#but i get the sentiment around what people are saying about ''yet another service i gotta pay for''

[helpimstuckinafandom]

Oh boy do not go to the comments

[beetlejuicyy]

criston cole is such a female-experience coded character and it is exactly why he is hated so much hear me out

his whole character is built around the idea that rhaenyra seduced him, had taken his dignity and made him feel like her whore. his vow and his duty are close enough to the idea of women's purity and value. you were sullied, you have to marry the man that devalued you, otherwise you are spoiled and unworthy.

on top of that, his identity as a knight, as kingsguard means he is submissive. he is not seen having a lot of opinions or plans to how things are done, the big guys in the council decide and he has to obey to their orders.

on top of that, when he does act at last, it's portrayed in the form of scheming, behind the backs of people, and it's mostly attributed to his sentimental nature, to his inability to think straight, be logical because of his personal feelings. that's how women have been portrayed for centuries.

another thing that makes his character harder to grasp is the choice to have the same actor play the pre-timeskip and past-timeskip criston. 20 years have passed and yet people see him as the same person who refused to be rhaenyra's whore but now he is hypocritical because he is alicent's whore. 20 years have passed and, even if you can't see it on his face, he's bound to have changed too.

in his relationship with alicent he doesn't talk as much. he is obedient, she's the one in charge. she gets to say when and how things happen, he is just at her service.

his entire character is build up to revolve around rhenyra, like women's lives are supposed to revolve around men. if he refuses to acknowledge his status in his youth he is no longer allowed to later (after 20 years mind you) find some sort of comfort in another master. it's like saying "if you say you hate the system why take part in it"?

his pent up rage and hatred is evil, because what happened to him was behind closed doors where no one saw or heard of it. because if they knew of it he would lose everything, exactly the way women have often refrained from talking about their condition in fear of being villainized themselves. in the meantime, the one in power will keep their dignity and spotless reputation like rhaenyra is not even held accountable for having bastards pushed forward as heirs, not to mention the fling she had with criston.

this rant is in no way trying to portray criston cole as a saint or a good guy or trying to justify his behaviour. this is actually the problem with hotd, the effort to draw a line between the good guys and bad guys. have it be either balck or white. it's not, it can't be. you either have complex, morally grey characters with flaws and mistakes or you go watch marvel or something. even there villains are more humanized than in this petty effort of righteousness.

LE: thank you everyone who mentioned the aspect of criston being a man of colour from dorne and the power dynamic between a royal and a lower born who fought his way into the world! this rant was written in a rush and while i couldn't express the latter as eloquently as most of you in the tags/comments, i completely overlooked the former. i love looking through everyone's tags and comments and seeing your takes. as @jazzyclarinet pointed out in the comments, seeing criston's character in this light does not erase or diminish the injustice other women in the story experience.

on another note, i feel like part of the blame is on the way hbo marketed the season with the pressure to pick a side. however, i think what we've been lacking as a society in the post covid years is actual unbiased analysis of art. swallowing up content without any question and making said content a personality trait is harmful. as i said, i don't like criston as a character, but i can make these points about him simply because i watch the show critically and i don't blindly defend a character while trashing another.

[natasha-in-space]

Hello! I hope your day is well :D

Is it possible for you to write HCs for Jihyun and an Artist s/o who is actually quite similar to him in terms of traumas and personality?

Thank you, and I hope it'll be a fun write, if you do write it!

Well, artists do tend to stick together! If you're someone who harbors the same love for the creative field as he does, you'll have no problem connecting with Jihyun from the very first days of your admission into the RFA. Once he learns that you're an artist yourself, he'll become almost instantly intrigued in learning more about your craft, as well as what it means to you personally. In his point of view, it's like solving a puzzle. He finds it fascinating how every little detail you gradually come to know about a person reveals that much more about the many intricacies of their inner world. What makes them smile, what makes them cry, what they want to run from, and what they want to achieve... The human mind is so chaotic yet so perfect in its imperfect entirety. It's a form of art in an of itself.

The conversations you can have with him in game can turn pretty philosophical at times as it is, and, if you two share similar interests or views on life, they will get even longer and deeper, much to the puzzlement of the rest of the members. And, since Jihyun often finds himself growing more sentimental during the night, you will definitely find yourself staying up way past your usual bedtime, just to talk about this and that with him in the chatroom.

Getting to know one another, discussing different forms of art, sharing your views on the current topic at hand, expressing your troubles, albeit in a very roundabout way... It's hard to put down your phone when the conversations you're having leaves your brain buzzing with so many thoughts, questions and inspiration. In a way, you two get to know one another while not knowing each other at all. It's all shared in metaphors, cryptic phrases and hushed voices during yet another late-night phone call. You don't know this man, but, at the same time, you feel like you've known him forever.

Jihyun is like a puzzle piece. Much like you are to him.

Still, you know he is a kind and deeply compassionate soul. And, that's enough for you to trust him when things inevitably start going wrong. There are even more questions, inconsistencies and overwhelming revelations hitting you in the face one after another, but, you keep your trust in him through it all. Perhaps, that's because his regretful gaze is such a familiar sight to you, that it hurts. Either way, you manage to get him out safely, and, from then on, you two can finally interact face-to-face. Of course, it's a bit hectic with everything else going on, and him still recovering from what Ray did to him in the basement. But, now you have a chance to get to know him as he is. No hiding behind 'bad phone service' this time around.

Now, Jihyun is a very stubborn man. You wouldn't say that about him at first, but it's something that you will have to deal with first thing after your initial escape from Magenta. His stubbornness and determination to bear the burdens of everyone else's pain on his shoulders is only hurting everyone in the end, but it's hard to just let go of the only thing you've lived by for so long. It's important to be understanding but firm with him. If you're someone who can relate to his inner struggles from your own past experience, finding that balance might be easier. You see yourself in him, as he stubbornly condemns himself over and over, refusing to accept any help, believing that he doesn't deserve that. That it's all his fault, and his only options is to burn in the same flame he has ignited. He thinks the only one who will get hurt by him sacrificing himself is himself, but, in reality, there are people he will inevitably bring so much great pain to by disregarding his own well-being in such an extreme way. It's a tough pill fir him to swallow, but a necessary one nonetheless.

If you choose to open up to him about your own traumas, he might do the same to you about his mother. In the game, he does so after waking up in the hospital after his surgery, but if you choose to bring it up with him while you are still in that cabin, it might happen earlier. It's hard for him to express his own pain so openly. But, it's easier when you have someone who knows what's it like. Hold his hand and listen to him. It'll be a long and deeply emotional conversation between you two, one that leaves him questioning a lot of things about himself and how he viewed the world. The fact that you are so similar to him makes his heart both weep and flutter. On the one hand, it hurts him deeply to think that someone as wonderful as you had to experience such pain. But, on the other hand... you give him hope. Hope, that he can indeed still make things right. That it's not too late for him. That he might... come to love himself one day, just as his mother loved him.

Your relationship with him is one of empathy and companionship.

After all is done, he'll still leave on his journey to self-discovery, knowing that your hearts are connected, no matter how far apart you are. He'll ask you about your art in his letters, and share news about his own experiences with getting back to painting. It makes him smile to think of all the art that you are creating while he is away. He can't wait to see it all once he finally returns to your warm embrace. Of course, he knows you'll do the same for his paintings. It is truly a wondrous thing to have someone who can share in your love for your craft. Sometimes, as he paints, he can't help but wonder if you're doing the same thing as him at that very moment. The thought makes him smile.

And, when it comes to your established relationship once he gets back? It's a very steady and comforting type of love. You are so proud of how far he has come, and you know he's proud of you just as much. In a way, you are each other's rock, holding each other up whenever one of you is too exhausted to stand alone. Your home is full of art that you two have created over the years: some are pieces you've made together, and some are your individual work. Your home is almost like a gallery at this point! The fact that you two are so similar can become a bit of a silly problem sometimes, since it means you both have a tendency to be very stubborn in your beliefs, but you have no problem coming to a shared understanding in the end.

You both have an individual journey to follow, but you will hold onto each other's hands the whole way through.

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 34,491 (whoops)

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

APRIL 2027- part 1 (warnings: mention/discussions of death, grief, panic attack, angst, (foul) language)

Burnsville, Minnesota is a beautiful city. So much architecture, so many buildings, there’s literally everything you could have ever imagined. It’s only 15 miles from Minneapolis, so there’s even a greater opportunity to explore the sights. Only I wasn’t here for that.

I stand in front of the hotel mirror in my black halter top and black dress, with my black shoes, and my black purse, and my black, charred heart. Today is Ryan’s wake, and tomorrow is the funeral. His family wanted to wait until the season ended to arrange services so there would be more availability. The flight here did not feel real in any circumstance. God, I wish I could’ve boarded that plane with better reason.

I’ve been to my fair share of wakes and funerals. Actually, that’s a lie. Probably only 2 each. It’s because I’ve never experienced that much death in my life, that much mourning. Not until today. I mean, what are you supposed to converse about with people besides the dead body in front of you? Oh, I forgot. Ryan will be in an open casket. That just makes me even more terrified. I know that reaction is not going to go over well. Luckily, the wake is going to be broken up into groups of people so that the room is not completely bombarded, with family and close friends given the first look.

I never mentioned how terrible my sleep schedule has been these past few weeks. I’m going to bed around midnight, some nights close to 3:00AM, because all I can think about is him. His laugh. His voice. His hands and how they’d gently interlock with mine or hold my face. His continuous yet ridiculous rants. Fucking everything about him. I still can’t shake it. It doesn’t help that I’m living with another man.

Living with Jimmy has not been incredibly challenging. We don’t tend to speak much throughout the day. He knows I want to stay grounded in my solitude, but he always says he’s here if I need him. The sentiment is appreciated, but he needs to stop thinking I’m gonna fall apart in one motion. That already happened. It’s just disintegrating a lot slower than I thought it would. I pass the time by sitting out on the private balcony in my room. Listening to the city sounds somewhat helps, and I can get some fresh air. Maybe look for him in the sky. I haven’t found an earthly sign that he’s trying to communicate with me yet, but I’ll be damned to find one.

The car ride to the wake can be described using my favorite word: quiet. The two of us are sitting in the front of a rental Mercedes Benz, and I gotta say that this car is incredibly sleek. The seats are comfortable, there’s a lot of space, and it’s fast. It’s really cool, to be honest with you. Jimmy’s driving, again, because when does he not in this case? I don’t think he seems to mind it. He’s wearing a light blue button down and black dress pants with matching shoes. He’s gently holding onto the wheel as if he makes too abrupt of a movement, he’s gonna ruin the car somehow. Another thing that I can finally enjoy about the silence is that he’s stopped giving me those secret glances. I think he’s taken the long-awaited hint. For a man with a Harvard degree, you’d think he’d pick up on it faster.

We pull into the funeral home parking lot and back in to a reserved spot. The car gets put in park and Jimmy leans back in his seat, unbuckling his seatbelt before letting out a quick sigh. I see him look up at the moonroof and then back down at the wheel. I shift in my seat to look at him. His face is flushed and his right hand is shaking in its place on the overhead compartment.

“What is it?” I say quietly. I don’t want to freak him out. I already know he is.

He lets out another sigh, only this time it’s ragged. “It’s just a lot,” he breathes.

Now it’s my turn to give him my best puppy dog eyes. “I know,” I reply. “We can stay here for a few minutes. It doesn’t officially start till 1 anyway.”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, that’d be good,” he says, reaching into the cupholder to retrieve his water. I watch him open the cap and swallow 4 times before putting it back on. He’s nervous. But he’s acted so calm prior.

I stare out the main window. It’s been drizzling on and off so far today. I guess Mother Nature really wants to bring the appropriate weather on this type of occasion. At least it’s not pouring, or thundering, or anything like that. I would hate for the sky to have a meltdown today. I’d rather have it come in waves. Slow progression can still anticipate the worst.

I notice strangers making their way into the entrance of the funeral home. That’s when it starts to feel real. They don’t look familiar to me in any way. For all I know, they’re friends and extended family of Ryan’s that I never got the chance to meet, though he talked about them to no end. It was nice being able to hear about people in his life. I guess they meant a lot to him too.

I hear the engine turn off before Jimmy lightly taps my elbow, causing me to flinch. “Sorry,” he says in some form of a hushed whisper.

“It’s okay,” I mutter.

“You ready to go?” he responds.

“Not really,” I reply, “but I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Jimmy opens up the drivers side door, so I take it as a sign to open up mine. I shut it behind me and he locks the Benz before we walk across the parking lot. The chill in the air did not help my nerves. In fact, it only made my heart feel colder. Currently, there’s no light that would bring it back to life.

He opens the door and lets me go in front of him before shutting it. We make our way to the reception area where we sign in. We’re gestured to a smaller room, I guess to wait in, before we actually go see Ryan. With the exception of Ryan’s family, they’ve only limited 8 guests at a time with 20-25 minute intervals. Given how many doors were closed, we’d be waiting a little while.

Of course the room we walked into was where the team stood, Lavi, the rest of the coaching staff, the equipment manager, everybody. I gotta say, they did a good job at organizing who goes in each room. I would rather be in a room full of familiarity than mystery.

My heart wrenches seeing the team. I haven’t seen them since my birthday celebration. I never ended up going to the mandatory team meetings, never responded in the group chat, never reached out individually. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But now I’m faced with those incorrect choices when they all stop and look at me.

“Hi,” I say meekly. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see all of you. Sorry I haven’t contacted any of you until now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lavi replies. “We’re just glad everyone’s here together.”

I nod. “Yeah, uh, me too. Do we know how long until we go in?”

“There’s three rooms of Ryan’s friends and family ahead of us, so I’d say about an hour,” Chris says. “We tried getting in one of those rooms, but I guess they’re putting family first.”

I scoff. “We’re his family,” I mutter. “Bullshit.”

I make my way to an unoccupied chair over near the bar area and sit down to rest my already aching feet. I gotta say the rooms were set up really nicely. There were couches and chairs and a mini TV with a little fridge. It was spacious, but with everyone crammed in this room, I felt claustrophobic. I take a deep breath to control my bubbling frustration.

Quickly, everyone forms little groups to converse with. Yet, here I am on the outside looking in. I don’t think they’re avoiding me intently, more just giving me space. Again, I respect it, but it’s not like I’m gonna throw a hissy fit in this very moment. Or maybe it’s because they’ll know I won’t want to talk. So I pass the time fidgeting with my bracelet. Yeah, I chose to wear it. I guess I can see the ‘R’ as a reminder that he’ll always be linked to me in some sort of way, even if it’s no longer physical.

I watch Jimmy caught up in a conversation with Vinny and Laffy. He seems a lot more relaxed now. His face has returned to a normal color and his hands stopped shaking. Instead, they’re just swaying at his sides. I notice his watch reflect onto the ceiling light. He cracks that tight-lipped smile. It’s crooked, and it’s awkward, but it’s what makes him, well, him. It eases me to know he doesn’t feel restricted the way he did a little bit ago. He doesn’t have anything to release his anxiety, but for all I know, it’s pent-up inside getting ready to burst at any given moment. Jimmy’s always been calm, cool, and collected. There are times where I’ve seen him visibly frustrated and have a little bit of an attitude, but it would last for a short time before he returned to being even-tempered. He’s not the type of guy to yell and raise his voice when he’s upset. You can talk about anything with him and he’ll always listen before responding. He barely interrupts when someone talks and is always looking for a way to help if the person wants it. Sometimes, I really want to pick at his brain, wonder what he thinks, wonder what his true perceptions are of someone. He’s got the words, he’s got the awareness, and he’s got the right way on how to deliver the message. However, I can’t help but think if he has one person that he’s able to talk to about anything and everything. Given the current reality, I’m afraid he’s suppressing himself so that he can be there for others. All I know is that I would not want to be there when, and if, he blows up. I’d be scared.

I keep my distance from him for now. He seems content. I don’t want to disturb it. I feel that I’ve disturbed his life already anyway.

I stand up from the chair and make my way to a more comfortable looking seat, AKA the couch. It’s white with gold specs. It’s really fancy for a funeral home, I must say. I’m afraid to even scuff it up with my shoes, so I refrain from crossing my legs. I just sit there like a frozen statue, waiting for one of my worst nightmares to come true.

Thirty minutes have passed, and conversation is still flowing with the occasional light laughs and quick transition in topics. I’m staring at the door now, waiting for him to walk in, tell everyone it was all a trick and he faked everybody out. I’ll kill him myself before he’d even get the chance to admit it.

[vanikolya]

HIIIIIIII :D can i rq hcs of kel, hero, and mari with a s/o who's love languages r acts of service & words of affirmation? 💘😁😁😁

cw: none

reader info: any pronouns, no gendered terms used, love languages are acts of service and words of affirmation

notes: finally made headers for these characters! although i don't think there's a realworld mari sprite which was annoying. i'm also currently sat on a table in a train station waiting for my train thats in 30m, to anyone who's reading this i hope your day is going better than mine LMAO, thank you for the request and i'm sorry it took a while! i also didn't know if you meant the s/o likes giving or recieving these, so i tried my best to consider both! ALSO IM SORRY IF THESE WERE BAD I WAS STRUGGLING A LITTLE SJDJDJD

KEL, HERO AND MARI LOVE LANGUAGE HEADCANONS

i think one of hero's main love languages is also acts of service, so he matches you in that regard! the second is quality time sjdjshd

especially with things like cooking, he loves cooking for people, you especially, it also ticks another box that he knows you're eating okay and doesn't have to worry about if you've made anything for yourself

he gives vibes of like those wholesome grandmas who keep checking to make sure you're not hungry every time you go over to their house, and then end up sending you home with extra snacks or something

i cannot explain why but i really think he'd consider like, helping you tidy/clean your house/room would be good quality time; he gets to spend time with you and help you with something you're busy with? absolute win

bro's the typa guy to pre-make you a lunch and leave a little note with it saying like "i hope you have a good day! you're amazing and i love you"

he'd probably call you often, especially if you live apart- i have no clue what point in time i've set these headcanons at all uh but if he was still studying away? definetely calls you a lot

to make sure you're alright, catch up with what you've been up to, remind you that he loves you etc

seems like he's used to you saying things like that you're proud of him, he's doing really well, you care about him, etc, but also in reality he gets really excited about it whenever you say something like that

his friends don't hear the end of it but it's cute (also kel can and will tease him about it)

this guy. this funny lil dude. i personally see his main love languages as physical touch and quality time, but he still picks up on things you seem to like and tries to speak your love languages too!

he does like doing things for you, knowing he's probably helped you out at least a little, especially if he knows you've got a lot going on etc

he's super happy and proud of himself when he manages to surprise you and do something for you when you didn't expect it

although he's yet to get used to you returning the sentiment and doing things for him

when he gets used to it, even if it's something he genuinely wouldn't have minded having to do himself, he thinks it's super sweet that you thought about doing something for him

like those random moments where someone does something so trivial and you remember how loved you are and you get super happy unless that's just me

like his brother, he hides appreciative notes. unlike his brother, he doesn't put them somewhere normal like with your lunch, kel hides them around your house in places of varying strangeness

they're actually well written and meaningful though like it's obvious he hasn't just rushed them for the "hiding them around your house" bit

bro literally put one under your bed like is this appreciation or a scavenger hunt atp, when did he even put that there? who knows

kel is also very loud in verbal appreciation though and also very encouraging, especially when you're like trying to learn something new and you're disheartened

he's very encouraged by you whenever you give him words of affirmation, he gets happy and bubbly about it sjdjsjd

i think mari's love languages are also acts of service and words of affirmation, though her preferences in giving and recieving them differ

being a perfectionist, mari can sometimes take on too much and burden herself, so you taking time to help her with little things really makes her feel loved and she would do almost anything to return the sentiment when she's no longer busy

things like helping you time manage, reminding you of things you have planned, etc

as well as anything else you might need help with, those two just come to mind as things she'd do the most

she also sets out times to do fun calming things together! like picnics, baking, i can't explain it but i feel like mari would like jigsaw puzzles, so those too if you find them fun

makes sure to mention every time she thinks you're doing well with something, encourages you when you're feeling down

she also reminds you a lot to take time for yourself to calm down, that part of reaching goals is also resting and managing stress, a little hypocritical of her tbf as she forgets to do this herself sometimes

again with the point of mari's perfectionism, hearing from you that she's enough, perfect as she is, you love her no matter what etc is, whilst at first not really having a massive effect, really nice and comforting and saves her a lot of stress and pushing herself

[arcane-abomination]

(As defined by Webster)

wor·ship

/ˈwərSHəp/

Verb

1: to honor or show reverence for as a divine being or supernatural power

2: to regard with great or extravagant respect, honor, or devotion

Noun

1: reverence offered a divine being or supernatural power

2: a form of religious practice with its creed and ritual

3: extravagant respect or admiration for or devotion to an object of esteem

What is worship?

When many hear the term worship they immediately equate it to deity and thus themselves being beneath them. It’s a religious societal stereotype spread around a lot in the west (I can’t speak for other places since I don’t live there). However the fact of the matter is worship has little to do with the importance of an individuals status and more to do with what they bring to the table that interests us, works with us, or influences us. Musicians, artists, and writers get worshipped by many adoring fans simply because they put out there talents that inspire us and make us feel good. Not because they are better than us or because they are deity. Many pop culture pagans follow a belief system around what those talented mortals do and draw magick from the symbolisms and the feelings they instill.

Another heavily practiced form of worship is with Ancestors. They are worshipped because they lived life and are thus considered wiser than the living. They have learned lessons we haven’t experienced yet. That’s why they are looked to for guidance, protection, love, and harmony. They aren’t above us but they are different from us. Ancestral veneration is a very common practice among many. A practice that requires offerings, prayers, honor, and devotion. Things normally seen in line with deity worship.

What is “work with”

To work with a deity means to allow them into your practice. To call them into your space so that they may lend their energy to you and your magick. This is not the same as worship. By definition worship has nothing to do with stuff like this. You can work with a deity but not show them worship, although many practitioners consider this disrespectful and advise against it. This is because many believe you give worship in exchange for their services. While I myself agree with this sentiment, I also believe it perpetrates another stereotype within the magical world. That a deity is something placed on a pedestal above us.

You see, a very important thing to remember when dealing with worship and magick is that the living have mastery over the physical world while the dead have mastery over the metaphysical, and if you’re working deity back into the mix they to become a master over the metaphysical or spiritual world. Whatever we dwell is where we govern. This means that we have the say in listening to those ancestors. We have the say in listening to that deity. In fact without our beliefs to feed them deity would essentially cease to exist. Working with them is about a partnership. They give energy from the metaphysical and you bring energy from the physical. This union creates powerful magick that many practitioners enjoy working with.

I think where lots of people get confused is with the fact that many of us seek help from the spirit world. Thus we gain deity and other spirit guides as a form of teacher. With this in mind we must understand that as a society we are trained from an early age to view a teacher as someone of greater importance that you must respect. Of course you should always show respect without a doubt but this doesn’t mean that a teacher’s life is worth more than their students. Every life is measured equally in the spirit world, this includes the lives of spirit beings such as deity. They need our belief and our worship, but we don’t need their lessons if we do not wish them. However they can offer an array of knowledge and magick that can definitely help. That’s why many practitioners seek out deity and many deity seek out practitioners whom they think would benefit from working with them.

Conclusion

In closing I would like to say that working with a deity is not mandatory for any witch. If you choose to though it’s best to show respect and give something in exchange. You wouldn’t be expected to work at your job for free so why expect the same of them? Likewise if you feel more comfortable placing them on a pedestal above you then that is your right to do so and is just as valid as anyone else’s choice. It’s important to feel comfort in our magick. Let nobody force you to practice what you don’t feel connected with.

Lastly, I would like to clarify that this is my UPG and is in no way meant to govern how other beliefs and cultures utilize the spirit world. I believe that all deity are created through the beliefs of the people, that’s why this way of thinking makes sense to me and why someone else’s belief holds just as much power for them.

[digital170cm]

before i leave,

a (personal) retrospective on leaving.

about 8 months ago, i was telling one of my close friends that i would definitely be setting up a blog to document and share thoughts on my exchange. well, i’m 8 months into an 11 month exchange program and i decided it would be a good time to start.

tomorrow marks the beginning of semester 1- which is my second and final semester abroad in Singapore. time goes by so quickly once classes start and i already feel like my exchange period is coming to an end. i feel a little sentimental as i try to recall the decisions that put me where i am now- in a 4×3 dorm room on the west side of such an interesting city-state island. truthfully, this wasn’t exactly what i had intended.

when i decided to go back into education after a brief stint of living in in another state and working my ‘admin assistant’ (customer service) job for a few years- i had a single goal: to live and study abroad. of course, if you know me, you know the intention was not to land in Singapore, but another island a little north-west of Singapore called Japan. i even delayed going on exchange, declining an offer to go to Hong Kong University in favour of entering into another round of exchange applications. sometimes it’s nice to imagine what it would have been like if i had accepted that first offer- i hope i get to go and see what life would have been like there one day.

i could barely bring myself to tell anyone when i received my second exchange nomination for my current exchange university. when i saw it was not for the university i thought i had a decent chance at getting into, i felt embarrassed after 3 years of being so steadfast about exchanging to Japan and so open with my family and friends about what i had planned for myself. it was my only goal and motivation through some very difficult periods. it was the reason why i could wake up at 5am every week day and head into a job that occasionally set me crying on the train home after a 13 hour day. yet, there are some things, namely university admin processes, that are out of our hands and eventually, i felt comfortable enough to tell my family and coworkers about the change of plans. they were all supportive and expressed to me that despite not really knowing anything about Singapore, but they were sure that I’d have a great time. I couldn’t say I knew much more than them either. my friends, of course, were great.

while almost everyone was supportive, i remember when i told my partner at the time, i could hear the disappointment in his voice. i speculate that is when he decided that we weren’t going to work out long-term. one of his own goals at the time was to work in Japan while I was studying there, but from that point on, there was no mention of him visiting me on my exchange. my plans for the future were no longer valuable for him, i guess. from what i recall, it was all down-hill from there.

yuck.

a few months later, after a break-up, i began to think about (and hold out for) my future in Singapore in a different way. whenever i would talk to my sister or friends about the place i was in at the time (not so good!) i would say “well, it doesn’t matter, i’m moving to Singapore anyway.”. everything became irrelevant and temporary. i was leaving and more importantly, i would be gone for so long that nothing in that moment would matter by the time i got back. suddenly, by way of circumstance, Singapore became a saving grace for me. (if you couldn’t already guess, this should confirm that i’m a bit emotionally avoidant). the disappointment i had felt in myself began to subside and in its place was anticipation for relief, a change of environment, new people, new food, academic focus.

anyway,

that was around a year ago now, if i had to guess. my old perspective has changed a little, luckily. though, i can’t be certain that it’s just not me trying to make myself feel better about the (perceived?) failure to attain my goal, i do think it worked out for the better. after all, English is widely spoken in Singapore and Singapore is a lot more culturally similar with Australia than Australia is with Japan. while it’s still a little hard to think and talk about, and it definitely remains a sore subject for me, there is still a lifetime of opportunity to make up for it. i think Japan would have been a hard place to study in, anyway. (probably copium but probably true). while i will save some insights for future posts, there are a few things i know i will miss greatly when i leave Singapore. i would not have grown to understand this country or the way of life here had i not come here for academic purposes. i would not have come to know the people i know, or have tried kaya toast with raw egg and kopi o.

there are ways of living here that i hope that Australia comes to incorporate, as well as things that I’m grateful are not issues carried over to Australia as they are here. i’m looking forward to writing these thoughts out, if only to have a record of my perspective before i forget.

there is a lot, a lot, i have chosen to omit about the period of time before i left my home city as this is public. it was a difficult time, all in all. i say all this to share the frame of mind i began my exchange in- the background and the long-build up, i think these things are important if i’m aiming to be sincere and share my thoughts, experiences, opinions and perspectives about my exchange experience transparently. while i wish my blog could be observational commentary in the workings of Singaporean culture and society- and there will surely be some of that- but i’m nothing but a water sign, so i hope you can understand why i’m deciding to write what i am deciding to write.

please leave me a lil message in my guestbook here!

[wattpadscapcons]

Okay, so I was looking through the SDRA2 Masterlist and I realized that I requested for Tsurugi 7 times but never requested for general dating Headcanons. So could I get dating HCs for him please? Thanks

Ok ok, moody police officer, got it

Sorry my finals just ended and I just got into the headspace to write again woo.

🛑Hella Spoilers🛑

Also sorry I wrote like an entire fucking book for him instead of simple headcanons I just got on a role and went with it. I honestly really love this character.

=

Tsurugi Dating Headcanons

=

Older Tsurugi

🚓 Tsurugi has a lot of issues he has yet to deal with yet, regardless of when you meet and get into a relationship with him

🚓 He is honestly worse to try to communicate after the events of DRA, but if you somehow get past that and break through those walls of his, you can clearly see just how broken he is emotionally

🚓 If you've been with him since before he was in the "game" and survived, you better believe he's going to be somewhat softer (only with you) despite his "change of heart"

🚓 He will never ask you for help though, not until he's at the point when he's broken down

🚓 Regardless of when you're together, he's awkward, distant, stubborn and protective as hell

🚓 Behind closed doors he'd like nothing more than just to spend some quality time with you, where he can finally relax for a little while and enjoy being able to hold you without fear of losing you

(which is often a very rare occurrence due to his PTSD putting a strain on your relationship)

🚓 Scary dog right? Hell yeah. Y'all got like a scary junk yard dog that barks so loud it sometimes scares itself

-

With him before DRA events?

🚓 He for sure tracked your ass down after he escaped the island, he was one of the only ones with memory fragments left

🚓 Believe me, if Utsuro had the balls to mention you to get him to feel despair, he's going to make sure it isn't just a bluff

🚓 If you happen to be brainwashed by Junko's videos, propaganda, and the riots, you're going straight into rehabilitation

🚓 (Otherwise) You're going to be living with him, there is no debate after he finds you again

🚓 He's got you your own personal security team, it's annoying at times but at least you can understand the sentiment of it

🚓 He honestly worries about him scaring you away sometimes...

🚓 You're one of the only people he allows to get within 3 foot from him without meeting the barrel of his service weapon

🚓 It takes a lot more for him to snap at you than it does for him to yell at others, he simply has learned to control himself better when you're around

🚓 If he's being honest, he'd prefer if you were always in his field of vision, but he knows well that you have your own life besides for him and considering what his job is, you could get hurt

🚓 On the off-chance you get hurt he will deal with whoever or whatever hurt you, god hope he spares them by not dragging it out

🚓 He will never allow you to get into a position where you could become just another casualty of justice

🚓 He's more likely to listen to you when you tell him he needs a break, and that's saying a lot

🚓 You can sometimes catch him staring at you in that lovesick puppy way, it's not quite a common occurrence like it was before back in Hope's Peak (but it's a sign that he's still the same Tsurugi you knew back then)

🚓 Others can clearly see the impact you have on him, to the point where you've become the Kisaragi Foundation's appointed negotiator specifically for him (because he'll actually let you speak and think about what you say before dismissing it)

🚓 He does appreciate the constant concern you show for health, much more than you think he does

🚓 The affection you give him makes him melt, but he prefers that others don't see/hear you

🚓 You are constantly on his mind, almost like a borderline-yandere like obsession, it's caused him to always second-guess his decisions before going through with anything

🚓 Of course, he's worried about how his decisions affect you

🚓 It's almost funny how much he actually cares compared to what he's willing to show others

=

Younger Tsurugi

🚓 His younger self is much easier to talk to, to persuade, and to compromise with

🚓 You attempting to help him with his issues makes a bigger impact on him then he'd ever be able to explain to you

🚓 Modest sweetheart, easier to fluster than you think

🚓 A simple kiss to the cheek has him red in the face, though that's mostly from his embarrassment (man's got zero dating experience and here you are loving on him, you're good for him!)

🚓 Unknowingly touch-starved, (give him affection he deserves it, this is a threat)

🚓 You might not go on very many dates, but the ones you do are special enough to get a picture-perfect moment for

🚓 He always has your back in an argument with someone else

🚓 Got people messing with you? Not anymore, he already made sure of it

🚓 Doesn't really care about what kind of talent you have (if you have one at all) and will still praise you regardless (it's more like an off-handed comment, sometimes he doesn't even realize what he said until you're hugging him)

🚓 Hands down would shoot someone for you, very few questions asked (please teach him not to always resort to violence)

🚓 He constantly worries he's going to screw up, not surprising

🚓 Will you get him to finally see a therapist? Maybe. He's thinking about what you told him

=

=

This post is brought to you by Utsuro.

"What? You asked about him and didn't expect me to answer?"

[novaglenn]

a little more than strangers pt 2

prompt: during your shift, someone arrives asking for help but you refuse since they haven’t got the money to pay. the person retaliates and jinx arrives in time to help.

a/n: so after thinking it over and actually coming up with an idea that i thought was good enough, i decided to write a part 2. i kinda ended it with the possibility of a part 3 but idk i might have to see how i feel. hope you guys like it!

part 1 here

“Hey doc, you got a moment to help me when you’re finished?” You turn around to find a tanned man, despite his rough looks doesn’t seem to be that much taller than you. If they’re here then they must’ve gotten into a fight, probably one that involves knives, judging by the gash running down from their shoulder and ending at their elbow. You signal for them to take a seat, before turning your attention back to the patient you were currently seeing.

“Make sure to take one pill every six hours, if there are any side effects come back and see me.” You hand your patient the medicine and walk them to the exit, once they’ve left you turn the sign around to signal that the clinic would be closed for the time being. “What happened to you?” you ask, whilst collecting the stuff you need to fix them up.

“Just someone who owed some money,” they reply, you can hear the anger laced in their tone and you assume that they didn’t get what they were looking for. Hopefully they don’t end up transferring their anger onto you, but you can’t be too sure, some of the people you’ve encountered were unpredictable. “Speaking of money, I need that before I can look at your wound,” all you get is silence and you turn to find the man looking away from you, a blank look on their face.

You don’t have to ask them, their expression is already giving you their answer. A sigh escapes your lips, if this was a specific tattooed girl you would have probably said it was fine, but you vaguely know this man so you set down the equipment that you were holding. “Your name is Gideon, right? You’ve been here before, but you know the deal. No money no fix up.” The man stands up at your words and it’s just your luck that they’re standing close enough to the entrance that they grab their gun if they decide to.

The thought has you panicking just a little bit, hopefully you have enough of an influence that Gideon won’t choose to immediately shoot you. “I can pay you next time, so can’t you just treat me now?” They question as they decide to take a step closer. You try not to make any sudden movements, and choose to stay calm, if any violence occurs then your services may be lost and that wouldn’t be good for the people in Zaun.

“It’s nothing personal, it’s just how I do business. I’m sure there are other doctors here that can treat you.” Gideon takes another step forward; one more will mean that they’ll be within reach to grab onto you. “But those people ask for too much money,” they answer. You have nothing to say to that, but it only leads to Gideon taking another step closer. “How… about a temporary payment?” You suggest and the tense aura that surrounds the man lessens by just a small amount.

You start to think of a possible way that they can pay and from what you can tell, Gideon doesn’t have anything of value on him that you can hold onto. You remember the gun, from the looks of it, must be a standard one. Not like Jinx’s with all the paint and personality that covers it, so you assume that it has no sentimental value to them. “How about your gun? Leave it with me and you can come back with the money later?” You offer but a look of anger crosses their face.

“I thought you were a doctor; do you want me to die?” They question and before you can argue back, they’re raising their hand. It felt like time slowed down for a moment, but you couldn’t react in time. For a second there you were surprised, you kind of expected them to punch you yet for some reason you didn’t think they would. “Will you fix me up?” They ask, but you only shake your head.

If someone hears about you letting somebody off without payment, then everyone else will expect the same treatment. You feel the wind get knocked out of you, it didn’t feel like your ribs broke from the impact, but it’s hard to tell, all you know was that it was definitely going to hurt for a while.

“How about now?” you’re defiant, choosing not to say anything again. Gideon grabs you by the collar, you don’t feel the impact, but the pain comes back tenfold. They raise their hand ready to punch you a third time, when the sound of the door opening catches their attention. “Let her go,” the familiar voice catches your attention, and you find a blue haired girl standing there, her hand raised and gun in hand. “Well, if isn’t Jinx. Does your daddy know that you’re here?” Gideon replies, they throw you to the side as if you were nothing, and the action is enough for Jinx to place her finger on the trigger.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to know one of his men can’t even handle a simple job,” Jinx fires back, a smirk playing on her lips, which only causes the anger in Gideon to ignite. He steps forward, but Jinx aims at the ground and is pulling the trigger before he can even move. “The next one will be in your head, if you don’t leave now.” The smirk on her face disappears, only leaving her with anger instead.

You’re thankful that Gideon knows that he’s at a loss and decides to leave, plus the fact that you don’t have the money to repair the clinic if they did decide to do a shoot-out. You can feel the pain getting stronger, so you start shuffling your way towards your desk. It feels like you’re taking forever, but then you remember your injuries. That guy sure did a number on you and it seems like you might have to take a few days off.

“I got you, darling.” Jinx wraps her arm around your waist, and it’s only then that you remember that she’s here. If she hadn’t come when she did, you weren’t sure what would’ve happened to you. The fact that she threatened that guy for you is more of a surprise, but with Jinx you can never seem to get a good read on her. “Thanks,” a hiss escapes your lips, a result of the pain erupting near your stomach. You lift your shirt and press gently against your diaphragm; the pain flares up and you probably shouldn’t have done that but at least it helped confirm that your ribs aren’t broken.

“If you wanted to take off your shirt, you could’ve asked me to do it.” Jinx winks at you and out of habit you chuckle at her words, the pain is back, and you start hunching over your desk, praying it goes away. “I’m sorry! I should’ve kept my mouth shut!” Jinx walks away and immediately starts moving around the clinic, grabbing everything she recognises. You tell her that she doesn’t need to apologise but she doesn’t look your way at all or acknowledges your words.

The moment she searches in one of the cupboards nearby, you reach out for her hand and stop her frantic movements. “Hey, you don’t need to apologise,” your voice is gentle and with your thumb, start to rub her hand, hoping to soothe her worry. Jinx doesn’t answer, so you swivel around in your chair, ignoring the pain that comes with the action and reach out to gran her other hand.

You pull her towards you, and without a second thought, rest the palm of your hands on her waist. Jinx finally looks up at you, maybe that was too forward but her expression finally relaxes, the worry dissipating slowly. “You didn’t hurt me, Gideon did.” You state and instead of saying anything, Jinx sends you a smile, the same one you saw before, but this time it makes your heart race.

“So, are you going to help me or not?” You hand her one of the clean cloth’s that she grabbed earlier, and without a word Jinx gets to work. Now that you have a chance to see her up close, you realise how beautiful she is. When she came in for help last time, you were so focused on patching her up to get a good look, and now that you have the chance you can’t stop looking at her. Your attention is broken when you realise that Jinx is staring right back.

Did she catch you? You’re embarrassed at the thought and look away, how long was she staring at you, maybe she was just checking your face was clean and bandaged up. One quick glance to a mirror on the wall tells you that she’s finished, and did a pretty good job by the looks of it. “Why don’t we uh, call this payback for when I fixed you up,” you get up and start to find something to do, just so you can get rid of this embarrassment that you’re feeling.

“I think I have a better idea,” the clicking of her boots nears you and you’re about to reply when a pair of soft lips press against your cheeks. The kiss is quick, and you turn to find Jinx standing in front of you, a mischievous look now on her face. “How about that for payback,” she adds. “And this…” You notice the way her eyes wander to your lips, and without another word she grabs you face, making sure to be mindful of your injuries and captures your lips with her own.

You tense up for a second, deep down you were hoping for this, but you weren’t sure if it would actually happen. Thankfully you didn’t have any cuts on your lips, courtesy of Gideon, otherwise your first kiss with Jinx would have you feeling discomfort. It doesn’t last long though, and soon Jinx is pulling away, leaving her with a grin on her face that you’re deciding is too cute for your liking.

“…Was because I’ve wanted to do it since I saw you,” she continues. Jinx lets go of you and just like your last encounter, is already heading for the exit before you can say anything. You manage to come to your senses in time to ask her, “Would you like to hang out sometime? Somewhere that isn’t here?” Jinx stops at your words, she grabs her chin with her hand, as if giving the impression that she’s thinking about it.

Even though you know she’ll probably say yes, you’re still worried that despite want just happened, maybe just maybe, she’ll say no and you’ll never see her again. “I’m expecting a real nice date, darling,” Jinx winks at you before she is disappearing into the night. You’re injured and in pain, yet you’re left feeling like you could do anything. Now you just hope that you can come up with a good enough plan for a date that Jinx will enjoy.

[vintagegeekculture]

“Alley Cat” (1984) was an entertaining, hardboiled b-actioner absolutely unseen and forgotten on release, but is just the perfect kind of movie to rediscover with streaming when it became available. See this one before, like “Miami Connection” (another grimy actioner made in the 80s) it gets rediscovered by the ultra-ironic Alamo Drafthouse genre movie crowd, or the Austin film scene get their hands on it. “Alley Cat” was a mix of the martial arts movie with the ultraviolent, grimy urban revenge thriller (think “Deathwish”), set in and around urban decline. It was the only starring feature for Karin Mani, and what a dynamic screen presence this “one reel wonder” was! In fact, the entire movie was made to showcase Karin Mani as a star, though she never made a film as a leading lady before or after ever again. That’s part of what makes this movie amazing to discover: here’s a movie that’s been stewing in a can for decades with someone who could have been a superstar, but never made a movie as a lead before or after. There’s something strange and sentimental and a bit sad about that that goes beyond the movie, especially since she really is fierce and electric on screen. Oh, what might have been!

As for Karin, remember that all female action leads are somewhere on a sliding scale, with “tigerish ferocity and intensity” on one end, and “vulnerability/sentimentality” on the other. Angela Mao (and her intense glare), Pam Grier, and Meiko Kaji are on the “ferocity/intensity” end of the scale, while someone like Kara Hui would be on the “vulnerability/sentimentality” end, always close to bursting into tears. Michelle Yeoh, I’d say, is somewhere in the middle. If we use that ranking, Karin Mani is definitely close to the “ferocious” end. In fact, a good way to think of her is like a white Angela Mao. Karin is a real tigress, and when you see her stare, the idea she can fight a dozen men in a biker bar doesn’t seem so crazy at all. 

Don’t feel bad for Karin Mani though, she married someone named Paul Flattery and retired from acting filthy rich. I had no idea who Paul Flattery is, but I looked into him, and he seems like one of the many anonymous, shockingly powerful Svengali producers behind the scenes of entertainment, a Bruce Dickinson, Max Martin, or Scooter Braun. In fact, the more I look into him, the more I think he, not his wife’s Kung Fu movie, is the real story here. Paul Flattery has the slightly scary aura of real power that many bullshitters try to counterfeit, but he has every trait I identify of the truly powerful: he is mostly anonymous, he wields power behind the scenes, he seems to know and be connected to everyone somehow for decades (he did specials with Michael Jackson, the Clintons, David Bowie...he even did that “Return of Bruno” vanity blues album of Bruce Willis), and what he actually does is somewhat elusive, yet his IMDB page is nonetheless a million miles long, and he’s clearly at the center of everything. I mean, the guy literally created the “People’s Choice Awards” and made a music video with every artist you’ve heard of. If the world really is run by a shadowy cabal behind the scenes, like the Freemasons or the Illuminati, HYDRA or the Stonecutters League, then Paul Flattery is 100% a secret-handshake and password knowing member of whatever the anonymous ruling clique is. I checked, the guy has 1,700 followers on twitter, yet...this is someone who won an Emmy and a Grammy? 

In fact...isn’t it interesting that “Alley Cat,” a grimy b-actioner that is utterly forgotten, is now somehow getting a rerelease on blu-ray...with a painted cover no less? And it’s on every streaming service you can think of? Anyone who has ever made an independent film can tell you how hard it actually is to get on a streaming service. What a sudden turnaround for a forgotten movie stewing in the tin. 

Alright, here’s what I think happened, and you can believe or not believe this as you see fit. What if...Paul Flattery, this powerful Master of the Universe, one of the bad guys in the “Josie and the Pussycats” movie with Rosario Dawson, with the merest half-thought and and an effortless flick of his Galactus-like power, made one mention of the movie to someone at the Stonecutters’ League Hall on rib night...and blammo, suddenly this movie, the one and only one ever made showcasing his hot wife kicking ass, lost to time, is suddenly on blu-ray and streaming?

It’s theory and conjecture, but crazier things have happened. Just google Pia Zadora winning the Golden Globe for “Best New Star” before her first movie even came out. 

[jamesholden]

here's a uh a better peek at the initial fluff i'm writing for Sionainn and Kaidan. I'm doing a fluff and a smut all at once and I don't share much of the fluff because it's the one i'm most nervous about. Sion is my self-indulgent plus-size Shep, and i wanted to write them a little hang time in ME1 while working in some in-game dialogue. I was inspired by my ADHD tendencies to lose track of time and miss meals. probably going to be the first in a series of connected pieces from this run.

“I’m not questioning any decisions you’ve made, let me be clear about that,” he assured her, raising his hands. She relaxed. She looked to Kaidan for approval more than she wanted to admit, like she did all the people serving under her who had more years in the service. She wanted to know that she was doing right by them. That she was making them proud. Something about Kaidan though—be it his experience, his level head, his observations, what have you—made her seek it out more than she had from anyone else. Kaidan barreled on. “It’s just my experience that once someone lets something slide, it tends to pick up speed. You get my meaning?”

Maybe? “Talk to me, Alenko. You’ve got a little black rain cloud over your head.”

He snorted. Levity taken well. Good. Whatever he had to say couldn’t be more serious than what he’d said before. “I’ll try to keep the deck dry.” He searched her face, opening his mouth and closing it, pursing his lips and looking down at his hands again. She waited. When Kaidan met her eyes, he took a deep breath. “You do that often? Skip meals?”

His question wasn’t one she expected, for all the hesitation. Most people didn’t hesitate to comment on her eating habits. Or… well. They didn’t comment on her missing meals. Hesitation struck her too. She shifted in her seat. “Not on purpose. I just lose track of time when I focus on a project.” Normally she’d make a crack about loving food, but something Kaidan’s gaze kept the self-deprecation at bay. “Hours go by like minutes and I catch myself sneaking out of my bunk for a snack so I don’t go to bed hungry. You know?”

“Hm.” Kaidan nodded slowly, taking a peek down at her little pile of wrappers and uneaten fruit snacks. Far from the meal she’d missed, just enough to take the edge off. Definitely not enough to sustain a biotic like him in place of a full meal. She wondered what he saw in that. “Not good for you, you know. Not eating.”

The sentiment struck her right below the ribs. For years, all she’d heard was that maybe she should eat a little less. A suggestion that stung, given her plates were rarely much bigger than anyone else’s. It always went to show how little the people around her understood her body or even really cared about her health. That they knew every ounce of food she put in her body and that it should be less. But Kaidan… there was something about him worrying that she ate at all rather than what or how much that took her by surprise. And comforted her. Other than Chakwas, no one had treated her like that. Not since her nan. 

She wasn’t sure how to explain to him how much that meant to her. How much hearing echoes of her grandmother in this man made her feel safer in his company. Not yet. So she just smiled shyly at him. “Spoken like a true Sentinel.” Always looking out for the health of his team. Even if the team member he was looking out for was another field medic.

He smiled, fingers toying with the wrapper of his vanished protein bar. He didn’t call her out on the deflection. A relief. Talking about how she’d been treated over the years was never an easy conversation. “Spoken like a friend.”

Sionainn’s heart both fluttered and dropped. A friend? It was enough, but… was that it? She tries to push the upset down, focus on the warmth his concern and care brought her. “That what we are? Friends?”

“I know I’d like us to be.” The fluttering intensified, lifting her heart back out of her stomach.

“I’m still learning how to have those.”

“Me too.”

anyway i hope you like it! i'm hoping to finish this or the smut soon so we'll see

[imaginativeamateur]

can you do 30 with kakashi and a fem reader pls 🥺🤲 I love your work and am so happy for you regarding your follower milestone, congrats !!

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] The Power of Love

|200 Followers Event|

Prompt: 30 — "I mean it."

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x fem!Reader

Note: Aloha, I'm back!!! Thanks for the request and the cheers😝 Okay, this one is AHHH, the title :DD This one is very sentimental but playful at the same time. There's like some serious talk but also entertaining moments, too. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Constant requests that you get married were sent in your way for the past several months. Your parents were tired of having to wait to see you bring a man home, but you had no intention to comply. The topic would come up to the table during dinner every now and then, with your mother furrowing in her brows and your father sighing in distress. On your part, you played cool, soothing them that you just found a guy and dismissing the matter with a feigned grin.

Everything would be ordinary, much to your own liking until your parents secretly signed you up for a match-matching service. You had a big argument that night but they smugly smiled and ensured that you would fall in love with him immediately. It was ridiculous.

“You’d be head over heels in no time, Y/N,” your mother said.

“Like she knows who he is,” you mumbled, scoffing on your way back to your apartment.

Though you completely shut the door to the new romance—the guy that you presumably knew nothing about—you woke up earlier than usual, earlier than you should. You blamed it on your neighbor’s child crying but you discerned that you were being irrational. The whole situation was aberrant. You purposefully threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt that was too worn out for a first date. Still, you could not be any more careless, the last thing you wanted was to get the man to generate some form of adoration for you. You checked yourself in the mirror and made sure that you looked representable nonetheless.

The sun was already high up in the sky when you locked your door and tiredly dropped the keys into your handbag, storming to the destination with angry steps. It was your day off and you could have spent your time on something much more meaningful, training, for example. Kakashi-senpai said you still needed to hone your close combat skills. You pursed your lips at the thought of the Hatake, feeling even more enraged and annoyed. The said Shinobi was a nice guy, he was gentle and mannered with everyone but you. He treated you like his kid, bossing you around, requesting you to dig through the shelves of bookstores to find the limited edition of Icha Icha that was recently published. But you did not quit being his subordinate. Kakashi had everything that you needed to harness, from his skills to knowledge, and you would never let such a golden opportunity go wasted.

Being with him for two long years brought you many benefits and visible improvements, one of them being your patience. You were short-tempered and Kakashi was just the perfect tame to your boiling climate. The silver-haired veteran knew you were cantankerous on some days, like today, when you were having an involuntary sunbathing session, and would always be later than he usually would. Over the drenching months, you grew indifferent to his tardiness, adapted to his peculiar conscience of time, and no longer rambled when he arrived. He would come up with the most bizarre excuses to get away with it, and at first, you were furious about it, but you found them somewhat adorable now.

You smiled, wondering why you were recalling your moments with Kakashi when you were waiting for your date to come. You bit the inner side of your cheek when you realized your patience was running thin—it reminded you of your silver-haired senpai. Releasing a shaky breath, you calmed yourself down, assuring that you would apologize to the man that it was merely a misunderstanding with your parents that they signed you up for today. You rubbed the surface of the table with your fingers and let your thoughts carried you away at the moment, unconsciously drumming the rhythm of your favorite song—his favorite song that you grew accustomed to after years of the very special silver-haired occupying your day.

“You seem nervous.”

Your head perked at the unexpectedly familiar voice, “Kakashi-senpai?”

The silver-haired settled himself in the opposite seat with ease, “Good morning, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?” You did not bother to greet him back properly due to the tremendous shock being registered into your system.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to… to,” you came to a halt, fumbling with the hem of your shirt when you found it impossible to continue. It was embarrassing.

“Blind date?” He questioned, quirking a brow.

Your cheeks heated up in modesty, unable to answer his beseech.

“That seems like a yes,” Kakashi leaned back, enjoying your flustered state, “I’m here for a blind date, too.”

“A what?”

“A blind date,” he repeated without failing to lose his composure.

It took you several seconds to comprehend the whole situation, then you shifted in your chair, propping your elbows onto the table to hide your blush, “This is such an… interesting encounter. But I won’t change my mind.”

You were fairly absolute with the plan to turn the whole thing down, despite whoever was your date, despite it being Kakashi Hatake. You did not want to risk the bond that took you so long to form with him and the trust that he enlisted you upon. You could not.

“I also came resolute,” he made a simple, yet down-to-earth statement. Kakashi caught your eyes and challenged, “What do you want to do after a coffee date?”

“No,” you jerked away, “what are you saying? Are you okay, senpai?”

“We’re on a date and you still call me senpai?”

“Look, we’re not going to do this, we can’t, Kakashi,” you tried to explain but to no avail.

The silver-haired smugly smiled, “Good, Kakashi sounds much nicer.”

“I’m not joking,” you cleared your throat and glared at him.

“Neither am I, Y/N. I mean it.”

Your lips fell apart as the coherence in your mind shattered into bits and pieces. Kakashi silently observed the fleeting expressions that you made, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you stuttered. You knew who Kakashi was and the tragedy of your occupation. The two of you did not deserve anyone’s love, for once that you held the chance of breaking their heart. You looked away from his eyes to conceal the wavering of your emotions, “I never thought about life in that way. I don’t need a man in my life, that’s what I’d like to believe. I don’t want anyone to feel battered when I’m gone.”

“I hate it to see those I love cry and mourn, too,” he mumbled. You listened attentively as though it was yourself confessing to the dark. Kakashi continued, “I only live for a certain amount of time but I have been constantly filling it with despair and loneliness. There were things that I want to do and people that I want to love, but because of my fear of hurting them, I didn’t. But after the massive loss that I’ve experienced, everything was different, I understood how painful regret actually is.”

Tears began to well in your eyes the more his words dropped. You balled your fists, blinking profusely to prevent the warm droplets from escaping. Kakashi noticed your quiet sobs, running his fingers over your trembling hands, loosening your grip, and interlacing your fingers with his. You released a heavy sigh and pulled both your hands back, wiping away your tears as quickly as when they fell and dampened the fabric of your jeans.

“You’re not at the bottom of agony when you lose someone important,” Kakashi breathed, “it’s when you feel empty after they’ve left and mourning on what you could’ve done when they were still with you.”

Your sobs eventually assuaged as you chewed on his words. The silver-haired distracted himself by stirring the liquid of his drink, but he was in no state to enjoy its taste. He already said everything he wanted to say, and the decision was now fully on your shoulders. But by your lack of response, he was sure that you did not see your relationship taking another form—the way that he wished. He abruptly stood up from his seat, fleeting on his feet, “Let’s forget about what’s happened. I mean I still respect you as my teammate, Y/N. Don’t forget our meeting tomorrow.”

“No-no, Kakashi-senpai, wait,” you moved, hastily shoving your hands in his direction, gripping his wrist like a vice. You hung your head low to avoid his investigating gaze as you spoke, “I do.”

His gears in his head turned, and Kakashi smiled with satisfaction, “You do what?”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest, so fast that you felt its rapid pumps in your throat. You stuttered out, voice growing quieter the more you expressed, “I-I want to go out with you, senpai—”

“Drop the ‘senpai’ already,” he playfully hissed and you grinned, certain that you just made the best choice of your life. Kakashi leaned down and rested his chin on your shoulder blade, snuggling his face into your neck, “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for letting me love you.”

------------------

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7 @tirzamisu @rinnegankakashi

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209​ @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

[spencers-renaissance]

Shovel Talk

Summary: Hotch and Emily find out about Derek's relationship with Spencer and decide it's time for a chat.

Tags: fluff, humour, est. rel., protective!derek, emily, and hotch, relationship reveal, mentions of past hurt spencer

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Inspired by this post by @penemily that I couldn't stop thinking about. Honestly I love this fic so much lol.

Derek isn’t quite sure how he’s found himself in a vacant office after hours, crowded into an office chair with broken wheels as the two most intimidating FBI agents he knows stand over him.

“Either of you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Derek asks, bewildered by how quickly his evening had changed. One minute he’s sneaking looks at Spencer over his computer screen, and the next he’s hauled off to a private room like some sort of hostage.

He’s not scared, but he’s definitely a little pissed off. It’s nearing 10pm and all he wants to do is go home with Spencer, curl up on the sofa and eat take-out in front of the TV as they celebrate closing a case in their own way. He used to celebrate by going out for a drink, falling into bed with a stranger if the opportunity arose, but a quiet evening on the sofa with his boy in his arms is surprisingly satisfying these days.

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “We know,” he says simply, something fierce behind his words.

Derek’s heart skips a beat. It’s not hard to figure out what it is he’s talking about. He and Spencer had started dating a couple of months ago but had decided to keep it under wraps for now; something so young and beautiful was too precious to expose to all the inevitable eventual complications just yet. They’re so ridiculously smitten, though, that he’s not exactly surprised two profilers paying close attention had figured it out.

Ignoring the quietly humming nerves starting up in his stomach, he mirrors Hotch’s raised eyebrow, trying not to look as affected as he feels. “So… what? You wait for Spencer to go to the bathroom to lure me to an empty office to beat me up?”

“Maybe,” Emily replies, voice dry.

Behind the nerves and the posturing, Derek can’t feel a small twinge of hurt. “Look, guys, we expected it to be a bit of a shock, but we thought you’d at least be happy for us—”

“It’s not a shock,” Hotch interrupts.

“What?”

“It’s not a shock,” Emily repeats. “Everyone saw this coming a mile off. We’re not surprised.”

Now, he’s even more lost. “Look, can you guys just sit down? You towering over me is creeping me out, man.”

“Good,” Hotch says easily.

Irritation takes over, and he stands up. “You know what, if you’re gonna be funny about it, I don’t actually have to be here.”

Before he can actually make to leave, though, Hotch is shoving him back down into the chair, old metal and plastic creaking under the force of his caught-off-guard body hitting it again. “Stay.”

“What is going on?” Derek explodes. Maybe under different circumstances he’d be able to profile the situation but as it stands, he’s stressed and confused, desperate only to be allowed to leave this dark, cramped room and take Spencer back to his place. It almost surprises him that all he craves in such a weird and unfamiliar situation is cuddles and a nature documentary, but he’s been with Spencer long enough for it to be approaching normal. The younger man’s probably back at his desk by now, wondering where he is, and Derek would hate for him to be worried. He just wants to go home.

“Derek, we are happy for you and Spencer,” Emily finally explains. “But we couldn’t in good conscience let this go on without having a… chat.” Her face twists into the faux charming expression he’s watched her use to disarm unsubs countless times. It stings a little that she’s using it on him.

He splutters a little as a realisation dawns on him, equal parts bemused and offended. “This is… this is a shovel talk!”

“Yes,” Hotch says with a straight face, his expression tight and intimidating as he tilts his head to the side slightly, clearly entirely unaffected by Derek’s emotions. “This is a shovel talk.”

Derek feels himself relax, tension easing slightly. “Guys, I appreciate the sentiment, but Spencer’s my boyfriend; nobody wants to protect him more than I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m pretty sure we could give you a run for your money,” Emily says, her expression quickly transforming into something far more dangerous and challenging than only moments previously. “Spencer has something every single member of this team would die to protect. And if you get in our way, then we’re going to have a problem.”

“Emily, what, we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, shrugging easily, “and I love you. But Spencer is my little brother, and I would do anything to stop him from getting hurt. As long as you don’t interfere with my primary mission, we’ll be fine.”

Hotch speaks before Derek can get a word in. “Derek, I knew Spencer long before you did. I remember the first time Gideon brought him to one of our lunches, and I saw something in him that made my heart ache. It didn’t take me long to realise that what I saw were the scars left by incredible deep-seated pain. Spencer has been through hell and back throughout his life, and he’s been hurt repeatedly by people who were supposed to protect him, including Gideon. I would do anything to prevent him from getting hurt by someone like that again, you hear me? Anything.”

As confusing as this all is, Derek can’t help but feel touched by Hotch’s earnest, emotional speech. Most of his nightmares these days revolve around Spencer getting hurt, and it’s kind of reassuring to know that he has so many people in the world who will stop at nothing to prevent those horrible dreams from spiralling into reality.

He can’t help but smile a little. “I’m glad he has you two,” Derek says honestly, looking between them, “but I can assure you that if I ever hurt Spencer for some unfathomable reason, your services wouldn’t be needed. I would hate myself enough for all three of us.” Even just considering the hypothetical possibility of hurting Spencer makes his stomach turn: it’s enough for him to know that he wouldn’t need Hotch and Emily to hold him accountable to that, his own self-loathing would be punishment enough.

It seems to appease Hotch and Emily, who Derek realises look sort of like intimidating twin mafia bosses standing over him like this, and they finally step back a little, posture relaxing.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Emily says, smiling for real this time. “Get your boy and get home. It’s getting late, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at her as he makes his way to the door.

“Oh, and Derek,” Hotch says, laying a hand on his shoulder, turning him before he can leave, a genuine smile on his face too, “I am actually happy for you and Spencer.”

Derek grins at that. He really is a lucky, lucky man. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, his features twisting in curiosity as Derek makes his way across the bullpen to his boyfriend, Hotch and Emily emerging from the same room moments later.

Derek doesn’t answer properly, laughing instead. “You got some good friends, you know that?”

Spencer nods, still looking a little confused, but clearly deciding to let it go as he slings his messenger bag across his body, standing up from his desk. Derek slings an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, leading him towards the exit as his insides twist at the adorable blush that colours Spencer’s cheeks so prettily.

“Derek,” he hisses, “shouldn’t we be leaving separately?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he chuckles, looking over his shoulder. Spencer does the same, blushing even fiercer as he spots Hotch and Emily leaning against the railing, overlooking the bullpen with all-knowing looks on their faces.

“Oh my god,” Spencer mumbles, clearly embarrassed, but Derek just laughs again as they leave the bullpen and approach the elevators.

“Come on, pretty boy,” he sighs happily, sliding the arm around his shoulders to rest at his waist, fingertips pressing into the small frame of the boy he’s already falling in love with. “Let’s get you home. That penguin documentary awaits.”

“You’re gonna watch Emperors and Kings with me?” Spencer’s happy exclamation and the delighted expression on his face only warms his heart further, and in that moment he decides that he wants a happy Spencer and another nature documentary within his reach for the rest of his life.

Surprisingly, it’s not as terrifying a thought as it might once have been.

(If Derek thinks the shovel talk from Hotch and Emily is bad, though, it’s nothing compared to the one he gets from Penelope. By the end of the next day, he’s somehow reduced to tears that are both happy and the product of extreme terror, on the receiving end of a ‘baby girl’ ban for keeping it from her for so long. In the end, he decides that it’s probably an alright price to pay for everything beautiful that his life has blossomed into over the last few months.)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @queerminalminds (taglist form)

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Loki x Reader - Glorious Purpose - Words: 2,578

Based on this prompt:

Enemies-to-lovers, but instead of featuring a villain redemption arc, the heroic one is getting progressively more corrupt, unhinged and fucked up, and the one who was originally the clear-cut villain out of the two is just like "well mark me down as scared and horny"

You were a somewhat independent agent, but officially you worked with SHIELD. Fury had recruited you although you had yet to move back to New York to be closer to everything. At the moment, you were enjoying an extended stay in Europe. It had started with a small mission and you decided to vacation for a while, take a well deserved break.

"Champagne?" A waiter asked you. You nodded, taking a glass from his tray before he continued on. You'd managed to get yourself an invitation to a gala in Stuttgart and you weren't one to pass up free food and wine so you went. Your gaze floated across the room and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Everyone here had the same look: stuffy, stuck up, money coming out their-

"Pardon me," A man said. He walked up behind you, bumping into you accidentally.

"It's fine," You said automatically. Looking up at him, your eyes widened slightly. Now he was handsome. He smirked at you and you opened your mouth to say something but he turned away. Unfortunately, just as quickly as you had seen him and he had already gone. You wandered around for a few more minutes before the guest speaker walked out. You worked your way to the front of the crowd to listen to him. Even with your heels though you weren't tall enough to see over everyone. Suddenly you looked up, seeing movement on the stairs. For a moment you thought you'd see the man from earlier walking down. "Is he another guest speaker?" You wondered. Before you could get any closer to get a better view, you heard screaming. And then everyone started running. You finally elbowed your way to the front and saw the mysterious man walking away from the guest speaker who was now lying unconscious across the big fancy table. You ignored the speaker and chased after the dark-haired stranger. He had a dark smirk painted across his lips. Just before he walked outside, there was a bright glimmer around him and his sharp suit transformed into golden and leather armor. "A bit much," You thought with a silent chuckle. To get a better view, you transported yourself next to a small souvenir booth, watching as he approached the terrified crowd. Duplicates of his suddenly appeared around the edge of the crowd, including one only a few yards away from you.

"I said, KNEEL!" He yelled, slamming his scepter on the ground. The crowd immediately followed his orders. Your phone in your pocket buzzed and you discreetly checked it.

Are you still in Germany? - Fury

LOL I'm assuming you're heading my way. You should see this guy! 👑 - Y/N

Wait for the team, Y/N - Fury

…or what? 🙄😏 - Y/N

You pocketed your phone and walked out, skirting the crowd and making your way to the mystery man. The real one you assumed.

"Is not this simpler?" He started. "Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation." He spoke eloquently, not surprising you all that much considering his attire. Although his phrasing confused you slightly. It was as though he wasn't speaking to fellow humans. You supposed most men who considered themselves superior often did so though. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

"Not to men like you," You spoke up, having snuck up beside him. He smirked, walking towards you and towering over you.

"There are no men like me," He gloated. He reached out to grab you but you ducked and ran behind him. Whipping around he held his scepter out, pointing at you. "Let her be an example to you!" He yelled to the crowd. As he shot, the Captain dropped in. He stood in front of you and blocked the blast with his shield.

"I didn't need that, Steve," You hissed.

"Just shut up and help me," He replied. You rolled your eyes and teleported to a more strategic location before Mr. Gold and Leather noticed.

"You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing," Steve said. You rolled your eyes.

"We get it, Steve, you're old!" You yelled. Sometimes Steve got on your nerves. The man turned to you but Natasha quickly distracted him. She was flying the quinjet above, aiming a machine gun at him. They continued fighting and you watched the movements of the stranger, looking for a weak spot.

Suddenly you hear loud rock music blasting over the PA. Just before Iron Man swoops in, the music preceding his actual appearance, you see your chance. "Over here, pretty boy," You call out, your smirk almost matching his. As he approaches you, you whip out one of your knives from your thigh holster, twirling it in your hand.

"Oo, feisty," He grins. He points his scepter at you, about to touch your chest with it, when you teleport behind him. In the split second of his confusion, you jump up, grabbing the horns of his helmet, and kick him in the back of his knees. He falls back and you duck out of the way, letting him land hard on his back on the ground. He lets out a huff as the wind gets knocked out of him and you quickly stand over him, planting a foot on his chest. You know he could throw you off easily but you're holding a knife to his throat as well so you take your chances.

"Your turn," You say. He holds his hands up, his armor glimmering once again before revealing a much simpler outfit. You shook your head, still confused as to where he was from. This clothing was obviously not bought at the local department store. Once the team had restrained him and loaded him into quinjet, you wandered over to him, watching him closely. Cap and Stark were passive aggressively talking off to the side, as if the stranger couldn't hear them. You shook your head and walked over, taking a seat next to him. "Hi," You said with a small smile. "What's your name?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You do not know who I am?" He asked. You shook your head and chuckled.

"You're a well dressed man who apparently wants to take over the world. That's about all I know. Fury never tells me anything so I'm flying blind here."

"I am Loki of Asgard," He grinned. He was about to launch into his "Glorious purpose" speech, when thunder and lightning rattled loudly outside. Loki got a frightened look on his face, trying to look outside from his seat.

"Are you ok?" You asked. Loki's head whipped back to you, eyes staring into yours.

"I-no," He admitted, something in his eyes .

"What's the matter? Scared of a little lightning?" Cap asked Loki.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," He said. As he spoke you finally figured it out.

"Your brother is Thor!" You exclaimed.

"Unfortunately," He replied as the God of Thunder himself landed on the roof of the plane. When Stark opened the back hatch and Thor landed inside, you frowned, nose scrunching in disgust.

"Oh my gosh what a himbo," You mumbled. Loki stared at you for a moment, eyebrows raised in surprise, and opened his mouth to say something but was swiftly yanked out of his seat by his brother.

You didn't see Loki again until the Helicarrier. Up until that day you'd never doubted Fury even though you didn't like working with others, but suddenly you weren't sure who to trust. Stark and Banner thought Fury was up to no good with the Tesseract and, while Steve didn't want to agree with them, he just confirmed their theory. You just helped him break into the storage room and we're staring at each other in shock.

"Weapons. Fury is making weapons. That lying-"

"Ok," You sighed, interrupting the Captain's exclamation. "Get this back to Tony. I'm going to check on something else. Meet back at the lab?" Steve nodded and headed out with the gun.

You stealthily made your way to Loki's cell. While you were mildly terrified, you needed to talk to him. When you walked in the room, you saw Natasha already there.

"There's not many people that can sneak up on me," Loki said, smirking as he turned to face her.

"But you figured I'd come."

"After. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate."

You listened as they talked, hiding in an unseen corner of the room. "I've got red in my ledger, I'd like to wipe it out," Natasha said.

"Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Drakov's daughter? Sao Paulo? The hospital fire? Barton told me everything. Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything?" At this point Loki had stood from his seat across the cell and was slowly making his way, stalking, towards her. "This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer, pathetic! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers.You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!" Finally he slammed his fist against the glass, startling both you and Natasha. "I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you! Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear! And when he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!"

Natasha had backed away, shaking, eyes wide in terror. "You're a monster," She gasped.

"No," Loki chuckled darkly. "You brought the monster."

"So, Banner. That's your play," Natasha said, suddenly not crying or seemingly emotional at all. Loki was shocked. Natasha hurried out of the room, thanking Loki and talking hurriedly on her ear piece.

You quickly slipped out of your hiding place and hurried over to the cell. "What are you doing here?" Loki sneered.

"I have some questions," You said. He rolled his eyes and huffed. "Personal ones. This is for my own agenda."

"Fine, one question," He relented, smirking slightly. Loki fully expected you to still be trying to gather information from him.

"Look, I listened to your little speech there. I don't completely agree with you but you have a point. In some respects we're no better off than you," You said. Loki raised an eyebrow curiously, watching as you stood right against the glass, staring up at him confidently. "If I were to help you, what would be in it for me? I want an honest answer or at least a believable lie. Don't give me a "glorious purpose, bright lure of freedom" speech. Tell me something I can believe. What would you do if I helped you?"

"I can't promise you anything except your life. I promise I won't kill you. Now, if you're stupid enough get yourself killed-"

"I get it," You chuckled. Nodding you smiled at him. "I'll let you know." With that you left, leaving the God of Mischief to his thoughts.

When you rejoined the rest of the team in the Lab they were, unsurprisingly, arguing again. "I'm sorry, what were you lying?" Tony said, showing Fury the files he'd just hacked. Steve was standing next to the weapon, Fury was yelling, everyone was pointing fingers. You shook your head but saw your opportunity. In the commotion, no one was paying any attention to the scepter. You bit your lip nervously. You had to make a decision.

The entire Helicarrier was in chaos. It was nearly impossible to make your way to Loki's cell without being seen but you eventually made it. With so many agents running around you didn't want to risk teleporting and find yourself at the wrong end of their guns.

When you finally reached the cell you saw the door open and Loki standing in it. "No!" Thor yelled, running at him. You almost cried out to stop Thor but then you noticed movement from the other side of the glass cage. As Thor tumbled through Loki's illusion you grinned.

"Are you ever not going to fall for that?" Loki asked Thor, locking him in the cell. Thor roars and slams Mjolnir on the glass which cracks under the impact. Both you and Loki are surprised, having thought the cell was indestructible. Loki walks over to the control panel slowly. "The humans think us immortal. Should we test that?" Before he can press the button, Agent Coulson shows up with one of the weapons you'd seen in storage.

"Move away, please," He says. "You like this? We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does. Do you wanna find out?"

As Phil was speaking you snuck up behind him. And just before he shot Loki you shoved the scepter into his back, stabbing him through. Pulling it back out you dropped him to the ground and grinned at Loki. 'Pity,' You thought. 'Phil always seemed to be such a nice guy.'

"Why did you do that?" Loki asked, staring at you in surprise. There was an odd look of terror and excitement on his face. "I didn't promise you anything."

"Yes you did," You said, walking up to him and handing him the scepter. "You promised me loyalty." The facade cracked for a moment, a soft smile slipping through. "And you're pretty."

"I like you!" Loki laughed, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him. "Shall we?" He asks, gesturing to the red button.

"Of course," You reply. Your hand hovers over it and you glance back at Thor who is in disbelief. "It's nothing personal, Thor," You say. "Or, actually," You look back at Loki and smile. "It definitely is." You press the button and air whooshes around you as it falls to the earth below.

"You're gonna lose," Coulson says weakly.

"Am I?" Loki asks, turning to look at him.

"It's in your nature."

"Your heroes are scattered, your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?"

"You lack conviction," Phil replies.

"Not anymore," Loki sneers at him, holding you even tighter.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" You taunt. Suddenly you're both blasted out of the aircraft.

"So that's what it does."

You scream, closing your eyes and clinging to Loki as you both fall. "Calm down," Loki yells. Suddenly there's hard ground below you. As you open your eyes and reorient yourself you see it's actually hardwood.

"Where are we?" You ask.

"Stark Tower." Standing up you see the city skyline before you just outside the window. "It's about to begin," He says. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," You reply immediately, taking his hand. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly in contrast to his overall demeanor.

"We shall rule together then, my queen," He promises. You nod and kiss him again before you walk out to the balcony to wait for the inevitable arrival of the Avengers.

"Together."

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[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

next

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics. 

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had. 

*

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead. 

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat. 

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke. 

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife. 

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?” 

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

*

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye. 

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed. 

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward. 

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”