#and they don't fucking need to in order to belong wherever they want to

[mc-pumpkin]

Whenever I see someone say someone is "taking up space" in a community I feel like ripping my hair out THERE IS NO SPACE!! There is no physical space that anyone is taking up!!!! No one is being pushed to the side or excluded by the mere act of someone else existing in a community, no matter how much you for whatever goddamn reason think they don't belong there!!! That's not your decision to make!!!

[roach-works]

if you are anti-zionist the most effective work you can do is to ensure your community--politically and geographically-- is safe for jews to exist in. im serious. is your community safe for jews to be in? do you know any jews? if you do, are they scared of you? if you don't, if they are, why?

zionism is the premise that jews need to take exclusive control of our own homeland by force because there is nowhere else in the world for us to belong. that's it, that's the heart of it. if you disagree with the premise, you need to be part of the counter argument: that the jews of the diaspora are valued by their fellow citizens in countries around the world. that the jews of europe and asia and africa and the americas belong where they were born, that the jewish people deserve to belong wherever we live, that we are not invaders or parasites or unwanted guests living on the sufferance of christians and muslims who have a natural right to expell us when we've outstayed our welcome.

i'm not israeli. that land is the home of those who were born there, and i was born in california. i know a lot of my fellow americans right now that say they're anti-zionist but what they mean is they want israel gone and me along with it. and that is, ironically, why there's zionism in the first place.

are you anti-zionist or anti-jew? are we your neighbors or not? if you really want decolonization, get your own community in order. if you want all the jews to just fucking shut up already, you can join a six thousand year tradition of not actually ever managing that no matter how many genocides get done.

[furtiveseal]

Analyzing The Witch From Mercury's mechs: Gundam Aerial

Putting a title like this is probably making this seem like a bigger thing than it actually is but fuck you I'll be pretentious about my stuff if I want to

Hello hello! I've been thinking a lot about the mecha design of WFM lately, and some of these thoughts seemed interesting enough that I wanted to share them. This will probably be a series of posts to make it more digestible, since I plan to cover several characters and how the mech(s) they pilot throughout the story reflect them.

A few disclaimers: I'm going to be spoiling the entire show, so please watch it first before reading this, I'm serious, it's really good. Spidey if you read this and go further I'm gonna be mad. Also, this is just for fun, I have no formal training in character design whatsoever, I may read into things too much or not enough or miss obvious stuff, but I also don't care that much tbh it's part of the fun of making my own analysis! If you have your own thoughts to share though I'd love to hear them!

I'm also aware of The Tempest but I didn't read it, don't plan to at the moment, and people already analyzed most of the show under its angle here, so I won't be mentioning it unless I have something to add.

Analysis and spoilers under the cut :>

In order to analyze Aerial, we first need the context of knowing her pilot, Suletta Mercury.

This is what Suletta looks like for most of the show, with her Holder outfit letting her stand out from the crowd of uniforms at Asticassia but also and most importantly her tomato red hair, which is the color she's most associated with throughout the show (especially visible in the opening and endings).

And this is what her mech, the Gundam Aerial, looks like.

As far as I know (I've only seen Witch From Mercury, Iron Blooded Orphans and a few episodes of Seed, but I've seen a lot of other Gundams in passing) main character Gundams all face a specific challenge: they have to be based on some level on the original RX-78-2, especially color scheme-wise.

This is also true of Aerial, but I think she does a really good job at giving that color scheme meaning by using it to visually tie herself to her pilot. White, yellow, and the dormant Permet's black are the colours of the Holder outfit, along with the red accents that dispel any possible remaining doubt as to who this mech's pilot might be.

What about the blue, you may ask? It IS the most dominant color in her design after white, after all. Blue is usually associated with Miorine, but here, I think it's associated with Eri. Her original color, red, has been taken over by Suletta, but since this is her body, she's still there through the blue: blue like the Lfrith's Permet scars that originally took her life, and like the Permet score 6 that has Prospera shedding a tear against Shaddiq. Blue, unlike the red Permet that now belongs (mostly) to Suletta, sharing a color with her.

Beyond her colors though, Aerial's shape language also tells us something about her place in the story.

Let's look at the Demi Trainer, the most widely used mech at Asticassia, or in other words, the baseline.

This mech looks big, heavy, sturdy but not super maneuverable; it's made up of large individual parts shaped with rectangles and a few circles. It doesn't look especially complex either, and its color scheme is toned down, it doesn't stand out much beyond the chest piece.

If we look at Guel's Dilanza, the previous Holder's mech aka the status quo, we find a very similar shape language:

The color scheme pops a lot more, but it's still mostly the same huge rectangles, with just a few more spikes and triangles that don't really change just how blocky this mech is. It is CHONKY. It looks like it takes space and shakes the ground wherever it goes.

Now let's compare them to Aerial's shape language. She looks much more segmented and has a lot more triangular shapes and angles in her design, which goes completely against the shapes set up by Asticassia's established mechs.

Her bit-on form emphasizes this even more imo, and the plane-like "wings" on her lower back also increase the feeling that fitting to her name, this is a mech designed for airborne combat, unlike the Demi Trainer and Dilanza that feel very grounded in comparison. Her silhouette feels much lighter and more vertical too instead of a brick.

This all goes to make Aerial look like what she is narratively: a complete gamechanger unlike pretty much anything else. She's the resurgence of Gundams in a world that (mostly) forgot about them, and she looks the part. It's no coincidence that the only other Asticassia mech to share part of her shape language is the Pharact, which is another Gundam.

That's most of what I had to say about Aerial! I'll cover Rebuild later and hopefully leave a link to it here once I do. I currently also have thoughts about Guel's mechs and the Michaelis that I might share down the line.

[masterqwertster]

Trick or Treat!

A drabble for you, in which my worries about untended artifacts of power manifests:

There's someone fucking touching them.

And that's all Ashton needs to know to take a swing, their mind still muddled by sleep, but clear on the knowledge that whoever those hands belong to, they don't know them.

"Ah–! Motherfucker–!"

Before Ashton can take another swing at the fucking stranger in his room, magic wraps around his body, locking it in place.

"I told you to be careful," another stranger in Ashton's fucking room hisses.

What the fuck is wrong with this fucking castle's security?

"I was," the fucker they clocked distortedly hisses back. "Dunno why we're doin' this anyway."

"Because we can't allow them to get in the way of His plans. And Lady Allura said this one will explode if they try to absorb the titan crystal, which takes this crystal, the one already in them, and whatever that dunamancy shit in them is out of the picture in one stroke," the other testily explains. "Now shut up and get the harness on them!"

Ashton hurts always, but nothing quite makes his skin crawl as much as someone he doesn't know and sure as fuck doesn't trust having free reign to touch him wherever they fucking want. If he could move, he'd break this fucker's face. And their buddy's too. Instead, he's stiff as a board as just the one, and then both, grunt and curse their way through rolling him into a position to put the fucking harness on him.

The damn thing vibrates against their skin as cold fear sinks into their veins and maybe anticipation for more power that part of them hungers for.

The cold doesn't last long.

Once the harness is snapped in place, the Spark of Rau'shan is revealed and quickly placed in the funnel. Heat and fire flood Ashton's veins, starting at the base of his neck and quickly fanning out into the rest of him, threatening to spill over.

And he can't let that happen. Allura made it sound like the whole fucking city would go with him, and while he doesn't give a fuck about it's snooty Lord, none of the inhabitants deserve that, and he sure as fuck doesn't want to kill Bells Hells.

Ashton just needs someone to get the harness off them. ASAP.

"Now, you're just going to stay right here and be silent and not move until the harness is done," Asshole #2 says, magic lacing their words. "That'll hold them for the next hour. Though I suspect they'll blow before then. Come on, let's go."

And Ashton's body is locked in place by new magic, his fierce desire to fight out of this fucking situation drowned under those fucking orders.

He really fucking hopes he doesn't explode.

Or, in which some of the Whitestone Castle guards are plants by Ludinus. And they broke into Percy's lab in the middle of the night after hearing about shit while waiting for Percy to give them Fetch Quests, and decided (potential) Big Boom was the way to go rather than allowing the enemy to Power Up.

[obscurecurse]

i wish tumblr had voice memo capability baby

anywayyyyy baby I am going to use speech to text now. and you will know because I's are properly capitalized.

I had a dream that I got into some random girls' van in NYC, feeling a bit like I'd entered a bachelorette party. All of my friends are complete unmarriable fuck ups so if I'm at a function like that, it's usually a distant friend. maybe everybody feels this way, but the bachelorette party is a liminal space to me. I am waiting to leave. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm asking myself why I'm there. so logically my brain would conjure this as a metaphor for the edge of consciousness. I felt unprepared to go on a road trip with them so I asked if we could stop by my apartment real quick. And it was my old apartment in Brooklyn and what I need you to understand. Is that my life is pretty much divided into two parts. There's the me before my dad died and there's the rest. to walk into the perfectly preserved life of the person that I was before. to walk into that space, that reality once more. one where he was nowhere near, but still alive. dreams are not always so complicated. sometimes the brain is simply firing synapses in order to preserve pathways. being unprepared to walk into that reality. What does it mean? I had had several dreams about this reality while he was dying and what I can tell you is that it's quieter. The light is different. there are distinct physical features, but inherently I know when I've entered this version. To walk into a snapshot of my old life and to collect belongings from that old life into a bag in order to somehow feel prepared to go somewhere I've never been with people that I don't know.

feeling unprepared it is not a useful emotion. Typically, you only experience this feeling when you are out of time to prepare, and if you are out of time, then you are as prepared as you were ever going to be. it is impossible to feel prepared to watch someone die, for example. but death renders you a different kind of unprepared. there is no measure of time that could be granted which would leave you feeling as though you were prepared.

I have no fantasies about continuing to carry the person that I used to be. I very much want to go wherever that van was taking me.

The therapist who got me through all of that would be delighted to hear me say that sometimes dreams are just dreams baby

[evenmoreofadisaster]

Okay okay idk if your familiar with the band metric but they like perfectly fit one and twos vibe/aesthetic and some of the songs lyrics perfectly fit one and two if you haven’t checked them out I recommend them but couple of songs and lyrics that I can think of right now I’ll put below with song title (album) lyric that I think fits/why the song makes me think of them

Two:

Holding out (art of doubt) “always waiting on the sidelines when is it my time to be the one the one the one”

Gold guns girls (fantasies) “is it ever going be enough?” (Idk this song just gives me two vibes like the beat and repetition of lyrics makes me think he’d jam out to it)

The void (synthetica) “all night, like a fool I stayed up to prove I can keep up with you”

Black sheep (arguably their most popular song since it was in Scott pilgrim vs the world) that whole song gives me like twos thoughts on one especially after the fallout

One:

Help I’m alive (fantasies) “if I stumble, they’re going to eat me alive” and “help I’m alive my heart keeps beating like a hammer, hard to be soft, tough to be tender”

Synthetica (synthetica) “but I won’t ever let them make a loser of my soul” (the whole song makes me think of one would like it because it’s all about not conforming into something fake/artificial)

Just the once (single) this just makes me think of one and usagi because like one it’s just a bop but still has that like darker vibe aesthetic that I think one would like this song and it would make him think of his usagis meetups and relationship and two the lyrics apply the them so well

I will never settle (formentera) I think this whole song is how one would feel about two especially post fallout

Gimme sympathy (fantasies) this just really strikes me as a song that fits one and also one that he would love

Both:

Artificial nocturne (synthetica) idk this one I think just fits them

Underline the black (art of doubt) “mad visions and wild decisions were made in the alleys that wind through my mind”

omg okay I feel like I've heard of this band before but I don't think I've ever listened to their songs until now. I took the time to listen to every song so that I can provide input <3

Holding Out: yes, that line fits Two perfectly! it especially makes me think of how Two always has to wait for One to give the order before he's allowed to do anything. It also makes me think of Two getting fed up and breaking the cycle

Gold Guns Girls: oh yeah, I love the beat! it's got a good rhythm. I can see Two sympathizing with it

The Void: these lyrics fit very well too! makes me think of Two tryna pick up One's slack lol and just generally wanting to be treated as One's equal.

Black Sheep: ooh, yes. Gives me big post-fallout vibes. "truth is just a rule that you can bend" stuck out the most. good vibes for post-fallout 👍

Help I'm Alive: oo definitely makes me think of what's at stake for One. Really like this song. Very good for One. I also liked "if my life is mine/what shouldn't I do?/I get wherever I'm going/I get whatever I need" fits One's state of mind especially for rn

Synthetica: another good one. I think of One's "u can't touch me" spiel

Just The Once: BOP. oh yeah, I can see how it fits One regularly going to the Nexus to see Usagi. "said it would be just the once" he said 🤨

I Will Never Settle: yeah! Especially "this is not the way I wanted to make you feel" also makes me think of how One would think after knowing how much pain he's caused Two :( "caught a glimpse of the normal life/terrified by the sight/we belong to another time" also makes me think about how One feels after being w/ the Hamatos

Gimme Sympathy: yeah, pretty upbeat. Love the chorus. "we're so close/to something better left unknown/I can feel it in my bones" reminds me of his obsession with getting his way.

Artificial Nocturne: ABSOLUTELY. The first set of lyrics immediately made me think of them "I'm just as fucked up as they say" referencing how they're viewed in the eyes of the Hidden City. Also sounds very cinematic

Underline The Black: love the lyrics. Fits their emo vibe very well

Good band!

[fentyjjk]

synopsis outside freestyle by raahiim

warnings stalking, unprotected sex, unintentional (?) voyeurism (they fuck against a car outside), y/n is delusional, jungkook is stressed

songspiration m.list

Freedom.

He was free of you. Free from your chaotic bullshit. Jungkook knew before getting into a relationship with you that you loved hard and that you bore some trauma from your previous relationships, but more importantly your relationships went bad because of them, your partners. You were never the problem. You were an angel among a bunch of disguised devils. Jungkook once thought the same, you were too good for him, he didn’t deserve you. But you showed him time and time again that you loved him, that he, for some inexplicable reason was worthy of that love.

But your love wasn’t always amazing. Sometimes it was jealous, bitter, obsessive, insecure. You were still reeling from your last relationship when Jungkook asked you out, but you agreed to let him take you out, allowed him to court you—and then you were together. It was cute at first. Wherever he went you were there, puppy love at its finest, maybe the honeymoon phase. Years later that same love began to feel smothering. Jungkook felt suffocated by your presence. He would try to express that to you lightly, calmly, but you always blew it out of proportion. And finally after years of your obsessive borderline abusive behavior he stood his ground and left you.

A simple text marked the end of four years together.

The love of my life: We’re done. You can keep my clothes and whatever else belongs to me at your place or donate them, burn them. I don't care. Don’t contact me again.

Jungkook liked to think you were a lone daisy in a sea of dead flowers, but you weren’t. You were the harsh sun killing all things beautiful. You were evil, obsessed. Jungkook was no stranger to you popping up at his job, his home, places he went to. It’s like you knew how to break him, because right now he’s unblocking you, calling you.

“Get off my property, Y/N.” You smile at the sound of his voice, caressing your fingers over the diamond necklace he brought you.

“Hi, Kookie.” You breathed into the nickname elated that your antics made him unblock you. It only took locking yourself inside his work break room, threatening the girl he was talking to and countless nights parked outside his home for this simple olive branch, but it meant a lot. Your efforts paid off after all. “I miss you… why don’t you come out here? We need to talk about us.” You trailed on focusing on his silhouette pacing his living room through his windows.

“There is no us, Y/N. We’ve been broken up for two months.” You rolled your eyes, your grip tightening on your necklace, grounding you. Jungkook wanted space so you gave him that you didn’t “break up”, no. He’s being dramatic.

“Jungkook, do you want me to make a scene?” Your voice dropped an octave and he stopped pacing, frustratedly pulling at his hair. You’d made a few scenes, his neighbors that would once greet you with warm smiles would now glare at your car in his driveway as you honked over and over again playing obscenely loud music late at night all in an effort to get Jungkook to pay attention to you.

“I’ll call the cops.”

“I’ll lie.” Jungkook scoffed.

“Lie about what?” He spit.

“Assault, pregnancy, anything. Kook, you’re not getting rid of me. You know I got that flimsy ass paper, did you really try and get a restraining order against me, baby?” It didn’t work, obviously. If there was one thing Jungkook liked about you it was how established you were, the connections you had everywhere.

In court as well.

“Y/N, please leave me alone,” he begged dropping down onto his couch in defeat.

“Are you done being difficult?” You murmured boredly, “why don’t you open the door, hm?” You change your tone to something softer, cuter. The voice you talked to him in when you first started dating, when things were good.

“Go the fuck away, Y/n!” Jungkook yells, your hand moved on its on; teasingly hovering over the middle of your steering wheel a loving (sadistic) smile playing at your lips when your nails brushed across the faux leather.

“Baby, don’t be like th—“ click. He… he fucking hung up on you. Scoffing you called him again—straight to voicemail. You called again the voice you’d grown accustomed to reaching your ears, “This caller cannot be—“ you hung up flinging your phone into the seat across from you. The first press of your horn he ignored, the second, he left the living room, the third you didn’t let up you held your hand still letting the loud blaring noise ring out into the night. “Come on, Kookie…” A minute had gone by the neighbor’s next door front porch light flickered on then the same happened on the other side of Jungkook’s house. You stopped, sinking into your seat as one his neighbors peeked outside angrily rubbing into her eyes as she looked around to find the culprit. She wobbled back inside her home slamming her door and you went back to it honking again and again.

Jungkook was losing his mind. You wouldn’t go away, you wouldn’t stop honking. It wasn’t like other nights when you’d honk and wait and then honk a few more times in a row and stop, wait for him to react, no, you wouldn’t take your hand off the horn tonight. He unblocked you once again calling you back.

“Hi, baby—“

“Y/n, I swear to God if you don’t leave right now—“

“What?” You said amused, egging him on, “what will you do, huh?” His eye twitched as you chuckled.

“Y/n, don’t make me drag your ass off my property.”

“I’d like to see you try, we haven’t touched in so long—well, except when I visited you at work.” Visit? He almost laughs, you make it sound so casual; as if you were his lover and just stopped by his job. That’s probably what you actually think, that thought alone makes him feel sick.

It happened a little over a month ago, seven days after he texted you that it was over. You showed up at his job and he quietly tried to make you leave, desperately pleaded with you. “Not at my job, Y/n, please, please they just promoted me, Y/n.” He had it—you under control until his coworker, Uri, his overly friendly coworker whom you hated even while with Jungkook came over questioning you. “Didn’t you two break up? Wah, you’re really crazy, Y/n.” You charged at her and Jungkook dragged you into the breakroom. You let him, his touch was so warm, so inviting. Once he set you down on your own two feet you kissed him. Well, you tried to. He shoved you away insisting that you two were over with.

You dropped to your knees gingerly touching his thighs and for a second that look—that desire he always had for you no matter how toxic you were passed over his eyes. But then it was gone and he was stepping away. You took off your top, he left the room. So you locked yourself inside. It wasn’t until hours later did Jungkook find out what you had done.

None of his fellow employees could get inside the break room. A line of annoyed and amused workers caught his attention on his way to the bathroom. He was stifling laughter himself as he heard moaning, immediately he assumed two horny employees couldn’t keep it down in the breakroom. At that moment he didn’t understand why his coworkers were eyeing him when he approached the group until he heard his name. “Ah, Jungkook! Yes!” His cheeks flushed. That was you. He knew how you sounded especially when you were being fucked—were you being fucked?

He got inside the room after his boss Namjoon dismissed the crowd and told Jungkook to not so subtly handle his shit. You never stopped moaning loudly, it was embarrassing. And once he was in he saw you naked, legs spread on top of one of the circular tables as you pumped your fingers in and out. The same look, lust, passed over him. It was so surreal what you were doing that it turned him on, the dirtiness of it all was hot. But it disgusted him just as much. Your moans and touchy behavior was revolting and as he redressed you with much difficulty he made sure to let you know that. “You fucking slut-“ He sneered.

“Mmm say it again, I think I almost came.”

“Coming to my job, are you kidding me, Y/n?! This is my work place!” You nodded along touching his chest as he tried to slid on your panties. After picking you up and physically kicking you out you waited at his car—you were a parasite driving the happiness out of him, the life out of him. He hasn’t been able to live down the jokes at his job or the bewilderment from his older coworkers. Namjoon was kind enough to not fire him after he explained his situation in lengthy detail, but he was warned: “If something like this happens again, I’ll be forced to fire you, Mr.Jeon.”

And now here you were trying to embarrass him, again. Different crowd, same shameful crazy ex-girlfiend behavior.

“Don’t make me come outside, Y/n—“ you honked.

“What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Y/n-“ honk. “Let me speak—“ you honked again. Across the street another porch light came to life. He tossed his phone onto his bed muttering curses as he exited the house. You were estatic, beaming even as he stalked towards you a dark look looming in his eyes, but you welcomed it, got out of the car arms wide.

“Hi, baby–“ you choked as he gripped your neck pushing your body back against the car. You couldn’t breathe.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! I don’t want anything to do with you!” You could barely croak out a response as his grip got tighter, cutting off your air supply completely.

“Kook-“

“When will you get it, huh? When?!” He was screaming in your face not once letting up on the grasp he has on your neck forcing your nape to dig painfully into the top of your car. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?!” Jungkook was seething, yelling at you, yes, but you knew him well.

Jungkook used to box earlier in your relationship. He said it was a way to release anger… but then he had you. He said he prefers taking his anger out on you then going to the boxing center he used to frequent. He would fuck you hard and like the good girlfriend you are (were) you took it. And you’d take it now as well.

Once he finally stopped shouting at you, you stroked his wrist. He pulled away recoiling at your touch, but you yanked his hand forward putting it back onto your neck a sadistic smile decorating your lips as you forced him to hold you like that again, you really were crazy. You were smiling at him even though blemishes of his hand was imprinted on your light brown skin.

“Its okay, you can take it out on me.” The look wasn’t there, the desire wasn’t displayed on his face. The look he was giving you was somewhere between creeped out and pure anger. But only the ladder could get you what you wanted. “I love you, Jungkook, and you love me, why don’t we stop this back and forth, hm?” You widened your eyes in faux innocence blinking up at him. His grip tightened on his own and you dropped your hand.

He’s in your face, repulse tainting his every word as he spoke, “I want nothing to fucking do with you, you’re going to leave me alone, Y/n, or else.”

“Or else what, baby?”

“I’ll fucking kill y—“ you shut him up with a kiss, tightly pressing your lips to his and in an expected turn of events he didn’t push you away. His grip got tighter, but he was kissing you back holding you still by the hold on your neck and aggressively shoving your jeans down with the other. “You disgust me,” he spit out between kisses biting your lower lip, “everything about you disgusts me,” he says again as you moan, rutting into his hand when he cups your heat. You were already wet, no surprise there.

His words heavily contradict his actions as he spun you around pressing his hard length to your panty clad ass. “So fucking nasty,” he twitched as he placed himself between your cheeks thrusting forward. “God, I hate you so much.” Hate that you can’t leave me alone, you think as he continues humping your ass. You moan when he switches the position; this time his bare length thrusting between your thighs rubbing your clit.

“Kook, please fuck me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he groans gripping your hips and pulling you back, as if he’s really fucking you. “F-fuck—fuck you.” He doesn’t sound angry nor sincere, just horny. Your shirt comes off next, sort of. His tattooed hand pulls your shirt down and your bra as well without unclasping it properly. He pushes you further into your car, your breasts rest against the cool glass of your windows. “Fucking slut,” he remarks pulling down your wet underwear, the thin material soaked in your arousal.

“K-Kook ple—“

“Fucking shut up!” His hand is back on your neck as he thrusts forward slipping inside you. You can’t think, can’t say you love him, you feel so full, too turned on to think straight. The drag of his thick cock is the only thing you can focus on, every vein imprinting itself into your velvety walls. “Fuck, how’re you so tight? I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still so damn tight.” He emphasizes each word with each movement of his hips, each thrust sharper than the last each movement causing him to grip your neck tighter and tighter.

“L-love you—fuck!” He lands a hit to your ass efficienctly shutting you up. Everythings hot, minus the glass against your tits, his hand on your neck is burning, his chest against your back is scorching. It’s all so hot.

You’re close, he is too. His thrusts turn sloppy and lose rhythm. The grip on your neck is released when he places both hands on your hips pulling you back and forth on his cock like his own living breathing fuck toy. The sound of skin meeting skin rings out into the night only pushing you further to the edge. Anybody could be watching, listening; any of Jungkook’s neighbors that woke up could see you two, record you.

“I-I”m gonna come,” You tell him, the smack of his balls against your swollen clit has you shaking, your creamy arousal beginning to ring around his cock.

“Hate you,” he grunts as he spills inside you, usually he’d make sure you come first then he would, but you don’t mind the change—that is until he steps away from you, his seed dribbling down onto your thighs. He didn’t let you come… at all. “Leave.” He says coldly, pulling his sweats back on. It’s suddenly cold, the night breeze brushing across your skin raising goosebumps. His warmth is gone, his words sinking in. He used you, but it's fine.. right? You’ll take anything Jungkook gives you, right?

Then why do you feel like crying?

You hastily pull your jeans back on and fix your top, facing him. He just stares at you as if you’re some bother to him, some nuisance like he didn’t just take you a few moments ago against your car. “Jungkook—“ he walks away from you and you frown following him. “Where are you going?”

“To bed,” he says clearly annoyed. Once he reaches his door with you hot on his tail he spins towards you. “Fuck off.” You’re guessing that’s his form of goodnight because then he slams the door in your face.

And suddenly you don’t just feel like crying, you do.

[dreamesamu]

calm energy hq boys give you pda out of their habit.

genre: headcanon, fluff, sets in time skip

ame's note: this thing comes up in my mind? ig. but anyway let me know if u enjoy ;) this is my idea and I hope you don't compare it with anyone else's work ;-; ty

akaashi keiji

– close up the distance to you, never wants you to part

just akaashi being the protective clingy boyfriend himself, after he caught some old man's staring at your body, his blood boils. since then, he never leaves you even a fingertip. not that kind of glueing to your body duh- he's just following you wherever you go, to make sure you are safe under his control- gained some weird looks but who cares, he's your bodyguard now.

sakusa kiyoomi

– tuck his fingers in your jean's belt while eyes glueing on the phone

sakusa absolutely hates standing in a crowded area, nothing feels better even he's with you, and to keep himself calm and steady, he needs a distraction, but he doesn't want to lose you in this awful place neither. after every conversation, you found his fingers clicked in your jean's belt, eyes never leave the screen with his feet leisurely follow you from behind like a puppy, gained everyone's attention. how adorable is that?

ushijima wakatoshi

– head pats, everywhere, any time

he found out being a tall boyfriend is more entertaining than anything, just watching his lover with a penguin height is too adorable to handle, he's not gonna say it out but he loves the feeling you're being protected by him, just the most natural pda he confirms it's comfortable. head pats, hair strike, like every single second he never minds what other people's thinking, you are not that bothered with this, nor want him to stop being a big protective boy.

suna rintaro

– wrap his hand lazily around your hips (out of habit)

suna rintaro is suna rintaro. he is chilling so comfortable by himself that he doesn't care if any boys give him a fuck or any girls felt pity for him to not have them. he has you, always by his side, the hand covered your hip is a sign for everybody knows that you're his, nothing compares. and suna knows his hand gives you a secured feeling, pulls you worse deeply in love with him. and he loves you too, so that doesn't count as romantic pda for both of you.

tsukishima kei

– feed you his strawberry shortcake while focusing on something

he does that to shut you up either avoid you to be annoying, you know it. but look how adorable he is when he just trying to enjoy his music, hand feeding you the cake with a small scowl looking at your enthusiastic face craving for the cake- ehhh- no, craving for his affection- that you can't help but selfishly want attention, to focus on what the hell he is doing, he has to please your request as the cost. every girl in the shop must feel envy right now-

kita shinsuke

– put his coat around you in the winter weather

kita is not the type to give you affection in public, but neither he thinks this is a kind of pda, he just showed off for you to know that he cares, doing the job as a meticulous boyfriend like him, you must obey his request- no- order when the cold winter approaches. he would scold you for being nonchalant with your health by not bringing a scarf or his sweater once belonged to him, but you found it is very adorable that sometimes you purposely on getting scold, you are so mean to him </3

m.list

reblogs are appreciated ♡

[moonshineinasippycup]

Deceit

Chapter Three

You arrived home after a walk back from work. The day was pretty hard on you. Jed had you write what you were able to get from the police so that you could send it in for the Gazette. You went into your kitchen and grabbed a bottle of cheap corner store red wine and poured yourself a glass before taking a sip. You leaned against the counter and sighed. The image of that poor girl lying lifeless in her blood. Was Jed going to get pictures of her?

Were her last moments on this earth photographed to be put in some envelope for Jed's viewing pleasure? This guy was sick. And he broke into your house last night to 'introduce' himself to you. It was sickening. And how did you not hear about it before you moved here? You took a sip and felt it burn. It burned and tasted disgusting. Just what you needed. Before you knew it, half the bottle was gone and your sight was fuzzy. Being tipsy has never felt so freeing before. You stopped though. You had work tomorrow and if Jed needed something from you it wouldn't be good if it was done hungover. You sighed and made your way to your fridge and looked for something. In your freezer, you found microwave chicken strips. Good enough! Right before you were going to open the bag there was a knock. A knock on the back door.

You warily walked over not even needing to think about who it was. Your new little fanboy of course! When you cracked the door you didn't see anything. You pushed it open more and saw a bag with a note stapled to it. It was a fast-food bag. You grabbed it then quickly ran back inside. You locked your door behind you. You sat it on your counter and looked in the bag surprised that it had real food in it. You ripped the note off the bag and looked at it. 'behind you' it read. You quickly spun around and there he was in all his ghostly glory. "What? Don't have a table wherever your little hideout is?" He stalked up to you and waved his knife around in your face. "You just moved here and just graduated college. Ramen and frozen foods aren't good for you, doll." You could hear the smirk behind his mask. "I need you alive for a while. Gotta keep my things healthy, don't I?"

"Why should I trust food given to me by the serial killer currently waving his knife around in front of me?" He tilted his head to the side. "I mean if you don't want it, I will gladly eat it and leave you here with your sad little fish sticks." You grabbed the bag he brought. "Chicken strips." He grabbed your wrist and pulled you against his chest. "I heard you disobeyed me. I told you not to keep reading. I can't have you figuring out the ending before the show is even over." He had his knife pressed to the part of your thigh exposed in your shorts. "Don't disobey me. You belong to me now. I own you. You are only breathing right now because I allow it. I can be over here with my knife in your body before you can even pack a bag and get the fuck out." He began to apply pressure on the knife which then breached past your skin drawing blood. You felt him drag it back causing a cut across your thigh. You cried out in pain before he stopped. "Next time you choose to ignore orders I will make it hurt way more. You get a call from a phone number you don't recognize; you answer it. I don't care what is going on. Now sit down, eat your dinner, then go to bed. You are going to have a busy day tomorrow, pet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ next day

The next day you walked into the office with a large cup of coffee from the cafe down the road. You went to your desk and began setting up for the day. You emailed Jed the article you had finished last night. You were checking to see if anyone had asked you to do anything when Jed walked up to your desk. "Hope you got to t5ssleep last night. We have quite a long day ahead of us." Huh? That's what that lunatic said to you last night. Could Jed be... no! He can't! There is no way. Jed is too nice. The thought left your mind almost as soon as it came. "There was another murder. This guy has gotten a lot more active lately." You took a sip of your coffee. "Good. Well, not good for the people but good for law enforcement. That means he's gotten comfortable. He knows he can get away with it. This is usually the point at which killers get caught because they began cutting corners and it causes them to slip up. It means they may be able to catch him soon." You hoped they would be able to before he could kill you. "The police wanted some time on the scene before we came. They asked for three hours. Then it is our job to rush in and be burdon on their day by trying to keep the people informed of the serial killer." He rolled his eyes. "I don't know why they care. They won't find anything. They never find anything." He had a strange tone when he said that. It's probably just your imagination. You are scared and sleep-deprived. You are just hyper-aware and ready to jump to conclusions about the slow downward spiral you can begin to see your life take.

Three and a half hours later you were leaving the crime scene with Jed. A man had been killed. A man in your neighborhood. "Are you sure you didn't see anything? Nothing?" You sighed. "No, I didn't see a thing last night. I can't believe he was able to go unnoticed like that. I mean I was up late last night and everything I didn't see or hear anything unusual." Oh, how Danny wished he could break character and pet you on the head and tell to how good you were for not saying anything. You deserved a reward for your good behavior. Looks like his visit to you last night was a success. He could see so many different ways to play with you. And he couldn't wait to see how far he could pull you. If you were really well behaved, he may even choose to give you the honor of taking you on as an accomplice. First, he needed to get you to trust Jed. Once you trusted Jed, he would be able to work his way into your heart as Jed. Ghostface would continue to push his way into your life, and you would look to Jed for comfort. When you've fallen so far, you've hit rock bottom you would look for Jed to pull you back up. And Jed would reveal himself and rip away the only support beam you had left in your life. Danny would become the sole thing you depended on. He could already see his master plan. You were different from everyone else he had encountered so far. Danny couldn't wait to break you. You clearly had something you were hiding. Some dark secret. You may be able to full everyone else, but Danny could see it. Behind those tame eyes of yours, there was a spark. A spark Danny couldn't wait to add lighter fluid to.

[ravenkinnie]

TW: Drugs, substance abuse, murder, violence, the Punisher

Another potentially unpopular opinion I've seen on here (and one that I'll actually rant about) is that, Jason is the only good vigilante in the Batfam because he kills people (think the direct quote is "unlike those other feckless bitches" and something like "when you get saved by Red Hood, you know that you'll never have to worry about getting attacked by the same person again". I don't know how to explain to people that killing the type of criminals Jason killed in canon is wrong and harmful (thinking about the 80 Blackgate prisoners he poisoned - hmm you know the American prison system is pretty fucked up i'm sure they all totally belonged there /s). Like. Jason killing the Joker is one thing, but he literally hasn't killed the Joker - Dick did that, Bruce tried to, but Jason hasn't. But like some people make it out like oh, Jason being a killer is fine because he only kills people that deserve it - who, tell me who he's killing? Sex offenders and drug dealers seems to be the most common reply. And I won't touch the sex offenders but drug dealers? Have you heard of the War on Drugs? Have you seen what happens when people in power decide it's okay to openly promote the killing of drug dealers? I don't understand why people think it's fine for Jason Todd to go around killing drug dealers, as if they don't have families, don't have other things that put them in a bad situation. There's a reason why cops in the US (idk if they do this elsewhere) use the Punisher skull as their emblem - and if you advocate for a Jason Todd that punishes criminals, don't be surprised when the right wing weaponizes him against minorities and the red hood helmet starts to get painted on cop cars.

I wrote a paper on the Norwegian prison system which rehabilitates and releases even the "worst" of criminals and just... I live in the US and it seems like we (specifically white people) have such little compassion for anyone who commits crime. Even after the War on Drugs, even after we learned it was a scam, people fall for the crime and punishment rhetoric time after time. Like I live in a suburb where people are so scared of drug dealers my mom literally called our neighbor because someone cut through our yard (and she thought he looked high or something idk). Which I get it, my cousin died from a fentanyl overdose, I understand you don't want that near your kids. But incarcerating or killing drug dealers is not the answer, and I can't stand it when people take that stance on Jason. You can try to explain the 8 drug dealer heads in a duffle bag any way you want, but at the end of the day, I think the batfamily fandom needs to be more careful addressing this issue because demonizing drugs/drug dealers/drug users is literally one of the ways the American government destroys black communities.

And to think, the Jason Todd stan that this opinion came from replied to me because I commented on how Jason likes to run around in Dick's old clothes - something that has absolutely no bearing on his morals, other than he's thrifty which is a good thing actually, something like 85% of clothes ends up in landfills. Sorry for the rant, you asked for it. Sorry if anyone who sees this likes Jason Todd and is offended, you're not bad for liking him, he has an interesting story, just please don't advocate for murdering common criminals, specifically drug dealers.

AAAHHH NOO BUT IVE SEEN SOME OF MY MOOTS DISCUSS THIS BEFORE

sorry it's late and fucking hot I don't have the most comprehensive reply dbdnhd and I do acknowledge that at the end of the day this is fiction but opinions real people hold come from SOMEWHERE - and I think we have a very ingrained belief that crime/bad deed has to be punished and that there are good and evil people and good people only do bad things when influenced by evil people which is exactly the core of jason's belief - and that's interesting for a batfam character, a former robin!! I like when him and bruce are contrasted based on ethics but I don't like when it's meant to show that jason is right and bruce is wrong

batman is an extremely popular and fascinating character because at his core lies the idea that systems that are in place to 'protect' people are corrupt and it's down to individuals who can do something to go against them and look out for others - that's something that will resonate with people even if irl solution can't be to dress up as a bat and beat tf outta people shdhhshs

I have two points to make here:

a) I'm straight up a fucking anarchist who lives in the woods, thinks aliens are listening, and doesn't trust the government but I don't believe systems are corrupt, I believe they operate the way they are meant to operate to punish and control the populations that the system needs to be controlled to keep up the status quo - war on drugs is such a good example for that. drug dealer also exists as this boogeyman, this idea of an evil person waiting to corrupt and destroy the good people but the fact is: people don't get addicted to drugs bc drug dealers exist, people get addicted to drugs because something, not someone, compels them to do drugs, because something (literal us gov) introduced drugs to their communities and drug dealers are just tiny pawns in that game. additionally, many dealers are addicts themselves who got roped into selling to pay for their own use or who got pushed into the margins of society so much that drug trade is the only way to survive they can find

there are like, whole papers and books and thesis done on this so I'm not gonna act like I can analyse it in a tumblr post dhshsjsj but yeah people who think jason is right usually show this weird superiority of 'oh batman doesnt get how to fix gotham like jason does' and like... no, jason gets played like a fiddle by the system the way people he kills do, and whatever he does will always just hit the other pawns and never reach those actually at the top, those who are profitting from finding scapegoats

and like, batman comics don't have to address that bc it's comics, you can write small lmao but don't argue that jason is somehow more enlightened than bruce for killing

b) this brings a question of, if we decide that there has to be punishment for every crime, who gets to decide what punishment is right for what crime? cause there's not a single person who's infallible enough to dictate what the best approach is in every situation

and batman works best as a traumatised man who's loves his city sm he tries to work however he can to protect people from corrupt systems and offer them second chances wherever he can bc that's who batman is at his core - batman is not a punisher he is a protector and he should never be pushed into a role of the punisher bc he's not edgy enough

also bitches are so hard acting like they would kill every villain cause rip to batman but I'm different, y'all are too scared to tell the waitress your order is wrong shut the fuck up lmao the closest any of y'all have been to being batman is getting your ass beat behind the club on a saturday by brenda in her boohoo jumpsuit

[herstarburststories]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

Kinktober day 14: tattoo kink

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's anti possession tattoo is your personal turn on.

A/N: I had my first college day today, so this came out a bit late. Which means, not a beta'd work! Also, tell me if you know the gif's owner.

Warnings: tattoo kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, nipple play, humping

You loved a lot of things about Dean Winchester.

His loyalty, his care for Sammy, his car, his fingers, his lips, his eyes, how good he was with a gun, his courage, his jokes, his adorable Scooby Doo underwear, his cooking, how tender he could touch you with blood stained hands.

There was a lot to love about a man who went through heaven and hell, like a good book with 500 pages— an exciting story wrapped up with a pretty cover.

In certain moments, all the you cherished about him would combustion like a supernova, and you two would end up exactly like now.

You, riding his thigh and moaning against his neck, while Dean grabbed your hips for dear life. All in the middle of the believed DeanCave— none of this was planned. But, in a hunter's life, plans were just a sweet illusion. A single vampire would turn out to be a nest, a deadly werewolf would just eat animal's hearts, and you two just cuddling up, while watching an Old West movie just happened to end with you pressed your heat against his thigh and whimpering like a horny dog.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Dean groaned, his usual gruff voice only making your pussy shiver more. God, couldn't he see that wasn't enough?

You winced, nails sinking in his shoulders as you moved your hips back and forth, looking for more friction. Anything that could give your wet pussy some relief.

“I need you.” You pleaded, hand falling to the collar of his shirt. Your trembling hands attempted to lift it, but you couldn't focus on much more than getting him inside you, or getting more skin, or more anything from Dean. You just needed him as much as you needed air. You had to touch him, every bone in your body told you do. “I need more.”

As usual, Dean seemed to understand exactly what he meant. Maybe because he was just as touch-starved for you as you were for him. Whatever, that didn't matter. The third apocalypse could be starting and it wouldn't matter. All that was worth being cares about was Dean throwing his shirt away.

You whimpered at the sight; your hot boyfriend half naked, flustered from all the dirty things you both had been doing, and his sexy tattoo right in front of your eyes.

You leaned in, not willing to waste any second, connecting your lips to his skin. You kissed him like a devout would worship a god; full of devotion, love, and desire for another blessing. Your kisses went from his chest to his nipple, gaining a slightly moan of Dean there — information that you'd keep for another moment—, until your mouth finally found the ink star.

It was so pretty, so manly. His tattoo didn't care any delicate trace, it was branded in a very visible, and just wrapped his bad boy persona perfectly. He looked so fucking hot like this.

You bit it softly.

Dean's lips parted lightly to let out a plea, “Y/N...”

His cock was hard, boner obviously on his pants and untouched. Yet, somehow seeing your obsession with his tattoo didn't make him frustrated, it would caused his hardness to ache longer, crying pre cum to be touched.

You were so sexy when you loved every piece of his.

“I always knew you had a thing for my tattoo, but not that much.” Dean said under his deep breath, holding your head away to watch you leaned in and kissing his tattoo. Your lips were magical, spreading goosebumps wherever they touched. You sucked on his tattoo, wanting to leave a hickey there. “God, honey. You look so hot like this, ridding me and kissing my tattoo.”

“Dean.”

The way you whined his names during intimate moments always threw Dean back in the wild. Something savage got good of him when you begged for his touch like this; as if you needed him as much as he needed you.

Yeah, the people he saved needed him temporarily. But all the girls, all the other people he had known through the years— neither of them ever matched him when it came to this. They didn't need or love him as much as he did. Not even Sammy seemed to need his big brother that much.

You, though? Years and years, you were still here. Contorting and crying only for his touch, his own sacrifice of heart.

Sometimes, he couldn't blame the ancient gods for wanting their loyal pious back. Not if they felt like this.

Therefore, Dean Winchester just allowed himself to lose control for a minute. Something that could only be described as a howl reverberated through his throat, as he grabbed your hips and placed you on his clothed length.

You both moaned at this. Dean could feel how wet you were for him, and you could experience the bulge on his jeans, only for you.

You started swirling your hips against his hardness, placing your head on his shoulder, needy moans leaving your body. This felt like heaven. Your skirt lifted, the friction of your soaked underwear on Dean's tough jeans, while his hands hurted your waist with passion.

“You're such a slut for my tattoo, huh? You are here, humping on my boner, and you are about to cry just because you can't see me tattoo.” He groaned, pushed you down his cock. Dean told you the rhythm through his hands, and you obediently moved back and forth. He licked his lips, glancing at you: your features contorted into pleasure, mouth open, and sweaty body. His. Only his. Still, your head was handing towards his chest, as if there was something there you were missing. “Look at my face. You better come just like this: untouched. And then I'll fuck your pretty pussy, fill you up with my cum— all while you watch my tattoo. Maybe I'll even let you ride me, see your pretty boobs jumping, while I fuck you. Would you like that, Y/N?”

“Y-yes.” Your body was shivering, fighting yourself not to shut your eyes and get lose in the emotion of belonging. You maintened looking into Deam's lustful green forest, moaning at each movement that rubbed your cunt the right way. And he was growling, pushing you to his crotch, enjoying the pleasure that rough, crude caress gave him.

“Come on, honey. Come to me. Don't you want me to fuck your needy cunt? To tell and show who you belong too? Keep rubbing against my cock and you will come, Y/N. I can't wait to get inside that pretty, tight pussy of yours.”

“DEAN!”

Your orgasm hit you like a comet, Dean's words getting in your veins as a venom. All your body knew how to do was to follow his orders. Your underwear was a mess like the begging mumbles that left your smart mouth.

Because you just wanted more from him. You wanted his touch, you wanted his love, you wanted his cock pounding you over and over again.

Dean held on the edge, trying his best not to come in his pants like a fucking teenager. God, that was one of the hardest things he had ever done— did you have any idea how hot you looked when you came, squirming and screaming his name? But he had to control himself. He wanted to come inside you, slide his thick cock inside your tight walls, get all warm, and fuck you like a real man would.

You were breathless, trembling a bit when your eyes found his again; you know the look on his face very well, and you couldn't wait for the promises to be kept through the night. You were ready for him to fuck you deep and come inside you, mark your pussy as his.

Dean Winchester was the tattoo on your bones, might as well be permanent on other places too. Even if only for the night.

Leave a comment and REBLOG. Feedback is magic! Tags on my reblog, send me and ask or dm if you wish to be on my taglist!

[hughiecampbelle]

Instinct (Bucky Barnes Oneshot)

((TFATWS SPOILERS))

Character/s: Bucky

Word Count: 1,110

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: I haven't written in over a month and I'm scared it shows 💔 I'm really unsure with writing lately, I thought about not posting this, but I feel like I owe it big time. This was supposed to be something different, but I can't say I hate the direction it took. There aren't any major spoilers, it just follows the general plot, but I figured better to be safe than sorry. I hope you like it, and that I'm not too "out of the game" or bad at this lol. Feedback is always appreciated.Thank you for being so patient with my break my loves, it means the world 💜💖💜

Summary: He wants to move on, you don't 💕

Gif Credit: @captain-james / link :)

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 / WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

There is a static between you. One that is ruthless, hostile, sharp. It makes your gums bleed to describe it, tasting nothing but iron, bitterness, a resentment that is otherwise untouchable by any other creature. A hatred towards the mirror, towards your own skin and bone, your entire fucking existence. Catching his eyes, even for a second, is staring into the sun. Blinding. Aggressive. Burning, until every inch of you is set aflame, itching to turn and run, to tear apart, to scream. Scream until there is nothing of you left. A reminder of what was, what is, and what will never be. What neither of you can go back to, as fitting as the mold may seem, as secure as that title may be, as comforting as that role used to be, he refuses, and you follow along. Bury the body, he thinks that will make him someone new, someone worth everyone else's time. Do not flinch when they say your name, when they whisper every awful thing you did, when they tease you, leaving the door open, enough so for the light to peak through. An escape plan, you think. You hope. A way back to the life before, where your mind was someone else's, when the world was cruel and you were allowed to be cruel back. He does not see it that way, slamming that door shut, locking it from the outside, and swallowing the key.

One word, an invitation, that's all you need. The risk is great, but the urge is greater. Split yourself open. Self destruct. Skip the steps, skip what they insist is healing when all they do is rip open old wounds. Skip the apologies, the sob story, the introduction. The look in their eyes never flinches, no matter how many times you beg. Why bother? Return to what they wanted, needed, feel a certain belonging you could never get back walking into the civilian world.

Your footprints made of blood, a sticky red trail left wherever you go. That's what they see, and they don't bother hiding it. The disgust. The references you don't understand, too old to laugh, to sigh, to roll your eyes. The world moved on without you, spinning faster than you remember, and you are left to catch up. They have their lists, their paper and pencil, all the recommendations one could offer. It would be endearing, maybe, but you have nothing to offer. None of the energy to play catch up. None of the want. Time slips through your fingers, wasted, growing spoiled, mocking you. You have better things to do than watch a movie, more important things, things that filled you with purpose, no matter how sick.

You would have been disgusted. Horrified. Speechless. You would have hated yourself more than you already do. But you are older now, far more experienced, hardened by a life you never could have expected. Learned to want it, though. An animal secured by captivity does not know how to survive in the wild. You were never equipped to live like this: free. The knives, the guns, the special ways in which you read even the smallest of actions, turning people into pages, an open book for you to skim, before placing back on the shelf.

You adapted, grew to fit what they wanted, who they wanted, until you too loved what you were. Dangerous, powerful, unfeeling. The numb became a high to chase, unsatisfied by anything else. Where he mirrored a version of yourself you left in the past, you embraced this role. The damage was done. The bodies put to rest. None of which you could take back, nor make up for. He sought redemption. You wouldn't dare. It wasn't by your choice, that much you could admit, but you could feel it, from the fits bullet to the last, you were never meant to be anything else. As gruesome as you had been, uncaring, quick, but painful, you would be nothing else. Assassin. Killer. Murderer.

They say it like it's a bad thing.

The guilt eats you alive, chews you up and spits you out, shattering your very being as you wake, each night, from another nightmare. The aggression, the shame, all of it you share as fairly as you can, and yet, you wear it so differently, making you more distinct than you could ever explain. The only other person in the world who has seen you at your lowest, your highest, faced what you have, seen what you've seen, and you can't stand to look at him. Not for the wounds he sewed up, his eyes falling on your broken body, nor is the sobs, the pleas, the prayers he heard escape you in moments of desperation. Not because he knows the way you scream, your body used for their own gain, enveloped in a pain only the Devil can inflict, or because he has seen you shoot without a second of hesitation, moving forward before their body hits the ground. None of it, not even the things you care not to mention, to think about, nit even now. It's that he has become resistant, soft even.

He fights a fight he knows he cannot win. He draws the line between good and bad, hero and villain, as if there even is one, as if they are not the same in moments of desperation, of selfishness, or of great selflessness. That he thinks he can stop being what they made him, resisting the instincts they worked so hard to ingrain. You feel it, too. Turning off everything around you, picking apart the situation before it plays out. Footsteps, whispers, how many there are, where, how quickly they can get to you. A dance you know each step to, the two of you in sync. This time, no leader, no follower, but two soldiers taking orders. Without them, he thinks himself above who he used to be, who you used to be, what you were, but you know better.

You want nothing more than to slip back into old habits. That look, that stare, the wince he hides when they bring up his crimes, he wants the same. Step back, fall into old ways, let go until there is no one left to scorn you for what they put into your head.

Where they see Bucky, a man escaped, in remorse, righting his wrongs, you see The Winter Soldier, a friend, a weapon, an old accomplice. One of them, you respect, trusting with your life. The other, nothing more than a facade, a mask, a weakness, an act even he has tricked himself into believing.

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 2 (Nessian AU)

A/N: DO inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Abuse and Swearing

1957 words | Part 1 | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. He waited for the day he would forget the woman’s face. He waited for the day he could close his eyes without seeing her blue-grey eyes blazing in anger. He waited for the day he wouldn’t burn his bacon because he was thinking about her.

He had mused, how the face of a stranger was branded into his mind vividly. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered if they’ve known each other before or have seen each other somewhere, anywhere before the day in the mall—even if on photographs or at an event or at another shopping mall. Still, he desperately wanted to forget about her. He wanted to forget that she ever existed. He wanted to forget their encounter in the mall that day. He wanted to forget everything about her, even though deep down, he knew what he wanted was far from forgetting her.

But he couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t afford to think about her at all times. He was getting distracted at work. His part-time job as a martial-arts instructor and as a sommelier was in a precarious position if it went on like this. He nearly tore one of his student’s muscles in his centre and got at least 5 orders wrong at the restaurant he was working at.

On a Saturday noon, Cassian decided the best way to clear his head was to dive into a war book or reread Secrets Of The Sommeliers for probably the millionth time.

* * *

Nesta flinched at the sudden ping of the oven timer. Again. She’d been thinking about him again. This was the fourth time in the whole week when she burned her cheese sandwich and she was getting so tired of this. She urgently needed a way to stop thinking about him. To stop seeing his insufferable grin whenever she closed her eyes. To stop thinking about him at almost all times.

It struck her as odd, the fact they didn’t even know each other’s names but she kept seeing his face as if they’ve known each other before. She gasped. What if they had known each other before? What if they were probably neighbours from Nesta’s old house or classmates or maybe they went to the same college. Nesta shook her head.

But why should she care? No, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what his name is or if he even has a name. She doesn’t care if she’s had the misfortune of seeing him before or if that was the first she’s seeing him. Or so she kept telling herself. She couldn’t afford to have him occupy her thoughts. She had better things to do. But all these excuses weren't enough to stop her from still thinking about him.

Nesta looked at her clock. It was a Saturday, almost noon. Maybe reading a spicy book or two will help.

* * *

Cassian loved the House of Wind library and bookstore. They had a variety of books in almost any genre. He'll admit though, that some of the librarians here are better left alone. He was lucky he came here often and therefore knew a handful of the merrier librarians. He made a beeline for his favourite section, books related to wine, best books for sommeliers.

On his way to the shelves he had committed to memory, he realised that there was a big poster about their annual Free Premium Membership Fest where 20 fortunate, early birds would get their membership card updated to premium with a number of privileges. Cassian's whole being was elevated. He missed the last fest they held and had been waiting for the next fest. He wondered how he could forget such an important thing. Oh. Right. Of course. A certain lady was occupying his thoughts. He sighed. He forgot about that too.

He was quite disappointed when he reached the counter. The fest started yesterday and the computer stated that there was only one person left till 20. What truly disappointed him was that Clotho wasn't at the counter as she usually was. Maybe she'll be in the—

“If you're done staring at the computer maybe you could deign to move so it can really serve its purpose of being a public property?” Cass froze. He'd know that voice anywhere. This was the voice taunting him at all times. “And if you have coffee in your hands, I'd suggest you turn slowly.”

He smirked. So she knew who she was talking to.

“Well, looks like the damage would be lesser this time since your clothes aren't white,” he observed.

“I figured black would hide stains caused by ogling, clumsy people better than white,” she said. “Now, if you could move, I want to register for the Membership Fest.”

“Register? What do you mean by ‘I want to register for the Membership Fest’?”

“A register, you know,” she teased, “Something like a form where you fill your details if you want to join something?” She smirked at his glare.

“Well,” he said, “if there is a register let me fill it first.”

“Because your ego is bigger?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he dead-panned. “I came here first.”

“Here as in the counter or the library? Because I’m pretty sure I stepped into this library first.”

Cassian quickly checked the database where the information of all members appeared. He turned back to her with a self-satisfied smirk. “The database shows otherwise, sweetheart.”

She scowled. “I don’t believe you. You might’ve tampered with the information.”

He moved slightly to the side to give her a better view. Her scowled deepened.

She rounded on him. “You,” seethed. “You did—”

“Hello,” a new, shy voice said.

“Hey, Gwyn,” they both said in symphony.

A look of surprise crossed over her features before it faded away. When the woman turned to Gwyn, she wore a huge smile. “Oh, look, she smiles,” he muttered, earning him a glare.

“Is the fest still on?” Cassian asked.

Gwyneth Berdara, one of the joyful librarians here, said, “Unfortunately, not. We just got our 20th member.”

Cassian’s face fell. He noticed the same of the woman too. Gwyn, always the optimistic one, said cheerfully, “Maybe we could reserve one for the both of you next year?”

They both murmured their assent before Gwyn offered her farewell and went back to the staffroom.

The woman turned back to him. “This is all your fault,” she hissed and stalked out of the library, leaving Cassian more confused than ever.

* * *

Nesta went to the library to find solace or at least a semblance of it. Seeing the man there, however, left Nesta more rattled than she would care to admit. Rattled, and angry. Angry at the universe for giving them these unfortunate encounters. Angry at him for following her wherever she went. Angry at herself for feeling such futile emotions. Angry at her body for reacting to him.

She was also upset that she didn’t get a free premium member cr

Nesta was so occupied with her thoughts and emotions that she didn’t realise she was taking the wrong route. She wasn’t familiar with this part of Velaris. She also didn’t realise she was being followed. It was distinct, the sound of hushed breathing, of the soft thuds of footfalls. The footsteps sounded heavier which most probably meant it was a man. She couldn’t really be sure, though. This was a person who was not experienced in stalking but was trying hard enough.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t panic but couldn’t help the bout of fear that crashed through her. Nesta tried to stay calm. She tried to make sure she didn't quicken her pace. She tried, cauldron, she really did. But her fear was slowly overpowering her senses. She felt the urge to run away from her stalker.

But that wouldn’t be wise. Running away from her stalker isn’t a good choice. It wasn’t smart. Who’s to know he wasn’t armed? What if he was faster than her? What if her stalker was faster than her? He might be stronger too. He could over power her and cage her in. She didn’t even know what his motive was.

Then, Nesta made a ridiculously huge, dumb mistake. She turned to an abandoned alley. At least it looked abandoned. She let out a frustrated breath. Running away was at least better than getting stuck in an alley. So much for ‘that wouldn't be wise’. She looked around, trying to get a sense of where she was or if there were any means of escape, however meager it might be.

Suddenly, she was slammed to the alley wall. The rough cold stone was unforgiving and unyielding under her cheek. Her windpipe was closed off and she was struggling to get some air in. She fought to get free but her captor —a man, as she guessed— was too strong. Somehow, his hands felt familiar to her. As if she were long acquainted with this person’s touch.

“What do you want?” she gasped out.

He chuckled, the sound grating through her very bones.

“My little Nesta,” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting the shell of her ear. “Ever the stubborn one.”

That voice. It was one that she couldn’t forget as hard as she tried. Tomas Mandray, her ex-boyfriend, was someone not easily forgotten.

“Tomas,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to be nice. Not now, not after how he treated her. “What the fuck do you want? Let me go.”

“I see you haven’t changed at all.”

“I can say the same of you.”

“Mhm. You broke up with me and then you called the police. Got me stuck behind bars for two fucking months.”

“Good riddance,” she muttered.

He slammed her head against the wall. Hard. Blinding pain shot through her. He yanked her hair so hard she was afraid chunks of it came out. Her head only throbbed harder.

“Manners were never your cup of tea,” he hissed.

“You were not that kind either. You were an empowering, possessive bastard and I don’t regret watching you grovel to the police for freedom for one fucking moment and I won’t ever.”

He growled and slammed her head against the wall again. She cried out and was pretty sure she heard something crack. She felt the metallic tang of blood on her lips, streaming from her nose freely.

“Oh, you will. You’ll regret everything. Every. Single. Thing. For your whole god-damned life. I’ll make sure of it, bitch,” he promised.

He tightened his grip on her hair that sent another wave of agony through her. She caught the glint of something in the fading sunlight. A knife. Of course he had a knife.

He had a knife while she was a mess, kneeling on an alley, completely at the mercy of one of the people who hated her the most. Pathetic. So, so, pathetic. She hated herself for whimpering. She hated herself for being this weak. She hated that she had gotten panicked enough that she turned to an alley, where no one would know.

Here, in this unknown alley, with the person she hated the most, Nesta Archeron was going to die. She was going to die a death as unknown as the place she was in. Maybe even without her sisters knowing. Shit. Her sisters. If only she showed all her love to sweet Elain and brave Feyre, if only she even went to meet her brother-in-laws, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, maybe things would’ve been different. She closed her eyes, fighting the emotion in her throat. I’m sorry Elain, Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, I’m so, so sorry, was the last thing in her head before she felt acute pain and succumbed to the dragging talons of oblivion.

taglist:

@im-someone-i-guess @shadowsinger07 @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele

[dayseternal-blog]

Hi Days! I'm a huge fan of your work and your tumblr blog bc you give so many naruhina fanfic recs and talk about your stories, etc.

To sum it up, you're my favorite person lol, I'm a bit shy so I'm asking this as an anon, but I wanted to tell you something random just because I've always just thought about it and maybe you would agree or comment on it.

Have you ever listened to mitski? If you haven't I recomend you do bc she's amazing, but anyways I was listening to a song of hers called "washing machine heart" and it reminded me of naruhina, like the fic "together you and I" but different you know, like naruto only married hinata because he couldn't have sakura, she was his second option and every time he looked at her he wished and pretended it was Sakura, so Hina tries her hardest to look pretty and try to be the person he wants, always getting saddend by the idea that she isn't the one he wants, she knows his heart will only belong to Sakura. She let's him trample all over her heart and use her because she loves him unconditionally, maybe cry to her on some nights because he longs for Sakura's love that will never come.

I've read so many fanfics and I've never encountered one using this concept, I'd write it myself, but I'm not good at writing, maybe I'm reaching but it could inspire an angst story made by you or just a prompt or idea/concept for anyone to use. The hurt in this could be inmaculate and I bet a good writer could bring everyone to tears if they read a story like this. You don't have to do anything ofc I'll love you either way, I'm not meaning to push you to write a whole story with this concept by any means or to even post this ask, it's just something I made up/ related to this certain song, so I wanted you to see it, perhaps share your opinion or thoughts on it or just think about it. I love pain a lot hahaha bc I'm not a narusaku shipper in any way, I actually dislike the ship a lot.

Thank you for reading this and pls keep up the awesome work!! I'll always be a fan and support you and your spectacular writing❤️❤️

GAH What an awful fic idea you have 💔

“The Ring that Binds” by softwind - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete.  Naruto and Hinata are married.  So why is Naruto calling “Sakura” in his sleep?

“Girl No 10″ by meeiwen - Rated M, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto makes a mistake with a dancer one drunk night.  Years later when he meets her again, he begins realizing his perfect life is a lie, but he’s too late to fix it.

And

“Territorial” by @bunny-hoodlum - Rated M, High school AU, Multi-chapter, Complete.  When Hinata takes advantage of Naruto’s desperation for love, they’re both a little too much for the other to handle.

Are similar to what you have there.

HERE’S MY VERY QUICK AND INCOMPLETE STAB AT YOUR PROMPT IT’S UNEDITED UNREVISED CANON-DIVERGENT AU RATED T FOR LANGUAGE BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE WHAT I COULD COME UP WITH 😘  THEY ARE NOT MARRIED BECAUSE I WOULD BE TOO SAD

...

Naruto finally makes it to the Hokage’s office, having had trouble shaking off fangirls on his way.  He can immediately tell he’s the last one there, even though it’s the eve of the Rinnegan Festival.  Tense expressions greet him, the atmosphere somber.

Sakura whips her attention back to the desk before them.  “Rokudaime, with all due respect, I don’t think Naruto belongs on this mission.”

Her behavior has confused him all night.  First moving away from him so that Hinata would sit between them at Ichiraku when Hinata could have just sat on the other side of him.  Then pushing him to follow Hinata back home.  He said aloud that he’d be seeing her later, and that he wanted to catch up with everyone first, but Sakura just glared at him...

She’s been pushing him away, more and more every day, breaking his heart to smaller and smaller pieces...whether knowingly or not, he’s not sure about that, but she’s never rejected him from being her teammate on a mission.

Worried, he meets Kakashi’s gaze.

“I understand your concern, Sakura.”  His tone is heavy.  His usual careless attitude nowhere in sight.  “Call it just my gut-feeling...you’re going to need Naruto’s strength for this mission.”

-

Hanabi was kidnapped.

Hiashi and Hinata are nowhere to be found.

“What do you mean...?” Naruto finds himself asking.  “I just saw her.  We just saw her.  Not even an hour ago.”

“When Sai reported Hanabi’s kidnapping, believe me, Naruto, we moved to notify her family immediately.  Anbu can’t find them.”

“What?”  The last memory he has of Hinata abruptly leaving dinner and running off without hardly a word nags at him, inexplicably tightening his chest.  “She’s fine.  Hinata’s strong.  She can take on anybody.  No one would dare-”

“Naruto,” Sakura interrupts, her gaze cutting sharp.  “She’s nowhere to be found.  And as much as you believe that, no one is invincible.  Not even Hinata.  We need to form a plan, otherwise we’re losing precious time.”

“No one is invincible.  Not even Hinata.”

An emptying numbness invades his insides, discomforting slickness muting him.

This isn’t his fault, is it?

-

What if she needed to tell him something?

She was acting strange at Ichiraku.

Quiet, unusual for her as of recent...

But how was he supposed to notice?  Should he have followed after her, like Sakura said?  But they were supposed to meet at his apartment later on anyway, so why did she have to come out early like that and ruin the good time he was having?  She knows how he hasn’t given up on Sakura.

She knows everything about him.  She’s been his rock after Sakura tried to shut him down for good.  So how can it be that she’d just disappear?  There’s no way.

There’s just no way that she disappeared right after she left...

-

Hours.

Hours of wandering around in abandoned, desolate, war-stricken villages in god-knows-where, and nothing.  No one.

He’s asking for the hundredth time, but he doesn’t care, he’s past the point of desperation, and anxiety-laced tension fills the air.  “Taku, you really don’t see anything?!”  The Hyuuga they have on their team led them into this godforsaken wasteland.

Taku turns on him aggressively, getting in his face in reaction, and yells, “What about you??  You think I’m not trying my best?!  This is my family!  Just because you’re Hinata’s boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re any more worried than the rest of us!  You don’t sense her??”

No.  He doesn’t.

His Sage Mode has never been so useless.  In fact, he senses no one besides them in this place, and it’s with terrible unease that he begins to entertain the thought that she’s gone for good.

“There’s no one even here besides us!  Nothing!  Why’d you take us down here?  Where are we even?!  How do we get out of here in the first place?!” he argues back.

“Sakura-san was right!  You don’t belong on this mission!  I don’t know what Hinata-sama could ever see in you, I haven’t seen her smile in months!”

“What do you mean by that?!  She smiles all the time!  I’ve never seen her act so cheerful in my life!”

“So you fucking know it, too!”  Taku glares at him with an incredulous expression.  “That she’s just acting!”

“What the hell do you mean by that-”

And he doesn’t know what happened next, but Sai’s grabbing onto Taku and he himself is locked in Shikamaru’s shadow manipulation.  Chakra’s sparking off his own hands, while blue embers warp along Taku’s.

“Calm down,” Shikamaru orders both of them.  “We’re not getting anywhere if the two of you keep fighting.”  He waits for Taku to loosen his stance.

Sai lets go of him.

Taku throws an insulting glare around before sauntering off.

Shikamaru sighs.  Hard.  “Go cool your head, Naruto.”  He retracts his shadow, and Naruto wastes no time walking off in the opposite direction, far from wherever Taku is heading.

Yet Taku’s ridiculous words ring in his head.  “That she’s just acting.”

But she said that she’s happy to be with him.  That she doesn’t mind that he’s still in love with Sakura.  She said that she’s just happy to be with him.

She said that.  She did.  And she wouldn’t lie to him, right?

She was just acting?

“You’re not going to finish your ramen?” he asked her on their date last month.

“No...”  Suddenly, she smiled brightly, something she’s been doing more often ever since he mentioned that he’s always liked how genki Sakura is.  “Do you want the rest of mine?  I’m dieting.”

He scrunched his eyebrows at her.  “Dieting?  Why?”

“Well...”  She looked thoughtful for a moment before seeming to come to a decision.  “Naruto-kun, you like thin girls, right?”

He knew she was talking about Sakura.  “...I guess...”

“I want to make you happy,...” she started.  She bit her lips for a hesitating moment before continuing, “so I’ve been trying to lose a little weight.”

“Oh.”  He didn’t know what to make of that.  Unbidden, he looked her over. 

“Can you tell?” she asked, her characteristic shyness lowered her lashes, yet she didn’t fidget under his examination, and he could tell how she was trying her best to have that confident persona he admires in his former teammate.

Despite her recent changes in attitude, Hinata’s still been so physically small compared to himself and everyone else.  Under her jacket, he couldn’t tell if she looked skinnier or not, and even if she was, he doesn’t think she really needed to be skinnier.

But then she looked up at him with that heavy, hopeful weight in her gaze, and he couldn’t let her down.  Not when she’s trying so hard for his approval.

He fibbed easily.  “Yeah.  You look really good.”

She shined another smile at him that made him feel good.  Even if their relationship wasn’t traditional, he could at least still make her happy.  He could at least tell her some sweet words and see her sweet smile and-

She was lying.

She wasn’t happy?

He never made her happy?

Then what was the point of any of it?

No, she must have been happy, right?!  She said so!  She told him so!  Many, many times!

After all, he asked her.  All of those times he thought she was faking her smile, he asked just to make sure, and she vehemently told him that she was really happy to be with him.

She said he could talk to her about all of it.  That she could take on his heartbreak because her feelings were so much bigger than...

“Uzumaki Naruto.”

The unfamiliar voice has him leaping to his feet.

A man as pale as a ghost with piercingly icy eyes is floating down to him on some strange platform.  “You’re really as pitiful as I expected.”

“Who the hell are you?!”  He readies his stance.  He’s not in any mood for games, and he’s ready to let loose some of his stress on this very suspicious character.

“Hinata’s fiance.”

“Hinata?!”  Fire races through his veins, heating his feet, and he’s ready to leap at this guy.  “Where is she?!”

“With me.”

His heart rate exponentially explodes, beating into his ears, his skin practically bristling.  “Let her go,” he demands, and the threat of his words leaks from every pore of his being.  “Now.”

The man almost snorts.  “What makes you think she wants to see you?  You only ever used her, broke her...”  His collected expression hardens, and Naruto can sense that he has no intention of releasing her.  “I’ll make her happier than you ever could.”

Several thoughts fly too quickly through his mind to properly process any of it, leaving only residual uncertainty and that deepening sense of his culpability in her sudden disappearance.  But he doesn’t linger on the unpleasant sensations.  “What the fuck do you know?!”  And he’s charging at him, a Rasengan heavy in his hand.

The enemy is far more powerful than he appeared, immediately blowing him back with some kind of focused chakra.  “Weak, pathetic.”

“GIVE HER BACK!”  He replicates himself a dozen times, each of them throwing Rasenshurikens at the man.

Yet more of that strange yellow chakra protects him.  He’s unscathed even under his shadow clone onslaught.  “No.  I gave her a choice, and she came with me.  I’m just here to get rid of you, take revenge against you for her sake.”

He hardly comprehends the nonsense spewing out of the enemy’s mouth, and he rallies his clones into close combat, but the man manages to avoid many of the attacks while landing hits of his own.

Clones poofing away only to be replaced by more, frustration and fury starting to blind him into sloppier and sloppier moves.

“I love Hinata.  That’s why I deserve her.”

He chokes on his own breath, and in his momentary loss of concentration,...

He’s falling.

------------------------*

aaannnnd that’s as far as I want to go with that.  Imagine the rest of the team arriving in time to notice Toneri making his escape toward the sky, and I guess the rest of the story would sort of follow the rest of The Last...Naruto self-reflects a lot in a bundle of depression for a long time and yeah.

...ahhh...  I encourage you to write the fic you want to see in the world ❤️

[sheresh0y]

Mar'eyce Introduces:

Ro Donetta-Awaud: He/Him, 30-ish

Along with his family:

Dagon Donetta-Awaud: He/Him, 28-ish

Tann Donetta-Awaud: 11-ish

Kato Donetta-Awaud: 5-ish

Ellis Donetta-Awaud: 5-ish

A/N: I decided to go balls to the wall with the rest of these characters. So much backstory. All of it. I'm dumping it right here. Drabbles will added, moodboards whenever the fancy strikes. The rest of Arumorut has had their stories told at this point in the story so, fuck it, whatever. I love these OCs too much and I'm screaming it from rooftops, baby. I know suck at writing children and these Awaud children are definitely come across as way too old but go with me on this. I also left the children's pronouns empty because I'm not entirely sure what they're all trying to tell me yet. I'll update it when they let me know.

Warnings: This fic and AU is 18+ for a reason. Mentions of parental death, swearing, slavery and unwanted children mentions. Ro's a little sad boy under all that armor.

Read from the beginning: Mar'eyce Masterlist

Ro Doneeta was born to Volya and Rol Doneeta, Twi'lek freedom fighters turned Rebels. When Ro had turned four, his parents went a on a routine trip for supplies and never came home. He was adopted shortly after by Kai and Ilyah, a quickly and quietly whispered pact made by the only two parents in their corner of The Rebellion after one too many close calls.

"Take care of them, for us. Please."

The Awauds openly encouraged Ro to participate in Twi'lek culture. Just because he was a Mandalorian now didn't mean he stopped being a Twi'lek as well. The entire clan learned Ryl and Kai and Ilyah found mentors for him to teach him the things they couldn't. They were never sure if they did right by their son, but they tried their best.

After the Awauds retired from the war and were sent back to Arumorut, when Ro and Kaiyah were sixteen, Ro threw himself into the deep end of medicine. It wasn’t humble in the way that Ba’buir was, he didn’t want to train the clan in first aid or help children with their sniffles. Ro had lost so much to the galaxy and this was his fuck you.

First, his ryma and kora, then his lek, now his buir. Kai’buir was physically there, but mentally, emotionally they were nowhere to be found. It was like he had died without dying. Ro decided he was going to fix it all, no one in his family was dying again. Nobody was getting left behind. For everything the galaxy took from Ro, he was going to drag back to this life with his bare hands.

After a few months of shadowing Ba'buir Nejaa, Ro was decided to pursue medical school on Naboo. It was a relatively peaceful planet, since tourism was most of the economy they were malleable to whoever was in charge. This meant that Ro couldn't just walk around anywhere. The Empire was still standing and he was a Mandalorian who may or may not be wanted.

Ba'buir Nejaa said no immediately. Their reasoning was the armor. Armor was important, every Mandalorian wore it all the time. The only reason Nejaa didn't anymore was because Kaiyah needed a new set and they had gifted their set to her. Ro didn't have this exception so he tried a compromise: he would wear the chest plate under his clothes. The plate was the biggest piece of armor he had and helped the most with regulating his temperature anyway. It wasn't comfortable but it was the best he could come up with.

About four years into his medical education, Ro met Dagon through some mutual friends. It was terror at first sight, the poor Zabrak man was missing nearly all of his right ear and Ro knew it was his fault. His stupid plan to fight an Aryx head-on had consequences he didn't full think of at the time.

Try as he might to avoid Dagon, it didn't matter. It was like the up and coming designer was everywhere, Dagon seemed to have his own gravity and Ro was quickly pulled in.

It didn't take long for them to fall in love, by the third official date Dagon was asking Ro to move in and by the fifth they were married. For his part, Dagon took everything Mandalorian related in stride. He barely blinked when Ro explained soulmates and the reasons they were both all scarred up on the first date. He just asked if 'his Mandalorian' had anyone to take care of him.

When Ro graduated school, not quiet a doctor but close enough, the couple had a long talk about the future. They both knew they wanted kids but The Empire was still looming. It wasn't safe for Mandalorians to be openly walking around and they were both faced with the thought it might never be. Dagon understood that his children would be raised Mandalorian. It was close to the way Zabraki culture was. Clans, fighting, it made sense for the most part. Even though he had parted he had parted ways with his family, Dagon knew Ro couldn't do that.

He had been officially introduced to most of the Awaud clan when Ro had graduated, Dagon threw a little get together in honor of his riduur and the only people on Ro's must invite list was his family. They had a bond that went closer than blood and Dagon knew his clan of two needed to do.

He moved the clan of two back to Arumorut, using the ship that Nejaa and Kaiyah brought to move the stuff that Dagon couldn't or wouldn't sell, Ro never seemed to hold on to much.

Ro was furious, initially. Dagon had plans, big plans, to be a designer and he was right at the cusp of finally getting his own line. Moving back to Arumorut would be a step back for his career or end it entirely. In Ro's mind, he could at least play security while Dagon chased his dreams and then they could settle down wherever. It didn't matter to Ro as long as he got to see his family regularly, somewhere Mid or Outer Rim, he didn't want to be too far in case of an emergency.

The move ended up being the best thing to happen to them, not a month after settling in Kaiyah brought home a little Twi'lek girl. She couldn't have been older than five, but with her malnutrition it was hard to guess and she didn't know. She didn't even have a name and barely spoke Huttese.

They named her Tann, for hope.

A year later, while debating on putting their names with an adoption agency now that The New Republic existed and Ro could get his record expunged since his Rebel activities were no longer deemed as 'treason' or 'terrorism', the twins fell in their laps. A woman had shoved the babies on Jax, who was working on a bounty at the time, she said she couldn't take care of them and knew that the Mandalorians could. Jax didn't have a soulmate at the time and knew that the Donetta-Awauds were thinking about adopting again, so he asked if they would like to add the Zabraki twins to their family. The boys couldn't have been more than a few months old, their skin was more pink than the vibrant red it now was.

Kato, for Dagon's father. Even if they didn't talk he still liked the name.

Ellis, for Ro's buir. It was her clan name before she joined Kai.

Ro knew he made the right choice when Kai-buir cried. It sounded terrible at the time, like he enjoyed making his father cry, but it was such a relief to find out that he could. That Kai wasn't entirely gone, just not always there.

Ro still asks Dagon if he regretted it. Losing his fashion line, being a boring tailor to people who didn't really need a tailor. On those days Dagon holds Ro closer, his chin resting on his Mandalorian's head, "Never. Not once. I've never been happier than when I'm with you. 'Boring tailor' and all. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyare."

^ Ro in his full armor. Isn't he a handsome boy?

Translations & Other Headcanons:

Ryma: Ryl, mother

Kora: Ryl, father

Buir: Mando'a, parent

Kai-buir: Mando'a, masc parents typically go by the first three letters of their name followed by 'buir'. The Donetta-Awaud children don't really follow this rule since they have one Buir and one Edalinare (Zabraki, family).

Ba'buir: Mando'a, grandparent

I headcannon Ro as a doctor who did all the bookwork, but never the internships which I believe is eight-ish years of school? Correct me if I'm wrong I just wanted to keep the timeline in some kind of order for myself (leaving Arumorut at sixteen + eight years of school leaves Ro somewhere near 24 when they have Tann, 25 for the twins). I also know that half the stuff Ro does in Arumorut a unlicensed doctor could never do in real life, but in his mind it got him close enough to what he wanted to do, hence the joke about 'not a doctor but close enough'. He was pretty over med school, honestly. Besides, he learned the good stuff from Nejaa (who is nowhere near doctor status, think closer to field medic/EMT who has Seen Some Shit).

Riduur: Mando'a, spouse

Tann: Ryl, hope

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyare: Mando'a, I know you forever, beloved.

In my brain, Dagon is like 6'4", 6'5"-ish and Ro is a short king comparatively coming in at a hot 5'8", 5'9" (he swears up and down he's a solid 5'10". He's not.) Ro is almost always little spoon and doesn't mind it one bit.

I feel like I need to add a disclaimer: did I accidentally create Numa and her uncle with Tann and Ro? Yes, yes I did. Do I really care at this point? No, because it makes moodboards easy. Numa and her family belong to Disney and Lucasfilms, I did not create them and I don't want anyone to think I did. That arc plus the fact she shows up in Rebels makes me cry.

[londonfog-chan]

Abbacchi x Reader: Sudoh Buck AU

The coffee shop Abbacchio THIRST everyone keeps losing their collective shit over on AO3 and admittedly the chapter where I decided I was one thirsty ass bitch. All characters aged up.

...

"Ok, fucking Darth Vader over here, whoever has their headset on turn it the fuck off! Sounds like you're doing something gross!"

Darth Vader is an understatement. Whenever someone leaves their headset on and does any task, your ears are assaulted with what sounds like some mouth breather huffing directly into your ear canal.

Not even two shifts into Passione and you're already showing your coworkers that you have the capacity to look innocent, but have the mouth of a sailor. In a fitting turn of events you've been put on customer support, free to fuck off wherever you wish and cuss all you want on the headset. No one at your store appreciates your humor, in fact any time you make a joke they conveniently pretend they don't hear you or they grimace until the situation becomes awkward and you have to shut your mouth before you make an even bigger ass of yourself. Here at this location, the boys eat it up with a spoon. They can't get enough of your jokes, encouraging you whenever they force a headset on your head the minute you clock in. Even the new girl Trish, a pretty thing with dyed pink hair and a smile that goes for miles, joins in on the never ending train of dirty jokes, profanities, and general riff raff that makes Bruno bitch at everyone involved like a single mother.

But at the moment, the breathing most certainly does not belong to Bruno. Usually he's the one who always casually reminds people when they leave their headsets on.

"Mista!" you growl, "Turn it off or breathe less!"

"It's not me." he insists, the beep of the warming oven being cut off as he mutes himself.

"Narancia, I love you but I don't need to hear what it's like for you to get laid!"

"Negative babe~... I'm on drive bar." Narancia replies.

"Trish?"

"Not me hunty." she answers, and the sound of the wind in her headset confirms this.

"Fugo, I swear to fuck-..."

"It's me. Fugo doesn't have a headset."

Immediately you press on the sprayer head a little too hard and the back splash soaks the entire front of your apron and your uniform shirt. The voice you're greeted with on the headset is totally foreign, and unmistakably sexy. A low hum, almost like Bruno's baritone, and much like the rest of the crew you've come to love it's colored with the slightest hue of an accent that makes your knees start to knock together. Admittedly you're bad with voices and just as worse with names. You can't put a face to this voice no matter how hard you try, and it's no wonder considering that out of all the stores in the district, Passione has more employees than any of them, including H. Green and S. Platinum locations which are always overstaffed because of the sheer amount of business compared to the meager crowds you get at Ogre Street.

But... With that voice... if you were a customer you'd fucking live at that drive thru just to hear him read back your order to you.

"Woah..." you're nearly moaning the words "I'm wet in more ways than one, who the fuck is this?"

"It's Leone." he replies, voice low and sultry, "Sorry about that, I was eating a bagel."

Leone... who the fuck is Leone? Surely he has to be one of the other baristas whose names you never bothered to learn... doesn't really matter to you when you have constant attention of the store's man candy. But suddenly this is a whole new person with the sexiest voice you've ever heard giving you attention like everyone else. For very obvious reasons, this piques your interest.

"I don't recognize your voice." you said, putting down the whisk you were rinsing. "What's your last name?"

"Abbacchio." he responds. "We haven't met face to face yet, but I've seen you before. You're the beanie from Ogre Street right? It's nice to finally talk to you. I think you're really pretty."

... Oh sweet baby Jesus why aren't you taking the wheel yet!?

"Aww, and aren't you just a sweetheart?" you murmur, leaning over the sink as your voice drops to a near whisper. "Wait... Aren't you the one with the pretty handwriting in the book?"

His chuckle makes you honest to god swoon, and even Bruno peeks his head in to check on you when you make that kind of a noise.

"Yes, that's me." he confirms. "And you're the one with the great customer service. I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you, but I've been listening for a while. I really like your attitude. You're much more fun than your coworkers."

“Really?" you ask, taking up more dirty dishes, "Big shocker there, I'm surprised no one at this store is drooling over Ogre Street's heartthrob one miss Kimmy."

"Meh. I think the consensus is that you're the favorite barista out of everyone from your store if we're being honest."

That's Narancia, and even Abbacchio agrees with the rest of the crew. They all start complimenting you, how you never ask stupid questions, you try to help out any way you can. They honestly can't go two minutes without berating the other coworkers. It's all things you'd normally do to try and be helpful, but you're not sure exactly why it's so endearing to all of them. You're just another barista? It's never mattered to anyone this much before. Especially when you always come home in tears at your other location. It must be that you're not used to receiving compliments in such abundance.

"Agreed." reaffirms Abbacchio. "You're really agreeable, and I like your jokes. Your laugh is really sexy."

"Well aren't you a flatterer." you smile, putting the dishes to soak in the sani solution before throwing them for another go in the dish washer. "But I like having my ego stroked. Tell me more about how I'm wonderful, Abbacchio."

You can tell he's about to reply, until you hear the mournful "ding" from the drive thru sensors indicate that someone wants to order. You hear him tell you "hold that thought" before he turns his charms the customer.

"Hello there..." he purrs into the headset, "Welcome to Sudoh Buck, what can I get started for you today?"

The customer murmurs an "oh wow" before she remembers why she came here in the first place.

"Um yes hi can I please get a..."

It doesn't take much for you to zone out and return to your task. As soon as you finish up this set of dishes, you'll be able to take your last ten before you go home for the day. Customer Support is one of those coveted positions because you have little to no interactions with customers at a busy store. Bruno sets you to work with a task list, you work to the limit on the timer on your apron. Whenever it goes off, you have to drop what you're doing and come back to front to brew coffee. If anyone needs anything, like if Mista runs out of warming bags or Narancia needs more cups or milk, all they have to do is press the button on the headset and set you forth to do their bidding. Admittedly, you don't find yourself going straight home anymore. Even your brother, stoic and nonchalant, makes comments about it whenever you come home an hour or two later than the time you're supposed to. Mom, well, she's a worrier, and thinks you're getting up to no good shenanigans. But let's be real, when you live in the house you live in any trysts with potential suitors goes out the window. Your brother is in college and his schedule is unpredictable, and your mom is a homemaker.

The minute Abbacchio tells the flustered woman to pull up to the window, he returns to shower you with compliments over the headset, calling you the prettiest thing he's ever seen to put on an apron, how cute your angry face looks when you're totally focused on bar, even busting out some cutesy nicknames that make you squirm as you try to finish up your dishes. Strangely enough, everyone else is silent on the headset, letting you and Abbacchio get acquainted with one another to your heart's content, the lull in the conversation only happening when a customer pulls up. Eventually, like all good things, the compliments come to an end and the conversation turns to other topics.

"So you said you live with your mom?" Abbacchio asks after taking an order of five different fraps. You can hear Narancia cussing softly as he has to make each individual drink.

"Yeah, my mom and my big brother." you affirm. "It's the most I can afford in this town. Everything's so goddamn expensive, I couldn't even afford to make the first and last month's rent on the cheapest place in town, and my brother can't move in with me yet since he's doing school full time. But enough about me, what about you?"

"Mm? What about me?" he asks, flirt evident in his voice.

"Which country do I have to thank for that blessed ass accent you have?"

"That's Italy." he laughs. "I've been with the company for over six years, I started out at the reserve roastery in Milan and came here when Buccellati offered me a job. I came on a work visa, and now you can't get rid of me. I'm one of your shift supervisors."

"Well, temp supervisor anyway." you respond rather sadly. "It's too bad this store hadn't been opened before I got hired. Otherwise I would have loved to start here."

"I still think you should transfer." interjects Trish. "No one likes Ogre Street anyways."

"I... I'd have to think about it."

"What's there to think about anyway?" Abbacchio asks, and you stop scrubbing the chocolate pump for a minute. "If you transfer here, I'd get to talk to you every single day. Tips are shit but you can move up if you'd like."

"And the best part is if you transfer here, we can see your huge ass every time you bend over." Mista chimes in.

"MISTA! WE ARE AT WORK!" Bruno sounds exasperated over the headset.

"Oh yeah, my bad boss. I mean to say we can see your venti ass every time you bend over."

Everyone loses their shit for a minute to laugh as Bruno begins to berate the very bad and naughty warming man off headset. Before he mutes, you can hear him threaten disciplinary action, and you can't stop howling in the back. Nearly falling over just thinking about it.

"So how about it cuteness?" Abbacchio asks, and his voice is so warm and inviting you can't help but smile. "Think it's worth us stealing you away to stay here?"

"Yeah... I dunno. Like I said, I'd have to think about it. Besides, I think working here would just give my mommy an excuse to show up more often..."

A shrill sound assaults your ears, the timer, and you sigh.

"Now the age old question..." you wonder aloud, "What the fuck did I brew last?"

"I know we've been selling a lot of medium and dark." Abbacchio replies. "And it's already ten thirty, just cut the blonde and do full batches. Narancia can do pour overs."

"Ah yes," you can hear the mischief in Narancia's voice. "My special americano pour overs."

"You know Narancia, one of these days corporate is gonna walk in and see all the shit you do and your ass is going to get canned." you respond, laughing as you wash your hands in the employee sink before going back out to front.

"Fuck it." he laughs. "It won't bother me none, Buccellati can take care of me with all that Mama Daddy money he's got."

"Oh hey, cara mia, when you come up to front, come to drive. I've got something for you."

That was Abbacchio, and for a hot minute you're almost nervous, like a first date, at the prospect of seeing him face to face.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"Well," you hear the rustle of the bag, "It's cat shaped, and really cute, like a certain barista I know..."

"OOOOOOOOH DADDY!" you squeal. "You've just made me the happiest girl on earth!"

He's found your weakness. The quickest way for any man to get to your heart is to dangle some motherfucking food in your face, no lie. Even your brother has commented on more than one occasion that if anyone wanted to take you all they had to do was dangle a fucking cupcake in your face and you were toast. And it doesn't help that you called your mom squealing about the cute little kitty shaped cake pops they had out for the season.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Come and get this and we can meet in person."

Ever the one to be lured in with the prospect of free food, you run your ass to the front, nearly bowling over Mista as you skid to a halt at the nook where the drive thru window is located. To your ever lasting shock, you come face to face with the last person you'd ever expect to be flirting with you so boldly.

"Holy shit..." you breathe. "Abbacchio?"

It's the dude who gang faced you the first day you came in, and ironically the one who got fed up with your friend's bar time. Silver hair pulled into a pony tail, glistening purple lips, snatched makeup that's too perfect for a barista... All put together in a black apron. His glare never leaves his face, but maybe... Just maybe, he's like your brother and just has a very bad case of resting bitch face. Because you get a little hopeful when he sees you and his lipstick mouth smiles, beckoning you over with a warming bag in his hand. When Abbacchio reaches in, he pulls out the very treat you've been craving all day since you've seen it. This is the best part of the job. Sometimes some customers forget they get food and never come back, and it just sits there for hours until someone has to throw it away, or they'll change their mind last minute about the food, or worse yet someone on warming (Mista) will fuck up an order and get the wrong sandwich. If it's a sandwich, nine times out of ten you have to toss it, but if it's a sweet treat it's usually fair game for anyone to enjoy since it will just go in the trash. You love to have the mistake foods, sometimes you'll take them to your brother at the college, or more often than not you'll take them home to share with your mother. She loves sweets, and working for a coffee chain she normally can't afford to frequent is such a rare treat that you love to spoil her.

"Oh my god!" you coo, "Is that a kitty cat cake poop just for me??"

"Just for you." he chuckles. "Why do you call it that anyway?"

"I dunno. For some reason the feral part of my brain activates whenever I see words and I just like to play around with them and mutter weird things to myself. I tried telling it to my SM at Ogre Street and he told me I better not call it that, otherwise I might slip and call it a cock pop or something."

He can't help the smile that spreads over his face, and he suddenly gets a very naughty glint in his eye as he twirls the cake pop in your direction.

"So?" he asks. "You made such a big to do about being friendly on the headset. Be a good girl and take a bite of the treat I worked so hard to get for you. Come on, take a big nom nom out of this cock pop~."

You hope and pray that by some stroke of bad luck that no one you know outside of work just heard that. Not one to be shown up when it comes to flirting, you don't miss a beat as you step forward. With a look in your face that would make your mother faint if she knew how filthy you were being, you waste no time in licking a stripe slowly up the cake pop before taking a fat ass bite out of the head. Abbacchio's grin could split his entire face in half, and even more so when you use your teeth to pull the pop stick out of his hand.

"Hey... hunty, question?" it's Trish interrupting the positively predatory stares you and Abbacchio are giving each other. She's been listening in this whole time.

"Yes Trisha my love?" you respond, not taking your eyes off Abbacchio.

"Just one question... Can you eat pussy like that?"

A cacophony of screams and your screech of "NASTY WOMAN" makes Trish lose her shit outside, and Bruno swears up and down from the back office that he's going to write up the next person who says something filthy over headset during his shifts.