#because i was writing this instead lol

[buggachat]

something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.

But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin

[bloggerspam]

Hi Hello. Welcome to the last (planned) part of this AU i've suddenly hijacked. Before that, I would like to take the time to thank the following people for inspiring me to write this part in the first place. Your tags were hilarious and your thoughtful comments really helped make this happen, so thank you!

@toomuchhobbies-toolittletime @running-on-coffee-and-anxiety @ultimatebluff @gaddaboutgriffon @the-nerdy-fangirl @queen-o-castle and of course @hypewinter for starting this whole thing.

Now onto the fic!

=================

Clark isn’t sure how to feel about his clones. 

He doesn’t think it’s unreasonable to feel violated, knowing that someone took his DNA and tried to...tried to make a better version of him. To try and kill him. 

Bruce was on his side, before. But Bruce also said that Clark needs to understand that humans aren’t black or white. 

And Clark understands that, he does. It...it took him a while but he’s getting there--he’s trying. 

You aren't giving either of them much reason to think better of you.

Kara’s words are still ringing around in his head. 

He thinks of the test dummy---the...of Kon-El. 

He thinks of Kon-El. Not it. He thinks of them. 

He stood there, with the weeping women and the almost catatonic clon---catatonic Kyn-El---for a long time. 

He didn’t expect to be so hurt, if he’s being honest. 

But then again he didn’t expect to be so...so clone-able. He winces. 

Dinah steps into the room, and Clark tenses up. 

“Hi, Clark.” She smiles, gentle as always. 

“Hi, Dinah.” He tries to relax his fists. 

You wanted this. He reminds himself. Bruce said this would help.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?” 

Clark takes a deep breath, and talks. 

===

Kyn-El is angry at him, he thinks. 

Kon tries not to feel hurt at that, but he understands. 

He let Kyn be taken away from him, and he’s bedridden for unknown reasons. 

They have to be careful, considering he cannot directly bathe in Sunlight. 

They’ve been rolling him out on midnight walks, when the Moon is strongest. 

M’gann is very sweet. 

He’s glad his little one has a friend like her. 

She tries to fill in the gap, as Kyn-El visits less and less. 

Kyn is frantic about something, but no matter how much he asks they will not tell him. 

She tries to make excuses for him, but she is a poor liar. That too, is sweet. 

Kyn-El doesnt act like they’re angry at him, but he can tell. 

His little star has always burned hot, even when they were just born. 

When they do visit, his little one is always soft, asking for more stories and more lullabies. 

So he sings for them, and the nights pass in a lovely haze. 

But he knows. 

Kyn-El’s smiles are getting more manic as the days pass. 

He wonders what they will say, when his star finally bursts.

Well. It will be fine. 

He is no stranger to pain, after all. 

===

Kyn-El clenches and unclenches his hands, as if it will take away from the rage. 

But this is something he must do, even if he must ask a monster to accomplish it. 

He asked Robin, and subsequently Batman, first. 

It’s been weeks, but even they have limited information. 

Feeling forlorn, he went to the lesser of two evils: Kara.

She was nice, and she never gave him any reason to dislike her, but she is Kryptonian and some part of him wants to reject every piece of that fucking planet with his entire being. 

She tried to help, but her ship was a just a pod--no real databases connected to Krypton.

He has no loyalty to a dead planet, and he barely cares for the planet he’s currently on. 

The only ones he cares about are his brother, his Moon, and M’gann. 

Perhaps Robin. 

Maybe....maybe even Batman and Wonder Woman. 

He shakes his head at the thought, trying not to get off track. He looks down the road at the farm. 

He knows this scenery, knows the barn and the animals and the people. 

But this is not his home, and he hates that the part that isn’t him feels nostalgia at it. 

He exhales roughly. He can hear Kal-El in the living room with Ma, pleasantly conversing. 

He’s heard him arrive, and is pretending. That makes Kyn angry, this small consideration. 

But his pride and his hatred are nothing, in the face of his love. 

For his brother, his Moon.

In the next second, he’s at the door knocking delicately. 

The door opens. 

===

Clark watches as Kyn-El glances around him, inside the Fortress, taking in the ship. 

He hasn’t said much, but Clark wasn’t expecting him to. 

He was very clear what he wanted, and Dinah said it was important to respect boundaries. 

Imagine, Clark, if you were in their position. Dinah had said, and it hurt more than he wanted it to, after learning from Batman what they were subjected to. What if they weren’t clones, but just human boys?

Clark had fidgeted then, uncomfortable. 

If being clones bothers you, if being your....sons doesn’t sit comfortably, that’s perfectly okay. You didn’t ask for this. But they didn’t ask for it either. 

He remembers Kyn telling them Kon-El named himself. That...That more than anything really brought it home: that something had to give.

Maybe you can treat them like Kara. Like distant relatives. 

Clark has never really done well with silences, but he will try, for his family. 

He wonders if either of the boys would be opposed to calling him Uncle Kal. 

But that thought isn’t a thought he’s allowed to have or voice, so he focus on the task at hand. 

Baby steps. 

He doesn’t play tour guide, he doesn’t explain the robots or the interior or how he got there. 

He simply leads Kyn-El to the console where Jor-El lights up into existence. 

He could probably help with what Kyn-El is looking for. 

But Clark has no place in that, if he’s right about what Kyn is trying to find. 

So he introduces Kyn-El to Jor-El, and then leaves them to it. 

Still, he can be a little curious right? In case his opinion might be needed, doubtful that may be?

He’ll keep an ear on them anyway.

===

Kyn-El won’t call him anymore.

That’s not true---they call him brother, they call him Moon when they think he’s not listening.

But they won’t say his name. 

He wonders, distantly, if he’s done something wrong again. 

He met his little one’s other friends, Robin and Kaldur, and tried once more with Kara. 

He realizes that none of them call him by his name. 

They’re careful around it, tapping him on the shoulder, or gesturing to him. 

Referring to him as your brother when Kyn is in the room, but never actually calling his name.

They don’t say hey you, it’s actually so natural that it took him a while to notice. 

But he notices, is the thing. He knows, now. 

He thought he was doing well here, but now he’s not so sure. 

He mentioned, offhandedly, that he hoped he made a good impression on Kyn’s friends, that he didn’t embarrass his little one, but Kyn-El only stared at him.

Kyn-El assured him he did perfectly well, that their friends loved him, but something about the way they said it was...wrong. He could tell that much. 

So he smiled, trying to figure out why Kyn-El would lie to him, but that seemed to only make it worse. 

It seems that even being rescued, he is still a failure. 

He will try again later. 

===

Kyn-El is nervous. 

He worries at his hands, twitching and fidgeting, waiting for M’gann to bring his brother to him. 

He looks at the stars and Moon to calm down. 

He thought that maybe..maybe it would be right, to give his brother this here.

The night sky is clear and bright, and J’onn has said that his brother could maybe start using his powers soon.

He’s walking now, short walks outside the house that Batman provided them in Kansas, with Kyn and M’gann and Kara when she’s here. 

It doesn’t escape Kyn’s notice that Batman has placed them here, within a stone’s throw from Smallville. 

At least Ma was understanding, even though she was surely confused. 

He hears M’gann telling his brother about how Kyn accidentally tossed Kaldur through the wall during training today prompting a handful of chuckles from his brother. He smiles. 

M’gann beams at him, equally excited for Kyn-El’s present, and makes herself scarce once she has “delivered the precious cargo.”

That, too, makes his brother laugh. It makes him smile a little wider, despite the nerves threatening to eat him alive. 

His brother, much healthier looking, smiles softly at him as he sits down at the picnic table they usually eat their midnight snacks at. His chest warms at how far his brother has come.

He’s exhibiting more emotions now, which is both a good and bad thing. He doesn’t have that pleasantly blank smile he did when he first woke up in the Medbay at Mount Justice, but he looks sadder when he thinks he’s alone. But his smiles, the small ones, will always be precious to him. 

He’s more filled out now that he’s on a better diet, and his skin has gone back to it’s smoothness from the moonshine. Black Canary helped cut his hair, though his brother expressed liking the feel of longer hair so it lays flat and silky to his shoulders. 

Kyn-El hopes he likes his present so very badly. 

They make pleasantries, as they always do, catching each other up on their weeks. His brother with his physical rehabilitation and therapy, Kyn-El and his training and anger management. 

And then comes the time that Kyn-El usually asks for a story or a song, just to hear his brother’s low raspy voice. Just to make sure he’s still here. 

Now or never. 

“Brother...” Bright blue eyes meet his. He clears his throat. He tries again.

“Brother, I have something for you.” He tries to sound a little softer, as he always tries to be with his brother. 

“Do you? You didn’t have to..” But his brother smiles, wistful. It fuels him to continue. 

“I....I know what Kon-El means.” His brother freezes then, his smile suddenly regretful. Kyn feels his heart breaking. He feels tears well up, but he refuses to let them fall.  

There’s a long silence. Kyn doesn’t want to ask why, because he doesn’t want to hear the answer from his brother’s crooning voice. He knows the answer anyway. 

He waits for his brother to say something, just in case. His brother looks away, towards the stars, and smiles sadly. This, too, he knew would happen.

“Do you remember?” He asks instead. His brother hums to show he’s listening. 

“When...When you gave me my name, you asked me if I would give you yours.” Finally, his brother looks back at him.

“Yes, I remember.” His brother whispers, as if they are back there again. The tears threaten to fall again, but he beats them back with an aggression he’s not to have. 

“I...I want to give you one now. Will you have it?” He whispers back, scared. The only person who can make him this scared sits in front of him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His brother nods. 

“I...I talked to a lot of people. I asked---well. It doesn’t matter who I asked. But...But I’m sorry it took so long.” His brother reaches over, putting a hand over his clenched fists. Coaxing them open, holding them in his thin hands. He grips them desperately, trying not to think of sand and stardust. 

“Dan-El.” He says into the night, a wish on a shooting star.

“It...It means blessing. It--Jor-El said---I wanted...” He trails off, realizing something is wrong. 

His brother is crying. His eyes are bright blue and his face is...he looks like he’s shattered, tears melting down his cheeks. 

His brother cries silently, and Kyn-El is helpless but to cry with him. 

“Did--Do you not like it?” He’s scared. He’s scared he did something wrong, he’s scared that he’s hurt his brother, he’s scared that his brother doesn’t like it---

But he’s suddenly hauled over the table, clutched into his brother’s arms. 

His brother always looked so thin, a strong wind away from breaking, but here, Kyn feels so small and protected.

He grips his brother desperately, hidden away in his arms. Safe, warm, relieved.

“Thank you, my gift, my star.”  Dan-El whispers, trembling, voice breaking in a way it hasn’t since Kyn was just created. He says it, over and over again, his thank you, into the night. Kyn-El is too choked up to answer, but still he says it, again and again, laughing and smiling and kissing him on his forehead. 

They stay like that for a long time, under the stars and the Moon. 

Together.

Like Conner, Danny was a clone of Superman. However unlike Conner, Danny was not designed to replace him. Instead he was created as a test dummy. Day in and day out, he was subjected to various injections, toxins and experiments. All for the purpose of one day using them on the real deal. Danny quickly lost track of the days and the pain as he slipped into mental oblivion. That is until one day, his brother comes busting through a wall.

[elsecrytt]

Satoru Gojo goes to the same cafe every day for his coffee-flavored confectionary beverage. You are the barista tasked with pumping his drink with the unreasonable assortment of syrup squeezes.

You don't blink at it. You've been in customer service forever. Everything is second nature to you. But you give him a look when you hand him a drink and he just starts going.

He likes to make small chat, you learn. About meaningless things - desserts, drinks, the weather - but he makes you laugh, and he laughs at your jokes, too. He's smiling every time you talk.

He's beautiful - in that way that makes you uncertain if he's really there - and friendly, and he seems a bit lonely, eager to converse.

Something tells you Satoru probably doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's rich, too, judging by the massive tips he leaves you.

The thing is, you do a lot of things on autopilot. It's just the way these things get after a while. Pouring drinks, "What would you like today?", "I'll have that out for you soon!", "Have a nice day!", all that stuff.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes. Wires get crossed.

He's picked up his drink to leave, giving you a cheeky smile and a little wave, and you tell him, without thinking twice:

"Love you, bye!"

Oh. Oh fucking hell -

"Love you too!"

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[halestrom]

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw has always known how to fight. He can take a hit and keep on coming. But when he's slowly drawn into the dark side of fighting after a successful, yet expensive, cancer treatment saved his Mother's life, he started to realize he might not always be able to stand back up. Not when his life is dependent on the whims of his Boss, a man he can't help but he drawn to even knowing what he's capable of. Jake Seresin was born into this world, and his rise to King was paved with the blood of anyone who dared to stumble in his path. Charming, outgoing and a smile that's real enough people forget the blood on his hands, he's even more dangerous than people realize. He'll stop at nothing to stay at the top, and he'll sacrifice whatever pawn he needs to in order to do it. The first time he saw Rooster fight he knew he had his next champion. At least until his champion is worth more to him dead than alive according to the books. But the problem is, as the more he gets to know Rooster, the more he becomes Bradley and more he begins to wonder if he'll be capable of doing what needs to be done. And the closer he gets to Rooster, the more people start to realize Jake Seresin might have a weak spot. And Jake just can't have that.

[hellsquills]

Disclaimer: I know about the duffle bag Filbrick threw at him, but you can ignore that if you want

My thoughts below the cut! (this turned into a whole ass fic lmao)

My personal headcanon is that Filbrick is as much of a coward as he is of an asshole. Therefore, he wouldn't have kicked Stan when he did in canon. Probably not for a while after that.

However, he does try to send him to military school. He keeps talking about how this kid needs to learn discipline and respect, and if he's not gonna bring money to the house, then he should at least bring some honor to his family.

Stan obviously does NOT want to go. Not only because it's a pointless war ("what've the vietnamese done to us anyways?") but because he remembers his mother's face when Shermie got drafted and he will NOT make her go through that hell again. Also, he doesn't wanna die!!!! Hello?????

He talks it out over the phone with Ford, who's obviously just as against it as he is. He tells Stan that, if he gets into a PhD program, he could skip military. Stan laughs in his face. It'd be easier to jump off the plane without a parachute.

And so, he comes up with a plan. When he goes to take his physical, he tries his best to botch it. If he is bad enough, if it looks like he can't do it, maybe he won't have to. Unfortunately, the recruiters are far too used to this by now, and they don't buy it. Stan goes home with a recruitment letter hidden in his jacket.

Everything goes downhill after that. He runs away from home, changes his name several times, does some crime here and there... The military is after him, and it doesn't take rejection kindly.

Stan stays out of contact with his family for a few years. He can't risk getting them involved in this mess. They don't deserve it. So he just leaves, without saying a word, in the middle of the night. No phone calls, no notes, nothing. Not even he knows where he's going. But if it just looks like he abandoned them, maybe they'll hate him. That will make them sound more believable with the police. They aren't covering for him, because they genuinely have no idea where he is. It's the best way to keep them safe.

In that time, Ford doesn't stop looking for him. He finds him every once in a while, but only his phone number, and he knows that could give away his brother's location and get the family in trouble. So, against his deepest instincts, he doesn't call.

One, three, five, seven years pass. Stan has been around almost all the country, and is genuinely considering leaving it. Maybe going to Mexico, or Colombia. Those sound nice. Maybe they'll be nicer to him.

He's passing his time and thinking about this in a small town restaurant in wherever he's in (somewhere he's not banned from, yet), when a family enters. He doesn't make eye contact, but he can't help but stare at them: a man and a woman, probably in their 50s, with 7 kids; one must be older than him, the second one around his age, the third one a little younger, the fourth one a teenager, and the last three between 10 and 15, no more. Except for the last three, they're all taller than him, even the mother, and they have various degrees of blond hair. Their clothes (overalls and plastic boots) suggest they must work in one of the farms he's seen around the state. They don't wear any accessories, except for the glasses that the father and four of the kids have. They're talking loudly and laughing. They look exhausted from a morning of hard work. They seem happy. They... look nothing like his family, and yet, he can't help but think about it.

He can't help the sob that comes to his throat. It's loud and messy from trying to suppress it, which obviously makes it worse. He covers his mouth immediately, and at that point he notices the tears that have run down his cheeks. "Great", he thinks, "that will make it easier to hide, for sure".

He doesn't move. He wants to escape, but that will draw even more attention to him, and he hasn't even paid for the food yet (normally he'd leave without paying, but the old waitress was kind enough to give him some extra food when she saw how little he ordered). He settles for not moving, lowering his head and covering his face, hoping that no one heard (unlikely) or cared (very likely).

"Ya'lright, son?"

The voice startles him. I wasn't very deep, but it was close enough to send his body into immediate danger mode. He looks up at the man towering over him, who's standing in front of him at a prudential distance.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, no worries."

He hates how broken his voice sounds. He's spent more than enough time sweet-talking his way out of trouble, he should be better at this by now. The man looks about as convinced by it as he is himself.

" 'lright then. Can I help ya?"

Damn villagers and their welcoming demeanor. If he wasn't a wanted man, he would appreciate it. But right now, it couldn't be worse timing.

"Come get ya food, kids!" The waitress' yell yanks him out of his thoughts.

"No", he blurts out, and he turns to the man. Least he can do is show him some respect and look him in the eyes. "I'm fine, thank you."

The man smiles lightly and nods. "Okay. Welcome to the town."

Stan watches as the man goes back to his table. He wishes he had been more polite, the guy was just worrying about him, but he can't afford it. They already know his face, he can't risk anyone else recognizing him-

"Sweet Mother of God almighty."

Stan turns to his right. One of the kids, the one about his age, is looking at him like he just grew a second head. He's frozen in place, his eyes wide as plates behind thick glasses. He doesn't say a word, and it's getting increasingly unnerving. Was the bruising on his face still visible? Maybe it's more apparent in broad daylight than in the shitty light that last motel had in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I- Can I ask your name?"

The fuck?

"No", answers Stan. Considering how nice his dad was, this guy is pretty rude.

"Son, leave him alone." The mother seems to have manners too, good to know.

The guy does pretty much the opposite. He comes closer to him, until he's right in his path, blocking his exit. That can't be good. Stan feels trapped.

"Are you Stanley Pines?"

Well, that's about it.

Stan tries his best to stay still. This guy doesn't look like a cop, not even an undercover one. But he knows his real name, so maybe someone in his family or friends works in the police; or worse, in the military.

"Listen man, I don't know who you're talking about, but that isn't my name. See?" He reaches for his wallet. He pulls out an ID, with a very clear Jackson Cage on it. He makes a mental note to change it soon, just in case his hunch is right and this guy has connections. "Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to pay for my food and leave. Move."

Stan is already on his feet, but the guy hasn't moved. Stan looks him up and down, trying to appear threatening despite his face probably still being a little red from before. He also gauges how feasible it'd be to escape if things turned bad; the dude is taller than him, sure, but he's also as thin as a toothpick, and by the anxious look on his face, he doesn't seem eager for a fight. The real problem would be evading the restaurant's staff and the other costumers, which include eight carbon copies of the guy in front of him. Probably better to try to de-escalate the situation.

"I- I can't let you leave. Please. I know who you are."

This man is making it really difficult to believe he's not a cop.

"No, you don't. I'm new in town. Move."

"Listen, I-"

"Move out of my way."

"I know your brother."

The words are like a bullet between his eyebrows.

"You look just like him-"

Against his better judgement, he quickly grabs he guy and pins him to the wood in between the booth benches, arm to his throat. If he knows Ford, he knows too much. God he just wanted to have lunch.

The commotion is immediate. He doesn't break eye contact with the guy who's grabbing his arm, whose strength is frankly surprising. He can hear, however, the screams from the dad and the siblings, as well as a couple of gasps from the other costumers. This is not going to go well, but fuck that. He's escaped worse.

"Stop!", the guy shouts as he keeps Stan's forearm from blocking his airway. "Don't hurt him! Don't get closer!"

It takes Stan a second to process what he said. The first part, sure, who wouldn't shout 'stop' when you're being attacked? But the second half doesn't make sense. Is he protecting him? The attacker?

Whatever it is, it works. The family stops in their tracks, still very ready to attack if needed. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the three younger kids moving closer to their mother. For a split second, he feels a pang of remorse for the scene he just caused.

"Hang up the phone, Clarisse, it's okay. Please."

Stan looks in the direction the guy was talking to. Right behind him, the waitress reluctantly puts the phone down.

He looks back at the guy. He looks a little shaken up, probably from the impact his back (and his head?) made with the wooden plank, but he doesn't look scared. He almost looks... sympathetic? Stan is confused as hell.

"I know who you are", the guy whispers, low enough for Stan to hear alone. "You're Stanley Pines, and you have a brother named Stanford. I know him, okay? He's my friend. I met him a few years ago in a quantum physics congress and we've been talking ever since. He told me about his family in New Jersey, and about you. About how he hasn't seen you in years, and how he was trying to find you, to no avail."

Stan is gradually loosening his grip on the guy's neck, who takes a deep breath. He should know better, but- shit, hearing that Ford was looking for him was not what he expected. Even if he doesn't know yet if this guy is lying out of his ass, it's enough to make him doubt.

"I know you were called to Vietnam. He told me. I spent a week with him in his place when he found out, he was unconsollable. When you ran away, he called me. He knew what it meant for you and he thought he'd never see you again, whether you got caught or not. All because of that stupid war." Stan is now trembling a little, he knows it. This guy must know it too, with how close they are. If he stays here any longer he'll break down, but he can't move. Anything to hear his brother's name a little longer. "I know what it's like. Three of my cousins were drafted last year, and I know at least one of them won't be coming back home. Please... let me help you."

Stan meets his eyes. They're green and brown-ish, not unlike the immense fields he's seen in his last journey, the one that led him to this town. With the years, he's learned not to trust beautiful eyes, because they are better at hiding. These ones, however, seem serene and honest, just like his words, and he can't help but believing them. This guy, whoever the fuck he is, knows just about enough.

Stan lowers his right arm. The guy still has his hand on it, but this time is much less defensive and much more comforting. He doesn't complain.

"My name's Fiddleford McGucket, and I'm gonna help you find your brother."

______________________________

Essentially, after this Fidds calls Ford as if nothing happened (per Stan's request, since he's still paranoid about the police tracking his calls) and asks him to come to Tennessee. Ford argues that he's very busy and all, but Fidds convinces him in the end.

Obviously the twins have a dual breakdown and cry their heart out. In this AU they're much less emotionally constipated lol

Ford tells Stan that he's gonna build a house in a small town in Oregon as a part of his research, and asks him to move in with him once it's finished. Stan, of course, accepts.

In the meantime, Stan stays in the McGucket farm and helps them out as a way of laying low. He has a great relationship with his family, and they're very proud of him for what he did (i believe that the McGuckets are hippies at heart, and they're VERY anti-war, especially when it already took three of them)

I don't know how much of the canon storyline would this AU follow, but it's pretty much your average Mystery Trio AU with some different backstory

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Please, someone stop me from listening to Josh Groban, because otherwise I will end up DRAWING ANOTHER "MOTTIE AT BED" ARTWORK.

Like seriously, I cannot.

When I hear him sing "You have no idea" all I can hear is Mathias singing to Dorothea AND MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT.

IT'S EXPLODING WITH SOFT TENDERNESS.

(and I have become the joke of my own household, because my husband, loving Josh as much as I do, now DOES IT ON PURPOSE OF PUTTING HIM ON OUR SPEAKERS, especially when he sees that I am busy working on something not Mottie-related. He knows how my brain works. HE KNOWS IT. So if sometimes you see me derailing, IT'S MR. NEMO'S FAULT AS WELL).

[kame-artist]

Dialogue that i was planning to put in a fic, but it went in a differant direction

EDIT: Redid some of it because i no longer like the older art. Old art under the cut

[thefrogdalorian]

A little love letter to Din Djarin writers... 🤍

I love that some of you write him as soft and gentle while others focus on the darker, harsher parts of his personality. I love that he can be both a quiet, kind man caring for his child or an intimidating, terrifying bounty hunter who is a lean, mean killing machine... depending on what the fic warrants.

I love how you write him with other characters from The Mandalorian or even with those who would never cross paths with him in canon, from Star Wars or elsewhere. I love how you write him interacting with yourselves and us, and some of you even create your own original characters to exist a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away alongside him.

I love that some of you ship him with that one other special person, while others recognise how desirable he is and ship alllllll the ships. Not forgetting those of you which are here for none of those ships and/or even headcanon him as ace. I love that any of those options allow you to explore your own identities and sexualities through him.

I love that you can write the most tooth-rotting fluff or filthiest smut, and all of those things in between. Whether it's for general audiences or explicit and strictly 18+ ... all of your fics have an audience and someone out there who appreciates your writing.

I love how differently you can interpret him, but there are also so many common themes and tropes running through your writing. I love that there is room for all of your Dins here.

I love that he means so much to you and that all of us here hold him in our hearts a little bit. I love that we can all watch the same episodes and come to entirely different conclusions about him. I love how much we love him.

Getting to be a part of this wonderful community and interact with so many people who love the space tin can man as much as I do has truly been one of the best things that happened to me recently. I'm so glad I made this little blog... It reminded me just how good fandom can be. I am blown away by the number of talented people here!

So, I just wanted to take a moment to express some gratitude towards all of you! Thank you for writing your Dins and please don't ever stop. Finally.... last, but not least:

I love Din Djarin!!!

[spacebar2]

A variety of sketches

(Characters, not creators.)

[moodymisty]

Russ goes on a massive bender and destroys part of the Palace, earning Dorn's ire while Perturabo is on damage control.

@commodoreprocrastinator I hope this high effort low quality shitpost is close enough to what we had in mind

[buggachat]

OT4 (Adrien, Marinette, Alya, and Nino)-centric Sentimonster Adrien fic, angst and hurt/comfort, 1/14 Chapters

Everybody had expected Monarch's defeat to be a moment of triumph. Nobody had expected Gabriel Agreste, unmasked and mind frayed from continual abuse of the miraculous, crying out to all who would listen and making Paris certain of one thing:

His son, Adrien Agreste, is one of his sentimonsters.

And now he's missing.

Nobody can find him— not even the superheroes, and not even his closest friends. But Marinette, Nino, and Alya aren't ones to give up so easily. They'll find him, no matter what it takes.

(But, geez, would it kill Chat Noir to lend a hand?)

So, I wrote this ~70k word fic a long time ago and it's been sitting complete in my docs for a few months. I'm finally going to start posting it, maybe weekly, maybe even more often depending on how I'm feeling.

Basically, it's a self-indulgent culmination of my love for the OT4, Adrien angst, and hurt/comfort.

[genericpuff]

vent post

[haine-kleine]

If Dabi's confrontation with Enji didn't happen after Shouto put him out with Phosphor, his condition wouldn't be so bad he has to be on life support, with only months left to live after the battle.

If Bakugou didn't attack Kurogiri, he would have saved Shigaraki from Deku, the hero who set out to save Shigaraki.

If Ochako didn't engage with Toga, she wouldn't have killed herself by giving Ochako all of her blood.

Hawks killed Twice, stabbing him in the back despite Dabi doing everything he could to save Twice's life.

The heroes were the ones who put Kurogiri in the hospital despite knowing full well the League would be getting him back, endangering the lives of civilians.

[athina-blaine]

kabru's relationship with his eyes makes for suuuuuch a fantastic trans allegory (an aspect of your body alienating you from your community, being compelled to understand the perspective of someone who also has a complicated relationship with their body in the hopes that you'll better understand your own, people straight up misunderstanding biology) it makes me kind of insane because now I feel like I can't dig into any complicated feelings he might have about his body in relation to his gender without feeling like im just ... double dipping?? like fifjpejgh ryoko kui straight up already told that story in a way that exquisitely fucks??

[lostsowly]

Sakura and his room

My favorite headcanon I’ve had for Sakura since his house was shown in the manga is a steady pileup of miscellaneous stuff in his empty house. Little things he gets from here and there—from his classmates, Furin members, and town people—slowly fill up the empty spaces in his house.

A bunch of keychains from Nirei, a traditional crockery set from Suo, tiny plushies from Kiryu, and a dumbbell sitting near the window from Tsugeura. A cookbook from Kotoha, saplings from Umemiya, and a cactus unceremoniously shoved in his hands from Sugishita. A curtain handpicked by Tsubakino and cooking utensils from Hiragi (along with a lecture to eat healthy). 

Treats and snacks from the shop owners he helped, and a mini fridge from Nakamura was dropped at his doorstep by Roppo Ichiza after he couldn’t take the carefully prepared takeout from Suzuri, claiming it'd go bad with a lack of refrigeration to keep it fresh.

Posters from Anzai and their classmates hung on the wall. The little notes saying “Drink your liquids!!” and “Take care!!” among others, along with the empty snack boxes and wrappers, were washed and dried and carefully tucked away in a box. A reminder of the day he got sick and didn’t have to bear with it alone for the first time. 

A lock he bought himself to make sure the door wasn’t left open because now he had a lot of things too precious for him to lose.