#and the odd sense of humor we share

[dreamgirlstudy]

went to college & accidentally (& immediately) fell in love. i have to leave for a postgrad course soon so we’ve been doing long distance & what’s been unexpectedly hard is this: i can’t be the version of myself that i am when i’m with him. not anymore. part of me, that i miss, ceases to exist.

[acotarxreader]

Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay

A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.

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“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hard to say, you fall that height and would expect it” Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t practice without Amren Nesta” Feyre bit out.

“And how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the ground” Feyre gave a huff to her sister’s bored tone. 

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

“Rhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds out” Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.

“Well she’s not dead”

“For now” Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look. 

“Her clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?”

“Hard to say, the material on her legs is so…dense?” Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.

The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts. 

“Shit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgot”

“You forgot” Feyre returned

“Whatever, here help me cover her” The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them. 

“Hey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?” he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door. 

“Nothing!” their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply. 

“You two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arson” he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didn’t do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them. 

“Well if that’s all Az, thanks for coming” Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you. 

“Fucking hell” your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azriel’s eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre. 

“She did it!” they said in unison again, pointing to one another. 

“Oh Rhys is going to kill you” he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.

“Whe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?” your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment. 

“Am-am I dead?” Your stare landed on Azriel’s wings, conclusions forming quickly.

“No unfortunately not” Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master. 

“You're okay!” Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness. 

“Nice going you big bat, you killed her” Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day. 

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

“Well I think her little magic trick will die without her” Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options. 

“We could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. I’ll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time we’re here again perhaps she’ll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her back” 

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

“Well you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isn’t known for her bedside manner” Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyre’s logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.

“Okay fine, go but if she dies, I’m not to blame” They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way. 

Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count. 

He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didn’t work, he fetched one of Cassian’s training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down. 

“You’re okay, you…you just fell but you’re okay.” he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face. 

“I-I fell?” he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself. 

“Fucking hell my head-” you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement “-do you have any paracetamol or something?”

“Para-what-almol?” Azriel’s eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.

“Sorry, I should-I should go? Emm…where are we?” 

“This is Velaris”

“Velentia?! How did I get here?!” You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly. 

“No, I’m not sure where that is but you’re not there, here take this” he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced. 

“No thanks man, not here to be poisoned” Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds. 

“I’m Azriel” His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes. 

“YN” You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir. 

“YN? That’s an odd name”

“You say that as if there’s an Azriel at every petrol station in town” You half laugh, more questions entering Azriel’s head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead. 

“No paper here or something?” Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyre’s artwork the object of your marvelling. 

“They’re Feyre’s, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mate”

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

“What? You speak in riddles” he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face. 

“You can drink it YN, it’s not poisoned, here look I’ll take a sip” You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp. 

“Now, I’m afraid you can’t go home just y-”

“Fuck I knew it! What’s in this tea?! I’m being kidnapped!” You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.

“YN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of my…friends brought you here by accident” You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.

“Stay back! I know self-defence!” Azriel couldn’t hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.

“Fuck! Fine! Die in the snow!” He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid. 

“And you thought I’d be the one to use poison” A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.

“I promise I won’t kill you, if you don’t kill me” he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

“Gods I hope you start making sense soon” he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.

“I’m sorry about the-” you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m impressed a human would have such speed, to be honest”

“Human? And what are you a fish?” 

“No” he didn’t return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees. 

“Great” you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action. 

“Nesta couldn’t save your mirror from the fall?”

“Nesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?” 

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

“Prythian? Like from the children's stories?” you chuckled at him.

“No, Prythian like the realm” he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding. 

“My mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-win…” you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azriel’s wings over his shoulder. 

“Really big? Well, thanks for the flattery” He laughed aloud as your face greyed. 

“Fuck, it’s happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dream” Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.

“Okay so not a dream…”

“Not a dream, my brother’s lovely ma-wife’s sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you here…not very carefully might I add” He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasn’t a possibility, this was a reality. 

“So, okay, right-” you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action “-okay cool, right, so I’m gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybe”

“Is Xanax a friend of yours who can help?” Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you. 

“Definitely although I don’t think they’re here somehow” you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile. 

“Well, we’ll make do and try to get you home” You nodded sheepishly to him.

“Do you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlier” he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully. 

“I mean…I’m not in a rush to get back to the test” 

“Okay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so you’ll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the other” he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen. 

For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his family’s as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such strong feelings towards someone he’d just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were. 

“Here you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve it” Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.

“Oh slay”

“No, I didn’t kill anything to get this for you” You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words. 

“No Azriel it’s like-actually maybe I’ll explain drag culture to you another day” He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink. 

“So have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?”

“No, no girlf-mate type person-” he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow “-do you?”

“Nope, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college either” you shrugged. 

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

“You have to say that, you’re my captor”

“Actually Nesta captured you, I’m just minding you-” You returned his smirk “-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your exam” you whined like a misbehaving child but you’d been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.

He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.

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“We are sending her back!”

“Amren can’t guarantee she’ll end up in her realm, she’s not going anywhere!” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.

“She can’t stay here Az!”

“And what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN you’re awake” You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians. 

“This is Rhysand”

“Oh, your majesty I suppose” you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action. 

“Don’t flatter him YN”

“YN, flatter me if that would make you happy” he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes. 

“You’re exactly as described” You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood

“I would like to apologies for Nesta’s…interuption to your day to day life and more so for…probably being all Nesta when you woke up” Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry. 

“Now YN, it’s time we get you back to-”

“-I heard you guys say you can’t say for certain I’ll get home” you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.

“I’m confident we know how to get you there”

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me” 

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

“Well its just if you’re so sure you’ll get me in the right spot, surely you’ll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since you’re confident” Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk. 

“She’s got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldn’t do it, why should she?”

“Because she doesn’t belong here” Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.

“She is sitting right here and she isn’t going near any wormhole or whatever if you’re not sure I’d get there safe” You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.

“Who said anything about worms?”

“YN has a habit of speaking in riddles” Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you. 

“YN, I’m sure you’re great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, it’s a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?” you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.

“I can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyre” Rhysand sighed out but couldn’t deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him. 

“Fine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesn’t work out then the mortal realm it is, we’ll set you up with a nice manor and you’ll live very comfortably”

“Like Downton Abbey?” you teased despite your audience.

“I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

“Of sorts” you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysand’s suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta. 

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Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide. 

“And then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysand’s head” Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.

“You live such insane lives here”

“And you could too” he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow. 

“Maybe with less arson though” he added with a grin you loved so much. 

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

“-No, just say ‘Az I’d love to stay’ and leave it there” he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now. 

“But Az-” you couldn’t find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azriel’s lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go. 

“I-I can’t remember the end of my last thought” you laughed lightly and he grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“I don’t think I was ever going to be able to walk away from you…well not without mace anyways” you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.

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Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BENEATH THE SURFACE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Violence: Includes detailed scenes of physical altercations and self-defense. Sexual Harassment: Depicts a non-explicit but distressing scene of unwanted touching and intimidation. Emotional Distress: Contains moments of anxiety and emotional vulnerability. Reader doesn’t know that Logan is also Wolverine.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After a terrifying encounter in a dark alley, you're rescued by the mysterious and fierce Wolverine, who effortlessly fights off your attackers. Grateful but shaken, you share a vulnerable conversation with him on your building's steps, revealing your unspoken feelings for Logan Howlett—a man who has unknowingly captured your heart. Little do you know, Logan is closer than you think, and your confession stirs something deep within him, leading to an unexpected and heartfelt turn of events.

THE CITY WAS ALIVE WITH ITS USUAL HUM AS YOU MADE YOUR WAY HOME, the sky transitioning from twilight to the deep hues of night. The streets were familiar, every corner and alley a part of your daily routine, yet tonight felt different. A certain unease settled in your stomach, though you couldn’t place why.

Your thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Logan Howlett. He was a man of few words and even fewer smiles, but something about him had captivated you from the moment you met him. You’d been introduced by Wade Wilson, your loudmouth neighbor who had an affinity for trouble and an odd sense of humor. Wade had a way of inserting himself into everyone’s lives, and through him, you found yourself drawn to Logan—despite, or maybe because of, his gruff exterior.

You had been crushing on Logan for a while now, but your feelings were met with a wall of indifference, or so it seemed. Logan was distant, always keeping you at arm’s length. You figured it was just his way, maybe even a defense mechanism. Still, it hurt, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feelings you had for him.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the group of men until it was too late. They emerged from the shadows of an alleyway, their eyes glinting with malice. Your heart raced as you took a step back, but they quickly closed in, surrounding you.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Where do you think you’re going?"

Panic clawed at your chest. "I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go."

The men laughed, and before you could react, one of them reached out and grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him. You tried to pull away, but his grip was ironclad. The others circled closer, their hands brushing against your body in ways that made your skin crawl. One of them ran his hand down your back, his touch lingering far too long on places that made your stomach churn with revulsion.

"Don’t be shy now," another man whispered in your ear, his breath hot and disgusting against your skin. His hand slid up your side, fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you against the cold, hard wall of the alley. "We just want to have some fun."

Terror spiked through you as one of them pushed his hand up your shirt, his fingers cold and invasive against your skin. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, panic strangling the sound. They had you pinned, and the more you struggled, the more they seemed to enjoy it, their laughter growing more sinister with each passing second.

Just as you thought all hope was lost, a low, menacing growl echoed through the alley, freezing everyone in place. The laughter died, replaced by a tense, almost primal silence. You barely had time to process what was happening before a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with lethal precision.

Wolverine.

His eyes burned with fury, and the metallic snikt of his claws unsheathing was the only warning the men received before he was upon them. In a flash, Wolverine lunged at the man closest to you, his claws slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. The man didn’t even have time to scream before Wolverine’s claws tore into him, sending him crashing to the ground in a lifeless heap.

The other men tried to scatter, but Wolverine was faster. He grabbed the man who had been holding you, lifting him effortlessly off the ground with one hand. The man’s eyes bulged with fear as Wolverine snarled, his claws glinting in the dim light before he drove them into the man’s chest, ending the threat in an instant.

The third man, now the only one left standing, attempted to flee, but Wolverine was on him in a heartbeat. With a swift, brutal strike, Wolverine sent the man flying across the alley, his body crumpling against the brick wall with a sickening thud. The alley fell silent, the danger gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Wolverine stood over the fallen men, his chest heaving with the remnants of his rage. His claws dripped with blood, and his eyes still glowed with the intensity of the fight. But as he turned to you, his expression softened, the wildness in his eyes fading to concern.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle as he retracted his claws, the deadly metal sliding back into his hands.

You nodded shakily, your body trembling with adrenaline. "I… I think so," you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, as if to reassure himself that you were truly unharmed. "Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. "No… they didn’t get the chance, thanks to you."

His jaw clenched, and you could see the anger still simmering just beneath the surface, directed not at you, but at the men who had dared to lay a hand on you. "Let’s get you home," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It’s not safe here."

You nodded again, still too rattled to argue, and the two of you began the walk back to your place. The night felt quieter now, the earlier danger a stark contrast to the safety you felt beside him. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. There was something about his presence that made you feel safe, even though you barely knew him.

As you walked, your mind raced with questions. Why was Wolverine here? Did he patrol this area often? And most of all, why did his presence feel so familiar? But you didn’t ask any of them. Instead, you walked beside him, your steps echoing in the quiet night.

When you finally reached your building, you hesitated at the entrance. "Would you… would you like to sit for a bit? I’m not quite ready to go inside."

Wolverine glanced around, then nodded. "Sure."

You both sat down on the steps, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The night was calm now, the danger from earlier feeling like a distant memory. Yet, your thoughts were far from calm. They kept circling back to Logan and the feelings you had tried so hard to keep at bay.

"You know," you began, not looking at him, "there’s this guy I really like. We’ve known each other for a while now, and… well, I’m pretty sure he has no idea how I feel."

Wolverine shifted beside you, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Why don’t you just tell him?"

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the ground. "It’s not that easy. He’s… complicated. Keeps people at a distance. I’m not sure he even sees me that way. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m wasting my time."

Wolverine remained silent, and when you glanced at him, you noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—was it unease? It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and he looked away, his jaw tightening.

"He might have his reasons," he said after a moment, his voice unusually gentle. "Maybe he’s been hurt before. Or maybe he thinks he’s not good enough for you."

You looked up at him, surprised by the insight in his words. "Do you really think that?"

He nodded, his gaze still averted. "Yeah. Guys like that… they can be tough to figure out. But if he cares about you, he’ll come around. He just needs to realize that you’re worth the risk."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something in the way he said it, like he was speaking from experience. "I hope you’re right," you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

A brief silence fell between you before you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. "His name is Logan. He’s a good guy, really… but he keeps shutting me out. I just don’t know what to do."

Wolverine stiffened beside you, his reaction subtle but noticeable. His head turned slightly, as if he was trying to gauge your expression without fully looking at you. When he spoke, his voice was lower, more hesitant. "Logan, huh?"

You nodded, feeling a pang of vulnerability as you admitted it out loud. "Yeah. I know he’s got his reasons for being the way he is, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be close to him. From wanting him to see me… really see me."

Wolverine was quiet for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, there was a strange mix of emotions in his voice—something between surprise, guilt, and maybe even… hope? "Maybe… he already does."

You turned to look at him, confused by the shift in his tone. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Just… don’t give up on him. Sometimes, people need time to figure things out."

You studied him, wondering if there was more to his words than he was letting on. But before you could press further, he stood up, signaling that it was time for him to go.

"You’ll be safe now," he said, his voice back to its usual gruffness. "I should go."

You stood as well, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and sadness. "Yeah. Thanks again… for everything."

He nodded once more, and without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the steps.

The next morning, you were still thinking about the encounter as you got ready for the day. There was something about Wolverine that lingered in your mind, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But before you could dwell on it, a knock on your door startled you.

You opened it to find Logan standing there, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. His eyes were intense, and for a moment, you wondered if something was wrong.

"Logan?" you said, your voice laced with concern. "What’s going on?"

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to begin. "I need to talk to you."

You stepped aside to let him in, your heart pounding in your chest. "Sure. What is it?"

He didn’t sit down, instead pacing a bit before turning to face you. "There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."

Your breath caught in your throat. "What is it?"

He stopped in front of you, his gaze locking onto yours. "I’ve been an idiot," he said, his voice low and rough. "I’ve kept my distance because… well, because I’m no good for you. But last night made me realize something. I can’t keep ignoring how I feel."

Your heart raced as his words sank in. "Logan…"

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a long time. But I didn’t think I deserved you. Still don’t, if I’m being honest. But if you’ll have me… I’d like to take you out. On a real date."

You stared at him, stunned. "You… you want to go out with me?"

He nodded, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. "Yeah. I do."

A smile slowly spread across your face, your heart swelling with joy. "I’d love to, Logan."

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Tonight, then?"

"Tonight sounds perfect," you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but call after him. "Logan?"

He stopped and looked back at you, a questioning look in his eyes.

"You knew, didn’t you? Last night… you were…"

Logan looked away for a moment, then nodded slowly, the weight of his admission hanging in the air. "Yeah," he said, his voice gruff but honest. "I was there. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while now… more than you probably realize."

Your heart fluttered at the realization, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—relief, warmth, and a touch of amusement. "So you’re Wolverine," you said, more of a statement than a question. "I should’ve known."

Logan met your gaze, his expression softening. "I didn’t want you to find out like that. But when I saw those guys…" His voice trailed off, the thought of what could have happened left unspoken.

You took a step closer to him, feeling a newfound connection now that the truth was out. "Thank you for being there," you said, your voice gentle. "For always being there, even when I didn’t know it."

He nodded, the intensity in his eyes softening further. "I’ll always be there, if you want me to be."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I do, Logan. I really do."

The two of you stood there, the unspoken understanding between you solidifying into something more. Logan’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch both tender and reassuring. "So, tonight?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Tonight."

Logan smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I’ll see you then."

As he turned to leave, you felt a surge of excitement for what was to come. For the first time in a long while, the future felt bright, full of possibilities you hadn’t dared to imagine.

But just as Logan reached the door, you couldn’t resist adding one more thing. "Logan?"

He paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious.

"You know, I’ve always thought you were pretty amazing. Claws and all."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he shook his head with a grin. "And here I was, thinking I had to hide that part of me."

You shrugged playfully. "Turns out, I like you just the way you are."

Logan’s smile grew, and for a moment, you could see the walls he’d built around himself starting to crumble. "I’ll remember that."

And with that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. As you stood there, your heart full of anticipation and a sense of peace, you knew that tonight would be the start of something new—something real and wonderful, with Logan by your side

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! 🫶

[eponymous-rose]

A little thing I'm also really appreciating in this rewatch of TNG is something that seems to have all but disappeared in the age of tightly plotted, entirely serialized eight-episode miniseries TV: little slice-of-life moments that don't serve any driving plot purpose except to flesh out the world a little bit.

The scene with Picard's hairdresser earnestly telling him how he should better have handled diplomatic relations with the Romulans doesn't serve a deep narrative purpose in the sense of echoing the themes of the episode or foreshadowing some important moment with that hairdresser. It's there to share a little picture of the world - yes, there are still hairdressers in the future, yes, there's still awkward small-talk with said hairdressers. There's also the nice little reminder in all these domestic scenes that normal life is happening aboard the Enterprise, families and all, which adds to the sense of danger when the ship's in peril and paints the moments of war and conflict as uncomfortable juxtapositions. It's not there to serve the plot, it's there to build the world. And the characters! Picard's mostly-polite demurs, the reveal that Riker has been 100% humoring this guy like "oh man, we should've thought of that, you're so right". There's no reason to include it beyond reveling in the world.

I really miss that about a lot of modern TV - we get these needle-sharp hard dives through a world, coherent and concise and often quite lovely, but trying to take in the scope of the world around that plot is like watching out the window of a fast-moving train: you're getting nothing more than vague impressions at a remove. It's the difference between a guided tour of a museum and a self-guided tour: sometimes, at some museums, you just want to meander around a bit at your own pace and let it wash over you.

Given the choice, I'll almost always fall deeper in love with a show that's criticized for "filler" or "monster of the week" because I know it'll give its characters and its universe time to grow. That's what drew me to TV in the first place - I adore movies, but there's only so much you can do with character and world in 2-3 hours. Lately a lot of TV seems to be seen as a rather long movie with the odd break where you get up to make popcorn midway through. I think there's something unique about the format of television that's being lost in this attempt to emulate the structure of a movie, in the same way that some novels feel like they might as well just have been novellas or short stories. It's not just a longer version of the same thing. It has the potential to be something entirely different.

Give me the bloated 20-odd-episode seasons of the 90s and 00s, where characters grew and changed slowly, by inches, and we had the time to change along with them. I love the new stuff, don't get me wrong, but I sure miss that specific brand of mess.

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // prologue

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

next

It didn't make sense, the way you and Bakugo worked.

See, for everyone else in his life, he seemed to gravitate towards people opposite his nature.

Take Kirishima, for example–the blonde's best friend and wingman since high school. It was obvious how they clicked. The red heads steady, calming tendencies serving as the anchor to Bakugo's ship, lost in the storm of his brash, reckless ways.

The same could be said about nearly every other person in his life.

All but one.

"Yeah? Try me." He hissed, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed. The telltale scent of burnt caramel had already begun to propagate through the street.

"Dynamight- stop! Don't engage with the villain! Detain without injur–"

"Shut the fuck up, Deku!" Bakugo spat, ripping his comm off and tossing it to the side. "This extra wants to go, so let's go!"

"Hell yeah!" You grinned cockily, appearing at his side.

Where the world served to calm Bakugo Katsuki, you were the opposite. You were the oil, and he the flame. It shouldn't have worked.

But it did.

The world could say what it pleased about the two of you. At the end of the day, it was undeniable that you were an effective pairing on the battlefield.

"Start an agency with me." He demanded that foggy high school day, staring at you with such intensity anyone else would've confused it for a glare.

"Why should I?"

"Who else could keep your dumbass in check?"

You hadn't spoken for a week after that. He had spent those seven days sulking around–temper even shorter than usual, Kirishima tailing him, apologizing on his behalf.

"Because I can't do it without you."

"Sorry?" You asked, looking up snootily. You had heard him–he wasn't exactly a quiet person after all–and he knew it. The small quirk upwards in the corner of your lips gave you away.

Still, he humored you, rolling his eyes. "I can't do it without you." He huffed, louder this time. "I can't start an agency without you by my side."

Two of Japan's up and coming heroes–and boy were they coming in hot. Dynamight and Cordelia. Two wildly talented people on the battlefield, fearsome as they were reckless.

"Congrats, L/n." Kirishima smiled proudly, raising a glass.

You smirked fondly, lifting your own to meet his.

He was here for Bakugo, but it was nice to see him nonetheless. It was odd; despite the individual bonds you both shared with Bakugo, the two of you had never built a close friendship of your own. You simply enjoyed your respective time with the blonde, each holding respect for the other's unique relationship with the hot head.

"Thanks, Kiri." You grinned, taking a sip from your glass.

"To the Dynadelia agency!" A voice shouted over the chatter, a glass seen lifted over the sea of people.

The crowd erupted into noises of approval–hundreds of drinks lifted into the air.

"That's for us." Hot breath tickled the back of your ear.

You scoffed playfully, grinning wildly as you turned to face the voice. "Really? Couldn't tell."

"I'm serious, N/n. That's us. We did it."

You softened. "Yeah. Yeah, Kat. We did."

There was no stopping the two of you after that. The Dynadelia agency quickly rose to the first ranked agency in Japan, fourth in the world, each of you easily securing spots number two and four on the Japanese hero charts.

You didn't spend all your time together. You were both far too chaotic for that. Instead, you often found yourself allied with Deku and Shoto, and he with Redriot.

But when the two of you met on the field, boy were you unstoppable. Each a raging storm, fueling the other as both charged head on into danger.

"And another victory for pro hero Dynamight and the Dynadelia agency. As we hurtle into a dangerous, villain filled world, we thank our heroes for all..."

You hummed as you brewed yourself a pot of coffee, the news playing in the background as it covered your partner's latest tussle with a villain.

The finished mug was warm between your hands as you moved to sit on the couch.

You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to appreciate the slow day. It was warm inside despite the rain that could be heard pelting the floor just outside the window.

There was something so soothing about your cozy apartment on days like these. The plants that hung from the ceilings, the skylights overhead, and the mantle where you had placed old photographs of your high school days.

It was so authentically you.

"Could Cordelia and Dynamight be more than just partners on the battlefield?"

You paused your thoughts to tune back into the news, giggling as you heard the speculation. It was nothing new. The whole civilian and media world assumed the two of you were together–and even amongst those who knew you well, your friends and family all joked about the same.

It was obvious to the world that the two of you liked the other; and had since high school.

Maybe one day you'd settle down together. Retire and raise a family. But for now, you were both far too deep into your careers for anything as serious as that–and you were quite happy being his best friend.

You felt a buzzing in your pocket and set down the cup of warm coffee in your hand. Speak of the devil. You grinned as you answered.

"I just got home. You missing me already?"

"Fuckin' Deku's getting his ass kicked. Shoto too. Get over here."

You could hear sirens blaring in the background as he breathed heavily into the mic. It wasn't every day that someone could take on Japan's top three heroes and live to tell the tale, let alone leave them scrambling for more support.

"Tell them I'm on my way. Are you with them?" You were already up, coffee long since forgotten as you grabbed your costume, comm and phone.

"Shitty hair and I are about to take over while they handle evac."

"Be there in five."

You barely heard his affirmative before he hung up, screaming orders. It wasn't unusual for calls like this to occur, but something felt different about this one. Worse, somehow.

You sprinted out the door, whispering a thank you to the heavens as you stepped into the heavy rain.

The ground lowered away almost immediately, quirk like second nature as the water around you propelled you level with the clouds.

"Cordelia," they called you; heart of the sea.

a/n: been on my mind for a while so why not hehe

taglist: none yet

permanent tags: none yet

[sodavizz]

can i req daisuke x reader who is daisuke reskinned ... like they are the same person different bodies . god got lazy so he copy and pasted daisuke kinda . fluff preferred , gn or fem reader pls ^_^

Hope this suits ur tastes T^T

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Great minds think alike!

--

Paring: Daisuke x GN! Reader

Warnings: My headcanons again!!

Wc: 100+ somethin

--

You and Daisuke are literally two sides of the same coin. Everything he gets excited about, you’re right there with him, equally hyped. It’s not even a conscious thing; your energy just matches up perfectly,

Your personalities sync so well that when one of you starts a sentence, the other finishes it. You’ll often find yourselves speaking in perfect harmony, whether it’s making a joke, finishing a crew member’s thoughts, or simply solving a problem. It’s like a perfect partnership, and everyone around you is both amazed and a little bewildered by how easily you two work together. (Example bc I'm silly :3 ; "Skibidi-" You say. "Toilet!" He says happily.)

Since you two practically share the same brain, you of course have the same odd tastes, amount of braincells, and youngin' typa humor, which Swansea would like to call it. Like you guys would be in the corner, just giggling to one another as you draw the most ugliest portraits of each Tulpar member and he'd just be giving the most meanest, most impeccable side glance to you guys and would probably huff to himself; "Damn kids these days..."

Since you two are essentially the same person in different bodies, there’s no real need for personal space when it comes to sharing experiences. You’ll often find yourselves standing way too close to each other, excitedly chatting, and you don’t mind in the slightest though!

Conversations with Daisuke are always an adventure, but with you? It’s a comedy show. You’ve both got that same quirky sense of humor, so you end up riffing off each other all day long. One minute you’re telling a story about a malfunctioning piece of equipment, and the next minute, you’re cracking jokes and turning the whole thing into a hilarious reenactment. No one can keep a straight face around the two of you—it’s a full-on comedy duo in motion.

Neither of you is exactly known for being graceful. In fact, between the two of you, there's a lot of tripping over things, knocking over cups, and running into doorframes. But you both laugh it off, usually with a look that says, "Well, of course we did that—what did we expect?" When one of you trips, the other usually comes to the rescue, offering a hand with a smile, like it's all part of the fun.

On days when the space shuttle feels particularly small or the work is extra exhausting, you’ll both end up curled up on the couch together, just taking a break before heading off to do their job. It’s not anything special—just you two, cozy, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Daisuke might ramble about a new idea for a ship upgrade, but you both always end up in fits of giggles, tired but happy, content in the quiet companionship.

[vermilionsun]

@muspellssynir I see you, you see me, we see eachother [OG Post here]

Word count: 750 Rating: General Audiences Fandom: Touchstarved (Red Spring Studio) Categories: Other Relationships: Ais/MC, Ais & MC Tags: Flirting, Drinking, Teasing, Sexual Tension, Humor, Sharing Food, I think I've covered it

The Wet Wick was bustling with activity as usual. Customers filled the tables, chattering excitedly over pints of watered-down ale, while laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air.

Sitting at the bar, the MC nursed a glass of whiskey. The atmosphere was lively, but they knew better than to let their guard down. That’s when the familiar, subtle clinks of metal caught their attention. Glancing discreetly around the room, their eyes locked with a pair of crimson red ones.

Ais.

The pub's light illuminated his sharp features as he approached, taking a seat on the stool next to them, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "Fancy meeting you here," he said in a low voice.

The MC raised an eyebrow, their bandaged hands instinctively moving to hide beneath their cloak. "I live here," they replied coyly.

"Do you now?" Ais chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to come here more often." He leaned in closer, the scent of leather and whiskey wafting between them.

The bartender slid a bowl of nut leather along with another glass of whiskey in front of Ais, who nodded his thanks before turning his attention back to the MC. "What do you think of Eridia so far, Sparrow? Have we scared you off yet?"

The MC took a sip of their drink before responding. "You’re always trying to scare me off, but I think I can handle myself just fine."

"Says the one who almost got killed on their first day here. Thrice. But who’s counting?" Ais commented, half dissatisfied, half amused.

The MC rolled their eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at their lips. "That doesn’t count," they retorted. "Besides, it was four times."

"And how does that not prove my point?" Ais interrupted incredulously.

"I’m still standing, aren’t I?"

Ais chuckled and raised his glass in a mock toast. "To surviving Eridia, against all odds," he said before taking another sip of whiskey.

The MC knew Ais had a point, but they weren’t about to admit it. "You didn’t answer my question, little birdie."

Right.

"Fine, fine," the MC relented, knowing Ais wouldn’t let it go. "It’s all part of Eridia’s charm, right? And you’re definitely making it interesting."

Ais grinned, pleased. "Good to hear you’re finally coming around to my way of thinking, Sparrow." He reached out for a piece of nut leather.

'Sparrow' this, 'little birdie' that. For fuck's sake—

Without thinking, the MC dove in and bit the other side of the piece of nut leather, coming dangerously close to kissing him.

To their horror, the abomination of a snack was actually pretty good.

Ais's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smirk. "Can’t hold back, can you?"

"If you’re going to keep calling me bird names, I might as well eat like one too," they teased, trying to cover up the fact that their heart was racing.

Ais chuckled, shaking his head. "You know you love it. Just don’t start chirping at me."

"Try me," the MC shot back, using his own words against him.

Ais laughed, impressed by the bold move. "Fair enough, Sparrow," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

As they continued to banter, the tension between them eased, replaced by a sense of comfort. The conversation flowed effortlessly, each of them revealing a little more about themselves with every exchange.

It was… refreshing.

Between exchanges, the MC grabbed another piece of nut leather and popped it into their mouth. Before they could react, Ais’s hand gently grabbed their arm, pulling them closer.

They gasped as their lips met his, giving Ais the opportunity to slide his tongue into their mouth without any warning, then leaving them empty once he’d claimed his prize—the damn piece of jerky—leaving the MC breathless and wanting more.

The MC sat there, stunned and slightly amused. Despite the surprise, a spark of excitement ignited within them. "Now who can’t hold back, huh?"

"At least I’m above-board."

"No, you’re not—" But before they could finish, Ais pulled them right into another kiss.

"You just can’t resist me," he whispered against their lips with a mischievous grin.

"…Bastard," they muttered, trying to hide the smile that tugged at their lips.

Maybe Eridia wasn’t such a bad place after all.

[artjiayi]

[Confidential file.] SUBJECT NO-1 CODE NAME. SHARKMAN.

⌜ We do not know much about SHARKMAN right now except that he works for a human corporation. We assume he has a high social status in the corporation based on his fancy [but cheesy] outfit. He also carries a gold gun engraved with an odd word on it [#1 Maneater]. He seems to have an odd sense of humor and is aware of the reputation of his own species. How fascinating. SHARKMAN mostly works in the field and is usually accompanied with a WOMAN [SUBJECT NO-2]. She seems to be his partner in the field as she wears the same reddish outfit and carries another type of weapon with her. We need to gather more information about them because they might be the [KEY] to what is truly happening inside the corporation. ⌟ [Next confidential file.] SUBJECT NO-2. TO BE CONTINUED.

Dropped some lore about my new OC [SHARKMAN] and yes, another shark OC you’d day but he’s from a universe I am currently creating alongside other characters I will introduce to you very soon.

More information about the character and the universe itself will follow later but for now I am pretty excited to post the first step.

Not gonna lie, I’m kinda stressed to post it but this is a part of myself I am sharing and I truly hope you’re gonna like it. So please be gentle 🥺

Also, I glazed for the first time my illustrations against AI use. I don't know if it'll be enough but at least I did something for my art.

[phefics]

YOUR HUNGER GAMES STUFF….I am SHOOK.

There aren’t a lot of blogs I’ve found that share my kink so I have to ask you — how do you think the Hunger Games men would react to the Reader having a thing for being tickled?

ImSoEmbarrassedSendingThisAhhh

omg don’t be embarrassed bestie we are in this shame boat together…i only did their opinion on tickling the reader not the other way around bc that’s how u worded it but lmk if you want headcanons where the roles are reversed <33

peeta would be 100% down — he can get behind almost anything that gets you off, but he hates hurting you. but finding an alternative way to make you squirm helplessly beneath him?? yeah, he’d be into it. at first it seems a little odd to him, i don’t imagine he has a lot of experience with tickling but he’s got some quick, skilled fingers.

gale honestly thinks it sounds weird/childish at first, but once he tries it and sees how it turns you on, he changes his mind pretty quick. he doesn’t really get it, and the act of tickling you does nothing for him arousal-wise, but he’ll do it to make you happy/as foreplay.

finnick isn’t really surprised in any way — he’s pretty well-informed on the kind of shit that happens in people’s bedrooms, knows that your kink isn’t half as weird as some other things he’s heard of. he thinks it’s cute, honestly. like gale, i think he doesn’t expect to get any pleasure from it himself, but he ends up finding it hot to see you a breathless, giggly mess. he likes to tickle you while he’s inside you to feel you clench around him.

coriolanus is straight up not doing that, i’m sorry lmfao. i think he would theoretically get off on any kink that leaves you submissive, physically beneath him, at his mercy, but tickling is just…too cutesy for him. it just feels juvenile to him, and your begging doesn’t sound as pleasing to him if it’s laced with giggles. i think he would try it to humor you, but inevitably be against it.

sejanus is like peeta in the sense that if you like it, he’ll do it. it takes him a little aback at first, he’s never considered that could be sexual, but he quickly sees the appeal of having his hands all over you. he also just really likes making you laugh, so getting to hear you laugh while also turning you on?? i don’t think the act of tickling does anything for him, but the fact that he’s tickling you, knowing that you like it, and your reactions are all hot to him.

[telomeke]

WANDEE GOODDAY EPISODE 2

WDGD Ep.2 was a pleasant enough watch, continuing the lightness of Ep.1 and laying the groundwork for the episodes to come.

It's too early to be sure in what direction they're going to be taking this series, so I'm not looking too closely at things just yet.

And I've never gotten a sense that Director Golf has quite the same penchant for intellectual gamery that other directors (like Khun Aof Noppharnach) have, so WDGD might turn out to be not much more than a straight-up recounting of a romance (and that would be fine too). Nonetheless we are getting glimpses (little sparks really) of details tucked in here and there that suggest the series may yet narrate other messages on a deeper level in future episodes.

Director Golf is known for their political awareness (having spent time as the first trans politician in the Thai Parliament's House of Representatives), and this leaning was abjectly manifest when they directed The Eclipse. I'm not seeing the same heavy-handedness in WDGD though (and I think that's a good thing).

Part of me is wondering if the highly unusual method of determining who gets the orthopedic scholarship (patients and staff will get to vote on this, really? 👀) will re-surface later as a comment on the Thai political situation (always a rollicking ride). No guarantees, but odds are pretty good on this one.

Just a reminder that Khun Golf was ejected from Parliament through the application of a controversial law (banning lawmakers from having shares in any media companies), the same one I think that was also used to help obstruct Pita Limjaroenrat from becoming PM even though his Move Forward Party won the most votes in last year's election (it's also Khun Golf's political party). So any time the democratic electoral process gets referenced in a Thai BL (see this example linked here), the chances are high that the canvas is being primed for a political painting of some sort.

Anyway, just some light-hearted observations for now:

The novel that WDGD the series is based on is (by most accounts) quite trashy and throwaway, but you wouldn't know it watching Episodes 1 and 2 so far. The set-up out the starting gate was so squarely and comically blue-collar v. white collar, brawn v. brains, half-naked sweaty men v. lavender-scrubsuited physicians that I wasn't expecting to get much more than a shallow good time with a lot of tittering at man tits and macho tushies. But they've elevated the source material, imbuing it with a gentle sentimentality and treating the sexual element with humor and good sense (e.g., the condom and lube talk in Ep.1, and the discussion between YY and Dee establishing the ground rules for their Friends with Benefits arrangement). Quite impressively done, especially considering the lightness of its touch.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [4/4] 6.28 – YY and Dee discuss the ground rules for their Friends With Benefits arrangement, against the backdrop of a neon sign that loudly proclaims "Less Expectations More Satisfaction" (which is, of course, the most basic ground rule for any FWB liaison)

‌

About that sentimentality: WDGD's glowing emotional core continues to take the unlikely form of Yoryak, and Great seals the deal with his performance in Wandee Goodday's quieter moments.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [3‌/4] 2.23 and the return of the wet towel trope – Yoryak and the neon sign above the bed demonstrate together how love in action speaks louder than words

The tough kickboxer has fallen hard for Dee, and you can really read the tender pining behind his muay thai bravado. (I think he does lovelorn yearning better than outright lust though.)

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [3‌/4] 3.53 – Yoryak plants a little sniff-kiss as he embraces a barely-conscious Dee in bed; he's fully-clothed, yet far more naked and vulnerable than when they were actually having full-on sex before

There's surely going to be emotional devastation in store for Yak because a Friends With Benefits arrangement soon becomes a wrecking ball to the heart if you're unlucky enough to have caught feelings. And things can only get worse for our dear boy once he and Dee enter into their fake dating phase. Can you imagine coping with all that physical intimacy and also having to display emotional intimacy in public, but then being forced to deny it in private where you want it the most? Only pain looms on the foreseeable horizon for our macho fighter (su su na!), but it should make for some mightily delicious and pleasurably guilty viewing as he journeys through it all (if only for the payoff at the end; Golf please don't fail us! 😬).

‌

There have been cameos and callbacks galore in just these two episodes. The hospital is named Tanwarin, which is also Director Golf's formal first name and this may mean they've cast themselves in the role of a healer here, with this series.

There are also the clips of The Eclipse that our boys watch onscreen (possibly foreshadowing some more political commentary to come).

And screenwriter Yokee Apirak Chaipanha (who also did The Eclipse with Director Golf) guests as Dr. Apichart, the head of the Orthopedic Department.

Of course Ep.2's Café for All is also a callback to The Eclipse (it was prominently featured in there as well, with Director Golf in a cameo as the black-and-white clad proprietor/server).

(top) The Eclipse – Ep.4 [3‌/4] 4.31; (bottom) WDGD Ep.2 [3‌/4] 7.28

And my read then was that The Eclipse, just like the café with Khun Golf at the helm, was meant as a welcoming, non-judgemental space for reflection on LGBTQ+ issues. Possibly the same is being said for WDGD here, though its general unseriousness doesn't seem quite the same or even an appropriate forum for any discussion of weight. Perhaps like in the second appearance of Café for All, what's being served up here in WDGD seems to be less heavy drama and more fluffy confection. Not that there's anything wrong with that! 🍰👍

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Another possible cameo that's caught my eye – the oft-referenced, once heard but never seen Dr. Nop.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [2/4] 0.50 – Yoryak looks disappointed when the nurses tell him they've switched his physician from Wandee back to Dr. Nop (while his t-shirt proclaims "Heart Melt")

I can't help thinking that this is a reference to Aof Noppharnach Chaiyahwimhon, who's on hiatus from GMMTV directorial duties for the time being. He's cameo'd as a Nop before (see these write-ups linked here and here) and this may be a reference to his being unseen, but still acknowledged and not unheard during his present time off (I've written about possible reasons for his time away, in this write-up linked here).

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Others have pointed out before I could do it, but yes cleaning the refrigerator does refer to rimming in Thai slang. 😂

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [4/4] 9.33 – YY turns up at Dee's unit 609 (possibly a reference to 609 Bedtime Story, that was also created by Director Golf and screenwriter Yokee Apirak) appropriately togged out with a gas mask, goggles and bodysuit, all ready to give Wandee's "fridge" a thorough scrub and rub

This thread on the Pantip forum (linked here) explains the term. And the same thread also explains that washing the dishes can mean either sloppy seconds or oral, which lends weight to Li Ming's laang jaan comeback to Jim as payback for infantilizing him during the market scene in Moonlight Chicken:

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OK, so I didn't find anything truly earth-shaking about WDGD Ep.2, but that's typically the case for second and third episodes in any series while they set things up for plot developments to come.

Still, Wandee Goodday is already glowing with a comforting warmth, peppered with light comedic turns even as it foreshadows darker shifts in the future. I hope they build on the solid foundations of Episodes 1 and 2, and serve up the remaining ten episodes ripened to their fullest potential (because there's lots in there they can play with). Here's to hoping! 🥰

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[mycadences]

If I'm reading a romance book set in a world with soulmates, I want my main couple to be fated soulmates instead of the FL having another destined soulmate and the ML potentially finding his soulmate fifty years down the line.

If I'm reading a romance book where the ML can control sentient shadows, I want his shadows to interact with the FL and be curious about her rather than skittering back from her and vanishing whenever she is around.

If I'm reading a romance book where the FL likes gardening, socializing, expresses interest in traveling and abhors violence, I would like the ML to complement her in both interests and values.

If I'm reading a romance book where the ML likes singing, is competitive, has to fight often and struggles with self-worth issues, I would similarly like the FL to complement him in both interests and values.

If I'm reading a romance book I would preferably like the ML to look at the FL with admiration and quiet encouragement instead of pity.

If I'm reading a romance book where the FL explicitly says she is not a child to be fought over, I would like the ML to respect her wishes and autonomy instead of going behind her back to express interest and satisfaction in killing her other suitors.

If I'm reading a romance book and the ML has to give a gift to the FL, I would like him to choose a thoughtful present related to her passion instead of dreading the action and being relieved when he doesn't have to do it.

If I'm reading a romance book and the ML is in a situation where someone has to stay behind to guard the FL, I would like him to volunteer to do it instead of drawing lots with his brother and being happy when he isn't chosen.

If I'm reading a romance book and the FL is in a dangerous situation that the ML cannot directly intervene in, I would like him to express trust in her abilities and skills to get herself out of it.

If I'm reading a romance book I would like the ML to be so smitten with the FL that in his eyes, she is the most beautiful female he has ever seen.

If I'm reading a romance book and the ML is asked about his future with the FL, I would like him NOT to reply that he has not thought about her beyond sexual fantasies.

If I'm reading a romance book and the ML is ordered by his supervisor to stay away from the FL, I would like to say "fuck it" and disobey the order anyway instead of obliging.

If I'm reading a romance book and the ML and FL are about to kiss but they get interrupted, I would like him NOT to call it a mistake.

If I'm reading a romance book in a fantasy world with elemental powers and the FL says she needs sunshine after a traumatic ordeal, I would think that the ML is more likely to be someone related to the sun, light and day.

If I'm reading a romance book and the FL is portrayed as more traditionally feminine and gentle and kind but with hidden layers to her character, I would like the ML NOT to be someone who will coddle her and protect her, but someone who can challenge her and get her to bare her fangs, who may be the only person she is standoffish toward in the story.

If I'm reading a romance book and the ML ends his first and only POV chapter thinking of how someone's eyes might light up at receiving his gift and how her happiness brings a smile on his face, I would naturally assume that this person is the FL.

If I'm reading a romance book then I want chemistry between our main leads, and the most convincing method is to show a conversation between the ML and FL where they exchange banter and preferably share a similar sense of humor.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: If I'm reading a romance book I want to see organic tension and growth between our main leads and their relationship blossom ON PAGE, so it should start with the ML and FL NOT having any romantic feelings for each other yet or in a position where they are at odds with each other.

If I'm reading a romance book and the bulk of the ML and FL's interactions have ALREADY occurred mostly off-page so we have missed their entire relationship growth, I would close the book and chuck it aside for a real romance book.

Just take out the characters' names and put in "ML" and "FL", and I think things become quite blatantly clear. I think what a lot of people are forgetting is that ACOTAR is marketed as a ROMANCE fantasy.

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: Sabine and Ezra do their best to enjoy a rare day off at home as their daughter, Mira, begins her days in the Academy. But, as it always is with these two, things are never that simple for this star-crossed pair . . .

Day 1, SabezraWeek2024 Prompt: Slice of Life - Domestic Sabezra

@sabezraweek

I used to be a morning person.

In the early days, back when I was still on the Ghost with Kanan, Hera, Zeb, Chopper, and Ezra, I relished being the first person awake during our long travels around the galaxy. Walking into the communal area, brewing up a fresh mug of caf, and then sitting in the Phantom alone, watching the stars pass by in silence. It was such a brief respite from the general chaos of our everyday existence, fighting a war against an implacable foe than never seemed to falter in its cruelty.

(Well, technically, I was the first person awake. Hera never really seemed to sleep, always tinkering with her ship at odd hours.)

Even back then, being involved in a war for our survival, I couldn't resist against the sense of optimism that flowed into me, looking out at the vastness of space. I felt young and invincible, able to shape the future as I saw fit.

There was no challenge that Sabine Wren, Mandalorian, could overcome.

But now . . .

A sharp series of pokes at my cheek, accompanied by giggling.

"Papa, I don't think she's going to wake up." My daughter, Mira, attempting to rouse me from my slumber.

My husband's voice, intimately familiar and filled with easy-going humor, replied in an amused tone. "Try the other cheek, maybe?"

Deciding to be playful, I let out a noise that some would unwisely call a snore. This was shortly joined by more giggling from my daughter.

I felt some pressure on my other cheek - and then, with lightning quick reflexes, snatched my daughter into a bear hug. "Aaaahhhhhh!" I growled. "Who dares disturb my precious sleep?"

The giggling erupted into squeals of laughter, bright and lively. "Mama!" Mira said, as I rolled around with her on my bed. "You're finally awake."

I peppered her face with kisses. "All thanks to you, little one. As punishment, I give you death by a thousand kisses."

"Gross! Papa, help me out here," complained Mira.

My husband, Ezra, stood at the side of our bed, dressed in casual sleepwear. His hair was still a little floofy from sleep, along with rumpled clothes. In the early morning hours, it was undeniably an extremely attractive look - well, at least it was to me, which is all that mattered. He stroked his beard, recently trimmed, looking thoughtful.

"Actions have consequences, cyare," he said sadly. "I'm afraid that's a fact of life."

Mira wriggled out of my embrace to glare at her father. "This was your idea, Papa," she retorted.

"Was it? I can't recall. Must be my old age."

I snorted and sat up in bed. "Is it time?" I asked.

My daughter looked at me, annoyance momentarily dropped. "Yes. Leaving for the Academy today."

"Soon, I might add," Ezra stated. He looked at his chrono. "Head over to the refresher, Mira. Let's get you ready now."

I stroked her hair, suddenly overcome with emotion. It seemed only yesterday that a medical droid had handed her to me, so tiny and fierce with life, swaddled in a blanket. The labor had been long and arduous, full of unexpected complications, but holding her in my arms afterwards - the ultimate manifestation of the love shared between myself and Ezra - was one of the happiest moments in my entire life.

She was our heart in physical form, stepping outside our chests into the big, wide galaxy. I knew we couldn't protect her forever, much as I wished sometimes to just lock her inside the comm-tower - she needed to spread her wings at some time.

I just wished it hadn't come so quickly. If only I had more time . . .

My thoughts wandered towards my late mother and father. Did they feel this way when Tristan and I started making our own way through life? Making choices that caused our paths to diverge far, far from home?

"Mama?" asked Mira, her voice worried. She stared curiously at me, her features a mix of Ezra and mine; I saw his smile at times, bright and guileless, but her eyes flashed briefly with a fire that reminded me all too well of my own - and my late mother's.

"Are you okay? You look sad."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. "It's a happy kind of sad, cyare. You grew up on us so fast, little one."

Mira smiled. "I'm a kid. That's what I'm supposed to do."

I laughed and pulled her into a big hug. "And you're doing such a great job of it."

Ezra seemed more composed than I did, but I felt through our bond in the Force that he was going through the same emotional turbulence I was. His tone was gentle as he said, "Mira, it's time. Say good-bye to your mother now."

My daughter gave me a farewell kiss on the cheek and sprinted out the door. Ezra looked at me. "Are you going to be alright?"

I sniffed. Allergies, I told myself.

Sure, Sabine.

"No," I admitted. "I just thought . . ."

"That today would take longer to get here?" Ezra said, finishing my train of thought. "I feel the same way, Sabine."

I reached out to grasp his hand. He squeezed it affectionately. "You get it."

"She's with us for only a little time," Ezra said quietly. "Let's just enjoy it while we can."

I couldn't say anything to that. I heard someone say once that children are a gift that are loaned to us for only a little while. At some point, we had to let them go find their own way.

Why is the last act of love always letting go, I wondered.

He leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead before leaving to attend to our daughter. "Get some more sleep," he said. "I'll see you after I drop her off."

_ _ _ _ _

I awoke an hour later to the rich aroma of freshly brewed caf. Shuffling out of the bedroom, I found Ezra in the kitchen with a mug of my favorite beverage.

I accepted it gratefully and collapsed onto the couch. Murley sauntered by, brushing his face against my legs - a regular routine for him, since the act resulted in his daily allowance of petting. With fond annoyance, I reached down to do so.

Once he was satisfied, the mangy loth-cat let out a purr as thanks and stepped away to find a warm spot to doze in.

"You live such a charmed life," I noted.

Ezra joined me on the couch, a bowl of freshly sliced golden plait-fruit, berries, and meilooruns on his lap. My stomach growled at the sight.

"Hungry?" he asked.

I held back from snatching the bowl from his lap. "You have to ask?" I said, trying not to sound like a hungry loth-wolf.

My husband grinned. "No. But it's fun to do so."

He picked at a slice of fruit and popped it into my open mouth. I chewed slowly, savoring the fresh fruit. In between bites, I finished my caf, and leaned my head onto Ezra's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

"What's on the agenda for today?" I asked. My voice was still slurred slightly, a result of not fully being awake yet - the caf had yet to take effect.

I felt Ezra shift uncomfortably on the couch. "Well . . ."

I groaned. "Is that today?" I asked. "I thought it wasn't for another week, at least."

"Hey," Ezra retorted. "It was your idea. You said we shouldn't put off cleaning and maintenance any longer. This was the day we both agreed upon."

I grimaced. He was right. Ezra was a Jedi Knight, which came with enormous responsibilities, and Bo-Katan - the current leader of Mandalore - always needed my help corralling the clans into focusing on rebuilding our home world instead of warring against each other.

Add all that with the time-consuming demands of being a parent, meant that the comm-tower we called home had fallen into disrepair. We made it work; it wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, but that meant some things fell through the cracks.

"I've changed my mind," I said promptly. "Let's wait another week."

"Sabine," he said patiently. "We have a pile of dirty laundry that is literally taller than our daughter. It needs to be done."

I really did not want to clean the comm-tower. Ezra and I had been so busy over the past few months and with Mira finally out of the house starting Academy, we finally had some alone time.

I had needs that had to be addressed.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, I thought.

With a firm hand, I turned his face gently towards me. His expression was curious, a question presumably about to be asked but I had already pressed my lips hungrily against his.

There was a moment of surprised silence before he melted into it, his need rising to meet mine. I pushed gently against his frame, and we fell gently onto the couch, still kissing passionately.

"Sabine," he groaned. "We have so much to do today."

"We do," I agreed, tracing a line of smooches down his cheek, his neck, aiming to make my way further down into more enticing territory. "So, it would be best if we finish this first so that our focus can be fully on the chores."

His voice dropped into a husky growl, signaling that I had won this particular battle. "You are incorrigible," he huffed out.

I was in the middle of pulling his shirt off as he spoke. "Oh?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "Should I stop?"

He glared at me. "Come here."

I lowered my face to his, holding back laughter.

Ezra grinned and he pulled me into a warm embrace, kissing and making me breathless; making me feel alive.

_ _ _ _ _

True to my word, I was locked in on the chores after we finished.

Ezra puttered around the house, cleaning up the various debris littering the floors first before putting in the hard work of sweeping, dusting, and mopping to make sure our home was habitable again.

Meanwhile, I focused on the maintenance: checking the electrical systems, the power generators, and communications array.

Early on in our relationship, we had figured out a good system to handling the daily mundane tasks of everyday life. Ezra had clocked immediately that I hated cleaning; something that shouldn't have surprised him, given our prior co-habitation on the Ghost.

When I had poked him about it, since he had visited my room countless times, he pointed out that we were at war with the Empire during that period.

"I assumed that was the reason," he muttered, after seeing my incredulous expression. "I didn't know that was your default state, Sabine."

"It would have been," I admitted. "If Hera and Kanan hadn't kept being annoyingly persistent about cleaning up after myself."

Meanwhile, I had realized that Ezra lacked the mechanical knowledge and expertise that had been ingrained into me since birth - which, if we lived in a normal state-of-the-art apartment complex in Capital City, wouldn't be necessary.

But we had decided to stay in the old comm-tower instead. During long years of isolation and loneliness, the aging structure had served as home for both of us. It was an easy choice, one of the first we made together as a couple.

But that meant someone had to look after and maintain it. Which meant me.

Parts for upkeep were increasingly rare since the comm-tower was already past its prime during the Empire's reign, as the last of its line of communications towers before being phased out of service. When the Empire came to power, this proved to be a boon to the Bridgers, since the outdated machinery meant that it was overlooked during the initial Imperial survey of Lothal's resources - and continued to be so when their son claimed it as refuge after they were taken.

Because of the rarity of parts for use, that meant I had to regularly scavenge in junkyards across the galaxy to find components that could be used. My husband was competent in quite a few forms of mechanical repair, but the tower was a long-term care project and required the kind of ingenuity and complexity that he simply wasn't equipped with.

And I really, really did not like to clean.

So, the bargain was struck - I handled maintenance, he handled cleaning. It was a good deal which enabled us to avoid arguments and turn our attention and energy to more pressing matters (like what we had just done on the couch.)

I was on my back, dressed in an old flight suit borrowed from Hera, covered in old grease and spatters of oil, halfway inserted into an open vent that led to a circuit board that controlled the flow of our air conditioning. It sparked erratically mere inches from my eyes, which were safely shielded behind a pair of mechanic's goggles (also from Hera, but she didn't know that I had them).

I frowned, holding back a curse. This circuit board had been a problem since I had procured it from a shady Quarren vendor on Kijimi. But the discount he had offered was too good to pass up.

I see now why it was so cheap, I thought grimly. Should have known better, di'kut.

There was a nudge at my foot. I peered out to see the face of my husband, looking concerned, holding a large trash bag full of -

"Is that hair?" I asked, shocked. "That can't be all hair, Ezra."

He gave a faint look of disgust and shook the bag's contents. "Afraid so. I can't tell if this all Murley's or if Mira's been letting in some of his feral friends while we haven't been paying attention."

I craned my neck to find the accused in question and found Murley, our resident loth-cat and menace, taking up his usual place on my personal tool bench. He was watching us with curious eyes.

I pointed my electric torch at him. "Stop loafing around and help out. I don't let you squat here just to be cute and keep us company, you know."

Murley mewled in what I construed to be polite disagreement.

I wagged the torch aggressively to emphasize my next statement. "I'll kick you out," I promised. "For real this time."

The loth-cat blinked - and then proceeded to cough up a disgusting hair ball.

Ezra sighed. "Great. I have to clean up that now."

"He has his charms," I said, grinning.

He folded his arms, annoyed. "Which are . . .?"

"Well," I said. "For one, he does remind me of a certain handsome Jedi."

Ezra squatted down to me, a slight smile breaking through his annoyance. "Oh, does he?"

I reached up to stroke my husband's face affectionately. "Why do you think I kept him around so long?"

"Figured it was the other way around. He was hard to get rid of."

"So were you," I pointed out. "Seems like I have a penchant for being liked by strays."

He leaned into my touch - and then laughed when my stomach growled hideously.

Feeling my face flush, I went scooted back into the open maintenance shaft.

"Guess it's feeding time," Ezra chuckled. "What are you in the mood for?"

Trying - and failing - to sound nonchalant about the egregious announcement of my bodily functions, I answered, "Two Bantha burgers, large fries, and a meiloorun smoothie."

"I'm assuming both of those are for - "

"Me, yeah," I grunted, stifling the mild spike of annoyance. My hunger was finally making itself known after an hour of toiling away in the mechanical guts of our home and I felt it begin to poison my jovial mood.

"So, that will be three bantha burgers, large fries, and two smoothies, then. From Paldo's?"

Paldo's. My favorite local fast-food diner in Capital City run by an elderly Twi'lek named, you guessed it, Paldo. I was considered royalty by the manager there, much to my husband's amusement. There was even a framed picture of me on the wall, first thing you saw when walking inside. Mira always laughed with delight whenever she accompanied me for a meal.

"Yup," I said.

He eyed me. "I don't understand where you put all that food."

I gestured proudly at myself. Years of hard work, battle, and a stressful childbirth and yet my figure was still in top form for my age. "It's all in the genes, cyar'ika."

"Is that so," Ezra said dryly. "And are those same genes the reason why you eat like a newborn rancor, my cyar'ika?"

"No. That was the result of being raised with a brother, as you know."

"Oh, I do know," Ezra replied. "I met him, remember? Poor Tristan was all skin and bones, if I recall."

I swatted at him. He let out a bark of laughter and pivoted to the side, avoiding my hit. "Go get my food, husband mine. Or you'll see how a baby rancor reacts when deprived of sustenance."

With a teasing grin, he gave a mock salute and headed for the elevator. A minute later, I heard the tell-tale grumble of a speeder engine starting and then the familiar swoop sound as it sped off into the distance towards Capital City.

Sighing, I returned to my repairs -

A chime came from the communications console, indicating a visitor.

I frowned. Had Ezra returned already? I didn't hear the speeder.

I got up and walked towards the console to press the intercom. "Did you forget your credit chip, di'kut?"

The response was laced with sardonic amusement. "Hello, Wren. It's been a while."

I froze at the voice, familiar but not in a way that invoked pleasant feelings; it was familiar in the way that a warrior knew the sound of a knife escaping its sheath or the sound of a blaster powering on.

"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. Already my mind was racing, racing with horrible thoughts of Ezra and Mira.

"There's something I need to show you. May I come up?"

"No," I said firmly. "I'll come down to you."

"Sure," she replied. "It will be like old times."

I grab my lightsaber off a nearby work bench before heading down to see why Shin Hati had come to visit.

_ _ _ _ _

I have nightmares about this sometimes.

In my nightmares, she and I are dueling again. That cold night, years ago, after I had just unlocked the map to Ezra.

I beat the assassin droids and give chase to her, like always. She is wrapped in a cloak, blacker than the night surrounding us.

Her lightsaber blazes scarlet in the dark courtyard. I activate my own - and strike, my emerald meeting her scarlet in a blaze of sparks.

And then, in the nightmare, I stumble. My blade swings wide and I am left defenseless for a critical second.

Shin's blade comes down in a vicious arc, right through my exposed neck.

And I wake up, in a cold sweat. Ezra doesn't ask, he doesn't need to. He just wraps me in his arms and gently lulls me back to sleep.

This isn't my nightmare, however. But a part of me still feels the hot blaze of a blade made from pure plasma erupting in my gut.

Shin Hati stands across me in the tower's courtyard in broad daylight. Next to her is a speeder, sleek and shiny with fresh chrome. She's dressed in gray combat fatigues with a black bolero jacket worn over it. Her platinum blonde hair is longer now, tied into a short ponytail.

I probably don't look all that intimidating to her, now that I think about it, covered in an old flight uniform that's seen better days. But I hope the lightsaber hilt gripped in my hand is enough to make her cautious, at the very least.

Her eyes pierce mine with a wolfish stare. Finally, she shakes her head. "Well, you didn't have to dress up for me," she said.

"You should have called ahead," I replied. I made sure that my thumb was right over the activation switch on the lightsaber hilt. "I would have freshened up."

Shin cocked her head. "Thinking about it now, you didn't look that good last time we met like this."

She smirked. "Remember?"

An old searing pain ached in my abdomen. The scar.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

She slowly pulls from her jacket a holo-puck. "You need to see this."

"Toss it to me."

Shin complied. I caught it deftly, my eyes never leaving her face. She didn't move immediately for a weapon. I felt some of the tension drain from me - but not much.

"Play it," she urged.

I did so. The holo-puck emitted a recording, the blue static focusing into something sharper -

Something in my chest tightened and I felt myself inhale sharply. The recording was of Ezra and Mira.

From this morning. I watched the miniature holographic forms of my husband and child play out for a few more seconds - Ezra giving our daughter a hug before waving her off to the Academy - before the recording fizzled out in a shower of sparks.

I winced, dropping it. I realized a second later, seeing the warped and twisted metal, that I had squeezed it so hard that it broke.

I looked back at Shin. Something in my face must have spooked her because the former mercenary took a step back with her hands up, palms facing outward, in a placating gesture. "Wren, I promise. This was not me."

"Who?" I asked. The voice that came out was cold, colder than a winter on Krownest.

"Bothan private investigator. Their name - "

"I don't care for a name," I hissed. "Where are they right now?"

"I took care of them. They won't be following your family anymore," Shin said quickly. "But, more importantly, their employer is someone you know."

My teeth ground against each other in frustration. "Say it."

"Senator Xiono. He hasn't given up his personal crusade against you and your husband."

My stomach dropped at the name. Xiono.

He had already been a paranoid, suspicious politician before Thrawn had returned. The Imperial warlord's campaign against the New Republic had brought his planet's people nearly to ruin - and his wife had suffered grievously during the Grand Admiral's bombardment. Beset with grief and rage, the senator had railed against the Security Council for their failings - and had taken up a special fixation on myself and Ezra, who were caught in the middle of that mess.

There were only a handful of people who were aware of my involvement in Thrawn's return: Ezra, Hera, Leia, Zeb, Kallus, Ahsoka, and Chopper (no one actually told the astromech, he just figured it out all by himself). All had sworn to keep it secret, to protect me - despite my insistence against doing so.

But Xiono never gave up his line of inquiry, I knew. Chancellor Mothma had strong armed him to stay in line, but I always suspected that he continued to probe whenever he could.

The senator blamed Ezra and myself for what had happened to his home planet - to his family.

And he wasn't entirely wrong, a dark voice whispered in my mind.

But this was a new low.

My anger threatened to erupt from my chest, bellowing and screaming to the Lothal sky with all my pent-up rage.

Shaking, I asked Shin, "Why are you helping me?'

"I'm not helping you," she said, watching me carefully. "Your daughter deserves to have a family. I would not see her lose either of you, if it was within my power to prevent it."

I blinked, my rage momentarily forgotten. "I . . . I really don't know what to say."

Shin shrugged. "My job here is done, then." She took out her comm-link and proceeded to input a series of commands.

My own comm-link, hanging off my belt, chirped with an alert that a message had been received. I checked it quickly.

"What is this?"

"A place and a time," she responded. "The senator is expecting to meet his private investigator there. I thought you might like to meet him instead."

I considered briefly what Ezra would think. But he wasn't here.

"Thank you," I said. The rage came swarming up again, hot and eager. "I think I will."

_ _ _ _ _

The establishment was on the seedier side of Capital City. A dive, made from the wreckage of several TIE fighters clumped together, that served pirates, drunkards, and other sentient beings of dubious repute.

It was the perfect place for an incognito meeting, considering all the noise and ruckus.

A cloaked figure made his way hurriedly through the crowd, heading for a stone table enclosed in a dimly lit booth on the opposite side of the room. Another figure, slender and hooded, waved him over.

With the utmost discretion, Senator Xiono slid into the booth, huffing slightly. "This update had better have something good," he snarled to the booth's other occupant. "My contacts said you were one of the best, and I have yet to see anything of interest other than what color shoes Wren and Bridger's daughter wears to school!"

I lowered my hood. "I'm sorry you find my family so boring, Senator," I said.

To his credit, Xiono did not scream. His face went bloodless and pale, his lip trembled, his eyes widened - but the man was otherwise quite still.

Somewhere, amidst the storm of rage swirling inside me, I felt mildly impressed.

"Wren," he whispered. "Why are you - "

I placed my hands on the table with a gentle thump. Finally, he flinched.

I smiled, showing my teeth. "Do you read Mandalorian literature, Senator?"

He stared at me - and then, the faintest of sneers appeared on his face. "I wasn't aware your people had literature."

The sneer told me that he had been emboldened by my empty hands. But there were other ways to make someone afraid, I knew.

I nodded. "That's a fair point. Most of it was lost in the Purge. But the best stories always survive through word of mouth. Have you heard of the great Mandalorian warrior of legend named Akilles?"

"I have not." The disdain dripped off his tone, so thick I could almost see it congealing on his lips.

"Shame. You see, Akilles had a friend - another great warrior. One day, he found out that his friend had a mortal enemy, who swore to vanquish them. Akilles, upon finding out, proclaimed that there is no greater enemy than the enemy of his friend."

The ghost of a smile twitched on the senator's face. "Well, it seems that this Akilles and I agree on that."

I let my smile widen, showing more teeth. "Akilles went to confront the mortal enemy of his friend. And he gave him one warning."

I leaned forward; Xiono leaned back, as far as the booth would allow him. It wasn't much.

"There is no weapon; no army that can protect this enemy from the sheer hell that is Akilles rage."

"And," Xiono whispered carefully, "what happened to this enemy?"

"Akilles ran his sword through his gut. And then dragged his dead body throughout the streets of Sundari."

A chill silence fell between us in the booth, only interrupted by the occasional burst of laughter and conversation from the other diners.

The senator swallowed hard, his eye twitching. "What . . . might this enemy have done differently to avoid such a fate?"

I seized the front of his cloak and pulled him half across the table. He yelped, his hands scrambling, clawing for freedom but I ignored his feeble attempts at defense.

I stared into his wide eyes, unblinking. The fury within me seethed and poured molten fire into my next words.

"He could have left the planet. When he still had the chance." At the last word, I threw him back into his seat. He sagged, whimpering something incomprehensible.

I swept from the booth and went home.

_ _ _ _ _

"Mama!" yelled Mira, as I stepped from the turbolift. My daughter jumped into my arms.

"Hello, cyare," I said, squeezing her close. "How was the Academy?"

"It was a lot more fun than I thought. Made lots of friends - and a couple enemies, too," she added, almost as an afterthought.

I looked to Ezra. He shrugged. "I've already gotten some reports from the principal. She was standing up to some bullies."

I sighed and ruffled her hair. "It's a Wren specialty to have some archenemies wherever we go," I noted to him.

He snorted. "Don't I know it."

Mira squinted at me. "What's an 'arch-nemony'?"

I poked her in the forehead. "What, they didn't teach you that in linguistics class? Or, let me guess, you were too busy doodling in your sketchbook to pay attention?"

My daughter scrambled from my embrace. "I just remembered that I have to do homework. Gotta go now!"

I shook my head, amazed at her speed. "Never seen her so excited to do homework. She's hiding something."

"Yup," Ezra said. He glanced at me. "She's not the only one."

I kept my face still, turning to hang my cloak on a nearby coat hook. "What do you mean?"

"Sabine," said Ezra patiently. "Don't hide things from me. It doesn't work."

I scowled at him. "You know, sometimes it sucks being married to a Jedi."

"It's not the Jedi part that's telling me you're hiding something. It's the husband part."

He folded his arms. "Out with it. You were acting weird after lunch and then you vanished with barely a word."

I looked at the door leading to my daughter's room, biting my lip. "Can we talk about this outside? I don't want Mira to hear this."

I felt Ezra's worry rise considerably at my request, but his expression remained calm. "Of course."

Once we stepped outside, I spilled everything to Ezra. All of it.

When I finished, he let out a hiss of air and leaned against the balcony railing.

I went next to him, looking out over the view of Lothal's plains of grass and the glowing lights of Capital City in the distance.

"Bad, I know," I said quietly.

He reached out to take my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We can handle it. But next time, let's do it together, okay?"

As always, my husband's simple enduring faith in a better tomorrow continued to surprise me. "You're not mad?"

He snorted. "Mad at what, Sabine? You being yourself?"

I looked at him, smiling slightly. "You agree with what I did?"

He grimaced. "No . . . but I get why you did it."

My husband gave me a knowing look. "It won't keep him quiet for long. This will just fuel him to dig harder."

I nodded. "I know."

My voice hardened. "But he needed to know, Ezra. What it means to cross my family. Maybe, at least, he'll aim his fury at me next time - and not at you and Mira."

Ezra stood to look me directly in the eye. "Our family, Sabine. Promise me you won't go after him again. Not by yourself."

"I can't - I can't lose you. Either of you," I pleaded. "I can't bear it."

"It won't happen. If he comes after us again, we will face it together. I want your word, Sabine. Swear to me."

I let out a shuddering breath, feeling all the negative emotions escape with it. Then, quietly, I reached out for his hand and brought it to my heart. "I swear on my word and my honor as a Mandalorian," I said.

His blue eyes searched mine - and he nodded once, satisfied. "Okay."

"I'm sorry," I said. "What I did, all those years ago - it won't ever stop haunting us, will it."

"Don't be sorry," he replied softly. “You are worth it. Always. We will find a way."

I didn't know what else to say. I just hugged him close.

We stayed that way for a while, swaying gently with the evening breeze.

Then: "Ewwwwww."

I rolled my eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be doing homework?"

"It's finished," Mira said, sounding bored. "I want to play now."

Ezra smiled, shaking his head. "Too smart for her own good," he muttered to me.

"No such thing," I said, mildly offended. "Too smart for her own peace of mind, well, that's a more factual statement."

"And our own," he added.

I grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way, would you?"

"Nope." His smile lessened for a moment. "We had such a busy day. I'm sorry you didn't get a quiet night, like you wanted."

I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Ah, this is much better. There will be other nights."

"Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," I said. And we went inside, together.

_ _ _ _ _

I used to be a morning person.

I used to relish being awake in the early morning, watching the galaxy stream by in lines of stars, feeling invincible and young.

I watch my husband and young daughter sleep on the couch, her body sprawled across his lap in the boneless way that only youth can manage.

I don't feel young anymore. Or invincible.

I've traded that away for this. And, yes, it brings fear, and heartache, and the seeds of future joy.

That's life, as I've come to learn. Today was an odd day, full of challenging events, both big and small.

And it was not yet over. I snuggle close to my family - my two hearts, beating in quiet rhythm with one another - and prepare to fall asleep.

Tomorrow is another day. And I will meet it with both of them.

[qackiess]

babymaking with predaking woooo‼️‼️

nsfw!!

Yall another part to this is locked n loaded so just let me know if i should continue it lmao

Predaking had been acting very odd as of late. It wasnt exactly unpleasant, just strange. He was much more possessive, way more touchy with you, especially your stomach, and he was in the nest more often than not. His loud snoring echoed throughout your shared cave, it was charming in a way, when you weren’t the one sleeping beside him every night.

You carefully stepped into the soft nest he had created just for the two of you. After abandoning the Nemesis, Predaking wasted no time finding a home for the two of you to take refuge in.

Once you were fully in the nest you would lie down beside him, spooning him, or atleast attempting to; the size difference being humorous.

Carefully, you wrapped your servos and pedes around his large, surprisingly tense frame. His intakes hitching almost instantly at this, almost flinching. You were surprised at this, as he was usually a very deep sleeper.

“Apologies, my king, did I wake you?” You questioned with a sympathetic tone.

“..indeed.” He gruffly replied.

“Sorry.”

He pushes himself up from the comfy warmth of the nest, turning to face you, his optics practically glowed in the dark depths of he cave. “It’s forgiven, my Conjunx. Do not fret.” He grumbled, resting his servos on your waist, and pulling you in closer; he was very…warm. In return you would nod with a soft smile. His chassis deeply rumbled against you.

“I take it you slept well, yeah?” You questioned, lightly tracing his sharp, spiky frame.

He again would flinch at your affectionate touches, this of course being concerning for you. You hesitated before eventually speaking up on his strange behavior.

“Predaking, are you…well?” You questioned.

His glowing orange optics widened at this, staring deep into yours. He only continued to shake.

“Predaking..?”

You asked for the second time, this time reaching to rest a servo on his faceplate, softly caressing, you gasped and instinctively yanked your hand away…he was burning hot.

You quickly regained your composure before exclaiming, “Predaking, you are on fire..! Are you ill?”

His dilated optics were trained on you, watching your every movement, he seemed almost in a trance. Once he snapped out of it, he quickly responded. “No, no! I am, healthy…i am..just…”

He took a deep, shaky intake before continuing, yet he sounded almost…in pain. “I am…am simply-“ He deeply gasped, his frame going ridged. “Frag, frag frag..!”

A heavy, hot pang of need traveled through him, it was irresistible, he couldn’t keep his composure.

He whimpered out, his grip on your waist tightening. “I need you. I..I must. It has been much too long-!” Your optics widen at his words. “Predaking, what are you talking about?” He suddenly mounted you, sitting between your thighs; making you gasp.

“A heir.” He growled. You felt energon rush to your faceplates. “Wh-what?! King, what has gotten into you?” He leans down, a predatory gaze locked onto you as he positions his mandibles right beside your audial.

“Who am i, Predaking, to deny my programming, my instincts, and us; of a heir?” He questions.

“Oh…” You would understandingly reply. It makes sense now, his unusual behavior, it was his heat, his natural instinct to reproduce. He deeply sighs.

“Though, i would never go against my mate’s wishes. I beg, will you please, allow me the honor of sparking you?”

Lust fogged his processor, he continued, though barely audible.

“My mate…such a beautiful family we could have, cant you imagine..?”

He propped your helm up with a sharp digit, making you look into his gorgeous, glowing orange optics; love-filled, yet desperate.

“Please.” He begged

You gasped as soft thrusts could be felt against your modesty panel, causing your pedes to be pushed farther apart, and Predakings labored pants clouding your mind. Your spark was pounding, it was all so sudden…

“Of..of course, Predaking. I would be honored to.” You whispered.

He purred in delight, lightly rubbing his helm against yours; “Yes, yes…thank you, my mate.” He lightly smiles, his half lidded optics staring deep into yours.

“I can assure you, you will not be disappointed, my dearest.”

He presses his helm against yours, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer, positioning him perfectly against your sensitive plating. He was drooling at this point, completely drunk on the euphoric idea of filling you completely, until he is all you can think of. Resting a heavy, caring servo against your tanks he continues to stare down at your sprawled out figure.

“I’m so eager, so very eager to fill you so impossibly deep, to knot you, my queen/king, until you can barely speak, we are going to make such lovely sparklings together..I cannot wait to see you carry my brood…”

[palmtreepalmtree]

I saw a tumblr poll the other day asking if you remembered 9/11. At the time, only 40 some-odd percent had indicated that they did remember it. That makes sense of course because time, obviously.

But it's crazy to me to think that someone's principal awareness of a historical event, especially one that was in fact very tragic, could be through memes.

Irreverent humor is important. It shocks us out of our mental complacency about things that are otherwise hallowed in society. Irreverent humor is necessary. And our cultural reverence about 9/11 has SO MUCH to answer for.

But in some ways, memes are the opposite of irreverent. Memes are ubiquitous and voluminous. For most memes to work, they have to tap into a common language of humor we already know and share. They make irreverence commonplace such that all of the shock effect is gone.

Probably a long-winded way of saying I kinda wonder what effect all of the memes have on people who didn't firsthand experience that day in a meaningful way. We probably always want things to be in some amount of balance including empathy and irreverence. I don't think I want to experience a world where that balance is thrown completely out of whack. But I'm pretty sure I already do.

[rascals-forthememories]

Kick moodboard + random headcanons

🎹⋆.˚➤Born in the late 80’s around 1990s like Jemíma which makes him a millennial of course and raised in Nevada, a quiet and introverted kid who spent a lot of time alone because his parents were always busy with work. He learned to be independent and self-sufficient at a young age, picking up skills like woodworking, car repair, and electronics. When his family moved to California, he found himself in a changed world and started attending the same school as the band. He was initially a bit reserved and standoffish, but after being recruited by the band, he found his passion and a sense of belonging. But he's also got a good sense of humor and a big heart.

🎹⋆.˚➤Absolutely a geeky, dorky teen with an odd, nerdy side and a serious love for tech and computer programming. He has a unique sense of humor that sometimes goes over the other band members' heads, but that's part of his charm. He can spend hours talking about the latest gadgets, programming tips, and random tech facts.

🎹⋆.˚➤^But he also has a soft spot for superhero movies, classic comic books, and all things related to science fiction. He's the guy who keeps the band's website up and running and is the resident techie for all their equipment, video games were his SHIT when he was a kid.

🎹⋆.˚➤Being an urban explorer. He has a fascination with abandoned places, especially ones that are untouched and still in decent condition. He loves the thrill of discovering hidden gems and exploring forgotten structures. Of course, he has this whole system of research, planning, and safety precautions he uses before venturing into any new location. He shares his finds with the gang and even takes them along on some of his adventures, much to their occasional chagrin. ("day 1 of exploring the backrooms because Keegan can't drive for Jack shit and we noclipped through a cliff part 1 ✌️")

🎹⋆.˚➤A bit of an odd ball, always making weird and goofy jokes, but the others find his personality endearing. And let's be honest, with his tech skills, he's probably the one who keeps the band's equipment and website running smoothly. He can also be incredibly competitive when it comes to board games and video games, even resorting to cheating now and then.

🎹⋆.˚➤Definitely has a unique taste in music, just like his personality. He's into synthwave, vaporwave, and other types of electronic music that evoke a certain sense of nostalgia with a retro 1980s vibe. Also a fan of alternative rock and some indie artists. Probably has a vast and eclectic music library on his laptop, and he's constantly discovering new songs and sharing them with the band.

🎹⋆.˚➤Is a pro with the Keytar! He's got a true talent for it and can play some seriously sick riffs and melodies. He has a natural feel for the instrument, and his skills grow with each new song the band learns. He's not just a button-masher either - he's able to create complex melodies and catchy riffs that really add to the band's sound. The other guys are always impressed by his ability to seamlessly switch from playing the Keytar to backing vocals or playing additional instruments.

🎹⋆.˚➤Becoming a keytarist for the band is a fun one. He's always had a love for music, but initially, he didn't think he was talented enough to start playing an instrument. One day, he stumbled upon a Keytar in a thrift store and instantly fell in love with the instrument's unique appeal. He bought it on a whim and started teaching himself how to play it -- a fusion of keys and guitar that allowed him to express himself through music in a way that felt most comfortable. After a lot of practice and experimenting, he started bringing his Keytar to band practice, and the rest is history! The band was instantly drawn to his quirky and captivating instrument.

🎹⋆.˚➤The youngest in the band, but he's also lowkey the smartest one. He's incredibly observant, quick on the uptake, and has an insane memory when it comes to facts and figures. The guys often tease him for being a know-it-all.

🎹⋆.˚➤Often mutters to himself when he's working on tech stuff, leading the others to wonder if he's secretly part of a secret code-breaking organisation. A massive sweet tooth and constantly has some sort of candy stashed away in his pocket or backpack. Geeks out over random things like retro video games, classic toys, and obscure internet memes.

🎹⋆.˚➤Loves playing around with sound effects and remixes. He has a sound remixer and synthesiser in his garage workshop, and sometimes he'll mess around with the song demos the band records, especially Jemíma’s vocals. He likes to experiment with different effects, beats, and soundscapes to see what sounds he can create. He even has a secret folder of Jemíma-themed remixes that he dabbles in when the others aren't around. He claims it's just for his own amusement.

🎹⋆.˚➤Tends to catch colds and viruses pretty easily, probably due to his school hectic schedule and not taking proper care of himself at times. When he does get sick, he turns into a total baby, whining and complaining about how much his head hurts and how much he hates being stuck in bed. He also becomes a bit of a hypochondriac, constantly checking his temperature and googling his symptoms. But there's one saving grace: his jar of vapor rub, which he carries with him everywhere and applies generously to his chest and under his nose.

🎹⋆.˚➤Has a really strong friendly bond with Jemíma. Despite their same age, they share a lot of the same interests and hobbies, such as a love for music and technology. Kick appreciates her sharp wit and intelligence, and she finds him endearingly quirky and funny. They often bond over their shared love for all things retro, and they have this natural chemistry that makes them a perfect team when they work together on music or any other project.

🎹⋆.˚➤Totally fits the role of the band's unofficial videographer and photographer. He owns a vintage Sony camcorder and loves capturing moments of the band in action, whether it's at practice sessions or gigs. He has a keen eye for detail and a knack for framing the perfect shot. He loves sharing his photos and videos with the guys, making little montage videos and keeping a record of their adventures together. With Kick behind the camera, the band can rest assured that every memory is well-documented!

[grounded-parasocial]

I am still having so many feelings about the final season of YR and I have been feeling like I don’t have anywhere to put them. It’s like the warm smolder of my obsession has sparked into a wild fire and now it’s too hot to stand near, but I cannot get it under control. I feel so much love, appreciation and pride for this queer love story and the truly magical way it has been told. However, I also feel so much heartbreak and loss both for the suffering in this season and that the show has come to a close. I feel consumed and a little bit embarrassed, but when it really comes down to it, the thing I am struggling with the most is the loneliness/isolation in my real life. It hasn’t really bothered me before that nobody in my life is obsessed with this show (which is still odd to me considering I live in a very queer community, so you would think I could find at least one person irl) and I just want to be IN IT with someone who gets it. I feel like I have a pinball mess of feelings inside of me and everyone is just walking around living life like nothing has happened, but something DID happen!

These thoughts have me thinking about grief- grief is not always associated with death or separation- grief is associated with loss. And if I keep going with these thoughts on grief/loss- everyone’s loss experience is different and personal, but one thing that is a common thread when going through loss, is we need people to see it, “witness it” and be able to hold it. This is why we (therapists) so often suggest support groups for people experiencing grief (different than therapy/treatment groups). In support groups there is space for healing because there is witnessing and story telling and shared experience, with people who understand. There is also safety and trust when you are with others who will not diminish your experience and who will not try to fix it.

One of the other things that is helpful in support groups is all the different perspectives and being able to see people at different points along their journey. You can also see and share in all the different ways people cope and move through- some write, some lean into music, some exercise, some talk, some listen, some take drives, some use humor, some give hugs and some people take a lot of hot showers- but overall it’s community and human connection and those things give us a sense of belonging.

This long ramble leads me to here, on tumblr, this fandom feels like my support group. I’m grateful. It’s the place I dont feel embarrassed, my experience doesn’t feel diminished and it makes me feel like other people “get it”. It’s kinda feels like The Young Royals office is holding support groups in conference room #2.. And have you seen the coping skills (TALENT) in here!

This may be only going out into the void, but if it lands for just one other person, then my point has been made.

Sending y’all a gentle hug 💜