#but i will find a way to force my rarepairs in places they do not belong

[anamateurhumanbeing]

sees an alternate universe created specifically for Ekko/Jinx

"hm, how can I make this about CaitJinx"

After Jayce and Vi die in the explosion, Caitlyn wants to make sure this kind of thing never happens again. Instead of becoming an enforcer, she gets her mother to use their families influence to actually improve things for the Undercity (helped out by time-displaced Heimerdinger). Through her efforts she meet Powder, the two recognizing each other from the explosion. The two bond over their mutual grief over losing a sibling/sibling-like figure. Followed by usual CaitJinx shipping dynamics (just a little less toxic).

This is a shipping post, but honestly I think the two could also have a really nice platonic bond. I honestly just wish we at least got a glimpse at what happened to Caitlyn in the other timeline.

[piyesis-yhs]

♡Alijah♡ Yap Session!

I'm really bored so I thought I just might talk about Alijah

To those who know me, you already seen this coming lol. Now, why you may ask? well, as the self-proclaimed captain of the ship...uh I don't know. It just came to be in a dream. 

Long Post

jk, I think I first considered it way back when I first joined the yhs fandom. I tend to ship characters who I find pretty and since Elijah had a cool design, and Alec was my favorite character...well bam! new ship! But shipping these two came with multiple problems, cause one; I was the lone shipper at the time so if I wanted to see fanfics and fanart of them...I had to do it myself...which was eughhh... especially writing the fics cause I am not a writer! And two, they literally never met each other (technically) AND Elijah has around 3 minutes of screen time.

Bro, at the time, a lot of people were tolerating my shenanigans so I knew a lot of people didn't find interest in them until I started drawing them a lot. The key to getting your rarepair noticed and decently well-liked is posting everyone's favorite and then dragging them by the arm to start showing off your blorbos, cause if you post stuff that everyone likes--they'll follow you. When they do, they'll probably tolerate the ship since they're usually just there to see the stuff they like. (like a package deal!)

but besides all that, I think Alijah is pretty neat. there's not a lot about Elijah's character so I had to improvise and my version of his character is the guy who struggles to connect with people because of the lack of childhood he had. I think that it'd be very hard making friends if you grew up committing crimes so Elijah was a loner. (and since it's canon that he and Celeste were homeschooled, they're definitely loners. Not Celeste tho, she's an ambivert and functions better in social environments even if she's also quiet while Elijah just seems introverted.) 

So adding to his character, because of the life he grew up in, He's attached to his sister. He doesn't have that many aspirations in life so he just does what Celeste is doing and usually listens to her when she needs help. I picture him to be like a stray dog--trained, obedient but has no real place where he belongs so he just follows those who he likes. 

I think this is how Elijah and Alec get together in the first place but that was in my winter au, which I won't talk about since most of it is being used for my oc webtoon. However, in the remake version, Alec doesn't feel worthy enough to be with his friends and pursue his feelings for Funneh, so he forces himself to work more since in Alec's mind, he couldn't save himself so he might as well stop trying to have nice things. He ends up on a self-destructive path and now that he's spending more time at work, he gets to know more about Elijah. Their relationship is just co-workers at first, barely talking and there to get the job done, but since Alec is shown to be pretty talkative around his friends--I think he'd try to at least strike up a conversation out of awkwardness.

Eventually, Elijah would start talking too making their relationship less tense and more friendly. If they ever hang out it'll probably be because of a coincidence, like "Oh, hey! You're at this place too :O!" 

if one of them fell in love first, it'd be Elijah since I think it wouldn't be that hard to impress him since he's a loner. with the stray dog stuff, he gets more attached to Alec to the point he'd focus on him more than his sister and when it came to work, his motivations pointed to making sure Alec wasn't killed by Yumi (who at this point in this au was considering it since Celeste was trying to talk her into it--i'll explain this more when I ramble about celesdere.)

Alijah's Dynamic + overall story:

Speaking of their relationship, their overall dynamic wouldn't be healthy. Elijah's the attachment type and Alec's the avoidment type. (match made in heaven! *sarcastic*) Since Elijah didn't have the best childhood, his perception of love is warped. He believes that to love is to give them you're everything and to worship. He learned that from his sister since their parents were always fighting (like oh, they're not in love because they didn't put in the effort in the other person like Celeste was putting in her love for Yumi)

His love for Alec is more obsessive and he becomes more insecure. His goal is to keep Alec by his side since Alec is one of the few people who doesn't mistreat him (since Elijah did have relationships before but they were mostly abusive) With his insecurities, he becomes like Yumi in how he gets easily jealous. He doesn't want Alec hanging out with Funneh, let alone being with his old friends who were enemies of their little crime organizations and it gets to the point he'll imply he'll harm her (but he doesn't since Elijah knew that Alec wouldn't love him anymore so all he really does is cling and tries to get Alec to stay without harming those Alec cares about.)

Now, for Alec! SInce he was pushing himself away from his friends, he stayed with Elijah not because he liked him, but because he was there. he doesn't fully love him the way he loves Funneh. She was perfect in his eyes, He idealized her but when it comes to his coworker, he was a constant reminder of the mess he got himself into and Alec eventually regrets isolating himself since he realized that it's never too late to fix his mistakes and make it up to the people he hurt.

Alec saw Elijah as a convenience since Alec used him to feel better about himself. He needed assurances that he was doing the right thing, that the world didn't have a place for someone like him and it was better to drown with someone else than alone. Elijah was more like someone to comfort him, but since Alec was getting better mentally he didn't really need Elijah so if he tried to break things off Alec would find himself unable to because Elijah's possessive nature would reveal itself. Alec wanted to move on and live better but his boyfriend doesn't let him. 

His feelings for Elijah become complicated. He loved Elijah because Alec found comfort in not having to pretend to be someone he wasn't like he was with his friends and he loved that Elijah stayed knowing they were criminals but he later formed resentment when Alec didn't need him anymore.

While they were dating, as Alec got better he was making plans to betray Yumi and them. He wanted to turn himself in and wanted to take Yumi and the crew with him. However, with Elijah dating him, he hesitates since he still loves him (even if his feelings were shallow at first) Alec knew that if he betrayed them, he would be their or Elijah's target. (think of my Now or Never fic) 

since this is getting jumbled I'll try to figure out where I'm heading with this ramble lol

With Elijah's possessiveness and worship of Alec (giving everything to him like Celeste did with Yumi) he begins to see that something is off with Alec and after a little digging, he finds Alec's betrayal both to their work and relationship-wise because at this point with Alec wanting to get back to his old relationships, his decision to become friends with them again, becoming friends with Funneh again, this was betrayal to Elijah. to him, Alec left their life together to join someone else's. Elijah doesn't take it well because, to Elijah, he was the stray dog who was yet again abandoned. 

either Alec or Elijah would attempt to kill the other if Alec is confronted with his betrayal of Yumi or if Elijah is ordered to try and kill Alec by his sister or Yumi. 

Even if Alec was using Elijah, he still loved him. though his feelings were overridden by his resentment, he loved him. To him, it was shallow but near the end of their relationship, it became more hard to ignore especially when he reconnected with his friends. Think A Pearl by Mistski, he loved him but it wasn't a healthy type of love. it was more like infatuation with familiarity since Elijah was the one who saw the true him. no facade like he wore when he was with his friends.

depending on how evil I feel like being, Elijah will die and his death will become the pearl Alec would have afterward.

uh, I think that's the end of my ramble for Alijah lol, though just in case it needs to be said, I don't condone abusive/toxic relationships! I already got enough of them irl so I do not desire one irl! 

I find the appeal in toxic relationships when it's creating complexities in characters and how It affect their motivations and desires. I care more about their upbringing and escape of them instead of just liking them because of romanticization (which I hope is clear that I'm not doing or desire to do)

with all that out of the way, this is my interpretation of them! :D and only interpretation I believe since I don't think I saw another ramble or hc post about them.1

oh yeah, regarding my fics, they're usually stand-alones so Now or Never isn't canon in this ramble (since this ramble is the main foundation for the stuff I make) so some aus and fics are loosely based on this.

Have a good day/night!

if you see grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes--no you didn't!

[transitranger327]

It’s Not Enough to Feel the Lack

Sapphic Ahsoka Tano Week, Day 6: Rarepairs

Well folks, have I got a rarepair for y’all: Ahsoka Tano/Transfem Kanan Jarrus. This little canon divergence takes place just after Jarrus runs away from the Bad Batch, and just before Ahsoka goes to Padmé’s funeral. The full fic is below the cut, along with some other notes

“Run, Caleb!”

That’s the last thing she said to me. I hate that it’s the last thing she said to me.

But I did what she said. I ran. I ran from the clones. I ran until I found a city. I ran until I found a ship. I ran with the ship, chasing after the emergency beacon…but it was a trap. Now I’m sitting here, cowering in a corner of the Coruscant system, hoping to the Force that I’m not spotted. 

And I don’t know what to do besides run. 

The holocron she had given me wouldn’t open anymore. All my friends were Jedi that are probably dead, or clones that want to kill me. Who do I run to?

Wait, no! Not all! Ahsoka isn’t a Jedi anymore, I bet she can help me! 

I mean, she wasn’t exactly a friend, but we knew each other from around the temple, and she did help with my remote training. So I set my comlink to scan for her, and managed to find a signal. 

Come in, Ahsoka Tano? This is Caleb Dume. I know you probably don’t remember me, but you helped with my remote training at the temple a few years ago.  I read you, Caleb, and of course I remember you. I assume your master is gone too? Yeah…uh…I need your help Can you get to these coordinates?

A few galactic coordinates popped up on my comlink screen. Somewhere in the Chommell sector, by the looks of it. I checked the ship’s fuel gauge, should be in range. “Yeah, I can make it.”

She radioed back, “Great. Oh, and destroy your Jedi comlink. It’s too easy to track.” Then the channel went silent. 

That scrap of peace was enough. I reached out to the holocron, and it finally opened. I transferred all of my holographic possessions to it, including Master Kenobi’s warning. Then I melted the comlink with my lightsaber. 

—

The coordinates Tano had sent me were for a planet, one that the navicomputer called Karlinus. With nothing more specific included in Tano’s message, I set a course for the largest city. Or, at least, just outside it. Underneath that train viaduct should be a safe spot to stow the ship until I need to leave. 

After an hour of walking underneath the viaduct plus another walking the streets, I found myself outside the main train station. A hooded figure smiled at me from across the plaza, sitting at a bistro table, sipping a cup of caf. Taking a seat myself, I sighed, “boy am I glad to see you.”

Ahsoka chuckled, “You know Dume, you didn’t have to walk all the way here. Most trains here will pick up people who flag them down.” She turned to a waiter who had just approached, “Samé, can you get my friend here a cup of caf? Black and sweet, right?”

I was startled she remembered what I liked, “yeah, that’s right. Could I also get some water?” After the waiter acknowledged the order and returned inside, I asked Ahsoka, “how can you be so calm right now, being this exposed?” I lowered my voice, “we’re fugitives.”

After a deep breath, she replied, “we’re on an agricultural world. The work here is mostly seasonal, so newcomers aren’t treated with any suspicion. The beloved senator has just died, so the dark hooded cloaks are appropriate mourning attire.” Her guarded feelings were starting to seep thru her words. “Caleb, the way we survive is by being smart, and by acting like we belong.” 

My name was a gut punch. It hadn’t felt right recently, but now it was just wrong. “Can you not call me that?” I worried that was too much. “I mean, I don’t want to use a name that’s easily searchable.” Kriff, I backed too much off the throttle. 

Despite a knowing eyebrow raise, she simply responded, “Of course. Do you have a preferred cover?” 

“Jarrus, I think.” I’m not sure where I’d heard the name before, but I liked it. It was an impulse I had tried to tamp down, but there was now an excuse to use a new name. But now I felt too exposed, so I tried to change the subject. “So, why meet here?”

“I met the late senator a few times,” she said, hiding the full truth significantly better than I did, “the funeral is tomorrow, and I wanted to pay my respects.” After sipping her cream caf, she continued, “and since I left, I’ve really started to appreciate the worlds I visit more. The sense of place here is very different, a whole world dedicated to cultivating life.”

Samé appeared, bearing a mug of caf and a tall cup of water. After thanking them and taking a swig of each, I interrogated Ahsoka, “so that’s it, you’re just enjoying life?” There was too much pain in my voice, but I had stopped caring by now. 

“Jarrus, you don’t understand. People are still very much interested in me.” For the first time during our whole conversation, she looked directly into my eyes. “I want to remind you that there is still life out there to live. We have to honor the dead by continuing to live.” She took a deep breath, then looked back out into the plaza. “I figured we could get set up with some new…equipment before we start our new work. And this is definitely a good place to acquire it.”

The caf’s effects were starting to sink in, and I began to see a bigger picture. Ahsoka was thinking three steps ahead; I was still looking for my footing. I sat in silence, continuing to drink, wishing I could start thinking like her. 

“So how does it feel?” 

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run and never stop. But all I could muster was, “it’s just nothing. Empty, where something should exist.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Something should exist and it doesn’t. Nothing good will replace it.”

—

After finishing our caf, stopping by an outfitter for backpacks and work clothes, Ahsoka led the way into a small electronics shop in a back alley. It was overflowing with an odd assortment of equipment, from complex droid parts to individual circuits to finished gadgets. There were very few pathways amongst the menagerie of metal, but Ahsoka managed to gracefully navigate it with ease to the back counter. A middle-aged Naboo sat behind it, tinkering with a comm receiver. Zhe gave us a quick look-over, assessing what kind of clients we would be. Ahsoka’s direct approach with my unfocused browsing must’ve tipped zher off that we were out of the ordinary, because zhe asked, “How’s the plasma in the palace?” 

“Fluvial, as always.” Ahsoka knew the magic words, so I let her do the talking. “We’re friends of Quarsh.”

“Great to hear, how much assistance do you need?” I sensed more code layers in the question, as if only one of zher tests had been passed.

“Only a glitter-lit-ful.” The tension released, the song and dance over. Ahsoka continued, “our comlinks were destroyed on our assignment. My partner is worse at flying speeders than they let on.” 

I thought about protesting, but decided she was better at fabricating a cover story. The shopkeeper opened a drawer that had previously been a seamless part of the wall. It was just as cluttered as the rest of the shop, but zhe extracted two devices and placed them on the counter. “Two encrypted comlinks, perfect for Queen’s Agents such as yourselves.” They were truly beautiful, slightly larger than the Jedi versions, made of what appeared to be wood and trimmed with chrome. We picked them up and slipped them in our pockets. 

“Thank you for the assistance, Solder.”

“As always, Montrals.”

—

As we stepped off the train, I was struck by how little the people around us had interfered with what we were doing. Either they genuinely had no interest in killing us, or Ahsoka was setting me up. The latter was too terrifying to think about, so I tried to put it out of my mind. “So…do you want to tell me what happened to you?”

Ahsoka took a deep breath. “After I left the Order, I got involved with the grey market. I discovered Darth Maul had managed to organize several of the crime families and was running Mandalore from a distance. An old friend asked me to help, and as thanks she gave me the blue & grey you saw me in earlier.”

I spotted a ladder going down one of the viaduct’s support columns. “I’ve met Mandalorians before, how did Maul end up controlling them?” 

“He defeated the previous leader in ritual combat. Not everyone followed, which is why a civil war broke out. I helped to end it.”

“So you were on Mandalore during the Siege?”

“I led the Siege.” She had so much pride in her voice. “Led Clones and Mandalorians alike to retake their planet from Maul.”

“What happened next?”

“We won. I handed the planet back over to the sister of the previous Duchess, and I left with most of the clones I brought.” Her tone then changed to somber. “Next thing you know, I’m escaping a crashing cruiser with the only clone who didn’t betray me.” 

“Serves them right”

I was shocked by her reaction. “Hey, the clones aren’t bad people. It’s not their fault, they were forced to do it.”

We were now stopped, halfway down the ladder. “What do you mean forced? Couldn’t they just say no? I’ve seen clones disobey orders all the time.” Incredulity mixed with fear, thinking Ahsoka might betray me back to the clones. 

“This time it’s different. This order is baked into them. They have a chip in their brains that controls this. I watched Rex struggle against it, the pain he was facing.” She was starting to cry. “I surgically removed it. And afterwards, despite not hurting me, do you know what he said? He said, ‘Sorry for what happened earlier, I almost killed you.’” 

I could feel the anger I had been holding tight to start to slip away. Seeing Ahsoka’s tearful defense of the clones broke something in me. But instead of sadness, it was just a numbing emptiness. Like so much of what I felt. “I’m sorry, Ahsoka.”

The rest of the climb down was passed in silence. 

—

We found ourselves standing outside my escape vehicle. “Well this is certainly an…interesting ship.” Ahsoka was trying to be kind to the piece of junk. “Do you know the previous owner?” 

“No, I picked the worst-looking small ship in the spaceport.” It featured a plethora of corrosion spots and plenty of dents. Most of the dents were on the outrigger engine pods, which hung a little too close to the ground. The under-slung cargo fasteners looked like they’d been replaced half a dozen times. The rear viewport had a splash of carbon scoring, with a nasty blaster cannon shot sitting in the reinforcement next to it. “But, it’s been growing on me.”

“Ships tend to do that,” said Ahsoka as I opened the rear-facing landing ramp that led into the interior. We passed the small bunks and galley as we climbed up the ramp. The retractable ladder for the dorsal docking port was marked with an orange “look out” sign that had been repainted. I had kept the head closed for a reason. The maintenance console sat covered in a thin layer of dust, which Ahsoka began to wipe off. “Does she have a name?”

It took me a second to realize she was asking about the ship. “Uh, not yet. I haven’t exactly had time to think.” In reality, I had never truly had something like this that was mine besides my lightsaber. So many names started bouncing around my head. “Do you have any ways to pick? Or how to know it’s right?”

She smiled at me, as if knowing something I didn’t. “You can always go with a name that honors something or someone in your life. Or maybe something you want to aspire to. Honestly, names that sound cool are also great.”

The “someone in your life” gave me the answer. “She’s the Kastolar Skull,” I declared, in honor of Master Billaba and the Mandalorians who protected us. 

“Perfect,” she said, rifling thru several drawers before finding a tool I had never seen before. “So Jarrus, want to learn how to rewire a ship’s transponder?”

—

After a few lessons on ship maintenance (and one on comlink reprogramming), Ahsoka and I ate a small dinner. She had picked up some spring vegetables from a food stall and bottles of a Karlini beverage from another. We sat next to each other on the floor of the ship, legs dangling down into the vacancy left by the landing ramp. Much closer than I was used to; Master Billaba and the clones alike kept a professional distance between them and me. But Ahsoka sat right up against me, a physical touch I found myself enjoying after being isolated for days. 

“Hey, uh, Ahsoka? Thanks for everything today.” 

“Of course, I wasn’t going to let you die.”

“No, you did more than that.” I struggled to find words for what I was feeling. “You helped me live.”

She put her arm around my shoulder. “That’s the whole thing, Jarrus. Just keep on living.”

I took some time to finish my bowl; by the end, the lack of sleep caught up to me. “I think I’m gonna try to get some rest.”

“If you leave the ramp unlocked, I’ll be outside if you need me.”

We both jumped down to get off the ledge. I was given a surprise hug before she was already down the ramp and outside. I stood there, dazed, before deciding to raise the entrance and climb into bed. 

It was the best night’s sleep I had in the past three months. 

—

“So, what do you think, commander?” Her best friend sat next to Ahsoka as they sat on the dirt with their backs against the ship. The Chommell sector stars hung above them. 

“I don’t know, Rex. They’re really shaken up from what happened.” 

“Like you were. Like I was.”

“We had each other. Jarrus was alone, and they had to run from Depa dying. I can’t imagine what would happen if I had to watch Anakin…” The silence that followed was cut into only by a passing train.

“General Billaba’s padawan, huh? They’re a 119?” 

“I’m not even sure if they know yet. But all the hints are there, I want to make sure they live long enough to realize it. And, you know, encourage them.”

Rex’s lips curled into a smile, “You like them, don’t you?”

“it’s…not like that,” replied Ahsoka, bashfully. “I just…wanna be there for them.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Commander.” Rex changed the subject, “Do you still want a ride to Naboo?” He gestured up to a moderately bright star, just to the left of the small, brilliant Kaliida Nebula. 

“No, I think I’ll ride with Jarrus there. I know you can handle yourself. Take care of R7 until we see each other again.”

“Any other orders, Commander?”

“Rex,”—she turned to look him in the eye—“you don’t have to follow orders anymore. Not from the Empire, not from me. You’re a free man.” They stared into each other’s eyes, brown and blue, looking for answers. After a moment, she returned to stargazing. “But I do want a favor.”

He tried making out the string of stars along the Enarc Run. “For you? Anything” 

“Find your brothers that want to be helped. I know there’s still good in them.”

“Not really a favor if I was already planning on doing it. Already planning on visiting a brother on Saleucami.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

The two leaned against each other, not as soldiers taking respite, but as old friends relaxing and enjoying their last night together. 

Notes:

The last section is an omniscient perspective, Jarrus was not present to hear it. Just wanted to give y’all a little taste of Ahsoka’s feelings on this. Also, she’ll be figuring out a new name (Hannah Jarrus) and pronouns soon Yes I am a fan of the Queen’s trilogy, how could you tell? And “119” is just clone slang for a trans person (in this fic).

@sapphicahsokatanoweek

[forcebookish]

thanks for the tag, @retiredficwriter!!

Make a poll with 5 of your favorite rarepairs/crackships. See which one is everyone's favorite!

PROPAGANDA UNDER THE CUT!

obviously, my favorite is kaibaek. i feel like i don't ship a lot of rarepairs so these were kind of hard to come up with after kaibaek and widowana fjdsljldg i might have forgotten a more obvious one, sorry!

tagging: @ariadnekurosaki @takeanumbrella @monwillica @sssneakiest and idk if it's my internet connection but tumblr isn't letting me tag anything else. if you wanna do it, do it and tag me! i wanna see your rarepairs :D

KAIBAEK

my exo otp and one of my ultimate OTPs. they had a bit of a rocky start and had a hard time getting close pre-debut, but once they did they now have a sincere trust for each other. they're caring and protective of one another: jongin (kai) running to baekhyun when he was injured, comforting each other when they cry (baekhyun following after jongin and holding his hand; jongin gently tugging at his ear), baekhyun leading jongin through the airport when he was sick, jongin drinking bitter juice for him in a batsu game (the reason i started shipping them), and so on. they've had to deal with a lot of similar situations wrt hate from fans (added to the group late, "overly" featured, dating scandals, etc.), as well as challenges with simply being in exo, superm, and sm in general. they admire each other, compliment and complement each other, and aspire to be as accomplished as each other; they support each other's solo careers and are always excited for each other. easily my favorite thing about them is why they're a rare pair in the first place, despite being in two groups together: their interactions, even the more affectionate ones, are rarely played up for fanservice. it's often little, private moments where they lean on each other or are affectionate in some other way. like THIS:

it's just so subtle and intimate? it's for no one but them. most of these kind of moments like the ones i've mentioned and others, can only be found on fancams! also they're really playful!!!!! i love them!!

WIDOWANA

my overwatch otp. friends (or lovers if you're delulu like me) to enemies to attempted killers. after thinking amélie (widowmaker) dead for a year, ana snipes her helmet on the battlefield, revealing who widowmaker actually is. once ana realizes it's her friend, she can't pull the trigger. ana, who never hesitates, hesitates for the first time, and widowmaker shoots her cybernetic eye out. they have an adversarial and competitive relationship now that they're both snipers on opposite ends of the war, trading barbs and pity for the other's situation. as the top two deadliest snipers in the world, they're kind of obsessed with one another and specifically outdoing each other. it provides a lot of tension and potential angst, especially of the "i know you're in there somewhere, come back to me" variety.

ISHINEMU

so rare even i don't talk about them (i tend to ship ishihime more, although even that is third after tatsuhime and ulquihime). SO much wasted potential! both of them have been wronged so acutely by mayuri and i think there are a lot of daddy issues to explore between the two of them. plus, uryuu seems to be literally the only person in the series who sees nemu as a person. shame their relationship, and mayuri medically torturing uryuu's grandfather AND the way he abuses nemu, was played for laughs later on lol good one, kubo :/

SHONEJING

jing is my name for him, he's a fusion of "force" who showed up in only boo! and that one guy in you fight, and i love (i'd use the nickname of what character from the novel he's supposed to be, but i couldn't find it lol). i have a fic in mind i wanna write for them and it would have been another entry into the hurt/comfort bingo, but it accidentally ended up too long. the headcanon is that jing is deeply closeted and shone is addicted to heartbreak.

TYLOKKA

idk i just like them. i think ty lee's crush on him is cute.

with a couple exceptions, i tend not to care about popular enemies to lovers ships but when it comes to rarepairs, apparently they're my preference? 🤔

[redlollygag]

so im gonna be autistic in your inbox 😁😁😁 < face of someone mentally unwell

SO the biggest appeal of dabihawks is ofc the enemies to lovers trope, first lets look at canon:

theyre enemies plain and simple, they hate each other, its a beautiful show to watch of them absolutely disgusted by the other but forced to interact [ IF ONLY THEY GOT MORE FUCKING SCREENTIME TOGETHER JESUS CHRIST ] anyways its the angst potential, hawks dirtying his hands just to get into the league only to then betray the entire league </3 hawks dirtying his hands just for the sake of the mission for the sake of dabi letting him in because that WAS his only contact so hes the one hes "closest too" dabi the evil motherfuck toying with hawks, making him do all the things he hates and knowing what hawks is truely doing. they hate each other in canon plain and simple they dont care if neither one dies or not. hawks even STILL views endeavor as an equal even after all hes done (whether or not you think its valid is up to you i think that hawks needs a LITTLE MORE TIME AND SPACE to rethink the whole "yeah no enjis cool now hes alright :D" shtick.... personally i hate it i just want him to be a little more..... EYES OPEN to how fucked up endeavor did things even if hes trying to do better now like ?????) canon tropes that could fit are like their divorce, unhealthy co dependency, there was only one bed, acciental first kiss, drunk sex, fuck buddies, rarepair, the whole hero vs villain thing, height difference, flirty and the flustered, oh fuck theyre BOTH messed up, loud and quiet ETC ETC

now heres where the dots connect though through fandom genius. now when dabis first introduced hes blue and emo and firey and dramatic (theatre kid) mentally unwell, tired yet manic, daddy issues supreme, body horror circus party, the whole palooza. we ALL been known, his daddys a top hero who made him a top villain. and now hawks, who was an enigma at first, man too fast for his own good, red, arrogant, laidback, yet serious and calculating, heart of gold underneath all of that dirty work with a like for trashy preppy outfits. at first it was just the enemies to lovers, dabi hates endeavor and heroes, hawks admires him to the sun and is one of the best heros... AND THEN WE GET HAWKS BACK STORY. hawks. hero. raised by a villain. if the red and blue, sun and moon, emo/goth and jock, FLAME AND FEATHERS, if those parallels werent enough the father issues sure will! dabi, hero father made him a villain, hawks, villain father made him a hero. the amount of parallels these two have was fuel for the growing fire.

FIRE IN WHICH IT WAS FANON. fanon dabihawks is BEAUTIFUL. the best and probably only light dabihawks will ever shine in 😀😀😀 < gripping horikoshis neck even thought nothing will happen but angst for these two. slightly shifted canon compliant with some queer writing and spicing up the characters a SMIDGE, making them more fit to how they ACTAULLY ARE (in my very (not) humble opinion horikoshi you dont know your own characters like we do) all of that is the mountain of fanfic tropes. we already have enemies to lovers but add a little bit of that battle for dominance play and sexual tension, heavy flirting and fuck buddies OOO BOY. they play and they bite and hawks is number one pretty boy and charms his way past dabi "probably hasnt been flirted with in his life," OR dabi being the brat and attention seeker he is and pushing hawks buttons before dabi gets put in his place. hawks turned genuine lov member because then thats where he sees the TRUTH. or hawks still killing jin but REGRETS IT TO THE MAX and dabi finds him a little after and hawks begging for forgiveness. the league was his only true family but hes been a hero under the commission for so long that killing him was second nature until he realizes. rehabilitation after the war and dabi being captured and hawks still visiting him wherever dabis being held. if you make them even a LITTLE BIT GAY it literally makes things more tragic than just "lets hate each other even though we're walking parallels"

one very popular and loved aspect is red tailed hawks avian hawks and not just his fierce wings. THIS ADDS TO THE MOUNTAIN. youve got a multitude of bird facts like torpor, nesting, cloacas if youre into that, preening, MATING HABITS. hawks being a spy to the league only to see how open they are to their members quirks. spinner and his lizardness needing warmth and insects and shedding and togas fascination and need for blood ( not quirk reasons shes mentally ill but there are healthy ways to get blood so) hawks seeing the league being accepting open AND welcoming to when we dont see ANY OF THAT in his hero work??? especially with dabis inside knowledge of how shit the hero system is with quirk discrimination??? youve got so much to work with here JUST from the aspect of making hawks a hawk mutant. he likes how shiny dabi is with his staples and piercings, he loves the natural warmth coming from him (even if dabis skin is cold), hawks lowkey loving the smell of blood from dabis scars (bird of prey) dabi helping hawks be open to the more avian side of him, he imprints on him and dabi becomes mate in hawks mind, IN TURN hawks showing dabi that even the most shittiest of origins, you can still do good, hawks knowing full well that quirks sucks (molting season, talon clipping, wing care, the overstimulation of senses like sounds hawks has become numb to) and he coaxs that little burning fire thats still in dabi, that he can still do good (dabi said that killing innocent people drove him mad in a negative way so he doesnt enjoy it) two broken souls from quirk discrimination finding solace even with all the shit hero AND villain society treat them. this leads to, along with those above, hurt comfort, slow burn, mutual healing, mutual pining, sunshine x grump, girlboss and malewife, overly affectionate x touch adverse, old married couple, sacrifices too much x sacrifices too little, romantic virgin x romantic confident, annoyed x annoying, gets into fights x patches them up, OBLIVIOUSNESS TO THE MAX, idiots in love, domestic husbands ETC ETC (and the more kinky spicy aspects when it comes to bird genes and a fire quirk)

what makes them even JUCIER is if you make the commission EVIL. EXACTLY WHAT DABI HATES AND DESPISES. another common trope is to make hawks be lowkey abused by the commission hence the whole child soldier thing but hawks has been living with then his whole life so its like, fine for him. dabi being his savior, dabi showing him the league can be his true family, dabi, a villain, being hawkss hero. hawks, who would get his hands dirty just for the sake of justice, shows dabi true heroes are still alive. hawks being an avian mutant adds to the juice because if it was just hawks with fierce wings well you could paint it as just the child soldier BUT WITH THE HETEROMORPH youve got commission being absolute JERKS and forcing hawks to mask his avian-ness, forced to endure people touching his wings left and right, forced to not perch, forced to have them preen his feathers in the way that society views as "perfect," clipping his talons, making him live in a boring ass apartment because "hawks heroes dont care about sentiments, you have to be presentable and collecting 'shiny things' isnt herolike," the league being the EPITOME of quirk freedom, hawks finding solace in the league because hes actually able to be himself and being a heteromorph isnt SHOULDNT be bad, dabi being able to polish his old big brother instincts and take care of hawks nurse him back to help and free him from his bird cage.

SPEAKING OF BIRD CAGES, another beautiful fanon interpretation is DABI HIMSELF BEING A PART OF THE LEAGUE BEFORE HIS REBIRTH. OW. youve got friends to lovers and all the fluff that comes with it (as much as it is being in the commission) dabi and hawks growing up together in the commission only for endeavor to pull dabi out and hawks loses his one true best friend :[ dabi and hawks not knowing how to socialize with other kids but between dabis temper yet caringness and hawks being shy yet a determined bastard, they click LOVINGLY. they bond over shitty fathers (hawks not knowing the extent to his idol OR you can change it up and have hawks despise endeavor secretly but the commission knows hes adored endeavor so he has to suck up the urge to MAIM and KILL the flaming bag of shit because at the time endeavor aint "changing" and he acts EXACTLY like hawkss birth father.) hawks imprinting on dabi his first real friend, taking care of each other through the commissions pains and abuse, sacrificing themselves in order for the other to not be punished. MAJOR ANGST WHEN IT COMES TO DABIS DEATH and hawks loses his spark and throws himself into training to distract the howling pain of his bird side and instincts as he lost a flock member (and potential mate), ONLY TO FIND DABI ALIVE YEARS LATER. the angst of reconciliation to see your love turn yo the darkest sides (dabi being a villain and hawks being a hero both of who they respectively hate) the angst of dabi knowing that without him the commission successfully brainwashed hawks to the point of betrayal on their side and hawks knowing his old beloved is now on the side in which he has to take down and kill (his old beloved truely did die if this is the path dabi went to) THE FRIENDS TO LOVERS TO STRANGERS TO ENEMIES AND BACK TO LOVERS. IM GONE O-(-( ORZ. youve successfully wounded me.

the amount of aus/canon divergent situations you can put these two from those three things TOGETHER or SEPARATE/SOLO, soulmates, quirk accident, princess carry, found family, exes to lovers, role reversal, fantasy au, royal au, cyberpunk au, dystopian, apocalypse, sickfic, honeypot turned non sexual intimacy, highschool au, civilians au, quirk swap, body swap, arranged marriage, actual genuine married couple, kindergarten au, amnesia fics, time travel, time travel fix it fics, space au, star wars au, pirates and mermaids, and the wonderful beautiful amount of crack/crack treated seriously is UDGODLY. hawks pranking endeavor, the lov and hawks playing video games, trophy wife dabi, watching disney movies, coming out at the worse times, "HAWKS/DABI WDYM YOUR FUCKING A VILLAIN/HERO," one or more of the todorokis (minus endeavor) being in the league and dabi hating it but hawks loves it (adores shouto, loves and is terrified of fuyumi, gets along w natsuo, DABI YOUR MOM IS A FALLEN ANGEL), dabis mom being in the league and is a better mom in canon and dabis like what the shit or this is my mom fuckers touch her and your burnt and hawks is like but what about affectionate touching (hugs, headbumps etc), hawks learning to build a pillow fort and experience actual good childhoos activities, dabi walking in on hawks (and maybe spinner and toga) indulging in his avian-ness for the first time, dabi cooking for hawks, hawkss nesting habits, gift giving

am i autistic about dabihawks or am i AUTISTIC about DABIHAWKS

if you read this hold this (jesus /AFFECTIONATE I WROTE A LOT.) thank you and hoping to convert you :D

ANON you fucking FEASTED WITH THIS ONE OH MY GOD!!!! You delivered on your promise and brought over the whole damn MEAL!!

(I love the essay thank you so so much for taking time to pour out your thoughts on this ship!!! Ngl I don’t give Dabi enough credit as a character and maybe this ship is one way to kinda explore that and dammit if I am not more intrigued by them than anything else)

[fistfuloflightning]

If you ever have the sudden urge totlk about Kushina/Fugaku, please do <3

(Totally unrelated to me reading your fic and finding a new rare pair. Honest. /lh)

Why yes I do love talking about my rarepairs!! *chin on hands* I’m so glad you asked! Also, sorry for the incredibly late reply!! 

Okay. So. Fugashina. I haven’t actually had to put down my thoughts about this ship beyond fic ideas before, so be forewarned that some of this is just brainmush and might not make sense.

I’ve mentioned this a couple other times, but I’ve long held the headcanon that the Uzumaki and the Uchiha are linked, through their sealing abilities (actual seals vs the sharingan which I would argue acts as a seal on the mind) but also as narrative foils. And that trickles down to their members. We already got the Naruto/Sasuke dynamic in canon, along with some teeny bits of Kushina and Obito also as foils (outcasts desperate to prove themselves to the place/people that regard them as Other).

Kushina is a fantastic character, strong and determined and so very underutilized. Admittedly, it is mostly Minato’s story but Kushina just gets swept under the rug. And while I lovelovelove Minato’s character, there’s a power imbalance in the relationship between the two of them that I don’t particularly like, (probably why I ship both Minato and Kushina with people that are not each other lol). They each deserve to have an equal partnership (and if that means writing fanfic, then fine damnit). Kushina doesn’t deserve to be that wife who wields power over her helpless husband; Minato deserves to be more than just a malewife after we got glimpses of what he could be. Kushina just feels like wasted potential (admittedly we only see her in domestic scenes in the anime, and mayyyyybe some fights scenes in the movies I think if I’m remembering correctly) and I think that’s just sad. It’s like… watching Padme, once the queen of an entire planet and then a senator in the galactic senate, spend most of RotS barefoot and pregnant. Idk I just think it’s wasted potential and it’s stupid and I want to make it better.

I already said I like the Uchiha and Uzumaki as foils, and the one who seems to beat balance her out personality-wise is Fugaku: he’s another case wasted potential (not as bad as Kushina, but still). I like having someone more serious and a little older than her to balance her immaturity and whimsical nature, someone who has the physical and mental stamina to keep up with her, and abilities that compliment hers. I think there are a lot more thoughts about those qualities but I’m exhausted rn. BUT. All this to say Fugaku seems to fit perfectly with her personality and her abilities and has the mental resilience to keep up. He doesn’t strike me as someone who would put her on a pedestal (like Minato did) and instead would challenge her and force her to think instead of behaving recklessly. In canon he’s stern (discipline-wise)with his children—I can see him taking the same approach with Kushina pre-relationship because he can see the potential and will try to help it grow the best way he knows.

She probably likes him for the fact that he doesn’t care she’s an outlier in the village—he likes competence and assertiveness and she’s got that in spades. He treats her as a person and a contributing member of the village—treating her like she has value beyond being a jinchuuriki (which I’m pretty sure was kinda hush hush at that point in canon but idc shhh). 

I just want mutual respect and a balanced relationship and symbolism with an Uchiha/Uzumaki union. A kind of closure to these two once great clans.

…And their babies would be hella cute ☺️ 

[nogenrealldrama]

Hi! Love the excerpts of your work that you've shared here. Do you have any advice for someone just starting to dip their toes into writing? Fanfic, or just generally? Thanks! :)

First of all thank you for reading and I'm so, so happy you liked my snippets :D

Second of all: Ummm giant disclaimer that I have almost nothing actually published to my name, so altogether I also consider myself a new writer. But I love to rant about writing anyway so here goes:

Don't listen too much to writing advice. When I first tried writing, I would spend way too much time on writing advice blogs. Many of them aren't that good, to be quite honest. And even for the good ones, there is such a thing as right advice given at the wrong time, or at the wrong place in your writing journey. If you're an overthinker, reading too much advice can make you start worrying about small things, and/or not have the confidence to try something wild but important on your own. Frankly, all it really comes down to is: 1) Having a vision, 2) Writing the vision down, 3) Noticing the ways your writing falls short of the vision, and 4) Tweaking things until they reach the level of imperfection you can personally live with. For me, writing advice is best searched for to apply to the specific issues I have in Steps 3 and 4. I apply any advice only in so far as it helps me get closer to the vision in my head. putting the rest under a cut because it got long - sorry!

2. Be uncompromising about writing things that bring you joy.

Kind of similar to #1, but it's doubly important when you're really just starting out. Or when you've been writing a while but always find it hard to begin. Double that importance again when what you're writing is fanfiction, because then you really have no genre definitions or deadlines or publishers or any other actual reason to compromise your vision. You already have some amazing ideas, and for each idea there is probably a feeling or a vibe or a message that you want to capture. Give yourself time to get lost in that feeling, to really indulge in it. And then write it down in its full glory, even the parts that might make you cringe a little from how dramatic or vulnerable they are. If there is a way to make your story more indulgent, do it. Because it will keep you writing. And if you really think it's too much, you can always edit stuff out before publication. You know, after you've actually written the story down. The thing that made me start writing in the first place was a giant longfic/possibly trilogy Canon Divergence rarepair plot idea that is still not finished, and on paper that's pretty much the last thing one should start their writing journey with. But if I stopped myself from writing that in favour of forcing out some oneshots, I never would've written anything at all. Give yourself permission to write exactly and only the ideas that make you excited to write.

3. Bonus advice that might or might not be useful to you, but it was ground-breaking in helping me write the way I want to write - in this excellent post, @little-hermit-crab56 makes a point that dialogue is a dance. I'd take it further/in a slightly different direction and say that storytelling as a whole is a dance. Juts like a dance, dialogue feels most dynamic when you allow it to go back and forth a little, to have short breaks and pauses here and there. I think the same can apply to an action sequence, or a bit of internal monologue, or an emotional trajectory of a whole scene. Just like a dance, it's less about the exact movements (e.g. describing precisely what happens in an action scene) and more about the rhythm of the back and forth (e.g. describing just enough to let the reader know that the protagonist is winning, but then - oh no! - the villain has the upper hand, but then the protagonist gets lucky and they're winning again). I swear that with enough skill to set up the right back-and-forth, even a character tying their shoelaces for a page and a half will feel dynamic. You can alter that rhythm, make it faster or slower, more dominated by "ups" or "downs", but even a little contrast can elevate a plot beat or an emotion more than I had initially thought possible. Of course, there is no need to simplify the "ups" to being good and "downs" to being bad - the back and the forth can both be morally grey or both similarly convenient/inconvenient to the protagonist. They just need to be meaningfully different. You can zoom this out even more and apply the back-and-forth to character arcs, or dynamics between characters, or entire plots. (The three act plot structure is, IMO, simply a choreography for a satisfying back-and-forth). In a longer work, you can have many "dancers" doing their own back-and-forth simultaneously, at multiple levels of the story structure. In a oneshot, you can have one or several backs-and-forths distilled to the most dramatic steps of the dance. In my experience, the whole thing gets quite addictive once you start seeing it.

[lettucebee17]

Congrats on 100 followers!

For your event, I'm curious about your opinions on some rarepairs I like. I'm not expecting a response to all, but you can choose any one(s) you may find interesting :)

What are your thoughts on

Silver/Idia,

Jade/Malleus,

Azul/Trey,

and/or Che'nya/Floyd?

Thanks, and again, congratulations!

Thank you!!

I will not be stopped and will respond to all of them. :)

Silver/Idia:

I've actually seen some really cute stuff about Silver and Idia and I do think they're sweet.

I think the one thing that's missing for me in this ship is that I just haven't really seen them interact that much and I just haven't given them an incredible amount of thought.

However, I will say that one thing I've always found really fun about this ship is the added dynamic of Lilia and Idia being gaming buddies but also Lilia being Silver's father. Because like, imagine your boyfriend being like, 'sorry babe, i've gotta run a dungeon with your dad.' But also Silver would just be like 'cool, can I watch?' and then falls asleep.

Which is another thing that would be cute about them dating: just, Silver napping in Idia's room while Idia's gaming but also probably forcing Idia into a healthier sleep schedule simply by virtue of the fact that he's always sleeping and Idia feels awkward about Silver being asleep while he's awake.

Also I will say that one line in Silver's ceremonial robes vignette when Idia calls him handsome is top notch - big fan.

Jade/Malleus:

I have, in fact, never seen or considered this as a possibility.

Putting aside my weird hang-ups about Malleus and his age and shipping him with people, I think they could work together really well.

Like, both of them are people that most everyone around them find scary and prefer not to be around (sans a select few) but they're both just complete dorks. They could infodump to each other about their funny little special interests and they'd both just listen so intently to each other!

Also they could teach each other about fae and mer culture respectively and like Jade going for night swims or something while Malleus sits on the shore and stargazes (cute date ideas)

Not to mention, Azul would be thrilled if Jade started dating the heir of Briar Valley, I mean, what a business opportunity! Not that Azul should exploit his employees boyfriend like that...

Also, Jade's secretary/butler tendencies would be an incredible boon to Malleus actually getting to places on time and remembering to do things.

Azul/Trey:

Another one that I had never considered before. And I think it's important that you know my first thought upon reading it was 'fedora bfs.'

I'm intrigued by the dynamic of this one because I cannot come up with a scenario in my mind of HOW they'd start dating. Like, who asks out who? Either option is so funny to me.

Like, Azul having a crush on Trey and talking to Riddle about it to try to get him to set them up? Top notch.

Trey just out of the blue making Azul like a cake or something to ask him out? Also very funny, so confusing to everyone.

On the subject of baking too, the two of them starting a bakery or something after graduation is so cute and domestic because like, Azul running the business aspect and Trey getting to bake and try to things to sell and stuff? Very cute to think about.

Sorry I don't have a lot to say about them...

Che'nya/Floyd:

I, personally, think that Che'nya and Floyd should be besties and I cannot see them dating (too much chaos, not enough serious communication)

I do think, however, that they'd be real cute in that they'd be super physically affectionate with each other in the cutest ways. Like, Che'nya would just wrap his tail around Floyd and Floyd would just like pet him and scritch his ears. (do y'all think Che'nya purrs? he must, right?)

Also, the fact that Che'nya shows up at unbirthday parties, partly for Trey's baked goods, I'm sure he would love to show up and steal food from the Mostro Lounge and Floyd would 100% let him.

Plus, cute date idea: terrorize Riddle Rosehearts!

All in all, a very cute combo but I don't think it'd be the healthiest relationship-wise...

[lily-alphonse]

Maybe. Just maybe. The wizard x Mr. Qi? I’ve seen it before and it sounds interesting

I searched and searched because I could have sworn I had an idea for this a long time ago and it was in my discord chat with my friend @ao3-totallyhumanexe

May 22nd 2024:

>Is Wizard and mr Qi a ship? >Theres so much potential there Idk If they are I want to be between them Rivalry style Not poly But with both men being so powerful and crazy I really want to see them duke it out

>I do wonder who's more powerful

>For real yeah Mr Qi is very mysterious almost cryptid I think ppl headcanon them not liking each other

Battle of the cryptids.

They both think the other is foolish about their power. Qi is essentially a demigod, because he did a Forbidden Thing that would allow him to become one. Rasmodius could also do this Forbidden Thing if he wanted to, but prefers to hold on to his humanity and obtain functional immortality through magic anyways.

Qi is older and wiser than Ras, but through demigodhood has adopted the petulant attitude of a god. The world is his playground, and Rasmodius is kind of annoying because he can't be controlled as much as the other pawns in his game (because magic).

They need to be forced to work together somehow, the enemy of my enemy style. I have a few ideas for this one. I'm just gonna list them and not go into a full fic preview rn just because I don't want to pick one yet if anything you guys can pick it for me, if this wins the poll.

Incorporate the Ferngill Ministry of Magic from the expanded mod. Ras is in service to them. They do something so heinous that it finally crosses the line for him, and he needs Mr. Qi's help to resolve it. Probably something with Abigail, maybe bringing her into a life he never wanted for his illegitimate daughter.

Maybe we just bring back the vampire!Abigail idea for this one too? I love vampire!Abigail lmao what can I say. Mr. Qi pls save my daughter pls thx

The cryptid farmer is becoming too powerful and is going to do the Forbidden Thing but Qi knows it will end very badly (because the farmer is an agent of chaos). Qi wants to be the only demigod of chaos round these parts thank you very much. Ras would be kind of a double agent torn between sides for a while until eventually realizing he is right and they need to stop the farmer. Yes the farmer gets to play the villain how fun is that? Maybe they could even be stuck in a timeloop because of the game.

Using the ministry of magic again, they have found a way to make Qi mortal again and are coming after him. Ras is his only hope. It takes a lot of convincing that this would even be a bad thing in the first place, but maybe the issue is that the lead magistrate would take his place as a demigod and end up causing way more damage than him. That may or may not be a lie! Also! Maybe Qi just says that because his life is at stake because he's way too old he would die immediately if his mortality catches up to him. By the time the wizard finds out though he doesn't want Qi to die either but he lied to him in a major way so DRAMAAA

No matter what, this ship needs adventure. It's plot-driven and complicated and slow burn.

In the ones where Abigail is involved, Qi has kind of a shock of the kind of life he's given up by forsaking his humanity. But Ras has given that up too, to live as a wizard. It's an interesting dynamic.

Themes of humanity and meaning of life and all that, too. This would be a fun one fr

This ask is a part of the (now closed) SDV Rarepair Challenge! Check out the other answers here, and make sure to boost your favorite so it can appear in the final fic poll! More info on that here.

[saturdays--sun]

ya know what, I need more rarepair otp content, so how about 37 + 43 for Izumii as well? 👀

congrats on giving me the most izumiicore prompt ever. holy shit.

↪ cws: there's uh. lots of swearing in this. 💀 also Canon Typical Izumii, but rest assured. he's all bark and literally 0 bite.

37 - out of jealousy 43 - during an argument

"what the hell is your problem?!"

"what's your fuckin' problem?!"

green eyes narrowed, long-since-bubbled-over anger flashing wildly through them as they glared up into equally livid brown ones. koda's jaw clenched together until it ached — ground her molars against themselves until her mouth opened again, her tongue spitting out another string of words laced with venom.

"i didn't have a fucking problem until you showed up!" anger pitched her voice upward; raised it until she was all but yelling in the enclosed space of the alley she had been dragged into. further still, her eyes narrowed — more and more, until it was starting to make her head ache. "who the hell do you think you are?!"

"i'm your fuckin' boyfriend, remember?" as izumii spoke, his voice dropping and his words coming out as a hiss, he leaned down until his face was mere centimeters from her own. "unless you forgot about that while you were hangin' out with that fuckin' asshole."

the lilt his tone had taken on — the accusatory, almost mocking one meant as a hollow intimidation — only served to boil her blood even further; to light another flame of fury in her already-burning heart. "i didn't fucking forget anything, ran." behind his sunglasses, one of his eyes twitched at the way she spat out his name; and around her wrist, his hand tightened — squeezed hard enough to keep her in place, but not so hard that it hurt. "you're making a big deal out of nothing."

"nothing?" the word was repeated back to her — lowly; menacingly; in a way that might have been threatening if she didn't know him well enough to be unfazed by it. "ya think some bastard trying to steal my girl is nothing?"

if koda hadn't been so pissed off, she would have rolled her eyes. "oh my god, nobody's stealing anybody from anyone." and no one had the gall to try, either — not unless they were dying to find their bones being smashed underneath the weight of the hammer he carried around. but she didn't say that — what she did say, though, was another anger-dipped sentence; a demand forced out between clenching teeth.

"now fucking let go of me."

"why?" even closer, he leaned down to her — until the tip of his nose was a hair's width from hers; until he was so close that it was beginning to get distracting. "so you can run back to that piece of shit?"

"i'm not running back to any—"

her voice died just as quickly as it began raising again; came to an abrupt stop before she could even process what had happened, much less finish her sentence.

a split second later, she realized that his mouth had crashed roughly onto hers.

the force of the action pushed her backward — pinned her squarely between his chest and the wall behind her; knocked the air out of her lungs in a way that came out as a surprised sound that went muffled into the kiss. his teeth hit against hers with a noise mimicking a growl; and as her heart jumped inside her ribcage, his free hand slid around the back of her neck to tangle itself deep into the curls of her hair.

a beat passed, and then two.

and then her arm hooked itself around his neck, too.

all at once, the fury that had been simmering dangerously below koda's surface shifted; pivoted so quickly — so violently — into the sudden, overwhelming desire to pull him closer — and closer and closer — that it made her head start to spin. her eyes squeezed shut and her body pushed up on her toes, the soles of her boots twisting against the concrete in a futile attempt to make herself taller; and with just as much force as he had used on her, she used the same amount back on him.

with each second — each frantic, borderline desperate second — that passed, the tension that had wound itself into every muscle of izumii's body gradually faded — melted away until his fingers weren't digging into her wrist anymore; until the hand in her hair loosened its grip into something far more gentle; until he had pulled away from her, the movement slow and laced with thinly veiled reluctance, his lips hovering just above hers.

softly, koda's eyelids fluttered open — just enough to see out of; just enough to look up at him, her barely-visible irises meeting his in what little space existed between them.

"...do you feel better now?" what would have been spat with vitriol and annoyance just minutes earlier was instead whispered with an undertone of teasing hidden amidst its genuineness — as if all the fire that had once burned within her had been doused with ice water.

"...i dunno." the response came in the form of an uncharacteristically subdued mumble — had they not been so close, koda would have missed it; and had it been directed at anyone other than her, she would have assumed something was wrong with him. "...maybe."

in another context, she might have said that he was acting almost cute.

...or maybe not — he'd hate it if she did.

that didn't stop her from thinking it, though.

gently — and with surprising ease — koda wriggled her wrist out of his grip; and when her arm was free to move again, she reached up to wrap it around his neck with her other one. "what if i said that no one's going to take me away from you?" her voice was still quiet as she spoke — as if she didn't want anyone else to hear her; as if the words leaving her mouth were reserved solely for him. "would that help?"

izumii blinked his eyes away from her — pointed them off to the side in a way that was too blatant for her to think was unintentional. a soft huff of air forced itself out of his mouth a moment later, the sound never quite becoming the scoff he was probably hoping it would. "...it'd help if ya quit hangin' out with assholes all the time."

in spite of herself, an amused smile rose up onto her lips.

"doesn't that mean i'd have to quit hanging out with you, too?"

his eyes widened and then narrowed; and an instant later, they had snapped back to hers, annoyance lining his features and tugging the corners of his mouth down in a scowl. a laugh bubbled up in the back of koda's throat — but before it could roll off her tongue, izumii grabbed her cheek in between his fingers and roughly pushed his forehead onto hers.

the glare he was giving her had no weight behind it.

it had even less when she realized that her head had been cushioned from hitting the wall behind her by the palm of his hand.

"i'm the only asshole you can hang out with, got it?"

now, laughter spilled out of her — softly and lightly; little more than a giggle.

"yeah."

she pushed up on her toes again; pressed her lips to his in a kiss far softer than the first one.

"i got it."

[hausofmamadas]

| What’s waiting down Zuni Road |

⁂

Pairing: Gabriella Castillo (Mayans M.C.) x Ignacio “Nacho” Varga (Better Call Saul)

Gift for the wonderful, illustrious, prolific @drabbles-mc - Rarepairs Exchange 2023

Word count: ≈5k

TW: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence

It's dangerous to be a woman in love. A brush with death at the hands of the man she loved sends Gabrielle Castillo on the run, in more ways than she expected. Burned in a betrayal she never saw coming, and tipped off by a non-garbage Angel Reyes to a place to hide out, a safe haven, a place to temporarily call home, she books it tf to Albuquerque. She arrives with newfound determination not only to survive, but a conviction to never let love blind her to pinshe toxicos malparidos like EZ Reyes ever again. Still, in terms of an actual plan? She has no idea where to go, who to turn to, or what to do next. That is, until she runs into our fav Walter Matthau-grumpy-old-man, not nearly old enough to be so grumpy, Nacho "forreal don't call me Ignacio" Varga. In some ways, he reminds her of EZ but she's dead set against falling for another pair of brown eyes full of lost hope and squandered dreams. But the more she gets to know him, the more it calls into question ... would it really be the same with Nacho? Is Gaby willing to find out? spoiler alert: she is. she very much is. sorry but like have you seen him? lbr here

⁂

Mamá always told me to watch out for red flags in life. Dime con quien andas, te diré quien eres. Porque when someone shows you who they are, they’re doing you a favor.

She never said it out loud but I learned early on, the ones who waved the red flags most were the boys. Not that I was especially boy crazy at that age, but it seemed wherever I looked, there they were: waving red flags, making promises they couldn’t keep, being unfaithful, disloyal, dishonest.

My older cousin Mercedes had a boyfriend back in Mexico who used to tell her not to wear shorts that were too short because he did not like the way her thighs flattened on chairs when she sat down. At the age of five, I knew how mean it was and to this day, I cannot understand how it didn’t bring her to tears. But it didn’t. And she always listened to him about things like that, until he got her best friend pregnant and the two of them ran off together, leaving Mercedes behind. It was the best thing he could have ever done for her though. Because she never let anyone tell her what kind of shorts to wear after that.

The first boy I ever had a crush on in elementary school told me that even though he thought my eyes were pretty and he liked how I wore my hair in braids, we couldn’t be together because I raised my hand too much in class to answer questions. And girls were not supposed to be as smart as boys. At the picnic tables at lunch, I cried over my usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich, when my friends asked me what was wrong, I couldn’t even explain what it was that hurt me so.

Even Papá, loving and kind as he could be, made Mamá feel small when he told her that having to sell her floral shop in Mexico, so we could come here, wasn’t as great a loss as him losing his career as a police officer. “What’s selling a few flowers to a few abuelitas to putting my life on the line, to upholding law and order every day?” he’d ask. And she would say nothing in return, just smile soft and sad, plopping a scoop of rice onto his plate. It took me years to understand that sadness in her smile.

𖤓

Driving down highway 40, with the windows down, my hair whipping in the wind, and all the desert dust mixing with the faint, floral smell of my shampoo, I feel like I have been mainlining that sadness for the last five hundred miles. Because from the moment I met Ezekiel Reyes, I did not see it coming. It’s not that there weren’t red flags as with all the other boys. But he had a way of making it seem like they were all a force of circumstance. Gee, how did those get there? Someone must have put those up when I wasn’t looking. He was sensitive, compassionate, smarter than anyone I had ever met, and troubled in a way he seemed not to be responsible for.

I should have trusted my instincts. I should have listened to my mother’s advice. But EZ Reyes is also one of the best liars I have ever known. People who lie best are the ones who believe the lie first themselves. That is what he did. It was easy. So it was easy to believe him.

On the road, when it gets dark, I start to see his eyes like they were the last time I saw him. They are every pair of headlights in the rear view mirror: two voids with a kind of frigid, lifeless pain inside. Any echo of the love between us snuffed out, washed away, sterilized like a surgeon’s scalpel. Nevermind that candle in my heart might have burned for him forever. But it seems we do not love the same way.

One of my hands comes off the wheel to touch the spot at my ribs on the left side where he had held the gun. A shot I would have never seen coming, were it not for Angel’s screaming and tackling us both to the ground, shoving me away, telling me to run as fast as I could and never look back. If only I had fallen for that big lug instead of Ezekiel. But that one wore his red flags on his sleeve, screamed them from a mile away. That honesty I misjudged as a warning was really an asset. Porque Angel no podía mentir una mierda, ni siquiera a sí mismo. But we cannot help who we love.

Wiping sweat from my forehead, I pass a mile marker and then a bigger sign: eleven miles to Albuquerque. Good because Angel’s check engine light has turned on and I need gas. I drag my hand across my forehead again. Leave it to Angel to have a car with no AC. Well, no. I remind myself I’m no fool. The car probably wasn’t his. They would’ve stolen it before they got to the hospital.

The sun has been beating down on me through the driver’s side window, relentless and my face is so damp, I can’t seem to tell the difference between the sweat and the tears that periodically drop down to dot my cheeks. I stopped bothering to wipe those all the way back in Tucson. The dust has stuck to them too, so the skin on my face is stiff and my lips have a grainy feel to them. There is something about it that I like, that feels tangible. Algo sobre la tierra en mis lágrimas es un consuelo, y en mi dolor me hice sentir menos sola.

My cellphone buzzes in my bag. Low battery. It is a miracle it has lasted this long. Perhaps my last tether to civilization, I wonder if I shouldn’t let it die and disappear from my old life completely. No, with Mamá back home there is no old or new life. I escaped Santo Padre with the only one I have. Angel said he would get word to her, let her know I was okay, tell her where I was going. A place I didn’t even know.

Once I hit the city limits, I reach in my pocket and pull out the crinkled cardboard pack, an empty cigarette box Angel had hastily scribbled an Albuquerque address on. I triple check to make sure I have remembered it correctly, then take the fourth exit.

𖤓

After I left Angel and EZ, grappling with each other on that hilltop by the hospital, I went to Mercedes’ house to hole up. It was a dingy little duplex not far from the hospital but EZ didn’t know where it was and that’s what mattered. It was kind of funny. I had not expected Angel to follow up, texting me, asking if I was okay, where I was. But he did. Even after I told him, I had not expected him to do anything with that information, certainly not stop by or send someone. But he did. So, when a knock came at the front door, in a frenzy, I lurched off the couch and lunged for the baseball bat that I’d taken from the coat closet earlier and set against the front door before dozing off. Glancing through the peephole, I half expected to see EZ's cold, hard eyes, peering back at me across the threshold of warped glass. Mercifully, it was somebody else. Someone I didn’t recognize. Judging by the kutte over his hoodie and the large black script inked on his neck that spelled Mayans, another proud member of the club. Someone I had not met before. He stood in front of the door, hood up, hands clasped in front of him at attention, almost like a bouncer at a nightclub but without the air of compensation. On the contrary, he was at ease, almost serene when I swung open the screen door, wild-eyed and bat in hand. “Are you Gaby?” He'd barely batted an eye. I nodded slowly. “Angel sent me with some stuff for you.” I furrowed my brow, suspicious but too frazzled to form words. “Yeah, uh— He wanted to deliver this himself, but homie had to take care of that trifling, mocoso cagado brother of his, chase that motherfucker back down to Santo Padre. But I stuck around, so he sent me instead.” He extended his hand. “I’m Manny.” With some hesitation, I set the bat down and shook his hand, then motioned to allow him inside. He refused, head rattling from side to side. “Nah, I don’t— I can’t stay long. Just wanted to give you these.” He held out the crumpled cigarette box and the keys to 'Angel’s' car, dropping them in the palm of my hand. Through tears that I wasn’t even aware had begun to fall, I joked tiredly, “So, I narrowly escape getting killed by the love of my life and Angel thinks I’m ready to take up smoking?” “Yea, right? Guess when you cheat death, seems as good a time as any to pick up a habit that causes terminal illness.” Manny stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets and leaned against the doorway, eyes cast down, chuckling at the ground. “Nah, actually there’s an address on it. A guy we know in New Mexico from a job Yuma and Santo Padre did with him a while back. His people’ll take care of you.” “Who is it?” “His name— well, he’s a guy who’s connected enough in Mexico that EZ can’t come after you there. Y’know, bad for business.” With a knowing smirk, he tipped his head, “Si me sientes.” There seemed a reluctance to say this man’s name outright but I couldn't understand why. Oh, right. Connected in Mexico. One of the cartels. So more of that then. Standing in the doorway with my arms crossed, at the manic pace only akin to that of an animal backed into a corner, I evaluated the options presented to me now. Could this truly be my only one? Something else my mother used to say was already at the tip of my tongue. “Lo peligroso que es ser una mujer enamorada.”** I began to cry harder now and Manny’s head snapped back up to look at me. “Aw easy now, ma,” he said gently, stepping closer to brush a tear from my cheek with the back of his hand. “Todo estará bien.” I nodded weakly before choking out through something that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, “I know this is a weird question but— pero ya puedes abrazarme?” He smiled softly, stepping back with open arms, and the moment my head hit the shoulder of this kind stranger, I came apart at the seams.

𖤓

It had only been two days on the road but the writing on the cigarette package is already faded, probably from so much time spent folded up in the pocket of my jeans.

6611 Zuni Rd SE,

Albuquerque, NM

ask 4 grumpyass mf named Varga

I am not sure why I bother to keep looking at it when I have the address memorized, seared in my brain because I had charted my route the old fashioned way, on a map I got from a gas station back in Lodi. A measure that seems silly now given that my phone is still somehow clinging to life.

I pull into the parking lot of 6611 Zuni Road and slide into an open spot, of which there are many. Business does not appear to be booming. In quaint, Hot-Rod red cursive along the top of the building, it reads “Tapizados, Custom Upholstery, Reparación.” Auto upholstery. As good a front as any, I suppose.

My nerves are fried and the entrance of the shop taunts me while I stare at it, trying to figure out how to smoke out this Varga. It would’ve been helpful to have more than just a name. Was it a first? A last? Based on what little was in the note, Varga could be a woman for all I know. Although Manny had specifically said it was a guy. Tracing the hastily scribbled address on the wilted cardboard, I am filled with warmth, reminded of my gratitude to Angel for doing the best he could with what he had. I can do the rest. I simply have to.

A broken bell clangs pitifully as the door of the shop closes behind me. It is empty of customers and seemingly, anyone who might work there. There is another bell on the counter and I wonder if that one is broken too. If it isn’t, with the Norteño music blaring in a room in the back with a bunch of tables with sewing machines, I wonder if anyone would hear it. Before I get a chance to find out, two men in matching uniforms arguing in the parking lot outside catch my attention. Partly because they’re arguing but largely because they both seem to be wearing matching uniforms, an indication yes, someone indeed ran this fine establishment and didn’t leave it to the norteño corridos to manage.

An older man with a thick, dark head of hair and a dark mustache alternates between pinching his forehead and speaking through gritted teeth to a younger man with hair buzzed so short, he looks almost bald, whose back is turned to me. Mustache man looks to be the boss and when the other man steps aside for a moment, I spot the name on his shirt. M. Varga. Simón! Él es un gruñón de verdad like Angel said. He looks just like another gruñón I know too. In fact, if his hair wasn’t so dark, I might have actually mistaken him for Felipe Reyes. He shared the same proud nose, perpetually furrowed brow, and lines etched deep into his forehead that say he’s had someone important to worry about for a very long time. Who was this Varga’s someone?

More heated now, Señor Varga points to the building and I think I can make out the words 'vuelve ahí dentro' coming out of his mouth. Exasperated, the younger, short-haired man throws his hands on his hips and tips his head back, as if pleading with the sky but whatever the old man has said trumps his silent negotiation with the Above. Varga throws him a set of keys and shoos him in the direction of the shop before stalking off back to the garage.

It takes me too long to realize I am staring. The short-haired guy makes it to the sidewalk in front of the windows, but by then it is too late to play it off like I’m just a clueless customer. Swinging my purse from one shoulder to the other, I attempt to anyway, and turn to examine the fabric swatches hanging on the walls and the stand full of pamphlets about “The Wonders of Kaptex!” and “Chrome-Tanned Whole Cowhides!” leafing through as if I know what I am looking at. The look of confusion on my face is the only honest thing about it. I have no idea what I am doing here, in more ways than one.

The short-haired man walks in, sighing heavily as the broken bell claps against the door handle, making another pitiful, pinched sound. It is not until he turns around to put something in the register that I finally see the name on his uniform. I. Varga.

Qué se chinga, of course there is two of them. Of course.

I nearly tear the cigarette box yanking it out of my pocket to study it again in the hopes I have missed some detail, some clue Angel might have left to differentiate the two Vargas. But no. There it sits, staring back at me, the same phrase I’ve read repeatedly, over and over and over: Ask 4 grumpyass mf named Varga. The qualifier doesn’t even help. They both seem equally grumpy. Could I just ask? Would Angel or Manny have thought ahead to let this Varga know I was coming?

A voice cuts through my panic. “‘Scuse me, miss? Something I can help you with?”

My head snaps up to meet a look of cool intensity from the younger Varga. He was younger sure, but I couldn’t venture a guess as to how old he might really be because even asking the most mundane of questions, there is something heavy in the tone of his voice and a weariness in his eyes that betray the gaze of a boy aged beyond his years by forces out of his control. I know this look. I am well acquainted with this look, yes. The headlights in the rearview mirror on the drive here flash in my mind. But there is a softness in this one’s eyes that I don’t remember EZ having. Not even in the beginning. By the time I finally understood, it would do me no good, but everything about Ezekiel Reyes was hard. And always had been.

All of a sudden, I am self-conscious, unsure of how long I’ve been standing there, not saying a word in response. Taking a deep breath, I finally open my mouth to answer, but instead of words, what comes out is some kind of throttled sigh.

“Prefieres que hablamos en español?” He is polite but with enough of an edge of impatience that it does nothing to distinguish him as the less grumpy of the two Vargas.

“A mí no me importa,” I shrug, trying my best to seem casual. “Puedo hablar de los dos.”

“O sí? Pues la podría preguntarte de nuevo pero ya sabrás que es la misma en ambos.”

Maybe this Varga is more prickly than grumpy. Would Angel know the difference? Probably not.

“Hmm,” I hum. He seems skeptical, so I switch to English. Two can play this game. “Huh? Yes. Yeah. Actually yes. I need- I’m looking for someone na—“ I start heading toward the counter but in the process, my purse swings to one side, knocking over the wire display of pamphlets. Varga is nice enough to come around from the counter to help me pick them up off the ground, even if he is chuckling to himself at my expense.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what-” I pause, closing my eyes, searching for the words. “I have not slept much. I just came here all the way from California and did not make many stops.”

Varga picks up the last of the pamphlets and with a resigned smirk on his face, offers his hand. “Ah, well, you wouldn’t be the only person to end up in ABQ who’s running from something.” I accept and he pulls me to my feet.

On his way back around the counter, he shoots me the look of a parent worried their kid is going to tear through the candy aisle at the grocery store. Pointing to a technicolor display of stacked, neatly wrapped, little trees, I laugh. “Oh, not the car fresheners. It looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to make these look nice,” I tease, holding up my hands in defeat. “I’ll keep my distance.”

Varga shakes his head, suppressing a laugh like he doesn’t want me to know I have said anything he’d find funny. He resumes doing whatever he was doing at the register. Not sure what to do with myself, I just stand there, watching him, moving the cash trays to the back counter, industriously counting the bills, scribbling in some kind of ledger. Without turning to look at me, he calls out, “So, you were saying?”

“Sorry?”

“You were about to say you were looking for someone right before you decided to go full Jenga with my pamphlets over there.”

“Oh,” I blow a puff of air out of my lips, sending stray pieces of hair that have fallen out of my ponytail floating above my forehead. Glancing around the empty store, something in me snaps and I decide. Why not? What is the worst that could happen? I say the wrong thing to the wrong person and they kill me for it? They’d have to get in line. I am already on borrowed time and dancing around the issue might only serve to end that time. Entonces a la verga con esa chingadera. So I shoot my shot. The contact my hand makes as it smacks down on the counter with the mangled cigarette box is loud enough to surprise Varga. He stops and spins around.

“Alright, I have danced with death,” I hold my index finger and thumb up together and squint my eyes, “once this week already. I have also been driving for two days straight. I am exhausted. And you know what? Truthfully, I have never been good at this– hmm, what is it called? Playing my cards close to the chest? I never had to be. So, I'm going to come right out and say it. My name is Gaby Castillo. I came here from Lodi, California. My ex-boyfriend is EZ Reyes from the Santo Padre chapter of the Mayans motorcycle club. Two days ago,” the lump in my throat hurts as I swallow it, but still choke up despite myself, “he tried to kill me. His brother, Angel Reyes, told me to lie low here in case he tried to come after me again.”

Instead of the appropriate shock one would express at the stream of insanity I just blurted out to a perfect stranger, he seems entirely undisturbed. Just as I'm about to give over to reassurance at his calmness, it all at once becomes more jarring that he has no reaction. My heart kicks up, pounding so rapidly, I wonder if it’s visible from the outside, if he can see it's picked up speed.

Aggravated by the silence, I snap my fingers in front of his face, grumbling, “Uh, hello? Does any of this sound familiar?”

Face impassive, he crosses his arms and just keeps staring at me before finally breaking the silence with one infuriating word. “Vest.”

“Mm? Pardon?”

“You said chest. You meant vest.”

He is like a brick wall. I am still not getting it.

“You meant vest. You said,” he flattens his hand bringing it down to punctuate the end of each phrase, “‘playing your cards close to the chest.’ The expression is ‘playing your cards close to the vest.’ Like back in the day, old guys playing Poker in saloons and shit.”

How dumb must I look, standing there, eyes narrowed, mouth gaping open in disbelief that we are calmly discussing grammar after everything I said? The motorcycle club? The attempted murder? I can only imagine. He does not even seem to notice. What’s more infuriating, he turns back around to the money trays and the ledger and continues talking at me like that. “Yeah, yeah, I got a call from Manny, told me someone was coming. I remember those Reyes brothers too. One of them’s a wiseass and one of them’s a dipstick. Which one almost killed you?”

Poor Angel. My cheeks are burning and my chest floods with indignation on his behalf. “Angel is not a di–” the word is new to me and comes out of my mouth clumsy, “dip-ssstick.”

Varga’s shoulders rattle as he chuckles, “So it was the dipstick,” nodding to himself like he’s just shared some private joke that he happens to also find hilarious.

I roll my eyes and turn my back to him so I can lean against the counter. My head sinks back to look at the ceiling and now I’m the one who’s pleading with the sky. “No, it wasn’t the d– no, not Angel. He’s the one who saved me, told me to come here for help. Not that I would call,” I wave my hand around at nothing in particular, “whatever this has been, 'help.'”

Varga says nothing, so I continue. “No, it was the other one. Ezekiel. EZ. He’s the one who– well.” I stop, my thoughts invaded again by Ezekiel's eyes in the headlights, this time mixed with flashes of that night on the beach. How soft and gentle his fingertips were on my shoulders. How cold the barrel of his gun felt pressed into my side. Tears begin streaking from the corners of my eyes. With my head back like that, they drip down across my temples and into my hairline.

Another pair of fingertips gently brushes my shoulder. I jerk forward violently and turn around to see Varga on the other side of the counter, with his hands up, as if to say, 'oh god, don’t shoot.'

“Hey, look. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so— such a dick. I forget what it’s like for people not—” he wavers, running his hand up and down the back of his head, searching for the words, “well, normal people. People not in our business.”

I scoff, "Normal. That's funny, normal."

He looks at me perplexed, waiting for me to clarify. But I can't even begin. So, staring at the air fresheners almost catatonic, I simply say, "Normal is not what I feel."

Varga seems to accept this well enough because he starts putting the cash trays back in the register and locks them up with the ledger. On his way back around the counter, he grabs his car keys and motions for me to follow him. “C’mon.”

He stops at the door once he realizes I am not following him. More speaking to the door than to me, he calls out, “Yo, you coming or what?”

“Coming? Coming where?”

In an oddly graceful gesture, he spins around, arms swinging, coming to rest on his hips, as he tips one out to the side. “You like milkshakes?”

“Do I like—?”

“Milkshakes. Y'know, milk, ice cream, they blend it all up with like chocolate or strawberry or confetti sprinkles or whatever sugary shit people like. How do we feel about them.”

“I mean—” I shrug. “Who doesn’t like milkshakes.”

“Great.” He nods, with a small smile on his face that reaches his eyes for the first time. It softens his otherwise prickly demeanor, exposing a charm so authentic in its self consciousness, it is plain to see he doesn’t smile with true joy often. Something clicks just then and it occurs to me: what if he’s the someone the senior Varga, M. Varga, has had to worry about all these years? He turns back around, grabbing the door handle. “Let’s get a milkshake.”

“Wait.”

I watch his shoulders rise and fall, an unmistakable sigh of frustration. A reaction I immediately resent. “Hey.” I cross my arms. “No mames, hombre. Like it is unreasonable for me to be uncertain about letting a perfect stranger take me to some unknown location, in a town I have never been to before, for a mystery milkshake.”

Turning back around, he strolls slowly over to me, smirking and fiddling with his keys. “Mystery milkshake, huh?"

Still unamused, my eyebrows are halfway up my forehead. I wait.

“Yeah alright, you got me there. But I think I’ve got a solution for that. You said your name's Gaby, right?” I bob my head once and he holds out his hand. “My name’s Nacho.” He seems to take notice of my eyes darting to the name tag on his uniform. “Well, Ignacio, but no one calls me that.” Leaning forward, voice dropping low and quiet, he pleads like it’s a secret. “Yeah, please don’t call me that, seriously.”

I can’t help but smile, accepting his hand. Though firm, it's also warm and softer than I expect, sending goosebumps up my forearm that take me by surprise.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” I beam at him, our hands moving up and down in tandem, "Señor Not-Ignacio Varga.”

“Oh good,” he says, smile deflating slightly as he cocks an eyebrow. “Another comedian. Remind me never to introduce you to Lalo.”

It seems I’m already treading dangerous ground, but that only makes me beam at him more. “Who is Lalo? And why should you never to introduce us?”

“Pues,” he looks me up and down, assessing me before rolling his eyes, “hay muchas razones pero la primera? Eres demasiado guapa y chistosa para conocer a un hombre peligroso así. But he’d sure think you’re— I dunno, something.”

O, demasiado guapa? Nacho is becoming more interesting by the minute. “Hmm, well–," I muse as he turns to open the door. "And what does Not-Ignacio think?”

He shoots me a look like don’t go there through half lidded eyes. It is the first time I notice how long his eyelashes are. Tú eres guapísimo también. He seems like the type to not really know it. Or at least, the type to be unconcerned with it anyway. Of course it’s just a hunch, but for some reason it warms me to him even more. Nothing like the Reyes boys. Well, except Felipe, who had never seemed especially preoccupied with his appearance.

“Okay, okay,” I put my hands up, “last time, I swear. So, what does Nacho think?”

“I think...” he takes a long pause while holding the door open for me, scratching his head like he is considering the question with genuine sincerity. “I think ..... thaaat it’s time for a milkshake.”

Stepping outside into the simmering Albuquerque sun, it is my turn to roll my eyes. But for some reason, I decide to up the anti by crinkling my nose and sticking my tongue out at him like a petulant child. Maybe it’s the sleeplessness, or maybe it’s just nice to talk to someone after 3 days of running. On the road alone. He laughs at me, letting the door slam shut, and waves me over, in the direction of his car.

Despite my pretend annoyance, I walk around to the passenger’s side of Nacho Varga’s car and a feeling hits me as suddenly as a flashbulb of an old camera: relief. For the first time since I left Lodi, I finally feel like I just might be okay.

As it turns out, I am right. I would be okay. Just not before all hell breaks loose.

═

taglist: @narcolini

[musical-chick-13]

rarepair but makima/himeno >:3

It is SO funny that you bring this up, because every so often I will mention "[redacted] rarepair" in the tags of various posts as an example of a f/f ship I can't ever find content of to my continued dismay, and the [redacted] in question is in fact. Himeno/Makima.

Obviously Aki/Himeno is the Most Important™ to me, but I think of these two often. Idk, not that I believe anyone would ever get through to Makima because. She's Makima. But Himeno is known for being pretty observant and able to hold her own, and I do like tossing around the idea in my brain that Makima could at least find that intriguing and then be unable to parse out why she feels that way about this singular, screwed-up lady with no impulse control (especially because being In Control Of Everything is kind of Makima's whole deal). And regardless of the place it comes from, Himeno recognizes that Makima is Bad News™ in a way that none of the other characters seem to, so I think there's potential for...I guess Makima being able to be upfront about just how horrible she is, and potentially even give into ferally impulsive behavior herself. And Himeno could just go full anger/trauma/catharsis mode given how much she DOES NOT like her. No need to put a bubbly, sociable veneer on everything anymore, because Makima doesn't deserve that from her!

Makima would try to play mind games, and Himeno would try to brute force her way around them (and maybe even call her out if she got frustrated enough), and most importantly, they would both make each other SO much worse. Messy person + actually even messier person. Disaster4Disaster. And obviously I want everyone to be in love with Himeno because, like. Come on.

I simply think they would have the most absolutely unhinged physical-fight-showdown-turned-hate-sex ever known, and this is a concept that is very important to me.

Send me a ship and I'll give you my brutally honest opinion on it.

[rai-knightshade-art]

"I missed you."

"....I missed you, too."

Prompt #2, Pitch Perfect RarePair Week

This scene now has a Part 2! Check it out here!

Artist thoughts, links to the other prompt days, and a Close Up under the cut, Image ID in the alt text!

*drags myself in out of sheer force of will, collapsing immediately on the floor, holding this post aloft like a hard-won trophy* I did it. I got the drawing for today's prompt done. Here you go.

So, backstory: this is technically related to what will now be three posts later this week (because there's supposed to be a second part of this drawing based on Prompt #7, "I can't say it so I'll sing it", that will now be posted along with my original unrelated idea for #7 on Sunday), all of which are based on a fanfic I've been writing for a couple months now. Said fic (and two of the three posts) is Jeca-centered, but it's based in a little pocket verse that has a LOT more going on in it than just their whole... Thing, and that includes other RarePairs hanging out and generally being adorable in the background. (This includes all of the rarepairs I'm featuring this week, btw.)

Enter Chaubrey, who have their own side story going on that includes at least one gay panic (Aubrey), years of pining (Chloe, literally from their freshman year at Barden onwards), a mutual realization of "holy shit there might be something here, actually!" (Seen above, more on that below), a few months of hesitant flirting and maybe-sorta-kinda dates, and, finally, a reveal of feelings through meaningful glances during a duet featuring the rest of the Bellas (and a subsequent mutual decision to sneak off and talk things through after... Which may or may not lead to smooching in a broom closet somewhere. Maybe. Yes, Fat Amy finds them, and, no, she never lets them hear the end of it, even at their wedding a year later). It's a lot, is what I'm getting at here, that unfortunately goes mostly unsaid in-story due to the POV(s) I'm writing in, but I felt it was important that y'all know about it anyways because they live in my head rent free. Constantly. So.

Now, as for this scene specifically: set roughly 1 and a half years after PP3, Aubrey and Chloe are helping Beca pick out a wedding outfit as the Chief Bridesmaid and Maid of Honor, respectively (a position that Chloe threatened to fight Fat Amy for until Beca, in fear of "the Kraken has been unleashed!", declared that Chloe was Maid of Honor and Fat Amy would officiate, end of story), a month or two after Beca announced her engagement via a group zoom call (and Chloe's excited reaction subsequently provoked a Gay Panic™ in Aubrey as she suddenly had the realization that "I want to see her smile like that for the rest of my life", a Totally Normal and Measured Reaction to have for your best friend of course). Stacie would help but she's trying to wrangle a flower girl dress for little Bella across the country in New York, and Emily is splitting her time between song writing and helping with other logistics ("I've been researching venues, did you know there's actually an old movie theatre here in LA that can be rented out for weddings?" "rEALLY?!?! 😍" "NO." "Come oooonnnn, Becs, you gotta admit that's cool!" "Not. Happening."), So it's down to Chloe and Aubrey to help find the perfect wedding gown suit for Beca, because, and I quote, "Just because I agreed to a wedding does NOT mean I'm gonna be like every other bride on Say Yes to the Dress or whatever, if we're doing this we're doing it my way, and I'm not wearing a poofy overpriced dress that I can only use once, got it?" ("But, Beca, don't you wanna, I dunno, dress up for your husband-to-be? Go the whole nine yards?" "Are you kidding?! Jesse offered to just go up to the courthouse and be done with it, he's still amazed I said yes in the first place. It was only after I reminded him that you pitches would hunt us down and murder us if we got married without you that he agreed to do an actual wedding." "...Damn. You two really are made for each other huh." "You're also correct, there would be nowhere on this planet you could hide from our wrath if you'd eloped. Fat Amy has connections.")

Anyways.

In the midst of the chaos of trying on outfits and assuring the sales associate at each shop (because there are multiple shops visited, by the way) that, yes, she really does want a suit instead of a dress, and no, she won't be persuaded otherwise, and in trying to find matching bridesmaid outfits for the rest of the girls, Chloe and Aubrey find some moments to just... Talk. They haven't been able to talk much since the tour, at least in person, and they've missed that. They've missed each other. (Hence, the prompt!) Herein comes the realization that they're both single (rip Chicago you'll debatably be missed), and the mutual blushes and unusually shy glances start clueing them each in that, huh. It's almost like... She might... Reciprocate??? My feelings??? But they don't quite get to unpack that because there's still suit shopping to do!

But they'll get there, don't worry! We'll get the resolution to this little storyline on Sunday, because what better way to finally confess your feelings than with the same mashup that first truly brought you and your friends together! 😎

In the meantime, I've got bonus posts going up tomorrow and Thursday (because I couldn't come up with anything for either of those prompts, though I did try), then we're back with the last 4 true Prompt Entries™ starting Friday, with two entries for Sunday!

Days I've participated in (and Entries I've posted):

Day 1 (This is me trying): Link

Day 2 (I missed you): You Are Here!

Day 5 (if honesty means telling the truth... Well then the truth is I'm still in love with you): Link

Day 6 (there's no way that it's not going to happen with you looking at me like that): Link

Day 7.1 (I can't say it, so I'll sing it): Link

Day 7.2 (part 2): Link

Plus a relevant bonus Post for this particular scene can be found here!

Close Up:

[nevermoredragon-main]

i have never considered namimatsu before but now i am Intrigued. as a Matsuda Enjoyer i can always be convinced to pair him with handsome men. i wish to hear your thoughts on the appeal of namimatsu, if you're so inclined to share!

Ahhh I'll do my best to explain why I like it, but honestly my thoughts might be all over the place because I like to ramble.

I think at the very heart of it to me is I honestly love shipping rarepairs a lot, and pairings that no one, or very few, have decided to ship before. I discovered @namimatsuceo's fic and blog, and then after a bit of digging discovered a very old untranslated namimatsu doujin that is from like 2005(which I then commed a friend to translate for me. I put it on my tumblr and I'll dig up the links later). Then this previous summer was one where me and a bunch of mutuals in the dn fandom had the time to really have fun thinking about the pairing.

That's the history for me. A very good chance encounter with a pairing I felt inspired to try to think of stuff about. And honestly thinking of interesting new situations and dynamics between characters that haven't really ket before is very fun, and I think you could do a lot with. Like, for instance, did you know that Namikawa dies a week before the one year anniversary of Ukita's death? Finding that out some time ago threw me and started giving me major angst. Then also, in between Higuchi's death and Namikawa's death, there's a period of around 8 months, so it's fun thinking of how namimatsu might get together, and then proceed to fall in love, in that window of time. (and then immediately try to think of ways namikawa could avoid death lmao)

My personal favorite way to think about it is Namikawa falling hard and fast, and trying to be a tsundere but ultimately failing, giving into the inevitable Matsuda obsession all of us have, and Matsuda meanwhile is currently a mix of just depressed and feeling like he's useless and just "I am literally just some guy so why does a rich guy like you care so much?" And I think it definitely also is a mutual admiration between them too. Not to mention I definitely think it would be good and healthy for Matsuda if he had a relationship with someone not in the task force, and not involved in the Kira Case(because after Higuchi I think the rest of the Yotsuba would mostly just focus on trying to restore their company/just move on with their lives after that)

I think my last note about it for now is that I think the reactions of Matsuda and Namikawa's groups to them dating would be really funny.

Like, "wtf Namikawa, you're dating the guy who was spying on us and faked his death and caused Higuchi to die?!"

"That was weeks ago. Things change."

Then of course for Matsuda he's dating a suspect who at one point was definitely involved with the murders, and the entire task force is definitely not gonna be happy to hear that.

Aside from that, definitely check out my friend @infinitelycynical's fics, and namimatsuceo's. They definitely deserve the love if you are interested.

I have a lot more thoughts too. But too many brainworms. I tried to make this sort of short but I definitely failed lol. (If any mutuals have any other thoughts I would definitely like the additions lmao)

[sulky-valkyrie]

‘Whose blood is that?’ from the Hidden Injury prompts? my guilty rarepair is Fenris/Solas, but if you're not into that then Fenris with anyone! thank you <3

okay, so this idea is starting to run away from me, but I have TECHNICALLY filled it and will probably be doing another chapter/sequel that's a bit naughtier for @dadrunkwriting ~~~

A furious white-haired elf was something ever Varric expected to see barrelling toward him again.  "What the void are -"

"Where's Hawke?"

"Gone, Broody."  He shook his head.  "I wrote Rivaini and Daisy, but -"

A gauntlet pushed him back in his chair.  "I will rephrase.  Where did you lose them?"

"Adamant.  Western Orlais, but -"

Fenris spun around and stalked out.  The dwarf rubbed his face and sighed.  This was not going to go well.  And someone needed to tell Sparker to take a long vacation.

"What a prig."  Sera appeared next to him.  "And those tattoos, he must think he's even elfier than Solas."

Varric winced.  "Not exactly.  Can you go find Sparkler and drag him on a treasure hunt or something?  Keep him out of sight?"

The girl frowned.  "Not gonna let some pricked up puff of a man walk in here and-"

"Did you read my book?"

She snorted.  "’Course not."

The dwarf sighed.  "Of course not.  Look, Broody used to belong to a magister; belong as in slave?  I just want to soften the surprise so no one ends up with extrails as opposed to entrails." 

"Extrails."   She giggled.  "Nice one.  Alright, I'll get our pet peacock to go strut off somewhere."

He nodded his thanks and hurried out, right into the elfiest elf of them all.  Solas cocked his head at him curiously.  "It's not often I find you in the Herald's Rest."

"Technically, you still haven't.”  He looked around.  “I don't suppose you saw a pissed elf run past you?"

"Pissed as in intoxicated?"

"Pissed as in looked like he wanted to kill something."

"Ah, then yes."  Solas pursed his lips, looking faintly irritated.  "What is he?"

"Oh come on, are you telling me you've read everything but my books?"  Varris grumbled as he pushed past him.

Solas followed him.  "I skimmed it; does that mean he's your ex-slave?"

"Shit, Chuckles, never let him hear you say that."  The dwarf paused.  "Which way did he go?"

"Toward the cells."

Oh no.  "Is Erimond still down there?"

"I believe the Inquisitor planned to pass judgment tomorrow."

He sped up.  "Broody might have just taken care of that himself."

"I saw no weapon, how much can he do that quickly?"

"Wow, really?  Are you sure you even skimmed The Tale of the Champion?"  Varric scoffed.  "The man is basically half lyrium."

As expected, Fenris was inside Erimond's cell, and his hand was inside the mage's ribcage.  What wasn't expected was that he had an audience.  Isabela and Merril both looked like shit, and- 

"Blondie, are you insane?"

Anders shrugged and tugged the hood closer as his eyes flashed blue.  "Hawke needs us." 

Erimond made a pained gurgling noise and dropped to the ground as Fenris released his spine or his heart or whatever he'd been threatening to rip out.  "He knows nothing."

"Kill him anyway."  Isabela's voice was rough, and her arm tightened around Merrill's shoulders. 

"It is not our place."  Anders' voice had two tones in it, a sure sign that Big Blue and Angry was considering coming out to play.  "We need to go."

"Go where?"  Varric asked.  "Don't get me wrong, staying here is a terrible idea, but -"

Merrill looked at him, and the force of that glare made him step back a pace.  Back in Kirkwall, with all her fumbling and bumbling, it had been hard to remember just how powerful she was.  "We're getting Emjee back."

"She -"

"They."  There was Big Blue and Angry.

Solas nodded apologetically, then continued.  "They were physically in the Fade, no normal mortal can just -"

Merrill walked up to him.  Stalked, more likely.  Her fingers were still entwined in the pirate's.  "Then I suppose you'll have to help us."

The other elf blinked at her in confusion, then concern.  "Whatever do you mean?"

"The spirits speak of you."  She cocked her head to the side, scrutinizing him, and Varric wasn't sure if he'd ever seen the elf so discomfited.  "You're coming to fix this.  It doesn't balance any scales to leave them to die alone, does it?"  She swung that gaze back to Varric.  "And you'll be explaining to the Inquisitor that Fe - Solas here needs to take a leave of absence."

Varric frowned.  "The world is ending, Daisy, this isn't -"

"And I trust you to save it while we save Hawke."  With that, Merrill walked out, Isabela in tow.  Anders followed after them.  Fenris spat on Erimond's crumpled form before phasing back through the bars of his cell.

"What is - what did you just do?"  Solas asked, surprised and intrigued.

Fenris arched eyebrow then glanced at Varric.  "Not a fan of yours?"

The dwarf snorted.  "Definitely not my books, not sure about my person."

He shook his head and held up a hand, then let it glow blue.  "This is a curse that I have made into a blessing."  As it dimmed, he touched Varric's shoulder and squeezed gently.  "We will bring them back, or die."

The dwarf patted the gauntlet.  “The first one.  I just write tragedies, don’t want to live through another one.”

"You are determined," Solas observed.

The other elf looked at him.  "Hawke is important."

"Who's blood is that on you?"

Fenris glanced at the splatter then waved a hand back toward Erimond's cell.  "His.  Probably.  Don't worry, I left him alive for your Inquisition."

[iraprince]

this might not be something you personally have difficulty with, but i was recently diagnosed with severe adhd and i was wondering if you had any tips regarding just like….drawing?? i have such a hard time getting started even though i usually end up feeling pretty stoked and happy with my work if i manage to get something down. i used to draw constantly as a kid to help me focus in class, but in my adult life i just feel like there are so many invisible barriers between myself and putting pencil to paper. i’m sure there are a lot of perfectionism issues involved as well, so i guess just any sort of advice in any of those areas would be greatly appreciated! your work is fantastic and i’m really grateful that you share adhd stuff as well!! have a great day! :o)

i actually have a LOT of difficulty with this -- i have more difficulty than i have advice, probably! but my advice always ends up boiling down to the same thing lately, and it sounds really hokey but i mean it as literally as possible bc it's the only thing that consistently works for me: be fucking nice to yourself!

for a long time the only solution i had to being Inexplicably Unable To Do Something was to yell at myself, bully myself, assume that i wasn't trying hard enough, and end up a miserable little ball of confusion and frustration. it was def worse before i was diagnosed, but it's definitely not gone (sometimes "i don't know why i can't just do it!" just gets replaced with "well, i know what the problem is, so why can't i find a way around it?!"). and after many many years of experience with the bullying reaction vs a much shorter time comparing this reaction to other, kinder approaches, i can say with a lot of confidence that handling it with internal yelling and shaming doesn't work, straight up. it's not helpful, and most of the time it makes things worse -- even if you manage to force yourself to complete a task once or twice like this, it's too exhausting and demoralizing to be sustainable. so, while you haven't mentioned frustration in your question, that's still where my mind goes as a first step: if you're experiencing distress or anger or embarrassment over running into those barriers over and over again, the first step is practicing being calm and forgiving, not immediately trying to find a way around it. once you hit the wall and you find you can calmly go "oh, okay! this isn't working. let's figure out why" instead of immediately launching into "what the fuck is WRONG with me????", finding solutions is a lot easier.

the times i've surprised myself by having things just suddenly Flow after a long period of struggling are usually brought about by a ton of excitement and enthusiasm! i get really into a rarepair and i'm gripped with the need to make my own content, or i make a new oc who i really love, or i get back into a piece of media i haven't touched in a while and get all charged up with excitement. you gotta feed the tank to make stuff, so setting time aside to consume stuff that inspires and excites you is just as important as setting the time aside to actually sit down and try to draw.

another thing that has helped me is trying to be really purposeful abt reminding myself WHY i draw; sometimes, especially since it's my job, the images i'm supposed to be making just turn into this big featureless stack of Tasks instead of me really thinking about + appreciating what i do and why i love it. when i'm in a rut with commissions, for example, sometimes before i even try to start working (or if i HAVE tried to start and it's just not happening), i stop and sit down with the wips and really LOOK at them. i go through them one at a time and point out things i like about them or what i'm looking forward to doing: "the pose came out so good on the first try and i want to see what it'll look like finished," or "detailing all this hair is going to be so fun and relaxing." when you get so caught up in the constant repeated thought of "i just want to DO something, i want to DRAW," especially when it's been days or weeks or months where you can't, i think you can unconsciously start replacing "i want to draw because it's fun and i like what i make" with "i want to draw because i keep failing to and i just want to prove i can still do it," and for me the latter thought is usually way more distressing than it is motivating.

and finally, a failsafe: sometimes, when i can remember to do it, my secret weapon is counting down at myself for the tiniest steps possible. like i'll literally say out loud, "on the count of five, i'm going to stand up and go get my sketchbook. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...." it has to be out loud and i think the reason it works is because like. if you say it out loud, reach five, and you don't do it, you feel astronomically goofy??? and then i just go from there: "on the count of 5, i'm going to find an empty page." "on the count of 5, i'm going to start sketching a head." it kind of forces through the executive dysfunction in a way i haven't really been able to replicate with anything else. it doesn't always work in a super meaningful way -- like, plenty of times i do like three steps and then i'm like "i hate this and i don't want to and i'm not gonna make anything good like this so i give up!" and then i just take the L for the afternoon. but when the "frozen in place, literally cannot stop just staring at the page" thing is the main issue, it might be enough of a push to get going!

as always here's me going "oh oop no i dont have a lot sorry" and then rambling for paragraphs and paragraphs but by now we should be used to that. good luck, and remember 2 be patient + nice :D