#i feel like one hit wonders have kinda faded out like i think it used to be hard to get your song played

[ineylesian]

THRASH

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X READER

AO3 | KINKTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

DEBRIEF | ghost has been avoiding you since your last deployment. you think he’s hiding something.

WARNINGS | smut, handjobs, slight degrading, semi public sex, dom! reader kinda?, smug ghost

WORD COUNT | 1k

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE READ IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Finally.

“Where are you going, Riley?”

Your hand encloses around the base of his arm, twisting cruelly as the other spins him your way. Black polyester shifts at your fingertips, and you feel his muscles twitch under the jacket.

Ghost looks down at you, eyes faintly parted in shock. You nearly recoil at the sight. His features are ridden with fatigue— eyeblack smudged carelessly around his lashes, hollowing out sunken eye bags that make it look like he hasn’t slept for days.

You open your mouth to question him, until your knee knocks against the fly of his jeans. Glancing down, you find yourself pressed against the outline of his cock, strained against denim and nearly searing through it.

“Huh.” You smirk, lips painted coy. “Having a rough week, honey?”

Ghost sinks down partially on the wall you have him pinned against. His hood is far gone by the winds, and you’re surprised the cigarette he dropped hasn’t blown away yet. Smile sticking to your face, one of your feet stomps on it, languidly dragging the remains against concrete.

“Thought you wouldn’t notice I wasn’t around.” His voice is low, gravely and thick with impatience because he knows he’s caught. “Guess I’m not the only bad one here.”

There’s a low ambiance from inside, softly buzzing the wall he’s pushed up against. His gaze drifts to the side, fighting the urge to push you off of him and take to the woods.

The night is young, the sun gone some hours ago when you and the rest of the Task Force arrived. Instead of drowning yourself in liquor from your recent success in Berlin, you took to shadows and scathed trees in search of your Lieutenant. He’s aware that you’ve been worried sick about him since you touched down in Germany, and he’s also aware that you no longer care due to the erection pressing against your leg.

Ghost looks back at you, shallow blues swallowed by a forlorn sky.

“Well, you got me right where you want me.”

It’s been a few days, nearly a week since you’ve seen even a shadow of Ghost around. He’s been avoiding you because of something like this? Trying to flip if on you when he’s cornered? Ridiculous.

“Always trying to soften the blow on yourself.” You scoff, fingers looping around the frame of his belt buckle. “You’re pathetic.”

Your hand pulls on the last of the zipper, pushing his belt loop to the side, and tugging his boxers down. Ghost groans, low and savory, his cock nestled against a faded scar on his abdomen. Your hand moves from the band of his underwear, fingers daintily running along the base of his dick.

Mild hums join in with the music from inside, and you hear boots kicking up dust from the exit around the corner. Ghost reaches for your hand, but you’re quick, moving the other to delve under his mask. His lips quiver under the cold press of your hand, and you smile, pressing him further toward the wall.

“Don���t want other people hearing us, yeah?”

He nods, half heartedly, blonde eyelashes shifting under amber lamplight. You hum, smoothing your pointer finger along the tip of his dick. Pre drips against your skin, warm and sticky. Low vibrations hit the hand that covers his mouth as you lather his length in his own mess.

It’s loud, the squelch that joins squawking crows and chilling drafts. Ghost’s breath is warm against your skin, choppy and dripping with saliva as you work his dick. His face drips with sweat, skin warm to the touch despite the winds that roll over it.

“Needed me this bad, huh?” You simper, teasingly squeezing his balls, hung low and heavy. “I wonder what the others would think, not being able to keep your dick in your pants. What’s gotten into you, Riley?”

Riley. He shudders, hips involuntarily bucking toward your hand. You grin, tongue lining your teeth in satisfaction. He was right, you have him exactly where you want him.

“Well,” you release your hand from his mouth, increasing the pace of your strokes as you do so. “Got anything to say?”

Ghost gasps at the release, pooling fogged breaths to the night air, other hand wiping the spit from his chin.

“A little disciplinary action couldn’t hurt.” He sighs, eyes smug and gratified. “Think I’ve learned my lesson, but you can finish your punishment if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes, watching with exasperation as his lips quirk up. He always does find a way to turn things in his favor.

“Dick.”

He hums, quiet and bobbing softly against his adam’s apple. You feel his dick throb in your hold, hot and slick against your palm. Ghost cocks one of his fingers up, motioning for you to let off. Your hand leaves his chest and his neck cranes forward, arm snaking around your waist to hold you against him.

His lips taste as they always do, remnants of war and gunpowder mixing with ashes from his last cigarette. His canines prod at the flesh of your mouth, loosening only when he feels his release nearing.

Through parted lips he moans, low and satiated. You savor every noise, feeling the last waves of ecstasy wash off as warm liquid leaks over your fingers. You part, sloppily wiping his mess of the black of your pants as he tidies himself.

“Cheers, lovie.” He tilts your chin up, the ghost of a smirk disappearing with the rise of his mask. “Won’t go off your radar like that again, yeah?”

[swallowtail-lotus]

Potential Opponent {Thor x Goddess!Reader}

A repost from my old blog!

Still kinda in love with Thor ngl (I keep putting down thot instead of Thor, my fat fucking fingers-)

~~~~~~~~~

In the middle of a humungous field full of flowers, sat a beautiful woman, who was admiring the butterfly resting on her finger with an gentle smile on her face. She watched its wings move slowly, giving her time to take in the pretty pattern it has.

The silence that filled the air around her was comforting to her, as it represents how she's feeling right now. At peace.

"To think my home used to be this breathtaking..." You muttered, your smile slowly fading from your face. With your superhuman hearing, you heard the sounds of footsteps rushing towards you.

"Lady (Y/n)! The Lord would like to speak with you!" A female servant exclaimed, stopping beside your sitting figure. The butterfly has fled from the two of you as soon as the servant had stepped too close.

"Which Lord? Because if it's about those marriages, I'll keep refusing." You hissed with disgust, rolling your eyes at the mental images of the Lord's sons trying (and failing horribly) at courting you.

Reason is that you always challenge them to 1v1 matches, and so far, you haven't lost a single one.

"Lord Zihao wants you to-"

"Tell them I refuse and that I'm busy." You interrupted your servant, your eyes moving to glance at her. The female servant gulped at your stern side glance and nodded vigorously, taking off from you. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"These bastards clearly can't read the message." You grumbled, standing up from your spot and twirled around once, teleporting to a rather dark castle. You looked around, not finding anything familiar with the place.

"Shit, must've thought of the wrong thing."

You cursed yourself. As you were trying to make out anything, you felt a strong gust of wind hit your back. You quickly moved away, dodging whoever was trying to attack you.

"What the- Thor?!" You questioned, your gaze meeting his yellow eyes. Said God moved his hammer away from you when he heard your voice. You tried to see his face, but to no avail.

There was a deafening silence between the two of you. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to some light, relieved to see your love.

"So good to see you again!" You spoke up, trying to fill the silence. Thor look down at you, finally realising you and his face soften.

"Good to see you too, my love." He finally greeted you, a small smile on his face. His hands cupped your face and took his time to take in your features. He leaned down and kissed you softly. The gods didn't know who you were at all. All they knew was that you are a deity, just like them and Thor's love.

They recently noticed the two small blades attached to your hips, some wondering why you have them. This was confusing them a lot because you spent so much time admiring the flowers and playing with small animals. They think there was no need to keep whatever were attached to you when you have the strongest Norse God by your side.

If only they knew...

Twirling a single flower in your fingers, you smiled fondly at it. It was like your normal day, going to the gardens and admire the plants everywhere. You always loved nature, so you were given a garden as a gift.

Deciding you had enough time in the gardens, you placed the flower in your hair, walking out and in the hallways of the castle.

Stopping in your tracks, you reached for your blade on the left side. You felt something touch your shoulder, and out of instinct, you swung your right arm at the person, sending them flying. You sworn you felt your soul leave your body when you saw who you hit.

"I'm sorry, Thor! I tend to hit whoever startles me!" You exclaimed frantically, rushing over to your love. The God picked himself up with no problem, but his face was something of shock.

You noticed his lips curl up in a smirk, you know, that one and his eyes glowing bright.

Maybe you shouldn't have hit him...

[carabalism]

in another life

pairing(s) carl grimes x fem!reader (platonic)

synopsis carl and y/n were best friends right from the start and they would die best friends too.

warning(s) death, angst, hurt no comfort

masterlist

a/n sorry this is actually kinda sad But oopsie (to the requests IM SO SORRY i will get to them)

“i had a feeling that you’d be too clingy to let me die alone,” carl’s laugh quickly turned into a wheeze as he felt his lungs tighten in his chest.

“please, you’re the one who’s always stealing my thunder,” y/n chuckled dryly, her hand reaching out to hold carl’s. they first met on a deserted highway moments before he lost his first friend in the apocalypse: sophia. god gave him a new friend that day just to snatch the other one away.

“yeah?” carl turned his head to look over at y/n. her face had lost its usual colour and vibrancy, the change was almost startling. carl wondered how he looked for a moment, did he look worse than her? was she okay?

“mhm,” y/n hummed turning to look back at him. they were both leaning their weight against the wall behind them, far too exhausted to sit up by themselves. carl and y/n had both been bit.

“i wish we had more time,” carl sighed, his gaze falling to his lap.

“everybody wishes they had more time, carl,” y/n laughed, leaning her head back, “don’t be so cliché.”

“cliché? you even know what that means?” carl’s breath was laboured, but he wanted to postpone his death for a few minutes. y/n and him never had much time to talk anymore, why not talk during their last moments.

“yeah,” y/n rolled her eyes, “the prison didn’t exactly have the best books, so i read a dictionary like five times.”

“you’re such a liar,” carl scoffed, shaking his head.

“you are being an imbecile,” y/n laughed softly, her hand twitching in carl’s, “that means stupid person.”

“if you had kids they would’ve been so damn annoying,” carl groaned as he readjusted himself against the wall, “so annoying.”

“your kids would’ve been losers,” y/n grinned, she could almost picture what his and enid’s kids would’ve looked like, “my kids would’ve kicked your kids asses.”

“i’d beat your kids asses then.”

“i’d beat your ass then.” y/n retorted.

the girl started to cough and when she pulled her hand away from her mouth, her hand was stained with red. the reality that one of them may turn before the other hit both of them in an instant.

“if i turn-“ y/n was interrupted by carl.

“stop it.” his voice was stern, but she could hear the pain in it.

“carl…” y/n sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, “it’s gonna be one of us.”

“let’s just talk more?” carl’s voice was weak and fragile, he almost sounded the same way he did when y/n first met him. like a little boy.

“sure,” y/n breathed out, nodding despite the action causing her to feel nauseous, “what do you wanna talk about?”

“would you have had kids?” carl asked. there wasn’t much he wanted to talk about, but it felt like there was almost too much to talk about.

“nah,” y/n’s laugh was wheezy, it burned her chest to even laugh, “i’m more of a cool aunt, don’t you think?”

“yeah, you are,” carl chuckled, nodding his head slowly.

“did you want kids?” y/n asked.

“not now, but… i think i would’ve liked to.” carl hummed after he spoke, almost like he was contemplating it. what a sad thing for a dying boy to think about the life he could’ve had.

“your kids would’ve been cool, i lied earlier,” y/n shrugged, “a dad with a cool hat ‘n eyepatch? you’re kidding me, they’d be awesome.”

“what happens when i have two kids and only one hat?” carl joked, a sad smile on his face.

“pick your favourite, i don’t know,” y/n grinned, but as she sat in silence for a few seconds her smile faded. her body felt weak to the point it ached to even exist, but she didn’t want to leave carl so soon. she didn’t want him to be alone.

“i wrote you a letter,” carl confessed, his head lowered again, “i wrote everyone letters actually, i wrote one for you too though… but i didn’t expect you to be here with me.”

“what’d it say?” carl’s heart broke at the sound of her voice. she clearly had very limited time left and it brought a tear to his eye.

“i wrote,” he sighed, his hand reaching up his hip, hovering over his gun, “what i wrote was.. i’m grateful to have grown up with you.. and that i hoped you never felt lonely again, even after i’m gone… i love you, y/n.. you’re my best friend.. i asked you to tell judith about mom, tyreese, glenn, beth and hershel…”

“hope you told someone else to do that..” y/n rasped out, chuckling slightly.

“we’ll see each other again.” carl pulled his gun out and rested it on his lap, his fingers twitching against the cool metal.

“in another life?” y/n whispered, her eyes shutting as her chest rose and fell for the last time.

“in another life.”

[beelsbignaturals]

🦂DEMON FORMS: ASMODEUS 💄

AN: Unfortunately, the concept of hypnosis is a major theme for my OCD so I can't really write him as creepy as I want to. Alas, I tried. Fucked up Asmo supremacy. also I was tryna keep this sfw in terms of *spicy* content bc thats for a different post hehehe. As always, feel free to check out my obey me world building tag for more demon headcanons and since con is over I can work on requests!

Inspiration for this part: literally everyone who has ever drawn Asmo with a scorpion tail like he DESERVES also @noecoded bc they have the BEST Asmo art ever. Also @princessasmosprincess has been such a major help in writing this! ily Michi 😘 thank u for letting me pick ur brain bby

TWs: Bugs (scorpions), mind manipulation, alcohol (part 4), vauge reference to nsfw stuff (part 3), demons being demons, body horror? Maybe?

● Level 1.5. you know, in the Percy Jackson books, how Aphrodite appears as whatever you think is most beautiful? Asmo is kinda like that. Not fully, but if you are more attracted to say, dark hair, he will have darker hair. (Cute note: if you fall in love with him for realsies, this stops happening, and you just see. Him.) Like Belphie, he is alot more… mental with how he freaks people out. Even without hypnotism, if he asks you to do something, you feel like you want to agree. Only Asmo can make you think taking out the garbage when it's his turn is YOUR idea. He glows under blacklights because… scorpion. His teeth look normal from a distance, but up close, you can see how sharp they are. His eyes shift through every possible color, changing each time he blinks. His pupils are heart shaped. He gets cold really easily and will make it everyone's problem.

"MC! I'm going to freeze to death, please, save me!" The overly dramatic Avatar of Lust drapes himself across your lap, intent of using you as a personal space heater. Nights in the Devildom just get so cold! His poor, beautiful heart can't handle the subzero temperatures! And of course the last argument between Levi and Mammon managed to complete destroy the heating system. So it's your solemn duty as Asmo's favorite human (don't tell Solomon) to keep him warm!

● Level 2. His nails get longer and sharper, and even when talking, it sounds like he's singing. If he actually starts singing, you will find yourself dancing or lulled into a false sense of security depending on the song. He actually caused the dancing plague this way! He is capable of using his carapace as a sort of natural corset, controlling each segment to give himself the desired silhouette. Somehow, Asmo is wonderful at knowing exactly what you desire. Not just in a sexual way, he can figure out your ambitions after one conversation. If he decides to talk to you, everything else will kind of...fade away. How can you focus on anything when his eyes fade from pink to purple to blue... What were you talking about again?

Asmo thought the house was empty, that it was safe for him to sing without consequence. Unfortunately, you came home early, which led to the awkward incident where you began dancing the moment you walked inside. At first, you thought you were hit by some curse, screaming in surprise as your body moves on its own. Hearing your shrieks, Asmo rushes downstairs, fussing over you. Luckily, you weren't under his spell long, so when he stopped singing, you stopped dancing. He was very apologetic after that.

● Level 3. He grows several extra limbs on his sides. They are small little insect legs that are basically useless. He likes to annoy his brothers by tickling them with his weird lil bug arms. But otherwise, Asmo is EXTREMELY self conscious about them because bugs aren't stereotypically cute. He can keep his wings bc they are cute. BUT HE ALSO HAS A SCORPION TAIL. The stinger is heart-shaped. It's adorable. It also has venom capable of making you so horny you die! Which is... slightly less adorable.

It was quite the sight, seeing Asmo, shirtless with several small arachnid limbs, covered in a hard exoskeleton as he chases Satan around the house, claiming he needs to be less grumpy. Satan threw a pillow at his brother, causing you to laugh. Bad move. Now Asmo has locked his eyes on his next target. You.

● Level 4. You know how so many Greek monsters are giant creatures with the face of a beautiful woman? That's Asmo. He has the body of a scorpion-if a scorpion was the size of a horse - and face so gorgeous, you might cry or go blind. He sings so sweetly to lure in prey. Basically, he's a siren-scorpion monster from hell! He usually won't take this form because, honestly, he thinks it's ugly. So for the most part you are only going to see a scorpion with Asmo's face scuttling around if he is feeling particularly emotional. Like when he gets a little bit too tipsy and his insecurities plague his mind.

It was rare Asmo would get properly drunk. At least the type of drunk where he is miserable. Usually it's a very... drunk girl in the club bathroom who just LOOOVES your shoes and wants to know who did your eyelash extensions 🥺 sort of energy. So hearing straight up wailing from his room after a long night at the Fall was...unexpected. What was even more surprising, was what you found when you opened his door to try and comfort the demon. A large scorpion with the head of the Avatar of Lust, standing in front of a broken mirror with mascara streaming down his face. You only hesitate a moment before making your presence known. Asmo starts to cry more, sobbing about how terrible he feels having you see him like this. In the form that he considers the definition of ugly. You are quick to reassure him, naming each thing you find beautiful about his more demonic looking self. Like the way his armored body catches the light, reflecting rainbows across each segment. Or how his stinger is heart shaped. Or the fact that even without proper hands, his hair and makeup is still flawless. Aside from minor damage due to his tears. Soon enough, you have a giant scorpion sleeping on your lap like an overgrown cat. You decide not to mention it in the morning.

[reyolfx]

wrote a kinda horny little ficlet last night when i was sad and just wanted to read about destiel making out but then it ended up just being like, dean thinks he's really really great in bed but can't stop embarrassing himself actually.

(it's not really explicit? like it mostly skips over the act but i'd say it's mature for sure)

this can take place whenever the fuck you want it to. it's the aftermath of a very well-received confession heh. timeline whatever, choose your fighter (season). overuse of the word fuck, probably.

***

Dean lays a hand almost hesitantly against Cas's jaw. Meets his eyes. They're fuckin' glittering. Dean has never once in his life looked at a pair of eyes on another person and thought "hey these eyes are glittering". It's stupid. But that's how Cas is looking at him. Like Dean is a galaxy or something, reflected back at himself. Crazy.

The other quality to Cas's eyes is that of fucking do it already.

So Dean does it.

He crashes his mouth into Cas's and—

Shit, he really did crash them.

Blood blooms in his mouth and he jerks backwards.

"Fuck, dammit Cas!"

"Dammit Cas?" Cas says, face wildly unimpressed. "You slam your face into my teeth and it's somehow my fault?" He's glaring at Dean. He's glaring at Dean and then he's coming back in and Dean thinks hell yeah, redo, but also still kinda bleeding here.

But Cas just...

Hovers his mouth over Dean's. Lips parted, breathing hot air over Dean's mouth— this close, but not closing the distance.

This sting in Dean's lip fades out. He swallows blood, and no new blood replaces it.

"Did you just heal me with your breath, Cas?" His breath hitches ironically, stupidly.

"Dean. My patience is wearing thin."

He's glad his split lip is gone, cause he grins wide, then does his best to school it. He's got a mission.

Dean knows he's a good kisser. Sue him for getting a little too enthusiastic that first attempt. In his defense, the build-up's been bizarre and intense for over a decade.

This time he does it right. His hands return to grip Cas's jaw, firm and gentle. He walks them back two steps to press Cas into the wall, and— there.

His lips on Cas's. Cas's lips on his. Holy shit.

Dean's gonna lose his reputation as a good kisser. Cas is gonna wonder what the fuck all the fuss is about. Maybe he'll even start missing Meg.

Cause god, Dean's hit with a wave of overwhelming heat. It's pleasure and it's love and it's rightness and home and anticipation and he can barely—

He pulls back, fuckin' embarrassed honestly, but he rests his forehead against Cas's temple and breathes, deep and unsteady.

"Jesus christ, pal."

Cas sighs but sets his impatience on the backburner for a while. Lets it simmer. His hands come up to Dean's waist and, whoa— slip under Dean's shirt. He runs his fingers up and down Dean's sides.

"Are you okay Dean?" He sounds annoyed, the asshole, but also like he loves him.

Dean doesn't know how he's recognizing that right now. It's so new it's still got the tags on it. But then, he supposes, no, it's not.

"You love me, Cas?" He asks, just double checking, wanting to hear it again.

Cas sadly removes his warm hands from Dean's skin, but then uses them to guide Dean's face, make their eyes meet.

"Dean. I love you."

And Dean let's out a shaky laugh, gets the words ready on their launchpad.

He doesn't get them out because Cas closes the distance between their mouths.

And there, finally, that's it. Dean feels that same wave of everything, but it's cresting with desire this time, cause Cas's tongue is already in his mouth. It's slow and hot against his own and fuck fuck fuck. Dean's 40 fucking years old. He shouldn't be moaning from a kiss but—

"God, Cas." His knees feel like fuckin' jello. Heat courses through his body and he kisses back, slow and languid, like they have forever. Somehow Dean's still the one pressing Cas into the wall even though he feels like he lost control of this situation a while ago, is just along for the ride now. But he does decide—

He shifts his hips over an inch, raises his thigh a bit, just there, between Cas's.

He's very suddenly no longer in a control position. Cas has him on his back on the bed in a second flat and he's descending on him.

"Wait wait wait, Cas." He's gotta get it out now while he still has any brain power at all. The words are eager on his tongue. Practically clawing their way out behind his teeth. Cas is looming over him, knees on either side of Dean's hips, looking for all the world like Dean's just interrupted him in the middle of his favourite hobby, and Dean says, "I- you know I love you too, right?"

"Yes," Cas says simply, but his eyes do that stupid glittery thing even harder than they did before. Dean swears for a second they look wet. Only a second, though, because then Cas is on him again. Their mouths slotted together, lips moving against each other. It's warm and feels like fuckin' syrup and god, how's Dean gonna get anything done after this?

Cas is just gonna be here? Available to kiss him into his memory foam whenever they want?

Fuck, he wants.

And maybe this first time doesn't go super smoothly. Dean swears he's known as a stud in bed, swears it, but give him a break. It's all new and different and it's Cas, and it's love. So maybe it's a bit clumsy, but mostly it's just too quick, because Cas looks so insanely turned on that his eyes glow a little. He bites Dean's earlobe, then the skin beneath Dean's tattoo and he says, one hand in Dean's hair while his hips grind Dean further into the bed, "you don't know Dean. You don't know."

But Dean's pretty sure he does know cause that's when he comes. At just the suggestion that Cas loves him, wants him so badly that he doesn't even think Dean will get it. Dean's never had a love so big directed at him; always been the one with the big, insane feeling love flowing outwards. It feels scary but also, maybe, deep, deep down, like he's finally getting return. And maybe like he can keep it. It's unbelievable.

Soppy shit aside, he comes after like five minutes. Throws an arm over his eyes and groans.

"Are you embarrassed?" Cas asks, seeing right through him, still ever so slightly rocking into Dean's hip cause Cas didn't come after five fucking minutes.

"Yes, you dick," Dean gripes. "It's a one off. Gimme thirty seconds to pick my ego out of the grave you just dug it and I'll make it up to you."

Cas hums a little, sounding a bit too self-satisfied for Dean's liking. So Dean removes his defensive arm from his eyes to glare at the bastard.

Cas is staring at him, kinda smirking, but with so much adoration in his eyes that it makes Dean's mouth go dry and his stomach swoop down into his knees. He clears his throat a little.

"Alright I'm good. Lay on your back, Cas, gonna try something."

[solkteaa]

Hello! I saw in one of your posts you were wanting headcanons, so here's some of mine :]

Pearl x Marina-

Not much of a headcanon, since it is somewhat cannon but Pearl and Marina are so gay for each other they always are thinking about each other and with any chance they get, they will talk about the other, this mostly applies to Pearl. I also think that Pearl would totally think she is the "one with the pants" in the relationship, but shes really just a big ol simp for Marina and will do anything for her

Agent 8-

I have a headcanon of them being mute, since in game they dont talk anyways, I also headcannon them having a kinda shyish personality

Captain 3/Agent 3-

They have grown cold and have PTSD from everything they've seen. When they first became an agent in splatoon 1 they always dreamt of being Captain, but after everything they've experienced they don't feel the joy of helping others that they used to feel when they were younger

Thats about all I have, hope this helped!

Try not to die, Agent 3!

[This took so long bc of school, it's literally the first week and I'm already being slapped in the face with piles of work. I also rushed this as well when I worked on it especially at the end, it's definitely not my best work. I used the captain headcannon for tgis btw]

Sometimes the people forget the Captain joined the New Squidbreak Splatoon when they where a child. At times Captain wonders if they even one hundred percent consented in the first place. Cuttlefish did basically just point at them and say "you're Agent 3 of the Squidbreak Splatoon, you have to save the Great Zapfish. Try not to die, kid!"

Agent 3 was sat on the ground criss cross, as they listened to whatever this old man had to say. They really did just zone out mid way when after he pointed out that all they were doing was saving the Zapfish. Three figured it was like turf war, it was easy enough. What's the point of listening?

Worse mistake ever.

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

"Not too bad, kid."

Agent 3 had made it through the kettle unscathed so far, besides stepping in octarian ink a few times. A burning sensation, shot through their shoulder, sickly magenta ink connecting with the suit's armor. Getting hit with ink didn't cause pain? In turf wars it was a dull thud at most. Getting splatted was fast and painless, you couldn't feel anything but slight annoyance.

Agent 3 shifted into squid form, (more like fell to the ground and pathetically coward in their ink) and snuck around to hide behind a box to nurse their injury.

"Agent 3? You alright?" Cuttlefish'e voice crackled through the headset. Three let out a grunt and nodded, could he even see them nod?, "Be careful, I would hate for you to be splatted on your first mission."

The pain faded fast but it was a rude awake up call that this wasn't Turf War. This wasn't where the worse punishment you can get is your rank lowering or angry teammates yelling at you.

Eventually they gained enough confidence to continue on. The rest of the kettle goes on with shots grazing their body, or narrowly avoiding getting splatted. Three felt a bit dazed as they staggered back with the Mini Zapfish in their hand.

The moment Agent 3 spotted Captain Cuttlefish again. "Why did it hurt? It's not like that in Turf War."

"You weren't listening, were you?" Agent 3 shook their head with a nervous grin, knowing that he was probably disappointed.

He cleared his throat before beginning, "weapons like the Hero Shot or octotrooper vehicles-" Cuttlefish pointed to the gun in Agent 3's hand with his cane, "don't have the same safety limits as the ones back in Inkopolis. Weapons in turf are for inking, the ones that you have is for powering through enemies with higher pressure and bigger damage. They are made for actual war."

Agent 3 look down at the Hero Shot in their hands, well that explained a lot. "So getting splatted is extra painful here?" Agent 3 was hoping Captain Cuttlefish would reassure them that everything would be fine. He did not.

"Octo Valley, even with the Great Zapfish, barely has enough energy. To get troops and checkpoints running it takes lots of juice. Our own respawns are even harder to wire up without the Great Zapfish."

His expression suddenly dimmed, "Three, if you get splatted three times in a kettle. It's over. You die and there's no bringing you back."

"oh."

"But I'm sure you'll be fine! Just don't get splatted!" Captain Cuttlefish pats Agent 3 on the shoulder to reassure them, though it was a little too late now. The warmth of the Mini Zapfish in their hands did nothing to warm the feeling of cold fear in their heart, nor did the Captain's words of 'encouragement.'

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

After that Agent 3 experience as an agent wasn't as bad as they thought it would be. Muscle memory and habits built in the kettles transfered to turf. Eventually, Agent 3 started to take pride in their role of the New Squidbreak Splatoon. If it wasn't for the fact the NSBS was supposed to be a secret to the public, they'd probably be rubbing it in everyone's face about now. It's the fact that they were contributing to something so much bigger than them that they loved so much about the job. I mean- imagine being the captain one day- that's a even bigger deal! Before this they were was just a pathetic wannabe Dj with decent turf skills, now they're actually doing something with their life! (Unlike their hygiene.)

But then deep sea metro happened. For some reason, something switched. They weren't exactly outgoing but they were definitely more playful. Now it was like they were more mellowed out. Everyone noticed, at first they thought maybe they were just maturing, but then they started talking less and less. Not to mention, they started becoming less passionate about being an agent.

Eventually Craig had to retire, I mean, he was over a hundred years old. The role would've naturally gone to Agent 1 or 2 but they had they're careers as the Squid Sisters to worry about already. Agent 3 was second with the most experience. Honestly, they would've probably declined if it wasn't for the fact they were the best fitted for the job. They probably wasn't the best choice anyways as in they didn't have the same spark as they used to, but someone had to do it.

They kinda wish they would've stuck to music. Honestly the whole 'being a agent is the best' thing was probably because they were young and loved adrenaline, but when your 23 and spent majority of your teen years saving the world from people or AI that wants to destroy the world, you get tired of it. Three just didn't find joy in the work anymore.

Hopefully the new agent doesn't end up like them, as well.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

antiophobia

Din Djarin x F!Reader (22+)

antiophobia: n. the fear one sometimes experiences when leaving a loved one, a sudden wondering if whatever paltry goodbye left at the end would have to serve as your final farewell. Is this yours and Din's?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Descriptions of back injuries, panic, injury recovery, angst angst angst, hurt/comfort, Daddy kink, this is kinda heavy so you may wanna wait for the right headspace to read

Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ezrasbirdie I LOVE YOU SO SO SO SO MANY!! Here is your possessive growly daddy din with a huge serving of angst and hurt/comfort, just like u ordered <3

The longest he'd been gone before now had been four days. Even then, he'd typically had comms open to you, the majority of his time being spent in wait while he'd been gone—always in the same general area, however, and well within range to help you with whatever ailed you, even if you were just unable to sleep.

It's been six days.

Six days, and two days ago you started napping to pass the time a little faster. It only hurt more when you'd wake up and find that the dream you'd woken from had been just that. The feeling of his hands on your body again, his lips on yours, the warmth of his body, erased into the ambient coolness within the bunk. At least it smelled like him, but that was fading, too.

Six days, and you haven't gotten a single message from him besides the daily lifebeacon alerting you that his vitals were still operating as normal. It was an unconscious system, one that he received as well, when he was out in the field. His readout, you were certain, was more detailed and possibly came in much more frequently, but the only thing you received for the last six days was a perfunctory:

VITALS NORMAL.

You traced the swoops and turns of the Aurebesh on the monitor, the previous days' communications reading just the same. On another monitor, a red warning flashed but no sound came: incoming ground activity. The planet you were on had a deep system of volcanic fissures, making the surface near-inhospitable if you weren't within the boundaries of the energy shields. The daily rumbles and quakes were rote by this point, and you were certain you wouldn't even feel them if you were left here alone any longer.

Still, you braced against the copilot's chair with a vacant expression on your face, a tired sigh leaving your lips.

You wondered, not for the first time (not for the hundredth time, even) if you could play this off as an emergency, and try to hail Din on the end of the line.

Emergencies only, sweetheart.

His voice was a reminder, a personal admonishment. This job was different than the others before, and required a bit more stealth than he normally had to deal with. Those three words were all he left you with before the ramp had sealed the hot air out of the hull where you stood.

Sweetheart. He'd called you sweetheart. You weren't annoyed by the name, actually enjoyed all his names, but it wasn't what would have soothed you best upon his departure. Cyare, you would have preferred. Cyar'ika, even. That meant sweetheart, anyway. Why wouldn't he just say that?

He could have called you babygirl—

You shook your head at that line of thinking and stood up from the settling quake, rubbing a little at the small bruise on your forehead. The quakes had taken some time to get used to, and you'd found yourself as clumsy as you were at the start of your journeys with Din. Little bruises and sore spots had bloomed on your body, covering up (replacing) the marks of passion he'd left you with the night before his departure. It saddened you to think about for too long, so you'd treated the quakes as the only company you were permitted while waiting for Din to return.

You made it to the ladder headed down from the cockpit to the cargo deck, intending to reorganize something you'd already rearranged a million times, when—

The aftershock hit.

You'd done some research about groundquakes here and there, and as your foot slipped from the rung you'd stepped on a thousand times before, you recalled that the true danger lay in the moment of peace between the first quake and its aftershocks. This false sense of security, mixed with your lethargy about being alone out in the docking bay while Din was gone, had caused your literal downfall.

It was maybe a ten-foot drop, and with the ladder only being secured to the wall, and nothing else surrounding it, you had no hand-holds to slow your fall, just your clumsy feet scrambling against the rungs, pingpingpingping—

And then it was black.

Pain woke you, as you had expected it would in those half-a-thousand micro-thoughts that rushed through your mind between impact and unconsciousness. Your eyes swam, blinking against lights that were too bright, moved too much. You felt sick, nausea warring with the pain lancing up your spine. A soft whine fought to leave your lips, but the pressure on your diaphragm refused to let you vocalize your hurt.

Your head lolled sideways, trying to get a gauge on what happened, where you were, but your mind was sluggish and pulled in every direction but the answers you sought. Your shoulders wanted to curl inward to protect you, but you knew it might worsen whatever injuries you'd sustained. Your mind drifted into a fuzzy halfway point, where words and names bubbled up on your tongue that you forced yourself to swallow back down.

Tears had been streaming silently into your ears, making you shiver at the sensation. Fear gripped you tightly in its fist, and that paralysis was more comforting than the idea of actual paralysis. What if you'd broken your back or your neck and you became a burden again just when things were going well and Daddy wouldn't want you anymore—

You sucked in a breath and blew out a half-sob to the hatch at the top of the ladder. Stay big, stay big, if you don't stay big you'll die and if you die Daddy won't—

"No," you mumbled, your voice weak and almost inaudible.

Finger by finger you tested your nerves and sensation, gritting your teeth and ignoring the low whine that slipped between the gaps. Pain pounded your brain into a low throbbing mush, and you had to close your eyes to keep from watching the room spin around in front of you. But you could twitch your fingers and rotate your foot, your legs.

You could reach up and call. Press the emergency line. The specs are still on.

You liked to work with your hands, and hated toting a datapad around for reference while you worked. Din had splashed out a few months back, converting your prescription lenses into a HUD like his own, though with much less combat settings. You could control it by the movements of your eyes, you could access the comm channel right now if you just opened your eyes.

I just need to hear his voice. He can ground me back into big space.

You shook your head a little, gasping at the infernal pain that flooded your spine. It wasn't broken, thankfully, but you didn't think you could get up on your own, even to the 'fresher. No, calling Din would be a mistake. This was an accident, your own stupidity and carelessness leading to you immobile on the floor.

You had to get up. If Din came back now and saw you like this, he'd never get the image out of his head. You couldn't do that to him. But you still couldn't tell which way was up, you couldn't even be sure that you had moved your fingers and toes, you couldn't tilt your head downward without screaming pain overtaking you.

You knew you weren't bleeding, thankfully. You would have smelled that. Though, even the ambient scent of the crate that sat too close to your head was nauseating. You'd had migraines on and off for most of your adult life, and Din did his best to accommodate you, but the fact was that you still felt great shame in having to deal with them. You didn't want to be too much, didn't want him to have any more justification to abandon you at the next outpost—

Maybe that was why he hadn't come back in so long. You'd been wearing this ship down to its chassis, the both of you complaining about its awkward layout and terrible maneuverability since you got it. He'd been looking for a larger ship he could outfit with more offensive upgrades, but the focus had been on comfort, on space.

He wouldn't need more space if you weren't here.

Another hiccuping sob tore from your lips, the tears falling hotter and hotter as you tried to stop them.

He'd never been gone more than four days, and even on those missions, he would be in constant communication from the second he stepped off the ship. He hadn't said a word to you since disembarking. Was he even on-world? Were you just too pathetic to see that he'd stranded you on this hellish planet, alone?

Your breath hitched around another sob, breath coming faster and faster as a panic attack crept up badly on you. Your voice pitched higher, and you knew you were rocketing into a headspace you shouldn't be in alone.

Only Daddy knows how to fix it.

Daddy's not here anymore. You're alone. He left you.

No, I can wait, I can be patient…

You can't even climb down a ladder. You used up the last of the painkillers and stretched him too thin, he'd said he shouldn't have even taken this job. You pushed him. This is your fault, and now he's gone.

I can call him, he said only emergencies, and this—

You think you're worth an emergency to him? You're worth distracting him from his mission, from his job? It's like you're asking to prolong your suffering, his suffering too.

"No…" you croaked again, fully crying now. The small lights blinking above you didn't answer, only stoically watched as you collapsed like a dying star.

And like a dying star, a black hole welcomed you once more.

"…cyar'ika, come on, answer me…"

The voice was worried when it woke you. You felt it inside your head, and for a moment, you wrote it off as just another dream. Another dream where he wasn't there. You just wanted to wake up, already miserable and in pain.

"I hear you moving, can you hear me? Can you respond?"

"Just let me wake up," you mumbled past dry, cracked lips.

A noise of panicked relief, if there was such a thing. "Baby, you scared me. I got the fall alert on my comm, it said you fell and weren't moving."

You frowned. This was oddly-specific, for a dream.

"Huh?"

"Did you fall? Or did you drop the specs?"

You opened your eyes, catching the ticker-banner at the top indicating an open comm line. What?!

"I'm on the ground," you said dully. "Where're you?"

"I'm in the city still, do you need me to—?"

"No!" you said vehemently. "No, don't. I'm fine, I'm just. I just slipped, and—"

"Babygirl, don't lie to me," he warned. You gulped, your mind swimming into darker, but warmer, depths. You couldn't handle hearing him speak like that right now. You were already so close to breaking. But he didn't know that.

Your voice trembled. "I'm okay," you tried one last time to fight your need to ask for help, for comfort. Your spine and jaw screamed at you, and you only hoped he couldn't hear you grinding your teeth to keep quiet against the pain.

"Are you on the ship? Comm says—"

"In the hull, Da—Din."

"In the hull, okay." His breath had caught in his throat for a second, and normally you loved hearing every small nuance over the comm, especially when he was getting you off over the line, but now, it only served to make you feel worse. He was affected, and if he was affected he was distracted, and if you were distracting him you were a burden and— "Are you hurt?"

You didn't want to lie again. You stayed quiet, lip wobbling as you reached for him through the connection. You heard him breathing softly, like he was listening for you just as hard as you were listening for him.

"Can you move?"

"I don't know," you choked out, shaking a little as a sob clawed its way up your throat.

He stifled a gasp for a moment. "Are you bleeding? How long have you been there? The alert came through five minutes ago but—"

"No blood. I don't, it's been six days, I don't—"

A weak noise you didn't want to hear him make. Was it regret? Remorse? Not that he'd left you, but that you couldn't be left alone. "I'm so sorry, babygirl. Wh-where does it—?"

"Daddy," you wept, feeling cold and afraid. You couldn't open your eyes, couldn't do anything but break down and cry.

"B-baby, I need you to. I need you to talk to me, I can't hear you very well, please-please talk to me…" You'd never heard his voice like this; soft and intense and urgent, but trying to be gentle all the same.

You sniffled. "Okay," you pouted, trying to steel yourself and ground yourself enough (ha!) to do as he says.

"I'm going to walk you through a checklist, and I want you to tell me what you're feeling as we go, okay?" his voice wasn't shaky like yours, and you couldn't even feel that shame and fear anymore, you had this lifeline keeping you conscious. At your pathetic hum, he cleared his throat. "Let's start with your feet. Are they warm or cold?"

"They're not anything."

A panicked kind of noise.

"I can feel them though. My whole body is throbbing. Hurts."

"Ohh okay. Okay. Okay okay okay. Thank the stars, okay. You feel them. Focus on your ankles, your ankles and your shins. Is there anything that stands out here that you can't relax around?"

"No, not there."

"Good job, babygirl. You're doing so good for me. Smart girl. Move to your knees. Do they feel lined up right? Tense your thighs a few times, for me."

You pulsed your muscles as directed, but felt nothing more than the full-body ache you couldn't pinpoint. "My knees are okay. I think it's—"

"We gotta go in order, babygirl. When you moved your thighs just now, did it hurt anywhere on your legs? Is anything getting very hot or very cold?" You refocused yourself, letting his voice drift like soft touches up your body.

"No."

"Good. That's good. Now see if you can roll one leg side to side, then the other. Like they're big logs. Stop if you can't."

Moving in general hurt, but focusing your attention on one part of your body helped to lessen the pain, and your panic as well. Your legs rolled left and right, then stopped. "I did it."

"Great. Now if you can, do the same motion on your butt, roll your whole lower body back and forth but just from your hips down. Can you do that?"

You wanted to be able to do everything he asked of you, if not because you liked pleasing him, then to prove you weren't completely inept. Wiggling like this, you felt pain flare up elsewhere, but it wasn't in your hips. You relayed this to him.

"Okay, baby, make sure you're breathing. Breathe in for me, just a little. Good. Hold it, and out. Breathe in a little deeper? Hooold it, and out. How did that feel?"

"Fine."

"Perfect. You're being so good for me right now. Such a good girl. I'm proud of you. This is really scary, huh?"

"Yeah…" you whimpered, lip wobbling again. Before your traitorous mind could continue spiraling, he picked up his list again.

"Okay, baby. Let's think about your belly. Not your back. Your belly. Can you take a deep breath and try to fill it up as far as you can? How big can you get your tummy?"

Doing this made you whine in discomfort, but you were focusing only on your tummy.

"That sounds like it hurt, where'd it hurt? What'd it feel like?"

"Not good," you sniffled. "M'sorry, Daddy." More tears fell.

"No, no, no, don't worry about Daddy right now. Did your tummy hurt? Or was it your back?"

"Not my tummy. Back."

"Alright. Thank you for being honest with me, I know it's hard and you're very sad right now. I—" His voice cut off for a moment, and part of you that wasn't at the controls assumed he was muting himself and letting his distress be voiced so he could be calm for you. "Please don't apologize. Just listen to me. What about your chest. Is anything hurting in your chest? Your collarbones? Think slow, babygirl. Keep breathing and notice the small things, like Daddy does."

You lay there and breathed in and out in time with his exaggerated breaths, concentrating on making concentric circles outward from your breastbone until they hit the tops of your shoulders. "It aches a little, like I coughed too much," you whispered.

"You probably got the breath knocked out of you. You do that to Daddy sometimes, you're so pretty when you smile it makes Daddy's chest ache." He sounded so sweet, and you wanted to keep hearing him talk like that, but he wasn't finished. "Let's skip the back for a second. Tell me about your shoulders and your elbows."

"…they're okay."

"Roll them like you did for your legs."

"I did it."

"Can you make a fist for me? One finger at a time. Start with your pinky." You grunted when you made a fist. They were weak, but you could do it. "Can you knock on the ground so I can hear it?" You managed to thump both fists three times, but it was exhausting. "Great job, baby! Great job. I love you so much, you know that? I'm so proud of you for listening, I knew you could do it. You're very brave, my brave girl."

You couldn't help the weeping that inspired, despair slicing at the tender moment. He called your name a few more times before murmuring, "baby, cyar'ika, sweetheart, babygirl it's me, shh, shh it's alright…"

"Daddy, I'm scared."

"I know, I know you are. Daddy's scared too, he just wants to get there and be with his baby. Been scared since I stepped off the ship."

"Why?"

That question gave him pause, like he hadn't expected you to answer, and he also hadn't expected the truth that came first to his mind.

"…I'm scared every time you're away from me. I want to keep you safe and protected. I know you thought I was being silly when I said no to you staying planetside at the Palace, but I can't… I can't be that far from you anymore. And I know you're on the ship when I go, but… if I can't see you with my own eyes, I'll never be sure."

"And n-now I'm—"

"No, baby no!" he cried, picking up his soothing tones as your cries grew more wretched. "We're almost done with the checklist, can you help me f-finish it together? Daddy's doing it too. Let's think about our neck. Can you move at all? Please only move an inch at a time."

You could move your head side to side, but you still didn't want to risk looking down. When no immediate pain came of the motion, he encouraged you to try looking down. You were totally surprised when you could! It still hurt, but you could move.

"How about your mid-back?"

"Hurts."

"I know, baby. My back hurts too. Can you squeeze your butt for me? Does anything hurt when you do that?"

"No…" you bit your lip. You knew you were honing in on the pain, and the hyper-focus on the sensations made you even more aware that you'd feel more of it when you thought about it.

"Alright baby. Let's take it slow. This is going to sound strange, but since you can move your legs, I want you to move one of them up in the air, inch by inch, and when it hurts too much that you can't go any higher, you tell me. Does that make sense, babygirl?" he sounded out of breath, and he kept muting himself when you spoke.

"I'm scared," you whispered. "Don't want it to hurt."

"I know, baby. And that's Daddy's fault, Daddy wants to know where it hurts and this will tell him. Are you ready? Good. I'm going to count to ten, really slow, and I want you to keep moving. When I get to ten, one of your legs should be straight up, okay? You tell me when it hurts too much, okay? It's going to be alright."

He started counting, and at seven, you cried out, dropping the leg back down to the floor with a loud thunk. You sucked in air, wheezing and whining as you shook from the acute pain.

Through it all, he murmured praise and soft noises of encouragement, but his voice was cracking and it sounded thick, wet with tears you didn't think he ever cried. "Easy, baby, easy now…"

"D-daddy, hurts…" you wailed, arms and hands shaking as you tried not to curl in a ball.

"It's okay, you're okay, please don't move, stay on the ground, breathe slower for me, babygirl, please breathe slower. Breathe with me." He had to steady himself with a catch-breath, but eventually you synced your breaths together. You just wanted his hands to soothe away the pain, you wanted him with you, you needed him there, you couldn't handle him leaving you, you couldn't— "Babygirl please breathe with me again, I'm right here, just close your eyes and imagine I'm right there with you, I'm going as fast as I can, I'm so sorry…" He was crying now, voice tight and almost strangled as he spoke.

He was still the only thing that kept you tethered to consciousness. He asked you questions about your neck and your head, but you could barely answer them through your hysterical cries. Eventually, your tears subsided to silence, shock setting in while he spoke to you. You didn't even register the things he was saying, just that he was promising something and asking for your patience and calling you his good girl.

Even in the darkness behind your eyelids, things swam around like you were underwater, and it sounded like he was oceans away as he repeatedly called your name. You felt nothing but sadness as even that drifted into silence.

The familiar sound of the ramp lowering down jolted you from unconsciousness. It's just another cruel dream, just a dream, keep resting…

Something dropped heavily to the ground, another quake, and another drop came by your body. Something touched your neck, pressing in and poking here and there before it rested firm and insistent to your pulse. You tried to twist away from the feeling, but another hand on your forehead stilled you.

Hand.

As you realized that, you felt a thumb brush hair off of your forehead, followed by a kiss to the skin. Something was familiar about it, something was… You whined and leaned into the touch again, but then the fingers on your neck and face were gone. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," a voice murmured, whispered in a cool breath near your nose. The voice was honey-sweet and low, almost a growl. You wanted more of that touch.

Something pulled your specs off, and you made a panicked noise of protest. If you didn't have your specs, you couldn't comm Din, and if you didn't have Din's voice on the comm, you'd— "Daddy," you croaked.

"I'm here, babygirl. I'm here. Right here. I'm so sorry. Keep your eyes closed a second. Shh, shh…" Something wet landed on your cheek, and a thumb brushed it away. Your mind still hadn't made the connection about whoever was there with you, only that you needed them more than anything. "Drink this for me, just a little."

Water dribbled into your mouth from a small dropper, just a little at a time to not choke you. It tasted like heaven, clean and pure as it washed away the taste of fear that had taken hold of your tongue like an oily film. A small pinch at your shoulder, followed by blooming warmth that took away the pain, came next. You let out a long sigh, feeling your muscles relax all at once.

"That's good. Nearly robbed a clinic for this. Suppose we don't need to resupply painkillers for a while."

You didn't laugh, because you felt so good you were crying again.

"Does something still hurt?" the voice asked. You shook your head, slow like he said. One inch at a time. Wait, who said? "I'm so fucking happy you can move your neck, baby," the voice choked out. "I'm going to roll you on your side and touch your back."

He didn't wait for confirmation, knowing you were flying high on whatever the hell he'd given you. The world shifted, and you found yourself facing the 'fresher, one arm flopped over your body while the other lay squished against the deck. Fingers played over your body like a musician and their instrument, poking softly, before going deeper and pushing a groan from your mouth. Some part of you didn't like that, but you were mostly offline.

You were put on your back again, and your head lolled over to the left, catching the sight of Din Djarin with his face in his hands, weeping quietly against his palms. You couldn't choose which emotion to feel first, panic at his open emotion, relief at his presence, concern at… this whole situation.

"Daddy," you slurred, pulling his attention to you again. His eyes were red, like he'd been crying for a long while before now. "Y'here?"

"I'm here, I'm here, I promise. I'm here. You're okay. I'm okay. I've got you. Never gonna leave you again. Never." He lays down beside you, taking your hand in his and kissing all over your knuckles. You closed your eyes and smiled, deciding on joy.

He didn't leave you, then.

Eventually, you both were able to get you standing, but that was cut short when he ordered you into the bunk, demanding you stay there while he took off and got you to a clinic where you could be checked out. You stared up at the top of the bunk, immobilized by whatever soft things he could provide for you as cushions. You followed his instructions numbly, staring up as he took off, getting into hyperspace after about an hour. You heard the carbonite chamber hiss once, and you assumed he'd gone to pick up the bounty before you left this volcanic hellscape in the dust.

You slept. You woke. Din was there with you, stripping you out of your clothes but only to do a full injury check, rolling you slowly and walking his fingers down your spine again to feel for anything he'd missed before, in his fervor. You let him touch you, drifting in and out of that drugged haze he kept you in.

You slept. You woke. He'd dressed you again, and you were on a hoverskiff with him standing at your side. It was too bright, and you frowned in confusion. A hand stroked your cheek and faded away. You couldn't even see him anymore when—

You slept. You woke. Something was humming softly to your side, your arm being jostled here and there. Someone spoke to you, and you didn't remember what answers you gave, because—

You slept. You woke. Empty room.

You slept. You woke. Someone asleep beside you, though from their slumped position, it hadn't been a willing slumber. You kept watch until you couldn't.

Eventually things made sense again. The sprain and spasm were handled in a bacta tank while you were out, and some part of you was uneasy about this fact. You didn't trust bacta as more than a pain reliever, didn't trust whatever healing it had done to you. You felt blind, your field of vision gone blurry around you without your specs.

You were brought out to a medical ship, an interplanetary transport. You always felt a presence, dark and looming, at your back. It never touched you, and you didn't even understand it until the door to your private room slid shut with a whir.

Din didn't remove his helmet, but he didn't approach you either. He stood in the opposite corner from you, still in that way you'd only ever seen him to be capable of. It made the small twitching of his fingers that much more noticeable. "Din," you said softly. It's the first thing you were aware of having spoken in a long time.

He nearly flinched, sucking in a breath like he'd forgotten you could speak. "Are you in pain?" he nearly barked.

You were confused, shaking your head slowly. Only a small ache, now. "What's going on? Why aren't we on the ship?"

"Too risky. Medical freighter is safer." His answers came clipped and to the point. "We'll be on Tatooine in a few hours."

"Are you planning on standing there the whole flight?" you said, crossing your arms. You didn't even have an IV port anymore, the painkillers unnecessary thanks to the rapid healing of the bacta. You itched over an elbow while you waited for his answer, though from his tapping fingertip against his thigh, you were leaning toward the affirmative.

"I should get you something to eat," he said abruptly, turning toward the door. Your heart leaped into your throat as you tried to call for him, but you knew it wouldn't do any good. It wasn't like you could stop him anyway.

When he returned, you'd moved yourself from the chair to the bed, and couldn't swing your legs up over the side. Your energy had been completely sapped from your body. He was holding a small tray with nutrient-rich, and delicious-smelling, food. This was an expensive flight, you could tell. He halted for a moment when he saw you like this, all lax and tired, but recovered quickly to help situate you into a better position. His touches were so quick and light, you weren't entirely sure he'd touched you at all.

"Will you lay down with me?" you asked tiredly after he helped you eat the meal. The ship was so solidly built, you hadn't realized you'd jumped to hyperspeed until you'd blinked and been shocked by the blue streaks screaming past the viewport.

"No," he said, but it was a struggle to get out. He never denied you that, even when you were nothing more than day-old acquaintances. But now, with your injury standing between you (in the place he'd put it) he would not risk your health, even if it were for your comfort.

"Back injuries aren't contagious, Din," you sighed, looking out the window with resignation. You'd been prepared (not really) for an abrupt abandonment, but this slow leaving, this extended breaking, it felt a billion times worse. There was no amount of bacta that could heal this wound.

He compromised and scooted his chair up to your bedside, taking your hand when you didn't protest his touch. "I'm glad you're safe."

It was a careful collection of words. It conveyed his relief at your healed state, and his acknowledgment of your hunger for his touch and presence. He said nothing else, which spoke volumes to the restraint he normally didn't keep around you. It felt like time moved backwards, like all those lapses in your memory and consciousness were indications of your jumps in the opposite direction.

"You don't seem to believe I'm actually safe," you said, calling his bluff.

He admitted to his cowardice in silence, and you let the tears fall just as quietly.

Tatooine was ever-moving and changing, but you were still. Technically, you and Din shared a room, but he slept on the low sofa at the other corner while you took up the bed that was five times too large for you. For all this distance, he kept true to his vow to never leave your side again. It was torturous, having him there but unable to let himself be with you.

It killed your confidence, and even when he saw you crying, he wouldn't so much as move his hand from your leg. You hadn't seen his face since he'd found you on the ship, the ship he said had been sold and paid to be demolished. He wouldn't let that cursed thing fly again.

You felt much the same.

"Do you even still love me?" you asked, after you'd stood and walked a lap around the room to get your body moving again.

"What?" he'd said, shocked. He'd been following you—hovering. "Of course I do!" he said, holding his hands out in supplication.

"You seem to hate even looking at me anymore. You can't stand being here."

"I'm here because I want to be!"

"To torture yourself with a mistake that wasn't even yours?" you shot back. The quick-turn to look at him had twinged a muscle in your back, and the fight had been paused for your pain, and near-forgotten when your tears had intervened at his impersonal comforts.

He'd slept in the bed with you that night, but he didn't touch you, even when you rolled over to put your hand on his shoulder and apologize. You knew he was awake. But he'd only acknowledged you with a small nod.

You attempted stairs again, eventually. Din was sitting closer to you, and you were glad for it, but you missed the shape of his hands in your skin. All signs of your injury were gone now. No bruises, hardly any mobility issues except before a large storm rolled in. He'd even let you see his face again. A selfish and mean part of you wanted you to believe that it was so he could school his expression into something that wasn't horror or disgust when he looked at you, but you never voiced that thought to him. At least he was kissing you.

Piece by piece—no, crumb by crumb, he gave you back pieces of the love you'd once shared together. You were starving for his affection and attention, and couldn't believe this was happening because of one stupid mistake. He countered your self-loathing with affirming words, but you missed his touch. You missed having his body in you, around you.

Fennec had suggested you work out your frustrations in the training center. While her major injury had been to her gut, a lot of the exercises she led you through were similar to the ones she practiced when she was still getting her strength back. She knew what you were going through, and all the frustrations that came with it. Din had been banished from your presence at least four hours a day, which you spent doing exercises for your flexibility, strength, and stamina. Your anger bled out of your skin and landed in the sweat beneath you, and confidence and self-assuredness replaced it.

When you were able to finally pin Fennec to the mat, you let yourself feel victory for just long enough to give her an opening to roll and pin you down beneath her. When your shoulders hit the mat, arms pinned above you, a moan caught in your throat.

That had been a problem, too. Din never wanted to aggravate your injuries, perceived and otherwise, but before he'd left you for that six-day job, he used to be almost feral in his need for your body beneath his, an unquenchable thirst for you that he never got enough of. Now, you didn't even hear him getting off in the 'fresher, like you'd resorted to doing. Your attraction to him hadn't waned even a little after you'd been injured, and even now, being pinned by the only person who knew exactly what you were physically capable of, you yearned for his body above yours. Fennec smirked, knowing exactly how the position and activity had affected you.

"Need to cut this short, sweetheart?" she asked in a teasing tone that made your face flare with heat. She released you after another moment of reveling in your embarrassment, and you took a shuddering breath. "I'll clean up here. Go."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Din was brooding in your room when you stormed in, nearly falling to the ground in your impatience with the fucking door. He looked up, surprised at your appearance. You cut him off before he could speak.

"I'm really surprised, you know." He looked even more bewildered. "I thought that you would have more faith in me. I thought you would encourage me, and be there with me at each step. But I guess I was right. You did abandon me. You didn't ever come back from that mission. The Din I knew was left behind on that lava planet, wasn't he?"

You expected him to return your venom with acceptance, but after a heart-skipping moment, he rose to his feet and quirked an eyebrow up at you. "You wanna tell me who you think you're talking to?"

His voice was low, and sexy, and full of the authority and guidance you'd been dying to have him give you again. But you couldn't submit now. You couldn't back down.

"Someone who said they would care for me, and about me, and do what was best for me. Someone who wanted to be my daddy until he breathed his last. Is that why you're so sullen? Did he die?"

He took a step forward. Even without his armor, he was broad and strong as mountains, arms coming to cross over his chest. The loose clothes everyone wore on Tatooine for comfort did not hide the hardness that lay beneath the linen.

"That's two," he said. "Do you want to get to three, or do you want to—"

"Fuck you."

His jaw worked side to side, eyes flaming hot as they shifted into the kind of dark that got you wetter than water. You felt that heat raking over your body as he looked you over, assessing your state as he weighed the punishment to the crime. You loved being his good girl, his sweetheart, but you had your moments of brattiness that he claimed were legendary.

And this was whatever step stood above legendary. This was dynastic, this was eternal, immemorial, this was opening a door to a devastating hurricane, this was the kind of behavior immortalized in religious texts and deeply-carved warnings set in statues commemorating casualties of disaster.

He moved.

In a flash, you were pulled in by the hand which had previously been on your hip, and your feet stumbled forward as he tugged you to him. Your hands were caught in one of his, and for your part, you did struggle. A little. His other hand shot up to your face, not in a slap, but a grip so quick that it made noise as he held you close. His own face wasn't even any distance from yours, his nose pressing into the apple of your cheek as he looked you in the eye and snarled.

"How deep do you want to dig this hole, babygirl? You wanna run your mouth some more?" The hand on your face released you, but only for a moment, snapping down to spank your ass once through the fabric of your training clothes. The slap jolted you, and instead of a cry of pain, brought out a whine of need. "Oh, I see. I see." He nodded, squeezing your cheeks and pouting your lips outward, so they brushed his mustache a little.

"Daddy," you whimpered.

"No, no, you seem to not want that anymore, you don't need someone to be your daddy anymore, huh?"

Your lip wobbled as his words sunk into your heart like talons. He watched you like you were under observation in a lab, taking note of every flinch, every tremble, the heavy mist in your eyes. "D—"

"If a good girl wants something from her daddy, what does she do?"

"Asks," you whispered, the noise almost swallowed by his hot, vicious kiss.

"Asks, how?" he said, his voice getting even lower in that way that informed you just how fucked you were.

"Asks nicely."

"And what happens when good girls yell at her daddy?"

Your mouth didn't want to form the words, but he waited. You knew just how patient he could be. "Punish. They get punished."

"That's right. Even good girls get punished, even good girls make mistakes. Was yelling at Daddy a mistake?" he said, leaning back to watch you nod. You barely moved against the steel grip of his hand. Beskar, some part of your mind supplied. "Words."

"Yes, Daddy. I made a mistake."

"Now I have to make sure you don't make that mistake again."

But he didn't move, he didn't let you go. He didn't get right to it, he just looked at you. He took in your tears, took in your flushed face, the way you grasped his arm though you were still in his hold. He whispered your name gently, a question on his lips that didn't join the syllables.

You'd almost forgotten this part of it all. For all that Din was rough at the edges, almost aggressive in his passion for you, he always ensured that your comfort was his main priority. Even when he punished you, it was a means to the end which meant your happiness and security. He checked in often, almost to the point where he knew your body better than you. But it had been a while. Your body had changed, and you were once again at an advantage where you could hide things from him that he didn't recognize. So he needed your words now. He needed you to tell him he was okay.

"I want this," you said. He let the furor of the previous moment fall away, resting his forehead against yours in silent thanks. His eyes closed in surrender, gratitude radiant off of his heated skin, warmth he passed to you as he centered and grounded himself in your touch. You squeezed his arm and brought him back to you, and after blinking up at you once, twice, the domineering facade returned. Your stubborn one took her place as well, but you couldn't help the delighted smile on your mouth.

"We've got to sort this behavior out, little girl. I can't promise you'll like it."

"Guess we'll have to see," you snapped, and you didn't miss a moment of the shiver that zinged up his body. His cock wasn't fully hard, but you could feel just how excited he was getting, now that he could let himself be.

"Naughty."

He pulled you backward with him, sinking on to that damned sofa and pulling you across his lap. He had your shoulders and legs both fully on the furniture, alleviating any pressure on your back. But your mind wasn't on your back, it was on where his hand was pushing into the back of your shorts. They were stretchy, good for training, and great for what he wanted to do to you right this moment. He let out a deep growl at realizing you'd been training without any underwear, nothing but sweat between your skin and the shorts.

His thick fingers dove between your cheeks, hot and dangerous like the path of a match, moments from igniting. When he touched your asshole, you keened and bucked against him, but he wasn't done. His hand continued, rolling the waistband's edge down all around your circumference in his journey to—

"There she is. Been neglecting this pussy, haven't I? Fuck, you can hear how wet you get for me. Listen, naughty girl." As his fingers played with your soaked folds, you heard the squelching wet noises he wanted you to hear. You whined openly and rocked your hips. His knuckles were broad, spreading the fabric up and away from you far enough to pull his fingers back and slap your cunt playfully.

You cried out and shook. Just this bare amount of sensation was enough to get you excited, shaking and near climaxing though it had been just seconds. "Daddy—!" you cried out.

Seams popped and burst behind and against you as he tore his way out of your clothes from the inside, ferocious and possessive in every twitch of his fingers. When the cooler air of the room hit your scorching-hot pussy, you gasped and squirmed. He shut you up again with one thick finger pressing into your cunt, firm and steady in that way you'd missed so fucking badly. You let out a surprised shout of pleasure, hands scrabbling in their hold that Din still hadn't dropped.

"Let me take a look at you," he said, shamelessly grinding his dick up into your belly as you dangled just out of reach from your own pleasure. He sucked in a gasp and let it out in a low, slow moan. "Take me so good, always. Fuck, look at how wet you are, soaking my palm and we haven't even started."

"Need you," you whimpered, fighting the urge to rock back on that finger. He noted your good behavior and gave three deep, satisfying thrusts of his hand. You were near-crazed with need now, shivering when he pulled his fingers from you.

"Easy," he murmured, pulling his hand back and spanking you lightly. He was adamant about warming you up, not wanting to bruise you too greatly or damage the nerves of your ample backside. He loved you too much to deprive you of any of it, even for the sake of one pleasured night.

When he'd worked up a steady rhythm, you felt hot all over, your ass nearly glowing with heat and sensation. His commentary made it so much harder to bear, at least in the way you wanted to bear it.

You wanted to deserve being his good girl again. You wanted to be worthy of the praise he gave you. You wanted to prove to yourself that you were worth loving, worth coming back for. And Din wanted to prove much the same: he wanted to deserve your trust, wanted to have the honor of knowing you this way and protecting you how he needed to. He wanted you, all of you, and he wanted you to want him back.

The first real spank came down like lightning, stunning the breath right out of you. Muscle memory alone pulled a strangled, "One!" from your lips, and you felt him grind up against your tummy again.

A hand came down onto your back, steadying to keep you from squirming around too much. You kept your hands out in front of you, and he trusted you not to move them. Another spank. "Two!"

"Good girl," Din said. "You're going to be such a well-behaved little girl for me after this, aren't you? You're going to be so good for Daddy."

Slap! "Three, Daddy!"

When he got past six, he stopped, his hands shaking a little as he gathered himself. You almost looked over at him, but he had other plans, spreading your legs and hauling your body up so you could face him while he sat beneath you.

You saw the tears in his eyes. "Six for six days," he said in a broken voice. He'd been punishing himself, you realized. Punishing himself every day since he came back to you, until he'd been given permission to punish you again. He would have never asked you himself. Din was the kind to suffer in silence, quiet and spending every second dying in secret.

"Need you," you mumbled, rising up and pawing at his trousers. He helped you out, the both of you holding your breath until you sank down onto him, wrapped around him in every way you could be. You hid your face in his shoulder, and he did the same as he rolled your bodies together. The pleasure was secondary, now. The intimacy, the trust and forgiveness and gratitude, those came first. You felt yourself crying as you lifted your body up, and Din pulled you back to him with desperate hands.

You felt his shoulders shaking, your skin growing wet from his tears as you shook together, holding on while the rest fell away. You were bones again, bones or atoms or whatever tied you together. You had him, and he had you. What were six days to an eternity before his appearance? What were six days to the promise of forever?

"I love you," you cried, rolling your hips and taking him deeper, deeper. "I love you, I love you."

"Love you, love you so much, I—"

Your words became one, two hearts speaking in unison. They eventually fell away into silence, nothing but the touch of your bodies making any noise in the room. You gazed into his eyes, falling deeper and deeper in love with him and forgiving him the faults he let become rifts inside himself. He did the same with you, soothing the scars of subducted zones, past hurts rubbing against each other until one gave way.

There was no separating you now. There was no leaving, no abandoning, no doubt here. Even when you were apart, you knew that part of the other's soul remained with them. No, not part of their soul.

The entirety.

[c6jpg]

dainsleif quest

the lore drops. fucking impeccable. but also i feel edged the fuck on. like we learned a liiiiiiiitle but also get 10 thousand unanswered questions as well

that's pretty standard for dainsleif quests though ig

the quest itself. can we even call that a quest it was so anticlimatic ajkdfladjsf like just content-wise i think that genuinely might have been our worst dainsleif quest the lore was CARRYING this shit and all we got was more questions and it felt SO short

as an aside its also criminal how long apart these quests are bc i honestly already kinda forgot what happened in the previous one (caribert) and i had to like. really use my brain to remember the lore we got then

DAINSLEIF BROTHER????????????

just in general like. my mind was exploding when we were talking about the five sinners of khaenri'ah. i want to learn more about them so bad

"i'll tell you all you want to know" YOU'RE NOT TELLING US ENOUGH DAINSLEIF ELABORATE

WE DESERVED A PROPER DAINSLEIF VS ABYSS TWIN ANIMATED FIGHT CUTSCENE. HOW DARE YOU JUST FADE TO BLACK ARE YOU KIDDINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

ngl when we first saw caribert i actually thought this might be dainsleif's brother and i was like NOOOOOOOOOO THEY CAN'T NPC DAIN'S BRO

i just KNOWWW his brother is gonna be so sexy whenever they reveal him. sorry i had to say it. anyways.

caribert man... his whole deal honestly felt like a sidequest within the quest but that was sad :(

not to be a #scarastan but i was just thinking so hard about the parallels between caribert and scara, implanting vs removing oneself from the memories of the world. both doing it to bring comfort to others, even if futile. i'm not smart enough to expand on this but i'm sure yall know what i mean

anyways okay. so the loom of fate can weave ley lines, that name makes sense now. now can literally anybody please explain what the fuck yall want to do with it

honestly the twin reunion scene felt kinda. idk. flat? like i was more hyped about the abyss twin vs dainsleif part kadjlsflds (speaking of which the way dain clenched his fist lmaooooooo i was just thinking of that one arthur meme)

i do love the detail that the twins call each other by their canon names though

was kind of 🙄 when we got hit with the "yeah btw you won't remember any of this once we're out of here." okay plot convenience

actually is it even plot convenience? like literally what harm would there have been of the traveler remembering???? what are they gonna do???? the only actionable thing of substance we learned was that the loom of fate was completed which dainsleif should have figured out anyways since he got the eye taken from him????????

actually i think it was great that dainsleif got bamboozled though. dude has been carried by plot armor for too long

sea of flowers mention interesting (i have no thoughts on this just interesting esp since i'm pretty sure that's the place shown in the teyvat trailer)

so basically confirmed the heavenly principles are asleep/inactive for some reason. idr if it was explicitly mentioned before. i actually DID wonder why we didn't get some celestia nail action smiting after all the shit that happened in fontaine, a lot of people thought that was gonna happen too with the whole celestia is floating right over fontaine

and then we wake up and the quest just ends??? LET ME TALK TO DAIN HELLO

also like. why did dain want to confront the abyss twin again??? maybe it was mentioned in an earlier quest and if so i forgot but either way i don't understand wtf dain was up to by luring the abyss twin out

no literally that felt like half a quest

objectively i think that quest kinda sucked but i will forgive it solely because of the lore drops no matter how tiny they were and bc i did really like caribert's story

[esther-dot]

Do you think Sansa will get disfigured in her journey to North? I am not saying this have to be punishment to Sansa. Just that she had to face hurdles in going to North and it won't be easy ride. Other characters like Brienne and Myrcella get their face eaten/slashed by bad people who almost killed them. Could be possible that some people who try to abduct her can hurt her in some way. I just want her to be safe.

“I just want her to be safe.”

Me too, anon!

I'm not sure that I see the point in her suffering additional injury. She was brutally abused as a prisoner in KL:

After he was gone, Sansa sank back onto the rushes, staring at the wall until two of her bedmaids crept timidly into the chamber. "I will need hot water for my bath, please," she told them, "and perfume, and some powder to hide this bruise." The right side of her face was swollen and beginning to ache, but she knew Joffrey would want her to be beautiful. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

"Thank you, ser." Knowing that Joffrey would require her to attend the tourney in his honor, Sansa had taken special care with her face and clothes. She wore a gown of pale purple silk and a moonstone hair net that had been a gift from Joffrey. The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey's gifts as well. When they told him that Robb had been proclaimed King in the North, his rage had been a fearsome thing, and he had sent Ser Boros to beat her. (ACOK, Sansa I)

What could it mean? Should she take it to the queen to prove that she was being good? Nervously, she rubbed her stomach. The angry purple bruise Ser Meryn had given her had faded to an ugly yellow, but still hurt. His fist had been mailed when he hit her. It was her own fault. She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey. When she heard that the Imp had sent Lord Slynt to the Wall, she had forgotten herself and said, "I hope the Others get him." The king had not been pleased. (ACOK, Sansa II)

"Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."

Boros slammed a fist into Sansa's belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat. As he laid the flat of the blade across her thighs, she thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. Sansa screamed. Tears welled in her eyes. It will be over soon. She soon lost count of the blows.

"Enough," she heard the Hound rasp.

"No it isn't," the king replied. "Boros, make her naked."

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa's bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel. "Beat her bloody," Joffrey said, "we'll see how her brother fancies—" (ACOK, Sansa III)

Now that I think about it, the show did kinda minimize just how bad the situation was for her, and I wonder if that's why fans have a feeling that she will need to suffer more in the books? I understand you are not saying that, only, I can't help but feel that's an idea in the fandom that has kinda laid the groundwork for the expectation that she will be disfigured? I know other characters suffer injuries, but I haven’t seen something specific that made me believe it would happen to her.

In fact, I’ve thought looking so much like her mother would factor into her return to the North and talked about that in an ask about her hair and washing out the dye a few years ago:

She’s forced into the game, she’s been used by others to try to claim the North, so it seems like we need her to decide she will reveal herself in spite of her fears, she will play the game in spite of the danger, and, if she is to be QitN, I think she’ll be involved in taking it back. (link)

And I'd think her face would be important to establishing her identity as well. Perhaps I’m unduly optimistic, but I don’t worry about her making it safely to the North.

[khaicrafts]

They lived in an age where life seemed picture perfect through the photos posted on social media. It was easy to get a little envious of his classmates posting their highlight reels while he was busying every brain cell he had to work on his projects in the lab; his true passions that made it seem like he was missing out on life.

Little did he know, life was really just beginning. There was nothing on Instagram or Snapchat that could compare to his new surroundings in the camp inhabited by creatures of myth. Finding out that he kind of was one too via his divine blood?

"This is so epic," he whispered. Knelt in front of the statue of Hephaestus, the chalice of liquid held in his hands. The substance that would trigger his latent powers. That's right. He was going to get POWERS and he didn't have to hey bitten by some insect or...well. He may as well had been an orphan...bit he lacked Bruce Wayne's inheritance. He had that brilliance though.

The choice was clear. Mostly. Every other second that passed, he wondered if he should really be giving up to be here after he worked so hard to build himself. Then again, why live in the world mundane when he could be divine....

"It's like an elixir...it's gonna build strength. It's going to level me up..." He mumbled to himself. Then, he quickly guzzled down the ambrosia. It seemed fine at first until the world around him began to fade. He fell back until he hit the bed he'd once slept on those years in his group home. That twinge of seeing the other kids always leaving or actually being adopted. That...didn't matter anymore? Why was he even here and thinking about that? He was an adult now and actually doing well. He had his education. He had the lab at school. Which...

He noticed something on fire outside the bedroom window. Across the way, the familiar large structure of one of the school's labs was up in flames. How could he see the school from his old bedroom? Each wad on completely different sides of the country...

"You're so chained to your accomplishments. You pride your work over your heart." A fiery facsimile of the professor who guided him on his path to tech school spoke to him with an even tone, but he could hear the underlying aggression. "What's all that work for when you don't have a fami-"

"I've seen the Princess and the Frog, Mam." Khai interjected as he squinted at the figure. "I know how you're going to steer this conversation. Just because I value my work doesn't mean I can't find value in people or welcome them into my life. On my terms, I either fuck with them or I don't, vice versa but my mind, will always be my crown to show off. " Khai retorted. His boldness only led to the sudden combustion of himself. His glasses, cardigan and dark hair burned away, revealing his muscular physique, ash blonde hair, and his brown eyes now burning fiery orange; literally molten.

"This is my fate right? I'll use my brilliance to help guide the course of history. With great power cones great responsibility, I know this! And, yo? I've just noticed..." he looks down at his unharmed yet burning physique. "THE FIRE DOESN'T BOTHER ME ANYWAY." He belted before feeling the heat only intensify until finally the whole room erupted...

Only hours later did the son of Hephaestus find himself waking up in the bed of his cabin. It felt like a horrible hangover. He coughed, smoke escaping from between his lips as he smirked lazily.

"I always knew I was kinda fire, but damn. Hold up, did I just go Super Saiyan!?" the thought pinged in his mind as he recalled the color change of his hair. He bolted up and tried to get to his feet, only to fumble and realize how exhausted he truly still was while he faceplanted into the floor of his room.

"Not Super Saiyan enough..."

[cloudninetonine]

Writing this super late, my eyes hurt and my brain is clicking it’s protest. This is option A: Player gives in to the boys! Enjoy, or not

—

The shaky grip you held on Fi, tightened as a tear slid down your cheek. Your sheikah veins pulsed as your heart rate quickened, an uncomfortable, warm thrum ever present beneath your skin. It felt like mites were eating your lungs, demolishing the area that held your fragile breaths.

You finally cracked.

Your body slumped, eyes shining with despair. A sob broke through, and suddenly you were bawling.

You stumbled forward, only to be caught by Sky, his arms pressing you against his soft body, somehow warm despite the freezing rain.

Sweet stars he had no reason to be this good at hugs.

You helplessly pressed your face against his chest, your wails being swept away by the wind, or by the shushes of the fake sweet Skyloftian above you.

He slowly brought the two of you to the ground, putting a hand to the back of your skull to keep you close. A hand found its way to your back, a light, airy tingle in it. Hyrule pushed healing magic into you, the wondrous feeling loosening your muscles, causing you to go slack.

A dizzy spell reached you, your migraine hammering away at your mind, causing a pained whine to build in the depths of your throat. Hyrule’s other hand came to the base of your head, and the numb feeling that crashed over you hit immediately, washing away days of pain.

You were suddenly feeling… very tired…

As you were winking into unconsciousness, you briefly wondered how it could’ve ever ended up like this. You wondered if the Links, your Links, were still looking for you. You wondered how your dear mother would react to your sorry state, disappointed in your game heroes perhaps? Or maybe horrified? Probably both. You wondered where the Ganons were, the good ones, the ones you had… you had trusted… with… with your… life…

The world faded: one too many wide grins, a storm of black, then nothing.

—

You came to on a soft bed, warm silks and cottons pressed against you. Your eyesight flickered in the light, you sat up, feeling cold despite the cuddly room you found yourself in.

A hand pressed down on your chest, firm yet gentle. You were effortlessly pushed back down onto the bed, wiggling in protest along the way.

“Ah ah ah! You, my dear guide, have a fever. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay put.” An ever so slight posh accent, even and carried, light yet hardened. It was Warriors.

“We’re in the castle right now, where you will be nice, safe, and loved. Here, I’ll go fetch you some breakfast from that wild child.” The man stood, sword in hand (had he fallen so far over the deep end that he felt the need to keep an unsheathed sword around you?).

“Watch them, Legend.” Wait, Legend? Oh, right, this version didn’t have it out for you.

You found you would’ve much preferred it if he did.

“Are you alright (Name)? The rain seemed to have had quite the affect on you.” You looked up at the veteran, who leaned over you with a smile in his face, blue cap in his hands.

It just- it just looked so fucking wrong.

If you had it in you, you would’ve screamed, punched the man, broken the window and used the glass as a weapon- anything. But you were sick, and cold, and so very tired. And he was looking at you with so much sweetness, such kinda eyes that only a few months ago you would’ve killed to see.

“Cold.” Was all you could pitifully murmur. Legend’s smile widened. He reached to the end of your bed and grabbed a thick, puffy blanket that was hanging over the side.

“Anything for you, anything.”

—

I demand more other Legend, he would feel so wrong to the Player as OG Legend has made it very clear how he feels about Player, whereas other Legend would probably die for Player.

I’m honestly curious how OG Legend would react to such a version of himself, if he’d think Player was messing with witchcraft they shouldn’t have or that there was something more to the situation.

Anyway there’s your bad ending, they’ll probably escape later but shush, shower in the angst a little longer why don’t cha?

GOD THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING TOO I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH BB

Literally if you have more planned please send it my way, I would love to read more.

[sentientgopro]

Tomorrow marks one month since I cracked. 2 things have become very apparent over this time.

1: This is gonna be a long and hard year and a half before I can transition. The month has already felt wild, the disconnect between the change in mental state and actual, y'know, change, has been really jarring and will only get more so the more time passes with nothing changing.

2: Just how much I was wrong about at first and how much stuff there was under the surface. Sentences like "I don't feel dysphoria" and "I can easily be a guy for a while" spring to mind. lol. lmao even. It was only like a week and a half ago I was saying the name I think I like means nothing to me and is just a nice name and that itd probably stay that way until late into transition. But nope, I'm already kinda starting to feel that name. Atleast like 2 and a half years before I can actually start using it. Great.

For all the negatives, there's one thing that has persisted since day 3 and that is the permanent mood improvement. Not being able to transition till I can move out sucks, but it gives me something to look forward to, which it turns out I was in dire need of, with my only real reasons to live being reasons not to end it yet, as opposed to reasons why I should live. But I see it now. A happy future is very much within my grasp and I WILL make it happen. Being in a better mood has made it easier to get stuff done on a day to day basis, and getting stuff done makes me feel even better. I've been on an upward spiral that's doing pretty good at counteracting the downward spiral of increasing dysphoria.

That's more of a recap, and now that the dust has settled a bit for now and I haven't bren having as many big realisations about it, I've started thinking, "why now?" Its not like I didn't know about trans people. I've been involved in trans spaces for years, I've been having these kind of feelings for years too. What actually was it that truly set it off? Like, the true moment of understanding was my first scroll through r/egg_irl but what was it that compelled me to do that?

Idea one was my first real feeling of euphoria. I kinda knew what it was at the time, I just ignored it. A month or two prior to cracking, my hair was at the longest it had ever been (which is not long at all.) It was the first time that the bits of hair infront of my ears (normally just a short spike shape as part of my fade) was long enough to dangle on its own as opposed to being fully stuck to my head. Something about having dangling hair like that felt good. I knew why, I just ignored it. I wonder if that specific feeling had been a bit of an early kickstart into this realisation? Either way, I was told to get a haircut shortly after (theres a reason my hair never gets very long) so I didn't dwell on it.

The only other factor I can really think of that was different just before cracking was watching Gen V? In short, Gen V features a character who can switch between masc and fem in an instant. In my interpretation of the show, this doesn't inherently make them genderfluid, but the power serves as an exaggeration for presenting (so them being masc is comparable to boymoding.) When looked at from that perspective, their writing strongly reflects that of a trans character and it kinda hit a certain spot for me. But honestly, I really don't think that was the actual catalyst.

The only real conclusion I can draw from this is that there was no actual catalyst. For a fair few days before fully cracking, I felt something was off, and I knew exactly what it was and what was about to happen, even if I didn't admit it to myself. So I think my cracking must have been a very gradual thing with no real catalyst.

There was more I had to say here, but its a fairly different topic and got really long, Ill save it for its own post. This has perhaps been one of the wildest months of my life, and also one of the most normal. As much as I hate that nothing has really changed, the better understanding of myself Ive gotten has been massively benefical. Besides, knowing is half the battle and I'm pretty much there already.

[mortimer-writes-sometimes]

A Warm Feeling, Chapter 1

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Sans prepared another bone formation, even as he knew it was no use. He was tiring fast. He’d have no choice but to use his ‘special attack’ soon, and he and Frisk- or whatever monster Frisk had become- both knew what happened then.

“Pathetic.”

Well, that was new. Sans looked up, surprised. Frisk had stopped attacking, stopping to… to act? To talk? “Huh,” he replied, “Insults are new. Though I suppose shaking things up ‘round here is kinda your thing. Nice try, kid, but I ain’t really in the mood for chatting.”

As he expected, Frisk dodged the next attack like it was second nature. Instead of going back to attacking, though, they spoke again. “Is this really all you’ve got?” they asked, grinning tauntingly. “Come on, Sans. When did you stop fighting me like you have something to fight for? When did you stop caring?”

“Ouch, kid,” Sans said. “Cut me right to the bone with that one.” He didn’t give them time to respond as he launched his next onslaught of bullets, throwing Frisk against the floor by their Soul. Honestly, the taunting didn’t get to him that much. The kid was probably just fishing for a reaction, something that would make fighting him easier. If Sans gave it to them, there was no doubt it would be exploited over and over again. He wouldn’t give Frisk that satisfaction.

Frisk laughed as they rushed forward, their laughter cut off abruptly when a bone-shaped wall of bullets shot from the wall next to them and collided. They coughed as they pulled themselves off the floor, their grin just shy of manic as they locked eyes with Sans. “Have you ever wondered what happens when I’m done with you, trash bag?” they asked. Their gaze felt cold and sharp, like a predator sizing up their next kill. “Do you ever think about what I do after I’ve killed you?”

“I know what you do,” Sans replied, readying his final attack. “You kill Asgore. You kill Flowey. Then you Reset and start all over again. The survivors… the dead… they don’t remember a thing.” He chuckled, though he didn’t really find it all that funny. “At least,” he corrected, “Most of them don’t.”

“Survivors?” Frisk’s grin stretched wider. “What makes you think I would leave any survivors?”

The floor beneath Sans’s feet suddenly felt uneven, like it was curving downwards. He hesitated, and the hesitation nearly cost him the fight early. Before he could blink (and thank goodness he had no reason to) Frisk was on him, swiping out with their knife. Sans side-stepped at the last moment, and- yeah, there was definitely something wrong with the floor. His footing was uneven, as if the floor had give to it. He lost his balance, tripping over the suddenly unfamiliar surface, but he never hit the ground. He just fell right through the floor, looking up in horror as Frisk’s smiling face and dusty clothes faded from view. What in the-?!

The temperature behind him rose, like he was standing in front of a space heater. He turned around, and he was suddenly on solid ground again, standing in Hotland. Had he taken a shortcut on accident? But that wasn’t what his shortcuts normally felt like. How did he get here?

Without warning, Pyrope suddenly landed in front of him. Sans jumped, then chuckled anxiously. “Geez, dude,” he huffed. “If I had skin, you would’a just startled me out of it. Anyway- shouldn’t you be evacuating? Where are you going?”

Pyrope didn’t answer him- didn’t even acknowledge him. Instead, he looked at some point behind Sans, down the road. “This way!” the monster urged. “Quickly!”

Sans turned around to look, eye sockets widening. “Grillby?”

Sure enough, rushing down the road was none other than the bartender and business owner himself. Grillby held a young, green fire monster in a school uniform in his arms; his niece, if Sans remembered correctly. He looked panicked, glancing behind him now and then as he ran. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” he huffed, frustrated. The girl in his arms whimpered and he forced his voice to gentle, rubbing the girl’s back. “It’s alright, Fuku,” he muttered. “Just hang on tight. We’re going to have to be very careful and very quiet.”

This wasn’t right. Grillby should be in New Home by now. Sans knew he was going to get his niece from school first, but the Ferryman had taken him from Snowdin ages ago. “Grillbz,” Sans said, stepping in front of him, “Hang on a second. What’s going–”

Sans shuddered as Grillby walked right through him. Okay, this was already weird, but what. He turned around, stunned as he watched Pyrope, Grillby, and Fuku continue down the road and over a bridge.

Wait a second. Sans knew this place. He looked to the side, and sure enough, there was his sentry station. New Home was in the other direction, so where were they going? The only place in that direction was…

Waterfall. Oh no.

Finish reading this on Ao3 here!

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[cutegirlmayra]

Disney Medley Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days

Part 1 here: (x)

Prompt:

"Come on, it wasn't even that hard of a fight. You're exaggerating~" Axel swung his sea salt ice cream over Roxas's head, slow enough for him to dodge, with a quick, reflex duck. His voice was sing-songy at the end, showing he was only goofing around. "I could have had him without your guys' help." he took a bite from the ice cream and immediately regretted it. "EmmmmMMMMM-hmm! Got my brain there!" he gripped his head as Roxas and Xion laughed at the sight.

"Serves you right, saying you don't need us." Roxas roasted right back, hitting Axel's shoulder a bit, "You need all the help you can get."

Xion leaned herself forward a bit, smiling cheekily, "Karma." Her face was bright and sweet, even in her teasing.

Roxas looked over to it, but Axel just lightly shook his head, looking away, "I should have never taught you guys that word..!" He threw up one hand in protest while they laughed behind his back, "Giving you all my knowledge,... just so you can use it against me. What kinda friends are ya?!"

"Uhh... your only kind?" Roxas teased, as Axel swung the ice cream near him again. "H-Hey! That almost got my nose!" Roxas smiled as Axel looked off into the distance with the sunset... the light not fading anytime soon.

"I have other friends, it's just... some are... lost, I guess." He took another contemplative look towards the yellow clouds and sky... His gaze moving upward, as though the heavens, "I've been thinking about them... a lot lately..." He then looked to the two again, seeing them clinging to every word, wondering about what he was saying. "But the universe decided to dump you lot onto me! What was I supposed to do? Put you boxes like small kittens and puppies? Leave ya on the side of the road! Barking and meowing for scraps?!" He kept swinging his arm as Roxas laughed and ducked, scooting over before bumping against Xion and flinching a moment, turning back to her and then moving back to his spot.

"S-Sorry..." He looked down a bit, and... Axel squinted his eyes, almost swearing that expression looked kinda like...

But love was impossible for a Nobody, they didn't have hearts to feel it.

Must have been a fluke.

Xion put the back of her hand down from her mouth, a little surprised, but shook her head with that same, calming, and soft smile decorating her gentle features. "Em-emm, it's alright." She assured him, and Roxas just grinned a bit awkwardly back at her, glad to receive that comfort.

"Aye, aye, aye... You two confuse me." He was only gone for a few days... how did they get so close?

He scratched the back of his head, but Xion got up first and he looked over in surprise, "You're leaving?" He didn't think she'd go that quickly, "What about the sunset? It's still pretty high up there on that horizon line, Xion." He waved his ice cream nonchalantly towards it being too early to go. "What about the countdown?" He joked, as they had a game where they would try and see who's countdown actually matched the descending sun. None of them really ever won, but it was fun to joke around and try it out with them anyway.

"I was given a job to do. See?" She summoned her keyblade, "It works now."

"I helped her with that!" Roxas reminded him, like they haven't shown it off every chance they got to...

"Riiiighhhtt..." Axel leaned his head forward, "Alright, take care." He lifted a hand to send her off, but was once again surprised in a bit of sad disappointment when Roxas got up as well.

"I'll go with you." He added, nodding to Xion.

She smiled, "I'd like that." Before both turned to him.

... What was he, now? A third wheel..?

"You want to come to? Axel?" Roxas tilted his head as though expecting him to jump up all excitedly and go, 'Would I!? Thank you ever so much!' but Axel's pride got a little in the way.

"Nah, you're golden." He fanned a hand back to them, looking back directly at the sunset. "I've got only these precious few hours off, why would I squander it off by going back to work, huh? Enjoy the worlds without me." He took another bite of his ice cream, again, being risky with the size and portion and once again coughed as he stuck his thumb to the top of his mouth, hitting his foot against the clocktower.

Roxas and Xion chuckled, before Xion gracefully nodded her acceptance of his refusal. "See ya,... Axel."

"We'll come straight back. Promise..!" Roxas eagerly added, and the two gazed at each other a moment before Roxas offered her his hand, wanting to help her down, "Here." He added.

She smiled just a hint wider, and Axel's brows furrowed... He didn't teach Roxas that...

'These other worlds are getting to the kid's head.' he concluded, taking a 'smaller' bite of the ice cream and looking away.

... He looked back and noticed their hands still connected, just... what, looking at each other or something? Those sweet grins liked to just be painted on their faces like conjoined oil paintings, huh?

He finished off the ice cream, seeing their hands finally part made him at last look away as they rounded the clocktower's corner, going down.

"What am I moping about?" He gobbled up the ice cream, "No point if they're not around." He twirled the stick in his hands, "No winner again, huh?" Seeing the stick be blank, he put it in his mouth and got up, dusting off his hands and then rubbing them on his cloak.

"I'wll waswh iwt lawter." He mumbled with the stick still in his mouth, before looking down from the tower and seeing them again.

... He slowly... took his stick out of his mouth.

"... It's almost like..." He narrowed his eyes again, peering down at them, his lanky form following the action.

He was reminded of Castle Oblivion, Sora's reactions to Namine... thinking she was this 'Kairi' he seemed to have a close connection with... It couldn't be... could it?

If Roxas was his Nobody... would those feelings... persist?

'Even without a heart?' This grew his curiosity even more, somewhat exciting him as he wanted to watch them interact more.

In a bit of a spritzy side-jump, he watched them closely, moving his head about as though trying to get a better view of them down below him. "~I can't see what's happening... and they certainly have no clue.~" he began to sing, "~Their acting all wrong, and here's the bottom line...~" He swung himself back to the front with a full hop, "Our trio's already on the rocks!"

He raced down, "~Is it this sweet caress of Twilight?~" He skidded down some railings, "~What's this magic everywhere?~" He jumped to the stairs.

"~Is my vacant chest remembering this atmosphere..?~" He stopped halfway down the tower to lean over and peer again from the side of a window, looking to see Saix... Eh, he was probably being mean, and Roxas defending Xion, swinging an arm in front of her and rushing to the front...

Intrigued, his eyebrows rising at the tension and drama forming below that he couldn't make out, Axel kept moving his arms down the windows, "~Disaster's in the airrr~" He then bolted to catch up with them.

"She's not just a puppet!" Roxas spat out, summoning his own Keyblade, "Don't you have anything better to do than to pester us!?"

Saix's eyes narrowed, his jealousy overwhelming, then looking up to see Axel racing past the clocktower's windows to make it down to them.

"... Our Master has asked that you both be assigned separately.. Sorry, no tag-teaming today." He threw out his arm, separating Roxas from Xion.

"Ah! Xion!" Roxas reached out a hand but Saix was now perfectly between them, and glaring down at Xion.

"Rox-.. Ah." She also reached out, but the condescending look from Saix made her stutter, catching her breath as she stepped back and away from him.

"Get to your duties... Roxas." Saix moved his head forward, not looking at either one of them. "Now... before you keep proving yourself useless to us..."

"Oh..." Roxas also stepped back, something hurting from those words, but what? He turned to look away and shake a fist in the air, before dropping it, but keeping it tightened by his side, "Okay..." He reluctantly stated and turned around... walking away before rushing off.

When he was significantly gone, and Xion was about to turn to do her own tasked duties elsewhere, Saix immediately swung around to face her, "~Remember, little puppet... The world is cruel...~" he walked by her, "~This world is wicked~" Xion found herself looking to him, her mouth somewhat agape. "~There's not a soul that you can trust in this whole city~" He swung back around, "~You have no friends...~"

"That's not true!" she countered, but he glared deeper.

"~The organization keeps you, dresses you.~" He lowered his chin, "~We who took upon you our own dreams...~" Not fully the truth, but he gestured a hand to her as though showing some merciful gentleness, even if it was only for an instant. "~How can you disappoint us, girl, unless you stay in line... always in line...~" He charged towards her before stopping to delicately lower a finger to her, a tough reprimand.

"~You are a puppet~" He reniforced.

"~I am a puppet...~" She responded her uniqueness given to her from Roxas's memories of Sora's Kairi reverting her back into the stale personality she once was before.

"~Why invite needless scrutiny?~" He reached behind her for her hoodie.

"~Only a puppet...~" She ducked her head... as though accepting it.

He hesitated to put it back over her head when his eyes darted to where Axel was rushing to meet her, "~Do as we say... Obey... and remain... in lineeee~" He tucked his hands back behind him, deciding he was out of time. He walked off, ignoring Axel's calls to him, and smirked subtly on his exit... knowing what he had done.

'You can never be one of us.' He thought to himself, 'Axel is only setting himself up for disappointment... It's all a waste of time. If he won't help me find her... I'll find her myself.'

Xion... just kept her head down as Axel rushed to her side, "Xion! What'd he say to you? That little..!" He shook his fist in the air and then threw it down, unable to help his memories resurfacing of Isa, once his closest friend... Is kinda was, in his-... uhh, well, he just still is. "Xion? You okay?" He put his hands gently to her shoulders and had to part his legs a bit to lean down to her level.

Gosh, all his friends were shorties.

"Xion?" He noticed she didn't look back up at him.

She moved one of his hands off her shoulder in a sliding gesture with her own hand, "Axel... I have to get to work now." She stood silently, waiting for him to let her go.

"Ah... oh... Okay... Take... care?" He moved slowly out of her way, removing his other hand as she walked along her way. "... Huh, what got into her?" He looked to Saix, gritting his teeth and tightening his fists, "Saix..!" He growled out and took off after him, 'What'd you say, you little... gah, smartmouth!', He charged forward, unable to say anything too horrible... they were supposed to be on the same team, after all... "I'll get you back this time!"

Xion walked before her energy to keep her steps up grew faint, and she felt for the first time tears starting to form on her cheeks. Surprised, she touched her cheeks, then went to pull her hoodie up as though to reset herself... but just... couldn't.

She let the fabric drop to her shoulders, "~Look at me... I will never pass... for a perfect replica... or a perfect puppet...~" She swayed to keep herself moving, her sorrows adding up, trying to press on... but stumbling as she walked, looking almost rag-doll-like in her movements to try and not completely crumble to the ground. "~Can it be..? I'm not meant to play... this parrrrt~" She spun herself around as the scene changed and she was Sora, looking over Destiny Island's seashore. "Now I see~ If I were truly to beeee myself~" Sora's image sang with passion, but placed his fists on her chest, closing his eyes. "~I would break and my best friends would part...~" She reverted back to herself, feeling a coma sinking in...

She wandered through Twilight Town, singing, "~Whooooo is that boy I see? Staring straight, back at me...~" She looked into a shop's window, seeing Sora yet again, and having both the reflection and herself touch their respective cheeks. "~Is he staring... back at me?~" She shook her head, rushing off from the image and to the side, conflicted. "~Is this--reflection?--someone I'mmmm supposed to knowww?!~" She looked confused, was it really her? That boy... the fake organization member... wearing the cloak... blindfolded with white, silvery hair... His words continued to plague at her being. "Some~ One~ Explain to me~ Who I am... Because I try, desperately my reflection shows... Another me inside...~" She cupped her fingers over each other, all her memories confusing her now, flooding into her almost... but from what source?

"~When will my...~" She had to turn her head to riff a quick high note before continuing, "~Reflection... show?~" She summoned her keyblade, skimming a hand over it as she knew it was Sora's... but also... came with Roxas's support and aid in being able to summon it. "~Who I want to be...~" She closed her eyes, looking up and hugging the Keyblade, remembering the day he saw a face to her... and gave her something she longed for.

Identity, "~Who he sees... insideeeee~" She let the Keyblade down and, although woozy from the memories rushing in, stumbled and wobbled into a darkness portal to try and complete her mission.

It wasn't until later that she would wake up... with shells by her bedside...

Fin~

[twilightmalachite]

Hermitage - Tuesday 1

Author: Nishioka Maiko (with Akira)

Characters: Mika, Hajime

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Y’know? I used to be able to be one of Oshi-san's dolls."

Season: Winter

Location: Starmony Dorms Common Room

Mika: Umm… Maybe something like this?

♪~ ♪~…

Hajime: …… (applauding)

Mika: Hm?

Hajime: That was a splendid performance, Kagehira-senpai!

Mika: Huh? What’s up, Hajime-kun? It’s already so late. Isn’t it already past midnight?

Hajime: Ehehe, I had a hard time falling asleep. I thought maybe if I drank some warm milk, I’d feel sleepy, so I was on my way to the kitchen.

But I noticed there was a light on in the common room, so I peeked in. Your dance was so wonderful I couldn’t help but stare, Kagehira-senpai. I’m sorry to get in your way.

Mika: Nah, yer not in my way at all. I was so busy concentratin’ I didn’t even notice!

Hajime: Are you doing review late at night? Even though you just had practice today already…

You’re such a hard worker, huh Kagehira-senpai~. I have to take notes!

Mika: Ahaha… Well in this case it’s cuz I’m no good. I have to become more doll-like!

Hajime: More… like a doll?

Mika: That’s right~. ‘Cuz our new song’s based on the image of the old Valkyrie.

In the MV, I’ll be playin’ the role of a doll, but… The quality doesn’t satisfy Oshi-san’s vision yet.

So I’m practicin’ on my own right now. I still can’t get it right~…

Hajime: That sounds tough… I’d probably hit a roadblock myself if I were in your shoes.

Mika: Yer right~… I’m hittin’ a huuuuge roadblock right now…

But, as long as I can keep improvin’, I’ll get closer to perfection, and I won’t have to make Oshi-san compromise! I’ll have to keep doin’ my best…!

Location: Starmony Dorm Room (Ritsu, Mika's Room)

Mika: Phew… I kept doin’ my best, but I’m not sure if I’m improvin’ or not… Oshi-san’s gonna get angry at me tomorrow…

…Hm?

(Ah, I thought I felt someone’s gaze on me, is it me or is the dollie on the chest lookin’ at me?)

C’mere, you… Hey, dollie? What can I do t’become more like a doll? ‘Cuz, I wanna become one.

……

Hmm. Guess there’s no use askin' the dollie ‘bout this. It doesn’t talk back like Mado-nee does.

? Hm~?

Ahaha, it kinda looked like the dollie made a troubled face. I guess it’s ‘cuz it’s dark in here.

This doll sure is nicely made, though. I gotta try to think of a name soon, huh?

What name should I… Yaaaawnn~…

Nnah~, did I push myself too hard… today…? So sleepy…

Time passes…

Mika: Ahaha, mhm, that’s right.

I’m be playin’ a difficult role in our new song’s MV. But, I’m absolutely no good at it.

If I don’t improve, Oshi-san’s gonna get mad…

I wish I could become a doll like you.

Y’know? I used to be able to be one of Oshi-san's dolls.

But, I guess that’s all faded away recently… ‘Cuz I can’t remember the sensation from those days.

It makes me real happy to be a human on equal footing with Oshi-san, and it’s what Oshi-san wants too, but…

It’s not like I was ever unhappy bein’ Oshi-san’s doll, either.

Eh? Yer sayin’ you’ll grant my wish? Fer real?

I’d be super happy if you did~. ♪

Eh? Is it ‘cuz I’d get closer to the level of perfection Oshi-san wants?

Yup! I hate draggin' Oshi-san down.

Huh? What did’ja say?

No, I can't hear ya… It sounds like yer voice is gettin’ farther and farther away.

Mika: Umm? Stay, you… ever… then?

Nah, I really can’t make ya out…!

Hey, could ya say it again, dollie?

Nnah~? Huh… This electronic sound, isn’t this…?

Mika: …Nn~?

Yawwwnnn…

……?

(Huh? Was I dreamin’ just now…? What was it about again…?)

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