shaking his head and he rested against the side of the cockpit, arms crossed and pulling the fabric of his clothes tight – much to your own delight. “Right, I’ll just grab my things and leave, then. It’s been good knowing you, princess.” 

This. 

This was what you loved. The fact that you could have moments like last night, intense and passionate – or snarling and angry – and still retain the playful teasing that had always hovered between you. 

You shook your head, grinning softly, “Nah, I’m kidding. I need you around to fly the ship… I have actually no idea how to.” You looked over your shoulder at the control panel, the mass of buttons and switches and lights. 

Put you in front of a forest to track an animal or spot a hunter or present you with a variety of leaves and plants and you could identify them all. Give you a few meagre supplies and you’ll have a selection of weapons crafted in minutes. 

But flying a ship?

No, thank you. 

Din chuckled, and you knew he was grinning beneath the helmet, “I’ll teach you one day.” He straightened up suddenly and held out his hand, “Come with me.” 

With a tilt of your head, you unwound yourself from the chair and slid your hand into his, the worn leather soft against your palm and fingers, “Where are going?” 

Din tugged you gently toward the ladder, “I got you something...” His voice was a little quieter as he waited for you to descend the ladder. 

You peered up at him, pausing to lower yourself down, “When you were off getting things from places?” You tried not to smile, your lips twitching. 

Din huffed softly, and there was an implied verbal eyeroll there, “Get down the damn steps before I push you down them myself.” 

Your laugh floated up as you descended, “And I would grab your foot on the way down and take you with me.” 

A few moments later, you were making your way through the ship again. 

Din stopped at the weapons cabinet, then turned to face you, “Close your eyes.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, eyes flicking to the weapons cabinet and then him, but you did as you were told, closing your eyes. 

“Hold out your hands.” 

Lips twitching again, you held out your hands obediently. 

There was the sound of the cabinet opening and then rustling from within. 

A pause. 

Then you felt smooth, cool metal resting on your palms, across them both but you could tell it was wider. 

You tilted our head curiously, brows furrowing a little as your fingers curled around the mysterious object. 

Din’s voice sounded again, sounding… almost hesitant, “Open...” 

Light filtered back in as you opened your eyes, looking down at the object in your hands. 

Your breathing stopped in awe as you beheld the most gorgeous bow you had ever seen. 

The metal was a sleek matte black, dimly reflecting the light of the ship back at you. 

Inlaid into the metal was a gorgeous swirling design which spread across the arch of the bow. In the centre, where your arrowhead would rest against, a full moon created the focal point of the engraving. 

Just like your tattoo.

Din silently extended his hands, and he was holding a matching quiver and arrows. Everything matched the bow, and the same gold design was etched down the body of the arrows. They ended in wickedly sharp, curved heads and just be the feel and weight of them, you knew they were deadly accurate and fast. 

Quite simply, it was the most stunning weaponry you’d ever laid your eyes upon. 

It was the perfect size for your body, and when you held it up to test the flexibility, it was exactly as you were used to, just like the bow you had lovingly cherished before you lost it on Sorgan. 

This had been made purposely for you. 

Din had taken your measurement – of course he knew them, - and somehow got every single tiny detail perfect. The string wasn’t too taught or hard to maneuverer. It responded to your touch, exactly as you wanted to. 

You lifted your eyes to Din, your expression one of awe and… just simple adoration. 

It took you a few tries to speak, finding your throat has closed up a slightly with tears. You cleared it, though your voice remained husky, “Din… This…” You shook your head, no words being strong enough to relay to him how much you loved it, how perfect it was. 

Din was fiddling with his vambrace as he watched you, “Do you like it? I hope I got your measurements right… I had it commissioned a few weeks ago and it was only just finished. I… The design is a play on your tattoo.” He audibly swallowed, “If anything isn’t right, we can take it back and get it changed. Or if you don’t like it, you can have something completely new m-”

“Din, shush.” Gazing across the bow, you caressed the design with your fingertips, “It’s… beyond perfect. Truly. I couldn’t have designed it any better myself.” You lifted your eyes back to him, a swelling feeling in your chest, “This must have cost a fortune…” 

He shook his head a little, his shoulders relaxing and his hands stilling when he saw how much you truly adored it, “Cara told me that you were discussing your favourite weapons one day… You’d told her that as familiar as you were with knives, you missed your bow.” 

Oh, you did. You knew it wasn’t always the most suitable weapon – considering the number of different blasters and rifles that your pursuers used – but sometimes it had allowed you to escape before the fight had even begun. Perched high in a tree, an arrow whistling you the air in deadly silence and then it was over. 

And now you had one. 

An absolutely stunning one at that. 

A soft laugh of delight slipped from your chest and then you were grinning broadly, “Oooh, I can’t wait to use this. You think I’m lethal with a knife, you should see me with one of these.” You nocked one of the arrows, testing the resistance now it was loaded, and you sighted along it, “We have to go play, soon, I beg you.”

Din chuckled adoringly, fully relaxing at your excitement, “Of course...” He watched you quietly for a moment, leaning back against the cabinet. “In Mandalorian culture… giving weapons can sometimes symbolise – well, not all the time but within some households and clans – it can.. uh-“ He lifted a hand like he was going to scratch the back of his neck, another awkward habit that seemed so out of place. 

You looked over at him, carefully setting the arrow back in the quiver, “What can it mean?” You kept your voice light and casual, as if you didn’t notice his fumbling. 

Din cleared his throat, “It can sometimes mean a marriage proposal.” 

The quiver fell to the floor in a rattle of metal that broke through the air. 

He was playing you, right?

You stooped to the quiver, carefully scooping the arrows back in, “I – uh.. You mean-“

Din was watching you intently, “It doesn’t always mean it, but some couples present each other with a new weapon to signify their bond. And that they want to spend the rest of their days together. 

Blood pulsed through your ears, making your belly feel funny and your bones feel light. “I… I mean, I know a lot has happened between us, and-“

Din suddenly burst out laughing, lifting a hand to his chest like he could try to contain it, but it just kept coming. 

Rising back to your feet, you raised your eyebrows at him, confusion etched on your face at the sudden turn of his behaviour. 

The laughter poured from his lips like sunshine, stirring your chest out of its confusion and filling it with adoration. “Oh, you should have seen your face.” He tilted his helmet to you, trying to quell his laughter. 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “When we go and use these, remind me to put you in front of a tree.” 

Din tried to speak straight through his chuckles, “And why’s that?”

Walking toward him, you poked him in the chest, “So I can use you as target practice, you shiny asshole.” You tried not to laugh, to keep a straight face. The truth was, if you could have bottled his laughter and gotten drunk on it forever, you would have. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as rare and lovely as a shooting star. And you just knew that this man didn’t often laugh like this, so easily. 

His hand snaked around your wrist, gently pressing your palm flat to his chest as he contained his amusement, “I wanted to play with you… It is true, but I didn’t get them for that.” He tilted his head just slightly, “You’re a warrior, and… a goddess. So… you deserve the weapons to match.” 

So simple. Such easy words for him to speak, but the meaning and casual pride and care in his voice completely floored you. 

You still weren’t used to such compliments and showering’s of affection – you didn’t think you ever would be. 

The fact that he had complimented you more in your life than anyone else (save for your parents) had your eyes turning glass again, your throat closing a little as that realisation truly set in. 

This man believed in you, saw you, more than anyone. 

You gazed up at him, through the visor of his helmet and not for the first time, you had the truly selfish thought, that you wished he could take it off. 

So you could show him just how much he meant to you, show him how his words held you above water when you were drowning. 

You weren’t good with them, no better than he was really, but you just wished you could show him. He deserved it, to feel those same feelings in return, to be praised and adored for the brilliant man he was. 

Din tilted his head further, his thumb running over your knuckles, “What’s going through that magnificent brain of yours, cyar'ika? Tell me…” The soft, low tenor of his voice never failed to skitter over your bones like fire. 

You bit your lip, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “I wish I could kiss you.”

Not even two seconds later, it crashed through your brain just how that sounded, how ungrateful and selfish it came across. Your eyes closed in disgust at yourself and you flushed in shame, “Maker, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for how that sounded, please believe me, I didn’t-”  

Suddenly, Din moved. He leant down and rested the forehead of his helmet on yours. 

The metal was cool, the weight of it gently pressing against your skin, shutting you up with the unfamiliar gesture. 

Din lifted his other hand to your waist, resting his hand there lightly – respectfully. “Kov'nyn.”

You blinked a few times, “Kov… huh?” You guessed it was Mando’a, but you had no idea what it meant. 

His thumb lightly rubbed over your hip bone, sending tiny shockwaves through you, “Kov'nyn.” He used his other hand to gesture at the position you were in, “This is called a keldabe kiss. It can be used in battle, as a headbutt or something but it can also be a show of affection. Mandalorian’s don’t show each other their faces until marriage… so instead we do this. A keldabe kiss.”

You were quiet as you absorbed that, the soft sweetness of the gesture, your head tilted up to Din, and something in you told you he was gazing into your eyes. 

It was incredibly intimate too, despite the later of armour separating you. 

He couldn’t quite offer you the kiss you meant, but he could give you this. And… this was as good as showing each other the affection you intended. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there, his hand lightly on your waist, yours still on his chest but then you started to laugh at something. 

He tilted his head slightly against your forehead, “What now?” His voice was light though, curious as to what had tickled you this time. 

You grinned cheekily, tapping your fingertips over his chest. “Again with the marriage talk. Are you sure you don’t need to tell me something?”

Din laughed too, that heart-stopping, gorgeous laugh, filling the space with starlight and joy, “No. At least not yet, sweetheart.” 

~~~

~~

~

You gazed down at the comms unit. 

The code on the back of Rena’s card had been typed in and staring at you for the last twenty minutes. You were sitting cross-legged in your room, door firmly shut after your wash in the ‘fresher. 

Din was in there now; you could hear the echo of the water splashing down. 

You were only going to change clothes and go back to the cockpit, but when you’d taken them off, Rena’s card had fallen out and… here you were. 

Just call him. 

Your thumb hesitated over the call button, nerves whispering through your blood. 

Was this a good idea? To ask for help? 

There was still the matter of how he knew about you, and how he found you in the first place. 

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. 

Din would be furious, he doesn’t trust him. He thinks he’s a legend come to life.

True, Din would be so pissed.

But… this wasn’t Din’s decision to make. 

It was yours. 

Ever since your parents died, you had been running. From hunters, from the law but mostly... from yourself. 

You were being stalked and hunted for your powers. 

The very thing that you once adored and made you unique, and special, you now viewed as… a burden?

No... that wasn’t it. It was never a burden. 

Yes, it sometimes caused you more trouble than it was worth, and you did fear it but… you longed for it. 

With every fibre in your being, you wished you could utilise it. To once again make it a part of you and feel the purity of it. The energy that flowed in and around every single living thing, responding and allowing you to manipulate it. 

The little experiments you had started to conduct, testing to see if you could control even a small amount… they were making you crave it even more. Even though it terrified you and your nightmare had flashed back in your mind, you had managed to control it this afternoon with Grogu. 

Even if it was just a tiny ounce, it had listened to you – like you were one again. 

Rena had told you that there was nothing to fear from him. His sister had been gifted with the same abilities. 

Din would understand when you explained it to him… but you wanted to at least know more about how to control it. That way, you could tell him and… show him. Show him what you’d been hiding this whole time. 

Maybe it was time. 

Maybe it was time to stop being scared of it, of who you were. 

Maybe it was time to embrace it and become who you were meant to be. 

And so, you pressed the call button. 

Previous| Next

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Blade is a fearless woman out in the apocalypse on her own when she comes across Negan in the woods. Quickly feeling a connection with him, Negan learns Blade does not like to share him.]

Smut

Negan and Blade

It had been eight months into the apocalypse now, you had no shelter, little water and only squirrels left to eat. Being by yourself wasnt much of a strain for you as most of your life you spent alone before the apocalypse. Standing by a fire you made in the woods, you cooked a few squirrels you had caught earlier in the day sharpening your knives leaning against a tree. Suddenly hearing the sound of crunching leaves not to far from you, you instantly stopped what you were doing. Putting your hood over your head you slowly began to turn, your knife ready for aim when a man appeared through the trees.

"Shit," you whispered looking at the fire behind you. Not trusting anyone, you didnt want to cause any attention on yourself but it was too late.

"What do we have here?" A mans voice made you turn back quickly ready for defense.

"Dont come any closer." The man could barely see your face hiding behind your hood. Noticing the knife in your hand the man lifted up his hands with a lazy smile.

"Come on, sweetheart. Put that down before you hurt yourself."

"Oh arent you quite funny." The sarcasm in your tone he actually liked. Observing what you had around you the man frowned noticing squirrels being cooked behind you.

"Ho-ly shit. Squirrels? Really, sweetheart?"

Right away you could tell this man was one who liked to play games, arrogant and slick. A man who thought he had a alot of charm thinking he could distract you with his little pet names.

"Stop speaking. Where the hell did you come from?"

"More like where the hell did you come from, darling. As far as I'm concerned your on my side of the woods." The cockiness in his tone made you scowl, he didnt seem intimated by you at all.

"Says who?"

"Says me. Negan."

"Well, Negan. I dont give a shit who you say you are. This is free land now get out of my face before you get hurt."

"Well shit-" Negan observed you from head to toe raising his brows.

"You do look like a you can give a mean fight." He noticed your buckled up black boots, your black ripped jeans, black top and a leather jacket, just like him. Yet, he couldnt help himself. With a smirk he slowly put his hands down and started to walk towards you.

"Dont push me, I mean it." You warned him waving the knife in his face when he suddenly caught your wrist in his hand. Still, you moved too quickly for him. Negan didnt expect you to get loose so quickly and next thing he knew you now had the knife pointed sharply against his neck. Looking up, careful not to move he laughed in disbelief as you held your place.

"Well look at that, a little tougher than I thought after all." Still with a cocky tone yet a look of surprise in his eyes, Negan did not move.

"Listen, darling I've got a sanctuary not far from here." He looked around at your surroundings with the knife still pointed at his neck.

"You look like you could use some help-"

"I dont." You responded stubbornly, truth be told you definitely needed help. But, having always found a way out of your struggles you were sure youd find a way.

"Listen to me. I have a sanctuary, I can give you a place to stay. You can have real food, shit we can use a girl like you on our side. What do ya say?" You couldnt believe even with a knife to his throat this man still had the urge to smile down at you. His offer did not sound bad at all, after all it was getting cold and you were running low on food.

"Where is the place?" You asked as he responded by pointing in the direction he came from. After a moment of uncertainty you slowly pulled the knife away from his neck leaving a red mark. Negan cracked his neck with a sigh.

"And if I dont like it. I'm leaving."

"Whatever you want, woman." Negan stood back as you gathered your belongings and pulled your hood back. For the first time Negan got a glimpse of the woman whom he had just had a confrontation with. Long dark hair lay over your shoulder as he noticed the other side of your head shaved.

"Mmm." A sound of satisfaction escaping his lips making you look up.

"What?" You asked with an attitude that he couldnt help but want to see more of.

"Nothing, darling. Nothing at all."

"Well, are you going to lead to where the hell this place is?" Placing your hands on your hips you asked with very little patience.

"This fucking woman." Negan muttered under his breath with a chuckle before leading the walk before you. Usually you would've never trusted a strange man this way but desperate times called for desperate measures. Plus, you knew how to defend yourself, you had faced worse before.

After a bit Negan and you walked side by side, his eyes helplessly drifting to you here and there. Your style attracting him, your fearlessness intriguing him, Negan wanted to know more.

"Do you have a name?"

"Of course I do." You responded sarcastically.

"Well are you going to tell me it, darling? Or are you going to make me fight for that too? I mean unless its cause you like the nicknames I've given you-"

"My name is Blade." Your interruption quickly silencing him.

"Blade..." he repeated as he looked you up and down.

"It sure fits."

Negan led you into what he called the Sanctuary. A heavily guarded space with many others, you had no idea how close you were to so much life all along. Right away you noticed each person having a job at the Sanctuary as everyone looked busy working on something. It was clear they didnt stay here for free. Introducing you to who he called his 'right hand man' Simon, Negan showed you around. In a room you entered, sat a few ladies clearly dressed differently from everyone else.

"These here are my lovely wives."

"Wives?" You looked at him strangely before looking back at the women. They were dressed in tight short black dresses, all wearing heels, you wondered where they found any of this. Raising a brow at him you crossed your arms wondering what he had in mind.

"If you thought I came back with you here to play a role of one of your wives, your sadly mistaken." Your loud voice making the women turn to you wondering who you were. Negan right away blocked their view of you, standing before you as he leaned one hand on the wall behind you.

"Easy, sweetheart. It wasnt a thought but since you mentioned it-" he bit down on his bottom lip.

"You would look damn good in a tight little dress."

"You wish," your tone just as arrogant as his and he liked it.

"Just a little bit." He whispered before you moved out of the small space he cornered you in and left the room.

"Just show me where I'm staying." Walking off Negan followed you closing the door behind him. Showing you the room you would stay in, it was nice to see a bed. You couldnt remember the last time you slept in a bed, it had been months. Negan noticed the way you looked at it and wondered how hard you must've had it all alone. He wondered how long you were all alone.

"This good enough?"

"Its great," your attitude quickly changing back to a nonchalant manner.

"Tell me, Blade-" Negan took a step in front of you wanting to be face to face.

"How long you been on your own?"

His question making you throw your head back with a chuckle, it had been so long since you last saw your family.

"Since I was seventeen," Negan frowned with your response a bit confused.

"Oh I been on my own long before this apocalyptic world ever took over. This is nothing new for me having to fend for myself, Negan. That's why I said if I have to leave I will, nothing I haven't handled before."

Negan squinted his eyes as you spoke, he could tell you've had it rough.

"Well let's hope you dont have to....I think it'd be nice having you around."

Was that a genuine compliment that didnt involve your looks or any sarcastic remark? He could tell you almost cracked a smile.

"Well, I'll let you get settled in. Theres food in the next room, make yourself comfortable." Negan began to walk out before you quickly turned towards him and called out for him.

"Hey Negan?"

"Mhm?" He turned to you leaning on the door way.

"Thanks," without saying a word he winked at you and left the room.

The next few days you began helping out the men by securing the fences surrounding the sanctuary. No one had put you up to this job but you knew you could do it.

"Well well well, I dont remember assigning you to this." Negan showed up behind you watching you twist the wires securely.

"I'm good with my hands, didnt think you'd mind."

"Good with your hands huh?"

Rolling your eyes you turned to him making him laugh.

"I'm sorry, some times I cant help myself."

"Well learn how to, or save that energy for all those wives."

Negan raised his brows at your quick come backs. A man who always enjoyed giving sarcasm yet rarely was ever on the other end.

"God you're fun to tease," you couldnt help but laugh along with him. You knew he purposely picked at you just to hear you come back at him. He enjoyed the feistiness you gave him, he enjoyed you not giving a shit to what he might think.

Just as you finished you went back inside to grab something to eat and Negan followed. He watched as you prepared yourself a sandwich, reaching across the table making your shirt go up he noticed a tattoo on your hip.

"What's that you got there?" Standing back straight you looked down to where his eyes were and pulled your shirt down.

"A tattoo. What never heard of one?" You responded defensively making him smirk.

"I got a few myself. Rarely come across women with them, especially in such a....sensitive spot." His voice was low as he came to realization that maybe you enjoyed a little bit of pain.

"Can I see it?"

Hesitantly you pressed your lips together before slightly lifting up your shirt and revealing a tattoo of a rose wrapped in barb wire.

"Mmmm.." he leaned in looking at it closely.

"Mean anything?"

"My middle name is Rose," you explained as he his eyes squinted.

"I take it the barb wire means pain," he continued looking up into your eyes.

"You can say that," you responded softly.

"How old are you, Blade?"

"31," you sat down across from him and began to eat.

"So you've been on your own since 17, shit wheres your family?"

"Hopefully dead," your response was blunt before you took another bite.

"Surrounded by assholes huh?"

"Real big assholes. They didn't care for me so I dont care for them, I've been better off alone anyways."

"I cant argue with that," Negans eyes wandered over your features.

"Done a pretty good job with yourself."

Not really knowing how to take a compliment without some form of back handed comment you looked away.

"Yeah well you gotta do what you gotta do," you responded confidently.

"What are you doing here anyways? Wont your wives wonder where you are?"

Negan chuckled at the mention of them, he could tell you were enjoying his company and didnt want him to leave.

"I wont go anywhere if you dont want me to, darling." His unexpected response making your cheeks turn red.

"I never said-"

"Do you really think you can lie to me?" He leaned in close staring directly into your eyes across the table.

"Why the hell do you want to stay anyways?"

"Maybe I like spending time with you too."

What the hell was this man doing? It was hard to deny that you did indeed like spending time with him but, this was the last thing you needed. The man had multiple wives, an arrogant way of thinking but God he was so sexy.. His style attracted you to him, his voice, his eyes whenever he spoke to you.

"What are you thinking about?" Negan bit his bottom lip with a smile, he could see right through you.

"Nothing. I'm exhausted and I'm full and want to go to bed soon."

"Oh yeah? Is that what's going through your head right now?"

"Yes. That's it." You stood up picking up your plate and taking it to the sink. Negan stood up with you eagerly following you by the counter.

"You sure that's what you're thinking about?" He asked again with a grin leaning his face close to yours.

"I think you're thinking about something that involves me....and you just cant admit it." His voice was a deep whisper, the way he spoke sent a tingle to the pit of your stomach.

"No the hell I am not. What the hell makes you think that?" You walked past him rushing into your bedroom as he quickly followed behind.

"Look at you, you could barely stay still. You're fidgeting, getting all nervous. Am I making you nervous, baby?" He teased.

"Dont call me baby," you turned to him with frustration.

"Fine," he stepped close to you and spoke very slowly.

"Then look me in the eyes and tell me you're not thinking about what I could do to you." Your lips parted as you smelled his scent so close to you. You couldnt speak, you couldnt move and Negan knew he had complete control. Looking down at your lips he slowly caressed your face and leaned in for a soft kiss. Not fighting it you felt his lips sensually move against yours, his tongue slipping through the crack of your lips to tease yours. Moaning against him, Negan didnt separate his lips from you as he reached behind him and shut the door. Taking off his jacket and quickly unbuttoning his pants Negan threw you back on the bed. Continuing to kiss you down to your neck, you felt his tongue make swirls on your skin making you squeeze him.

Negan pulled off your clothing and aggresivly turned you around. The tattoo of the barb wire rose continuing from your side to your lower back made Negan lick his lips in satisfaction.

"Get up," he spoke hoarsely as you got on your knees and positioned yourself in front of him. Feeling his large hand on your lower back you felt him easily slide in you. Negan wasted no time in grabbing your hips and making you slam back against him. Moaning you grabbed the covers tightly, it had been so long since you felt this pleasure. Negan could tell by the way you cried out when he first entered you. The sound of longing to be touched, the sound of your needs finally being met.

"Give it to me harder," you spoke seductively only arousing him more. Negan grabbed you by your hair pulling you back up against him. His hand grabbing your throat as he pressed his lips to the side of your face and kept thrusting. Groaning, he gave your throat a tighter squeeze. Gasping for air, you could hear him breathing erratically against your ear.

"Oh Blade," you rolled your eyes back at the sound of his voice, he couldn't hold himself any longer. Negan pushed you back down before he quickly pulled out and released himself all over your back.

"Fuck.." he moaned as he stepped back out of breath. Cleaning yourself up as he got dressed, you stood up and walked towards him

"You should stay here tonight," your suggestion making him look up at you with half a smile.

"Oh darling I would. I've got some business I need to take care of but-" he stood up and ran his hands up your thighs and hips.

"I promise I'll come by as soon as I'm done." Negan grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. What the hell was going on with you? Why was this man getting a hold on you so quickly? Without saying anything more Negan left your room leaving you to think over what just happened. Leaving you to think over the way he looked at you, the things he said to you. He actually admitted to liking to spend time with you, the thought made you blush to yourself. You couldnt wait for him to return, it being so late at night you wondered what business he had to take care of. A little while later you stepped out of the room with a smile still on your face when you looked up and suddenly felt a crushing feeling in your chest. Negan was coming out of a room with two of his wives laughing. Of course you knew he had wives but after having touched him and slept with him, the thought of another woman with him made you burn with anger.

"Some business you got going huh?" The smile immediately left Negans face as he looked up at you before him.

"Blade, darling-"

"Dont 'Blade darling' me, what the hell I was thinking?" Angrily you walked off back to your room leaving the two women confused as Negan sighed. Following you to your room he entered right behind you slamming the door shut behind him.

"What the hell is your problem with me?"

"What is my problem? Taking care of business huh? Business with those girls?"

Negan frowned with a puzzled expression.

"Pardon my french, sweetheart but wait a fucking minute, are you jealous?"

"No! I'm not jealous," you denied the truth as you turned your back to him.

"I just dont like sharing what's mine."

Negan raised his brows surprised with your response.

"So I'm yours now huh?"

You scoffed at him turning to walk passed him before he blocked your way.

"Hang on now, Blade. I actually kinda like the sound of that. So does that make you mine now too?"

"No, why would I want to be yours when you have all those women, "you spoke in disgust before raising your brow as if you has just come up with an idea.

"Well since you get to have your fair share, then I should too. Simon looks-"

"Oh I'd be very careful where you're going with that, sweetheart." His expression turning very serious as he stepped closer to you.

"Why cant I have my own fun, it's not like I'm one of your wives who have to abide by your selfish rules while you do as you please." None of the women Negan had met had the nerve to argue his way of being.

"I dont want you to be one of them," he shot back.

"Good, cause I didnt want to anyways."

"You know what the fuck I want?" Negans voice rose as he took a step closer to you.

"I just want you to be mine and shit, I'll be yours the way you want me to." Negans words catching you completely off guard, so unexpected it left you speechless. There was something Negan couldnt explain that pulled him to you in a way he had never felt with any of the other women. Negan may not have been a one woman man most of his life but when someone caught his eye, it was hard for him to look past it.

"You dont even know me," you muttered.

"Shit, you dont even know me all that well but I know you have the same damn feeling I have." The two of you looked at each other in silence, you couldnt deny the connection you felt with him.

"You dont want the wives? Hell, they dont have to be there but-" he unexpectedly pulled you close to him aggresivly.

"I expect there to be no one else on your side either."

"I'm not looking for anyone else," your response was quick and spoken with confidence.

"Good," a smile slowly spread across his lips as you felt his hand slide down your back and grab your ass.

"You're lucky I like you," you squinted your eyes up at him making him laugh.

"Shit, well I am honored, doll."

"Dont patronize me," you scowled at him.

"Not at all, Blade, not at all."

Negan leaned in and took your lips with his feeling content with the thought of you being the only woman for him.

[innocentbi-stander]

in celebration of getting 200 followers, I decided to add onto my long list of bamf!jaskier headcanons

consider the power of jaskier as an expert marksman

jaskier has always had extraordinary aim, intentional or not

he grew up using this to wreak absolute havoc on those around him, whether it be pranks, or getting revenge on those who insulted or wronged him

this was always just a weird quirk to him, until he befriended one of the old guards on his family estate, who saw jaskier’s innate ability and immediately thought ‘I must train this child’

so he taught jaskier how to use throwing knives, stars, slingshots, crossbows, and archery

jaskier had always been interested in music and the lighter things in life so he was surprised at how much he loved learning these

whenever he could slip away from his duties he snuck down to the guard’s hut to train, where he got better and better

years later when he runs away to attend oxenfurt the old guard slips him a set of new throwing knives inlaid with sapphires with nothing but a mischievous wink and a hushed “for the road ahead”

jaskier loves those knives more than anything else he owns, and months after posada geralt will remark across a campfire at the peculiarity of a bard owning such nice daggers

jaskier puts on a show because he knows geralt thinks that because he is a bard he mustn’t know how to fight, and jaskier has always been a firm believer in not showing your best hand so he laughs merrily and tells some long winding tale of how he came to find them in a market place and thought they were very pretty

bards love things that shine and jaskier is not exempt from this, what the witcher doesn’t know is that the shiny things that jaskier loves can also slit a man’s throat with the tidiest of cuts

the years go on and geralt goes on believing that he needs to fight his bard’s fights and protect him, while jaskier cuts down the people willing to throw rocks at witchers behind taverns when geralt is away on hunts

as sophisticated as jaskier believes he is, he’s also a man with a hair trigger temper who gets into many a fist fight with men who don’t seem to hear the pretty barmaid say no

when geralt asks where the bruises come from (there are a few on him but many more on the people who dare to cross him) jaskier babbles on about his clumsiness, or another lovely night gone wrong

some days he doesn’t know whether to be proud of his lying abilities or upset that geralt believes him so easily

years go by and jaskier keeps his secret, and geralt fights the monsters while jaskier takes down monsters of the human kind

the mountain happens, an apology (that jaskier smugly recalls much groveling), a reconciliation with yennefer, an adorable child surprise, an awkward period of time of learning to all live with each other, and an even more awkward explanation from jaskier informing geralt that he’s maybe not as human as he’s led him to believe. jaskier’s mother had wandering eyes and years ago those eyes fell upon a handsome elf who happened to have contributed to the conception of jaskier

theres a horrifying moment where jaskier thinks geralt will yell at him again like the mountain but the next thing he knows the witcher is kissing him and he’s more than okay with that

everything is good (except for being pursued relentlessly by nilfgaard) and there’s one more secret jaskier thinks he just might take to his grave

of course things never work out like that

it all comes to a head as it always does, nilfgaard has gotten the drop on their little group, they are fighting for all that their worth but jaskier can tell it won’t be enough, both geralt and yen are tiring and he has no choice

the world narrows down to him and the enemy as jaskier pulls out his knives

its ecstasy, freedom in its purest form and jaskier has never been able to fully let go of his most feral energy before, and he unleashes it all against the nilfgaardian soldiers

the bard fights like he never has fought before, he feels like a hurricane, blowing through the ranks, his feet dance a dance he’s never learned before, he ducks and turns in graceful arcs, and his weapons are but a silver extension of his very being

he fights and fights and fights because if they fall they’ll lose everything, and at the edge of consciousness he knows geralt and yen are fighting alongside him just as hard

in a moment it is over, and jaskier blinks to life once more in a small circle of open ground

around him are the scattered bodies of their attackers and there is red everywhere, on the ground, his boots, his clothes, his hands, and if he had a mirror he’s sure his face and hair are coated in it as well

for all his normal complaints about dirt, jaskier can’t bring it in himself to care much about the blood

even though its pointless, jaskier busies himself with trying to wipe off his hands on his already drenched doublet, carefully keeping his eyes away from where he knows geralt yen, and ciri are staring at him

he keeps his gaze pointed downward until rough hands force him to look up into his favorite golden glare

“Jaskier. what. the hell. was that.”

there will be time later to explain, but right now all he can focus on is that they’re all alive and okay, and in the moment all jaskier can manage is a slightly hysterical laugh as he says,

“well geralt, I’ve had those pretty knives for so long, I figured I might as well put them to use at some point”

and geralt knows there’s more but he too understands that its a story for later so he plays along, running a large but overwhelmingly gentle hand through jaskiers hair and snorts,

“you picked a hell of a time to use them”

 I love feedback!

(Special thanks to @morte-mistrata for the prompt!)

[captainstevenrogerswrites]

Not my Captain.

@mrsrogerswrites

"Captain! Theres a rift opening. No known origin but its growing in size"

Captain Rogers stood tall as a smirk etched his features. Soldier surrounded him with few scientists. He despised scientists as a whole, always thinking they knew best, always over thinking, where as a soldier followed his command without any thinking and the ones they didnt......well their blood splattered the walls in defiant decoration to show anyone thinking of disobeying him just how he handled betrayal and free thinking from his men. He didnt care either if they respected him or just feared him, to him they were the same. You followed his orders, you lived for now. You didnt you would be praying the enemy killed you before Steve had a chance too because if he felt in a mood, he would drag your death out until you were begging for death and then simply keep dragging it on until your body killed itself and the last thing you would see was his dark smile creasing his lips. No one dared stand up to him.

Soldiers he tolerated, scientists only when they were of use to him. Everyone else was free game to him. If you were of use, he would acknowledge your existence, if not you were nothing to him. Same with relieving himself, if he wanted to fuck you, he never asked, he just took what he wanted from you, not caring if you couldnt take it either. After all, why would he care about you when you were just a fuck toy he was using for a couple of minutes relief. He was nothing like Captain America from other realms, he was Captain HYDRA; the ultimate super soldier in every way.

"Sir it's to another dimension " he dragged the scientist up to his feet as he began to tremble in fear "To where?" He snarled at the scared man "I....I....I dont know" with one swift action he broke his neck "the next person who cant answer my fucking question gets thrown in" everyone frantically tried to work out where.

He smiled to himself, another dimension, another Earth, he had helped HYDRA gain power over the world here and keep it. He was known as HYDRAS main man and he thrived upon it. If this other world wasnt ruled by them then maybe it was time it was "Sir, we have visual contact"

Looking up at the screen he saw blurry outlines of people as he snarled recognising some of them "Fury" he had killed him but it could be fun to kill this one too. The rift started to destabilise but he would be damnned if he was going to lose the chance of some more fun so he grabbed some of his men and ran through it just before it disappeared.

Walking slowly into view of the people, he didnt care his men had probably got shredded to pieces by not making it through with him. They were replaceable. "Captain Rogers" Fury questioned him as Rogers perked his brow in curiosity, the way he said it made it sound like this Rogers was on their side. He could feel the disgust inside of him with that thought, his version here working alongside him as a good guy, it was stuff of nightmares.

"But you're dead" another man spoke up in shock as Rogers fought back the urge to roll his eyes at his stupidity every bone in his body wanted to rip his tongue out and feed it him for it but he didnt. He was still assessing his situation and maybe he could play along as another good guy.

"I'm sorry for your loss, but dimensions are being split everywhere..." damn he was sounding like those pathetic scientists . "We need to fix the damage. What better way then teaming up?" He forced a smile, one that didnt look dark as his eyes then landed on a redhead. He would have her bent over that desk and fucking her brains out if he didnt have to play so pitifully good and maybe she would be one that could actually take it. He tried to hide the smirk, it's a shame he couldnt find out. At least not yet, as soon as HYDRA had taken over this world too, he would fuck her and if she was any good maybe he would keep her just for his amusement. Oh the possibilities but then she opened her mouth and he just wanted to ram his cock down her fucking throat to shut that precious mouth up. "So HYDRAs now the good guys" she motioned to his arm badge of the symbol of his home.

He smirked "different dimension love, who says SHIELD are the good guys for me?" He winked at her as soldiers attacked him and he snapped their necks, earning him a small fight and guns being to his head. He wasnt going to get anywhere with them all dead, so didnt show what he was fully capable of yet and put his hands up "well where we come from, HYDRA are the bad guys and were not taking any chances"

It had been at least three weeks since he was thrown in this god forsaken cell. Not that it bothered him, it gave him time to analyse and plan. If he wasnt sat up on the bed, he was doing press ups or walking around his block to keep his body moving but, even though he refused to show it, he was a restless beast trapped in a cage biding it's time before it attacked its prey. Two more days later and the opportunity leading to that might had reared its head.

"Our HYDRA has a device that can be of use to fix all the dimensions effected by the rift. You and Agent Romanoff will infiltrate and get the device. If you help us fix the rift we will let you go back to your dimension alive" he smirked at Furys words, Steve saw right through him, there was no chance in hell that these people would let him go back. His eyes deliberately walked all over her body before looking back at the man who thought he was in charge. This could be fun with her and he could bring down SHIELD here too. Throwing the lion back into the lions den....no wonder SHIELD didnt survive long in his world the idea of her company amused him too, which was rare so he nodded "very well, I'll be a good boy and play nice"

The woman scowered at him "or meet the end of my knife. Either way suits me" he looked at her and grinned, she was feisty and loved knives....now she just got a hell of a lot kinkier. Maybe he would keep her after all but then again he never really was much to keep things around and he had to play along for now.

"Lead the way, red" he smirked as they handcuffed him but his eyes stayed on her. fuck her and kill her, fuck her to death, just kill her or keep her as his own personal cum bucket. It was fucking awful he couldnt do any as he played the good boy. He was going to find a way back or turn this world into his own. Either way he wouldnt let some fiesty little redhead stop him. In time, he would double cross her and enjoy every fucking moment of it.

[fktonofwhatnow]

who wants a list of my a court of frost and starlight thoughts without context cuz youre gonna get it anyways

It's been 3 paragraphs and Feyre's talked about how much money she has at least 4 times 

"What kind of things do you paint?" “The things that need telling." what do u mean wait come back explain this to me what needs telling which story is this

Also apparently Rhys has tried to fix the slum situation but he can't because 

 It's tricky to move people out of their houses to fix them 

Aren't you like, so rich, can't you just build more houses like, in a different area and move all the poor people over there and then turn the used-to-be slums into another housing development to house more people  

"Mor shrugged, her heavy brown coat bringing out the rich soil of her eyes." Her what 

Mor: I don't know what to get Az

Feyre: Get him more knives! Guys love weapons! 

morrigan, handing azriel a knife:

azriel: all the better to stab myself with

everyone else: AZRIEL NO

Why would you give this man more sharp things he's not okay don't give him sharp things 

Apparently this whole city smells like salt and lemon verbena -squints- i dont believe u

Acofas: In which Vivane forces her husband to make her high lady too because Feminism. Honestly, Viviane is already equal in rank to Kallias in all but title why she mad

“I can let go of the taunts and the fact that he still harbors some hope of one day reuniting with Tamlin. But I cannot let go of how he treated you after Under the Mountain"

You know what I can't let go of Rhys 

The way you treated her under the mountain 

seam of my backside 

Why is ERIS HERE 

N O HES PLAYIN YALL FOR DAMN FOOLS

I love how pointless all these visits to the hewn city are 

"Why are we here? WE DON'T KNOW ! :D"

"How's your court, Eris?" MOR WAS SO DISTRACTED BY HIM BEING HERE THAT SHE DIDN'T HEAR THE ANSWER. Thanks Maas I hate it please tell me how the autumn court is doing i wanna know

Feyre: yeah theres no border expansion for any one of the courts and that's final 

Eris: you'd better tell that to Tamlin, his territory borders the human lands 

Maas: yeT ANOTHER NAME MOR HAD TO ADD TO HER HIT LIST

Isn't tamlin waiting for someone to put him out of his fucking misery anyways lmao Mor get in line to kill tamlin Right Behind Tamlin

I love that I'm just Still so confused about all this human queen business. Why do the human lands need 7 queens 

(gifts love language rant time) Excuse me why us all this gift stuff seen as a bore? Does the IC not realize how special unanticipated gifts are? "Elain isn't expecting anything from us, so just don't get her anything" ???? WHY NOT ??? THATS THE PERFECT TIME TO GET HER SOMETHING

"Azriel has always understood me. It's definitely his powers." Maybe he just gets you, bro 

Tamlin didn't have any shields around the house, none to prevent anyone from winnowing in or to guard against enemies appearing in his bedroom and slitting his throat. It was almost as if he was waiting for someone to do it." 

Feyre: bro why you so angry 

Rhys: I went just so I could get mad at Tamlin 

Feyre: Oh, that's okay, the things you said to him weren't wrong 

Rhys: I should have been the bigger male 

Feyre: oh honey you're always the bigger male, you're entitled to be be petty every once in a while ahahah 

Rhysand I just... How do you go to Tamlin's place, look into his dead eyes and consider that maybe he doesn't keep wards because he wants someone to break in and kill him and not feel a single shred of sympathy, and then decide to tell him how much you wish he would just die is that really a good idea

Cassian just said the words "little" and "Rhysie" in the same breath and I would prefer death 

Wait why is Elain mad at Nesta now too 

"Rhysand drinked deeply from his wineglass." who edited this

Gentlemales. feyre corrected Elain from saying gentlemen. to gentlemales.

Wow Feyre’s mad that Elain and Lucien don’t actually care that much about each other. “I don’t like to see either of you unhappy” it’s gonna be okay Feyre don’t force them to see each other

Please don’t make fun of the boys doin their thing okay I wanna snowball fight why are you guys judging them

I would like to personally thank Feyre for giving Rhys a boner while he’s naked with his bros

Who’s the illyrain baby now

why is feyre complaining about money when theres literally mountains of presents here

Could y'all at least pretend that you're excited to see nesta

Feyre just gave Rhys a whole ass selfie and he’s pretending he’s happy about it

Lets keep pounding the “stories that need to be told” in art in the most anti-climactic way possible

Yes we know art’s important can we also talk about how like the Illyrians are trying to rebel and i JUST KNOW that eris is playing yall

Hi Cassian if you understand nesta then why are you mad at nesta 

CASSIAN STOP BEING CREEPY WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

“You’ll want this one” mY ASS i swear if yOU GOT HER LINGERIE

Rhys’ mom made all these dresses, just for feyre ???? I don’t believe you

[wyslyyzr]

HOW DID I MISS THE FIRST LISS MEME ROFLMAO do it. I dare you. I double dog dare you.

◈ for a first kiss between our muses.  |  @sebastianshaw

through the motions of life, erik has always tried to be decisive. it is a change from the quivering and persecuted child he was, but even then, max had ground nails into knives, and on more than one occasion, decided he would die to kill his oppressors, thwarted only by misstep. he prides himself on his strengths, but there is one distinct category he's had a tumultuous time with: interpersonal relationships. they were often elusive at worst, and complicated at best; his methods were disavowed but he was loved, or he was not loved and was feared, or he was precisely asocial to the point of withdrawal. it was always a struggle, and erik's loneliness was silent, tucked away beneath his breast bone with the rest of his pain he had no desire to aerate.

he doesn't particularly like sebastian shaw, but he tolerates him as demanded or requested by those around him that he respects more, which allows for a subsistence of social dynamic he wished he could simply scorch to nothingness. shaw is oppressively annoying, but erik suspects even if he could train himself to offer minimal reactions, shaw might not retract--his interest ran a bit deeper than mere needling, though erik could not quite deduce what it was that interested shaw. his strength or convictions? maybe, but it was difficult to imagine sebastian approved of how he used them--he'd almost made that clear already. erik simply pretends that isn't there, that he can exist in relative peace, though he feels sebastian's eyes on him rather consistently.

this is a quiet moment, one erik relishes, even if it's beside someone like sebastian shaw. he offers ambivalent reactions, responses, a neutrality meant not to reveal his hand or thoughts, but it would be a lie to claim he didn't enjoy this, at least; the sprawling scenic view of high risen paths and low valleys of clear water, the refracting light from the falling sun, the subtle breeze that tickled his throat and forearms and hands, that lazily tangled in his hair.

when shaw gestures, albeit vaguely, to the ink stretched across his bare forearm, erik's brow sets in clear annoyance, a sharpness narrowing his eyes. sebastian lifts a finger to tut, oh, please, erik, i am not mocking you. he watches shaw fold a leg over the knee, expecting a verbal display of stupidity, or at least, something that would evoke a tremor of rage, but to his surprise, it doesn't come.

shaw mumbles in a way that seems deliberate, like he was sharing exactly what he meant to, a storybook that eliminated any opportunity for vulnerability--like if he said what he meant in an exact tone, it couldn't possibly sound like something that was about him, something that made him less than impervious and grandiose. when he speaks, its of his father, of an impoverished childhood, though the details are deliberately obscured. perhaps a brusque and narrow comparison to what erik endured, but perhaps not done maliciously.

this once, at least.

the bars of tendon in erik's wrist flex as his fingers spider about the rim of his offered glass of champagne, and the taste is fragrantly sweet. he'd observed the bottle had been appropriately stamped with a kosher seal, and wondered if that had been intentional, too, or if shaw had deferred to his misconstrued idea of what exactly kosher meant. that was fine by erik, either way; he hadn't had a good glass of wine or champagne since passover. see, i am not quite the privileged lout you seem to think i am, erik.

erik rolls his eyes, though a bud of amusement burrows into the side of his cheek, pressing a soft line beside his lip. ' oh, believe you me, shaw, i still think that of you. ' he stands from his seat, the sunlight touching his white clothes in such a way that it made erik look otherworldly, illuminating his pale hair, his draped shawl, the tight fit of his long legs. ' i'm unsure what your motivation is for sharing such knowledge with me, ' erik begins, opening his hand in offering to take shaw's emptied cup, ' as it would be out of character to think of you doing anything without an ulterior motive, ' he raises his brows at shaw, though the gesture is almost playful, ' but.. regardless, i appreciate that it was shared. ' shaw rolls his hand on the ball joint of his wrist, flicking his fingers in a dismissive manner. i have servants for that. so erik drops his hand, and shaw rises from his seat in tandem, electing to take erik's emptied glass himself. erik watches him set the pair aside on a small, cherry-oak polished end table that bore nothing else but what looked to be a cigar box. take it as a display of good faith.

' you do nothing in good faith. '

quite untrue, and such an unyielding accusation. you think so low of me. ' is that so? give me an example of your good faith. ' when shaw staggers to an idle, searching for something that would appease magneto, erik almost laughs in his face. ' i did not think so. ' shaw reaches for his arm before he can retreat from the balcony, his hold unkind enough to make erik jerk in response, but he relaxes when it becomes evident to him sebastian merely wants to gain precedence over this debate, and keep him here to speak. well, i make regular donations to a homeless children's education fund in pittsburgh.

' okay. ' thats an example, as you demanded. ' i suppose so. '

when shaw contemplates him, erik thinks he looks rather dull. he watches his brow press into a line. when you learned the scarlet witch and quicksilver were your children, what did you do, magnus?

erik raises a pale brow, something hot and brittle waning in his chest. the sudden switch in topic is jarring, and suspicious to erik. he blinks, averting his eyes from sebastian in thought. ' i held my granddaughter in my arms. i thought about all the time i had missed, and i felt sorry for myself, and sad for them. and i got over it, and began trying to fill in the gaps. why? what does-- '

shaw, perhaps realizing he had yet a hold on erik's arm, lets him go. nothing. it was--a ghost from my past has come to haunt me. you, so filled with them, might have known what to do. i was.. perhaps, asking for .. help.

' help? you? ' ridiculous, isn't it? it feels disgustingly wrong.

' well, thats your problem. ' erik presses his finger into sebastian's chest, albeit the pressure is slight; it's meant to get his attention, nothing else. ' you only accept help when it means theres less work for you to do. what do you do when it makes you vulnerable? i struggled with that for years, and it is still wanting. '

there is a long suffering moment of silence between them, the sun continuing its descent on the horizon, bloated colors of orange and pink crawling over glass. finally, one of shaw's near-comically large hands raises to crest the side of erik's face, his thumb curling to the hinge of erik's jaw, beneath his ear. he tilts erik's head like he's appraising his face, and erik scrunches his nose. ' what are you doing? '

kissing him is certainly the last thing erik could have expected. in fact, it's so left-field to him, so abrupt and strange, that for a moment, erik doesn't know exactly what to do. shaw pulls erik's head down just slightly to compensate for the inch of difference in height, an act erik would suspect meant to be domineering. when his senses come back into focus, he can taste alcohol, a hint of smoke, something beneath that likely to be meat. his heart rushes into his ears, and the swirl of panic pushes erik to respond, his suspended belief finally giving like an overcrowded dam. he balls a fist against shaw's clavicle and shoves with force, successfully prying him free, and nearly knocking him into the railing.

' gott! du khazer, what in--why did you do that? ' erik roars, wiping his face in his sleeve.

i thought we were having a "moment".

' no! '

[plunnies-n-shit]

Foreigner’s God

Bleach -- UraGrimmIchi -- Post-Canon

Ichigo gets trapped alone in the Soul Kings Palace after Yhwach is defeated.

Kisuke, injured and exhaused, still works tirelessly to open a way back. It only takes a couple of days, but. Time travels differently in the soul kings palace than it does in the other worlds.

By the time they get to ichigo, ichigo has been trapped alone for a full year

The ichigo they find is practically feral. Scared, half-hollified from desperation, weak from starving himself/not taking care of himself, but it still takes grimmjow hours to get ichigo subdued because hollow instincts are p much the only thing ichigo recognizes as not a delusion

It takes even longer to convince ichigo that any of his other friends standing there are real too. And even longer for ichigo to start healing.

He clings to grimmjow pretty hard because his hollow instincts tell him that grimmjow is real and even when the Soul Kings Palace was filled with ghosts and hallucinations Ichigos hollow instincts have never lied to him.

Most of ichigos madness is just from the isolation. Prolonged complete isolation does horrible things to people.

at some point ichigo scored huge gashes into his arms and thighs that healed ugly and even Orihime cant heal them completely. (Or. He doesnt let orihime close enough to heal them.) 

(His throat is torn up from screaming, so his voice is a low painful rasp. Hes so badly oversensitive to everything: touch, taste, noises, smells)

(Yuzu teaches grimmjow how to make jok bc thats all ichigo used to be able to keep down the few times she can remember him being sick)

Grimmjow fucks up every pot and ichigo still eats every bite bc its not food the Palace created for him, the Palace food is almost uncomfortably perfect and grimmjows food is flawed and kinda gross sometimes But its better than the Palace food.

They eventually realize that ichigo cant leave the soul kings palace. But because of the time transition it can sometimes be months if not years between visits from Ichigo's perspective. Grimmjow and kisuke are the only ones who stay with ichigo fulltime.

(Eventual grimmuraichi? Maybe >:3c )

(Benihime can reconstruct anything she touches so kisuke devotes hundreds of hours to learning how to deconstruct the stone of the palace and reconstruct it into plants trees and flowers.)

(Also. Transichi transurahara. Theres only one dick between the 3 of them)

(Well. Trans Enby Urahara. His gender is Science)

("You cant possibly want to stay here."

That perfectly-cheerful facade falters for just a moment as Kisuke freezes. "Whatever gave you that impression, Jaegerjaquez-kun?"

"Lemme see," Grimmjow starts counting on his fingers. "Cat-bitch, little demon boy, little demon girl, mr tall dark and kido-happy, your shop, your deal with the shinigami, all your experiments.... am i missing any?" 

Kisuke very slowly shoves the box he was unpacking aside so he can boost himself up onto the table and face Grimmjow. "There is no experiment that i cannot run here," he soothes. "And.... I have lived a long time, Grimmjow. You two are fairly young in the grand sceme of things, and if my predictions are correct you will live much longer than any soul or shinigami could hope to live. But--" his smile turns wry; the second honest expression Grimmjow's ever seen on that face, though Grimmjow would love to forget the first. "-- this old man would love nothing more than to spend the rest of his days at your side, and Ichigo's. If... if you two will have me, of course.")

(Grimmjow pulls Kisuke into a kiss, the slow, languid kind that makes onlookers feel like voyuers. "Youre not that old yet, geta-boshi")

(Kisuke turns himself into a vizard so ichigos instincts can recognize him)

(Grimmjow's like "...... ok thats kinda hot")

(Especially since grimm has to give urahara the post-hollification beatdown. Its not ichigos raw strength, but theres something about uraharas sharp-as-knives cunning that gets grimmjow a little hot n bothered.)

(Ichigo is their king long before he ever finally takes the Soul Kings throne)

(mostly to make sure Kisuke gets reincarnated somewhere good)

(And when grimmjow passes the final stage of hollow evolution and back into the cycle, and Ichigo finally allows himself to give up the throne, theres a boy with snow-white hair and a persistent cough waiting patiently at the gates.)

[heartbreak-human]

TW: explicit thoughts of self harm and repulsive feelings and gross things you dont wanna think of

ive been seeing less ants i n my house, but there was a milliped thing and some gnats and i feel so gross

so disgusting

i want to scratch off all my skin and rip out all my hair

because i cant rid myself of this itchy feeling

you know it right?

the one that you get when you look at something that is just repulsive

not in the moist way, like mushy things or gore

but like insects, bugs, mold etc.

like there are millions of little unsanitary creatures crawling all over you

the way you felt when you first learnt of the existence of bacteria, or the bugs that eat your dead skin all over your bed,

or the way you felt when you discovered that sack of dead insect eggs hiding in the carpet of your elementary school classroom

currently my back, arms, thighs, feet, scalp, face, and neck are driving me crazy with the need to itch

the back of my throat needs to be scratched until im coughing blood

the insides of my nostrils feel so itchy i want to scratch them with knives

im shivering a bit too

i cant get the feeling of walking into spiderwebs out of the nerves in my left hand and wrist

this is why sometimes i make grids of cuts on my mosquito bites to lessen the feeling that comes with it- and replace it with another

im getting a headache from the amount ive blown my nose despite the fact that theres nothing to blow

it would be more pleasant living in a metal box

i feel disgusting

[ashes-and-ashes]

Could you do something before sirius runs away to james hes scared to go home this summer. The other marauders keep asking what's wrong and he keeps saying hes fine and pretty much refusing to tell the truth. But when he passes out from exhaustion bc he hasn't been eating or sleeping properly then it confirms to the other guys he has been lying then he finally opens up about being terrified to go back bc theres no point in lying now

James can feel his heart in his throat, a vicious pounding that seemed to hollow out right into his lungs. He takes a shuddering breath, dropping to the ground beside Sirius, his hand yanking the top of Sirius’ shirt down to find his neck, his pulse.

“Sirius,” he says frantically; Remus is still beside him, so still James distantly wonders if he had turned to stone. “Sirius, please, are you - “

It happens too fast for James to react - Sirius comes to with a gasp, his hand wrapped tight around James’. “Don’t touch - “

Remus is there in an instant, one hand shaking between them to grip Sirius’ arm. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

It’s heartbreaking the way Sirius’ eyes dart across the room, the tension showing up in hard lines across his body. He swallows hard, chest heaving - Remus doesn’t let go.

“It’s alright,” he whispers. “You’re okay.”

“Remus,” Sirius croaks, burrying his face in Remus’ chest. “Oh God.”

There’s a clattering behind them; Peter perches on the side of the sofa. A levitating tray of tea floats above his knee - Remus takes one immediately, forcing it into Sirius’ shaking hand. “Thanks Pete.”

James takes a mug as well, the heat making his clenched muscles relax. He hovers awkwardly behind them, wanting to help but not knowing what to do. “Sirius?”

Sirius makes a choked noise. His fingers were white where they were clenched around the handle of the cup, his hands shaking so much that tea sloshed around the edges. “I’m sorry.”

“For what,” Peter scoffs. “Passing out? How’s that your fault?”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” James says immediately. “Nothing.”

Sirius seems to relax a little at the words. He stares down at the tea - Peter had put cream into it, turning the whole thing a dark shade of caramel brown. “You know how I didn’t want to go home this summer?”

“Yeah,” James says - he remembers it, Sirius desperate grip on his wrist at the Station, his eyes wild and pleading. Can I stay with you? For...just for a bit? “Are you okay?”

Sirius shakes his head. He sets the cup down carefully on the coffee table. “It’s...”

He turns to Remus, who merely twines his fingers in Sirius’ hair. They seem to have a silent conversation - finally Remus pulls away and releases his grip.

“If you’re sure,” he says, and Sirius nods.

He gently untangles himself from Remus’ arms, gripping the end of his sweatshirt. “I...” he begins, then trails off. “I don’t know.”

He pulls his shirt off.

It’s like Remus’ scars. That’s all James can think about as he stares in mute horror at Sirius’ back. It’s all silver lines and puckered holes, the skin jagged and raised, lines that looked like knives and belts and the tell-tale burns of curses marks -

Peter looks like he’s about to throw up, one hand clasped around his mouth. Hell, James feels like he’s going to throw up too, at the pain his brother must have gone through, the agony that must have been done to him.

Only Remus didn’t look surprised. James wonders when he found out, if it was before or after they started dating.

“Who - “ Peter sounds horrified. “Who did this to you?”

Sirius laughs. “It’s why I didn’t want to go home this summer,” he says and James feels the icy splash of dread pool in his stomach. “My darling parents.”

[chuzey]

so idk this is my first poem and I'm going to post it. aahhhhhhyessss:

And sometimes, the air refuses to vacate the hollows in my chest

A desperate gasp makes its way through my flaky lips

And sometimes, theres knives and daggers in my throat

I avow they induce my soul into the lethal deed again

Ohh, the melody of his sweet name- feels like home, again-

but only daring to voice it when there's glitter in the skies

It brings peace in my chaotic little cosmos

And sometimes love potions flow through the slits in my countenance

And sometimes when the silver sphere appears- i lapse and i sink in these liquids, relishing every ounce of it, yearning for more.