#art fight team spice

[artfight]

Round Two begins! Vote for your favorite team between the two! Winner moves into semifinals...

[toonagi]

happy artfight the site has fucking died again as per artfight tradition <3

when things start working again you can find me here! --> https://artfight.net/~Toonagi

yknow if you. if you want to murder maim kill me. wink wink

[coffee-mouse]

I’m on Team Stardust this year!

[stageturn]

art fight attack on @yearningsailor >:)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hadthatdreamagain]

art fight theme sona skins <33

which ones ur fav???

[squishy-lombax]

Here's another set of Art Fight boarders! Here we have Team Sugar vs. Team Spice! I was on Team Sugar that year because I have a huge sweet tooth, even when it's refreshing and fruity like seen here. I'm really happy with the how the Team Sugar boarder turned out, but I admit, I did struggle with the Team Spice boarder. I was unsure what drink was being featured in the official images from Art Fight, so I literally just Googled "spice drinks" and went with this fun styled glass I saw on multiple images.

These boarders are free to use if you participated in @artfight during the year 2020!

[onyxgalaria-art]

slowing down on attacks

tags bc funny: @conscharacterscentralised, @0046incognito and @fakinhage

[green-with-envy-phandom-event]

Welcome to our third consecutive year of Green With Envy!

Open for first timers and the obsessed, we welcome all skill levels to this art based event. Just like before, the event comes in two parts with a few minor changes to spice up this year's competition.

Anyone Can Enter a Line Art!

Love to line but hate to color? This side is for you! Part one is the slow build up, where artists create this year's line art. Over the course of two months a form will be open and waiting for anyone to drop a Danny Phantom themed line art in. Crossovers welcome! Unlike our previous years, we will be keeping all the 2025 line art a secret until the drop date! 

Color To Compete!

During Part Two of the event, things rev up and turn competitive. If you sign up for this half, you better be ready to color! When the line arts drop, the fighting begins. For those who want nothing more than to go crazy over a brand new, Danny Phantom themed coloring book, this part is for you. The goal is to color as many of the line arts from the first half of the event as physically possible with the rest of your small team. Unlike other DP events, GWE will have 10 whole coloring teams, so expect to get cozy with your new mates while you strategize! 

And when we say strategize, we mean it. >:3 Green With Envy is unique in that the points you earn can be snatched away! How many your team gets depends on when you complete a coloring, how you complete a coloring, and to whom the line art was assigned. (Don't worry, you can color any line art, including unassigned ones!) Trickery is just as important as the speed and skill of your artistry here! Drop the ball and your points just may be Poached right from under your pencil tips!

~~~~

GUYS, THE 2024 ZINE IS DOOOOONE!

@englandamericaitaly NEARLY DIED MAKING IT BUT IT WAS SO WORTH IT! Check out the 358 page masterpiece here!

Welcome back to the gremlin enclosure! Thanks everyone in the Phandom for showing the event so much love!

Big shout out to @ecto-stone for letting us use their kick-butt line art from last year's event to make this year's banner! And to @furiarossa, @ovytia-art, @ecto-stone, @breakfastatmiles, @jamiethebeeart, @half-deadmagicperson, @ectoblastfromthepast and @cakeractuallyarts for coloring it!

This year's Links, Info and Important Dates below!

The official hashtag for the event this year is #greenwithenvy2025

In-depth Rules can be found here!

Tutorial can be found here

FAQ can be found here

The discord server for this event is here

~~~~

Line Art and All Sign-ups Due: Friday, February 28th (02/28/25) 11:59 pm, Pacific Time Zone

Coloring Starts: Friday, March 7th (03/07/25) 8:00 pm Pacific Time Zone

Coloring Due: Sunday, April 6th. (04/06/25) 11:59 pm Pacific Time Zone

Sign-ups for line artists are here

Sign-ups for colorists are here

Line artist submissions go here 

Colorist submission form can be found in the Discord.

P.S. Remember when looking at the dates to account for your daylight saving's time. What day it happens on depends on where you are in the world!

~~~~

Looking for links to last year's stuff?

2024 Free-To-Color Line Art

2024 Masterpost

[static-sulker]

I might maybe possibly be thinking of a modern fantasy apartment AU with the main crew. All of them being stupid ass magical roommates without tadpoles...Just letting them be happy.

Also my Tav is in there because...yeah. His name is Silk and he is such a silly guy ridden with the 'tism. Drow Warlock who sees the good in everything... Such a...A yeah...

Little notes i've been conjuring about this...

Gale and Wyll made a chore chart in the kitchen, with little magnets for each person. Astarion regularly will switch his magnet in the middle of the night just so he doesn't have to do the fucking dishes and EVERYBODY knows besides Gale and Wyll. Wyll is on the fence about it, but Gale wholeheartedly believes when Astarion lies through his teeth about never having done it.

Karlach and Halsin go on grocery runs in the mornings. Karlach goes for the running part, while Halsin comes along for the run as well as to stop Karlach from buying the most horrendous shit. The one time she went alone very early in the houses lifespan, Karlach bought like 3 bags of go-gurt, about 50 dollars worth of cheap booze, and a big piece of raw steak to cook. She burnt said steak. But she's trying now, at least.

The team will take turns every now and then to get Astarion blood from themselves as it gives Astarion a lot more energy then normal settling blood. BUT they do have "blood bags" that they set up in the kitchen fridge whenever they know nobody with the right blood is gonna be available to give him blood if he needs it. They TOTALLY get it by legal means and it TOTALLY doesn't melt Astarions heart that they try so hard to help him.

Silk finds a stray dog in the alleys of their building one day when they went out to work (they do freelance art with their magic for like startups, it's fun). After casting "speak with animals" they find out this dog, Scratch, is waiting for his owner to return. His owner was killed out by some gnoll gang downtown. When they come back from work later in the evening, they find Scratch again, still waiting. Long story short, Silk adopts scratch in their very strict "no pets" rule of an apartment. And don't get me STARTED on the owlbear cub. Lae'zel and Halsin were out, originally to get some spare lightbulbs and tools for the apartment and find the little critter getting chase by some goblins in some backalley parking lot. Lae'zel plans to ignore the thing, but Halsin assists the cub. Once done, they plan to leave, before the cub begins to follow them home. Halsin names the cub "Vauva" and Lae'zel soon becomes SO attached.

They have presentation nights, where everybody makes slideshows about literally anything. Last week, Gale made one about the conflicts of archmages and the idea of apprentices. Karlach then made a tier list on the worst monsters ever documented, Lae'zel helped with that one. Shadowheart made this whole discussion over her favorite and least favorite teas (she fuckin' hates green tea for like no reason). Wyll made one on Baldurs Gate history. Astarion made a smash or pass list of all of the political leaders in Baldurs Gate. Silk made a presentation on the weirdest underdark myths and rumors they have heard on their time above ground. Halsin presented (well more like persuaded) on getting a new herb for their kitchens row of herbs and spices set on the windowsill. They have too many and he got like 5 minutes of stand time before Karlach kicked him off.

Lae'zel hate-cleans when shes mad at somebody in the apartment. Basically, she cleans every room in the entire fucking apartment BESIDES any of said "victims" parts of the house. One time, she got into a fight with Shadowheart and threw all of the dirty laundry she had so carefully put into the laundry room back into her room just all over the fucking place. If shes calm though, the house is normally fairly clean under her and Wyll's watch. It's one of the only things they agree on.

Because every bg3 piece of content I make loops back to bloodweave, I think they would have a little reading time together. Like whenever everybody is settling down for the night and they are up for it, they take this lovely window seat couch/bed thing in Gales room and just take out a good bottle of wine and a book for each of them and just read until late. They originally did this separately, but when the two find themselves both in the living room at 2 in the morning reading, they decide in silent agreement to make it routine. They sometimes read in silence, other times just talking absently about anything. Shadowheart finds out first by coming in to Gales room late one night to return a book he lent to her to find the two both passed out, tucked away in the window, books still in hand before they accidentally passed out. Shadowheart then teases them with photos the morning after.

Karlach and Lae'zel both do these really intense shadowboxing exercises in Karlachs room whenever the two have freetime and enough energy to go through with it. It's a heated bitter rivalry in the eyes of the githyanki, but Karlach just loves a little workout with her friend! Lae'zel does enjoy the workouts, as she doesn't get many options to really let off ALL of her steam, even if she works at a gym as a personal trainer. She is constantly told shes a bit TOO rough with the clients so she has to "tone it down". So it's nice.

Astarion and Shadowheart have girls nights. Like they paint each others nails and watch like twilight together (ironically they get so heated at how wrong they get it. "Just another human writer writing about shit she doesn't get" is used a lot in their rewatches). They also talk about like...their feelings. But it's very sparse and done so by a copious amount of wine (wine with a heavy amount of blood on the side for Astarion). Both of them never got to have moments like this in their childhoods, of just pure calmness and domestic childhood enjoyment, so they make due with what they can.

BY THE HELLS I JUST REALIZED I WROTE THIS MUCH. DAMN OKAY.

[valeriefauxnom]

Unintentional Comedy - Dragalia and Feh Artwork Edition

So, remember Alfonse, from FEH?

Y'know, this dude?

For an okay crutch for those without Gala Euden or Albert or other handy light swords they didn't want to invest in, he was rather popular, only partly owed to any pre-established fondness FEH players had since they already knew him. People liked the more expanded personality we got than FEH's bare-bones story, additionally before they started trying to spice Alfonse up in more recent books.

In his story, however, one of the events that happening is Euden falling off a cliff, shortly followed by Alfonse.

Miraculously, cliff-falling isn't quite as dangerous in Dragalia Lost as in real life (also demonstrated by Leonidas in Stranded Scions, etc...), and the two survive. Alfonse has some sort of injury to his foot, however, conveniently hampering his ability to move but not much else.

Euden, being Euden and unwilling to throw anyone to the wolves, comes up with this idea:

Nothing atypical here, right?

...Well, as it was revealed in a book published two years later than his debut in Dragalia, Fire Emblem Heroes Character Illustrations, Volume 1...

Alfonse is 180cm tall, AKA 5'11.

...Is it any surprise coming from 195cm/6'5 and 180cm/5'11 parents? Someone check the Askran royal food for steroids that Sharena has apparently not been consuming, presumably because she's instead dining with heroes in the barracks.

I digress.

Now, as I've gone over before here, here's where it gets hilarious in retrospect.

In short, Ranzal, the resident big buff burly dude of Dragalia...is stated to be 6'1/185 in the joke comics.

...And while literally nobody else got an even vaguely-official number to their height, Dragalia instead opting for a 'comparison heights' to keep track of who's shorter and who's taller in a pair... Euden often seems to wind up in the 150-155cm/5'0-5'1 range or even shorter when in illustrations with Ranzal:

At most, I've seen him crack about 5'9/175cm in the comics, which aren't exactly a stable source of art, as demonstrated by these two panels, in which both seem to be on flat ground and standing pretty straight:

I need to stop before I mindlessly repeat the other post, but my point remains:

Euden, by most depictions, is tiny. A literal short prince/king.

And yet, no matter what way you slice it, he's trying to carry a dude that seems to be quite a bit taller, let's say. How much, we'll never know, but the fact remains he'd likely need to pull out a dragon phone to search 'how to carry people much taller than you?' just in case and hurriedly read a wikihow 10-step article explaining some strats, were it not for the fact that dragons would have destroyed smartphones in Dragalia a long time ago (good move, dragons....?).

I will admit that there are a few arts that frame them as the 'same height' but I would more point to the fact Euden, when drawn with crossover characters for promotional art, is usually portrayed on an 'equal footing', so as not to have one take up more space/attention. Also, the Feh team might not have even decided on a height for Alfy boy before!

Even then, he's still portrayed as shorter than 5'9/175cm Joker in some art:

So yeah. Crossover art is not exactly consistent, and all I can do is look to the general trend in the 'canon game' of him being absolutely dwarfed by Ranzal.

Now, it's one thing for Euden to be lugging about Alfonse for a while.

The idea he might have done so with such a potential height disparity is pure comedy.

No wonder he's so tired after a while, lugging about another human who is both taller, heavier, and also wearing armor!

Not only that, he later tries and partly succeeds in fighting heavily armored soldiers (who are admittedly aiming to capture him and kill Alfonse) with Alfonse 'draped across his back like a sack of potatoes'. Talk about determination, adrenaline, and/or the simple principle of 'small but mighty'!

Maybe that's why Alfonse was saying "I don't think that's wise" at the start there before he quickly found other rationale besides 'you sure you can give a piggyback without my feet dragging along the ground the whole way?'

My case rests, Your Honor: they unintentionally made part four of Alfonse's personal story a lot funnier to envision by publishing an art book 2 years after he first existed in Dragalia Lost!

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo

So. I haven't seen the Bad Batch and don't really intend to, but I have read some fics (please do not take that as me saying that's the same as understanding the story) and between that and my thoughts of eldritch stuff in Star Wars and a cool art piece I came across that I think was referencing something I don't have the context for, I started wondering what it'd look like if of the Bad Batch, Echo was the only eldritch/cryptid/vampire/otherwise not human one. NOT because of the Techno Union, but because of something that happened sooner OR he'd always been like that. And I might put a bit of that in my vampire clones thing but I was thinking eldritch and I ended up writing a thing. So. Enjoy:

***********

Crosshair’s willing to admit he doesn’t dislike Echo. He respects the guy’s resilience and his willingness to go with the flow, which is necessary for someone working with their team, even as he rolls his eyes at Echo’s tendency to twitch at the state of their ship and his reluctance to drop the “sir” when talking to Hunter. More than that Echo has zero qualms about sassing him if Crosshair picks a fight and it’s a lot of fun to rile him up.

That said. Echo is also really freaking weird.

Crosshair is very observant, between his eyesight, his role on the team, and his training he had to be and either something’s very off about Echo or he’s started hallucinating because he keeps seeing things that don’t make sense. Not for a reg and not for a cyborg.

He explains this the Hunter once, trying to see if he’s noticed anything, and Hunter frowns. “Can you give me an example?”

“His eyes for one.”

Hunter blinked. “What?”

“We all know what most trooper’s eyes look like. And we’ve seen some variations. But they don’t change color. I’ve seen his eyes go golden or violet, and it wasn’t the lighting.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes I’m sure what do you take me for?” Crosshair snapped. “Look. Next time we’re on a sunny planet. Take a look at his shadow. It doesn’t match him at all. I’ve seen it prowling around him like a tooka without him or a light source moving. It doesn’t look like him either. And remember that time we were sparring and he panicked and bit me? I asked Tech, the Techno Union didn’t do anything to his teeth, but I know what bitemarks look like and that was not it.”

Hunter sighed. “I’ll pay attention but-” He paused. “Huh.”

“What?”

“It might not be anything.” He replies and only knowing that he’s getting to the point keeps Crosshair from interrupting. “But remember how I told you guys that people smell like animals? They’re distinct from each other, and you know I can’t describe it cause I tried to describe you guys, but it’s not like they smell like flowers or old books or whatever people like to think they’d smell like unless they’re wearing a scent. Echo, he doesn’t smell like a trooper. I just never thought about it for some reason.”

“And what does he smell like?”

Hunter frowned as he tried to find the words. “Well. He does smell a bit like a trooper and a bit metallic. But he also smells like, what’s was the spice in that cake you liked so much? The one we found on that mission with the weird vultures?”

Crosshair hummed. That had been a really freaking good cake. “The lady said it was a cardamon cream cake. So he smells like cardamon?”

“Cardamon and lilies and wet dirt is the best way I can describe it and I know it’s not his soap cause he uses the same stuff as the rest of us. So yeah. I guess I’ll pay attention.”

Two days later Crosshair gets confirmation that something’s up in a way he did not expect.

Because walking around in the dark in the middle of the night is his job so it’s already odd to find Echo leaning against the cabinet in their ship’s tiny kitchen in the pitch dark. “You’re going to trip reg.” Crosshair says and leans over to get the lights when Echo looks up.

And twelve pairs of golden violet eyes meet Crosshair’s.

He staggers back, trips over something, falls. “Crosshair!” Echo grabs his hand, pulling him up, then scrambles for the lights as if he forgot they might be necessary and Crosshair yelps as the light hits his eyes.

He blames that and the shock for blurting out; “What the hell are you Echo?”

Echo blinks, looking hurt. “I’m a trooper. Like you all.”

“Troopers don’t have twenty-four freaking eyes.” Crosshair hissed. They aren’t there now, he’s got 2 brown eyes in the exact same shade of brown nearly every trooper has, but Crosshair knows what he saw. He knows what he’s been seeing.

Echo tilts his head. And he grins. It’s a smile Crosshair’s seen before, whenever Echo’s about to respond to his taunts with something cutting and clever, part “take that” and part inviting him to share the joke. There’s nothing off about that smile save for that it’s mirrored in Echo’s shadow, splayed against the cabinets behind him too dark for their lights.

“The Bad Batch.” Echo muses, like there’s a joke Crosshair hasn’t caught yet, and he’s never had a reason to call Echo dangerous even when he didn’t trust him, but he’s starting to feel cornered even though Echo hasn’t moved. “You think you’re the only strange ones. ‘Don’t worry Rex, we know how to handle a reg.’ Never mind that Torrent was always a little crazy, or it used to be. Never mind that I was an ARC and a damn good one, and we’re all more than competent. And I appreciate what you all did, in welcoming me into the squad, I appreciate it more than I can say, and I do really like you guys, but you are so freaking cocky. So certain you can handle anything. And to be fair you’re damn good at your job, but sometimes it’s annoying. So.” He grins that taunting grin again. “You want to know what the reg’s deal is? Figure it out.”

He leaves. His grinning shadow lingers a moment before following. Crosshair stares.

And then decides that a glass of water isn’t gonna cut it and goes for the stash of moonshine.

[artfight]

Vote for your favorite team between the two!

TEAM SPICE won during the 2020 Art Fight event, coming at 317,914 attacks valuing at 6,332,569.03 points.

TEAM TEA won during the 2018 Art Fight event, coming at 107,386 attacks valuing at 1,274,390.41 points.

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter II : Prometheus

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Blood and gore; Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse; Description of injury; Angst; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 6.7K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER II : PROMETHEUS

What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us?

-Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

As the days turned to weeks turned to months since that moment in the dark with the Mandalorian, there had been a steadily rising thrum of tumultuous, frenzied energy coiling within you. A ball of hissing, ravenous snakes ready to strike at any moment. Desire turned to want turned to a demand that you were ill equipped to deal with – emotionally and mentally.

You’d had many things in your life that you’d wanted but had not been able to have, and yet that did not mean that you’d ever been good at not getting them. Impulse control, a staying hand, were not things the Maker had blessed you with. 

You’d met an old Ugnaught female with a penchant for loving spotchka and Sabacc a little too much. More than she’d ever enjoyed keeping steady work or following the rules or anything else really. You and she had some things in common when it came to that pesky little issue of impulse control. After a brief acquaintanceship, she’d put you on to a group that met sometimes on Nevarro to… support each other… or better yet, to sit around and discuss your issues and vices together in some pseudo imitation of self improvement – the art of staying one’s hand, or whatever you wanted to call it – and if it was not with much success, it was with intention, which you thought was, in the end, just as significant. She said she found the meetings understanding or companionable or something you pretended to tell yourself you didn’t care about. 

And sometimes you went. 

If for nothing else, to feel as if there were at least a few people in the entire galaxy who knew your name, who knew you were alive, who knew you were alone. You sat there amongst the old and weathered humans and the other ragtag team of varying organics and even the occasional droid, and listened to their stories and their losses and their fear during the reign of the Empire – their struggle, their fight, their apathy now, to survive, to stay afloat in the bleak imperial aftermath. 

One such survivor with a nasty love for Spice, needled you the worst. His face was haggard, tired, and there was something so forlorn about him, something that sent a sudden flash of fear through you. Is that what I will be one day? Is that what I already am? I am a person, you think wearily, aren’t I? His voice was tough and ragged, as if he’d gone out into the lava fields and swallowed a chunk of ashen rock to fill his belly, savaging his throat in the process, grating your ears and your nerves.

“Nothing really feels better than when I’m drinking a bottle of spotchka, Spice humming through my veins, watching the sunset. My worries, my fears… they don’t weigh as heavily on my shoulders. And what else is there to do? This is easy. I am good at this. It is a simple thing, even if I must forsake all the rest. And I am tired. I want peace.”

You could understand this. 

What else had there been to do under the subjugation of a darker and more powerful force than you could have ever been? You had been young and alone and terrified. In possession of a power beyond your understanding. You had been enslaved, trapped, abused, and then, for a moment, on a precipice. One which you’d taken a leap off of at the first chance. Now though, you were tired, and you too, wanted peace. Even if you weren’t entirely sure if you still believed in the concept. Once, it had seemed easy to lay down and take it, do as you were told. Until it wasn’t, or… until there had been the opportunity for something different. When the Sith lords were crumbling into obscurity and failure one by one, until only you and your master remained. A singular darkness in the galaxy. A lone chance, a step too far, to run had been all you’d needed. A flash of beskar in your mind – screaming, the snuffing of a silver flame –  you blink the nightmare, memory, away, be honest with yourself, eyes pressed together tightly, spiky lashes crinkling between your lids.

And you, girl? What about you? What do you have to tell?

Me? Nothing. Nothing to tell – nothing you’d not burn me for.

Or the truth: it was discovered that I could wield the Force when I was a young child. I was hunted, my parents were slaughtered, and I was stolen. Turned and enfolded into their cult. I never had a chance. I never had a choice. I am trying to find my choices again. 

The Jedi, the Sith, the Empire, they all fell a long time ago. I need to let the past die, but I will not die with it. So, you do not share that which would get you killed. You could very well be taken for an Imperial remnant and hunted, executed. No matter that you’d been just as powerless, despite everything, just as tortured, just as subjugated as anyone else, in all the ways that really counted. Despite everything – sometimes this great power counted for very little.

They had wanted to make you a God, but a God muzzled, a God restrained. 

God struck, God swept, God nonsensical. 

Your dreams are always strange and violent now – nightmares of a terrible past coalescing with hopes of a better future. How to reconcile that hideous thing you had been once before with the better thing you were trying to be now? Too difficult to conceptualize. No matter how many times you listened to your strange group of fellow survivors and vice-havers – a funny thing for what would they say, do, to you, if they knew that unlike their spotchka or Spice addictions, your predilection was of a darker nature – to kill, to maim, to destroy?

You leave Nevarro for a time, after that realization. That no matter how much you might ingratiate yourself, no matter the connections you may pretend to make, there is still that, there is still the truth of you. 

The second time you meet him, you are where you should not be. 

You’d come to Corellia. Filled with a sick and twisted sort of glee that you could roll around in the worst underbelly of the galaxy and survive, hold your own. It was an exercise in restraint and brawn and arrogance, too, perhaps. The crime syndicates running untethered, spice trade, and the harsh reality of industrial life made for a cesspool of the worst sort of cretins. 

In some ways, it was exciting for you, and you knew you were looking for something. Something to whet your appetite, quench your thirst, fill the void. 

After all, it had been two months, what felt like millenia, since that dark storage alcove where he’d imprinted himself in you. Weeks of having the ghost of him haunt you, the memory of his rough voice whispering phantom-like in your ear, seeing him in your dreams, your nightmares. Desperate interludes in whatever cold and lonely bed you’d claimed for the night, your fingers rubbing frantically at your slippery, swollen clit, trying to chase that feeling he’d pulled out of you and failing. Mandalorian, Mandalorian, Mandalorian. And then, one late night, when you’re on the trail of one such lead towards self destruction, masqueraded as a good time, there, around the corner, in the distance – like a wound of beskar looming in the night – it’s your Mandalorian. 

You pause your skulking, stepping back to wrap yourself in the shadows, away from prying eyes. You take him in. Fucking tall and broad, outlined in pale flickering silver. He’s arguing with a young Corellian, sticking his finger in the male's face threateningly, other hand hovering menacingly over his blaster, and you can’t help but snicker. Surly beast, that he is. There is a large part of you that does not want him to see you, who had hoped you’d never again come across him, and then a quieter, but infinitely harder part of you to ignore…

The helmet snaps towards you suddenly, as if sensing your attention, cocks to the side –  very much like some predatory animal casting sights on its next meal – his next bounty. You don’t need further warning, you spin on your heel and start in the opposite direction. Heart knocking on the walls of your chest to be let out, let me out, let me out, I want to go with him, cunt going tight and wet, ridiculous, desperate.

A chant that sings: again, again, again, chase me again. Catch me again. I don't know you, but I missed you anyway. I remember you, and I want you. 

That dark, red thread snaps taut again, humming with the song of your fates. You already know how this is going to end. How you want it to end.

You always know how everything is going to end. 

You pick up your pace, trying to confuse him with your turnarounds, sliding through the alleys and archways and scurrying around corners quickly, and then on one particularly slippery turn, there he is. An impenetrable wall of beskar that you’re slamming into, jarring your brain within your skull, shaking your heart in the cage of your ribs, jostling an impish little giggle out of you. 

A pause to catch your breath, he’d cut around and surprised you somehow, “Mandalorian.”

“Brat.” You laugh, his voice is still the same. The depth of it, not a figment of your imagination. 

“Fancy meeting you here. On holiday?” You croon, dragging a single, provoking finger across his chest plate, stepping closer to him, pressing up on your tiptoes to grin up at him. You listen to his huff of vexation through the modulator. Oh, don’t pretend, shiny. I know you love this too. 

“What are you doing here? Corellia isn’t safe.” Stern, stern tone. If you’d let him huff and puff at you, you’re sure he would. 

You roll your eyes at him, as if anything on this planet could do any real harm to the likes of you. “Oh, don’t I know it. I’ve caused the greatest trouble while I’ve been here. It’s been terrible fun.”

He shakes his head down at you disapprovingly, one hand propped on his hip like he’s gearing up to chastise you, readying that menacing finger to shake at you too. You shimmy up against him some more, pressing your breasts up against his chest plate, and you listen to a whisper soft groan vibrate through that impenetrable mask. Not so impenetrable as to keep you out, though, so it seems. You tuck the tips of both hands into the top edge of his breast plate to pull your own face up towards his, and even then, he still has to crook his neck down to look at you. He doesn’t buckle, not even a little bit, under the weight of you trying to hang off of him. You feel one of his hands come up to cup the sharp edge of your elbow, and even through the thick fabric of your dark tunic and the leather of his gloves, his touch feels like fire, like the Force. Stronger than anything else in the whole universe. For some reason, you can feel that deep well of power within you stir at the sight of him, at his touch, like a swirling pool of magma, waiting to rise up and spill out unencumbered. You feel on edge, stretched thin and held together only by frayed seams. 

“Did you miss me, Mandalorian?” He tugs you slightly further into the shadow of the building’s side looking up and around the two of you for one moment, oh, yes, yes, yes, again, again, making sure your surroundings are clear. 

“You like to be chased,” he says back.

“I like to be caught.” 

“By me.”

“By you.” Truth.

“Only me.” It seems he’s finally learned to flirt.

You step up onto his big boot with the tip of one small foot, really trying to climb him in earnest now, bringing yourself up even closer to him, and he wraps his other hand around your waist beneath your cloak, the tips of his long fingers splayed over the top swell of your ass to press your pelvis into his. You bury your nose into the folds of his cape around his throat, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of him, hooking an arm around the back of his neck. You want to kiss him.

“Last time, you said, maybe next time. Is that now?” You breathe into that dark space beneath his helmet’s edge.

You listen to his soft groan, the two of you pulling each other in even closer, trying to meld yourselves to each other, liquid metal’s mixing, beskar melted and writhing amidst fire and flame, and as you’re about to beg him to find another dark alcove for the two of you, you sense them at the same time that his helmet snaps up and to the side, right as they’re descending upon the shadows where you’re hidden, too late to block their blaster fire as they open upon the two of you without any sort of protection to shield yourselves with. Your reaction time is delayed blocking their attack, distracted by him, by his touch, and too long since you’ve openly and freely wielded your power, and he spins, suddenly, huge frame hunching over your smaller one to protect you from the onslaught, to shield you. You hear the bolts of plasma make contact with the beskar over his back, and then his harsh, pained groan as they meet the unprotected places between the gaps in his armor. You spot the Corellian he was arguing with before, over his shoulder. 

A savage growl rips from his throat as his knees buckle, and you wrap one arm around his strong waist, trying to hold him up as he struggles to remain upright. He’s been hit badly in the side, you feel the hot seep of his blood spill. You raise your other hand over his shoulder then, a furious seeping coil starting to move through your body. 

“You’re hit,” you whisper up at him. One of his hands claws at your shoulder, he’s so heavy, while the other braces against the wall behind you, trying to remain upright. 

“My blaster,” he snarls, “Take my blaster. Run.”

“It’s alright,” you say calmly, even though you feel anything but. You can feel his life force literally seeping out of him, and you’re hit, square in the face, with the realization of how truly strong he is. He is so potent, so alive, that his presence in the Force is almost a physical thing despite his lack of powers. The Force lives through us all, and he is powerful, all in his own right, purely for the vitality of him. 

He is strong and good, and that seeping coil turns into a ravenous howl.

There is a group of five organics of varying species surrounding the two of you, frozen by that lifted hand of yours. It closes into a fist, and three of them fall instantly dead, minds pulverized under the force of your power. The edges of your vision go slightly dark. 

“It’s going to be alright,” you say gently to him again. His hand on your shoulder is twisting painfully into your clothes, your joint straining beneath his strength, and he shakes you sharply, trying to push you away. “Fucking go. Why aren’t you moving?” One of his knees buckles, his voice wavers. He’s bleeding out so fast. You grip him beneath his elbows and start to slowly help him lower to the ground. One of his knees suddenly gives out, cracking harshly against the hard ground beneath. “What are you doing?” There’s a flavor of desperation infusing his tone. As if he’s worried for you. As if he is worried for you. “There are too many of them, and I’m–” His voice cuts off with a choked snarl of agony. He’s hurt, he’s hurt. You need to move quickly, or he’s going to die. 

“It’ll be alright, Mandalorian. Wait here. I’ll be right back for you.” He says something more, something growled that sounds suspiciously like, fucking hate it when you say Mandalorian like that, can’t kriffing do as you’re told, but your attention is no longer on him. You step in front of him, blocking the sight of his fallen form from the two remaining, soon to be dead, males. You cast a wide net of the Force around the four of you. Besides the three dead bodies, there is nothing else awake and lurking in the shadows for about a two kilometer radius. Lovely. 

The Corellian is obviously the leader. You look towards the other first, a big, ugly Trandoshan, and as you set your sights on him, you release him from his paralysis, giving him a moment to get his bearings and reach for his blaster. He scrambles to pull it from its holster and fires directly at you. And at your once again raised hand, the beam of plasma freezes mid air in a thrumming, angry screech of red magma. You listen to the Trandoshan’s horrified gasp, watch his eyes go wide and terrified through your splayed fingers, “You’re–”

“Yes. I am.” You send the blaster beam back in his direction with a slight flick of your wrist, piercing him directly through the throat, and leaving a wide, smoking hole of charred flesh clean through its ugly neck. The body falls to the damp street with a harsh thud.

“And you?” You turn toward the Corellian. “Were you his bounty?” His eyes are frenzied, manic, terrified, “Ah, Sith got your tongue?” The acrid scent of urine permeates the air, and you let out a barking little chirp of a laugh. You can feel the Mandalorian fading behind you, struggling to stay alert. No time to play with your food. There is a part of you, small or large, you can’t tell now, in the haze of the Force overwhelming you after not having used it like this in so long, that is worried that this is a step in the wrong direction. You haven’t killed in a long time – not since that last one. No – don’t think of it. Not now. Not with him here. And perhaps, this is a step in the wrong direction, a step backwards, but there’s really no choice. They’ve hurt him. 

You have no choice other than this. 

You reach for your lightsaber strapped into a holster low on your thigh, an inconspicuous place where you can hide it in the dark folds of your clothes. You’ve not wielded one since your escape, since that last time. Your heart beats painfully in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s more of a blood hungry sort of excitement or out of fear for him, lying wounded behind you. 

-

“No… I’m just kidding.” A girlish little giggle, “I’m not a Sith anymore. Don’t worry. If I were still that, I’d draw this out. Make you suffer for a very, very long time for hurting him.” You pull something from your person then, and the night is filled with the crackling hissing sound of an igniting lightsaber. He’s never seen one in person before – only heard of them in stories. The dark street illuminated with the bright light of a violet colored plasma cross guard that sputters and wavers furiously, unstable, like the sound of metal being clawed to shreds. Despite the protection of his helmet, Din squeezes his eyes shut for an instant, afraid that the bright light would blind him, sear his retinas from their sockets. 

You are a burning effigy washed in the violet light of righteous fury as you stalk slowly towards his, soon to be dead, bounty. Din has no power, but if he did, he is certain that he would be able to feel your presence in the Force as surely as he feels the blaster hole in his flank. Even powerless, he’s sure he can feel the humming waves of your strength brushing up against his armor clad form. 

“She’s never been wet before.” Your voice is inexplicably lovely, soft and lilting. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about you, after those hypnotizing eyes that had terrified him for the intensity of feeling they conveyed, the two warring colors, one lighter than the other, one cast in perpetual darkness and the other so vibrantly bright it almost glows. The way they’d enthralled him, forced him to go after you that night on Nevarro, if only so that he could look into them one more time. “You’ll be my first blood with this – I made her just recently…” You say casually, lifting the lightsaber up to appreciate it between the two of them. The Corellian is frozen still, and Din assumes that you’re holding him so. You’d killed all the rest without so much as a blink. You’d stopped the fucking blaster bolt mid air. Din has never witnessed such a thing in his entire life. He thinks, for a brief moment, that perhaps, he should be frightened, or worried. He’s bleeding out, he’s dying, prone on the ground and vulnerable, and this girl is of a capacity he’s never encountered thus far in all his travels through the galaxy. 

But he is not.

For some reason, the Mandalorian is not afraid. 

“Pretty, no?” You croon at the Corellian, and if Din was of a sound mind, and not currently delirious from blood loss, he’s sure he’d not have felt that twinge of ridiculous jealousy twist through his gut at hearing you give that soft voice to another male. You twirl the blade so fast he scarcely catches it, then lets your wrist fall, the angry buzzing tip of plasma touches the ground so it screeches and hisses. You seem to deflate for a second, arms hanging limply at your sides, and shake your head at him. “You hurt him,” you say so softly he has to strain to hear through the haze of blood loss. He’s fading. He does not want to leave you alone. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

You should not have to face this alone.

Another lightning fast twist of your wrist, the violet beam an arc of pure light through the night’s dark air, and then: “He’s mine.”

You slice the Corellian diagonally from hip to shoulder. Din does not think the creature even has a moment to realize what’s been done to him before the two halves of its body are sliding clean and wet against each other and crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud. 

When you turn back to look down upon him, your eyes are filled with so much fear and hurt and desolation, and Din must close his own eyes to shutter himself away from the terrible sight of your pain. He never wants to see that look in you again. 

You seem to be a complicated amalgamation of a woman. At once strange and mercurial and violent. Wholly unreachable, unknowable. And then at the next moment: frightened, tender, soft. With a vulnerability that brings every protective, fighting instinct out in Din. Everything that makes him a Mandalorian. Everything that he holds so dearly within his Creed, you call to, after only one meeting in the dark. To protect you, to care for you, to venerate you. And the shroud of loneliness, the air of other that surrounds you, as if you’d never known the soft touch of a caring hand, the loving embrace of a mother – calls to the very same things within Din’s own soul. The same things he’d never had but always wanted. They were the same, and yet, so vastly different. Existing on two separate ends of the galaxy's spectrum. Creatures meant to be enemies, perhaps, to kill each other. And yet here he found himself, prostrate and bleeding on the ground as you defended his life. Entirely at you mercy.

And now you’ve saved him.

His eyes flutter shut once again, consciousness winking away. 

-

He’s as heavy as a star blasted bantha, and you feel that your bones will surely crack and crumble to dust beneath the weight of him leaning over your shoulder while you try to get him coherent enough to move his legs and walk. While at the same time, as inconspicuously as possible, trying to use the Force to support him on his other side, a tendril of power applying pressure to the ragged, bleeding hole in his side without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And then, also, of course, with the added strain of tugging the two separate halves of his bounty behind you, wrapped in some discarded tarp you’d found because even bleeding out and two paces away from dropping dead he’d still had the wherewithal for a muttered, don’t leave my bounty. If you roll your eyes at him any harder they’d surely fall right out of your skull. 

You are a small human, and he is a big, big man. Who is currently providing absolutely no help. 

“Kriffing come on, Mandalorian. You’ve got to help me out here. You’re heavier than a fucking rancor covered in all this metal.”

You see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye, trying to stir himself into coherence, “How did you do that?” He slurs.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you whine, drawing out the vowel at the end and ignoring his question. 

You hear a small huff of air pass through the modulator, “You’re just too– too small.” His words are too slow, his voice too weak. You try and propel the two of you forwards faster. 

“Psshh, don’t provoke me, or I’ll drop you.”

“How’d you– you do that? T– Too small…” A pained, savage snarl as he stumbles. You exert more of the Force to prop him up. Fuck it, if someone notices the two of you, you’ll just kill them. What’s one more after you’d just gone and done away with five in one fell swoop after months and months of nothing – of peace?

You’re sure your mind, and that disgustingly soft heart that’s been trying to force its way to life inside of your chest recently, will make you pay for this later. 

“I’m a wizard,” you deadpan. You’re sweating beneath your heavy layers, slightly dizzy from exerting so much power so quickly. You’re beginning to think that going completely cold bantha steak and cutting yourself off from the Force had been a mistake. You feel wrung out and stretched thin and weak. 

“No– not, little one,” he stutters.

“That’s it. I’m dropping you.” But you clutch your arm tighter around his waist, pressing your cheek up against the space between his shoulder pauldron and the edge of his chest plate. You can feel the sweltering heat from his skin steaming through the heavy material of his underweave. 

“Are not.” You can hear the wet gasps of his panting breath under the helmet, and the sleeve of the arm you have wrapped around his waist feels soaked through with his blood. You don’t know how he’s still conscious and making the best attempt he can to walk after all this. 

“Maker, what do you eat, beskar for breakfast also? Just tell me where your damn ship is before more of those mudscuffers find us.”

“Landing bay seven,” And you thread your fingers through the hand of the arm he’s got slung over your shoulders, tightly. You have to move faster. You have to make him be okay. But despite your anxiety and desire to rush, the two of you make your way slowly through the Corellian alleyways. Him, struggling to remain upright, you, trying desperately to not make your invisible strength entirely obvious. 

And you fail to notice the slithery little Twi’lek, watching the two of you from the shadows, completely unaware that she will await your return to Corellia for a long, long time to come. 

-

Dragging his heavy ass in through the open hatch of his, believe it or not,  piece of shit pre Imperial gun ship, with a grumbled, nice hunk of junk, that all he’d been able to counter with was a defensive hiss, as your arms were about to snap off under his weight, feels like a singular sort of victory after what the two of you had just gone through. His feet stumbling over one another, he’s just on this side of consciousness when you finally make it within the safety of his ship. He melts into a crashing heap of beskar on the durasteel floor, and you finally let go of the disgusting weight of the dead Corellian, as you move quickly to shut yourselves inside, engaging the security system and motion sensors, lest someone else decide to catch the two of you unawares. Spinning quickly back towards him to start ripping the beskar plates off his chest to get to his injury. You quickly realize that the armor is held together by complex magnetics hidden beneath each piece and swiftly disengage those over his chest and abdomen. He’s got on a thickly woven underweave beneath the underplates, and you make quick work of unfastening the closures on that, as well, but when you’ve reached the last layer of his clothing, a thin, dark undershirt, you pause. The material is warm and soft and worn, something you’re sure he must don all the time and meticulously maintain and care for, like all the other pieces of the intricate uniform of his Creed. A Creed which you’re not certain you’d be breaking by looking upon the uncovered skin of his chest and abdomen. But he’s dying, you think, and you have to save him, and you can feel the physical and intangible manifestations of that slow crawl towards death in the spill of his hot blood on your hands, slowly drooling onto the metal floor, as well as the slow seep of his life force out into the ether. He’s dying, and you have to save him. 

You push the last layer, keeping him covered from your eyes, up his chest. The blaster wound is a ragged mess of blood and charred flesh, to his right flank. The trajectory positioned high in the upper quadrant of his abdomen so that you’re fairly certain it must have nicked his liver. You probe gently at the wound inside with a tendril of the Force, and your panic ricochets up to a shrill crescendo within you – yes, he’s hit badly, a laceration to the uppermost corner of the organ. You move to stand quickly, sweating and stumbling in your panic towards the compartments along the walls of the hull, ripping open drawers and cabinets until you come across his med kit. There are bacta injections, hard to come by, but of course he’s well supplied – you can only imagine the collection of injuries he must have gathered throughout his travels, and patches inside, and you return to kneel at his side, knees cracking painfully against the cold, hard floor as you fall next to him. Hands shaking, vision slightly blurry, you pop the cap off of the syringe, and try and take deep steadying breaths as you pull down the neck of his shirt to get at the uppermost part of his shoulder. When you press the aggressive looking needle into his skin he jerks, and the sound of the helmet rolling against the floor has your eyes shooting up to his face, “It’s okay,” you try and soothe. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.” You press down on the plunger slowly, watching the bacta slowly make its way from the glass barrel into his arm. He gives a low groan of pain as the thick substance enters his muscle. Please, please, work. Please, you have to be okay. You pause for a second once the injection is done, watching the shallow, quick hiccups of his breath, the rapid dip of his abdomen, as if he’s struggling to continue the act, in pain. Fuck. You rip open one of the bacta patches and carefully place it over the gaping wound, reaching for two more after that to make sure the entire large circumference of the hole in his side is covered, and then go still. His breathing is still rapid and shallow, almost gasping, and you take in, for the first time, the entire vision of his naked chest and abdomen. Thick, strong waist, tapering down into slim hips, smeared in the dark vermillion of his blood, you watch the shifting of his abdominal muscles beneath his smooth, golden brown skin. You’d pushed his shirt high up on his chest, but you grip the edge to pull it down a little lower, making sure he’s only as uncovered as necessary. You’re not entirely sure how quickly the bacta should work – why isn’t he waking up, why isn’t he saying anything, why isn’t his breathing normalizing?

“Mandalorian,” you whisper, and the helmet shifts the tiniest bit towards the sound of your voice, the fingers of his left hand twitch and curl inwards. You place your other hand low on his belly, the edge of his shirt still gripped in your hand and scoot closer to him, your bent knees pressed into his hip. “Please–” you whisper and you realize your cheeks are wet, tears making a slow stream down your face. Your voice breaks, “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you know that this is your fault. You distracted him, led him on that ridiculous chase. He’d have captured his bounty and been safely on his way if it weren’t for you. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” Not again, please, I can’t have done this again. You let your head hang forward, your torso bending slightly so that your forehead is pressed into his hip as you let your desperate and pathetically terrified tears fall. This is your fault. One more terrible thing come at your hands.

If you could only – don’t even think it, you do not possess the capacity for that sort of goodness – but the hopeless thought worms its way into your mind anyway, if you could only heal him with the Force. But you’d never possessed that sort of ability, only the strongest of Force users could wield their power for healing, and despite the fact that you can still feel the deep well of your power churning in your veins right now, after your brutal display on the streets of Corellia, you know that such a thing is beyond your capability. Such an act only possible to those with great aptitude for light wielding or those dark siders who were willing to pay a great and terrible price, that of stealing vitality from another being to enact such a power.

And you hate yourself more in this moment than all the others. You wish desperately, painfully that you could be a different sort of person, a different sort of monster. That you could be good. That you possessed the ability to do good with this Force that roils through your veins, and that should have helped you, but had only ever truly hurt you. 

What is the point of this great power within you, you think, if you cannot wield it in this most necessary of moments? In this instance when, more than any other, you wish you had the strength of the Force to heal him. With your head still pressed to his hip and your hands still on his chest and belly you open your eyes to watch your tears roll over his tan skin. I’m sorry, you think again, I wish you had never come across me. You watch the slow journey of your tears as they slide across his hip and drip silently down onto the floor of the hull, mixing with the dark crimson of his spilled blood. 

You’ve never been one for much faith in any sort of higher power, too many times in your life when you’d wished for something greater than you to come and save you gone unanswered, but you pray to the Maker in this moment that the Mandalorian survive this, please, please, he is good, please, let him survive this. Your eyes flutter closed, you feel the sweep of your lashes against his warm skin, and you pray to the Force and the Maker and any other entity out there in the vast, unending galaxy that a creature such as this, one who is strong and valiant and good, not be felled by an association with the likes of you. And as you think, please, just this one thing, just this one time, I’ll never ask for anything else ever again if you only save him now, you feel that space deep within you, where the very nectar of the Force lives in your soul, shift and churn, and it is as if one of the very building blocks of the core material that makes you what you are, slides out of that place and slots itself into him. Plugging away at the gaping, life threatening wound and mending his torn flesh and healing that which had been savaged. You feel the very fibers of him stitch themselves back together at that outpouring of yourself into his own body, and he has a piece of you now, even if he is unaware, even if, perhaps, he would not want it, you’ve given yourself to him in a way you’ve not ever done with anyone else before. Slotted yourself within him and plugged his wound away to heal him. 

You feel your body sag into his, all strength suddenly leaving you, but you force your muscles into movement and push yourself up off of him so that you can look up at his helmet covered face. His breathing suddenly stutters, and you freeze, your heart screaming in panic, but then he takes one long, deep breath, the wings of his rib cage flaring wide, and the rhythm returns to a slow, measured cadence. You take in the expanse of his strong abdomen, muscled, but also slightly soft around his belly button, the tantalizing trail of hair that disappears into his trousers. There are old scars and rough patches of poorly mended skin scattered across him, but his skin is also still soft and smooth and warm. His body is a weapon all on its own, battle hardened and made strong and resilient out of a necessity for survival, and beautiful. Above all else, he is beautiful. His long limbs are splayed wide on the durasteel floor. His cape is tangled around his throat and shoulders, and you move to pull the trapped folds from around his neck, giving him more freedom to breathe deeply. You tug the fabric down to spread out at his side so that you can lay on top of it. Your head is spinning now, your heart beating so fast you feel the rebounding rush of your blood in your eardrums. You’ve overexerted yourself, drawn too much power too quickly. Head spinning, vision going slightly dark at the edges, you feel a sharp, piercing pain behind your left eye, and your arms give out as you let yourself curl into a ball at his side, tucked into the crook of his underarm beneath his splayed limb. Right before you lose consciousness, you remember to pull his shirt down the rest of the way. He should be covered when he awakens, you don’t want him to worry that you’d violated him in any way, looked at his face or seen more of him than was absolutely necessary. He should feel reassured. You do not want him to be worried or afraid. 

When consciousness finally winks away, like a singular dying star in the vastness of space, your fingers are still twisted in his shirt over his belly.

Chapter III

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[gojosatorailme]

I’m desperate for Nagumo from Sakamoto Days so might as well take the initiative and write a fic myself. I’m now taking over this hashtag, this man shall be KNOWN.

Lovesick

A blood tainted battlefield. This is the life you chose the moment you entered the JCC. It wasn’t going to be “sugar spice and everything nice” oh no, it was gonna be hell and you knew it. The longer time passes, the more comrades were bound to fall..bound to die. It was inevitable.

But that doesn’t stop the racing of your anxious heart when you saw them fight.

It doesn’t stop your heart from worrying about him.

Nagumo. 

Sakamoto, Akao, Nagumo, and you. The four of you were tasked to infiltrate an enemy from Thailand, the four actually meaning three.

You were only a first year, you tagged along as an observer. The three were the strongest in the assassin class, you wanted to experience their missions first hand.

Before the mission, you didn’t exactly know much about the three nor did you have a strong opinion on them.

“Taro Sakamoto. Strong.. does he talk??”

“Rion Akao. Totally a hot babe”

“Nagumo…. dunno?”

None of them caught your interest, you just wanted to see them fight and maybe steal a few signature moves for your own benefit.. with your own tweaks of course.

None of them caught your eye, besides him of course. Who the hell is he? I mean, he was attractive sure. He had big eyes, remotely long lashes, long shaggy-ish black hair and.. his tattoo’s. His tattoos were what got you, it was like he was a canvas. Works of art were painted throughout his entire body, it was beautiful. Not to mention his physique, he was so your type.

But he was just so mysterious? There wasn’t much about him that you could pin point, he wasn’t as readable. He’s smart and strong yeah but what goes on in his head you don’t get it? What even is his surname? Meaning to his tattoos? If he wants to fu- he was a mystery.

That’s why he was so captivating. His movements were smooth and quick, you barely saw it as he sliced open an enemies head. Then down another, and another, then eventually there was a pile of bodies that littered the floor accompanied by the reeking stench of blood.

You were supposed to only tag along for one mission, but after meeting Nagumo, you practically begged to tag along again. Then you became a permanent member of the team.

At first, you wanted to see what you can learn from them in order to be stronger. But now, it’s for him. You wanted an excuse to see him. It didn’t take you long to realize that this interests developed into a crush.

You couldn’t help it, the more you hung around him the more entranced you became. You wanted to believe he was using a sort of assassin technique to seduce you, maybe his dark eyes were the culprit? Everytime you gazed into them you couldn’t find yourself looking away.

He’s so silly, he’s pretty cool too. It was strange, you thought he was kinda weird but his laugh never fails to make your face feel warm. The room felt hot when he was there, at one point you wanted to escape.

At one point the feelings made you feel trapped, suffocated maybe. Seeing him made you anxious, you made a fool of yourself. Fumbling over your words and avoiding his gaze, he’s a smart guy so your sure he’s caught on by now. It got so bad you began throwing up in the morning worried you’d see him, what does he think of you?? Your stomach would always feel funny at the thought.

His laugh began to make you feel dizzy.

Why was he so cute?

It didn’t help that he smelled sooo good, a cold blooded assassin that smells GOOD? You don’t hear that everyday.

These feelings stop you from reaching your full potential as an assassin, even limiting you from your original powers.

Even now, as Nagumo is on the ground with a bloodied stomach, you can’t protect him. The others were in another building and it was only you two, being overcome with the tension, you messed up and he was forced to take the blow.

He could’ve easily taken on the enemy on his own, he was strong after all, but he had to save you. Why? You don’t know. You don’t even want to bother deluding yourself with the thought that he’d like you back.

The enemy was eventually killed but what do you do with a bloodied Nagumo? You don’t know either. He’s just laughing.

“It’s okay I’ll be fine in a bit, that guy was a small fry anyway!! He barely stabbed me no worries.”

Oh but you were worried. You were so worried, you felt disgusted about yourself, he was bleeding from the stomach and your getting butterflies from the mere thought of his hand touching your shoulder. Gross.

The butterflies remained as Akao and Sakamoto helped you carry Nagumo back to base where he can get proper treatment.

The butterflies remained when you got back to your dorm at the JCC.

The butterflies remained for a long time.

You cant possibly continue like this could you? your an assassin, a killer. That’s your purpose here, there’s no room for love.

with trembling legs, you walked to the infirmary where Nagumo layed.

His stomach was recovering quickly, the doctor said he’d be able to go on missions by next week.

“Hey y/n! ya here to visit me?”

He waited for your answer as you sat down near his bed side.

“You look pretty serious, something wrong?”

first, an apology.

“I’m sorry, I was weak so you had to save me. I’ll be better, thank you.”

and before he could answer, with a shaky sigh and eyes tightly shut you took in a deep breath.

“I love you.”

It came out as a whisper, barely audible. You were worried he didn’t hear you and you were dreading the thought. You seriously didn’t want to repeat it.

His expression was blank.

It scared you.

The atmosphere was choking you, you wanted to cry.

Noticing his expression, you took the hint and turned to leave. How silly right? You almost git the guy killed and you have the audacity to confess? hah!

“I know.”

You stopped in your tracks. He knows? He knows what?? That your stupid? That someone like him was out of your league? That you were weak and almost killed hi-

hm? whats this?

Your lips feel warm.

Oh. He was kissing you.

he was.. HE WAS WHAT?

you froze still, eyes wide. You were sure you looked like an idiot. Even after he pulled away and a small string of saliva was visible, even after he smiled at you. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening? The situation seemed foreign to you.

It wasn’t until you heard loud cackling that you snapped out of your trance.

“I love you too stup- y/n.”

[the-painted-siren]

Anything At All

Summary: Lloyd is an adult who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself—or so he wants Zane to believe. Good thing Zane doesn’t believe. Notes: A little thing I wrote for Round 1 of Who Wrote That in the Ninjago fic server I’m part of. Decided to polish it off and post it bc I had a good time writing it.

“You’re upset.”

It’s a statement, not a question. 

Lloyd glances up, his expression one that Zane knows all too well: brows creased, face pinched, eyes gleaming with a sheen of exhaustion. Lloyd leans back in his chair, an irritated grumble rumbling in his throat. 

“I am not.” Lloyd throws his pencil onto the stack of scrolls before him. The names of each of his students lay across the pages, accompanied by notes, diagrams, and schedules. Eraser shavings and crumpled-up papers overflow on his desk. 

“It's normal to be upset,” Zane says. “You're stressed from a long day.” 

Lloyd waves him off, yawning. “I’ve seen worse days,” he mutters. “I can get through this one.” 

“Have you eaten today?” 

Lloyd combs his fingers through his hair, a heavy sigh rolling out of him as he sinks down into his chair. He doesn’t look at Zane for the longest time, but the corners of his mouth turn to a pout like a child that’s been caught stealing sweets before dinner. 

“No,” he finally admits. “But it’s fine. I’ll find something to snack on later.” 

“You should eat,” Zane comments. “I can make something—”

“That’s nice.” Lloyd rises to his feet, a scowl flitting across his features as he pushes Zane toward the door. “But I’m a grown-up. I can feed myself.” 

“But I—”

Lloyd gives Zane a proper shove out into the hallway. 

“I appreciate it, buddy, really, but you can’t help this time.” 

———

Zane doesn’t believe that. 

He plays many roles within the team—medic, builder, analyst. He was built to protect and repair. And while he can’t traditionally repair Lloyd’s struggles, he figures he may be able to lighten them. He can take some of the weight off of Lloyd’s shoulders. 

Because Lloyd works—he works and he trains and he fights. Mostly because he loves doing it. He loves protecting Ninjago with every ounce of his bleeding, golden heart, even if he never says it. 

Deep down, though, Zane suspects it’s also because Lloyd doesn’t know how to do anything else. 

Zane figures he’s approximately 25% responsible for that. Less, if he takes Nya and Master Wu into account. More, if he considers the many times he’s recklessly thrown himself into battle, almost died protecting those he cares about, and never opened those vulnerable parts of himself for others to repair. 

Terrible examples that Zane knows Lloyd has internalized. 

Though, FSM forbid he ever point that out—Lloyd would have a fit.  

That leaves Zane the only option of supporting Lloyd through less direct means, which he remembers how to do with his favorite pastime. 

Cooking tethers Zane to his sense of self. It goes beyond a set of calculations that his superhuman brain can produce in seconds. He considers it an art and one of the few things that call for his opinion and not cold, hard facts—it’s something he knows he can always use to comfort his family.  

For Lloyd, Zane brings out a recipe of deep nostalgia and laughter. 

A noodle soup with a rich, golden broth flavored by an assortment of spices, ginger, lime, and cilantro. Traditionally made with beef or chicken, Zane has since changed the recipe to favor shrimp instead, as Lloyd proved to have a taste for it as a child. 

A few hours later, Zane sweeps into Lloyd’s room and sets the piping hot bowl of soup down on his desk. Lloyd looks up and immediately scowls. 

“Zane, I told you to leave me alone,” Lloyd snaps. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

Zane doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he scans the contents of Lloyd’s desk.  

“You are working on customized training programs for your students?” Zane asks. 

“Yes.” 

“You teach them because you care about them?”

“ Yes, ” Lloyd hisses. 

“If teaching is your way of expressing love, then cooking is mine,” Zane asserts, “and you are not the only one who is allowed to express their love here.” 

Lloyd looks gobsmacked that Zane would dare speak to him that way. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, spluttering for words that simply won’t come. Eventually, he scoffs, picks up a fork, and stabs at the food. 

Despite Lloyd’s agonizing display, Zane reckons that everything will turn out fine. He followed the recipe he wrote to the letter, the same as always. It’s never failed before; it shouldn’t now. 

Still, he finds himself watching with anticipation rushing to his head.

Lloyd shoves a forkful of noodles and shrimp into his mouth and chews—quickly first, then slowly, before he stops altogether. 

A shot of icy panic spears through Zane’s mind. Surely, he hadn’t made a mistake? Unless Lloyd had grown out of enjoying his food? Did Lloyd not like it—

A soft rumbling sound touches the air, familiar in every way. 

It takes Zane a moment to process what it is, but when he does, all of his doubt melts away. 

Purring. Lloyd is purring.

His pointed ears—from his supernatural heritage—flick once, ever so slightly. Then again, and again, until they flutter like the wings of a butterfly. Lloyd leans over the bowl, a content smile pulling at his lips as he swallows and dives for the next bite, slurping up noodles with reckless abandon. 

A cool sense of relief floods through Zane’s body at the sight. 

Ever since the Merge, Lloyd rarely seemed joyful. It was as though the years of loneliness had left him struggling to reconnect with even his closest friends and all the more desperate to assert his independence. Especially since his responsibilities had grown to include two—no, three, Zane recounts—kids and a busier monastery to maintain. 

To see Lloyd smile again soothed Zane more than words could explain. 

“Be sure to bring your bowl back to the kitchen once you’ve finished,” Zane says as he takes his leave. “I can serve up seconds for you too, if you wish.”

Lloyd suddenly spins around in his chair, eyes wide. 

“Uh, wait, Zane!”

Zane pauses in the doorway.

“Um… I know this might be a lot to ask…” Lloyd stumbles over his words, eyes darting away. “But… you know those spring rolls you make sometimes? The ones that have shrimp and pork and all that—” Lloyd makes a vague gesture with his hand. “ —green stuff you put in it. Could you…?”

“Of course,” Zane answers swiftly. “I’d be happy to make some for you.” 

Lloyd beams—soft and relaxed against the golden light of dusk pouring into the room. 

“Thanks, Zane,” Lloyd says. 

Zane merely smiles, happy to be of assistance. 

Anything at all to make his little brother smile again.

[yukidragon]

So... what do you think of a concept of Jack's Sunshine who is a Magical Girl?

This ask instantly gave me the image of Alice as a magical girl and OMG the potential of that is delicious. Thank you for sharing this plot bunny with me so I can totally run away with it!

The timing is also fitting since I recently watched the Miraculous Ladybug’s latest season ending and special and, uh… I’ve had… thoughts. (Yes, Miraculous Ladybug counts as a magical girl show.)

Before I begin, I want to plug the SnaccPop Studios patreon since it’s almost certain that I’m going to wind up using the magical girl Jack picture Sauce drew at some point in this ramble, and possibly other SDJ art. Please support the team if you can, and remember don't share anything privately posted on the patreon!

I also want to toss out potential content warnings just in case. This post will contain mention of PTSD, child soldiers, body image issues, cheating, toxic relationships, and the general erotic/horror elements that are part of the Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack package. I’m not sure where I’m going to take this, but chances are there’s going to be some spice involving my OTP and some mention of Jack’s yandere obsession and the extremes he’ll go to keep his sunshine.

Remember, this is an 18+ Adults Only fandom! Minors do not interact!

 The “Magic” of Childhood

The magical girl genre is iconic, and it’s also been deconstructed in different ways with certain anime like Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Given Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack is, in a way, deconstructing lost media and clown mascots into an eroge horror game, it feels fitting to go with that sort of spirit with this sort of crossover as well.

In this case, sunshine would have probably been someone who was a magical “girl” in their childhood/teen years, as that is usually the age range of magical girls doing their magical shenanigans while they learn life lessons and mature. Whether or not MC was actually a girl during this time period is, of course, up to the individual to decide for their backstory. After all, who cares if the magical girls in the story are actually girls? There are an increasing number of stories about magical boys in this genre, for example, and we all know non-binary folks can go anywhere they darn well please.

Given the tone of the game and MC’s state, I think it would be perfectly fitting if they are still a disillusioned adult who wants to abandon all things nostalgic. In this case, their past magical shenanigans would be included in the childish things that they want to forget. Heck, it’s more reason to want to forget if they felt like their childhood was taken from them because they had to fight monsters in secret all the time in flashy clothes and transformation sequences, even having to go as far as to save the world from utter destruction.

Then of course add in the complication that Ian and his cheating presents on MC’s mental state. Magical girl shows very often have romance as one of the key aspects of the story, the star-crossed lovers of the lead magical girl hopelessly pining over the prince charming of her dreams~ Only, in this case, “Prince Charming” betrayed their “destined romance” by getting horny and sleeping with someone else. Bonus points if these two were reincarnated destined lovers or the like, ala Usagi and Mamoru from Sailor Moon. I mean, wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth!

In this sort of AU, the romance with Ian and the magical “girl” adventures MC experienced would be heavily tied to their childhood and teenage years. In a sense, they both represent the MC’s youth, for good and for ill. In the present day, MC is dealing with the aftermath of the love of their life cheating on them, being isolated and alone, and carrying the baggage of their fight to save the world, which robbed them of their childhood. They’re probably extra exhausted if they still have to occasionally transform and fight monsters even in the present day. They have to juggle adult responsibilities on top of the fate of a world, working a thankless job that doesn’t pay enough with a duty that pays nothing at all. They’d probably be even more of a penny pincher in this AU.

Jack entering into the picture would be a very interesting wrinkle to their life. Given MC has faced a lot of supernatural and magical shenanigans, I imagine they’d be more inclined to believe that, yes, this clown that suddenly appeared one day and insists on being their best friend is real. Now they have another magical mascot in their life, only this one isn’t some cute little talking animal. I mean, heck, they might even be more inclined to just roll with it after having to live with a magical mascot bossing them around for years.

Not that I imagine MC would necessarily let Jack in on their secret identity, especially if they’re trying to leave the magical girl business in the past.

I can imagine Jack would be stunned to learn of MC’s secret double life, especially if he saw them during their flashy magical transformation sequence. Magical girl anime wasn’t really a thing in the US in the early 80’s, so Jack isn’t going to be familiar with the tropes, even if there were some in-universe TV shows about it. (I mean, in Sailor Moon, the Sailor V show was a thing, so even in the magical girl universe there were magical girl shows, so…)

Of course, I have a feeling that most MCs wouldn’t be interested in watching any TV shows based on the fictional or real life exploits of magical girls after growing up living that life. It’d probably be a bit too real for them.

Man, wouldn’t it be awkward if during MC’s teen years, when in the thick of living the life as secret protector of the world, they had a best friend who was absolutely obsessed with the magical girl genre? They have to deal with all the drama of being a magical “girl” and listen to people ramble about it even when off the clock. I can see Ian totally being all over magical girl anime, especially when there are real life examples  around.

This gives me the image of MC, sitting in their childhood bedroom with Ian, having to play dumb and smile innocently while Ian gushes about being saved from a monster by a magical “girl” without ever knowing that the person he’s talking about is sitting right next to him. Talk about awkward!

Though it would also be a potential moment for romance. Ian talks up his savior and gushes over how cool they were, and MC gets to feel butterflies at hearing themselves praised so much… even if Ian thinks he’s talking about a different person.

A pity Ian had to taint those sweet memories by cheating, huh?

Back to the present with Jack. Once he finds out his sunshine is going out there battling monsters, saving the world… well, there’s definitely going to be mixed feelings. On the one hand, that’s amazing! It does go to show just how special his sunshine really is. On the other hand, MC is risking their life and possibly getting injured on a regular basis because of this duty of theirs. That’s not even adding in the more unsettling magical girl deconstructions and how that power might come at a cost…

Jack, in general, wants to try and make things easier for MC, and make sure that he is needed by them. Any sort of occupation or secret life they have makes no difference on this fact. However, I think he would want to make sure to reveal that he knows their secret only when the time is right, when he’s sure it’s not going to chase them away from him

So chances are Jack would nudge MC in the direction of wanting to tell him. He’ll show them that they can trust him with any secret, help them with any problem, especially if it’s important to them. He’ll take care of them, no matter what they want to do. He’s there for them… forever.

Until MC lets Jack in on their secret, he could secretly help them. Maybe he can hunt down evil doers and scare those nasty monsters away, maybe even convince the villains to stop creating monsters that put his sunshine at risk. It’s not exactly in character for Sunny Day Jack to want to hurt anyone, but he’s stopping the bad guys! For his sunshine! So they don’t get hurt! The bad guys too dangerous to be allowed to run around hurting people and trying to take away his sunshine by killing or capturing them…

Any sort of magical mascot MC has might wind up interfering with Jack and his plans, or maybe they too will be suckered in by his silver tongue and sweet words. It all depends, really. I imagine with their power, they would be able to see and hear him like MC has, which adds a whole extra dynamic to the relationship.

Hell, Jack could potentially convince the mascot to give him magical powers too, ala this gorgeous piece of art drawn by Sauce.

Look at Jack, all sparkly and magical, with such beautiful colors and design. He’s going to fight for love and his sunshine and triumph over anyone who would dare try to take his sunshine away.

If Jack becomes a magical “girl” too, well, then his sunshine can for sure share their secret with him without worry! It’ll be just the two of them protecting each other and the world. He’ll keep MC safe for sure with his new powers.

And make sure no one takes his sunshine away, even if that means making his magical clothes a little less colorful and a lot more bloody.

Gotta love how Sauce can create such delicious tonal whiplash with their lovely art. Jack makes for a chilling yandere magical girl, don't you think?

Like any good protagonist with magical girl powers, Jack would make sure to protect his sunshine, and even without powers he would want to keep them safe. It doesn’t matter if they have a secret double life. They can share all their burdens with him. No one has to know about their secret identity except for him. It just means their bond is even more special than it already was.

Of course… if MC is keeping Jack at a distance, or interested in someone else, that would create extra conflict. MC would likely be more aware that Jack is an unknown entity and be more wary of him even as they accept his existence and presence in their life as something real. If they choose someone else to pursue romantically, well… that’s a problem for Jack regardless of the universe.

If Jack does manage to get himself some magical girl powers, he might have a whole new arsenal of tools to get rid of his rivals in a magical and flashy way. Heck, if he learns how the bad guys transform people into monsters, he might have a way to get rid of them in a way that is seen as virtuous. There’s all sorts of twisted paths that could be taken with this sort of AU, especially when giving a yandere even more power.

Really, a lot of this depends on the details about the MC’s powers, the mascot they have, what they’re fighting, and if they’re still fighting even as an adult. With that thought in mind, let’s get a little more specific in the way I would personally tackle the idea of Alice being a magical girl.

Magical Girl Alice

The idea of Alice as a magical girl tickles me greatly, especially given the fact that magical girls are always super skinny. I mean, there’s a running joke about the Sailor Moon art style and how long and skinny their legs are. Magical girls don’t tend to appear in plus size unless it’s as the punchline of a joke. It adds a lot of possibilities, and the potential to tackle public perception to the cute stereotypical magical girl archetype.

Needless to say, someone like Alice would have a difficult time as a magical girl for many reasons. She already had a hard enough time being responsible as the oldest child of the King family and taking care of Ian without adding in her duties as a magical warrior for justice.

I can imagine it happening suddenly one day in the typical way these stories usually start, when an entity appeared in the form of a cute rabbit - Honey Bunny.

Yes, I had to use Honey Bunny for the role of magical girl mascot. I mean, who else would fit that role as Alice’s adorable non-human sidekick? In this case, it was a magical entity that took over her puppet and has a similar personality to her SunnyTime Town counterpart. In a way, Alice's issues with speaking were a blessing, as no one looked twice at Alice conversing with her “puppet.” In fact, people were amazed that she had developed some really impressive ventriloquist skills!

Alice has always gone out of her way to help people, just this took that desire to an extreme. As a kid, she was excited to become a hero for justice, and with magical powers to boot. It was so cool to transform into an identity that no one recognized, beating down the wicked monsters and saving innocent people.

Well… in theory. Naturally, the first time Alice actually had to face down a monster born from someone’s negative emotions, it was a lot harder than she thought. The whole magical girl gig was harder than advertised, but Honey Bunny helped her get through it. Besides, she needed to do it. No one else could, and if no one stepped up, the world would be lost.

Alice would have shared her secret with her family, but Honey Bunny always stressed the importance of keeping things a secret. No one must know - not her family and not her best friend Ian, even if he’s crushing on the mysterious magical girl who saved him from the wicked monster his mother had been transformed into one day. If they knew, then the bad guys could find out the truth from exploiting their loved ones’ negative emotions. If that happened then she and everyone she knew was in danger, and the world could be doomed.

Quite a lot of pressure on a kid, don’t you think?

Alice had to learn how to be independent, a lone warrior of justice, taking down bad guys. Sometimes she managed to get help, but it didn’t last forever. Perhaps she did eventually get a superhero team in her teens, which would’ve been a breath of fresh air. She had someone to lean on who understood this destiny that they were burdened with.

It did create this sort of divide between Alice and anyone not part of this magical girl group. This secret and weight on all of them was so big, too heavy. Others couldn’t understand… for the sake of the world.

I was going to say this caused a divide between Alice and Ian, but then I thought of Ian in his bunny costume and, well… Ian would make a cute magical girl, don’t you think?

If Ian was in on this secret double life, it would add more reason for them to cling to each other, especially if it was only the two of them without anyone else to depend on. It’d be like Ladybug and Chat Noir against the world, a whirlwind romance for the ages…

Well… until Ian let it go to his head so that he could get some head.

In typical magical girl story fashion, it took a while before Alice and Ian managed to get in a relationship. There were plenty of near-misses and misunderstandings due to the double life Alice led until Ian joined it. So many outings together had to be canceled at the last minute or interrupted because Alice had to sneak away to save people.

It was the end of high school when Ian got his powers too in a dramatic incident where the world and Alice’s life were hanging in the balance. This is one of those season finale climax moments where everything is on the line and they came a hair’s breadth from everything going horribly, horribly wrong.

Naturally, this made Ian and Alice’s bond, which had been waning due to her double-life, suddenly a whole lot stronger. Trauma bonding is pretty high for young people who need to cling to each other to survive after all…

Alice used her experience to help Ian get used to his role, though he had a much harder time juggling his double life. His mom was a big problem, constantly wanting to know where he was and what he was doing. In the end, he had to give back the powers Honey Bunny gave him because he didn’t see himself as worthy of them anymore. He also just couldn’t handle the pressure, not like Alice could.

Still, the two of them were close because Ian knew Alice’s secret and could help her make excuses to sneak off to save people.

The college era changed everything. The big bad Alice had been fighting for years was finally defeated at long last. She had thematically graduated from being a magical girl. She could finally live a normal life and figure out a dream of her own beyond saving the world.

But… Alice didn’t know what to do. Sure she thought about her future beyond being a magical girl off and on, but fighting to save the world and juggling her personal life with these secrets and lies took up so much of her mental energy. She was exhausted and wound up bouncing around in college.

In typical magical girl story fashion, the protagonist got together with her love interest in the end. Alice and Ian were a couple, so close and in love. With Alice not knowing what to do with this future that was open to infinite possibilities, she let Ian take the lead in guiding their futures, trying to get into acting alongside him.

Of course, much like in the normal universe, Alice got pushback. Though she’s a magical warrior for justice, she’s still chubby. Her physical abilities are better than the average person even in civilian mode, but bodies have a tendency to want to be a particular shape, and for her, that’s bigger than society wants her to be.

Much like in Miraculous Ladybug, Alice has some influence on how she appears when transformed. Will and subconscious desire strongly affect it, as well as creating that special aura that makes people unable to identify the magical girl with the pigtails as the same person as the girl with the same pigtails and hair color who was standing there only a couple minutes before. When Alice first started out, she was more or less herself, but fluffier, more colorful, covered in frills and glitter. She had the young magical girl flare and charm, just plus sized.

Unfortunately, as Alice’s body image issues manifested, getting mocked both by her peers and even enemies, she started subconsciously wanting to be smaller. She saw her ideal self as those skinny magical girls on TV, and it reflected in her transformed mode. It wasn’t an instant change, more like a gradual transition as though the creators behind the series got worried about having a plus sized magical girl and made her gradually slimmer until she looked more “on model” for the genre.

By the time Alice was a teenager, her transformed mode was the typical skimpy, but curvy, magical girl archetype. She didn’t look anything like herself, and there was no chance of mistaking the two of them for the same person. She wanted to look this way in reality, so when she had free time she worked out more and ate less. It was very unhealthy, and Honey Bunny had to work hard to keep her from developing an eating disorder. If Alice wouldn’t take care of herself for her own sake, then she had to do it to have the power to save the world.

The relationship between Honey Bunny and Alice is a deep friendship, but it’s a bit complicated. After all, it was Honey Bunny who guided a child to take on the responsibility of protecting the world. Regardless if there was no other option, it’s still not a burden that should be placed on any one person, let alone a child.

Needless to say, Alice has a lot of baggage from her time as a magical girl and some trauma bonding with Honey Bunny as well. When she finally had a normal life, she had come to accept that she could be loved as she was, not as [insert magical girl superhero name here]. I’m not sure what name I’m going to go with for Alice, but it might be a parody of Sailor Moon’s naming convention or some other magical girl anime’s naming style. I mean, I could call her Sailor Sunshine, but that’s a bit too on the nose. ;3 I’ll have to give it some thought…

What didn’t help Alice’s self-confidence and body image issues was Ian having a crush on her transformed self and gushing about her all the time. Although Ian did have a crush on Alice as well, he couldn’t help but geek out over a real life magical girl, and more than once Alice was made to feel jealous of the persona she crafted that always seemed so much better than herself.

When Ian eventually found out her identity, he was stunned, especially due to how different they looked, but at the same time it made sense to him. He insisted that she was the same person, with or without the flashy costume, and she was just as beautiful either way.

So in the “final season” of this magical girl show, Alice’s transformed self looked a bit chubbier than before - not as full figured as her normal self, but no longer a skinny twig. She better accepted herself a bit more, and she felt loved by Ian both in her transformed state and out. By that point she had grown and become happier with herself.

Which made Ian cheating on her later on with a sexy woman with big boobs and a small waist feel like a huge kick in the crotch.

Alice entered college with Ian full of hope, even if she felt lost for a future outside of being a magical girl. She had a partner who loved her and understood her, and she had the rest of her life to choose whatever she wanted in the world she saved.

It’s just unfortunate that all of the constant battles and running off to fight tanked her grades during high school, which made it harder for her to get into college in the first place. At least Alice could get into community college, even if that meant there was no hope of a scholarship. At least she had Ian by her side.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Though Alice had become a strong warrior for justice, she now suffered from PTSD and had traumatic flashbacks of moments that scarred her deeply, especially when it came to people she couldn’t save. She couldn’t exactly talk about it with anyone, and Ian couldn’t handle the burden. After all, he gave up being a magical girl because it was too much for him, and hearing how hard it was on Alice made him feel guilty, which in turn didn’t help her. Fortunately Alice had years worth of experience in holding it in. When you have to keep secrets in order to prevent the end of the world, you learn how to bottle up a lot of things.

Alice is a much better actor in this universe because of this, and it did help her get further in acting classes despite pushback and at least one teacher warning her about how she would be type casted in unflattering roles due to her body size. Still, at some point she wondered if it really was what she wanted to do. She spent years having all these eyes on her, having to be a commanding presence and play a part…

Despite Ian’s encouragement to keep acting with him, Alice dropped out. Though disappointed, he encouraged her to try and find her own dream. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, but in so many ways she was very, very tired.

Alice’s relationship with Ian wasn’t the happily ever after she thought it would be. Much like in the regular universe, things deteriorated between them, with his cheating being the final straw. Those issues were sharper in this world, unfortunately. Ian felt even more insecure having a partner who was this famous  magical girl superhero who saved the world many times over. He felt insignificant compared to Alice at times, like he wasn’t worthy of her, and she could do so much better than someone like him who constantly needed saving… At the same time though… he couldn’t let her go.

The person Ian cheated on Alice with was someone more “on his level,” just a normal person living a normal life who made him feel happy and attractive during a time when he was alone. Long distance relationships are so hard, especially when you’re convincing yourself that you’re always letting your partner down.

Alice didn’t take the confession that Ian cheated well, but she didn’t nearly drink herself to death in this universe. The issue in this world is that the enemy can use your crushing negative emotions against you, so Alice had to learn how to combat those feelings. Often it was by transforming and destroying a few dozen trees in a forest miles away from civilization. When she got all of her energy out, she fled the scene of her destruction and collapsed to the floor of their apartment in tears.

Shaun came by in the midst of her grief, as Ian had called him in a panic to check up on Alice when she wouldn’t pick up the phone for a long time. He was a good shoulder to cry on, and kept her company the entire night until she finally cried herself to sleep.

Of course… the breakup isn’t going to be easy when it comes to superhero identities. Ian proved he can’t be trusted after all by betraying Alice, and she can’t be with someone she can’t trust… but at the same time he knows her secret. It created a lot of tangled up feelings and drama. Ian keeps trying to regain her trust and get back together with her, but she can’t, not with how hurt she is and how much responsibility is on her shoulders.

A new threat could appear at any time. Sometimes unrelated big threats appear, small one-off things. Alice technically can never retire from being a magical girl. It’s part of what made figuring out her future at college difficult.

Honey Bunny, being a magical mascot in charge of keeping up secrecy, used magical means to make Ian forget about Alice’s secret identity and the part he played in the magical girl life. After all, if magical girls have a magical field that makes it so no one can identify them and their civilian persona, even when there’s photographs, then it makes sense there could be different magics to ensure people don’t uncover the secret. I mean, we are talking about the fate of the world after all. That’s pretty serious stuff.

Disillusioned by love, exhausted by her duties, and now only with Honey Bunny to confide in again, Alice feels more alone than ever. She struggles to figure out what she wants in life, knowing that she can’t ever truly stop being a magical girl, not when supernatural forces sometimes crop up to cause trouble… to say nothing of the threat of a potential new villain appearing like the one that forced her to become a magical girl in the first place.

It makes it hard for Alice to feel motivated. Her dreams are murky. She coasts through college, graduating with a general engineering degree just to have something to show for the cost of the classes. She gets a job at Yogurtopia because it at least has flexible hours and Barry at least accepted her excuse that sometimes she’ll have emergencies unexpectedly. He has her work extra hours to make up for those times when she has to cancel at the last minute. Even with a job like this, it feels like she’s hanging by a thread, barely holding on because her boss has decided to offer her leniency. Chances are she won’t get that elsewhere.

Supernatural Ghost(?) Jack

Of course, it’s during this period where Alice is feeling more lost and alone than ever that Jack appears. She sensed something strange about the video tape, but not dangerous. It was compelling, touched by magic, and left her feeling like she had to play it. Honey Bunny had a weird feeling about it and cautioned her when messing with it.

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that the connection between Jack and Alice was willingly made, at least for the Sunshine in Hell continuity. It’s no different in this AU. Alice, ever the hero, heard the pitiful cry of a soul trapped in hell, and saved him. Thanks to her years of being a magical girl, having her soul put to the test against many magical effects, Alice didn’t pass out after the pact was made, and she fully remembers the terms of their agreement.

In a way, this starts Jack and Alice off on the right foot. Alice feels a sense of purpose in trying to figure out what happened to Jack and how to help him, and she finds he’s actually a really nice friend. It’s also nice to be around someone who makes her feel understood. Honey Bunny is good company, but their complicated relationship isn’t the same as what develops between her and Jack.

Alice doesn’t let Jack know that she’s a magical girl, though he does know about Honey Bunny, if only because Honey Bunny asserted herself to make sure the terms of the magical pact between the two were fair and that there were no loopholes an unsavory character could take advantage of. Honey Bunny, being the guide for magical girls, has experience in setting up contracts, you see, and she does care deeply for Alice even though she also used the poor girl as a child soldier. Even if she didn’t have a lot of options at the time, it was still not a good thing to do to a kid.

Honey Bunny has a lot of guilt for everything she put Alice through, and is extra protective of Alice as a result. The two are very close, and Jack often feels jealous of their bond. He wants to be closer to Alice, his sunshine, his savior… closer than anyone. Their bond is special. He never felt this way about anyone before…

And Jack certainly doesn’t want anything to risk breaking the bond he has with his sunshine and being damned back to hell.

While Jack can sense Alice’s emotions and vice-versa through their connection, the wording of their pact is a bit tighter in this AU, and they can’t read each other’s minds. Still, that connection of empathy goes a long way in the two of them growing closer.

Jack helps Alice get some direction in life, feel more motivated in herself again in a way that Honey Bunny can’t quite manage to help her with due to their complicated history. He becomes an important part of her life, making it shine brighter and she feels happy in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Alice struggles with burdening Jack with anything, especially since she’s supposed to be the one trying to help him, being the superhero and all, but Jack wants to help her, and it feels so nice to be taken care of for a change.

Alice has carried the weight of the world on her own for so long.

Things get easier with Jack around. Though Alice still works towards helping Jack be human again so he can interact with others, the idea of him one day going off to live his own life is just so sad. But can she really believe him when he says that he wants to be her best friend forever?

Jack understands what Alice is trying to do for him, and he does appreciate it, but he’s not leaving her even if she thinks that’s what’s best for him. He doesn’t want to leave her. Besides, he can see that wouldn’t be best for her. She needs him, and the more time they spend together, the more he’ll do to show her that. It feels so good to have her need him, to feel useful and wanted. She’s such a remarkable person, so strong and brave, but he wants to take care of her. She deserves to be loved and cared for, especially after all she’s done.

Jack, with his supernatural abilities, finds out early on that Alice is a magical girl when she has to run off because of a sudden monster attack. He doesn’t reveal that he knows right away, but subtly encourages Alice to tell him herself. It hurts a little whenever she avoids the opportunities he gives her to open up to him and lies to hide her secret, but he understands that a big secret as this can’t be easy to share, especially after he’s seen what some of these monsters can do to people.

One of the ways Jack tries to encourage Alice to tell him involves talking up the magical girl that appears on the news sometimes, how amazing and courageous she is. Unfortunately, that backfires a bit. Alice is reminded of the way Ian gushed over her alter-ego in the past, and the memory hurts like hell. Jack notices right away that this line of conversation upsets her, even though she tries to hide it. She covers it up by pretending that she can’t see what’s so great about the magical girl except her looks, and Jack, very gently, redirects the conversation in a more positive direction.

After that Jack focuses on not idolizing the magical girl persona, but humanizing her. He says there’s more to “her” and everyone beyond their looks. Everyone is beautiful in their own ways, but Alice doesn’t need the ribbons and sparkles to shine. She doesn’t need to fight monsters to prove how brave she is. She’s the most beautiful, most courageous person he’s ever known.

Alice, flustered by his praise, protests that Jack is just saying that. After all, so many other people are so much more beautiful than she is, including the magical girl who totally isn’t her!

Jack focuses on Alice and her actions, all the things he’s noticed her do day by day that make her shine, the acts of kindness, her bravery and determination. At times his words cross over into things that he does as a magical girl, deliberately so, but vague enough that she wouldn’t immediately realize that he knows. It’s just enough to force her to look at that magical persona in a new light and see that it’s just a sparkling dress on top of the amazing person who invested so much of herself into doing the right thing and sacrificed so much of herself to make the world a better place.

Alice can’t help but feel moved. Jack has a way with words, and she can feel he cares about her. Falling in love with him is a slow burn, but comes as naturally as falling into his arms, and eventually the line is crossed. Although she believed that she would never find true love after everything that happened with Ian, Jack gives her the courage to finally try again.

Naturally this is a love story with a happy ending because I’m a sucker for my OTP. When Alice is forced to reveal her identity through a suitably dramatic moment to save people, Jack gently tells her in the aftermath that he already knew, and he was waiting for her to be ready to tell him. He also tells her it doesn’t change anything - she’s always been the most amazing person in the world in his eyes, with or without the magical wand and frills.

Jack and Alice get together before the reveal, which is a source of anxiety for Alice until everything is out in the open. Fortunately, Jack is so patient with her and helps her deal with her anxious feelings and worries. When the truth is revealed, he helps her avoid people in order to transform safely, gives her ideas for excuses to tell people in order to hide her magical girl persona.

Really, Jack would make for a good magical girl guide. He’s certainly clever and manipulative enough to handle the job. Plus if no one can see him, he can figure out the best hiding spots.

Alice helps Jack become human again, or as close as he can be. When he’s able to be seen by others, a part of her fears that he’ll find someone else, someone he wants more than her. Still, unlike with Ian, she finds herself able to be more open with Jack than she can with anyone else. She eventually learns to unburden herself with him, to show parts of herself that she feels are ugly and would let everyone else down if they saw them. She learns to release worries she held back from even Honey Bunny because of the weight of obligation she had to not let anyone down.

Jack accepts it all. He’s patient and listens to everything. It troubles him when Alice finally tells him all the horrors she faced as a magical girl, all the trauma and awful things that she had to experience for the sake of the world. It feels so unfair to him that such a kind soul has to suffer alone like this. He’s even more determined to be her shelter and give her a place she can feel at home.

Alice feels freer with Jack than she ever felt in her life. Even though Ian knew her secret, he couldn’t handle all the horrors. He couldn’t stand by her side, placing her above him on a pedestal. Even though Honey Bunny was there the whole time, Alice didn’t want to let her down and was looking to her for guidance. Jack, however, isn’t someone with expectations that she has to live up to or a victim to shield from the ugliness of the world. He feels like someone who is there for her, standing right next to her on her level. The weight on her heart feels just a little lighter after she finally accepts that sharing her burdens with Jack didn’t crush him under that weight.

Of course Ian has tried to get back together with Alice in this AU, but he’s had far less luck. His phone got blocked right after the breakup, as did all his social media pages. Their breakup wasn’t “for now” but “for good,” in this AU, much to his dismay. With all the responsibilities Alice has to carry, she has to think of the world before herself. She can’t be with someone who she can’t trust, and he proved that she can’t trust him. It’s lucky that he didn’t blab her secret identity in a moment of weakness before Honey Bunny made him forget!

Ian still reaches out in any way he can though, mostly to Alice’s family and any mutual friends. He stalks her socials through secret alt accounts and tries desperately in his regular life to become the man worthy of her. He constantly tries to figure out ways to make up what he did to her even while constantly putting himself down.

Because Ian forgot about Alice’s secret identity, he forgot that she’s also the mysterious magical girl that sometimes appears in the news for saving people. He can’t help but crush so hard on this mystery girl, and it fills him with so much guilt. He already cheated on Alice once without this silly crush making his heart flutter! He can’t let his heart be shaken up again! He needs to be loyal this time.

At the same time though, it’s over… Ian should move on. Yet, he can’t move on. He needs Alice. He knows he does. He can’t handle life without her. They’ve meant so much to each other for so long. His life feels empty without her.

Also a part of Ian subconsciously remembers the things they experienced when he knew her secret, and it deepens his longing to make things right. He betrayed Alice so deeply when she had such a burden to carry. The guilt is eating him alive and won’t abade until they’re together again.

Alice avoids Ian and is distant when talking with him. She’s able to mask her hurt with a frosty mask, but it’s so very, very painful. She can’t handle being near him or thinking about him for long.

Fortunately, the closer Alice gets with Jack, the less painful it gets to think about Ian. Her heart starts to heal thanks to Jack.

Unfortunately, Jack does not take too kindly to Ian’s attempts at getting back together with Alice Fortunately, he’s not the only one with this sentiment, as Honey Bunny doesn’t want Alice to get back together with Ian either.

Really, Honey Bunny was leery about the idea of Jack being with Alice the second she picked up on something developing between them. She was worried about Alice getting her heart broken again, but Jack is constantly proving her fears wrong. He makes Alice so happy. Maybe this strange and suspicious clown was what Alice needed all along…

Jack takes advantage of Honey Bunny not wanting Ian around to team up and thwart any attempts Ian might make to get back together with Alice. Honey Bunny is a bit of a mischief maker when left to her own devices, and Jack is very good at talking her into playing a few harmless magical pranks on Ian. Naturally, they do this without letting Alice know. No need to upset her by forcing her to think about Ian after all.

So, yes, Honey Bunny, in a way, is assisting Jack’s relationship with Alice in this world too, even if she’s more than a little  hesitant about trusting him with Alice’s heart. She would be even more hesitant if she knew just how thirsty Jack is for Alice. His constant attempts to seduce Alice once the two are in a relationship is a point of annoyance for Honey Bunny, and she serves as a cock block more than once.

Still, it’s not going to stop Jack from showing his sunshine lots and lots of love, or experimenting with magical girl powers in a kinky way. Just the skimpy outfit alone is begging to be used for sexy times, maybe in a bit of roleplay as well. Sometimes pretending to be in a position of vulnerability can help someone take back power they lost, and Alice can discover that being tied up isn’t so bad when the person doing it loves her dearly and will undo the bindings the moment that she feels overwhelmed.

Jack might be playing the role of wholesome kids show host, but he’s still an actor at heart. He can have a lot of fun pretending to be a villainous evildoer who has captured the virtuous magical girl and has her at his mercy. He’s also open for it to be reversed, to be the dastardly villain finally captured by the champion of justice. After all, Alice has a lot of experience teaching the bad guys how to place nice, and maybe she can have a lot more fun with it when Jack is the one she’s teaching a “lesson” with the power of love~

I can imagine Jack would also try to encourage Honey Bunny to give him magical girl powers like she did temporarily to Ian. It’d lessen Alice’s burden and help them both out. He already has supernatural abilities of his own and is bonded to Alice. He can handle the burden fighting evil for the sake of his sunshine and the world. He won’t crumble under the weight of this heavy responsibility like Ian did.

Naturally, it would take a lot of convincing after how far south things went with Ian, but Jack is patient and clever. He’s patient enough to encourage Alice to come to him despite her many fears and scars. He’s patient to encourage them both to trust him, and we all know he has a way with words. Eventually, magical girl Jack will enter the stage and fight for the sake of his sunshine. He’ll use the power of his love to help her shine even brighter than the sun.

Besides the bonus of magical girl powers, Jack would naturally take advantage of the magic that prevents people from connecting a magical girl’s identity with their civilian form. I mean, if no one knows who you are, you can have anonymous sex in public with no one the wiser. Of course, the biggest obstacle is convincing Alice to give it a try, but they’ll no doubt come up with a compromise that satisfies them both.

I think I’m going to wrap up things up there for now. This ramble has gone on way longer than I intended it to - close to 8000 words! And that’s without going into detail with the smut or inserting a snippet of writing this time. I hope you all enjoyed this blend of magical girl shenanigans and Sunny Day Jack. Maybe I’ll get more ideas and touch on this AU again sometime in the future.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur